My journey towards Ironman immortality
MANILA, Philippines - My story started four years ago at the finish line of Ironman Malaysia 2008 in Langkawi — a full-distance Ironman that involved a 3.8k open-sea swim, a 180k bike race and 42k run — all within a 17-hour cutoff. I trained for almost 20 weeks for that race, which took me 17 hours and six minutes to complete. Yes, I missed the cutoff by a painful six minutes! They gave me the finisher’s medal, but I was unable to earn the distinction of being called Ironman. Thus began an obsession that would take me four years to conquer.
For the uninitiated, the full Ironman is probably the most grueling endurance sport there is. It starts with a 3.8k swim, which is like swimming the length of EDSA from the Buendia intersection to Roxas Blvd, within a 2:15 period. Immediately after that, one has to mount a bike and ride for 180k. This is like biking from SM Mall of Asia to the foot of Baguio in La Union. The cutoff for this leg is about eight hours. If one does not make it to the cutoff, he will be pulled out of the course and the day ends for him. Finally, after the tough swim and long bike ride, one caps the race with a full 42k marathon. This is equivalent to running from La Union and heading back to Pampanga. In the Philippines, the only official Ironman race is a 70.3 miler, which is sometimes called a “half Ironman.”
It is an extremely painful and exhausting endeavor for sure, but that’s what makes it appealing. It is the challenge of pushing yourself to the extreme limits of physical — and oftentimes even psychological — capacity. Once you cross the finish line, the announcer calls out your name and shouts “You are an Ironman!” To hardcore triathletes, this is the ultimate confirmation that one is indeed a member of the rare breed of people who have completed the distance.
In Langkawi, I was totally devastated to learn that I had just missed the cutoff by a mere six minutes. This meant I had to carve out another 20 weeks of my life to train for another Ironman and go through the same agonizing experience to lay claim to the distinction of having conquered the extreme challenge.
Other Failed Attempts
Days after Ironman Malaysia, I was already online searching for the next best and affordable Ironman race available. I eventually signed up for Ironman West Australia 2009, and started to both train and save up for the trip to Perth. Unfortunately, after training for over 12 months almost 18 hours a week, my race in Australia ended up in yet another failure. I had a good swim and was already 148k into the bike leg when I lost control and crashed to the ground unconscious. Though I insisted that I was okay to continue, the race marshals decided it was too risky to let me keep racing because of possible contusions. I literally bawled like a little boy when they took away my bike, loaded it on a pick-up truck, and officially declared me “DNF” (Did Not Finish).
I was immediately brought to a medical facility for a check-up and was discharged the same day. It was painful to see all the athletes cross the finish line triumphantly while I was on the sidelines nursing a bruised head and an even more banged-up ego.
No sooner was I at the Singapore airport from a connecting flight from Australia, and I was already back online registering for the closest Ironman race available. I figured that I should race immediately so that all the training I just put in for Australia would not go to waste. I would just have to sustain my fitness level and march on to the next Ironman race. Interestingly, it was once again Ironman Malaysia — 2010! A return bout with the course where I had missed the cutoff by just six minutes!
This time around, I poured everything into the training. I practiced 20 hours a week through Christmas, New Year, and all other weeks and holidays to prepare for a rematch with the course that broke my heart but not my spirit.
Feeling good on race day, I poured it on during the swim and came out feeling fresh. I remember telling myself, “Put everything into it as this is the last time you’ll ever swim this distance.” I hammered the bike but was a bit more cautious, lest I face a repeat of the Australian debacle.
However, I forgot to hydrate and manage my nutrition properly, and started to suffer the symptoms of hyponatremia (or excessive loss of sodium in the body). This condition is said to stress out vital organs such as the kidneys, the liver and makes one’s brain cells swell. By the time I was on that leg of the race, I was already feeling dizzy. The brain swelling made me disoriented and I suffered extreme nausea — I threw up a total of nine times on the race course! Then, with only less than 14k left in the run, I ended up in the medical tent half alive where I threw up three times. Once again, the race marshals deemed it best that I not continue and was brought to the Langkawi Hospital via ambulance where I was given two IVs and an overnight stay in the emergency room.
A Fresh Challenge
By this time, the score was: Ironman, 3 — Greg Banzon, 0. I kept a lookout for interesting and affordable Ironman races and the next one I found was Ironman China 2011. This was slated for June and my training went into full gear as early as December 2010. I woke up at 4 a.m. daily for the next six months to prepare, training as much as 21 hours a week.
Unfortunately, three weeks before the race, the organizers had to cancel due to problems in obtaining government permits. There were supposed to be at least 30 Filipino athletes participating and all of us were devastated. However, the multinational company that owns and organizes Ironman events, World Triathlon Corporation, gave us complimentary registration to Ironman Korea 2011, which was just a month away. Almost everyone took advantage of this opportunity.
I only had to extend preparation for another month. The training I needed to prepare for all the Ironman races I’ve joined in the past had made me miss a lot of important occasions with family and friends already. “What’s one more month?” I said to myself. The obsessive amount of time and discipline I had to put in to train would put a serious strain on my family relationships. Despite this, I decided to keep my head in the game and go for Ironman Korea 2011 in Jeju Island.
