How I Completed One of the Worlds Most Difficult Triathlons
Lessons from Completing an Iron Man 70.3
Iron Man triathletes must be CRAZY! How can anyone push their bodies through grueling exercise for 5, 6, 7, even 8 hours without breaking down?! Being in open water for 1.2 miles then biking 56 miles THEN completing a half marathon, that’s just insane, AND THAT’S ONLY THE HALF IRON MAN.
These people must be in peak physical condition. They must train for years. They must be born with it.
These are all the thoughts that went through my head as I stood in line to begin the swim for my first triathlon ever. I thought it would be a good idea to do a half Iron Man as my first triathlon because my friend completed one the previous year, and in my mind, if he could do it so could I.
This idea entirely vanished as I nestled between hundreds of other wetsuit-wearing athletes in the 50 to 55 minute swim section of the Iron Man 70.3 Santa Rosa. After finding my place in line, I looked out over the sloping boat ramp leading to Sonoma Lake, past the 2,000 athletes and out at the massive lake that lay before us.
This lake housed the first and shortest event of the Iron Man 70.3; the 1.2 mile swim. In relation to the remaining distances, 1.2 miles is insignificant, however the muscle groups and mental stamina required to complete it are entirely different than those needed on the bike and run.
For some, swimming is the easiest section of the triathlon. People that grew up at the beach or competing in swim events find it to be a breeze. The people like myself who struggle to stay afloat in a gym pool, completely disagree. From outside the race looking in, it is easy to think that all triathletes are born to do this or have trained for years, but this is not true.
Rewind a year prior, and you’ll find me in the pool at the West Virginia University Student Recreation Center STRUGGLING to complete 200 consecutive meters. Although I have grown up playing sports, running, and have always enjoyed exercising, I rarely stepped foot in a pool. This was unchartered territory for me that was extremely challenging to overcome.
To prepare, I trained often by forcing myself to push through the pain and discomfort of being in the water while acclimating to a smaller amount of oxygen. Week after week, month after month, I was in that pool. I was uncomfortable. I was embarrassed, but eventually, I found myself on that ramp looking down at the water hoping I had done enough. Deep down, I knew that I would never reach the state of being fully ready, so I accepted it and forced myself into the dreaded discomfort zone.
Back on the boat ramp, an hour went by, and we slowly inched down to the start line. With my GPS tracker strapped tightly to my right ankle and my wetsuit zipped and strapped, I stepped up to the line. Five, Four, Three, Two, One, DING. The buzzer went off, and we trotted into the water.
If you have never completed an open water swim before, the beginning is the most stressful. After the athletes enter the water, they are forced into a small area with every swimmer furiously flapping their arms and kicking their legs trying to gain a rhythm and escape the crowd. I joined the thrashing school bumping and hitting each other, however I pushed much harder than I should have while attempting to pass them. I exited the large group and gained some space, but as I approached the first turn at 200m, I began to panic.
Attempting to regain my breath, I stopped swimming. While treading water, I pulled on the collar of my wetsuit hoping to relieve the claustrophobic feeling that was overtaking me. It didn’t work. I moved to the nearby buoy to allow my raging heart to calm down and to regain my composure. While stopped, I looked at the immense one mile of swimming that remained. At this moment, all the fear I had when I jumped in the pool for the first time a year ago, the feeling of failure when I couldn’t complete 200 consecutive meters at the Rec Center, and the feeling that maybe I wasn’t ready for this massive feat swept over me.
I may have only stopped for a minute, but it felt like a year. The only things going through my head were “will I be disqualified if I stop here”, “did I spend all this money and travel 3,000 miles to give up in the first 5 minutes?”, “is this it?”.
As I said that final debilitating phrase, I saw, out of the hundreds of swimmers, the one man I had connected with on the boat ramp swim past me. He saw me on the buoy, and he shot me a look then kept going. While we stood on the ramp and talked about how this was both of our first triathlons, I had helped him maintain his composure getting to the water, and now, as I see him continue on, he is returning the favor.
I push on, but only to reach the next buoy 100 meters away before I need to stop again. I feel completely helpless. The same feelings sweep over me again, but this time, instead of thinking of all the failures that I encountered over the past year, I think of all the great training days I had. I remember the first day I swam 500 consecutive meters, and I remember the first day I swam 1,000, and the list went on and on.
Week after week, month after month, I was in that pool. I was uncomfortable. I was embarrassed, but eventually, I found myself on that ramp looking down at the water hoping I had done enough.
So, I waited a moment, regained my composure, allowed my heart beat to calm down, then pushed on. This time, I channeled the consistency I gained during my training and just put one arm in front of the other. And for the first time, I stared down into the murky dark depths of that lake and felt extremely content.
I gained a rhythm and began passing other swimmers. 400meters complete, then 500m, then 600m, then 1000m, then 1500m, then 1.2 miles. I was now back at the bend, where it all started, pushing towards the finish of the swim. I had never been so happy in my life. I felt like I made it to the moon. I took one last look back, reminisced on the struggle, the small goals I accomplished, the fear I overcame, the training I channeled, and the shear luck (or the sign) of my buddy passing me and shooting me that look that prodded me into continuing on.
I stepped out of the water with the fastest swim time I had ever accomplished and moved on to the transition for the 56 mile biking portion of the race.
The bike is the longest and most daunting section of the race. Caught in a constant struggle between pushing myself harder and maintaining enough energy for the 13.1 mile run that followed, I found myself in a quasi-competitive state for the 3 hours and 30 minutes that I was out there.
