everyday ironman

Saturday, September 25, 2010 – Black Diamond WA

With the exception of its tiny parking lot, Nolte State Park, located 5 miles north of Enumclaw, appears to have been planned with triathlon in mind.  Race headquarters is situated in a central open space surrounded by tall trees and flanked on one side by a large children’s playfield (serving as the race transition area) and the steep shores of Deep Lake (the event’s swim venue) on the other.  With the sun rising through the trees on race day, Nolte State Park provides an ideal backdrop to what would be, for many, an unprecedented physical challenge.

Parking is extremely limited onsite, so an early start to the day is recommended.  Early birds will be rewarded with one of the coveted parking spaces in the park’s lot.  After that, competitors will have to unload their bikes and gear at the curb, then drive 1.5 miles north to Cumberland, where a large parking area and shuttle bus are provided.

Black Diamond Race Weekend, directed by AA Sports, spans two days and is composed of triathlon and duathlon events ranging from ‘sprint’ to ‘long course (half-iron)’ distances.  A large event of this complexity could only be held successfully by the most competent of race directors.  AA Sports falls into this category.  From online registration (the fee for the long course tri was a reasonable $115) to the finish line, this event is well staffed by cheerful, supportive and informative volunteers.  The course is well marked and supervised throughout.  The transition area is spacious and laid out in a manner that assures that no competitor has an advantage over any other.  The long sleeve cotton T-shirts and finisher’s medal are well designed and of good quality.

The Black Diamond swim course consists of two laps (each 0.6 miles) around a course marked by large bouys floating on Deep Lake.  Due to the large turnout this year, race organizers announce that the mens division would be divided (by age) into two starting waves.  As a strong swimmer, my original strategy had been to get out in front of the mass start within the first 100 yards.  At this announcement though, I was forced to reevaluate, with the knowledge that half of the mens field would now be swimming a mere 5 minutes ahead of our wave.

Because of the wide beach start and the way that the course narrows as outbound swimmers site their way past a small peninsula opposite the bouy line, this course is among the most ‘physical’ I have encountered, with plenty of collisions and contact between swimmers, especially at the front of the wave.  Two laps of a small, triangular course assure lots of turns and make efficient bouy siting critical to staying on track.  With so many swimmers and kayaks churning on such a small body of water, the lake’s surface grows rough by the time you round the corner  for your second lap and is ‘rolling’ by the time swimmers exit the water.  I was challenged today, but swam hard, crossed the timing mat in roughly 30 minutes and made my way up the steep shore to the transition area.

The rough water of Deep Lake left me a little dizzy entering transition one.  I struggled some removing my wetsuit and then again slipping my cycling jersey over my wet shoulders and torso.  I prefer the style, feel and function that a cycling jersey provides on the bike but regularly wonder whether the luxury is worth the time and frustration a clothes change costs in transition.  At any rate, I made my way to the bike mount line where, head still spinning from the rough swim, I attempted to launch ‘cyclocross style,’ throwing my right leg over the seat while leaping with my left.  This was poor judgement on my part.  My uncentered weight on the handlebars caused the bike’s front wheel to careen out from under me.  As my left knee met the asphalt, I recalled laughing earlier with a friend about how funny this part of the race was to watch, with all the wet, dizzy, out-of-breath triathletes awkwardly mounting their bikes.  As my right jaw met my handlebars I recalled giggling about how the bike-mount area is always scattered with stray water bottles, power bars and gu-packs.  Then, lying on my back, looking up into the tree canopy, I felt relief that the thick warm liquid now covering the side of my head was just Perpetuem, my carb-drink, which was now spraying from my aero-bottle, through the vents in my helmet and into my hair.  As the crowd of volunteers and spectators, who’d originally gathered here to watch the spectacle (that I’d now become a key part of) closed in to assist, I popped up, gathered my things, reattached my cleats to their respective pedals and raced onto the waiting bike course.

