After about 15 minutes, I had nothing left in my belly and I was coming up on the first turn. The turns were particularly tough. Many athletes had spread out across 50 meters to find some space across the lake; however, each one of them wanted to make the sharpest turn around the corner, so we all condensed into a space spanning 15 feet or so. Once I had gotten through the first turn, I was able to find a pace that was comfortable. I was constantly getting kicked and punched, but not to the point that it stopped me. The second loop was more of the same and all went well. However, on the way into the swim exit, I got kicked right in the eye socket. I was sure I was going to be bleeding when I got out. Thankfully, my new goggles absorbed the shock. Maybe the little piece of my breakfast in the lens was the difference? 

T1 - Screams
One of my clearest memories of the race was the constant din of people screaming at you. Some of them were yelling encouragement while others were yelling instructions. I came out of the water in 1 hour and 25 minutes, about 5 minutes faster than I had predicted. Maybe it was my lighter stomach. As soon as you came out of the water, people were screaming at you to lie down. These people were volunteer “strippers”; their job was to get your wet suit off. I ran to a pair of strippers who each grabbed a shoulder and ripped my wet suit down to my waste. They yelled at me to lie down. I dropped to my rear end and laid down, just in time to get kicked in the head by another racer running by. He collapsed over the top of me. This didn’t stop the strippers. They pulled my suit off and told me to get running. I ran up the Helix to the gear bags. They screamed my number as I ran in and a volunteer found my transition bag for me. After changing, I came out to find a row of ladies with latex gloves smeared in sunscreen. On the way by, they would lather up your face, shoulders, and anywhere else you needed it. I heard a voice say, “Oh, I’ve got to get his legs!” I looked down to see who this clearly disturbed person was, only to find it was Selina from our workout group. She wished me luck and I was off to the bike. 

My bike was positioned under one of the two catwalks that crossed the top floor of the parking garage. As I looked up, I saw my family screaming and banging on the windows. It was so reassuring to see my wife, kids, parents, and friends and I got a HUGE boost. Then I w as off to 112 miles of fun.

Bike - 112 miles
The bike begins with a 15 mile ride from Madison out to the farm lands and hills of Verona. Once there, you do two 41 mile loops and then return to the city. The ride out was fun, with lots of people cheering on the road. However, I discovered that my HR monitor was not working properly, so I had to go by feel on my effort. I had to be sure to ride the first loop with a little less effort, so I would have something left for the second loop. I felt good and fast. The course was windy but not unbearable. 

The food and drink aid stations were so much fun. Some of the stations even had themes. I remember a station at 35 miles that was done up like The Old West, complete with the Gatorade Saloon. Volunteers were dressed as cowboys and Indians. On the first time through this station, a guy wearing a Village People feather headdress handed me a drink. I couldn’t resist, so I said, “Thanks, Chief.” He had probably heard that 500 times that day, but I couldn't keep from laughing to myself anyway. At 42 miles, right before the three main climbs in the race, I saw Heidi and my friends and teammates from TFP. It felt so awesome to see them; they seemed just as excited to see me. I got a huge lift and it was off to the hills.

How to describe these three hills? Each is worse than the one before it. During the first loop, you approach these hills between 42 and 55 miles. During the second loop, they reappear from miles 83-96. The first hill is a long, gradually increasing slope that snakes through the woods.  People lined this hill from the bottom to the top, screaming words of encouragement, shouting through megaphones, and banging on drums. My favorite hill spectator was a guy who held up a sign that read, “You’re f***ing Nuts!" I was able to climb the first hill pretty quickly, and was even able to pass a few athletes just as nutty as me.

The second hill is short but very steep.  Going up was like watching the Tour de France on TV. Probably 5 people deep on each side and a lane for maybe 2 bikers wide up the middle. I could actually feel the people’s breaths on my face as they yelled at me. A bunch of folks from TFP were there. It was so amazing and made you want to churn up the hill as fast as you could.

The last of the big hills comes after just a few miles of rest. Again, people lined the hill and went absolutely crazy as athletes climbed. I can’t stress enough how much it helped. After conquering these hills, you ride into the Verona town center. There was a big banner that read, “Welcome to Verona, Ironman Athletes!” All of the cheers helped to push you through to the second loop.

About 70 miles in, I had my first bout of doubt. I started to think about the day. I had already put in 5 hours and had another 2 ½ on the bike to go. If that wasn’t enough, I still had to run a marathon. I realized that I wasn’t only tired, but I had missed fueling for 45 minutes, so I tried to catch back up and get some food down. I also remembered that I would see Heidi and the gang again in about an hour, so that kept me going.

The second loop was similar to the first time around. I got really excited when I saw Heidi and my friends again. The Hill People were still there, too. I finally reached the turn to go back to the city, and I was ready for it. Those last 15 miles were so hard. By that time, the crowds had all gone, and there was nobody left to lend words of support. However, seeing the city on the horizon

was HUGE, and as we approached the convention center, I was thrilled to ride the last of the 112 miles.  I came in 2 minutes slower than I predicted... but I was done!

