IRONMAN: JOY, PAIN & GRATITUDE
by Fr. Rob Schultz
What a difference a year makes. When I reflect on my experience at the 2014 Racine Ironman 70.3 race, and then compare it to my experience at the 2013 race, I see many small but significant differences, as well as similarities. In fact, perhaps a better way to begin this reflection would be to say: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” I say that because I did see subtle similarities and differences in how I approached the race, how I experienced the race, and how I felt after the race.
Just like last year, I’d like to begin with the Mass. My friend Carol and I attended Mass the night before the race at the same church we did last year, even choosing to sit in the same section of pews. And here’s a perfect example of something that was both the same and different than last year. Even though we were sitting in almost exactly the same place, and even though I basically remembered the church interior, for some reason I had forgotten about one particular stained glass window that was directly opposite me on the church wall. I had a direct line of sight to it, so I don’t know how I forgot about it from last year.
The window depicted the image of St. Peter walking on the stormy sea to meet Jesus, who was standing on the waters (and if you’re not familiar with the story, Peter began to sink in the water as soon as the winds blew and he became afraid). So, seeing as how we were about to swim 1.2 miles in Lake Michigan the next morning, and since I am not exactly in my “happy place” when I am in open water surrounded by lots of other people, I looked at that stained glass window and thought, “Yeah, I don’t need to see that right now.” But I know that the Lord was trying to teach me a lesson by showing me that image before Mass, before the race. As Jesus told Peter in that story: “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” (Mt. 14:31)
I must say that I’m glad that I didn’t see that window last year. It probably would have bothered me more then because last year the conditions at Lake Michigan were not very favorable – the winds were high and the waters were very choppy, giving us a “stormy sea” experience indeed. However, even as I gazed upon that stained glass window this year, I wasn’t too worried. You see, I had been continually (some might say obsessively) watching the weather forecast for Racine all week, including the forecast for precipitation, air temp, winds, and water temp. The good news was that there was no chance of rain, the air temp was going to be fairly comfortable, and the winds were going to be almost non-existent. So, three out of four sounded really good! The water temp – well, that’s another story that I’ll get to.
The last thing I’ll say about the Mass is that there were two unfortunate differences that stood out from last year. First, the number of people in church was definitely smaller than last year (in fact, there was hardly anyone sitting in our section of pews). Second, we did not see any other racers present at the Mass. There’s any easy way to spot the Racine Ironman racers on race weekend: they all wear blue wristbands. When you check in to pick up your packet, a blue ID band is placed on your wrist, and you cannot take it off until after you leave the race area at the conclusion of the race on Sunday. So, if there had been any fellow athletes at the Mass, they would have been wearing blue wristbands like Carol and I were. Last year we saw many fellow athletes in church; this year we did not even see one. It was kind of sad. But nevertheless I was once again very happy that, in addition to the physical preparation we had done for the race, now we were able to do some spiritual preparation on the night before by being at Mass.
Okay, let’s get to race day. Just like last year my day began when the alarm went off at 4:15am. I took a shower, mostly just to help me wake up (and it turned out that that morning shower was much different than the one I would take later that night when the sore muscles, raw skin and sunburn would cause me lots of pain!) We got to the race site early, which is always a smart thing to do. As I was getting everything ready I could tell that I was more confident than last year, and not only because of the good weather forecast. I also had a lot of determination – I wanted to prove to myself that I could take on this huge feat again, and not only that, but I really wanted to beat my overall time from last year (because I had a lot of confidence that I could significantly improve on last year’s swim time, which was my main goal).
And incidentally, one thing that gave me a lot of confidence was the simple act of looking at Lake Michigan. As the athletes walked the one-mile stretch along the coast to get to the swim start, we were all looking over at the water. And you could tell which athletes had done the Racine race last year, because we all had the same reaction. As soon as we saw the lake, we all excitedly said the same thing: “Look at the water!” We were like little kids in expressing our joy. We all remembered how choppy and wavy the waters were last year, and how even at a distance we could see the buoys bouncing around in the waves. This year was totally different: the water was perfectly flat and calm. All of us who faced the waters last year were quite excited and relieved (although as we would find out, there was a trade-off to getting calm waters this year).
