2008 Great Floridian Triathlon Race Report

DNF. Did Not Finish. Those are three letters that no athlete likes to see next to their name. I’ve never had it next to my name…until this race.

That disappointment is tapered significantly by two things:

1) I think we’ll hit our $7,000 goal (THANK YOU EVERYONE!!!) for Families of SMA!!!!
2) the reaction of AT’s cousins when I saw them after I told them I had to withdraw from the race.

This race was about my niece. I wanted to make sure others know that this disease is out there, and if we could raise some money in the process, that would be great. And, the cherry on top was that I was hoping to finish my second ironman-distance race!

I write these so that those of you who never have (or want to) participate in a triathlon, much less an iron-distance tri, will get some kind of an idea of what it’s like. So, it’s a bit long, but I hope will give you a good feeling for what I went through.

Without further ado, here’s the RR…

Wednesday, January 29, 2008
AT passed away from spinal muscular atrophy. I’ll have this day burned in my memory forever.

March 1, 2008
Started training for this race. This isn’t really enough time to get ready for an iron-distance race…especially when you’re starting off not in great shape. Only 8 months. “But the heck with it,” I said, “I’ve done this race before and I’m doing this race!”

Tuesday, October 14
I got a nasty stomach virus, along with what felt like a cold. This lingered much longer than I thought it did. More on this later.

Friday, October 24 - Travel and Check In
I left Tampa about 11AM to head to Clermont, check in to the race and get to the hotel. All went smoothly, but (as I think back), my stomach was not feeling 100%. I just chalked it up to butterflies/nerves.

Racing in an ironman-distance race requires some pre-planning. Your bags have to be packed with the right stuff; you have a bag after you swim (with your bike stuff), in the middle of the bike, at the end of the bike (with your run stuff), and in the middle of the run. And you have to pack your stuff up that you wear to the race…and your wetsuit. So this all took about an hour for me to get separated and placed in the right bags for race day. No problem as someone who proudly claims to be OCD, organizing this is right up my alley. But it takes some patience to plan it out.

Went to sleep that evening and slept as well as could be expected.

Saturday, October 25
Wake up call at 5:15. Downed a can of Boost, and drank some water. Got dressed and headed out to the race site to get everything finalized for the day. As I checked in, I walked to by bike and must have stepped in a pile of fire ants. About a minute after I stepped in it, I had about 30 ants crawling all over both feet. Not the way I wanted to start my day, as I was concerned this would cause some swelling and maybe impact my run. (I now have 20 bites on my right foot, 10 on my left…nasty looking stuff.)

I ran into my good friend Brad Jones from FSU at the race. I saw his folks, visited with them, slipped on the wetsuit and headed down to the beach for the race start. His family reminds me of mine and it was kind of relaxing to visit with them for a bit. I had yet to see my family, and was thinking they didn’t get out of the hotel with all the kids in time to see the start. (Again, thinking back, the stomach wasn’t right, but I just thought I was nervous.)

Somehow, I saw Brother-In-Law Mike as the National Anthem started. Walked over and talked with him for a bit. I then saw Bessie, DJPT, and Mom just before the race started.

I decided to do this race for my niece, so I knew that when I saw my family at any point it would be kind of emotionally tough for me, and it was. Thankfully, I had my goggles on so no one (except Mike) knew how hard a time I had right before the start. Throw in always being emotional at the singing of the National Anthem (I always am reminded of Dad singing the anthem loudly at the last FSU-UF game he went to), and it was a great, although difficult, way to start this race.

BANG! Race start.

THE SWIM - 2.4 miles in a lake (two 1.2 mile loops)
I’m always concerned for a triathlon swim. First, alligators (not a real threat…but its still out there). Second, I’m not a natural swimmer. It took A LOT of work to get in 2.4 mile swim shape for me. The water seemed cold. But with a wetsuit, you really don’t get cold; it keeps you insulated. But swimming in lake water is nasty, and when I swallowed a nice big gulp of brown, dirty water, it almost made me vomit. But, you have to keep telling yourself” “Calm down, relax, and don’t throw up.” And that’s what I did.

As I came out of the water finishing Lap 1, I saw John on the pier and waved to him. He didn’t know what the heck was going on, but he had this “there’s Dad” smile on his face. Had a cup of Gatorade, and headed back out for lap 2. Lap 1 time was ~40 minutes. Slow, but no big deal.

Lap 2 was just more of the same. The first half of the second loop, I was thinking “Man, I’ve got to do this again? My arms hurt. My shoulders hurt.”

