Race Recap (see pics in the post prior to this one)

Are you kidding? It's over already? But I don't even remember half of it......and maybe that's not such a good thing.

Thanks to everyone who checked in during the day, who made phone calls, and who prayed that I would not die during this whole ordeal. I think the prayers came in handy around mile 20 on the run when I started going cross-eyed.....

So, here's a recap of my iron-day (everything starts with "iron" around here and will continue to do so for a while....). This could be a little long so get ready and pace yourself (everything is paced around here too).

IRONMAN ARIZONA: 2.4MI SWIM, 112 MI BIKE, 26.2MI RUN

TOTAL TIME: 11:09:46
OVERALL PLACE: 216/2200
AGE GROUP: 23/141
SWIM TIME: 1:05:38
T1: 6:16
BIKE TIME: 5:44:50
T2:2:07
RUN TIME: 4:10:57

RACE DAY:
3:30am came a little early, literally. I had forgotten to change my clock to take into account the new Arizona time and thus actually woke up at 2:30am.....oh well, I figured if this was the worst thing that happened, I would be alright. Breakfast consisted of grits, scones, OJ, water and gatorade. A combo that I had perfected over the past 7 1/2 months but one that was, well, getting a little boring. Kaylea (ironwife) and Ben (ironbro) decided to brave the early morning and accompany me to the race site, leaving the condo around 4am. Getting to the site was uneventful and dark and so we couldn't see too much except for the over $12,000,000 worth of bikes sitting in the middle of a field, ready for T1. Yep, these bikes average $3,000-$5,000 with some of the pro bikes (and the rich guys that race because they can afford it) costing up to $12,000. The wheels alone can cost $1,000-$2,000 apice....yeah, each one.   You'd think they would come with a motor or at least a pedaling midget for that price.   

The transition area opened at 5am and the pre-race routine(s) began. It was interesting to watch how each individual dealt with the "stress" of what was about to happen. For the most part, everyone kept to themselves, but there were those few that couldn't help but be as annoying as possible.....I think one of the officials took one of them to the porta-potty and introduced the swim a little early, just to calm them down.....so nice to have good help.
After checking that my bike was in working order, loading it with fluids and salt tablets, re-checking my transition bags, and going for a quick jog, I stretched, swung my arms around a little to look like I knew what I was doing, and donned my wetsuit thus making the first official step toward a voluntary 11 hour torture....

7am: SWIM START
So, I've raced in mass swim starts before but they've all begun on the shore and we would run into the water. Because of that, if you were fast enough, you could out run everyone and not worry about having to swim next to anybody. This race was a little different. 2200 of us jumped into the lake and lined up behind some kayaks, treading water for around 15 minutes before starting. It was wild to say the least. The national anthem was sung from the shore and we prepared ourselves for what could prove to be the last day of our lives.  So maybe it wasn't that intense, but the spectacle of it all, the sun rising in our faces, the thousands of people watching and cheering from the shore, the pink and blue swim caps bobbing up and down in the water anxious to get moving....it was somewhat surreal. I had read that the start would come all of the sudden, without warning and most likely catch me off guard. As soon as I saw the kayaks turning away from us, though, I knew we were about to take off and prepared myself to be drowned (this included peeing on myself if you want to know the details, and you probably should). Swimming with 2,000 people is not something you can practice in a pool, believe it or not. It was strange, the first 15 minutes or so, feeling as though I really never touched the water but rather propelled myself forward by swimming on people's wetsuits. It seemed effortless, though, and besides being elbowed in the eye, dunked a couple of times, and had my legs grabbed by what I'm assuming was a human, the swim was relatively uneventful. 

2.4 miles in the water. A distance that, while the shortest of the 3 events, probably took the most work on my part during training given that I have no real swimming background and learned the distance from scratch. I was pretty satisfied with the swim and next time feel that I'll be able to push it more than I did this time.

