Fueling for an Ironman takes a lot of calories; you can expect to burn through nearly 10,000 during the race.  That equates to almost 5 days worth of energy for the average healthy diet.  While there is no hope of actually storing up that energy in the form of food or supplements (your body can only absorb about 300 cal/hr), you can try to top off the tanks but you have to get started early.  I woke up at 3:30AM for a 650 calorie pre-breakfast of Fig Newtons, a whole-wheat English muffin, and a bottle of Infinit sports drink.  I snoozed for about an hour and then got up and immediately ate again adding a 800 more calories over the next 2.5 hours with a PowerBar, an everything bagel and 2 more bottles of Infinit which I sipped on up until race time.  As I stuffed in all the fuel I could stomach, I ran through my over analyzed pre-race checklists one last time before feeling content that I was well prepared and all I needed to do was show up and race.  I left the house a few minutes before 5AM and made the short drive to transition half asleep.  I dropped some last minute nutritional items off and obsessed over every inch of the bike one last time before making the mile walk to the swim start.

Upon my arrival at the boat docks, I was greeted by cheerful body markers sporting hip Team In Training hats in their signature purple and white.  I weaved through the first few eager volunteers, coaxing me toward them with the unmistakable fragrance of indelible ink.  I spotted my good friend and lucky volunteer from last year to mark athlete #726.  Said goodbye to several other familiar faces and walked to the end of a very, very long line to start the race.  I kept my hazy, half-asleep mind as clear as I could while I waited, confident in my preparation and not allowing myself to be worried about last minute details.  After an hour of watching the dawn turn to daylight, we heard the cannon explode with a clap of thunder signifying the start of the race.

It would still be nearly 30 minutes until I would make it to the start line, but now was the time to transform into race mode.  Tension escalated and nervous chatter filled the air as we neared the snaking descent down the ramp toward the boat docks.  The meandering pace of the line quickly turned into a sprint as race officials struggled to get the athletes in the water as quickly as possible.  Like last year, I was greeted by my old Team in Training coach at the waters edge (a TNT mentor too) and handed out hi-fives before performing the ritual cannonball into the Ohio River.  The cool morning made the entry into the 80F water feel that much more inviting, and every little bit of comfort helps when swimming a river downtown in a major metropolitan area.

My strategy for the swim this year was to focus on efficiency.  While my volume was down from last year, I have spent a considerable amount of time working on a more economic stroke.  The staggered start made for a very spacious river and I quickly settled into a comfortable rhythm.  I navigated easily through the pack as we headed up river in a protected channel, trees blocking the traces of sunlight.  As we began to make the left hand turn out into the middle of the river, there was a total log jam as people were standing up on some sort of sandbar.  I dared not put my feet down and had to claw my way through some bodies to avoid touching down in the muck.

The sun revealed itself with a blinding light making it somewhat pointless to try sighting the final turn buoy, so I kept my head down and followed the people around me, trusting the herd was heading in the right direction.  The big red triangle was spotted and I swung out wide as I passed to get out in the middle of the channel and take advantage of as much current as I could.  Last year I swam very close to the bank on the way back, noticing the majority of the swimmers out in the middle.  Not sure why, I later found out the current was much stronger there and helped their swim times out considerably.  Determined I would take advantage of this strategy in 2009, I proceeded out to the middle but quickly found myself alone.  I normally am very good at staying on course so I wondered where the rest of the increasingly crowded field was?  Oh, there they are, way over there … swimming right up against the bank where I was last year!  It made no sense to me, maybe the currents were different this year, but it was too late so I decided to stay put and do my own race, angled slightly toward the shore, slowly closing the distance.  The rest of the swim I enjoyed some peace and quiet while I setup my strategy for the rest of the day.  With about 10 minutes left, I ramped up the pace to ensure a strong finish.  As the sight of transition came into view, the noise of the PA system was audible, crowds were forming on the boardwalk and the warmup to the day came to a close.  Time to go to work.

