There was a time when I could barely swim two lengths of a 25-meter pool, when I didn’t have a bike and when I could barely run a mile.
Reflecting back to when I was a nonathletic teen, it seems highly improbable that I would make the journey to the starting line of the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii. Improbable, yes. Impossible, no.
Sometimes we get lucky and life throws us a challenge that demands our attention. On October 10, I got to “hit the reset button” as my colleague and friend, CNN Chief Medical Correspondent Dr. Sanjay Gupta, likes to say.
After seven months of intense training, the most spectacular event in all of triathlon was before me: a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and a 26.2-mile marathon, in that order. It was overwhelming and daunting and scary as hell.
I arrived in Kona a newbie on every level. In the Ironman Village, I noticed fellow racers — the best in the world — and was pretty blown away, mostly by their nonexistent body fat and their eye-of-the-tiger intensity. It was very hard to get them out of my head, since there were 2,300 of them swarming Ali’i Drive with bikes far more expensive than mine.
Reset No. 1
After a few practice swims, bike rides and runs, I finally got it through my brain that I wasn’t there to compete against them, but to get to the finish line for myself. My race, my pace. They’re the same words I would say to the CNN Fit Nation teams over and over again for the past six years.
This was going to be epic for me. I felt some pressure, wearing the beloved CNN uniform, having family travel and friends following from afar. The best pieces of advice I had were to “Stay within myself” and “Manage my resources.”
I never missed a training session in the many months leading up, so I did feel prepared, but not having done a full Ironman before, what was I supposed to be feeling? Excited? Nervous? I trusted the process. I had tapered the workouts, rested, rested and rested some more that week, per coach April Gellatly’s strict instructions. It would all unfold the next day.
Reset No. 2
Race morning, I was slightly alarmed that I was calmer than I had been for any race. I was shocked and delighted that I had actually slept seven hours.
I prepped my bike, dropped my morning bag and I was “race ready.” I kept a cool head and when our wave took off. I swam at a leisurely pace before picking it up, then passing a good chunk of my field. No panic, no hyperventilation and I thought, “This is going to be one helluva long, long day. A good day.” I exited the water after swimming approximately 700 yards more than needed, according to my watch, but felt strong.
Reset No. 3
As I changed and ran for my bike, I could see that many of the athletes were already out on the bike course. My race, my pace.
On the bike, I was in my zone and stayed with the nutrition, hydration and cadence plan I had practiced for months. All was going well until the final 32 miles (of 112 miles) heading back on the infamous windy well.
In the beginning, there were no searing head winds, but after the Hawi turnaround, all that changed. The relentless cross winds hit at 35 mph. The tall grass bent over backward and told me this was going to take a while. I needed to be patient, not become agitated or frustrated. I signed up for this, right?
After a few more hours battling the winds and extreme heat, never was I so happy to see an airport. Landmark! It was 10 miles to the end of this oven-like ride, 125 degrees from lava rocks and road, with vicious winds. I knew I wasn’t in danger of missing the time cut off, and I was able to fly down the hill, where I was greeted by a few of the 5,000 volunteers who truly make this race what it is.
Reset No. 4
Off the bike to run transition, my adrenaline kicked in. I decided I would make a complete wardrobe change. I kept to the plan: Place ice wherever physically possible, from the top of the head downward, stay hydrated, balance electrolytes, take in necessary calories so as not to “bonk.” I did not expect to be running in the pitch dark with no street lights, and I had no headlamp, which made me incredibly dizzy at approximately 18 miles into the Natural Energy Lab, one of the toughest parts of the course.
Reset No. 5
Knowing I was not in podium contention, I spent time meeting the community at every aid station and getting to know the children, especially, who were there late into the night with all kinds of nutritional support and confidence boosters. It was at that moment, I knew this was a YOLO experience.
An entire island coming out to play a part in one of the greatest physical challenges anywhere on Earth was beyond moving. It felt as if everyone was on Team Roni. Where else in the world do you get this sensational a feeling?
Reset No. 6
The final two miles are something I won’t ever forget. Sprinting down Palani Drive and winding through the crowds where I spotted my family, before the finish shoot is truly an out-of-body experience. I am sure Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, said: “Roni Selig, you are an Ironman,” but what I remember is a feeling of euphoria charged by adrenaline, one I haven’t felt since the birth of my two children, now 21 and 17.
To say an Ironman finish is surreal is an understatement. To say it is a finish is also an understatement.
From the moment I literally danced across the line, it felt like a new beginning. It’s not about what’s probable, but what’s possible.
What can each of us do when we set our sights on something bigger than ourselves? It’s a blessing to ask for support. No one gets to be their best self on their own, no one. It takes a whole lotta people with energy, consistency and selflessness to lift someone else up to their maximum potential. To all my champions, I not only thank you and salute you, but I share with you this remarkable monumental moment. Thank you for believing.
5 Ironman lessons that work for your work life
Be open minded: When something isn’t working, don’t force it. Make your next move and change up the way you have been doing things, even if you are attached to them.
People are your best assets: Greatness is earned and learned. It takes a support crew to get you there. Don’t be afraid to ask for help or expertise.
Make a plan: You can’t wing it. You can’t just see how it goes and come up with a plan along the way. You need a vision and plan of how you will execute it. Talking it up won’t cut it.
Manage your resources: Energy is not endless, but it can be replenished over and over again. If you go too hard or too fast, you will not make it.
Never give up: The journey to your best results is hard, long and suffering. For great outcomes, you must “do the work,” as one of my mantras explained. There are no shortcuts.