The driveway leaving Nolte State Park is narrow, with a thin layer of moss at the shoulders.  This early in the day, the road surface remains damp, making for potentially slick conditions.  Still a little dizzy, my attempt to remove one of my gloves from my handlebars, where I’d attached them both earlier, was nearly met with another unplanned dismount.  Amped with adrenaline, I resolved to delay all further gear adjustments until I was on the road and settled completely into the bike leg of the ride.

The Black Diamond bike course consists of two loops on back roads between Enumclaw and Ravensdale, Washington.  Though the roads are open to traffic during the event, the venue’s remote location, teamed with police and volunteer supervision at all major intersections, result in an enjoyable and safe race.

Leaving Nolte State Park and heading north, I climbed gradually on Veazie-Cumberland Road for about 5 miles to the “T” at Retreat-Kanasket.  At this point, after about 15 minutes of riding, I had my equilibrium back and had managed to get my gloves on without further incident.  I veared right at Retreat-Kanasket, encountering the long series of rolling hills that would climb until mile 8.6.  Recalling my race strategy, which was simply to ‘save energy for the run,’ I fought on the hills to keep my heart rate low.  Gauging from my memories of the Lake Stevens Half Ironman earlier this year, I teetered between my desire to beat the clock and my knowledge that spending too much energy on the bike would force me to walk during the run.  Fortunately, for the next 6 miles, the highway fell away gradually, allowing rest, reduced HR and top speeds approaching 35 miles per hour!  Following an out-and-back turnaround at 292nd Ave SE, competitors began the return trip, climbing very gradually to the “T” at Veazie Cumberland and then sailing the 5 miles to (and past) the park entrance at mile 24.7.  I had drained what was left in my first water bottle (after my crash at T1) and was now well into the second, feeling energized and still looking forward to the run.

Cyclists continued south toward Enumclaw, threading their way through the scenic countryside, adding  6.5 miles of mildly undulating terrain to the ride before returning to (and once again passing) the park entrance to begin lap 2. Even though my legs were beginning to fatigue, I found pacing to be a LOT easier during the second lap due to familiarity with the roads, the steepness of upcoming hills and the distance between corners.  During the final 5 miles into T2 I focused on keeping my HR down and my cadence up, committed to hitting the run on the freshest legs possible.

As I rode into the park, dismounted my bike and ran toward the transition area, I felt a tight, painful sensation in my lower abs, reminiscent of an abdominal strain I had experienced earlier this season.  I straightened up, attempting to stretch my ab muscles as I ran.  By the time I’d racked my bike and changed my shoes I was feeling much better (and WAY better than I had at Lake Stevens just a few weeks prior.)

Transitioning from the bike to the run, at any distance, is always a challenge,  At a level of fatigue uncommon during training and at a running pace of less than a third of the competitive speed on the bike, each racer tries to gauge the amount of total energy stored in their legs and to meter their output, releasing just enough over the course of the run to assure the proper balance between speed and endurance.  My primary goal today was to finish the run without walking, assuring my fastest possible finish time without running out of gas.  The cost of failure would be a long, painful, demoralizing walk to the finish.

This year’s run course had been revised by the race organizers at the last minute and didn’t match the map which had appeared on the race website prior to the event.  I was unnerved at first, as I left the transition area and was directed southward along the highway.  I adapted though, reminding myself that I had come here prepared to run 13.1 miles, regardless of route or terrain.  I would depend on the mile markers to pace myself and vary my stride and cadence as necessary to manage any unexpected hills.  The run course followed the highway toward Enumclaw, with several out-and-back stretches down scenic, residential side roads along the way.  Runners are rewarded with views of Mount Rainier (that they had probably missed while speeding through this area hours earlier during the bike leg.)

