Completing my first Ironman race in Santa Rosa in 2018 was a life-changing event. I overcame physical and mental challenges like I had never experienced before. From when I started the journey to the last mile it was hard for me to even contemplate how I would actually finish 140.6 miles in a day. It was an amazing journey chronicled in my blog post The Day I Became An Ironman.

As I crossed the finish line there was a sign on a barrier fence that said Athlete Food with an arrow pointing left and Medical Tent with an arrow pointing right. My wife was right behind it and asked me, “Athlete food or medical tent?” I, fortunately, chose food and an embrace with my exceptionally supportive spouse which was the best finisher award I could have ever hoped for. Afterward, it gave me a whole new level of personal confidence and opened up another frontier of possibilities that I believed I could achieve.

Over the next few weeks, I received many congratulations from friends and family. From others who met me and discovered I was an Ironman, the first question out of their mouths was, “How many have you done?” Well, I’m just not that guy who can say “One.” I immediately made what I thought would be an achievable goal of three and signed up for number two in Arizona which I completed in Tempe on November 24th, 2019 (Read that race report here).

I felt that three was a legit athletic number. No, I would not be a one-and-done guy. Two seemed like too few. Three had some commitment to it. Some consistency. Some substance. I felt three would be a number that showed I was a true triathlete and a legit Ironman. Yes, all in my ego head I know, and I admit to the sickness. But hey, I’m the only one I see in the mirror in the morning so for those who know me well you don’t want to deal with that guy so you better get your head in the game and put a date on the calendar. Since there were no races in 2020, that date turned out to be October 24th, 2021 for the inaugural Ironman California in Sacramento.

Two events prevented that race from happening. First, I had some fairly severe plantar fasciitis in both feet from training for an ultra trail 50K race earlier in the year so I deferred my entry to 2022. Second, on the actual day of the race, it was canceled anyway due to what they called a bomb cyclone that hit Sacramento. 10 inches of rain fell in 24 hours.

With a lot of physical therapy, I felt that I could resume running at the beginning of 2022. At that point, I had not run at all since March of 2020. It was a start-and-stop process. I was able to keep swimming and cycling, but running was difficult to start all over again. I had put on some extra weight during the pandemic and certain muscles had not been used in a year and a half. So, I hired a coach to help me fix my running style to prevent future injuries and hopefully teach me how to be a more efficient runner as well. Maybe even get a little more speed that I had lost with age too. All with Ironman California in mind.

I decided to take a different training journey to Ironman this time sort of by forced accident. My training program would be one that was full of a variety of races as opposed to only triathlons. This decision was a bit pre-ordained. At the end of 2019, I registered for a number of races that never happened. They were all back on now. Since I am cheap, I wasn’t about to waste those entry fees. It ended up being a grab bag of races including half marathons, trail half marathons, mountain bike races, cycling races, and major cycling climbs in Colorado. In fact, in June I ended up having a race every weekend! This was either going to go well for the 58-year-old, or it was going to be an epic disaster. As a daily reminder, I put this sticky note on my computer monitor and crossed them out one at a time as they were completed on the way to Sacramento.

One by one I showed up and did my best.

Old West Half Marathon Trail Run – My first half marathon in three years in the desert running through the cactus and about 15 pounds overweight I was happy just to finish and still walk the next day.

Archipelago 50 Mile Mountain Bike – Too much single track for my taste, I was happy to see my wife at the end with a beer at the ready for my muddy, dirty, and bleeding legs.

Chicago Half Marathon – The first bright spot in the season with decent speed and plenty of oxygen in my lungs after finally dropping some pounds too.

San Diego Rock n’ Roll Marathon – It was glorious for about 8 miles. I was flying. Sub 2 hours was in the bag as far as I was concerned which I had only experienced one other time in my life 10 years ago. Then the legs seized up. My older sister ran it with me and smoked me too. Still, I could feel that I was learning and growing.

Giro di San Diego 100 Mile Bike – It reached 104 degrees at one point and I was able to push through when others were taking rides home. 9,500 feet of climbing that day and my legs never gave up. My time was nothing to write home about, but I sucked up the heat and made it to the end. A lot of others didn’t. A good sign for the bike and my personal fortitude.

Black Mountain Trail Half Marathon – The first half was great. A trend that seemed consistent with my half marathon season. The second half….not as great but I crossed the finish line.

Michigan Steelhead 70.3 Ironman – My early test to see where I was in advance of Ironman California. I snuck this in during a vacation back home to see my family and rented an old Italian race bike for $45 dollars from a bike shop owner in Holland near the race. The swim was in Lake Michigan with small craft warnings that morning. I got a flat at mile three that actually made me last in the entire race at that point but I overcame that mentally defeating incident to finish and have my third-best run ever. And for the first time, I didn’t cramp at the end.

Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race – I had no expectation that I would finish as I am not a fast mountain biker. I was right. I got pulled from the race at 41 miles. The good news is that I could have ridden all day. I still felt fresh. Even after spending the whole week before the race climbing 4 of the top 10 hardest cycling climbs for a road bike in Colorado.

It was an epic race season and I built a very solid base for Ironman California. It also built a very solid mental base from overcoming so many challenges in all those races.

Finally, it was time to dial it all in. I was nine weeks out. That meant one day every weekend would be the long day. A long swim and a long ride. And, during the week I would have to figure out how to work in the long run which ended up being problematic since I was experiencing an issue with the back of my upper right leg from the piriformis muscle that required four weeks of active release therapy and not a lot of running. In the end, I really only got about 3 to 4 weeks of running in before the race. I was banking on the base I built earlier in the year and thinking happy thoughts the best I could instead of thinking how I was going to get from mile 114.4 to 140.6 with very little run training. I told myself that I really didn’t have a choice at this point so no need to stress about something I can’t control. Just take that conversation and end it now. There isn’t an upside to having it over and over again with yourself.

The long days were good and solid. Previous to the race, I swam 4,000 yards and rode 102 miles one day every weekend for 7 consecutive weeks. I was in a groove every time. Solid and steady. No problem. My body was in the mode that this is what we do every weekend now. I was ready and looking forward to after the race where I could say I rode a century every week for two months. A super cool stat!

After driving 9 hours on Thursday, I headed over to Ironman Village in front of the Capitol in Sacramento to pick up my gear bags, race bib, and listen to the athlete briefing. It was fun to be back at an Ironman event and my previous anxiety before these events, fortunately, did not come along for the party. I had been here before and knew the drill. In my mind, this race was going to be all about if I could get it done on the run. The other foundation was laid down and solid.

On Saturday it was time to drop off my gear bags, rack my bike, and walk the transition from the swim to the River Cats baseball stadium which was billed as a ridiculous 3/4 of a mile distance. They were right. It was stupid long, but the guy at the athlete briefing said that except for in the stadium it would be all carpeted for our comfort (If this were a movie, the foreshadowing scene of the future plot twist would be entered here).

Afterward, it was time to carb up with my wife and daughter so we went for pizza and beer at The Barn a close walk from the stadium. It was a unique, completely outdoor venue with really good pizza from a food truck and their own craft beer to match.

I got to bed early and slept hard thankfully after more carb-loading at our Airbnb house. My amazingly agreeable wife drove me to the stadium by 5:30am where I efficiently set up my water bottles and food on my bike. Fortunately, I was toasty warm in the 49 degree weather as I had put my wetsuit on my lower half and had a big coat on my upper half. I headed for the line to get on the buses that would take us all up to the swim start in the river that would bring us back down to the stadium.

The line was long. Really long. I thought getting in line early for what would be a 7:30am start would give me plenty of time. However, Ironman had not ordered enough buses. The line wrapped around half of the stadium. Everyone was freaking out. I wasn’t too stressed since I don’t usually get in the water until the end of the line anyway. I had an expectation that I would enter the river somewhere between 8:00am and 8:10am which is what actually ended up happening.

The first half of the swim was in the American River. It was certainly a crisp 67 degrees, but it was calm since it wasn’t a packed lineup due to the late bus arrivals. It was probably the most relaxing swim I have ever had in a race. Everyone was well spaced out and waves from the other swimmers were few. Very enjoyable actually.

The second half of the swim seemed to come sooner than expected when we would merge into the Sacramento River. The key thing at this point was to identify the large orange buoy on the other side of the Sacramento River so you knew where to turn left. However, there were kayakers and boats everywhere in front of me and I couldn’t see any orange buoy. They were in the way. Usually, these people who are there for safety and to help swimmers stay on the perimeter unless you need them. On this day, they were all over the place obscuring where the route actually was.

Finally, I spotted the buoy but it was too late. I could feel the current of the river pushing me hard downstream as I swam perpendicular to the current across the river. I attempted to correct my path but fell about 15 to 20 feet short. No matter how hard I swam, I was going nowhere and ultimately started to get pushed downstream. I was not going to make it. I grabbed onto a nearby kayak to rest and try again. As I did this, I saw a pack of about 30 other people struggling to make it upstream just like I was trying to do as well. I asked the kayaker to bring me back to where she picked me up but, the current was so strong even she could not paddle back to where she picked me up. A judge rode up on a kayak and said you all paid enough of a penalty by now so swim downstream and catch the next buoy which I did.

The current was swift enough for me to know that I needed to make sure I veered to the right side of the river before I arrived at the dock where the ramps were staged to exit the river. Otherwise, I knew I might not be able to swim over to the entry point of the dock and I might get swept downstream. My plan worked well. I beached myself onto the ramp as was instructed at the athlete briefing, climbed up the ramp, and hit my Garmin watch to see an amazing 1:18:08! My past two races were in lakes and clocked 1:52:35 in Santa Rosa and 2:11:55 in Arizona. Gotta love that river current!

