Running began as a diversion for me. As a sophomore in high school it gave me a healthy way to get out of the house and wrestle with the usual teenage problems and distractions. Twenty-five years later it still serves a similar purpose. In college I became involved in bicycle racing when the running got boring. That naturally led to my first triathlon in 1984. I will always be a runner at heart but my running became a piece of a bigger distraction.
I was a “Triathlete”.
Just as my running “must-do list” has always included the Boston and New York Marathons, my triathlon “must-do” was always
Ironman. I have raced almost every distance in running and triathlon. But the Ironman, the holy grail…
2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run… that was the mountain I had to conquer!
Ironman registration for the following year opens the morning after the race. They typically sell out within 12 hours. Not only do you have to pick your race 12 months in advance, you then have
364 days to obsess. My obsession would be Ironman Florida on November 6, 2004. This decision came after much soul searching and planning. Well… I also had to get permission from Karen and the kids. Everyone had to understand the goal and the work it would take to get there. Dad would be leaving on his bike before the kids got up on Saturday morning and get home sometime after lunch. We all agreed on the plan, they knew how much the Ironman (IM) meant to me, and they supported me all the way from last winter’s cold workouts right up to the finish line 12 months and thousands of training miles later.
My training was very consistent and focused. Hardly a workout passed in 12 months when my mind didn’t wander to the IM. I spent the first six months of the year training and racing my normal running and triathlon calendar. There was more emphasis on longer weekend workouts but my goal was to get to the beginning of the big IM buildup in August in my best shape. Somehow I managed that goal. No major injury or illness. Ahhh… the advantages of cross-training. I probably averaged 18 hours of training per week. The Ironman buildup was similar to a marathon plan. Weekday workouts remain somewhat unchanged except for longer swims. The weekends were
looooong. Saturday’s workout consisted of 5+ hours on the bike followed by a run. That was followed by a long run of 2+ hours on Sunday. You can imagine the calories consumed on Saturday and Sunday evenings! I ate everything in sight for several weeks and somehow still managed to drop 10 lbs. Sunday night was always a very good night’s sleep.
As race day approached the reality sank in that I would finally get to test myself in an event I had watched for 20 years. My kids enjoyed the fact that the race would take me longer to complete than the nine hour drive from Memphis to Panama City Beach! All of the training was done. My bike was finely tuned. I had reluctantly given in to the oft repeated advice to
“trust the taper”. I arrived in Florida rested, healthy… and scared to death. I soaked up the Ironman atmosphere, the expo tent, the whole carnival atmosphere. Then retreated to the beach house to relax and focus on the race to come.
The ocean was
ROUGH on Thursday and Friday. Red flags. Six foot waves. Undertow. I tend to focus and worry about the things I can control. Ocean conditions, however, caused a knot deep in my stomach. Rough water could derail my day before it ever really got started. But prayers were answered race day as we were greeted by a calm ocean. The 2.4 mile swim went very well. No major problems other than bumping into the other 2100 swimmers occasionally. When you are "in the zone" the reality of sharks, deep ocean water, distance from shore, never enter your mind. Just…
"keep swimming". Before I knew it I was done. 1:04:00. I beat my first goal of the day. In a blur I was out of the water, into the changing tent, and onto the bike. The 112 mile bike was much like a long training ride, but with a much more focused and consistent pace. The course offered no real hills and just a bit of wind. It helped to break it down into the 10 mile segments and concentrate on getting to the next aid station. My mind wandered a few times to the big picture and how long the day would be, and how many miles were left… but I quickly focused back on the task at hand. I was able to hold my pace throughout but by mile 90... I was ready to get off of that bike seat! One bonus that lifted my spirits tremendously: Karen, the kids and our friends from St Louis were not planning to be on the bike course due to traffic, etc... But there they were, about mile 95, out in the middle of NOWHERE in rural Bay County, cheering & waving signs. It was just the energy boost I needed. I climbed off the bike in 5:24.
I knew I was having a good day and had set myself up to break 11 hours if I could just pull off a sub 4:15 marathon. This is normally not a rational thought process. Yet somehow as I headed out for the run it made perfect sense! The thought of running a marathon after a 112 mile bike ride had always amazed and perplexed me.
I was about to find out if I had what it took. My running legs came back fairly quickly. The run course is an out-and-back. You do it twice. Again, you cannot think about running 26 miles. You break it down.
Just one mile at a time. Run to the next aid station. Keep moving. My first lap was not too bad. My legs were getting heavy but no major issues. The half marathon turnaround was situated right next to the finish line. It provided a taunting promise of what awaits those who can make it back a second time. I hit the turnaround in under two hours so I knew was having a good run. I also knew that the pain was coming. By mile 14 I was having some stomach issues. It was like a light switch. My stomach would roll and slow me down then it would feel better and I would speed up. Miles 14 – 19 were a rollercoaster with my stomach. It was never enough to make me walk or stop. Again, my Iron Crew was perfectly stationed on the run course. I got to see them 4 times and each pass was another boost of emotional fuel. The last turnaround at mile 20 was a wonderful place. I knew I only had 6 miles to go. If I could keep running I could break 11 hours and even if I had to walk there was NO WAY I was not finishing. One little 6 mile run and I would be an Ironman!
I passed my Iron Crew for the last time at mile 22. Another surprise because I was certain they had already packed up and headed to the finish line. But there they were yelling and waving their signs! Talk about a boost! I have vivid recollection of their faces at this point, my kids screaming “go Dad!” and of my friend Doug yelling "the next time we see you, you will be an Ironman!”. Wow.
The last 4 miles felt like I was flying (
I wasn't). The last half mile is lined with cheering, yelling fans. High fives, cowbells, a real party. I stood on the beach at sunrise to begin this journey and now as the sun set I was being guided home by the glow of the finish line lights. After the last turn you have about 400 yards where you can hear the music and see the finish line. I cannot explain the emotion at this point. 20 years of triathlons, 12 months of Ironman training, 16 weeks of really long, intense training, thousands of hours and miles, and here is the
freakin’ Ironman finish line right in front of me! And then my kids, Sam and Abby, pop out of the crowd with 100 yds to go and run in with me. The announcer gives the traditional welcome:
“Kevin Leathers…you are an Ironman!” Perfect. My 4:02 marathon puts me at 10:45:04. Perfect weather conditions, no technical problems, no injuries ...
a perfect day. Afterward I was exhausted, elated, and relieved all at the same time.
I learned a great deal about myself physically and mentally during this journey. The physical lessons came during the training. I learned the importance of a huge endurance base. I found out that I can handle much more volume than I thought. The mental lessons were learned on race day. I had done the training with no shortcuts and was confident that I could withstand the distance. But did I have what it took to overcome the mental battles that would take place inside my head over the course of a 141 mile race? What would happen when the marathon got really hard and my legs felt like cement? I was ready for it.
I had visualized every aspect of the race. I knew the pain would hit. I knew it would be tough. I won the battle.
Was it long and difficult? Yes. Was I blessed and lucky that I did not get injured or sick and that the ocean and weather conditions were perfect? Certainly. Was it everything I thought it would be? Absolutely. Did I ever want to quit? Never. Will I do another one? No doubt.
Thanks to all of my Memphis training partners and friends who shared the road and shared their insight into the Ironman. Special thanks to Karen, Sam and Abby for allowing me to pursue this dream and reach the finish line. They say running and triathlon are individual sports but everyone was onboard for this journey and I can never thank them enough!
(This is an oldie-but-goodie that lived on another old blog site. It was written in 2004 after my first Ironman Triathlon.)
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