Ironman Louisville was a paradox in almost every sense of the word.It was everything I expected in terms of the nerves, excitement, pain, comraderie, doubt, atmosphere, energy and aura surrounding the race. It was nothing that I expected in terms of my overall performance and post-race physical condition.
Two flights to Louisville. On flight 1, I spoke with a super-humble, 10-time Ironman who has made it to Kona. He is an active Marine and has seen combat in 3 countries. He was calm, cool and collected. He shared his triathlon war stories in Canada, Kona and IM Arizona. He made me shit my pants when he said that he did a 10:05 in Canada and 14:11 in Kona 4 weeks later...He said, "you never know how your body will respond on any given day..." OMG. This dramatized the possibility of me bonking. I feel ready...but what if...he stopped me..."trust your training, take it all in and smile at the finish...you are gonna do great..."
On Flight 2, I sat next to a first time Ironman competitor who seemed to share all the nerves and excitement that I was feeling. We talked about training in Florida, how much we both hate liquid nutrition and how much of a balancing act it is to prepare for a race like this and still try to be a good father, husband and business owner.
We both wondered about time expectations but neither of us had the balls to ask about time goals...we both talked about the importance of finishing...Once we landed in Louisville, Mike asks, "okay...what time would make you happy?"...I said, "no way man...I'm not thinking about time...but anything sub 12:30 and I will moon-walk across the finish line..."
He laughed. We exchanged business cards. He never told me what he wanted for his time and I did not ask.
Louisville is an awesome city. Very progressive. Hip. Very friendly. I stayed at the 21C Museum Hotel and I would highly recommend it. It is on Main Street right between the Muhammad Ali museum and the Louisville Slugger Museum and about 3/4 of a Mile from T1/T2. I was walking distance from everything.
Athlete check-in and Race Expo was predictable. Great energy. Full of "buzz." One thing that was unexpected was the "weigh in" and to have my body fat measured...I was 165 and 9% which isn't bad for a guy who just 4 years ago was 206 lbs, never ran a mile, had 135/90 BP and had double chins.
In the expo, I had the normal psychosis. Do I buy the Ironman shirt and stickers or is that completely taboo? With great hesitation and a coy comment to the cash register guy, I went for it. "Now I HAVE to finish."
Friday Night and Saturday was a blur. Incredible inspiration at the Ironman dinner on Friday night. That night, I shaved. I have never shaved my legs in my life. Took me over an hour. The sheets were amazing that night! Up early on Saturday for a quick swim in the river; a bike and 10 minute run. "Oh no...is that my calf talking? Please. Not my calf. If it hurts now, it will definitely seize up tomorrow. Oh please no." OK. Get over yourself. Calm down. Nothing you can do now.
Great mass at Church of the Assumption on Saturday afternoon. The homily message was "figure out your purpose and your passion"...The priest actually says, "if you have any time to yourself this next week, spend some time asking...REALLY asking...what do you want to do with your life and how do you want to improve your relationship with God?" Time to myself? Are you kidding me?
Saturday night was rough. I had the normal chicken pasta dinner...alone...with several strangers asking me about the race...asking if I am crazy...asking if I am nervous...asking if I would sleep that night...yes. yes. probably not.
I slept for 4 hours. I dreamed all night about that Riley guy..."John Gamba, you are an Ironman..." No wake up call needed. 4:45AM. I am up. First time ever before a race, I was not hungry. I was actually nauseaus. "Please. Please. No food poisoning. These are just nerves, right?" I forced down some oatmeal and black coffee. Then the most important thing that NEEDS to happen on race morning...did not happen...Everyone knows what that is...I was really bummed.
I walked to transition. It was cold. 60 degrees. Awesome. Dumped my special needs bags, filled my tires and was ready to roll.
Walked 3/4 of a mile to the swim start. We were a herd of cattle. No one spoke. Great tunes on my Ipod. Jurrasic 5. Tribe Called Quest. Nelly Furtado - Afraid!
Time trial swim start. The line was over a mile. I heard that people who were nervous about finishing inside of 17 hours lined up at 4 AM... I considered butting in line but knew that would lead to bad Karma...like cloudy goggles, flat tires, cramps on the run. So I headed to the back fo the line. There was nervous energy everywhere. Found some friends and waited in line. Peed. Waited. And peed again. And then peed one more time. Side note. Seeing a woman pee in the woods is very disturbing. Seeing a woman duke in the woods is even more disturbing.
