Sunday, September 11th
Dad, my brother John and I headed got downtown a little after transition opened and were lucky enough to get parking right on the street. We dropped off my special needs bags and then headed down to Monona Terrace. I checked on my bike to make sure everything was in place and then checked on my transition bags. While in the bike transition area I ran into Dave again. We wished each other good luck and said we’d look for each other out on the course.
By 6:00 the area between the Monona Terrace building and parking deck holding our bikes was packed with athletes and their families. I got my wetsuit on and then headed down to the swim start after seeing my family one last time. I made my way into the water by 6:40, giving me plenty of time to warm up and find some space out of the way from everyone else. My plan was to stay out of the mix as much as possible during the swim start. After a moment of silence for those lost on 9/11 ten years earlier and the national anthem, the final countdown began. Once the pros went off it would only be a few minutes before we started.
The last athletes made their way into the water with about 45 seconds to go. Finally, the cannon blasted and we were off. It was then that I thought to myself, “What the hell did I get myself into?” but there wasn’t any turning back. I told myself that this race wasn’t any different than my previous triathlons… it was just a little longer. With the swim course being so close to the shore I could see the thousands of spectators watching all along the terrace. The roar of the crowd was incredible as we got started, and it was becoming easy to see why people love this race.
I started off in clean water with plenty of space, but within a few hundred meters I was fighting my way through the slower swimmers whom I had caught. I knew this was going to happen, but I figured that this strategy was safer than starting too far in the front and getting beat up by everyone around me. The mass swim starts in Ironman races turn it into a full contact sport, and I wasn’t looking to have any part of that. My goal was to survive the day, so I took a more conservative approach.
The Swim Start
Once I caught up to the slower pack I couldn’t move through very easily, so I fought for my own space and moved through when possible. We headed into the first turn and thing got even more bunched up as everyone slowed to make the hard left. I didn’t, however, forget to partake in the IM Wisconsin tradition of letting out a loud “Moo” at the first turn. With hundreds of people all there at the same time it sounded like a herd of cattle had entered the race. Things stayed pretty packed until the next turn, but once through there things opened up again. About halfway down the backstretch a military flyover buzzed us in the lake letting out a thunderous roar. It was an awesome feeling.
I settled into a good rhythm and just counted off the buoys until the next turn. As I rounded the final turn of the first loop and started on the second, I found more clean water for a while, but eventually got caught in another crowd in the corners again. I turned down the backstretch for the final time and just stayed at a comfortable pace. I made the final turn and started to head to the swim exit. Luckily, there was a large inflatable archway that made sighting easy for me. As I got closer the music and crowd got louder. Finally, I could get my feet on the bottom of the lake and volunteers in the water helped get us out and running up the ramp.
I peeled the top of my wetsuit down as I ran through the corridor of fans cheering everyone on. It was here that I noticed my Garmin watch had accidentally stopped my timing almost immediately after I started. It didn’t bother me though, because I was only going to rely on it for the bike and run. I started it back up right before I got to the wetsuit peelers. These amazing volunteers call out to you and guide you into them, throw you on the ground and rip the wetsuit right off. Then they pull you to your feet, throw the suit into your hands and send you up the helix ramp that leads to transition.
The whole ramp was packed with people cheering on everyone as we ran up this corkscrew to the top. I had to ask another racer how long we were in the water since my watch had stopped. He said it was about 1:25, which was exactly what I was planning on. So far, so good. I saw my mother, Joan, John and Aunt Beth once I reached the top, which was great.
I ran inside of Monona Terrace where I was immediately greeted by a volunteer at the door who called out my number, and another volunteer then grabbed my bag off the floor, handed it to me and sent me towards the changing area. Once in that room another volunteer dumped my bag of the floor and started to help with my bike gear. I was already in my tri suit, so I just had to put on my socks, shoes, helmet and glasses. I grabbed my nutrition packs and headed out the other end of the room while the same volunteer packed up my swimming gear.
I made it outside and ran into the bike transition area. Volunteers yelled my number down the line until I reached my rack where another volunteer had pulled out my bike and gave it to me as I ran by. My dad and John called out to me and said they’d see me out on the bike course. I reached the bike mount line, hopped on and coasted down the helix parking ramp to start the 112-mile ride.
We headed away from Madison and started the 16-mile trip out towards the Verona loop. Being a middle-of-the-pack swimmer meant that I was starting the ride bunched up with hundreds of other riders. Although USAT preaches strict no draft rules, there’s really not much you can do when so many people start out at the same time. The whole way out towards Verona looked like a large group training ride. Some people took off while others were going slower than me. I checked my speed and heart rate to make sure that I wasn’t starting off too quickly and decided to back off a bit. It was going to be a long ride, and historical wisdom about this race says not to overdo the first half of the bike. The route out to the loop was a net uphill, which didn’t seem to hurt on the way out and would certainly be a blessing on the way back into town.
