As you can see, the Fab 5 and Crushing Iron had a TON of support from all over the place. People took time from their vacations, runs, and even soccer matches to wish us well. It was an unexpected surprise to see these pictures popping up on our Facebook feeds and I think I speak for everyone when I say we were blown away. 
I am blown away by the positive feedback on this blog and especially for my Ironman Wisconsin Race Report. Along with movement, writing is probably my biggest passion, and I express how far your input goes in keeping this blog alive. And it will stay alive. I am bursting with energy and ideas that I want to explore.
Here are a few of the comments people have left about the Race Report and I can honestly say, words like these will push me and Crushing Iron to a higher place.
“Mike, best report I have ever read. Loved Alt. Mike’s take on the race and the battle you waged with him. Congrats. Huge.” – Frank
“This report is amazing! I had chills and tears! I am doing IMWI 2014 and it will be my first, this article has me so pumped already!!!!!” – Jason
“I’ve been reading a lot of race reports and I have to say that you are a good writer.” – Wendy
“Great report! I am so enjoying it. Agree with Wendy!” – Roman
“Only thing better than your race report was your results. Well done on all accounts.” – Tim
“Great job out there and great write up! Your blog has been entertaining all year and this is a great cap to it. Are you in for 2014 too?” – Mark
“Awesome report! A lot of first time experiences going on for you that day! Well done!” – Chris
“Loved the report! Well done!” – Deb
Many say the most important part of training is recovery, and we in Nashville take that seriously. So, post-Ironman Wisconsin, we’re gathering 16 triathletes, our aero helmets, and setting out to crush the Nashville Pedal Tavern course record. Our good friend Wasky has already downloaded elevation gain and ridden the course, so his detailed text message is pending. IronTrac assured me they’d have this race loaded, including a beer tracker, a day in advance, so make sure to follow our journey. (These people are not us, but I think they may hold the current course record). 
A Battle Royal – The Swim
The start of an Ironman swim is electric. Thousands of green and pink caps bobbing on the shore, then bobbing in the water. I’d been watching video and looking at pictures of Wisconsin’s mass start for nearly a year, now I was minutes away from being in the next photograph. 
(All photos courtesy of Carolyn Petredis Wasky)
I started the year as a weak swimmer with a 300 meter sprint triathlon and came out of the water breathing like I’d been submerged in a David Blaine stunt. It was a silly pool swim, yet my anxiety was off the charts. I immediately vowed to become a strong swimmer and worked my ass off to make sure that never happened again.
On race Sunday, I stood on the ramp of the Ironman Swim Start with the rest of the Fab 5 while family and friends leaned over TYR sponsored fence and took pictures. A mere 5 months after I struggled to swim 300 meters, I was ready for 2.4 miles.
The loud music and festive atmosphere made 6:30 am seem like bar time. Thousands of spectators lined the swim chute and hung high above on the rails of Monona Terrace. Many were singing and dancing, others, like my father, were trying to calm their nerves.
Diana Nyad would giggle, but for most an Ironman swim is no joke. On this morning the wind was strong, and the water choppy — all creating a lake current on the longest leg of the course making for a 1,700 meter “upstream” swim on the backside of the box.
Anxiety was high, but the only thing that concerned me was my time. I had one shot in the infamous “washing machine” and didn’t want to leave a bad number on the score board. I was gunning for a sub 1:15 and truly believed I could come out of the water in 1:10.
We zipped our wetsuits, hugged our families, then walked the plank into Lake Monona. The plan was to start in front row of the scrum, just to the right of the ski jump, which split the starting line in half. The idea was to have open space to our left and I’m pretty sure it was a good strategy, but I made a big mistake.
My anxiety-in-the-water problem exists mainly because it takes me a while to warm up and if I start too fast my heart and breathing gets all crazy. What I didn’t take into account was treading water for 20 minutes and that was probably a good enough warm up. I could have went out hard, found some clear water, then settled into my stroke. But I decided to play it safe. 
Part of the routine is to ask others around you what time they are shooting for so you can “self-seed” your swim. I started having a little fun by asking everyone if they were sub-60 minutes, but most didn’t catch the joke and said 1:10 – 1:15. I was in the right spot, or so I thought.
Someone (I think he was in the race) sang the national anthem, then it was literally a matter of seconds before the cannon would unleash fury. I was next to Jim and Mark. We exchanged high fives, then looked back at the ramp, where unbelievably people were still filing into the water.
BAM!
It was the cannon I’d heard a thousand times in my mind. This was it, the Wisconsin swim start. I took a deep breath, started my watch, then eased into my swim.
Within 30 seconds people were kicking my head and beating on my legs . . . and I was loving every second of it. Rubber bodies were everywhere keeping good form was nearly impossible. My arms were tangled, and my feet felt like they were tied by rubber cords. Good thing Robbie made us practice this shit.
Our start position was about 50 meters to the right of the buoy line and my plan was to slowly angle into the first turn (1,000 meters out) and stay about ten meters to the outside as I made the corner. There was only one problem, I had nothing to sight from.
The red buoy was too far away and the yellow ones were too far left for my right side breathing. I remembered someone saying aim at the bridge, but even that was difficult to see. I stayed in my stroke and embraced the brawl.
As I closed in on the turn buoy, I realized I was still about 50 meters to its right. I immediately cut left and aimed dead on. And guess what? I hit the corner with about 300 other people and got caught in a log jam. I was so mad at myself, but for some reason I just couldn’t wrap my head around a good line that day.
I clawed through a sea of rubber flesh, that resembled a floating S&M convention, and emerged in a brief patch of clear water. The short leg of the box was about 300 meters and I didn’t screw that up too badly, but once again got too close to the buoy skirmish. I couldn’t move, so I stopped for a second to pick my line. An onslaught of swimmers gave me forearm shivers as I peered in the distance at a collection of tall smoke stacks that seemed to be a good sighting point. I put my head down and kept one eye out for big white cylinders.
I swam hard and found open water. I felt great and thought I finally had a handle on this swim. About two hundred meters later I literally couldn’t find the buoy line, that was, until I looked to my right. Now, I was a good 30 meters INSIDE the buoys and I’m sure I let out a muffled groan.
Swimmers were everywhere. Some to my left and hundreds to my right. There was no space, and it was like this the entire 1,700 meter leg. I’d get about 50 clean meters, then someone would literally come straight across in front of me and I would throw a long, powerful stroke that landed right . . . on their back. Thud.
I angled toward the line of yellow buoys and did my best to stay next to them, but there was something about the choppy water that was twisting me around and making me lose direction. I was desperately trying to sight two or three buoys ahead, but felt like Hellen Keller.
After what seemed like an eternity (especially to my dad), I finally got to the third turn and pounded toward the last corner. The minute I got around, Moses parted the swimmers and I was home free. Monona Terrace was the perfect sighting landmark and I ripped through the last 600 meters before my hand finally hit the ground.
I stood up and felt great until I saw the clock. It said 1:19 something, but I didn’t cross the line until 1:20. I really felt like I swam well, but my lines killed me.
I stepped onto the concrete and turned up the helix ramp. Faces were a blur, but I sensed family, friends and coach Robbie on top of the truck screaming with elation, and certainly relief.
I politely passed on the wetsuit strippers because I don’t like getting horizontal again after I stand up for fear of getting dizzy. I ran up the spiraling helix and it was rocking. People lined both sides cheering us on, playing drums and slapping us on the back as we passed. There is just no way you cannot get jacked up running through that much energy.
