Ironman Chattanooga (aka Might As Well Be Walking On The Sun) Race Day

Sunday, September 25, 2016.  3:40 AM.

Eyes opened.  Like they were on springs.  I was wide awake almost immediately.  

The TV was off.  The room was cold.  It was dark.  But I was wide.  Effing.  Awake.

It's a race morning.  I never sleep well the night before a race, so I was prepared for this.  

I got up, ate a couple oatmeal bars, drank a cup of really awful coffee, and let the oatmeal and coffee do what they do.  Then I grabbed my pre-race pile of stuff and got dressed while waking up my wife, Shellie.  Once she was out of bed, I found an Eminem playlist on my iPad, and put that on to fill the morning silence.  Normally, I'm a rock guy but this wasn't a normal morning.  Once her and I were ready, we woke up Brynn to get her dressed.

Once everyone was up and moving, we left to head to transition so I could blow up the tires on my bike, drop my special needs bags, and load up my bike nutrition.  It was dark, not cold (this is important), and a tiny bit humid.  I left the girls to head into transition to do what I needed to do, clowned around with one of the volunteers in a T-Rex costume, dropped bags, set up the bike, and met back up with Shellie and Brynn to get on the bus to swim start.  

We got to the swim start about 6:15 or so and started walking down the line to the wetsuit wave, aka the "I suck at swimming" wave.  The water temperature was 82-83 degrees, meaning anyone in a wetsuit wouldn't be eligible for AG awards on Kona slots.  I'm not fast enough on the bike for that to be a concern.  XTerra's Lava Pants are considered a wetsuit, and I'd trained a fair amount in them was quite comfortable swimming in them even when the water was warm, so I planned to race in them.  

About 7:15, my cousin Tim who had come down from Chicago and my Aunt Kathy who joined him on the trip showed up at swim start as well, completely unexpectedly.  I figured they'd sleep in and see me at T1.  We hugged, clowned around, took pictures, and enjoyed the final few moments before I jumped in that river.  And in retrospect, it was really good they were there because my pre-swim anxiety never really materialized.  

A few minutes later, we stood for the National Anthem, the pros got in the river, and the cannon fired to officially start the race.  10 minutes after that, the AG race started with another cannon shot.  It was finally here.  I'm racing an Ironman!  I hugged and kissed the kid and the wife, hugged Tim and Kathy, high-fived and fist bumped the other guys in the "I swim like shit" wave, and even offered my family to share some pre-race love with the guy that was waiting by himself for the race to start.  

Swim

After the AG swimmers moved to the dock, us in the wetsuit wave lined up behind them.  I finally got my first look at the dock and the river from water level, and got nervous.  But there was no looking back as the line moved forward and I was in it.  Eventually I crossed the timing mat, walked to the end of the dock, and slid myself into the water.  I ducked my head under water, came up, and breaststroked about 15-20 yards while getting a good visual of the river.  Then I put my head down, and started swimming.

I set my watch to go off every 500 yards so I'd have an idea of where I was on the swim, and this turned out to be a good idea.  Feeling the buzz on my wrist every 8 or 9 minutes was comforting as it reassured me that I was actually moving forward.  At 1000 yards, I checked my watch and was at 16 minutes and change.  I knew the dam on the river had been shut down to minimize current, but I was still swimming pretty well and quicker than I normally do, indicating there was at least a little current.

The first mile of the swim, there's no landmarks to measure progress against.  It's just a wide open river, buoys, and water safety crew.  But there's also a really wide river to swim in making it easy to find space and not get swam over.  I found myself really comfortable and making good progress.  

Be glad this is before the wetsuit strippers.

Eventually I got to the island in the river which was about 1 mile from the start.  The second half of the swim had several landmarks, which made breaking down the swim mentally much much easier.  I was still swimming comfortably, enough so to joke with one of the water safety volunteers.  (He didn't have any cheeseburgers, but he did offer water.  I politely declined.)  Mentally, I broke up the second half of the swim from the tip of the island to the first bridge, then to the end of the island, then to the second bridge, then to the third, then to the finish.  And slowly but surely I made it to each landmark.  About 150 yards from the third bridge I knew I'd have to start sighting for the exit.  I swam up on guy swimming about my pace and drafted him from the last bridge through the turn to the exit.  Once I could swim straight to the exit, I sprinted for the last 100 or so yards, or at least I felt like I did.  I was probably still swimming a 1:55/100 pace.

