John Brown's Body Journey

In August 2006 I was overweight and unhappy with life; I didn't have much to smile about. In fact, people who see pictures of me from those days notice how unhappy I looked. Sadly I agree with them, I looked as bad as I felt.

I used to have very low self-esteem, I felt fat, ugly, lonely and old.

At 38 years old and standing 5'7" I weighed 292 pounds in August 2006, I would grow fatigued by mid-day. If I had to walk much, my feet hurt so badly that I could hardly bear it and usually limped to my car at the end of the day. I also had trouble sleeping.

Fourteen years earlier, I broke my ankle playing basketball and I did not get the proper medical treatment, which led to it healing incorrectly. Consequently, my ankle was in nearly constant pain and running was impossible.

My weight also made it difficult to have fun. I went to an amusement park, and it was one of the worst days of my life. Not only were my feet killing me, I also couldn't get the safety harness to fit over me correctly when I got on a rollercoaster. I literally had to hold on to the restraining bar for dear life; I have not ridden a rollercoaster since.

I was eager to lose weight and turn my life around, so I took part in a health-promotion program at work and immediately altered my diet. Not only did I reduce the amount of food I was eating, but also I quit eating junk food in favor of more fruits and vegetables.

I also began a workout regimen that started with occasional walks at the mall and swimming. As my weight began to drop, I started to feed upon my own success. I grew enthusiastic about what I was doing. Each pound I dropped, each lap I swam was another mini success story. Simply put, I was doing it by moving more, eating less, and loving it.

Then on one fateful day in early December 2006, I was attending an all employee meeting when one of my fellow employees was recognized for her accomplishment of completing Ironman Florida. This got my mind racing. I remembered seeing the Ironman on TV when I was a young teenager. Could I do that someday?

Sadly, after years of neglecting my health and fitness, any thoughts of actually doing an Ironman were relegated to being just a silly fantasy. Yet here in front of me was a woman who had just done it. She was not some professional athlete on television, just a woman who lived near where I lived and did a similar job at the same company, if she could do it, why not me.

So, that weekend I secretly did my first triathlon. I swam 1000 yards, biked 10 miles, and ran (well, mostly walked) a mile. When I returned home and turned on the TV, what did I see%u2026the Ironman World Championships from Kona, Hawaii.

All these signs in one week, I had found my destiny. God was telling me something. I would become an Ironman. I joined the local triathlon club and started training for their annual indoor triathlon held on March 25, 2007.

When the date for the indoor triathlon finally arrived, I was very nervous and yet excited. I was worried about the 15 minute run that followed the 20 minute bike and 10 minute swim. As expected, I had a good swim. My bike was uneventful. The moment of truth had arrived; it was time to run, for 15 minutes straight! When it was over, I was sore and tired; I had only run 1.33 miles but had done it.

My next challenge was a 5K at the end of April 2007. I, without knowing any better, chose a trail run for my first 5K. It had not occurred to me that this might be hard on my foot and ankle. The race was held in a state park. When I drove up to the gate, the security guard asked if I was a spectator or a racer. I could barely get the words out, but I said with a cracking voice and moist eyes, "racer." I completed the race without too much difficulty. I was so happy and proud at what I had accomplished.

The first of my seven outdoor triathlons I would do that year happened six weeks later, and like my first 5K I completed it with a big smile on my face. I was somewhat emotional but I managed to keep myself from crying. I did other three triathlons and a running race that same month.

I took it easier in July because I new at the end of the month I was doing my first Olympic distance triathlon (1.5K swim, 40K bike, and 10K run). I had never run 6.2 miles (10K) before and it seemed like a long way. A friend talked me into doing a 6.5 mile trail run the weekend before the race to help build confidence. Three days before trail run I was injured in a mountain bike wreck, bruising several ribs and my lung. Somehow, I still ran the trail run. I finished third from last, but not last and I did finish.

Sore and scared I competed in my first Olympic distance triathlon. My swim was excellent and my bike went ok. The run was pure misery, 6.2 miles where every step my foot hurt along with my ribs and lung. I finished with one of the slowest runs of any of the participants. I didn't care, I had achieved something. I went in to a porta-potty and cried after I finished. I competed I three more triathlons that summer.

