Structural Elements at Ironman Wisconsin

“It was harder then I thought it would be, but I had more fun then I thought I would have”

Ironman Wisconsin takes place annually on the second Sunday in September in the state capital of Madison, WI.  I have watched this race a half a dozen times and my opinion of it’s participants has changed drastically.  The first year I watched the event I could not wrap my head around what was taking place: a grueling 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run, with over 2,500 athletes taking to the water.  Each year I became more convinced that these people were in fact crazy, and, that I must become one of them.  Finally, in September of 2009 I volunteered at the massage tent at the finish line to give myself priority registration for the following year.  Annually, the race fills in only a few hours.  So, not only are there 2,500 people crazy enough to do this race, but they are also willing to stand in line for hours, pay several hundred dollars for entry and train the better part of a year in preparation.

Having lived in Madison in the past, I was familiar with the course, knew how excited the people in Madison get about the event and was prepared for weather ranging anywhere from the 40′s and raining, to the 90′s with 40 mph winds.  Arriving in Madison a couple of days before the race, I was beyond intimidated by the incredibly choppy water of Lake Monona. So choppy in fact, that several athletes had to be rescued from the course during practice sessions. I did my best to avoid getting caught up in the inevitable nervousness that surrounds the race registration and expo… I failed. Instead I focused on channeling my nerves into logistical preparation and tried to get all gear organized for bike check-in and bag drop as early as possible.

Special Needs Bags

I went through the race in my head countless times, each time trying to predict exactly what I might need at different points during the race according to what conditions prevailed: A, B or C. Predicting how my nutrition plan could change if and when my body experienced X, Y or Z. I wanted anticipate all scenarios and cover all of my basses so all that was left to do was eat good food, get rest and enjoy spending time with my wife.  The days flew by. I never did get the guts to get in the water for a practice swim nor did I get on my bike.  I did go for one short run just to calm the nerves a bit.  It was cold and windy all day on Saturday and I was prepared for anything race day would bring- or so I thought!

4am Race Morning Meal

I started the morning off in almost a meditative state. Honestly, the level of calm I felt was a true surprise,  almost out-of-body.  All of the hard work and long hours of training were behind me. My bike and gear bags were waiting for me on the course.  I was sitting there injury free, at race weight, well rested and on top of my nutritional needs.  My wife and I shared several very tender moments on race morning, both knowing how much time, money and mental real estate had gone into getting me to this point.  My wife Jennifer, being the authority of internal medicine at (se), had done her homework.  She made sure that my diet was well balanced, nutrient dense and low inflammatory.  I incorporated coconut oil, cod liver oil, Amalaki and Brahmi (Ayurvedic herbs for inflammation and tissue health), Bioplasma cell salts, and Chinese Herbs to nourish my tendons and ligaments.

I am the biomechanics geek behind (se) and  am a stickler for form.  I made sure that I received professional swim coaching to increase efficiency and  reduce stress on my shoulders.  I took the time to get my bike fit by one of the best bike fitters in the Midwest. Worked with a personal trainer to increase my core strength and improve dynamic stability. And, as a runner before all else, I worked on running natural with a good mid- foot strike, a forward lean and keeping unnecessary motion of the upper body to an absolute minimum.

Race Morning in Front of the Capital

The walk from the hotel to the start of the race was divine. It was absolutely gorgeous. The temperature was n the mid 50′s, there was no wind and the sky was clear.  My wife and I both felt like the day was destine for glory.  It is hard to explain, at the risk of sounding a bit “out there”, however, it was as though someone or something had me under their wing. As a practitioner I spend  the majority of my days taking care of others, but today was my day to be taken care of.

Getting to the race at 5:30 seemed too early for a 7am start, but it was already buzzing with athletes. First on the list was to go check on my bike.  I went down to T1 (swim to bike transition) an pumped up my tires, put my nutrition on my bike and made sure that I had my spare tire and co2.

I have been asked so many times “WHY”, why do you feel the need to race? Is it about the competition? Do you feel that you have something to prove?

My answer is simple. I am looking for pure experience.  What most people don’t understand, is the connection that you feel to other athletes. Rather than competition, I find connection.  The guy who’s bike was next to mine offered to help hold my bike while I pumped my tires.  He had a pump and I had a headlamp so we helped each other. I had great conversation with people as we all waited in the long lines for the last chance to use the bathroom.  At body marking, everyone was laughing and looking for ways to instill confidence in one another.

Body Marking

The volunteer gave me a hard time because I did not give her any tattoo free surfaces to mark. She told me I should work out a deal with the race director to get the same number every year, that way I could just get the race numbers added to my tattoo’s.

