Ironman Louisville definitely deserves an entire section dedicated to the weather. I’ve raced in heat before, Ironman Canada in Penticton was 95 degrees, so I naturally ignored all caution about the Louisville weather. There is heat and then there is suffering. I should have known I was in trouble when the national weather service had a heat advisory for Louisville all weekend long. I’m from Indiana and I thought we had humidity, this humidity was impressive. It rained every night we were there. On race day the temperature was in the 90s and the humidity ranged from 65% to 75%-an improvement from the 85-95% the day before. Apparently more than 400 competitors needed some kind of medical assistance. Ironman Louisville consistently ranks as one of the slowest Ironmans globally because of the heat and humidity. In fact, after this year they are moving the race to October because of the weather.
Heading south towards Louisville. Storm clouds on the horizon, the heat and humidity are building, and we could smell the rain in the air. We only passed one car with a bicycle headed towards the race on the entire trip to Louisville.
The Swim: Current-a love hate relationship (Time 1:04)
The swim isn’t a mass start, but a time trial start. Everyone lines up and jumps off 2 piers one at a time into the water. The crazy part is the swim line forms first come first serve so racers started waiting in line at 4:00 AM for a 7:00 race start! My dad (he was also racing with me) got in line around 5:45 and even then the line seemed to stretch on forever. You start swimming between an island and the shore upstream for the first third of the swim. The current here wasn’t too bad, its mildly protected from the main current. However you have to swim for about 300-400 meters past the island and there you could really tell the current had a mean side. The entire time I just focused on rotating and not being a barge going through the water as Coach Bill will frequently call me. I also really worked on swimming downhill and sighting every 3 strokes. Visibility in the water was minimal, you could see you elbows but not your hands!
I have to give a special thanks to Coach Bill and the entire tri team on my swim. I finished in 1:04:33 good for 44/170 in my age group and 431 overall! I couldn’t believe my watch when I got out-I was ecstatic! This was 17 minutes faster than my last ironman and I could really feel the improvement I had made in my swim. All those Tuesday night swims and OWS swims really paid off and having Coach Bill around can’t be understated. Thank You
The Saturday Practice Swim: The river was open for practice Saturday morning 8-10 A.M. We swam by the swim finish, and not in the channel where the race begins. The current was very strong and most of the swimmers were surprised by how rapidly it pulled you downstream and how difficult it was to make headway upstream. Many swimmers overshot the exit and had trouble getting back. Race day we swam up a channel that was protected from the current and it was much, much easier. The practice swim gave us lots of anxiety for no good reason.
The Bike: Horse Country
The bike was gorgeous. It’s nothing but picturesque houses and fields with horses hanging out, with the occasional Tobacco farm J. It became abundantly clear to me why they call it horse country (not a creative name). I would call the bike course fair with 5,300 feet of gross elevation gain but with the majority of it in the form of rolling hills. For some reason the GPS on my Garmin was acting up so I didn’t have speed or distance for the entire race and regulated my effort off of heart rate and cadence alone.
After my last Ironman my mission on the bike was to fuel up a lot, given the heat and humidity. I had 12 electrolyte pills, 4.5 cliff bars, 2 water bottles of Hammer Sustain, 3 bottles of water and 2-3 bottles of PowerAde Perform, and one banana piece. (I ate 1 banana before the bike and 1 before the swim). After the bike I was sick of PowerAde perform and it made me nauseous as well.
The first 85 miles of the bike went by well. Then around 1:30 PM-2:30PM the hell fire and brim stone god of the old testament decided to show us who was boss. The heat picked it up into high gear and the humidity decided to envelope you. I say envelope because even on the bike you could liteally feel the humidity. I ended up finishing my bike in 5:36:01 which I was surprised by as well. I had made a point to not crush myself and still averaged 20 mph. I think all those spinning classes really paid off!
This reporter's wife cheering on the team during the bike race. She herself is a Boston Marathon racer and completed the final 13 miles with the reporter. During the double-loop section of the race there is a spectator viewing section in LaGrange. It was difficult to get to and there wasn't much to see, so probably this portion of the spectating experience wasn't worth the effort, but the riders were all scanning the sidelines to see if their loved ones were present so it was definitely appreciated!
