The moment that Ironman bracelet clamps shut on your wrist, you known it is real. The door is closed and you are locked outside with the beast.
The day before Ironman Wisconsin, I walked around Madison fighting to suppress the rumble in my gut. It’s hard to relax when you know your body is about to check into hell.
I suppose it’s different if you have one under your belt, but I’m not convinced that’s an advantage. Ironman is not to be taken lightly.
You must respectfully acknowledge your opponent, which happens to be yourself. You must accept, then ignore every twinge in your body. You are strong, confident, and trained — yet fragile like a child.
Every step is calculated and while you are about to cover 140.6 miles, that extra trip to the hotel lobby becomes noteworthy. Fifty four unnecessary paces for resting legs.
Sipping water and electrolytes, hoping for the perfect balance. The optimum level of pre-race hydration that will be your last minute base for the next day.
Light stretching to ease tension that is mostly in your head. Meditating in the middle of an air-attack while bombs explode around you.
How do you contain the fire? How do you balance ferociousness?
The anticipation will crush you. Your mind does back flips as it plays through everything yet to happen. It’s senseless to obsess, but impossible to let go. You are mere feet from walking onto the plank.
And oddly, once your bare feet hit that cold wood, you look over the edge and the nerves wash away. You accept your fate and focus on why you came. You no longer have to imagine how it will look and feel. It’s right in front of you, familiar, and waiting for you to join the fun.
This is where you exist. This is where you belong.
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Best of luck on Saturday to everyone racing Ironman Texas. This is for you, and especially Rodney and Daniel who I have watched prepare for this monster. We’ll all be watching and pulling you toward the finish.