Well, I did it.
13 hours and 33 minutes after the starting gun went off, I crossed the finish line of Ironman Florida culminating a journey I started almost exactly 2 years ago when I began training for my first ever triathlon.
2,300 athletes from each of the 50 states and 35 foreign countries.
2.4 mile ocean swim, 112 bike, then a marathon run: 26.2 miles. 140.6 total.
When I joined Team in Training in October of 2006, I was 46 and had never done a timed race – not even a 5K run. In fact, I had never even seen a triathlon apart from a few clips on TV and none of that really registered other than I thought it looked a lot like torture.
But I joined TNT with the goal of learning how to do a race correctly and could never have imagined I’d accomplish something like this. In fact, I remember other TNT veterans talking about doing an Ironman (some had done one, others were training or planning) and saying aloud, “That’s totally incomprehensible to me… I’m not even interested in considering something like that!” But as I like to say: Never say never.
I am so incredibly fortunate to have found Team in Training. I completed this Ironman with six other great TNT alums, all people I met through the program. In fact, 10 minutes after I finished my first half Ironman just over a year ago, several people approached me and caught me in the end-of-the-race triathlon high, and invited me to join them in working towards this. And now here I am.
Simply put: I consider this one of the biggest accomplishments of my life thus far. Not due to the length and difficulty of the race, although that’s certainly part of it. But primarily because this was something incredibly intimidating and I did it anyway.
I tend to be pretty harsh with myself and although I’m lucky to have had lots of meaningful accomplishments and experiences, for the most part those were things that came pretty easily to me. I never had to work hard in school, sports came naturally, I’m blessed with a lot of confidence that has allowed me to do lots of things that barely caused a twinge of trepidation.
But this was different. This whole thing was so far outside my comfort zone that I couldn’t even have placed it on a map. To me, this was a huge, huge deal.
There were six of us – all Team in Training alums that had never before done this distance – and we all trained together for almost a year then rented a beach house in Florida for a full week. I arrived a few days early and it was COLD! In the 40’s and windy… I wasn’t prepared for this as the weather is traditionally hot and fortunately it warmed up a bit as the days passed.
The days before were surprisingly hectic. We had to go pick up our bikes (they had been shipped) get registered, go an athlete’s meeting, etc. And then we had to go drop off our bikes in advance as well as our transition bags – also had to sort out what to put in our “special needs” bags that were made available halfway through the bike and run.
In the couple of days before the race, I found it difficult to turn my mind off and stop worrying about the swim start, seven hours on the bike, my first marathon, etc. Several people commented on how unusually quiet I had become.
But race morning soon can and as I was standing on the beach in the 40-degree temperature with 2,300 people, mostly just as intimidated as I was, I still didn’t want to do the race. I did not sleep a wink the night before and for the two or three days before I could barely eat out of nervousness.
But there was no turning back at this point so I tried hard as possible to get my mind into a positive state. As I stood in the starter’s corral, I set my jaw, took several deep breaths and waited for the starting gun.
And when it fired and I waded out with the mass into the water, I started to laugh.
I smiled to myself at the absurdity of the washing machine of all the thrashing arms and legs and the sea of neoprene-covered bodies. It was an incredible sight and I found it exhilarating and not scary at all for some reason. I realized how lucky I was to be actually doing this.
I took care to protect myself the best I could, but took a couple of accidental elbows pretty squarely, one right smack in the middle of my nose that made my sight go blurry for a while and another that dislodged my goggles.
But it still was fine. I was okay, just collected myself and kept going. And when I accidentally hit someone myself I apologized even if they didn’t hear me. And I kept smiling.
When I got to the first major turn buoy, everyone around me had their heads up out the water because the group had bunched at that spot and several people shouted out and celebrated. I did the same.
And when I cruised up on the beach to end the first loop, I told myself: You are already half-way through the swim! Just keep going and you’ll be done in no time!
A guy popped up on the beach next to me and said, “Hey, how about we do that again?” And I slapped him on the back and said, “Sounds good to me!” and off we went.