Over time I have fallen in love with the swim. I love bike and run, but swimming has done the most to shape my body and mind. It is so Zen. All about the moment. When you’re swimming that far and that hard, you can only do one thing, breathe. Just breathe. Or, if you’re in Wisconsin, just embrace the battle.
Official Swim Time – 1:20:02
Transition #1
T1 at Wisconsin is long. You run to the fourth floor of a parking ramp, then go inside, grab your bike bag from one of the amazing volunteers, then sit in a changing room to gear up before running outside to the top floor and finding your bike. In this case, my bike was at the very end of the parking deck which meant I had to wheel it 200 yards to the other end in bare feet before putting on my shoes.
I climbed on my saddle, clipped in, then coasted down the far helix to start the bike. As I emerged on the ramp I was greeted by a huge surprise. Everyone had rushed to the bike exit while I changed, and 15 people were waiting to cheer me on as I headed out to hell.
Official T1 Time – 7:28
Tour de Force – The Bike
Friday at the Expo I bought a jar of Infinit and the owner promised it wouldn’t be risky to use it if I hadn’t before, but I didn’t want a potential excuse. I went with what got me there.
My bike was loaded with 3 bottles, two Perform, and one filled with straight water. I carried 3 Power Bars, two of which I pre-cut into bite-sized pieces and put in a zip-lock snack bag for my speed box. I also stored about 8 of those small pretzel bites to clear the palette when Perform inevitably turned my tongue into a sugar farm.
We eased out of transition at 16 mph and kept it through the no-passing-zone before rolling through the Reliant Center parking lot and finally hitting the road for good. I didn’t wear a Garmin for this race, but had a speedometer to gauge my pace and it didn’t take long to start pushing 20 mph.
My strategy was to spin the first 15 miles easily, be patient for the first 40 mile loop, work hard on the next 40, then back it down for the last 15. Since I drove the course a few days earlier, I knew the first 15 were relatively flat with a slight incline most of the way. I felt good and spinned in my small ring at a pretty good clip. The first split was 18.8 miles and I averaged nearly 19 mph.
Now it was time for 80 miles of torture, but just before I hit the main loop, I heard a completely unexpected shout of my name, “Tarrolly!!!” I looked to my left and saw my Uncle Butch, Aunt Nancy, cousins Tim and Jenny along with her husband Phil! I was totally stoked by this sighting and it sent me off into the hills.
It didn’t take long for me to realize the course seemed much rougher in the car. It was by no means easy, but I felt great and was very comfortable climbing all the hills. My chain stayed on the small ring until mile 25 or so when I decided it was time to build more speed off the top of a big hill. I shifted up and my chain flew off onto my pedal. I’d been having problems with throwing the chain and the tech at the bike shop took out two links and it rode perfectly the day before. But now, I was leery.
I coaxed my chain back on while flying down a hill at 30 mph. I put it back in the small ring for the next hill, and that’s where it stayed the rest of the day.
The thing about doing your first Ironman is you don’t know what you have in you. You’re cautious because you don’t want to be crawling your way to the finish line on the run. I decided I would coast down every hill and keep it simple by working with small gears only. This also forced me to be conservative and I think it turned out to be a good idea.
For my money, the Wisconsin bike course is epic and perfect for my riding style. I don’t really like being in aero on long flat stretches and the relentless hills kept me up for much of the day. The other great part about the course is the turns (note all the directions in the orange section below). I didn’t seem like we were on any one stretch for more than five miles and this played right into my need for a change of scenery.
There are three big hills the locals affectionately call “The Three Bitches,” and I was closing in on my first pass. The lead-in is a long, slow downhill that weaves left, then curls right to meet the bottom of Bitch number one.
When the hill comes into view, so do the people. I mean this place is in the middle of nowhere, but the crowds make it feel like you’re riding into Woodstock. The first group I noticed was three guys dressed like devils and they were swatting cyclists with a foam pitch fork as they rode by. Then more and more people until you got to the top and every single one of them was screaming encouragement in your ear. There were hundreds of people smiling and telling us how strong we looked. “Keep pushing, man…. you got it!” Talk about a boost.
Just over the top of Bitch One, came a short flat spell, then Bitch Two was waiting with more of the same. I found my climbing gear and churned to the top while people yelled my name and gave me hope.
Then came a short stretch of relative flat until you made a left and stuck your tongue in the mouth of Bitch Three. This road was narrower and it really gave you that Tour de France feeling. People running along side, metaphorically pushing you up the hill. There was literally a foot of space on either side of me as I rode through hundreds of people. The crowd support was overwhelming and helped take your mind off the pain of the climb.
Just as I reached the top someone started slapping my back and yelling my name. “You look great, Mike! Keep it going man. Awesome!” He ran alongside me and that’s when it hit me, it was Tim! I met him at Rev3 Knoxville in May and we’d kept in touch all summer. He’d done IMWI and gave me tons of recon on the course, including this race report. He’s a great dude and I was stoked to see him, but the conversation was short as I pulled away and headed to the bash in Verona.
I probably could have picked up a few minutes if I hit my downhill approaches a little harder, but I routinely rolled 30+ mph and didn’t see any reason to waste my legs. I was, however, aggressive on the corners. I’ve been working on my bike control for a while and felt comfortable leaning into corners which gave me sort of a sling-shot advantage and helped me pass a lot of people coming out of turns.
I was going through a full bottle of water and one Perform every 15 miles and by about mile 60 my bladder was ready for payback. I hadn’t practiced relieving myself on the bike, but on this day I turned into an expert. I probably went four or five times on the bike, each time dousing myself with water to clean things off.
I was now entering Verona for the first time and very excited. It was about mile 55 and I was actually looking forward to the second loop. But, I was more fired up to see friends and family as I blew through town.
My eyes were peeled as I turned right and saw a huge throng of spectators lining each side of the road for about a half mile or more. I kept looking for the bright orange shirts and neon yellow signs, but came up empty. I heard my name announced as I hit the middle of town, but no indication of anyone I knew. Damn, I missed them.
As I hit the end of the gauntlet, I heard “Tarrolly!” and for the second time I got to see Uncle Butch and Aunt Nancy crew. I was elated and a little emotional about it because I didn’t expect them to stay because, while they wanted to show support, they had other plans that day. It meant a lot.
The hills didn’t bother me at all on the first loop and I roared onto lap two bubbling with confidence. My splits through mile 60 looked like this:
The first 18.8 Miles – 18.89 mph
The next 20 Miles – 19.26
The next 21.2 Miles – 18.53
I was right where I wanted to be, and doing it without a Garmin.
The next 20 miles I stayed right on my number at 18.68 miles per hour. The second round of the 3 Bitches was much tougher and I started getting a little bit dilerious around mile 90. I was also a little bummed I didn’t see Tim the second time through the 3rd Bitch, but after that hill, I was headed back to Verona, then into Madison.
This time I saw my friends and family right away. They were all on the corner just before I turned into the big party. I saw them all and it was so damn cool. Wasky (in the red jacket below) was right in the road and for some reason was leaning down to give me a very “low five” like I was ready to perform a circus trick after a hundred miles on a bike. 
It was a quick flash and I “saw” everyone except Robbie. But when I turned the corner, I heard his voice, “Mike, Mike!” I looked to my left and he was running barefoot right next to me. I calmly asked, “What’s up?” And he started screaming at me, “Be patient, Be patient!!!” “Okay.”
As I road away, I wasn’t really sure what he meant, but because I wasn’t wearing a Garmin, I suspected I was churning out a pretty fast bike split. In fact based on feel and casually observing my speedometer, I genuinely thought I might be pushing 20 mph for the entire ride. Obviously I was wrong, but his words rang in my head as I approached the last 15 miles back to transition.
