An Ironman at last

With a bit less than 6 kilometres to go I was just keeping the pace I could at that point, but I was starting to feel strange. I was very tired, but starting to feel euphoric and my energy seemed to be growing. The mixed signals confused me.

I got to another aid station and when I reached the girl offering me water I stopped running and started to walk.

"Oh, you can make it," she said. "Just a bit more than 3 miles."

I know, I said while looking at the tables to find the right flavour of the last gel I was planning to eat.

I don’t know what my face looked like at that point, but she seemed to feel sorry for me and asked if I wanted her to walk with me for a while. I thought she was joking and answered, "Sure."

And so she did.

I was eating and drinking and chatting fast with her. We exchanged names (I now don’t remember hers and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t remember mine) and I found out she is a student at the University of Wisconsin and so on, but then I realized I just wanted to go.

You look OK, she said. I Feel great, I replied. "Then I’ll stay here," she said."OK. Thank you very much."

It is amazing how less than a minute of distraction can so change the way you feel. After our chat I understood what was happening. The end was very close and knowing that lifted my spirits.

I am going to make it! I will be an Ironman!

  I started smiling right then and couldn’t stop. I sped up without even thinking. I wasn’t feeling pain anymore. It is very impressive how the mind drives the body at that stage and the words "pain is just a state of mind" suddenly made a lot of sense.

Running beside the stadium on the way back for the last time, I heard my name far ahead. I looked up and saw one of my Marlins swimmers Tanya cheering like mad. Other than Katie and San waiting at the finish line I couldn’t ask for anything better.

I ran to her and hugged and kissed her and I knew if Tanya was there Robin should be around. And there she was, so I did the same to her. Both drove all the way from Guelph to cheer, volunteer and get registered for the same race next year.

I remember that at some point around here I was thinking of getting to the finish line and being able to tell Georgie how it was. I was already thanking her right there in my mind for all her support over the last few months.

I was also was thinking of Graham and his words: "If you cross the finish line with a smile you will be fine."

Also somewhere at this point I thought of the people at the Star who donated money for the Zero to Hero program, and I was just feeling very lucky, happy and relaxed because I wasn’t going to disappoint them.

I saw Caron and called out to her and she answered with her beautiful smile that I was looking awesome. I wasn’t sure about that, but I did know I was going to finish this thing and the sooner the better.

At the next aid station I didn’t stop. I was going straight to the finish. I was getting energy from the thousands of people cheering along the final stretch of the course.

The last part of the race was a loop around the Capitol building and I was passing most of the runners ahead of me. Right there I saw Barrie with a smile I won’t forget. We exchanged high fives and I sprinted the last kilometre.

Turning the corner to the finish line I sped up even more until I saw Santiago coming on to the course to cross the finish line with me. And there we were running the last few metres together. After 12:45:32, with my son, I crossed the finish line of my first Ironman with an incredibly big smile on my face, my goal for the last few months.

I have very few words now to describe the feeling, but I do know I was screaming like a lunatic.

I looked for Katie and waved. A volunteer reached me and made me walk to get the medal ... and the T-shirt...and the cap ... and the pictures.  Everything was planned to keep you walking until at last I thanked the volunteer and finally got to hug and kiss Katie and start crying with the deepest relief, joy and pride.

Santiago took pictures and then bystanders took pictures of the three of us. This whole intimate celebration in the middle of thousands lasted about 40 minutes until we got inside the building.

Little did I know that by going through those doors I was getting into a whole new phase of the Ironman experience.

Coping with pain

Like a cloud over my head, the tiredness was making me anxious. I wanted to keep going at the same pace but something was telling me this shouldn’t be that painful. For the first time, I walked a few metres, breathing deeply, trying to understand what was happening.

At that moment, Terry passed me. I had been ahead of him and that’s why I couldn’t see him. But he was in my sights again and I had to catch him. He was already about 80 metres ahead when I started running again, but it was clear to me that we were going at the same pace because he was always the same distance ahead. And it was clear something beyond natural exhaustion was bothering me.

I was in downtown Madison and about to finish the first half-marathon when I realized what it was. My toes were very sore and that made me anxious. I thought I must have a blister.

I saw the special needs bags and tried to get to mine, but an official told me to get to the turning point 500 metres ahead and then I’d be on the right side.

