The Day I Became Half The Man I Want To Be

Some months went by and I am still processing what happened on the 21st of October 2023, the day I finished my first Ironman 70.3 triathlon in Cascais, Portugal. So much to process, so many emotions, so many stories inside a story that it would require a whole book to be able to share with you everything. Until then, I feel a visceral need to share a short (long) version of it with you for one single reason: if I could do it, anyone can. You need to know it, you must know it.

Allow me to share a little context and feedback for this to paint the whole picture.

I love sport and to look at it from all different angles, both as spectator and also a doctor. My wife likes to call me the best theoretical sportsman in the world . There was one that always had a special place for me: triathlon.

I started to ride some sort of bike when I was 1,5 years old and began to swim freestyle at probably the age of 5 or 6. Since I could easily and effortlessly spend hours on a bike or in the water, triathlon could combine both activities but there was a catch: the run. I dreaded running for all my life and it was that one thing that I knew I couldn't do it. I cannot enjoy it at all. I engraved the message in my mind "I would love to do a triathlon, if only I could run..." and it stayed there for ages. I would get emotional watching a video like this, wondering how incredible it would be to finish a long distance triathlon... if only I could run.

There was also another slight(ish) issue: my weight. During college I started to gain weight and in March 2016 I was 138kg, with a BMI of 43. Obviously any physical activity was difficult, to say the least. My friends often warned me about it... in their words "the only time we see you active is around food and beer". My answer was "this is who I am, there's nothing I can do to change it". I strongly and deeply believed that!

That's when the transformation began. Long story short, after a cousin of mine roughly my age had a health scare, I decided it was enough.

In March 2016 I started a journey towards becoming ex obese and in June 2017 I was 90kg. Saying that my life changed during those months and that I learned a lot from health, weight loss and longevity science is a massive understatement. I felt stronger, healthier and happier, of course. One thing I didn't do was exercising: I lost those kilos through life-style optimization, including diet, sleep and stress management.

Next step forward came in 2019 when Francisca, my wife, and I went to support our brother-in-law in Porto Half Marathon. "It will be fun", he said. It was much more than that: it was life-changing. The positive energy, the smiles in both runners' and supporters' faces, the vibrants colors of all the gear... I remember commenting "all these people seem happy, colorful and healthy! That's so much difference from my day-to-day life... I want a piece of it!". We look into each other and registered for the "Family 15km Race", the secondary race of the Porto Marathon which would be taking place 6 weeks after.

We knew nothing about it and just started to run. It was awful in every way you can imagine except for one: the mental game. I remember arriving home after completing my first ever 10km run feeling like I had won the biggest race. We even took our running shoes with us for our holidays in Turkey and went on a run together a couple of times, something unheard of in our lives. Just like that, we were on the starting line for those 15km. Apparently I could run... so let's take it further: a half-marathon

Unfortunately Covid happened. As we all know, it messed significantly with everyone's lives. Races got cancelled and postponed and my goal of crossing the 21,1km finish-line in 2020 seemed impossible...but not running the distance. So I organized my own half-marathon for a certain day and trained for it.

One thing became clear to me: I didn't enjoy running - at all. I don't look forward to leaving home to do it. But I kept on doing it for a couple of reasons:

It helps me to clear my mind and think through decisions, projects and problems and
I kind of start enjoying having run. I don’t know if that’s the runner’s high or not… I just like how I feel about it when I finish.

When races got resumed, I took to the starting line of the Lisbon Half Marathon. This was late 2021. I was finally experiencing the vibe and energy of being on a proper race. It was fun…ish. I struggled, made every beginner’s mistake possible and learned a lot. Who would have thought that experimenting gels for the first time on a race was a bad idea!? Yep... Lesson learned.

With a half marathon done, it was time to tackle the next step: the all mighty marathon. I signed up for the 2022 Porto Marathon and made it my sporting goal of the year. For context, that was the year my wife and I got married and, soon after, got pregnant. My professional life was also changing for the better. It was one of the greatest years of my life. Through the process I made the promise that my baby girl would be born to a marathoner father.