I had learned from my experiences that I needed to work on my running. I decided to indulge my love for swimming once more and then I would focus on running for a while. Therefore, I swam in a 5K open water swimming competition finishing ninth in my age group.

I set a lofty goal of completing a half-marathon by the end of the year. So, just seven short months after my first 5K I ran in the St Louis Half Marathon. Finishing that race was my proudest accomplishment to date.

The week before the half-marathon, I made the decision to sign up for Ironman Florida, the same race that my fellow employee did that had inspired me the previous year.

The next spring came quickly and I started my Ironman training in earnest. I did not do as many races that year because they disrupted my training. The only race I felt like I had to do prior to the Ironman was a 70.3 race (half-Iron distance), which consists of a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run.

At the end of June when the 70.3 triathlon approached, I was terrified. I had only run 13.1 miles once in my life and that was the previous November. The bike turned out to be the toughest bike ride I had ever done. The course was very hilly and the wind was oppressive. It rained on the run but I jogged in with a big smile on my face. Greeting me at the finish was the very same woman who inspired this whole journey. The woman recognized at work was there with a big hug. When the race announcer told the crowd I had lost over 120 lbs, I started to cry uncontrollably. It was the best moment of my life.

I knew I was on the final stretch of my journey. In four months, I would be in Panama City Beach, Florida for the Ironman. I trained as I had never trained before. My entire life was work, swimming, biking, running, eating, and sleeping. Six weeks from the race, I was finishing a bike workout when I was nearly hit by a car. Although, I avoided the collision I was still thrown from my bike. I landed on my right shoulder and pain shot through my arm. The next thing I know I am being loaded into an ambulance and taken to the hospital. I was certain my dream was over. The doctor told me I had a separated shoulder and that it would be a few days until the full extent of the damage was known.

Three days later I at my follow up appointment with the orthopedist, I said to him "I have just one question, will I be doing the Ironman with one arm or two." He said most likely two. He went on to say I could do whatever training I could "tolerate." This was music to my ears. I had spent the previous 14 years walking around on an injured foot. I could handle a separated shoulder. In the end, I lost 10 days of biking and 11 days of swimming.

As I stood up in the cold sand of Panama City Beach, I knew my time had come. The moment I had dreamt of as a teenager 25 years earlier, when I saw my first Ironman on TV was now. God had told me to do this, now here I was, a completely different man. I Was no longer that lonely, fat, sad man that limped the 100 or so yards to his car at the end of each workday. I was less than 17 hours to being an Ironman.

At precisely 7:00 AM with a cannon blast the Ironman official began. I swam clear of the crowd of people and relaxed into my most efficient stroke. There was no point of overexerting myself at this point. I exited the water and headed into transition where I changed into my bike gear. I left the changing tent to find that the volunteer assigned to get my bike for me was none other than my own sister. I was all choked up and I could not say a word. I just smiled and headed onto the bike course.

Although 112 miles on a bike might seem like a long way, it did not feel like it to me that day. I was told that about mile 80 I would start to question my sanity and start to wonder what I had gotten myself into. However, I never did. I just road my bike from aid station to aid station and enjoyed to beautiful fall Florida day.

Off the bike and onto the run and all I had left was a 26.2 mile run. My longest training run was only 16 miles because my podiatrist and I felt my foot could not handle the repeated pounding of 20+ mile training runs. My legs hurt, my foot hurt, my shoulders hurt, but nothing could wipe the smile from my face. I watched to sun, that I had seen come up while standing on the beach, set and the run was only halfway over. About mile 23 I could hear off in the distance the familiar sound of the voice of the Ironman, Mike Rylie, calling people into the finish. "%u2026you are and Ironman%u2026"

I was so close! Before I knew it I was rounding the last corner, crowds lined the barricade, they where screaming and cheering for all of us%u2026for ME. Everything was a blur after that. I was crying without shame at this point. And then, Mike Rylie proclaimed 39 years old from Washington, Illinois John Brown%u2026YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!