The people cheering at the turnaround were an incredible source of energy. I got distracted and looked for Katie and San or any other familiar face. Finally, I got to the half-marathon mark: 2 hours, 10 minutes. Not bad. One more loop, I thought, and you will be an IRONMAN!

I spotted Katie and San and I went over to the fence to hug and kiss them. I was experiencing a hurricane of emotions. I wanted to stop ... but not really. I wanted to finish the freaking distance, but I wanted them with me.

I left them and went to my special needs bag. I got some tape, took off my socks and that is when I saw it.

One of my toes was bleeding, swollen and purple. I taped the toe, put on new, dry socks, slipped on my shoes and started running again.

Somehow I had been ahead of Terry again and while I had been taping my toe I saw him pass. My immediate thought was to catch him, but by the time I got up he was more than a minute ahead of me.

I passed the first aid station and then the second and after that I had to accept that I was reaching a crisis. At the third aid station I got another banana, water and a power gel. I decided to walk while eating and actually felt good doing that.

It was then I devised the strategy for the rest of the race. Every aid station. I walked for 30 to 40 metres while eating and then resumed running. I tried chicken broth, water, pretzels, power bars, power gels, and bananas.

After the stadium, Barrie shouted at me again: "You are a legend! Enjoy the last 9 miles."

Among the gifts Barrie has is the one that great coaches share: He knows his athletes, he understands their feelings and the stages they go through. Most of the time he has the right words, the right tone and uses them at the right time to gently push you to your goals.

Yes, I thought, I will enjoy these 9 miles.

However, it is one thing to be inspired for a few minutes and another to deal with extreme exhaustion and pain. In the following 6 miles I passed through several stages from euphoria to great mental fatigue.

As I ran, I watched many people just starting their second loop while I was about 4 miles away from becoming officially an Ironman.

I am going to do it! I am going to make it!

Beginning the Ironman run

I kept running at a good pace. Through the streets of downtown Madison, literally thousands of people were there cheering.My number had my name on it, so everybody was calling me by my name. Every time somebody told me "Hey You look good Miguel, go! Miguel!" I had to turn see their smiling faces and smile back. I tried to thank all the people there. It is an amazing kind of energy.

I am feeling good, I thought. No problems at all breathing or with my heartbeat. This is amazing! The second aid station came up and while I was just looking for water, I checked to see what else they had: bananas, Gatorade, oranges, power gels, pretzels ... Good, I thought, I can make a new plan now that I’m here for real.

I found Anne right at the end of the aid station and asked her how she was doing. "I am not a runner but I will be fine," she said. I smiled and ran about 100 metres with her. Then I picked up the pace my heart was asking me for and after about 5 Kilometres got to the university campus, went down the ramp to the stadium and in. We had to do a loop around the Wisconsin Badgers field, go out again and climb the ramp.

I started passing people right there. It was a very short but steep hill and people ahead of me started walking up it and I just wanted to keep my pace.

I kept going and found Barrie on the street beside the stadium. "You look awesome," he said. "Terry is just a minute ahead of you. Catch up with him and work the course together ... he is just a minute ahead. Miguel you look great." All the while I smiled at him and waved my arm like a child. I said I would try to catch Terry and work with him."Yeah, right," I thought. I can’t speed up, I still have another 30 kilometres ahead of me.

Oh, Barrie knows what he is asking of you, come on just catch Terry.

No, Miguel, wait until the second half.

No, with Terry you will have a better chance because the two of you will work together through crises. Go Miguel.

The insecure Miguel afraid of everything, and the strong competitive athlete I used to be, had quite a discussion for a while.

I had been racing for more than 9 hours and started to feel the exhaustion. Once again I was grumpy and I thought I was very stupid for not stopping when I saw Katie to hug and kiss her. What I am going to lose doing that? Why didn’t I show how much I appreciated her being there? You are a moron, Miguel.

OK, enough. Positive, positive! What would Enrique have thought when feeling like this? I have to stay strong mentally to deal with the pain.

I also neede d to eat. At the next aid station I grabbed a banana, water, pretzels and a power gel. I ate while running.

Around a corner there was one decent hill ahead. People were walking up. I am not going to walk. I am not. And I didn’t. I passed a lot of runners there and at the top of the hill the bells from a building that looked like a church started up. I felt it was easy now. Downhill to leave the campus and back to a place close to downtown where a crowd of people were cheering and partying.

