Don't let having kidney cancer hold you down...ever.

                              Ironman - A Journey of Self Discovery

                                                                                    "Magnus Somnium"

                                                                                      by Keith Schaefer

How to tell a story that encompasses so much? The telling of an Ironman journey may be simple for some, but for many, it is the result of many months, even years, of a fire inside themselves that was smoldering, setting up an inferno. And so I will start where it really began, even though the beginning was not recognized for what it was.

                                                                                              PART I

I came from a relatively decent background of fitness, racing motocross for many years and getting some basic running in as conditioning for that. I like being competitive and "out of the ordinary," so motocross appealed to me in lieu of the "traditional" ball and stick sports. I was running 10 miles way back when I was 19 or 20 years old, not knowing anything other than to just run. No watch, no nutrition plan, just shoes and determination. But in 2009, after seeing my brother Kevin take on longer distance running the previous year, that eventually led to his first marathon in 2008...I kind of starting thinking of a 13.1 miler, so I did it in early 2009. I said that's far enough...but then I did a marathon in late 2009, another in 2011, plus 2 more half marathons scattered in there. I kind of backed off on running a bit in 2012, but I was still running occasionally.  And that brings me to an event that forever changed my outlook on life and what I wanted to be.

In November of 2012, I started passing large amounts of blood in my urine, totally out of the blue. I had eaten a handful of red candies then drank a beer or two, so that evening I initially thought it was just food coloring as I stared at the red toilet bowl water. Well, a couple hours later, immense pain set in, and passing blood clots was just...insane pain levels...doing that, well, if you have ever had that happen due to maybe kidney stones, you will know it's very intense. So away to the hospital we went. Took a few pictures of my insides, bloodwork, everything looks good, "it's probably kidney stones" they said. Until they popped the scans up onto the lightboard. Then a whole crew of docs comes over with worried looks and tells me "No kidney stones, but Mr. Schaefer, you have what appears to be a 3.5cm tumour on your right kidney". Probably RCC, aka Renal Cell Carcinoma, they tell me. Well, I am no idiot, and I know what carcinoma is, so I say immediately, "when can I get it out". I was a bit surprised, even irritated, but I am a fighter, and in no way was I self pitying, I want to attack this thing and kick it's ****. I talk to my doc and I have surgery scheduled for 16 days away. Seems like a long time...

Fast forward 2 days, and I have to be checked into the hospital because I am losing such large amounts of blood via my kidney that the ureter is staying blocked for hours at a time, with intense pain, pain that makes you vomit after a bit because of the body's pain response. I pee, it feels better for a bit, then a couple hours later it's suffer time again. My blood levels are out of whack, low salt, dehydrated due to fluid loss, etc. Drinking more to combat the loss makes it worse because I have to deal with more pain from the bleeding and blocked ureter, which leads to vomiting my food intake. So finally after going through three docs in 2 days in the hospital to figure out how, when, they are going to get this offending organ out of me...I have the offensive assembly (the entire right kidney) removed via laparoscopic "hand assisted" surgery...three small holes for tools and cameras, and one big one to pull the kidney out of. I posted this pic to Facebook from my hospital room the day after my surgery, and little did I know how prophetic one of my posts was (the fire was smoldering and I didn't know it fully)...more on that later. I stopped taking pain meds on the third day after the surgery, and did not take another from then on (I don't like pills, I don't like being medicated). 

So on December 7th, 2012, I left the hospital sans kidney. And I started a new life. One in which I had decided to do something more. To stop waiting for tomorrow and live in today. I took my rehab seriously. I also had many a night of introspection, dealing with one's own mortality is pretty intense actually. We did not know at this point if the cancer had spread to lymph nodes or lungs, a common occurence with this type of cancer. So for a couple weeks leading up to my full lab report, I was very...worried, or something. But I told my wife  that I always find a way to get myself out of trouble, and I was determined to do it again. Fast forward a bit, and my first lab report is good news in that it appears that the cancer was isolated within the now missing kidney. So I have to go back in June of 2013 for my first 6 month checkup. Time to get moving! Finally, in May of 2013, I was feeling very good, moving around well, no bad pain. My recovery was very good and fast, I attribute that to decent fitness and proper mentality. My family was a rock as well. We don't dwell on what if's and such, we just move forward and get things done when we need to. 