Despite having only seen the course one time through a few days before, I recognized where I was most of the time and knew the tricky sections that I had noted. I didn’t want to push the hills too hard, so I made sure to stay in the saddle and use my climbing gears. I finally made it to the long climb taking us into Horeb. Once at the top I moved through an aid station where the volunteer fire company was out and had a ladder arch for us to go under as we moved through town. They had also lined the street with the photos of the 343 FDNY firefighters who had died in the line of duty ten years earlier.
The hills finally took a break (for a little bit), and it was about at this time that I realized how hot it was getting. All week the forecast temperature for the day had been creeping up. What was originally forecasted as a day in the low seventies with some cloud cover was now in the eighties without a cloud in sight. I wasn’t going to complain about the weather, but it was getting warm out and there wasn’t much shade anywhere on the course. It was going to be a long, hot afternoon out in farm country.
I was looking forward to making it to Cross Plains where my family was going to be waiting. I knew where to look for them, and they were right there waiting. I passed through giving a quick wave but not wanting to slow down too much. I rolled out of Cross Plains and started heading south towards Verona. This turned out to be the most entertaining part of the ride. Although we were in the countryside, the crowd support, especially on the long climbs, was incredible. Music was blasting, grills were out and people took turns running up the hill alongside the riders.
I had finally made it to Verona, where Main St. was shut down for the race. There seemed to be well over a thousand people there cheering on relatives and friends as they moved through the town. As I made my way out of town it was time to do a quick status check. My special needs bag was waiting about two miles down the road, so I had to decide what I wanted to take. When I finally rolled through the special needs area I pulled over and dumped my bag. I grabbed the PB & J sandwich and package of cookies. I was also lucky enough to notice that the guy next to me was about to toss the rest of his sunscreen. I asked if I could use it, and he threw it my way before getting on his bike.
At 56 miles in I started in on lap two, but I could already the course getting to me in my legs. That second loop was going to hurt. As conservatively as I rode the first time through, I’d probably have to pull it back even more the second time. It was definitely hotter and getting harder to stay hydrated. Not only that, but all those seemingly insignificant hills the first time through now seemed like mountains. To make it through the second loop I just looked forward to the checkpoints I found the first time through: the ladder arch in Horeb, my family in Cross Plains, the family in the middle of nowhere sitting on their front porch blasting Jimmy Buffet, the fans lining the hills and everyone in Verona waiting for us to come through the second time. I was still feeling good, but around Mile 90 I was ready to be done with the bike.
I knew the second lap was slower, but I also knew I had saved enough energy to get back to Madison quickly. I made the left turn away from Verona and back towards the city. It was straight, downhill and the wind was at my back, so I could get back quickly and efficiently, and still give my legs a bit of a rest before the run. I might not have had the fastest bike split of the day, but at least I’d make it back. I couldn’t believe that I saw more than one racer on the side of the road on the way back to Madison, not with medical or mechanical issues, but just sitting with their heads in their hands. They just didn’t seem to have enough in them to get back and even start the run.
This was really the first time that I started to see the race as a war of attrition. It was now hot summer day and unforgiving course versus each individual. I wasn’t going for a land speed record, and I certainly hadn’t trained this long or hard for a DNF. I enjoyed the trip back knowing that I had survived the worst the bike course had to offer. The rest of the middle-of-packers around me seemed to be feeling the same, and the mood lightened once we were headed back. Soon enough we were in Madison and could see Monona Terrace on the other side of the lake. I made my way up the helix once again, ran inside and got ready to run.
I wasn’t thrilled with my bike split of about seven hours, but it made sense given my slow pace in the hills, and my stops at special needs and a few bathrooms along the way. I had known going in that 6:30-7:00 was the most likely range of time for me on the bike, and I just happened to come in on the higher end. I wasn’t going to dwell on it though. The toughest bike of my life was over, and there was no need to look back.
The bike to run transition was much easier than the swim to bike earlier. I got my stuff and headed out of the conference room. Then it hit me again. The dry, A/C driven air in the conference center got the best of me, and I started coughing uncontrollably. It was bad enough that my eyes started tearing up, and I had to stop for a minute. It was no help, though. I decided that if I was coughing hard enough to start gagging, I wasn’t going to throw up inside. I made it to the doors and over toward the porta-johns. Hands on my knees, I lost most of what I had drunk in the past hour or so, but I felt better and I had stopped coughing. The run was off to a thrilling start, and I had even crossed the timing mat yet – I was still in the transition area.