The Run: Where I met my maker
The run was TOUGH! I started the run around 3:00 pm and at the point I was feeling really proud of my race. I had PR’ed massively on both my swim and bike, beyond my expectations. I knew if I could put together a 4 hour marathon I had a could break 11 hours and given my two marathons in May were 3:05 and 2:59 I felt pretty confident about my chances. However, those races were in sub 70 degree weather not in 90 degree weather and high humidity. I’m also not Felix J I started running an 8 minute mile for the first 2 miles but then quickly my body started rebelling and my pace dropped down to a 9-10 minute mile pace. By mile 11, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to run the entire marathon and by mile 14 my body was in full revolt and I had to walk a mile run a mile for the remainder of the race. I wasn’t alone, I saw several people collapsed on the side of the road during the run. At mile 8 I saw a woman walk up to the aid station to get water and she just passed out onto the ground like a rag doll. That and the countless other people I saw receiving medical attention definitely put the fear of god into me. The main thing stopping me on the second half of my run was very painful cramps throughout my entire core. It felt like my diaphragm was seizing up along with my entire stomach. I’m not sure what caused this but even still I have pain in my core when I lay down or take deep breaths. I’m still trying to figure out if it was something I did on the swim or just the heat, exhaustion, fitness and nutrition. It was a bit disappointing to have such an awesome start just to lose it on the second half of the run (especially since that’s my strong suit) but the second half of the marathon is also where the race part of the Ironman begins-so I can’t complain.
In the end my time was 11:56:31 good for 27/170 in my age group and 351/2095 and I massively improved on my swim and my bike. Unfortunately my dad had to DNF after mile 13 of the run which was disappointing. Given the conditions though its completely understandable. My main take away is PowerAde preform is not good, and makes you feel sick. I also need to continue to work on my nutrition. I did a better job of it this time but there is still lots of room for improvement. I also foolishly spent little time training for the run, expecting all my training leading up to my marathons in May would suffice. This proved incorrect and ultimately proved my doom.
A special treat: The Twin Peaks High School cheerleading squad was in attendance cheering on the runners and sending the spectators into a frenzy. They were gracious enough to mingle with the crowd, but "no touching please".
I would like to thank the entire MIT Tri team. I really enjoyed training with everyone this past year and all of you helped me improve so much. Not to mention you made working out so much more fun!
After the race. Beer and pizza at the Sicilian Pizzeria with our excellent server.
Race Recommendations:
Carb loading or just good eating, we recommend Bistro 301 as a necessary dining visit. We stumbled in accidentally, but all 6 of us were raving about our meal the next day and sinc.http://bistro301.com/menus/dinner-menu-2/
The chosen one and I carb-loading at Bistro 301.
At the Expo the SeaSucker Bike Rack was advertised. It is intended to fit to any car by vacuum sealing cups and requires no installation. My sister has a VW Eos and it will not accommodate a rack or any good strap-on systems. My Dad purchased and installed the SeaSucker rack for her: Voila!, problem solved.
Savageman was my favorite triathlon, and my favorite race,
of all that I have done.The
organization was superb, the venue perfect, and the challenge/reward ratio
excellent.I signed up for both
the Olympic Triathlon on Saturday and the Half-Ironman on Sunday, and I
recommend that pairing to anyone.
The main goal of Savageman is to get a brick, and that is
not a sure shot by any means.Dave
Scott, the champion of Kona, failed to get up the short section of cobblestone
and gravel that decides the issue, and about 30% of the riders overall fail to
ascend cleanly.I was confident
that I could do it, but I was traveling east a few months before the race and I
stayed in nearby Frostburg so that I could reconnoiter the course.My practice run was NOT encouraging.
My first try at the Westernport Wall.
My first run up I clipped out at exactly the point where I
had seen others fail on YouTube videos.It happened so fast I was down before I knew it.I tried a second time and succeeded so
I figured I just had bad luck on the first try, but no.I fell off my bike on the third try, and
was one for three.By the end I
had ridden it seven times and ultimately got up four times and fell three
times.I knew that anything could
happen on race day, but success was dependent on my legs –shaky – and the
nearby riders at the time I hit the hill.I saw so many videos of people taking down their neighbors with them
that I knew it was best to be alone if possible. My practice session is below:
My son got up three times without much effort and never fell.
This is the section that will do you in. Go as hard as you can.
The Swim:
I got to do it twice, once at Olympic distance and once at
half-Ironman distance.The second
day the water was warm and the air cold, so the lake was incredibly misty and
foggy.No one could see anywhere
and we all just tried to follow the pack.I actually swam directly into a buoy that I simply couldn’t see until I
was right on it.The fog made
Sunday’s swim fun, but both days were nicely laid out.They have a turtle and a swan as the
turnaround buoys and those were had to mistake.
The swan is in the background. The air was cold, the water warm.
The Bike:
Of course this is what it is all about.The main climb consists of four parts
with the hardest being the last.On my practice runs I did the final street that decides the brick 7
times but I would have had a better idea of how to handle it if I had started
from the very bottom each time.By
the time I got to the final section on race day I had been exhausted by the
three smaller preceding climbs.Getting over the top took everything I had.I made it, but just barely.Looking at the video of me ascending makes my climb look
even worse than I remember it.
After the main climb there were plenty more to come.It was truly savage, but that is what
we all signed up for.I was happy
to get off the bike at the end, and very happy that I had bricked.Really, after that, I didn’t care what
else happened.
Road bikes way outnumbered triathlon bikes.