And so it was: **on November 6th, I became a marathon finisher.**

If you’re thinking “what an incredible achievement!”, that’s exactly how I should have reacted…but I didn’t.

My goal was finish under 4h. I was sure I was going to do it. Until km 36 I was on track to finish in 3h45…and then my system broke. I don’t know if the legs went on strike first or if the mind said it was enough. It happened and I walked for the best part of the last 5km. I didn’t go easy on me…it felt at the time as the walk of shame and the only reason to keep on going was the promise to my yet-yo-be-born daughter. I finished in 4h05. It left such a sour feeling in my mouth… it took me a couple of months and a few hours of therapy to really see what happened. Whether or not I can now see the facts it’s still up for grabs… nevertheless I really learned another lesson that would prove to be incredibly valuable one year later.

It was time to jump into long distance triathlon!

Now with 42km done, I knew for a fact I could run and even starting to enjoy it slightly (that’s probably a side effect of running more than 300km in a single month of training). So, if I can run, I can finally tackle the triathlon world!

In January 2023 I signed for the IronMan 70.3 Cascais, scheduled in October. I had 10 months of training ahead of me to train and finish it with a bang in less than 6h. It quickly became a family event: my cousin João Sales, a partner in crime who started to run around the same time but took it to another level, also signed up for the 70.3, and the crazy loner athlete that is my brother Pedro Damas registered for the Full IronMan.

Saying it was a challenging year is an understatement. Not a bad one at all! But challenging when it comes to balance training, work and family.

Before I could start training, I injured myself: the ITB syndrome, which took a couple of months to be sorted. While I was recovering, our baby daughter was born. Strong, healthy and with a life of her own she did what all babies do: take over the parents life! A consequence was that training hours started at 5:30-6am and where only possible with my wife’s holding the fort.

Proper training then started in April. Pretty much 7 days per week, some days with double sessions, not missing a beat. Numbers started to get better… pace, watts, kms,… the body was getting ready! 21st of October was fast approaching! The excitement was palpable and most of my life was around the race. Nutrition plans, racing strategies, improving equipment, travel logistics… it was a long and immersive experience!

Two months out I suffered from another injury. I suspected was on my left Aquiles tendon. Probably some sort of inflammation… “let’s take a break from running allow it to recover” I told myself. I kept the bike and swim (no pain there) and, to my surprise, it didn’t improve. A couple of weeks went by and I decided to pay a visit to Ricardo Amorim, the leader of the team at Fisioglobal. Fortunately I had no issue with the Aquiles but rather a minor thing in the solear muscle, “You can run through it”, Ricardo said and so I did. Resumed running with 4 weeks to go. This is when the learnings from the marathon mental breakdown stepped in.

Looking into the reality and the fact that I am no pro-athlete, I decided cut my goals completely: as long as I would finish in less than 7 hours it would be a win. I just wanted to enjoy it! I kept focused on the training sessions and making the most out of them but with the race getting closer, there was a need to balance and to taper. When everything was finally clicking and the final couple of weeks were just around the corner, the last challenging hurdle presented itself right in front of me: I twisted my ankle.

With 17 days to go, on the 4th of October, I went out for a super light 40min Z2 run, nothing fancy. I was just crossing a road and last thing I know I was hitting the ground hard with a twisted ankle.

I am no stranger to this injury. I probably did it over 100 times in my life, specially in my younger years. The last major one was a good 20 years ago when I needed surgery. Since then, I may been contracting one once per year or so… with all this experience, I have a pretty good understanding of the seriousness of the injury right away and how to maximise recovery. This time was different. As soon as I got off the middle of the road to assess the damage I knew something was really not good. The pain was on the inside of the foot, not the outside, and I could only and barely walk if I stepped on my fingers, which was super weird… Walking back home I felt gutted, sad and broken.