But, I then thought of my niece. SMA robs children of the ability to move their muscles. So, next time you’ve got an itch, a fly or bug flying around your face, strap your arm to your body and don’t scratch. Don’t do anything. That’s what SMA kids go through. “Suck it the heck up, Mike…finish this swim.” I was in such distress the rest of the day that this was the only real time I really thought of her (or anyone else) until the end.

I actually felt great for the last half of the 2nd loop. Really great. I came out of the water at 1H 25M…10 minutes slower than my goal. “Hmmm. That’s slow, and disappointing, but I feel so good. Just more speed for the bike!”

I saw all the cousins as I exited the swim, and ran into the changing tent.

TRANSITION 1 - Swim to Bike
Changing tents in IM triathlons are kind of gross. Naked, old, fat men running around, rubbing Vaseline in parts that you don’t need to see. So knowing this was the case…I kind of turned towards the “wall” so I didn’t have to see anyone or anything.

You’ve got to think through transitions, because there’s a lot to do:
Turn on GPS/Watch
Put on shirt
Put on socks
Drink fluids
Put on shoes
Pack up swim stuff/wetsuit
Apply sunblock
Apply “Vaseline”( if you choose to!!)
Have “emergency” supply bad in your shirt

T1 went smoothly. Slow, as I it took me 9 minutes to get out of the water and onto the bike.

As I got to my bike (and near the dreaded ant pile), the whole family was there. I was able to give all the cousins kisses…except for A-do(!); she was busy playing with something. “Good job, Daddy!”, “Go Uncle Michael!” “Two one-legged ladies were faster than you.” (the last quote was from PT, AT’s dad.)

Went out of the bike holding area, and started off on 112 miles of hilly, hot fun!

BIKE - 112 mile loop
Right out of the transition area, there was a very short, but STEEP, incline that took the wind out of my sail right away. But you get through that, and realize that the first 7-10 miles are pretty flat and uneventful. You ride around the big lake for a loop (same lake you run around for the marathon) then head out on the roads.

Miles 10-40 were VERY hilly. I had prepared well for the hills though (every Saturday, my poor wife had the kids by herself, while I was out riding). So, the hills, while a bit ‘scary’ in my head turned out to be just a plain old ride that I had been doing for the last three months.

One hill in particular, Sugarloaf Mountain, is about .3 miles (imagine walking 1.5 laps around a track), with a significant incline. My pedals were turning at 46 rotations/minute. (when flat, I turn at about 92 rpm’s.) This wasn’t easy, but I survived it just fine and continued forward. For whatever reason, as I turned the corner to head up Sugarloaf, I got emotional. The realization that all the training would make this hill easy, that I was actually out participating in this event that I’d trained for for the last 8 months. This was, in some ways, the culmination of the bike. Everyone knows about Sugarloaf, and it’s a challenge to get over the hill.

There were about 5 miles left of really hilly riding. Once cleared (Mile 40), things got relatively flat, with a few rollers. But…I started feeling really sick to my stomach. Like, ready to vomit on the spot…but I wasn’t vomiting. This had never happened to me on the bike, so I wasn’t sure how to cope with it. So I kept drinking fluids and water, and continued.

I had prepared two bottles of nutrition. Kind of like Gatorade on steroids. With these fluids, you’ve got to chase them with water so that you don’t have a concentrated glob in your stomach.

So, knowing this, my stomach issues were caused by something:
1) lingering stomach bug (most likely suspect)
2) not enough water, too much energy drink (not too likely of a suspect)

So, by Mike 45, I decided to get off the bike at an aid station and stop for a few minutes. Things were way off for me, and I knew it. I considered bailing out of the race at this point; I really felt that bad. My butt was also hurting…bad! So, getting off was needed for my gut, and welcomed by my rear.

But, I knew that I had to finish at least(!) the bike portion. “And by the time I finish the bike, I’ll feel much better for the run. No problem.”

So, I kept going. Miles 50-80 seemed like they were completely into a stiff 10-15 mph wind (they were all flat, though). That’s not fun. At all. But you’ve got to focus, stay relaxed. And if you feel your heart rate climbing too high (or you feel you’re working way too hard), you simply slow down. And it wasn’t hot, but it was sunny, and warm. So, all these things are hitting you at once.

At times, you’re the only person on the road that you can see. No other bikes, no other cars…nothing, except you and your two wheels. That’s when things can get a bit depressing, if you let it.