Music, aid stations very close to each other, and a turnaround right in the middle of the street so the runners had the blessing of the distraction and support of thousands again. That was neat. The good effect of the food combined with the energy from the people was good timing.

A few strong runners passed me but I was passing many more. Every single aid station was a water source for me. I tried Gatorade a few times but it made me feel sick for a while so I stopped drinking it.

A little further ahead was another turnaround and that’s where I saw Terry. I was close now and just had to catch him to run together. I was able to see him ahead. We kept the same pace for a while but somehow I got distracted and after the next aid station I couldn’t see him anymore.

What happened? Oh well, I’ll catch him again, I though. For about 2 kilometres, I really increased the speed.

That was a big mistake. The tiredness hit me hard.

Where is the Ironman penalty tent?

The penalty I had been given had me focusing on what was next instead of paying attention to what was happening now. I started looking for the penalty tent a few minutes after I had been given the warning. Kilometre after kilometre ... and nothing. They wouldn’t tell me to go to the penalty tent if there weren’t any left, I thought. Oh well, I will find it eventually, but what if I didn’t... ?

Anyway, as soon as I got to town my fixation on these stupid thoughts was broken by sharp turns, having to cross a huge parking lot and then get to the bridge and thin ramp where passing wasn’t allowed. By now there was no problem. Nobody seemed to want to go harder anyway. Out to the street again and beside the lake where the swim had taken place. I was able to see the finish of the bike now... and still no penalty tent!

I got to the helix ramp, went up and crossed the bike finish line in just 6:44:43, much faster than I anticipated while training.A volunteer greeted me and took my bike. “I need a penalty tent,” I said. "No problem," he said. "just go 20 metres ahead!" It was there, right at the transition zone.

Inside, I stretched my legs and back while chatting with the judges. After the four minutes were up they wished me good luck and told me to have a great run. I went to change my clothes while more volunteers were asking if I needed something. Nothing, I said, unless you are willing to run a marathon in under three hours with my chip and number!

Guys beside me were complaining about the wind and, yes, the wind was blowing really hard at times, but it could have been worse. Another guy screamed: "Come on! Just a marathon left!"

I ate an energy bar, drank about five cups of water, rubbed cream on my knees, took a couple of Advil and salt pills and then set off on the final 42.2 kilometres left in this insane test of human physical abilities.

Out on the streets I was looking for familiar faces and didn’t find any until about 800 metres went by when I heard Katie yelling: "GO Miguel Go!" I finally saw her, smiled and waved. Santiago was behind her and started to run after me on the sidewalk. "Go Dad! You just have a marathon left!" I smiled at him. Why is everybody saying the same thing? I know that!

My main focus was to get my heart rate up to what I am used to during training. It is all about feeling and knowing your body. I turned the corner and just ahead was the first aid station -- and the Mile 1 sign.

Just 25 left, I said to myself.

Ironman competition both thrilling and scary

The whole Ironman race experience started when we got to Madison Friday morning.

And went up to right now as I am writing.

Over dinner Saturday night with the team, Barrie disappeared for a while and the rest of us were there having an excellent meal. I was sitting in front of Bob Knukey, Nat Faulkner and Terry Bergin. We all were bombarding Nat with our questions. Nat was a professional cyclist who is now with the C3 elite team training for the Ironman World Championships.

This race for him was training to be able to feel what is like before his actual important competition in a few months.

Since he is the most experienced of all, we asked, and he patiently answered all our questions.

My thoughts were that Bob was nervous about the swim but confident that once out of the water it would be simply a matter of perseverance. Terry looked pretty confident but, like me, he appeared to be trying to hide his little doubts. Nat was enjoying himself.

Barrie came in with a surprise for his wife, Caron: Caron's twin sister was there for support.

 

After dinner, San, Katie and I still spent some time shopping for food for the next morning at 4:30. Went back to the hotel and spent another hour shaving my body and doing last-minute things.

However, the process of shaving was something very special. It was like a ritual where you get ready for something really big... or at least it is for me. The last time I did it was in 1991.

People think that swimmers do that to be faster, which is not necessarily true. What I can tell you about it is that the skin becomes much more sensitive so you are more aware of how your body is doing. You can feel when something is not right right away.

