Ironman Arizona 2018 - Race Report

It was a pleasant cool morning as I rode my bicycle on the Capital Trail near Richmond, VA. The date was October 13th, one day after Hurricane Michael swept through our area. The trail was covered with storm debris and I had spent about an hour and a half dodging everything from small branches to good size logs. Some parts of the trail were so covered in leaves, branches, pine cones, etc, that it was hard to make out the direction of the trail in some of the darker, tree covered areas. But I was having a good time. There were not too many people on the trail presumably because they had good common sense. I, on the other hand, was determined to get my workout in. I had a nice brick on the books which entailed a ride followed immediately by a run. My training up to this point had been going quite well. And with 36 days until race day, I was really in the groove.

I had just entered Charles City County going East towards Jamestown when suddenly I was on the ground. It was such a shock to my body and my mind. I was not sure what had happened but I knew one thing, I was in pain. I was able to roll onto my back and writhe a bit on the asphalt of the trail. My eyes were closed as I grunted and groaned. In my mind, I was thinking the same thing the bowl of petunias thought in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, "Oh NO! Not again." And, "Now what I have done?" People who know me won't be surprised that I, yet again, had caused myself great pain from participating in some otherwise healthy activity. (see Crashing out at Ironman Louisville, or Soccer Injuries - Part 1, or Lucky Me).

Some folks came up on me on their bikes and asked if they should call someone. I told them I was not sure yet. I needed a moment to assess my injuries. Another person had stopped her car up the road a bit and come down the trail to assist me if she could. She helped me up and I was able to grab my bike which had a big stick stuck in the wheel. Apparently, the stick had jammed into my front wheel causing it to lock up and send me flying over the handlebars. It all happened so quickly, I don't even remember the flying part which is a shame because that was probably the fun part. Before impact of course. 

I quickly examined my bike and it was in better shape than I was. My shoulder was in a lot of pain. I kept looking back behind me down the trail. Melissa was probably about 15 to 20 minutes behind me at this point and I was hoping to spare her any worrying about me. She was training for her first Ironman and today would be her longest ride to date. I wanted to support her as much as possible. I had a sense of urgency to get moving again so she would not overtake me and wonder what in the world had happened.  The nice woman who stopped to help walked with me as I pushed my bike up the hill. Once I got up the hill, I mounted my bike to see if I could ride. I told her that worse case scenario, I would simply walk back towards the car. Once Melissa overtook me and got to the car, I explained, she could drive back to get me. I rode a little bit and stopped and told the nice woman that I thought I would be ok. She gave me her cell number just in case.

Have you ever heard of the young American cyclist Lawson Craddock? Google his 2018 Tour de France experience. Basically he crashed in the first stage and broke his scapula. He was determined to stay in the race and ended up finishing that first stage in great pain. And he went on to complete the race despite his injury. I had him in mind as well as my brother who did not let pain stop him from living his life. While riding back to my car, each bump I hit would sent a little shock-wave up into my body. I thought, "where did all this bumpy trail come from? I thought it was mostly pretty smooth." But I was determined to "Craddock" my way back to the car. From now, that will be the verb I use in these circumstances.

After about 15 miles of riding and groaning with each bump in the road, I made it back to the car. I was able to sling my bike into the back of the car and change my shirt somehow. I got some ice from the cooler and was able to strap a plastic bag of ice onto my shoulder. I then promptly texted a few people and was able to get the mobile number of my go-to orthopedic surgeon. Doc had operated on both my knees, my wife's shoulder, and treated me for a broken clavicle three years prior. He texted me back and said I could call Tuesday morning at 8 AM and that he would be able to work me on that day. Little did I know, he was in Louisville and would be racing Ironman the next day. It is nice to have a doctor who understands where you are coming from. He thought maybe I had an AC Joint sprain and said I would be fine to race probably.