The second swim lap was much less congested and I just settled in and enjoyed the swim. The water was pretty warm and clear enough you could see some sea life. Not long before the swim finish, I felt something across my arm that felt like kelp and when I looked underwater I saw it had been a big jellyfish! I looked at my arm and waited for it to start burning but that never happened. Thank goodness.
I hit the beach and looked at my watch and saw 1:15 and was thrilled. Faster than I had anticipated and I hadn’t expended a tremendous amount of energy. I was on track!
In my internal dialog I was saying: “You just finished an Ironman swim! One of the most intimidating experiences in all of sports and you did it! It’s behind me now and time to get on my bike and go for a ride!”
As I ran up the beach, I encountered a big group of volunteers who were there to help you strip your wetsuit. I found someone that was available and another person came to help right away. They had me turn around and pushed the suit down past my waist then yelled: Sit down! So I plopped my butt on the beach and stuck my feet up in the air and two of them worked the thing of my legs. Then, I jumped up, they handed it to me and after thanking them, off I ran up to the transition area.
Transitions at Ironman are very different than any other triathlon. Rather than setting up everything you need next to where you bike is racked, you actually have a big plastic bag for the first transition and they are all placed in big long rows in number sequence. As I ran through the walkway past the hotel, volunteers were using megaphones to announce the numbers of the racers (they were written with permanent marker on our arms) and then told us to shout out our number when we got to where the bags were.
I yelled “97! 97!” and I was soon handed my bag and ran right into the changing tent.
The tent is separated by gender and I was surprised to see almost all the folding chairs fully occupied. It was a sea of wet guys with gear everywhere. But I just went deeper in and found a spot and before long was sorting through all my stuff and changing into my bike kit.
I had decided long ago I was going to make a complete change at each transition. In shorter races, you wear the same shorts and shirt through all three legs but in this one I wanted fully padded bike shorts (not suitable for the swim and run) and a sleeved bike jersey to keep the hot sun off me, since I was going to be on the bike about seven hours.
So, I just stripped down and made my change while dozens where doing the same thing. Before long I exited the tent and found the sunscreen station where about a dozen volunteers were slathering everyone with tubs of sun block; they had on latex gloves and were just smearing it on everyone pretty thickly. I asked the nice woman if she could make sure and cover the back of my neck and she told me I should spread the stuff she put of my face, then leaned over and told me to wipe my hands off on her shirt, which I did. I thanked them and moved on.
Again my number was announced on a bullhorn and as I ran toward the row where my bike was located, another volunteer had taken it off the rack and handed it to me in the aisle. I was soon across the mount line and took my time getting on the bike, as I didn’t want to wipe out with dozens of people in a narrow chute. Before long, I was settled on the bike and on my way!
I immediately felt happy to be on the bike. I knew it would be a time to get plenty to drink and then eat when I felt like I needed it. The bike is always the toughest part for me but I kept a positive dialog in my head and kept thinking: “You are doing an Ironman bike! Every pedal stroke takes you closer to the finish! Don’t worry about the time, just keep pedaling and making progress!”
There had been a good wind all week and it was in my face at the outset. It was chilly, my nose was running and my throat was starting to get raw from the wind. And as I knew would happen, I started to get passed and passed and passed.
It turns out my swim time was right in the middle of the field, which meant that there were about 1,100 people behind me and about the same amount in front. But the ones in front were primarily all very strong athletes and I didn’t expect to pass anyone any time soon. I also knew there were plenty of great athletes behind me; people that are decent swimmers but great cyclists. And so scores of them started to move on by.
But, I was riding my own race and wasn’t going to get caught up in what others were doing. My goal was to finish and to do that I needed to make strong, steady progress and that’s where I kept my focus.
After about two hours, people started to space out a bit. Up to that point there were people all around me and at any point I could count about 100 riders in my frontward field of vision. But as we got out into the rural countryside, the faster people moved on and I separated myself from most the people behind me. And I started to pass some people myself.
Miles 20 to 50 were all straight into the teeth of a good headwind and that was tough mentally. I didn’t look at my bike computer because I didn’t want to think about my pace, just the progress I was making. I didn’t look at my watch for hours.