In this case, shaving was not for the swimming since this was a wetsuit swim. This time was to avoid tearing off too much skin in case I had a crash on the bike. It is better to be prepared.

 

It took a while to fall asleep that night. Before I could feel rested,  the alarm went off.

Get up, eat and started focusing in the race, grab the bags and go to the race site. Lots of people everywhere!

Drop off the special needs bags for the run and bike. This is just in case you need something halfway through the course.

Then off to the main building to really get ready to swim. Katie was really nervous. All the stupid things I did and said the two previous days were because I was nervous. She was so patient! Now a few minutes from the start, she was the one in a rush and trying to get me ready when I just didn't want to rush and be so exact.

Getting the stupid wetsuit on can be an ordeal and it was made worse because we all felt that I was getting behind. I took a deep breath ... keep going. Slowly but surely.

Once everything was in place, and almost the last to go out, I was at the edge of the lake hugging Katie and San and already crying ... deep in my own emotions:

No matter what, I was about to start an Ironman triathlon race. I worked very hard to be there. I had an incredible journey of learning about my body, about what is involved. I have had the support of Katie. I have had an incredible network of support from my son, my friends, my fellow swimmers and especially at work.

By the time I got to the lake mostly everyone was there.

Slowly, I used the three minutes left before the start to get a place without too many people in my way. Listening to the conversations around me, I knew where to go. When people were talking about how slow they are, I moved away where people were talking about just finishing the swim to start their race ... I moved away. Another deep breath ... and the cannon went off.

Usually I would start way faster to get in the front faster and be more free of movement with more than 2,000 people around you, but it just wasn't worth it!

Just gliding stroke after stroke I had a very nice swim ... just two kicks on my face and I sank a few stupid guys who tried to prevent me from passing, pulling my feet back or my head down. I never saw them afterwards.

Now that I see the results I am very happy! Just gliding and taking it very easy, I was 21st out of the water and I passed a whole bunch of professionals who started 10 minutes ahead of everyone else!

Out of the water and WOW!

Thousands of people cheering you.

An incredible number of volunteers directing you and very soon a couple of "peelers" helped me to get rid of the wetsuit in less than 10 seconds!

Afterwards we had to climb through the parking garage’s helix ramp to get the transition zone.

After I dried up, I put on my biking singlet and while I was changing my bathing suit for my biking shorts, a guy was already putting my helmet on and my sunglasses.

Then while I was taking care of my gloves. they were putting my shoes on. Wait! I still have to run 500 metres to the bike! I’d rather run on bare feet, please! Thank you, thank you!

Have a great race out there, everybody was saying.

Out again looking for the path to the bikes ... again a lot of people telling you where to go!

Somebody yelled my number: “957”. Before I got to my bike, a volunteer already had it off the rack and ready to go on my direction! No time to lose!

All that energy kept pumping my spirit and my heart was beating fast.

Down the helix and on the streets again thousands of people were cheering. I was looking for Katie and Santiago but couldn't find them.

A few metres on the street, Barrie yelled “Go, Miguel!” ... I wave at him like a child in a school festival.

Following the other cyclists, I got to the ramp and bridge where passing was not allowed.

I was going about 28 km/h and a stupid superman behind me was yelling, “Let's go! Move! move! move!”

Another guy behind just said, “relax, we all are doing what we can.”

As soon as we passed that zone, superman was gone and the rest of us were getting our place on the road.

Easy, easy, easy was on my mind all the time. Many people passed me. It’s okay, I said to myself ... Do your race and that's it.

The first 16 kilometres were sort of flat. After that the hills started and didn't stop until the same point on the way back.

All along there were people cheering me on and even the cyclists passing me were nice and cheerful.

I started drinking right away the mix of carbohydrates and protein I had on the bike. However my body really didn't want it. It was painful to swallow the energy bar. Anyway I did it one bite at a time.

After 40k, I was averaging 23 km/h. A bit slow, according to my plan, but I didn't want to speed up since there were so many more kilometers ahead and that’s not even counting the marathon to run!

However, I just wanted to keep my heart rate consistent with the training. A few minutes later I was enjoying myself again and going faster.

At this point, and for a little while, I found myself with people riding at my level and speed. That was a joy! Almost the rest of that first loop was really nice that way.

