Before every race I sit down the night before and right down my goals for the next day.  I always start with the most important and work my way down.  I draw a little box by each goal and then after the race go back and put in a check if I was able to accomplish it. No. 1 on the goal list is always……To race with Class and Dignity.  I didn’t always have the first goal on the list, but I’ve really lost my cool in a few races in the past, and after I calmed down I realized how much of an ass I was.  No. 2 on the list is always……To finish the race.  The list of goals goes on and gets more and more specific, but by far, these two top goals are always the most important. In 13 years of racing, I have never gone back to my goal list and left the finish goal box without a check mark.  Yesterday was the closest I have ever come.

I woke up race morning to pouring rain.  “Surely it will clear up” I thought…..I prayed.  My bike was already turned in and we were staying about 2 miles from the start so I hoped on a gigantic touring bike I rented from a local street vender and headed out into the blackness of the early morning through the cold rain.

The transition area was a huge advertisement for a local business that had the foresight to plant their logo on the large white “rain coats” we were given for our bikes.  Row after row….over 2000 bikes….of white covers making it look like a giant bike graveyard.  I struggled to set up my transition area and stay dry, but quickly gave in to the fact that I would be wet for a very long time.  Unlike Ironman North America events we did the traditional transition set up with all of our gear right beside our bike.  I laid out my already soaking towel and set up my gear frantically so I could cover it with a trash bag.  One more run through in my mind to make sure all is set and I was off to find my family.

They were huddled under a tent by a coffee vendor in the Ironman village, already cold and wet at 6:00 in the morning.  “My God, they are the best family on the planet.  Angels!  I loved you guys.  Thanks so much. 

We headed for a larger tent and prepped for the swim start……body glide….wetsuit….where the hell is my swim cap?…….It was all a blur.  Finally, I had come to the hardest part before any race, saying goodbye to my family.  It’s times like these that you really understand how powerful a simple hug can be when you are stripped down to what matters the most. 

Imagine filling a coke bottle with as many bumble bees as it will hold.  You shake it up to get them real agitated and then pop the top.  This was the swim start of Ironman Switzerland.  Fortunately I was one of the bees at the top of the bottle neck and I buzzed out like hell!  All was going fantastic.  I found a very fast pack and settled in.  The course was two laps but instead of running up on the beach and jumping back in for lap number 2, we ran up onto a little island off the shore and jumped back in…….very interesting.  I focused on my cadence and form playing the new Coldplay song, (Death and all his friends), in my mind like a tempo timer.  I felt great….all systems go…and before I knew it, I was on the ramp scrambling for T1 with the best Ironman swim I have ever had, 58 minutes on the nose.

I’ve always used a mantra for my transitions.  Something like, “Belt, Helmet, Glasses, Go”.  My mantra for this race was a bit different to say the least.  Peel the cover off the bike, Take the trash bag off my gear, Arm Warmers, Belt, Helmet, Glasses, Rain Jacket, Go.”

Thank God Jen talked me into wearing a rain jacket.  I was of course worried about aerodynamics…OCD Boy…but it saved my life.  Out of T1 I just had it tucked in my jersey with the intention of chucking it at the nearest aid station, but I was instantly freezing from the down pour at high speeds on the bike.  I struggled to put on the jacket as I rode along and watched rider after rider fly by.  Finally I had it on….S%#&!, it’s upside down!  I had to pull over and put it on right.  This was stop no. 1.  Off I go.  The first 30km of this race were flat and fast.  The pelotons began to form and groups went by me like I was on a tricycle.  To be fair though, it wasn’t just pelotons passing me.  Let’s just say they grow Jan Ulrichs by the dozen around here.  I was very humbled. 

Finally I hit 30km where the first climbs started.  I put the hammer down and started to pass people like crazy.  “Here we go,” I thought.  Suddenly I heard an odd sound on each pedal stroke.  It sounded like someone sanding a piece of wood.  “It’s just your rain jacket rubbing on your race number,” I told myself.  “No, it’s your shoe strap hitting the crank, or maybe a spray of water in the cut out from the rain?  Ignore it.”  I rode hard through the first major climb up to a town called Egg.  It seemed much harder than it should have been.  At 60km I hit the one station called the special food station.  This was the one place on the course you could pick up food or drink like you would with the special needs bags in America, but in this race we were on our own.  They got the food/drink out there for you, but I had to stop and find the bag myself.  This was stop no. 2.  Off I go. 

