We got another quick pick me up from my family as we rounded the square and headed towards State Street. As we turned on to State and welcomed the pizza smell again we had my biggest pick me up of the second lap; for the first time all day we crossed paths with Michael, my training partner, wife's cousin, friend and most importantly Rod's back-up guide, which at that time neither Rod nor Michael knew that. He was three blocks from finishing his race, his first Ironman, at a very impressive 12:12. If you saw Michael at any time during his race he had a big smile on his face, always had time for a high five or a hug and pushed on no matter what. As a training partner there was never a work out too early, too long or any condition that would prevent him from being there. This day would not have been what it was without him.
Dusk was setting in as we weaved our way on and off bike paths, over curbs, across streets and around athletes who were walking. Rod and I had talked about walking the hills on this second lap. Our efforts felt the same as the first lap but our pace was slowing. My GPS watch had been beeping at me for some time warning me that the battery was going to die, which it eventually did at about hour 13. At this point in the race it was less about getting meaningful information from my watch as it was about pushing on as best as possible. Rod was mentioning how the discomfort in his thighs was working it's way to his calf muscles.
The crowds were thinning out along the course but we still had faithful friends checking in on us and the volunteers at each station remained high in spirit and willing to help. As we got farther from downtown the streets were a little darker, a little emptier and Rod and I were a little less chatty. As we entered the Lake Shore Path dark had set in. Street lights lined our way up Observatory Hill as we speed walked as best as possible up before briefly running down the backside before walking up to Bascom Hill. We picked up a good trot as we wound down the part of Observatory that's more known for having to go up it as a part of Crazylegs. We kept moving forward in to Library Mall and on to State Street. The crowd had thinned a little bit but we were still given a rock star type welcome and good-bye as we made the 180 degree turn with 6 miles left. It was a great pick me up as the Lake Shore path by the lake was completely dark and at times there was no light at all as we were advised to run down the middle of the path by a helpful spectator. When we eventually made it to a temporary industrial light I had the opposite problem as all of a sudden I was blinded by the light. I broke our mile or so of silence by bringing up the point that this whole day's experience of having everyone offer words of encouragement, know us by name, cheer louder than I've ever heard has completely ruined any future race experience I'll ever have. We chuckled, Rod brought up the idea of using the tandem by myself and seeing how that worked, he made some other comment about people not recognizing me without the blind guy. It was a good pick-me-up as time and pace seemed to extend longer and longer. At our last 180 degree turn, my way, of the day we were 4 miles from the finish. After making the turn I could see the Capitol down the shoreline. I mentioned to Rod how deceiving it was to be 4 miles away yet see so clearly where we wanted to be.
I made the mistake of trying some chicken broth. . . I'd read about how wonderful it was, somewhere on the first loop Rod tried it and couldn't believe how awful it was. I'm sure it was from a mix, but when I think chicken broth I think of chicken noodle soup without the noodle. This was thick. The volunteer mentioned something about added salt, I don't know, it was added terrible. When I woke up Monday morning after the race the first thing I smelled, whether the smell was there or it was purely mental. . . chicken broth. I tried to rinse my mouth of the taste with water, orange slices and anything else possible. As we got near the hospital we were running again where there was back-and-forth traffic. The amount of athletes coming our way was slowly dwindling, I didn't know what time it was or have any idea where and when the cut-offs were happening, but we kept going. We started the climb on the back side of Breeze Terrace to the sound of barks. . . of course. We hadn't walked since Observatory and seemed to be moving to a new burst of energy. As we rounded Camp Randall it set in that we were only 2 miles from the finish. The entire first and second loop, Rod was the one calling out the mileage. On both the bike and the run there are mile markers that represent mileage on the first or second lap. It's cruel and encouraging; as you're pedaling or running the first time around it's cruel to see 'Mile 80' when in reality it was mile 38. All day long Rod had our approximate distance whether I gave him mileage from a first lap or second lap sign. On the run I'd chuckle and say "mile 16, that would be nice" to which he'd say "not quite there at 3 miles in."
Our last stop was with 2 miles left. Water only and some ice cold sponges. I have no idea what the temperature was, I knew it was getting cold because it was dark, but squeezing the ice cold water out of those re-used sponges felt great. I'd squeeze it over my head and neck and wipe off my face and feel like a whole new person. I was almost surprised I didn't see steam as the cold met the hot. We hopped on the short stretch of bike path for the last time and had a running partner for a while; he chatted and jogged with us, offered more encouragement. He was all over that day and we saw him quite a few times on the run. As we turned to head to the Kohl Center there was one competitor we saw that was on the way out on their second loop. I was fortunate enough to meet this athlete during a swim up at Devil's Lake. A year ago when she started her Ironman training she couldn't even swim; one of her first swim lessons was putting her face in a bucket of water to get used to submerging herself. She fought and pushed ahead for 133.4 miles. She did not make it to mile 19 ahead of the cut off time in order to continue. She is an Ironman in my book.
Our running company continue on with us and is credited for this picture from our first loop:
The short stretch of State Street had gotten busier, I don't know if it was the drinkers coming out to party but that one block of State was a great final push to the finish. People holding beers hanging over the fence, more screaming, more yelling more excitement. As we turned left on the Capitol Square we skipped the final water station as all the volunteers were lined up in a row clapping and cheering us on. The stretch up passed East Wash was fairly empty as well as the final right hand turn towards MLK. As we got closer to turning down the shoot I could feel the energy from the crowd.
The finish chute is somewhat divided in half. As you round MLK the official chute starts and people are lined on both sides of the street but it's a much wider section because it includes the turn around point where we headed back on on the second run loop. You'll notice at the end of this video how the chute narrows and the lights brighten, that's the last 25 yards of the finish where the insanity happens.
I had never done an Ironman. Somehow in a series of phone calls and emails over a year ago I managed to convince a blind athlete that I was capable of getting him through one. I had no guiding experience, I had no full Ironman experience. Rod never questioned my abilities, he never had a hint of doubt in our ability to finish the race. So I decided at that time that if he wasn't worried, I wasn't going to worry.
I have a final video to share and I ask that you watch it twice. First time, click the play button and then close your eyes.
I couldn't have made it without my wife. She provided me with ample motivation and inspiration. Come October she will have completed her third half marathon this year as well as her first triathlon. Her dedication has been an example to me. Her supporting my decision to not only train for myself, but train for Rod has made this last year one of the most fulfilling for me. Some of my proudest moments as a husband, dad and son have occurred this year: Sarah and her half marathons and triathlon, my kids completed their first 'swim bike run', that's what they call it and my mom doing her first 5k with number two coming in November. I can't thank my wife enough for all that she's done. There were a lot of Sunday's when Michael and I would come back from rides, runs or both to breakfast being made, cookies, pizza, snacks. . . you name it Sarah prepared it on one of the Sundays. She's amazing and deserves just as much of the credit as I have been given; I love you.
I have one final thank you post coming. . .
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