With every step the pain was getting bigger and range of movement smaller. In all my years of experience with ankle injuries I never felt so much pain going through my bones like when I put the ankle on ice. It felt like the end part of my tibia was just cracking! “I must have broken something”, I thought. I went to the ER. Luckily a good friend of mine was one of the doctors on call and, after looking into the X-rays he told me the changes of doing the IM 70.3 were about the same of still needing surgery: “possible but very unlikely”. Despite the massive swelling, tenderness and lack of movement in the ankle region, the CT scan didn't show any structural damage to the ankle.

I wasn't in my happiest mood, I was finding hard to believe all the training and sacrifices where lost and I had to start again. I considered postponing my registration to another race but it was not possible. I decided to wait 24h to make a call. I also booked the first appointment time Ricardo had to evaluate me. Going to bed, my ankle didn’t move: I had zero range, if even I would push through the pain.

First thing next morning, even before I opened my eyes, I attempted to move the ankle…and it did move! Hope started to grow on me... maybe there would be a way...

After Ricardo from Fisioglobal evaluated me and checking it further with the ultrasound, I just had one question for him: “is it possible to do the 70.3 in 15 days?”. “Yes, I think it is”. "Ok then, get me the best possible plan you and your team can do".

In that moment, I decided I would be in the starting line for the race and, if. I would be on the starting line, I would crossed the finish line.

The making of a miracle

All I could think about those days was recover the foot while maintaining as much as physical performance possible. I was cleared to jump on the bike and, if my foot could handle, swim. That’s what I did and it became clear that I would be able to swim and ride during the race. The question was the run… I was on a pretty busy rehab plan with double and even triple daily sessions! Passive physio, active physio, electromagnetic stuff… it was all in play.

The recovery was astonishingly fast! After 3 days I was able to walk without crutches, even if with some level of pain. I was getting witnessing a miracle happening... but it was still uncertain if I would be able to run.

5 days from the race, my wife insisted I need to run before the race, even if only for 1km, to know where I was in the process and not be surprise on the race day. I could see how it made sense and on that day I went for a trial run, knowing that if pain started to ramp up, I would stop. The pain did come with every step but it never ramped up... at the end, I completed a 11km loop. I was over the moon!!! Less that two weeks after the injury, I was back running!

Thursday, 3 days to go, was travel day.

With my ankle walking painlessly, it was time to do the final equipment checks and last minute updates - highly not recommended but absolutely inevitable - and get into the IM 70.3 mode. I stayed with my brother and the flat was like a training hut!

Friday, the day before the race, I left home around 07:30 am heading to Cascais where the race would be taking place, meeting my cousin for a swim test trial. It was the first moment I got to experience the vibe of the town and the event. It was absolutely insane! All those people looked like proper athletes, no matter how amateur they would be. They were focused but calm. They smiled a lot. They seemed free and happy. I guess that’s how I felt as well.

With the last swim and course recognition done, time to head to the check in and get our blue, red and white bags that would hold our transition material and would be waiting for us after each section. It seems pretty straight forward, right? I mean, how hard can it be to put the bike stuff in the blue bag and the running in the red? Well well well… let me tell you, there’s a reason some people consider transitions the 4th sport discipline in triathlon.

If you're not familiar with it, basically you need to make sure you will not miss anything the next day during the race and all fits into the bags: equipment, nutrition and the special needs. Helmet, glasses and shoes were straight forward. The nutrition plan needed to be in place and the right gels and bars at the right moment in the right bad, either on the bike or on me. Finally, I had a range of painkillers and anti inflammatory drugs that I needed to use to numb the pain I knew would pay a visit.

The moment of entering the transition park to leave the bike and the bags there for the next day was a really special one just. All the training, all the suffering, all the recovery led to that moment when you leave your trusted companion resting ahead of the big day. I paused there for a second to let it sink and to absorb it all, the energy, the spirit and the emotions of the space. “Tomorrow we ride”.