Now this brings us to May of 2013, me and my brother Kevin (2 time Ironman himself, I watched both of those races), and a lifelong best friend Jason Browning, spectating Ironman Texas 2013. Watching a couple of our local friends tackle this event was inspiring in it's own right. Jason had already told us he was going to tackle IMTX in 2014, I said I was going to plan it in 2015 for a 45th birthday present to myself, again, more inspiration. So after spending all day watching the athletes suffer and overcome, we are at the finish line...watching the 9pm and later crowd roll in. I was crying off and on...thinking of my path before me...and being inspired by so many others crossing that line. The smoldering became a fire, burning bright in my mind, and I asked Kevin and Jason if one year was enough time for me to get in shape and train for an Ironman...the answer was yes, why not? To be different...outside of the "normal" sports. So like a bolt of lightning out of the blue, I made up my mind that I wanted to try. Keep in mind I have never done a triathlon, I had no bike (never ridden road bikes), and I had never swam freestyle. But I am a motocross racer at heart, and I am not afraid. I confided to my friends that I was going to be one of those people in the finish chute next year. All I had to do at this point was convince my wife, Rachel, and my kids, to give me the time and support necessary to get this done. Little did I know how much was in store for me. Why? I wanted to prove to myself and to my family, especially my kids...that dad was OK and good to go. I also wanted to instill in my children the idea that the words "i can't" are not acceptable, that "I CAN" is the proper approach to anything difficult and worth doing. I wanted to inspire others that we are capable of so much more than we think we are. Now, I just had to prove it.

                                                                                             PART II

I get the official approval and sign up for IMTX with almost exactly one year to go until the actual race day. I start jogging again in late May 2013, first with just a couple miles, then building up as I see fit, fairly confident that I know how to build up from doing those marathons and my old racing hobby. I do this for 3 months to get some base fitness going before the actual training starts, aka buying a bike and joining the pool and trying to learn how to swim. I buy a bike and join the pool....now the **** gets hard! Why did I do this?  Floundering in the pool was comical...and I was seriously wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. I couldn't go more than 50 meters and I was breathing hard, not to mention I had no clue what I was doing....how was I going to be able to swim 3800m in just 8 months??? Biking came a bit easier, but building volume and form was hard. How much, how far, when? I watched video of swimmers, read tons on the internet, talked to others about training, and I went from week to week, adjusting and adapting. My base plan was 7 days a week of training, and I had to come to terms with the TIME required, it quickly swelled from 8 to 10, 12, 14, 15+ hours PER WEEK. My family suffered, I missed soccer games, family events. But my family supported me through all of it. My friends understood, and they knew one day I would be back to drink a few beers and BBQ with them. Ironman as I now understand it, is a TEAM sport. My family and friends are my team. Spending hours on a Saturday spinning pedals for tens of miles, running on Sunday for 2 to 3 hours, swimming 3 days a week either before work or after work, even at lunch...running 10-12 miles 2x a week at night...Ironman training is tough and takes 100% commitment mentally, physically, with lots of support from the family. My old motocross injuries revealed themselves to me at times. I have broken my tib/fib...seperated shoulders 3x...broken the right collarbone twice...shattered my left femur...broken both left forearm bones...punctured lungs...many many broken ribs. I have some nice titanium pieces in my femur still, and they make my left knee hurt.  Doubt came to me a few times...was I going to hold up physically through the training process? Could I really do this? To get ready for Ironman in less than a year, I figured out early on that I had to LIVE Ironman. I had to BECOME Ironman. You have to BELIEVE in yourself. And that brings me to an idealogy I invented for myself.

