IM CdA Race Report Part 2: Swim and Bike

Swim (1:38:21)

Well, my sister was excited.

Dad and my Uncle George

 Course overview: This was a two-loop, counter-clockwise swim, with athletes starting on the beach at City Park.  In between each 1.2 mile loop you ran out of the water briefly and passed over a timing mat.  There were volunteers everywhere! People in kayaks and on surfboards cheering (which I could hear while I was swimming, surprisingly), people standing waist-deep in the 57 ° water (without a wetsuit) helping athletes onto the beach at the end of each lap and many others that I couldn’t see (the divers below the surface) or can’t remember.  Thanks to all the spectators and volunteers, you were awesome! 

I get goosebumps just looking at these

But good "I want to go it again" goosebumps

As planned, I started at the back left of the pack and walked slowly towards the water when the canon went off.  Between the adrenaline and getting into the water several times, I didn't feel too cold or panicked when the race started. There were still a lot of people around me for most of the swim, but no one ever tried to swim over me and I never got a direct kick or punch.  A few glancing blows but no harm done.  I tend to veer right as I swim, so my plan was to pass people on the left when necessary and hope that I would end up going in a straight line.  It seemed to work pretty well, as I was close to the buoys the entire way and finished the first lap in 43:36, just under my goal split of 45 minutes.  As I suspected would happen, my calf cramped up halfway through the second lap.  There weren’t any kayaks close so I just let my wetsuit keep me afloat and stretched it out for a bit.  By this time the water had gotten fairly choppy, but fortunately the waves were pushing me towards shore on the last long stretch.  Around this time my right fingers got so cold that they wouldn’t close into an efficient paddle, so I ended up veering even more to the right than usual.  Between all of these things, the second lap took a lot longer (54:35).  

T1 (11:56)

After getting my wetsuit peeled off me by 3 efficient volunteers, I entered the really crowded women’s change tent, found an empty chair and dumped my stuff on the ground.  I had worn my tri shorts and tri top for the bike and run under my wetsuit so I just had to dry off a little and load up my pockets with some chews.  Rene (Nate’s mom) was volunteering putting sun screen on athletes and gave me a huge hug to warm me up as soon as I came out of the tent.  With all the excitement of transition I forgot to get in a hot tub in the warming hut, so I wore arm warmers, a vest and gloves (a volunteer had to help me put them on because my fingers still weren’t working) on the bike.  I got on the bike cold and soaking wet, but really excited that I had finished the swim without panicking, backstroking or doggy-paddling (or drowning, quitting or getting hypothermia).

Bike (7:50:19)

Course overview: a 2-loop course with a short and mostly flat out-and-back along the north side of Lake CdA and a 20 mile out-and-back heading south on Highway 95.  The longer out part had a net gain in elevation with one deceptively long climb (1.7 miles, 4.6%) followed by a nice long downhill and then a really long gradual climb to get to the turnaround (oh, and a headwind).  The way back was great: most of the downhill was gradual enough that you could be comfortable aero while trying to max out your speed.  There was some pretty good entertainment on the course.  There were bagpipers (which I love) and a Zumba dance group on the northern section and random people with speakers set up along Highway 95.  The downtown area was packed with spectators, providing a nice adrenaline boost during the 3 trips through town.    

I almost wiped out going around a corner right before this...

As was the case for both my century rides, I completed the first half of the bike course a lot faster than the second (they didn’t record bike splits for some reason but I remember my speed being faster in general).  In retrospect I think I went too fast on the first loop; when going downhill I would shift into my highest gear and push it until there wasn’t any resistance (generally around 32 mph).  This was great because I got to make up time, but I later realized that my legs weren’t getting a chance to recover from going uphill.  I felt so tired on my second trip through town that I worried about making it up the two big climbs.  Worst case scenario I figured I could stop and rest or walk my bike, but that would have been rather embarrassing.  At the special needs pick up at mile 65 I switched my vest, gloves and arm warmers for my sandwich and Snickers.  As before, my mood improved and I felt more positive about the next 57 miles; I did contemplate taking a nap a couple different times though. I figured that I could curl up on the shoulder for 20 minutes and still be able to make all the time cut-offs, but knowing my "gift" for sleeping pretty much anywhere, it would have been a much longer nap... 


