Race Report: 2012 Ironman Florida (Part 1)

"Eric Lacey ... You. Are. An. IRONMAN!" 

It was the moment I had thought about every day for the last year, and many times for the last 6 years.  All the workouts, the early mornings, the fatigued muscles -- it all came together in one euphoric moment in Panama City Beach.  People have asked, "Was it fun?"  Fun is a relative term.  I suppose triathlon is fun in its own way, much like making a million dollars or giving birth would be "fun," even if it requires a lot of hard work.  As I was running down the final stretch of road, with people cheering and high-fiving me on both sides, my body completely depleted and every muscle screaming, the endorphin rush was superhuman.  It was absolutely fun for that moment, and it made up for the rest.

Here are the official stats:
140.6mi Total:  11:40:09 (Overall rank 620/3061)
2.4mi Swim:  1:20:39 (1312/3061)
T1:  6:32
112mi Bike:  5:27:31 (660/3061)
T2:  7:13
26.2mi Run:  4:38:14 (620/3061)

Now on to the race report ... And a big thank-you to Alisha for tracking us with her camera all day.

We awoke at 4:30am to drive to the race venue downtown.  Body marking, special needs bag dropoff, and walking to the beach in a wetsuit.  In hindsight, I probably should have stretched.  Every morning and most evenings, I spend 10-20 minutes stretching.  And on the day of the biggest race of my life, I barely stretched at all.  I was also a little more nervous than usual.  Rob and I took a practice swim two days before the race, and the waves really complicated the entry and exit.  Once you see 3,000 people lined up on the beach, and realize that you are all swimming to the same buoy, you know that you are about to get the snot beat out of you.  And I did!

The Swim.  Split 1 - 37:48, Split 2 - 42:51, Total 1:20:59

The swim of Ironman Florida is well known for its difficulty.  It is a "mass start" in open water, which means everyone jumps into the water at the same time.  It also requires entry and exit twice, which can be challenging when the waves are high.  True to form, I started "in the back."  Unfortunately, everyone had the same idea.  As I waded into the water and tried to pick which wave I would dive into, I suddenly ran into a wall of wetsuits that weren't going anywhere.  People were in no rush to dive in, and probably for good reason -- When you are swimming for an hour or 90 minutes, there is no need to hit the throttle too early.

When I finally dove in, I immediately entered the washing machine.  Arms, bodies, elbows, legs, more legs.  I tried to get into my breathing rhythm as soon as possible, but every other stroke was interrupted by a variety of body parts swinging in my direction.  The swimmer in front of me stopped to get his head up (to sight or try to breathe).  I ran into him, someone ran into me, and more people ran into all of us.  Another phenomenon that I had not experienced before:  Being a part of somebody's stroke.  Swimmers regularly swept their arms forward, and finding a body in the way, they simply continued the stroke, pushing down on my back, and propelling themselves forward (and propelling me under the water).  I was only completely swum over twice, but I missed quite a few breaths simply because another swimmer had a hand on my back.  Fear not:  I returned the favor many times -- not because I meant to, but because there was often nowhere else for my hands to go.

Did I mention the waves?

I received my share of direct body blows.  One kick to my jaw made my teeth crack together so hard I thought I would break a few of them off.  I'm glad I didn't bite my tongue.  A kick to my chest took the wind out of me for a second.  And I received a direct hit in the right goggle that somehow made the goggle pop into my eye socket for a second.  When I popped it off my eye, it made a loud pop.  I'm surprised it wasn't black the next day (though it is still sore today).

Because the current pulled everyone left, people spread out very wide at the start, aiming to let the current pull them to the first buoy.  But that meant that instead of the crowd thinning out a half mile into the race, the crowd actually intensified at the first turn.

It was by far the most challenging swim I have endured, but through it all, I was much more calm than in previous triathlons.  There were several reasons for this.  First, I have repeatedly told myself that nobody intends to run into me, just as I don't intend to run into them.  I have a terrible habit of taking it very personally when somebody kicks me in the mouth.  Wouldn't you?  But in open water, you just have to let it go.  Second, my mother-in-law posted the lyrics to "Jesus Savior Pilot Me" on this blog a few days before the race.  I sang the lyrics in my head, and stayed calm through the swim.  And third, as a veteran of several events now, I realized that as crazy as the swim is, it is the shortest and least painful of the three disciplines, and I did my best to enjoy the opportunity to swim in the Gulf.

Here is Rob after the first loop.  He's the guy in the sleeveless suit & green cap.

After one loop, I came out of the water and ran up the beach.  Volunteers pour gallon jugs of fresh water into your mouth and hand you cups of water.  I took two and guzzled them, then ran back into the water.  On the second loop, I had a hard time getting to the right of the buoys.  The current pulled me to the left, and every time I tried to move outside the buoy, there were too many bodies there.  The good news is that you can swim inside the buoys all the way until the "turn buoy," at which point you have to swim on the outside.  The bad news is that when I tried to go around the turn buoy, someone ran into me and I smacked the buoy with my head.  The worse news is that my leg got tangled in the rope holding the buoy in place.  Yes, there was a moment of panic and a little more salt water drinking than usual, but I rolled over and freed myself before I freaked out. 

My calmness paid off in my speed.  I had a very fast swim -- a full 15 minutes faster than I had projected, and I felt strong throughout.  Coach Kim of Team Z also gets a bunch of credit for helping me straighten out my stroke a month before the race.  When I ran up the beach and looked at my watch, I knew it was going to be a good race day.

Here I am yelling, "Hey Alisha!  Hey Alisha!"  I survived!