At Mile 50 you can stop for what they call your bike “special needs” bag. It’s just like a transition bag that has your number on the outside and you can put anything you think you might like/need at that point, which was almost halfway on the bike leg. You drop it off just before the race and they truck them out to a designated area, then arrange them in order.
My plan was to jump off the bike at that point, have a peanut butter sandwich, change out my water bottles (they had aid stations where they handed you Gatorade and water but I wanted my own mixture of sports drink with nutritional supplement) stretch a bit, then hop back on. That all went well – again, a horde of volunteers announcing your number then handing you your bag – and I was back in the saddle with the full confidence I was going to finish this race… And I was grinning again.
Fortunately, soon thereafter we made a turn and the wind was finally helping us. However, that didn’t last long and another turn meant riding into the wind once more.
At this point, I just tried to relax and keep cranking away. I had written the name of my parents on my forearm in such a way it was visible during the swim and when I was on the bike. When I started to get mental fatigue, I looked at their names, thought about how much I loved them and how proud they would have been to have seen me do this. Made me feel great many times when I really needed a mental boost.
The distance was marked every 10 miles and again, I never looked at my bike computer. But as I passed each one of those milestones I pumped my fist a bit, smiled and realized I was just that much closer to the goal I had been working towards for almost a year.
And the time moved faster than I would have thought. When I got to mile marker 100 (out of 112 total) I had a special private celebration because I had never ridden further than that. Every pedal stroke was a new personal best and I was getting darn close to finishing an Ironman bike!
At this point I did start looking at my watch a bit and knew if I could just keep it up, I was going to come in under 7 hours on the bike leg, which represented a nice accomplishment given my below-average cycling abilities. And when I did get back to transition I saw I surpassed that goal by seven minutes... And I now knew all I had to do is get through the run and I was home!
I did have a couple of slight worries at this point, though. Toward the end of the bike one of my toes on my left foot was really killing me and I was hoping it was just asleep or slightly cramped. And I also had a slight knee injury from all the long runs and bikes in the training run-up and although it seemed to be okay on the bike, I wasn’t confident it was going to hold up on the run.
But, I kept my mental dialog positive, celebrated finishing an Ironman bike leg, handed my bike to a volunteer (they rack it for you) grabbed my bike-to-run transition bag from another volunteer and shuffled into the transition tent still in my bike shoes.
I once again took my time and made a complete change of clothes, putting on tri shorts (tight like bike shorts because I wanted to minimize any possible chaffing) and my tri top and visor. All went well and I also took a couple of ibuprofen before heading out just to stave off cramps and any possible knee pain.
I also decided to use the port-a-potty as there were plenty free right by the changing tent and I figured it was a good time to take a pit stop.
And then I was off on my first-ever marathon! I had run up to 20 miles in training but never a full 26.2. But I actually felt pretty good and I knew that even if something went horribly wrong and I had to walk quite a bit, I would still be able to finish before the midnight cut-off.
The run was two 13.1 mile loops, out and back. So, in preparation for this I decided to break the race into four digestible 6.55 segments. It turned out to be a fantastic plan because I had a stretch time goal and conservative time goal for all four segments (the same numbers for all) and that made it much easier to track my progress and not be overwhelmed.
The other part of my strategy was to run between aid stations then walk through them. The great thing is they were about one mile apart, so again that made it easy to break everything down. I bypassed the first two or three because I carried a water bottle out of transition (again, my own mix of drink and supplements) and after feeling stiff at the very beginning, I just relaxed and fell into a decent, steady pace.
It soon dawned on me that I just needed to find a pace that I thought I could hold. I realized that if I just kept it to where I wasn’t breathing hard (I kept my mouth closed to keep me honest about over-exertion) that I felt like I could go forever.
When I hit Mile 4 I started to do my aid station walks but resumed running as soon as I got the fluids down my neck and hit the last trash can. I’d count down: 3-2-1, run! And even though my legs were heavy I was able to get right back into rhythm.
When I got to the first turnaround (and thus completing my first segment) I saw they had a timing mat there, so I knew they were recording time just as I had broken it down! That made me laugh and when I looked at my watch, I saw 1:05 which was far better than I had expected. I was feeling great!