They pulled me out the water and directed me to T1.  I stopped at the wetsuit strippers to get the lava pants off, and then headed up the hill to the change tent.  On my way I saw Kathy and Tim at one point, and Shellie and Brynn at another.  I was fired up as I just completed an Ironman swim.  3.5 years ago I couldn't swim a 400 in a pool without feeling like I was dying, and I had just swam 2.4 miles in open water.  I was stoked!

I grabbed my bike gear bag and headed to the tent to change into cycling gear and start the second leg of the race.

Bike

My best bike photo ever.

I made it to the change tent to change from my swim gear to cycling gear.  I made the decision to do a full clothing change at each transition to be more comfortable for each leg.  I figured that since it's a long day, and I'm more interested in getting to the finish line rather than hitting a time goal, it's probably best if I'm as comfortable as possible while doing so. 

I grabbed an empty chair in the tent, and started fishing out my stuff from my bag.  A volunteer came over to help get my stuff sorted and I quickly towel dried and started getting dressed.  This was about the point where I realized that the opening to the tent was just over my shoulder and some spectators were seeing more of me than they probably should... Oh well.  I finished getting dressed, turned on the Beacon tracker, put on my helmet, and headed out to my bike to begin my 116 mile journey through NW Georgia.  I gulped a bunch of water in T1 and ate a Gu to get some calories back in my stomach and set up my nutrition plan for the bike.  I felt good and was eagerly anticipating the bike ride.

On a map, the IMCHOO bike course looks kind of like a butcher knife.  Racers ride the handle, then ride two laps of the blade, and then ride the handle back to transition.  From the hilt of the "handle" to the tip of the blade the course is mostly false flats and uphills as the course is a net elevation gain.  The tip of the blade back to Chickamauga is a net downhill, and there's a decently long climb just before the blade "tip" and another coming out of Chickamauga.  My plan was to ride the first loop according to power/heart rate goals, then follow the same guidelines on the first half of the second loop.  The second half of the second loop I planned to push harder since it was a net downhill and I should be able to make up time on everyone that went out too hard.  Then I wanted to keep pushing until I was back in Chattanooga and ride comfortably back to T2.  I relied on Infinit mixed at 150% strength and Base Salts for nutrition, supplemented with water at the aid stations.  At Special Needs I'd grab three more bottles for the second loop.  I'd tested this plan in training on my 4-5 hour rides and always always felt good and well hydrated.  I was confident this would work.

I hit the first aid station just past the 15 mile mark and just drifted to the left while everyone slowed to grab water/gatorade/nutrition.  Then when I saw the porta-potties, I figured it was probably a good idea to take a quick pit stop.  2 minutes later I was back on the bike heading south again.  

Crowd support on the course was surprising for how rural the area was.  There were people parked at every intersection cheering.  A farmer had hung a big banner off of a backhoe and parked it along the road.  The volunteers were enthusiastic.  It was awesome that so many people chose to spend their Sunday watching us ride through their town.  

Continuing south on W. Cove Rd., I maintained my nutrition and pacing plan.  But it was getting warm, and quickly.  I finished my first nutrition bottle around mile 25, tossed it at aid station 2, and grabbed a water bottle.  I drank about half the water bottle, dumped the rest on me to cool down, and continued on to the big climb before the blade tip.  From the crest of that climb, through the tip, and back the 20+ miles to Chickamauga, the course is a net downhill.  Without pushing really hard, I was 1-2 MPH faster going back north.  And this road was about as picturesque a place to ride as could be found.  I also started getting passed by the pros on their second lap and realized just how remarkably average I am on the bike.  

I hit Special Needs about 3:15 into the ride.  Riding into Chickamauga was a blast.  The city set up barricades and people were 2-3 deep cheering and ringing cowbells for about a half-mile.  The volunteers were quick about getting our bags, and I swapped out my bottles, and grabbed the sunscreen I put in the bag.  I sprayed down quickly, and offered it to someone behind me on their bike.  I imagine it got passed to 4-5 more people, but who knows.  I also took another pit stop (needed just to make sure I was staying hydrated) before heading out of Chickamauga to start my second loop.  

Our team kit (TriDat) looks damn good.

By this point, it was probably 12:30 or 1 PM in the day.  And it was getting hot, fast.  I had no idea how hot, but it felt as hot as anything I'd ridden in all summer.  I hit aid station one and instead of everyone riding through, people were coming to a dead stop to get water and ice.  I dumped an empty nutrition bottle, grabbed a water, drank it, grabbed another to dump on me, and a third to drink before heading out.  And at the #2 station, I did the same again with the water, but nothing was cooling me down.  And it was about here where I started seeing people on side of the road, laid up under a tree, either cramping up, trying to cool down, or throwing up.  The heat was beginning to start taking out competitors in a big way.  

