As you walk into Chuck Smittkamp's living room in Urbana, you might forget that he lives with a roommate. On the wall, where many people have paintings or family portraits, hang three giant posters — each one a picture of Chuck from one of his first three Ironman events. On the far left hangs the athlete at his first Wisconsin Ironman in 2002. In the photo, he is in transition from the swim to the bike, still wearing his wetsuit and flashing a knowing look that the race has just begun. Next is Lake Placid, 2001. Chuck is hunched over on his Cannondale, with a determined look on his face. The last poster-size photograph shows Chuck at the Florida Ironman in 2002, a huge smile on his face while running the final portion of the race — the marathon. He wears one of those clichéd million-dollar smiles, hiding any hint that he has already expended more than 14 hours of effort.

Upstairs in his bedroom there is a small wooden shelf above a slightly larger wooden desk. A red, medal cowbell with the Ironman symbol — a man's head and shoulders — painted in white is a souvenir from Chuck's first Wisconsin Ironman. An encouraging onlooker handed it to Chuck at the finish line. Where many people might have mementos from past vacations or collections of figurines, Chuck has seven unopened spring water bottles with "Ironman" labels strategically placed on shelves across the room. He talks about the bottles as if he forgot they were there, taking up a majority of his bedroom shelf space. Originally, he says, the water bottles were meant as souvenirs for friends and family — now they decorate his room and spill over onto another shelf above his dresser. He doesn't think he will ever open them.

You might conclude that athletics are everything to Chuck, but that's not what he says. Chuck is an Ironman athlete. He has completed four Ironman events — a race that encompasses a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and 26.2-mile run all within one day. Yet he's not the stereotypical Ironman participant. He's not a natural athlete, and he's surprisingly uncompetitive. He's not particularly fast in any of the three sports involved in these long-length triathlons. In fact, he's never broken a seven minute mile — not even for one mile. He'd like to say he has — he's tried many times over the years — but his best time is 7:02.

At first, Smittkamp might appear shy. He smiles a lot, perhaps masking his shyness. He doesn't downplay any of his achievements, but he won't tell you about them unless you ask. He has an awkward way of telling you he completed four Ironmans, and then taking it back by telling you he's got a lot to improve on. He's quick to say he's not a natural athlete — that he's not particularly great at biking, running or swimming. Yet, he's done something four times that only 7,500 people do each year in North America — finish an Ironman.

The 30-year-old University doctorate and master's student competes for the fun of the race — the challenge of the race. He competes because, while he does not have a fear of failure, he does have a fear of stopping. He knows that someday he may not be able to train for an Ironman — whether it be because of career, family, illness or accident.

Part of the challenge for an Ironman athlete is never knowing for sure if he will finish. Several times before his first Ironman and during the race, Chuck wondered whether he would cross the finish line.

"It was really hard — the hardest thing I had ever done physically up to that point," said Chuck recalling his first Ironman.

In many ways, the Ironman has given Chuck the motivation to try other challenges and experiences — regardless of whether he fails. In the past few years, Chuck has tried his hand at cooking — a seemingly small task, but something Chuck admits he never would have tried six or seven years ago for fear of ruining a dish or making something inedible.

He has picked up woodworking as a hobby as well, producing a wine rack and coffee table that reside in his home. The idea of trying something new and not worrying about the outcome might have begun with accomplishing his first Ironman event, but it continues now with everything in Smittkamp's life. He discusses these hobbies with just as much enthusiasm as he does the Ironman — they are achievements just as the Ironman races are.

Physical Abilities

But there's are very specific challenges with which Smittkamp struggles in his hopes for a future as an Ironman athlete. His mother's health and his chosen career path figure significantly in this. For Smittkamp, studying to be a doctor and seeing people who are physically unable to compete athletically pushes him to want to use his body as much as he can until he is no longer able.

Driving that desire is the fact that Smittkamp's mother Jeanette was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in 1980. Now 58, her physical abilities are extremely limited. Growing up, most of Smittkamp's memories of his mother are of her holding on to something or someone for physical support. At first he described the debilitating disease like a doctor describing symptoms to a patient. He is open to talking about his mother, but he is quick to say that her illness had no effect on him growing up. As Smittkamp grew, his mother began to deal with loss of balance, muscle spasticity and range of motion.

"It wasn't hard for me … that's the way things were," he says referring to his mom's fight with MS. He answers without a pause.

On more than one occasion, Smittkamp's mother has asked him why he would do a sport that wears so harshly on his physical abilities — abilities that he has but other people, like her, do not.

"I always say, here is the point in my life when I can. So I figure I have to do it now before I ever lose that ability," he answers.

Atypical

Smittkamp said he's not the typical Ironman athlete. His best time was in Florida, where he crossed the finish line in 14 hours, 17 minutes and 3 seconds. In each Ironman, injury, exhaustion or stomach pains have caused him to walk for a majority of the final leg of the race. He's never been able to run 100 percent of the marathon leg yet, he said, though it is something he said he wants to accomplish.

And, for competing in such an intense and time-consuming sport, he's surprisingly uncompetitive. Just a month after his last Ironman event, Smittkamp ran in the Allerton park 5.5-mile trail race in Monticello on Sunday, Oct. 26 — his first race since the Ironman and only the second time he had run since the Ironman.

At Allerton, Smittkamp arrives to the crowd of runners seconds before the tone rings to signal the start of the 5.5-mile run. Wearing navy blue shorts and shirt, along with a white runner's hat reminiscent of one of his Ironman experiences, he looks like a runner who has competed hundreds of times before this. He makes his way to the starting line as if he's making his way through a crowd on the subway — with purpose and experience. The announcer says "Runners start," and the tone sounds.

The air is chilly and damp. At a steep incline in the woods, with slippery, muddy trails and branches sticking out everywhere, the congestion causes some runners to push and bump other participants. The uncompetitive walk up the incline, making sure they don't hurt themselves or anyone else — Chuck is one of these runners. He has a look of determination, not competitiveness, as he begins to run again.

He doesn't emerge into spectator view again until the home stretch of the race. From afar, Chuck is unmistakable — he's tall and lanky — more like a basketball player than a runner. He doesn't sprint to the finish. He crosses with his eyes focused on the finishers' shoot and a time of 52 minutes and 12 seconds — averaging about 9:45 a mile. After the race, Chuck smiles and chats with fellow running buddies. To a stranger, Chuck looks at home among the athletes. This is what it's all about. This is what's fun for Chuck — this camaraderie — this feeling of accomplishment.

He says it's the "experiences that are way out of everyday" that are the things he is most proud of: like the time he took a semester off and went backpacking across Europe with another university's program. These types of experiences — experiences that most people may never do — are the experiences Chuck strives to fill his life with. This is why he is proud of doing the Ironman.

"(The Ironman) is something I like to do as part of my life, not the sole goal," Chuck said. "It is important to me, but not number one." Chuck talks about his addiction to caffeine and his desire to skydive as he sits in room 236 of the Medical Sciences Building setting up for a microbiology skills exam, one of the two courses he teaches while putting himself through medical school. He pushes his chair over to each of dozens of microscopes set up on the counters, and carefully checks each one before the start of the class. Just a typical Monday morning.