Beach2Battleship Iron Distance Triathlon: A Really Long Blog Post for a Really Long Race

As I hobbled across a small, wooden bridge late afternoon on Saturday, October 20^th my Garmin 910XT watch started to beep.  I glanced down and saw my race time had just crossed 10 hours.  I’d been doing nonstop swimming, biking, and running since 7:30 that morning and now darkness was approaching.

Was I close to the finish?  I guess that depends on your perspective.  Considering I started the day needing to complete 140.6 miles, only having ~16 to go seemed pretty doable.  On the other hand, a 16 mile run is still far longer than any distance I’d ever done and I was asking my body to deliver when all signs pointed to it shutting down.

My knee pain was intense, my left quad was in spasms, I was cramping badly, blisters lined both of my big toes, my stomach was upset, sunburn had long since set in, and I had several skin burns from where my wetsuit had rubbed me raw earlier that morning. 

And I was one of the lucky ones.

I knew of a 55 year-old woman who was hit by a truck while on a training ride earlier in the year.  She spent 6 weeks in a coma and several months in a hospital before fighting her way back to the starting line.

I saw multiple people on race day who crashed their bike and were now running with terrible road rash from the street literally ripping skin off their body.

Another dude I saw was missing his entire left arm at the shoulder and his right arm at the elbow but was still competing.   As I passed, he even managed a smile on his face. 

This is the Ironman. 

It’s where you discover your physical limits.  It’s where you get a final exam in mental toughness.  It’s where you’re presented with the ultimate gut check.

Whatever pain and problems you’re facing, it’s very likely others are going through much more.  You think you’re confronted with adversity?  Look around you.  There’s no point feeling sorry for yourself. 

And that’s why the Ironman is so amazing.  Despite all the uncertainties of the day, one thing will definitely happen:  you will leave in awe of the perseverance of your competitors…and maybe even yourself.

Friday, October 19 (pre-race meeting)

Around 10am the day before the race, my entourage of my Mom, Dad, Sue, and Baby Grant all piled into the SUV to make the 150 mile drive to Wilmington, NC.  

As a side note, all great athletes have an entourage, but having an entourage doesn’t make you a great athlete.  I think that was one of those tricky statements on my high school SATs.

As another side note, I am considering hiring a technical support Manager to join my entourage.  It took my Dad and me about an hour to figure out how to collapse and pack up the baby stroller and load it into the car…and yes, both of us have Engineering degrees.

Anyway, we arrived at the event location just in time for the 2pm pre-race meeting.   

 The race Director provided a good overview of the scale of the Beach2Battleship event:

• 1700 participants (~1000 doing the Half Iron Distance and ~700 doing the Full Distance)
• 48 states and ~60 countries represented (I could be completely making those numbers up, but I feel like that’s what he said)
• 1600 volunteers
• A course that covers several counties throughout North Carolina

After the overview, he asked how many participants were doing their first Iron-Distance Triathlon.  I was one of many raising their hand with great pride. 

He then asked how many people were doing this race as their first Triathlon ever.  To my amazement, a few guys raised their hands.  These lunatics were about to attempt an Ironman and had never even done a Triathlon of any distance before. 

I think the technical term for what that takes is called “gigantic balls.”  

The race Director summed up well what everyone else was thinking…”well, we’ll have IVs waiting for you at the finish line!”

Anyway, along with the fun facts, he also attempted to lay out what race day would look like:

1. On the morning of the race, everyone should go to the bike transition area where they can check the air in their tires, fill up their water bottles, etc.
2. From there, shuttles will take all the athletes a couple of miles up the beach for the swim start
3. In the Full Iron Distance (the one I was doing), all swimmers start at the same time from the beach and then proceed along a 2.4 mile salt water channel connected with the ocean
4. Along the way, all racers need to swim on the outside of any orange buoys but can go on either side of any other colored buoys.
5. After exiting the ocean, you run through showers to rinse off the salt water, grab your swim-to-bike bag, and then head into a changing tent where you take off your wetsuit and change into your biking gear. 
6. You then grab your bike from the rack, ride for 112 miles around North Carolina and end up in the middle of downtown Wilmington at the convention center.
7. Volunteers will be waiting to take your bike and you will then run into the convention center to grab your bike-to-run bag and change into your running gear.
8. At that point, it’s just a short 26.2 mile marathon sprint to the finish.

 Well then…why didn’t someone just tell me it would be that easy! 

Friday, October 19 (race check-in and setup)

After the meeting, I headed to an adjacent room in the convention center for check-in.  Here was a pic of what the registration area looked like...pretty cool.