Shot-gun blast and everything changed. I was ready. I dove in the Ohio River and started my first Ironman.
The thing about a time trial start is that you are in the water and surrounded by all kinds of swimmers...Good, bad...and terrible. I actually hit it hard for the first 800 meters because that was all against the current. I wanted to get through it. Solid rhythm.
First mistake of the day occured at the tip of the Island...I mis-judged a buoy and almost got DQ'd...I went left when the next two buoys were still right...the sun blocked my view. Didn't panic. Got back on track thanks to a kayaker who yelled at me to swim right.
Hit my rhythm at 40 minutes. I was bummed about the mis-direction and how many swimmers I had to swim over or around...but no big issues on the swim...Out of the water in 1:08 and change. OK. First Ironman swim. Anything under 1:10 was good...especially with no wetsuit.
For years, I refused to consider the sport of triathlon because I thought I was a terrible swimmer. I believe anyone who learned how to swim as a kid can learn how to swim well...some day, I want to go sub-60 on an Ironman swim!
Now...the first unexpected development. Getting out of the water, I have never felt like such a "king" in my life...the crowd was amazing. Cheering. Congratulating. Then, surprise. A volunteer is actually "assigned" to me. I grab my swim to bike bag and go into the tent. Surreal feeling. Bunch of naked guys in a smelly packed room moving a mile a minute....The volunteer asks me a series of questions...I'm kinda in a fog. He tries to assist me with my bike socks and shoes...he asks about sun screen...he asks if he can get me a drink? Are you kidding me? I'm like, "no man, I am all good..." Awesome experience. But completely unexpected.
The volunteers in this race were amazing. Absolutely amazing. The attention I got in T-1/T-2...the support all through-out the course. The way they treat you like a king is overwhelming. I have never experienced anything like it.
Bike course. Hills. Hills. And more hills. More shifting than I have ever done...except maybe that 100 mile race in North Carolina...This is where I was most unprepared...All my training was on flat courses in Florida. The course was beautiful. Incredible Blue Grass manors with thoroughbred horses grazing everywhere. Weather was perfect. I was ready for 90 degrees. It was low 70s.
My chain came off at mile 60 and it got "stuck"...lost some time there. That is a helpless feeling...anyone training to do an Ironman who does NOT practice transitions and basic bike repair is just dumb...plain and simple. I practiced. But not enough.
At mile 70, I was behind a 40-something woman whose water bottle appeared to be leaking...well, you know where this is going...her water bottle was NOT leaking. She was leaking...and it was hitting me in the face...can you believe this? She was literally pissing on me...the horror. Is this common?
Both knees flared up at mile 80. I knew I had Motrin at Transition. I knew that on most century rides, my knees flared up but were fine on the run. I finish the bike in 6:08. Not good. But not bad...I averaged close to 20 mph for the last 45 miles. Always finish strong!
The fun really began at T-2. More incredible attention from the volunteers at T-2. I get my bike-to-run bag and get ready. "My" volunteer sits me down and starts to take off my bike shoes. I stop him. He says, "relax John...I got ya"...I let him take off my shoes...he helps me put on my Newtons. He asks about sunscreen and vaseline and hydration. I am good to go.
I get out of T-2 and a burst of energy happens. All the fear and anxiety about the run goes out the window? What was the source of that fear and anxiety? Well, the longest transition run I have ever done after a 100 mile bike ride was 40 minutes...I feared that I would bonk and walk at Mile 3 or 4. I feared that I would be in a medical tent and on crutches at mile 10-12. Fear of Fear. Fear of the unknown. Anxiety over my training.
That doesn't happen. One thing about me. I am a runner. On the day after my long training rides...on 5 different occasions, I ran for 2-3 hours without stopping...and in 90+ heat. This prepared me.
My first mile over the bridge was 8 minutes. Second mile was 8 minutes. Third mile was 8 minutes and change. Holy shit. I can do this. I keep thinking, "put it in the bank...anything under a 10 minute mile pace is in the bank." I actually started thinking, "go faster so you will have less distance when your body starts to break..."