To complete 56 miles in a car going 60mph, it will take you 56 minutes. For me, it exhausted 3 and a half hours of time, 1,800ft of elevation gain, thousands of leg rotations to propel the bike forward, nine gel packs to keep me energized, 80 ounces of water and gatorade to stay hydrated, one banana, one bathroom break to keep me sane, and at mile 53 the pleasure of throwing up on the bike because I lost focus. The swim primarily required overcoming adversity and channeling positive thoughts, but the bike was the first real opportunity to focus, plan, and maintain a stable mental state so as to thrive through the 56 miles and three and a half hours of exercise.
If you are like me, you may wonder how it is possible to exercise for this long and still have enough energy to complete the run. It all came down to proper nutrition, training, and a huge ability to control myself mentally.
I did this by focusing directly on what was in front of me. In my every day life, it is easy to look ahead 2 hours, 6 hours, a day, or even a week sometimes and still maintain my composure, but on a bike in a foreign environment and limited resources, that simply isn’t an option. There was no time for a coffee break or a chance to stand, stretch, and clear my mind. The only things I had were with me on the bike or were available at the three aid stations strewn throughout the track, but even these were few and far between.
The only thing I could do was focus on the wheel in front of me. There was no mile 56, there was no mile 40, there was no mile 30, there wasn’t even a mile 10. If it wasn’t the next mile or the next turn, it didn’t exist. This is crazy to think about because when we sit in our offices we have so many people and apps and companies fighting for our attention that focusing only on what’s directly in front of us is nearly impossible. However, in the ever-more competitive and complex environment of the contemporary world, we need it more than ever.
We are consistently being forced to think one year out, five years out, maybe even 10 years out when in reality, most of us don’t even know what we’ll have for dinner that evening. All this information being bombarded at us on a daily basis makes us forget what’s truly important; our current project, our family, our friends, our hobbies; the things directly in front of us every day that have become “normal”. It was only when I forced myself out of my comfort zone to the other side of the country on a bike and in the midst of this massive undertaking that I realized this.
Honestly, at the start of the bike ride, I didn’t know if I’d be able to finish, all I knew was that I wasn’t going to stop for anything. So, I pushed on, mile five, mile 10, then the first aid station. It wasn’t until I got to mile 20 that I got into a rhythm and started to think again.
When I came back into myself, my first thought was, “I am going to be so happy when I get to mile 25.” I don’t really know why I said this, but at the time, it completely changed my mindset. I became so happy because I had an attainable goal. What was once a seemingly insurmountable mission became an every day training regimen; 5 miles of biking. Then, when I got to mile 25, I started thinking of mile 28 then mile 30 and so on. Each small goal led to another small goal then another.
Deep down, I knew that I would never reach the state of being fully ready, so I accepted it and forced myself into the dreaded discomfort zone.
This approach allowed me to catch up for lost time. Like in the swim, I channeled the consistency I gained during my training and began passing others. I kept moving forward until mile 50 when the 90 degree sun began beating down on me. I went from planning 5 miles ahead to planning 0.5 miles ahead. Luckily, after I completed 50 miles, it was much easier to finish the last 6.
When I saw the finish line for the biking section, I gained another huge smile on my face. What seemed impossible was achieved and done so 30 minutes faster than I anticipated.
I stowed my bike and limped over to the run transition area. Having been on a bike for three and a half hours, I took a second to put on my shoes and relearn how to walk. I had planned on taking a 5 minute break before starting the half marathon, but as I wandered around looking for the porta-potty, I landed at the run start line, so I chugged my Red Bull and went for it.
Mile 1 felt great, mile 2 felt great, mile 3, 4 and 5 felt great, but as the beloved shade disappeared and the 3pm 95 degree sun screamed down at me, I quickly went from a 10 min per mile pace to a 12 min per mile pace.
The aid stations placed at each mile along the run acted as a beautiful respite where I drank a water and a gatorade, ate an orange slice, poured water on my head, and poured ice down my shirt. However, this was short-lived. By the time I arrived at the next aid station a mile away, I was completely dry again.
The run was really tough. Even with my ample experience running, I wasn't prepared for this intense heat. What made it possible was the friend I made along the way. Becca and I started the run at the same time and we were on the exact same pace for all 13.1 miles. Even if we separated at an aid station, we somehow made it back together.
It was incredible to be in such a large crowd and still form this tight bond. Having someone to go through the pain with made it so much easier. We knew we were both suffering, but we didn’t talk about it. Instead, we talked about life, we talked about our previous races, and even when I was tired and couldn’t talk anymore, she kept on talking; keeping me occupied for the final stretch of the race.
Teamwork and camaraderie are incredible tools. While goal-setting gives you something to look towards, having a team helps you get there. If I had completed the run alone, I would have gone slower, but because Becca had more experience and more training I followed on her path. She acted as a mentor to me; leading me in the right direction when times got tough.
As I turned the final corner and faced the finish line, I started to tear up. The immensity of the accomplishment I had just achieved hit me all at once. I realized that what I had originally thought I was capable of, was wrong. I surpassed my expectations and crushed my goals. I passed that finish line with a huge smile on my face.
This race pushed me to overcome so much doubt and fear I held within myself. In seven and a half hours, I surpassed two panic attacks, a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike, and a 13.1 mile run. I learned how to achieve large goals, how to take control of my mental state, and how important it is to do it as a team.
The Iron Man 70.3 was an immense step in my life which pushed my boundaries far beyond where I thought they were. This race set me up to achieve much greater accomplishments in the future.
The 6 Secrets to Accomplishing ANY Goal
- Prepare, but realize you’re never going to be “ready”
- Choose positive thoughts
- Break up your goals into smaller more attainable ones
- Stay focused
- Force yourself out of your comfort zone
- Work as a team