Fast forward to Tuesday. I went to the Doc, got some X-Rays and received my diagnosis. Type 3 AC Joint Sprain. No Ironman for me. I was pretty disappointed and bummed. It could have been worse. The treatment was simply to immobilize the shoulder with a sling. There were no broken bones this time around and no other damage to other body parts. Also, my helmet spared my noggin. 

One of the most upsetting things about this turn of events was that since I would not be able to race, I would not be able to be with Melissa in T1 before the race, be with her to do bag drop off, be with her in the swim line at the beginning of the race, be with her on the course at all, etc. That was a really big downer.

After a week and a half in the sling, I was up on campus for a meeting where I work at VCU. My office is downtown at the Data Center. After my meeting, I was making my way to the bus stop to ride back downtown. I wanted to catch the next bus so I started walking quickly which then lead to a little trot. After a minute or two, I decided to stop and turn on my Garmin. After getting a signal, I started an actual jog. I decided to just run instead of waiting for the bus. I felt pretty good and my shoulder did not bother me. Granted, I was not swinging it. It was still in the sling. But it sure felt good to run a little bit. After my little 10 minute run, I had a small glimmer of hope. Maybe I would heal up in time for the race. Or course jogging down Franklin street for 10 minutes is not the same as a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run. 

The following weekend, despite not being cleared by the doctor, I managed two hours on the trainer, most of it in aero position, and a 12 mile run next day. My pace on the run was quite decent and I felt pretty good about things. My legs were a bit sore for a couple of days afterwards however. 

That following Wednesday, I went back to the doctor for my follow up. More X-Rays were taken and the doc examined my shoulder. And guess what? He said I could race if I wanted to. He said I should not expect to do very well but if I wanted to give it a go, I was cleared to do so.

Of course now that I was planning to race, I had some logistics to take care of. Over the next two weeks, I scrambled to get all my ducks in a row and to train as much as I could. I was still not ready to get into the pool to swim but managed to do some biking and running. I was still feeling pretty flat during workouts and my heart rate was elevated more so than usual during easy workouts. I managed to get into the pool a couple of times before leaving for Arizona. The race was going to be quite challenging. I knew that. But I wanted to give it a try.

On race day, the water temperature was 60. BRRR! I had just purchased a new sleeveless wetsuit because my shoulder would not allow me to use a full sleeved westsuit. I had done the pre-swim the day before the race and knew that I would be cold for a while before I warmed up. Melissa and I dropped off our bags, donned our wetsuits and got in line at the swim start. I was so excited for Melissa as she embarked on her first Ironman. We were both a little nervous I think as we waited for the gun to go off. Our friend Meredith squeezed past us to the front of the swim line. I am glad I got to see her and wish he luck on her race. Finally, it was our turn to walk down the ramp and into the water. I smiled at Melissa and jumped in. 

The swim was slow going. I was able to keep trudging along but my shoulder injury required that I take it really easy. And that cold water was not fun. Without going into too much detail, let's just say the swim kind of sucked. After swimming the 2.4 mile course, I got out of the water in just over 1 hour and 30 minutes which was about 10 minutes slower than I had hoped. 

I was so cold. We had to run a pretty long stretch to run from where we got out of the water to T1. My feet were somewhat numb. Running on the concrete was a bit painful and I had to walk some of it. As I ran towards transition, I was thinking, "This sucks." I was already having a difficult time and the race had really just begun. At one point during the run I heard someone yell my name. I looked up to see Melissa's coach who I had met a couple of days before. He yelled some words of encouragement to me and said that Melissa was about 30 seconds ahead of me. I was so happy to hear that. Melissa had conquered the swim and was on her way to the bike. I knew her transition would be much faster than mine but I also knew I would likely catch up to her on the bike.

