This is what I wrote after finishing my first Ironman in April 2006:
Big Dreams.
I am experiencing the power of 2,000 athletes dreaming big. 2,000 aspiring Ironmen dreaming to be even stronger, even tougher, even better than most ever dare to dream.
The journey to get here, to the start of Ironman Arizona 2006, was filled with such ambitious dreams. Dreams that kept me going through long, rainy training days. Dreams that woke me up for 5:30 swimming. Dreams that took me places I never thought I’d see.
Now these dreams are becoming my reality. I am anticipating the cannon sounding to start the 2.4-mile swim. Around me, athletes radiate confidence and focus. Everyone has this look. A look that says, “I can do this. Today is my day.” A helicopter is flying above us, filming the start to a 140.6-mile day. The crowd swells along the shore and loudly shows its appreciation. The energy is enormous. Boom! The cannon fires and I am on my way.
I am sliding through the water easily this morning. The swim course takes me east in the Tempe Town Lake past Sun Devil Stadium. I feel strong as I make the turnaround and head west back to the transition. It’s early in a long day and I remind myself not too push it. I am hoping to prove my strength at the end of the day, not now. I slide around the last buoy and head to the steps. I look at my watch – 1 hour and 9 minutes. Right on time.
The start of the bike is the best I have felt in weeks. I immediately feel the benefits of the taper period. I feel rested, I feel ready, and I feel strong. I remind myself to stay in control – there’s too much left in the day to push myself this early. I start in on my nutrition plan of taking in 400 calories an hour. Every 15 minutes, I eat and drink to fuel my body for the challenges ahead. The first hour of the bike takes me out through the Arizona desert, over some small climbs, and to the turnaround in east Scottsdale. The way back to Tempe feels much easier with the wind at my back. I complete the first loop feeling strong. The day is just beginning.
Climbing back towards Scottsdale into the wind provides the first challenging stretch of the day. As I reach the turnaround, elite athletes begin to pass me on their 3rd lap. They demonstrate perfect form, keep absolute focus, and exude power. Inspired by their determination, I keep a steady clip and turn back to Tempe a second time.
As my third and final loop begins, I still feel in control of the day. But I remind myself how quickly this can change – I need to stay focused on the task at hand. I continue to hydrate and consume calories. I pedal efficiently and ignore the doubts as my legs show some signs of tiring. As I come back to Tempe for the final time, the wind has shifted into me, but I push on with the reassurance that I’ll soon be off the bike.
Coming into the transition area, I see my family for the first time all day – it’s a huge lift to hear them cheering me on. It’s even better to hand my bike off to a friendly volunteer after 6 hours and 37 minutes of cycling. I change into my running shoes and I exit the transition area. Now the heat hits me for the first time. My first few steps are shaky. 26.2 miles to go, and this is going to be difficult.
Through the first of the run’s three loops, my body adjusts to the new challenges. My legs loosen up and I am pleased to find a good rhythm. I am able to keep a steady pace, and my attitude slowly shifts from nervous doubts towards excited thoughts of the finish line. At each aid station, I slow to walk, hydrate, and soak up the energy from the amazing volunteers. The cheers from the crowd also boost my spirit and keep me going. As I cross Mill Avenue Bridge to complete the first loop, I am energized and feeling stronger – I am getting closer.
Throughout my second run loop, I use the motivational signs, enthusiastic spectators, and wonderful volunteers to keep my spirits high. There are several inspirational moments:
-A sign that reads, “Yesterday, you did what others wouldn’t.” It is followed by a sign that says, “Today, you are doing what other can’t!”
-My family’s smiles, cheers, and encouragement as I jog by.
-A sign made for JR Rosania, the personal trainer of the late Pat Tillman, an aspiring Ironman: “Somewhere up there Pat Tillman is looking down. And he is smiling!”
-A cheerful volunteer in a wheel chair, shouting encouragement with a fist pump.
The start of my third and final run loop energizes me even more as I think, “Just 1 more!” Through this stretch, I confidently anticipate the finish and feel especially strong. I lose all of the nagging doubts about making it to the finish line and continue on with happy anticipation.
