The time has finally arrived! The race 7 years in the making was here. The
The few days leading up to the race I tried to keep everything as stress free as possible. We landed in Phoenix on Wednesday night and went straight to the AirBnb. The next morning, we got up early and we were one of the first in line for check in.
After checking in we browsed the Ironman Store and looked at all the vendors/sponsors on sight. After the first mandatory race briefing we returned to the AirBnB for Thomas' nap. During this time I assembled my bike and organized all my gear.
We did attend the Opening Ceremony which was very fun. We heard some amazing stories and played some fun games.
Up until this point I was equal parts nervous equal parts excited about the race. But after the Opening Ceremony was over, that split changed to 20% nervous and 100% determined.
Saturday morning we had Thomas' IronKids run. We got there early so we could be a part of the warm up.
Then it was off to the start line. We started in the back as Thomas was starting to lose interest and patience. When the race started, half the other competitors began to cry, so Thomas and I ran by them.
After Thomas' race, I dropped off my transition bags and took part in the practice swim. I was not planning on swimming the entire loop, I just wanted to know what the water would be like.
Well I found out. It was cold.
I've swam in water this cold before. Our open water season starts in June and the water at Jericho Beach is always this cold at that time. The difference is, I have time to sit in the water and acclimate. I won't have that luxury tomorrow.
Out of the water and back with my family I gathered my thoughts. I would be so excited on race morning the cold may not even bother me. Plus, I know how quickly I warm up. Either way, I cannot change the water temperature so I chalked it up to 'part of the challenge.'
That afternoon, my parents arrived. After some fun with Thomas, we all went out to eat. Then it was back to the AirBnb to try and get some sleep.
As I got ready, Jen mentioned that this was the calmest she's ever seen me before a race. I am not sure what the reasoning behind this was other than the work was done, now it was time to deliver.
All packed up and ready to go we drove to the race start. But the road we would normally take was closed. We were not given any warning the day before that the main road to the garage they told us to park at would be closed. There was a huge line of cars and no one was moving.
I finally just gave Jen the keys, grabbed my stuff, and walked the rest of the way. I wasn't really thinking and still had my wallet and phone with me. If Jen did not make it in time, I would have to put them in my Morning Clothes bag and risk losing them. I tried not to let that worry me and concentrated at the tasks at hand.
I made the necessary additions to my run bag and dropped off my bike and run special needs bags. Then I found my bike, pumped up the tires, and sorted out my water bottles. After a few walk throughs of transition for practice and landmark spotting, I went and found a quiet spot to put on my wetsuit,.
After a quick stop to use the washroom, Jen and Thomas arrived. Jen helped me finish putting on my wetsuit and we started walking towards the swim start.
Suddenly, a wave of panic came over me. I looked down. Where was my timing chip!?
I looked at Jen and I must have left it in transition. I sprinted into transition and looked frantically around my bike. I asked a volunteer where I could get a replacement and they said at the swim start. So I left transition and started walking toward the swim start. It took me a while but I finally found where to get a replacement chip.
After getting a new chip, I lined up according to my expected swim finish and did what I could to calm myself down. I started chatting with a few athletes and got some pointers. The pros were in the water and it would soon me our turn.
Suddenly I heard, "Joseph Hayden!" And I turned to see Jen and Thomas waving. Jen brought Thomas over and I got a good high five. As the line of swimmers moved forward I saw my parents waving.
The water felt much warmer than the day before. That is, until I put my face in the water. I did my best to stay calm. I had the open water anxiety trifecta working against me; Cold water, wetsuit, race jitters.
Once around the first turn the water got crowded. I was still in my warm-up and keep-calm phase so this did not bother me too much. It was however, the first time in a long time that I was legitimately kicked in the face. At that point I was thankful for the numbingly cold water.
As we rounded the second turn I did indeed warm up. The water was starting to feel nice and the field was thinning out as swimmers found their pace. I knew this would be the longest stretch of the swim so I mentally broke it up. There was a set of 2 train bridges, a set of 2 traffic bridges, and one bridge just before turn 3, these would serve as my 'intervals.'