The rest of the day was spent between athletes debrief, visiting old Cascais with wife and baby and trying to help my brother who, in his classic fashion, was so chilled he left a lot to the last minute. He still has nightmares with blue, red and white bags, I'm told! Back to the flat, enjoying a clean healthy dinner and getting to bed as soon as the body allowed. It’s well known the last night before a IM or 70.3 is short and not well slept but still I wanted to give it a try. 5h was all I got and was not that bad!

Finally the 21st of October 2023 was here.

It was time.

Waking up at 4:30am, receiving the last words of encouragement from my wife and getting ready was all that I have been waiting for since even. Listen to a little bit of cheesy motivation words from some youtube video, drink my coffee and have a plat of scrambled eggs and sweet potato for breakfast was all that I could do: work was done, prep was done, rehab was done. Now it was time to savour the day to the fullest, absorbing every single and little detail and emotion. I wanted it all.

While I was drinking the first electrolytes of the day and still listening to the cheesy epic music, I visualised the pain I was about to put myself into and kept repeating to myself: “pain is certain, suffering is optional”. Whatever the day would bring, I would smile and feel grateful for it. It meant that I was living my dream, I was fighting and I was alive. I repeated to myself a line that I wrote in one triathlon group I am part of:

“the finish line is to be crossed otherwise is just a line on the floor”.

No matter what, I would finish the race.

My brother got up, had his breakfast and we left home to the race. The 40min ride crossing from Lisbon to Cascais was done in an nervous silence… I was anxious because I didn’t know where I would park the car for the day - the last thing I had to control… - and my brother was nervous because he was about to tackle the full Ironman and had a weird feeling that he had missed something. Apparently he didn’t.

Car parked, ready to go. It was time to say goodbye to my brother, We would see each other again in the finish line. It was a special hug as neither one of us would ever thought that we would be taking part in a long form triathlon together.

The energy of the place is difficult to describe. Everyone there at those early hours of the day had one mission for the day and was common to everyone else: cross the finish line. Everyone seemed calm, focused and collected. Like soldiers getting ready before the battle. At that moment I looked around and realised what I’ve accomplished just by being here. The health journey, the mindset transformation, the overcoming of hurdles… I felt deeply grateful and thankful for everyone that brought me there:

the amazing team at Fisioglobal,
the coaches from Ontrisports,
my friends (particularly who made the trip from Porto just to support me and with that representing my closest mates),
my crazy cousin João who became the living example of how to blend a successful career with massive sport results,
my father, my brother, my mother who would be supporting from high above, and obviously
my wife and baby girl!

Embolden by this gratitude and with the nerves started to show up, I met João exiting the transition park. Time to get ready and serious. Time to get to the starting line to join the other 5000 participants. Time to be amongst them. Swim suit on, green swimming cap on, goggles in hand. As the Romans said, Allea jacta est. Final fist bump with my cousin as I entered the starting box for the swim, based on the expected time of completion, less than 40 minutes. It should be possible.

My overall strategy for the race evolved almost day by day since the injury, reflecting how I was feeling and how I imagined I would be doing on the day. Given that I could run despite in pain, I knew that I would finish the day with a medal on my neck. For that reason, I only had one goal in mind: enjoy. I didn’t want to make the same mistake I did in the marathon and be so focused on the result that I would miss the magnitude of what I was achieving. I wanted to have the biggest smile and the happiest experience possible. I deserved it! With this principle in mind, I set on a simple strategy:

the swim was the warm up,
the bike should be done in comfort, not allowing my heart rate to get over 135bpm and
the run… well, “I’ll figure it out when I get there”.

Being in the starting box surrounded by all these people felt a mix between “what the hell am I doing here?” and “I'm at home”. The person closest to me was a lady in her 60s or 70s. She looked calm and collect with something weighting over her shoulder. I came to understand later she was honouring someone who recently died. This was her 5th 70.3. We both teared up when the speaker started motivating people with an epic soundtrack on the background while the most beautiful sky got red and orange with the sunrise. If this was a sign of the “epicness” of the day, it would be something!

The Swim.

