Swiss
Air flight LX 053 touches down peacefully on
Wednesday morning July 9 in the hub of central
Europe, otherwise known as Zurich. Surrounding me
in seats 22B, 23AB and 24AB was my very own
Brendan's Buddies NICU Race Team made up of
Brendan himself, his two brothers Tom and Keith, my
wife June (Brendan's Mom) and my 18 year old niece,
also head cheerleader, Marie. A bit fuzzy eyed, we
were soon greeted with a tribute to the Swiss
princess of childhood stories, Heidi herself. A
real cool nickelodeon style movie was produced as
the airport train shuttle whisked by hundreds of
still pictures of Heidi in the mountains, then Heidi
as a teenager, then Heidi all grown up. I don't
recall that part of the story but we all remarked
how filled out Heidi became!
Getting the triathlon bike and all our gear through
customs was very efficient because after all we are
in Switzerland. One rent a van later from Hertz and
we were on our way to my friend Rolf's house for
some pre-race training and visiting through the
Swiss countryside. Rolf trains for the Ironman with
me. We chose the Swiss Ironman because it gave us a
chance for our two families to meet each other since
Rolf grew up in Zurich. Plus, being an
international Ironman would be a real hoot! Rolf's
family was kind enough to host us at the family boat
house along the pristine shores of Lake Constance.
A wonderfully Swiss style area touching the borders
of Germany and Austria, which were all visible from
the front deck. Just look at the gingerbread
style homes along with snow capped Alps on the
horizon that reflect on the blue/green waters of the
lake and you get the picture. Add a bottle of white
wine, some cheese and of course chocolate and this
is what I call jet lag adjustment. The kids just
called it fun to swim.
The three days before an Ironman can be some real
stress. Checklists are run through your mind.
Calorie counting becomes habit forming. Equipment
checking becomes obsessive. Practice swims can get
all your dry gear wet. And so forth. The Boat
House provided an oasis from the mental clutter. No
television. No phones. Busy we were though because
the food needed to be bought for each meal with a
short stroll to the neighborhood grocery market.
The kids needed to be supervised in the water.
Dishes needed to be set and cleared by hand. We
were back in a time like when I grew up...before
everything became so technical. Maybe that's why
people seem happier in Europe. So I wondered if my
kids missed their guitar hero as I watched them
being pulled on a rubber tube behind Rolf's motor
boat.
Heaven can wait. I've got an Ironman to do. Off to
Zurich for the race registration, bike check-in and
the focus begins. The blue sky over the Alps was
quickly being replaced with storm clouds and
lightning on the day before the race, thus adding to
the drama. How wet will it be? At least the rain
kept many people out of the Ironman logo shop. I
had my pickin's over the latest Ironman shirts and
gear. Pretty cool stuff to wear at a local race
back home. As the weather soured more, I went a
little crazy at the vendor booths trying to find the
ultimate bike shirt that could keep me dry and
comfortable should the weather even worsen on race
day. I bought some kind of high tech bike shirt
with detachable sleeves which promised me a cure.
$200 later...we'll just see.
Race Day
Trying to comment on sleep the night before an
Ironman is pointless. You just don't sleep. So one
gets up at 4:30 am to muddle about and eat some
pancakes and eggs. Kisses to the crew as they slept
and off to the race at 5:00 am. One second after
leaving the comfortable hotel and it hits you. I
mean the rain. It not only hits you, but it hits
and hits and hits you. Downpour is an
understatement. Hail was the only thing missing
from this picture. I grab a cab to the race with my
three bags of triathlon gear. The day begins. This
is tough. Ironman eat tough for breakfast. I'm
good to go. No need for sunscreen. I meet Rolf at
the bike park trying to ignore the moans of 2,000
athletes who collectively mingle in mud and slop.
Ever the optimist, Rolf greets me with "Hi Brian.
Do you think they'll let us wear our wetsuits for
the bike ride?". We quickly decided putting on our
wetsuits is the best strategy to cope for the two
hours before the race. Always thinking an Ironman
must be. Use your equipment for absolute advantage
whenever possible. Good thing is Europeans aren't
caught up with nudity so much. Switching from wet
clothes to a wetsuit goes unnoticed. Soon, everyone
seems to come up with a similar idea and a wetsuit
army is born.
Swim 2.4 miles
Standing on the cold shores of Lake Zurich, I look
out over the water and hear rumbles of thunder.
