I had my usual bottom 2% of the field swim.  I probably swam 2.8 instead of 2.4 miles - I was off course just about every time I looked up to sight. When you consider how much time I put into swimming, it's pretty pathetic to suck so severely.  Bad technique is a helluva handicap.  When I finished the first loop of the swim, I felt like it had gone poorly, even by my standards.  When I saw 1:02 on the swim clock, this was confirmed, but now, for the first time ever, the realization that I might not make the swim cutoff set in.  Yes, if your name is St. Pe' or Love, you probably aren't aware that they have an actual swim cutoff at these races.  If you can't finish in 2:20, you have to abandon.  Well, 1:02 for the first loop and maybe 1:12 for the second loop (always 10 minutes slower for me) and we are at 2:14+, a mere 5 or 6 minutes to the good of the cutoff.  Wow - I knew it was bad, but how could my sixth IM swim be my worst by a wide margin?  I was not devastated, but it was a shitty start to the day.  As I waded back in to the water to start the second loop, it was only by chance that I looked at my watch, to check my heart rate, I guess.  I saw 52 minutes and immediately realized I had seen the pro swim time on the clock (they had gotten a 10 minute head start).  Okay, that was more like it.  Still horrible, but at least a cinch to beat the cutoff.  How I swam 1:32 in 2004 at the same race I'll never know.

Now, I must admit there are a few benefits to being such a god-awful swimmer, with over 98% of the field already out of your way and on the bike course by the time you finish:

1. Personal Attention.  Keith Manuel and his crew of wetsuit strippers were so ready for me.  I staggered across the timing mat, and there he was grabbing my arm and pulling me to their station.  It was great - everyone was screaming instructions, I got down on the ground, and they ripped my suit off in a flash.  MJ was just a few feet away on the other side of the fence yelling encouragement as well - an unexpected and welcome surprise. Then I get in the change tent and Dr. Keith Terro was waiting for me.  He was there every time I turned around during the race, it seemed - what a huge help he was.  It's good to have friends in high places at an IronMan.

2. Passing on the bike.  When you swim bottom 2%, you are going to pass a lot of people on the bike.  You may or may not be going "fast", but passing 500 or 600 people over the course of a 112 mile ride makes it much easier mentally.  Much.

When I got out on to the bike course, it was kind of surreal.  I think there was a tiny headwind as we headed out west on Hwy 98.  I just held 20 mph, my HR was super low, and it was very quiet out.  Or maybe it was quiet in my head.  It's always so good for me to get out of the water and on to the two legs of the race that I enjoy.  The first 45 minutes or so on the bike were just completely pleasurable.

It was a very smooth ride until the crash.  Nutrition and hydration were good.  I stayed well within myself, checking my heart rate frequently and keeping it very low - around 110 to 115 for the first 2 hours. Took off the arm warmers around mile 30 or so.  It wasn't all that cold - I probably could have left transition without them.  My peeing-on-the-bike technique still needs work, but it was good enough.  Anyway, 3 or 4 miles after the right turn on to Camp Flowers Rd., where the two-lane southbound roadway was coned down the middle, cars on the left, bikes on the right, there was a guy riding way left.  "On your left" I called, per usual.  He didn't move over, and next thing I know there was an orange cone directly in front of me.  I actually had a couple of milliseconds to think, and it was very out of character - went something like "I could go left and miss this cone - but the sign did say 'Cars left, bikes right', and I really want to be a good soldier and obey all the rules today.  So I'll just squeeze to the right of this baby......" and then I hit it head on and down I went.  After I came out of the shock of it, I reverted back to character with a nonstop string of f-bombs.  Some spectators were very solicitous, asking repeatedly if I was okay.  They said there was first aid one mile down at the next aid station, so I remounted and pedaled off toward it, cursing loudly all the way.

So I get to the aid station, and it's a brand new fire department.  Great. First aid here ought to be top-shelf.  Probably an attending physician or two.  I mean, wouldn't you think?  I asked a bunch of different volunteers where the first aid was, and no one knew where, or even if there was any. Pretty disgusted and really just in a horrible frame of mind now, I walked around the building to the back and took a leak, a clear violation of USAT rules and human decency.  Returning to the front there was a nice lady. I asked her to look at my bloody elbow - oh, you'll be all right, she said, so off I went.

