Ayerd{dot}com :: Triathlon

Pre-Race

OMG, the guys at IM-CDA kicks ass.

After Florida I expected to spend the whole two days before the race running around and waiting in various lines to get my chip and bags. CDA had it down. Cold. Cruised into the Athlete Village about an hour after they opened on Friday morning to score the paperwork and pick my bike up from TriBikeTransport. Instead of a huge line that stretched into forever with no clear direction on where to go next, here there was a short line to confirm my number, fill out the waiver, have my ID checked, get weighed, pick up the wrist band, and get the bag with all the other bags. Timing chip was verified on the way out of the tent. The whole thing took about 15 minutes. A large improvement over the 4-5 hours spent in Florida.

The bike made the trip across country without any big problems developing. The handlebar tape did get a little dinged, but the super- nice guys at the pick up offered to fix it and/or pay for new tape if I wanted someone else to re-tape the bar. Luckily, the fine folks at Elite Bicycle sent out Max to take of any Elite bikes in the race. Nothing eases pre-race bike jitters like knowing the person making that last bike check is the guy who put it together back in Philadelphia.

After the bike and bags, it was time to walk around the Village and score some overpriced Ironman-branded merchandise.

Then it was back to the hotel to pack the bags and generally sit around eating and drinking lots of salt-laden fluids.

Overall, it was a stress free registration. A big improvement over Florida. I'm not sure if it was me knowing what to expect. a difference in how the race was organized, or just the feeling in the air knowing the whole city was gearing up to cheer for the race. Probably a little of all three.

The Swim

The swim start was stressful. Nothing like lining up on the beach with 2,500 other people waiting for a cannon to go off so you can start an Ironman. I thought about headig in to the water — which was a comfortable, if somewhat face numbing 60° — but decided to pass. I've been swimming before. No matter how good, bad, hot, or cold you feel at the start of a swim all you need to do is get your arms moving. The body knows what to do and after a few strokes you're comfortable and moving with a purpose.

Waited on the beach for the start with Karen who was starting her first IM and full of nerves. She tends to get nervous before any and all racing events. A 5K soups her up just as much as Ironman. Still, it wasn't as bad as I thought and I knew she was going to have a great day.

Bang.

The swim awful. I love open water swims. My favorite swim of all time is a 1-miler that was held in 6-8 foot seas. This swim sucked. I got punched. Kicked a few times. Couldn't take more than a single stroke or two before hitting someone else. It was relentless. I just kept moving and spent the time praying the person in front of my wouldn't develop a sudden urge to start kicking.

The first loop felt pretty good. Wasn't tired but my goggles had taken on some water after someone caught my head with their hand on the second turn. Walking up to the timing mat I pulled the goggles off and tried to re-set them before jumping in for round 2.

Second loop was a little better. We were starting to space ourselves out and there was at least a little swimming room. The turns were still Hellish and there was a drop or two of water trapped in my left goggle. More irritating than a real problem. At least it gave me something to think about while working my way through the last 1.2 miles.

T1

Coming out of the water is always a tough for me mentally. My biking is fairly average and the stronger riders seems to spend all day passing me. The key is to not loose track of my race and instead try and keep up with them. I normally use the walk out of the water to keep telling myself to stick with my race and let them worry about theirs.

Sadly, once again I had sunscreen problems in transition. During Florida I spaced and missed the sunscreen applicators on the way to my bike. This time I stopped for the sunscreen but instead of happy folks smearing the 'screen on my arms and legs, they were using this new spray-on product. I pulled over for the misting, but even as I walked away from them, I knew it wasn't going to work. /sigh

I got very luck in terms of transition placement. On the outside, near the exit, next to a big tree. Very easy to find and I had a clear path from the tent to the bike.

Bike

Idaho ain't Florida. The ride in Florida is like a 6-hour spin class. You just drop into the aerobars and pedal away. Idaho has hills, nay mountains, and lots of turns. Getting on the bike felt pretty good after the swim. Started out of transition by zipping through town following the run course for a while before passing the run turn-around and heading up a nice little climb before the road dead ends and you head back to town. That part of the trip took about 40 minutes.

Back through town and now we started the hard part. Just outside of the city there was the first real climb of the day. Whoa. Up and up and up. It actually wasn't too steep but made up for it with distance. Over the top and down a fairly fast and twisty stretch of road. Nothing makes you respect the "go slow" signs like a sharp corner with no safety rail and a 50+ foot plunge waiting for you if you miss the turn.

The second climb of the day was exponentially worse than the first. Just after a nifty downhill we made a sharp left to drop all the momentum and then started a 1-mile or so fairly steep climb. Ick. I was already pretty sure I didn't want to go up that thing again.

