ST-ers,
I am a long-time reader, first-time poster. I have benefited greatly from spending time on this forum. Now, after I’ve finally achieved what I think is a decent time in Ironman, I feel like I can start to contribute to this community and the unbelievable aggregate knowledge of triathlon that it has. I will start by sharing my race report from my first Ironman, completed in 10hrs 24min 45sec in Penticton, BC last Sunday. I completed this race with an average of 11hrs of training per week over the preceding 34 weeks, max week was 23hrs in week 31. I completed the Boston Marathon in 2hrs 55min 31secs in April as part of my prep.
To those much more experienced than I am, I’m interested in what you think I can achieve in a 2nd & 3rd Ironman? Is it worth it to try to chase Kona with my abilities? Nutrition was obviously my weakest discipline, but can I go faster with a better system of getting calories? I’m open to anyone’s thoughts.
Finally, congratulations to all of the other finishers, to Rappstar, Mary Beth Ellis, and the para-athletes who continue to re-define my imagination of what is possible.
Here is my report:
- PRE-RACE -
When I signed-up for Ironman Canada, I had an overwhelming feeling of buyer’s remorse. My pre-race jitters started as soon as I started typing in my credit card number and didn’t stop until I hit the first buoy of the swim leg. After I signed up, after I finished my training and my prep races, after I heeled from injuries in the left IT-band, the right quad, and the left calf, I was ready. Having the support of my girlfriend, Stephanie, the encouragement of my family and friends, and having friends beside me at the race, I was ready. Knowing that time was going to keep moving forward regardless of how much I didn’t want it to, I had no choice but to be ready.
Of course, the bike accident I had 10 days before the race didn’t help. I was riding my bike down Market Street in San Francisco, and I tried to cross over some train tracks by hopping over them while riding parallel to them, caught my back wheel, and was slammed into the concrete. The dump truck behind me luckily stopped and most of the passerby’s ignored me, except the homeless guy pushing the shopping cart filled with trash bags who called out “Hey, Are you okay?” I walked away with only a few scrapes on my left hip, left butt cheek, left elbow, and big bruises on both my right and left shin. Over the next 4 days I got very aggressive with the Neosporin and ice to get myself back in shape to race.
The night before, we had an amazing meal of spaghetti and salad. I slept maybe 2.5 hours. I got up at 3:45am to eat 1000 calories of oatmeal, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and drink two or three bottles of water. We got in the car at 4:45am, and headed toward the race start line. We parked, we reached the transition area and I started my checklist: place my two fresh bottles on my bike, double check bike brakes and fill tires, make a bathroom stop, put on sunscreen, stretch, put wetsuit on, give high fives and hugs to Pat and Joe, and head to the swim start. The race organizers played the Canada National Anthem, gave words of encouragement and fired a gun. We were off.
- SWIM -
In the first five minutes of the swim, I had my first ever anxiety attack in the water. With 3,000 athletes all kicking and flailing their arms in an attempt to move forward, I felt more than a little overwhelmed. After approximately five minutes in the water, I started to relax. I had a plan for this race, see here, and had trained for this race, see here, and execution started now. The swim to the first buoy was crowded, but it started to thin out as time went on. I was in a rhythm at this point, starting to actually enjoy myself. When I hit the first turn buoy, I got to see the scuba divers who were submerged below the buoys to watch for distressed swimmers. The swim from the first turn to the second turn when very fast, and the swim from the second to the shore felt even quicker. I was in a great rhythm and was pleasantly surprised as I looked at my watch as I exited the water.
Miles covered:** 2.4
Elapsed time: 58min, 27secs
Mind: I’m feeling great. The bike ride should be fine.
Body: **No problems.
**Overall: **** **My mantra at this point was “Long Day, Relax, It’s all about the Calorie & H20 Fight”. I knew what was ahead of me, but I felt prepared, relaxed and very positive.
-
TRANSITION 1 -
The transition went very quickly. They have volunteers help you get your stuff on, take your bag away from you, and make sure you knew where you were headed. My transition was quick, but relaxed. I kept saying to myself that there was no need to rush. -
BIKE -
The bike started off with an amazing surprise. As I headed out of transition, my cheering section was right there shouting my name. I hopped on my bike, gave them a quick glance and finger point and I was off.
The next 40 miles went fast. We were headed south, had a slight tail wind, the road was completely flat, and the other directly riders ahead of me were buzzing, so I followed the speed they set. As we made the turn to the west, it hit me that we were going to have a headwind for the next 72 miles. Another 5 miles later, the sun started to beat down on us, the headwind started to pick up, and we approached the first of our major climbs – Richter pass. With people cheering on the side of the road, and the slope of the road starting to increase, I started to pass people. My weight advantage is always highlighted when we go up a mountain, and that makes me happy.
