Sunday, September 10, 6:15 a.m. (55 minutes to go)

I did what I always do, “Audentes Fortuna Iuvat,” “Fortune favors the bold.”

(You took the picture?)

I took the picture. I was so happy that even if I failed at this ironman triathlon, I would at least have the picture with the world champion.

(How did the picture come out?)

BLURRY!

(What happened?)

The floodlight above overloaded the phone’s camera sensors & the picture was ruined.

What else was going to go wrong this morning?

There was nothing left to do but hug my wife goodbye & hand her my tee shirt & my phone.

(Why did you give her your phone?)

Phones were forbidden.

(But you always carry your phone. It’s how you take pictures before the race & on the run)

I did not come all this way to get disqualified for having my cell phone on my person. This time you, my readers, are going to have to rely on my words for pictures.. and any images I can lift off the Ironman website. I was about to hand over my Samsung Galaxy, but I had one last “thing” to do before I crossed into the athlete only section. Every year, a song on my “Run Playlist” grabs my attention. It becomes my get psyched up song, like a crowd chant.

Since MP3 players are not permitted at triathlons, that song becomes “the” song I play over and over in my head for the next 16 hours of the race.

This year it was “Sea of Madness” by British heavy metal band, Maiden.

(Ok, here is your challenge, explain in words why this song mattered to you)

So, use “words” to explain “sound” to my readers?

(Good luck with that)

The song has a descending, percussive opening riff. The drums punctuate the snare with staccato blasts, like machine gun fire while the ride cymbal bell rang out with alternating 8th & 16th notes.

(I don’t understand)

It had the same heart pumping effect that AC/DC’s Thunderstruck has.

(I don’t listen to heavy metal)

Ok, think of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song.

(I don’t listen to rock music)

Ok, think of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.”

Sunday, September 10, 6:30 a.m. (40 minutes to go)

Walking into bike transition before dawn was like walking down the aisle at the movies after the preview had started to roll. Your field of vision is either darkness or bright lights that hurt your eyes.

Bike “transition” means many things. It is the area where you set up your bike. It is the area where you “transition” from swim to bike & 112 miles later, bike to run. It is also on race day, a “city.”

Like any city, it has its avenues and its streets. Avenues run north to south & there are three of them: down the middle between the two racks of bikes and on the ends of the racks of bikes, along the fence that secured the area. The bikes were “racked” by leaning the bicycle seat on a metal pole that sat atop an A-frame. The back wheel sat in the air while the front wheel rested on the ground. I put my bottles of hydration into the three bottle holders and the bike swayed sympathetically to the addition of three water bottles.

Sunday, September 10, 6:35 a.m. (35 minutes to go)

Then it was time to find a pump.

(You didn’t bring your own?)

I never have. There are always bicycle pumps provided.

(Did your bike tires go flat?)

No, it’s a race morning tradition to top off your bike tires. They do lose a little bit of air overnight. Most racing bikes rise size 22, 25 or 28.

(Inch?)

Millimeter.

(So, how do you know if your tire needs air?)

You pinch it.

(Like your aunt pinching your cheek?)

Maybe not that hard, but if you ride regularly you will know.

(& if you don’t ride regularly?)

You check.

(How? Is there a measuring device? Do you ask the tires?)

The side wall of the tire lists the “recommended” maximum air pressure, but I had been advised by my bike mechanic not to go up to 100 PSI.

(What number had you been recommended?)

I couldn’t remember. Was it 80 PSI or 90 PSI? I decided on a compromise, 85 PSI.

I attached the pump to the tire valve. I grabbed the handle & locked my arms like I was doing CPR compressions . My foot was on the base of the pump, to keep it steady. That was when I realized…I had dropped my nutrition.

(What did you mean, “dropped”?)

I had my gel, my swim calories tucked into my waist band & now it’s gone.

(Why didn’t you put it in your pockets?)

Pockets? I’m wearing skintight swim trunks. What pockets?

(You need those calories for the swim. You have to find that gel)

I had no time to get down on all fours, in the dimly lit area and search. I had to keep pumping…

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].