A bit more downhill then it was time to settle in to the aero position for a mostly flat ride through farmland, a Go-Cart race track, along a train-track overpass (covered with plywood for the day), and then up, and back to town.

Loop 2 was a disaster.

The temperature started to peak for the day right around 100 degrees. The sun was relentless. It all got to me. I was taking in a bottle to a bottle-and-a-half every hour, but couldn't seem to take in anything more substantial than Gu every hour. I tried to gosh on my Cliff Bars, but I could tell as soon as they hit my mouth it wasn't going to work. Even taking all that liquid I stopped sweating around hour 4 and my calories in where hovering around 200-250. Not nearly enough and my stomach was twisting away. Not bad enough to stop, but every time I went to put food in my mouth it started to complain.

The second loop and the two hard climbs were as bad as I expected. The heat was really getting to me and I think there was some mental pain as well. I had hopes of doing just a bit better than Florida and it was starting to fall apart.

Just past my second time into the Go-Cart track turned Velodrome I saw some guy having a bad nutrition day. Just for the record, apparently you can barf on moving bike without crashing. Hopefully I'll never have to give that one a try, but it is good to know it is possible.

Needless to say, I was happy to get off that bike.

T2

Sitting the shade of the changing tent for a minute or two helped the stomach. Not a lot, but enough that I didn't think I'd kill myself if I started the run. I was a bit concerned because even though I had taken in as much fluid as I could handle, I still hadn't felt the need to take a leak since just after the swim. A bad, bad sign.

Run

The run actually started out pretty well. Shot of the tent and first mile felt nice. I knew I needed some serious liquid so as soon as I hit the first aid station I dropped to a walk an picked up a few cups of Gatorade. I'm sure I could use the salt and calories as much as the liquid. After that first aid station I settled into a run (shamble) 8-minutes/walk 2-minutes pattern with extra walking when I got the aid stations. I was pretty sure a great time was no longer in my future but I knew I had plenty of time to finish so as long as I kept moving.

I hit mile 7 one hour into my run. Blazing speed for me. Alas, when I tried to start running again, I could tell it was over. (This continues to piss me off. Why can't I make it through the longish run at the end of a triathlon? I just reach this wall and am unable to move my legs. True, I was a little woozy from the lack of fluids, but other wise I felt pretty good.)

I thought about it for a bit I knew there was nothing left to do but buckle down and start walking as best as I could. When I felt up to it, I put in a minute or two of running.

Near the start of the second loop I caught up with this fine fellow, Dwight. It was his first IM and was thrilled to be as far along as he was. We started talking and ended up finishing the marathon together. A long walk, but having someone to talk with made it seem much quicker.

Finish

Ahhh, the finish line. Nothing is sweeter. Just outside of town, the crowds really picked up and that put something extra back in to the tank. The fast walk we had kept up for the last 3 hours became a slow jog. The sun was just starting to set and we really wanted to finish before dark.

Just before the finish line Dwight's two daughters found him so I slowed up a tad to let them get a good finisher's photo.

Crossing the line was better this time than in Florida. There I just wanted to be done: I felt horrible and was more than a little disoriented. Here, it felt good.

Once across the line the great job by the race director came back into place. The "catcher" at the line was this nice tall young woman who held me up, made sure I got something to drink, pointed me at my finisher's medal, got me over to the photo area, and then was leading me over to the food tent when I found Bretta, Karen, and Drew.

As expected Karen had a great race and finished a few hours before me!

Wow, what a great day. My time was better in Florida, but this race seemed more fulfilling. Maybe I realized how great the race itself was? Maybe it was the crowds? Maybe just the day itself? What I do know is that this finish feels like an accomplishment.

I am an Ironman!

Post-Race

Unbelievable thanks to Bretta for helping me get through another Ironman. I know it is not easy putting up with the training, the complaining about the training, and picking up all the little things around the house that I just don't get to. And, did I mention putting up with all the pre/during/post race logistics? Not easy. Not easy at all.

Thanks to Karen for talking me into the race. I got signed up for CDA a few months before IM-Florida. I was hoping it wouldn't suck, and it didn't.

Thanks to Chris for pointing me in the right direction for training. I can say for sure that I would come anywhere near being ready without the training plans and the words of encouragement.

Thanks to everyone else for helping with the long ride, long runs, and generally helping me get through the training. Sometimes that decompression talk during a run or lunch does more good than you realize.

Now, it is time to get back to the business of cleaning up after the latest flood and trying to think of all the cool stuff — sprint tri-s, food, games, Real Life™ — that I want to get between now and the Marine Corps Maration.