I was excited to be feeling good at this stage of the race and thrilled by the realization that I’d managed a higher speed and significantly lower heart rate through the entire bike leg than I had in Lake Stevens.  Through the first and second miles, I struggled to reduce my speed as I was running sub 9-minute miles, a pace that I would not be able to sustain for the entire distance.  I was on track for a huge personal record if I played my cards right.  But slowing my pace would mean allowing other runners to pass, requiring the type of discipline I had struggled with in the past.  To resolve this inner struggle, I broke the run (mentally) into two halves, running the first at a manageable pace which would assure sufficient fuel stores to complete the event without walking.  If I still had gas in my tank after that, I would release the balance during the second half, where I knew that I would have the conviction, knowing that each step drew me physically closer to the finish line.

By mile 6 my confidence was growing.  Though my heart rate was climbing into the 150′s on the uphill segments, it was dropping quickly back into the 130′s on the downhills.  Approaching the halfway point, I now knew the I would finish the run without walking, though my brain, foggy with fatigue, was challenged calculating what this would mean with regard to my finishing time.

I was growing tired.  Really tired.  And though I was moving forward at a brisk pace, my body was suffering and it was getting harder to focus on proper form and relaxed breathing.  It occurred to me around mile 8 that I would have to endure prolonged fatigue and extreme discomfort if I was going to achieve my goals.

I had fueled and hydrated properly though.  I knew this because my heart rate was climbing into the 160′s now on the uphills and I was dripping sweat.  My strategy for food and hydration today, highly concentrated Perpetuem onboard and water from the stations along the course,was a departure from Lake Stevens and was working perfectly.  This was going to hurt, but partly because I still had the strength and endurance to MAKE it hurt.  I began taking comfort in each painful step.

At mile 9 I realized that I was within shooting distance of a 05:30:00 finish.  But this achievement would require sub 10-minute miles for the remaining 4.1, a distance, at this point, that seemed like an eternity.  The risk of running at that pace would be too great.  I remained cautious, preserving what I was confident would be a finishing time below 05:45:00, a personal record and a huge improvement over my Lake Stevens finishing time.

In hindsight, I am amazed by my sensibility at that moment.  Within the next mile, what had been a heroic but manageable level of fatigue had transformed into a depth of exhaustion that I had never felt before.  At Lake Stevens, the 90 plus degree heat, conspiring with my inability to consume food, left me without adequate fuel to perform anything more than a slow walk for the final 6 miles of the run.  Today I had the fuel and water I needed but my leg muscles had been worked to the core and were screaming for me to quit.

Up to this point, I had successfully focused on good running form and smooth, relaxed breathing.  By the 11th mile though I had dropped into survival mode, refusing to walk and reminding myself that if I did… at all… that I would be disappointed, finishing today’s race feeling like I could have done better.   The voices arguing in my head repeated that I had run this race much more intelligently than the last.  I was right at the edge of my potential… exactly where I needed to be.  In spite of excruciating pain and debilitating exhaustion, walking was simply not on the table for negotiation.

At mile 12, the course left the highway, reentering the park for a short off-road lap around Deep Lake before returning to race headquarters and the cheering crowd waiting along the finish chute located there.  The roots, rocks and unstable surface of the running trail, twisting and turning through the forest at the lake’s shore, wreaked havoc on my hot and tired feet.  But as I rounded the far end of the lake and began my return trip, I was drawn to the announcer’s voice, growing louder through the trees with each step.  I glanced down at my watched and suddenly realized that, if I could pick up my pace just a little bit, I would break the 05:40:00 barrier.  Fueled by the sound of another runner gaining on the trail behind me, I accelerated during the last quarter mile, sprinting from the forest and crossing the finish line in 5 hours, 38 minutes and 43 seconds!

Today’s race, aside from my altercation with the asphalt during T1, was a resounding success and a perfect way to end the 2010 triathlon season.  I am proud of and satisfied by my results, and thrilled by how much I’ve learned about the sport (and about myself.)  This event, combined with my experience racing the Lake Stevens Half Ironman this year, is already providing greater focus as I begin preparation for the CouerDAlene Ironman in June 2011.