The Run:
Normally the run portion of a triathlon is flat.Not this one.We ran up a seriously steep dirt road that I think I would
not have been able to climb on my mountain bike, and overall I think there were
many three hundred yards of flat road.
You'll be glad when it's done.
The Swag:
You have to pay for it, but you can get a brick for your
office.I have one and I treasure
it.The shirts were also very
good: cotton, well fitting, and comfortable. Surprisingly there were no
finisher medals.I would have
liked one.
Finisher's shirt.
Conclusion:
Do it!This is
a race that anyone will be glad they did, and if you get a brick you will be
especially happy.
The Cincinnati triathlon is a fun and well-organized event. It has a sprint distance and an Olympic distance offering, and I recommend it to anyone in the area. We took it on as a family outing, with my daughter running and winning the sprint distance, and two of my sons and a future-daughter-in-law and me doing the olympic distance.
Registration was available the day before or the morning of, but parking was a real issue the day before so I recommend checking in in the morning if you can. We were there in the pre-dawn darkness and had plenty of time to unpack, set up, and stretch.
The race was not crowded, and it should have been. I think the reason is that most people were afraid of swimming in the Ohio river. The universal reaction of anyone hearing the swim was in the river was "There's no way I would swim there!" I don't know if there were even any native Cincinnatians in the race. Too bad, because the water was clear in my hand and tasted fine. There was no gasoline taste and only minimal debris like logs and branches. No rashes or sore throat afterwards either, so I think the water quality was high.
The bike course was on the Columbia parkway, a big multi-lane highway by the river which was entirely closed for the race. I'm surprised they did this, but it made for an awesome bike leg. There was one very steep hill near the baseball stadium, and some of the racers were surprised in their big gear and had to dismount and walk. We all managed to power up it, but it wasn't easy. My personal bike leg was fast in the beginning but I flagged near the end and ran out of juice. My usual goal is to let no one pass me. One guy did early on and I tried to reel him in but failed. Another guy passed me after the first loop, and we went back and forth for several miles. Finally he passed me for good, and then a few others did too. If there had been more time I might have ground to a halt entirely.
The run was my favorite part of the course. It was a two loop course over the Purple People Bridge and through a riverside park which was pretty and shaded. The finish line was still a welcome sight, and the surprise for us was that three of our team won podium positions.
The Cincinnati triathlon is a fun and well organized event. I recommend it to anyone.
It is hard for me to generate enthusiasm for this posting. I enjoyed the Tough Mudder, but must give it a failing grade because of the logistics. The Tough Mudder events bill themselves as "Probably the Toughest Event on the Planet", and they are certainly not that. They might be one of the most fun, and I think that a team doing this together would have a blast, but it's not really an aerobic endurance event and should be viewed as an enjoyable group outing.
First the bad news: getting there. Our event was at the Hightop Ranch outside of Tampa, and we got there early in the morning, several hours before our assigned starting time. Even so, traffic was backed up onto the Interstate, and it took us about 90 minutes to travel the final 2-3 miles. Our friend, who came later, was stuck in traffic for 6 1/2 hours waiting to get into the event! There was nothing else going on, and the Tough Mudder was the only cause of the congestion. Police directing traffic? Zero. Entrances to the parking lot? One. Number of entrants in the event? 25,000. Do the math and you can see that this outcome was predictable. So if you want to do a Tough Mudder choose an early start time and get there a few hours in advance..., unless you live next door.
Now for that good part: the race was fun, well organized, and definitely worth the money. We ran about 12 miles, and topped maybe 23 obstacles. There was freezing water, morasses of mud, plunges from heights of 20 feet, monkey bars, live electrical wires, and barbed wire. The race is patterned on the training for the British Special Forces, and all we were lacking was live fire overhead and 40 lb. backpacks.
If you do this race bring a tall and strong friend. Todd was our go-to-guy at 6' 3"; lean and muscular, he was able to help the rest of us ascend the wooden walls and then pull himself up behind us. Without him we might have resorted to chicanery, but with him we were unstoppable. Since Doug was stuck in traffic so long we started in the very last group to leave. Throughout the race we were passing through some of the slower teams that started ahead of us, and near the end a large number of teams that had slowed to a walk. That made us feel good, but didn't really reflect our abilities. We never caught any really dangerous looking crews.
My favorite event was the Monkey Bars. I thought I should train for that, so I went to the local elementary school and tried them out. I could only do three before dropping. This event had 27 which I knew from my research, so I decided not to train for it at all. That turned out well, surprisingly. These rungs were closer together and much easier than on the schoolyard. All of our team made it across without a splashdown, though I couldn't have gone much farther than I did.
So the Tough Mudder is a fun event, but marred by logistical issues. If you do it bring a large team and have fun, get there early, and don't worry too much about training. And if you're as lucky as I was your Mom will be there to take pictures of you and your team!