By the time I reached the turnaround on Highway 95 I could barely stand being aero.  I could be aero on the downhills and keep my weight in my legs but it was too painful to pedal so I had to sit up for that.  If I’d been completely honest with myself about how long the bike would take me I probably would’ve chosen to wear fully padded bike shorts.  The longest I’d been on my bike before the race was 6:45 and the extra hour really made a difference in discomfort.  After 7.5 hours of actual riding time (according to my watch, which stopped automatically the 3 times I stopped to go to the bathroom) I made it back into town.   I've never been so happy to see the bridge crossing the mouth of the Spokane River in my life.

T2 (5:33)

Getting off my bike without tipping over was probably the hardest part; otherwise, I was so happy to be done riding that I pretty much sprinted out of the transition area.

Yay! Done biking!

This was my happy face, I promise.

 

IM CdA Race Report Part 1

Alright, it’s been exactly one month plus a lot (I started this post on July 24^th but it took a lot longer to finish than I expected) since Ironman CdA and I got choked up this morning when I saw people running the Deseret Marathon, so it seems to be the perfect time to (finally) write my race report. It’s really long, so I’m going to break it up into sections that I’ll post on sequential days.

Pre-race:

Post-road trip bike ride

Wednesday’s 12-hour drive to Idaho was fairly uneventful. I passed a couple other vehicles that were clearly heading to the same place I was (tri bikes on the roof, writing on the windows, etc) which gave me a nice little adrenaline boost.  Signs warning of impending traffic delays were already up in CdA, which was also exciting.  I met Nate at the race expo the next morning to check in and pick up our sweet free backpacks full of useful samples and mostly useless pieces of paper.  We did a practice ride on the short (~15 mile) out and back along the north side of the lake and I almost hit a bunch of non-Ironman tourists who were jaywalking on the way back through downtown.  Idiots: I clearly wasn’t out for a beach-side cruise.  After the ride we went for a practice swim.  I think the water was in the mid-50’s at that point and even with a wetsuit and neoprene cap on my face still froze and made me feel panicked for the first 5 minutes or so.  That made me a little worried for race day but after I got used to it (or went numb, not sure which) I felt much less freaked out.  

Bernie, always wanting attention.

Friday’s schedule included the pro panel, which was surprisingly entertaining (Chris Lieto has gone 75 mph on his bike before!) and the Q&A session with the race directors, which didn’t include much information that wasn’t already in the Athlete’s Guide.  Nate wasn’t feeling well, so I hung out around the expo by myself for most of the morning.  Turns out being surrounded by a ton of super-fit triathletes is pretty intimidating; I hadn’t been nervous at all on Thursday but I got really overwhelmed (especially because I had lots of time to kill and nothing to do but look at everyone) and had to go sit in a coffee shop and eat a giant cookie to calm myself down.  Friday night also had the Welcome Dinner, which

Its "Setter's" Road, not "Settler's", this really annoyed me...

was long but pretty enjoyable.  They served breadsticks (sprinkled with parmesan), salad (iceberg lettuce + shredded carrots), steamed vegetables, pasta with chicken and cheese baked in and cannoli for dessert.  I was surprised the meat and cheese were so integrated into the main dish.  Vegans, vegetarians and lactose-intolerant people aren’t that rare; even before I stopped eating animal products I avoided cheese and dairy for at least a week before races.  Anyway, good thing Nate and I both love breadsticks.

Me and Mom checking out the lake!

