The 2000 Austrian Ironman Triathlon
Swim (2.4 miles) - Bike (112 miles) - Run (26.2 miles)

The Ironman was awesome! I couldn't believe how much fun it was and how it felt to cross that finish line. After 42 marathons it was getting to be old hat - not that I'm bored with it; it's the perfect distance for me), I was just getting a bit cocky since I felt like I'd always be able to finish, even if I had to walk.

but would have been perfectly happy with anything under the 17-hour time limit. I started off late, there was a bottleneck getting onto the beach at the start, but it managed to avoid the pounding at the start. I took a minute to wade in and set my goggles before diving in, then immediately I started to panic. What the hell am I doing here? I'm out of my mind, look at these people, they all know exactly what they're doing and I don't have a clue. There's splashing everywhere and I can't get a breathing pattern and have to take choppy strokes to keep from swimming over people. I spot the dock on my right and wonder if I could somehow swim under the dock and just kind of hang there until everyone forgets about me and then just lurk off into the bushes.

Then I remembered - I'm a swimmer! Not as fast as a law abiding bullet, but I know how to breathe, for god's sake! In my unconscious quest for the dock, I was now far to the right of the crowd and started taking breathes only to the right. This way I only saw the crowd on the dock and not the splash fest to my left.

This entire thought process probably took about 30 meters, and by the time I was at the edge of the dock I was fine. I saw my brother cheering at the side on the dock and heard him yell. I tried to pass on a wave as I stroked by, hamming it up for the cameras already. I got into a good groove, long steady strokes, rotating the hips, extra stretch at the end. Trying to be strong and as efficient as possible, with very little kicking in the interest of having fresh legs for the bike. I was passing people and could barely see the buoys, but was still at the fringe of the crowd and not too concerned until the turn around buoy, where I had to swim across the crowd to turn. I knew I still wasn't taking the most efficient line, but stress wise this was the path of least resistance!

We were to swim the last 800 meters in a canal to the transition, and I could sense the shore approaching but couldn't sight the canal. I just put my faith in the crowd ahead of me and kept my head down. As we headed into the canal so did the water flow and we kind of got caught into the draft of those in front of us - made for a nice speedy finish. I felt my hands brush the ramp, stood up and saw I was at 1:01:40.

Transition was fun, except trying to wrestle a sports bra over a wet body. Note to self. Then the bike. My least favorite by far. I gave Humphrey (the mini-beanie baby camel I had pinned on to the tube for good luck) a little kiss and took off.

I quick description of the bike course - it starts off with about 25K of gentling rolling hills along the lakeshore - breath taking scenery with chalets and towns along the way - each town was having it's own beer fest for the spectators. Then for the next 15-20K you got the hill from hell and it's bastard cousin. After that it's an easy coast back to the start of the loop - you do this 3 times. I had a start as I expected on the bike, being passed by everyone I beat of out the water. I had been prepared for this so I didn't panic and just held my pace and concentrated on drinking the sports drink I had. I inhaled ½ a PB & J during the first hour as well.

Then the hills. I had been over the course earlier so I knew what was coming - when you think you're at the top, you're not! I developed a method of counting the pedal strokes once I was out of the saddle. Just look down and count, it's too depressing to look up and see how much farther it is to the top. I made it over for the first time and gave Humphrey a little pat…only two more of those to go, buddy, and we're home free.

All the spectators were shouting "hup, hup, hup……Supa!……Bravo!" - armed with a variety of noisemakers and the start list so they could read our numbers and shout names. Good quality crowd!

Once over the hills, I was starting to enjoy the great speed on the downside when I realized I had a flat. Steering into the grass, I hopped off the bike prepared for my usual ten-minute tire change, but two spectators guided and helped me through it in less than five. (I told you it was a good quality crowd.) Then coasting back into town, snacking on PB & J and bananas as I finished up the first loop.

I came through the crowd, saw my brother taking pictures, and barked an order for another tire tube to Jeff, Kirti & Deepak. I hope they forgive me for losing my chipperness for the moment there!

The second loop went by uneventful, still getting passed but at least no flat. I've been grabbing bananas at all the aid stations and must be on the fourth one already but figure this is the best defense to keep from cramping. Those two hills seem to be getting tougher and I'm now being lapped by other riders (Jurgen Zack was cruising!). Still, I refuse to get swept into a panic and try to speed it up, knowing I still have one more loop and then that run. I'm hoping to get through the bike with enough time to walk the marathon if I need to and my pace so far is allowing that.