I took a minute to get my bearings. The sun was coming up and we were swimming right into it. I found a building that served as a good sight line and swam on.
Once past the set of train bridges, I noticed I was very wide to the left side. Swimming is not all about speed, it's about the best line. If you can swim a shorter distance, you are automatically faster. I started to angle myself to be more in line with the buoys and soon found myself in a violent pack. There was lots of ankle grabbing and people swimming over me. I tried not to get upset and assumed no one was doing these things on purpose. Besides, I was now in the fast lane and most likely swimming with athletes chasing a Kona spot.
Once on the other side of the bridges, I had to adjust my sight line. There was a large building under construction that now served as my sighting target. This was the largest stretch of the swim.
As we approached the last bridge, I thought I saw the turn 3 buoy but then remembered we had to swim under the bridge. The turn 3 buoy was just on the other side.
Turn 3 was not as crowded as I would have expected and I took it pretty tight. I was able to find the turn 4 buoy right away and swam to it fairly quickly.
After turn 4, the sun was at our backs and sighting was much easier. The water was now becoming very choppy, choppier than a lake swim should be. Once again, this was something outside my control so I put my
Swim Smart open water skills to good use. Once again, it was just like Jericho Beach in June.
Although this was not the longest stretch on the swim, I knew it would feel like it was, so I continued to pace myself. I could see the seawall lined with spectators and could hear them all cheering.
Once again, I was veering too far left. I tried to correct but the water was getting very crowded. I thought I had gone over far enough to swim straight to (what I thought was) turn 5, but as I approached I saw I was still too far left.
The support crew in the water positioned themselves in a way that pinched us into turn 5, the first of 2 left turns. Turn 5 and 6 were very crowded and I did my best to stay calm.
Turn 6 was closest to the seawall and I could hear nothing but cheers. I turned and swam to the exit ramp. I knew standing up after that swim would be disorientating, so I took my time as I excited the water. I stood up and made my way up the ramp while starting to take off my wetsuit.
As I turned right, I could see the path to T1 lined with more spectators than I've ever seen at a race. And everyone was cheering each and every athlete.
As we ran along the grass, I saw the volunteer wetsuit strippers. I had only used them once before in a race and Covid had made them nonexistent for some time. I found a free volunteer, sat on the ground with my feet in the air, and my wetsuit was quickly stripped off. I thanked the volunteer, slung my wetsuit over my shoulder, and started toward transition
The way to transition left the grass and went onto carpet, and it was here I saw my family and Jen's first sign. One of Thomas' favorite movies is Monsters University and this was a quote from that movie.
I looked over and saw my dad with Thomas. Thomas let out a loud, 'Daddy!" and I could see him running beside me.
Entering into transition, volunteers were yelling out out numbers as they prepared our bags. They called out the number of the athlete walking beside me and he responded, "No. No. I'm done. I'll collect my gear but I'm done."
My heart broke for him. To be finished this early in the race must have been a tough call. But then again I do not know his full story.
As the volunteers called out my number, I shouted, "757! Bright pink tape!" They found it immediately as it was super easy to see. Huge thanks to the
TriDot podcast for that tip.
As I made my way through transition I was trying to decide if I wanted to use the change tent or not. The decision was made for me as there was no place to sit outside. All the seats were taken.
I made my way into the change tent and managed to find an empty seat. I dumped out my bike gear bag and started to prep for the bike.
Everyone in the change tent was complaining about the water temperature and the choppiness. I smiled to myself and kept thinking, 'Just like Jericho in June."
I left the change tent, took advantage of the sun screen station, stopped to urinate, then found my bike. There was a typo on the rack numbers and someone had crossed it out with sharpie and corrected it. This made it very easy to find my bike. I dropped my bike gear bag (now filled with my swim gear), unracked my bike, and took off for the mount line.
The Bike
We made our way out to the mount line and I gingerly clipped in. I could still barely feel my feet from the swim. Then I was off down the path out of Tempe Beach Park and onto the bike course.