B.A.D.A.S.S. I needed to become it...that means:

Believe in yourself, you can do it.

Attitude is everything, you will do it.

Dare to dream big. (aka magnus somnium}

Attack difficult situations.

Strength - mental and physical.

Steadfast - never give in, keep moving.

I repeated this mantra to myself on many occasions when I was suffering in a 20mph wind on the bike...when my legs were screaming at me to walk...when my shoulder was hurting in the pool. Another friend of mine, Paul Spinks, signed up late for IMTX and we got to ride many miles together in training, ran a few long runs together, saw each other at the pool, and talked about life and training in those hours spent on the road. We pushed each other, kept each other honest. My brother Kevin and friend Jason, we chatted via a long running 3 way group text (modern tech, it can be great) and compared ideas, thoughts, and frustrations. But we never gave up, never gave in, and we got our training done. I cried to myself many times. Cancer was not going to define who I am. It is not going to define what I can or cannot do. 

A short side story, I also signed up for Galveston 70.3 (my FIRST triathlon ever!) in April 2014 after being prodded to do so by my brother Kevin. My friend Jason was also racing this one and I figured the practice at a real triathlon was going to be beneficial. Sharing it with both of them was an experience that was live with me forever. It was, the water was gnarly and rough for my first open water swim...you can read that race story here: https://www.facebook.com/notes/keith-schaefer/my-first-triathlon-and-703-miles-of-determination/441754225970942 I finished in 6:26:16 and was seriously happy.

                                                                            PART III - My Ironman Race Story

So here we go on Wednesday, May 14th, 2014. A year's worth of blood, sweat, and tears is going to be put to the test. I drove up to the Woodlands on Wednesday to register. Once I had that armband, I knew it was truly happening. I reveled in the fear and anxiety and I felt just like I had so many times before, sitting on my motocross bike before a race. I knew how to deal with the stress and I focused it. I went back home, collected the family and we all drove back up on Thursday to check into the hotel room. Being just 3 hours away was very nice. Took a short run Thursday to keep the legs sharp, swam the practice swim on Friday morning and felt awesome. The water was nothing as far as roughness goes, after swimming in that chop in Galveston with 2 foot waves haha. And I had swam for fun in brown pasture/pond/creek water most of my pre-adult life so that was nothing unusual. I had all my gear ready to go and Saturday morning after my 4am breakfast of oatmeal, banana, bagel, and coffee...I set out to the bike transition to check my tire pressure and add my nutrition bottles. We walked the mile or so to the swim start, checked out the view from the bridge, and the day was beautiful.

                                                                                   The Swim - 2.4 miles

So now we really get it going. I got my wetsuit on, held off peeing since the bathroom lines were simply impossible. Once I got in the water about 6 minutes before the official start, me and several others warmed up the water considerably. Yuck? I seeded myself to the far right and about 3/4 of the way back, figuring to avoid some of the madness. Well, so much for that! BOOM...the cannon goes off and we start swimming. I realize in the first 100 yards that I was too far back, I was having to work my way around very slow swimmers already, and I am no speedster in the water. But I was dead calm (surpisingly) and I was proud of the way I found lanes (and created them) to negotiate through the pack. I am a big tall guy, and I kept anyone from swimming over me with a solid warning kick if they tried to grab on. I got whacked on the head a couple times from people that would suddenly turn into me, but I learned to swim wide with my arms and that stopped the abuse. Also, I was finding it easy to feel the turbulence in the water in front of me with my hands and I approached another swimmer. The first mile was simply crowded...I guess expecting to be loosely packed with 2000 other swimmers is just not possible. I sighted off of the big white house (thanks for the tip Kevin!) and kept mostly in a straight line. I had to power through my stroke a few times, but my heart rate was low and I was very comfortable, no doubt the added flotation of the wetsuit took away any worry of struggling. Before I knew it, the first turn bouy was there and we went around onto the second open water leg. Again I moved off to the right and held position and speed nicely. What was this? I was confident and had no worries at that point, I was DOING IT. I was able to sight off of the sun on the second leg as we headed into it, so that made it easy to know what direction I was going. I am equally capable of breathing on both sides so that made it easy to watch my corners. We turned into the canal and that was...interesting. It got a bit more crowded and I actually saw a couple guys walking on the shallow edge to get around slower swimmers. It was pretty tight so finding lanes was harder. But I kept on DOING IT and before long we were there! I took a peek  at my watch as I peeled the top of my wetsuit off, and I was surprised at my swim of 1:33 (I expected 1:40). So be it, I let a volunteer yank off the my wetsuit, grabbed my transition bag and into the tent I went. I spent a bit of time getting my bike gear on, made sure everything was perfect, got a shitload of suncreen on my body, and headed off to the bike. I drank my 150 calories and 16oz of water to start the fueling process for a long bike ride of 112 miles. 