Transition also sucked. I was shivering and shaking. It took me a while to get all my hair and makeup done. I slammed a Honey Stinger Waffle as I put my shoes and socks on and got ready to bike. It was a few degrees warmer in the changing tent and I was slightly reluctant to leave. But I still had a long day ahead of me and waiting around would ultimately not do me any good. Looking back on it, I probably could have used some more calories and perhaps some warmer clothes to start out on the bike. It took me a full 15 minutes in T1 though which is more than I would have usually spent in transition. 

Once out on the bike, I was relieved that the course was not overly crowded. There were lots of bikers on the course but it was not like Chattanooga where your options were drafting, blocking, or just stopping and getting off your bike. Also, the course was closed to vehicle traffic which was pretty cool. We had an entire lane. The bike course was one of the nicer courses I have had the pleasure of riding. I started to warm up and I came across Melissa who looked like a Pro with her sweet TT position from expert bike fitter David Luscan and her cool Betty Designs kit. I gave her a cheer as I went by. Again, I was so happy to see her on the course.

After a short while on the bike, I realized that I really had no energy. That cold swim had really zapped me. I was way off my target power numbers. I did not worry too much at first as I thought I would warm up. But the longer I rode, the lower my numbers were looking. After a while, I stopped looking at watts and changed the display on my Garmin. My lack of power output was depressing and I did not need that. 

It was not long before my shoulder injury reared its ugly head and I was not able to stay in aero any longer,. I would have to come up quite often to give my shoulder a break. I tried to get back down as much as I could. Riding in aero is so much faster. It got to the point where I was watching my MPH and when I wanted to pass someone, I would get into the proper aero position and would go 2 MPH faster and cruise by that person in front of me. I always knew aero was faster but I was demonstrating it in a concrete and measurable way by keeping my eye on my speed on flat and slightly uphill false flats.

When I completed loop 1 of the 3 loop bike course, I looked at my elapsed time and did the math. This was going to be a long, long day. I had hoped to do the bike portion in about 6 hours. It looked like I would be closer to 6:30. Oh well. That was still not terrible my any means but I had demonstrated in previous performances that I could go faster.

At about mile 50 my right knee started to bother me. My IT band had been tight ever since the long flight from the East Coast. I feared it might flair up on me. When I got to special needs at mile 64, I slammed a small Red Bull and stretched my quad a bit. When I got back on the bike, I instantly felt much better. I had weaned myself off of caffeine a few months prior to the race so the Red Bull really had the dopamine firing and I had a little rally. I started to feel more like my normal self on the bike. Plus we were going downhill and had a tailwind. Going faster can also be a mental boost. I thought to myself that if one Red Bull had helped so much, maybe another would be double-great. So I stopped at the aid station, used the porta potty, and slammed another Red Bull. It did help but now I had broken the seal and felt like I had to go to the bathroom ever 30 minutes. I had forgotten that Red Bull can have that effect. I had to stop to stretch and go to the bathroom a couple more times. 

As I approached the conclusion of the bike, I started thinking about T2 and what I needed to do to get ready to run. I find that thinking about it a bit can help speed things up once you get off the bike. At the dismount line, I laboriously swung my leg over the seat and handed my bike to the volunteer. Thankfully at most Ironman events, racers do not have to re-rack their bikes at the conclusion of the bike leg. That is a nice perk. 

In the end, my official bike split time was 6:57:15. But my total moving time was 6:35:26. I had spent an unprecedented 20+ minutes at various stops to stretch, use the bathroom, and in special needs. For me, that was not normal. I usually manage to pee on the bike so I don't have to stop and don't usually have to stop for anything else except for getting more nutrition in special needs. My long day was stretching out and getting longer and longer as the day went on. 

But now it was time for my strength. Running off the bike. Coach had wanted me to take it real easy for the first half of the marathon and then run the second half faster than the first half. I was ok with taking it easy. I did not seem to have much energy and was skeptical that I would be able to hold things together on the run. That skepticism was born out when I came to the first little hill in the first couple of miles of the marathon course. I decided to walk up the hill. Once I crested the little hill, I started running again. It kind of hurt. Here I was in the first few miles and I was already hurting a bit. Again, it was going to be a long day. 

