The Post Ironman Struggle Is Real, BTW.

How do you put into words the best feeling you've ever had in your life?

It's been 4 weeks since Ironman Madison, and I am still struggling to find the words that can accurately describe those 13 hours of my life. Sure, I could go through my whole race report and tell you how nervous I was, or how my pacing turned out, or even what happened with my nutrition plan, but those were just pebbles in the gravel on a giant mountain of a day. Don't worry, I will still go over that, but I think Ironman recaps are so much more than a data recap. They are a chance to analyze and interpret all the ups and downs and emotions that a race can bring.

Let's go back to 5 years ago. When I was a pack a day smoker. When I worked in a nightclub and spent my days sleeping until 4, only to wake up, get ready, and go get a beer and shot of Jameson before my shift at 10 pm that night. It was a vicious cycle, but it was all I knew. After spending 12 years in the service industry, drinking and sleeping were the two things that were just part of the deal. But about 4 years ago I made the shift into a healthier lifestyle, which included quitting smoking and eventually becoming sober.

And now my life is full of early morning swimming, long bike rides on the weekends and running at every chance I can get. I have also surrounded myself with a crew of people who have similar goals and aspirations, and I must say, life is great. I feel more mentally strong than I ever have before, and the physical transformation was a happy byproduct of this change. Which brings me to where I am today.

This time last year I decided I wanted to do something that most people would never dream of doing. I wanted to complete 140.6 miles in under 17 hours. Call me crazy, but that sounds like one hell of a dream.

Now, because I think I am somewhat of a glutton for punishment, I decided to compete at Ironman Madison. A notoriously tough course. But, as Jimmy Dugan would say, "The hard is what makes it great."
Woof. And what a fricking course it was.

The swim in Lake Monona was long, mostly because it really was. The 3rd buoy led me to believe I was making progress, but lo and behold, I was merely starting into the longest stretch of a swim I have ever had in my life. However, with the wave starts I was pleased to find that it didn't feel like as much of a washing machine as everyone had described. While I still got a few good elbow jabs to the head and one or two kicks to the chest from my fellow athletes, I actually felt pretty serene in the water.

Once I was out, I got my wetsuit stripped by a very nice gentleman, then I was off to sprint the helix and get to the transition. I am being one hundred percent honest when I say running up that helix was the coolest thing on the planet. I even turned to one lady and said "It feels like we are in the Olympics!" She didn't like my joke, but I thought it was funny and really accurate.

As I got onto my bike I had settled in and started to prepare mentally for the day ahead of me. As a not so strong cyclist, I knew this leg would make or break me. But when you start the ride by passing a house with free puppies in front of it on mile 10, you just know its going to be a good day. It took all my willpower to not get off and go play with them.

So the bike went as expected. Hills, great spectators, more hills, lots of farms, some cows, another hill or two, etc. However as I approached mile 40 I had to make one of the bigger decisions of that day. To walk Barlow or not. I had ridden it twice in training, but I felt like I had the energy of race day to get me up that beast. Plus when I got there and saw my coach in a foam cowboy hat and gold jumpsuit at the top, I knew I had to rally. And rally I did. Getting up Barlow, and the high that followed kept me going until about mile 75. And then things got dark. I was getting nauseous. My legs were getting tired. And I no longer wanted to be on my bike anymore. I literally at one point had to force feed myself a Lara bar and choke it down with some water. I knew that if I became underfed and dehydrated, this would be the beginning of the end. And as I hit Midtown for the second time, I saw Jeff and Kendra, the two best cheerleaders I could have ever hoped for. And they got me up that hill and over that mental slump I was in. It was a lifesaver, and I don't think they even realize how crucial they were to me finishing that bike ride.

The amazing thing about Ironman is that in the middle of things, when you feel your worst, you somehow pull out things that you never thought you would be capable of. As I rode into transition, I had a second wind that was pushing me onto the run course. It didn't matter that 20 minutes ago I thought I was going to throw my bike in the corn field, or that I thought I was going to puke up all my uncrustables and Huma packets I had consumed, or that I had no idea how I was going to tackle a full marathon. I was onto the next part of my day and I was ready to crush it.

I was off the bike and into my happy place. Only this was not like my normal happy place. I was immediately in the mind set of telling myself to "just move forward". There was no warm up. No build. I was thrust into my marathon and had to keep telling myself over and over this was my fucking day, how bad do I really want it? Luckily I saw my coach, Mike, right as I got out of T2 and he yelled "This is yours. GO GET IT!" And I knew I could do it.

Every mile hurt. Every single damn step was a challenge. Now don't get me wrong, some portions of the run I felt great and like I could run a million miles. But then there were many moments where I couldn't fathom how I was going to get through 26.2 miles. But I had the support of everyone I love. And each high five and cheer was enough to push my ass forward. Plus, State street was one of the most exhilarating crowd spectacles I had ever seen. You will never feel like as much of a rockstar as I did that day running by all those bars. I don't care if those cheers and support were fueled by Miller Lite and fireball, I was absolutely floored by that kind of love.

And special shout out to Coca Cola. That shit is liquid gold. Every aid station I took a swig and it was like when Popeye eats the Spinach and all of a sudden grows biceps. While I had told myself initially I was going to wait until mile 10 to drink Coke, I knew immediately that wasn't going to happen.

And as the sun began to set, and I made my way back towards State Street that day, a huge sense of sadness actually hit me. It was all over. Those 13 hours went faster than any minute I have experience prior. While some of those minutes may have felt like years, the day as a whole went by in a blink of an eye. It was the best day of my life, and I wish I could go through it again times a million.

The most poignant moment of my day came at the end. I rounded the last corner by the capital and could see the finisher chute. But before I got to it, Mike ran up next to me and said the words that finally made me cry my first tears of that day. He looked at me not only as a proud coach, but I could see that he was even more proud of me as my big brother. And he said the words that I will never forget for the rest of my life. "You did it. Everyone is waiting for you." And the flood gates opened, and I ugly cried harder than I have in a while. I was an Ironman. I had become someone who I never thought I would be. And I was someone who was worthy.

I had finally found who I was meant to be and how to be truly happy. And it only took me 140.6 miles to get there.