Pro men's panel: Tim O'Donnell, Chris Lieto and Viktor Zymetsev

On Saturday we put together our transition bags and dropped them off at City Park along with our bikes.  In smaller triathlons you set your biking and running gear on the ground under your bike and come back to the same spot in both transitions.  In Ironmen, you put all the gear you’ll need for the next part in a bag, set in in a line with 2400 other bags and then grab it as you run through the transition area to change.  Your bike is in a separate area with 2400 other bikes.  Fortunately everything is organized by race number and there are multiple lines of bags and bikes, so you just have to pick out some landmarks and practice running through it a few times.  Let

Women's panel: Christie Sym, Heather Wurtele and Meredith Kessler

me tell you, you’re not thinking very clearly or running very straight after swimming for 1:38 in 57 °C water or biking for almost 8 hours (or less, if you weren’t me, but still…) and that practice really comes in handy.  After convincing ourselves we knew where we’d be going it was back to the hotel to rest for a few hours (thanks Rene and Annie for letting me stay with you all!).  We went to Olive Garden for dinner (and had the same dish as before RAGE half-ironman) with friends and family who were in town and then it was time for bed.

Race Day!

We got up around 4, had our traditional Starbucks Perfect Oatmeal’s prepared with hot water from the hotel room coffee maker and roamed the hallways for a bit.  I haven’t seen that many people up at 4 in a hotel since the WCC tournament in Vegas.  I watched some of the Ironman-related YouTube videos that I’d probably seen a hundred times during rides on my trainer and then we headed to the park.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t too nervous before the race.  I had played through race day and my preparations so much that I wasn’t too worried about forgetting anything or running out of time.  I knew that the day would be hard and that there would be mental and physical discomfort, but I felt prepared for everything within my control. 

Before the race we had to drop off our special needs bags; you can put anything in them you think you might want and pick them up half-way through the bike and run legs.  I didn’t use my run special needs bag but put a PB&J and a frozen Snickers bar in my bike bag.  After double-checking our transition bags and going to the bathroom a final time it was time to put on our wetsuits.  This felt like the point of no return before the race, once I was zipped into that claustrophobia-inducing piece of neoprene there was nothing else to do but head towards the water and (try not to) contemplate the rest of the day.  The beach wasn’t as crowded as I had expected, we easily made it to the water and got the initial shock of the cold water over with.  I dunked my face in as many times as I could before they made us move back into ankle-deep water.  Nate and I gave each other a hug and a "good luck, see you later" before heading to separate parts of the beach and waiting for the canon...

6 Days...

Note: I wrote a post about tapering that I really liked and then accidentally deleted it, here it is as close as I can remember it.  After deleting it I simultaneously wanted to punch something and cry.  This combination of emotions isn't that weird for me, but seriously, that violent of a response to something so minor?  Pretty much sums up my emotions during tapering.

So tapering...  Less working out plus more time to sleep equals more energy, right?  Hardly, I feel tired and sluggish, and my calves feel swollen, like they're too big for my skin (I think that's more from our 90+ degree weather than tapering though).  All I want to do is eat and sleep; I spend my evenings watching How I Met Your Mother, which is a great distraction, but then I go through withdrawal during the day when I can't watch it.  I feel grumpy and anti-social.  Even though I can't think of anything except Ironman, its the last thing I want to talk about with anyone because its impossible to put into words how I actually feel.  Yes, I'm nervous, yes, I'm excited, sure, I feel ready (the most usual questions).  I'm also dreading it arriving, dreading it being over, worried about getting injured or sick, worried about it being too hot, too cold, too windy, too rainy or some combination of those that makes the race directors cut the race short like they did with the Boise 70.3 last weekend  I'm excited to have my life back but worried what it will be like when the thing that's been consuming it for the last 11 months is over.  Since I started grad school my identity has been built around doing an Ironman and I'm not sure who I'll be when its over.

