6:07:57 p.m. (+12:05:10 since race start)
Mile 7: 11:20 pace. OK, I’ve got my groove and I’ve got a plan.
(A plan? When did you come up with a plan?)
Just now.
(OMG, this is going to be a disaster.)
Walk the hills, run the flats and the descents.
(That’s not a plan; that’s how you get through every marathon.)
Ten Ironman triathlons, nine NYC Marathons and one Boston Marathon later, the system works.
Mile 8: My WhatsApp was ringing. I only answered calls from my wife during an Ironman.
(It was not your wife.)
No, it was my swim buddies Yisroel Pupko and Michael “Willie” Wilheim on a video call.
“Hey Dave!” Pupko.
“Listen guys, I love you both, but I’m trying to focus on the marathon.”
“You are doing great.” Willie.
“Thanks guys but I’m hanging up now.”
I had to focus on where I was placing my feet as I ran. I had to remember to take in nutrition at the right time. I had to listen to my heart beating and my breathing. I had to be present, there, in Bolton, England, on the Ironman course.
The whole marathon course was a tree lined street with a turnaround at one end and a park at the other. The far end of the park placed me on city streets that lead to the finish line in the town square. I reached the bottom of the out ‘n back, crossed through the park and headed back into town. Once I reached the three blocks of the town square I was running on cobblestones.
6:35:25 p.m. (+12:30:19 since race start)
Mile 9: On my second visit to the finish line turnaround a spectator leaned over a barricade to give me a high-five. I was trying to focus on my pace, but as soon as I saw the hand extended to me I had to lean in and reciprocate. That was when Joanne, the finish line announcer, spotted me. This was the second time on this run she had called me out.
(You need to stop waving to her and her staff every time you pass them.)
I have competed in nine Ironman triathlons and almost 100 smaller triathlons. This was the first time an announcer had ever singled me out.
“I just saw David Roher. I don’t know what lap he is on, but he’s got his Ironman superhero costume in his ruck.”
She was just one of many people who asked me what was in my “ruck.”
(I guess here in England they don’t call it a backpack.)
6:44:25 p.m. (+12:41:39 since race start)
Mile 10: Two hours, four minutes and 23 seconds into this marathon. I had four hours and 18 minutes to run 16 miles. I think that I’m pacing well … but I need to check the app.
(What app?)
The Ironman app.
(The race has its own app?)
That’s how my wife and everyone back home was tracking me.
(So, nu? What did it say?)
Nothing! There must be a bad connection.
I texted my wife.
“What time did I start?”
“6:02.”
“Send screenshot. I wanna see my projected finish.”
Between my watch and the app, I was making sure not to let my time slip.
(How does the app know where you are?)
The app updates every time I cross one of three timing mats.
Mile 11: I was running up that “crummy hill” again that was the tree lined road.
Suddenly, I needed to walk.
(Uh-oh.)
Settle down, High Maintenance, this was expected.
Halfway to the top I heard, ”Hey, start running dude.”
I started running again.
(You give into peer pressure too easily.)
No, I harness its power. Besides, the road was lined with locals drinking beer outside the bars. If they could stand there I could find the strength to keep going.
Mile 12: I had been running for two hours and 31 minutes. My half marathon record at an Ironman was two hours, 45 minutes in 2016 at Ironman Lake Placid.
Let’s see if I can beat that.
David Roher is a USAT certified triathlon and marathon coach. He is a multi-Ironman finisher and veteran special education teacher. He is on Instagram @David Roher140.6. He can be reached at [email protected].