The great part of that story is that, after the race, Robbie told me he ran out there with every intention to give me “the green light,” but changed his mind to “be patient” in mid-stride. As usual, it was the right call. 
The crowd was rowdy as ever and I embraced every second of riding through Verona. It was 10 people deep on both sides in the middle and I felt like a rock star. I was flying high and a little relieved that I saw everyone this time through. But the fun wasn’t over!
As I approached the last turn out of Verona I saw their neon yellow shirts for the THIRD time. Butch, Nancy, Tim, Jenny, and Phil were still there! They’d been watching for 5 hours and screamed like little kids when I rode by. How awesome.
The last 15 miles were my least favorite part of the bike. The wind was howling right into my face and what seemed relatively flat on the way out now felt like extended family of the 3 Bitches. I stayed patient like Robbie said and did my best to stay around 18 mph on the way in because it was almost time for the biggest test of my day. The run.
Mile 60 – 80 split was 18.68 mph
The last 32 miles were at 17.67 (and I believe included the 3 Bitches)
Official Bike Time: 6:03:35
18:48 MPH
Transition #2
There wasn’t a soul in sight as I started up the ramp to the helix, but out of nowhere I heard, “Mike Tarrolly! You are ‘almost’ an Ironman!” It was my buddy, Roger Badger, who is from Wisconsin, but we were neighbors in Nashville before he quit his job and moved to the Florida Keys to become a full time musician. We ran our first 1/2 marathon together, and he was the main character in the story that fueled major change in both our lives.
I climbed the helix and coasted toward the dismount line. 112 grueling miles behind me. I was very, very relieved, and in a twisted way anxious to run. But my legs had other ideas.
When I stepped off the bike I almost fell flat on my face. My knees were locked and I shuffled into the changing area like Herman Munster. Let me tell you, it’s not a good feeling knowing you have a marathon waiting but can’t bend your knees. But I knew it was a false feeling and put all my energy into trusting that my run legs would find me.
Official T2 Time: 4:43
Chasing Miles – The Run
Before Ironman Wisconsin my longest run was 14 miles. That day I would be asked to run 26.2 after a 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike. Throughout my training I battled this demon daily. Would I have what it takes to go the distance? Would I hit the infamous 18 mile wall? Would be reduced to a slow walk? I would soon find out.
The entire run is a bit hazy, but I remember several little things. Like laughing to myself when I saw a sign for Mile 1. Shouting “Melvin Gordon” to the cops when I ran into Camp Randall. And the huge tree branch falling right behind me on the path along the lake.
Because I wasn’t wearing a Garmin, I was really getting confused about time. I was using my chrono watch and hitting re-start on the stopwatch when I hit a mile marker, but kept forgetting to look when I saw the next one. I was doing this all day. Getting lost in the fog, and battling with all my might to keep running.
For the first 3 miles I felt a little hot spot on the outside of my left foot and was in a minor panic. That’s what nearly did me in at Muncie and was probably my biggest unspoken fear of the day. By the time I came out of Camp Randall, I realized that my shoes felt very loose. Then it dawned on me I forgot to tighten my Yankz out of transition. I was literally running with my shoes untied. I pulled off to the side and tightened things up, and from that point on, my hot spot was gone.
I knew it would be extremely hard to run the whole way after swimming and biking, but I made up my mind a long time ago that I would RUN this marathon. I don’t want to take anything away from people who walk parts of it, but I just don’t understand people who swim, bike, then walk the marathon. I get that things go wrong and people get sick or whatever, but I can honestly say I was in pain every time my foot hit the road. I wanted to quit running the entire time. But I trained nine months and drove nine hours to this race — I came here to run.
The first time I saw my entourage was around Mile 6 on State Street. They were sandwiched between hundreds of other fans at turnaround and I felt solid as I climbed toward them. They. Were. Going. Crazy! I smiled, slapped a little skin, then turned to run back down.
How weird this all was. The last time I saw Jim and Mark was when the cannon blasted. Now, it was 8 hours later and I didn’t see anyone from the Fab 5 until Daniel and I traded encouragement on one of the twisting trails. Shortly after, Kevin spotted me across the road and we did the same.
I was completely twisted and kept forgetting where I was, but thankfully there were tons of aid stations. They showed up every mile and I took advantage of nearly every one. The one thing I did do, was slow to a walk when I was drinking water or Perform or eating pretzels or chips or cookies or grapes or bananas or hash brownies, or whatever else they wanted me to sample. I’d been genuinely hungry for real food since the last hour of the bike and despite my fear of cramping, I listened to my body’s cries for solids.
I also started listening to my alter ego.
Running is incredibly mental and you can crack in a mili-second. This Ironman Wisconsin run turned into The Battle of Two Mike’s.
The real Mike was taking one step at a time, moving toward a dream he’d been working on for a year. “Alt Mike” wanted no part of the pain and lured me back to the couch.
Alt Mike: Dude, you’ve never run a marathon, back it down to a walk for a while.
Real Mike: Trust the training. Your legs are ready. It won’t hurt more than this.
Alt Mike: Ha, nice one. You know this is stupid. Why go through the pain? Make up an excuse and go easy!
I saw the support crew again around mile 10, and it was not a moment too soon. Robbie started jogging beside me and we had this short conversation.
Robbie: How do you feel?
Me: I feel okay, but this is all I got.
Robbie: That’s good, just keep it right here.
Me: What’s my pace look like?
Robbie: Honestly, it’s a little concerning. Your last two splits were 8:19 and 8:29.
Me: No shit?? I thought I was around 10.
Robbie: Nope. Back it down a little, stay patient, and when you get to 22 miles and feel like it can’t hurt any worse, go to work.
Me: Okay, man.
He faded into the distance and I turned to run up State Street, around the capitol, then deep into the finishers chute for a twisted-Ironman-prank before turning back around to another half marathon.
I vividly remember the Mile 14 sign and thinking to myself the rest of this run will be uncharted territory. Twelve miles of unknown. Did I have it in me? I wasn’t sure. I felt exactly the same as I did when I started this run. It all hurt. I didn’t know how I would keep going. I tried not to think about it, but couldn’t daydream. I was having trouble enjoying the scenery. I truly couldn’t do anything but try to keep focused.
Around mile 18 a guy came up behind me and said, “Hey buddy, where ya from?”
I was instantly furious, but somehow mustered “Nashville.”
“Great city. I’m from Ohio. This your first Ironman?”
“Uh, yeah, please go away.” (I didn’t really say that).
“This is my third, they never get any easier.”
“Thanks for nothing!”
I was kinda mad that I was mad because conversation can definitely help pass time on long runs, but this was a race and I was using every ounce of energy I had to stay focused on mentally moving the pain in my body.
If my knee started aching I put all my focus on it and the pain would temporarily move out. Sometimes to the hips, sometimes to the ankles. I kept moving the pain in my mind and this was honestly the only way I made it through the marathon. Unfortunately for the man from Ohio, I haven’t mastered moving pain while having a conversation.
My family and friends were hustling about the course and I saw them on several occasions. The last time was just before Mile 20. They all stood and cheered. My brother diligently video taped the scene, and Wasky looked me in the eye and said, “10K brotha and it’s yours.” I turned the corner, saw the Mile 20 sign, then looked at my watch. It was 6 o’clock.
I had another laugh with myself when I realized I’d been racing for eleven hours, but knew it was time to get serious. I had to average a 10 minute pace, then bust it a little on the last mile to get in under 12 hours. Alt Mike started reminding me that I had only starting running a year earlier and a 10K was a long ass run. Real Mike wouldn’t have it.
