Rob Spero's Ironman Report... OUCH!

OK, so last and least, I'll add my congratulations to all of you for
not only attempting this event, but for finishing it in one form or
another. And a special congrats to the two KONA Grads. All that
training, just to get to do it again. But man, after this past spring
here in the Northwest, doing it in Kona is a great reward for the
freezing days on the bike, early morning swims and wonderfully wet
runs. Way to go to both Brian and Nancy!

And thanks to all of you who have sent me best wishes for a speedy
recovery. I appreciate the thoughts as I've sat here in a drug induced
haze this past week, wondering over and over, just what the hell
happened and how I ended up with an all expense paid trip to the
wonderful Kooteni County Hospital. More on that later.

So there we are, Bill, Patty A. and I standing at the start line of the
swim, far to the left and near the back. Perfect start to watch the
swim begin and not get run over in the malstrom that is about to
happen. I'll admit that there was a moment when the 12 year old was
singing the National Anthem and the crowd was silent, standing next to
my friends, that personal reflection caused me to get a bit choked up.
Thinking back on the training that had gone into getting to this point,
the encouragement from Patty and especially Bill, the early morning
swims in the pool, the runs in the rain and the rides in the same, as
well as the amount of money spent to get ready (ok, pilot side of me
talking here), I must confess that I was momentarily overcome.
Then...I realized my wet suit was too tight and I was really just
choking. Looking out at the water, I admit I was surprised when the
cannon went off, about 15 feet away. Damn, and I had been planning on
saving that "warm water" for later in the swim. No bother. Off into
the pond. Concentrate on getting my heart rate down and breathing
under control. Just swim my pace. Why can't I breath? Man is my
heart racing. OK, this I've been told is normal. It is? 100 yards
into the swim and I'm fatigued. Say what? Then I realized that my wet
suit had shifted and I needed to let in water to adjust it. My swim
goal was to finish. I used each buoy as my next marker. Did you know
there were 7 yellow buoy's out and 8 orange ones back in? I named each
one as I went by. Lap one went as expected, just getting into the
swing of things and not using up all my energy. Out of the water,
through the timing arch and it was great seeing my wife, daughter,
Emily & Justin screaming for me. Slightly behind my time, but feeling
ok. Lap two was much the same, except I was into unfamiliar territory,
now going farther than ever before for me in the swim. But I held my
pace and even when the chop came up, felt good about finishing. Out of
the water, up the beach, getting ready to lose my wet suit to the
"puller" when I realized, I forgot to tie my bathing suit. With Bill's
warning ringing in my ears about their vigor in helping, I managed to
lose just the wet suit. Through transition and out to look for the
bike. One of the benefits of being late out of the water is not having
to look very hard for the bike. It kinda stands out.

So the first 30 minutes on the bike was used just getting heart rate,
cadence and breathing under control. Nothing but water. I saw Patty
A. go by on the other side of the road and benched marked her as my
target to catch. Out to Higgens Point, made the turn and wham, right into the wind. Excuse me, but who ordered this? No worries, down in
the drops, feeling good. Started the vitals intake. First of Rob's
points to remember: use only stuff you've trained your body to take.
I had a bottle of Hammer Perpetuem made up. After a third of that, I
realized this wasn't helping the stomach adjust. Back through town
feeling good and seeing the Pro's go by the other side. Man, are they
fast. George A screams at me as I go by I'm 25 minutes behind Patty so
I'm looking good in that. Up the road and towards the hills. No
biggie as I know there is a feed zone between here and there where I
can tank up.

Here's where my day when wrong, coming into the second support area.
First off, it caught me by surprise, so I was too fast into it. I dumped my one bottle and tried to grab two bottles of sport drink, before I realized I was still too fast. So I sat up, applied a little brake. (Remember Patty, just two fingers) and leaned out to grab a bottle. The next 1.2 nano seconds ruined my day. Thinking back, it probably was a combination of trying to slow too quickly with the front brake, leaning out to my right to grab a bottle which moved the bike to the left, front wheel goes right, fingers tighten on brake and all hell breaks loose. I don't think I went head over bars, but more of a pivot into mother earth, or father asphalt. Rob's second point to remember, speed hurts. At least I did it in front of a lot of people.
The support staff there is great. They were on me like a flash. First
guy id himself as an EMT and we went from there. My thoughts were, 1.
How embarrassing. 2. I need to get up and back on the bike. 3. Why is
the world spinning the wrong way? 4. OK, maybe a minute to catch my
breath, then back on the bike. 5. Why am I still laying here if I want
to get on the bike? 6. Gee, I don't remember this extra lump on my
shoulder. 7. OK, this sucks! And so ended my first Ironman.

Like I said, the support staff was great. They had the ambulance there
in a minute. The two paramedics in the back both had been kayak
support staff for the swim. (Bill, she apologized for hitting you with
her boat.) The hospital was a hoot. I wasn't even the first (nor
last) one there from the race.
>
So the upshot of all of this was a stage 3 shoulder separation, torn >ligaments, 3 fractured ribs and a bruised lung. Not bad for a year of training. The good news is so far, no surgery, coughing and sneezing
have taken on a completely religion experience for me, I get to spend
more time soon with George Anderson, and I didn't even rip my kit, so
it's not all bad. (And a personal best of 3.5 hours for my first
Ironman!)

I'm on the mend, have already signed up for next years race, looking at
this as having been a great opportunity to build on my base for next
year. I am really in awe of all of you who attempted this race, no
matter whether you finished, set a personal best, crawled across the
finish line or looked like an Olympic champion. You set your goal and
hopefully made it. As I've been told, it's not the destination, but
the journey to get there that counts and is what you remember. So I'll
see you all on this years journey to next years race. Hopefully sooner
rather than later. (George?) Best wishes,

Rob