The Racine race, like most open water triathlons, does not begin with a mass start of all the athletes. Rather, after the male and female pros go off, the age groupers (amateurs) go off in separate waves based on their age groups, and the waves were spaced about four minutes apart. The order of the swim waves was almost exactly the same as last year, with some slight exceptions. My age group (males 40-44) was once again the largest group in the race, because we were divided up into three separate waves. My wave was set to go off at 7:54am, two minutes earlier than last year. Plus, there was one more wave behind me than last year. This was good news for me because it meant that I had some extra time before the swim cutoff (because the cutoff clock does not begin until the last wave goes off). As it turned out, I wouldn’t need the extra time because I was about to have a good swim.
Just like last year, my friend Carol went off early, in Wave 5. I watched her begin and prayed for her safe and successful race (and it turned out that she would destroy her overall time from last year, beating it by 45 minutes). Once she was gone, I used my half-hour of wait time to “warm up” in the water. I use quotes for “warm up” because the water was anything but warm! In fact, this was tobe the coldest water that I had ever raced in. Last year’s water temp was 66.5°, and that was cold enough to wake you up in the morning! However, this year’s temp was 61.4°. Yeah, those five degrees make things a lot colder.
I knew that I needed to get used to it, so I forced myself to get in the water and warm up. I wasn’t nearly as nervous as last year because the water was so calm, but at the same time I was getting a little nervous about the temperature. The longer I spent in the water, the colder my arms were getting (and of course, you really need your arms to swim!) I actually thought my feet would go first, but surprisingly they never really gave me a problem. Now, I should mention that one of the reasons my arms were getting cold was because I was wearing a sleeveless wetsuit.
With water that cold, the majority of athletes were wearing full wetsuits (with sleeves). However, I only owned one wetsuit, and I chose sleeveless because I knew that a full one would be too constricting on me. I already have a hard time breathing with a wetsuit on, so I wanted something that was as least constricting as possible. For all the other swims I had done, the sleeveless suit wasn’t a problem. Today, however, I was getting worried about losing feeling in my arms as the swim progressed.
I do have to share one funny moment about the wetsuit. As I stood in the freezing water, feeling out of place because 98% of the athletes had full wetsuits, a guy came up behind me and said, “Sleeveless, bro!” and he gave me a fist bump. He too was wearing a sleeveless suit. I fist-bumped (is that a verb?) him back and smiled. That gesture made me feel good for two reasons. First, it made me feel tough, because I was about to tackle this water without sleeves. And second, it reminded me of the great camaraderie that exists among athletes at races. If you ask anyone who regularly races I’m sure they’ll tell you the same thing: athletes support each other. For instance, it’s not uncommon on the bike and run course to pass or be passed by fellow athletes who say to you, “Good job” or “You’re doing great.” And the encouragement not only comes from the athletes, but from the spectators as well. One of the things I love most about racing is the great support you get from total strangers who call out your race number to encourage you (your race number in triathlons is often written on your arms and legs, so it’s not uncommon to hear spectators say, “Way to go, 1539!”)
Okay, I suppose I should finally get to the race start. As I stood on the beach, waiting for 7:54am to come, I had to do it alone this year. Last year my friend Jim, who is in my age group, was with me, so I was able to stand next to him. Jim wasn’t racing this year, so this time I was on my own (although he did tell me that his prayers are so strong that I would feel him next to me). And I’m sure his prayers were one of the reasons why I was feeling more confident as I waited for the starting horn to blow.
And when the horn blew at 7:54am, I hit the start button on my watch, and my long day began. And as I entered the water at the back of the pack, I was very proud of myself that I did exactly what I had planned to do – I didn’t start swimming right away. My mistake last year was that I felt I needed to jump right in and get going so that I wouldn’t fall too far behind. But experience has shown me that whenever I start too fast in the water I quickly lose my breath and can’t swim. So, as the rest of the wave took off, I forced myself to wait. I walked as far as I could until the water was up to my neck. I let my body adjust to the cold. And once I was ready, I began to swim – very slowly. In fact, I would keep a very slow pace the entire time, which was exactly my plan. And because I stuck to the plan, I was able to swim non-stop – from the moment my feet could no longer touch the bottom to the moment when I could touch the bottom again at the swim finish. I swam slow and steady and uninterrupted – and I was absolutely ecstatic that I was doing it!