I labored through each aid station trying not to think of anything but the finish. By now I added Coke and chicken broth to the menu, but for the last 5 miles it was all water and Perform.
My stopwatch was rolling and mile 21, 22, and 23 were right at a 10 minute pace but I was fading. Sometime around there I saw Mark. He gave me a stern look and said, “Finish strong, man!” It was all I needed to hear.
Shortly after, I also saw Jim after I heard him say, “Tarrolly! You are rockin it!” We exchanged a “Wasky-low-five” and I picked it up a notch.
I was losing my focus when a girl ran by me looking like she was fresh out of bed and running a little 5K. She had perfect form and looked incredibly strong. I reasoned she was making a move to stay under 12 hours, so I did my best to keep up. Thankfully she stopped at a couple aid stations and I kept her in my sights and reset my stopwatch at Mile 24.
She pranced about 50 yards ahead of me and I labored to keep her in view. I was starting to tank and running out of time. Two miles away and I had 20 minutes.
I started losing her and my mind did strange things to me. Alt Mike was screaming, “Stop!” I was numb and was literally leaning forward hoping my feet would catch me. I’d been out here almost 12 hours and was falling apart. I glanced at my watch and total time of my race was 11:52. What?!? I still hadn’t seen Mile 25 and I went into a panic. I thought I was fucked. I kept running. No 25 sign. How could this be?
Alt Mike eased the pain. “It’s okay man, you had a great run. They’ll still love you if you come in over 12.” It was the closest Alt Mike came to winning. I honestly remember slowing down to a near walk and stopping. I was THIS close to stopping. But somehow, some way, I convinced myself that I missed the 25 Mile marker and poured on the jets.
I had just over 7 minutes to get to the finish and I gave it everything I had. I’m certain my last mile was my fastest of the day. I ripped around the corner and headed up State Street passing everyone in my way. I couldn’t believe the energy I found. Time was running out and I was under 4 minutes when I saw the capitol. I blew past the aid station with a big Thank You and turned right at the corner. Did I have to go all around the capitol? I couldn’t remember. Under 3 minutes.
Another right turn and for some reason I started thinking about my 100 yard dash times in High School but quickly discarded that thought when I realized I had no idea how long city blocks were.
When I closed in on the next turn I heard a booming voice screaming my name. MIKE! MIKE! I looked around and couldn’t find anyone I knew. It had a massive echo and literally sounded like it was coming from the top of the capitol building. Was I hearing things? It sounded like Robbie, but I couldn’t be sure. I found out later that it was, and that was the last jolt I needed.
When I got around the corner with two minutes to spare, I knew I had it. I saw the mid-block- turn and the Finisher’s Chute was waiting. A million emotions washed over me. All the long rides, runs, and early morning lake swims had paid off. I was about to be an Ironman.
When I hit the carpet every ounce of pain left my body. Thousands of faces hung over the fence and I scanned them for my family. I saw them about halfway down on the left hand side, shining bright in their fluorescent orange shirts. I veered in their direction and raised my hand as if to salute their presence. I felt more alive at that moment than I have in years. A small tear formed on the corner of my eye and I’m quite sure my face would have flooded if I wasn’t so dehydrated.
Many people told me to slow down and enjoy the moment, so I geared back. About two yards from the finish, when I knew sub-12 was in the bank, I stopped and slowly raised my arms in victory. Two volunteers caught me and I captured one final glimpse of the girl who set my pace before she faded into the memory banks forever.If there was any doubt about why I would do such a crazy thing, it was answered when I saw my family and friends in the Finisher’s chute. I was on the course by myself that last hour, but was not alone. I kept running because they were waiting. Waiting on their son, waiting on their friend. And there’s nothing more powerful than someone excitedly waiting for you to come home.
Follow me on Twitter@miketarrolly
Official Run Time: 4:23:10
Total Time: 11:58:58
535 out of 2,544 Overall
32nd out of 225 in Age group
I’m still in the process of finishing my Ironman Wisconsin Race Report because I keep returning to the raw emotion of the event and feel a need to air some feelings before I breakdown my race. In short, the entire experience taught me you race Ironman for reasons much greater than yourself. 
(Photos courtesy of Carolyn Petredis Wasky)
You just can’t explain why you’d want to do an Ironman until you’ve done one. And while I still don’t have a clear answer, it lies somewhere in building character, relationships, and a connection to your spirit.
It is impossible to understand the beauty and vitality of 3,000 people in swim caps filing into the
water to begin such a daunting journey. Sure, it’s competition, but for the most part it is with themselves. They have all made a commitment to be better and stronger people. To push potential to the limit. To live and experience life with people they love. And that path is contagious.
Family and friends line the “chute” and suspend the ego. They are in the race, too. I am one hundred percent convinced. Giving every ounce of energy they can spare to friends, family, and total strangers. They too will be exhausted (maybe more) when the final Ironman has crossed the finish line.
It is a family affair in the purest sense because there are few expectations other than doing your best. There is no time for judgement, self-doubt, or sweating the small stuff.
Collective energy is the guardian angel that hovers above the entire 140.6 mile course, lifting racers when they least expect it, or need it most. It is a war between 3,000 people — and everyone is fighting for the same side.
The experience at Wisconsin will stay with me forever. I’d trained beyond my perceived limits for one single day that sat in the future as a mystery. It has come and gone, but my 12-month-dream was everything and more than I imagined.
I live in the Volunteer state of Tennessee and it is abundantly clear the Badger state 
understands this concept well. Thousands of people I’ve never met greeted me with a willing smile and each would have given me a powder blue shirt off their backs. I am very proud to be from Wisconsin.
And to have my friends from Nashville along for the experience was incredibly rewarding. I have shared blood, sweat, and tears with these people and I couldn’t have asked for a better way to showcase my roots than Ironman. That day built lifetime bonds, and the story below articulates that better than I ever could.
The following is an excerpt from my coach Robbie’s IMWI spectator review, which is a great read, that is posted here. He tells a story about “Gary” who was struggling to finish the last mile. After we got back to Nashville, Robbie and Allie tried to find him and eventually tracked him down through the Senior Olympics. The second part is Gary’s email to Robbie and Allie. Reading both brought a tear to my eye.
From Ironman Wisconsin: Sights and Sounds from a Spectator’s View — By Robbie Bruce
. . . After a few minutes a man came around the corner. I literally thought he was going to drop. He was walking at a 90 degree angle. face staring flat at the ground. He looked as if he would face plant into the street at any minute. I began to walk next to him. He would lean on me. Faltering. “Keep it up buddy. Don’t stop.” He said he had to make 15hrs….” I have to. “I’m not for false hope so with the remaining distance I had to break it to him that was not a possibility. But he would still be and Ironman. He looked older. I was not sure how old. “I have to finish” he would say. I had no idea of his name but just kept walking with/against him.
Everyone was in, but our day was not done. We all continued to push for this stranger. Every few steps he would falter and literally use me as a wall to stand up. Wasky, Allie, Carolyn were determined to get him there. Before he hit the home stretch he muffled, “If I faint will you catch me. ” No. Gary. Im just gunna let you fall. Just kidding. We got you. No falling. No fainting. Prepare to run it in. Run it in.” Here we rare pushing him to run it in…. Go!!
He began to jog and we all ran with him. Surrounding him in a kind of support bubble. We had him on all sides. A stranger. We would most likely never see again. Yet we felt we were a part of his journey. Volunteers were yelling at us to move but we kept on. As we let him go into the light towards the finish we could here over the speaker, “Gary Pinter… 62 year old first time Ironman finisher from right here in Wisconsin….” We ran towards the finish…. The crowd…
“GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY.”