I heard my name called and looked up in time to see my friend John. He and I had met in 2016 in line for the
Ironman Arizona 70.3 athlete check-in. It was my first 70.3 back then and John and I have been following each other on social media since then.
I made my way out onto Rio Salado and past the first aid station. Then I was hit with a massive headwind. At first I was demoralized. This race was supposed to be flat and easy! This is not the race I signed up for!
I tried my best to keep my power under control as I battled the wind. I also started to keep my mind under control as well.
There are 2 popular cycling routes back home, the Richmond Loop and Iona Beach. Both are notorious for headwinds going in one direction. I have done both of the routes so many times I cannot count, and I always know you can make up time with the tail wind.
With this in mind, I did what I could given the circumstance. Part of the challenge. I knew I could trust my training to get me to the 30k turn around and then I could use the tail wind to fly back.
The first part of the bike course had a few turns as we rode through Tempe to the Beeline Highway. A few times the headwind turned into a crosswind and I was glad I swapped out my front wheel for something shallower.
Once we got out onto the Beeline Highway, the crowded bike course began to spread out. I did my best to follow all the rules, but I will admit it is hard to follow them when all those around are not.
At around 25km, I had to stop due to a dropped chain. This was not supposed to happen as I have a chain catcher on my bike. From that point on, I was very careful not to change too many gears at once.
It was a slow grind to the turn around at 30k, but as I crossed the timing mats, I could hear everyone at home cheering for me in my head. I made the 180 degree turn and sure enough, started to fly down the course.
The first 30k of the bike I averaged 154 watts and 21kph, but on the way back, it was 105 watts and 34kph. Quite the difference!
During the ride I was passed by a few of the female pros such as
Lauren Brandon (who placed 10th),
Sky Moench (who went on to take second), and
Sarah True (who went on to win). I was probably passed by a few of the male pros too, but I was less familiar with their kits (with the exception of
Sam Long).
Soon I was back navigating the turns though Tempe and at the turn around. There were so many spectators. One could say.... It was spectacular.
I saw my family and Jen's next sign.
I knew the first half of lap 2 would be another grind, but I had a better idea of lay ahead. I tried to keep my watts more under control and averaged 129 watts and 21kph for the climb back out.
At 80k I stopped for my special needs bag, I replaced my empty water bottle with new ones filled with my
GRUPPO mix, reapplied some much needed body glide, and changed socks. The socks were a game changer. I thought maybe I took too long at special needs, but everything I did here was needed. I could not go one without my nutrition, (without getting into detail) the body glide was sorely needed, but maybe the socks were a luxury I could have skipped. But they did help with moral, so I consider that necessary.
Soon I was at the turn around again, riding over the timing mats, and thinking of all those tracking me. I was doing it!
The second half of the second lap was another fast and fun ride at an average 100 watts and 32kph. But toward the end of this lap, the ride was starting to take it tole.
I stopped at an aid station to adjust my shoes, I was starting to get a hotspot. I was doing my best to keep my head in the game but the start of the third lap was getting tough. The wind had died down, but was still present. I kept telling myself that this was supposed to be hard, part of the challenge.
After what seemed like an eternity, I was at the turn around (average 115 watts and 21kph). I stopped to adjust my shoes again and stretch out my back. It was the final 30k of the bike and I wanted to make sure I got everything I could out of the slight downhill and tailwind. I pushed a little harder knowing it was almost over.
Around 160k, I had reached the longest I had ever ridden and I found my second wind. As good as I was feeling, I was glad to be coming back into Tempe. Last 30k was an average of 105 watts and 30kph.
I was approaching the turn around, but took the right lane to ride back into Tempe Beach Park, which was once again (or still) packed with spectators cheering everyone in.
I dismounted, handed my bike to a volunteer, took off my bike shoes, and made my way to my run gear bag. Once again it was super easy to see with the bright pink duct tape.
I grabbed my bag and went into the change tent once again. It was way less crowded this time and I had no problem finding a seat. I had a much faster transition this go around. But then again T2 is always faster.
I dropped off my run gear, took advantage of the sun screen station and made my way out onto the run course.