Finally, faster guys were ahead and slower ones behind ... until I hit the wall!

Then a long, steep climb and I was feeling down again. But what was left of that first loop was pretty easy after those hills.

Close to the end of the first loop, turning on a corner, I was deep in my thoughts when suddenly I see Santiago. Both were surprised to see each other. I sent him a kiss and wave of my arm. I looked for Katie but I couldn't see her.

I couldn't ask for better timing. I got that boost when my spirit needed it.

Minutes later, I got to the pit stop where the special needs bags were.

Got another bottle of the drink, a couple of Advils and salt pills and off again.

The second loop was more of the same, except for a stop to stretch and pee. By then I was averaging 26.9 km/h, which was a bit faster than I thought I could do.

Deep in my thoughts again, I was visualizing myself finishing the bike race and stretching at the transition zone, when I caught up to a bunch of cyclists. Without thinking, I kept up with them ... until the motorcycle with the judge caught up with me:

-You have a warning! You will have to stop at the penalty tent in four minutes! Is that clear?

“Yes,” I said.

I was mad at myself for 10 seconds, then I just was thinking how to use those minutes to my advantage.

 

 

 

Ready for the Ironman

It was a long, 14-hour drive to Wisconsin, but on the bright side I had the best entry to the United States I’ve ever had as a Mexican. That’s because we kept the forms from our trip to Mexico and the officer at the border only asked a few questions and that was it. I was expecting at least an hour in a little office.

After a few stops to eat and get gas -- and a battery boost -- we arrived in Madison at 1:30 a.m. and went straight to bed. Yesterday morning was hectic just trying to be on time for the events in a place you don’t know. Registration at 10:30 lasted more than an hour. I heard a lot of stories about the race. It is, apparently, THE race. People were friendly, cheerful, helpful and the whole town is consumed by the event all weekend.

After lunch -- it is important to be well fed -- we drove the bike course. I got tired just looking at the hills I will doing tomorrow. Hills and hills and ... more hills. Non-stop, all the way. It is 180 kilometres of painful uphills and scary downhills. But the whole course is gorgeous, green and picturesque.

The evening was an inspirational opening banquet. For more than 1,000 people this will be their first Ironman. The youngest is 19, the oldest 79. My age group is the largest with 350 athletes.

After that we had a team meeting with Barrie Shepley and the C3 athletes. I started to feel butterflies in my stomach, something I haven’t felt in a long time since I quit competitive sport. The meeting reinforced the feeling of family where everybody is there to help each other in an event important to all of us. Plus I got to ask my questions as a first-timer.

Tomorrow, 2,400 people will start all together in the water with 236 kilometres of swimming, biking and running ahead of them. Every one of them has their own story. Different motivations, different inspirations, different reasons, but all looking for the same finish line. Is it, as they asked at the end of the banquet, an example of mankind looking for the meaning of life?

Today, after posting this, I will have breakfast and then head to the race site for a light swim and bike, last-minute shopping for my race needs and then a rest to be mentally ready.

It is 22 hours and counting.

------

To follow my race tomorrow, go to ironman.com and look for live coverage. My number is 957 and you can track when I finish a stage and after nine hours or so you can access live video coverage of the finish line. I plan to cross it with a smile on my face.

A little stone and the Ironman

This morning, I got up early. For more than 40 minutes I found myself doing nothing. Then I went to pick up Santiago, got some fruit, and brought him home to make some breakfast and chat.

"Dad, are you some kind of mental midget?" he asked.

What!?

"Why all those signs around the house?"

I looked around the kitchen and I had put signs all over the place.

"I will enjoy the swim."

"I will be smart on the bike."

"I will be strong on the run."

"I will smile at the finish line."

"The pain will just be temporary. the pride will be forever."

And many others.

I started to explain, very seriously, that I put up those signs as part of my visualization tools and blah, blah, blah. Santiago couldn’t contain himself any more and burst out laughing. "I’m just joking Dad. You are too serious. You will be fine. You are strong." Then he hugged me.

And I felt like a mental midget.

I packed him off to school and went back to work on a T-shirt design I’m doing for a fall race the C3 club is holding on Sept. 21. After a busy morning picking Santiago up at his school for a dental appointment, having a massge and then taking Santiago back to school, I went home to eat something and send the files I had been working on when I saw something on the table. It was a brown envelope with Enrique’s handwriting on the table. I asked Katie to open it while I did my stuff at the computer.