All those things aside, I am feeling pretty prepared.  I did another century ride a few weeks ago and it went much better than the first.  I started feeling grumpy towards the end again but this time there were mini-candy bars at the 70- and 90-mile rest stops.  A few chocolate bars did wonders for my mood; I think I'm going to put a few in my bike special needs bag (you put whatever random things you think you might want in it and can pick it up after 56 miles) for the race.  I ran for one hour right after the century ride (which took me 5:50) and for three hours the day after and neither was as hard as I was expecting, so that was good.  Yesterday Sarah and I went out to East Canyon reservoir (~55 degrees, the coldest body of water I could find here) and I swam for just over an hour (~1.5 miles according to Google maps) while she kayaked next to me and yelled at the jet skiers who came too close.  Between all the boats and a little wind the water was decently rough; nothing like IM SG but probably close to what a good day in CdA will be like.  I was fighting panic for the first ten minutes or so, the waves were pushing me around and making me dizzy and disoriented.  After that I found a good rhythm and started to enjoy the waves for breaking up the monotony: would the next breath bring a mouthful of water? Just a light splash in the face? Oh the little things that training makes you appreciate...  I'm feeling less nervous about the swim now, although having over 2700 people around me will obviously be a little different.  I'm planning on starting off at the back to avoid as much craziness as I can, probably on the left though, which will be more crowded than the right (the loop goes counterclockwise and I veer to the right when I swim so I don't want to end up even more off-course).  My plan is to just focus on making it to the next buoy.  That's pretty much my plan for the whole race: focus on making it to the next aid station or other marker, and only think about one loop at a time.

So yeah, that's where I'm at.  I'll drive up to Spokane/Coeur d'Alene on Wednesday; I'm excited to be surrounded by all things Ironman, it'll be nice not to have to pretend to care about anything else (not that I'm doing a very good job of that at the moment, clearly, since I'm in lab right now...).  I'll probably do another pre-race post, but in case I don't get around to it, my race number is 136.  You can look me up by that or my last name on the Ironman website to see how I'm progressing.  I'll ask my sister to post updates on my Facebook as well. 

Welp, see ya later!

Weeks 25 and 26: I'm over this

Here's a truly brief run down of my workouts last week and so far this week.  It's followed by some more details on how my first century ride went and some musings on how training for an Ironman f's with your head.

Week 25 (16:45 total)
Monday: Rest, yay!
Tuesday: 1:00 run, 1:15 swim, weights and core
Wednesday: 45 minute ride with transition to 15 minute run
Thursday: 1:30 swim (2.3 miles!), 1:00 trainer ride
Friday: 1:05 swim, 0:30 run in morning, another 0:30 in the evening. 
Saturday: 6:45 ride (first century ride! ended up doing 110 miles...) followed by a 0:35 run (all I could handle, more on all this later)
Sunday: 1:35 run

Week 26 (projected 14:30 total)
Monday: Rest
Tuesday: 1:15 swim, 1:05 run
Wednesday: 1:00 bike
Thursday: 13 hour sleep
Friday: 0:50 swim, 0:30? bike ride (I didn't wear a watch, which felt weird)
Saturday: 2:30 run
Sunday: 1:30 bike (got caught in a rainstorm and then was too cold and chafed to continue.  Should probably invest in a jacket...)
Monday: 5:15 bike followed by 1:00 run (4000 ft of climbing over 72.5 miles, and running afterwards was easier than Week 24's 5 hr bike/1hr run brick. Victory!!!)

So, first century ride: before that day my longest ride had been 77 miles, but I felt okay tackling 100 because the ride was fully supported and the course was really flat.  It was pretty easy to miss the course markings, so I took a lot of wrong turns and ended up riding 110 miles total, I considered doing an extra 2 but by the end I didn't want to spend another second on my bike.  There were aid stations with water, Gatorade and a good selection of food about every 20 miles. I tried to spend as little time stopped as possible to mimic the race, but around 67 miles I was really hungry for something other than gels (and for some reason I only brought one Bonk Breaker bar with me) so I hung out on the grass for a while and had a huge PB&J.  About 1:30 into the ride my right shoulder started to really hurt, like someone was stabbing my shoulder blade, and it was even worse when I was on my aero bars.  When I got home I saw an irritated bump and figured I'd been stung by a wasp.  Since I didn't know this during the ride, I thought there was something wrong with my bike fit or that I'd swam too much or something. By the end of the ride I was really mad at my body for hurting so much when I didn't think it deserved to.  Well, by the end of the ride I was just mad in general.  Mad at my body for being sore, at other riders that I'd decided were annoying, at the course for so many wrong turns, at the course for not being over yet and at myself for taking longer than I'd wanted to.  I hadn't brought enough chamois cream with me either, which certainly didn't help my mood.  When I finally got done riding I had a one hour run scheduled; I had to call Sarah and ask her to tell me to go for a run (I could muster the motivation to call her and have her tell me, but I didn't have the motivation to tell myself, not sure why the two were any different).  I got myself out for 35 minutes, but my shoulder was still hurting and I was feeling pretty dehydrated, so I stopped when I got back to my car.  I was also only supposed to ride for 5:30 that day, so I think the extra hour of riding partially makes up for 25 minutes less of running.

