Wow, so that’s an Ironman! Once my body starts working again, I am sure I will be elated. Interestingly, it’s just like everyone who has done an Ironman says; you can’t explain the feeling until you’ve done one. During the training (and you HAVE to train), the energy, strain, sacrifice and just plain hard work are only the appetizer. The main course is Race Day.Thirty six weeks of your life is a lot of time to devote to only one day; especially when you have a family. You take an average of 15 hours a week of your spare time and trade it for swimming, riding and running. You trade it in against time at the park with your kids, quiet moments with your spouse or that latte at the local coffee shop on a Sunday morning.It’s amazing that one event can take up so much of your precious time. What’s more amazing is that after a couple of months, spending 6 to 10 hours of your weekend biking and running seems routine; just part of a normal weekend.

Everything you have trained for cannot prepare you for the race itself. Yes, your body is ready for the stress it will endure, but until you actually cross the finish line, your mind cannot comprehend. Yeah, that’s a little dramatic, I know, but I am sure that anyone who has completed their first Ironman will allow me a little latitude.

My Ironman story has a little twist. I decided to take a new job, in a new city, in a new province, just a few months before my race. Now, I have to say that the biggest advantage for my family was the fact that they were still in Ottawa and so did not have to put up with my daily absences for training. And since I had no family commitments, I could devote all of my pare time to training. Most everyone I work with thought I was a little weird. They also thought I ate more food than a small nation; they were not far off.

The icing on THAT cake was that I had to return to Ottawa 1 ½ weeks before the race, help my wife finish packing the house (yes, she single handedly oversaw renovations, organizing and the selling of the house), watch the movers leave with pretty much all of our personal possessions (amazing how it all fits in such a small space) and then get us out to Penticton for the race. Oh, and during this whole training thing, raise $7500 on behalf of the Canadian Diabetes Association, because you can’t do an event like this without doing it for a cause!?

Well, we arrived in Kelowna on the Friday before the race, where my wonderful mother, part way through her cross Canada retirement trip, picked us up at the airport. We checked into our hotel room, got to the registration, then back to the hotel and collapsed on the bed. We decided  to not do the pasta dinner and waited until Saturday to go to the expo.  Amazingly we saw people from Ottawa that we knew, Raydon and Jocelyn, who had come in just to watch the Ottawa contingent race; very cool. I got my bike retuned at the expo, got everything that I wanted into the transition zone for Saturday and returned to the hotel do prepare the rest of my bags for the race. Then, my Vancouver temporary roommates, Chris and Rachel  (Rachel was also my part time training buddy) came into town and we all went for dinner. Then it was early to bed.

Race day morning was almost dreamlike. Up at 3:30 AM, eat, finish my last minute prep, go through EVERY bag again to make sure I wasn’t missing ANYTHING, double check to be sure I had my wetsuit, goggles, race cap,  Bodyglide (if you don’t know, then you have never done ANYTHING long distance;0), all of my nutritional needs, sports drink… you might get the idea that it was going to be a long day. O.K. I had everything; now, one last toilet trip and then into the car to the race site.

Once you get into the transition zone (T-zone) it is like entering an ant colony. Everyone pretty much looks the same: we are all either standing in  line for the Port-o-Potties or wandering around in a stupor checking for  the umpteenth time, our gear and our bags. Next, we all don our wetsuits,  completing the ant colony theme and start to move towards the beach. There are well over 2000 people all dressed in neoprene black and the easiest way to tell the men from the women was the bathing caps. The music is blaring; there are barely comprehendible announcements over the loud  speakers; there are thousands of people behind us, cheering and encouraging us for the day. They had been on that side of the fence before, you could tell, and I am sure they were all saying “Better you than me, sucker!”

Watching the pro’s start is totally amazing. I only ever swam like that in my sleep. When the horn sounded, the roped dropped and they were off. They all seemed to be moving together. When we started our race, I can bet you we looked like a sea monster in its last death throes. As we moved to  start our race, I spot Paul. We worked together for a brief time and believe it or not, he is the one who convinced me I could do this Ironman thing. To see him and his new bride, Clare, at the start line, completed the picture for me. This was no dream. I was going to compete in my first Ironman competition. The horn blows.

The swim
The plan was to come out of the water in about 1 ½ hours. This would be a comfortable swim and I would have lots of energy for the bike. Well, as it happened, I was near the front and in the middle. I had this idea in the back of my head, that if I could stay with a pack, they could do some of the work for me. It was crazy; I was kicked quite a few times and had my legs pushed down even more often, but the plan worked in spades! I came out of the water twenty two minutes ahead of schedule and feeling great (thanks, Rick). One down, two to go.

The bike
The bike was something else. It was a blast. At first, my heart rate was too high and it took everything I had to get it back down. I know I wasn’t working that hard, so I think it was just the excitement. After a while though, I got into a groove and just rode. All those climbs up Cypress Bowl paid huge dividends. I was up and over Richter in no time. The only thing that kind of peeved me was that there were so many people that a huge number of them were taking advantage of the group and doing a little drafting. I remember at one point, I had a half dozen people with me, so close it felt like I was in a pelaton. Once I hit Yellow Lake, I knew I was on the home stretch. Six bottles of Gatorade, 16 salt tabs and four bottles of water and I was off the bike. Two down.

The Run (or should I say, death on a warm day)
Amazing; one minute I feel good; tired but able to chug along. I thought, well, I should be able to finish this marathon in about four hours. Maybe even less if I feel really good. One minute I’m running and thinking, I might just do this thing and the next, my calves are Charlie horsing so badly, I can’t get my foot flat on the pavement. OMG! So, this is what they were talking about. Now I am running until my calves’ cramp and then I stop to stretch; walk until the pain lessens and then off I go again, at a much reduced pace. I figure that I can still do this thing in about four and a half hours, if I can just keep running and get the cramps reduced.

I tried everything. More Gatorade, more water, even chicken soup! But no, the cramps are getting worse. So now, I figure, well, maybe under five hours… then, my brain stops working. After all of the coaching I have done, the years I have laid down the mantra to all of those people, I broke rule number one. Yes, that’s right, I tried something I hadn’t tried before on race day. Pepsi! I don’t even drink soft drinks. I don’t know what I was thinking, but after I gulped down the warm stuff, I already knew I had made the worst mistake of my athletic life. That three ounces of liquid stopped me in my tracks. For almost fifteen minutes. Then, to ice the cake, I decided to sit down until the nausea had subsided. Well, both calves cramped at the same time and it took two very nice volunteers to straighten my feet out and get me standing again. Goodbye five hours.

I humbly crossed the finish line in five and a half hours; for a respectable first Ironman finishing time of 12:33:54. I did it. It’s hard to describe the feeling, though I know there are many of you out there who have done this and know exactly what I was feeling (according to my wife, multiply that by 10 and it’s called child birth).

To all those athletes who finish this animal in under nine hours, I am amazed. You earned every minute AND every dollar. To all the people who crossed the finish line, I am inspired. You have earned my respect.

Oh, yeah and one last note. To all of the people from Ottawa that I saw somewhere on the course that Sunday; Way to go! Clare, Michelle, Dick, Dave, Marie, Monique, Rick, Kevin, Bonnie (from Montreal and fellow Team Diabetes member). And Paul; congratulations on qualifying for Hawaii.

A special thanks to my family for all of their support. I could not have done something like this without their blessing and help.

I may even try this again sometime, but not right now. Now, I just want to spend time with my family and sip that latte :0)

Dwayne Botchar
Vancouver B.C.
September 2006