After getting marked it was time to put on the wet suit and head to the swim start.  Believe it or not, this would be my  lowest point of the whole day.  While putting on my wetsuit I heard a terrible sound, the sound of tearing neoprene. I have to admit, my reaction was probably overkill, but it was genuine. I yelled an expletive like I freakin’ meant it!  Without any hesitation a voice of total calm followed from a man sitting across the hall.  “It’s not going to matter one bit”, “it’s in a good place”, “the swim is still going to be the exact same distance”, “I tore my wetsuit last year along the zipper and my swim time was the exact same as the year before”.  The voices kept coming, everyone around me just held the space for me to have my short but intense freak out… and then it was over.

Wetsuit Fail

After getting my tantrum out of the way, I again reached  an almost out-of-body calm.  I said goodbye to my wife and walked down the helix to the water.  My plan was to enter the water as late as possible.  It being a water start, athletes have to  tread water for upwards of 20-30 minutes prior to the start gun.  I have a small phobia of cold, deep, dark water. I had a near drowning following a head injury while surfing when I was in grad school in California.  I am fine once I start swimming, but for months before the race I was a little panicky about the swim start.  My plan worked. I was the very last athlete into the water. In fact, I was not even in the water yet when the gun went off.  My plan was to hang back and let the crowd spread out before starting to swim, and I did just that.  I decided that taking a wide course and swimming a few extra meters was worth avoiding the punishment of being kicked in the face.

To my pleasant surprise the swim went very well.  The water was glass. I found a spot out wide and back that was not as crowded.  I was able to get into a nice relaxed rhythm.  The swim course goes along the shore of Lake Monona right in front of the Frank Lloyd Wright Memorial Terrace, visible with every breath on the inbound loop of the course.  The Terrace was dripping with spectators, music was thumping and the voice of Mike Reilly was on the loud speaker.

In the water I was able to slip into a meditative state. The leg of the race that I feared the most turned out to be the most tranquil.  As I reached the last buoy and saw the swim finish I could have screamed. In fact, I think I tried before realizing that it is not a good idea while still swimming.  I knew that my wife would be waiting at the swim exit. I also knew that she understood just how big of a deal it was for me mentally to complete the swim.  Exiting the water I was certain that at some point that day I would here Mike Reilly say my name followed by the famous words I had trained so many hours to hear.

One of the best moments of my life.

After leaving the water and getting my wetsuit pealed by the volunteers, I started up the helix to T1.  I told myself before the race that I was going to walk up the helix in order to settle my breathing and heart rate, making it easier to take in some food and fluid in transition.  This proved to be difficult. Caught in the moment, I ran all the way into the terrace and into the changing room.

By the time I was out of the water and through transition there were not nearly as many bikes on the racks as when I was pumping up my tires a couple of hours earlier.   I was just looking to finish, and getting out of the water and on the bike was not a given for me, so I was happy.

Heading out of T1 on my way to Verona

As I headed out on the bike I heard my name called out, I spotted my wife and good friends.  It is amazing to feel such support.  Anyone that thinks that the Ironman is an individual sport needs to talk to someone who has lived with an athlete training for the race and they will tell you, it’s a group effort.

My goal for the bike leg was two-fold: 1- pace myself and 2- meet my nutrition goals.  Similar to ultramarathons, the Ironman is as much of an eating event as it is a swimming ,biking or running event.  I had two bottles of carbo pro in the back cage of the bike and plain water in the bottle on my aerobars.  I planned on the bike taking me 7.5 hours and wanted to take in 300 calories per hour.  Taking in 2,250 calories while riding 112 miles on a bike is anything but easy.  Chewing solid foods is difficult, especially when the bike course is one of the most difficult courses of any Ironman course.  The constant hills give few opportunities to free up the hands long enough to unwrap, bite, chew, drink, swallow…and…repeat.  So, most calories come from liquid gels.  The gels are mostly long chain carbohydrates derived from corn multidextrose. Carbo pro is my favorite gel, the 1200 is very concentrated and contains electrolyte replacement as well.  I mix the concentrated gel into several ounces of water making each bottle on my bike good for 600 calories or two hours of fuel.  I stayed with my nutrition plan throughout the first half of the bike.  The course starts out with a relatively flat 15 mile ride from Madison out to Verona, making front loading the calories easy.  Once you hit Verona there are not many sections that are flat, and taking in fuel becomes that much harder.

