Waving to the camera, I plunged into the water. Well relatively speaking, basically I walked until everyone else was far enough out of the way and then started my trademark flapping of the arms. I'm not even really sure why I'm such a horrible swimmer. I think my lower half is so much heavier, I'm in more of a diagonal body position instead of horizontal, so I have more drag. My kick isn't even above water at all it tends to be below. I settled into my "happy pace" however, and just started eyeballing each buoy every 8 strokes. Within about five minutes I started getting fondled from behind by various other swimmers in the following wave which only left three minutes behind, but it wasn't anything like the "human washing machine" or "clobbering session" I've heard so much about. Maybe because it wasn't an open water mass start? A few minutes after than and still well before the first left turn I was passed by most of the final wave that started six minutes behind me. This was expected though, as it generally takes me about an hour to go the distance (based on the one or twice I've actually swam that far in preceding weeks) and I knew some of these people could cover it in half that time. Eventually things thinned out, and I was quite excited to see the first turn buoy, which was just short of the halfway point on the large U shaped course. After the turn the easiest way to sight the far turn was the right side of the Contemporary tower which worked out well. I guess my left arm got more tired first because I started veering right on a regular basis. I tried to keep myself entertained, talking to the kayaker's with an "are we there yet" every breath about 5 breaths in a row which got a laugh. I did manage freestyle about 90% of the time or more which was promising, generally I have to take breaststroke breaks more often. Then came the final left turn back toward shore, although shore seemed REALLY far away at that point. I tried to consistently scan behind as well as in front, so I could at least see how I was making progress away from the previous buoy even if the next one was seemingly not getting any closer. There were very few of us still out there, so I basically had the lake to myself. No real wind to speak of, so it was really about as pleasurable as you can get for that leg of the race. Weird thing happened during this portion, I felt something pass over my arm, and held it up out of the water. Somehow my arm had stabbed right through the center of one of those glowing necklaces they pass out at the theme parks?!?

Not sure how one of those ends up in the middle of the lake... Tossing it to the side I got some puzzled looks from the lifeguards floating on kayaks and boats nearby, and explaining what happened I said "I swam right through that hoop, I deserve a fish or something!" That got some more giggles and then it was back to flapping. Finally the black arch that's used for the Ironmans that said "SWIM FINISH" got bigger, and I started seeing the water bottom. I rose and started trying to run and wave to DW, made it about 5 feet, went into a ditch, and had a nice faceplant. Recovering (although it's all on video) I managed to get my goggles off in time for the ASI cameraman, we'll see how that turns out. Was still wearing the hot pink of course...
Swim Leg 1.2 miles:
1:02:58 , 3:09/100m pace, Overall 1979/2043, Age Group 132/134
Note: Over 2500 entered the race, so I'm not sure whether that means 450+ no shows, or a combination of DNFs during the swim (before crossing any of the timing mats) and no shows. I did hear about a lot of people who came in on boats instead of under their own power though, so guessing the latter. Needless to say when I got into transition, 2000 of the bikes were gone already, and it was easy to find mine within those left.

Found out I'd left my socks inside out so that took some extra time, and "borrowed" the towel of the guy who had stole my spot since I didn't have one to clean off my dirty feet. Oh, did I mention the run from the swim exit to transition of four hundred yards? Not fun barefoot... His towel was already dirty from his feet, so I bet he didn't notice the difference.

Eventually got all my stuff together and started running out of there with my bike in tow. Spotted DW who had a prime filming spot thanks to the lack of spectators now in this portion, a consistent theme throughout the day for her. I'm never in much of a hurry in transition, and my times tend to reflect that.
T1:
6:25
Then it was off on the bike leg. I felt pretty good at this point, and decided to monitor my heart rate, making sure to keep it under 165 and stay "aerobic" as they say, instead of forcing my body into anaerobic states which would probably make me pay later in this long a race. Most fun part for me was the portion that went past the start of the marathon course and around Epcot. They had totally SHUT DOWN that whole road for the race, so it was just me and five lanes or so of empty road, the same place were thousands upon thousands were jammed just a few months ago. We turned on that oh so famous clover leaf and headed South down to Osceola, then out West several miles. Things went really smoothly and I was passing people consistently. Initially forgot about nutrition, but caught back up with my gel/water or gatorade alternating combo. It actually worked out well, I would grab a water and gel from each aid station every 15 miles or so, and down them, and by the time I was ready for another one I'd hit another station. I was carrying two powerades and gels as backup, but only used them much later in the ride when fatigue started to set in. The wind was out of the Northeast, so the turn back to the North was where it started getting more challenging. That and the terrain went from flat to "rolling" which meant a series of not impossible but just fatiguing hills which into the wind began to stack up after a while. The turn to the east about 30 miles in didn't help much either since it was still a partial headwind. There were also several sections where it would bend directly Northeast which were particularly killer. Found myself in one of the easiest gears on a perfectly flat section on multiple occasions. Still managed to pass riders consistently, but got passed by some as well. Saw a bunch on the side with flat tires or taking breaks. Kept looking forward to the turn to the South, and although this brought some relief, soon after it almost seemed like the wind shifted and it was again a partial headwind. At about the 40 mile point I was starting to get some chafing issues on my tri shorts (had done my only previous long ride of this length in more padded cycling shorts) and my neck and back were really starting to get sore. My mini-goal had been to do the whole ride without stopping, but that was really becoming a challenge for my mind to overcome. Although I was in the aero position 95% of the time, I kept having to lift out of the saddle to give my butt a break, basically stand and lean to the rear towards the sky for my back, and stretch my neck looking down at my shoes on a regular basis. I probably just need more "saddle time" in training to overcome the uncomfortability. Finally we made the turn back onto Disney property and I knew we only had a few miles to go. Then came the welcome to Fort Wilderness sign on the east side of that resort, and I was sure I was almost there. Well it turns out from that sign to the lake is another 2 or 3 miles of winding roads.