When we hit the top of Richter pass, my watch beeped and I took a drink. I knew that at this point in the race, nutrition was going to be what will save me or kill me. I was trying to keep to my disciplined nutrition strategy of eating 300 calories in gel form every hour, a 20oz bottle of Powerbar Perform (a Gatorade equivalent), a 24oz bottle of water, and 2 pills of endurolytes (an electrolyte supplement). I had set my watch to beep every 20 minutes to remind me to keep eating and drinking. After 50 miles on the bike, my stomach hurt and that beeping was starting to get annoying. I refused to turn it off, I dipped my head and I pushed forward.
The next 20 miles are called the “seven bitches”. They are seven rolling hills that make your quads scream. I cruised through this, holding back my pace so as to not blow up too early, and kept to my nutrition strategy. I was passing people, getting passed, and trying my best to keep the spirits up. At mile 60, I was forced to stop and get off my bike for a quick bathroom visit. I knew my stomach and digestion would be an X factor, so I was more than happy to do whatever it took to relieve the pain of trying to digest close to 4000 calories of almost pure glycogen.
From mile 60 to the bottom of the second major climb, called Yellow Lake, I kept the pace up. I had the unfortunate circumstance that at two times during this section I hit a bump in the road and a total of three of my gel packets popped out of my bento box, a little bag that is tied to my bike tube. Luckily, they have a “special needs” bag waiting for me at mile 80. I had put two gel packets in my special needs bag the morning before, so I quickly grabbed them, ignored the PB&J bagel I had packed as well (stomach couldn’t handle it) and continued on my merry way.
Hitting the bottom of Yellow lake was like riding at the front of the titanic with your arms spread out wide at the moment it hits an ice berg. I felt so good and then so bad. They had spectators lining the road, cheering for us for about 100 yards, and when the spectators stopped the climb increased in slope and the sun started to beat down on you. They took a recording at the top of the climb of 105F that day, and it didn’t surprise me at all. When I eventually reached the top of the climb, I was so satisfied to be done. I knew that all I had left was ~20 miles, which are mostly downhill. Even though I saw a sign that said we had 45 (thinking miles) to go and was convinced they had it wrong (remembering later about that whole metric system they have in Canada and everywhere else). I was feeling good until I started to feel the incredible head wind, in the 20 – 30mph range. Cycling downhill with a headwind is the WORST feeling in the world, especially when you are not expecting it to be there. I use words like “Grind” and “Slog” to describe it, but any cyclist who has spent time in the mountains knows the feeling. Again, I was feeling so good until I was feeling so bad. That last 15 miles, I tried my best to relax, spin the legs and get ready for the run. With a mile till the transition area, I was surprised again to see all of my friends on the side of the road. All I could do was shake my head at how tired I was and how hard the last 15 miles of the bike were. With them in sight though, my spirits picked back up. I was excited to head out on the run. I was thinking “Only one more thing to do today. I might actually do this Ironman thing.”
Miles covered:** 114.4
Elapsed time: 6hrs, 33min, 49secs
Mind: I am tired, but I actually feel okay. I had a great bike.
Body: **My hip flexors are on fire, my back is sore, I have a twinge in my left knee and my stomach feels AWFUL.
**Overall: **** **I felt okay, considering the conditions. My mantra at this point was “Just one more thing”. I was in a positive mood.
-
TRANSITION 2 -
My second transition was quick, just like the first one. I ran in, grabbed my bag, headed toward the change tent, put on new socks, my shoes, visor, grabbed my run nutrition and emptied my pockets. I was in a hurry, because I had to go to the bathroom really bad. My quickest pace on the run was probably between the seat I used to put my shoes on and the seat of the port-a-potty. This was my second bathroom stop of the day. Then I ran to the volunteers with massive gloves and scoops of sunscreen who wiped down my arms and legs, and I headed out. -
RUN -
I looked at my watch after the first mile and saw a split of 6min 55secs. I was thinking to myself “What the hell are you doing?”. I was feeling good, but I knew better and started to slow. My splits drop to 7:15 for the 2nd mile and 7:30 for the 3rd mile, eventually getting into a rhythm. At about mile 1.5, I saw my cheering section again. I pointed again, shook my head, smiled and continued onward with a new found spring in my step.
I had broken up the run into four sections of six miles, with a fifth section of 2.2 miles that I would be able to push through out of a sheer feeling of gravity toward the finish line, or so I thought. In each section, I committed myself mentally to only thinking about the current section until it was finished. Mile 1 – 6 went well, I had established a consistent pace, I was eating and drinking water according to my plan of 200 calories of gel and 100 calories of Powerbar Perform per hour, broken up into 15 minute segments along with 2 endurolyte pills. Only problem was that my stomach felt terrible. By the time I got to mile 6, I said screw the nutrition plan and I would just try to eat as much as I could. It was so hot, about 96F, and the entire run course was without shade. I felt at mile 6 the same way I usually feel at mile 20 of a normal marathon. Today was such a long day.