The last 57 or however many miles were okay, really.  I calmed down mentally, and continued with passing the other bad swimmers.  Nutrition and hydration still pretty good.  A slight headwind from maybe 80 to 100, but I "knew" we would turn left on to Hwy 98 at about mile 107 and have a decent tailwind, and that is exactly what happened.  Familiarity with the course from doing the half 3x and the whole twice before was helpful more than once.  My speedometer had quit working because of the crash, but once I picked up the tailwind, I went hard and passed a ton of people in that last stretch.  Probably holding 26 mph, and maybe 28-29 at times?  It felt good, I can tell you that.

So I threw my bike in the general direction of one of the handlers - a job I did and enjoyed last year - got my bag and headed to the change tent.  Keith was waiting for me, of course. He gave me a high five, and I told him I had crashed.  In no time he rolled me over some chairs and forcefully massaged my left glute, which at that time was the worst, as far as I could tell.  After maybe a minute (?) of that, I was stoked up on adrenaline and ready to give the run a try.  In that time Keith managed to give me updates on John, Jeremy, Clint, and every other Lafayette racer.  I mean he was into this race big time.

Jogging through transition things didn't feel exactly right, but I figured once I got the run muscles warmed up, things would fall into place.  That turned out to be partially true. Maybe 100 meters after I crossed the timing mat to start the 26.2 mile run, I had to stop and walk due to my left glute and ribs.  This was probably my lowest point.  I visualized myself continuing on to the condo 1/2 mile away and calling it a day.  I decided to try again, and after a minute or so came across Ricardo, Dana, and some other supporters.  I stopped and talked with them for a little bit.  I picked it back up until I came across the gang in front of Sugar Beach.  Told them I crashed, exchanged a few hugs, and took off again.  Their outrageous enthusiasm picked me up so much.  Another few hundred yards down, right in front of Gulf Crest, was Keith Manuel and his crew. So I stopped briefly there to say hi and tell them about the crash. Keith asked me "Were you down long?"  This cracked me up.  Dude, I am f*cked up here - I don't care how much time I lost - I am hoping I can finish this run.  I ran the next 4 miles or so without stopping.  I was clocking 8:15's, and my heart rate was right where I wanted it to be, so from an aerobic perspective things were great.  Biomechanically, things were off, but I could not tell to what extent.  The intermittent walking began shortly after this point - my left side just could not cooperate fully.  The deal with my ribs also prevented me from getting a full breath.  I could inhale only to about 90% of lung capacity.  This was not as big an issue as it would have been if I was running harder, but still it limited me.  Later in the race, the discomfort shifted to my hip flexors, strangely.  They were pretty much on fire, aggravated with every footfall.  Very weird, because I ordinarily don't even know I have hip flexors.

It was sucking to have a lousy run, when I was in shape to produce a PR, with thoughts of going sub 4:00 if things fell right.  To pass the time a bit, at every miIe marker, I did the calculations of what it would take to beat the 17:00 cutoff.  After a while it became clear that I would come in okay even if I had to walk every remaining step.  So I just sort got into a bit of a groove and ran as much as I could.  On the second loop, running over those little 3" tall speed bumps was absolutely shredding my hip flexors.  I kept an eye out for my fellow Lafayette area racers and saw a few of them - Clint, Phyllis, Rea,   Jeremy, and Lisa.  I was at about mile 5 when Jeremy came toward me from the opposite direction - he was at mile 21 and he was rolling.   We slapped hands and exchanged greetings.  I figured then that he was having a big day but when I saw that Joe Boness - arguably the most incredible age group triathlete ever - was about 5 minutes behind him, I knew J was killing it.

So anyway, I finished, and am glad of that.  Been faster, been slower. Things sometimes fall just right for you, like they did for me at each of the other three triathlons I did this year.  I feel a little snakebit at this race though, so I will take a year or two off from IronMan Florida. '04 was the Diarrhea Attack, '05 was the Ill-Timed Blood Donation, and '07 of course is The Crash.  Thanks to all the local supporters - you were huge (beyond huge, gargantuan maybe) in my race, and in the race of the others I am sure as well.  Congrats to all the local finishers - Jeremy's off-the-charts 9:13 (53th overall, 19th age grouper) led the way, but to finish is the thing, and for those for whom this was their first, I am guessing it feels mighty good.  It still does for me.