I got jogging and was running by the time I made it to the timing map and official run start. I took off up State St. and saw my family as they sent me off on the run. Mentally, I felt great, but I still wasn’t 100% there physically. I had taken in a lot of air in my coughing incident, and now I was full of gas. The first mile was fast, but I had to break at the aid station. I’ll spare everyone the graphic details, but I thought I was going to explode. This repeated itself over the new two miles – run, experience GI pain and stagger into the aid station. Finally, about four miles in, the issue subsided, but I could hardly call what I was doing running. I was slow, but kept moving forward.
Downtown was packed, and before I knew it I was on to the UW Wisconsin campus. One of the highlights of the run course is running around the football field in Camp Randall Stadium. It was flat and really cool running the sidelines of the actual playing field. Then it was out and another down the street before making a left on University Ave. By now I was four miles in, but unlike most road races, and even training for that matter, I wasn’t really paying attention to the mile markers. I figured that at that point of the day it didn’t really matter. I just needed to keep moving forward because the miles would take care of themselves.
I made another right and headed towards Lake Mendota. Once there we turned right and ran through another part of the campus. The key feature was moving up and over Observatory Drive. You’ll notice I didn’t say “running.” I ran down the backside of the hill and onto rowdy State St. It was only a few blocks long, but the sidewalks were packed, the music was blasting and the bars were all open. I saw my family at the end near the turnaround, which was about seven miles into the run. I made the flip and headed back onto campus. We moved away from the lake and back towards town. As I neared Camp Randall Stadium again I slowed to shake hands with the guys at Madison Fire Department Station 4. They were cheering for the firefighters out on the course and asked where I was from. I told them I was from the outside of Philadelphia but reassured them that I was a Packers fan, which they loved. They wished me good luck, and I said I’d be back in a few hours on the second pass.
The run back into town was easier. By now I’d seen the entire course, and I knew what was ahead of me. I wasn’t going fast at all. By this point I had been reduced to a combination of running, jogging and walking. I was going on feel, doing what felt best. I realized that my long stride and fast walk were actually keeping pace with some people running. Of course they realized this too and some had less than kind words about it, although they were all in good natured fun. Even with this odd combination of movements, I was still moving forward and seemingly making good progress. I passed another competitor on the way back and then heard, “Hey, 110 Nutrition. Do you know them?” One10 is a primary sponsor of TeamFirefighter.com, so I had to find out who this was. I told her what team I was on, and she said that she knew Kyle, our team captain, through the nice people that run One10. It was nice to talk with someone for a bit, and it really proved how small the triathlon world really is. We talked about how our respective days were going, and then just kept moving on.
I finally made it to the turn at Mile 13.1. As much as I wanted to ignore the finish line ahead of me, it was impossible. The turn was only feet from the finishers chute, and you had no choice but to hear Mike Reilly calling out the names of the finishers and hearing the crowd. Mentally, I was doing well, and it felt great to be starting the second half of the run in daylight. This was just going to be a 13 mile run in the late afternoon. The countdown had begun. Now I was allowing myself to start counting down the miles.
Before I knew it, I was at the 16 Mile mark. I was down to ten miles. I told myself that was just a run down Broad Street; I could do that. I was up and over Observatory Dr. again. This time over I met a lady covered in road rash. She told me she had fallen earlier on the run, but she’d finish. That really summed up the mentally of a lot of people in this race – finish by any means necessary. Our times wouldn’t be great, but we’d make it to the finish line. We’d all have our own stories to tell by the time we got there.
Down State St. again, the crowds seemed bigger, the music louder and the atmosphere more raucous than before. I saw my family again and told them that I’d see them at the finish line. I was even closer now. Although it was dark, and it had been a long day, I was still feeling really good. This was largely due to the volunteer staffing and buffet that lined the run course. I was taking in water, sports drink and the occasional cup of warm chicken broth. If I was hungry, I’d grab some chips, pretzels or a chocolate chip cookie. If I was too warm, I’d stuff ice cold sponges into my tri suit. I was going to make this the most comfortable 26.2 mile slog in the history of Ironman.
It was dark by the time I made my way back onto campus and along Lake Mendota. The trail was unlit, which made part of the run a bit nerve-wracking, but it was still pretty cool running in the dark. It reminded me of the 20 in 24 race from earlier in the summer. I made the last turn along the lake and started to head back. I only had five miles to go and was feeling good. I was still passing people slowly, so that gave me some hope. This was really the first time all day, though, that I started looking at the people behind me. As slow as I felt, there were plenty of people further back. It was a funny feeling to realize that I wasn’t as far back as I had thought. Some of them looked good, some not so much.
