How a Naval Officer Won the T1 of IMUSA
Well, those were not my first words but close to it as I turned the corner on the first lap of the swim at Ironman USA in the lead this past July (Lake Placid, NY, July 28). I was a bit more excited. A lot more excited.

My story is like many age groupers. I was a swimmer who liked to run. Road races are fun, masters swim meets are boring. So a few summers back I made the jump to Tri. I worked my way up through the races (sprint, Olympic, 1/2 Iron), until an Ironman was the only thing left to do. So, last summer I entered IMUSA.

I could see by the looks I was getting from the "hard cores" I met at road races that in their minds I still wasn't ready. I hadn't done the time. Or, in tri speak, I had not spent the dollars that are necessary to be a "real triathlete." We swimmers are only outdone in cheapness by runners. Bikers and triathletes have checkbooks from another planet as far as we are concerned.

I trained for IMUSA mainly by swimming. I figured if I could get in good swimming shape, fitness would follow and the other events would fall into place. I had run eight-plus marathons and biked, well . . . at least 62 miles at one time. This Ironman thing should be no problem. Right?

Well, it wasn't . . . at least for the first 46 minutes. I had thought up until a few weeks before that I would do the swim without a wet suit. As an open water swimmer, we look down on wet suits as cheating (you don't wear roller blades in the run do you?). So at first I thought there was no way I would wear one. But the hard cores told me I was nuts and the only way to go was with a wet suit. So I gave in.

I rented a wet suit from the local tri store. The day before the race I waded into Mirror Lake feeling like the Michelin man. My first swim in a wet suit, I thought, "this isn't swimming, this is surfing" as I paddled along. But after a lap of the lake I settled in and realized it might not be too bad.

Race day I waded into the lake with the herd of other triathletes. Someone said we looked like a herd of goggled seals! I also remember feeling slighted that the pros got a ten- meter head start. "Well, we will just have to catch them," I said to the goggled seal herd. "Yeah, you go killer," came an answer from a goggled seal. So go I did.

When the gun sounded, off I went. I was amazed how easy it was to swim at speed in the wet suit. My choppy stroke smoothed out. I left the goggled seal herd behind.

As I made my way down the first half-mile leg, I began to overtake the some of the pros. I figured that my bright green age grouper cap was a dead give away (the pros had yellow). So I had best give them a wide berth or else have a foot or two in my mouth. So I attacked up the outside hoping to hook up with the faster pros and draft my way along.

At the first turn I slipped by one pack of yellow heads and saw another ahead. The wet suit made swimming so easy I couldn't believe it. I figured that next pack must be my ride. So I slipped up behind them. However, I was going faster than even them and quickly sped past them.

Then it happened. We had just made the second turn and were in the second half-mile leg heading back to the beach. When I looked up, I did not see anyone else to chase. Now, as an open water swimmer, this happens a lot. You lose sight of other swimmers in front of you as they are below a wave or something. "Wait a minute," I thought, "there are no waves here, this is a lake." Still unsure, I cut over toward the underwater cable (a guide that runs under the course). I figured I would follow the guide for ten strokes and look again. Still no one was there; just smooth water.

"Holy @%^^%, I am leading the Ironman! How cool is that!" My day had just been made.

I would remain in the lead for the rest of the swim. I finished in 46 and change, well ahead of the following pack of pros. It would take me another 11 hours and 42 minutes to finish the whole race. I would get rained on during the bike and would cramp during the run. But at one point I was in the lead.

My smile would never fade.

Robbie Allen is a Naval Officer who lives in Sterling, VA with his wife and two kids. He is training for a repeat at Ironman USA 2003, where he also hopes to get better at the other parts of the race.