Not the Day We Planned For

The day held such promise! Beautiful (if not warm) morning, four Ironman-hopefuls into the water, four of them out and smiling. Great start!

Perfect viewing location for the bike course, under the shade and close to our car. Our spectating crew was having a blast, cheering on other bikers and waiting for our athletes. One, two, three went by smiling. We laughed with them, took pictures, and sent them back out there.

Then Michael came through, and he told us he was done. We knew this wasn't going to be his day, but unexpected nutrition problems had him baling out earlier than he'd hoped. He was sick and smart enough to quit when he did, and I am relieved that he knows his body so well (having already been an IM finisher twice before) to know when to stop. I was disappointed for him, but he seemed genuinely ok with his decision, and I respect him for it. It took him a couple hours to get his body recovered, but all the while he was battling his dehydration he was standing with us, cheering on the rest of our riders.

Another loop for the bikers, and we get to see them all again. One, two went by smiling. We laughed with them, took pictures, and sent them back out there. Everyone's looking good.

Then we wait, and the wait becomes nerve-racking. All we have to go on are the checkpoint updates every 20-30 miles. We have no other way of knowing why our rider is delayed. Medical issue? Bike problems? There were so many riders that succumbed to the Kentucky heat and hills and couldn't go on.

Finally. Finally, we see our rider coming down the road. He doesn't stop, just yells out Two flat tires. They were throwing tacks on the road. Obviously (and deservedly) angry, he was still out there determined to make up the time. So many thoughts and emotions coursed through the rest of us. Who could do that? It's despicable, and ultimately incredibly dangerous to the riders.

We load up Michael's bike and our supplies and head back to transition to see our 3 come in and head out on the final run leg. We park, eat and sit in the A/C for a bit, get re-energized! But we're quickly deflated when we get a call that our two-flat-tire rider was out after his gear cable broke. With all the time lost, he would miss the bike cut-off time, and they pulled him from the course. It wasn't his day, and it was supposed to be. Of our group, he was the most prepared, the most energized for his very first Ironman. He was ready, pumped, and feeling awesome. And then circumstances way beyond his control stole that from him. {You can read about his day here.}

It's hard to describe the emotions associated with an event like this. Athletes who finish are often overcome with tears of exhaustion and pride. I can remember my eyes welling up when I saw Michael at mile 13 of my first half marathon. And I cried when I saw him finish his first Ironman with his brother. ("Here come the Morelands!")  If we cry in accomplishment, we certainly cry in defeat. Josh cried when his race was taken away from him. I cried a little when Michael pulled out. Kim cried a little when she got that phone call. It's not just on the athletes, but so much of it is on the families too. Because we know. We know the sacrifices our loved ones have made, how much they have dedicated themselves to the training, how much they want this. It's literally a year commitment (and a lot of money) and all they want at the end of the 17 hours is to have that moment: running down the finisher's chute with loud cheers and music on both sides of you, your family's eyes welling with tears, and hearing your name and You are an Ironman.

Two of our four athletes had that moment again. We saw them come in from the bike, head out on the run, and we saw them at the halfway point of the run. One didn't look so hot, and I was sure we'd be another man down.

I didn't stay for the finish. I drove home on my own that night but stayed up-to-date with text messages on their progress. Our last two athletes finished together. And became Ironmen again.

And though they finished, they'd say it wasn't the day they planned for either -- poor nutrition/hydration for one, and less than ideal training for the other.

I later asked Michael what happened. He's usually so smart about nutrition and hydration. In fact, there's only one time in all his years of racing that I have seen him dehydrated. He didn't have a substantial enough breakfast, and by the time the race started he was already hungry. A diet of liquids and gels on a near-empty stomach didn't help. He told me afterward that he didn't respect The Distance/The Training and that won't happen again. He can't go out that way, so I know there will be another Ironman in his future.

And, honestly, I can't wait.