Setting the Stage: Over the year planned competitions dropped off my schedule
like nuts falling from an oak tree, until finally the Giant Acorn Triathlon was
the only one left; by default, my A Race. It is held in Bumpass, Virginia, and on the way down my wife
and I stopped in Cincinnati to see two of our children and watch the first
presidential debate at their apartment.
What at great way to start the trip! Our guy won, and we had the entire next day to hear about it
over and over again on talk radio while we drove the rest of the way down to
Charlottesville.
Goal: do the race like Romney did Lehrer
-->
Son #2 was registered for the event, but a shoulder injury
put him on the disabled list.
We rendezvoused with my parents as planned in Charlottesville, and spent
a few days with Brian at the University of Virginia before heading off to the
race. Charlottesville is a great
town, and we had a fine time with him and his friends.
Carb-loading is essential
We got the competitive juices flowing with a few games of corn-hole:
The winning corn hole team
And my son had an opportunity to test his shoulder just before the race (no dice):
Live to race another day
-->
I spent the weeks leading up to the race training in
Michigan, running and rolling over the thousands of acorns on the roads. I love the crunching sound they make
beneath my wheels, and their feel as they are crushed beneath my heels. I especially love when I catch an acorn
just right on my bike and I send it flying sideways at high velocity. I felt the organizers implied I would
find some particularly massive nuts at the Giant Acorn Triathlon, but that was
one of the only ways the race disappointed. Virginia’s acorns were small and forgettable. I did see a few giant nuts at the swim
start, but I think they were hickory nuts, and there were a few 6 year old boys
scouring the grounds for all the best specimens to throw in the water. I had no chance of finding a decent
whole acorn, giant or otherwise.
Acorn? Hickory Nut?
The Drive In:
Onward to Bumpass! If we hadn't had a GPS I would never have thought we were going in the right direction. This race takes place deep in rural territory, and I could hear the Deliverance banjos playing. It was a beautiful drive in, and the countryside was spectacular as we headed out of the mountains and down in to the rolling hills. The weather was wonderful: 74 degrees and sunny was predicted and delivered. The race was sold out, but there was plenty of room in transition. I kept my bike set-up tight and tidy but there was no one edging into my space and everyone had plenty of room to move. The 10am start was very nice also. No darkness, no anxiety, and plenty of time to drive in and even get lost.
See all the empty space?
In set up I recognized Cort the Sportfrom her blog: http://unblob.blogspot.com/2011/10/race-report-giant-acorn-sprint.html, which I read to prepare for the race. She was setting up right across from me in the corral, and seemed fit and ready to go. I never did see her on the course, but she did great -- 5th overall.
The Swim:
How can you be disappointed with a heated lake? The organizers promised warm water (the effluent from the adjacent nuclear power plant is discharged into the lake near where we swam) and they delivered on their promise. Water temperature was 79 degrees -- indoor pool temperature -- and wetsuits were not allowed. That's a bit of a problem for me as I rely on the wetsuit to improve my body position, but it was nice stepping in water that was warmer than the air.
Downhill on gravel. We'd run this later.
The swim start and finish were at different locations, and it was about a half-mile walk to the start on a gravel road. No one seemed overly anxious unless they didn't have sandals. Before the swim we had a playing of the national anthem, and then it was off to the races.
Miss Campbell was the eventual female winner
There were six waves, and no bumping or thrashing that I could see. I left in the 5th wave, and for a short time I was able to follow the feet of a faster swimmer from the final wave, but he shook me eventually. At some points the water level was so low my fingers dragged in the mud and I had drifted so close to shore once that I stood up and walked about ten yards to deeper water. A few other swimmers did the same I could see.
My swim time: 31:20. Age Group Rank: 5/22
Why am I wearing my shirt?
T1:
Always glad to get out alive
The run up to transition from the lake was carpeted and a smooth ride. There was so much room in transition that you could post a great time if you wanted to, and there were plenty of volunteers directing traffic.
About to begin the bike
The Bike: The bike route was two loops on a road that was closed in our direction. There was some oncoming traffic, but very little. The scenery was nice and the road was smooth. We passed over a bridge, and up one very steep hill. There was one tight turn, but again it was well marked and there were volunteers to warn us early on. I went as hard and fast as I could and being in the fifth wave meant there were plenty of cyclists on the road ahead of me. One guy on a Quintana Roo tri-bike passed me five times... but I passed him six times. Our back-and-forth helped both our times, and we both knew that any lead on the other wouldn't last too long. My average speed was 23.1 mph, which is way faster than I have ever gone before. I was hammering as hard as I could, and I even passed a car that made its way onto the course. Still, there were three people that went harder and faster, and one was the age group champ.