For the first time, I started getting some goose bumps from nervousness and excitement.  I was going to do this!

In order to check in, I needed to hand in my medical waiver (basically agreeing that it’s cool if I die), and show my driver’s license and USA Triathlon membership.  I then picked up my timing chip, ankle strap, swim cap, t-shirt, and 5 event equipment bags that I would fill with my own gear and then check in at other locations.

For those who read my last post, you’ll remember that I brought nearly 100 items of my own for the race (everything from bike helmet and shoes, to salt tablets for cramping) and I needed to transfer all of my stuff to the 5 bags that were provided.  Here is a pic of me getting organized.

Once I had all the equipment sorted into the proper bags, I then had to figure out where I was supposed to check in each one.

It turns out that the bike-to-run bag was to be checked in at the convention center, the special-needs-bike bag and special-needs-run bag were to be checked in outside of the convention center, and my swim-to-bike bag (along with my actual bike) needed to be checked at the bike transition area 10 miles away from the convention center. 

Sound complicated?  It was…and I’m giving you the drastically oversimplified version here.

The moral of the story is this was going to be a ridiculously challenging test physically and mentally.  

With so many logistics, a brutally long course, and this being my first time racing this distance, it was virtually guaranteed that something would go wrong.  

And that’s why my only strategy was to make it to the finish line…  

Saturday, October 20 (5:30am Pre-race)

My family and I left the hotel and arrived at the bike transition area (called T1 as it is the first transition and where you “transition” from swimming to biking) by 5:30am.  I planned to arrive 2 hours before the race which seemed like a lot of time until I started getting organized.

I waited in line for awhile to get my body marked with my race number.  I spent several minutes mixing my Perpetuum energy supplement into my water bottles.  I put anti-fog cleaner on my goggles.  I placed heating packs in my biking shoes.  I checked the air pressure in my bike tires.  I took 600mg of ibuprofen.  I frantically looked for my swimming cap which I somehow forgot to bring.  I directed my mom to somehow get me a new swim cap.  I waited in line for a port a potty.  I put on my wetsuit…  

…next thing I knew, I heard an announcement over the loud speaker… “last call for the shuttle!”  

 Wow, that was fast.  Shuttles had been driving back and forth all morning taking racers from T1 to the start of the swim and now there was only 1 remaining.  Despite trying to get there early, I somehow barely managed to catch the last shuttle of the day.  

My mom came through huge and found a race official to get me another swim cap just as I boarded.  I’d spent so much time preparing and I still felt like everything was a huge rush.  I was totally stressed which is not the ideal state of mind before a race like this.

The shuttle dropped me off just in time for the announcer to say that warm-up time was complete and everyone needed to be out of the water for the swim start.  

So, I was about to do a race that would likely take me 14 hours and I didn’t even get a warm-up before it started; not exactly the ideal way to begin my first Ironman.

Saturday, October 20 (Race Swim Start at 7:30am)

At 7:29am I stood in a mob of 700 other racers around the starting line waiting for the horn.  As I was quadruple checking to make sure my swim cap and goggles were secure, I realized the last 10 months of training were nearly all focused on this day…and it was finally here.  

As if there wasn’t enough adrenaline in the air, Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” started blasting over the loudspeaker right before the start.  People were jumping up and down and ready to get it going.  

I can’t speak for women, but I believe most men are meat heads at heart.  We need to feel adrenaline like this flowing through us at times.  The rush was unbelievable.

I decided to make my way toward the front of the pack.  I knew the swim start is complete chaos but I didn’t want to hold back and wait for things to clear out.  I wanted to be in the mix.  

As the horn sounded, off I went; I dashed from the beach to the ocean with crowds of other racers beside me.  

Here is some video from the race start.  

As you can see, the first orange buoy is only about 30 yards out.  Everyone was required to swim to the left of that buoy before turning 90 degrees to the right and following the channel.  Needless to say, the beginning of the swim was madness with so many people fighting for the shortest path around the buoy.

In the beginning, it felt like every stroke I took landed on someone’s back.  I was kicking people and getting kicked.  Elbows were flying everywhere.  Was this going to be the scene for all 2.4 miles?  I was having a hard time breathing and was only a minute into the race…probably not a good sign.

Once I made the turn around the first buoy, I found a tight opening between a couple of swimmers that I thought I could squeeze through.  I went for it and made the pass and then was able to settle into a nice rhythm out of all the chaos.