Strangely, I felt so bad (my stomach hurt so much), that I was thinking about that more than anything else. Rarely did I think of the kids, my family, anyone, which is not like me. I was trying to figure out why I felt so bad, and if I was going to be able to finish this race.

At Mile 80’s aid station, I stopped and was drinking some water when some volunteer crashed right into my bike. My bike’s seat hit me squarely in the back. “Sorry,” he said. What the heck was wrong with that guy??? Idiot.

Mile 90. Had to stop again, as the stomach was just in major distress. Again, I felt like vomiting, but couldn't. I had stopped sweating, and was really discouraged. “There’s no way I’m going to finish this race,” I thought. So, for about 10 minutes, I just sat in the shade, sipping on some water.

This was the best decision I made in the race. I relaxed a bit, got my composure, and re-focused to at least finish the bike portion.

I got back on the bike, and went nice and slow. After about 10 minutes, I felt great, and the last 15-20 miles of the bike were the best I felt all day. I was drinking plenty, sweating again, and feeling like I could go another 20 miles.

Miles 95-105 had some rolling hills. Ouch. Not the thing you like to see 7 hours into the ride, when you’re almost over, staring a marathon in the face. But you climb them. You have no choice.

As I passed Mile Marker 110, I knew that I had just overcome some serious odds in finishing that bike. I was happy I did so, but knew that three long loops around the lake were in front of me.

Off the bike in about 7 hours. My speed was good while I was moving (probably averaged about 16.5 to 17 mph), but with the stops I had to make, my mph was about 15.5 or so. Slower than I’m capable, but I felt I was ready to have a great run. 13 hours is still in striking distance!

One thing of note, especially looking back…I had not had to take a Port-O-Let break for about 3 hours. That was not a good sign of things to come.

TRANSITION 2 - Bike to Run
T2 is different than T1. Folks aren’t quite as enthusiastic as they were earlier in the day in T1. Most are really sore, tired, and in some type of distress. But it takes the same type of organization and focus. Forget to do something here, and you could pay for it later.

Take off bike shoes/socks
Apply body glide to feet
Put on shoes/socks
DON’T FORGET HAT!!
Get your water bottle or any “food”
Put bike stuff away in bags

Someone had left ½ a sandwich in the tent, and some guy just decided to eat it. It turned out that it was a peanut butter sandwich. Who in their right mind would eat a sandwich that had been sitting out for who knows how long, and might have had who knows what on it? (Key phrase…who in their right mind)

THE RUN - 26.2 miles, three 8.5 mile loops around the lake
It was kind of warm, and breezy on the run for the first loop. I had hoped to average about 10 minutes/mile, and knew I COULD do it. Wasn’t sure I WOULD do it. First couple of miles, I felt great. Running about 10 minute miles, stopping at the aid stations. As the day continued, I slowed a bit, but that wasn’t too concerning for me. I was on pace to finish in my goal time and that was what was important, if I didn’t hit 13 hours…big deal. I was still going to finish.

As I finished the first loop of the run, you know I had to ask what the score of the FSU-Virginia Tech game was. “13-10 VT,” he said, “but UF won 63-5!” a volunteer excitedly told me. I smiled, thanked him, and continued.

It was about that time that I realized I needed to be drinking more water. I was drinking Gatorade and some extra electrolytes, but not enough good old fashioned H2O. I hadn’t needed to stop for a potty break in over three hours, which wasn’t a very good sign. But I was scared to drink too much water, and have a repeat of 2005 (I drank too much water then and had my sodium levels too low…very dangerous).

The difference on the run (vs. the bike) is that you get to talk with some people that you’d not get a chance to talk with. I met some guy from Utah, Atlanta, and the guy that ate the mystery sandwich.

At the Mile 9 marker, I still felt okay. I was going a bit slower, but still felt fine. I started walking. I decided to stop. Then all of a sudden I vomited. This was totally out of the blue, as I didn’t have any desire to throw up at all…it just happened. It was pretty much all fluids. Strangely enough, after that happened, I felt really great! I started running again and trying to drink water. But I still wasn’t sweating.

About 2 miles later, I needed to walk again. While things weren’t getting dizzy, I was beginning to get that feeling. I dry heaved again, and knew things were way off. So, I walked a majority of the next mile to the Mile 12 aid station. I called my wife and told her to get to the finish line about 8:30 (two hours from that time). “I have two more loops to do. If I don’t feel well by the time I finish loop 2, I’m going to stop racing.” “Well, we’re just now parking at the race site. Are you okay?,” she said. “I’m fine, I’ll call you after Lap 2.” The family getting there that early was not part of the plan (from my end, at least), but it was really important information for me to know.

