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That day alone was a big one for our household (me,
Sharon, and dogs, Roman and Maggie): Sharon completed her internship year in
General Surgery just three hours before we piled in the Subie at 4pm for the
1100-mile road trip!
En route, somewhere in Wyoming, I received word of my ESPY nominationmany
thanks to all of you who voted for me already and to those who will. We
pitched a tent and camped that night a few miles short of Montana and
reached our Idaho destination on Thursday night.
This is where the low part comes in. On Friday morning, Sharon received word
that her father's kidney had failed (he's been battling gall bladder cancer
since January). The next phone call on Friday afternoon brought sadder news:
he only had three or four days to live. After many tears and many phone
calls, we arranged a flight on Saturday morning to get Sharon to Melbourne,
Australia, where she grew up and her family still resides. Her mother then
asked if I could race for her dad, which, of course, I did.
The high point lasted pretty much the entire day on Sunday. The forecast
called for showers in the morning, yet it was as perfect a day break as one
could have hoped for. And day break comes early at this time of year in that
part of the world. The dogs woke me up at 4:20 and I climbed out of bed at
4:30 with the sky already turning blue. Oatmeal with raisins, a banana, and
a cup of coffee later, with Mr. Wetherall in my thoughts, I was ready to go.
I arrived at the course at 5:30, and despite the bike being set up the night
before, I still wasn't ready-ready until 6:50, ten minutes before canon
blast.
The swim took place in Lake Coeur d'Alene, on whose sandy banks stood nearly
1900 athletes ready to rock 'n' roll. I took advantage of my physical status
and requested, and was granted, an in-water start, some 10 feet off the
shore in the shallow water. I learned at last yearıs Ironman Lake Placid,
that I'm fast enough to be up front and that being in the back makes for a
more difficult swim when struggling for position.
The gun went off and I stood and dove in as others immediately
swarmed me in the run to deeper waters. I found my groove early on and
didn't have to throw too many elbows to hold my spot. However, I did catch
an elbow just seconds into the swim, dislodging my right goggle, requiring a
quick head-up fix. In the middle of the short lateral section of the
elongated triangle of the two-loop swim, I caught another hard elbow in the
left temple that left a bit dizzy; this passed and I swam on.
The first-loop exit required just a few hops under the banner before diving
in for another 1.2 mile swim. Coming in the stretch, I caught a heel to the
face and dislodged my goggles once again, this time the left. Without too
many people around late in the swim, the head-up goggle fix was a breeze.
The swim passed by faster than any other Ironman opener, an indication of
fitness, I'm happy to say. Since I race watchless, I didn't know my time,
but felt it must have been somewhere under an hour.
With crutches awaiting me, I hobbled along the mushy red carpet, out of the
steep and soft sand, to where my bike leg was set up. Donned and ready to
go, I skipped along through T1 where the wetsuit stripping volunteers
assisted the athletes on a patch of grass. As I came through, one man
dropped like a rock right in front of me and I went down with him,
prosthetic getting all twisted in the process. I believe I said the "F" word
and used the Lord's name in vain- please forgive me.
Back up in seconds, I grabbed my transition bag, which housed my bike shoe
and helmet, ran into the change tent, donned those, stopped ever so briefly
at the marvelously efficient sun-screen application station and went for the
bike. As I hobbled along, I found the leg had loosened a bit too much from
the spill to ride 112 miles with, so I opted to reboot. This lent to a
seemingly faster five-plus minute transition. I later learned that I'd swum
1:00:36 (176th overall) since I was hoping for a combined hour swim/T1, I
was now five minutes behind en route to my sub-10 hour goal. But since I
wasn't wearing a watch, I didn't know this, and I continued on ignorantly
thinking I was kicking ass!
Early in the ride, on the return trip through downtown at Mile 13 or so,
disaster nearly struck. A family of five, kids first, darted out into the
road in front of me. I grabbed for the brakes, but fortunately, saw that I
had enough space (two seconds less and I think I wouldıve clipped that last
kid) and rode it through, again dropping the F-bomb and using the Lordıs
name in vain in the process- please forgive me.
Another lesson Iıve learned through experience (and the use of a PowerTap)
is that in the past I've gone out too hard on the bike and consistently fade
harder than I should near the end of the ride. And so I opted to ease into
it, which paid off as I felt good nearly the entire ride, save a few miles
around mile 90 or so.