My bike time: 1:04:26. Age Group Rank: 4/22
I'm thinking about getting a tri-bike
T2:
About a hundred yard walk from the road to transition, then out the chute to hit the run. The Run: The run is always my weakness, but this was a nicely laid out route so the pain wasn't too bad. We did two loops, and the out-goers were side by side with the in-comers. I always prefer a two loop course to an out-and-back. I prefer to get familiar with the trerrain. Many of the cyclists I had put behind me were happy to pass me on the run, but you get used to that. Near the end of the loop we ran down the gravel road to the swim start, then back up out of the pit. Most of the spectators were there, and it was a fun section.
My run time: 57:53. Age Group Rank: 14/22.
The Summary: All-in-all this was a great race. Well run, fun, and worth the trip. I would certainly recommend it to anyone in the area. The next day I found out that I was fourth place and only two minutes off of the podium. Maybe someday....
The fourth running of the Barry-Roubaix mountain bike race took place this weekend in the heart of Nowheresville, Michigan, and your Undercover Athletes were there to report on the event.
The race takes place in Barry, Michigan, and the clever title implies that it is intended to be tough, muddy, and for the intemperate. There were plenty of riders sporting Ice Man jerseys, Colorado sweatshirts, and other emblems of past glories. The weather was great though. During the prior week the midwest had blown apart the existing temperature records, hitting mid-80s every day. The trees were sprouting leaves, flowers were blooming, and everything smelled beautiful. In 2011 1,046 signed up for the event but nasty weather cut attendance to 950. This year, probably due to the great conditions, no one on the waiting list got in. (One of your reporters rode as a bandit)
We rode up from Indiana in the dark, and the closer we got to the race the more bikes we saw on top of cars. They fit a lot of people into a small park for the event, but it was very well organized. Check-in was smooth, the swag was good, and everyone was orderly. The T-shirts were a pretty light blue, and I'm glad I bought one. They also sold commemorative posters (I bought one) and bottle openers (I passed). Last year there was free beer, but the State of Michigan forbade that this year. It was pretty early in the morning anyway. The girl checking us in had a plastic baby in a papoose -- part of a school project to discourage teenage pregnancies; part of the local flavor.
1,500 riders is a lot to fit onto one road. We left in four waves a few minutes apart. There were three lengths. 61 miles which was for the hardy, 35 miles which they recommended for first-timers and which we rode, and 23 miles. Doug and I started in the ditch as our wave swarmed across the start line. The timing chips were incorporated into the race numbers, which was cool, and everyone got off pretty easily. I was in the final four across the start, but rode hard to get up towards the middle of the pack. Better planning would have allowed an easier beginning.
The route turned sandy and muddy. Every hill was doable, but with the sand most people clipped out at least once during the race. drafting was allowed, but with so much mud and sand you got a real face-full and you had to pick and choose your times to cluster together. The riders were all friendly, and camaraderie prevailed over competition. Two riders finished together, in uniform, placing pretty well in the 61 mile race:
The Barry-Roubaix is a nice race. There were license plates from Iowa, Indiana, Michigan, and Wisconsin. I think it was worth a drive of a few hours, but not worth a cross-country trip. The organizers did a very good job of making a friendly event, and if it fits your schedule I recommend it.
I rode a 29" mountain bike. Most riders had a cyclocross bike, and some had road bikes with 32cm tires. There was a separate category for Pugsley-type fat tire bikes. Each choice seemed to have advantages and disadvantages, but the cyclocross bike is probably best.
One final word of thanks. My friend wanted to register but the race closed out and he rode as a bandit. He had two flats. One just before the race and one during the race. The sag wagon helped him out beautifully and he was able to finish the race. We all came away happy.
Six weeks later, I finally feel ready to organize my recollections and put together my Ironman Canada race report. Our participation was inspired by the preceding year’s MightyMan Montauk, and the write-up from that event is here: http://undercoverathlete.blogspot.com/2010/10/mightyman-montauk-2010.html
The who would be my son Sean, his friend Cameron, and me. The where and when were decided by Cameron, who is trying to qualify for Kona and chose his home country Canada for the attempt. The why still needs a little work in my opinion.
I had nearly two years to train, counting the one year run up to the half-ironman, and I used it all. The first year was devoted particularly to swim training. The second year was primarily focused on running and improving my swim stroke. Along the way I made many good friends, had some great experiences, and learned a lot about what to do and what not to do in a triathlon.
Swim Training: I was most nervous about the swim, and began my survival training by doing laps on my own at the Fort Collins Club. I took a few lessons, improved my stroke, and was able to complete the swim portion at Montauk well. My big breakthrough came when I felt bold enough to join the morning Masters Swim team at my club. The synchronized files of capable swimmers doing laps in a single lane had intimidated me, but when I signed up for a full ironman I knew I needed to learn how to swim with the sharks. I was embarrassed at first to even admit that I had had the audacity to register for a full-distance event, but everyone in the pool was very welcoming and very encouraging.