After 20 minutes, I began to feel my skin getting rubbed raw from my wetsuit on both sides and my neck.  I wasn’t exactly sure what was rubbing but knew it was very uncomfortable.  Obviously, I wasn’t going to stop to try to fix it in the middle of the swim so I just kept pushing.

About 30 minutes into the swim, my stroke was feeling long and smooth and I was really pleased with my progress.  I knew I was somewhere towards the front but wasn’t exactly sure where.  At the 1.5 mile mark, I reached another orange buoy where I made a left turn and headed for the finish.

I made it to the dock after all 2.4 miles, crawled up the ladder, looked at my watch, and saw it was 55 minutes…much faster than I should have been able to do that distance which likely meant there was a nice current helping in the channel.

I ran through the showers, got the salt water off of me, and started the 400 yard jog to T1 where I saw a crazy crowd and even my entourage there to cheer me on…

One of the first things I saw was my mom holding a gigantic Busy Notepads banner!  Nice...at least I know my Mom reads my blog.  For those of you who don’t, I’ve used the phrase “Busy Notepads” all year for motivation.  Why?  Because you can rearrange the letters and it spells “Don’t be a Pussy!”  I’m still amazed I came up with that.

What I didn’t know was that baby Grant must be reading my blog too.  I saw him decked out in his Schmeis35for35 gear as well.  What a surprise!

…and what’s that his hat says?

Yes, he has his very own Busy Notepads hat!  Apparently Sue had it made for him...I had no idea.  Pretty cool.

There truly is nothing like seeing your Mom and 1 month old baby reminding you…”Don’t Be a Pussy!”  

How could I possibly not finish now?

The Bike

After a 10 minute transition to rinse off the salt water, run the ¼ mile barefoot to the changing tent, and get out of my wetsuit and into my biking shorts and jersey, I was ready to begin the 112 mile bike ride.  Here is a pic of me exiting T1 with my bike.

Taking in nutrition on the bike is critical and my plan was to get most of my calories through liquids.  My bike was stocked with 4 bottles at the start of the trip.  

You can see from this photo that one is an aero bottle so I can drink without using my hands, and the other 3 are in storage on my bike.  My plan was to go through a bottle every 10 miles which means I should go through ~11 bottles on the ride.  There are several aid stations along the way where you can grab bottles from volunteers as you ride by to refill.

My legs felt strong for the first few miles but I knew I needed to hold back.  The longest ride of my life up until this day was 65 miles…this was going to be another 47 beyond that.

For the most part, the road surfaces were smooth and traffic wasn’t an issue.  We usually had a full lane blocked off so there wasn’t much need to worry about cars.  The wind was fairly strong and somehow seemed to be directly into my face no matter what direction I was heading.

At the half way point, I was a little under 3 hours into the ride.  Everything was holding up well but I decided to hop off the bike quickly to refill all my bottles, hit the bathroom, and then continue on.  Even though I was only stopped for a couple of minutes, it definitely impacted my average speed…it just highlights that you’ve got to keep moving at all costs.

At about mile 60, I saw another guy stopped along the side of the road and peeing in open view.  He never even got off his bike.  Why didn’t I think of that?  

Being a quick learner, by mile 70 I pulled to the side of the road, unclipped one shoe and just peed on the road without fully getting off my bike.  I just gave other racers the universal thumbs up as they went by.  I’m not even sure what I meant by thumbs up but that’s the only thing that came to me.  

After starting down the road again, I couldn’t help but think how nice it is to be a guy in an Ironman…

By mile 90, I was 5 hours into the ride (6 hours and 10 minutes since I started the swim) and I was hitting a wall.  My legs were showing early signs of cramping, my ass was so sore from sitting in the saddle for that long, and my neck and shoulders were giving me a lot of trouble from being hunched over into the aero position.

I was averaging over 19 mph for the first 90 miles but then dropped significantly to 16 or 17 for the last part of the ride.  As I approached the convention center, I was now more than 7.5 hours into my race.  The bike had taken me 6 hours and 22 minutes. 

I wanted off the bike so badly but knew I needed to be careful what I wished for.  Getting off meant I had the pleasure of starting a full 26.2 mile marathon…

The Run

Remarkably, I was feeling great as I got off the bike.  I’m pretty sure it had nothing to do with my physical conditioning and everything to do with how happy I was to be done pedaling.  

As I threw off my biking shoes and put on my running shoes, I popped another 800 mg ibuprofen tablet horse pill.  I then ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich as I clipped on my race belt and was on my way for the 26.2 miles.  Sweet.  

Keep in mind, I had yet to run at all for the last month leading up to this race.  My last run was on September 23^rd in my half ironman where I hurt my knee to the point I hadn’t been able to do much of anything since.  

