I can’t even really remember when it all started. I think it was right after I did my first marathon – someone I knew mentioned Ironman, and after watching just one video about it, I promised myself, one day, I’d be there too. You know, it’s one of those goals that’s so far away, it feels almost impossible. It demands so much from you – effort, willpower, discipline, patience, and not to mention a whole lot of time and money.
So, what’s Ironman, you ask? It’s one of the longest triathlons out there. You swim 2.4 miles (3.86 km) in open water, then bike 112 miles (180.25 km), and finally run a marathon of 26.22 miles (42.2 km). You do all this non-stop, ideally within 17 hours. Before I even thought about seriously preparing for Ironman, I would just jog a couple of times a week, did a few half-marathons, managed a marathon – and that was about it. But now, I had to take it up a notch. Big goals don’t happen overnight, right? You just gotta start somewhere, and so, that’s how I ended up in the gym last year for the first time.
I went to a coach who worked on my core, arms, and back, added some cardio into the mix. Honestly, at that point, the training wasn’t taking up that much of my time – everything felt pretty chill. I started doing yoga on top of that and kept delaying the real grind. The year was slipping away, and swimming still wasn’t figured out (at that point, I could barely swim 109 yards (100 meters) before my heart felt like it was about to give out). Even thinking about the Olympic triathlon (0.93 miles (1.5 km) swim, 28 miles (45 km) bike, 6.2 miles (10 km) run) seemed out of reach.
I was starting to have second thoughts – should I push it back a year, or three, or maybe never? But by sheer luck, I found myself in a group swimming class at the beginning of the year. It was a good start! Thanks to them, I discovered the Total Immersion swimming technique and realized I needed to forget everything I thought I knew about swimming (to this day, those old habits still creep in – bent elbows, weak strokes, too much tension). The course was just the beginning. To swim long distances, I needed more intensive training. Olegs Umanskis helped me find a swimming coach, and suddenly Ironman didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.
One day, over brunch, a teammate nudged me into buying a slot for Ironman 70.3 Cascais Portugal on September 30. The date was set – no backing out now. I started getting used to swimming in wetsuits, in lakes, and in the sea. Let me tell you, when you’re out in open water, all those childhood fears come bubbling up. Honestly, I was just plain scared of the water. I’d panic for no reason. In the pool, I could swim 1.24 miles (2 km) no problem, but out in the lake, 109 yards (100 meters) felt impossible as my breath started to fail. But after some time, I started seeing progress, and eventually, I could comfortably swim 1.86 miles (3 km) or more.
When spring rolled around, I bought my first road bike and dove into the new world of cycling. I was pretty sure biking wouldn’t be as tough as swimming. Boy, was I wrong! Training on busy highways, the wind, the rain, 3-5 hour rides, aching back, wrists, shoulders – it was a lot. It took a while before I saw any progress on the bike.
Training hours started piling up – from 3-4 hours a week to 7-8. I was doing two-a-days more often – swimming in the morning, biking in the evening, or three hours on the bike followed by a run. Weekends meant even longer sessions. Planning time and discipline became crucial – I had to balance training without sacrificing family, work, hobbies, or rest.
Before long, I did my first Olympic triathlons, and I finally felt like I was making progress. My swim times improved, my cycling got better, and my running speed reached levels I’d never seen before. And I kept thinking about what one guy told me – “Half-Ironman is an unfinished story!” So, after chatting with my coach, I set my sights on a full Ironman that same year. The date was set – Ironman Argentina, December 2. With not much time left, the workload ramped up to 11-14 hours (17.7-22.5 km) a week. On one T-shirt, I read: sleep, eat, swim, bike, run, repeat. That was my life leading up to Ironman.
Sometimes, I just really didn’t want to train. But anyone who’s into sports knows – once you start, you get into it. Afterward, those endorphins kick in, and you forget how hard it was. Days and weeks passed like that. Then came September 30 – Ironman 70.3 in Portugal. It was supposed to be a prep race for the full distance, but also a test in itself. The result? Well, it didn’t go as planned. The swim went great – I set a personal record for the 1.18 miles (1.9 km) swim. But I punctured a tire on the bike and lost a lot of time changing it. Then I tried to make up for it, ignoring everything my coach had drilled into me. And I paid the price – my legs cramped up. By 7.46 miles (12 km) of the run, my legs were cramping badly – first the right one, then the left. I was full of energy, and ready to run at a decent pace, but every 1600 feet (500 meters), I’d have to stop and stretch. Instead of finishing in 5:30, I dragged myself across the line at 5:58. I wasn’t tired, just frustrated, but I learned a lot that day.
