The Conclusion

I'm alive.

I wish I could write of an utterly fantastic performance, but it leaned more toward the mediocre side. I had an average swim - probably better than what most would consider average, but for me it was slow and steady. There were 2,500 people in the event and I was maybe 25th out? Not for sure. I haven't had the time to scrutinize all the results. The bike was good...I felt great starting out. And then about mile 80 I started to lose concentration. I'd forgotten how steep the hills were around that town - can it be that they increased the grade of those country roads? It felt that way. Nonetheless, I had a pretty solid bike. I did see a guy vomiting on the bike as I passed him. A little too much water maybe? He was like Vesuvius.

The run. My nemesis. I was in a fair amount of pain getting off the bike - not a good physical or mental condition heading into a 26.2 mile run. The crowds helped. Madison has fantastic crowd support. And good volunteers. The run is kind of like being in the Emergency Room the whole time. There are ambulances taking people away, a guy in a little 4-wheeler medic vehicle taking people away, etc. I myself had about 45 minutes of la-la land. I actually had to stop and sit down for quite a while at mile 16. I felt sick....sick like the guy I passed on the bike. I sat and held my head for a few minutes, let my heart rate drop way down, then I stood up and walked. About two minutes later I had to sit again. This was not good. I had 10 miles to go. Up until that time I'd put in a fairly good performance, but there I was sitting watching people pass me by. I don't know exactly what I looked like, but another competitor stopped as he passed me and ask twice "Are you OK". For fear of some type of medical intervention I mustered up an "I'm good" and even shook my head affirmatively to support the statement. Body language convinced the guy and he continued.

It didn't really matter at that point. My time, or place, or anything. I saw another guy being taken away in that small 4-wheeler medi-vac type thing and I thought "good for him, he's out honest". I had a few dark moments where I was really, really hurting bad. But, after a few minutes I stood up, and starting walking again. And then I ran for 50 paces, then walked for 20, etc. I stopped taking in any form of calorie. I think that's what got me - I was hungry off the bike and started drinking some new type of Gatorade (but not Gatorade - some new Nestle product made for Ironman) they had at the aid stations. The stuff made me sick. It could have been lack of salt - my wife told me I had salt in my eye lashes when I was done, as well as everywhere else. Whatever happened it passed on. I started to come out of it at mile 22. At mile 23 one of the volunteers said " 3 more miles - do it in 30 minutes". And I agreed, I started running with some effort and it didn't feel that bad. It actually felt pretty good.

My time was slower than two years ago, unfortunately. But I've learned a lesson. Ironman is not necessarily about your time. I'm not so sure it's even about finishing - which is what gets most finishers excited. At least that's what they say: "I finished". Starting something just to finish it is not rewarding. That's like reading a book just to get to the last page....and not paying any attention to the plot, or enjoying the character development along the way. I can imagine it like being an artist just trying to get another humdrum piece of work completed for sale: boring, lifeless, without meaning. I can't define the meaning completely in words, but it was the struggle, the will to push my failing body along. It's a crazy sport. It's not even really a 'sport' is it? It's more a test. A cleanse. Oh well - enough rambling public philosophy.

One really cool part - I have a neighbor whose mother lives in one of the towns we ride through. As I was tearing through this town, going through a round-about in the street there sat a woman I've never met, holding a sign that said something like "Good Luck Jason Brooks from FORT WAYNE, IN". I screamed out, pointed to myself, saying "I'm Jason Brooks from Fort Wayne, Indiana". It was a great moment that truly cheered me up. I shed a few tears as I pedaled away after seeing her support/effort - but I'm kind of a sap that way.