The ride took us through the hills at the start of the first lap, with some
fairly steep stuff, but not as nasty as Lake Placid as steep, but not as
long. On the backside of those hills are some really fun descents with some
sharp switchbacks. This is where the bike skills came in handy and I made
time on many of those around me who, in my opinion, ride their brakes too
much. I know, safety is paramount, remind me again in my next life.
I shared pretty much the entire ride with Spence, some random
dude who was either ahead or behind me by no more that 50 meters for close
to five hours. He dropped me during that low section-
Five hours and nineteen minutes later (91st overall), a personal best, I was
off the bike. About a quarter mile from the bike finish, as I rode past a
bank, their digital clock told me it was 1:22pm. Thatıs 6:22 (approximately)
into the race. That meant I had to run something like a 3:30 to reach the
goal. I was pretty damn sure that wasn't going to happen.
Yet, I felt awfully fresh the moment I started running.
The run has been treating me well this year, when Iıve been healthy. I felt
mentally and physically strong. This was going to be a good run.
The crowd along the streets of downtown Coeur d'Alene, two or three miles
into the run, cheered as I came through, as I'm sure they did for every
athlete. The run was also much flatter than Lake Placid which added to the
positive outlook I carried.
Like marathons of the past, I stopped several times to cool off Stumpie with
a few cups of ice water. It just feels so good. At the third icing, around
Mile 12, upon rebooting, I couldnıt find my stump socks (I use one wool and
one cotton). I got all frantic and hopped about looking all around the
areaI'd sat on an aid station tablebut nothin'! (The volunteers helping
with ice water said they didn't see anything but the liner when I took it
all off.) Another second and I might have started really freaking out. I was
having a great run thus far and the thought of blowing it because of
something so silly would've killed me. Just then one of them asks me if I'd
like the socks off his feet.
"Yes, please."
Surprisingly, it fit and felt great. Back on the run.
In the past, if I haven't started to waiver by now, the half marathon point
brings the hurt and with it more walking than I'd like and some passing
thoughts of "can I do this?"
Not on Sunday. I remained in good spirits and good shape and kept running.
The crowd acknowledged what they were witnessing and much energy came my
way. Out to the last turnaround, a short steep section around Mile 21, I
knew I had enough in me to pick up the pace a bit and finish strong, and
just maybe break 10 hours. I was forced to take one more ice-down break, but
other than that, I ran.
At mile 25 I asked a spectator for the time. "Five o'clock," he said.
"F-bomb," I said. Short of the goal, but also well aware that I'd soon PR by
nearly 20 minutes, and that will a little more effort, I could break the WR
for leg amps: 10:10:30 set by Rivaldo Martins at the 2001 Ironman Europe,
now the Quelle Challenge. (I was at that race and went 10:41, and I was
certain he was untouchable.) Whether or not I broke the record, I felt
confident a Hawaii slot was coming my way.
A smile broke out as I rounded the last corner onto Sherman St, which brings
you in a quarter mile on a slight downgrade. The adrenaline was pumping, the
descent was welcomed, and the clock in front of me read 10:0...is that an
"8" or a "9"? I was beginning to fly and as I closed in on the finish line I
saw the ticker click over to 10:09 with just meters to go and the world
record was mine and I was on top of the world! (I'd run 3:42, 109th fastest
run, which put me at the finish line 89th overall.)
The finish line brought much emotion and pride and cheers. The photo below
confirms my pleasure. There was no one in sight behind me, so Mike Reilly,
the voice of Ironman, brought me back out to the chute for and encore.
I doffed the hardware and did my thing:
"I AM IRONMAN!"
Throughout the race I consistently thought about the suffering of Mr.
Wetherall, Sharon and the family. My suffering on the course paled in
comparison and that thought brought with it enormous energy. Mr. Wetherall
gets mountains of credit for helping me race fast on Sunday and I thank him
for that. And he knows it. He can hear me and he can read these words. David
Wetherall's soul moved onto the greater plane this morning at approximately
3am MST.
I spent little time with him, but loved him just the same. His was the
kindest of spirits, and still is, and always will be.
Now go call your dad and tell him you love him.
Paul
Good things will happen.
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Paul Martin sets the Ironman 
Throwing the First Pitch- 
Lonie, Brook and Cheri-
