everyday ironman

I registered for this event last year (2009) with only 3 months of training following a 3 year absence from the sport.  I was unprepared for the challenge, the equivalent of an olympic distance triathlon, which would tax my strength and endurance while pushing my off-road skills to their technical limit.  I finished the event, dehydrated (temperatures approached 100 degrees that day at the finish line) and completely exhausted,  in 3 hours, 43 minutes and 25 seconds.  I had risen to a challenge that should have been beyond my reach and left that day inspired and committed to return in 2010, with a year’s worth of consistent training, better prepared for the challenge.

My gameplan had changed some, though, over the course of the year.  I had registered for the 2010 Lake Stevens Half Ironman, which would follow this event by a mere two weeks.  Though my goal for improving on last year’s time was still intact, my plan for this event was to treat it like a hard training session, pushing myself in all three disciplines, just not to the breaking point.  Two weeks is not a lot of recovery time, especially for my first ever half ironman.  If I wanted to perform at my peak, I would need to leave a little gas in the tank at the XTerra.

Conditions on race day were perfect.  Cool and overcast at the swim start, with the water in the low 70′s.  The atmosphere in and around the transition area was relaxed as competitors staged their gear and made their way to the pre-race meeting.  147 athletes had turned out for the event this year, a marked improvement over last year’s attendance, though there were still a bunch of familiar names and faces in the crowd.

I felt prepared, after 12 months of consistent training, through the dark, cold months of winter.  June and July had been unusually wet and cool, leaving a shorter than normal racing season in the northwest.  But I was fit, more so than in years past, and excited to put my heart, lungs and muscles to the test.

Time always drags a little between packet pick-up and transition staging but accelerates between the call to the racers meeting and the swim start.  Within moments, 147 wetsuit clad swimmers were making their way to the lake, entering the water and nervously preparing to start the race.  With the sound of the horn, we were off.

I had positioned myself wide, to the left side of the group, in order to avoid the crowd of swimmers competing for the lead.  I had practiced swimming through the lilly pads and found that, as long as I kept up my momentum, I could avoid getting tangled and still keep up with the pack.  I swam out moderately, with my gameplan intact (to save gas for Lake Stevens) falling in behind a small, strong group of swimmers.  At the halfway point, competitors reach and run across a small island in the middle of the lake, allowing them to catch their breath and get purchase on their position within the field.  I could see that I was among the leaders, but that the most elite swimmers were quite a ways ahead.  With a surge of adrenaline, I picked up my pace a little on the return leg.

My original gameplan faded as endorphines flowed into my bloodstream and I quickly became entangled in the spirit of competition.   It was as I hit the beach though, at the cheers of my wife and two teenage sons, that my race plan evaporated completely.   As my foot touched dry land, it was ‘game on’ for the rest of the day.  I left the water 1st in my age group by 2 minutes, 40 seconds and in 11th place overall.

Transition 1 was a challenge.  With my family engaging me from just outside the transition area, I struggled to get my jersey on.  Wet skin, shaky, fatigued arms and a form-fitting polyester cycling jersey don’t play well together.  It took what seemed like forever to get my jersey on, to stuff my pockets and to launch my bike onto the course for the next leg.

The layout of the bike course had changed significantly since last year, and began with a long, gradual, double track ascent that left me winded.  As is the plight of the strong swimmer in any triathlon, I played tug-of-war with my fitness level, my ego, my lack of discipline when it comes to moderate pacing, and the trickle of younger or stronger (or both) cyclists now zipping past me as we started into the climb.

At the top of the hill, as I dove into the first section of tight, twisty single track, I was able to relax a little, knowing that I was no longer an easy target for approaching cyclists.  I quickly settled into a more comfortable pace, disappearing into the trees and varied terrain of the forest.

The bike leg was not without it’s challenges.  At mile 4, sailing through a smooth but narrow and winding portion of single track, I mis-shot a corner and caught a tree trunk HARD  to my right hip.  I am certain that the rider approaching from behind could hear my howl!  Though I remained upright, there was a moment where I thought my race had ended.  I sprayed the forest with obsenities, tightened my grip on my handlebars and forced my rage into my legs, rather than wasting more energy on the dull throbbing I was feeling down my entire right side.  I gunned it and left my would-be pursuer behind.