T1:
"T" stands for transition of which there are 2 in a triathlon. The first is between the swim and bike, where you change from your wetsuit to anything you might wear on the bike. The second is between the bike and run, where you at least change your shoes for the run. It is the strangest feeling to go from being horizontal for a little over an hour, breathing rhythmically, and drinking dirty water to suddenly ask your body to stand up straight without falling over. As I approached the stairway exit from the lake, I tried to prepare myself so that I wouldn't look like a total idiot trying to get up the stairs. It worked, partially, as I stumbled up the first couple of steps, groggy and light headed from the blood that had just rushed out of my face to my legs. In larger events like this one, there are volunteers that are there specifically to help you get out of your wetsuit. If you've never seen the spectacle of someone trying to get themselves out of a wetsuit alone, you're missing out on one of life's greatest opportunities to laugh. On the other hand, seeing 2,200 grown people flop down on their backs while two strangers pull off a body suit made of neoprene isn't exactly what you'd call smooth either (not to mention that someone inevitably loses their shorts during the process....that makes it interesting, and probably illegal). After the wetsuit is off, it's off to the change tent where I dropped off my goggles and swim cap and put on my helmet, socks, shoes and other miscellaneous attire for the bike. I grabbed my bike from row 6 and headed out to the course. I saw the Ironfam for the first time as I got on the bike and was relieved that I wasn't yet dead.

BIKE START:
I jumped on my $12,000 bike....yeah, not quite but I did get on my bike and headed out for a 112 mile ride in the Arizona sun. My plan was to keep things "under control" via heart rate around 145-150 for the first 80-90 miles and then push it for the final 20-30 miles. The course was set up as 3 loops which worked great for spectators and athletes alike and I was able to see the Ironfam multiple times during the ride.

Each loop out of town was slightly uphill and against a wind that became stronger as the day progressed while coming back in was with the wind and downhill. The first loop was without incident and I cruised along feeling better than I had expected. I trained nearly the entire 7 1/2 months on a trainer indoors and wasn't sure what to expect on what was my first ride over 30 miles outside. I was excited, though, that things were going so well.....so well, that is, until what must have been a 10 pound killer bee targeted my face and ended up in the ear slot of my helmet. It buzzed around inside my helmet while I was cruising at around 30MPH and ended up in my ear hole (yeah, that's a medical term). After screaming like a girl and shaking my head like a schizophrenic, the stupid thing ended up stinging me on my neck and taking off, laughing, cursing, and flipping me off for getting in his way. After a few choice words and a few more screams, I re-focused and finished the out portion of the second loop cursing anything with wings and more than 2 legs. On my bike, I carry fluids in 3 water bottles on the frame, and in an aero bottle on my aero bars off the front. The aero bottle has a piece of yellow mesh that plugs up the top hole to keep things from splashing out while making it possible to fill the thing without having to take off a lid. Little did I know that the mesh could pop out if going over a bump too fast, which I did, and only figured it out when I suddenly had orange gatorade all over my face. So, I had a neck swelling up from a bee sting, legs that were starting to feel burnt, 96 degree weather, and a face full of gatorade that I was sure would attract every friend of that stupid killer bee that attacked me earlier and I would die not from lack of training but rather from 3,500 bee stings to the body. So, I rode along for another 20 miles or so, splashing gatorade and chanting an anti-bee mantra until I found a guy on the course that had picked up all of the yellow mesh things that other people had lost, one of which he generously handed over.....disaster averted for now.

On the last loop, I decided to pick it up a little because my legs still felt great and found that I could pass people by the dozens going up the hill against the wind.  I was elated that the bike plan was working better than expected. My nutrition consisted of power bars, gels, gatorade, water, and sodium tablets which seemed to do the job until toward the end of the last loop when my quads started cramping a little. I increased my water intake and stopped the cramping, but couldn't help but wonder if they would come back to find me later during the run.

Overall, the bike was great. Ironwife bought my cervelo for me as a graduation present earlier in the year and I was pleasantly surprised by how it performed. I'll get the fancy wheels someday, but not yet. We've gotta have a baby first....but maybe those wheels have an anti-bee coating that would protect me from future attacks.  Yeah, that's the excuse I'll use.

112 miles on the bike down.

T2:

Coming into transition for the run, the crowd was awesome.  The course is set up so that the transitions are at the "hot corner" which is filled with spectators and music, and it feels like you're in a pro bike race or something.  I pulled my feet out of my bike shoes and coasted to a stop to dismount.  Usually, when getting off the bike after that long of a ride, you automatically return to the same position you were on during the bike as soon as you hit the ground.  I fought the urge to bend over as if in the aero position but did find myself stumbling forward a little too quickly as my legs tried to get used to the fact that I was on the ground.  I made it look like I knew what I was doing, though, and headed to the change tent once again for the final leg of the race. 