Excited by the fast swim I bounded up a few more ramps energized by blaring rock music, cheering crowds, and the promise of the carpeted run to the stadium that they talked about at the athlete briefing. They made it sound like the .75 mile run from the swim exit to the front of the stadium would be plush. Liars! Liars! There was zero carpet!! I was a man running with frozen feet on concrete in wet triathlon shorts, bare upper body, no shoes, and carrying a soggy wetsuit. This was not the luxurious run that was promised just the day before. Let’s just say the running ended well before I ended the .75 miles to the front of the stadium with even more concrete to cover to get to my bike bag and ultimately change into my bike gear before another .25 miles to get the bike and ultimately leave the stadium. A mile + just to do the transition! Thus, the stupid long transition time of 27:05 minutes.

As I hopped on my bike, I got the joke. Sure, Ironman gives you the PR setting swim, but to keep things even you have a long transition with a well-secured facility like a baseball stadium to stage the bike and run transition. In reality, I’m still ahead of plan so I got over it quickly. Plus, I’m not going to win so who cares. Time to go kill it on the bike course where it was billed as fast and flat.

Fast and flat it was. I was flying and constantly passing other athletes. I was going so fast that I was in my top gears for most of the first 28 miles. Yes, in my head I was starting to think of how much earlier I might finish and how cool it would be to have a significant PR. I then reminded myself that I was at just under 30 miles and there were still over 110 miles to go including that damn marathon.

As I hit the turnaround at mile 28 of the bike course, I was glad that my inner self tempered my expectations. The reason I was flying was not only because I was well prepared for the bike section, but also because there was a 30 to 40-mile-per-hour tailwind which is now my headwind that I had to grind against. We were riding through farmland outside of Sacramento so there was nothing to stop the gale-force winds. Just a wind-driven beatdown for most.

It didn’t bother me on the first pass. I was making ground on others on the way back and the base that I had laid down all summer doing major cycling climbs was paying off to be able to keep a long steady grind. The second ride out was even more glorious than the first because by then it was the afternoon and the winds picked up even more. The second return however was not as fun for the same reason. However, almost everyone left out there was doing worse than me and you could see that many were starting to drop and take breaks on the side of the road. I just settled into a steady and even grind that would get me to the end, but not burn me out before the marathon on my less-than-well-trained running legs.

One of the things that I did well during the bike portion was fueling myself. I practiced over the past two months with a slightly different plan that included a little more solid food that seemed to help settle my stomach against all the sugars and also provide a longer carb energy release. I ate two Cliff bars at the beginning of the bike to replace the 500 calories I lost in the swim. I drank 3.5 22oz bottles of Tailwind including one bottle that had caffeine for a total of 1150 calories. At mile 56 I munched on another 250-calorie Cliff bar. At mile 84 I downed a sleeve of Cliff chews for another 200 calories and then another sleeve at mile 110 for another 200 calories. Total bike calorie intake equaled 2,300 calories which were more than enough for the bike, but a nice added base in the tank to start the run which was the plan.

As I came to the end of the bike, my sherpa wife was there as always cheering me on and gauging my mental and physical state. I passed her test easily and was allowed to continue. Once again, it was a long trek through the baseball stadium during the transition. There was no running in bike shoes to the rack because the entire infield was covered with plastic interlocking plates that were very slippery underfoot. So, it was a long slow walk back to rack my bike and change into my running gear. Then, it was a long run back up and out of the infield and finally out of the stadium onto the run. In total, it was a 16-minute transition.

Out on the run, it was still that nasty windy and the first part was straight into it. Even worse, at the first-mile marker was the same brewery we went to the day before. It was next to the trail with more than one patron offering me to partake in liquid carbs before continuing any further. The smell of pizza from the brewery was also not appreciated or in any way motivating. After a few miles, the wind finally died down, the evil beer and pizza people were behind me, and as promised the route was gleefully flat.

As mentioned before, I had not been able to train sufficiently for the run due to the issue I was experiencing with the back of my upper right leg from the piriformis muscle. I went into this race hoping that the four weeks of active release therapy would at least get me to 15 miles into the run which was the average distance of my last long runs. If I did that, I could probably walk run the best and at least finish before the 17-hour cut-off time and check the box on Ironman #3. That was the lame meager goal I had in mind.

After about 5 (119.4) miles, my legs got into a rhythm and finally loosened up from the 112 miles on the bike. I was able to get into a nice steady gait and pace albeit a slow old-man pace. I was encouraged by the fact that I did not feel the need to walk and take breaks. I could just keep motoring along.

