As usual, the morning started before mornings are supposed to start.  Ironman Santa Rosa requires you to be dropped off in downtown Santa Rosa, board buses, and be transported out to the lake because there isn’t enough parking out there.  Therefore, my wife rose with me and drove me to the hoard of yellow school buses awaiting the hoodie covered, stressed out, lycra crowd.  Her sainthood has been cemented once again.

45 minutes later we arrived still in the dark at T1.  Again, I now knew the drill.  Got body marked on the way in, found my bike, loaded up the water bottles with my Infinit powder and searched for water to fill them, pumped up the tires, and then started slathering on the sunscreen for the day.  As the sun rose and the music pumped over the loudspeakers it was time to roll on the wetsuit which triggered a few butterflies.  Now, it got real.  This wasn’t practice anymore.  It was race time.  I was about to swim, bike and run further than I had thought possible at one point.  That delicate glimmer of “maybe I could” that I felt back in 2013 as I read Iron War on a cruise ship has now become my personal day of reckoning.

The sun was now up and it couldn’t have been more perfect.  The temperature was in the low 60’s for the start.  Water temp was 68 degrees and conditions were clear.  Not a cloud in the sky.  It was going to be a high of 80 degrees during the race with a cooling once I projected I would hit the run course.  If that wasn’t enough, my wife would be waiting at the end of it all to scrape me up and deliver me back to a clean hotel bed.  Now, all I had to do was 140.6 miles.

We lined up in our wetsuits according to our estimated swim time which meant I was way in the back.  The cannon went off and the pros hit the water.  It was on.  However, it would be a long time before it was on for me as a back of the pack guy.

Finally, we entered the water.  It was a little crazy and uncomfortable because, by the time the slow folk got to start, the pros and elites were making their first turn.  That meant they would get out of the water and run back in where we were entering.  It was crowded with crazy good and crazy bad swimmers.  Not comfortable.  After about 100 feet, the dock to my left disappeared and I swung out to the left to find some breathing room.

I finally found my pace and lumbered along while the elites picked their way by me.  At first, I had anxiety about them flying by me until I realized they knew what they were doing and could navigate past the weak ones with ease.  It was my fellow slow pokes and newbies that I had to worry about as we had few navigation skills.

I came out of the water, ran around the pylons, and back into the water for loop #2.  By this time well more than half were out of the water and there was all the lake I wanted with plenty of space between me and the next person.  Loop #2 was kind of like listening to Yacht Rock.  I was just bouncing and sailing along at my comfortable slow pace.

Much joy came over my neoprene wrapped body as I rounded the final buoy and headed toward the boat landing.  It was truly an emotional lifelong accomplishment considering I could not swim a little more than a year ago.  Even in the lake, I could feel that I got a little misty-eyed.

No more time for that emotion though as I had that quarter mile run up the boat ramp to T1 partially in my wetsuit until I ran into those wetsuit strippers halfway up the ramp.  Love those guys.  Lay down, rip that thing off me.  One less thing to worry about.

After I exited the changing tent, I found my next favorite volunteer crew at the sunscreen station.  Four people attacked me with latex gloves covered in sunscreen.  If you have personal space issues, this was not the crew you wanted to run into.  It was definitely a sharing moment.  However, I was well covered and ready for many hours to come which I was going to need.

I then grabbed the Guru and headed out onto the course.  They had warned us before to be careful in the first two miles.  It was all downhill and because you just finished swimming, you might not have all your balance back yet.  They weren’t kidding.  You could have got all the speed you wanted down that first two-mile decent.

Within no time we were riding through wine country as promised.  There were no lack of grapes to be viewed on this route.  However, it was very noticeable on a bike that these were agriculture roads.  Something you would not have noticed touring wineries in your car on a beautiful Sunday in Sonoma County.  The roads were rough and you had to watch where you were riding as there were all kinds of scrapes and holes caused by farm equipment.  Fortunately, I am used to riding rural agriculture roads in San Diego and grew up in a farming family in Michigan.  I knew what to look for and when.  Regardless, by the end of the 112 miles, my rear deltoids were sore from the constant pounding, road vibrations, and maneuvering.

At one point the leaders smoked by me one after the other.  I enjoyed getting to see them up close even though it was for long until they flew around a corner or over a hill.  I always knew when one was coming because I could literally hear their tires roaring from a distance behind me.  It sounded like a locomotive on tires coming at me.  I could almost feel the road vibrating from it.

At mile 90 I pulled to the side for a bathroom break and heard a sound I had never heard coming from my back tire.  Upon closer observance, it appeared that my wheel was sideways and rubbing against the side of the bike.  Just at that moment, a woman next to me flagged down a truck that had a volunteer mechanic in it.  How lucky was that?  He fixed her up quick and then quickly realigned my wheel as well while I did my business in the plastic honey potty.  In other words, no additional downtime.

The final ride out of the vineyards and into Santa Rosa was exhilarating.  I was almost through the swim and the bike and I felt great.  Plenty of gas and only a little soreness in my inner quad on my right leg.  The nutrition plan that Julie had put together for me was so far right on.  I didn’t feel behind on energy and my body felt great.  I felt even more energized as I came up to the bike finish and saw my wife cheering me on.  She said I looked in much better shape than most of the people she had been watching finish the bike seem not so excited to start that marathon.

I, on the other hand, was ready to get to that marathon.  I felt a lot better than I thought I would and the weather was just starting to cool off.  Perfect conditions.  I changed my shoes, tossed down a gel pack, and off I went.  The first eight miles were great.  I was ahead of my projected pace and feeling good.  Then, my issue in Austin started to return.  the back of my thighs started to cramp up.  However, not as bad as in Austin where they basically locked up.  I was able to continually shake and massage them back into gear through the first 20 miles.

That brought me to the final loop of the three loop course.  It was hard to pass by that finish chute and go out for another round of suffering.  However, I sucked it up and found another gear.  That gear lasted until about mile 23.  The gas was leaking out of the tank by this point.  No matter how many gels I consumed, nothing seemed to work.  Then, I remembered something my coach Julie told me at lunch the day before we left to come up here.  She said when nothing else works, she goes for the flat Cola on the course.  It is an instant shot of sugar and caffeine.  Sure enough, it was the magic elixir I needed to keep going.

It was now a very dark, cold course late into the evening.  I, fortunately, had packed a headlight in my special needs run bag as well as long sleeve running shirt to put over my jersey and keep my sweat-soaked jersey warm.  It was cold enough that the race volunteers were handing out emergency foil blankets for people to wrap around them as the finished the course.

As I rounded the final corner and headed for the finish, I tossed my long sleeve running shirt in a trash can along the route.  I paid good money for my Triclub San Diego jersey and I was going to get that picture across the finish line in it with pride.

The music was growing louder and I could hear the voice of Mike Reilly calling out the names of Ironman after Ironman.  The carpet appeared before my eyes and it hit me that it was happening.  Then it all happened in a flash.  I crossed the line…photos were taken…Mike Reilly called my name and said I was an Ironman…I scanned the finish for my wife and she was right there taking pictures and video and screaming…someone put a medal on me…someone pushed me over to the Ironman step and repeat for a photo…then I found my wife and hugged her.  It was over.  I did it.  Something that entered my head in 1982, got some stickiness in 2013, and now was a reality in 2018 at age 54.

Emotional…absolutely.  Would I do it again?  My wife has it on video that I said I wouldn’t.  Within 24 hours, I was figuring out how to erase that video.