Monday, August 3, 2015

Ironman Boulder, 2015

Young Wade and I stayed with my childhood best friend Sam who lives just outside of Boulder. I dragged Young Wade out of bed at the witching hour on Friday morning so we could make the eight-hour drive from Salt Lake City. If Young Wade ever speaks to me again after the number of times I required him to be awake before most people even got to bed this weekend, he shall be given an automatic Nobel Peace Prize.

On Friday and Saturday we wandered to and fro, checking into the race, packing the many gear bags, and dropping things off at the transition areas for the Ironman that would begin bright and early Sunday morning.

Bob and Cathie rolled into town Saturday afternoon after texting me 300 times throughout the day to ask whether I was staying calm. Hashtag worried parents.

The questions were fair. I have been less-than-calm in the last few weeks, although I’ve tried desperately hard to fix this. As you know, Ironman has been a very long and often terrifying and devastatingly disappointing process for me.

I set a goal to complete an Ironman when I was about 17 years old. I thought I could do it by age 30. And I was ahead of schedule when I signed up for my first race in 2011, at the ripe young age of 27.

I wholly underestimated the 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run, and when I showed up in St. George Utah on that very windy day in 2012, I had one of the more demoralizing experiences I’ve known in years.

I approached Tahoe last year after a great amount of anticipation and with a much greater respect for the challenge that I expected the race to be. I was prepared to resolve my unresolved business. And I cried that day when the entire event was canceled moments before it was set to begin.

I wrote then that I felt like I had failed somehow. I knew I had no control over the cancellation, but it didn’t really matter. I had not accomplished my goal. After all of that hard work. The hours and hours and hours and weeks and weeks and weeks of sacrificing and pushing myself to what I then thought was the brink of my capacity and the doorstep of burnout fizzled into an end-of-season let-down. And after believing that I would never get myself to sign up for another full Ironman again after Tahoe, I registered for the Boulder race in order to finish the unfinished business.

This would mean that I would have to train for another year.

And so, I did. I trained for another year. Harder than I had before. And in that process, I somehow came to terms with Ironman and with myself. I forced myself into an attitude adjustment, refusing to spend another year viewing this thing I was spending this much time on as a “chore” and deciding to imagine it as a quest, which is something entirely different.

And lo and behold, there I stood in a long line of 2,500 triathletes, walking slowly into the reservoir on Sunday morning.

I made a conscious effort to not let myself get too emotional at different points during the day. I thought this might make it difficult to breathe and focus on the task at hand. The first challenge to this happened fifty steps from the edge of the water when Young Wade caught my attention from the sidelines full of screaming supporters. I waved back at him enthusiastically, touched, as I was several times this weekend, that he and others made such a great effort to travel so far just to see me try to accomplish something that mattered to me.

And then, I was in the water.

Within minutes I was hit, kicked, grabbed, and pushed by dozens of people, each of whom was trying, like I was, to get out of the massive scuffle. But none of us ever succeeded. We banged into one another for the entire 2.4 miles. At one point I took a hard fist to the face and immediately got a swollen lip from it.

But remarkably, I stayed calm and swam on, coming out of the water an hour and twenty something minutes after entering it, significantly faster than the 1:40 time I was anticipating.

I was elated. And after being stripped of my wetsuit, I ran through the transition in my very blue underwear, beaming with excitement.

Paul Cyclemon was waiting for me and we began our 112 mile venture moments later.

The bike ride was pleasant. Hard, but pleasant. We wound through small towns and up and down hills. A little over halfway through the course I was offered a “special needs” bag I had packed the night before. In it, the most delicious soggy PB&J sandwich that has ever been consumed by any person in human history.

And before I knew it, and six hours after climbing aboard Paul Cyclemon, we entered downtown Boulder and into the second transition.

I changed into my running clothes and noticed then that I was starting to feel dehydrated. Despite my best efforts to keep up with the 10,000+ calorie-burning and excessive sweating I was experiencing that day, I knew I had not had as much water as I needed.

Surprisingly, though, I felt fantastic as I took off to begin the marathon. I ran fast and felt strong. Moments later I spotted Bob and Cathie and Young Wade and enthusiastically waved to them as they screamed. I would pass them many more times throughout the race, each time becoming slightly less enthusiastic.

I noticed right as I saw mile marker 12 that something felt wrong. I became lightheaded. I felt like I might faint. I was certain this was because of dehydration, particularly considering that (TMI!!!!) I had not peed all day.

It was a scary and frustrating circumstance to hit. My legs felt great, but I feared that if I kept pushing myself, I would pass out and be pulled from the race. And this thought terrified me.

Additionally, I started feeling pressure in my chest and noticed that it hurt when I breathed deeply. My throat started closing up and it was becoming more and more difficult to swallow (and this is still the case, now a day later). I wondered how, exactly, I was going to be able to get through another 14+ miles of running.