I gladly grabbed the hand of a volunteer at the swim exit to pull me onto dry land and made the run towards transition.  Typically my heart rate is rather high at the end of a swim and can linger there for quite sometime unless I take the time to calm back down before getting on the bike.  I was slightly slower in T1 compared to 2008 perhaps because it was so crowded in the changing tent.  I spotted dad waiting for me with some other volunteers, ran inside and dumped everything out on the ground because I couldn’t find a seat.  Had him walk me through the checklist I put in my bags to ensure I didn’t miss anything.  If you’re going to make a mistake during the day, transition to the bike is one place you definitely do not want to do it.  I rushed, but made sure I had all of the safety gear, nutrition and comfort items with me as I buckled up the chin strap on my aero helmet and ran towards the mount line.

My goal for the bike was to equal my 5:43 time from last year or perhaps even give a few minutes back so that I would be able to crush the run, so slow and easy was my mantra.  The crowd of athletes coming out of transition onto River Road made it impossible not to draft.  Running 3 and 4 wide in a single lane of traffic with an occasional car coming in the opposite direction made for a very nervous start to the race.  The first 12 miles were very flat so the pack stayed pretty close together.  This brought the average pace up easily over 22 mph but since I was content to view my heart rate data as my best guide for pacing, I felt OK to keep the speed up.  Once into the hills the pack started to thin out and I could start getting focused on my own race.

As I passed my first time check a few minutes ahead of schedule and way under my target heart rate, I thought through my race strategy again to make sure I wasn’t setting myself up for disaster by going out too fast.  I was topped off on nutrition and hydration, legs felt good, heart rate was very low so I decided to stay at a 20+ mph pace.  Since it was a deceivingly mild day, I worked hard at staying fueled up.  It was easy to be tricked into thinking that since I wasn’t sweating profusely that I wasn’t burning as many calories.  I knew though that I would never make it up if I went into the run with a deficit so I tried to stuff myself.

The rest of the ride would go by uneventfully.  It was a strong effort, but not hard.  I was very surprised by my fitness and my average heart rate in the mid 140′s.  I was becoming a believer in the critical importance to bike fitness in the overall success of an Ironman.  My training volume in this category increased nearly 20% alone, while actually declining 2 and 3% in swimming and running respectively.  Some mild lower back pain and saddle soreness, which is to be expected after 5+ hours on a bike, I came back into transition feeling great, ready to take the run course hostage.

I blazed into an empty transition after a very satisfying bike leg with a fresh set of legs and a cheerful group of supporters looking on.  Pleasantly surprised to see my dad working in T2 after passing him barely 2 hours ago out on the course more than 30 miles away.  Went through the same drill again, this time able to grab a seat as dad ran me through the checklist.  Two years in a row I put my socks and shoes on before realizing I didn’t put Body Glide on my toes even though I made a point to put it at the top of my checklist this year!  I made the corrections, ran through the sunscreen station and hit the exit.

With a record setting day in my sights, good legs and an extra surge of adrenaline after seeing friends and family in transition, I headed out for the final 26.2 miles with confidence soaring.  I would once again use heart rate data as my guide, but since the run is a much different animal than the bike, I forced myself to go slow even though it felt like I was speed walking and got passed by a lot of people (for now .

I planned on running about :30/mile slower than last year, but running through as many aid stations as I could to avoid the time loss from all the walking I did last year.  I made a quick pit stop at the first aid station for bathroom break 2 of 3 to check hydration.  Everything came out OK, so off I went with only 25.2 miles to go!  The first lap of 13.1 miles went according to plan.  I was able to keep a steady pace of slightly under 9:00/miles and virtually no walk breaks.  I felt great, but knew I had my goal of under 11 in the bag by over 15 minutes if I just held this pace so I was in no mood to risk everything.  The hardest part the first 2 hours was to swallow my pride and watch as people continued to fly past me and keep my modest pace.

