Delta flight 1552 is whisking over the northern Rocky Mountains from its stop over in Salt Lake City onto its final destination, Spokane, Washington....the nearest airport to the Ironman adventure awaiting for us in Coeur d' Alene, Idaho.  On board this year's assault team is my trusted wife June, three sons Tom, Keith, of course Brendan and my two beautifully grown into teenage nieces, Marie and Jillian.  Quite the cheering crew that is so desperately needed for powering to the finish line of an Ironman.  Considering I dragged these five teenagers out of bed at 4:00 am just to make the flight, I was indeed impressed with their commitment.  Every Brendan's Buddies fundraising race effort needs a solid support crew.  With the hopes of all our donors for the UMASS Memorial Hospital NICU on the line for Ironman Coeur d' Alene finish...I am going to need maximum support.  I have the right team.

Just before landing, I nudged my half sleeping niece Marie and asked her how she was feeling.  Her answer, "so far...so fun".  Here lies the undercurrent for another exciting Ironman. 

Day 1:  Welcome to Coeur d' Alene

Coeur d' Alene is easier to look at than it is to spell.  Rolling mountains line the landscape topped with towering pine trees unlike any tree I've seen in New England.  God grows these pines taller out here.  Maybe its the fresh air or the moist breezes that milk the landscape from the northern Pacific ocean that fuel such height.  No matter, they are still nice to gaze at.  Under the horizon of green lies a blue lake wide enough to hold an luxury liner yet quiet enough to host small watercraft zipping by my hotel window deck.  My finger was going crazy snapping photos, or I should say poses, of my family as the sun set over the trees.  I put on my wetsuit for a ceremonial first swim in the lake.  I worried about glacier melt bringing freezing temperature to the water.  Delightfully, the water was a balmy 64 degrees.  A nice Ironman welcome to a great host city.  "So far...So fun" factor = 2.0.

Day 2-3:  Pre-Race Relaxation

Maybe a bit risky for an Ironman to be exposing himself to danger on the white water of the Clark Fork River in Montana, but as one would say, it was for the kids.  This form of northern exposure was just the right recipe for lifelong memories.  I weighed out the choice and memories won out.  Off to Montana.  Each of us was issued a white water wetsuit, standard life preserver and foot booties to keep the frigid Clark River from numbing our toes..  The "So Far...So Fun" factor just took a -1 if you saw the looks on the kid's faces.  But after a safety briefing by a young stud of a river guide, who by the way only remembered my niece Marie's name and none of the rest of us, we were catapulted down the raft chute heading westward down the river. 

The guide mentioned the person in the front left of the boat gets the most white water splashes to the face.  It took less than a second for the entire family to nominate me as the front paddler.  The "so far...so fun" factor for all of them just went back up by 1.  Lifelong memories...huh.  After bobbing thru class 1 then class 2 rapids, we hit class 3 rapids.  I acted as a human shield for my son Brendan who paddled directly behind me.  He laughed while I gagged.  Good preparation for my Ironman swim I thought coming in a few more days.  The "so far...so fun" factor took a big jump up by +2 as we all paused to watch our first bald eagle in flight in nature.  Stunning...majestic...and full of pride as we all agreed our founding fathers knew what they were doing by naming such a symbol for our country.

Because I got more wet than everyone else the day before, the next stop of our pre-Ironman experience was to a local roller coaster and water park called Silverwood located only 20 miles from our hotel.  Even the occasional downpour could not dampen the spirits of the whole gang.  Coasters add real points to the "so far...so fun" score.  We'll add 5 points for each of the kids who screamed like there was no tomorrow on the rides.

Day 3 ends with the arrival of the rest of the Brendan's Buddies Ironman Team:  Dave Soltys, along with his two charming daughters Sarah and Emily, and fellow Ironman competitor and sparring partner, Rolf Habluetzel.  Rolf points out a BBQ for only $5.00 per person happening down the street from our hotel.  Looks like $55 to feed the whole gang so off we went.  Thinking the BBQ was a pre-race treat for the athletes, we were a bit surprised to find out it was a celebration for "Juneteenth" or the day the blacks were freed as slaves by President Lincoln.  What a party and what fun being part of such an important day for the local black community.  "So Far...so fun" factor up by +2.

