Well then, just like my race itself, this race report has been progressing slowly and steadily, and at long last, we have reached the final leg! ๐
Having rounded the last turnaround, now all that remains is to keep running straight toward the finish line. By this point, no mental tricks or pep talks really work anymore. The fierce words like “I will overcome this!” no longer come to mind. All that’s left is simply to keep facing forward and endure.
There is an athlete I deeply respect, Cameron Brown, who has won the Ironman New Zealand 12 times. He once said that what awaits on the Ironman run course is a “World of Pain.”
Running this part of the race, I truly felt the meaning of that phrase seep into my bones. Whether elite or not, the brutal final marathon of an Ironman is an endless world of pain. Only those who overcome this can proudly declare, “I am an Ironman!” I felt this in my heart with absolute certainty.
By now, all that remains is the battle with my own fragile mind, which could break in an instant with even the slightest lapse. Strangely, the question “Why must I endure such suffering?” never surfaced. I had spent so much time preparing for this pain, and my goal was to fight through this final hour of the race properly. There was no option to quit now.
The only thing I thought about was running firmly to the next aid station. At each aid station, I would take a brief walking break while drinking fluids, letting my weary mind breathe in the long struggle. Clinging to this alone, I kept moving forward step by step. I had little strength left to respond to the cheers along the course, but many people were still cheering us on late into the race. Weakly, I kept saying “Thank you” as I went.
Somehow, I managed to reach the last aid station. Only one section remained, about three kilometers. While drinking at the aid station, I steeled my heart with “Alright, this is the last part,” and began running again.
This last section features a long, gradual uphill stretch. Even though I’d run this part many times before, I wasn’t sure if I could run all the way to the end. But having come this far, I just had to overcome it. Gathering all my remaining strength, I moved my legs forward.
When I finally crested that hill, a thought suddenly crossed my mind: “Maybe I’ve beaten myself?” Along with it came a peaceful relief spreading quietly through my heart, and an indescribable calmness wrapped over my body.
Strangely, the pain and suffering that had tormented me completely vanished. What filled me was a serene world I had never experienced before. The fading daylight cast a faint blue hue over the surroundings, creating a magical stillness.
As I soaked in this strange sensation, I suddenly sensed someone beside me. Startled, I turned to see my rival, R-kun!
In the early part of the run, I knew he was behind me. But since I had been running steadily, I thought I had left him behind, and he had completely slipped from my mind.
So I was quite surprised to see him, but strangely, I didn’t feel any frustration about being caught. What filled my heart was pure respect for him, for running such a grueling Ironman marathon, maintaining his pace, and overtaking me right at the end.
With those thoughts, my hand reached out naturally. He also reached out, and we shook hands firmly. Then he whispered, “Let’s beat this thing together.”
From there, we matched pace and ran side by side, casually chatting about our impressions of the race. Although he had come from behind with a faster pace, I found myself effortlessly running faster, as if pulled along by him.
We first met three years ago at a local 5K race. At that time, I had just completed a 150km road bike race and was beginning to work on running, which I disliked, as I thought maybe I would try a full marathon next. I entered that 5K to test my running ability. (Looking back, that was the only 5K race I ever ran.)
On the final lap of that race, when I had pushed myself to the limit and felt I couldn’t go any further, he came up beside me, running with a cool and composed face.
Seeing his completely effortless and flawless running form, I immediately felt, “This guy is no ordinary runner.” At the same time, I remember thinking, “I want to run like that someday.” I still remember that feeling.
Since then, on the path leading up to this Ironman, our paths have crossed repeatedly at various milestones. Looking back, perhaps I reached this Ironman by chasing after his back.
To now be running side by side with him at this moment, aiming for the Ironman finish, was almost too surreal—I felt like I was dreaming as I ran.
Before long, we reached Taupo’s main street. I wanted to finish together with him, but knowing my own personality, if we ran side by side that long, it would surely end in a sprint battle. ๐ (I still remember beating him in a desperate sprint at our first competition. ๐)
This Ironman finish holds a special meaning for me, and I wanted to greet it with a free and open heart. So, out of respect for him who led me this far, I slowed my pace and let him take the lead.
