Well It is finally over. The quest for his first Ironman finish is complete and our boy has emerged on the other side a different (and much smaller) person. He went from a dude who had a lot of motivation and drive but no experience; to a seasoned athlete in a very short period of time. He transformed from a guy who could not get through a ride without his crank coming off the bike ( yes that happened a couple times early on, I just never got around to posting it), to someone who goes sub 5:30 on the bike at an Ironman. We could go on for hours like this, but the main point I am trying to make is : We are no longer dealing with swim-in-the-motel-pond Rucks anymore. This brings us to November 3, 2007. The transformation is complete. Chad Ruuucks, you are an Ironman.

The Smackdown(RS#137) has been going on since the Gulf Coast Triathlon earlier this year. If you are not familiar with this smackdown, let me get you up to speed before we go any further. I identified another Clydesdale athlete who lived in the region and had race times that I thought Chad should be competitive with. This athlete also happened to be signed up for a few races that Rucks was doing (including the big one: IM Florida). He did not know Chad; and the only way Chad knew him was because I said he needed to be gunning for him. My thoughts were that everyone needs a friendly rivalry and considering who we were dealing with (Rucks), it was best that the other party involved was in the dark on the whole thing. These two Clydesdales went head to head on a few occasions and the results were never very good for Chad. He came up short on every meeting since the first one. Some unfortunate incident always happened leaving him wandering if he had reached his full potential or not : flat tires at Gulf Coast Triathlon (RS#173),his wetsuit was not properly zipped (RS#152) at Mach Tenn, accelerade and digestion issues at the Waterfront Triathlon(RS#103). It came down (as predicted in RS#6 ) to Ironman Florida. After getting his rear handed to him at each one of the preliminary showdowns, I was hoping he would “Man-up” and come through for the victory. Well he did this and more, and in the process was immortalized in Clydesdale triathlon glory………..

Here is how it went down:

Rucks starts the swim dead center and makes it through the first lap in a respectable 37 minutes. He casually walks back into the water and starts the second lap. He accidentally starts sighting off the wrong buoy (unbelievably his only Rucks Sucks moment of the day). A kayaker directed him to the proper buoy and he was back on track. He is out of the water in 1 hour 24 minutes. I had estimated his worst case swim scenario to be 1 hour and 30 minutes, so at this point we are still looking good. Meanwhile, his adversary was out of the water only 8 minutes later. The margin in the water was closer than predicted but was due to Chad’s sighting error. Overall Chad’s combined transition times are faster so there would be no worrying about lost time in T1 or T-2.

Out on the bike Rucks has no heart rate issues at all. He does not have to worry about it being to high or getting it under control (I told you the taper was going well). He gets into a nice 145 BPM grove from the beginning. During the ride he passes an amazing 1125 cyclists. He stays on top of his nutrition and fluid intake as well as output (lets just say he was not as clean as Andy was after the ride) The bike is where he was supposed to minimize losses, in actuality he put more time on the opponent, further padding his weakest discipline. He has out biked him by a whopping 11 minutes. Rucks is now looking at roughly a 20 minute advantage starting the run.

The run is where it was predicted that Rucks would be vulnerable and would be spending time watching bib numbers for his worthy opponent to appear. Rucks gets into a nice rhythm and looks strong out of T-2, maybe too strong. He is told by a wise onlooker “Back it down just a little, don’t blow your race by running too fast in the first 10k” He takes the advise, slows down to conserve some energy, and settles into a 10:15 minutes/mile pace. He ends up with a steady 10:44 minutes/ mile pace at the halfway point. Behind Chad, the smackdown is getting heated as the opponent clocks a 2:07 fist lap taking 13 minutes back from our boy in the process. Only 7 minutes separates the two with 13.1 miles to go.

At this point both racers slow a bit, Chad a little more due to some walking for 30 seconds at regular intervals. As Rucks passes mile 17 he is told to “stay on your nutrition“, and that your pace looks good. One mile later at the entrance to the park things have deteriorated and Rucks is walking. A spectator walks over and “Calls” him on it. In a stern, almost paternal tone he is told “Hey man, you CANT be walking!. Get in and out of the park as steady as possible” Rucks stops dead in his tracks and looks like a deer in headlights. He thinks to himself “Ahhhh Sh##$, I just got cold busted walking“. “Do not walk in there…” is the last thing he hears as he embarks on the 3 mile round trip into St Andrews Park. When he appears again at the exit of the park he has another Clydesdale athlete in tow: Our boy is now a marked man, roles have been reversed. He has been caught and it is evident that this unknown racer-our smackdown opponent in fact- is game for crushing Rucks. Chad was positive who it was when the pass happened because he had the opponents bib number memorized . And to make it even easier for our boy, his adversary had his last name silk-screened on his rear in bold print. There was no doubt about it. It was in a word: ON

