Now that I finally have my wetsuit soaking in O’neill’s Cold Water Activated Wetsuit Cleaner and Conditioner, I thought I’d take some time to put down my thoughts on the Ironman last Sunday.So without any delay, here are my top three things learned for the RMTC contingent next November:
- Squid lid! Buy one. Train in one. Race in one. Love one. I threw mine in my bag at the last minute. When I jumped in on Saturday for a practice swim, I could not believe how cold it was. I decided to use it for the race. On race-day, I noticed in the corral when we were jumping in the water that all those weathered old ironman types all had theirs on. Sure you can go without. But why loose the extra heat and be that much more in the hole by the time you get to T1? They’re only 15 bucks.
- Warm clothes! All that junk about the desert is mostly true. It can get cold overnight. It was about 52 degrees on race morning. Before the race, I was in a beanie, sweatshirt, tights, socks, and shoes. I saw lots of people in shorts and flip-flops drinking cold gatorade, while I was all bundled up and drinking hot tea. Advantage, dotnate.
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Oregano’s! On University Ave. Go post-race or a couple of days early. I ate WAY to much of the pizza and desert. Everything else was great too!
And here are my top three things learned for a first time Ironman, coming from a guy who has done (and will only do) exactly one:-
Race-day is mental. Everything else is out of your control. Think about it. You’ve trained (maybe well or poorly) and your physical shape is already determined. Your taper week is already done. Weather will happen. Race situations will happen. Bike breakdowns will happen. The only things you can do to change your outcome on race day are mental.
- Az Ironman in November might be the best race. No offense to the other Ironmans (Ironmen?), but Az has a number of good points. The surf isn’t rough. The weather is fairly predictable (I know the wind was bad in April, but it should be consistently better in November). The run has tons of spectators (3 loops and almost always in earshot of the finish announcer). Both the bike and run courses are fairly flat.
- It was so worth it.
Thursday. We arrived in Tempe in the morning and I waited in a very long line to be among the first to pick up my packet. Not because I wanted to wait in a long line. Just because we had just got in and went right to the race site as packet pickup was opening. As I waited in line, one of those loud types was in line behind me. And even worse, she was being interviewed by the TV producers. While in line. For like a half hour. Then, I saw one of these “line wanderers.” You know the people. They walk around to find someone they know. As luck would have it, she knew the loud interviewee. They hugged and had a camera moment. Then suddenly she was in line. What is with these people? (I am asking you, Dave the Brit.) Because they know someone, it is perfectly acceptable to make another hundred people wait a couple minutes more each? Seriously pathetic. So tired of it. So inconsiderate. But I digress. Got the packet, some tofu at PF Changs, and my bike from tribike transport (BIG recommendation to use them...it was my third time...no bike box...no in-hotel room assembly and adjustments...no hauling your bike around after the race...two thumbs up), rode the bike course loop once, then went on to my friends’ house to stay during the race.
Accommodations. So, although I had planned on this race for nearly a year and planned to stay with my friends Dave and Whit, I called them a few weeks ago. I talked to Whit. She was pregnant. Due in December. She was adamant that we still stay with them. Besides, she was just sitting at home and would love to hang out with me and my (not as) pregnant wife. So we obliged. I called her at 3:45. We arrived at 4:05. She said she hadn’t planned a dinner and so we should all go out to eat. My choice. I pay. The plan was fine with me. I am a veg so I am usually a burden on all you normal folk. All I wanted was a big salad and a spaghetti anyway. We agreed on Italian. Her husband got home at 5:20. Whit announced that she changed her mind and would prefer takeout. We ordered and I went to pick it up 20 minutes later. When I came back, Jill was there by herself and everyone else was gone. Their baby was born 1 hour and 20 min after that. They didn’t even have time to complete the hospital paperwork. She pushed once. Zane weighed in at 7.75 pounds, almost three weeks early. World record time. So Jill and I decided to get out of the way and got a hotel room so the family could have some private time. I guess this isn’t technically part of the race report. Sorry to digress for the second (and probably not the last) time.
Friday. Jill and I drove around to some of my old haunts. It was enjoyable to me. We stopped and bought a camera as we had dropped ours the day before. We decided to eat some lunch (I actually used a coupon in the race goodie bag for a free sub) and catch a movie. From there, we cleaned up and headed to the race meeting. I think some of the best advice I got was to skip the pre-race meal. Even though it came from one of the better restaurants in town, it looked so subpar. You can’t effectively cater a high quality meal for 1000 people in an open field. I listened to the pre-race meeting and left more anxious than I showed up.