The next ten miles I entered a dark place. I don’t know how else to explain it. I wandered from aid station to aid station, spaced about a mile apart, like a zombie, stopping at each for several minutes to swallow as many fluids as I could get myself to put down. Volunteers asked me if I was ok as I wobbled back and forth and clumsily grabbed for food I desperately did not want to eat. 

Fear crept into me more and more as time wore on and I felt myself losing control. The thought that I could make it this far only to fail, again, made me ache inside in a way I've only known through my prior Ironman experiences. 

I pressed on as well as I could, repeating over and over in my mind “you will finish this” and “you are strong enough to do anything,” the drama of my head-voice intensifying with each passing mile.

For a while, I felt like I was in my own world, completely alone. The sounds of the crowds were distant. It was like I was stuck in some alternate reality where the only tools available to combat the struggle were the ones in my fatigued mind. And it scared me.

I pressed on, telling myself over and over in that lonely alternate reality that I would not stop and that I would succeed.

And then everything changed. I saw the marker for mile 22 and it occurred to me that I had made it ten miles from the point that I first wondered how I would keep going. I felt proud of myself, and suddenly had the motivation I needed to fill my lonely alternate reality with thoughts of everything I was grateful for in my life at that moment.

I thought of my incredible family that has believed in me enough to repeatedly trek across states to cheer my triumphs and comfort my failures, whatever may be necessary.

I thought of the good health I’ve known in my life and the incredibly fortunate circumstances that have allowed me to spend time and resources on something so relatively trivial compared to most real problems people face.

And I thought about how much I have learned about myself and the world around me in the last four years as I’ve worked, increasingly desperately and increasingly hard, to not give up. To see this through, no matter the sacrifice. I thought about how I’ve learned that I am able to endure when enduring is hard.

And it suddenly hit me. The thing I think I was supposed to learn all along, since the moment I signed up for my first Ironman race when I hoped for nothing more than eventual bragging rights. It finally hit me. And that thing was this:

Success is nothing more than persevering when perseverance is hard.

Success isn’t measured by money or friends or awards or finishing races. It's not something you achieve or capture. Success is a state of being. One that is maintained only with consistent effort and one that is lost when principles are abandoned. It is there to embrace every single time something becomes difficult and you have the choice to face it or shrivel. And those times come every moment of every day for every person. 

I had succeeded far more by that moment on mile 22 in Boulder on Sunday than I ever would have if I had just completed that first Ironman race in 2012. I was already “winning” every single moment of every single day that I did not give up when things got hard. And there I was, finally, several years later, realizing that the reason I didn’t fail in St. George or at Lake Tahoe was because you can’t fail if you keep getting up whenever you fall.

These thoughts flooded my tired mind as I turned a corner and saw a finish line come into view with thousands and thousands of screaming spectators in bleachers on either side.

I was going to make it. I realized this. I was going to get to celebrate my epiphanies with all of these people. I was finally going to get the closure I have hoped for for years.

Success wasn't waiting for me at the finish line. The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it. And how glad I was in that moment that I never wasted a first Ironman finish on a prior version of myself who didn't understand this.

My body ached and my mind was fuzzy. But I was overcome with elation and I ran toward the crowd and through the final stretch. My eyes filled with tears and I, ugly crying and all, crossed over the finish line just as the announcer yelled out my name and added “you are an Ironman!”


Exceptionally delirious.



With Sam, Travis, and Young Wade. Unsuccessfully attempting to not look like a serial killer.
~It Just Gets Stranger

56 comments:

  1. I was so happy when I saw you post that pic! Way to go, Eli. You're an inspiration.

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  2. Congratulations on your efforts and your timely epiphany Eli. I'm delighted for you.

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  3. I teared up while reading this because I was so happy for you! Congratulations! It's been fun to follow you on this long journey (since 2010!)

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  4. Legend! For your achievement and your words.

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  5. Congratulations on both the finish and the epiphany, Eli! We're Strangers, but I'm still so proud of you for persevering. :)

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  6. My eyes are not welling up, it's just INCREDIBLY dusty in here. Somebody better get a can of Pledge up in here.

    The best thing you've ever written and an honor to read. [sniff]. AGAIN WITH THIS DUST.

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  7. Congratulations! My brother in law also ran on Sunday, and it was hard not to tear up at the finish line watching person after person cross through and hear "You... Are...An Ironman!" knowing what it likely meant to every single one of those finishers. I hoped to see your fabulous hair in person but his tire blew three separate times and really affected his whole race, so you crossed a ways before him. Seriously though, I have such a huge new appreciation for what the race means after seeing the finishers (and watching them try to recover). Massive congratulations!!! HUGE accomplishment!!!