I was riding with my tires at about 50 psi and quickly found this to be too much pressure.  I was losing traction in the back on the steep climbs, unable to get purchase on roots and rocks with so little ground contact.  On the sharp, fast switchbacks my front wheel was washing out, leaving me on one knee in the soft dirt.  I made a mental note for next year (45 psi front and back) rather than attempting field adjustments, and pressed on.

The single water stop at lap 2 snuck up on me again this year.  It was situated right after the ‘toe touch’ where your number plate is marked by the race official, signifying that you have completed your first lap, and I flew by it, just as I had last year.  Intent on NOT missing the hand-off altogether (as I had last year, resulting in mass dehydration and a very weak finish) I slammed my brakes hard, lost traction with both wheels and piled into the ground head first, right foot still attached to my bike.  An apologetic volunteer hurried over as I righted myself and handed me a cold bottle of water, which I thanked her for and deposited in my jersey pocket.  It stayed there for the next mile or so before falling out on the trail.  Fortunately, with temperatures in the low to mid 80′s rather than last year’s mid to high 90′s. I was able to survive without it.

I felt strong for the balance of the ride.  My legs, heart and lungs were recovering quickly between surges.  At the 10 mile mark I was surprised by how infrequently I was being passed and by how athletic my immediate competition still appeared.  It occured to me that I might still be among the leaders in my age group and that I still had the energy to finish the event with a strong run!  In hindsight, I was correct on both counts!  At this point in the race I was in first place (for my age group.)  I would carry my lead all the way through the bike leg, but would be overcome by our group’s eventual winner, Jeff Barlow, during the transition between the bike and the run.

Race organizers set up a speed detector at the final straightaway of the bike leg and were awarding a prize for the fastest male and female riders.  I knew I was not in contention for the prize but the large crowd of spectators that had formed there and knowledge that my family would be among them fueled me to ride as fast as possible through the last section of the ride.

Transition 2 went very smoothly.  I have learned over the course of this season that ‘less is more’ with regard to triathlon gear.  I quickly racked my bike, popped off my helmet, changed my shoes and was off on surprisingly resilient legs.  I was cautious at first, taking short, quick steps until I felt like I had my legs back and could relax into my normal running gait.   My nutrition plan for the day, which had included primarily Perpetuem mixed into the water on my bike as well as on my fuel belt for the run, combined with the water and Gu packs available at each water stop, was working wonders.  I wasn’t feeling any faster than normal but my legs felt full and able to carry the 6.2 mile trail run without significant trouble.

At mile 3 of the run, I had one moment of despair, where I’d pushed too hard for a little too long and was beginning to feel deflated.  Experience told me that this would pass and, after slowing my pace some and focusing on relaxation (and breathing,) it finally did.

My second lesson for the season was about to occur in a BIG way during this race.   In a way, I would consider it an ‘addendum’ to the my earlier lesson during transition.  It is, simply, that the words ‘less is more’ should always include a dry pair of socks during the run!  In my effort to save time during transition two I had decided to run without socks.  This was a HUGE mistake, as I found out ,beginning around mile 4.  Several sections of the trail included deep, unavoidable mud puddles.  Wet, silty sand had filled both of my running shoes, and was now grinding away mercilessly at the tender skin of my insteps, causing deep, 2-inch long blisters to form on both of my feet.

The pain I endured during the last two miles of the race was nothing short of excruciating!  But the pull of my family waiting at the finish line, teamed with the realization (around mile 1 of the run) that I could break 3 hours for the event and shatter my finish time from last year, fueled me forward.  I pressed on, even through mile 5, where the usual dirt single track road had been freshly covered with several inches of loosely packed gravel.  A controlled, solid footing was virtually impossible here, assuring the maximum possible amount of side to side abrasion on what was now left of the underside of my feet.

Finally, for the last mile, I hit solid asphalt, gritted my teeth, and toughed out the balance of the race, rounding the corner to the finish line and sprinting through the screaming crowd of spectators toward my wife and sons.   I had finished in 2nd place out of the 11 competitors in my age group and in 34th place overall with a time of 2:53:26, beating last year’s time by 50 minutes and 1 second! 

Medics at the finish line tended to my damaged feet, which would heal in plenty of time to reach the starting line in Lake Stevens two weeks later.  In spite of (or dare I say ‘because’ of) the pain and suffering, it had been an excellent day and an outstanding race!  I am already looking forward to 2011!