Prelude to the big Day:
Last November, I was on the high that follows you when you qualify for and finish the Ironman World Championship in Kona. So the natural thing to do was sign up for another Ironman, which of course, must be done a year in advance. Warren and I chose Ironman Arizona. I raced there in April of 2007 and knew it to be a relatively flat bike and run course, but also knew that the weather and water temperature were highly variable.
This racing season has been a mixed bag of injury management, swim frustration, disaster races and PR races. George and Jane Esahak-Gage provided me with excellent coaching guidance the first half of the year, and Tim Reed has been my triathlon coach since July. Tim is a professional triathlete from Australia, and has done a homestay with us the past two summers. Because I was looking to bring my performance to a bit higher level and to address some weaknesses, I told Tim I was willing to do the work he thought would be necessary to achieve that. The work he prescribed was different indeed, and it was challenging. He made me go to Masters Swim workouts that I did not want to go to. I often had 3 workouts a day, and I was scrambling at times but figured out a way to get all the work done with rare exceptions. I developed a lingering fatigue but seemed to find new energy in my last taper week.
Tim had started following the Paleo diet which seemed to be working for him, so I did too. I was Nazi-diligent about eating well. I started eating a lot more protein including red meat, in an attempt to get leaner and more muscular. I said “no” to wine and other alcohol and sweets and junk food. Warren demonstrated the inequity of the genders as he was still eating ice cream many nights and polishing off a bottle of wine - and getting more fit and lean all the way. His body is always ready to forgive his transgressions but mine has never shown me the same margin for error. So not fair...but I digress.
In the weeks before the race, we checked the weather in Tempe and the water temperature in Tempe Town Lake where we would swim. The water was around 60 degrees and a week before the race, the 10-day forecast predicted a chilly rainy raceday. I spent too much energy stressing over this before finally just mentally letting it go a few days before the race.
My goals for the race were:
1 - Finish time under 13 hours
2 - Swim time 1 hour 30 mins
3 - Bike time 6 hours
4 - Run time 4 hours 30 mins
Notice I didn’t add “enjoy the day” to the goal list this time. In the past I have enjoyed my Ironman races - and I haven’t suffered through any of them too badly. My effort in some races might be characterized as doing a kind of “lah-de-dah” along and “have fun.” But this time I planned to maintain a lot more focus on keeping my best effort alive all day.
We left Boulder on Wednesday, splitting the drive to Tempe into two days. We spent Thursday night with Jane and George, and on Friday I took the bike out to ride with them and Warren, to check everything out, including my rented race wheels. The forecast for Sunday was a high of 72, low of 50, with no rain and a little wind. Things were looking up! However, the water temperature was still cold at 61, so we skipped the practice swim on Saturday. We were preparing to drop off our bikes on Saturday when I realized I had a flat on my rear tire. My ever-patient sherpa & bike support guy (Warren) changed it for me and it put a little doubt in my mind about getting a flat. After dropping off the bikes, we headed back to the hotel and stayed off our legs the rest of the day. Bedtime was 8:30, and I slept better than I ever had the night before an Ironman race. The alarm went off at 3:30am and soon we were on our way to the race site around 5am.
Race Day
Swim:
The lake water was still 61 degrees. That’s not so bad in a short race but swimming 2.4 miles in cold water is a different story. I’m often cold when other people aren’t, so this was a a huge cause for concern for me. I had swum Alcatraz this year and last, which was about that same water temperature, but that was only 1.25 miles. At Ironman Arizona, it’s a deep water start, so you have to be in the water 5-10 minutes before the gun goes off, which is miserable. I wore a long-sleeve wetsuit with a swimsuit underneath, neoprene cap and neoprene booties.
2,654 athletes started this race. That’s a lot of people in a narrow canal of a lake. I made the mistake of lining up way to the right by the shore, because this is where I always started when I was a fearful swimmer, taking confidence and comfort in having the water’s edge nearby. So even though I’m past my swim panic attack phase, I foolishly lined up there. When the gun went off, I was stuck swimming with all the people who are panicking, stopping, breaststroking, backstroking, and swimming all over the place instead of toward the first buoy. I couldn’t get through the gridlock of people to manage a decent swim stroke for a good 15 minutes or more. Once I finally found some water to really swim, I used Tim’s advice for swimming in a wetsuit: focus on reaching deeper and rotating more. So far, I was chilly but things were all good.
The IM AZ swim is a long rectangle. When I was about halfway through it, I looked at my watch and was at 40 minutes, which isn’t fast, but is exceptionally good for me - as my fastest IM swim time was a weak 1:42. I kept swimming and looked for drafting opportunities instead of avoiding people as I usually do. Once I got hit pretty hard in the head which stunned me momentarily, and then my legs started to cramp up big time. I recovered as best I could and focused on continuing to make forward progress. I tried to kick more than usual, in hopes of staying warmer with the extra movement.
At about the one hour mark, I started to get a much colder. Water was getting into my wetsuit, which sometimes feels refreshing - but not today. My hands and face were already numb, then my arms started to feel numb. I started to feel like I was swinging stumps that used to be my arms, and not really feeling like I was able to grab any water. Nothing to do but keep going and stay out of my head to keep the negative thoughts away. I counted strokes, tried to keep what Tim calls a “neutral mind” and I focused on getting through it.