                                                                            The Bike Ride - 112 miles

As I exited the bike transition onto the course, I saw my family briefly, heard them yell, and was able to toss a thumbs up, but with lots of traffic around I had to be careful. I had a plan, and I was determined to follow it. Being my first Ironman, I would rather start too slow, than to go too fast and suffer the marathon (it's going to hurt anyway, why make it worse!). I had set a heart rate cap of 140, with the intent of averaging a bit less than that. Well, the first thing that happened is...no tailwind as expected. It was always from the side or even the front quadrant and by mile 10 I knew we were in for a looooong and windy bike ride. Fortunately for us South Texans, we have been riding in 20 mph winds for 3 months. It was just more of the same and I was ready for it. The heat was not bad at all, I was expecting 90+ and it was only 83-85 or so, hell, that's practically air conditioning for us. I was determined to ride steady and smooth, and I did. I slowed when I needed to. I kept my ego in check. I found my friend Jason at mile 30 at the porta-potty/aid station, that was an added bonus and was so cool to see him. We took off together, he was a bit faster than me and slowly dwindled into the distance. I stopped at mile 40 again to pee...damn...then I was able to make mile 60 and bike special needs before I had to go again. I took care of nature calls in the weeds and applied vaseline to my soft spots and was off again! I was surprised at how many spectators were out on the course at various points! That brought us to the second half of the course which put us heading into the formidable wind and some chipseal for quite a ways. You just had to be OK with it, get on with it, we all had to do it. The chipseal road was a non-issue for me, my training route had a 12 mile section of rough, country road blacktop that I hit at least twice every Saturday. Staying in aero position was crucial, if you sat up in the bars it was like tossing out a parachute. Some people were drafting a bit, especially behind big wide guys like me, we made an excellent wind block! And whoever said the course was flat...I would like to know where you ride (the Swiss Alps maybe?) because miles @75-95 had some long, long, rollers...you would go 25mph on the way down and then grind at 10mph on the way up. Still, I was OK with it, I just stuck to the plan and kept going. I took in 75 calories every 15 minutes along with 8oz of water and that was just about perfect. I peed again at mile 73 in the trees, so I was taking in just about right I think. I wasn't bloated but I wasn't feeling low on energy either. My left knee was really starting to ache on the power stroke by that time, and I was compensating for that with my right leg as I climbed and pushed into the wind (that right leg working harder will show up later on). I just got into a groove from mile 75 to 100 and finally, the last 12 miles was there in front of me. However, that seemed to be the longest 12 miles I ever rode. When I rolled up to the bike finish, I unclipped, hopped off and passed my bike to a volunteer, and headed off at a trot to the transition tent to change into my run gear! I felt good! My legs felt good! I was DOING IT still, closer to my goal of becoming an Ironman! Total bike ride 7:36...slow but feeling fresh. 