The next two months before the full Ironman were packed with long workouts – 11-14 hours a week. The weather turned bad, so I trained in the pool and on the bike trainer. Let me tell you, swimming 2.2-2.5 miles (3.5-4 km) in a pool is boring, but nothing compares to grinding out 4-5 hours on a stationary bike. Saturday mornings meant getting up at 6:30, having a light breakfast, turning on some random TV show (one I’d never waste my time on otherwise), and getting to it. After two hours, I couldn’t even hear the show anymore – it was just about counting down the time, which seemed to drag on forever. Towels were piled up on the floor under the bike because the sweat was pouring off me. It wasn’t pretty.
From all the intense training, my immune system took a hit, and two weeks before the race, I caught a nasty virus – cough, runny nose, and all that. It was the worst timing. I decided to keep training, but the cough got worse. With less than a week left, I finally took a break. After all that effort, I wasn’t going to let a cold ruin everything. I hoped the warm weather in Argentina would help me recover quickly. I got there three days before the race – the weather was nice: water at 64.4°F (18°C), air at 69.8°F (21°C), sunny… except for the ocean. I’d never swum in waves that big before. They were up to 6.6 feet (2 meters) high. I’d dive under one, then another, only to come up and be swallowed by a third – my goggles and cap were ripped right off. Instead of training, I just practiced getting in and out of the water. After about 40 minutes, I got a bit better at it, but those first 328 yards (300 meters) drained so much energy that I doubted whether I could even do it.
The day before the race, a cold front moved in. The water dropped to 59°F (15°C), air to 62.6°F (17°C), and winds were hitting 28.6 mph (46 km/h). On race day, they announced that due to the strong wind and dropping air temperature (down to 51.8°F (11°C)), the swim would be cut to 0.93 miles (1.5 km). At first, I was bummed, but when the race started, I was kind of relieved. The first 328 yards (300 meters) were brutal. I had to kick hard just to make progress, and I couldn’t see the buoys at all because of the waves. I struggled to breathe evenly, and halfway through, I thought about raising my hand to get pulled out. But I took a pause, floated on my back, tried to catch my breath, and promised myself – just a bit further, and if I still felt like this, I’d quit. Somehow, I made it through, completely drained and with aching legs.
Coming out of the water, I was freezing, and it only got worse on the bike. Halfway through the first loop, everything felt fine, but then I turned into a wall of freezing wind, barely able to move forward. Three loops of that. The run was about the same, except that around the 6.2 miles (10 km) mark, it got a bit better – either the wind died down or I just got used to it. Somewhere I read that the triathlon really starts with the run, and it is so true. The entire run was equally tough. I remembered my coach’s advice – “The second wind will come, just wait for it.” Around 35 km, it finally did. I started picking up speed, passing more and more people. The 40 km marker came into view. I could hear the announcer calling out names of those finishing. A smile crept across my face – it was almost over, soon I’d get to rest. The final 328 yards (300 meters), and then the long-awaited words – “Sergey Bogdanov, you are an Ironman.” My final time was 11:51:26 – swim: 39:06, bike: 6:49:39, run: 4:10:02.
It’s hard to describe what I felt at the finish line. Weakness, happiness, satisfaction, peace, lightness – it all mixed together. I’d been preparing for this for so long that the race itself had kind of lost its importance. You don’t become an Ironman at the finish line – it’s the entire journey of tough training that makes you one. This year, I swam 101 miles (162 km), biked 2629 miles (4231 km), and ran 790 miles (1270 km). And that doesn’t even count the swim coach sessions and gym workouts.
It was an amazing year, and I’m so grateful to my loved ones for believing in me and supporting me. Anna, you’re my Ironman Companion. Oleg, thank you for guiding me this whole year and backing my decision to do a full Ironman. This year, I learned once again that life is unpredictable, and there will always be obstacles in the way. Things rarely go the way you want or plan, but the key is to remember that you’re stronger than you think. Keep setting big goals and take small steps toward them. Anything is possible.