Sometimes for safety, the swim in an Ironman can be
cancelled if lightning is around. Part of me
wonders if this is a good thing. Its that little
voice in your head that says, "hey, what the heck
are you doing out here 3,500 miles from home,
standing in the pouring rain, staring at choppy
waters in the middle of a thunder storm?" No time
to wonder anymore because the canon bangs off and
the swim race has begun. I somehow forgot it was
raining. Arm stroke up, arm stroke down, head to
the side, head down. Hundreds of laps in the pool
before the race and its the same motion. Only
problem, I can't see anything without my glasses in
the middle of Lake Zurich. I had no idea where to
go. I looked around, laughed at my situation and
bore down to follow the closest yellow swim cap next
to me. As long as there was someone to my right, I
had to be going the right way. No 10 foot tall
buoys here. Only little pumpkin sized markers every
100 meters. Good grief, now I have to convert
meters into miles. Welcome to Europe.
Bodies banging each other in water depths of 200
feet really wakes you up. I was more alive for that
moment than I ever felt before. No looking down, it
was dark. No looking behind because hundreds of
yellow caps were coming after me. No looking ahead
because I couldn't see where I was going anyway.
The only place to look was to my right. Keep
someone there. At all times. Ooops, I look up and
there is no one there for a brief moment. I pause
look around and sure enough, I was blown off
course. Regroup. Refocus. Stay calm. Coach Steve
says draft behind a swimmer for less energy
expenditure. So I try it and get kicked in the
head. Then it hits me...as I turn the right for a
breath, I see a swimmer doing the breaststroke. Ah
ha. Doing that motion keeps his head above water so
he can see where he is going. I keep him to my
right for a full mile before somehow we lose each
other in the chaos. I fumbled around a bit then
presto, another breaststroke swimmer. My day is
saved. I don't even bother looking at my watch. I
just stroke one arm at a time. Keeping aim on my
yellow headed target the best I can. Out of the
water and a friendly crew of Swiss race volunteers
grab my arm for exiting assistance. Very attentive
to detail here in Switzerland.
Race time: 1:37:09.
Bike 112 Miles
No
changing tents here in Europe so I'm once again
surrounded by lots of buff. The rain I never seemed
to notice during the swim was inescapable as I whisk
my bike off to the start of the bike route.
Warnings from the locals as I exited: "Remember
your tire is only 1/2 inch thick", I was reminded.
I raced off with a dozen or so riders. The names on
their race numbers were storybook: Jon, Hans,
Franz, Igor, etc. I remembered as a kid that bikes
had fenders over the back wheel. If the kid in
front of you splashed through a puddle, no back
spray. I'm no kid anymore and these race bikes
don't have fenders, front baskets or any other
amenity that made bike riding so much fun in the
rain as a youth. I was happy to have my glasses
back on but now I was getting sprayed by the rider
in front. Ok, if there ever was a poster boy for
lasik surgery, I was the guy that morning. I wished
I had Elton John's wiper glasses.
Mercifully, the first 18 or so miles was flat along
the shores of Lake Zurich. Not much of a view since
the dark clouds looked like they were attached to
the ground. The first water station was filled with
joyful volunteers who did not seem to mind the
weather. Along the race route, people lined the
sidewalks yelling, "Hup, Hup, Hup". I had no idea
what they were yelling until I finally figured it
out six hours later as Go Go Go. My Swiss German
isn't very good, but the genuine enthusiasm of the
locals was contagious. My name was on my race
number so when possible, fans would yell, "Hup, Hup
Brian". I passed along rural farm lands where men
tending their crops would stop for a moment and
yell, "Hup, Hup". Small children would be in their
windows and doorways yelling, "Hup, Hup". Not a
single person stood motionless or quiet along the
roadside. Each mile was sprinkled with shouts of "Hup,
Hup". The only exception was the very professional
police crew who patrolled the intersections at each
corner. No "Hup, Hup" from them. Just serious work
keeping us safe. Welcome to the efficient and
friendly Switzerland countryside!!!
I
wondered about the elevation. I studied the route
by map and knew that sooner or later my luck would
change from flat to something a bit more sinister,
like a Swiss Alp. Yes, I was not in Kansas so where
was my first Alp? I was eager to meet the so-called
first hill, the "Beast". At the 50 kilometer mark
(back to metric now), the Beast said hello. Out of
no where, the road starting looking up. Not north,
but up. Vertical up. Straight up. The Mount
Washington Auto Road kind of up. The "Beast wants
to eat you up" kind of up. It was raining. I was
wearing my new $200 special material bike shirt. I
was ready to say hello. I only looked ahead of me
10 feet at a time. Never up. I kept peddling.
