Again. IRONMAN Cozumel

"IRON PAYBACK"

The bottom line is pretty simple. Ironman Cozumel was all business, and a healthy dose of payback I owed "The Distance," after my first one in Florida was a grueling day in 38 degree cold, where I struggled with in-race nutrition and some rookie mistakes. While the accomplishments of that day were not lost on me, foremost... finishing the Ironman, and despite adversity finishing in the top 50% --A week afterwards, I knew I wasn't finished with Ironman. I wanted to play to the best of my ability, and not just finish --but be competitive and my best. Waiting till next season seemed like a horrible option.

Friends Val Murphy and six-time Ironman phenomenon Jack Daly (he has youth going for him at 61) were racing Ironman Cozumel in a couple of weeks. Jack suggested I race with them. On top of it, another friend, and great Ironman athlete, Tony Lillios was racing Ironman Cozumel. The perfect storm was brewing... I mentioned to Jack that I'd love to race with them, but it's been sold out for a year now. Jack throws down the gauntlet and says... "if your serious, let me know, and I'll see what I can do..."

Now I was making phone calls, talking with people with connections to the sport and race. Without a quick win, I flipped it back to Jack. He sprinkled a little of his magic in and shortly thereafter I had a bib number...  "irrational exuberance" followed, as I was now committed to doing back to back Ironmans... a super athletic triathlete and friend looked at me with concern, and said "Mike, that's... unconventional at best..."

What followed was a rather unprecedented crash course in knocking off a couple of weeks of rust from not training at all, and mostly trying to heal up from Ironman Florida days before. The key problem was you can't really taper from a taper. So I did a few short rides and popped the power a few times to see if the legs held up. They were good and I did a couple of runs: 10k, 8 miles, 9 miles with a few intervals to test the legs and still injured hamstring from the first go around. I would wonder at night... how absolutely crazy is this?

A little physical therapy the night before Thanksgiving. A brick workout on Thanksgiving Day, making it home to a house packed with family.  Show up covered in frozen rain on the bike. Then: eat turkey, pack, head out to the airport at 3:30AM... a bronchial infection hits my lungs. Uh-oh, I thought. I'm hacking up some ugly flem, and feel it on the plane. A thousand other things that were a mess of details that only come up on a "walk on" Ironman.... didn't enjoy that part.

Get down there late, most people are doing short workouts and laying in hammocks. I'm running around to register, race briefing, a the thousand details that come with this, and getting sicker. Finally get all the pieces in place, and bike working well.

At a pre-race dinner with the Daly family, I kept hacking up scary stuff on my multiple trips to the mens room. Just tried ignoring it. Worrying wouldnt help.

Then... it's race day. That morning, I realized, I still had sunburn lines from my timing chip at Ironman Florida, where I'm putting on the chip for Ironman Cozumel. I realized again... this is pretty crazy. I looked in the mirror, and my eyes were blood shot. I was still hacking some stuff up. Basically awesome.

Had breakfast and a coffee at 4:30AM. The coffee helped shake the chills and hacking a lot. Once I got a little blood flow and adreneline, I was feeling on top of things. Off to the race in the darkness.

SWIM

Waited in the water a long time. Luckily it was warm, but just sitting there, and no real sun out yet, it was getting cold. Finally the dolphins in a nearby pen are doing flips (really), the music builds, and bang... we're off. I swam my swim, and other than getting stung like crazy by jellyfish, and hacking up a few leave behinds ; ) I was cruising with little effort. I didnt want to push the pace, I was here to race smart AND hard.

BIKE

I get to transition and realize, I screwed up with my gear bags the night before at check in, I was without my bike shoes (deal killer) ... so I improvise... I'd watch 11 minutes evaporate for naught, and then made the commit... I'm riding the whole 112 mile bike in running shoes (yes, that hurt). I gave up a lot of time an average cyclist will go some miles in front in 11 minutes. I left transition, and started passing the "swim-no cycle" crowd. The top cyclists were already gone. Bummer.