Final Attempt At Glory
This was now my fourth attempt at Ironman immortality. I had been a prisoner of my obsession for over four years. This prison compelled me to wake up at 4 a.m. almost daily to either swim, bike or run. Weekends were spent in hard labor biking at least 120 to 180k along Daan Hari or to Tagaytay and doing long runs. The diet in this prison was Spartan: I had dropped 20 pounds since Langkawi.
Someone once said: “Faith is easy to come by when you know the outcome, but the true test of faith is when you don’t know what will happen.” No one knows for sure how one will fare in an Ironman race before they start. Not even the pros. I was living proof that despite doing all the necessary training, anything can go wrong during an actual Ironman race especially because of the distance. However, my faith carried me through the training and gave me the strength to once again take on the ultimate challenge. On July 3, 2011, I was finally at the start line of Ironman Korea. I reported early for body marking; my race number was stamped on my arms and legs to allow easy identification especially in the water. I went to my bike (which I had racked in the previous afternoon), gave it a final check, then nervously walked to the beach. It was a foggy morning and visibility in the freezing sea was no more than 30 meters. Sighting was clearly going to be difficult. There wasn’t a single soul at the starting line that was not nervous. I felt a big lump in my throat, daunted by the task of completing the Ironman distance, a total 227 kms of swimming, biking and running. I knew I was going to be in for a very brutal day.
Then, as the start gun went off, an explosive energy was unleashed. Over a thousand brave and determined triathletes attacked the freezing and foggy sea in black wet suits like seals chased by sharks. It’s called the “washing machine start” when everyone jostles for a good swim lane to complete the long 3.8k course. One can get kicked, elbowed, grabbed at, and crawled over for a good portion of the swim. We were at such close quarters that I could smell the breath of the swimmers beside me. My arms and legs were cramping from the continuous swimming motion that took nearly 1.5 hours to complete. But I felt strong coming out of the water and ran fast to my bike at Transition 1.
The bike course in Korea was unforgiving. Nearly 80k out of the 180k was hilly with some long stretches of climbs. It literally zapped the energy out of me, and my legs became heavy as lead. I must have messed up my nutrition as I started feeling nauseous nearing the 90k marker. I glanced behind me and, seeing there was nobody directly at my back, let out a major high-velocity stream of vomit while moving at 30kph. It was so painful I decided to regulate my nutrition out of fear of throwing up more during the race. That took its toll on me, though. By kilometer 130 on the bike, hypoglycaemia started to kick in because I had stopped eating. I was depleted of most of my body sugar and was literally getting really sleepy on the bike. Luckily, I caught up with another Pinoy triathlete, Erick Olonan, who agreed to ride alongside me to Transition 2 to make sure I didn’t fall asleep while biking.
Finally, I was on the run leg of the Ironman — 21km loops with yet again an inordinately high proportion of hills. I think the race organizers put in so many hills on the run course so that the race earns a reputation of being a really tough Ironman challenge. Like being whacked by frat initiation paddles, my legs were aching intensely from the long bike ride. This was made worse by the constant pounding of the ground against my feet in the run. Despite this, I kept running, propelled only by my will and the desperate need to finish an Ironman race, once and for all.
While clawing through pain and hypoglycaemia, I started to get uncontrollably sleepy. It got so bad that I had to sit by a tree along the run course and take a nap. My teammate from Century Tuna Tri Hard, Ivan Fojas, and multi Ironman finisher Andrew Chinalpan, saw me asleep and woke me up. I was probably sleeping for about five to 10 minutes. They helped me get back in the race by pacing me. Ivan was particularly gracious as he even doubled back an additional 2k just to help me find my pace. However, by that time, fatigue, poor nutrition, and the onset of hyponatremia (lack of sodium in the body) made me vomit again. Everything and anything I ate or drank came back out a few minutes later — I vomited a total of six times during the run! But unlike my disappointing pullout from Ironman Malaysia, I was able to push myself to continue running. The presence of many Pinoy triathletes on the race who kept encouraging me to go on also helped me pull through. Most importantly, my coach, SEA Games silver medalist George Vilog, was patient enough to keep me company throughout the run course just by being there at key aid stations. He had finished the Ironman Korea 70.3 earlier in the day and had qualified for the World Championships in Las Vegas.
With 6k left in the run, I started getting tunnel vision and felt I was going to pass out. To prevent another defeat, I decided to step up the pace and push harder to the finish. Because of the punishing hills, lack of nutrition and a combination of hypoglycaemia and hyponatremia, I started to doubt whether I would make it. To keep going, I relied on positive mental imagery of people who inspire me and all the work and sacrifice I had given in training.
Before I knew it, I saw the arc at the finish line and heard the festive music that blared at every Ironman finish line. My past three misses had built up some interest in my story, so that many of the Pinoys present in Jeju were waiting along the finish line for me, despite the late hour. Soon, I was running along the red carpet. At this point, one of the Pinoys in the crowd handed me the Philippine flag. A few meters further, I finally crossed the finish line and heard the announcer shout “Gregory Banzon, IRONMAN!” Suddenly, I was unable to control my emotions. I placed my head in my hands and started crying. I couldn’t shout for joy. I could hardly talk. I was numb. I had given it my all, I gave it everything. Total time: 15 hours, 46 minutes. Well within the 17 hour cutoff. Some minutes later, I was rushed to the medical tent for IV therapy and there, more throwing up followed. Three more times to be exact.
But it didn’t matter.
Finally, after four years and on my fourth and final attempt, I am an Ironman. At last.
