My Ironman Journey

Twelve months ago I began a journey. A journey more physically and mentally demanding than anything I’d ever done. For twelve months I had trained harder than I ever have. For twelve months my thoughts had been dominated by the journey I was on and the goal at the end. For twelve months I had answered the 4am alarms. And I had pushed through the pain of torn bulging discs and aches and pains in my knees, hips, and ankles. I knew in my heart that I had put in enough training and was ready to finish this race strong. Over the last year I had swam 106 miles, biked 4,469 miles, and ran another 850 miles. But after seeing the race day forecast of 95-100 degree heat my confidence was shaken and my mind was constantly occupied with doubt and fear. I desperately wanted the answer to the question… Will I cross this finish line and be declared an “Ironman”?

Ironman Chattanooga Finish Line

While the journey had been tough and seemingly never ending it had been an amazing journey. In those twelve months I had dropped 25 pounds, felt better than I ever have in my life, and had grown a lot physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As race day approached I was torn between the excitement, anticipation, and impatience for the race to finally start and the sadness that very soon this journey will come to an end.

Race weekend finally arrived and I did all of the required pre-race activities (check-in, athlete briefings, bike check-in, and bag drop off) and spent some time with friends and family. Three of my friends and training partners (Kristen Fisher, Dan Albert, and Andy Russell) were also racing and we all got together a couple times Friday and Saturday to eat and strategize our race plans. Everyone was talking about the heat and how much it would impact the athletes and I really started to worry about how my body would handle the heat. Most of my training rides and runs had started at 5am so I typically only had to endure a couple hours of heat during each workout. During the race I would be out swimming, cycling, and running in the 95+ degree heat for 14-16 hours! The worry was relentless and constant. I couldn’t wait to go to bed Saturday night knowing that when I woke up in the morning it would be time to race.

I found myself lying in bed Saturday night just hoping for a couple hours of sleep before my 4:00am alarm went off. Surprisingly I slept really well from 10pm – 2am but when I woke up just after 2am I laid in bed and had an awful panic attack – the kind where your stomach knots up and your chest burns. I laid there for an hour trying to calm my nerves and go back to sleep but finally decided to get out of bed and do something – something that might occupy my thoughts and distract me from thinking about the 144.6 mile race ahead of me that day. I showered, dressed, and went down to the hotel restaurant to eat a light breakfast (a bagel and oatmeal) around 4:00am and then went back to the room to gather my stuff and head down to the race transition area.

Transition area

In transition I checked my bike over, pumped up my tires, threw some food in my bike and run bags and then linked up with Dan and Kristen for the short bus ride over to the swim start. The swim start area was in a little park along the river walk and by the time we got there at about 5:15am there were already a few hundred people in the swim start line. We grabbed a spot in line and took turns hitting the porta-johns. I’m generally opposed to entering a dark porta-john but the last thing I wanted to do was have an “accident” out on the bike if you know what I mean. At the athlete briefing on Saturday they had assured us that there would be plenty of porta-johns but each of the 50 or so porta-johns had about 50 people in line. Instead of a nice relaxing two-hour wait for the swim start I ended up spending about an hour waiting in porta-john lines. While sitting in the swim start line I remembered that I had packed a letter from Riley with the instructions to open it the morning of the race. I opened it to find that Riley had written me a letter telling me how proud she was of me and she included some scripture verses to encourage me during the long day ahead. It was very sweet and something I’ll cherish forever. Not long after reading her letter we heard the cannon go off and the line started moving forward. I calmed my nerves, said one last prayer, and thought… This is it. I’m a couple minutes away from jumping in the water and beginning my Ironman day.

The swim start line

As we approached the front of the line Dan, Kristen, and I said one last “good luck” and a “see you at the finish” and then I heard a volunteer say “you guys are over here” as they pointed to an empty slot on the dock. I walked up, took a deep breath, and jumped off the dock.

The Chattanooga swim is a 2.4-mile swim straight down the Tennessee River to the swim exit at Ross’s Landing. The water felt great and not long after I started I found a good steady rhythm. In past races I’ve always struggled with sighting the buoys and swimming a good straight course. But I quickly found that once I spotted a buoy I could look up on the riverbank above the buoy and find a bigger landmark and then use that to sight my course. I remember thinking as I swam how great it felt for the race to be underway and feeling like I was swimming a great line with very little traffic and bumping. Then about half way into the swim the river got a little narrower as we navigated by MacLellan Island and swam under the three bridges that span the river. Under one of the bridges I got jammed up between two swimmers and stopped for a moment to let them get by. When I did my calf cramped pretty bad. After a momentary freak out I got back into my rhythm and it wasn’t long when I spotted swim exit. Once inside the harbor the field narrowed to head for the exit stairs it got a little rough. I got punched a few times – fortunately not very hard – and I remember thinking, “just get to the stairs”. I was out of the water in 1:10:24 – five minutes under my goal and feeling great.