As I ran, I noticed that my the underside of my arms were both hurting. I had some pretty bad chaffing going on. Sometimes that kind of thing happens during a race but you don't notice until you get into the shower after the event. This time around, the burning was obvious. Thankfully, at one place on the course, there was a volunteer with Vaseline. He yelled, "Vaseline". I stopped and he helped me goop a bunch onto my arms with a tongue depressor. AHHH. Relief. It was glorious. What a lifesaver. 

I continued to run/walk my way through the course. It is not uncommon at all for Ironman participants to run/walk during the run portion of the race. I usually walk through the aid stations which appear every mile. That gives me a quick break, allows my heart rate to come down, and allows me to refuel with water, Gatorade, soda, a gel, or maybe a banana. On this day, I was walking more than I ever had in previous Ironman events. As I ran, I started to do the math and try to guess when I would finish. It was going to be very dark, I knew that. I was going to be slower than I had ever run before, I knew that too. 

My best marathon time was the NYC marathon in 2017. I blew up at the end but managed to hang on to a 3:49 for a PR. For Ironman, my fastest marathon was Ironman Maryland in 2016 despite all the flooding we had to run through. We did not swim that day and the bike course was only 100 miles due to flooding. That 4:06 time was just slightly faster than my Ironman Chattanooga in 2014 at 4:08. The Chattanooga run was probably my best considering we had 4 extra miles on the bike and the course was pretty hilly. 

When I did my calculations as I ran in the dark in Tempe, AZ for Ironman Arizona 2018, it was looking like today it was going to be at a 4:45 maybe. However, at about the half-way point, I started to fade even more. My walk breaks were becoming longer and I had to stop to use the porta potties at nearly every aid station (every mile). It was dark and the backside of the course was a little lonely. The high points of my run were seeing Melissa on the course. She was looking good and pacing herself well. In fact, she was putting on a pacing clinic. She was on tap to finish her first Ironman and I and was so excited for her. 

Still a few miles away from the finish line, I could hear Mike Reilly calling out people's names as they crossed the finish line.  "Phred Jones from Vienna, VA. You are an Ironman!" It was the signature announcement everyone wants to hear. Some people specifically sign up for events that Mike Reilly is likely to announce. At this point, I was pretty spent. I did my shuffle/walk combination until I got really close to the end when I picked it up the pace to a nice run. 

The finishing chute at Ironman is quite exciting. There is loud music, lots of people cheering and partying and many athletes completing a goal that is sometimes years in the making. As I crossed the finish line, I heard Mike call out my name and I smiled and put my hands in the air. I was finally done. I had managed a 5:39 marathon. For me, that was way off what I am capable of. But considering I could not raise my arm above my shoulder 3 weeks before the race, I could not really complain. In the end, I finished the race in 14:30 which was about 2 hours slower than I expected. 

After finishing, I had a mission. I wanted to get my morning clothes bag and put on some warm clothes and start collecting my gear and Melissa's gear. It took me a long time to get organized and changed. I started walking towards my bike rack when I saw my friend Meredith from Richmond. She was an multiple Ironman finisher. She had taken a short break from Ironman to have a baby. Her little girl was about 1 years old now and this was her first big race as a new mom. She finished the race in 12:21 which was very impressive! She is a super strong IronMom setting good examples for her child. I called out to her and she was a godsend. She helped me figure out which way was up and helped me gather our gear. Once out of transition her husband fulfilled his sherpa duties and together we returned our bikes to TriBike transport and took our gear bags back to my car. We had plenty of time to spare to watch Melissa cross the finish line. 

They had been tracking Melissa on the IronTrac app and now that I had gone back to the car to get my phone, I could track her too. We cheered for strangers as they went down the finishing chute, occasionally giving people high fives. I was slightly delirious but I did my best to cheer for people as they ran, walked, wobbled to the finish. Then, I saw Melissa. We all shouted at the top of our lungs. She looked so happy. She was smiling big and looked great. And then we all heard those magic words, "Melissa Rosen from Richmond, VA. You are an Ironman!"