By the time I got to mile 10 (124.4) I had confidence, I could make my original 15-mile goal and started to think about what goals I could put in front of myself after that. The first goal I had in my mind was to get to mile 15 and tell myself to just try a little more to get to 17. It would be a bite-sized morsel that my brain could probably handle. I decided that I wouldn’t make any more goals than that so I wouldn’t be disappointed if I didn’t make them. Let’s just keep motoring along and enjoy the experience.

At mile 15 (129.4) it was completely dark and I arrived at the special needs bag station. I called for my bag and a friendly volunteer handed it to me. I had stashed additional nutrition and two long-sleeved layers for the drop in temperature after it became dark. One as an underlayer and the other was a half-zip pullover. I proceeded to zip off the top of my triathlon suit to put on the underlayer. One of the female volunteers jokingly said, “Sir, the get-naked transition station is another mile up the trail.” They were super fun volunteers. I got my underlayer on, zipped my top back up over it, and then rolled up the half zip and tied it around my waist for later as it wasn’t cold enough yet.

With that, I thanked my new friends and I was off to see if I could hit my goal of another two miles to the 17-mile mark. Fortunately, before I left that station, another volunteer handed me a headlamp to light up the trail. It was completely dark with no lights out there or any illumination by the moon.

Mile 17 (131.4) came easily, but I could tell the legs were getting tight and anything could happen at this time. I could start cramping in the hamstrings like had happened in my other two Ironman races, the piriformis muscle could start acting up, IT bands could start stiffening, the plantar fasciitis could come back, etc.. That is when you have to tell your Chimp Brain to shut up. That is the innate part of your brain that is trying to tell you to stop and not go past your boundaries. We had a chat and the chimp went and sat in the corner with a banana to keep him busy and happy. Chimps aren’t invited on race day and especially on race night!

The other thing I realized at mile 17 was that my nutrition plan continued to be perfect. I felt like I had the energy and my stomach felt great. There was no sign of GI distress at all. That added to my confidence, positive attitude, and general enjoyment of the race. I was not in a place of dreading the next step or hating these last miles asking myself what the hell was I doing out here. I knew where I was in the race and generally what I needed to do to get to the finish. Additionally, at this point, I knew that I was likely to finish which added a few more coins into the confidence bank as well. So, the next goal was that nice round number of 20 (134.4) miles which came right on schedule as well with my same slow rolling pace that included walking every other aid station taking on water and nutrition.

With that, me, myself, and I had a conversation and decided mile 22 was the next goal. At the athlete briefing the day before, they said that once you hit mile 20 you would do two loops around the Capitol Mall where the finish line is. Those two loops would take you in front of the Capitol of California, re-energize you with the crowds waiting for finishers, and you would start to hear the famous Mike Riley calling out names and saying “You are an Ironman!” Me, myself, and I thought if I could make it to mile 20, that additional boost of adrenaline might be able to keep me running all the way to the end.

I arrived at mile 22 (136.4) and sure enough, there were lots of people, noise, and Mike Riley continuously congratulating finishers off in the distance. Mile 22 served its purpose. There were no more goals to make. It was simply 4.2 miles to go at this point to run down the carpet and hear my name. The first loop was filled with new energy and went well until the last half mile where I could tell my body was kind of…..over it. I was looking for a nap for sure and was overall just tired. It was kind of agitated as I passed the sign that said “Finishers to the left, 1st and 2nd lap to the right.” I had to go to the right and my body was saying to me “Really, another one? Dude, I am so over this shit.”

My first true walking happened about a half mile later. Not because I physically couldn’t do it, my body was just running out of energy. By this time it was probably about 10:30pm and it had been moving forward for over 14 hours. Plus, it had been awake for about 18 hours. I would run a mile, walk a quarter mile, and repeat. If I walked any longer than a quarter mile, my legs were hard to get started moving again. They were seizing up finally. However, no cramping still at this point. This went on until the last mile where your ego kicks in and says, “Uh, you are an athlete so run the last mile slacker. You don’t walk across the line if you are an Ironman.” Well, plenty of people do, but that is not what your ego will tell you even in private.

Finally, there it was. The sign that said “Finishers to the left, 1st and 2nd lap to the right.” I got to go left. The final steps of a long journey since 2019 to complete the three-time Ironman goal through a pandemic, canceled races, injuries, and the biggest, and wide-ranging, race schedule of my life at age 58. As the crowds became thicker, the noise got louder, and my legs weren’t cramping, the satisfaction of the accomplishment grew stronger. Mike Riley for the third time call out “Tim Hackbardt from Escondido California, you are an Ironman!” and it was official.

Then, as usual, a volunteer hung a well-deserved finisher medal around my neck, another took the timing chip off my ankle because I couldn’t bend over that far, and my wife from behind the barrier asked me once again, “Athlete food, or medical tent?”