Time to get serious and line to the swim. Goggles on. 5th on the line. 4th. 3rd. 2nd… I’m next. It was a rolling start procedure: every 4 seconds 5 more athletes would be starting. When I arrived at the front of the line, all I could see was a few hundreds of people already in front of me swimming. I was about to join them. The volunteer’s arm goes up and there we go: we are on!

As soon as I got in the water it all went calm. Don’t get me wrong, swimming in open waters with hundreds of people has a high level of chaos. I just felt calm, at ease, in control. I’ve been swimming for more than 30 years and always felt comfortable in the water and comfortable I was despite each stroke being a learning moment. I’ve never swam with people around me like this. I had to understand quickly the rules of the game: look forward every couple of strokes, look to both sides and back as much as you need to know perfectly your surroundings, in particular any “incoming traffic”.

First split came with the pace of 1:51min/100m which was shockingly good for what I was expecting or aiming for, 2:00 to 2:05min/100m. The second, third and fourth came in around the same. Then we made a right turn and I slowed down a bit as we were now against the tide. 15 minutes in and I felt good. I’ve settled into a rhythm. I tagged along with some guys swimming at same pace as me and there we went. Final turn to the right and 500 meters more to go.

As I was finishing the swim, I felt some sadness coming up: I didn’t want it to end. I loved it to pieces, I would continue and swim another loop, no questions asked ! 32min of swim time. Amazing! Right as I leaving the water I heard someone shouting my name. I looked and saw the first familiar faces: Décio, one of my bestmen, and his wife Cátia were there. It felt amazingly good! I detoured slightly to hi-5 them and kept going. He told me later I didn’t look good: I was limping quite significantly. I didn’t know why the ankle was so bad but there was nothing I could do other than keeping going and sticking with the plan.

T1, the first transition, was hectic, with everyone looking for their bags and trying to waste as little time as possible. I had other priorities: making sure I took care of my ankle ahead of what would be the run later. I had a small pharmacy cabinet in the first bag waiting for me, it was there to make sure I would have as much pain-numbing as possible a few hours later, when I would be running. After popping in a couple of pills and put a few more layers of anti-inflammatory creams on the ankle, I put on by jersey, shoes and helmet and there I go to meet by green companion. She was there waiting for me, ready to take me along for the next 90km.

The Bike.

I could barely contain the excitement, exhilaration and happiness I felt over the next 3h20 of that day. For the best part of it, I didn't and just let it pour over to every single one that passed me - and the few I passed in the road. I wanted to spread the joy I was feeling. I spent most of the time shouting words of encouragement left, right and center specially in the climbs during the first 20km when everyone was still bumped together. That was my game plan! I was just keeping an eye on my heart rate making sure it was well under control and ensuring I was eating and drinking frequently. Then came the most unique feature of this course: it includes Circuito do Estoril, the historical Portuguese F1 track in which legends of the sport battled back in the day. It was a special moment for be, being kind of a F1 fanatic guy.

Soon after that, everyone got on their rhythm and I became more introspective. I was absolutely surprised how my body and mind were acting. I kept repeating to myself "you're in great shape, just keep on going and enjoy it". It was me, my trusted bike and the road, nothing else mattered. I was on a mission, I had the goal to cross the line and that was the only thing I had in my mind. That's when I realized why people get addicted to this.

A few months back my therapist asked me "have you ever considered why do you do this, from an emotional perspective? What is the emotion you are after?" and I never new the answer until that moment.

It's freedom.

Complete and absolute freedom and the calmness, tranquility and peace that comes with it. While I was on the bike, I felt free. Once I got my head around it, I knew I was hooked to it. Unfortunately, as the 90th km was coming closer and closer, another wave of sadness filled me. I didn't want it to end! It was time to face the last part and see how my ankle would behave.

As I was entering the second transition, I heard again my name being shouted. Looked back and there was my wife with our baby daughter who was kind enough to deviate her attention from breast milk to give me a smile. Quick refueling kiss and on I went.

T2 was pretty straight forward, it was just a matter of leaving the bike in the right place, finding the bag and changing to running gear. That's when I made the only mistake in the whole race: I drank almost a full 750ml water and electrolyte in 5 minutes - it taste so good that I didn't want to leave anything behind. It went down like a bomb!