I think we were actually running and jumping and cheering trying to make it back…… A man we had met merely minutes ago managed to make some of us shed some tears of joy. Man. What a day. What an experience. What a sport.
—————–Below is the return email from the man in the story above.
Hi Allie;
My name is Gary Pinter. I think I’m the Guy your looking for. I was honored to hear that you are searching for me. My good friend and biggest swim competitor John White, President of the Senior Olympic told me last night at dinner that you guy’s are looking for me. The funny thing about all of this was, I told everyone in a mass email that some people in the form of “ANGELS” appeared in my life near the finish line. I had less than a mile to go and my back was starting to cramp so bad that I could barely move from the pain. They encouraged to keep going and they would be by my side to the finish. Well, what can I say, it WORKED. I finished it in about the 15 hours and 3 minutes I predicted. Now, for myself I didn’t ever think that I would ever find the ANGELS that God sent from HEAVEN until I died and at that time I could meet you all face to face. Now I know these ANGELS live in Nashville Tennessee. Allie and friends I thank you all for being there at my time of need. All along the way of my 140.6 journey to becoming an Ironman people encouraged us from the very start. Even before entering the water. It was my family and friends 5 years ago, to get up and work hard and train to my limits. My wife Beth is my biggest support. “ALWAYS TELLING ME THAT I WILL FINISH THE IRONMAN WITH TIME TO SPARE” My kids were also a HUGE support. All the 60,000 people along the 140.6 miles we traveled that day right to the end when I found my wonderful Wife Beth, giving her a hug and kiss before I crossed the finish line. Now that I did this, it’s not that big of a deal. The story of the people who encouraged me to train and the Angels God sent me to complete it, is the BIG DEAL!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for being there!!!!!!!! Gary Pinter
– Robbie Bruce
I have competed in and raced in 5 Ironman. Even before I became a “full time” coach I had always said “I would much rather race one than watch one. “The mental exhaustion, worry, and wait of the spectator seems much more daunting than actually racing.” Up until last Sunday at Ironman Wisconsin I was sure I was right. When I woke up Sunday morning at 5:30am and prepared to spend the next 18hrs cheering on athletes, friends, and complete strangers I knew I was wrong. It would be all different after Sunday. My view of spectating, Ironman, racing, and the sport were all about the change. The following is a recap of what I witnessed, observed and felt watching this race. As usual, it will be long but I am getting better at including humor and this report will be more of a picture based with small captions, more of a running visual diary to ease your pain. I can promise you that if you make it to the end it will be a great journey and you will be just as likely to sign up as a volunteer as you will signing up to compete in an Ironman when you finish.
Pre Race:
Friday night (arguably the most important day)
We met all of the Fab Five including some family and friends at a sweet pizza joint situated really close to transition. Allie and I headed there early to snag a table as we anticipated a long wait but there ended up none to be had. Everyone else was to meet at a neighboring hotel and then head over. I was pumped to see my Kevin, Jim and Mike as they all 3 thought I was on the ground in Vegas. It was time to pull the rug out from under them and surprise them with my arrival in Madison. As things would work out they all entered our room one at a time and with 3 very different personalities you can imagine their reactions were all very different. Kevin came in first with a “Holy S#$t” Look on his face. He actually stopped dead in his tracks for a moment and just stared at me as if he had just seen a ghost. He sat down and said with his copyrighted “laugh/giggle” and said…”Ok then. Game on.” Jim meandered in shortly after and as usual was just plain cool. Excited and smiling but as cool as the other side of the pillow. I knew what was coming from Jim, “Dude. I cant believe your here. I wouldve picked Vegas for sure. But I am glad your here.” Tucked his hair behind his ear and had a seat. Mike was the last to enter and he turned the corner he looked like a 6yr old kid walking in to see what Santa brought him. I felt like a brand new Nintendo console with Contra included with the excitement he was exuding. He was amped. ” No way. Really?. Ha man. Yea. We all enjoyed about 2 hours of food, fellowship, wine, race talk and so many laughs as usual my face was hurting. It was such and amazing group. We tabbed out and headed back towards the cars.
Here is our crew with Carolyn in the back waving here hand at the waitress as she is trying to order more vodka snacks even after we paid. She wasn’t racing so bravo Carolyn:
As we walked back to the hotel we spotted transition and the finish line. I wont lie. I was in awe. It was one of the coolest sports scenes. Everyone was taking pictures. I think the magnitude of the weekend and the race set in. Of the group walking back only MIke was racing but I could feel everyones heart beginning to pound. It was a sweet scene. Here is a picture of the finish area which does not do it justice.
Everyone hit the sack and prepared for the day ahead.
Saturday
Everyone pretty much did their own thing on Saturday as I believe they should. The all did their prerace workout. Packed their bags and prepared their bikes in. All was quiet. You could sense they were preparing to go to battle. The time was arriving. While they were getting ready and staying comfortable John, Allie, Carolyn and I figured we should spend sometime soaking in some Wisconsin culture with our home stays the Flemmings. So we obliged them when they asked us to tailgate with them and then go to the Badger game. Then tailgate again. They twisted our arms but I figured “Hey, the rest of the guys are getting hydrated, no reason we shouldn’t do the same. Here is a little caption of the Badger game. Pretty cool scene they have their. Not SEC stuff but solid.
Later that day we met up with Jim and Mike and their significant others at a very illustrious establishment in one of the ritzier parts of Madison at a place called….. Texas Roadhouse. Yep. We kept it simple. I was fine with that. We met early. Ate rather quick and then gave our final hugs and fives before we all headed home. We all had a long day ahead of us. That place has pretty solid steaks. I would have a picture but Wasky was too busy signing up for some pyramid scheme compliments of the lady in the booth behind us. The next 24 hours were going to be incredible…….. Lets get to the important part of the weekend. Ironman Wisconsin.
Sunday Sunday Sunday!!!
5:15 alarm went off and we were a go!!! Everyone seemed in a slow hurry to get out the door. I really wanted to make sure I got to the start to see everyone before they went in. I knew my chances of seeing Kevin were slim bc knowing his astuteness for being punctual he would be one of the first in the water. I was still determined to find them all. We made our way into town and the excitement was building. So much energy as we parked. Everyone was in a huge hurry to get to the start. If you have ever walked anywhere with Wasky the dude walks a legit 8:00 mile. Its stupid really. I did my best to keep up and I was going anaerobic quick. Allie got a text from Mike giving their location “We are by a white van next to the start line.” Wow to be as vague as possible I thought. APB out for a “white male, short brown hair, mid 30s, jeans and a t shirt.” Man. This might be impossible. We made our way to the finish and I spotted someone with a Crushing Iron shirt on and said “Where are the guys.” She looked at me like “who is this random dude tapping me on the shoulder.” It turned out to be Mikes sister. She pointed in a general direction that they were in. So I placed myself on top of a perfectly placed car. Great view and very sturdy. I gazed through the masses and spotted Jim and Mike. No Kevin. I knew it. He was in the water. We all exchanged nervous pleasantries before they went in. I looked at Wasky and we both felt “Give me some goggles and a speedo and I am so jumping in this race.” Music was blaring. Energy everywhere. Spectators getting stoked. Such a cool environment. Only second to the finish chute I think. As they all made their way in the water we all got to know the other 15-20 people we would be spending the next 17 hours with. Team Crushing Iron Support Team. Literally some of the coolest people I have met. Spouses, brothers, sisters, parents, friends, coaches, significant others. All with different emotions. All with different hopes and worries. Here we are trying to hide our nervous excitement as the guys made their way into the dark blue water. I love the “thumbs up” from Chris Tarrolly right here. He was the only person that never looked nervous all day. He took some great footage too.
