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The making of an Ironman
My first Ironman-distance triathlon was becoming much harder than I'd ever imagined. Why didn't I listen to those who said I should act my age? It was not a rash decision to do the Ironman Wisconsin Triathlon, with its 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run. I'd been doing lesser-distance triathlons since 1998, working my way up to a half-Ironman distance in 2003. Nor was I a novice to running, having competed in many 10K races, a number of half-marathons and two marathons, though most were completed in the last several years. Though some called it a midlife crisis, I achieved my goal of running my first-ever marathon before my 50th birthday, a milestone in both age and personal athletic achievement. My second marathon came seven months after that, early in 2003 again a confirmation that I was fit and strong, despite my "advancing" age of 51. The inaugural 2002 IMoo in Madison motivated me to bike and run longer distances to see how I held up. After watching the 2003 event, my decision was made. I signed up for my first Ironman, coming up a year later, on September 12, 2004. Three days later, registration closed. It had reached its participant limit. There was a full year to get ready, but not too early to get organized. I scoured the Web and bookstores for hints on training, equipment, nutrition and motivation. I wrongly figured that since I had much of the equipment already, few things would have to be purchased. What I didn't realize that while the equipment I had was adequate for short triathlons, it wasn't comfortable or sturdy enough to withstand the training needed for an Ironman. A new bike, pedals, biking shoes, running shoes, bike helmet, several jerseys and shorts for both running and biking, prescription sunglasses, bike computer, chronograph watch, swim goggles, plus many other items, all added up to a big commitment in money. But, it was my first Ironman, after all! The training regimen Training was a big concern. There are many triathlon coaches and trainers, both online and personal. I checked out a few, but couldn't decide. Prior to running earlier marathons I ordered a training program from an online company and adjusted it to match my abilities and style. Since that had been fairly successful, I found a program on the Web and did the same. It was an 18-week program that included a three-week build in time and intensity, then a one-week reduction, then another three-week build, and so on. Since the triathlon wasn't until September, and I was anxious to start training in the early spring, I did the first eight weeks of the program, then started over and completed the whole 18 weeks. My training officially started March 15, 2004, six months prior to the event. I also joined a triathlon club, the Madison-area HeadHunters, for training tips and advice. They are a great group of dedicated triathletes, and were a big help. Many people tell me they'd love to do triathlons but dread the swim. Having never taken lessons, and feeling a need to improve my weakest event, I signed up for one-on-one swim lessons. The instructor happened to be a former student of mine, as I used to be a teacher. It must have seemed like "payback" time, as he really put me through my paces. Actually, he was very patient as he dissected my stroke piece by piece and tried not to laugh as I seemed to resist all his suggestions for putting it back together. After several weeks, however, and only a few "extra" lessons, he cut me loose to practice, practice, practice, until I was able to build up to 2.4 miles. Membership to an athletic club allowed me unlimited access to a lap pool, and the hours spent there were well worth the effort, if somewhat monotonous at times. Training went pretty smoothly. I built two international-distance triathlons into my program, one in June and one in July, to break the monotony of the everyday run, swim and/or bike workout. I established several bike routes, and since I live only five miles from the actual Ironman loop, it was easy to bike parts or all of the 40-mile route. Every day except Monday I would train for one to three hours. Only twice did I train with others, and both during long swim, bike and run "bricks" on weekends. Many people prefer working in groups, and while I admire that, my schedule and timing didn't ever seem to fit those of others, so I usually went it alone. Recovering from injury Aches and pains were a common occurrence, of course, but I was able to avoid anything major. The childhood asthma that doctors said would go away never did, but daily medication kept that well under control. Annoying knee pain was a constant reminder of my meniscus surgery in 2000. My Achilles' tendons started hurting at about week 10 from overuse, causing me to reduce my running for a short time. A condition called Morton's neuroma, an irritation and burning on the ball of my foot, caused some discomfort when I biked and ran until a specialist at UW Sports Medicine prescribed an orthotic in my running shoes and a "bear claw" pad for my biking shoes. It seemed like nothing would stop me on my way to having a successful Ironman! By week 13 I had logged over 500 miles running, close to 2,000 miles on the bike and almost 50 miles worth of laps in the pool and local lakes. New tires and a tune-up for the bike was a necessary precaution. It was time to finalize my nutrition plan, and do the last two long bricks in weeks 14 and 15 each over eight hours. Three weeks away: Taper time! This is the time to reduce intensity and distance, and ease into race day, trying to maintain fitness without getting tired out. On one easy ride, just a week before the race, the unthinkable happened. I lost my balance, fell awkwardly before I could get my left shoe out of the pedal, and felt my fist punch into my ribs. While bruised or cracked ribs do not bode well for a successful Ironman, dropping out, after all the training and effort thus far, was an option I didn't want to consider. Luckily, another trip to the UW Sports Medicine clinic and an understanding specialist provided me with enough pain medication to withstand the race, or so I hoped. An Ironman race was going to be hard, and I was afraid this accident was going to