But lo and behold eventually there was DW with the camera, and I was at the dismount line. Tried to jog but could really with my road cleats on, so just sorted of hobbled towards transition with my bike.
Bike leg 56 miles:
3:11:58, 17.5mph, OA 1689/2033, AG 117/134
Clearly the wind affected me, as I'd averaged 18+ during my 66.6 mile metric century ride a few weeks previously. Apparently another dozen people or so dropped out during the bike leg given the reduction in the overall number. Based on the "live tracking" stats it showed me as having passed 150 people (in terms of chip time) during the bike leg, not bad! (although 15 of those passed me back on the run) The second transition was uneventful, other than me trying to take as long as possible and thus avoiding the run until absolutely necessary. I knew I was being filmed though, so I had to get moving!
T2:
4:40
So, all I had left to do was run a half marathon. On a basically desolate 3 loop course. About 2/3 of which was on grassy dirt trails. With two out and back portions, one over a mile in length round trip. Now I've done several half marathons, including on back to back days, but nothing like this. During the first lap, I started thinking I was on some sort of battlefield. There were cups, gel wrappers, banana peels, you name it, it was on the ground EVERYWHERE. Thousands of them, and all flattened by thousands of feet. Given it was about a 4.33 mile loop that had to be repeated three times, people who were eight miles ahead of me were still on the course and passing me at the same time that I was starting. It was a bizarre concoction of athletes. People running, people walking, people shuffling, and still more that had just stopped on the side in some kind of daze. I heard "MEDIC!" being yelled more times than ever in my life, especially during my second and third loops as there were fewer and fewer people trying to finish. I could tell right away that there was going to be a lot of walking involved. I was just tired. It wasn't like when I try to PR a 10k or even a half marathon running to fast heart rate too high tired, it was just a full body been working out for too many hours straight tired. A sort of lethargy, if that's a word. I was still wearing my HRM, so I decided whenever I hit 165 and got the heart rate too high warning alert I'd walk until it went back down to 135 or so. This worked for a while, but the walking sections started lengthening as my heart rate was having trouble getting back down as quickly. I eventually also started walking every time I got to an aid station. Then I started walking every time I hit a mile marker. As you can see I had a lot of excuses to walk. Spectator support was pretty much nil outside the aid stations, as the course was somewhat remote and they weren't really letting people go out on it much. First loop went by in about an hour, and so did the second. My miles were anywhere between 12:30 and 14:30 depending on how much I was walking. I soon realized I'd make the cutoff for both starting the last loop and the finish of the race without a problem barring an unforseen calamity. It then became an exercise in the motto from the latest Meet the Robinsons movie: "Keep Moving Forward." I'm proud to say that other than one port-o-pottie stop at the beginning of the race, not once did I stop to take a break. Sure I walked plenty, but I was always moving forward. About half the athletes disappeared when I started the second loop, and when I went out on the third loop there was only one of us every 50 or 100 yards or so. We had our "pick of the litter" so to speak at the aid stations, with water, gatorade, coke, gels, power bars, bananas, ice cold sponges, and even cookies among the fare. The ice sponges were good for a cheap thrill, those things were COLD if you dumped them on yourself. About halfway through the last lap with about two miles to go my calves really started cramping up, but I think that was partially my mind realizing I was almost done and beginning to shut down. I did a lot of mental math to keep myself busy, but since I'd kept a running total of both the bike and run legs, I was only able to estimate what my finishing time would be. It appeared like it would be real close to an hour per loop for 3 hours total. Little did I know how close I was to dipping under that number.
Run leg 13.1 miles:
3:00:26, 13:47/mi pace, OA 1828/1997, AG 124/134
At long last, I came to the fork where it said next loop to the right, and finish to the left. Upon making the left turn I let out a trademark woohoo to let everyone far and wide (and hopefully DW with the camera) know I was coming. Given the lack of faithful spectators remaining to cheer on those continuing to struggle, she did get a perfect vantage point. Through the Ironman logo tunnel I went, and suddenly there it was. The finish line, and only twenty yards separating me. What followed I can only describe from the video as some combination of fist pumping, dancing, shuffling, and cramping as I cross that short distance. They said my name and hometown loud and proud, and I threw a pair of #1's to the sky to signify it was my first ever Ironman 70.3 finish. I bent down painfully to allow the young lady to put the medal around my neck, and it was only when I looked down and saw "Finisher" emblazoned across the bottom that I allowed myself to relax.
70.3 Miles Total:
7:26:25, OA 1848/1997, AG 128/134
And to answer the question everyone always asks: "So when are you going to do the FULL Ironman?" Not for a long time. But I'll never say never.