I see Jeff, Mike, Kirti & Deepak as I come around for the third loop and they've come through with the new bike tube. Peace of mind is a beautiful thing, and having two spares is a comfort for me. I head out and - wait a second - did I say "gentling rolling hills"?? They seemed to have changed character. I try to stay in my saddle and spin as much as possible, but it's a slow spin and I hear Joe's heavy southern drawl (with the bark of a drill sergeant) approach me "Move your ass!". I don't have the energy to think of a good response as he goes by.

Back to the hills. By now I know it takes about 200 pedal strokes to get to the top of the first, a bit more for the second one. I am going so slow I imagine birds will start to nest in my helmet soon. It'd almost be quicker to get off and walk the bike, but I'm almost there…..then some little Austrian fellow close to the top comes out and reaches for the back of my bike in an offer to push me the rest of the way. I scare the daylights out of him with my shout of "NO!!!"…..after all, he only wanted to help. I didn't want to finish the race knowing I had someone push me the last ten feet of that Rupertiberg (the name of the bastard cousin hill). Finally I crest over the top and am enjoying the downhill again. I almost started to cry at this point because I realized I now have a good chance to finish, but I manage to hold it in - there's still about 25K left before I can dump the bike. I take the rest of the way very conservative, coasting every chance I get and conserving energy for the run. I enter into the last transition and happily pass my bike off to a volunteer and walk into the changing tent. My ass is sore but my spirits are soaring, I've got almost 9 hours to do the marathon.

As soon as I put on the running shoes, my feet and legs feel like they're shouting with joy - "Yes! We know this part - this is our gig!" - and they go to autopilot. I can't believe how great I feel and it's easy to smile at the camera and everyone I see. The run course is out in back in one direction, then out and back in another direction (this second part coming dangerously close to our hotel), and we do this twice. With the way the course is set up, I get to see a lot of our group out there and we encourage each other along the way.

My plan is to try to push it for the first 21K, walking only the water stops and then I'll decide from there how to continue. I try to take one of my power gels at the first stop but what works for me in a regular marathon doesn't work here and I almost gag on it. The aid stations are only 2K apart and with stopping at each one I'm getting a rest break about every 12-13 minutes. As I approach the 8K mark I see Joe walking up ahead. Payback time. "Move your ass!" I yell as I approach. He said he knew it'd come back to haunt him! I'm tempted to stay and walk with him, but I still feel good so I continue on. I pass Roger around the 12K mark and he says I'm "smokin'" - such a great comment that I think I even pick up the pace a bit.

Jeff and Mike are at the turnaround in town and I'm still smiling. The run course is flat and shady and feels great. The spectators at the cafes along the course are great - I imagine some of them have been there for a while as they have that drunken rowdiness and it's easy to get them shouting with just a quick wave.

I come up to the 21K mark and judge my condition - still not ready to walk, I figure plan B - I'll go to 32K, and then maybe walk the last 10K. It rains for a bit and feels great; I'm soaked already anyway since I've been dumped water on myself at each stop. At the 32K mark I am ready to walk, but uh-oh, what's this? The ESPN camera (2 man crew on a motorcycle) has tracked me down and starts leading me along. Damn, can't walk now - this is TV. They stay with me for about 10 minutes and by this time I feel good again and figure I'll go for another kilometer before I walk for a bit. No such chance - the camera has shown up again, and stays with me for another kilometer or so. I'm psyched to be filmed but had really wanted to walk! They finally take off - giving me a thumbs up and head back towards the finish area as I continue into town. I make the last turn around, and go past Mike & Jeff still smiling.

For the last 5K I allow myself to walk a bit - running the first 5 minutes and walking the rest of each kilometer. Works well, and I'm getting them done in about 7 minutes. I'm going over the last ramp (oh yeah - the perfectly flat run course had been marred with a couple of man made ramps, a mean trick, I'd say!), I'm pulling arm over arm on the banister to get up and I hear Deepak yell, "There she is!" - I'm now within a kilometer of the finish and I just have to round the bleachers and come back in. I can't believe that I've broken 13 hours, with a marathon time of 4:36, which is about what I do in a regular marathon. I enjoy high fiving the crowd and leap across the finish. 12:51:45. Certainly not breaking any records, but it works for me! I can't believe what I'm thinking as I look back a couple days later…….but it was FUN.