Strangely, this spot was exactly where he caught up to me three years ago! After three years, seeing his running form before me—even less than a kilometer from the Ironman finish—still perfectly beautiful and unshaken from that day, I realized I still hadn’t caught up to him. I silently thanked him for pulling me along this far.
At that moment, familiar voices rang out—my family and friends! They were waving enthusiastically at me. ๐
All the emotions I had held back suddenly burst forth! I repeatedly struck a bold guts pose, and before long I was throwing exaggerated fist pumps! ๐
(Later, I heard that one of my friends was so moved by my emotional outburst that he shed tears of joy. ๐ญ)
Now, all that remained was to sprint toward the longed-for finishing chute. As I rounded the last corner, the flood of emotions from releasing the accumulated pain could no longer be contained. Memories rushed through my mind, and tears threatened to overflow. Naturally, words like “I did it! I did it!” spilled out of my mouth like a child’s.
Last year, I watched the Ironman race from start to finish for the first time. At the finishing chute stand, I witnessed 45-year-old Cameron Brown winning with a course record. Watching him repeatedly pump his fists in triumph moved me deeply, and I naturally shed tears.
At that time, although I was interested, I had never participated in triathlon, and Ironman felt like a distant world. I never imagined that one year later I would be running down that same red carpet finishing chute myself.
Now, here I was, running through that very same space. Like Brown that day, bold fist pumps came naturally one after another. Hands reached out from the crowd. I gave enthusiastic high-fives, and more and more hands appeared! I responded to every one with joy, exploding with emotion as if I were the winner.
One of the reasons I wanted to challenge Ironman was to experience what I would feel upon reaching that finish line.
When I reached it, my mind was completely blank.
At that moment, I found my true self—without any facade—moved only by overwhelming emotion. As I crossed the finish line, a wild primal scream burst forth from my core—not in Japanese or English, but from deep within my heart.
Wooooooohhhhh!!!!!
For a while after finishing, I was in a complete daze. I received my medal (actually, a friend’s son placed it around my neck, but I didn’t even realize it), was wrapped in a towel, and was guided by volunteers into the finishers’ tent.
First, my weight was measured. (Thanks to good nutrition, I’d lost only about one kilogram since the start ๐). I received the finisher’s T-shirt given only to those who complete the race.
I shook hands again with R-kun, and we praised each other’s efforts.
I tried to sit down with some food and drinks that were provided, but my legs were so tight that I couldn’t lower myself properly. Looking around, another Ironman finisher sitting nearby said, “I felt the same way.” ๐
He told me it was his sixth Ironman. R-kun, sitting beside him, was also a seasoned veteran with six finishes. We all laughed about how terrible the conditions were that day. ☹️
Later, a young man sat next to me. After shaking hands and congratulating him, he began talking matter-of-factly about how much he struggled with the swim and how many times he nearly gave up battling the headwinds on the bike. He had gotten seasick during the swim, even vomiting while swimming, and barely made it to the swim exit. He seemed half in shock while recounting it. ๐จ
I wanted to keep talking forever, but my family and friends were waiting outside. I shook hands with three of them, promised R-kun we’d meet again at the next 70.3 race, and left the tent.
Finally, I was reunited with my family. ๐ I hugged them, thanking them for their support, but when it came to my wife, my gratitude overwhelmed me, and I found it hard to let go. ๐
Later, with a beer my wife thoughtfully brought, we shared stories about the race. That beer tasted so good. ๐ However, after returning home, the alcohol hit me fast, and I couldn’t stand up. So, I do not recommend chugging beer immediately after an Ironman race! ๐
Well then, since this is a good place for a conclusion, I will end this endlessly written race report here.
Because I wrote this report as a record of everything I could recall about my experience, it became very long. If you have read it to the end, I apologize for the length and offer my heartfelt thanks. Thank you so much for staying with me this long! ๐
Lastly, I cannot close without expressing my deep gratitude to my blog friends who have supported me all along. Looking back, my path to Ironman has been walked together with this blog. Even now, reaching the finish line despite the suffering and exhaustion, feeling so fulfilled, I truly believe it was because of the encouragement from all of you I met through this blog that I could move forward with such abandon.
This blog has given me an incredibly dense and meaningful time. No words can truly express my gratitude, but I humbly offer my thanks.
Thank you very much!!!!!!!!!
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