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I’ve written an Ironman Louisville race report, but feel like the run deserves a little more attention. Namely because it was the hardest and most confusing athletic endeavor I have ever experienced.
I say “athletic endeavor” but my journey was much more reminiscent of Fear Factor meets 65 “Ice Cup Challenges.”
The only thing I can compare it to was the run last year at Ironman Wisconsin. It was a very similar experience, but this year I felt much better getting off the bike, so the collapse is even more intriguing.
My run at Wisconsin was 4:23 and hurt every step. My Louisville time was 5:27 and damn near killed me.
God, that run. I don’t even know how to describe it other than a precession of 25 Aid Station hunts. One mile at a time, I blindly felt my way through darkness under searing sunlight. An endless mirage that tugged and taunted until the finish line was my only remaining option.
I mean, the heat is obviously the reason Louisville’s run turned me into a corn on the cob, but I still have deeper questions: When and how did it fall apart?
Did I push too hard on the bike? Sure didn’t feel like it. I nearly lived in the small ring, coasted all downhills and rarely felt like I was hammering. The main problem I had on the bike was my neck.
But, there is just no other reasoning that makes sense. I must have been much hotter on the bike than I realized. That, and/or I didn’t get enough fluids. I mean, how else could I be that hot, that fast on the run?
There is no doubt I ran my first mile too fast (9:38) but I honestly felt strong off the bike. It wasn’t until the first Aid Station when I started seeing two headed vulcans.
Exactly one mile into the marathon I was in survival mode. Volunteers were cooling water and Perform bottles in those little kiddie pools and all I could think about was parking my hot ass in the middle of their stash.
I also had a gut cramp, which didn’t help matters. I popped salt and chicken broth to no avail. Maybe I should have gone with more Perform? I just couldn’t even look at that stuff after the bike. I would have surely puked.
This run felt like trudging through a swamp on the hottest day of the year. My body, including my feet, were soaked, and nothing was drying off. BUT, that ice was certainly melting.
By the time I was a quarter mile away from the Aid Station, I was scrambling for any secret to save my melting ice. It was my personal cartoon where the character melts and seeps into the sewer grates.
All of my injuries were a mute point. They had ZERO to do with this run. My legs (and ribs) felt fine. It was just an overall feeling of sloth. A muddled and confused “forward is technically a pace” adventure.
There was a period of time when I felt outside my body, only be reminded by some very nice liar that I was looking good. “You look good, Mike, hang in there!”
I looked like shit and have video to prove it (which I will soon be releasing for the world to make fun of). It will be a public humiliation like never witnessed before. Life of Brian shit.
But, seriously, I’m glad I had the sense to spend time cooling my core. It could have been a very bad ending and we wouldn’t have had any video to laugh at later this month.
I did make it, but in typical me fashion, I’m a little pissed that I walked at all. I may not have been “run ready” for this race, but I think my legs where there. I really do. It is this core temperature thing that I don’t quite understand.
I was over an hour slower at Louisville than Wisconsin. I think I was in at least as good of shape . . . and clearly 20 degrees makes a big difference, but when and how did it go off the rails?
