Ironman Florida: Part 1 - Business As Usual, And Swimming Like A Mofo

This race is definitely a tough one to really sum up in a few words. There were so many things that went wrong and so many disappointments, yet the results were surprisingly uplifting.

Pre-Race

My morning routine for this race was nothing special. Compared to my first Ironman, where my entire morning was this slow, surreal, and foreboding march towards destiny, this particular morning seemed almost like business as usual. Wake up early, have a snack, double check transition bags, pound a Gatorade...etc etc...blah blah you know the drill.

My first disappointment of the day hit really hard. This race was going to be nowhere remotely as meaningful as my first time around. I'd been here before and more or less knew I'd finish, barring something incredibly unexpected or an unfixable mechanical issue on the bike. There would be no astounding discoveries concerning my ability to conquer the unknown, nor would I learn anything new about myself. Would I? More on that later...

All the fellas

We all really wanted to meet up before the race for photos and some mutual pep talk, but we hadn't really made a plan to assure that this would happen, so it seemed almost serendipitous how easily we found one another in the mob of neoprene and swim cap clad athletes milling around the beach. Families took pictures, last hugs and well-wishes were given, and then we all crossed the timing mat to let the race computers know that we were present and accounted for.

I let everyone know how proud I was of them for being here and before we knew it, it was about that time. Somebody sang the national anthem and then the cannon fired.

The Swim – Goal – 1:10

Oh yeah...the water. Every morning leading up to this one, I had looked out at the ocean and seen calm waters, minimal waves, mild currents, and gentle swells. Our practice swim the previous day had been uneventful and encouraging. The swim was going to be a good one. 

Or so I thought...

For some reason, fate saw it fit to give us something else on this particular morning. The waves were sizable(at least for the Gulf coast). The swells looked intimidating. The current was reportedly strong. We were advised to swim well to the right of the buoys, lest we get pushed into “No Man's Land”, aka the inside of the counter-clockwise rectangular swim course.

Despite these unwelcoming conditions, I calmly strode into the water. This swim start wasn't nearly as violent or frightening as the mass start in Coeur d'Alene, perhaps because of experience, and perhaps because the water stayed shallow for quite a while before it was deep enough to swim. Mostly though, it was because swimmers were very tenuously addressing the matter of getting past the surfline. I estimate that it was nearly 2 minutes before I got past the waves and into deep enough water to begin swimming. Once I did, however, it was game on.

I still can't quite explain why my swim went so well. I felt so strong out there in the water. I owned my space in the water and fought off all others who attempted to invade my turf. The swells tossed us about, but I appreciated the crest of each one as it afforded me an excellent opportunity to sight for the next buoy. It made no sense to me at the time, but I knew I was moving through the water like a MFing badass. Occasional watch checks told me I was right in feeling this way. In just over 35 minutes, my fingers hit sand and I had finished my first loop. Just like that. I took on some water at the aid station, scanned the crowd for friends/family, and turned back towards the water.

On the second loop, the excellent swimming continued. The only problem I seemed to be having was that my wetsuit was rubbing on my neck and it was starting to hurt. To solve this, I did what any normal triathlete would do for the first time in a race. I changed my breathing pattern.

Wait...normal triathletes don't do that. Do they?

Done! Rocked it!

Nope. I was so exceedingly comfortable swimming in these awful conditions that I started fucking with MY STROKE in order to reduce the number of times I would have to turn my head to the right side and irritate the raw spot on my neck. I breathed on the left...I breathed every 3^rd stroke...every 4^th stroke. Just tried to keep switching it up. Because breathing wasn't my concern. It was chafing?

<Author shrugs shoulders>

I did slow down somewhat on the 2^nd loop, probably a combination of worsening conditions and fatigue, but I still PR'd the swim split by over a minute and was only 6 minutes shy of my target time.

Final swim time: 1:16:07

I transitioned fairly efficiently and was in and out within my budgeted 10 minutes. The first big disappointment of the day hit me there. While running into transition, I saw Jake. At first I thought he had beat me in the swim, but when I went to congratulate him, he informed me that he had missed the cutoff. I didn't immediately grasp the concept. I seriously thought he was joking. He then reiterated that he had missed the time cutoff for finishing the first loop. My heart sank. I couldn't understand how such a strong all-around athlete like him could have had such trouble. I later found out that he had been pretty badly clobbered by some passing swimmers and had never been able to regain his rhythm. Thinking about him being out of the race, and furthermore, worrying about who else had possibly not made it out of the swim, definitely affected my mood for the majority of the bike leg which was next.

To Be Continued...