The Run.

While I was very happy with how the ankle was holding on - very manageable pain and reasonable mobility - I felt awful. My stomach was upset, I felt tingling on my left hand and my heart rate was going up very quickly. Is it a heart attack? A panic attack? Or it's the water? I didn't know... for the first time in the whole day I felt bad and weak. There was an intense discussion going on in my head.

- Should I eat something?...
- Naaa, you will throw up.
- Should I drink then?
- Maybe but just a sip. Ok, thanks.
- Slow down a bit more, we have a tone of time to make it.
- You're not getting worse, good. Go for another sip of water.
- Perfect.
- It's hurting but you're not suffering. Now move to the side, let the mega pros sprint past you.

It went on and on for the most of the first 10km loop. It was managing and grinding time. Just about the midday point I saw again the familiar faces of my wife, my baby and my father there. A few hundred meters later, Décio and Cátia were there as well, right as I was turning around for the second loop. It was all the support I needed to face the last hurdle. Another km later João went past me running on the other direction, about to finish is race. "Come on!". It was time to bring it home.

Then, all of the sudden, on the 13th km something changed. The discomfort reduced significantly and I was definitely feeling stronger. I took one of the gels I had with me successfully and my legs took a life of their own.

I went from a 6:15-6:30min/km pace to a 5:33, 5:32 and 5:35 on the 14th, 15th and 16th km. I was flying! I knew it wouldn't last until the end... so let's crank it while it lasts! My ankle, my legs and my heart were holding on... but my head was on cloud 9! A couple of slower km came my way as there were some climbs in the way (well, at that moment of the day, even a flat surface felt like it was uphill) and then another 5:28 and 5:31min/km! I couldn't believe my watch...

The finish.

And just like that, the final kilometer of the race had come. The last step of a journey that started in 2016 when I was fatter then bacon and led me to that day through tremendous challenges. As I was descending to enter the final stretch, my mind was all over the place. I saw my father relieved that I was alive, Décio with an emotional proud smile, João, Tânia and the kids shouting my name, Francisca with our smiling daughter with a final kiss for me. I was thanking all of them, deeply and wholeheartedly. But the final stretch was "for me".

As soon as I stepped on the red carpet, every emotion came down on me. Holding my hands in my head, I was in pure disbelief of what I have done, what I have conquered, what I have achieved. All the demons, all the fears and all the doubts I had overcome to be there. All the videos and testimonials I watched on youtube, getting emotional while thinking "I wish I was there". I was finally "there". Barely able to breath from all the emotion, I crossed the line to became a 70.3 finisher.

Wearing my "Finisher" t-shirt with the medal on my neck was the last drop in the bucket and I broke out in tears. For a few minutes, I sobbed from happiness and pride. One of the volunteers hugged me while saying "you did good". Yes I did! I became half the man I ever wanted to be. Just like that. I had made it, for none other than me.

After gathering my thoughts and with a pretty huge smile on my face, I met my family and friends, waiting for me outside. It was time to decompress, enjoy the rest of the day and wait for my brother to finish his Full Ironman. We took a family photo that a few years ago was pretty impossible.

Now that a couple of months went by, I can tell you that, together with my wedding day and the birth of my daughter, it was the happiest day of my life and that's exactly the reason I'm sharing this story with you: if I was able to do it, anyone can - even if you don't believe me. I am not a special individual, a great sportsman able to tackle all and every challenge successfully. I had to overcome almost impossible challenges and perform some miracles to cross than line. I just started with that decision of saying enough is enough and taking one step at a time on the journey towards my goal. I just wish you could feel the level of peace, happiness and freedom I felt on that day.

This is the end of this chapter but not the book. It's time to become the man I want to be.

I hope you feel inspired to pursue your wildest goals and dreams! Remember to live, work and achieve beyond average!

Thanks!

The Day I Became Half The Man I Want To Be.