Aftermath- lessons learned

It has been over a week since I officially became an Ironman. Having completed a physical challenge that, up to the morning of November 2, I was not sure I was up to, I am now trying to process the reality of it. Having devoted a full year of my life to this end, it just seems wrong not to try to draw some life lessons from this. I have heard it said that, if you can do an Ironman, you can do anything. That is obviously not literally true. For instance, I certainly can’t fly. However, I do understand the intent of this statement and I agree completely that most of us can do much more than we might think we can. Much more.

 

I remember many moments in the past year when doubts assailed me and I did not think this would ever happen. There were days that the last thing I wanted to do was roll out of bed in the pre-dawn hours to head out to the Y for a long swim, or wake up early on a Saturday morning, when I would normally sleep in, and head out for a 6 or 7 hour bike ride over ground I had covered countless times before. Knowing how I felt at the end of a long session in the pool, on the bike, or running, in and of themselves, and imagining combining all three in one day, the challenge seemed ridiculously overwhelming. I often found myself thinking that the idea of traveling 140.6 miles on one’s own power in 17 hours was simply crazy. With the hours I work, and the stress of the job, I know that I could not have done this when my kids were young and at home. It was hard enough with the “empty nest” and a totally supportive wife. My admiration goes out to all those younger men and women who manage to train for an Ironman while juggling jobs, family, and other obligations, especially those who do this multiple times. I would not care to repeat the past year. 

 

I was surprised that I wasn’t more emotional at the end. As I approached the finish line of my first marathon, the 1995 Walt Disney World Marathon, I had a huge lump on my throat and tears in my eyes at the realization that I was actually about to finish a marathon, something I had dreamed of for decades. Not so here. My primary feeling was fatigue, followed by relief that it was over at last.  Sally said that my brain didn’t seem to be tracking completely as I was asking the same questions over and over and simply not understanding some of the things she was saying. I was intently focused on retrieving my bike and bags until she finally stopped me and made me focus on her as she informed me for the umpteenth time that she had already done all that and they were in our hotel room.

 

I felt surprisingly good; not sore and with no pain anywhere. I was able to walk around normally in contrast to many people that I saw who were walking stiff-legged and in obvious pain. It made me really appreciate my training and how well it prepared me for this. I was, however, deeply fatigued and definitely in need of some nourishment, although I did not feel really hungry. Getting back to the room, I soaked in a tub of cold water for a half hour or so and downed a single personal pizza that Sally picked up, and a Coke. After a long effort, the combination of sugar and caffeine that a Coke provides just can’t be beat. Later, I had a bag of chips and another Coke.

 

Around 10 PM I felt good enough to get up and go back out to the finish line to see the late arrivals come in. That’s the best time to catch the spirit of the Ironman competition, when those determined individuals who have been out there for 15+ hours start arriving. The crowd goes wild and it is a big party. Some make to the line and collapse, others cry, some leap in the air, a couple of guys danced their way in, and on and on. As the clock ticked to midnight, the frenzy only increased until there was 1 minute left. With 20 seconds on the clock, two final people crossed, a young, overweight woman (not all participants are lithe, muscular athletic types) and a middle-aged man. The crowd went nuts cheering them in. Then it was over. Anyone crossing after Midnight gets cheered in and receives a finisher medal but officially goes in the records as DNF (Did Not Finish). The next “finisher” came in one minute past the deadline.

 

I slept surprisingly well and woke up in the morning famished. Again, no soreness or even much stiffness. I was thrilled. It was a bit nippy out so we skipped the al fresco breakfast in an open area of the expo and went to Another Broken Egg where I had two breakfasts- black bean sliders and a huge veggie omelet, with a dish of biscuit beignets, 2 glasses of orange juice, and decaf coffee. I was hungry again three hours later. That afternoon, I drove home to return to my normal routine.

 

My first lesson was to commit. Dreams remain dreams until a plan is made and deadlines set in place. Then they become goals. I had two goals, one lofty and one purely financial. The first was to achieve the goal of finishing an Ironman. The latter was to not waste my non-refundable registration fee of $650. I committed to do whatever I had to in order to fulfill those two goals.

 

The second lesson was to get expert help. I had always trained for marathons and triathlons on my own and, while I finished every event I entered, the results included disappointing finishing times and, in the case of marathons, a growing list of running related injuries. Triathlons, because of the cross training and shorter distances, did not cause me similar problems. Bouts of iliotibial band syndrome, sciatica, knee swelling and pain, and a nagging obturator/piriformis syndrome after my marathons made me begin to doubt the wisdom of continuing to do long distance running in general and an Ironman in particular, especially given that the marathon portion comes after the long swim and biking portions.