Day 4:  Ironman Game Face Time

Getting a bit more serious now on the day before the Ironman race.  I stuff myself with a hefty two egg and two pancake breakfast as a carbo load start to my day.  The cheering squad gives me a much needed rest day as they head back to the water park for more soaking while I hit the choppy lake for another practice swim.  Anxiety is higher because the weather was beginning to sour.  The low weather front moving in brought along higher winds and a healthy 6-8 inch wave chop to the once calm lake.  The Ironman swim is my weakest event so add some waves and the "so far...so fun" factor takes a -2 pretty quickly.  Undaunted, I slip into the wetsuit and hit the surf.  Pretty tricky navigating through the waves but I finish my practice swim of 1000 meters in about 25 minutes.  I get the added treat of meeting Sister Madonna at the practice swim.  For those who don't know this remarkable woman, at age 76 she finished her 17th Ironman with a stunning finish in Kona, Hawaii back in 2007.  Yes, she is a nun who possesses a contagious smile and encouraging word for each athlete.  Nice touch after a stressful swim.  The "so far...so fun" factor jumps by +1.

Next I take my bike along the run course of the Ironman marathon for a scouting ride.  Seems manageable I think...but then again I am scouting the route without first riding 112 miles on the my bike.  Back to the hotel and its off my feet.  Watching the US Open golf tournament offers a nice distraction.  Its a whole lot better than watching all the buffed athletes walking around the hotel lobby with absolutely no body fat.  Its also a logo contest of which athlete can brag about the biggest race that's printed on their t-shirt.  Ugh!  I sure could use a Lite beer.  Guess I'll have to wait until the race is over.  My wife June notices I'm tensing up a bit.  She does a remarkable job giving me enough space to work out my demons while politely reminding me the kids can't see me so wound up.  I treat the whole gang to dinner full of trout, tuna, Mac & Cheese and all the ice cream the kids can eat.

Day 5:  The Ironman Race

One advantage of the Coeur d Alene Ironman comes with the start and finish line being located in the parking lot of the Coeur d' Alene hotel resort.  Simply order your pancake breakfast at 5:00 am, wisk down the elevator and be at the start for 6:00 am...an hour before the cannon blasts for the 7:00 am start.  Running through a start line check list, I insure proper air inflation in each bicycle tire, drop off my two peanut butter sandwiches in the bike food bag, count my salt pills and finish putting on the wetsuit.  All systems check.

The 2.4 Mile Swim

The Ironman swim is a mass start:  all 2,300 athletes line up on one beach, hear the start cannon, then dive all at once into the water.  There is no preparation possible that can overcome the adrenaline rush of an Ironman swim start.  Looking out across the water, I see swells.  Big swells.  Big hairy swells.  Swells I normally see in Misquamacut Beach in Rhode Island while my kids body surf.  The wind of the previous day had returned with a vengeance as it whips across the 30 miles of Lake Coeur d' Alene to climax as 12-18 inch swells at our little beach front lying at the end of the Lake.  Welcome Mr. Carroll to Ironman Idaho.  I recall the sermon spoken by the priest at the charming St Thomas Church of Coeur d' Alene the day before as the family went for a pre-Ironman mass service.  The apostles were all screaming in a boat being tossed about in the Sea of Galilee.  Their faith was being tested.  I guess it was my turn for the test.  Why did it need to happen here and now?  So far....not so fun.

Canon BANG!!!  Race begins.  Body parts everywhere.  Arms whacking my head.  Feet kicking my ribs.  I knew I had to push past the first two buoys placed 200 yards from the start if I stood any chance of getting ahead of the waves breaking along the shore.  Push I did.  Push.  Push.  Push.  I counted arm strokes 10, 20, 30, 40.  I hit the first yellow buoy.  10, 20, 30, 40 more arm strokes, I hit the second..  Then I pause to check out the calamity around me.  My ears hear a steady roar as bodies make water splashes with their impact.  I praise my friend Tim back home who at the last minute, found me prescription goggles (tinted I might add).  Real cool to finally see where I am going.  Aiming for the third buoy, I push off.  After each arm stroke, a wave hoists me straight into the air, slaps my face like I was a 3 stooger and knocks me off line from the next buoy.  Regroup...refocus...spit out any excess water...and do it all again.  Repetition works.  Aiming for the buoy works better.