Then the mental gymnastics start. "Having started the run at 7:31, and if I can run sub-10 minute miles through mile 13 and if I can do that while walking through aid stations...I will have enough of a cushion and can go sub-12 hours..." But then I had my conscience... "Remember, Cancun is your race...this is just a long training day...don't be stupid..." I fought those thoughts throughout the marathon...
At mile 13, I was holding 10:00 minute miles...but barely! Some doubt crept in. The mental negotiations start. I can do this. I can't do this. Cancun. Shut it down. Don't be stupid. Don't be a pussy. Is this the start of a heart attack? Am I dizzy? Oh gosh, is that nauseau? Please...anything but Nausea...or maybe that is just gas...please no...
Wait...did they just offer me coke? Coke! More coke! And Pretzels! I actually AM hungry...more pretzels please...No more Gatorade...If I take another sip of Gatorade I may burst like Veruca Salt in Charlie and Chocolate Factory...
The energy builds at Mile 14.
At mile 14, there is an amazing fork in the road...The finishers go left and up the chute @ 4th Street Live in Downtown Louisville...I can see about 2,000 people cheering for the guy who is running down the shoot at 9:21...OMG. That is the coolest, most energetic finish I have ever seen...cooler than the LA Marathon, Disney Marathon and Marine Corps. Marathon....
I turn right at the fork. I'm thinking, "Sub 10 finishers go left...First time Virgins go right!" I hear in the distance, "Paul Gram-mani....from right here in Louisville, Kentucky...you are going to Kona my man..." Huge cheer! My mind wanders...maybe some day...
Back to reality - 12 miles to go...
Steady Eddy. Longer stops at the aid stations. I can do this. Something about Mile 13 gave me confidence...I am more than half way done the marathon and I am okay. Most of the people are walking.
Get to Mile 20. "If you do not bonk before 20, you will go sub-12 hours..." This was beyond my wildest dreams. One mile at a time. More coke. More water. More pretzels. No more Gatorade.
Mile 20 comes and goes. Pretty emotional. I have a 10K left. I start thinking about training runs. I somehow convince myself that 10Ks are a joke. One run around the golf course is exactly 6 miles. I start thinking about each hole. I have 18 holes to run. You can do this. In fact, I am going to start skipping aid stations and go two miles at a time. Just to insure I have 12 hours in the bag.
Mile 23. I never hit "the wall". I actually got faster. The kind of "faster" that isn't really faster...just faster in my own mind. Faster than I thought I could go after 137 miles.
Mile 25. I'm really gonna do this. I can see 4th Street Live. I can hear Riley. I can see the lights but not the big screen. I turn LEFT at the fork. I am the ONLY one around. There is a cheer from people who weren't sure if I was turning left or right. "Here comes another one."
Definitely the most amazing feeling I have ever had...at the risk of being in trouble with my family...I put the run down the chute up there with the birth of my children...same energy. Same emotional high. "John Gamba of Fort Myers...You are an Ironman"...
I stopped at the finish. I turned around. I looked back. I took it all in. Then, I crossed the finish line.
Once again, a volunteer was assigned to me...he grabbed my arm and asked if I was okay. I said, "yeah...I am good...I feel great." He said again, "I got ya man" and held my arm." I said, "No, No...I am good...really I am great...I feel like I could keep running..." He laughed. He must hear some crazy shit at the end of that race. It was all so surreal. It ended so quickly.
11:42 - 1:08 swim. 6:08 bike. 4:11 run.
I didn't die. I didn't bonk. I definitely smiled at the finish. In the end, I trusted my training and my body held up. There was no trip to the medical facility and I was ready to party all night...
The real story starts at about 15:30 of an Ironman. After the congratulation calls and the massage and the 4 slices of pizza...the coke (no Gatorade!) I ventured back to 4th Street Live...I posted up at the finish line and watched every finisher come in...
I saw every walk of life come down that chute. Fat, thin, young, old, black, white, men, women, doctors, priests, mothers, cancer survivors, 10-timers, first timers...joggers, runners, Blazemen rollers, moon walkers...they were all there. I even saw "the proposal" and I cried...
Two of my friends crossed at 16:40 and 16:45. They were exhausted but ecstatic. I am not sure that there is any place on earth where you can find as many happy people - genuinely happy people - as you find at the finish line of an Ironman.
Many of my friends now ask, "what's next"...Who knows. All I know is that I am happy - genuinely happy - and grateful - No one can take that day away. I am an Ironman!
