Ironman Wisconsin - The Swim

I knew I could expect something I’d never experienced before on the 2.4 mile, 2-loop Ironman swim: the pandemonium of a mass swim start. The course is rectangular; the swimmers head north past 7 yellow buoys and turn west at the corner for a couple hundred yards before heading back south towards the start and finish area along 7 orange buoys; red buoys marked all 7 turns. The swim got progressively less crowded as it went along, but I did not find open water until the second lap. The first few hundred yards seemed to inch along as I found myself doing as much lateral movement as forward motion just trying to get around people. Every few strokes left me slapping someone’s feet, having someone slap my feet, running into the side of someone, someone swimming over top of me, getting hit in the torso or arms, even once being kicked in the throat. It was never horribly cramped and I never felt unsafe, but the entirety of the experience was a lot to try to take in.

I went as easy as I could stand and then some on the half mile trip north. I was concerned with my time slipping off my goal of 1:30, but it never really got me down. For one thing, I could do nothing to change my predicament; for another, everyone was being slowed. It was a traffic jam in the water. I even did a little breast stroking in the water, which I’ve never done in a race before. The quagmire of black bodies and red and white heads remained the only story to tell through the first turn. As warned by another athlete, there was a slight hold up at the first turn. Too many athletes who didn’t know the course took just the smallest of moments to tread water and figure out which direction to go, slowing everyone else up. Upon turning back south and heading towards the Terrace I, somehow, recognized William on my right. I tried to swim with him for a little while, as his pace was just the smallest little bit ahead of mine, but lost him after about 150 yards in the sea of Ironmen-to-be. The proximity was becoming less of an issue with each yard passed, but it was still very much a problem; 30 minutes was simply not enough time for the race to seed itself out. I passed the time by sticking to my incredibly easy pace and counting the buoys as they passed. Knowing there were seven of them, I had checkpoints to get to; none of which were very far away at all. Rounding the turn buoy and heading east towards my second lap I struggled to see the time clock. I even, at one point, treaded water for a few seconds trying to catch a glimpse of how much time I’d spent on my first lap. It wasn’t to be, however, and I made my turn with no knowledge of whether I was on pace.

The big story of my final trip away from the Terrace was my bladder. It was obvious I had to use the restroom, but I couldn’t seem to go. It’s a very difficult thing, peeing while swimming. You’re body is completely horizontal, both your feet are engaged and your core is contracting and flexing with each stroke. I kept slowing down and getting closer and closer to actually going, then getting sick of the effort and speeding up. I hoped to hold it all the way until the final turn before going, but I soon lost the ambition and pulled off a little over halfway down the stretch to relieve myself. As far as I was concerned, you should pee in the water as much as possible because that will be the quickest bathroom stop you will make all day.

The field had spread out considerably by this point, and it became more of a swim than a jockey as I neared the red buoy out so far from the swim exit. Turning south, I was really gliding in the water. I took the opportunity to really extend my arms and try to make up some ground. I wouldn’t call it swimming hard, as I had already logged over 3,000 yards, but it was my first chance to really give some effort into it. It worked out very well, too. Just as I saw the northernmost part of the Terrace, I started to feel real fatigue in my arms and shoulders. I kept pushing at that Ironman race-pace extremely happy that I had found the balance between pushing too hard and “dogging it” in fear of pushing too hard. Making the final turn and heading towards the swim exit was a really cool feeling. I didn’t quite get the feeling of accomplishment I thought I may have, I was more concerned with simply being finished with the swim. I was completely intoxicated by the race and wanted to be out of that water and headed up to transition.

Every stroke and every sight got me closer and closer to the finish. Slowly but surely, things began to come into focus. First, it was the big inflatable “Swim Finish” sign. Then, the thousands of spectators began to resemble more of that than the blur of white they appeared to be in the previous hour and a half. 200 yards up, I could see volunteers ripping people out of the water. With patience and mental discipline, I eventually felt the discomfort of fine gravel on my tender feet and found it incredibly hard to find my balance. Clasping a volunteer’s outstretched hand, I was lifted out of Lake Monona and was upright once again. I heard the crowd for the first time as an official Ironman athlete… and it was beautiful…

I take off my goggles and cap and have my immaculate vision once more. Doing the preliminary work of removing my wetsuit as I ran up to the wetsuit strippers, I motion at one of them and he motions back. He instructs me to lay down as he and another volunteer grab the torso of my suit and rip it off my legs. Handing it back to me, I take a few moments to make sure I still have my goggles and cap in the suit’s arm before jogging up towards the helix. The crowd was incredible! All I heard was incoherent screaming. It was a cinderblock wall of families and friends from all corners of the globe craning for a glimpse of their loved ones. Heading up the helix towards T1 seemed to take a really long time, but I really didn’t mind it due to all the excitement.

The flow of transition, which only seemed hazy in the days leading up to it, made complete sense as I was directed into the room with our swim-to-bike bags. Calling out my number down the line, a volunteer handed me my bag before I could even run down there and I headed to the “get naked room” to prepare for the next leg of the race. Athletes swarmed the changing area, and volunteers were all around helping everyone out. Finding a place in the corner near the exit, I began to put my bike equipment on. It was a difficult and slow task as my body was still soaking wet from the swim. A volunteer helped me put on all my clothes and talked with me throughout the process, making me feel so great and so appreciative of them. I knew they were going to help me out so immensely throughout the day. By the time I exited, I had removed the top half of my tri suit and put on bike shorts, a bike jersey with food in the pockets, socks, sunglasses, my helmet, arm coolers, my Garmin (which I then powered on), a disposable camera for taking pictures on the bike, and a bottle of salt capsules. That done, the volunteer put all my swim gear in my bag, tossed it in a receptacle with the rest of the bags and wished me the best of luck on my journey. The exit proved a little confusing, but once I left the changing area it was all quite clear.

It was the better part of a quarter mile from the changing area to the mount line, so I left my shoes off and ran in my socks. Exiting the Terrace onto the parking structure where all the bikes were, I was once again greeted by thousands of screaming spectators. A volunteer quickly slathered my neck in sunscreen and I jogged towards my bike. Having a very low number, my bike was all the way on the opposite side of the deck, near the helix. I could hear Denise and my mom screaming at me as I neared the opposite side of the deck and prepared myself to receive my bike. I pumped my arms and pointed towards them as I jogged past, but only caught the slightest glimpse of them. I got to my bike and a volunteer held it while I put on my shoes. Taking it and thanking him, I clip-clopped towards the mount line. I heard a girl scream “Go Patrick” in front of me and smiled. It took a good amount of time for me to notice that the girl was Ben’s fiancé Meg, but I eventually recognized her as I ran past. Running past that wonderful tape line, I hopped on my bike, punched the start button on my watch and proceeded down the helix.

One down, two to go!

Swim Time: 1:25:07

T1: 10:16