As they lined up in the water in a mass of almost 3,000 we took our positions to watch. The swim is the most never racking part in my opinion. It is the longest you have to go without seeing a person or getting an update. It is also the leg of the race where the most can go wrong. If you have never seen a mass start at an Ironman is one of the coolest scenes in all of sports. A scene that unfortunately seems to be going by the wayside with time trial and rolling starts becoming more part of the norm. Here are all the guys. Somewhere as they fly off for their 2.4 mile swim.
Now we wait. Everyone kind of looks around as if to say “What the hell do we do now?” It is an entire day of hurry up and wait. It also gave us a time to do Q&A with everyone there as lots of questions were arising. Thoughts, expectations, etc. I had loose times for the guys to come out in so I knew when to really look. With the wind high and the current strong I added 3-5 mins to my predicted times because of the elements. Wasky and I sprinted to the other side of T1/2 to make sure we had time to see them exit the water and then hurry to see them exit T1. It is an exceptionally long transition so we had tons of time. Came back and then it was time to wait. And wait. And wait. As it got close the hour mark it was time to be on alert. You never know when they are going to come out but better to be there early than not at all. Wasky and I posted up on the car provided. Here we are seeing if we can find Kevin punching Mike or trying to pull Jim under. It is no holds barred with them.
Bam. Mike out of the water. About where I thought due to the conditions. He looked a bit disgusted but its early in the game. We made our way to see him exit and I told Eddy Rossel to text me when Kevin and Jim were coming out because we didnt want to see Mike exit, run back and miss them in the intermittent period. We posted up on the ramp coming out of T1 to wait for Mike. As we waited I got to field some Q&A from the Tarrolly family. They were all so nice and were so eager to learn and be involved. Not all families and support systems are like that. This is Mikes parents asking why his swim was so slow. Why people where things on their calves, etc.
Just as we saw Mike come out I got the text from Eddy. Jim and Kevin were literally only :07 apart coming out which was crazy so we stayed put. I could not find a picture of Jim coming out but here are is Kev saying “Why the hell are you yelling at me?” and Mike peeing on himself with exuberance.
Everyone out? Now what do we do? Everyone talked plans for conquering the spectating portion of the bike course and everyone went their separate ways. We retreated back to the Flemmings to relax and the original plan was to nap. Nope. No nap. We were all too amped. I turned on Vegas 70.3 to track my awesome athletes there. Tracking. Tracking. Tracking. The Waskys went to scout a good place for us to catch the guys. The found the perfect spot around mile 52 and 94. Not very busy so we knew they could see us. There was also a pub called the draft house a block away. We posted their first and as I pulled up the tracker. Damnit. MIke was making really good time and I feared we missed him. We met his family up at the corner. Waited. Waited. Waited. Nothing. We had missed him but had one more chance to see him. Now we wait for Jim and Kevin to roll through. They looked on point on the tracker but its hard to tell. It was windy and I told them to be patient but I was beginning to worry about Jim. Here they came around the corner and we got to see both of them. Here is Kev giving a look of confidence and also when Jim broke the news to us he was having some major back and neck issues which was surprising but he looked determined.
We had plenty of time before they came back around so we all retreated back to the Draft House to rest or legs, get food and beverage, watch some football and prepare for the rest of the day. I think at this point we had already recharged our phones at least 2x. I cant state enough how awesome our support crew was to be around. I have heard some horror stories about spectating and to be honest its not surprising. You spend 17hours with people, stressful, tiring, detailed. Hell, I cant even stand being around me 17hrs a day. So the fact that we all had such a good time says a lot about the group. Here is team Crushing Iron sharing some laughs at some of Mikes baby pictures. Those bath tub pics were crazy. Who knew a 8 month old could already have the chest hair of a grizzly bear.
We paid our tab and rushed back to make sure we got to see the guys again before the home stretch. The weather was still favorable but the wind was picking up and everyone looked steady. We saw Mike coming down the hill and I rushed up the street so I could run with him and relay a message. I told his family I was going to give him the “green light” to push it some. I began to run up so he wouldnt have to slow down. As he approached I changed my mind. Instead of “green light” I screamed “STAY PATIENT”
He looked fine but I just didnt want him to risk the run.
The rest of the guys peeled through and looked good. We could still tell that Jim was hurting but I knew he would finish. The guy is a true champion. All heart. A real seasoned vet Kevin looked very comfortable and it was hard for me to tell if he was holding TOO much back. But I was very very happy with where he was. Side note: We did see a TON of drafting which was disappointing but DONT WORRY. John “drafting police” Wasky made sure he let everyone know they were CHEATING or at least judging them as they rode by like right here:
“Yea. I see you. Up in the hoods. Aero helmet on. Drafting……Punk…..”
So. Again we looked around and kind of said…. “What now?” We regrouped, went our separate ways and prepared for the final part of the day. I told MIkes family when they asked what I thought he could do that “I think that he has an 11 something in him on the perfect day. He needs to be off the bike around 4:20 I believe to make that happen.” We made it back to the car to head towards the run. I checked my phone right at 4:20 and he was off the bike. Bam. I like it. I honestly do not have a lot of recollection of our journey up until about mile 6-12 of the run. Tracking. Driving. Running. Making sure we were in the right spots. We were running around like crazy people. There is always a sense of relief when everyone gets off the bike. It is more like “Ok, they will be an Ironman. Now we just find out what there time is going to be. ” I was super pumped with Kevins bike time and glad he was patient. I saw something special coming from him on the run. Jim was off and I was just praying he was going to keep toughing it out. Many others would have dropped out. Not Jim. He would finish. Because he is an Ironman and he knows you dont take these races for granted. We switched back and forth trying to catch everyone we could on the course and handing out fives. Getting reports from the other support crews letting us know how everyone looked. By mile 13 we had seen everyone. Share a few words and some fives. Here is a great shot of team support and hand slapping at its finest:
Kevin was looking strong. Jim was powering through and Mike was staying the course. I got to run with Mike a bit and just kept telling him to slow down and stay patient. He clocked a few 2 many 8:something miles for my liking to early. I got to talk to Jim for a bit at the turnaround and he reinforced the fact that he would indeed finish. “Just keep your head up brother. I get it.” Kevin looked comfortable so I knew he was in a good place. Now it is time for the final 13. The sun was going down and the wind picking up. We tried to snag them at miles 20-21 I think. We were all getting pretty stressed and antsy. So antsy that Carolyn had the guts to down 6 shots of this rattlesnake stuff right in front of the scariest policewomen I had ever seen. So Kentucky of her and sure to make Peggy proud.