Starting the second lap is such a cruel mistress.  The noise and excitement build as you near the turn around and eventually pass within 100 yards of the finish line, wistfully watching the pros head straight into the chute to be crowned an Ironman.  Turning your back on the promised land and heading out for another loop is tough because you know torture and despair are waiting to be found in the closing miles of the Ironman marathon.

The boost you get from the crowds wears off much quicker this time around and the course gets quiet and lonely fast.  The fleet footsteps of over eager runners who didnt pace well turn to the ‘Ironman shuffle’ … an audible scraping of tired feet across the pavement.  Any remaining energy is internalized and directed toward moving forward at all costs.  My pace would inevitably slow, but not due to cramping, exhaustion or GI issues; my feet and hip flexors just started to hurt something awful.  Its a frustrating feeling knowing your cardiovascular system is in peak condition, but your joints are wearing down.  I plodded along for the next few miles in a zombie-like 1,000 yard stare, offering only grunts and groans as replies to any words directed at me.

I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when.  The ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.  It struck me down last year around mile 15 and only spared me an extra 2 miles this year before appearing, but it did come.  My stomach went on strike.  I couldn’t eat even though I was starving, I couldn’t drink even though I was thirsty; everything that was in there was sloshing around making me sick, but I wanted nothing more than to shove something else in to calm it down.  I briefly considering leaning up against a tree and making myself vomit, but after passing someone who was in the process, the idea lost all merit.

I had been going back and forth, taking in as many calories as I could and then backing off for a few miles, not able to find gastrointestinal equilibrium.  I decided to make an extended pit stop, take pee number 3 of 3 and flush my system with small amounts of water for the next few stops to try and reset my stomach.  As much as sticking to your race strategy is important in this type of event, being able to think on the fly and make adjustments if something isnt working is just as important.

I battled through the next few miles as I made my way toward the 20 mile mark and the final turn at the far end of the course.  It was a dark time; I had hit bottom, the wheels were coming off. I kept digging and digging trying to find something left until mile 22.  Suddenly, I broke through … the clouds began to part, my stomach was calming down, and I spotted my brother at the far end of the route who run up along side me offering encouragement.  I was hopeful that I was close enough at this point that I could run on fumes for the rest of the day and blaze it back to the finish on some mysterious energy source.  My fatigue induced hypnosis was exchanged for intense concentration as I began to pick my pace up.  As I began to pass people one by one, I gained more and more momentum to the point where the rest of the field was almost running backwards.  I was weaving through the crowd, dodging weary competitors who were still searching to strike their own oil well of determination.

The final few miles clicked away, as the skyline of downtown Louisville grew larger on the horizon and the noise of the crowds at the finish began to make its way to my ears.  At this point, I might as well have been on a ski jump, picking up speed as the finish drew near, I belted out the fastest two miles of the entire race at the very end.  I made the final turn toward home, triumphantly holding up 2 fingers signifying my second lap and confirming my admission to the finishing chute, snapping the tape a full 42 minutes faster than my previous attempt.

I collapsed into my parents arms who were there again to greet me at the finish.  I hesitantly accepted a seat in a wheelchair trying to figure out the best way to relieve the nausea that had set in.  Wrapped in a mylar blanket, I tried to communicate intelligently while attempting to take in some fluids.  I was wheeled over to where more friends and family were waiting where a fantastic reunion ensued which served to tie a big bow around an epic day.

Ironman Louisville 2010?  I dont think so.  I mean, how can you top this day?  Sunny skies, a record low temperature, smooth waters … that wont happen again, what is there to improve upon?  IF I do another Ironman, and I suspect that I will, it wont be in 2010 and it likely wont be in Louisville.  This is a sport of extremes, of setting goals and surpassing what you thought possible.  Why limit myself to competing in one venue?  Whether it be a classic like Ironman Lake Placid or another international affair, Ironman Switzerland has a certain appeal to it, Ironman athletes tend to set the bar high, so staying home for my third attempt seems counter intuitive.