Ironman Canada 1992
Pete Alfino

"FINALLY" the Ironman finish line was only three miles away. As I headed down Main Street in Penticton, British Columbia, a million thoughts race through my mind… "I did it, I’m going to be an Ironman"..."what is my wife thinking now?"... "I need to remember to call my parents"..."All the training paid off"..."What am I going to do with my spare time?”"..."I can’t believe this is happening"...

Only four weeks ago, I was sitting at home with my right foot submerged in a bucket of ice. An inflamed Achilles tendon would prevent me from running prior to race day. One doctor told me I would be alright "if I gave it rest"; another doctor said, "There will be other races". Although my wife repeatedly assured me I would be alright, I had my doubts. I seriously thought about not going. Since January I had swam 125 miles, biked 3,500 miles and run 880 miles in preparation for the Ironman. How much can taking four weeks off hurt? Although finishing is the only goal, I wanted to finish with some dignity. "Would I be another Julie moss?".

The drive into the Okanogan valley was breath taking. Mountains everywhere, beautiful lakes below, flowing rivers or views of the valley around every turn. I remember thinking to myself, "thank God this isn’t he bike route, these hills would be difficult to bike up." W R O N G, We were on the course! As we approached Penticton, signs greeting the Ironman competitions were everywhere. "welcome to the Ironman swim 2.4 miles, bike 112, run 26.2" and "the Ironman – Capable of Great Endurance"... etc. Triathletes were everywhere, some swam in Lake Okanogan, others biked and ran, while others shopped for Ironman paraphernalia. Once again that feeling came over me, "could I do this? Why are all these people out training?" I had planned on gong for a quick spin on the bike and for a dip in the lake, but nothing serious. "Maybe I should go out for 40 or 50 on the bike?" After all, my weekly totals were down. I finally convinced myself to do only that which I had planned on doing and nothing more.

The three days before the race took forever! I felt like an inmate sitting on Death Row. I felt fat and lazy. Going from training 25 hours a week to zero hours is rough. I hated waiting – "let’s get this over with!!" I had to answer the question which had lingered in my mind for some time, "could I complete the Ironman distance?" Those three days were packed with emotions spanning the spectrum – just ask my wife Kathy!

Two days before the race, a carbo loading dinner was held, tons of food, but very quiet. I was amazed at the amount of "Iron Virgins" there were. I would guess approximately 65%. The day preceding the race, an Ironman parade progressed for the last half-mile of the run course. The athletes were lead by the Penticton Bag Pipe Band. A total of 26 countries were represented and athletes walked behind their country’s flag. I proudly donned my USA ’92 cap and marched behind the American flag. With residents of the community lining the entire route, I began to feel the support I would receive the following day. A total of 4,000 volunteers would man-assist the running of this event! Scott Tinley participated with his daughter riding on his aero bars. Like a grouped at a Guns and Roses’ concert, I worked my way through the crowd to snap a picture.

At three o’clock the day before the race, you are required to drop off your bike and run/bike clothing in the transition area. I don’t know what it is like for a parent to leave their child at the day care for the first time, but it can’t be any harder than giving up your bike and gear the day before an Ironman!! All that was left to do was wait. One last spaghetti dinner, some last-minute mental preparation, and a night of little to no sleep.

Finally, it had arrived – Ironman race morning was here. I felt amazingly relaxed as I walked the half-mile to the race start/finish line with Kathy and some friends from Lincolnshire. The lake was flat and the air was cool, “PERFECT”. As we approached the transition area around 6 a.m., kayakers, scuba divers and medical personnel received last-minute instructions. "Man, 2.4 miles never looked so far."

Body Marked, tires inflated, wet suit in hand, only one last thing to do – join the porta potty line. During my mental preparations for the race, I visualized myself standing in the water listening to the Canadian National Anthem. Little did I know that I would be sitting down while they played the song. "Oh no, is this a bad sign? Three minutes to the start of the race and I’m in the toilet!"

With 1,100 participants entered, I self-seeded and waited 45 seconds before plunging into the 67 degree water. The swim was uneventful until the final half mile. I began to feel cold, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice in the lake. The last thing I wanted to do was suffer from hypothermia and end up in the hot tub or worse yet the medical tent. The last stretch was also directly into the sun; one could only hear the finish line announcer, but could not see the beach.

One hour and nine minutes later, I finished. Cold and a bit disoriented, I walked to the transition tent to change into my bike gear. I must have looked worse than I felt. A man from the medical team grabbed my arm and asked me if I was ok. "Sure" I replied, but I was shivering so badly that I had bitten that I had bitten the inside of my mouth. The transition tent was like a game of twister. It took me twelve minutes to change into my gear and get to my bike. As I approached my bike I heard my wife yell, "Tinley’s only 35 minutes ahead – go get him." It was then that I remembered what she had told me the night before the race, "Don’t let the day go by so fast that you forget to enjoy the people and scenery around you". In the end, it was the best advice I had received.