The First loop ( Verona to Mt. Horeb to Cross Plains back to Verona) went very well.  I felt strong and the hills came and went.  I had ridden this section of the course in training so I knew what to expect.  At the start of the second loop you have the chance to refuel at a bag drop.  At the bag drop I decided to dismount from my bike, sit down on the grass and take in some solid foods.  I ate a chocolate coconut macaroon, a Justin’s Almond Butter and a squeeze tube of apple sauce.  I was conflicted by my decision as I watched several riders of whom I had passed earlier make a brief stop at their bag and then take off.  There is no question that this slowed down my bike time, but I think stopping to take in some solid food was one of the best decisions I made in the race.

Heading into the second loop.

There is a point that I have reached during every endurance event I have done, where I question whether I will be able to finish. At this point something in me gives up. At the same point something deeper in me wakes up.  I wish I understood this better.  The quest to understand this keeps me, and just about everyone else who I’ve talked to who does these events, coming back for more.

At this point in the race the mind has divided into enough fragments that full dynamic conversations start to play out.  At times the race course, the bike and the athlete all disappear.  All that is left are the sensations that I have come to call- “Pure Experience”.

As I ride through the festival in Verona I hear my name called out, it was my dad.  This would be the first point in the race where I saw him and it makes me cry.  A few miles later I see my friend Luke, I get a huge rush, I know that by his excitement I am still looking good.  If I were struggling, he would have had more of a “hang in there” kind of tone.  I charge on.

The second loop proves to be everything I was warned about.   Hills that I did not even remember being there on the first loop, now seem substantial.  The “big hills” now seem giant, and the short flat sections now seem to go on forever.  The saving grace on the bike were the people.  People showed up in the hundreds out on remote sections of the course.  There were Tour De France-like carnivals lining the steeper climbs.  Spectators with bikini’s and chicken heads, of both genders.  Tribal drums pounded. Children with painted faces and T-shirts that read, “my mom is gonna be an Ironman,” forced a smile onto my face.  There were people running up hill along side my bike, telling me how strong I looked, telling me they liked my tattoos. These same people must have run that hill dozens of times that day.  It is just part of the spirit of watching people dig deep.  Somehow this type of suffering is so exhilarating.

As I made the left turn on Whalen instead of a right, I registered that this meant I was heading back to Madison.  I soon after passed my brother and sister-in-laws and my niece and nephew.  Just seeing their eyes light up and hearing them yell “Go Uncle Doug”, made me promise to myself that I would finish this race.

The ride back to Madison seemed to go by quicker than expected. I think juxtaposed to my ride through the country that seemed to never end, knowing that I would soon have to step off the bike and run a marathon, made the time almost seem to come too fast.

Can you say stiff?

At the very end of the bike course you have to ride back up the helix that you got to ride down 112 miles ago.  The slope is not so steep.  It is not as much the size of the climb that makes this a difficult task, it is the dizzying motion of riding in concentric circles that makes you think you are going to crash.  Once reaching the top of the helix, still swirling from the ride up, I quickly abandon any fantasy that I was going to execute the acrobatic dismount that I had so come to admire in my years of watching the elite spring off of their bikes into a effortless jog.  I had practiced this move every time   I finished spinning on the indoor trainer and when coming home from training rides.  I purchased special triathlon specific cycling shoes equipped with quick release Velcro, made to tear open as you leap from your bike into the final leg of the race.  Instead, as I approached the bike catchers, I trembled to even squeeze my breaks hard enough to bring me to a stop before crossing the dismount line.  It was pure luck that I was able to unclip my shoe from the pedal before my leg clumsily fell to the ground.  Unclipping the second foot proved to take a few tries as the bike catcher did less catching and more holding as I stood over my bike unable to swing my leg over the frame.  By lowering the bike to an acute angle I was able to slide my leg over the top tube and stand on my own.  In an attempt to walk my body automatically returned to my cycling cadence awkwardly lurching me forward in to a precarious trot.  Running on concrete in a cycling shoe is not easy with fresh legs, but next to impossible at this point  of the race.  I managed to throw an arm into the air in the direction of familiar voices coming from the balcony above, unable to coordinate a paralleled glance.

Entering into T2 was fabulous.  Another enormous section of the race now behind me. I called out my number and a man appeared in front of me holding a bag with my number. He put a hand on my salty back and said welcome back to Madison.  He then pointed out that I just had a marathon that stood between me and the title of being an Ironman.  As I entered into the changing area I headed straight to the closest chair.  Another  volunteer appeared, and help me empty the contents of my bike to run bag.  I kicked off my bike shoes and slipped on my running shoes.  The only comparison I can make to how good this trade felt is to the feeling of putting on the clogs after a day in ski boots.  Still wearing my aero bike helmet, I tried to act sober, much like a high school  conversation with the parents when coming home from a party.  My helper just kept going along with it, entertaining my claims that I was about to step into my element. That really I am more of a runner, and that the fun part of the race was about to begin.  He gave my nothing but words of encouragement.  He brought be a cup of water and helped me open the wrapper of another almond butter.  He pretended to understand what I was saying even though  my tongue was now firmly glued to the roof of my mouth.  As I started to walk away he compassionately gestured toward my head with my running hat in his hand, not even cracking a smile that I was still wearing my helmet.