Once again there was my family cheering me on. I stopped to give Thomas a high five before heading out onto the run.
The Run
The first part of the run was an out-and-back along the water. The hotspot in my foot was still bothering me so I started off walking until it loosened up. Halfway on the 'out' section I began to run. I was feeling good, but could see by my watch that my pace slower than usual. I didn't think much of it as I was still doing the time I needed.
I saw David (who I met at the start) and we chatted for a bit before he went off at his pace.
I kept with my 10 and 1 Run/Walk and was soon at the turn around. The way back was closer to the water and along a packed, dirt path. I looked out over the water and thought, 'This is where is all started." Soon, I was back passing transition and got more cheers from my family and the many spectators.
Past transition, there was a row of Tri Club tents with lots of music and some fun encouragement. It was here that I saw John again, volunteering at an aid station.
A short ways up the course, I saw a message written on the sidewalk that read "Go Joe!" and had a Canadian flag drawn under it. I knew there were friends of friends at this race, so I assumed one of my training partners had them write me a message. It was a nice surprise.
As we continued down the stretch to the Priest Road bridge, the sun was setting and the sky was a beautiful orange color. I guess I didn't need that sunscreen after all.
At this point I was starting to get very tired. I alternated my 10 minute runs so every other one was a walk. But I did make sure it was a fast walk. Keeping at 11 minutes per kilometer. I did some rough math and figured if I kept to this pace, I would finish on time.
Once across the bridge, we turned left to run along the other side of Tempe Town Lake. The path was well lit and everyone was very encouraging.
By the time we got to the turn around at Mile 8, all I could manage was my fast walk. I was constantly doing math in my head, but at that point, my brain could only concentrate on one step at a time.
Apologies for switching from metric to imperial for the run, but my watch died and I have no recorded data for the run. So I am basing my distances on the official course map, which shows miles.
Around mile 9, we took a right and went along Papago Park. I saw a nice playground and made a note to come back here later in the week with Thomas. We then turned left and up the only hill on the run.
When we turned left to come back down, a lone spectator cheered me on. "That's it! Keep moving!"
I thanked him and said I hoped it was enough. He assured me that if I kept at that pace, I would make it. This made me feel better and kept at my fast walk.
We turned right back onto the path and toward the Priest Road bridge. I could hear Mike Reilly's voice calling in finishers. It was encouraging, but I knew I still had a long way to go.
We crossed the bridge, turned left onto Rio Salado, and then took the left for Lap 2.
I passed my "Go Joe" chalk again, got more encouragement from John, and made my way to the end of Lap 1. I later found out that it was in fact John who had written the message on the sidewalk for me.
And the end of lap 1, I was still going at a pretty good pace. Jen came out and walked with me. She informed me that
my coach needed me to pick up the pace a bit. She said I was so close but needed to go a bit faster.
Shortly after that, I was at special needs pick up for the run. I grabbed my bag and kept going. Rather than stopping, I unpacked what I needed on the move and discarded the bag at the next trash can I saw.
I began to run again (if you want to call it that). I knew I needed to pick up the pace, so I went back to running every other 10 minute interval. I also upped my walk speed to be under 11 minutes per kilometer. If I can hold this, then I am good!
There was a timing mat at the end of the first out-and-back, so I knew my coach would see my new pace and let Jen know if it was enough.
Once back at Jen, she informed me that what I was doing was enough and I kept going.
At this point, my watch died. So I had no idea what time it was or how fast/slow I was going.
By the time I got to mile 18, all I could do was my fast walk, and even my fast walk was slowing. I was walking next to another athlete and we got to talking. He informed me that there was a cut off at mile 20. We had to be there by 10:45pm. A part of me was worried, but were already at mile 18.
At around mile 18, Jen met up with me. She had crossed a bridge to see me on the other side. By now I was walking slow. I had nothing left. Jen tried her best to encourage me, but what I was doing was literally all I had.
I was broken. I was broken physically. I was broken mentally. I was totally broken.
I kept moving and made it to mile 20 under the cut off, but was moving very slow. I was all I had left.
As runners were coming back along the path and we made eye contact, I could see it in their eyes. "This guy is not gonna make it."