I knew by how things were going that I was going to finish the first half of the run before the sun went down. Which is another way of saying that almost the entire two remaining segments would be in the pitch dark. But that was all part of the plan and I was definitely ahead of schedule at this point.
The 2nd segment was also good although a little slower. I walked all the aid stations and just as I was nearing the turnaround for the second run loop, I saw my teammates Todd and Brain getting ready to finish their second run loop (they are wicked fast) and were just a few minutes away from entering the finishers chute. I congratulated them – they looked really happy and had obviously run into each other somewhere along the way and decided to stick together – and headed out on my run segment #3 of 4.
There was another special needs stop about this point and I decided to eat another peanut butter sandwich and take a couple more ibuprofen. Things were tracking along fine but it was almost dark now and cooling off rapidly and around Mile 15 I started to have some troubling stomach and bowel problems.
I knew from others that marathons often bring on “runner’s diarrhea” and I knew this was a strong possibility at this point of my race. My stomach felt so bad that if I ran at all I was worried about vomiting (I saw others hurling along the way) and I realized I needed to settle down and try and pull things together.
So, I had to abandon my run-to-every-aid-station plan and I hoped it was just a temporary thing that would pass. I had taken some Pepto tablets with me in my shirt pocket and chewed them up and walked.
I walked a couple of miles and that actually made me feel much better. I was worried about walking that long because you can stiffen us and I still had about 10 miles to go. But I decided to stay positive and knew no matter what I was going to finish and that was my #1 goal.
By this point I would say about half the people were walking. I had been warned about how easy it would be to fall in with them and how hard and long that could make your race. So I decided I would try running again for a bit.
I still didn’t feel well so I walked some, ran some and just get doing that for a couple of more miles. As I got with about a mile of the final turn around – thus starting my final run segment – I decided to run again and realized I was feeling better.
When I the timing mat to end my 3rd segment I saw 1:29 on my watch; far slower than the first two parts but still under my conservative goal of 1:30! I was really surprised because I thought it would have been much slower.
It was at this point I knew I was home free. I only had to finish this last segment which was effectively a 10K and I was feeling okay. Not great but okay.
I walked a little more than I would have liked but did my best to run between aid stations. I knew the last mile of the course was lined with thousands of spectators who had been shouting encouragement to everyone by name (it’s printed on your race number) and I wanted to feel strong going through there so I could really soak it in.
I really hadn’t been chatting with the other racers but I started talking to a young woman because I would pass her, then she would pass me, and it was kind of humorous. She was friendly and very happy to be close to finishing as it was her first Ironman, just like me.
Then I got down to the business of finishing the race. I was still not feeling good but I was so close! I could hear the announcer at the finish line and all the noise from the crowd… And I was already to the point where there were people lining the run course on either side and they were all shouting and clapping and yelling my name and I was thanking them and smiling and several commented on “Wow, he still has energy to smile” and that made me even happier.
Just as I neared the finisher’s chute I slowed a bit to let the woman in front of me go in and have her moment and I heard Todd & Brian (long since finished) yelling for me as were some of the others from our supporters group.
Then I passed under the archway and into the chute. It was just me. The woman in front was already across the line and I was hit by all the floodlights and all the people that were cheering were cheering for me! I raised my arms and pumped my fists and had a huge grin on my face.
And then the moment you play in your head for the entire year of grueling swims, runs and bike rides. All those moments you suffered in training but knew it was the only way to get to this point.
The announcer – who is prompted ahead of time as your timing chip relays your name just before you get to the chute – yells into the PA system: “Peter Brzycki, you are an IRONMAN!!!”
And chills went down my spine.
I did it.
More volunteers took the chip from my ankle, handed me a thermal blanket (it was very chilly by this time) put the finisher’s medal around my neck and handed me a t-shirt and hat. There was also a photographer to take your photo.
And I saw our support group with Todd & Brian and we all embraced and celebrated. It was awesome.
