In long distance racing, there is a place in each race called "The Line." Its different from "The Wall." The Wall you hit and it slows you down, but you eventually recover and move on. When you hit The Line, your day is done and you walk it in. The Line wants to move close to you, and in long course racing, you strategize your training, your racing and feelings to keep pushing The Line further away. That was my focus and my mantra on race day.... "Push back The Line." Standing on Panama City Beach at 7 in the morning in my black wet suit and red swim cap, I looked exactly like 2000 others. You couldn't distinguish me from anyone else, and strangely, I felt comfort in that. I wasn't nervous or tense, but excited as Van Halen's Panama blared around us, and while the helicopters buzzed overhead, I made small talk with the other crazies around me. I kept to the middle of the group, because I am not a fast swimmer, but also didn't want to be swimming over top of people. But as soon as the cannon boomed and the swimmers cheered as we all ran into the water, I was ready to get this thing underway that had been 7 months of training for me. And after 7 months of swim teams and swim lessons and perfecting my technique, once I hit the water it was all immediately out the window! It was 2000 people flailing and kicking and stroking and frog kicking and trying to survive. It was honestly 30min before I took a complete stroke without hitting someone's foot, head, back, leg or butt. I kept having an image of a bunch carp at a spillway climbing over each other, clamoring for a piece of bread or food. Chaotic would be an understatement, but I couldn't help from laughing at the absurdity of it all and just made the best of it.
It was a two loop course, so after you complete the first loop you run onto the sand and over a timing mat to counted and back into the water to complete the second loop. After much more organized chaos and catching one really hard heel to my cheekbone, I was exiting the water making my way to the wet suit strippers. You sit your butt in the sand and these volunteers had perfected the art of ripping your wet suit off your body in seconds and sending you through the showers and to the transition area.
Running through the tunnel hollering my race number, a volunteer grabbed my transition bag I had prepared the night before with all my cycling gear in it, handed it to me and I never had to break stride while running into the Men's changing area. Again, I was one of 100's in various stages of getting dressed and right away another volunteer started pulling out all my stuff and handing it to me, and helping me get my jersey on and stuffing my wet suit into a bag....it was so nice. And a few seconds later I was out the changing room door and to my bike again hollering my race number. Yet another volunteer pulled out my bike for me and ran along side me with my bike and I never had to break stride. Now it was time to push back The Line.
At the very beginning of my ride, I went to take my first drink of my carefully prepared "anti cramping" concoction. As I pulled the nozzle of my water bottle up with my teeth, the top of the bottle came off in my mouth and the bottom part with all the liquid fell to the side of the road! What a way to start, but luckily I had another bottle full with me and would be fine until the first water station. I felt like a million bucks on the bike, which is a blessing and curse. I'm not a slow cyclist, and I had to exercise a lot of patience and discipline to go the pace I had decided upon and not faster. What helped achieve that goal was the intense wind, cross wind, and head wind which seemed to always be in my face. Ug. Nothing steals my momentum and joy like cycling into the wind. I had to make a choice to stay positive and just stay relaxed. The things that helped me pass the time were making small talk (mostly about the wind) with the people around me from Jersey, Phili, Canada, France, Australia and a plethora of other places. Before I knew it, I was at the halfway point in record time and I wasn't sure what to think of that, but I was pretty sure I had stayed comfortable and relaxed the whole time.
At the halfway point on the bike you have a Special Needs bag waiting on you that you prepare the day before with anything you can think of that may be practical or a treat. Since I couldn't fit my massage therapist into my bag, I decided on my favorite food in the world.... BBQ chips. I hadn't eaten them in 7 months, or had any sugar or alcohol. Having my chips at the halfway point and a Bud and KitKat at the finish was a fun motivation as well. I ate a few chips but actually wanted to save them, because I have a history of hitting The Wall about mile 80 on my rides.
Sure enough, around mile 75 I started to fade. I knew it was coming... the wind was really starting to irk me, I couldn't get comfortable, and any little thing was irritating me. I knew I was in the "bite-me zone". I could have been told I was a powerball lottery winner, and in that moment I would have told the guy to 'Bite-Me!" I knew it was coming and I was in it, and I decided to eat my feelings and crunched on some chips. And then as we were coming up on an aid station I had decided to pass by it, however a cyclist a few yards in front of me decided to head towards the aid station, off the road, through the grass and slam into the table full of water! Head over handle bars he went! While there was enough people around that I didn't feel the need to stop and help, I did feel that I had a better race strategy than he did, and that kind of brought me out of the bite me zone and I was feeling much better.