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    1. Just reading those words in Eli's post made me feel emotional, I can't even come close to imagining how it must feel for them, or even the people like you who had friends or family running it.

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  8. Gotta tell you I was very worried when I looked on the Ironman results and they didn't have anything recorded for you after mile 11 of the running. My heart was going out to yours, willing it to stay strong. Then later, I saw your post that you made it! So proud of you! And I love the epiphany. We are so much more than what we have not yet accomplished. Congratulations!

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  9. THIS..."The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it." You get it, well done Eli!

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  10. BOOM! This is what I needed to read today. It's sorta how I felt when I won the cute craft contest (twice).

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  11. Congrats Eli on your amazing journey to become an Ironman! It also brought tears to my eyes very touching.

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  12. Yay!!! This is the most fantastic epiphany ever---> "The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it" You have always been an Ironman , you just didn't realize it. *cheers*

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  13. Congratulations! Thank you for sharing your epiphany...I needed to hear success defined that way. Thank you for sharing everything...

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  14. Congratulations, Eli!!! On the race and your realization and, most of all, your success!!!

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  15. Yay!!! This is the most fantastic epiphany ever---> "The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it" You have always been an Ironman , you just didn't realize it. *cheers*

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  16. I had been checking on and off most of Sunday afternoon for your times, and was concerned when the update post mile 11 of your run seemed to take much longer than I thought it would (compared to the other time stamps). I can see now why that was. I am so happy for you that you finished and that you carried your success the way you did. Well done!! I say again, well done!!

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  17. Great job Eli! Way to go! As I was reading I was freaking out you wouldn't make it, but then I was like, no way...he's going to do it. And you did. I almost teared up myself when I saw your picture with the Ironman medal in your hand at the end. Congratulations.

    Oh, and where's your fat lip? For some reason that stuck in my head that I'd see you with this big fat lip at the end from being punched in the head.

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    1. The fat lip seemed to go back down about 8 or 9 hours into the race. By the time the race was over I only had a small cut on it. Not the dramatic battle wound that we all hoped for.

      Thanks, Lee.

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  18. Next stop Kona??? �� congratulations Eli.

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    1. He should totally do Kona, Paul Cyclemon deserves a tropical vacation.

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    2. My thought too!?!? Congrats, AND, now that you have the bug, what's your next race?? Also, it's been a pleasure to follow your journey, and by happenchance, to also personally yet paralleling experience IM St. George and being wetsuit ready with you at Tahoe when they cancelled the race. Maybe we should coordinate to actually see each other at these events!?!?

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    3. My thought too!?!? Congrats, AND, now that you have the bug, what's your next race?? Also, it's been a pleasure to follow your journey, and by happenchance, to also personally yet paralleling experience IM St. George and being wetsuit ready with you at Tahoe when they cancelled the race. Maybe we should coordinate to actually see each other at these events!?!?

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  19. I started tracking your race when you were on the run and when it updated and I saw that you had finished, I started crying because I was so excited for you. Congratulations doesn't sound like enough. You have done something really, really amazing.

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  20. Gah!! ELI!! I was on pins and needles reading that - even though I KNOW you finished! When you wrote "that something felt wrong." I literally gasped, "Oh, no!" out loud and my husband thought someone had died! I am ridiculously proud of you - way to go, Stranger.

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  21. Is anyone else worried about how TAMI fared through all of this!?!? I feel like she does a lot of the heavy lifting but doesn't get much credit.

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    1. Tami complained the whole time and then demanded a "girls' only" day at the spa. I don't know how she'll pull this off, considering that she is literally attached to me.

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  22. Ah, Eli. Well said and point taken. You are an inspiration and I'm so proud of my brotha!

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  23. "Success is nothing more than persevering when perseverance is hard." This means so much to me right now. Hard to do and harder to remember.

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    1. I just printed that quote and hung it over my desk. Congratulations, Eli, and thank you.

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  24. I'm such a quitter! Thank you for your example of persevering and succeeding through it! I hope the breathing gets better and is not anything serious!

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  25. This is my favorite thing you've ever written:

    "Success wasn't waiting for me at the finish line. The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it. And how glad I was in that moment that I never wasted a first Ironman finish on a prior version of myself who didn't understand this."

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  26. This is the best, Eli!! SO well written. I'm so proud of you!!!

    And amen to that quote of what success really is ("success is nothing more than persevering when perseverance is hard"). You put it so eloquently. Hugs!!

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  27. This is seriously one of the most inspirational things I have ever read. I am in tears. I don't understand triathlons and didn't think I would be interested in making it through this post, but it is so relateable in so many other contexts. Thank you so much for sharing your journey and your lessons.