I was so happy for Melissa. She accomplished an amazing goal and did it like a pro. She paced herself well, ignored the pain, and followed her race plan. Now it was time to celebrate!

Melissa was super stoked, deservedly so. We wandered around a bit before making our way back to the car and then to the hotel. The next day we woke up early and gave Ironman more of our hard earned money. Matching Finisher jackets were in order of course. After that, we headed to Sedona for some relaxing views. We found a nice hotel with a spa and some good views. Melissa could hardly walk but we enjoyed the time strolling slowly around Sedona taking in the gorgeous scenery and excellent food. We were hungry every couple of hours. Sedona did not disappoint and we did our job stimulating the local economy. Below are some pictures from our trip. Thanks for reading!

Melissa going up and down stairs after IMAZ

When is it OK to punch a doctor in the face?

I was so terribly upset and crying my eyes out. I could hardly breathe and my body was quivering. And then the doctor said something that made me so angry. Somehow I did not blow up in the doctors face. I made a fist and then thanked him if you can believe it. Looking back now, I wish I had told him the truth of the matter. I often go over it in my mind and part of me wishes I told that doctor what I really thought of him. To this day, it makes me so angry. I never know when that anger will bubble up. Usually while I am walking alone.

I don't think I have ever really gotten into the details of that week in April, 2015. There a lots of details but I will give a brief summary so I can keep this short. I will never forget that horrible day.

John was at work one day when all the sudden something happened. I know from an analysis after-the-fact that he must have experienced fear to go along with the sudden pain in his head. And he had temporarily lost his eyesight for a short while. He certainly knew something was very wrong. After being rushed to the hospital, he was admitted into the Neurology ICU at Fairfax hospital where he started getting round the clock care.

At first, the doctors speculated that he had meningitis. But with John's history of Spina Bifida and Hydrocephalus, it seemed likely that he was having a problem with his shunt. He had experienced shunt failures in the past when he was a young boy. These failures led to near death situations. Thankfully his specialists back then knew exactly what to do. The fix was shunt revision surgery.

It seemed like John might be headed for another one of those corrective surgeries. But for some reason, that course of action was not pursued. Instead, John suffered immense pain in his head and was weak and not hungry. The staff at the hospital treated his pain with pain medicine. In fact, they over medicated him. No one thought to consult with John's neurologist who was familiar with his history. Despite my mother asking them to do so. Their answer to my mom was that John's doctor would not come to Fairfax Hospital. In hindsight, we should have documented this as one of the many failings of the hospital.

After more than a week in the hospital, most of the time in horrible pain, the doctors finally decided to perform shunt revision surgery. This surgery involves opening up the skull as well as the abdomen to insert a new shunt which is a long plastic tube that drains excess spinal fluid from the brain. Shunts are very common in people born with Spina Bifida and Hydrocephalus. Here is a photo of John's head after the surgery.

Remarkably, despite the doctors bumbling about all week trying to decide what to do, the surgery was seemingly a success. For the first time in a long time, John's headache was gone. And I can tell you that he was pretty darn relieved. His anxiety had gone way down and he was starting to picture himself going home.

However, that night, things took a huge turn for the worse. I spent the night with John in his hospital room. Unfortunately, I did not realize what was happening before me. John's condition was getting worse and worse. His headache was gone but something else was happening. His heart rate was elevated. It was higher than my heart rate gets when I run several miles and he was not moving and had not been out of the bed in days. And he had shortness of breath. And John's belly was swollen. I alerted the nursing staff but they said that the monitoring machine would alert them if there was a problem. So much for care. You would think a health care professional would be worried about elevated heart rate for hours and hours, shortness of breath, and distended belly.  But the machines....

