2006 Ironman Couer d' Alene Redux (Bake-o-thon)

The IM CDA saga has to start way back in September of 2005 when I and two hardy and brave souls, Ethan and Greg, participated in our inaugural Ironman way up in Penticton, Canada. My lovely wife Janine after having been a staid and steady supporter during the race decided she was ready to try her hand at IM. Now, this revelation took place shortly after I had finished the race and had uttered those immortal words "there's no way I'm doing another one of those @$@$^(& races in the near future". Being the supportive and generous husband I am and also realizing that I would not see my lovely wife for 6 months if I did not train with her, I reluctantly agreed to race IM CDA with her in June 2006. Trust me when I say I savored those three short months at the end of 2005 where I did not have to train like a madman and could even sleep in on Saturday mornings.

The pain, I mean training, started in January. We loaded up the pantry with a 6 month supply of nutritional goodies including various powders, gels, liquids, and pills. We had Hammer Nutrition on speed- dial and friends would stop by for Recoverite cocktails after long workouts.

Our training schedule started out modestly with our longer rides lasting 2 ½ to 3 hours. We seemed to have plenty of company on those rides, but the crowd soon thinned when the rides began to stretch to 4, 5, and 6 hours. During this time of intense training and preparation, I learned many things about myself and my relationship with my lovely wife. I learned some very important things about my body like I'm not immune from saddle sores, toenails are optional for distance runners, and it is not wise to schedule Monday morning meetings at 8AM after a weekend filled with 6 hour rides and 3 hour runs. I learned that there is a fine line between helpful encouragement for your spouse and comments that will land you sleeping with the dog in the garage. I also learned that true friends can be called on at the last minute to join you for a 2 hour ride in the dark and cold of a February night.

Our journey was aided by many old and new friends from the Huffers & Puffers Running Club, Tri-Valley Masters, and FMRC. We met John Stark on a grueling century ride down in Gilroy, his little brother Dave Stark when we began swimming at the local sewage treatment plant; I mean Shadowcliffs Lake, Carrie and Steve Chavez at the IM Seminar, and many others. Everyone was very helpful and supportive in our quest to finish strong and upright at CDA. Our coaches were exceptional with Myles Murphy providing superb guidance to Janine and Patricia LaSalle helping guide me through my second IM. In what seemed like a blink of an eye, we were traveling north to CDA. Our Southwest "Greyhound Bus of the Skies" Flight was packed full of A-type IM competitors and families. It was evident that the plane was full of triathletes just by the observation that most of the men on board had less leg and body hair than the women. I overheard one triDude discussing leg shaving techniques with the triGal next to him. We watched in amusement as many obviously anxious and excited athletes strutted around and showed off their latest race shirts and race schwag. I felt a tinge of sympathy for the non-IM crowd on board the plane, since they must have been thinking that in the event of an evacuation, they had no chance making it out of the emergency exits before all the tan and fit hardbodies on board.

We arrived in CDA on Wednesday night and met our housemates we would be sharing a place with for the next 6 days. I had only talked to Matt McCormick on the phone, so I had no idea what to expect. He had his wife, Kathy, and two daughters, Mallory and Madison with him. All my worries were dispelled the moment we met the family. We could not have asked for better housemates. Since I seem to have an affinity for small kids and dogs, Mallory took an instant attachment to me. From that point forward, I was the go-to guy for checker games (talk about having your ego bruised, try getting beat by a 6- year old repeatedly at checkers), watching movies, and hitting the playground. I was also not allowed to cross the street without her holding my hand so that I would not stray out into traffic.

The next three days were filled with registration, butterflies in the stomach, practice swims, a little riding and running, more butterflies, driving the bike course with Ross Pirkle and his dad Alan, the butterflies growing to the size of small birds, the team dinner on Thursday, meetings with our coaches, visiting with our Moms who came to CDA to cheer us on and volunteer as "catchers" and finally checking in all of our gear on Saturday afternoon. Saturday night finally arrived and I lay in bed wondering what Sunday would bring.

4AM- What is that loud buzzing? Oh crap, that's the alarm. Time to get up and go do this thing they call Ironman. We drove down to the course and found a decent parking spot realizing we would not be back to the car for at least another 14 hours. We joined the throng of athletes somberly walking towards the transition area. Everyone seemed very quiet and reserved, probably battling the same internal demons I had been chatting with all morning. After last minute checks and additions to our transition bags, Janine and I suited up and walked down to the water. The beach was literally wall to wall rubber. It resembled some new age S&M fetish festival. While waiting for the cannon to go off, I gave Janine a kiss, wished Chris McCrary good luck, shook hands with Todd Anderson, and planted a big wet one on John Stark. He reciprocated with a nice good luck butt pinch. I was ready to go.