Saturday. In the morning, I went and practiced my swim for 15 min. Then I biked for 15 min. I skipped the run to rest my right foot (that had been feeling sore for about a week and a half). We checked in my bike and my transition bags, and went back to the hotel so I could fret about everything else. Before dinner, we drove the bike course and a little bit of the run course. I actually wish we stopped the night before and took some time to view the swim course. It was laid out that afternoon before. I could’ve taken some time to assess the sight lines and the best spans of the bridges to go under. After, we ate dinner and I actually had time to wind down and watch some TV in bed by 7:30. For once, I was ahead of the game.
 Sunday. I woke up just before the alarm at 4:20 (much like my hero, Orlinda). To be true to my rituals, I let the alarm ring anyway. I have the most obnoxious alarm clock. It is two animated, dancing cacti with real maracas. They sing (to the tune of “La Cucaracha”): “Hey! Hey! Don’t wake up. Sleep! Mañana. Mañ-ana!” It was good luck to wait to hear it. Ate my oatmeal and left. Parking was a breeze. The closest garage to the race site was closed to athletes all week. On race-day, it was fair game! We had plenty of time to get to the race site and get settled. Got everything checked in, and spent some time walking the T’s and drinking my tea. Some of the best advice I got before I did my first tri four years ago was to wear my headphones and walk the T’s. The headphones are to drown out all the conversation (not that it’s not fun to talk with the RMTC folk when I see them...just to drown out the “I am worried about...”, and the “I heard that...”, and of course the ”I am so awesome and you are so not because...”). I walk the T’s to mentally go through what I am going to do step by step during the race. I do it at least twice for every race...mentally putting everything on and everything off. Noting where my T bags are and where my bike is. I saw Michael and wished him luck. Then it was time to suit-up and wait in the corral. BTW, Michael was a perfect example of why not to get dressed in the dark.
 Swim. You have to swim 200m to get to the start. Crap! I only trained 3900m. Not 4100m! I got out to the start, middle of the pack lateral, middle of the pack horizontal. And it was unreal! The sights! The sunrise! The athletes! The crowd! I got to soak it up for about 2 min, but I wish I had longer. Really, it was something else. After the cannon, everything was fine. Plenty of clawing and bumping, but what are you gonna do? The day before, I had assessed that the turn was just after the Rio Salado bridge. But that was from above, from a moving car. From the water, it was another 10 minute swim after the bridge. I had moved to the inside corner way to early. More clawing and bumping. After the turns, it was a straight shot for 1500m and it was pretty smooth sailing. One more turn and then the steps of death to exit the water (seriously hard to get up).
T1. I still have no idea how my T1 time was 7.5 minutes. It didn't seem anywhere near that long. I had nowhere to sit, but that didn’t bug me much. I forgot a towel in my T1 bag, but that wasn’t a big deal as a number of athletes before me left their Hyatt and Holiday Inn embossed towels behind. The T’s were grass, so towels were important to get your feet clean for your shoes. I put on shoes, my RMTC bike jersey, helmet, sunglasses, put the cliff bar in my pocket, and sucked down one gel. Then I left. (Quick note for you people thinking of doing an Ironman...at the sunscreen station, tell the volunteers not to touch your face. Take a little sunscreen yourself for your face and let them do your legs, arms and neck. My dude was a little to personal and got a small glob on my sunglasses that was ever so slightly annoying for the entire race.)
 Bike. The course is an out and back. Uphill out, downhill back. The first loop felt into the wind out, and downwind back. The second was the same as the first, just a little stronger wind. On the way out on the third, I had convinced myself that the wind had died. The moment I turned the corner, I realized my miscalculation. The wind had shifted 180 degrees. No doubt! I had to fight the wind downhill on my way back. So frustrating! In any case, that was the fastest 100+ miles I have ever ridden. By far.
T2. This was less busy, so I had a personal concierge this time. He opened my bag and got everything out and ready for me. New shirt. 3 Advil. Some titty paste. A gel. Socks and shoes. And my GPS. Out to the course. (Note to self...include a couple of Washingtons in the T bags to tip the volunteers next race.)
