...keeps going, and going, and going...

Well, this tells the story, do I even need to write anything? And thanks to Iron Benny for this awe inspiring photo of me at my best...NOT! OK, so T2 might have been a little slow but really I was just soaking in the wonderful scenery of a transition tent filled with ugly, beat down, and sweaty men. It was beautiful...anyways, and so once the medic put my shoes on for me and tied them I was off. And I KNEW I would finish! Had a nice, quick chat with pops and baby bro and that was that, a journey that felt like heaven and hell all at once. I took off and actually got about 6 miles in before the quads starting blowing up again and once they blew, I KNEW I would not get them back the rest of the race, they were destroyed, and yes Iron Benny, I was wrecked. From mile 6 through 14, me and some awesome 62 year old man leapfrogged each other until he caught his second wind and was gone...I almost got on my knees and bowed, "I'm not worthy". I hit mile 14 and saw Pops, my bro, Iron Benny and Nytro and couldn't believe the quad agony I was in although I tried to play it off so none would worry, but again, my legs were D.E.S.T.R.O.Y.E.D. But, my knees, ankles, hips, etc. were good, even the calves were good, but the quads, for heavens sake, the quads...it was about 10 days post race before I felt normal again.

OK, mile 14 I came to a walk with the crew, chatted with Dad for a little bit (I think he was worried) and regained some composure. I hit the special needs station and grabbed some food and was off again. I was running but my pace was really like walking...in football terms, we refer to what I was doing as "The lineman shuffle". And the worst part of the race was about to happen...in the distance I was gaining on someone, slowly but surely, and as I caught him I almost decided to throw myself right off the cliff into Lake Coeur D'Alene...this guy was running/walking with a cane he must have just picked up at the Special Needs stop! Wow do I suck I thought to myself!? It took me until mile 15 to pass a dude with a cane? A CAne? A CANE? So I grinded out mile 16-22 passing some people throwing up on the blacktop, one guy taking a nap in the shade by the aid station, someone walking backwards, and me with sandwich bags filled with ice stuffed under my shorts on my quads...I saw the 62 year old doing that and I thought, "ah, experience". By now it was getting dark and my goal finish time had passed but I pressed on...I was starting to experience stomach pain again and so at mile 22 I decided I had eaten and drank all I possibly could and the quads weren't coming back and so I would run the last 4 miles as fast as I could not stopping at any aid station and crossing the line with some dignity and something to be proud of...I did and as I came out of the neighborhood and turned left down main street I could hear the announcer proclaiming the finishers as Ironman and see the lights of the finish line and I thought, "c'mon, only 2/10 of a mile left", and flew (ha) to the finish line crossing hearing, "congratulations John, you are an Ironman". Yippee! It was 10:15 at night and I had finished a day I will never forget...actually it wasn't over yet because I spent over an hour in the medical tent receiving 3 bags of IV and having 6 blankets on me because they said the reason I was shaking was because I was cold. Cold? It was 100 degrees all day and I didn't feel cold that's for sure but they were right, I was cold somehow!? And that was that, poof, over and done with. But laying there in the medical tent, I honestly thought to myself, "I'm doing this again next year and this time I'm getting the best of you Course Ironman Coeur D'Alene, you won this time sucker but not next year". Big Purple Out!