Becoming an Ironman

BY ALEX BURGANS

After months of training, finally, Ironman race week came. The moment I had worked so diligently for. I woke around 3:30 a.m. that day, had breakfast, and had a video chat with my coach for a last bit of encouragement and assurance that my training had me ready. The whole morning flew by and, suddenly, I was on the beach, pulling on my wetsuit and swim cap.

Surrounded by nearly 3,000 other athletes in the swim corral, I felt a peace come over me. My body was ready, my bike was ready, and my run gear was ready. From this point forward, it was all a mental battle to stay the course. I had situated myself in the middle of the pack, and when the gun went, we slowly began to inch forward. With one last deep breath, I crossed the timing mat, hit the water, and my day was underway.

For me, the swim was all about finding a rhythm I knew I could sustain. I crossed the last sandbar, dove in head-first, and immediately set out to find a good tempo. Because the swim course is made up of two 1.2-mile loops, we had a short run-out halfway through. I managed to pick out my family and friends in the crowd for a wave, which was a big mental boost. It helped that they held up a massive cutout of my head on a pole overlooking the crowd.

At the end of the second loop, I began to strip my wetsuit and head for the transition. I was happy to get a cheer from my support crew when I was heading out on the bike, as I knew it would be the last time I got to see them for quite a while. The bike is typically my favorite leg.

There had been talk all morning that the winds could pick up substantially by mid-morning. After one right turn about 18 miles in, we were met with a brutal headwind that would remain with us for most of the day. It was something I hadn’t mentally prepared myself for and I let it get the best of me. I backed off a bit and understood that this was going to be about survival.

This race wasn’t about competition for me. It was about fulfilling a dream of crossing the finish line and becoming an Ironman. Yes, I was having a tough time on the bike, but I also realized that I was on the bike in an Ironman event. I was doing it! Regardless of how long it took, I would get there.

At the special needs location during the bike race, placed at the halfway point, athletes have the chance to get any nutrition they may need from bags that were pre-packed before the race. The volunteers were incredible, as they had been all day long. Volunteering at special needs were members of the University of Alabama Triathlon Club, many of whom are friends of mine. I was ecstatic to see some familiar faces and receive some great words of encouragement. From that point on, the winds continued to batter us, but I was once again in good spirits.

The final seven miles heading back toward the transition were full of spectators cheering and yelling, and I headed into the change tent with a big grin on my face. I was about to start the run in an Ironman. I was still doing it!

Heading out onto the run course, I was prepared for the mental battle of my life. I knew the second half-marathon would be an absolute war. Like the swim course, the run was a two-loop affair. This allowed me to split it up and view it as four separate 10-kilometer efforts, a distance I’d been very strong at in the past. The first 13.1 miles flew by. I stopped at special needs to exchange my gel flasks and I was off. I was only a half-marathon away from achieving a dream. As I neared my final turnaround of the day, the sun began to set. The temperature dropped and so did my spirits.

I slipped on my arm warmers but could tell my body temperature was dropping. Soon after, I passed the sign that marked mile 18—only two miles to the turnaround. For the first time all day, I had a sense that the wheels were starting to wobble. When I reached mile 19, they came off altogether. I still haven’t quite thought of a term to describe what happened in the pitch-black darkness of St. Andrews State Park that night.

It was cold and lonely, with athletes cracking and walking all around me. I knew my friends and family were waiting to see me at the entrance to the park and I thought that if I could get there to see them, I could make it to the finish. I walked and shuffled for the next three miles and I finally saw them standing on the side of the road. I stopped for countless hugs and pats on the back. The words that really stuck with me came from my dad: “Five more, buddy, just five more!”

I knew just how close I was. I knew I had to dig deep. I had spent so many weekends away from my family on long training rides and runs. This wasn’t just about me; this was to repay everyone for all of the sacrifices they had made just to get me to the starting line. I had accepted the fact that my body just couldn’t go anymore, but I wouldn’t let my mind accept defeat. I knew there would be a lot of walking in those final five miles, but I embraced that. At 20 years old and only about a year into the sport, I was in the midst of the hardest one-day event there is and I would not let it beat me.

I was fortunate enough to meet some incredible athletes in that last hour and a half. They had been in the same situation I was in. Stories and jokes were shared with numerous people along the way, but two men stood out. One was in his second Ironman, the other in his fifth. I learned a lot from them as we all fought to get through the closing miles.

I was exhausted and spent, but once again willing to listen. I learned what I was going through wasn’t a failure in any way; it was a stepping stone on a much longer journey.

That was a message I needed to hear, and one that would resonate with me for years to come. As we passed mile 25, we could hear the crowd at the finish line. Soon, there was only one turn left and we would be in the finishing chute. One of the men turned to me and said, “Young man, you’ve worked hard for this. We’re gonna walk a few seconds longer. You go up there and you have your moment.”

I knew my legs had nothing left, but at the insistence of my two newfound friends, I knew I had to run the final two-tenths of a mile to the finish. I left them with a handshake, a pat on the back, and admittedly a tear in my eye, and I turned the corner.

Oftentimes a dream is defined as something you’ve wanted all your life. For me, this was different. Becoming an Ironman was something I’ve admired all my life, but thought was far beyond the realms of my reality. The fulfillment of a lifelong dream isn’t something many people get to accomplish in life. I had learned more about myself in the last 14 hours, 32 minutes, and 49 seconds than most people will ever get to learn about themselves.

The moment I had worked for came in the form of a single sentence. “Alex Burgans from Panama City, a first-timer, YOU are an Ironman, Alex!” I had done it. I had become, in the words of my late teacher, the one who got it right, the one who stood strong in the face of adversity. I was that kid. My body had finished 135.6 miles of racing that day, but my heart had finished the most important five. It had carried me when I was at my weakest. It had been the only thing dragging me through those final steps.

So, that is what Ironman is to me: a collection of exceptionally driven men and women all across the world who, through a combination of inexpressibly different circumstances and events, find themselves wrapped in Lycra with thousands of likeminded individuals around them, all chasing their dreams. We may not all be where we want to be, but we’re a hell of a long way from where we started.