Run. Man, I felt good. I was just jogging along like it was a warm-up run on a Sunday morning. My GPS hadn’t locked-on yet, so I didn’t know my pace. I hit the lap button at the one mile marker. Sh!t. I was running WAY faster than I planned. I slowed and eventually got the GPS data and settled into a pace. I really felt great. I was running the whole way. I was running the aid stations. I was running the (short) hills. Almost everyone else was walking. I heard random “Go RMTC,” I guess form KT and Pete. And this run course was great. You get a winding loop that is compact around the finish. My wife got to cheer me on a number of times. It was really something. Toward the end, I only took a sip or two of Gatorade from the aid stations. The last two aid stations, I completely blew past. I could feel the fluids pooling in my stomach and intestines. I didn’t quite make the finish before dark. But I did get the pleasure of turing off the main loops by myself. It was so erie and surreal. It was dark. I was suddenly and almost completely alone, and seemingly off the course, running through an empty parking lot. Just a few attendants pointing where to go for about a quarter of a mile and telling me that I am almost there. Just around the bend, the crowd grew restless. No other racers in sight. Then suddenly, you turn the corner, the lights get really bright, and the crowd goes nuts! I have never experienced anything like it. Now, I am not completely sure what the announcer said. I will order the tape to verify. However, the following quote is a convolution of my memory and what my mom said she heard (she watched the finish line, online): “from Denver, Colorado. Nathan Bergmann. First time Ironman!” It was incredible! I broke the tape and crossed the line. Blanket. T-shirt. Hat. Remove chip. Add medal. Personal volunteer, “you ok? You want some medical attention? Congratulations!”
Post. All I wanted was my wife. I walked away and saw the pizza. I couldn't think of eating a thing. Walked in a large circle and found my wife. After she hugged me for a near eternity and I explained that I just wanted to collect my things, get some pictures, and go back to the hotel. We walked the 1/4 of a mile to where the T bags were. As the attendant went to get them, I decided to sit down. I saw a folding chair, by a generator for the lights. I remember sitting there thinking, “I bet $20 that the carbon monoxide in the exhaust is not helping my recovery.” Once we got the bags, I stood up. The following is a play by play of my mind...
“Hmmm. Interesting. Little dizzy. Should walk it off. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Left foot....no wait, wrong foot. Maybe I should look for a place to lay down. Maybe I should lay down right here. I think I will lay down, right here. Pretty stars. Fading to black. Fading to black...almost...peaceful...fading...”
 Then I heard my wife asking passerby's to get a volunteer. The most serious volunteer ever showed up to get me medical attention. She had a walkie-talkie (that’s how you know they are important). The Tempe Fire Dept. showed up. Last time I had a FD escort was 10 years ago, when I was hit by a Lexus, riding my bike, in Tempe. How ironic! These guys had the distinct pleasure of dealing with the worst patient ever!...me. The young one was having a problem getting my blood pressure. He had to do it by palpation. For those of you who don’t know, that’s what you do to take a blood pressure in the field when it is too loud out (could have been) or when your patient is too dead (also could have been). My BP was 88 (you don’t get the diastolic when taken by palpation). I am hypertensive. With medication, on a good day, I am 116-ish systolic. I was sooo psyched! I said, “quick...someone call my doctor and tell her how great I am doing!” We sat there for a little and I didn’t improve much so they took me on the “gator” to the dreaded medical tent. I felt like those NFL players with torn ACL’s being taken out of the stadium.
The medical tent was not as depressing to me as I thought it would be. You see, I was in better shape than everyone else there. No doubt. I didn’t have an IV. I wasn’t laying down. My feet weren’t up on a chair. I didn’t have a bucket for vomit. And the nurses would bring my Gatorade every time I asked, while those chumps out in the race expo had to get it themselves. I asked for a BP reading and the nurse/EMT/doctor/trainee? said “sure, I could use the practice.” Wait, what? “You’re not licensed?” No answer. Pump. Pump. Pump. I said, “are you?” No answer. “Hello?” And he answered that I was now at 100/72. I so pleased at those numbers, that I didn’t care anymore. Jill picked me up (after “turning on the tears for being 7 months pregnant and having a husband in medical” so she could park illegally close) and we went back to the hotel. Just a quick side note (isn’t this whole thing side notes?)...but it is hard to sleep after that race. So weird. I heard it from people who have done it before. I was expecting it. But it is weird. So hard.
Now that it is done, I am so pleased. So happy. So satisfied...
So looking forward to next year. No more Ironmans, just looking for the next thing to put out there to concentrate on. So what are our club races next year? Anyone else put together a preliminary schedule yet?
.nate
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