Chaos at the 900 meter buoy as all racers are forced to turn left as we follow a rectangle swim course.  Its quite the sight seeing 300 swimmers all trying to turn the same corner.  Imagine hundreds of crash test dummies covered in rubber  floating aimlessly in the water...all randomly bumping into each other.   I snuggle my way to the inside corner of the turn buoy by using any dog paddle-breast stroke combination I can muster...all the while pushing other swimmers off me.  I understand why water polo is an Olympic event.  Safely free, I aim for the next turn buoy and the 900 meters back to the beach.  The return swim was a tad more pleasant as the same waves that treated me like I was swimming in cycle 3 of the washing machine, gently pushed me back to shore.  An opportune time to lower the heart rate and save some energy.  Body surfing I was.  Each arm stroke carried me across two waves as I tried to time my motion to the current.  Sometimes I could...but other times I found a face full of water because my timing was wrong.  I keep hitting the toes of the swimmer in front of me.  Yuck!  What the heck germs could he have?  So far...not so fun (-1).  But then the buoys changed color to orange and I need to count 9 of them to get to shore.  So far...so fun (+2) as I ride the waves in. 

Reaching shore, my task is only half done.  I need to complete the swim rectangle twice.  I check my watch for a 46 minute split time for the 1.2 mile first loop.  That was 28 minutes to go out against the chop and 18 minutes to return.  I dive back into the path of the yellow outbound buoys again.  A bit more fatigued, I get lost several times in between buoy 4 and 5.  The wind blows me off coarse.  Time for my faith to be tested..  The Lake of Coeur d' Alene has now replaced the Sea of Galilee.  I use my strength to dive beneath each oncoming wave and emerge on top of the water after it rolls over my head.  Take a breadth.  Aim for the buoy.  Press on.  Buoy number 5 is closer but still 25 arm strokes away.  Dive under...emerge...breath...aim.  Count the strokes.  10-15-20-25.  I hit my head against the buoy.  I made it albeit a bit tangled up in the process.  So far...so fun while winning the faith test scores a +3.  Take another left turn in a human parking lot of wetsuits, and follow the orange buoys home.  Exiting the swim, my wife June is relieved I am not on the bottom of the lake.  She smiles.  I head to the wetsuit stripping area.  I am warmly greeted by guess who?  Sister Madonna who asks if I am happy the swim is over.  I reply, "not as happy as my wife".  She answers, "that's because she loves you...now get on the ground and I'll strip your wetsuit!".  One very cool nun.

Final swim time:  1:43:12  Overall place:  1,927 out of 2,300.

The 112 Mile Bicycle Ride

The Ironman race provides a circus sized changing tent where I can put on my padded bike shorts, helmet, sunscreen and my bike shirt weapon of choice:  a Tour d' France style red polka bike jersey with my new company venture, www.pivot.com, placed boldly on its front.  I count dozens of athletes socializing and seize my chance to get out of the transition tent quickly enough to pass many of them for the bike start.  I chug one of those 5 hour energy shots seen on TV.  WOW!   wake up!.   A quick hello to my family waiting outside the fence near my parked bicycle, and its off to see what awaits me in north of Coeur d' Alene.  The low pressure weather system begins to stir the air with 30 mph winds, blackening skies and a cool chill of about 50 degrees.  I'm forced to pull over and put on my arm covers which instantly make my short sleeve bike jersey long sleeve.  Thankfully the first 15 or so miles was comfortably flat with some small hills.  Easy for the body but many of the riders are complaining about being slightly sea sick due to the choppy waves.  I check my inner ear and all seems ok.  No need for Dramamine.  So far...so fun +1.

"Welcome to the hills", a local resident cries out as I turn a corner and see the beginning of my vertical fate.  I think, "ok, I'm from New England, let's see what these Idaho folks call hills".  Rolling over hill #1, #2, #3,..., #14 I get fed a steady diet of up and down.  Yikes!  I wonder when these hills will cease.  I am not in Kansas.  As soon as I summit the next hill top, I look down and see another hill top waiting for me 1/2 mile down the road.  The tops would not quit.  Neither will I.  I hit speeds of 34 mph down each hill and gain as much momentum to push me at  least 50% up the next one.  Staying in a lower gear saves strength.  I'm only at mile 25 mindful I have over 87 miles still to go.  I'm a bit sobered by seeing so many racers coming against my path traveling southbound on my northbound road.  Does this mean I have to face all these 14 hills again going the opposite direction?  So far...not so fun by -1.  I check my trusty odometer and see I am averaging over 17 mph...my goal pace.  Ok not so bad.  I'll add +1 back to the so far...so fun calculator.