She passed me a regular piece of paper with a little stone stuck to it and these words:

Malvadillo (with the stylized M dot of the Ironman logo)

You can do it! / the stone / I did it!

I am with you with all my heart and spirit.

God bless you.

Quique.

I could not contain myself. I started to cry. The stone says CALAIS 2007

A year ago he crossed the English Channel from Dover, England to Calais, France. He got the little rock there and a year later he sent it to me. He knows how it feels. He is a true hero of endurance who has done something amazing that very few people could do and he sent this simple but incredibly powerful symbol that anything is possible.

While writing I have this lump in my throat and I wish I could adequately describe the meaning of this little French stone.

"God bless you," he said. How can I say how blessed I feel just knowing he’s so close (as he always has been) even with an ocean between us?

I wiped the tears and hurried to work at the Star.

Three days and counting...

In the final stretch

Five days left and counting. I have been doing the race every night for three nights. I have not felt rested when I wake up and that is because, as Katie tells me, I am swimming frantically on the bed in my dreams. And I’m totally unaware of it.

Today I start my "formal" visualization training. I say formal because it’s been a long time since I have imagined myself crossing the finish line with a smile. I remember those spring workouts of an hour or more where I was pretending that I was running the last part of the Ironman and I was enjoying myself and what was around me. Now I’m in the middle of this storm of intense feelings and I have to remind myself that the ultimate goal is (always has been) to cross the finish line with a smile. I have done all the work I could with my situation and human weaknesses and strengths to achieve that, but I have been distracted. Sometimes I have seen myself running incredibly fast, finishing the bike strong and fresh, and winning my age group. Other times I have seen outcomes not so nice, where I feel I’m not ready to do this.

In an attempt to feel better about myself I have started to list of what I have done so far.

After 299 countdown days I have swum very little, but that doesn’t seem to affect how I think about the race. I am not worried. I have swum that distance before several hundred times, and that’s not an exaggeration. I know what to do. I also know that no matter how fast I swim it doesn’t really matter in this race. It is just a short warm up.

I can say that I am over my fears on the bike. I have done the distance at least once and in several other workouts I have done over 100 kilometres.

I have also run a fair bit, many, many times a half marathon or more. Many others just measured in hours. Some times have been fast, some very slow.

I have had the support of many friends during this journey. Friends from sport, from my childhood, from work, from my athletes and past coaches. Even a little comment from any of them has gone to the treasure box that I keep in my head to use when the race get rough. I even have been lucky enough to have the chance to write about the experiences and feelings and share them with all of you.

I am resting ... and waiting. Hoping to get rid of this feeling of heavy legs over the next few days and to be absolutely ready for Sunday morning.

When rest is best

When I started with the Guelph Marlins, I found I was coaching a variety of swimmers from beginners to advanced. The one thing most of them had in common was they almost killed themselves every stroke from the start to the end of the workouts. Somehow they had it in their minds that working has to be painful. It took me many months to make them understand that a tired body can’t improve and that rest is even more important during workouts.

I have been tapering off my training even since the run where Katie and I stopped to get an ice cream. At that time I was extremely tired, my legs were heavy and I was in constant pain. At the Steelhead Triathlon in Michigan, I was talking to one of Canada’s best triathletes Carrie Heldman and she told me there are workouts where you just want to stop and throw the bike away. She encouraged me by saying that good times with more positive feelings come quickly after those unbearable workouts.

This week while training, I’ve been thinking of what she said. She was so right. Short workouts (one to three hours each day) started to change my mood and my outlook. What I said to my swimmers, I am now practising: When in doubt, do less. Nobody can get fitter in 10 days so hard workouts are just useless at this point. I am better off resting, eating well and sleeping.

A couple of days ago, Barrie Shepley sent a note to all his guys who are going to Wisconsin with him saying the same thing. It was nice to know that all my years of experience can give me some knowledge to fight the fear I have in the back of my head all the time. No matter what, I still have doubts. What if I can’t do it? Right away I tell myself that I know I can, but I still have this anxiety.

At this point it is just a matter of getting to Wisconsin and enjoying the result of all those hours of painful training in the sun and the rain, while feeling sick of it and under the pressure of having Santiago with me and having to be creative and flexible to still enjoy my time with him while in training.