 The volunteers were awesome and grabbed my transition bag from me as I took off my bike gear.  I strapped on my fuel belt (carries bottles of fluids for me) and running shoes and headed out the door.  After tying my shoes and more sunscreen, I took off at a pretty good pace, once again feeling better than I ever expected.  

Little did I know that I was about to experience pain like never before.  Remember those cramps on the bike?   Just wait.....Micah got a little cocky for his first Ironman.   

Run Start:

The sun was officially hot and the temp topped out at 96 degrees--the first 90 degree day they'd had for the year in AZ.  So, I was cruising on the run.  I mean, I felt great.  No cramps, no problem staying hydrated.  I used sponges and water at each aid station to keep myself cool, and stuck to my nutrition plan to stay hydrated.  For the first 13 miles or so, I was averaging around 7:30-7:45/mile, faster than my expected 8min/mile pace.  I was feeling great.  I would smile to the spectators, kiss Ironwife on each loop that I passed her, sing to myself, and yelp each time I thought I saw something with a stinger flying my way.  That was all good and fun for the first 2 of 3 8.7 mile loops.  You see, I have never run a marathon in my life.  In fact, my longest run during this training was 15 miles, as prescribed by my training log, and I figured another 11 wouldn't be a big deal.  

So, there I was,  doing much better in the swim than expected, feeling great on the bike, feeling better on the run and thinking that I had it in the bag.  Yep, IronMicah in his first Ironman breaks 10:30:00, amazing!!!   And yet the Irongods knew different and smiled as I neared the 20 mile marker.  My pace had gradually slowed to around 8:30/mile for miles 16-20 but I didn't think much of it because it was so hot.  I would still average 8min/mile, no problem.  All of the sudden, though, at mile marker 20, I started seeing double, my eyes were crossing without my input, and I was getting hungry and sleepy.  For those of you that have been there, you know that those are signs of heat exhaustion/heat stroke and probably indicate that you should pull over for a while.  Well, since I'm no doctor, I didn't know what was happening, so I pushed on (or maybe I just ignored it??).  Mile 21 came along and my legs said they'd had enough.  I have never cramped like I did that day.  My toes cramped, my arches cramped, my calves, hams, quads and hip flexors cramped.  At one time, even my "sphincter", my groin, and my unmentionables cramped.  I was cruising along at a 10:30/mile pace looking like a guy that had two rods stuck in each leg and another in his hoo-ha.  I could not bend at the knee, hip, or ankle and was doing everything I could to not ping-pong between the light poles on the sides of the path.  Then mile 22 came along....I was hurting.  By this time I would stop every few hundred meters and stretch, which helped until I decided to move again.  I was eating and drinking everything at the aid stations to try and find something that helped.  All it did was make me bloated, though, and for the first time in my life, even with  all the preparation, planning and sacrifice, I was struggling--a circumstance which is a little foreign to me.  It was horrible at the time and the damage I did to my body is still waking me up at night a week later.  I learned, though, that I'm not invincible, that things will not always come easy and that I cannot expect things to go my way just because I'm talented, I prepare well and I have the desire.  Sometimes, it takes more.   And that is what will keep me coming back to Ironman.  I can be better.  I can prepare more.  I can be closer to perfect at this distance.  That's what I'm shooting for.  

The last few miles were a mix of shuffle, walk, crying, yelling, being discouraged and yet elated that the finish was near.  I thought it would only end with my body on the side of the road in a shriveled heap oozing gatorade, gel, and sunscreen, and cramping body parts with a million bees circling overhead.  It didn't, though, and even though the memory is foggy and seen in double, I came to the finish line to see the Ironfam and Ironhills waiting patiently, 30 minutes later than my projected time, cheering as though I'd just won the stinking race.  It was awesome.  An experience that I want to repeat yearly from now until I die.  

26.2 mile run done.....barely. 

Some people say this is crazy and, well, it is.  It's the first thing in my life, though, where the result of my hard work and effort was less than I had expected.  You see, most of the time it's easy for me to do well just because I try.  Ironman let me know that this time, my best wasn't enough.....and I love that.  I'll be back.  You'll see another Ironman on my schedule in the future.  I can't let a 26.2 mile run deter me from trying again.  The bees on the other hand.....I don't know how to train for that. 

Thanks again for all of your support, Lord knows I needed it.