Locals.  Time to meet the Idaho locals.  They line the road through the hills and back into town sitting in the flat beds of their 1970's era Ford 150 and Chevy pickups.  Most friendly for cheering us on while some, just gosh darn strange.  I pass two guys who turn their flatbed into a hot tub parked on their front lawn.  Partying naked, they shout out cat calls to the riders passing by.  So far...maybe funny.  I pass someone dressed in full army fatigues with hunting vest and carrying a bull horn while shouting at the racers.  When I arrive, he yells how much he likes my red polka dot jersey then as I pass, he shouts how good I look for target practice.  So far...not so fun (-1).  I change into my fastest gear and high tail it out of range.  I never looked back.  

I smell the peanut butter sandwich waiting for me at the rest stop on mile 60.  I'm only at mile 50.  Nothing else matters at the moment.  My sugar level starts to fall a bit.  Somehow the headwind I encounter pushes my speed back while at the same time, brings the aroma of fresh peanuts to me.  What a battle at work inside the wind.  Passing mile 56, I check my halfway split and see 3:15:00.  So far...so fun (+2) because I arrive exactly on my goal pace thru some punishing hills and quirky locals.   I keep vigilant for the food stop at mile 60 which mercifully arrives.  A friendly volunteer hands me my feedbag.  Without wasting anytime, I rip open the zip lock back and down my peanut butter sandwich.  Uh oh!  No water in my bottle.  No milk either.  No water stop anywhere in sight.  Peanut butter without a drink!  Awwwwwwwwwww.  I angrily discard the second sandwich I had prepared...a decision that would haunt me latter.  Anytime I lost stopping for a sandwich I quickly make up by pushing my speed to the next water station 3 miles ahead.  You would have thought I was racing for happy hour beat the clock specials.  I waste no time getting to my next water bottle with great thanks to another friendly volunteer.  All is looking up for the last 52 miles!  So far...so fun (+2).

"Welcome back to the hills", the same local resident shouts 15 miles up the road.  I concentrate only on the flow of 14 hill tops and complete ignore any locals in pickup trucks.  In fact, I can't recall if any of them where still even there for my second loop.  Perhaps that's good I don't remember.  I was either very focused or self blinded.  Either way, I pressed on.  No quit.  No prisoners.  No complaints.  I am consumed by the turnaround point in the road where I can thankfully go southbound.  Other riders begin to get friendly at this point in the race...just happy to be nearly done with the ride while still steady in their pursuit of the finish line.  I chit chat with riders as I pass them and as some pass me.  We are all in this odyssey together.  A kinship emerges with mutual respect...truly an Ironman experience.  So far...so fun (+2). 

Can I hit 6 hours for the 100 mile mark?  Funny how such a simple goal helps press my legs onward.  Knees up.  Ankles up.  Knees down.  Ankles down.  Over and over.  My average miles per hour begins to dip to 16.7 after some fatigue over the last round of hills.  My odometer reads 98 miles.  real close to 100.  My time clock displays 5:55:00.  Just five minutes to go and I beat the magic 6 hour mark for my 100 miles.  I dig inside and increase my pedal stroke.  Mile 98.5.  Mile 99.  Mile 99.5.  I read 5:59:00.  Pedal...pedal...pedal.  I ready 6:00:00 and 100 miles.  Maybe it was closer to 6:01:00 but the display didn't have seconds.  It just read 6:00:00.  Another goal checked off.  I'll take it. 

The last 12 miles is sometimes the most difficult in an Ironman bike race.  I was anxious to run a marathon.  Yeah, nutty eh?  Anything to get my butt off the bike seat was welcome.  If a marathon is the price, then I'd gladly pay it.  This ending ride goes in slow motion as I switch to easy gears that help keep a fast spin.  Such a technique makes the transition to running muscles a bit easier.  I concentrate only on the fast spinning when suddenly, three volunteers stop my bike and order me to dismount..  I didn't even see the finish line.  So far...so relieved.

Finish time:  6:48:23.  16.5 mph.  Place:  1,468.

