Last year I went to watch Louisville two weeks before I did my first Ironman and it did two things:
1. Pumped me up beyond belief. There is nothing like watching an Ironman.
2. Scared the living crap out of me.
It was the second time I spectated IM Louisville and both times I have loved every minute of it. It’s in a great downtown setting, the waterfront is awesome, and the energy of over 2,000 athletes is incredible.
The pre-race energy really got me going. I even rode the first 12 miles or so (and back) of the bike course and tasted the first climb. I remember thinking how much I liked the river view as I rode.
The Swim Start is electric. The music, the nervous energy, the friends and family all watching as one by one future Ironmen jump into the abyss.
The weather is beautiful at that hour, but as the day rolls on, you begin to meet the Devil. The mighty Louisville rises and it takes its toll on everyone.
The first loop through LaGrange offers a lot of excited bikers, but stay long enough and the faces change. The smiles become introspection as cyclists tuck deeper into their shell, searching for any form of aerodynamic that will get them back home.
You scramble for shade, just to watch, then drive in air conditioning back to the Bike Exit where the carnage becomes clear.
And the run… oh, the run.
I was absolutely shocked the first time I watched and it seemed like damn near every one in that race was walking on the first loop. And the second time was no different. Throngs of lycra covered men and women taking a Sunday afternoon stroll on the Louisville Streets.
It was like a car wreck, and I couldn’t turn away. Would that be me? Will that be me?
You think you’ve trained enough, but could all these people be wrong? They all trained, probably more than me. For the week after that race, I was genuinely psyched out about going to Wisconsin. I thought I was doomed.
Eventually I forgot the faces in Louisville and got down to work. The race has nothing to do with anyone else, it all comes down to what you have inside.
Hundreds of pre-mature calculations suddenly didn’t matter. It was me against the course.
And something strange happened that morning of the race. I stood in that swim line fearless.
It’s really the same as most things in life. The anticipated anxiety is always worse than the reality of the event.
Hundreds of thousands have done the same thing we are about to do on Sunday. They have worried endlessly, they have wrestled in their sleep the night before, then . . . they have gone out and finished an Ironman on their terms.