                                                                               The Marathon - 26.2 miles

The Ironman Marathon...the place people dream of, fear, embrace, or any other emotion you might think of probably occurs. As I went into the transition tent and sat down, I saw the faces of others around me, some haggard from battling 112 miles of wind and hills...some laughing, smiling, some looking scared. Most looking determined. For comfort, I had decided to change from my traditional triathlon bike shorts/shirt into my full run kit. 

I grabbed some more sunscreen, applied a bit more lube to my feet and thighs, and headed out of the tent. I saw my family at the exit and was JAZZED. I stopped at the fence and told them "this run is for you guys" with a couple of tears in my eyes. I had a plan for the run of maintaining an average pace of 12:00/mile by jogging and then walking the aid stations to get fluids and nutrition down. I was using Powerbar 110 calorie gels for fuel, along with water, as I had done on countless training runs. I have been careful to take in enough hydration all day long to assist my single kidney and keep it flushed. I felt good, and from mile 1 to 12 I was on point, taking in a gel every second aid station. Heart rate was decent and seemed even reluctant to rise much. Well, I guess it was a bit too many calories because from mile 12-14 I was feeling a bit funny in the tummy and I had ceased fluid production to my bladder, i.e., I was not able to pee anymore. My pee stop at mile 10 had only produced a very dark yellow and miniscule amount of fluid, I was feeling bloated and was obviously not processing my calorie intake. So I had to go to plan B, i.e., I needed to walk for 15-20 minutes and allow some blood to get to my digestive process and refuel my muscles. I did NOT want to be sick and have to walk the last loop. Well, it worked somewhat, because I was able to start jogging again from mile 16-20 although I was uncomfortable. I had stopped the gels at mile 12 and I switched to chicken broth, a sip of water, and coca-cola from the halfway point on. That was probably my hardest portion of the course, alone and hurting as dark settled in. I found a partner to tackle some miles with, a wonderful girl named Laura Gerard Cue, as we kind of synced up on the course and commented on the toughness of it. I was trying to do math in my head at that point as I walk breaked, and I had figured a system of 3 minute run, 2 minute walk, would get us to the finish line at 15hrs. Laura was game to try it, so away we went! We talked about life, Ironman, family, jobs, anything to take the mind off of running, and we pushed through another 4 miles together that way. At some point on the back end of the course as we headed into the neighborhood, Laura slowed again and told me to go forward...I kept on but it was getting hard, very hard, to keep running. My right leg was getting cramps in the front outer shin and inner hamstring (overworked it on the bike) anytime I would have any incline to go up, and by mile 24 I had to stop and beat the cramps out as it gave up the ghost. After doing that 3 times and trying to run again, I was resigned to a walk. Well, Laura caught up to me because she was power walking at about a 15:00 pace, and as she passed I decided I could do the same. Off we went again into the darkness, and it was a delicate balance for me of the leg not cramping up again. We kept on pushing and finally, that last cutoff into the finish line was upon us. You could hear Mike Riley's mantra booming across the night, the lights, the people, this was IT. As we approached the last three mini-sections...it was time to jog again. We went into the finish line chute and I dropped back a few seconds to let Laura get her finish in, then I followed right in, slapping a multitude of high fives along the way. I was smiling and happy as I stopped and walked across the line, and hugged Laura for helping me to get there as well as congratulations for her kickass finish. My family was right there and I was a bit underwhelmed, but very happy at the whole scene, all these months of preparation had done me well, all the time my family watched me head out for hours on end of training. I did get a bit funky and threw up an hour after the finish, I had tried to eat a slice of pizza but my stomach said no thanks. The next morning I ate a double breakfast at the hotel buffet, after spending more in finisher's gear than the entry fee cost. This event will forever be ingrained into me, it is now a part of my life and I will do more.

Ironman. I discovered a new part of myself getting here. To those out there that are afraid to dream, afraid to try, I say "You Can Do It". Go get what you want, go get what is yours.