What I’m saying is just a variation of what most of the Ironman athletes feel. You probably have to be a little insane to do it, but at the end you’ve invested so much time and resources in the attempt and you have to be thankful for the chance to be so healthy and strong.

I talked to my dad on the phone a few days ago and he said that by reading this blog he has had the chance to better understand what this is all about. I was glad to hear that. When I told him a few months ago that I was about to start training for the Ironman, he reminded me that I’m not Superman. That I have a kid and I’m almost 40. "Why would you do something like that?" he asked.

I’m very happy this blog has given both of us the answers.

Emotional burden matches physical one

I can tell how tired I am when any little thing becomes a huge issue emotionally.

Life with Santiago hasn’t been easy since his mother and I separated. Now, with my partner Katie on the scene, which is incredibly good for me, it is really hard for him. I have worked hard since he was born to give him the best of me in any situation, especially the last four years. I have made some big mistakes, but he has also had the best of what I can give him. I have been blessed to have the time with him under some trying conditions.

Last week, however, the day we arrived back in Canada, he asked to be with his mother in a rude, pre-teen way. He had spent the week in Mexico with her, which helped me devote all my attentions to Katie, work, training and rest. But all the time I felt a pain in my chest and neck and sometimes during the week there was this sadness that turned everything opaque for a moment. I had to work really hard to steer my thoughts to more positive memories to avoid the feeling of being crushed.

Riding the bike sometimes becomes very difficult and I realized on the weekend that two very strong forces - tiredness and the emotions of my relationship with my son - had come together. The result is that sometimes I feel like I’m carrying a huge weight on my shoulders and want to cry all the time and sometimes I was to go outside and scream as loud as I can. I am a competitor and I have decided to beat these feelings.

THE TRAINING

On Saturday I had to run 21 kilometres after a three-hour bike ride. The bike was hot and the ride long enough to get me exhausted. Several times I had to refocus and think positively to keep the planned pace. On the way backI took a break at the home of my good friend Chris who shared his time and iced water with me. A few minutes with him changed my mood and the last 20 kilometres on the bike were way more enjoyable than the first 2.5 hours.

At the end of the ride I was looking for a pretext to skip the rest of the workout, but I didn’t find it and felt ashamed for being that weak. After a quick recovery meal with Katie I went out to run the first 10.5 kilometre loop on my own with Katie promising to run the second with me.

I ran the first loop pretty well, imagining this was the second half of the marathon I will be running two weeks from now. When Katie joined me for the second loop I had had four continuous hours of pain, but it was like the sun had come out. She was chatting to me while I could only grunt monosyllabic responses, but that made a huge difference to my mood. Her smile, her positive energy and beauty beside me enabled me to smile away the deep pain.

As we ran beside the boathouse in downtown Guelph, she joked that we should stop for ice cream. I just smiled, but on the way back with the pain so intense, I thought I will enjoy this run no matter what. We stopped for that ice cream, joked around for a while and then resumed running, at this point faster than I ever thought I could. Very simple things can make a big difference.

When we finished the run we walked a short way with her holding my hand. She probably didn’t notice the tears running from my eyes under this hurricane of excitement, pride, worries, sadness, love, pain, happiness and exhaustion.

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Ironman Wisconsin is only 12 days away and as you know I am trying to raise some money to support young athletes with a real chance to become Olympians in the near future. The Zero to Hero program devised by Barrie Shepley supports these young athletes. The funds raised will help purchase equipment, medical support, travel support and coaching. Zero to Hero is a concept of helping young, needy but talented athletes (zeroes) to train and mature into great citizens who can achieve world-class athletic performances (heroes) with the right help and support.

For a tax-donation receipt, your funds are directed to the SPORT IS program run by the Ontario government. All those funds are re-directed back to C3’s High Performance Program. The province will send you a tax receipt directly for your contribution to future champions. If you wish, along the way, Barrie Shepley and the C3 board and coaching staff will keep you aware of how the athletes are progressing through electronic newsletters , motivational suppers where you can meet the athletes in person, and updates on the C3 website.

You can send your cheque to:

Canadian Cross Training Club

Zero to Hero program

104 Maple Avenue

Caledon (Inglewood),

Ontario

L7C 1J5