It was funny that the lifeguards did exactly what I thought they would. As soon as they spotted me and my slow pace, a few of them paddled closer to me, just to keep an eye on me (and I’m glad they were doing their job of paying attention). But as I said, the good news is that I did not need their help, not even once. Unlike last year, I did not have to stop or hold on to anything this time. I just kept swimming and swimming and swimming. And when the faster swimmers in the waves behind me caught up to me and passed me, I didn’t panic; I remained calm and just kept doing my own thing.
Oh, and I had mentioned that I was worried about my arms freezing during the long swim (1.2 miles). Well, once I got going and the blood started flowing, my arms were actually not too bad (a little cold, but not unbearable). The problem, however, was my face. As the minutes increased, my face became colder and colder. My goggles began to really hurt around my eyes, and I just wanted to keep my face out of the water altogether – but I couldn’t because that would upset my rhythm. By God’s grace (which was very active that day) I sucked up the pain and kept going.
When I saw the last buoy (the red buoy, which signaled for us to turn toward the shore) I became very excited. As I continued to swim toward shore I could eventually see the swim exit arch on the beach, and that pumped me up even more. The icing on the cake was when my feet touched the bottom again. I didn’t look at my watch yet, however – I wanted to wait until I actually exited the water.
And as I approached the swim exit I experienced something that was so much nicer about this year’s race compared to last year’s – I wasn’t alone! Last year I finished the swim so far near the back that I exited the water alone, and for a good part of the rest of the race I was by myself. That would not be the case this year. As I ran up the beach at the swim exit there were other racers all around me, and there were still spectators there to cheer us on. “Now this is what racing should be!” I excitedly thought. And to add to my excitement, I looked down at my watch. Last year’s swim took me 1 hr. 31 mins. This year my watch read 1 hr. 11 mins. It wasn’t quite as good as I had hoped, but I was still thrilled with it. As I peeled out of my wetsuit and ran to the transition area to get to my bike, I did a silent fist pump in the air, feeling psyched that I beat my swim by 20 minutes.
Oh, one more thing before I moved on to the bike. Several days before the race I accidentally burned my left thumb, and at the time of the race start the skin on the top of my thumb was grey and beginning to peel. I was wondering if it would hurt in the water, but thankfully I barely felt it. However, when it did finally occur to me to look down at my thumb after I exited the water, I saw that the water decided to peel off the rest of the skin for me. The old skin was gone (well, a little was still hanging on), leaving a circle of red, raw skin exposed. “Oh man,” I thought, “this had better not bother me on the bike!” Thankfully, though, the wind didn’t bother it too much. I only mention it because it’s funny how, when your body is being put through something as intense as a half-Ironman and you need to be at the top of your game, you really pay attention to every little part of your body!
When I got to transition I was very happy that I was able to find my bike right away, although I knew it would be easy – the bikes are grouped together by age groups, and since everyone else in my age group had already finished the swim and headed out on their bikes, well, that made it easy to spot the lone bike in my row. I moved pretty well in transition. The only thing that caused me a little concern was when one of the race officials approached me. He was holding a clipboard and he said, “You’re 1539, right?” I looked at him cautiously and said, “Yes.” He didn’t say anything, but he marked something on his clipboard and then walked away.
I wanted to say, “What? Why are you asking?” You see, usually when a race official asks for your number during a race it means that you incurred a time penalty, which they add on to your finish time at the end. So, after the elation of finishing the swim I was now feeling a little defensive. I was thinking, “What did I do? I didn’t do anything!” But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, and I didn’t want to appear argumentative with an official, because thatcould incur a penalty. I needed to start my bike ride, so I headed out. However, as I had time to think while on the bike I realized that the official was probably just making sure that I had made it safely out of the water. You see, because of the electronic timing chips that we wear, the officials know exactly how many people go into the water and how many come out. Since I was the last in my age group to exit the water, he probably just wanted to make sure that everyone in my wave was out. So, coming to that conclusion pretty much dispelled my worries about a penalty (and sure enough, I later checked my race results onlineand saw that I had not incurred any penalties).