 

I received, as a gift, an Ironman training book but really wanted some additional help. I debated finding someone who had done an Ironman to advise me and considered a professional training group, such as Carmichael Systems, founded by Chris Carmichael, who trained Lance Armstrong for all of his Tour de France wins. I ruled that out, in part because of cost but, more to the point, because I was convinced that Carmichael had to have known of Lance’s doping and did not want to be trained by someone tainted thusly. In a serendipitous, I might even say, divine, appointment, my office patient coordinator, Amy, invited a representative of the National Training Center in Clermont, FL to join us for a seminar that we presented in Clermont. They sent Karl Reicken, a young, wiry, athletic type with a master’s in exercise physiology. We got to talking and before I knew it I was signed up for weekly coaching and an online training plan with Karl for the coming year. On the advice of friends, I contacted Misty Becerra, a swim coach also at the NTC. A swim analysis with her set me on a path to being faster and more efficient in the water. For the remainder of the year, every Tuesday, after work, I would hop in the car and drive 35 minutes to Clermont to do a 45-60 minute swim with a “masters”, i.e. old farts like me, group followed by an hour with Karl in the gym. His workouts almost invariably left me whooping and gasping and I would stagger limply back to my car and drive home. Karl worked first on my flexibility, which was non-existent; then on mobility of my hips, legs, and torso; and, finally, on strength and explosiveness. He adjusted my stride to a quicker cadence with lighter steps. Every day, except for Sunday, I had a training session scheduled. The schedule never varied, except that the duration of the long sessions increased as the months passed. My weeks went as follows. Monday I ran in the morning and did a spin on the bike trainer in the evening. Tuesday was at the NTC. Wednesday was a run with speed intervals, short duration but very hard effort. Thursday was a long swim. Friday was a long run and Saturday was a long bike ride. My swim topped out at 4950 yards, my run at 19.6 miles, and the longest bike ride was 107 miles, a 7 hour odyssey to Salt Springs and back on Labor Day. It is fair to say that Karl pushed me harder than I would have pushed myself.

 

Getting this help was probably my single best move of all. Misty improved my swim times and Karl brought me through a year of intense training without a single injury or physical problem, beyond some soreness and stiffness in my neck and shoulder from the long bike rides in the aero position, and this was minor. I arrived in Panama City fitter, stronger, more flexible, and more mobile than I have ever been in my adult life and this was clearly demonstrated by my results.

 

The third lesson was that you can’t do it alone. Even a largely solitary endeavor like an Ironman requires social support. The encouragement from Misty and Karl and their repeated assertions that I would be ready countered the many moments of doubt that I had along the way. The encouragement and support of friends and family who followed me through the process were invaluable and helped to keep me motivated, largely so that I wouldn’t disappoint them. I wanted my Ironman to inspire and motivate others and I knew that to do this best, I needed to finish and, if possible, finish well. Finally, there was Sally, who for 32 years has put up with my quirks and idiosyncrasies, supported me in all that I do, and loved me through it all. She was truly an “Ironman widow” the past year yet her support for my “project” never waivered.

 

The fourth lesson is focus. Life is so full of distractions that if you don’t focus, you will get lost in all the “noise” of daily life. As someone with ADHD, for whom distractions are a daily fact of life and an obstacle to productivity, I know this, but it was really driven home this year. My focus on my Ironman training was intense, so much so that many things were put on the back burner and/or left undone totally. I did no yard work this year. House hold chores were put off. I let my desk and personal office space at work clutter up. I put off any work on my book. I limited my social activities. Looking back, however, nothing crucial was left undone. I kept up with my patient and administrative responsibilities at the office, bills got paid, the house didn’t fall down around me. My wife didn’t leave me, thank God. My kids survived. Important things, even self-imposed important things, in life deserve our focused attention. We can’t do it all, however, so prioritizing and taking things one at a time is critical to being productive. True multi-tasking is a myth. Yes, we can do multiple tasks, but we do them sequentially, not all at once.

 

The fifth and final lesson (I could draw lots more but, for now, these will do) is that anything worth doing, whether it is work, a hobby, or a special project, is worth doing to the best of our ability. A half-hearted effort will produce a half-*ssed result. Looking back, I really don’t see how I could have prepared any harder or with more dedication. As a result, I don’t have any sense that I need to do this again to try to improve the outcome. I am totally content with the result of my Ironman. I can't say that about everything I have done in my life.