Vigo: A Day in the Life

This could be because the man everybody knows as Vigo gets more done in a day than others might in a month.

And what a month he had in October.

In October, Vigo joined 1,750 of his closest friends at the start line of the Ironman World Championships in Kona, itself quite a feat for a guy who works 40-50 hours a week and runs a successful race directing venture. (His offerings include the wildly popular Olympic-distance Columbia Triathlon and the Kona-qualifying EagleMan Half Ironman.)

"The heat and wind on the bike were pretty tough," he said. "It was like a blast furnace. It's just ugly. Psychologically, you can begin to lose it, but having had the chance to ride the epic stages of the 2003 and 2004 Tour de France, this would be no big deal.”

After suffering through the bike in conditions many called the most miserable in years, Vigo said he got out onto the run just to see how he'd go. Wonder of wonders, in the last third of the marathon he found himself passing people.

"I was a little disappointed I could not go faster," he said. "I felt great at the finish."

But that was just the middle of Vigorito's month. He started it with a new race—the inaugural iron-distance ChesapeakeMan, a race he's been wanting to stage in the same area of Maryland that hosts EagleMan. It was a labor of love, and no detail was too small: For his theme he chose a sailboat—the Nathan, the oldest skipjack in Maryland. Each age-group winner, in addition to a crystal trophy, got a copy of James Michener's epic historical novel of the region, Chesapeake.

"I wanted to put my kind of personality in the race," Vigorito said. "I put together what I thought was a great race course. The run course is a pretty straight road—almost like running on the Queen K. It's total darkness. We had a combination of tiki lights and camping lanterns at each aid station."

The start of the unique point-to-point swim from the new Hyatt Chesapeake Bay Resort Infinity Beach was delayed two hours by severe fog. That meant that the cutoff for the race was moved to 2 a.m.—with an awards brunch planned for 9 a.m. the next morning. Fortunately, every cyclist in the 158-person start field made the cutoff before darkness fell.

By the time he'd cleared out of the finish area it was almost 4 in the morning, and that's where the whirlwind really started. Here's what happened after the race: "I left the race site, took a shower and lay in bed for about two hours." Then it was time for awards. By the time he'd finished that and cleared out of the host hotel, it was 2:30 in the afternoon. Home was a 90-minute drive away, and he quickly put the ChesapeakeMan stuff away and packed for his trip to Kona...a flight that would leave at 6:40 the next morning.

"We arrived at 3:30 p.m. Kona time Monday," he said. "I felt like a zombie. The bike was late, it missed the plane, and I had to wait until 9 at night to get it. I got to my hotel and said, 'Am I here?' I felt like I'd been beamed across."

Tuesday of race week was set aside for registration and some errands. Wednesday, Thursday and a half day Friday were spent running an expo booth for Eagleman. Remember, this is a time when most athletes have the luxury of a few light workouts and lots of time off their feet. Vigo, instead, was getting in a few swims and the odd bike or run in between spending much of his day on his feet in the booth.

"I was probably a little tired," he said with characteristic understatement. "I wouldn't recommend this as a way to taper. But throughout the whole thing I said to myself, I'm a lucky guy. There aren't too many people who get to participate in a race like this. I feel very special in many ways and very thankful and lucky."

"I was on the beach for the start and said, 'Vig, you've gotta pinch yourself. You haven't been here in six years, but it's still the same.' It was good."

And when it was over, he packed everything up and shipped it home before heading to Maui for a few days of true relaxation—including some golf and, oh yeah, some parasailing. On the way home, he stopped in San Diego for some obligations related to his "real-world" job as a clinical instructor and tissue coordinator for the University of Maryland Brain and Tissue Bank. By the time he got home it was nearly November.

"It was a pretty interesting month of October," he said.

And one final note worth noting: Don't bother asking Vigo how he does it all, or make jokes about coffee. The man doesn't touch the stuff. "I don't drink coffee at all. I don't drink caffeine. There's a lot of water, a lot of OJ, vitamins and certain supplements, and a lot of extra-virgin olive oil. Maybe these are good genes. I'm the only offspring in my family with any significant athletic ability or desire!"

And what of ChesapeakeMan for next year?

Of the 158 starters, 155 officially finished. After the race, a number of the athletes took time to write and tell him how much they enjoyed the race. The modest numbers don't faze him a bit—he knows he's staging a quality event, that word will spread and the numbers will grow.

"I knew going in that it was not going to be an event that anybody else would consider producing this event given the startup costs,” he said. "I'm not really about the money; it's the Experience…at Blackwater...and about ‘living strong,’ as Lance would say.”

So for this year, he's planning for a field of 400 and has added a US$5,000 prize purse for pros. October looks like another whirlwind—and all without coffee.