Peddling. Peddling. Some people were yelling "hup"
but I didn't seem to notice. It just kept going
up. Previously on the flats, my speedometer was
reading 18 mph. I looked and saw only 6 mph while
on the "Beast". Grind. Grind. Grind. I've got to
earn this Alp I kept saying to myself. 10 minutes
went by. Then 15. Then 20. Six miles later, the
summit I reached. The rain soaked crowd at the top
was going crazy yelling "Hup, Hup". The road was
painted something in German, but I think it said
that I conquered the Beast.
What goes up does go down. And down it went.
Blazing. Smokin. Rubber burning downhill. Only
problem was the road was covered with water and my
rubber bike brakes were wetter than a fisherman's
boots. I recalled the warnings when I exited the
bike park two hours earlier. What made the
downhills more interesting where the occasional
rotaries I encountered in the little villages.
Ugh. I'm a husband and father of three kids so some
common sense prevailed. Keep it slow and live
another day. The speed did help dry the rain from
my cool technical bike shirt I bought the day
before. To me that day, the shirt was worth $2,000.
Me
and a dozen or so riders were having fun trading
places racing down the hill. It was not just an
Ironman endurance contest, but a race as well. USA
pride on the line. Nothing like good heart pounding
adrenaline under competitive situations. If the
feeling could even be pushed higher, what would
happen? I soon found out as I encountered yet
another Alp, the so called Heartbreak Hill. What
makes this so special is its location. It comes at
mile 54 of the first 56 mile loop. And its
vertical.. Staircase vertical. Even more pitch
than the Beast. But mercifully shorter. About 1
mile in length. Going up I could hear thunder. Not
rain cloud thunder but some kind of sustained low
groan that only built up in volume the closer I
approached it. I couldn't see ahead of me because
the twisted road was built up the Alp in a
switchback manner that allowed only a 100 yard view
at a time. As I drew closer, my eyes popped wiped
open. Over 2,000 screaming people lined both sides
of the road in a sort of Tour de France style.
Something I only saw on TV, I was now living.
Thousand yelled, "Hup, Hup, Hup Brian" as they
announced my name across a load speaker. People
were moving me along by running up to the back of my
bike and taking turns pushing me to the next
person. I barely turned my pedals as one after
another, someone pushed my bike over the steep
summit. I was emotionally affected. I felt the
genuine affection of the Swiss people all rallying
to help some unknown athlete, me, accomplish a
seemingly impossible task. If there was ever an
Ironman moment I could treasure, this was surely
it. The ride down the other side I could not even
remember since I was so overwhelmed by the moment.
Lucky me. I get to do the entire 56 miles once
more.
Race time: 7:23:22
Run 26.2 Miles
Pulling into the bike park for the bike to run
transition, I was happily greeted by the smiling
faces of my proud family. It was a bit more lonely
on the second bike loop because the crowds had
thinned a bit. So seeing my family as I finished
the bike ride was a joy. I stopped, posed for
pictures and tried to assure everyone all is well.
My dashboard of vital signs were checking out with
positive indicators. The day was such a visual
treat as the rain began to let up enough for some
post card views. No worries about race time so I
let about 10 minutes slip away as I chatted up with
the family. They were so relieved I was perky. It
was a good idea to reassure them by spending some
chit chat time. Its a long day for them as well.
Waiting is stressful. As they checked my progress
before I arrived, they encountered a second Brian
Carroll on the race course. Yeah. If one of me
isn't enough, now there are two.. My wife June was
asked which Brian Carroll she wanted a race update
on. (I pass along a chip mat every 10 or so miles
on the bike route that send a progress signal to the
info booth.) I guess the other Brian Carroll lives
in London so I was easy to distinguish being from
USA. Hope he did well. Us BCs have to stay
together.
My
wife got a kick out of me changing from my bike
pants to my run pants, in a....well you know what I
mean "open" manner. I gave her a kiss and a
prediction I'd be done a little after 9:00 pm. I
was going to keep a steady effort and not blow my
heart rate up too much for the marathon. Funny that
I actually looked forward to running a marathon.
Off I went with a wave and the next adventure
segment began.
Shuffling my feet along, I worked my way to each
water station. My speed felt comfortable. I soaked
in the noisy crowd all yelling "Hup, Hup" who
gathered as the rain let up. I'd say about 25,000
people lined the 6.4 mile race course. I had to run
it as four loops. A bit mentally tough but
mercifully flat. The run went along the Lake marina
with beautiful old world style ferry boats that help
passengers migrate from one side of Lake Zurich to
the other. I received a colored wrist band for each
loop I completed. Yellow for loop 1, red for loop
2, blue for loop 3 and green for loop 4. The
torture was starting a marathon and sharing the road
with runners wearing their red and blue wristbands.