Headwinds! But by lap three I had made up some of the lost time. For where I was in the pack, I saw a lot of cyclists fading. The average speeds out there were dropping. I was fine, and holding up well. I passed about another hundred in the final 25 miles --and good thing. With a "good" swim, and a disastrous transition, I had given up a ton of ground unneccessarily. I restrained myself from dropping the hammer --I had the fitness, but I wanted to save it for the run --where I suffered a few weeks before.

RUN

Transitioned pretty fast. Got a little weirded out by the medical guy that wouldn't stop following me, and asking me if I was alright. I bet a lot of people got off that bike dehydrated. I paid the time cost to hydrate aggressively, perhaps it would paid off? First 10k spun off easy, just like Florida. I remember, mile 7 was the turning point where the bloating and back pain took charge of the race. I didn't miss a stride this time. My nutrition was good, I had the calories, and felt good. No sloshing in the stomach. Just the same, I didnt eat on the run until mile 7 or 8, which would actually slow me down a little later (kind of silly in hindsight --another mistake and another lesson learned). I held just over 9 minute miles through the second 10k, I stopped looking at my watch for pace. I was doing it on RPE. I was breathing heavy, and still hacking up flem now and again, but orthopedically, muscularly, and nutritionally, I was ok. I focused on run form. Third 10k was slow. I knew I should have eaten sooner, so I started slugging "Coca" as they refer to it in Mexico (coca-cola) which tasted pretty awesome and made me think of pizza. I sucked down a half a gel here and there. Usually on long runs, I can guzzle gels (trained to do this, but I could not this day!). The crowd on the down town end of the race was huge and raucous... folks kept high fiving me, and saying "animale" which I found hilarious, more than motivating. Now when I passed a guy with his car trunk open and cranking Rocky Montage... I enjoyed a little magic, reliving my youth when the Rocky movies defined the generation of ultra competitive underdogs I grew up with. I picked the pace back up, and remember thinking/realizing rather vividly, I am not trying... I'm doing it... I am pushing the pace on the Ironman, I am not hanging on, I'm pushing it, and I'm passing people. I never felt this alive.

The far end of the loop was really quiet, no music, no crowds, just a hill that went up into the darkness. This challenged most people, surely me to hold the pace. It was tough mentally, all I heard was my own deep breathing loudly. As it got late, people were really dying out there, limping, walking, stumbling, bent over and puking --and yet I held, running "hard" no one passed me, I kept passing people by the dozens.

I saw friend Valerie Murphy briefly, but I was literally running too fast to see and connect with her as I passed her on the other side of the loop. Once I passed the gigantic Mexican flag at the ferry terminal, I knew... "so this is how it ends... and I knew I was racing this one not through mile 136, 137, 138... but that it was on it's way into the books about how I would have wanted it to go. In the distance, I could hear the music and emcee roaring, and see the lights at the finish line. 

As I approached the finish chute, I dropped it, the one time I looked down, I was running a 6:06 mile, while I am sure I did not hold that pace, I was still pushing the pace. Electricity throughout my body I hammered it through the finish, running down a few more guys. Some ran hard when the saw me pass, some were glad to be finishing and let me go without a contest. Would have been fun to have gone neck and neck to the end with someone.

In the finsh chute photos, I saw the picture of me looking up at the timer, and beginning to raise a fist. I know that look. Right there was when I knew my "unfinished business" with the Ironman was done. Breaking through the 12 hour mark at 11:46:21 --lopping close to an hour thirty off my first Ironman 3 weeks before. I had just finished a 4:04 Ironman Marathon, I went on to learn I literally passed _400_ people and advanced to the top 23% of the race --and to the Leaderboard in my age group #90 in the top 100. The stats are fun, but I did what I set out to do here, unloading what I brought to this race, despite plenty of inconveniences, mistakes, and challenges --yep, that's what I went to Cozumel for.

Now a week of non-stop eating, putting back some weight, and getting some rest. Today, my three year old son grabbed all the medals from this season's racing and put them on at the same time... "look... I an Ironman dady." A pretty great way to cap the season and the year.