Soon I started to recognize landmarks and places I had passed at the beginning of the ride and could see the host hotel towering in the horizon and I knew I was almost done. For the last 20 miles I was able to maintain my goal pace and felt myself regaining my energy and pushing The Line way back.
Coming into transition, again, a volunteer grabbed my bike from me and I headed straight over to the Mens changing area where they bagged up my stuff for me, pulled out my run gear, put on my running shoes and I was out again in a few minutes onto the run portion.... Thank goodness.
My strategy was to loaf for the first 5 miles. We all have a tendency to be so excited to get on the run and off the bike that we go out too fast and that will do us in later on. So keeping a very conservative pace, I was able to take in all the festivities and signs people made like "You are Strong," "Time to Fly" and "Holy S***, you're doing an Ironman!" The crowds were amazing and everyone would holler my name which was on my race bib.
I saw my wife and all the wives of my companions chanting my name and it was so encouraging. Every mile had a different water stop, and each one was a party. Each group of people had a different theme, from people dressed as clowns, and renaissance themes, and cheerleaders and even one group of scantily clad women dressed like cats. They all made the run go by quickly and made it fun. At mile 5 I had taken it easy and felt great, and now it was time for me to go, at about the same time I saw others beginning to stop and walk. After picking up the pace, I felt so good, but the doubts about The Line began to creep in. I have always battled cramping issues on long races, and had done everything to the "T" on the day to prevent the cramping, but didn't know if it would be enough having never done this distance before. I kept moving and made it to the halfway point feeling great! You are once again handed a Special Needs bag that I had prepared and threw on my long sleeve shirt as it had began to get cold.
Able to keep my pace, I ran with a guy from Jersey for about 8 miles who had practiced the same philosophy as I did until I began to hit The Wall (but it didn't feel like The Line) about mile 20. A volunteer put a Coke Cola into my hand which, honestly I hadn't had in years....and even then, if I did have it had some Jack in it. WOW! New life! I drank another and I was unstoppable, and off I went. Shortly after that I ran upon a friend I hadn't seen in 10 years. This was the man, no lie, who had actually introduced me to triathlon. I remember him telling me 10 years ago that one day I should work up to doing an Ironman as he told me about his great stories from his Ironmans he had completed. And here he was, doing the same race as me....it was a big moment for me. However, he was fading, and I was gaining momentum and he told me to go on.
The sun had set, it was now dark and the crowds weren't as thick as they were 4 hours before. But staying positive and high-fiving each volunteer that I saw, I finally saw the 23 mile marker and could hear the announcer in the distance saying people's names and "....You are an Ironman!" To me, the best and most emotional part of a race isn't the finish, but it's when you realize you're going to finish. At that moment, I realized I was going to finish and I had pushed The Line 140.6 miles to the finish line! I picked up the pace even more and was flying. Now to a spectator I may have looked like I was at a snail's pace, but make no mistake, I was wide-open baby. Though my legs were heavy, my spirit had wings and I must have passed 100 people in the last 2 miles. The lights grew brighter and the finish line towers were in my sites. I crossed a sign on the ground that read "You are a Champion" and then I heard the announcer say those coveted words...."Christopher McClintock! You Are An Ironman!"
I want to thank so many supportive people that made this journey and goal possible. My cycling groups, running and track companions, my staff at Personal Best Fitness, my clients and their big goals and encouragement, my coach The (one and only) TriSwami, my sports nutritionist Marietta, my parents and inlaws for encouragement and watching kids, my great friend who supported me by riding 140 miles on his bike trainer the same day, and especially my supportive wife and family who sacrificed my being away so much of the time, helping to keep me fed (5000 calories a day), and putting up with me falling asleep on the couch every night.
Ironman is more than simply crossing a finish line, it is more about the person you become during the process and the realizations you encounter. It is a life accomplishment that no one can ever take away from you and will be part of my obituary one day. Once you are an Ironman, as their slogan says, Anything is Possible.