What ensued from mile 21 to the finish can only be described as the closest Ironman battle since the Iron-War of 1989 between Dave Scott and Mark Allen. These 2 athletes had passed glances at each other, neither wanting to back down. They ran stride for stride for about a mile, the opponent yelling “On your left Clydesdales comin through!!!!……. Step aside for the Clydesdales!!!!….. Clydesdales coming through!!!” At mile 22 these 2 warriors go by a group of Chad’s friends. Someone in the group yells “Don’t blow your race trying to beat him, you have 55 minutes to break 12 hours, that’s the goal, now keep it steady“. Finally it was too much. Rucks succumbed to the pressure, dropped off the pace, and watched his hopes of a smackdown victory jog away at a 9:45 min/mile pace. It is a dark time for our boy and he was heard uttering “I cant do that pace” while simultaneously slowing down. It does not look good for Rucks at this point; he seems to be incoherent while inexplicably babbling things like “Everything hurts!!!”, “I can’t feel my core!!”, and “where’s Mommy with my shoes???!!!” Rucks trots off into the night leaving everyone around scratching there heads and thinking the smackdown is over. They begin to worry that Rucks might not even make it to the finish. Evidently Rucks doesn’t have what it takes.

Fast forward 20 minutes. The race course has detoured the runners off Thomas Drive and into a dark neighborhood. Two miles or so later it dumps them across Thomas drive for the last time, and onto a back street. When Rucks makes it to this crossing he has unbelievably gone from running a 13 minute/ mile pace to a mind boggling 9 minute/mile pace . He must have been exploring the deepest most cavernous areas of the pain cave, because he exited the neighborhood a mere 60 seconds behind the stenciled rear end of his arch nemesis. At this point he had only 1.5 miles to go to the finish line. The race was essentially over, and he was now free to go for the smackdown victory without the possibility of a meltdown.

As Rucks makes the last right hand turn after they have crossed Thomas Drive a simple question is posed by a casual observer “Hey man do you want a time split” An equally simple and surprisingly lucid response is declared by Rucks “Do you WANT to get punched in the teeth!!??” This observer asks almost jokingly “Are you talking to me?” Again there was an elementally simple answer “YES” So Rucks is left to his own devices, which surprisingly were more than adequate given his shaky past in triathlon racing. Chad draws on the 12 months of advise from his coach, the direction he has received from his multisport advisor, and his own personal experience; what he came up with is was nothing short of genius.

At the last aid station at mile 25 our boy is 20 yards back and the opponent (who at this point must have thought Rucks was long gone) is stopped getting some soup. He is standing still. Chad completes the mother of all gut checks and picks the pace up further and runs past the opponent as he is standing still sipping soup. The other Clydesdale sees Chad’s feet, then his eyes make there way up, giving Chad the once over. He realizes that Rucks is in fact NOT long gone and immediately drops the soup and starts running. The problem for him is that Chad had a good bit of momentum going and had strategically timed his move on the only down slope of the whole run course so gravity was on his side as well. The 1 yard gap becomes 2, 2 yards become 10, 10 becomes 30 and it is over, he has broken his opponent. Someone tells him to “keep the pressure on until the end” so he didn’t have to sprint on the carpet and ruin his finish. Rucks dug a little deeper and let the crowd and the moment sweep him to the finish line for sweet victory. As he crosses the line he gives not a sad and pathetic wave as Old Chad would have. He raises his hands, beams that affable Rucks smile and salutes the crowd as they cheer his victory. The crowd is oblivious to the pain and agony he had gone through to win his own internal and external battles on the open road of the marathon. But Rucks knows and that’s all that counts.

When the dust settles, Rucks has won by a slight 22 second margin. After more than 11 hours of racing and 6 months of disappointments, he has won by about the time it takes him to swim half a lap in a 25 yard pool. Rucks learned something about himself in those last 5 miles out in the dark, alone. What he learned is deeply personal and he will not fully know the extent of it until he has had a few weeks to digest the magnitude of his accomplishment. There is no way for me to know what it is that he learned, but I guarantee you this: it IS profound. The one thing I do know for certain is that he in fact does NOT suck anymore and he has single-handedly put and end to this thread once and for all.

Chad Rucks:
2007 Smackdown Winner
Clydesdale Hero
My good friend and training buddy
IMF 2007 Finisher: 11:51:55

Intro

Here we are on the eve of the big day; it has been a long and interesting 8 months to say the least. A journey that officially started 364 days ago has almost come to fruition. What follows is intended to lighten the mood of one of the 2600 people competing in the ninth running of the Ironman at Panama City Beach (PCB). For the rest of us, it is purely for enjoyment. So, if you see Rucks at a SCV clothing distribution, on a group ride, or out on the town, thank him for allowing us to laugh with him (well – mostly at him) as his life has been on display for us to read about. I know it has been fun for me, I hope you guys have liked it too.