Click on the "play" button to see a video about the race:
And then I immediately felt very, very hungry. I went to a tent where they had food for the athletes and was thrilled to see fresh, hot pizza and coke with ice! It sounded perfect to me so I grabbed about three slices and sat down and ate.
And then suddenly, I got very, very cold. Everyone else had gone back to the finish area to see the three other teammates end the race, but I had to bolt into a hotel lobby because I was freezing to death.
Even though it was chilly (mid-50’s and breezy) I had been sweating a lot during the race and my clothes were soaking wet. Every time I tried to leave the hotel to find my friends, I started shivering violently and had to go back inside.
After several failed attempts, I sat and waited for someone to come find me. I didn’t have a phone with me and didn’t know anyone’s numbers by memory… Finally, someone came across me, went and retrieved my warm clothes from transition and took me to the medical tent.
They merely wrapped me in blankets, sat me next to a heater and fed me hot chicken broth. I didn't feel sick or faint, just like I couldn’t get warm. It was very strange.
Danielle from my group was also in the tent as she was having breathing issues (it turned out to be fine) so I decided to wait until she was ready to go and was content to just warm up. Before long I felt fine.
That night we all got back to the beach house and were still wired. I hadn’t slept in almost two days and had just done an Iroman, and I still wasn’t sleepy. About 1AM we all collapsed.
But we were all up before 6AM the next morning, still wired. I was sore, but not terribly so. I was sore in weird places, like my chest (have no idea why) and my underarms were chafed from the salt water then run (I guess).
We went back down to the village early on to turn in our bikes and check out the finisher’s merchandise. There where already hundreds of athletes there and I decided not to try and fight them for the apparel. Way too chaotic for me.
The rest of the next few days we just relaxed in the warm sunshine on the beach. It was great to hang out with everyone and reflect.
(these were fake, i.e. henna tattoos!)
After seeing photos from the first triathlon I did a couple of years ago, I realized I was not smiling in any of them except the finish. I also realized that wasn’t a good thing and Team in Training really preaches the concept of being aware of your surroundings, taking in the full scene the entire race, thanking the volunteers and supports, yelling encouragement to others on the course. And the reason is simple: You get much more out of the experience that way. What you put out there comes back to you many fold.
So, all along this race I smiled and gave people a thumbs-up, thanked every volunteer (literally hundreds) that helped me, said thanks to anyone that shouted my name, did a little dance with some wild girls playing loud music at one of the aid stations and generally enjoyed myself every inch of the way. No less than a dozen times spectator commented about my attitude: “Keep smiling Peter!, “He still has energy to smile – keep it up!” etc.
And it made me realize how few other people were doing this. I understand it now because very few of them probably had the benefit of the TNT coaching and it’s really too bad for them. But because I was one of the few people actually interacting with those on the sidelines, that made for even more positive energy coming my way.
All in all, a fantastic experience all around.
I’d like to thank the people that helped me along the way, because there were a lot of them.
First, to my coach Paul Ruggiero who was my coach when I started Team in Training two years ago and has been with me the entire way. Not only did he lay out all my workout schedules and provide the occasional kick in the pants, he’s a master of the mental aspect of these long races which helped me to no end.
And I’d also like to thank all my teammates: Brian, Danielle, Todd, Natalie and Emily. They were my training partners and kept me motivated over a long year. It was great spending the week in
And finally, I'd like to thank my parents. They both have been gone for over 20 years now but I had them with me all the way along. It was my dad that popped for a backyard pool even though we had very little money; and thus at a young age I developed a life-long love of the water. And my mom was one of the biggest sports fans ever and both she and my dad got me involved in athletics at a very early age, where I developed the confidence to dive into just about any sport.
As I was flying out to do this race on the long trip from California, I became surprisingly emotional. I kept thinking about my parents and how I wish they were still around to share this with me. I was thinking about what a journey this had been and how lucky I was to even be in a position to undertake something like an Ironman.
But when I was heading home, alone for the first time in a week, I was really at peace. I was just filled with an amazing sense of satisfaction... Not due to my finishing time (which was below average in that field) but because I had done something that was a big deal to ME.
And I wondered if I'd ever have that feeling again.
