140.6

Madison, Wisconsin
September 9, 2012

Swim: 1:26
Bike: 6:31
Run: 4:39
Overall: 12:57

What I Remember

The swim.

I’m not a strong swimmer. Open water makes that obvious quickly. Arms everywhere. Kicks to the head. People swimming over you like you’re part of the course.

There’s no rhythm in that chaos.

Just survival.

For 1 hour and 26 minutes, it felt less like racing and more like managing panic. You can’t stand up. You can’t reset. You just keep moving forward.

When I finally reached the shore, I felt relief more than momentum.

The day had only just started.

The Bike

At the start of the bike, I wasn’t thinking about speed.

I was thinking about not crashing.

Or worse — a mechanical issue that would end the day before the run even began.

Ironman is strange like that. It’s not just fitness. It’s logistics. Equipment. Nerves. Nutrition. Heat. Pacing.

Six hours and thirty-one minutes later, I was still upright.

That felt like a win.

The Run

By the time I started the marathon, I knew this was different from any stand-alone race.

Your legs don’t feel fresh.
They feel negotiated.

Running around the Capitol in Madison, hearing the finish line crowd from blocks away, was surreal. You can hear it before you see it.

That sound pulls you forward.

Then the red carpet.

And the voice.

“Chad Kase, you are an Ironman.”

Mike Riley announcing it over the loudspeaker.

As good as it gets.

What Made It Possible

It wasn’t just me.

One of my oldest friends, Brett Schambow, talked me into signing up. It was both of our first Ironmans. Without his push, I probably never would have done one.

Between the two of us, we had family and friends lining the course all day.

That matters more than splits.

Ironman looks individual. It isn’t.

What It Was

Epic.

Not because of the time.

Not because of the medal.

Because for the first time, the distance felt real.

2.4 miles swimming.
112 miles on the bike.
26.2 miles running.

140.6 miles total.

A number that seems impossible until it isn’t.

— Chad Kase