Very exciting, very wide mass start. The cannon went KABOOM and we all ran into the shallow water and ran for around 80-100 yards because it was so shallow. I lined up in about the middle of the mass start which seemed right. I figured there would be more aggressive contact, but most of it were just bumps and a few people swimming over me. None of the contact bugged me in the least, except rounding the first major buoy that is about 800 meters out. There were at least 50 people crashing into each other and all I could do was tread water in the traffic jam for about 30 seconds. Great to get around that monster and start towards the next buoy.

During the swim, I never really felt bad, or felt I was struggling. It is a long way to swim, but , you just have to keep moving. I kept telling myself over and over: "Fast NOT hard", smooth stroke, relax, fast turnover. I wanted to swim 1h 10' and I came close.

I would have rounded the buoy with a much wider turn than trying to go in so tight.

T1 was cool, my wife who was a race volunteer handed me my bag, and when I was running out of transition, the video guy was running beside me. When we watched the Florida Race DVD that they give to every competitor, I was in in running with my bike out of transition. Pretty cool, huh? Decided long ago to bike w/o socks, cuz thats how I train....good decision.

Couldn't have gone much faster, it went well.

Mentally, the bike can be tough. 5 1/2 hours out there is a long time to keep up 20+ MPH. That is not something you do everyday. I passed my buddy OZ who is a great swimmer, and wished him well. There is an out and back section (very short) and I saw my friend Johnnie Cooper (we had a bet on who would win the race, me or him). Anyway, he was chasing me, and he is a strong cyclist, so I wondered if/when he would catch me.

I tried to hold back for the first 30 miles or so, and I feel I did ok with that aspect.

I could not seem to get enough fluid into my body. I drank, and drank, and drank, and could not pee. I finally, at mile 90 stopped pedaling, and let out some pee (not stopping on the bike of course). The urine running into my bike shoe was nice and warm. Yuch.

I was on the edge of dehydration, but somehow avoided bonking.

T2 was 4 minutes long because of my penalty. It would have been 3' 16" otherwise. Can't complain about that now can we?

I smoked this T2, so w/o the penalty, I was golden.

I started the run and tried to hold back and not go too fast. My plan was to walk for 20 to 30 seconds at e/water station. I blew right through the first one and then thought, why? I then walked between 15-25 seconds through the next 19 water stations to give my muscles a short breather and to take in fluid. My feet were soaked my mile 10 with all the gatorade, coke and water. My stomach was a tad quessy, and I could not take down any solid food.

Following is a recap of race:

I started to stir in bed at around 1:30AM (I went to bed at 9PM). I stayed in bed and pretended I was actually going to go back to sleep, but knew it was hopeless. At 3AM I got up and started the coffee pot. Time for breakfast, which consisted of one bottle of Ensure (350 calories), one bowl of oatmeal (200 calories), one banana (100 calories), one yogurt (240 calories), 2 English muffins (110 calories) peanut butter (110 calories), Gatorade (80 calories), coffee (no calories, just caffeine). A total of about 1,200 calories to start my day.

Kim got up and got ready to leave at 430AM to go to the race as she was volunteering ALL DAY to help on the course. She has done this at many of my races and I think it is so cool that she is so dedicated to helping people, and it is a real plus for me to be able to see her during the race. Without the volunteers, these races would not be able to be held. In fact, for this race, there were 4,000 volunteers assisting just over 2,000 athletes.

My friends Jeff and Oz (short for Oguz, my friend from Turkey), picked me up at 520AM and we heading to the race. When we got there, we had to go to body marking. This is where you get your race numbers written on your shoulders and calves. I searched for Kim, and she marked my body, and she added an “I love you” to my left arm, and my dads initials “MJD” on the right. She kissed me and I reminded the guy in line behind me that there was no more “kissing” of the volunteers!

I tried to stay as relaxed as one can as they prepare to start a journey of 140.6 miles. A journey that I had never experienced. A journey that I was elated to be participating in, but none the less, nervous and anxious about the unknown that awaited me. A journey that for me was best described as “Epic”.

I made my last minute preparations on my bike, then donned my wetsuit and started toward the beach in the Gulf of Mexico with 2,057 other Ironman participants. The helicopters were flying overhead, and the music was pumping, the loud KABOOM of the cannon went off and all the athletes charged the water, all attempting to go 2.4 miles in the ocean as fast as they could.


