This guy is like Ironman PLUS :: RunningForums.com

I got this forwarded to me from a local race director. It's a race report from Andrew Johnston, a local tri/duathlete that is currently battling leukemia (CML).

Quote:

I'm going to Hawaii to race the World Ironman Championships on October 21st.

I've followed a convoluted path to Kona (the island on which the race takes place every year), but I'll limit this narrative to my experience at Ironman Coeur D'Alene this past Sunday:

Turned out I was having a bad blood day. See, the drug I take, Gleevec, is a chemo. It destroys cells. And while it does a great job of keeping my white blood cells from proliferating (thus keeping me alive), it also interferes with red blood cell production. I haven't had a normal level of red blood cells or hemoglobin or hematocrit (the building blocks of aerobic metabolism which make exercise a bit easier) since I was diagnosed with CML. It also makes me cramp when doing everyday things like brushing my teeth. But I can live with these side effects if...well, if I can live!

I realized what kind of day I was going to have 2 miles into the bike--I just felt weak. I couldn't really tell that on the swim. With over 2200 triathletes running into the lake at the same time, survival was my first priority. There were divers swimming underneath the field of racers in case someone needed their assistance. And seeing as you get kicked and punched and bloody noses and black eyes were seen at the swim finish, keeping drowning to a minimum was not a bad idea. So I just tried to stay smooth, coming out in about an hour--a few minutes off my expected time. Then I ran up the beach, layed on the ground, and let the wetsuit strippers in the transition area take my wetsuit off. They also succeeded in taking my race # off, too. So I detoured to my bike-to-run transition bag to fetch my other #. Then I jumped on my bike to the REAL start of my race. I was in 172nd position.

My wife (who got to see me 5 times during the bike) as well as some of my cycling buddies following my progress on Ironmanlive.com knew I wasn't riding like normal. Admittedly, I wasn't killing myself out there either. After 6+ weeks of no running, my game plan was to conserve on the bike so I had something left for the marathon. Still, I've only been passed by 2 people on the bike in any of my past tri's, so getting overtaken by so many folks during the ride was a bit demoralizing. I consoled myself by saying I'd see plenty of these people on the 2nd 56mile loop of the bike, not really knowing if I believed that or not. This was new territory for me, and I couldn't get that damn song out of my head--So You Had A Bad Day.

Bad became worse at the 1.5hr mark of the bike when my stomach (which NEVER bothers me) decided I'd taken on too much of something and started probing the confines of my upper esophagus. I started spitting up. It was time for plan B. I knew that even the leanest of athletes has enough energy stored as fat to complete back to back marathons. So from mile 40-112, plan B consisted primarily of water. I came off the bike in about 50th place about 17mins off the time I knew I could ride in my sleep. Now for the run...

I jogged out of transition for my first run in over 6 weeks. First couple of miles were not ez, and my stomach felt like I had taken a laxative. So at the next port-a-john I dropped throw and came out of there a new man. Miles 3-20 were relatively quick despite the increasing temps which peaked in the mid 90's. My I.T. Band, which had kept me from running since my last bone marrow biopsy 7 weeks ago, started talking to me at mile 3. But at the halfway point of the marathon, it realized I wasn't listening. I had to drop out of my last Ironman while in 10th overall because of the agony I felt with every step (a torn posterior tib courtesy of my then undiagnosed leukemia keeping my body from healing itself), and I was determined to cross the finish even if it meant I'd do so on my hands and knees. Everything was cool until with less than 6 miles to go my left hamstring cramped so hard another step wasn't even a remote possibility. I stretched it out at my fellow competitors began to trickle by me. The crowd and volunteers encouraged me as I stretched it out, tried to run, then cramped again. Eventually, I eased into a walk and finally a jog. At every mile marker, I went thru the same routine. Cramp...stretch...walk...jog...cramp again. Those last 5 miles or so were not my fastest.

When the finish line came into sight it was beautiful. 500 meters downhill with thousands of spectators. Even more beautiful was seeing my family--Diana, my mom, and my sis were all there to cheer me on. But with 300 meters to go, my hamstring locked up again, and I was forced to stretch it out and look on as one last competitor passed me. I came across in 38th in a time of 10:06--36+mins off my goal time, but an Ironman once again. My placing was just good enough to earn a slot for the Big Show in October, and I took it despite some initial misgivings. I have more racing on my shoulders than some, perhaps, one of which is an obligation to go to Kona if given the ability and the chance. I've been blessed with both thanks to so many different combinations of factors I couldn't name them all. But if you're reading this e-mail, you are a part of the mix which is me (like it or not). And I wanted you to know that.

I'm off now to Europe to visit some friends and try to recover. In the mean time, take care of yourselves.

And remember--the only limitations we have are the ones we set for ourselves.

In good health.

Here's the link to his splits for CdA if you're interested.

http://ironman.com/events/ironman/coeurdalene?show=tracker&y=2006&race=events/ironman/coeurdalene&bib=539

This guy is like Ironman PLUS

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