Then we sprinted towards the finish. Catch Mike finish and then go back for the others. We all looked at our watches. Sub 12? Possible? Now we stared at our clocks. The whole team positioned themselves by the finish chute. I ran up the course so I could alert them he was coming and yell if I needed to. “11:52….. come on Mike…., 11:56….. Damnit Mike where are you….. 11:57… is that him.” I yelled with all my might. He had 2:00 to make it 500 meters I estimated. MIIIIKKKKKKEEEEEEE GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I didnt know if he could hear me but i was hoping. He rounded the corner and I yelled sub 12!!!!! GOOOOOOOO. Sprinted towards the finish and got to his family. He did it. Sub 12. Seeing his family and his mom especially was actually cooler than seeing him finish. Never doubted he had it in him. It was joyous. I may or may not have shed a small tear when it happened. This is my favorite photo from the whole day. Its Mike and his sister sharing a hug after he finished. I think it defines the true spirit of Ironman and why it is far from an individual sport. I won’t elaborate on the photo anymore and you can take away what you want from this beautiful photo:
We all shared a few hugs and fives. Nice work Mike. We grabbed a quick bite to eat and made our way on the course to make sure we saw the other guys. Jim still making it and Kevin still looking smooth. The sun was down. The course was still buzzing but certain parts of the course were dim with support and noise. We made our way to Mile 25.5 to wait. This was the game changer for me on a personal level. We werent just pulling for our friends and teammates anymore. We began cheering for every person who came by. We stood where the volunteers were supposed to be, except the guy with great legs and jeans on. He was awesome. We spoke to every person who came by. Some walking. Some running. Tired. Hurting. You could almost here the finish. If we could read their bib we shouted their name. “You got this. Home stretch. Here we go. Looking great.” You could tell they were so thankful. 8/10 actually started running again after we yelled at them. We tried to be supportive and humorous at the same time. We walked and ran with some. We probably gave out 1,000 fives. The last 2 hours before midnight I think are what define the sport. Images of complete strangers doing what they can to help others. On and off the course. For such a selfish sport everyone seem to be on the same time at that hour. Scenes like this:
It is truely such and awesome scene. Everyone is friends and everyone is supportive. I loved it. Kevin made it through and look determined to push it strong through the finish. Allie picked him up on the way to help pace him a bit as he fought for the final miles on the way to his second Ironman and a 2hr PR. Even having some stomach issues Kevin powered to an awesome race and finish. You can see Kevin and Allie here in the background while I am staring into the night looking for Jim:
After a few minutes a man came around the corner. I literally thought he was going to drop. He was literally walking at a 90 degree angle. face staring flat at the ground. He looked as if he would face plant into the street at any minute. I began to walk next to him. He would lean on me. Faltering. “Keep it up buddy. Dont stop.” He said he had to make 15hrs….” I have too. “Im not for false hope so with the remaining distance I had to break it to him that was not a possibility. But he would still be and Ironman. He looked older. I was not sure how old. “I have to finish” he would say. I had no idea of his name but just kept walking with/against him. I missed Jim coming around the corner unfortunately. But in typical Jim fashion he was determined to run it in. So he did. Such a gritty performance and so proud of him. Here he is with a .5 mile left before taking in another Ironman finish. Such a stud.
Everyone was in but our day was not done. We all continued to push for this stranger. Every few steps he would falter and literally use me as a wall to stand up. Wasky, Allie, Carolyn were determined to get him there. Before he hit the home stretch he muffled,”If I faint will you catch me. ” No. Gary. Im just gunna let you fall. Just kidding. We got you. No falling. No fainting. Prepare to run it in. Run it in.” Here we rare pushing him to run it in…. Go!!
He began to jog and we all ran with him. Surrounding him in a kind of support bubble. We had him on all sides. A stranger. We would most likely never see again. Yet we felt we were a part of his journey. Volunteers were yelling at us to move but we kept on. As we let him go into the light towards the finish we could here over the speaker,
“Gary Pinter… 62 year old first time Ironman finisher from right here in Wisconsin….” We ran towards the finish…. The crowd…
“GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY, GARY.”
I think we were actually running and jumping and cheering trying to make it back…… A man we had met merely minutes ago managed to make some of us shed some tears of joy. Man. What a day. What an experience. What a sport. We corralled the others and got to share a few words. Some had tougher days than others but you still get the title of Ironman. Personally, it was the best experience of my life. Changed the way I look at the sport and my view of every person that competes from top to bottom. Most days people ask “Why the hell do you want to do that. You are crazy. ” A lot of times I dont really have a good answer. I do now. “You wanna know why? Go watch and Ironman and you will understand. Spend 1 minute at the finishing chute after dark. Spend one moment cheering on a friend. Then ask me again why I do it and why I love this sport.” If you still have to ask me why. You wont ever get it. I finally got it. I hope you do too.
Thursday 9/5
I rolled into Madison on Thursday afternoon and decided to drive the Ironman Wisconsin bike course before checking into the hotel. Rebekah handled the map and took notes as we headed out “the stick,” and despite what I’d heard, I wasn’t quite prepared for what I was about to witness.
This course is surrounded by folklore that rivals Paul Bunyan and I was unwilling to let the reports of “relentless hills” sink into my mind. But, as I drove up and down for over an hour, I started to believe. Driving the bike course was the best and worst thing I could have done.
We checked into the hotel, then walked across the street to Machinery Row Bicycles, which was one of the coolest bike shops I’d ever experienced. They had everything and the employees were some of the nicest people you’d want to meet, which set the tone for just about every interaction I had with the fine folks of Madison.
After a quick bike tune-up, I grabbed my wetsuit and took a little swim in Lake Monona around 4:00. It was unseasonably warm that day and the water was around 74 degrees. I was literally baking after swimming 500 meters. I knew it would be much cooler the morning of the race, but the fear of overheating slithered into my mind.
The rest of the Fab 5 got to town around 7:00 and, after a couple beers at the hotel, we went to eat at The Great Dane near the capitol.
I was a little hesitant to say anything about the bike course, but felt obligated to let them know and suggested it might be a good idea for them to drive it in the morning, and they said they would.
Friday 9/6
We were staying at the Ruby Marie Hotel and it didn’t take long to realize that we had struck gold. The employees were ridiculously nice, it had a great little bar, a bad ass deli, and was literally attached to the world famous Essen Haus. There was no reason to leave, and the Ironman transition was only two blocks away. For all of this, I cannot thank Season Kaminski enough for recommending the hotel after doing IMWI in 2011.
As each day in Madison progressed, Ironman became more real. Around 10:00, we went to Monona Terrace to check in for the race. The Fab 5 was in full force as we weaved our way through each of the check points. We signed waivers, stepped on the scale, got wrist bands, swim caps and timing chips. After that, we walked through the expo where, against my superstitious judgement, I bought the IMWI “name shirt” and added a can of Infinit that I knew I wouldn’t use on race day.
Smiles beamed from the amazing volunteers and workers built the finish line in the shadows of the imposing state capitol. More than once I daydreamed about crossing under that arch, though on some level I still had doubts. It’s hard to imagine you belong until you belong, but deep down I knew I was ready. I also had to keep reminding myself it would likely be the hardest and most rewarding finish line I’d ever cross.
After the expo I went to the room for rest. I laid in reverse on the bed with my feet against the wall, hoping I could get some of the swelling out of my ankles. I hadn’t told anyone, but for the last couple weeks the right side of my foot was bothering me and my left achilles was very tender. Because of that, I didn’t run for two weeks leading up to the race. I’d been saying all along that my main goal on race day was to “feel good” and two days out, I wasn’t quite there.
A couple hours later I started getting text messages about the bike course from the Fab 5. Jim said he was trying to wrap his head around it and that it was tougher than he thought. Daniel said, “At first I didn’t think it was bad, but now I think it may be a humbling experience.” Mark was wide eyed and said he thought it looked tough, but he was excited about the challenge. Kevin opted out for beer and cheese shopping.