At that point I knew the same. But I wanted to get as far as I could with whatever little I had left before they pulled me off the course.
We made it to the turn around and on the way back I saw another athlete behind me being trailed by a golf cart. I looked at Jen and said, "That's the sweeper."
I will fully (and somewhat shamefully) admit that at this point in the race, I was hoping to be pulled off the course. The level of suffering at this point went beyond any of my physical or mental training. I kept repeating to Jen, "I never want to do this again. This sucks. Never again!"
Jen said, "Just go as far as you can before they get here."
At mile 22, I was passed by the one athlete behind me and now the golf cart was trailing me. At one point he pulled up beside me and asked my bib #. I thought, this is it. I'm done. He thanked me and said, "Oh keep going I just needed your number."
Jen walked with me (and the golf cart) until mile 23 where I told her I just needed to be alone.
A course marshal tried his best to encourage me, "You can hear Mike Reilly! You are almost there!"
This helped me to find a little more strength and I began to walk faster.
This new found life was cut short around mile 24 when the sweeper in the golf cart pulled up beside me and said, "The race director wants me to make sure you realize that the course officially closes in 8 minutes." I turned and said, "I figured I'd run out of time eventually. Can you tell me what happens in 8 minutes?" He said he would get me an answer, but in the meantime, keep going.
I knew I could not run 2.6 miles in 8 minutes, especially now.
Around the 25 mile mark, the sweeper informed me that the race was officially over. He asked me what I would I would like to do. I asked him if I would still get a medal and a t-shirt. He smiled and said he would get me an answer. "In the meantime, keep going."
I saw 2 bikes coming down the road and heard the sweeper yell out "Thanks Mike!" And I realized Mike Reilly was going home. While Mike Reilly calling my name at the finish was a big motivator of mine (this was his last race in North America before retiring), it was never a part of why I was doing this.
Don't get me wrong, Mike's contribution to the sport is HUGE, but I wasn't even aware of him until after I had signed up and started training. I was able to have a great chat with him on Thursday morning, heard him call my name at the end of the swim and the bike laps, and I give him a hug at the start of the swim. So I feel I did not miss out on the Mike Reilly Experience altogether.
A short while later, the sweeper informed me that there was indeed a medal and a t-shirt waiting for me. And once again asked me what I would like to do. I looked at him and said "I want to complete the distance." He smiled and I kept going.
I looked up and saw a man in a red hoodie walking towards me. It took me a moment, but I then recognized my dad. He walked toward me with a big smile on his face and began to walk with me. He told me I was not far from the finish and then tried to lighten the mood with some corny jokes that only my dad could do. I looked at him and said, "Dad, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but this not what I need right now." He put his hand on my back and we continued to walk.
A little less than half a mile to the finish line, the sweeper told me that the race director wants us brought in. So my dad and I got in the golf cart. The sweeper drove us to the start of the finish chute, where I thought he was going to drop me off, but we went right up to the finish line. I stopped him just before the line and said, "No. I need to cross under my own power."
I got out of the golf cart very slowly, put my race belt back on, and walked across the finish line.
The lights were off. The cameras were gone. Mike Reilly had gone. The spectators were home.
It was just the sweeper, the volunteer with my medal, my dad (who took this picture), my mom, my wife, my son, and me at the finish.
This was not at all how I envisioned my Ironman finish. To keep me motivated during all my training and the whole race, I kept replaying how the finish line would be. And this was NOT it.
I suddenly became very cold and started shaking uncontrollably. I went into the medical tent and was given a space blanket and some chicken broth. I stood in front of a heater and tried to stop shaking long enough to drink the broth.
I looked out the door of the tent and saw my mom and dad, Jen, and Thomas. Jen had my hoodie and sweatpants from that morning. I hobbled over and grabbed them, went back into the warm tent, and tried to change.
It is a very humbling experience when 2 teenage medical volunteers have to help you put pants on.
Once warm, I 'walked' out of the medical tent to great my family. To my surprise, Thomas was still up and was calling for me. Jen told me all day he was asking, "Where Daddy go?" and when he would see me he would light up. I wish he was old enough to know that when I saw him, he did the same for me.
