The official triathlon thread

[PaloAltoCougar]

These are great, but I know what's coming, and I'm awaiting the next report with considerable trepidation.

[Pheidippides]

THE RUN:

Those of you who monitored my progress may have an idea of what happened here, but I'm here to tell you that it was far, far worse than you can possibly imagine. It was hot. Brutally hot. Hot and humid. First day of the year like this. Had the race been held last weekend, things may have been different. Now, I'm not stupid, and I'm not inexperienced when it comes to running in the heat and humidity, so I knew I needed to slow it down. Right from the start I was doing a run/walk pattern, running 3/4 mile and walking 1/4. This was by design, and the idea was that I'd be conservative, pick up the speed at the halfway point (when it would start to get cooler), and finish in under 12 hours (which was my stretch goal). I had to run a 4:50 marathon to do that, which seemed doable (my worst ever being a 5:00 on a day I was injured and walked the entire way from mile 9). This worked well for a time, and I was doing okay, but it got tough about mile 7 or so. The crowds were incredible, but this course - and one part in particular, in a neighborhood - was so open to the sun that it was almost unbearable. I kept hydrating, dumping ice down my trisuit, putting sponges on my neck, taking salt tabs, etc. First lap was a bit slower than I would have liked, but I was feeling a bit better.

Until I hit that damn neighborhood again. I started to feel pretty nasty. I still am unsure why. I got out of the area and saw my family for the third time on the run, and told them this was going to take a while because I something wasn't right.

About a mile later - mile 16 or so, I think - I started to get very nauseous. I stopped to try to puke, couldn't do it, and nearly fell over and passed out. There was an aid station just around the corner and I somehow made it to within sight of the volunteers there. The best way to describe what I was feeling was something like food poisoning, and that never left.

I fell to one knee - I remember consciously doing this, although it was close to collapsing - and a volunteer came running over. She asked if I'd like to see a medic, and I remembered the briefing from Wednesday when they encouraged us to get help when we needed it. So the EMT came over and helped me to a cot. I was still lucid enough to ask the question on my mind: if you give me an IV (which I knew I needed), am I disqualified? She told me that she could take my vitals and give me water and stuff like that, but if they did anything more I was out and would go to the big med tent at the finish. There was another guy on the cot next to me getting an IV who had already called it quits. He got carted off and another guy like me came in, had the same conversation, thought for a while, and then said he was calling it quits.

I can't fully describe my thought process at this point. I desperately wanted it to be over. I was sipping water, not feeling much better (although less dizzy), not knowing what my issue was, and never having experienced this before except once, when I was hospitalized for the better part of a Saturday. But generally I had four thoughts. First, I'd been at the station for something like 40 minutes at that point (knowing I had plenty of time to burn and still finish, my safety goal), and so my wife and dad would be worried since they wouldn't have seen a split for a while (I didn't know how many of you were following me at that point). Second, I knew that I'd have to do this again next year if I dropped out, and my wife would hate that. Third, I thought back on all the training I'd put in, and it killed me to think that I'd done all that for naught. And my last thought, the most important, was that I didn't know how I could face my 6 year old son, who had seen all my training, who'd been watching all day, and tell him how Dad quit when it got tough. The medics had the technical authority to pull me off the course if they wanted, but I could tell him that with pride. No way I was going to quit.

So I left the med station at a slow shuffle. Slower than I would walk with my kids to school, slower than I would walk my dog, slower than I would walk a balance beam. I had a cup of water in one hand and a cup of ice in the other, sipping and chewing as I went. I managed the next two miles somehow, but fell horrible and dizzy again by the time I got to the transition area again. One more nearly full lap to go, and there was my family waiting. I explained what was going on, told them I was going to stop at aid stations for as long as needed, and was going to try to shuffle it in. My dad later told me that he was really worried at me at this point, and it was here that my wife posted her plea on facebook for prayers for me.

The next aid station was about a quarter mile from there, and I barely made it. I collapsed in a heap on the grass at the start and asked for the medic. I knew I had to pretend to look good because he could take me off, but I knew I also needed somebody to know I was there. He offered me some chicken broth (it was just getting to be twilight, so they were just bringing it out) and I tried to sip that. But I only felt worse. A couple of volunteers were watching over me, and I knew I wasn't going anywhere unless I could get rid of the nausea, so I decided to do something drastic. Once the medic was out of sight, I jammed my own finger down my throat as far as it could go, and kept doing it until I puked everything in my stomach up. Everything. I felt much, much better almost immediately, and after a few more minutes managed to stand up. I grabbed a cup of ice and some water again, and started moving. Spent something like 30-40 minutes there as well.