Rucks can spin a good yarn in person, and before this story, I had heard some interesting things about our boy, but nothing that demonstrated the pattern of ineptitude that eventually was uncovered by RS #2. This was the ground zero, the genesis – the day I realize that RUCKS SUCKS!

This is the much anticipated, much talked about, much debated final installment of the Rucks Sucks thread. If you are an endurance athlete, a triathlete in particular, then what follows has undoubtedly happened to you as well. So before we jump to conclusions and start judging with statements such as “that is so stupid it could only happen to Rucks”, we need to look no further than the mirror for another unlucky soul that this has happened to (or will happen to). This situation is akin to the bike crash analogy. There are two groups: those who have crashed and those who will eventually crash; it is a matter of inevitability.

There are four different perspectives from which this story could be told, and four people (until now) have been sworn to secrecy. The vault has been opened and now the story can be told in all its glory. There are many layers, and it is funny on many different levels. The perspective this will be told from is mine. I vow to you that this story is true, as are all Rucks Sucks stories. So, without further adieu, I give you RS#2.

The Set Up

It begins, as a lot of classic RS stories: Ironman Florida 2006. Ben West, Kevin “ The Irish Missile” Boucher, Chad Rucks, and Malibu have planned to go on the yearly pilgrimage to watch the race, cheer on the other local athletes, and sign up for next years race (Rucks was the only one doing this part). We had taken Thursday and Friday off from work and drove down Wednesday evening. We had rented a house and were looking to get some training mileage on our legs while in Florida. At the last minute Rucks had to go to Chicago for work, and ended up flying to PCB International Airport on Thursday afternoon. This freed up a seat in Ben’s (now defunct) Subaru. My wife got the great idea that this would be the perfect time for me and my 2 and a half year old son to take our first road trip together. So now it’s these four clowns and a toddler. Bridget has an MBA and is a sharp lady, and to this day I can’t understand why she thought this would be a good idea, but since she is the boss and I am perfectly capable of taking care of a toddler, I rolled with it and thought it would be a great experience.

It is now seems for me, taking my bike on this trip was a waste of time. But as fate would have it, Chad’s gear arrived late on Thursday evening. He had been up since the wee hours to catch his flight so he wanted to sleep in on Friday morning. He volunteered to watch Hayden while Ben, The Irish Missile, and I went out for a three hour spin on the bike. The plan was to come back after three hours and Chad would ride the last four hours of Bens massive seven hour base ride. The first part of the plan worked flawlessly. Rucks slept in, changed a couple of diapers, took Hayden to McDonalds (getting a couple of phone numbers in the process), and I got in 3 hours of riding. The second part of the plan is where the fireworks begin…..

Part 1:

We get back from the ride and I take over diaper duty. The 3 amigos are off to finish the ride. They get back with no hitches for the most part; the only problem is that they cut the ride a little short. It seems the wind had picked up considerably and Ben and Chad decided to do a transition run. This is where it starts to get interesting. Hayden is taking a nap and tucked nicely into bed in the back room. I am showered, cleaned and perched on the couch watching TV. The Missile is taking one of his patented afternoon siestas for which he is famous. Ben comes in from the “Brick” run, without Rucks in tow, and I ask: “Where is Chad?” Ben responds, “Oh, he is back there, he was right behind me“. A few minutes pass and I start to get just a little concerned (keep in mind this is pre RucksSucks and I had no idea what Rucks was actually capable of). Ben is now showered, a few more minutes had passed and I ask “Hey man, can you watch Hayden for a minute? I am going to check on Chad“. I get the keys and am walking out the front door when Rucks comes walking up the street in front of the house. Here comes the good part.

I am now back on the couch, Rucks walked in the front door looking VERY worked. As he walks past me I notice something is not right, but I can’t put my finger on it. Did he lose a water bottle? - No. Is he limping or hurt? – No. I know what it is! And then I ask a fateful question, a question that if left unasked would have let certain events slip unnoticed into oblivion forever. But unfortunately for Rucks, my keen sense of awareness kicked in and I uttered the now famous line, “Hey, didn’t you leave out of here with a t-shirt on?” (The reason I noticed was that I thought it was odd that someone would go running with a cycling jersey on with a t-shirt over it). Chad takes two more steps and stops in his tracks; he is contemplating something very heavy, very deep, and very important. After the pause he turns to me and says” Uuumm- yeaaah, about that shirt.” Since something similar had happened to me before, I immediately realized what had happened and started to laugh hysterically.