As I go through the last aid station, a smiling volunteer walks with me down the path asking me what I need and what can he do. I tell him that I am feeling strong and I am almost there. He shouts with encouragement, “You are doing great!” I reply with a smile and a question: “How do I look – is it going to be a good finish photo?” He gives me a happy laugh, tells me that I look terrific, and replies that it will be an excellent photo.
Turning towards the Mill Avenue Bridge and the last few hundred yards of the day is almost anticlimactic. I had executed my race plan so well that it took me through the course in a steady, simple, and uneventful pace – I arrived at this point without any serious problems or significant doubts about my performance. There would be no “Oh my God, I am finally going to finish” moment. But the pride of a job well done and a sense of accomplishment set in as I step on to the bridge to cross the lake one last time. It’s been almost 5 hours and 20 minutes since I started running, and I have felt stronger as the run has progressed. This feeling of strength is very satisfying. I move on, across the bridge.
And then I see the finish chute – that’s me up on the giant screen! The large grandstands are packed with screaming fans, and Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, tells the crowd, “Here’s John Fischer, 26, of Manhattan Beach, California.” I raise my arms and soak it in. I give my brother a big high five along the side. And I run towards the finish line glowing in excitement.
This is the opposite of an out of body experience; it’s a saturation of the senses. There’s so much noise, so much emotion, and so much excitement that I can’t take it all in. I hardly feel my tired feet pounding out the last few steps; I float towards the finish tape. The noise of the crowd is deafening, but I hear nothing specific. The bright lights of the finish guide me in, but my eyes are unable to register all of the activity. It’s as if all of the energy I expended to get here pumps back through me at a higher voltage, flooding my mind and lifting me towards the line.
My senses are overwhelmed as I hear Mike again: “John, you ARE an Ironman!”
In this moment, I prove that with hard work and determination, anything is indeed possible. I throw my arms in the air and cross the finish tape with a big double fist pump.
The power of the moment has me in its grasp. In 13 hours and 20 minutes, I have covered 140.6 miles and experienced something very few people do – a moment that confirms there are no limits to what I can do. The moment started with a big dream, and it was achieved through careful planning, hard work, and sound execution. It was a moment in which I realized a big dream.
Dream big.
Big Dreams.
I am experiencing the power of 2,000 athletes dreaming big. 2,000 aspiring Ironmen dreaming to be even stronger, even tougher, even better than most ever dare to dream.
The journey to get here, to the start of Ironman Arizona 2006, was filled with such ambitious dreams. Dreams that kept me going through long, rainy training days. Dreams that woke me up for 5:30 swimming. Dreams that took me places I never thought I’d see.
Now these dreams are becoming my reality. I am anticipating the cannon sounding to start the 2.4-mile swim. Around me, athletes radiate confidence and focus. Everyone has this look. A look that says, “I can do this. Today is my day.” A helicopter is flying above us, filming the start to a 140.6-mile day. The crowd swells along the shore and loudly shows its appreciation. The energy is enormous. Boom! The cannon fires and I am on my way.
I am sliding through the water easily this morning. The swim course takes me east in the Tempe Town Lake past Sun Devil Stadium. I feel strong as I make the turnaround and head west back to the transition. It’s early in a long day and I remind myself not too push it. I am hoping to prove my strength at the end of the day, not now. I slide around the last buoy and head to the steps. I look at my watch – 1 hour and 9 minutes. Right on time.
The start of the bike is the best I have felt in weeks. I immediately feel the benefits of the taper period. I feel rested, I feel ready, and I feel strong. I remind myself to stay in control – there’s too much left in the day to push myself this early. I start in on my nutrition plan of taking in 400 calories an hour. Every 15 minutes, I eat and drink to fuel my body for the challenges ahead. The first hour of the bike takes me out through the Arizona desert, over some small climbs, and to the turnaround in east Scottsdale. The way back to Tempe feels much easier with the wind at my back. I complete the first loop feeling strong. The day is just beginning.
Climbing back towards Scottsdale into the wind provides the first challenging stretch of the day. As I reach the turnaround, elite athletes begin to pass me on their 3rd lap. They demonstrate perfect form, keep absolute focus, and exude power. Inspired by their determination, I keep a steady clip and turn back to Tempe a second time.