I made the second climb to the "tip" and started heading north again.  I was feeling fresh still and wasn't nearly as affected by the heat as most people, so I started riding hard.  I'm not sure how many people I passed, but it felt like a bunch.  I also didn't get passed much.  But I did hit Aid #3 and douse myself in water as well as dumping as much ice as I could shove in my shorts and jersey.  I repeated this at #4 and #5 just trying to manage the heat, while seeing people just laid out all over the course.  Occasionally an ambulance would pass by, or I'd see a van with 2-3 competitors and their bikes in it.  It was rough.  And there was no break whatsoever from the heat.  

Eventually, I made it back into Tennessee and on my way to T2.  The family had set up camp around W45th Street to see me come through the corner, and that was a huge mood booster.  Those extra 4 miles that are on the Chattanooga course are the longest 4 miles I've ever ridden in my life.  But I made it to T2, upright, and still feeling really good.  It was time to cool down a bit, change clothes again, and go to work.

Run

I got to T2, dismounted from the bike and started walking it in until a volunteer took it from me to rack it. (Thank you!!)  I grabbed my run gear bag and headed into the change tent to change to my run kit, get some nutrition and water, and go start the marathon.  But before I did anything, I found some ice water to try and cool down and rehydrate.  

While I was changing, a friend from work who has several IM finishes came over to ask how I was feeling.  He wasn't looking good as he had cramping issues on the bike over the last 25 miles or so.  I finished changing and a guy in a medical shirt came over to check on me.  He asked how I was feeling and I told him I felt good.  He warned me to be careful because "It's 95 degrees out there right now".  

I knew it was hot, but holy... shit...

I left the change tent, hit the porta potty, and was walking to the sunscreen volunteers when another friend of mine, Coach Kevin of GNO Tri, who was spectating and coaching grabbed me and said "All those time goals you had... Forget them.  Just get to the finish line.  Today is about survival."  

For the first time that day, I started questioning whether or not I'd finish.  

Leaving T2.. So HOT!

I hit the sunscreen tent, got sprayed down, and hustled up a cool towel from a volunteer and headed out to run a marathon.  And as soon as I started running, the heat hit me, hard.  I took almost a mile to finally settle into a groove that I could manage (so I thought) in the heat, but just past the two mile mark while out on Riverside Drive I felt like I might be in trouble.  I tried to run in what little shade I could find, but that wasn't much of a help.  I started getting light headed.  My fingers were starting to tingle.  I was getting a little bit of tunnel vision.  I needed to stop.  And soon.  I pushed to the Mile 3 aid station and saw a portable shelter set up.  I figured I could stop there, cool down more effectively than I was able to at the prior aid stations, get something in my stomach, and push on.  I stopped for a couple minutes and stood in the shade, ate a Gu and an orange slice, and dumped a bunch of ice water on my head and back.  This brought my body temp way down and I started feeling better pretty quickly.  At this point, I did toss aside any time goals and just made up my mind to get to the finish.  

Between the 3 and 4 mile aid stations, Base Salt had set up a tent and Danny was out encouraging people.  His enthusiasm was infectious and really brightened my mood.  And at the 4 mile station, Tim was waiting.  He was asking how I was feeling as I came through and I honestly was feeling much better.  I made the turn off the highway and my wife, kid, and aunt were all waiting for me.  It was amazing to see them there where they weren't expected.  

Just slightly less hot.
Maybe only 92 degrees

The next part of the run goes back towards downtown on the jogging path along the river.  There was some shade and some sprinklers set up which made this stretch much more bearable.  I felt good while following the "walk stations 1 and 2, stop at 3 and eat" plan.  And finally the sun wasn't real high and the heat was starting to break a little.  At the end of that stretch the course crosses the river and the "hard" part begins.  I watched my heart rate when starting the hard part, not letting myself get much over 145 BPM, even if it meant walking hills.  I was running pretty comfortably until I got to aid station 11 where whatever combination of stuff I took in immediately made me very nauseated.  I had to walk the next mile or so to get my gut to settle down, and then ran up Frazier St. to the Walnut St. Bridge where the family was hanging out again waiting for me.  I crossed the bridge with 2 guys who were a lap ahead of me and they were nice enough to give me some words of encouragement to start my second lap.  They said if I could keep running 10 minute miles, I'll keep passing people.  So that was my plan.