I started off in the slow lane, and I’d like to report that I soon moved up to the intermediate lane and was pushing for a spot in the fast lane… but I stayed in the slow lane until race day. I harbored a not-so-secret ambition to make it to the intermediate lane by Christmas, which went unrealized, but I am still quite satisfied with my progress. I learned how to do flip-turns, I brought my legs out of the depths and am beginning to bring them into my stroke, and I stopped fighting the water so much. Still a long ways to go, but I did became a swimmer in time for Canada.
I first got to know the other swimmers at Masters by watching them underwater. I was impressed with how they kicked so well, and how they pulled away from me so quickly without seeming to be working hard at all. At that time I didn’t know what Kona was, or what it meant. Eventually I learned that my neighbors in the fast lane were all Kona qualifiers, one had placed third in her age group there, one had won his age group at Ironman Canada, and two had swam the English Channel. Now I know why they looked so good – they were!
Cub reporters for the UndercoverAthlete blog invading the fast lane at the Ft. Collins Club Pool. In the background are Gonda, who qualifies for Kona every year, and Mary, who has an awesome kick.
Run Training: The run was another big weakness. Preparing for the Montauk half I developed hip tendinitis, and then tore my medial meniscus weeding a few months before the event. Things settled down enough for me to do the race with minimal complaint, but soon afterwards I needed a medial meniscectomy. Recovery was quick, though, and I was able to resume running in earnest by Christmas. We all had Canada hats to wear for our cold-weather training, and I set out to increase my distance and endurance. My coldest run was at 4 degrees Fahrenheit, which made me feel I was stacking up my bona fides for Canada.
The Canada cap in action.
I ran slow and I trained slow, but I thought that was unavoidable since I am slow. I have some friends that are ultra-marathoners, and one of them asked me what my plan was for the marathon portion of the race. I told her that my plan was to not really to run a marathon at all; I was going to do a half-marathon, then a 10k, then a 5k, then just finish it off. She scoffed, and said, “That’s no plan at all!”.
This outright rejection of my running plan was worrisome, and deep inside I knew that the plan was not very scientific. I had already hired Wendy Mader (http://www.t2coaching.com/) to coach me in swimming and she had helped me a great deal in the pool. With two months to go before Canada I hired Wendy to coach me altogether, and that was a big help, even though she only had a short time to work with me. She got me running faster in my training, and eventually I ran faster in competition also. None of that actually helped me in Canada, but more on that later. It was also a relief to have someone else take responsibility for the training schedule. I didn't have to wonder how to peak, how to taper, how far to ride, how fast to run; I only had to do what I was told, and I got used to doing what women tell me to do long ago.
Living in Ft. Collins at the time, I was fortunate to have access to a great trail system. My swim lane partner suggested I run on the mountain bike trails. She said it was like an interval workout, with short bursts of intensity to get over the high points, and some rest on the downhills. I began doing a ten mile loop on the Blue Sky Trail where I usually rode, and I agree that it was a great training run.
The Blue Sky Trail
Bike Training:
I came to triathlon as a cyclist, so I presumed that I could focus on my swim and run training and just catch up on the cycling closer to the event. I was able to do some serious climbing. During my training I ascended Mt. Evans, Estes Park, Left Hand Canyon, and Rist Canyon many times. I did one eight hour ride and many 4-6 hour rides. My focus, though, was not on cycling, and I think that hurt me on race day. I never really felt that I was strong and comfortable on the bike, and my plan was always to do the bike as a type of interlude between the main events. I'm beginning to wonder if a triathlon isn't more of a sandwich, with the meat at least as important as the bread.
Prep ride with my friend Todd. At the top of Mt. Evans on probably the finest day imaginable for an ascent. The top is permanent Arctic Tundra, and there's snow even in July.
Foreshadowing: Four or five weeks before the big day I raced in the Mt. Evans Hill Climb. I have climbed Mt. Evans many times and I love it. The climb begins in Idaho Springs and ends above 14,000 feet. Along the way you pass above the tree line, pass through herds of mountain goats, and enter the permanent arctic tundra at the top of the mountain. It’s steep, tough, and challenging. In the race I hung with the lead pack for twenty minutes, then cracked and fell off the pace. I finished 48th out of 50. That should have been a warning, but I was too obtuse to take heed. Anyway, it was too late to change anything.
Preparatory Races:
I did the Horsetooth Half Marathon, the Loveland Lake-to-Lake Triathlon, the Boulder Peak Triathlon, and the Steelhead 70.3 Triathlon as prep races for Canada. The Horsetooth Half is a hilly penance, and was a great suffering for me, but I did pretty well at the three triathlons, and thought my training and preparations were on target. As it turns out I think I was very well trained for a half-Ironman but under-prepared for the full distance event.
My son Michael and I after finishing America's hilliest half-marathon.