The 26.2 Mile Marathon

Walking a bit dizzily, volunteers point me into the circus tent for another change of clothes.  No public nudity here in Coeur d' Alene.  Another volunteer places a chair behind me.  Very nice indeed.  Sitting on something flat versus a pointy bike seat is welcome.  No other description necessary.  Running clothes are very comfortable.  Running pants don't have the giant butt pad of bike shorts.  Running shoes flex and bike shoes are stiff carbon.  Does this make you want to run a marathon?  Maybe not.  But at this point in an Ironman, I'll take any creature comfort.  I look in my clothes bag and I discover another 5 hour energy shot.  Cool.  A dark chocolate Mounds Bar also.  Double fun!  A quick shot and some chewy coconut and I was off to face my last challenge for the Brendan's Buddies NICU Ironman team:  the Marathon.

If I did not notice the bicycle finish line earlier, I had also not noticed how the weather had so rapidly deteriorated.  The wind was howling.  The rain was going sideways.  The temperature was 50 degrees.  Many runners were wearing their mylar solar blankets around their shoulders.  Me.  I love it lousy.  The worse the better.  I like the kind of  miserable weather that makes people stay indoors.  If I am going to tough it out as an Ironman, then why make the marathon enjoyable?  So far...way so fun!  (+3).

Family awaits me at the first water station in the marathon at mile 1.  My wife June, 3 sons, Dave and his 2 daughters and nieces Marie and Jillian have graciously acted just like the same friendly volunteers who greeted me on the bike ride earlier in the day.  Their volunteer assignment was passing out Gatorade cups in the pouring rain at marathon mile 1...now that's an Ironman support crew.  After 3 hours of toughing it out, the younger kids retired to the warmer hotel leaving June and Jillian to wait for me.  What a welcome sight as both girls hold out a cup of Gatorade.  I stop.  Pose for some pictures.  Reassure June all systems are green to go.  Get a quick kiss (yes it takes an Iron Wife to kiss a guy who just finished 112 miles on a bike).  A smile from my adoring niece.  And off I go.  A Happy Father's Day awaits me only a mile ahead as the rest of the Brendan's Buddies support crew is waiting for me closer to the safe confines of the hotel.  I pose for a Father's Day picture with all three of my sons, get a high five from my niece Marie and some motivating words from wingman Dave.  He asks me what stage I was in.  I answer that I've just started a marathon.  "Well, then let's get to it", in a matter of fact reply.  Just what I needed to drive ahead.  Rain...keep it coming.  So far...way too much fun (+3).

And rain it did.  Sideways.  From above.  And sometimes, even from below as the wind whipped water all around on the lakeside running route.  My trusty running cap kept the water off my glasses.  I felt pretty lousy.  I wished I ate that second peanut butter sandwich from earlier.  An aid station in an Ironman comes with every mile.  Warm chicken soup is on the menu along with pretzels, oranges, Gatorade, bananas, water and even Coca Cola.  I kept a run pace and walked through each mile "restaurant" enjoying chicken soup along the way. 

At mile 5, I pass my training buddy and fellow Brendan's Buddies Ironman teammate, Rolf Habluetzel.  He looks pretty good but says I don't.  As a good friend, he cautions me to take it easy a bit.  I wisely heed his advice.  I wanted so desperately to finish before the sunset.  In each previous Ironman, I finished after the sun had gone down.  If I was going to beat the sunset, I would have to do it before 8:52 pm:  the time I saw on the weather channel earlier in the day as the official sunset.  That would mean I need to have my fastest Ironman by over 30 minutes!  A difficult chore when your training buddy reports you don't look good.  So far...maybe not so fun (-1).

At mile 10, just like Rocky Balboa switched to southpaw in Rocky 1, I shove off the chicken soup and switch to Coca Cola...with ice!  Double fisted, I press ahead into the twilight wanting to beat the sunset.  Checking my stop watch, I see a chance to get 2:30:00 for my half marathon split.  Hmmmm.....I subtract the 10 or so minutes I used for posing with the family at the earlier water stations.  After a quick calculation, I could possibly finish by 8:52 pm if I repeat the same 2:30:00 split for my second half marathon.   Press on I did.  Hang onto whatever goal you can in an Ironman.  Its a long day made up of little victories.  The first was getting past the turn of the first swim lap.  The second was getting to the peanut butter sandwich.  The third was getting past the marksman in camouflage fatigues.  The fourth was beating 6 hours for 100 miles.  The fifth was getting to family at marathon mile station 1.  The last goal was to beat the sunset for a finish before 8:52 pm.