There were more tough climbs ahead.  There is that sound again!  I was finally forced to face the music.  My back break was rubbing.  I pulled over and did everything I could think of to get it right.  Maybe I can get it clear and then just not use it.  This was stop no. 3.  Off I go. 

Now I hit the first series of descents.  They were so steep that we got a penalty if we tried to ride in the aero position.  So much for not using the back break!  One squeeze and it was already rubbing again.  At the bottom of the descents we made our way back towards the start for lap number two, but not before we had the pleasure of climbing heartbreak hill.  The crowds were huge here.  They helped us up the climb Tour De France style with a tunnel of cheers.  Very cool, but as I made my way back to the start to begin lap number 2, I was spent.  My legs were already aching.  This usually doesn’t happen until much later.  I began really questioning if I would go on.  I checked my time at the first lap.  It was slower than I hoped, but I decided to try one more lap of the bike. 

Finally I found a groove again on the 30k flat section on the way back out.  If I held perfectly still with no side to side movement, the brake wouldn’t rub.  I came up on a peloton of about 15 riders in a perfect line.  I jumped out of the saddle to get by and my legs seized up.  I fought through it and barely got out ahead of them only to be swallowed up within seconds.  They started to pull away.  I heard the sound of a motor cycle coming up behind and I breathed a sigh of relief.  Finally, they would get busted!  The officials pulled up next to the riders and blew a whistle simply telling them to spread out.  They complied and the official gave a smile and a thumbs up and they motored off without giving any penalties.  The motor cycle wasn’t even out of sight yet and the group was already back together.  I saw one of the riders look back and smile to his draft buddy.  This whole scene knocked the wind right out of my sails.  Crime is one thing.  Crime with no justice is much worse.  Remember goal number 1 above?  My Irish temper was boiling!  (Again I have to add that I was getting hammered by other non-drafting cyclists though so all excuses should be laid to rest.)

To sum up the rest of the bike….3 more stops to try and fix the rub with no success….and exhaustion trying to hold the pace I had in my mind.  By T2 I had gone way too hard and was cooked. 

“I’m going to run one lap of the 4 loop run course and quit.  I can run at least 10km.”  I told myself.  Right away I felt my legs protesting.  I already felt like I usually do right around mile 13.  One lap…..one lap…..one mile…..one kilometer…..one step.  I don’t remember anything else from this section of the race except making it around to the start of the 2^nd loop.  I wanted to walk so bad at this point and I started to get passed like crazy.  “That’s it…..I’m done.” 

            Somehow, I kept running.  My mind wasn’t working anymore, but I remember thinking about all of my friends back home that might be checking in on the race.  My endurance family…..I can’t let them down.  It was time to make a deal with the devil.  “I will run the whole second loop and then allow myself to walk to the finish.”  I promised. 

            It was more like a shuffle, but I kept it going to the end of the second loop.  I remember this section all too well, as  I made it around the corner for the 3^rd loop and began to walk.  I think I literally heard the sound of my spirit breaking at this point and every part of my soul started to scream and cry.  Bring on the demons!  And then there was an angel.

            It was probably 10 seconds after I started the 3^rd loop and Dean ran up beside me. My memory is very fuzzy at this point, but I remember him reminding me of Jen and Bull and Mom and Dad all out there for me.  He filled me with everything positive and forced me to block out all of the negative. 

            For the next 13.1miles my legs cramped with sharp pain on every step, but Dean never left my side.  I begged and pleaded for him to leave me and go ahead, but he said he would never leave a friend when they were down.  At the aid stations he would get water for me and squeeze a sponge on my head. (The rain finally stopped).  He told me when to run and when to walk….. “At the blue sign we will run again.  Let’s make it to the street light up there and then walk again.”  And on we went.  It was ugly.  It was hell. I faced demons I never knew existed.  But I wasn’t alone and that meant everything.  Finally we came to the finish.  Dean had two laps left so it was time to split up.  I remember shaking his hand and telling him how grateful I was and crying.  I’m forever in debt to you brother.

            I knew I would see Jen, my rock, just around the corner.  She we hold me up, heavy heart and all, as I completely broke down.  I tried to cherish the finishing shoot.  I slapped every outstretched hand.  I gave a smile.  I felt every emotion possible.  I finished.  Check mark in the box.