Leaving the terrace and heading outside it hit me, I had almost 8 hours remaining before the 17 hour cutoff.  I could walk the entire marathon and still finish this race.  I had played it smart.  I paced myself exactly according to my race plan and despite how unbelievably altered I felt getting off the bike, I was right on schedule.

Pure Muscle Memory

My first few miles of the run were awesome,  I had such confidence that the day would be a success.  The temperature was in the mid-high 70′s, warm but nothing to complain about.  I coached myself to settle down, but running around the capital and down the densely packed roar of State street over-road good judgment.  The crowd in Madison is like no other.  As I turned off of crowded State street and headed down Mifflin my legs relaxed into a far more realistic pace.  Around mile 3, the course heads right into the UW Badgers football stadium, Camp Randall.  The supple turf was a welcome treat.

Camp Randall- Home of the UW Badgers

Making my way around the field and out of the stadium, I would be introduced to a completely new experience of my running career- “THE CALF CRAMP”! The ramp from the field out to the lot was just enough of a change from the soft turf of the infield to send my calf into protest.  The cramp broke my stride and sent me hobbling up the remaining  few feet of the ramp.  Once back on level ground it was as though nothing had ever happened.  I walked for a few minutes and then returned back to a slow run.  I was able to hold off the return of such an intense cramp for the remainder of my run, but the tightness never went away.  I was managing to run for a half mile and then would need to walk in order avoid the spasm that lurked in the background.  My ego went through a 3 mile stretch where I had to weigh my desire to finish against my expectations of being able to put up a good marathon time.  The conversation went something like this……

….”come on, you can run faster than this. You are a runner, you have run hundreds of miles on tired legs. You don’t want to make everyone stay out here all night waiting for you to finish”……

….And then I reached Library Mall and started heading back up State street. The conversation stopped and I returned to “Pure Experience”.  Once again the roar of the crowd and the looks on peoples faces captured my attention.  My pace picked up momentum and became effortless.  I spotted my wife and my in-laws, niece and nephew, and my neighbors all standing together.  I got filled with energy.  I felt no pain.  I gave high fives. I thanked people for being out there. I was on top of the world.

Running Down State Street (click to view video).

As the miles went by I found myself back at the capital, which is a mental trip because it’s a two loop course. It was great to be half way done, yet intimidating that I still had 13.1 more miles to run.  I again saw my dad, he made it clear that he was very proud.  My wife was glowing with encouragement. My neighbors were unbelievable. The Laga’s quiet and confident, “you got this”.  I would find my self running with beautiful form, then walking with my hands on my hips groaning, then running again.  It seemed like this was just gonna be how went for the rest of the race.  With 6 miles left coming back through Library mall and onto State street something came over me.  I broke into a near sprint.  My body once again was overcome with energy feeding off of the crowd.  I pride myself on my knowledge of the human body.  There is no good explanation for how such a burst is possible when the body is so fatigued.  I discovered that my calf felt fine if I ran fast.  So for the next 6 miles I traded walk to jog, for walk to run.  I set a goal for myself to get to the finish line before 10pm, which meant that last 6 miles I had to really pick up the pace. I started watching my watch like a hawk, digging as deep as I could to bring it home strong.  As I made my final turn off of State street and headed around the capital I had the finish in sight.  I took one more look at the watch and had just under a minute left to make it down the last stretch.  I entered the shoot and then I heard……those famous words……and this time my name came just before them.  “Doug Bertram- YOU ARE AN IRONMAN”.

Feeling better then I could have ever imagined!

With My Wife at the Finish- Could not have done it without her!

I judge every race by how hard I try and by how fast I recover after.  My goal is to push myself hard enough to meet parts of myself that I was not aware of before the race, yet to be able to go back to work a few days later and feel back to normal.  Endurance sports can be wonderful teachers, but they do ask a tremendous amount from our bodies. To participate safely one must take into consideration the long term effects that pushing the body has on it’s structures.  Fitness should be extended to the cellular level and proper nutrition and rest are just as important as active training.

In the days following the race my body recovered exceptionally well. I did not sign up for next year, but I will be back.  Thank you to the amazing City of Madison, the incredible volunteers and to my family and friends for this experience.