Travel to Penticton:
Travel across national borders and with bicycles, was difficult. Matters were complicated by Hurricane Irene circling offshore and disrupting air traffic patterns. Sean nearly missed every flight connection he had from New York and was only saved by the fact that each of his travel legs were delayed 90 minutes and he was in good enough running shape to do interval sprints between gates. Two airplane doors closed on his backside, which beats having them close in his face. I flew in from Indiana, which went seamlessly, and Cameron flew to Seattle the day before and drove up – probably the best and easiest way to handle the whole affair.
Race day was predicted to be a hot one and it was, with temperatures on the bike peaking at 97 degrees Fahrenheit and staying in the mid-90s throughout the day until the sun went down. Coming in from the airport the cabbie said it was expected to be about “36 degrees for the race”, which meant nothing to me until he explained that was “about body temperature.”
It was always surprising to hear the Canadians using metric and Celsius, and those terms still mean little to me. “Only 500 meters to the top” they would yell encouragingly, and I would spend the next two minutes trying to do mental conversion. The only metric distances I know are 25 meters and 50 meters.
We stayed at the host hotel, which was nice. Some of the more experienced Canadian Ironmen were staying at the beachfront houses along the lakeshore, and those seemed even better. Wherever you went there were wetsuits and bicycle on the balconies, and lean, excited people walking the streets.
Most balconies sport a bike and a wetsuit.
This was my first full-distance Ironman event, and I was very impressed with how well organized it was. Sean explained that was because they gave us no choices: be here at this time, do this between these hours, etc…. He was probably right. I was very confused about the transition processes, but when I went to transition check-in one of the volunteers walked me through the whole process and it became quite clear. Most everyone seemed calm and happy, and the pre-race jitters I had experienced for the half-iron event the year before were absent.
The pre-race pasta dinner was packed. We ate on table outside and watched a video of the speakers on a big screen. That was an error. We missed some of the excitement by not being indoors. Some of the pros spoke, the main announcer, Steve King, was great, and the speakers were funny. We ate, and ate, and ate.
Race Morning:
Race day came at last. I slept pretty well the night before, and had eaten all that I could. No beer for several weeks before the event, and just a little coffee in the morning. We got to the beach a few hours early, but we didn’t want to rush.
The Swim:
I lined up on the left, and in the middle of the pack, but there were 2,880 people there – they called it the biggest mass swim start in history. It did not seem as crowded as I had expected, and I made a game day decision to move closer to the front of the pack. I was feeling cocky. That decision turned out well, and when the cannon sounded I was able to get swimming pretty quickly without too much body contact. I tried to find some fast feet but I couldn’t stick to anyone long and pretty much just tried to stay in open water. If I saw a gap when I was sighting I tried to sprint through it, and if someone tried to swim over me I kicked him off my back. I did hear one guy grunt and I wondered if I had kicked him in the belly, but overall I don’t think I was aggressive and I certainly tried not to swim over anyone myself.
A minute or two after the start.
I got out of the water at 1:11, which exceeded my expectation of 1:20. I think the whole body of swimmers really moved the water along with us and that helped us all. The time passed very quickly.
I would have enjoyed the swim more if I had know it was this beauty tickling my feet the last 1/4 mile.
T1:
This was different than any of the lesser distance triathlons I have done. We made up bags with our bike equipment the night before, and when we got out of the water volunteers stripped our wetsuits off and others gave us our bags. We then ran into unisex tents, where we changed on stools and left everything behind for the volunteers, while we ran to our bikes. It was pretty easy.
Cameron said there would be pretty, young girls applying sunscreen, and sure enough they were there with mammoth vats of the stuff. I got in line to have them slather it all over me, but they didn’t reach under our tops. Once we got into position on our bikes, everyone’s tri-top pulled tight and our shoulders winged out, exposing more skin. The next day the beach was full of people with the odd sunburn you see below. It wasn’t just me.
Not a secret society, just an unfortunate tan line seen everywhere on the beach the day after.
The Bike:
It felt like the race was starting now. I had planned to hold 145 Watts and I did, but I was passed by what seemed like thousands of cyclists. I felt like I should be going faster, but I also felt like I was working hard and not really holding back.
Rumor has it that the native Indian population is unhappy about the race and that they litter the road with tacks the night before. I saw a few dozen people with flats in the first hour or so, but still I was skeptical that malicious tacks were the cause. Then I got a flat and, sure enough, there was a brand-new tack in my rear wheel. It was shiny, clean, sharp, and had certainly not been lying in the road long. Better than Montezuma’s revenge or an arrow through my back. Anyway, I changed the flat quickly and was back on the road.