I was actually walking at a pretty good clip here. Ran into a woman from Utah and a guy from Austin and another girl from somewhere, and we chatted for a while. Grabbed my socks from special needs to put on my feet, and then decided to try to jog a bit to catch up to the guy for the conversation, and I know I'm dehydrated now (if I wasn't before - I'm still not sure about that) so I'm drinking water and eating pretzels for the salt. Big mistake. Nausea starts coming back. I make it to the aid station at mile 22 or so, and do the same as before: fall in a heap on the grass near the medics, pretend to be mostly okay, turn my back to the medics, ram my finger down my throat, puke up everything, rest for 20 or 30 minutes or more. I have no idea. I was still mentally lucid - or at least so I thought - so I was trying to keep going. But it was obvious that I couldn't hold anything down.

Once I managed to get up the strength to walk some more, I resumed my death march. If my wife was praying, so was I, in my own way. My prayers were something like, "Hey, God, it's me. I know we haven't exactly been on best of terms lately, but if you're out there I could use a hand right now." And somehow that made me feel better. Around the corner was my dad, who walked on alongside of me (on the sidewalk, and sort of yo-yoing ahead and behind, cheering on others, so as to not make it look like he was going with me which also would have been a DQ in theory (I didn't see this enforced very well)) and gave me encouragement. Told me that this was tough, and was that much more impressive than meeting my time goals. Told me he was proud of me. Told me my wife and son were around the corner. And there they were, and my wife started telling me about the overwhelming response of people on facebook to her plea, the number of people texting her and sending thoughts and prayers, and it gave me strength. I'm actually tearing up as I write this - that's how powerful the support was for me.

At about mile 24, I stopped and puked again. No aid station, just grass in a dark spot. I had been chewing ice and spitting it out in an effort to at least make myself feel sort of cool and get the dryness out of my mouth, but even that was too much. I only stopped for a few minutes there, and then about half a mile later my dad left me to go to the finish line. Those next two miles were the toughest thing I've ever done in my life. I started feeling nauseous and nearly passed out again at the same aid station I stopped at the first time, only this time no medics. Just me and the cots, and kind volunteer who brought me whatever I needed. Which was mostly water. I got the water to drink so I would have something to throw up, because I was pretty sure there was nothing left there. I knew I only had about a mile and a half left at this point, but I was done. Beaten. I don't know how long I spent here - my stats will tell, I'm sure, but I don't care to revisit.

I finally got up and left, and walked slowly to the last station. I was a wreck, but I had only a little bit to go. I kept thinking in terms of my neighborhood, it's just to the school and back, it's just to so-and-so's house, it's just to the running path. I had planned on stopping at the last station but decided to skip it, with only about 3/4 mile left. As I made that final turn up the hill to the finish, oh, that was a relief. I was actually going to finish. At the top of the hill, just before the chute, was Green Monstah. I don't know if he came up for me or not, but he came out was really excited, was cheerful, was encouraging. He gave me the strength to run the chute, and I owe him much (yes, I did tell him I almost died, which is probably an exaggeration but seemed true at the time).

The chute was incredible, with the screaming crowds and everybody giving me high fives. You saw this better than I did, those of you watching the live feed (does anybody have a link to the archive?), but I was happy. And then the voice of Mike Reilly - I didn't actually see him, I was too delirious - shouts out my name and "You Are an Ironman!" for me, and me alone, and I somehow managed to raise my arms in triumph of the hardest thing I've ever done.

Edit: Here's the garmin stats. You can see it was about mile 13 when it came apart. http://connect.garmin.com/activity/314696399

[ERCougar]

Wow. Just wow.
Again...I don't know how to say enough just how amazing that whole accomplishment is, but congratulations. Amazing.

[Surfah]

Nik you're nuts. So when is the next one?

[Pheidippides]

AFTERMATH AND POSTMORTEM:

What you guys didn't see on the video right after I crossed - or maybe you did - was me collapsing in the arms of the waiting medics, and asking for an IV. They asked me if I wanted a wheelchair, and I gladly said yes. Somebody put a medal around my neck and somebody else forced a finisher shirt and hat in my hand. I was choking up with tears and emotion at this point, and the medics mistook me covering my mouth because of emotion for me covering my mouth because of nausea (understandably - I had both), so they offered me a puke bag. We stopped for just a moment, and I managed to stand for long enough, to get my picture taken, and then I went straight to the med tent. One of the benefits of having a large hospital as the sponsor of this thing is that the med staff does it right, and they did here. There were tons of people all over the place getting treated, but they were organized and knew their stuff. Immediately they gave me some anti nausea meds and chicken broth to see if that would help, and when it didn't, I was getting an IV within no time. The nurse immediately said that I was so dehydrated that she could barely find a vein to put in the needle (she still got it in with one shot). They immediately took some blood to see what the electrolyte levels were in a mobile lab, something I've never seen before but that makes total sense, since the symptoms of dehydration and hyponatremia are the same but one is much worse than the other. Not surprisingly, the blood came back exactly where it should - the reason why I took the salt tabs (Note: the doctor told me that stuff like gatorade and ironman perform does not have enough electrolytes to prevent hyponatremia - FYI). In the meantime I downed a bunch of chicken broth and between that and the IV felt much better. About an hour later they let me out.

I picked up my morning bag (which had my cell phone in it) and in the meantime my wife went to get the car. I started walking towards transition to get my bike and gear - along the same part of the route I'd struggled so much on earlier in the day, now clear of spectators and much easier to navigate with some fluids in me (although I was still very dehydrated). This is when I saw this thread and all the stuff on facebook, and I am not ashamed to tell you that I wept with more emotion than I've felt in a while. I was more touched at that moment than I can possibly described, seeing all the love and support. It was overwhelming, and (if you'll permit me) has renewed my faith in something greater that binds us all together. Whether you call that God (and today I do) or something else means very little to me.

Some stats on the race. The attrition rate for the race was 15.5%. Nearly one in six dropped out (the figure I was told about 550 of the first timers dropping out looks to be wrong). The air temp was 97, and the surface temp 108, in that nasty neighborhood. Everybody today was talking about how stinking hot it was. The medics told me they'd been seeing people all day, and at one point I passed a guy on a bench at mile 24 getting an IV from a roving bike EMT crew, done for the day just over two miles from the finish.

Today my legs are fine (I really never tested them yesterday) but my stomach is still queasy and I'm still dehydrated a little (although getting better). This is why I'm not sure that I had dehydration, at least at first. Could it have been actual food poisoning from the fruit I had at an aid station? Could I have gotten sick from my kids earlier this week? Was it the poor sleep all week? Was it just heat related? I don't know, and the more I think about it the less I'm sure what I could have done differently. But that's to worry about another day. For now, I'm happy beyond belief. There's only one race I've ever done - my first marathon - that ranks up there with this one. I'd call it a push. Sure, I didn't meet my time goals, but it's that much more special because of it. My dad at one point during the race quoted the famous Pre quote - I run to see who has the most guts - and while I'm pretty sure Pre was talking about his frontrunning there, the idea of guts and toughness and pushing myself farther than I knew I could really resonated yesterday. There will be other races to worry about time (oh, I'm absolutely doing another, although not for a couple of years). Today I'm an Ironman, and I earned it.

And my wife and dad are now going to sign up as well.

[MarkGrace]

Dude that run story is epic.

I watched the finish line for a bit to see you cross, but I wasn't certain how far away you were and had to take off for some errands. If anyone has the footage that would be awesome.

[The_Douger]

Congrats.

I am glad you finished.

[Commando]

Yowza. Great job, man. That is truly inspirational. I think I'll get my fat ass off the couch this week.

[cougjunkie]

Nik,

Congrats that is an amazing accomplishment. A guy I work with has a similar story to yours. Ran in high school kind of let himself go over the years (he was 300+ pounds) started running and transitioned in to Tris. Ended up doing the florida ironman a few years ago. He said when Mike Reilly called his name he was sobbing. Unfortunately he is back to about 275 pounds now.



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[mtnbiker]

Wow, what a huge accomplishment, and a great write-up. Thanks for sharing the highs and lows of the race. I've done a number of century bike rides, but there's no way I could swim beforehand or run even a mile at the end, let alone a full marathon. Amazing.

[HuskyFreeNorthwest]

You are a stud, thanks for sharing and the motivation.

[Donuthole]

nice work, nik. Genuinely inspiring stuff.

[Pheidippides]

Who had 36 hours until I signed up for another? Anybody's guesses under that?

[RC Vikings]

Who had 36 hours until I signed up for another? Anybody's guesses under that?

What one and when?

[Art Vandelay]

I was impressed when I thought I knew what you must have went through. After reading your account of the run (it is easy to lose sight for use neophytes, this was a marathon in, and of itself) I'm in awe. In fact, I got a little misty-eyed of thinking how much will power, it must have required to leave those medical tents.

If you sign up for the one in CDA, RC and I can go up there and support you....after playing the resort course, with its famous floating green.