The sea of humanity racing into the water can best be described as a gigantic washing machine. Legs and arms thrashing everywhere. Mostly unintentional contact, but contact none the less. Rush hour was just ahead, a traffic jam at the first major buoy was comical as people were grabbing me and climbing over and on top and every which way to get around that darn buoy. Some people cheated and didn’t go around the buoy. Their loss. After 1 hour and 11 minutes, I finished the swim and was in 770th place out of the water. I zoomed through the transition area where volunteer “wetsuit strippers” pulled off my suit as I laid on the ground. As I went into the transition tent I saw Kim. She was eager to help me and handed me my transition bag that had my bike helmet, sunglasses and bike shoes in it. I quickly put the stuff on while another volunteer applied sunscreen to my body. Kim then handed me my bike, and as I was running out of the transition area, a guy with the Ironman video cam ran along side me taking footage of me exiting the area. It turns out he was shooting footage for the DVD that they give all the athletes of the race, so I am in that video.

I was now off on my 112 mile bike journey. The first pedaling of the bike and my right hip was freaking out on me! I thought this is not good. I kept pedaling and at around 5 miles the pain disappeared…. thank God.

I knew I could probably average around 20 miles an hour for the whole race, and ended up doing better averaging 20.6 mph. I got passed by a few people, but overall, I was the one doing the majority of passing throughout the day. I felt thirsty during the whole ride. Although I was totally hydrated prior to the race, and I just kept drinking and drinking and drinking, but had not gone pee since starting the race at 7AM.

About half way through the race, I started to pass 2 cyclists. One of the 2 pulled out in front of me, we passed the other, and when we did, a race official on a motorcycle pulled me over and gave me a “drafting” penalty. I would have to go into a penalty box after the bike ride and serve my 4 minute sentence. Bogus call as far as I was concerned, but I actually didn’t dwell on it, and knew there was nothing I could do about it. The long bike ride is mentally tough, especially when you are trying to go fast. I started my mantra….”As the race gets longer, Lar dog gets stronger”. This helped me with the mental games that get worked over in a long event like this.

The bike course is one gigantic loop and is notorious for high winds. Today would be no exception. Wind is your friend when it is at your back, but it is an evil demon when it is crushing at you, especially after 90 miles riding your bike. The last 22 miles there was a ridiculous headwind that slowed everyone down. I figured everyone had to deal with it, so I would too. Your butt gets kind of sore after around 80 miles or so, but, you just need to suck it up, which I think I did. I kept drinking and sucking on my “feed bottle” of my turbo-charged energy drink to give me nutrition as I kept pedaling. I stayed in the moment as best I could, digging deep to keep my pedaling cadence up and continue to push as hard a gear as I thought I could get away with. I thought about the fact that I was going to get off my bike and then sit in a penalty box for 4 minutes, but I didn’t fixate on that issue. I wondered if I would see Kim, I wondered if I would see any of my friends, I wondered if I was going to have any running legs for the marathon that awaited me.

The wind was literally “kicking my ass” the last 7 miles, but the finish line was getting oh so close. When I got into Transition #2, I came off the bike in 436th place, so that means I passed 334 people while riding on the bike course. Didn’t seem like that many during the ride.

Much to my delight, Kim was waiting for me again in T2, and with such a look of relief on her face. She was worried sick about me, even though I came in off the bike when I told her I would if EVERYTHING was working perfectly to plan (usually not what happens in a 140.6 mile journey!). I went to the penalty box, and felt like a little kid who had to sit in the corner for a “time-out”.

I served my time, then ran to change into my running stuff, which only took 3 minutes and I was off running and the real moment of truth for me…..Would I be able to actually run 26.2 miles, or would I be reduced to the Ironman “death march” and end up taking 15 to 16 hours to complete the race.

I came to Florida to become an Ironman, if I could do it fast, then so be it. That’s all I fixated on, and then I started my mantra….”Strong and Steady”….”Fast and Ready” “Quick and Smooth”. After clicking off an 8 minute first mile, I purposely slowed down as there was no way I was going to run 8 minute miles for the next 25 miles. My plan was to walk through each aid station for 20-30 seconds for the first 20 miles so I could get some slight rest, and take in proper fluids/nutrition. I forgot to walk after mile one and said “IDIOT LARRY” out loud. I then settled in and started executing on my plan to walk 20-30 seconds at each aid station for the next 19 miles.