As my third and final loop begins, I still feel in control of the day. But I remind myself how quickly this can change – I need to stay focused on the task at hand. I continue to hydrate and consume calories. I pedal efficiently and ignore the doubts as my legs show some signs of tiring. As I come back to Tempe for the final time, the wind has shifted into me, but I push on with the reassurance that I’ll soon be off the bike.
Coming into the transition area, I see my family for the first time all day – it’s a huge lift to hear them cheering me on. It’s even better to hand my bike off to a friendly volunteer after 6 hours and 37 minutes of cycling. I change into my running shoes and I exit the transition area. Now the heat hits me for the first time. My first few steps are shaky. 26.2 miles to go, and this is going to be difficult.
Through the first of the run’s three loops, my body adjusts to the new challenges. My legs loosen up and I am pleased to find a good rhythm. I am able to keep a steady pace, and my attitude slowly shifts from nervous doubts towards excited thoughts of the finish line. At each aid station, I slow to walk, hydrate, and soak up the energy from the amazing volunteers. The cheers from the crowd also boost my spirit and keep me going. As I cross Mill Avenue Bridge to complete the first loop, I am energized and feeling stronger – I am getting closer.
Throughout my second run loop, I use the motivational signs, enthusiastic spectators, and wonderful volunteers to keep my spirits high. There are several inspirational moments:
-A sign that reads, “Yesterday, you did what others wouldn’t.” It is followed by a sign that says, “Today, you are doing what other can’t!”
-My family’s smiles, cheers, and encouragement as I jog by.
-A sign made for JR Rosania, the personal trainer of the late Pat Tillman, an aspiring Ironman: “Somewhere up there Pat Tillman is looking down. And he is smiling!”
-A cheerful volunteer in a wheel chair, shouting encouragement with a fist pump.
The start of my third and final run loop energizes me even more as I think, “Just 1 more!” Through this stretch, I confidently anticipate the finish and feel especially strong. I lose all of the nagging doubts about making it to the finish line and continue on with happy anticipation.
As I go through the last aid station, a smiling volunteer walks with me down the path asking me what I need and what can he do. I tell him that I am feeling strong and I am almost there. He shouts with encouragement, “You are doing great!” I reply with a smile and a question: “How do I look – is it going to be a good finish photo?” He gives me a happy laugh, tells me that I look terrific, and replies that it will be an excellent photo.
Turning towards the Mill Avenue Bridge and the last few hundred yards of the day is almost anticlimactic. I had executed my race plan so well that it took me through the course in a steady, simple, and uneventful pace – I arrived at this point without any serious problems or significant doubts about my performance. There would be no “Oh my God, I am finally going to finish” moment. But the pride of a job well done and a sense of accomplishment set in as I step on to the bridge to cross the lake one last time. It’s been almost 5 hours and 20 minutes since I started running, and I have felt stronger as the run has progressed. This feeling of strength is very satisfying. I move on, across the bridge.
And then I see the finish chute – that’s me up on the giant screen! The large grandstands are packed with screaming fans, and Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, tells the crowd, “Here’s John Fischer, 26, of Manhattan Beach, California.” I raise my arms and soak it in. I give my brother a big high five along the side. And I run towards the finish line glowing in excitement.
This is the opposite of an out of body experience; it’s a saturation of the senses. There’s so much noise, so much emotion, and so much excitement that I can’t take it all in. I hardly feel my tired feet pounding out the last few steps; I float towards the finish tape. The noise of the crowd is deafening, but I hear nothing specific. The bright lights of the finish guide me in, but my eyes are unable to register all of the activity. It’s as if all of the energy I expended to get here pumps back through me at a higher voltage, flooding my mind and lifting me towards the line.
My senses are overwhelmed as I hear Mike again: “John, you ARE an Ironman!”
In this moment, I prove that with hard work and determination, anything is indeed possible. I throw my arms in the air and cross the finish tape with a big double fist pump.
The power of the moment has me in its grasp. In 13 hours and 20 minutes, I have covered 140.6 miles and experienced something very few people do – a moment that confirms there are no limits to what I can do. The moment started with a big dream, and it was achieved through careful planning, hard work, and sound execution. It was a moment in which I realized a big dream.
Dream big.
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