Ironman swims are unique in the sport of triathlon. I guess the organizers feel the athletes do not have enough to worry about so they throw in a mass swim start. 2300 crazed lemmings splashed, crashed, punched, kicked, and chewed their way into the water. After about 20 seconds I was praying for the relative peace and quiet of a nice rugby scrum. In just the first half mile, I felt like I had gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson, including the ear biting. During one turn around the buoys, I was literally pushed under the buoy. I looked up and saw this big orange pyramid surrounded by various arms, legs, and unidentifiable body parts. On the second lap of the swim, the melee did subside a bit, but it was still fairly violent all the way in.

I ran up the beach into the waiting arms of my very own wetsuit stripper. I made sure my shorts were secure, then lay down on the grass and told him to be gentle. He ripped my wetsuit off with a mighty tug, and then herded me towards the changing tent. I entered the tent amid a flurry of clothes changing, Bodyglide application, and suntan lotioning. I exited the other side attired, lathered, and balmed ready to ride.

We left the transition area through a tunnel of spectators cheering us on. I saw many of them starting their first beer of the day and I wanted to warn them that pacing was necessary since they would be out there under grueling drinking conditions. I hoped they took precautions and kept their beer/tequila ratio balanced accordingly for the conditions. The first lap of the bike went smoothly except for the howling headwind on the back stretch of the course. What was up with that? A couple of packs passed me doing their best Tour de France peloton impressions, but I resisted the temptation to suck wheel. I projected some negative energy towards the cheating riders and was rewarded with the sight of a few of the scofflaws cooling their heels in the penalty tent. The heat began to build on lap two and I was draining my aero bottle as fast as I could fill it. I did not see any other FRMC'letes with the exception of Kiko who blew by me on lap 1 like I was in reverse. Despite being out on the bike for over 5 hours, the time passed fairly quickly. I either had some song stuck in my head (why did it have to be "Freebird"?) or I was wondering where Janine was on the course. I hoped everyone was OK and having a good ride.

I came into T2 and started to follow my bike as some volunteer wheeled it away. Another volunteer tackled me and steered me towards the changing tent where I was met by my personal tri-Valet. He dumped out my run gear, packed up my bike gear, helped with sun lotioning, and made sure I was ready for the next part of the adventure. I jogged out onto the course into a screaming mass of humanity. The first three miles felt as they should, I was on pace, even a bit fast, so I kept replaying Patricia, my coach's, words that she would find me and kick my ass if I deviated from my run pace. I slowed it down for the next few miles, but then noticed that I was slowing down too far. My legs started to get heavy and I was no longer sweating. I tried to do some damage control by walking and forcing in calories and electrolytes. I was never able to get a second wind, so I made the best of it and walked/slow jogged the rest of the marathon. The temperature seemed to keep climbing and rumors circulated as to how hot it really was. I heard estimates of anywhere from 95F to 110F. Our team supporters were awesome, including my Mom, Janine's Mom, the Cramers, the Starks, the McCormicks, Kelby, Patricia and many more that lined the course. A few of my teammates passed me but always took a moment to offer a word of encouragement or in Carrie's case, a big hug. All the assistance made the difference in completing what became a major suffer-fest. I saw Janine with her ever present smile as I was rounding the corner back into the neighborhood. She was not that far behind me and I knew she would finish strong.

At mile 25, I remembered my favorite slogan from IM Canada last year – Suck it up Cupcake! I rallied what reserves I had left and broke into what some may call a run. The sight of the finish line and the cheering crowds spurred me on. I crossed the line and was caught by two of the helpful volunteers. They were immediately replaced by my Mom and Janine's Mom. I'm not sure my Mom had seen me covered in so much goo and slime in at least 35 years. Despite looking and smelling like something our cat just hacked up, they took expert care of me.

Janine finished sooner than I expected, actually beating my marathon time by 1 minute. I'm not sure I will live that one down for awhile. I was not at the finish line to see her cross, but I'm sure she did it in style with her trademark grin. I'm extremely proud of her and now call her my very own "IronMaiden".

During the post-race, we learned that everyone had had there own set of challenges and adventures during the race. I'm sure we will be reveling our families and friends with our heroic tales of battling the puking pixies, stomach cramp serpents, the vomiting vermin, and the muscle cramp monsters for days to come.

Congrats to all.