Runovia - Thoughts from the winner (Dean).

I know that the race is a long time in the past. I have actually been thinking about what my off season is going to be like a lot lately, but before I let the race fade into the past, I thought I'd share some thoughts that Dean Hewson shared with me. I was glad that Dean sent me an email message because it allowed me to pass a couple thoughts by him. Dean is the one person in the race that had some depth to his Ironman experience, Runovia was his 9th Ironman distance race, so his experience allowed me to gain some perspective on my own race.

He said that I could share his thoughts, but did give this one caveat

"The only caveat is that I wouldn't suggest others take that approach in their first few years of Ironman racing. I would suggest a completely different approach for those athletes. But, if they have lots of experience at the distance, have figured out their nutrition, have done another Ironman the same year (so they know they have the endurance to cover the distance), and are stuck at a performance plateau, they may glean something helpful from it."

Here's his thoughts:

"Before signing up for the Runovia Full-Distance Triathlon (Kentucky), my 9th Ironman, I learned a few Ironman lessons the hard way.

I've done a 5 hour marathon suffer-fest in Hawaii, where crawling to the finish truly became an option. I've been injected with 6 bags of IV after finishing IM Wisconsin. Oh, and my friend, Robin, never misses an opportunity to tell people that she once, post-IM Lake Placid, changed me into dry clothes, including my underwear, because I couldn't do it myself.

These experiences have given me respect for the distance. Or should I say, "fear for the distance." I don't want to go through that again. Funny, neither does Robin.

This year, I dedicated myself to Ironman UK. I made the kinds of sacrifices many non-athletes do not understand -- and I had a solid race and a wonderful time. But I left England unfulfilled and a little disappointed.

After some analysis and testing, I concluded that the problem was probably mental. Maybe this fear-for-the-distance thing was something I needed to overcome.

When I reviewed my long term triathlon goals, two related goals stood out: "To (use sport to) develop a process for helping others be who they want to be" and "To learn how to overcome obstacles, so I can help others do the same."

"Well then, Dean," I said, "If you are going to move closer to your goal of creating a process for helping others overcome obstacles, you’d better be able to overcome them yourself!"

Suddenly, this race took on new importance.

I brainstormed my specific fears. I labeled my obstacles. I even gave names, Mr. Wimp, Mr. Happy, and Mr. Friendly (OK, I promise I'll let Paula name our next child) to the personality traits that seem to show up uninvited on race day to re-enforce the very real brick wall I had constructed.

"Come on," they'd say. "All you can ask of yourself is to do your very best."

This time, I felt that my best effort would not be good enough. I needed to really race this thing and go beyond my self-imposed limitations. I needed to break through that fear.

My goal for the race became, "To maintain a fighting spirit with a sharp focus on the present moment (especially on the bike)." No thinking about the swim during the bike. No worrying about the run. No writing race reports in my head or making excuses for myself -- just spend as much of the day as possible focusing on the controllables and the immediate task at hand.

I removed my power meter, left my heart rate monitor at home, took the easy "bail-out" gears off my bike, and mentally rehearsed my Ironman twice a day for two weeks.

Unfortunately, race morning brought severe thunderstorms and tornados. We would eventually get 8-11 inches of rain that Saturday. There was no way we would be swimming with all that lightning. So the race director postponed the race until Sunday, warning us that we may not have any volunteers or medical support on hand the next day.

He was right. Sunday came complete with a few lonely card tables along the side of the road for self-serve aid stations, and the race began with a few handfuls of athletes heading into the debris-filled Lake Barkley.

Since the number of starters was reduced, the Ironman and half-Ironman competitors swam together. I decided to start fast and try to catch onto someone in the half for a ride around the first loop of the swim. But after a couple hundred meters, I realized that I was on my own... yes, me, leading an Ironman!

Go away, Mr. Wimp. I don't care if you don't think I should be leading an Ironman. I'm not playing with you today! Oh, and then Mr. Happy stopped by at the end of the first swim-loop to wave to Maggie and Paula on shore, but thankfully, Mr. I'm-Leading-an-Ironman, returned to kick him back to the beach where he belonged.

I'll spare you the details of the bike, other than to say that I was so pleased with having pushed through a very tough bike course, that I contemplated dropping out of the race and going home with my newly found confidence in hand. That would be a first! But there was another first I was after.

When I hit the run, I realized that I still had something in my legs, and I was ready to run a solid marathon on my way to the overall win and, most importantly, to a personal breakthrough.

Other than the fact that it feels right, I’m still not sure if I have a clear understanding of why I do this sport. In fact, my legs were asking me that same question this morning. But I’m working on it, and I feel like I got a little closer this weekend."

Thanks Dean.


Dean on the bike.


Dean with his daughter - prerace.