After climbing out of the water I jogged the hundred or so yards to the transition area, and grabbed my bike bag. I knew I was about to get on the bike for seven hours so I hit the porta-john before heading into the transition tent. As I ran into the tent someone yelled “NORM DEANE!“. I looked over and there at the end of the row of chairs was my buddy Dan. Dan had exited the water just a minute before me and was already changing into his bike gear. I sat down beside Dan and began to dig through my bike transition bag and quickly realized that I should have thought through my transition a little more. I ended up with bike gear strung out all over the ground. My lack of thought and planning cost me in my transition. I had hoped to be out of T1 in about 10 minutes but it ended up taking 14:34.

On the bike, I remember thinking in that first mile on the bike… “This is where the race really begins”. In training I did several rides of 80 and 90 miles and a 100-mile (“century”) ride. My longest training run was 15 miles. My longest bike-run (“brick”) workout was a 50-mile ride followed by a 10-mile run. Today I would be doing more than double that and doing it in 95+ degree heat. In the athlete briefing we were told that it would not be a good day to attempt a “PR” (personal record) and to seriously consider adjusting any time goals we had set. Knowing all of this I planned to really back off the speed on the first lap of the two-lap 116-mile bike course. The last thing I wanted to do was to burn my legs up before I ever got off the bike. Running a marathon on dead legs in 95+ degree heat would be brutal. But as we headed south out of Chattanooga with Lookout Mountain towering over us on the right I found myself riding much faster than I had anticipated while still feeling like I was holding back. The first 50 miles on the bike that day was absolutely perfect. The scenery was beautiful. The temperature was perfect. And I was making great time. Around mile 50 we rolled into the historic town of Chickamauga and it felt like I was riding in the Tour de France. The streets were lined with race barricades and the barricades were lined with fans who were all there cheering the racers on.

The bike special needs stop was right in the middle of downtown Chickamauga and as I rolled up to the stop I heard someone yell out my race number and seconds later I heard someone else yell in response “I got it”. Seconds later I was shocked to see my mom in front of me in a volunteer shirt holding my special needs bag. My parents had driven out to Chickamauga to see the racers come through on their bikes. As they sat there waiting on me to come through they heard the volunteer captain say “we don’t have enough volunteers”. My mom said I’ll help and was quickly put to work handing out special needs bags. Mom stood there with me as I rifled through my bag stuffing all the food I could get into the back pockets of my tri-suit. I had packed an Uncrustable PB&J sandwich in my bag and it was a real treat. Ellery Kate had put a sweet little note in my bag and I took a second to read it and draw encouragement from it. I thought I might need a little reminder about my “why” – why I was out there doing this – so I had also put a couple pictures in my special needs bag. One picture was of Witt just hours after his heart transplant. The other was of Witt a week after his transplant with a smile on his face that went from one ear to the other.  I hugged mom and headed out of Chickamauga. There’s a decent climb coming out of Chickamauga and then a great fast descent before the end of the first loop. Overall I thought the first loop went well. Much faster than I had expected and my legs felt great.

But as I started the second loop I could feel the heat climbing and a bit of a headwind so I decided that it was time to dial back the speed and the effort. Up to this point I had been eating something every 3o minutes on the bike and trying to drink at least 24 ounces of water or Skratch every hour. Sodium and electrolyte replacement is critical in that kind of heat so I was also doing a lick of Base Performance Salt every 15 minutes. As the heat continued to climb I started grabbing an extra bottle of water at each aid station and would douse myself with it to try and keep my body temperature down. Starting at about mile 70 I started to notice people struggling. Every few miles you would see someone off the side of the road lying on the ground in the shade trying to cool off. At every aid station there would be 15-20 people just lying on the ground trying to cool off. I didn’t know it at the time but people were dropping out of the race in record numbers. Personally I was doing great until about mile 80. Going into the race I was really concerned about my neck and my lower back. They had really given me trouble in my long training rides. But my pain that day wouldn’t come from my back or my neck. My pain would come from the most unexpected place. My FEET! I think it was the heat. My cycling shoes are black leather shoes with very little ventilation and were swelling in the sweltering heat. My feet hurt so badly in those last 35 miles that I began to doubt whether I could finish or not. I mean even if I could block out the pain for two more hours on the bike how would I ever run a marathon with my feet hurting so badly. Three times I bent down and loosened the buckles on my shoes. Each time I got a brief bit of relief from the pain but each time it came back with more intensity than before. Knowing that there was no other option but than to push through it I did what I could to refocus my thoughts and just kept peddling. For the last hour I counted down each mile and looked forward to the moment that I could get off the bike. I remember thinking “I don’t want to see this bike again for three months”. Finally, I rolled up to the bike dismount line, handed my bike off to a volunteer and immediately bent down and took my shoes off. I grabbed my run bag as I ran down the transition chute and spotted my family just outside the chute. After spending the last two hours on the bike in agony I was so happy to see them. As I approached I remember Alison asking, “Are you dead”. “No. Not yet” I said as I gave everyone hugs and kisses. I knew they had to be suffering out there in the blistering heat as much as I was. Total bike time: 7:08:13.