 I had been rehabbing and taking pills like crazy to get it ready and now was the test.  I opted to skip the cortisone shot after my doc told me he thought I had soft tissue damage in 3 areas of my knee and the shot was only likely to help one.

Anyway, I took off running and within the first few hundred yards my left quad was already starting to severely cramp.  It was crippling to the point where I was forced to walk almost immediately.  I started sort of hobbling while keeping my left leg straight to try to take pressure off my quad but that wasn’t exactly a recipe for a blazing marathon.

My dad walked next to me for a short stretch to ask how I was doing.  My response:   “you should probably go ahead without me for dinner.” 

At that point, I thought there was a realistic chance I might not finish the race by the cutoff time of 12:30am.  

Seeing Grant and my Mom definitely helped keep me going though.  Here, Grant has his very own 140.6 hat!

So I pushed on as quickly as I could.  I played mind games with myself…just try to run to the next tree…just try to slowly jog to the fire hydrant.  I was not willing to walk my way around the course.  I was going to finish and I was going to push for as fast as time as my body would allow.

At the first aid station, I started downing salt tablets like they were M&Ms.  No joke, I definitely had more than 50 of them over the course of the entire run.  I later found out that the maximum recommended daily intake is 10.  Whoops.  

The good news is they sort of started to work…my cramping moderated (note: definitely did not go away) and it allowed me to pick up the pace somewhat.  Now the biggest issue was my left knee which was really giving me a lot of pain.  The doctor said I wasn’t likely to do any long-term damage if I could take the pain so I just pushed through with each step being more painful than the last.

The first check point was at mile 7.7.  I was somehow averaging better than 12 minutes per mile so far.  While that isn’t exactly lightning pace, given what my body had already gone through plus my bad knee, cramps, etc., I was actually very proud of the performance.

It wouldn’t take much longer though before the wheels really started coming off the bus.  By the halfway point of the run, I was still moving forward but my pace was slowing drastically.

Approaching each aid station I yelled ahead to the volunteers “Salt tablets, chicken broth, banana and Heed!” 

Sound appetizing?  That was pretty much what my nutrition plan morphed into over the last 20 miles.  I’m pretty sure I ate 15 bananas on the run and got enough sodium from the salt tablets and chicken broth that I may as well have just drank ocean water.

By mile 18, the mixture of energy drinks, chicken broth, gels, bananas, etc. started catching up with me and my stomach was feeling very queasy.  I stopped at another port-a-potty and had to wait a minute for someone to come out.  By the time I was done, my legs were completely locked up.   

There was basically nothing I could do at that point except walk/hobble to the finish.  

Here is some video from the last 50 yards of me coming in courtesy of my friend Andy Thore who was at the race doing the Half.

It's a fairly anticlimactic finish...walking/hobbling until I finally crossed the line at 9:21pm…13 hours and 51 minutes after I started.

Post Race

After the race, I immediately grabbed baby Grant, Sue, and my parents and gave them all a big hug.  Actually, I don’t remember hugging my Dad.  I think we opted for the manly handshake instead.

For the record, the thing around my neck isn't some fancy necklace.  It's a glow stick given to me late in the run since it was pitch black late at night on parts of the course.  

I was cold, tired, sore, and injured but that wasn’t going to stop me from some Papa John’s!

Well, that’s not quite true either.  I only ate one bite and threw the rest away.  My stomach wasn’t feeling up for it.

After hanging out for a bit, we went back to the hotel room where I could assess the extent of my injuries and soreness.  As soon as I sat down, my left leg began cramping uncontrollably for about 20 minutes. 

Here is a pic of my mom helping me ice.  Hey, I’m not ashamed.

Remember my sunburn and my skin getting rubbed from my wetsuit?  Here are some pics of my sides and neck (taken a couple days later).  It may not look like much but was definitely not fun having those spots sting all day.

There were other aches and pains as well but nothing more than would be expected on a day like this.   

As I said earlier, I was a lucky one.

Final Thoughts

Crossing the finish line marked the 14^th out of my 35 goals completed for the year.  While I wouldn’t exactly classify 14 goals completed as awesome, this one matters to me infinitely more than any of the others.

My journey started last December when I watched the Ironman World Championships on NBC.

My journey ended Saturday night with a tiny baby boy, incredibly supportive wife, and my two amazing parents greeting me at the finish line. 

It also ended with a final time that was slower than I hoped.

But that didn’t matter.  I got it done.

I just finished the most inspirational and motivating athletic event of my life.  

I am an Ironman.

Schmeis