Alright, now for the fun stuff: how training for an Ironman f's with your head and makes you constantly feel inadequate.  Now, I could be the only person that feels this way, but I doubt it.  From reading other people's blogs and stories, I'm guessing that most people who are attracted to Ironmen are exactly the kind of people who are prone to self-imposed pressure and guilt over minor transgressions in their diet or training plans.  As I mentioned above, I was pretty mad at myself at the end of that long ride for my perceived "weaknesses" (right, cause everyone should be happy and comfortable at the end of 110 miles...).  I had been enjoying the idea of burning 4000 calories that day, but since the course was so flat, I only burned 2400 on the ride, and since I cut my run short I only burned another 300.  And yes, I mean only for all those numbers; I've been burning around 3000 calories in one workout for long enough that it no longer seems special.  4000 would have been worth some sort of "reward" to me, and since that was the expectation I had going into it, I was disappointed in myself for not actually doing it (even though I couldn't have realistically raised my heart rate enough during that ride to make it happen).  Whenever I have a plan for a workout that doesn't end up happening (i.e. doing an hour on my trainer rather than riding up Emigration Canyon) I feel lazy and inadequate.  If I sleep in much past 4:30, I feel like there's no point in going to the gym, because I won't have time for the full swim workout AND lifting weights.  Even if I make the workout up later in the day, in my head I'm a failure for not sticking to the original plan. 

The above paragraph was mostly written last Friday, when I had been feeling like a failure of a triathlete for a couple weeks.  Today, after enjoying the long workouts this weekend, I'm feeling a lot more positive.  I'm trying to avoid thinking about the evening's workouts during the day, this way I can evaluate how I feel when I get home and not stress about doing my ride on the trainer because I don't want to deal with traffic or route planning.  I've also stopped keeping track of my calorie intake/output; I started doing this a couple weeks ago to make sure I was getting enough to eat, but I became a little obsessed with staying on the negative side of the equation.  Peak weeks are exhausting enough without restricting how much I eat (especially because when I indulge these days, its on something like unsweetened applesauce with homemade, no-oil-added granola).  So yeah, that's my plan to avoid burnout over the next few weeks.  Only one week of long workouts left (century ride+1 hr run on Saturday and then just a 3 hour run on Sunday, no big deal...) and then tapering for race day!

Volunteering at Ironman St. George

Overall, this was an awesome day and I’m really glad I did it.  That being said, it was one of the most emotionally exhausting things I’ve done in a really long time.  I get choked up sometimes just watching Ironman videos on Youtube; being there for the whole day, and especially a race day as challenging as this one, was incredibly intense.  

So calm and peaceful...

I had driven down the night before and arrived at the state park where the swim start was at 10 PM.  I had a volunteer parking pass so they let me in for free and I slept in the back of my car (yay Subarus!). I woke up at 4 AM, walked 20 yards to T1 and waited for the bus loads of athletes to arrive so I could start body marking.  This was a great volunteer position, you not only get to talk to the athletes, you also get to ask them how old they are, and then have them show you their calves and biceps.  Not a bad way to start the day.  The water was perfectly calm for the first 5 or 10 minutes of the age group swim (the pros had started 15 minutes earlier so they had more calm water).  However, the sunrise brought strong winds with it and soon the athletes were battling white-capped waves for the longest side of the swim course.   

The splashes in the middle are people, hard to tell though.