So John spent that night in horrible pain, uncomfortable and scared. He would call out my name and say, "Water." I would drip a few drops of water into his mouth and tell him that I loved him. Hearing those words seemed to comfort him. He said, "I love you too." That is all I could do. His condition got worse and worse. I complained to the nurses but they seemed nonplussed.

In the morning, a nurse came in and said that he needed to be prepped for surgery. They were going to do exploratory surgery to see what it was that they had screwed up when they did the surgery earlier. I heard a doctor say that perhaps they had "nicked a bowel." As part of the surgery prep, the nurse told John that she had to insert a tube down his nose to drain the fluid that was accumulating in his stomach. When the nurse was about to put in the tube, she said, "This is going to be uncomfortable." John belted out, "Just do it!" He was tired of the hospital, tired of the nurses, fed up with being in so much pain.

As soon as the nurse inserted the tube, it started to drain a dark red and brown fluid into a collection chamber. The chamber was filling up rapidly and the nurse called for help. They needed more chambers quickly. Just then, John violently vomited more red and brown fluid. His eyes rolled back and he crashed. The nurse had to call for the emergency crash team. A team of doctors rolled in with special equipment. One young doctor was asking the nurse questions she did not have the answers for. But I had been with him all night. I told him how many bags of IV fluid he had consumed which is the main thing he seemed to want to know. I am not sure what they did but they stabilize him. But John was weary, uncomfortable and in pain. It was around this time that John started moaning, "I want to go home." It still haunts me to this day. "I want to go home. I want to go home!" It was plea for all the madness to end. The poking and prodding, the procedures, and of course, the pain.

After that, the rest of the family had arrived. They took John down to for emergency surgery. I remember my Mom telling him that the doctors were going to make him all better. Honestly, John's eyes seemed to show his disbelief. He knew things were bad. He did not seem to believe us. The anesthesiologist had quite the concerned look on her face as she had my Mom sign consent papers that mentioned that any surgery has risk involved, etc. I guess the hospital has to cover itself. They don't want to get sued I suppose.

They took John away on the gurney and we all filed out to the waiting room. We were all now in a familiar place. John had so many major surgeries in the past and he always came through and recovered like the trooper he was. As we were waiting, I decided I could go get everyone lunch. So I took off with everyone's order and drove to a sandwich shop in Vienna. On my way back from the sandwich shop, I texted my brother Erik to ask about drinks for the sandwiches or perhaps another question. He told me to just come back to the hospital. When I arrived, I could not find my family in the waiting room and then I saw one of the pastors from the church.  He looked me in the eye and told me the bad news. John had passed away.

I was shocked and so angry. They took me back into a room with the rest of my family. They were all there and had a head start on the realization that John was no longer with us. I cried and cried. I was so upset. Soon after, some hospital staff arranged to have us go back and see John. A woman explained that his hand might be warm but that he was indeed gone. We went back and there he was. He was covered in a sheet with a tube sticking out of his mouth and his hand on his chest. I grabbed his hand and it was ice cold. I wept uncontrollably and said, "It''s not right! It's just  not right." John was my pal. He always had been. And I was devastated by his passing. We all were.

And then enters the doctor. He was here to tell us what happened. He went through some lame explanation about how it all went down on the operating table. Ultimately it was a pulmonary embolism that killed John. But this is where the doctor made a big mistake. He said, "Well, he did not feel any pain when he died." That made me so angry. But I squashed the anger. It was an amazing feet of control really. How could he say that. John spent his last week on this earth in terrible pain. He last words were, "I want to go home!" He spent the entire night with an elevated heart rate and shortness of breath. He was dying right before me and it was at no time pleasant. How dare this doctor say that. My brother Erik saw my clenched fist and later told me he thought I was going to lose it. I didn't but sometimes I wish I did. For John. My pal. My buddy. My first friend. My inspiration. By brother. I love you John. I miss you and will never forget you.