Final Thoughts and Perspective.
Immediately after the race I was too drained both physically and emotionally to give any thought to what I had just done. I went home and tried my best to sleep.
The next morning I read the flood of positive messages I received both directly and on my social media platforms. I was overwhelmed with the amount of support and love that was shown.
In my head I am still struggling with how to feel about the race. I technically finished, but did not officially finish. Does that make me an Ironman? Part of the challenge is the time cut off. Did I meet that challenge? I did the distance. I crossed the finish line. I got the medal and t-shirt. But does this make me an Ironman?
As I am writing this, in my mind the answer is still No. I am reluctant to wear my finisher gear in public and have barely even looked at my medal (which is not like me at all).
I know most people will disagree with me. Everyone I have spoken to, from friends and family, teammates, fellow athletes, the Phoenix Airport bus driver, to the Customs Agent at YVR Airport, all say I am. But I just can't help but shake the feeling that I somehow failed to reach my goal.
I consider myself an Ironman Finisher, but I will not call myself an Ironman.
Let's move on to some positive perspective now.
First off all, I signed up. I signed up for and trained (my butt off) for an Ironman. I trained for years. I trained while working a full time, deadline driven, time demanding job. I trained through a worldwide pandemic. I trained through becoming a dad! And those were not consecutive challenges, those were overlapping!
I signed up. I openly accepted this challenge.
Secondly, I made it to the start line. Ironman Arizona sells out every year with around 3,000 spots. We learned during the opening ceremonies that there were 2,458 athletes who checked in. This means that for whatever reason, 542 people did not make it to the start line.
I did the training. I made it to the start line.
Third, I did the distance. There were several time cutoffs during the whole race from the swim, to the bike, to the second half of the run, and at 20 miles. And I made them all, missing only the overall time cutoff.
Throughout the race, both Jen and myself saw people either getting taken off the course due to time cutoffs or taking themselves off the course for their own personal reasons. While during the run I secretly hoped to be taken off the course, I was set to keep moving until that happened.
While I do not like to make judgements about people I do not know, I am always surprised by how athletic looking some of these athletes are who are pulled or pull themselves out of the race. I always ask myself, why I am I still going? While on the surface this seems a valid question, I know there is so much of their story I do not know and my heart breaks when I see anyone get pulled from a race.
Out of the 2,458 who started, only 1,993 finished. That means 465 athletes (for one reason or another), did not make it the full distance.
On the day, I did the distance.
As I sit here writing this, I am weighing this positive perspective against what I just wrote above it And I am just now beginning to see just how amazing this whole thing was, how amazing I am. Sure, I may not be an Ironman officially, but I am an Ironman Finisher!
What's Next?
This journey has been full of sacrifice, and not just mine. My wife has been amazing during this whole thing. She understood from day 1 how important this goal was to me and supported me 110% of the way. I know it was tough on her. Being gone for 5-6 hours at a time every Saturday and Sunday morning and leaving her with our son for that time was not easy. Not to mention the late nights/early mornings of me trying to get my midweek workouts done before/after work.
She has been my rock. She did so much for me during this journey, I cannot even begin to list them here. Thank you so much for pushing me, for supporting me, for understanding me, and continuing to love me during this whole crazy, crazy thing that is Ironman. I love you.
Racing in Ironman has been a dream of mine for over 7 years. Now that it is done I am going to take a step back to spend more time with family. While I will still race, it will be for fun and nothing over an Olympic Triathlon or half marathon (and all local).
Despite how horrible and broken I felt towards the end of the run, there is a part of me that wants another crack at this. I was so close. And I can't help but feel little history repeating itself. I did not make the time cutoff in my
first Marathon, but I went on to run several more.
I'll take the down time that my family and I need. But in the next 5 years, there may be a return to Ironman.
Swim: 1:32:34
T1: 0:14:31
Bike: 7:27:40
T2: 0:06:16
Run: 8:00:02
Total: 17:21:09 (unofficial)
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