The initial part of the bike route was pretty, riding south along a string of lakes. Soon we turned west and ascended the Richter, which was also not that bad. By now the pack had settled into a rhythm, and there were fewer carbon wheels whizzing past at high speeds. Still, throughout the bike portion I was occasionally passed by some very fit looking person on a sleek tri-bike just hammering down the road. Where had they been all this time? What had they been doing? Five or six times I passed the same man at the side of the road trying to fix his new-looking $6,000 bike, and five or six times he passed me again when he got it working right. That must have been so frustrating, and I’m sure there is a good bike on e-bay now that I would recognize.
The worst part of the bike was the out-and-back. I think we all agreed on that. It was hilly, hot, windy and exposed, and was keeping us from getting back on the road to the finish line. It was also far longer than I expected, even though we had ridden a part of it the day before. I entered the out-and-back feeling ok, but I left it very ready to get off the bike. From there it was up Yellow Lake, and back into town, but the Yellow Lake climb was way worse than the Richter and took plenty of time.
The out-and-back was pretty -- pretty hot and pretty tedious.
Along the bike route I saw some funny posters. My favorite was Smile if You’re Not Wearing Underwear. I also liked Your Mother is Proud of You, Wherever She Is. Later on during the run I saw the most accurate poster: My Mascara Runs Faster Than You. No offense I’m sure.
T2: I don’t remember much, but I was happy to be off of the bike.
The Run:
Excellent. I headed out through a crowd of cheering spectators, which was invigorating, and out through town. The leaders were just starting to come back, and since it’s an out-and-back run I got to see them cruising in. They were certainly doing something different than I was doing.
I looked down at my Garmin and I was running at an 11 minute pace. I expected 9:30 or 10:00, but 11 felt good and I didn’t think I could do anything faster, anyway. It was really scorching, but I had a drape on the back of my hat and was still covered with sunscreen. The aid stations were packed with water, ice, and sponges, and they kept them very well stocked. I drank plenty, and had followed my nutritional plan on the bike so I didn’t think I was in any danger of bonking.
Hitting the chute out of T2. Some lady told me I was looking good, and I said "I'll see you in a few hours!" I meant that in a few hours I wouldn't look so good, but a little early excitement is not bad.
Run, run, run. The most exciting episode was at the top of a minor hill. There was the most beautiful girl/woman imaginable, in a bikini with a garden hose, offering to wet down the runners. Her muscular thighs, and her confidence and swagger added to the teenage fantasy scene. Where were the movie cameras? Sean told me he accepted the offer, but I had to decline. I was going slowly enough without the added weight of sordid imaginings in my head. Besides, I don’t think I would have felt clean afterwards.
About mile ten: still feeling great, but a close look shows trouble developing. I am nearly at a walk already, my stride is minimal, I'm not getting my knees up. I am smiling, though.
My readings had told me that the ironman begins at the marathon turnaround point. Probably so, because that is where mine ended. The scholars who planned the route put the turn-around at the bottom of a deep pit. I ran until I had to walk, and when I finally ascended I had difficulty getting the run going again. Walking seemed like the best solution, so I started to run-walk. The ratio soon skewed into a walk-run, and I knew that I was going to have trouble making my goal of a 5 hour marathon. As it turns out I did the marathon in about 6:23, which was the close to the best I could do that day.
I knew my friends and family were following me online, and I knew that they would be worried. I had suddenly disappeared off the radar! Was I hurt, had I dropped out, had I drowned after all? No, I was just trudging north, watching the sun go down, and knowing that anyone looking at my results in the eastern time zones would go to bed thinking a computer malfunction was responsible for my apparent absence from the finish line.
I knew that I would finish, but the last four or five miles were miserable even at a walking pace. I was being passed by other walkers, and I had no retort. Finally, when I could hear the commotion of the finish line, Cameron saw me and ran the last ¼ mile in with me. He had not qualified for Kona, but he had run a good race and was still able to do another few hundred meters run with me. If he hadn’t been there I think I might have walked it in.
My coach told me to cross the finish line with my arms raised and a smile on my face, so that's what I did.
The Post-Mortem:
Of course I’m glad I completed it. Just getting to the start line fit and ready to roll was a big accomplishment. I used Training Peaks to log my preparations and over the twelve months before the race I completed the following workouts:
I think I do want to do another, and my goal is still to complete the marathon in under 5 hours. To do that I think I need to improve my cycling. If I were faster on the bike I would get to the run with a stronger cohort, and a more aggressive mental attitude. I plan on taking a few years to let this experience marinate, and to get faster at the shorter distances. Perhaps in three years or so I will be ready to try another, though I don’t know if I’ll have the time available to train like I did for this event.
I would happily do Canada again, though I'm imagining Challenge Roth, Ironman France, or some equally exotic venue for an event of this magnitude. Also, I think I might do better on a course that had cycling and running loops. It felt awfully lonesome out there on the run, miles from the finish line. Perhaps with more people around the energy would be invigorating.
So there it is, my view of the Great White North on wheels. I hope you enjoyed it, and I only wish I had a picture of the girl in the bikini with the garden hose to reward you.