I had made the decision to completely change into dry clothes in T1, and it was totally the right decision. However, most of the women who came out of the water near me had made the same decision and it was more crowded than usual in the change tent. The heat in the tent made you want to sit down and stay awhile. All the volunteers in the change tent were busy with other athletes so there was no one to help me dress. My hands were numb and completely useless. I stripped off my cold, wet swimsuit and was standing there, teeth chattering, completely naked trying to untie the string in my T1 bag and on the verge of tears from cold and frustration. Then an angel-of-mercy(volunteer) came to my rescue at last and helped me get into my clothes. After a ridiculous 12:30 in T1, I finally started my bike ride. Changing clothes took a ton of time but riding cold AND wet would have certainly been counterproductive and miserable. I started the bike ride wearing arm warmers and gloves, as well as a wind vest over my Baker's Team race kit.
Bike:
Pushing harder on the bike had worked well for me earlier this year racing at the Olympic and 70.3 distances - I was able to ride faster and still run well, so my plan was to do the same at IM distance. This was faster than I’d ever pushed for this distance, but so far, I felt good and my final average was 17.7. This may not seem fast, but a decent job of staying steady.
Run:
I dashed into T2 ready to run; in & out in 4:22. The run course was also a 3-loop course. The first few miles felt not too bad, the usual Ironman post-bike stiffness but legs started to loosen up and I was still feeling positive. First 5 miles done and I was thinking that a 4:15 marathon was quite do-able - which would give me around a 12:30 finish. Then the wheels started to come off. I ran past Jane and George just after I finished the first loop, going into the second, and Jane yelled at me that I had come off the bike in 5th place in my AG, and was now in 4th place. I was encouraged but now worried because I had slowed way down and getting slower all the time.
I’ve experienced bad things running in races before, like cramps, or fatigue, or poor pacing. Yet what I started to experience about mile 5 this day was completely new to me. My legs started to hurt in a way that I’ve never experienced in a race or training. It was primarily my quads and hamstrings but later my calves too - it was a stabbing kind of pain and stretching every mile or so did nothing to alleviate it. The good news was that my recurring glute pain that had plagued me the past couple of years, wasn't there. Hmmm. I took in some salt tabs, took in some electrolyte drink, coke....nothing helped. I needed pharmaceuticals.
I started to ask for medical at every aid station to see if I could score some ibuprophen - none to be had. I asked the EMT’s I passed at the ambulance and they offered me aspirin which I didn’t think would help so I declined. I had some ibuprophen in my run special needs bag but unbelievably I was so out of it, I missed picking it up in the 2nd loop so had to wait til I passed it again on the 3rd loop. At that point I was at about mile 21 after hobbling through 15 miles of the worst suffering I’ve ever had in a race. I was running but so slowly it was not much faster than a walk. I felt angry and frustrated and on the verge of tears many times. Any hope of reaching my goals were surely gone now. I’m sure I looked like the poor crippled people you see on the Hawaii Ironman NBC coverage every year.
When I finally got to my special needs bag, I took ALL my ibuprophen that was in my bag (a megadose of 1000 mg ) and within 10 minutes it was a miracle - I had my legs back. By this time I knew I’d probably dropped way down in my age group - it’s hard to tell ages because so many people wear compression sleeves or socks that cover up the age marked on the back of their leg. Plus I had stopped to pee twice and you never know who sneaks past when you aren’t looking. Yet, in my last four miles I was able to gradually increase my run speed, to the point that my last mile was probably my fastest of the day. I crossed the finish line in 13:21:04, short of my goal but a 35-minute Ironman PR for me.
Post Race Reflection:
During the race, I’m afraid was quite the bitch. Instead of happily enjoying the day as I usually do, I took a different mindset. I put my head down and did not speak to any of my fellow athletes, barely acknowledged the good people spectating who yelled encouragement to me, and made a real effort to keep sharp focus and not give away an ounce of energy. After the race I apologized to the people I knew who yelled happy thoughts to me, or tried to engage me in conversation during the race, cuz I was far from cordial during the race. During that train wreck of a run - the middle part when my legs were screaming at me and I had to keep willing myself to run not walk - it was all I could do to focus on the task and block everything out. People tell me they were calling out to me as I passed on the run and for much of that time I have absolutely no awareness that they were even there. I was in a weird place in my head and my soul, and I had to dig pretty deep inside myself during those middle 15 miles of the run.
Lessons Learned:
1 - Strength still a huge limiter for me. I don’t look strong, and in general I don’t feel strong. I can’t rely on just my good endurance anymore if I want to continue to improve my times. I have to back it up with a stronger body head to toe.
2 - I am improving my ability to manage my head when things get ugly. I’m proud that I managed to fight back the demons and get to that finish line. I can suffer and not quit. When you think you can’t go on, do it anyway. Your head tells you lies about what your body can or can't do. Channel the negativity into determination.
3 - I need to check my equipment and nutrition carefully before race start and remember to execute the plan as the day unfolds.
4 - I’m feeling like I need more training at higher intensity on the bike to be able to successfully push harder on the bike and still run well. My race pace strategy worked for me at Olympic and half-IM distances this year, but apparently it doesn’t transfer well for me yet at the IM distance.
5 - If you get third place, you’ll regret that you didn’t get second place. If you get second place, you’ll regret that you didn’t win. If you win, you’ll feel like a failure if you don’t win again. This is silly and keeps you from enjoying and appreciating your successes. Third place in my age group is my best finish ever in an IM race. Though I spent some time beating myself up about not being able to run down #2, I need to get over myself and realize that this is a huge step up for me.
So did I reach my time goals? Nope, not any of them. Yet, looking back, it was a pretty great day. Both Warren and I walked away with PR’s, and an agreement that we would skip doing an Ironman race in 2012. Woo hoo! :-) Time to find some speed at the shorter distances next year, and have a little more free time to play.
And I'm going to paint my laundry room. DIY therapy.
Time: 13:21:04 - Age Group Third Place
Swim: 1:38:04 T1: 12:30 Bike: 6:20:04 T2: 4:22 Run 5:06:02