I was weakened by the swim and bike, but started thinking that I have come this far, and I will find a way to finish no matter how much it hurts. If I have to crawl across the line, I will find a way to finish. My stomach was queasy, but I forced myself to drink water and Gatorade. I just couldn’t eat ANY solid or semi-solid foods. The heat was serious, so I dumped ice down my shirt and pants, on top of my head, poured water all over me and drank while I ran. My core body temperature was very elevated.

The run course is 2 loops, and each mile actually seemed to be clicking by pretty fast. My pace was good, and I was tired, but felt like I might be able to run this whole thing. When I got to mile 6, I saw my friend Johnnie Cooper who was chasing me down. I was about 2 miles ahead of him, and thought; unless I “cave” I just might beat him. He is a veteran of 10 or so Ironman competitions, and he and I have been talking trash on who was gonna kick who’s butt. So far I had the upper hand. At mile 8 I saw a bunch of spectators that I knew. Just then, my hamstring buckled and I cramped. I thought I was a goner and that I may be doing the dreaded walk for the rest of the marathon if this didn’t get better fast. I proceeded to walk about 150 yards, there were some loud Canadians who were yelling at me to get going, but it was locked up. Somehow it started loosening up, and I tried to run in short steps, and it worked again. I downed more salt tablets and drank Gatorade at every station. I didn’t worry about the cramp and figured what ever will be will be.

When you get to 13.1 miles, you can see the finish line, knowing you have to do the entire run loop one more time before you get to the finish line. The winds were picking up and I knew the next 6 miles the wind would be in my face. I convinced myself that this was the best news I have ever heard in my life, because the wind would be at my back for the last 6 miles. More mind games.

I started thinking of my family, my mom, my dad, my brothers, my wife, my relatives, my boys, my friends, my co-workers. I knew many of you were so cool to care enough to go online and watch my progress, and many of you sent me such awesome emails before and after the race that inspired me, encouraged me, and made me feel so confident that I could do this thing. As the miles continued, I thought of you all checking me out online, and said, there is no way I can give up, pain is temporary.

I was enjoying passing a pretty good number of people. In fact I passed 156 people on the run, which was a real motivator. The sun was setting and I thought it would be cool if I could finish the race without having to wear the MANDAORY reflective tape all athletes must have if they finish in the dark. With 6 miles to go, my confidence was climbing; knowing I had just 10K to go was pumping me up. I quickened my running cadence and started on a steady stream of drinking Coke and water at each aid station. I was done walking the aid stations and was on a mission to become an Ironman as fast as I could. The Coke worked its magic and gave me the jolt of energy I needed. I was in pain, but nothing I couldn’t manage.

With 4 miles to go, the sun was set and it was starting to get a tad dark, but not bad. 3 miles left and I could smell the finish line. More Coke, more water. I couldn’t wait to get to each aid station. 2 miles to go and I started to push hard. The crowd was building and they were vocal. Because my name was on my race bib, many people were yelling words of encouragement, like “Larry, you rock” and other great things as I continued forward. One more aid station, one more Coke and off I was going to become an Ironman.

14 years ago I had a secret dream after watching the Hawaii Ironman on TV. I dreamt that one day; I would cross the line to become an Ironman. The only problem was that I was over weight, out of shape, couldn’t swim, didn’t bike, and had just started jogging casually. My first 10K race I entered back then, I DID NOT complete it! The grit, determination, and desire these people had amazed me. I tucked that dream away for many years, but secretly revisited it each fall as NBC would air the Hawaii Ironman and I would watch stories of tremendous accomplishment and of people overcoming unbelievable adversity and odds to achieve their dreams. These stories would bring tears to my eyes.

With 1 mile to go, I relived the 12 months of training I did for this event, thought of the sacrifice and effort I put into this, the tears started streaming down my face like a gushing river. The end was in sight. 100 yards from the finish line, thousands were gathered, the music blaring, the jumbo-tron gleaming, and Mike Reilly the announcer calls out…”From Dana Point California, Larry Davidson, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN. I leaped across the finish tape with both arms extended skyward, heard my dear and loving wife screaming my name at the top of her lungs and got a HUGE kiss and hug from her, my Iron-Sherpa.

My 14 year dream was met; I crossed the line in 280th place out of 2042 competitors, finishing in 10 hours, 42 minutes, and 41 seconds.

If I can do this, I believe I am capable of other significant accomplishments in my life, as are EACH AND EVERYONE OF YOU who took the time to read this. Whatever your dream is, follow it, pursue it with passion, and you will accomplish great things. Most anything you decide to do can be done if you want it bad enough.


Thanks for reading this. I am already looking forward to Ironman Wisconsin next year.

Larry