Inside the changing tent you could tell people were struggling. The energy, excitement, and enthusiasm that filled the tent during the swim-to-bike transition was gone and had been replaced with pain, lethargy, and nausea. As I was going through my transition routine the guy beside me grabbed a trashcan and started throwing up. I tried to block out all of the carnage and quickly looked over my feet for blisters, put on fresh socks, laced up my shoes, grabbed my water bottle and took a minute to remind myself why I was out there. I was feeling pretty queasy so I grabbed the baggie full of pretzels that I had packed in my run bag and headed out. In my 70.3 race I got a little sick on the run course and pretzels and potato chips had saved the day. As I ran out of transition I stopped one more time to see my family and told them that I would see them at the finish. Bike-to-run transition time: 11:54.

While the heat on the bike had been pretty bad there is something to be said for the cooling effect created by the wind when moving at 15-25mph. As I started out on the run I quickly noticed that you don’t benefit from that cooling effect when you only run at 6mph. It was HOT! I had trained for and planned to do the run in 4-1 run/walk intervals. That is I would run my normal running pace for 4 minutes and then walk for 1 minute and repeat this over and over until I finished. Physically this helps by keeping your heart rate lower and by giving your legs a little bit of rest and recovery throughout the run. Mentally it helps because the thought of running 26.2 miles after biking 116 miles is daunting. The intervals allow you to break that down and focus on just the next four minutes of running in front of you. This sounded like a great plan and my legs felt strong so I was pretty confident that I could stick to this plan for the first 15 miles and then reevaluate based on how I felt. But less than a mile into the run I noticed that my heart rate was spiking up to the 180s and my breathing was out of control. The heat was having a huge impact on my plan and I had to adjust. There was no way I could sustain that level of exertion for 25 more miles. I decided to dial it back to 3-1 run/walk intervals but after another mile at that pace I abandoned that plan and just went into survival mode. I started to run for as long as I could before my heart rate hit the 180s or before my breathing got out of control and then I would walk. With my legs feeling good I decided that the race was going to come down to three things… Keeping my body temperature and heart rate down, staying hydrated, and keeping up my calorie intake.

The first seven miles of the run were pretty flat but completely exposed to the sun so at every aid station I would dump cups full of cold water over my head, fill my tri-suit shirt and my hat up with ice, sponge off with an ice-cold sponge, and refill my water bottle. By doing this I felt like I was doing a pretty good job of staying cool. I continued to snack on the pretzels that I grabbed in transition and my stomach started to feel a little better. At each aid station I would try and grab a little bite of something – a few grapes, a half of banana, an orange slice, a mini cliff bar, or something little to keep up my calorie intake. Too many calories and my gut would shut down. Too few and I would “bonk”.

After finishing the hill on Battery Lane and making the turn onto the Veteran’s Street Bridge (at about mile 8) I headed across the river for the brutally hilly portion of the course. As I was walking across the bridge with a sense of dread looming over me I heard the “ring, ring” of a bike bell. Instinctively I turned to see what it was and there beside on a bike was my buddy and training partner Andy Johnson. Many mornings Andy got out of bed at 4:30am to run with me. Not because he was training for a race but because he wanted to encourage me and help keep me accountable. I didn’t expect Andy to be there so this was quite a surprise. I told Andy that I was tired, hurting, and not looking forward to the hills ahead of me and Andy said “you want me to run it in with you”. That’s the kind of friend he is. He was ready to park his bike and run the last 18 miles with me in the brutal heat. It would have been great to have his company and his encouragement but I needed to do this myself. Andy rode along side me for a couple miles and it really helped pick me up out of the gutter. As I was climbing the toughest of the hills on Barton Ave I crossed paths with Kristen who was about 4 miles ahead of me and then about an hour later on my way back down the Barton Ave hill I ran into Dan. It was great seeing both of them again and seeing that they were having a good race. Dan asked how I was doing and I said, “man, my legs are hurting” and I remember being encouraged hearing that his were too. Not that I enjoyed seeing him in pain but that there was comfort in knowing that even a veteran 100-mile ultra-marathoner was hurting like I was.