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  28. Eli! I SAW YOU FINISH! I was looking for you all day but kept not being in the right place at the right time as I was trying to catch a friend of mine. But I got to the finish line about 10 minutes before you crossed (my friend finished about 45 minutes later). First of all, that was not ugly crying. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. And it was amazing for me to see it after reading about your journey for so long. I teared up so much when you went by and the lady next to me asked if I knew you and I said "YES! Well . . . sort of . . . " and then I didn't explain any further. And I know I sounded like a creepy stalker. But I'm ok with that.

    You looked amazing and seeing you accomplish that goal and reading about it now is one of the more inspirational things I've experienced in a long time. Thank you so much for sharing all of this, Ironman.

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  29. That's nice now take off your shirt.

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  30. I really needed to hear that thing about success today.

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  31. I don't know you (my sister went to law school with you), but I've been reading your fitness-related entries (and Snuggie texts!) for a long time, and just wanted to tell you not only congratulations, but that I LOVED your success epiphany. I was mentally whining during my run today about how hard marathon training is, and why on earth do I keep doing this to myself (I fully realize how wimpy that sounds given that you just ran a marathon at the END of an Ironman!!), and your blog post answered that self-questioning for me. Thanks for reminding me why perseverance is worth it.

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  32. So happy you made it! You should be amazingly proud of yourself. I teared up reading this too. You make me laugh, cry and inspire me.

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  33. First time reading your blog. Congratulations on a great day! I was almost in tears reading about St. George and Lake Tahoe (seriously, how unlucky can someone be in selecting event? St George has the reputation of being the toughest swim leg in recent IM history-and one that SHOULD have been canceled-so just finishing that was an amazing accomplishment!) With your race selecting history, I don't know how you avoided CDA this year!

    Anyways, I loved the inspiration you found at the end of your race. It really is about the journey and the sacrifice. It changes you. Some of us have a harder journey then others. Mine was relatively painless. I was a lifelong obese couch potato who decided to "lose 10 lbs since my fat pants don't fit anymore". Fifty pounds later, I got challenged to a 5k. Six months later, I had completed a marathon and a 70.3 (I honestly never thought I could run a 5k). I set my sights on a full, and completed IM Wisconsin two years later (2014) on a perfect weather day. I knew in training that I would only have one shot (work and family responsibilities were too great for me to extend this rather selfish exercise) and I was determined to give it my all. I faced a lot of doubt and a lot of demons on some very long and lonely training days. I always felt that the true victory was in having the strength and courage to cross the STARTING LINE. Everything afterwards was just a celebration of the journey. I fretted endlessly about going through what you endured (canceled or shortened event, insane weather, bike mechanical, injury), anything that would threaten my one and only attempt. I got my chance, and I struggled (major GI issues leading to severe dehydration and hyponatremia) but I persevered. Ended up walking the last 7 miles and it was ugly at times. But a celebration it was. My life is different, as is my outlook. I am a better person now...and that is the real victory. Sounds like you found the same. Congratulations!

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    1. BTW, I couldn't post under my wordpress ID (don't know why), but I hate leaving anonymous comments.
      Raymond
      https://roadtomadison.wordpress.com/

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  34. Congrats Eli! I've loved following your journey. What wonderful insight you have; you have a gift with words.

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  35. Congratulations Eli! I've never commented but have been reading "Stranger" since the Snuggie texts led me here. My kids and I have followed your Ironman journey together. Sunday, we watched the live feed and saw you cross the finish line. As the announcer said ,"Eli McCann...You are an Ironman!", we cheered for you ( and cried a bit) ! Two of my kids run cross country and I know the commitment that takes, what you have accomplished is inspiring. Enjoy this victory, and thanks so much for sharing your journey.
    Angie ( couldn't get my Wordpress account to work)

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  36. You know when you read a book and you keep taking breaks because it is so good that you want it to last? That is what this post was for me. Thank you for that.

    My husband completed his first Ironman at Ironman Texas this past May and it was a life altering event for all of us - I am so, so happy for you.

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  37. So happy to read this post, and so happy for you! Rock on. (Is that still something the kids say these days?)

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  38. Congratulations! How incredibly motivating. And I sincerely hope you've peed since then.

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  39. AC/DC ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!

    Absolutely LOVE this: "Success wasn't waiting for me at the finish line. The finish line was waiting for me to carry my success to it."

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  40. Congratulations Eli!! What an accomplishment! You are an inspiration!! Way to continue on! God Bless! :)

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  41. Congratulations, IRONMAN! "Swim 2.4 miles! Bike 112 miles! Run 26.2 miles! Brag for the rest of your life" - John Collins, Father of IRONMAN.

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  42. Congrats man! That is quite the accomplishment. Glad to see things are good!

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  43. Thank you for persevering and succeeding! I really needed to read these words right now.
    p.s. You should totally be Ironman for Halloween this year. You already have the costume, and it gives you another chance to brag about your achievement!

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