Maybe it was the grease in the Waffle House food, or all the organic goodies in the cliff bars he had eaten on the ride, we will probably never know for sure. Rucks had eaten something that did not agree with him causing an unfortunate incident that resulted in him having to discard the T-shirt after business had been taken care of. Rucks is not too thrilled with all of my cackling at his expense, but stands there and takes it like a man. After a minute, Ben comes out asking what all the commotion is about. I am still laughing and Rucks is standing there looking like he might stomp me at any second. I get Ben up to speed, we have some more laughs, and it’s on with the story.

Part 2

Chad begins the story with “Let me tell you what not to do” and proceeds to tell us in detail what had transpired. Ben and Chad had been running and all was ok, then Rucks got “That Feeling“, we have all had that feeling, when nature is calling and there are absolutely no bathrooms around. He thinks to himself, “Ok, I will slow down and it will subside“. Well it did not subside, what it DID do was get worse. So he runs a little further and begins to realize that his engines are primed and ready, and “Take-Off” is imminent. The situation is dire. The particular run he was doing was on Front Beach Road. There were motels across the street on the beach side, condos on the side he was running on. So at this point he realizes that this IS going down right now, there is no way around it. His stomach has made that churning sound and all systems are go. He looks across the street and takes four, maybe five clinched baby steps toward the motel, hoping to make it to the lobby restroom. After these four steps, he realizes this plan is a no go and stops. He thinks to himself, “There are bushes a few yards off the road in front of the condos, surely I can make that“. He takes four or five more clinched baby steps toward the bushes and he stops dead in his tracks (incidentally right back where he had started), and realizes this unfortunately WILL be the spot right where he stands. Now, I find it interesting that with all the construction in PCB, our boy had passed at least two port-o-potties and was in sight of another. But that is neither here nor there.

He is now standing there helpless to the fact that one of the two most basic human bodily functions is about to happen out in the open, 10 feet off Front Beach Road, in front of some condos, across the street from a motel, and there is absolutely nothing he could do about it. He was, however, on the absolute greenest, most lush patch of grass within a five mile radius, so that was a plus. Still taking baby steps toward the bushes in a futile attempt to get out of sight, he realizes no amount of clinching was going to delay the inevitable one more second. It was time for “The Move“. Everyone male and female alike is well versed in this maneuver and it must be implemented for business to take place. “The Move” is the pulling down of any below the waste garments that one has on while simultaneously squatting. It is a standard move, and must be done whether there is actually a toilet present or not. It was at this point that he realized in his present clothing situation, “The Move” could not be attempted just yet. “Why… you may ask?” Because he had cycling BIBS on, and to make matters worse, he was decked out in the brand spanking new WHITE SCV kit from head to toe.

At this point, he rips the T-shirt off, frantically unzips the jersey, and throws it to the side. The current “business” at hand is superseding any concerns about decency (public in-decency to be exact). The jersey is off, the bib straps are off both shoulders, and Rucks is free to execute “The Move” as it is naturally intended .Ahhhhh…relief! Sweet mother – FINALLY (he thinks to himself). The moment is finally here and with all the stress and build up, Rucks is actually relieved both mentally and physically. Only after he is finished does he realize the brevity of his situation. He is squatting 10 feet from Front Beach Road with no shirt on, has white cycling bibs around his ankles (held out away from his body with his free hand so as not to get them soiled), and for all intents and purposes, he is as naked as the day he was born. In this moment of sad realization, a car passes (I picture it cruising by in slow motion – like that classic scene in the movie Fargo) and eye contact is made with the passenger. Chad gives a sad pathetic wave in conjunction with that Rucks look of “what are you gonna do?” Rucks makes a command decision to use the T-shirt for clean up purposes and decides he needs to get out of there ASAP. He formulates a straightforward and simple plan: to get some dang clothes on and get the heck out of sight. So, up come the bibs, on goes the jersey and he sprints back to the house before someone calls the cops.

Somewhere during the time that Chad was telling this story to Ben and me, The Missile comes out of his hibernation, awakened by my cackling laughter. He says, “What is going on? I have not heard that laughter in exactly 365 days.” (It was a year ago to the day that Chad had told us the story of RS#191 on the way to Ironman Florida 2005). Needless to say, the story gets funnier every time it is told and Chad reluctantly tells it again for The Missile. Upon the second telling of the story, the fact that Chad had a heart rate monitor strap on comes out, adding another layer to this cake of a story. After all is said and done, Rucks swears us to secrecy for life and tries to forget it ever happened. Meanwhile, I spend the next three days pointing out nice green patches of grass that Rucks might find suitable for doing business…

Per Chad, I got the @##hole award for the 2006 trip