Longest part = Against the Wind (cue Bob Seger)

Soon they started bringing athletes in by the boatload.  I’m not sure how many of them asked to come in and how many were forced to stop because they weren’t going to make the 2:20 time cutoff; I heard stories of both talking to athletes later.  Since so many people didn’t finish the swim, the race organizers made an exception and allowed them to continue as unofficial finishers.  Even though those athletes didn’t experience the entire hell that was the swim, I still have a huge amount of  admiration for them.  They willingly put themselves through 138.2 more ridiculously challenging miles, knowing that there was already a DNF next to their name, and they would be forced to explain “well yes I finished an Ironman, but not really” every time someone asked them about it.  They put in the months of training and the most of the hours out on that course, but they won’t be able to wear a finisher’s t-shirt or proudly display a medal from what many called the hardest Ironman ever.

At least I was just watching the swim from a distance; I wasn’t as emotionally involved in the stories of the athletes getting pulled from the water.  It was hard watching the spectators around me who were clearly worried about their friends and family members still in the water, but I was still removed from it.  My next volunteer position was the women’s T2 change tent.  We helped the women with whatever they needed as they got off their bikes, grabbed their gear bags and headed out to run a marathon.  I hadn’t volunteered in this spot before, but listening to the volunteers around me it was clear that there were far fewer women coming through than normal.  Suddenly a lot of athletes started coming through, but they were all walking through the transition area and looking dejected.  After such an exhausting swim, a lot of them weren’t making the time cutoff on the bike course, and were being sent back by the bus load.  The first few athletes were still allowed to run as unofficial finishers, although the race organizers soon stopped saying this.  Most of the athletes that had been disqualified didn’t want our help, or didn’t think they deserved it since they were done.  But we helped them anyway. 

A few of the girls really stuck with me.  One of the women (that I had actually body marked in the morning) did make the bike cutoff but still burst into tears in the change tent.  She hadn’t made the cutoff the year before and was overcome by what she had accomplished so far.  I saw her at the finish line later, crossing hand in hand with her husband – one of several “Ironman couples” finishing the race together that day.  Another woman barely made the 5:30 cutoff to finish the entire bike course.  She was racing as part Team Autism and carried a picture of her autistic son with her the entire race.  She had been pulled out of the swim; she hadn’t wanted to stop but the man in the boat insisted that it was getting dangerous.  She was also overcome by the prospect of finishing her first Ironman and doing so for her son.  She was one of the last few people to cross the finish line, holding the laminated picture high.   
The hardest part of my day was helping a girl that reminded me a lot of myself; her name was also Elizabeth, it was her first Ironman, she was right around my age and had the same bike helmet as me.  She had finished the swim but had missed the 66-mile bike cut off by minutes.  She was from New York state and starting her medical residency in the fall, so this was her last chance to do an Ironman for a while.  It was heartbreaking seeing how disappointed she was in herself.  I didn’t really know what to say; that could happen to me in CdA and there won’t be anything that anyone could say to make me feel like I wasn’t a failure.  We talked about training for a while though and how Ironman makes you feel special in general; she was one of the few allowed to continue running and by the time she headed out she seemed to be feeling better.  Elizabeth, if you happen to stumble across this blog looking for St. George race reports, know that I admire you and think you’re a total badass, hopefully I’ll see you at the finish line of another Ironman someday.     

After a two hour break I headed to the finish line to catch people until midnight.  This was probably the best part of the day.  I got to see the successes of the day, including people I’d body marked or helped in T2.  Most of the athletes seemed pretty dazed as they crossed the finish line.  A couple of the men had to lean on me as I walked them to the food or medical tents.  A lot of the first-time finishers said that it was their last Ironman, but I’d be interested to see what they’re saying now.  There were a lot of little cool moments at the finish line.  Ben Hoffman and Meredith Kessler (the men’s and women’s winners) came down and handed out finishers medals for the last couple of hours.  One of the finishers changed into a tux for the final 100 yards and proposed to his girlfriend right before the finish line (she said yes).  For the last hour Mike Reilly (the announcer for all Ironmen races) was down in the finisher’s chute getting everyone pumped up.  It was a pretty great atmosphere, one I’m excited to be a part of (hopefully!) in 5 weeks. 

Fireman Rob from Madison, WI. He's doing Ironmen across the country this year for the Code 3 for a Cure Foundation.  He did the entire marathon in full fire fighting gear.

Women's winner Meredith Kessler handing out medals at the finish line.