I drove up to Madison on Friday morning. I checked into the Edgewater hotel and was soon screaming with delight when I saw our room. It was a few floors up overlooking Lake Mendota. I could see the memorial union through this enormous bay window. I spent hours resting and watching the boats go by.

Earlier, I killed some time at the Monona terrace by swimming on the course. It was a great feeling to be around the other athletes. Everybody seemed fit and happy. I did about a half a mile without my wetsuit. It felt smooth and easy but the time was worse than expected. I did some math. If I did that on Sunday, I was looking at a 1: 40. Yikes. But there was no real panic.

I had gone off caffeine a week earlier. I’d read up about Peter Reid’s coffee scheme and decided to try it myself. There was some risk in doing so, but I did it anyway. One of the by-products was a very calm race week. Without the caffeine, I was super mellow, and I got lots of sleep.

Maybe it was the lack of coffee, but something had changed about my mindset. Happy and loose, I felt absolutely no pressure. I was no longer concerned about race splits or time goals or even finishing. A year's work would be decided in one day, but it hardly mattered. The experience to get to that point was more enjoyable than I could have imagined. I realized that I had already achieved something special. The race weekend was now like graduation--a unique time in one's life, a celebration that should be shared and relished. 

This was not a rationalization or a defense mechanism against failure. In fact, I can't recall ever being more determined to succeed in my life. It was more about clarity...an understanding what this moment meant in the big picture, and I was going to enjoy it no matter what took place. Regardless of the outcome, I believed I could not fail.

I registered without much of hitch, did some errands, and joined the other competitors at the Fig Newton sponsored dinner. I left before any festivities as the lady across from me was starting to lose it a little. She had never ridden the bike course and was starting to hear the tall tales.

On Saturday morning, I did a 30-minute brick around campus. For some reason, I reached down to my back tire and let out a bunch of air. I had my bike recently tuned up and the valve was left open. I m paranoid about flats so I never pump my tires anywhere near race day. But this little mishap forced me to do so. I was already a little wary about my bike. The guys had swapped out my tires (which had never flatted in a race) for a brand that I was not familiar with. The ride was not as smooth but it did feel faster. I went online that week to do some research on them and to my dismay, had found a few bad reviews. Most said the tires degraded after 300 miles and they would not recommend them. I had put on about 150 by race weekend. What was I going to do? Spend another $150.00 putting on a new set? No, it was too late. Mechanical problems in IM races are so random anyway. I would play the cards I had.

My support crew arrived in the afternoon. First, mom flew in from New York. She was so happy walking in that door and I hugged her and told her how happy I was that we could share this event together. I then gave her a quick lesson in videography and then Jen arrived. She was also incredibly excited for the weekend. She ‘s been to most of my previous races (including spraining her ankle following my 2004 Accenture swim), but she knew what Moo meant to me. She too had made plenty of sacrifices to get to this day. Plus, it was a rare chance for her to bond with my mom. I would be the guy out there on the course all day, but they would be the duo running around screaming  and providing any support I needed.

We went over some logistics and then headed to dinner. I had booked a reservation at an Italian spot on State Street. The restaurant had been the scene for plenty of recovery meals that summer. By the time we got there it was a mob scene. You could barely get in the door. I informed the hostess, but her frenzied look did not inspire me with much confidence. I had visions of spicy Nepalese stew for dinner. But within 5 minutes, we were seated. Dinner was a hot, noisy experience but the carbs got in there just the same. We walked to the capital and then to the State Street entrance a mile away. I explained the turnaround at mile 6 and how they could basically walk back and forth between there and the capital while seeing me run by several times in the process.

We went back to the hotel, booked the wake up call, and headed to bed. I set mine for 3:30 but I was up an hour earlier. I was trying to get in all those bananas, bagels and clif bars early. I had bought some freshly ground Fair Trade coffee for the occasion. I brewed it real strong. And with the first sip, I could feel the rush of that beautiful dark fuel.

I went up to cancel the wake up call. Waiting for the elevator, I heard some guy screaming and pounding above me. At that time of day, plenty of pub dwellers could still be coming home. The door opens and there is this large guy staggering around. He ‘s confused but he doesn’t appear drunk. I hesitate before getting on and I break the ice with, "hey, how ‘s it going." He says he’ s stuck. " Oh, do you mean the elevator is broken." No, I m trying to get to 2. The Edgewater hotel is built down from the surface to the water line. Looking at the buttons, the only available floors are Lobby, 4, 5, 6, and 7. I told him there was no second floor. He looks at me with an expression more mystical than wild, and whispers, " oh, there’s a 2."

Having escaped a possible beat down by this mysterious big foot of a man, I settled into my final preparations. A little more Gatorade, another pit stop, and some light stretching. I said goodbye to my sleepy crew and headed to the swim start.

It was still dark out but the streetlights reflected all those neon materials approaching the Monona terrace. It was easier than I expected to drop off the special needs bags. There were these cardboard boxes and all you had to do was find your number and drop them in. Only the super paranoid would struggle, obsessively checking the bags contents over and over.

I had a last look at my bike in transition. It was exactly as I ‘d left it. The announcer was calmly calling the schedule. They were pumping this Enya type music over the speakers. Not my cup of tea normally, but it was very calming. The sun was just beginning to peek through the horizon. A harbinger of day to come, it was painted a fiery red and it colored the surrounding sky purple.