They only had 10 or so miles left while I had the
whole 26.2. Never mind, just stay relaxed and one
loop at a time will pass. And so it did. I looked
around for Rolf. Where might he be? Then around a
corner there he was as if on queue. Darn, he had
one more wrist band than I did. Looks like he's got
me by one lap. "See you at the finish buddy", I
said. We both smiled the best we could.
All was going well until mile 12. For some reason I
started getting a bit dizzy. A quick self
diagnostic pointed to some dehydration. I guess I
couldn't drink enough rain!!! Maybe I was hoping
it would pass thru my skin. Too bad it doesn't work
that way. Just in time I passed a volunteer handing
out warm chicken soup. I forgot how good warm soup
is on a rainy cold day. I savored each sip and took
a short walk break. When finished, I screwed up by
not taking two soups. The solution lied in running
to the next, then to the next and then to next aid
station. I couldn't get enough soup...though each
subsequent serving was not as hot as my first. My
spirit was growing and I was back. It just took 6
more miles to get me there.
The crowd continued to roar and shout "Hup Brian" as
I passed. The Ironman gets you mentally beaten down
as well and this course is no different. After each
run loop, I was forced to take a U-turn right in
front of the finish line. As I turned, the runner
next to me ran toward victory and the end of his
day. I, in turn, went off to face another 6.4 mile
loop.. Each loop I faced fewer and fewer runners
along side of me. Thoughts come to me of my early
5:00 am runs around the river in Mystic, CT when
alone and tired, I would make 6.2 mile loops before
the sun went up. Its just me and another loop. Any
other runner alongside I somehow ignored. I wanted
to see my kids and wife. Time for the day to get
over with. I look at my stopwatch and try to see if
I have a chance to finish under my personal best
Ironman time of 14:24:07. Only problem here is the
mathematics it takes to figure that answer out.
Remember, all the signs are in kilometers. Ugh. I
was at the 33..5k sign and wondered how far I needed
to go. Let me think...was that 6.2 miles for each
10k? Do I divide the 33.5 by 6.2 then multiply by
10 or do I divide by 10 then multiply by 6.2? Then,
how many miles divided left by how much time on my
watch that read 8:15 pm? Darn. I was tired. Way
too much work. Its easier to exhale, get the bad
air out of the lungs and just go for it. Pass as
many people as I can. Run them down. Get out of my
way. Pick off each one. Hup. Hup. Hup. And, hup I
did. Some fire burned and fueled whatever was left
in my legs to hup as quickly as I could. I figured
I had 5 or so miles remaining. Looking at my watch
as I read another kilometer sign looked promising
for a best time record. But then I remembered the
extra .4k of distance I forgot to calculate. Darn
again. I thought I was going to make the best time
only to be wrong in my distance. Never mind. Hup.
Hup. Hup. The rain continued to fall.
No
U-turn this time at the finish. Straight down the
yellow carpeted finish chute. I ran as hard as I
could. With only 10 meters to go, my niece Marie
threw me an American flag for the finish line
photo. I saw huge smiles from my wife and kids.
Then flash! The finish line camera went off. The
American flag was help high above my head. A
volunteer put a medal around my next. I looked at
my watch: 14:22:12. A new personal Ironman record
for me.
Race time: 5:03:46
Finish 140..6 Miles
Lots of people have hobbies. I collect finish line
photos. I cover a special notebook at home with
them. Photos from many races and from many venues.
"Stay composed for my finish pictures", I told
myself. I gave my wife June a huge hug and the
camera snapped. Great shot. I hugged Brendan next
and flash, another great shot. One by one each of
my family members posed at the finish line. The
Europeans around me thought it all a bit odd I was
not moving myself along in an efficient manner. I
was clogging the queue. And what's this flag around
his shoulders? The camera continued to click and my
scrapbook is better for it. Rolf joined in the
photo fun at the finish. What a great wingman. The
day is done. Now to get out of the rain!!!!
Post Race Note
While in Switzerland, we all celebrated Brendan's
9th birthday on July 10. A quick trip across Lake
Constance from Rolf's boat house and we had birthday
ice-cream in Germany. Very memorable to spend
Brendan's birthday in two countries. Amazing how
this 1.5 pound new born had grown into such a
handsome and special young boy. We are reminded we
are all Brendan's Buddies as we help raise money for
the UMASS Memorial NICU. Thanks to June, Brendan,
Tommy, Keith and Marie for being such a great band
of cheerleaders on such a wet miserable day. It
isn't easy being part of the Iron Crew for Brendan's
Buddies. Special thanks to my friends Rolf and Joan
who hosted our visit with such patience and
encouragement before, during and after the race.
You all made it a special day.
Stay tuned for more races and more fundraising.
We've got a NICU to help.
Brian
Brendan's Dad