The first 40 miles were into a slight head wind. With a mountain to the left of me and Skaha Lake to the right, I had plenty of scnery to take in. As we made the turn at Husky Station, the infamous Richter Pass loomed ahead. The climb up Richter Pass was seven miles from bottom to top, at a 6-7% grade. With people lining the route and messages of encouragement scrawled in chalk on the road, I felt like I was riding in the Tour De France. After a long decent, during which I held on for dear life (my computer read 46mph, but it felt like 100mph), the next 30 miles were a series of short climbs and descents. Around the 90 mile mark, we were greeted with a long , steep climb. The rest of the ride was a piece of cake. I went roughly 100 miles in just over five hours, not bad since I had stopped to water the flowers six times. Race directors had warned us to stay well-hydrated. "The dry climate is deceptive. If you are not going to the bathroom on the bike, you will pay on the run." As I pulled into the transition area, my watch read 5:39, a good sign since I had planned to complete the bike in 5:36 which is a 20 mph pace.

Another long transition (10 minutes) and I was off for phase three – the marathon. Having never run more than 15 miles at one time, this segment worried me the most. I stopped to give my wife a kiss and to assure her I was alright, and then plodded my way up Main Street. I kept telling myself, "next time you see this building you will be almost home." It’s interesting the games we play in our mind to keep going. Almost the entire marathon course was lined with spectators. The local paper had printed a race program prior to the day of the race. As you ran by, people would look up your number in the program and yell things like, "Pete from Illinois, you look great!!" "Pete you are looking good." It was a great diversion from the pain I was beginning to feel.

The first 9.5 miles went by quickly, then cam a hill similar to the one I saw during stage 22 of the River to River Relay. My running mate, Suzanne from SF soon left me. Yes folks, the run was humbling. You get passed by young people, old people, skinny people, fat people and women. It doesn’t matter, ego and pride get thrown aside – "just finish."

At the turn around, my run turned into a shuffle, my thighs felt like someone had beat them with a baseball bat and my Achilles reminded me that it was there. I began to wonder if I would crumble. I remembered a conversation I had with a guy who had dropped out of a previous Ironman at mile 15. He told me it took him two years to recover mentally. He said he wished he had been more patient, that he had walked more instead of trying to push through. I convinced myself that wouldn’t be me. After all, I had told so many people I was doing the race there was no way I could come home not having crossed the finish line.

The third quarter of the run was pure hell. Each time I stopped running it was became harder to start again. Miles 14 -17 were uphill and I found myself walking more than running. At mile 18 I saw my wife who had come out to see how I was doing. She told me I looked great but I knew differently. Once I reached the 20 mile mark, the race took on a new look. All of a sudden, a 10k to the finish didn’t seem that long and I began running pain free again.

Most of the last three miles were a blur. The streets were lined on both sides and I could see the hotel (which signified the finish) at the end of the road. I tried to listen for Kathy’s voice as I made the turn for home but all I could hear was the finish line announcer’s voice. I remembered Steve King (my training partner not the infamous finish line announcer of IMC) had told me to make sure I crossed the finish line alone. Besides the memories, my finish line photo was all I would have in the years to come. I surely didn’t want to share it with an old , fat person!! As I entered the final 20 meters, my arms raised like I was winning, tears came to my eyes. I had done it – my first Ironman. The feeling was indescribable.

A man by the name of Richard Devos once said, "The only thing that stands between a man and what he wants from life is often merely the will to try it and the Faith to BELIEVE IT IS POSSIBLE. Having once believe that anybody who even considered swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles and running 26.2 miles in one day was crazy, I now know that desire, courage, dedication and belief are the keys to accomplishing anything."

A special "THANKS"” to fellow trailblazer Steve King who spent countless hours as my training partner and mental coach. "Thanks" to each of you who called to wish me luck, or dropped me a note of encouragement; I carried your well wishes with me across the Ironman finish line. Bill, Judy, Arnie, Sue. B and Mike H – thanks for getting me interested in this crazy stuff. Man that 10 mile run your took me on seems like it happened 100 years ago!

Follow up

The above write up was written 2 days post Ironman in 1992. I have re typed the original to be included in my web page. Although it has been 14 years since that day I can remember the whole experience better than what occurred in my life yesterday.

Since the writing of the original report, Kathy and I have produced two wonderful children, Nick now 13 and Lauren now 10. At the time that I did the original Ironman it was still considered a West Coast Sport and I was considered a "freak" for even attempting to finish the race. My wife told me before the race I was a short course specialist and would never finish the race. Although she has races since 1983 she had no desire to ever attempt an Ironman. In 2000 she changed her mind and finished Ironman California. This October she makes her second trip to the Ironman World Championships and her sixth race.

After my Ironman in 1992 I didn’t attempt the distance again until 2002 where I finished Ironman Wisconsin ( I also finished IMW in 2003). In 2004 Kathy and I finished Ironman Canada hand in hand and set personal records by finishing in 11:19 (21 minutes faster than my first attempt). Penticton as grown as has the race.

The sport of triathlon continues to be an important part of our lives. We now own a coaching business and have successfully coached many athletes across the Ironman finish line.