By Risa Merl

An Ironman competition is a triathlon on steroids. Participants in the Ford Ironman USA Lake Placid competition swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and then run a 26.2-mile marathon. All in a 12-hour day’s work.

When nine South Florida businessmen and entrepreneurs set their sights on conquering the grueling Lake Placid Ironman, they decided to work together. For some, it was their fist hardcore event, a chance to finally realize a longtime dream of completing an Ironman. Others were veterans, with one man having completed 11 Ironman races.

No matter what racing background they came from, the nine men moved forward with a common goal: completing the Ironman. Actually, the group had another important goal. They raised money for Facing It Together, a nonprofit organization whose mission is to improve the lives of South Florida children with craniofacial disorders.

“We networked with friends and family to make donations on our behalf upon our completion of the race,” says Mike Moran, who was embarking on his first Ironman. “We figured, while we’re training to do something fairly significant, we should try to do some good along the way.”

The weekend warriors earned approximately $7,500 for Facing It Together.

Facing it together proved to be a theme for their participation in the Lake Placid Ironman. Together the men set up a regimen of roughly 10 to 20 hours per week of training, either before work in the morning or early on the weekends so they wouldn’t interfere too much with family life.

“Most of the guys have a family and kids, and we were trying to be family-centric,” says Mike Bush, who was taking a swing at his 12th Ironman. “Our tactic was to be done before noon on the weekends so we could have time for our family.”

The weekend training sessions consisted of a five- to six-hour bike ride–traveling 80 to 100 miles–and a swim on a Saturday, as well as a three-hour, 18-mile run on Sunday with a possible short swim in the afternoon.

Though they didn’t always train side-by-side, knowing that there were eight others also waking up early to train made it easier.

“For me, it helped personally because it was a major lifestyle change,” says Moran, a serial entrepreneur who recently cofounded a Fort Lauderdale-based eBay consignment service for women. “I had never trained on that level, and I needed the support. When you get out of bed every day and you’re training, sort of pre-family time as to have it not put friction on your day-to-day life, it was instrumentally important for me to have people out there doing it together. Not even necessarily physically together, but knowing they were out doing it and all staying pretty true to a plan.”

Training with a support group also made the process easier on the spouses.

“Our wives know each other and know we train together, so it makes it a whole lot easier on them, too,” says Bush, a partner in New River Capital Partners, a private equity firm. “They knew they weren’t the only ones who were feeling neglected when their partner was spending the better part of the week doing something nonwork-related without them.”

A person can only train for so long, the usual training period lasting four to six months, and then race day arrives. “No matter how much or how little you did, you have so much anxiety that even two days before a race you’re just extremely nervous,” Bush says. “Some people can’t sleep. Some can’t eat. Some eat too much. Some try to focus their energy on something else.”

By 4 a.m. on race day it seemed as if the entire town was abuzz in anticipation. “People who haven’t raced really have no way to understand what kind of organization it takes,” Bush says. “For example, for every one competitor I think there is something like 3.5 volunteers. So, 2,200 people did the race so they had almost 7,000 volunteers.”

When racers hit the water, anxiety slipped away and they were left with a focus of what they were there to accomplish. “Pre-race there’s sort of lots of anxiety, but that goes away and you start to enjoy the scenery, and the day, and the other people around you, and you begin trusting that the hours that you put in paid off,” says Moran.

“Thank God there’s other people out here doing it at the same time,” Bush says. “It’s like safety in numbers. You realize you’ve got people who look like they’re professionals out there and look like they’re slower than you out there, and a lot of different body types, and everybody’s doing it.”

The most challenging part of the race for the men, aside from getting thrashed around by the other 2,200 racers who were trying to share a small piece of water during the swim, was adjusting to riding on hills and a higher altitude.

“Lake Placid is fairly hilly to what we’re used to, so not only is it a long ride, but with the elevation changes… it’s a challenge for us flatlanders,” Bush says. “The great thing about the Ironman is once you’re off your bike and you start your run, your mind has totally changed. You think to yourself, ‘Okay, all I have left is a marathon.’ When on any other day you’d think, ‘I have a marathon! Why am I doing this?’”

That “just a marathon” proves to be one of the most unforgiving parts of the competition when during the last 16 miles the racers’ bodies began to shut down, with some not being able to keep down food or developing bad cramps.

“Transitions during the course of racing probably range from mental to technical back to mental at the end,” Moran says, “when your body’s saying ‘No’ and it’s up to your mind to get you through.”

Four of the nine men ended up in the medic tent, requiring an IV of fluid due to dehydration.

“People think of the Ironman as a three-part race, but other people will tell you it’s a four-part event, that hydration and nutrition is the fourth event,” Moran says. “There’s a tendency to not place enough importance or as much weight on that component, and after a 12-hour race it’s just critical.”

Moran’s dehydration caused him to pass out and require a few IV packs.

Bush’s favorite part of the race was the finish, with all the volunteers, spectators, friends and family waiting for him.

“But people walk up from about three or four miles out of town, and they’re cheering you whole way,” he says. “They look your number up in the program, and they’ll yell your name, ‘Go Mike!’ And suddenly a hundred people are all yelling at you and going crazy, and it sort of gets your adrenaline going again. Then when you finish, you’re either thinking, ‘Let’s do another one,’ or ‘I’m never doing another one again.’”

As for the victorious nine, they plan on tackling another Ironman, taking a year off to rest before the 2008 Austria Ironman.

Moran, who always dreamed of completing an Ironman, is proud he has one race in the bag. “Categorically it’s the greatest accomplishment I’ve ever had,” he says. “It alters your attitude forever. You don’t utter the words ‘I can’t’ the way you conveniently did before.”

The Nine:

Mike Bush, 11:21:38

Jim Conroy, 12:39:01

Peter Higney, 12:45:19

Teig Lawrence, 12:34:07

Jody Lawrence, 13:32:13

Adam Mopsick, 12:22:16

Mike Moran, 13:32:14

Brian Pearlman, 12:44:39

Gregory Taylor, 12:18:10