I survived the hilly last 4 miles of the first lap and as I crossed the Market Street Bridge to finish the first lap I could hear people crossing the finish line on Riverfront Parkway below me with the proud declaration that “YOU ARE AN IRONMAN”. I started to tear up thinking that I was just 13 miles away from hearing my name called out as I crossed the finish. Just past the Market Street Bridge the run course splits with runners finishing their second lap peeling off to the left and runners starting their second lap peeling off the right. It was tough being one of the runners starting their second loop while watching other runners take off on their final push for the finish. I tried not to think about the lap ahead of me but instead to think about that moment when I would be one of the runners turning left for the finish chute.

By now the sun had set and the temperature was starting to drop down into a comfortable zone for the first time in eight hours. No longer did I have to fill my suit up with ice at every aid station. My legs were really hurting by about mile 15 and I found myself doing more walking than running but I kept the popular mantra of “relentless forward progress” in my head and just kept plowing forward. I began to struggle with the thought of having 11 more miles to go and then 10 more miles to go so I started to break it down into smaller, less intimidating tasks. I thought in terms of just get to the turnaround at the end of Amicola Parkway. Then it was just get to the Veterans Street Bridge. Then it was just get to the top of the hill on Barton Ave. Physically each of those milestones were still tough but mentally I was able to transform an impossible 11 mile run into just one more 5k followed by another 5k followed by another 5k…

The run along the riverbank was pretty dark and lonely but it gave me a lot of time to think about the journey that I had been on over the last year. I thought about how all of this started with a bold prayer… A prayer that I needed to remember at this point in my race…

Lord, I don’t have the strength or endurance to finish this race alone. But I know that all things are possible through you. If you will do this with me… If you will strengthen my body for the race before me… If you will see me through the long months of training for this race and see me through to finish line then I will use it for your glory and your kingdom for the rest of my life.

Somewhere around mile 18 Andy, still on his bike making his rounds to check on Kristen, Dan, and I, found me. He rode along side me for a while. Knowing that I was concerned about how my family was holding up in the heat and knowing that Alison was worried about my heart rate being so high Andy got out his phone, dialed Alison’s number, and put me on speakerphone with her. We chatted as I ran for a minute and it was encouraging to hear that they were all doing well. That phone call was a big morale boost at a tough point in the race.

An hour or so later I was climbing up the backside of the Barton Ave hill with only a couple more miles to go. My quads, knees, and feet were hurting pretty bad by this time so I walked all the way up the hill and back down the other side. Once I reached the bottom of Barton Ave I knew that the last mile and a half were pretty flat so I picked it up and started running again. Even though it was almost 11pm there was still a crowd out and as I made the turn onto the Market Street pedestrian bridge I could feel the energy pick up. Your name is printed on your race bib and I started to hear people cheering for me by name. I thought about my family waiting for me in the finish chute and got choked up thinking that I was just a mile away from the finish. I reached the end of the second loop and got to make the triumphant left turn onto Riverfront Parkway for the downhill push to the finish chute. That last quarter mile was incredible. I reached the finish chute and quickly spotted my family and friends and stopped for a round of hugs and congratulations before stepping onto the red carpet and heading for the finish line. As I ran down the chute everyone was cheering and reaching out for hi-fives like I was some kind of celebrity. And then as I approached the finish line I heard the words that had driven me for over a year. But this time they were real… “Norm Deane from Franklin Tennessee… YOU ARE an IRONMAN!”.

Swim Time: 1:10:24

T1 Time: 14:34

Bike Time: 7:08:13

T2 Time: 11:54

Run Time: 6:27:17

Total Time: 15:12:22

To say I was happy to finish would be a massive understatement. I was slightly disappointed in my time (I had hoped to finish in just over 14 hours) but under those conditions I felt fortunate to have finished at all. Over 25% of the people that raced that day didn’t make it to the finish line. Over 600 athletes required medical attention due to the extreme heat that day. I really can’t describe how this race and this journey have changed my life. Maybe I’ll try and put it into words at some point. For now I will just say this… I believe Phillipians 4:13 now more than ever.

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Phil 4:13