The spectators were getting pretty sparse, and there were not very many racers around me. I even ran past one guy who asked me jokingly if I was doing a relay. Being tired, his sarcasm was totally lost on me and I retorted “No, I’m doing this whole damn thing”. His immediate reply was “I know, I was joking.” I think I replied with a “Sorry”, but I’m not sure. All humor was lost on me at this point. I moved past him in a tired state, but with a consistent pace. When I reached mile 10, the bathroom was calling my name. I estimated that my first two bathrooms tops were about 3 minutes each, this one took closer to six minutes. Enough said.
After the bathroom stop, I was right back into my pace. I hit the turnaround at the half-marathon mark and still felt good. The countdown in both the first and second 6-mile sections went well, but as I began that third section I knew I was headed for trouble. I still felt fine, but I could feel my body begin to slow. As I hit mile 14, I felt the urge to walk. When I hit the water stop, I started to walk, I grabbed water, drank a little, poured the rest on my body, put sponges inside my shirt, grabbed ice to hold in my palm, grabbed another cup of water, drank a little, poured the rest on my body, grabbed some Gatorade, drank a little, tossed it, and grabbed one more cup of water, drank a little and doused myself. I ran about three quarters to the next mile, took out the sponges, doused my head and threw them to the side. This series of actions was what I had been doing while running the last 14 miles, and will be what I do for the next 12.2 miles while walking. It was the only way I could fight the heat.
When I reached the end of the water stop, I clapped my hands a little, started saying out loud, “you can do this, mile three of six” and I started my run again. I continued to count up to mile 18, and then it hit me that there was no way I could think about six miles. I would now only focus on the next two miles, I would walk every water stop, but will always keep moving forward. My mantra became “keep moving forward”, and I thought of Tuck Tri team members, like Edgar and Langston who pushed through in the NJ Devilman in their first Triathlon this past spring. I thought about all of the people who were supporting me back at the finish line. I had to keep going.
I made it to mile 20, barely. Every step was becoming a struggle. I realized that even two miles was too much to think about. I was down to only thinking about one mile at a time. At this point I was even worried if I was going to be able to finish. The idea that I would have to walk six miles if I stopped running at this point was overwhelming. I clapped my hands again as I reached the end of the water stop and continued running. I hit mile 21, mile 22, and approached mile 23. I’m still walking every water stop, dumping 3-4 cups of water on my head, and then start running to the next mile marker. When I was about 50 yards away from the mile 23 marker, I started to shout in my head “alright, mile 24.” Then I caught myself, “Wait, you are not to mile 23 yet. Keep focused.” And then continued saying in my head “mile 23, mile 23, mile 23.” When I eventually hit the mile 23 marker, I smirked a little and said to myself “mile 24.” I kept this attitude all the way till 1.5 miles to go, when I saw my cheering section. Erik and Steve hopped out of the crowd and started to run beside me. They asked “How do you feel?” and I almost broke down right there. I couldn’t say a word. I was completely speechless out of pain. I tried to utter a word and couldn’t. My cheeks tightened, my eyes bulged and I almost gave up right there. I was completely exhausted in a way that I have never experienced before. The sight of friends gave me just enough of a boost of energy to realize how awful I felt. It was a moment that I will remember forever, I was completely spent and I still had 1.5 miles to go.
To be honest, I don’t know how I made it from there to the finish line. I know my head was bowed and I kept moving forward. You can see it in the picture here:
It wasn’t probably until the last 800 yards that I actually felt the gravitational pull of the finish line. I felt like I was moving so slow at this point that it was going to take forever. I even stopped and walked the last water stop that was 500 yards from the finish line. As I entered the finish chute, my energy level picked up. I raised my hand, looked around at the crowd, and crossed the finish line with my head up. It was an amazing feeling, only dampened by the fact that I had absolutely no energy left to be able to think about it.
Two volunteers came to my side, helped me get some water, a little food, and took me to the medical tent to get some ice for my knees (my normal post-race task). As I sat in the chair in the medical tent, sipping water, it finally hit me that I accomplished my goal and I have no idea what’s next.** **
**Miles covered: **140.6
**Elapsed time: 10hrs, **24min, 45secs, 117th overall, 9th in the 25 - 29 age group.
**Mind: **Dead
**Body: **Tired
**Overall: **I finished, that is all that matters.
Thanks for reading.