make it even harder. Registration and bike check-in, swim-to-bike and bike-to-swim bags loaded and ready. Bike-and-run special needs bags packed with goodies during the race. As a first-time participant, I was treated as someone special. And I took advantage of it, from walking around Athlete Village, to listening to other athlete's training stories, and visualizing the crowds and atmosphere of race day. Race day After a nearly sleepless night, the alarm sounded at 4 a.m. My wife, daughter and a fellow triathlete who planned to cheer me on all day long, shared in the excitement. While waiting in line for the body marking, it hit me: THIS IS IT! RACE DAY! A year's preparation and training finally put to the test. After pumping up my bike tires and putting water bottles on the bike, I pulled on my wet suit. Walking down the ramp to the swim start, the sun started to rise over Lake Monona, casting a magical glow on the swimmers already in the water. Then I was in one of a record 2,187 triathletes. Treading water, I glanced up at the thousands watching from the Monona Terrace Convention Center. I got goose bumps, but not from the water temperature. The cannon boomed! Mass chaos broke out all around as everyone tried to get a good start and find some open water. Imagine yourself in a washing machine, it's not far from what the experience was. Using my newly mastered swim stroke, however, I found myself with occasional open water until it came to the turn buoys. Everyone wanted to take the shortest path, and it seemed like they were all on top of me. Once free, and an hour and 22 minutes after the cannon went off, I was out of the water. Volunteers called "strippers" helped me out of my wet suit, and I headed to the transition area. The clothing change went as planned, and I was off on the bike in a few minutes, somewhat fatigued by the swim but determined to have a good ride. Just a few miles in, I saw my friends and relatives. A big sign and their cheering helped me find my bike legs and pedal harder. The scene was repeated in Verona, Mt. Horeb, Cross Plains and back to Verona, as the ride neared its halfway point. A quick replenishment of water bottles and I was on my way for the second half. Hills are a big part of the Imoo course, and the second time around they seemed even higher. Many bikers were struggling on the larger hills, and I was no exception. My pace was slow but steady, and my familiarity with the route was a big help. The last 16 miles from Verona to Madison went quickly helped by a tail wind and I found myself back in the transition area 6 hours 38 minutes after I started. So far, things were going as planned. I'm in transition, it's around 3:30 p.m., and I'm feeling OK. The ribs are a little sore, I feel a little tired, but so far so good. Only thing was, I now had to run a marathon. With a smile on my face, I headed into the crowds lining the start, and eventual finish, of the run. Supporters later said they knew I'd finish, as I looked strong. What I felt was a different story, but I tried not to let on. All along the run people would shout encouragement and cheer. Some even tried to tell me I looked good, and I wanted to believe them. My slow shuffle served me well through mile 13 and the halfway turnaround, which was cruelly set only 100 yards from the finish. I smiled and said to whoever could hear that I'd be back in two hours! Well, not quite. Mile 14 was behind me by then but I was in a lot of pain and demoralized. Another athlete kindly shared some of his salt tablets, and I gobbled them down. I kept ingesting chicken broth and Gatorade at each aid station, and gradually the cramps eased up. Lesson learned? Always carry salt tablets, especially when the weather is hotter than predicted. At mile 18, I was feeling better and able to jog again. The State Street crowds and HeadHunter aid station rejuvenated me. As I started the last 10K, I realized I was going to be an Ironman. That thought got me more pumped up. While I walked through the aid stations over the next six miles, I ran the miles in between. At mile 23 I was determined to finish the race like an Ironman, running the rest of the way! Five hundred yards from the finish, the goose bumps came back. What a great feeling to see the finish line crowd! The athletes ahead and behind kind of spread out so each could get their picture at the finish line and volunteers put the tape up for everyone to break. It's hard to describe the feeling, that last 100 yards people high-fiving and cheering for me! After 13 hours and 33 minutes, I'm totally exhausted, but I'm an Ironman. Training for and doing an event like this can be a very selfish endeavor. Every day is centered around getting a workout in, and meals are planned according to nutrition requirements. A good part of most weekends are spent on long bike rides or runs. For a good cause Knowing this was the case, I wanted to enhance my experience by helping others, so I joined the Janus Charity Challenge. Janus Financial Corp. sponsors the Charity Challenge, which allows an Ironman participant to raise money for a charity of their choice, and Janus adds money for the top 30 fund-raisers. Wisconsin Special Olympics was the charity of my choice, and, with family and friends donating generously, I was able to raise over $3,000. Overall, 44 athletes participating in the Wisconsin Ironman Triathlon raised over $1 million for charities throughout the country, with Janus contributing significantly as well. It was a rewarding experience for me, and I feel blessed to have the athletic ability and opportunity to participate in an Ironman competition. My fund-raising, and that of others, hopefully will give cognitively disabled athletes more opportunities to participate in athletic events through Special Olympics. Many people have asked if I plan to do it again. The 2005 event reached its participant limit in 13 hours. One of those entries is mine. Jerry Landmark is a Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin, native now living in Madison with his wife and No. 1 supporter, Julie. He has two daughters, Anna, 25, and Katie, 23. He is the assistant director of the school finance team in the Wisconsin Department of Public Instruction. | |||||
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