The sun was setting and it was getting cooler. I still wasn’t sweating at all. As I continued, I saw a paramedic vehicle. So, I decided to go by and get the medic’s opinion to what I was feeling. (Okay, gross stereotype time, so forgive me. I was nearing deliriousness!) Out comes a +375lb paramedic from the car. (“Man, of all the medics, I get the most unhealthy one in the United States of America. Is this guy going to know what he’s talking about?”)

So, I told him my symptoms, and he said it probably was dehydration. “If you want to continue,” he said, “you can’t run for a while.” You’ve got to let your body get better, he said.

So, I sat on the bed of his truck for about 10 minutes sipping water. Still, no sweat, no need to use the bathroom, dry lips, and now I was coughing a bit.

“Is finishing today worth getting pneumonia?”
“Is being out here for 3 more hours, and getting all the kids sick, worth it?”
“What if I can’t make it to the next aid station or medic?”
“Why am I not sweating?”
“I don’t want to end up in the hospital again.”
“I think I dodged a bullet with my last IM. Do I want to play with fire again?”
“What did I do wrong today?”
“I don’t think I can finish this race and run 14 more miles. Too many bad things can happen, to me and to the kids. I just don’t think it’s worth it today.”

After about 10 minutes of running the pros and cons through my head, I decided to stop the race.

I knew my family would not be disappointed in me, they’d be relieved that I knew to stop. But I was so disappointed.

I felt I let my niece down. I felt I let my Dad down. I felt like I let my family down. And I felt like I let all of you (who have supported and sponsored me) down. I know I really didn’t let you down; but it still feels that way. And I know you didn’t support me in this race because of me. You did because of my sweet niece. Every time I had a workout, I’d think of her. While I didn’t think of her as much as I expected, I thought of her plenty out there. And it was difficult to not continue.

When the medic drove me back to the finish line, I saw everyone there. I got out of the car and walked over to them and explained that it would have been a mistake for me to continue. This was the most difficult part of my day.

Then, like clockwork, my boy sprinted to me (only about 5 feet) and hugged me (“DADDY!”). So, how do you stay upset after that? Answer = you don’t. All the cousins didn’t care that I didn’t finish. They were just happy to be out! They all hugged me, they all thought I had just won. They were all smiles and laughs and so excited to send our balloons up to AT.

Speaking of balloons, the plan was for me to cross the line with all of the cousins. As we crossed, we were going to let balloons go up to heaven. We couldn’t do that, but we did the next best thing. We all got our balloons, and we gave “three cheers for AT, hip hip, hooray!”, and sent our balloons up in heaven. As my sister tearfully said, AT and Dad were in heaven smiling down on us at that moment.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t finish, sweet angel.”

The rest of the family packed up and headed back to their cars to drive home to Tampa. PT and I packed up my bags, I got my bike, showered off, and we headed home. After drinking another two+ bottles of water, I finally used the restroom, about 2 hours after I finished the race (so about 6 hours or so, I didn’t have to go…that’s bad). On the way home, I had the best McDonalds meal I think I’ve ever eaten…two burgers and a Big Mac. When I got home, I ended up eating two Totino’s personal pizzas (disgustingly delicious!).

POST-RACE ANALYSIS
Clearly, I was dehydrated from the day, and can only guess that it was that stomach bug that messed with me (80%) and a change in race strategy on the run (Gatorade+ electrolytes, BUT not enough water…20%). Funny that my foot gave me NO PROBLEMS whatsoever during the day (I was unable to run for about 1 month because of foot issues.) The foot problems had an indirect effect on my day, as I was unable to really practice my nutrition strategy effectively in training like I wanted to.

But I literally lived to see another day. If I had continued, who knows what would have happened. Chances are VERY good that some bad things would have happened, to me and to the kids. 110% not worth that risk.

Do I regret my decision to stop? Nope. Do I regret not being able to finish? Yep. Thank you to my wife for putting up with me and all the time away from the house Saturday mornings (especially). It wasn’t easy, but she knew why I was doing this. I couldn’t have gotten far without her patience.

Lastly, and most importantly, THANK YOU to everyone who gave to Families of SMA. What a tribute to our angel in heaven. I know I speak for my sister, her husband and daughter, and our entire family when I say that we’re honored and humbled…but we’re not surprised. AT was special, and everyone knew it.

Continue to keep her in your prayers.

Very sincerely,


Mike