T2 - everything will be OK...
A volunteer took my bike and assured me that he'd get it back to me after the event. I ran into transition, changed out of my bike gear, put on my sneakers and headed out for the marathon. The run is my strength and I have always told my training partners, "Just get me off that bike for the run and everything will be OK.” Well, after having 114.4 miles under your belt when you get off the bike, "everything will be OK" actually sounded a little trite. Who knew?

Run - 26.2 miles
One of my goals was to begin my run before the winner of the race finished. As I came out of transition, I didn't really know where I should go. Although it seems easy, with 9 hours under your belt, sometimes the brain doesn’t snap so quickly. Nobody would direct me to the course because as I turned the corner to head out, the winner of the race was coming in! As I began my run, I heard the announcer say, “Let’s welcome the 2007 Ford Ironman Wisconsin Champion…”  I imagined he would say Brian Burton, but it didn’t happen.

The first 13.1 mile lap was awesome. I saw friends and family all around the course. We ran through Camp Randal, the football stadium where the Wisconsin Badgers play.  Imagining what it must be like to play football in front of 100,000 seats was a nice diversion. I was able to hold a 9:38 average pace for the first half marathon. I turned the corner for the final part of the day with 10 minutes to give back to fatigue and still had enough time left to possibly break 13 hours for my finish time.

One of the cruelest things about the marathon is that the turnaround point is about 200 yards from the finish. That’s right, you work out for 11-12 hours, run towards the finish line, and then have to turn around and run away for another couple hours before you can come back.

After about 15-16 miles, I began to run out of gas. I was tired, and I began to be affected by the growing number of injured athletes I had seen throughout the day. During the swim, a racer was pulled from the water because his collar bone had been shattered by a kick. I saw at least six people tangled up on the side of the road where they had crashed their bikes. Some had simply fallen down and given up. During the first few hours of the marathon, I saw no less than 10 people being carted up into ambulances. About 20 miles in, with only 6 miles to go, I ran into the first person who really scared me. He was doing the “Wide World of Sports” stumbling from side to side of the run course. He was moving his arms in front of his face trying to get his watch to come into focus so that he could figure out where he was. It was so clear to me that he was completely spent, dehydrated, and in a very serious condition. Volunteers swarmed around him, asking him how he was doing. I wanted to scream at them, “He’s not good. Look at him!”  However, they are trained to only help when asked or if you are unconscious. It was disheartening to see the physical toll this race could have on athletes who prepared so hard for this day.

Throughout the run, I saw everyone from my group and they were all encouraging, but I knew I was going on fumes.  At 22 miles, I realized I could not break 13 hours. I tried to pick up the pace but really didn’t have it in me. I decided I would try to stay under 10 minute miles for the last of of the run.

It was dark at mile 24. With only 2.2 miles, and approximately a half hour left to go, I knew I could finish. I began to think about the day and all of the sights I had witnessed.  I remembered how much fun it was to see my wife, my family, and my friends. I remembered how gross the swim was.  I remembered what the sunrise looked like coming up while I was in the water. Most of all, I remember the looks on my training partners faces as we worked around the course. I knew I would see them all again very soon.

The last mile in the city was a blur. As you approached the finish line, people were going crazy like you were winning the race (even though the guy that won the race could have taken a flight to LA and have already been home!). A few turns later and the Capitol building came into view and you could hear the announcer.

Running through the finishers' chute, I saw my training partners, who were going crazy. I saw Heidi and the rest of the gang from 42 and 82. At about 200 meters left to go, I crossed a mat, which triggered my name for the announcer.  “Brian Burton, from Gurnee, Illinois, You are an Ironman!”

13 hours 9 minutes. I had always said that if everything went right, I would be at 13 hours. I was thrilled be done, crossed the finish line and admittedly, shut down. I was not all there. I was caught by Lisa and Selina (of leg sun screening fame), who congratulated me. They asked me how I was doing, tried to keep me moving, and got my medal, hat, and shirt for me. We took photos and they handed me off to Heidi. With a bit of time, I came back around. It was fun waiting for the rest of our group to finish. These people -athletes- who I had spent so much time with, with a 26 year age range between us, all came in within 2.5 hours of each other. We hugged, we congratulated.

Ironman was an irreplaceable life experience. I thank Heidi and my family for putting up with my grueling schedule for something as selfish and silly as Ironman. I thank Coach Matt for putting together a program that kept me engaged and understood my desire to put off training until next week. I thank Dan, Dave, and Lauri, my training partners, for dragging me around for miles and miles and ever more miles on the bike and for patiently waiting for me during swims. I could not have asked for a more rewarding experience. 

It feels good to be an Ironman!