There were only five miles to go. That’s once around the inner loop at Valley Forge National Park. Soon it was only four to go. Then it was three miles – a little less than a 5k race. Everyone’s pre-race advice to me was right. No matter how tough the day was, they said, I wouldn’t feel a thing for those last few miles. They were right. I started moving a little faster. I was running up the last few hills.
It was six blocks up Dayton St., and then I was home. I hung the left on Henry followed by the immediate sharp right on to State St. I was at the capitol building and could hear the music. The first right turn came, and I was close. I made a second right turn, and I was closer. I ran through the special needs area on Main St. where the volunteers were welcoming us back and the first to congratulate us. And then I made the last left turn. It was finally time to stop and take it all in, slap high fives and thank the crowd for coming out so strong. I found my family about a hundred feet short of the finish. It was all over, and they were there to see it.It took me just under fourteen hours, but I finally got to hear Mike Reilly say, “Lawrence Durland from King of Prussia, Pennsylvania – you are an Ironman.”
Thank You
This has been an amazing experience, and I’m forever indebted to so many people that helped me get to that finish line. I couldn’t have done it without you.
T3 Triathlon: Thanks for the support and guidance over the past two years. I’ve learned so much from so many of you.
TeamFirefighter.com: It was an honor to wear the team’s uniform on such a great day. Looking forward to many more great seasons together. Thanks Kyle for the encouragement and getting the uniforms done just in time for the race. Thanks & congratulations also go to teammate FF Dave Grady who also competed in first IM at the same race. It was great seeing you there.
Everyone at Vanguard, especially Jason Lewin, my nutritional supplement advisor, and the Ironman finishers before me, who provided great advice by telling me to relax and have fun during the race.
The officers and firefighters at King of Prussia Volunteer Fire Company – Station 47: Thanks for your support and understanding why I had to go do this on 9/11. I’ll be back around more.
The Gallaghers, Wrights & Martins: Thank you for support and interest in this pursuit. I felt like you were along for the whole ride.
Todd Turbett: Thanks for the interest in my training & race. You’ll make that finish line at Lake Placid next year.
Peter Zangardi: Thanks for acting as a one-man encyclopedia of every triathlon and group bike ride in SE PA. You showed me some great bike routes, and we got in some good rides together. You’ll nail that 70.3 next year without a doubt.
Billy & Tara Degan: For their support and for Billy getting me interested in this crazy sport. You’ll do this someday. Sorry Tara.
Mark & Renee Harnishfeger: Renee was a coach with USA Fit three years ago when I trained with that group for my first marathon. Mark was kind enough to lend me his entire Ironman library.
Dave Lazarus: Colgate OE alum, caving partner & IMLP finisher – Thanks for the inspiration & motivation.
Coach Jon Freeman: The man who took a former hockey player on to his cross country team at Shattuck-St. Mary’s 16 years ago. Thanks for introducing me to distance running coach.
The Thursday morning run group: Jen, Dana, Paul, Tom, Jeff, Suzanne and everyone else who tends to show up. Thanks for letting me tag along and not dropping me on those jaunts through the woods. Joan appreciates you not losing me along the way.
Missy Orsini: For showing Joan & I the gutsiest finish ever in a race – truly inspirational.
John Orsini: IM Florida finisher, advice provider and overall great guy that helped get this all started years ago. I don’t think Joan will ever let me listen to you again.
Brian McCarthy: For letting me spend most weekends over the past nine months with your wonderful fiancée. You two are so lucky to have each other.
Marita McCormick: To the best training partner ever. I never could have done it without you finding a way to fun even on the worst training days.
John P Durland: Thanks to my brother I never had a shortage of “good” workout mixes. See you at the finish line of the NYC Marathon in a few weeks.
Beth Matlack: Thanks for making the trek out to Madison for the weekend and cheering me on. You were such a help to all of us.
The Mulherns & Matlacks: Thank you for your support over the past year. I promise you’ll see me more often now.
Larry & Mary Kay Durland: Thanks Mom & Dad for supporting me in everything I do. I don’t know how to make any of this up to you. I’m thrilled you could be there at this special race and extremely thankful for everything you did to help make the whole week absolutely perfect.
And lastly...
Joan & John A Durland: I love you two more than anything else. I couldn’t have done it without your support along the way. I know it was hard on all of us at times, but you stood with me and saw me through to the end. I treated race day just like long training rides and thought of getting back to you as soon as I could. Seeing you on the course made the pain go away and was the highlight of the day. I know John yelled “Go Daddy” to just about every guy that passed, probably confusing most of them, but I know he was cheering for me.
