497 Clothman Becomes An Ironman
My Ironman transformation began several years ago when a plump, burned-out, 40-something dude set a goal to complete an Ironman Triathlon the year he turned 50 so as to change his self-destructive, health-challenged lifestyle.
My Ironman race began in the early morning darkness beside the ChaffeMaster waist deep in Banks Lake below the Grand Coulee Dam along with 120 other Ironman competitors.
“Man that second helping of sausage gravy is really talking to me,” ChaffeMaster chimed. It’s a line he uses to loosen folks up before every race. Then he got serious, “Go out there and have fun Clothman. Trust your training, you can do this.” We prayed and the gun went off.
I had trained, hard. Even despite three weeks of working forest fires during my peak training time, I had given it my all. I told ChaffeMaster the day before that this Ironman was the hardest thing I had never done. Now it was time to get ur done.
During the 2.4 mile swim I shocked myself by passing 30 or so chiseled athletes to be the 54th person out of the water with a time of 1 hour and 17 minutes. Wow, the training worked.
Now, on to the bike. Both the bike and run courses had to be changed because of forest fire smoke. Unfortunately, both of the new courses were more difficult than the original ones. My goal was to complete the 112 mile bike ride in 6 hours and 30 minutes. Ha! Thanks to a longer, tougher 117 mile course, a flat tire and stiff headwinds regardless which direction I was riding I finished with a ghastly time of 7 hours and 57 minutes. Still, the training worked. I felt great. Heck my butt wasn’t even sore. (I should admit that I did flip the wind off during a couple moments of weakness.)
Nine and a half hours into the race it was time for my marathon. As soon as I started running my stomach started bellyaching – literally – for 13 miles. (I lost my cookies at mile six behind a fancy state park sign.) Still, aside from speed-walking three of the four hills and all the aid stations, I “ran” the entire 26.2 miles, finishing in 5 hours and 15 minutes (my goal was 5 hours). Puking aside, the training worked. I actually had a fun run.
As I approached the finish line 14 hours and 43 minutes after the start, I was shocked at how good I felt. I half expected to be crawling like a man seconds from death. Instead, I was smiling as I clicked my heals over the finish line. The worst thing that happened all weekend was that the Klondike Ice Cream Bars I bought to eat afterward melted in our motel room’s not-so-cold refrigerator.
Training works – for Ironman Triathlons and life. A physically and spiritually balanced lifestyle prepares us to thrive even in the most difficult of circumstances. It really does. Speaking about life Paul said, “All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold metal that tarnishes and fades. You’re after one that’s gold eternally. …No sloppy living for me! I’m staying alert and in top condition.”
For the record, I finished 67th overall and 2nd among contestants who didn’t shave their legs. I won’t commit to another Ironman length triathlon until Clothgirl and Clothboy are both out of high school, but I will continue my physical and spiritual training because I’m sure life still has some Ironman sized challenges to throw my way and I want to be prepared.
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