I hit run Special Needs and grabbed a couple gels I had in my bag.  But my stomach was still wrecked from earlier and the thought of eating one wasn't pleasant.  It was at the #1 aid station that I discovered the joys of chicken broth!  It was warm, and salty, and not sweet... It was a little cup of manna.  From there on I'd alternate chicken broth and coke.  And for the next 8 or so miles, it worked.  I wasn't running fast, but I was running.  And passing people.  And Danny was still out on that highway yelling and cutting up and acting like a fool. "Russ!!! Dude!!! You're gonna be an IRONMAN!!!"

The second time on the riverwalk, it was dark, quiet, and lonely.  Almost eerie.  I just kept chugging along stopping to get what little calories I could get in me, trying to not walk.  At the 20 mile mark some guy said "we just have a 10K left.  We can do that in our sleep."  And I thought about all the 4:45 mornings when I was up running 6-7 miles before I was actually awake and thought "yea, I got this."  Almost 3 hours prior, I was afraid I'd pass out on side the road, and now I was finally confident that I was going to finish this thing.  

Almost There...

My legs, however, had different plans.  Around mile 21, they just got really heavy and really tired.  And my brain wasn't up for pushing because I wasn't getting enough calories in.  I'd tell myself "just walk to {next landmark} and then start running", but the start running part never would happen.  And about mile 23 my Garmin died, so I just had to rely on road markers.  At the second to last aid station, I got a time check (a little past 9PM) and knew I could crawl in before the cutoff.  I made my last climb of Barton St. got a final shot of chicken broth at the last aid station, and started the walk down Frazier to Walnut St.  At some point on Frazier, the excitement of being about to finish an Ironman overcame the legs and gut and I started jogging again, slowly.  As I got closer to the bridge I sped up a little until I turned onto the bridge.  I could hear music, people cheering, and a voice... "John Doe, you're an IRONMAN".  All I wanted was to hear my name at that point.  And there was nothing that could stop me from getting there.  I hit the top of the bridge and started coming down.  Some kid gave me two glow bracelets as I high-fived him.  People were at the end of the bridge cheering.  I started getting excited... I was so close at this point.  I made the turn on Riverfront Pkwy towards the finish.  Music was pumping.  Crowds were cheering.  Camera flashes were going off.  I could hear the (Not Mike Reilly) announcer calling names with "You're an Ironman".  I was there.  I was high-fiving people behind the barricades.  I was doing my "It's 3rd and 4 and I need crowd noise to get the QB sack" gestures.  I saw the family and gave them all quick hugs before I hit the carpet.  And when I hit the carpet it was absolutely incredible.  Lights, flashes, music ("Stronger" by Kanye.  Fitting.)

Finish!  I'm an IRONMAN!!

And then I heard it... "Russell Laughlin, you're an Ironman!"

I did it.  30 some-odd years ago, my Dad and I sat on a sofa on a random Sunday afternoon watching ABC's Wide World of Sports and they showed this crazy race in Hawaii where people swam 2.4 miles, cycled 112 miles, and ran a full marathon.  He thought they were insane.  I thought they were awesome.  But I never, ever imagined I could ever do that.  But I did.

A volunteer put my medal around my neck and walked with me to make sure I didn't need medical aid.  He grabbed my finisher shirt and hat, and a bottle of water for me which I drank quickly and it was replaced by a recovery drink from Beachbody.  I took my finish line photos, turned in my timing chip, and turned in my Beacon Tracker as I met up with my family.  I'm sure I was grinning like a fool.  They mobbed me like a rock star, except Brynn because she didn't want a sweaty hug.  She got one anyway.  

Best Finisher Pic Ever!

I saw Coach Kevin again and him and his wife also hugged my and congratulated me.  Kevin told me I went 14:17 or so, and I was kind of bummed as I wanted to be in the 13's (at least).  Then the volunteer told me they had something like 700 people DNF because of the heat.  Kevin reminded me that it was my first IM, and it was a brutal brutal day, and I should be proud to be a finisher, especially that day.  

Tim had already taken my bike and my gear to his room, so we just had to head out.  Finding food was unsuccessful, as the only thing open was a diner and it was packed and mediocre.  Plus I started feeling bad and just wanted to lay down.  I finally got to bed about 1 AM that night once the adrenaline and caffeine wore off.  But.. I went to bed an IRONMAN.  

And I totally wrecked a breakfast buffet the next morning.