Ok.  I reach the half marathon mark at 2:30:00.  Right on time.  Some inspiration from a guy rooting on the runners just outside a pub in downtown Coeur d' Alene.  "Hey you (with a bit of a swagger), your form looks relaxed.  Keep it up and you will be an Ironman tonight!"  Good point despite the manner of expression.  I'll take it.  Let's peel off some 10 minute miles and get this puppy put to bed.  Stay focused.  There is still 13 more miles to go.  Do I stop at every water station or start skipping one?  I decide to keep with the plan.  Run 10 minute miles and walk through each aid station.  Drink a Coke..  Press on.  Fight the rain.  Repeat.  And so I do.   Further ahead I see Rolf again.  This time, I report he doesn't look good.  He thinks I look great.  In fact he worries I might be catching him.  We separate with a cheer and off we go.  Mile 18 clicks by.  Mile 19.  Mile 20.

They say a marathoner is made in the last 6.2 miles of the race.  They say an Ironman is made in the last 3.1 miles.  Thus, the only mile marker I focus on is mile 23.  I break plan and skip the aid station at mile 20.  I grab a Coke at mile 21 then plan to skip mile 22.  No stopping until I hit mile 23.  I read my watch and its going to be close.  Its now 8:19 pm.  Not much daylight left.  Not much muscle left.  Rain still falling.  Just up ahead, I see the mile 23 aid station.  It might as well be an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.  "Two Cokes with ice please", I say.  Double fisted again, I chugged down my caffeine boost and off I go to mile 24.  Time is close.  Do I skip mile 24 or go straight to mile 25? 

Watch reads 8:28 pm..  Cutting it close here.  I try and pass walkers as motivation.  No walking for me.  Just run run run.  Mile 24.  I pass.  Its getting a bit darker.  Some runners are given their mandatory glow sticks by race officials.  No glow for me.  Its getting a bit delirious now.  I skip the aid station at mile 25.  Plenty of Coke at the finish line I conclude.  A right turn into town.  My watch reads 8:45 pm.  Time running out.  A left turn down the final street to the finish.  I look up ahead and see a lighted finish line creating a halo over a Ford Motor sponsor balloon. Good thing I didn't buy any Ford stock.  (Funny what you think about after 13 hours of racing!)  I'm gaining speed.  I need to slow down or else I'll ruin the finish line picture of the racer in front of me.  I turn around.  No one behind me to spoil my finish photo.  I'm down the finisher chute.  So far...so fun.  (+5)  High fives to all the screaming fans.  I cross the finish line.  I see my wife June who switched her volunteer duty from the Gatorade cups to passing out finisher medals.  I hear the famous voice of Mike Reilly, Ironman announcer, who yells, "Brian Carroll from Wooooooster, Massachusetts...you are an Ironman!".  June puts a medal around my neck and gives me a kiss.  I turn to see my finish time on the clock:  8:50:38 pm.  The sun has not set.  Yes, I am a daylight Ironman!

Finish time:  4:58:28.  Overall Ironman time:  13:50:38.  Overall place:  1,447 out of 2,300.

The Finish Line and Day After

A real Father's Day treat taking finish line pictures with my 3 sons, Tommy, Keith and Brendan..  

As a finisher, I received a goody bag with a finisher t-shirt, finisher cap, medal and some food.  A sense of real pride was felt when my son Keith asked if he could wear my finisher cap.  He wore it with honor.  These pictures will no doubt display well on the www.brendansbuddies.com  website when posted.  Back to the room for a hot shower..  A quick Father's Day call to my own Dad on the east coast to assure him I am not at the bottom of the lake.  A quick Miller Lite in celebration with Dave and Rolf...and its lights out.  So far...so done!

Thanks to all of the donors who helped make this year's Brendan's Buddies NICU Ironman race such a success for the tiny babies at UMASS Memorial Hospital's NICU.  With your help, we raised over $1,500,000.  Over $24,000 came in just 60 days before the Ironman Race.  Janus Mutual Funds kicked in $8,000 because I crossed the finish line as a top fundraiser for their Ironman Charity Challenge.  With the money, we are building 6 new intensive care patient beds at the UMASS Memorial NICU along with the required medical equipment needed to save these babies' lives.  We all have Brendan Carroll to thank for being the motivating spark that has helped so many.  Hugging him at the finish line made my Father's Day complete.  To June, Marie, Jillian, Dave, Sarah, Emily and my 3 sons:  Tommy, Keith and Brendan, thanks for being the energy I needed to get through and become an Idaho Ironman.

For those counting.....the so far...so fun points totaled 30.  On a fun scale of 1-10, this adventure was three times more fun!