We’d decided on dinner at Paesano’s just up the street, but went to the hotel bar to wait for Wasky, Carolyn, and Allison to get in from Nashville. Coach Robbie couldn’t make it because he had two athletes qualify for the world championships in Vegas and decided he couldn’t miss that opportunity. He dropped the news a month before and I was bummed. Robbie was a fixture in Jim, Kevin, and I’s training for nearly 9 months and the entire focus was on Wisconsin. It wasn’t like I felt I needed a coach the day of the race, but I really wanted him to be in Madison. It was my home state, we spent 3 mornings a week together at the lake and countless hours riding together on the Trace. All for this day, and Robbie wouldn’t be there to see us race.
But, he was texting us and making sure everything was cool. He also gave us a carrot by saying Wasky was delivering a special package to the team. We all thought it would be our new kits and were excited to wear them on our Saturday practice run and hopefully in the race.
Wasky showed up at the bar around 5:30 and we had a couple beers before heading to Paesano’s. Somehow we all got separated and I ended up walking in alone. The hostess pointed me to the room with double glass doors in the back, and when I walked in, I thought I was hallucinating. Sitting along the wall with the Wasky’s and Allison was Robbie! The first words out of my mouth were, “What the fuck?!?”
He pulled an elaborate hoax and I couldn’t have been happier. It truly gave me a boost knowing that he would be cheering (and answering many questions) alongside my family and pushing all the right buttons that would somehow help me get to the end.
After dinner we walked by the finish line again and the lit capitol in the background gave me chills. We took a few pictures, then strolled through the perfect Madison air back to our hotels for a night of rest before a short morning workout. 
Saturday 9/7
Our morning workout was a 15 minute swim, a 35 minute bike, and a 10 minute run. The water felt much better at 8 in the morning, but it was a tad choppy. We all decided the lake current was moving the right direction and would be behind us on the long leg of the swim. Our bike took us out the first few miles of the course, including a romp through the Reliant Center parking lot. We put the bikes into the van, then made a short run down to the end of Monona Terrace and back. I took it very, very slow and my ankle felt good so I stopped a little short and hoped for the best in the morning.
Rebekah and I went to breakfast with Mark, his wife and daughter, and it was unbelievable. They were staying at our hotel, too and we got free vouchers for the Essen House. We asked the waitress what our voucher was good for and she said, “Anything on the menu, including alcohol.” Believe me, a Bloody Mary was tempting, but stocking my transition bags would be confusing enough without a buzz. We opted for walleye and eggs, which came with potatoes, pancakes, and bacon. It rocked. And even if we did pay, it was only like 10 bucks. It’s the simple things.
Rebekah left to go to the Badger game with Robbie, Allie, and the Wasky’s while I went to get my gear bags ready. I laid everything on the bed and must have checked 20 times to make sure my shoes were in the right bags. The Badger game wasn’t on TV at the hotel, so I turned on the clock radio and listened to Matt Lepay call the game on the radio. There are so many distractions in life and there was something about listening to football on the radio that calmed my nerves and helped me focus on putting gummy bears in my special needs bags.
My family showed up around 3:00 and it was so awesome to have them all together. My brother was in from Milwaukee, my sister from Dallas, and my parents from Beloit. We walked across the street and I did my best to explain how their day of viewing would work.
I stood on the shore pointing toward a turn buoy we couldn’t see. I have become very confident in my swimming, but there’s something about looking at an Ironman swim course that can humble you in a heartbeat. And, if you’re not a swimmer, oh, say, like my dad . . . it can seem downright outlandish.
I paid close attention to his eyes and I could sense anxiety. He acted calm, but I knew he was concerned. What father wouldn’t be? I saw it first hand in Louisville when I watched with Wasky’s parents after he plunged into the murky Ohio River. An Ironman swim is not easy for first-time-watching-parents to digest.
I assured him it would be fine as we jostled our way across the busy streets back to the Ruby Marie where we sat together as a family with one focus for the first time in ages. It was a very simple, yet powerful moment for me.
Around 5:30 I picked up my phone and had about 35 text messages, the last one from Jim saying he’d be there in 10 minutes to pick me up for dinner. I didn’t read anything about where we were going and headed down to the van.
As we drove out East Washington I finally asked where we were the hell we were going and he said, “Tex’s Roadhouse.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I did want a steak, but here we were in beautiful downtown Madison and we’re now driving out to the east side to eat at a chain restaurant? I tried to keep cool, but Jim knew I was a little pissed.
Then I got pissed because I was pissed and a hundred thoughts swirled in my mind. Someone mentioned the steak houses downtown were really expensive, and I offered to chip in a hundred bucks for the meal. But the rest of the crew was already at the restaurant and I made a quick mental adjustment. I couldn’t afford to be upset the night before the race. I over reacted and knew it. I forced myself to go with the flow and it turned out to be a solid meal, not to mention a tasty bit of entertainment from the very, very happy employees and exposure to this awesome painting that I may just have to turn into a tattoo. 
We got back to the hotel around 7:30 and I laid down immediately hoping I would be asleep by 8. Then it was nine. Then ten. I was tossing and turning. Just when I’d feel myself drifting off a screaming child would run down the hall, or a train would go by, or drunks started yelling outside the Essen Haus. I was wired and couldn’t fall asleep.
I’d been up since 5 am, had a workout, didn’t nap, walked all over town, and there wasn’t a tired bone in my body. Eleven o’clock. Midnight. Wide awake. It was unbelievable. I even sat in meditation for 30 minutes to calm down. There was no calming and I would be getting up at 4 am. Sometime around 1am I dozed off before waking up again at 3:30. I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
I climbed out of the sheets at 4am, had two glasses of water, ate an orange, a power bar, and a banana, then sipped on a diluted batch of Perform. At 5:15 I walked alone through the dark and empty streets of Madison on my way to bike transition. I was about to race an Ironman on 2 1/2 hours of sleep.
I’m in Beloit, Wisconsin at my parents house, and will soon be making the Ironman-esque-9-hour-drive to Nashville. I haven’t had much time to write, but I’ve been fortunate to be around great friends and family who are insatiably curious about our experience in Ironman Wisconsin.
The questions flowed freely as we mowed down Tilly’s pizza and poured Wisconsin beer. My brother shot a ton of video and we all sat around and watched while Daniel and I fielded questions about how “that” felt or what were you thinking there?
One of the most remarkable things about this whole Ironman experience is the fact that, other than tenderness in my heal, I’m not even sore. I limped out of bed on Monday, but I almost feel like I could run The Nasty route with my running group, East Nasty, tonight if we got back in time. But I won’t and we probably won’t.
Speaking of my running group, I was humbled to be announced East Nasty of the Week the day after Ironman. You can find the article here.
Every week, this massive group positive people gathers in East Nashville to push themselves as runners and people. It’s really an amazing sight to see over 200 runners flow through neighborhood streets. I was very lucky to hook up with this group and honestly think running with them for the last year made the difference in my run at Wisconsin. 
Speaking of the Ironman run, it was the most demanding physical feat of my life. I literally wanted to walk after every step I took, but I can honestly say, other than several short walks through the aid stations, I only walked up one short hill on the course at mile 18.
The furthest I’d run before Ironman was 14 miles. I kept waiting for the wall, but it never came. Not at mile 18 or 22 or 26. Somehow, someway, I ran my first marathon in 4:23, without stopping, at the end of an Ironman.
Anyway, time to hit the road. There will be numerous updates, including the race recap coming soon.
Ironman Wisconsin is in the books and was the thrill of a lifetime. I’m kicking back at the family cottage near Lake Geneva and this is the most gratifying recovery I could imagine. just sitting on the deck with a warm breeze after a morning swim. It may be a couple days but I have dozens of blogs percolating in my head. Thanks for following the journey. Crushing Iron has just begun. I
It just got a little more real.
