Ironman Wisconsin Race Report

A Tale of Triumph and Redemption (with a few inconveniences in between)...

I'd first like to thank all my friends and family who have supported me (somewhat grudgingly in some cases) throughout the last 8 months of training. For putting up with my always changing training schedule, for waiting to see how tired I'd feel after a long training day before committing to dinner plans, for putting up with my constant tiredness, and many other things. A very special thanks to my siblings Adam and Ralena who made the trip out to Wisconsin to tirelessly cheer me on, not knowing what the day would bring other than long hours standing outside waiting. And waiting. And posting many, many updates on Facebook. Knowing they were out there definitely helped get me through some tougher moments and having them there at the finish line completed what turned out to be a pretty good day.

For those of you who don't want to read what will inevitably turn out to be a ridiculously long race report (it was a long day), here are the results:
swim: 1:10:59
bike: 6:53:04
run: 4:51:56
overall: 13:09:55
45/112 in my age group, 1171 overall

And random statistics about the race which I always find fascinating and inspiring:

• 1270 first timers
• 2550 athletes that started the race
• 2398 finishers
• 21 countries representing. The top 4 being: US, Canada, Germany, Great Britain
• All 50 states representing. The top 6 being: Wisconsin, Illinois, Minnesota, Iowa (who knew?), and Colorado (with 81 athletes)
• The largest age group for men was 40-45
• The largest age group for women was 30-34
• There were 382 athletes over the age of 50
• There were 51 athletes over the age of 60
• There were 5 athletes over the of 70
• The youngest participant was 18
• The oldest was 72 (M) and 63 (F)
• There were 3 men that lost over 100 pounds. The man that lost the most weight lost 167 pounds!

Okay, I was nervous. I slept terribly the night before. I think I probably slept between 10 and midnight and then just couldn't fall back to sleep. I kept telling myself not to think about the race, but of course, as soon as you tell yourself not to do something, that's all you can think about doing. I refused to look at the clock but kept expecting it to go off any minute. Just when I finally started to feel myself relax, I could hear other people moving about the hotel and knew that the alarm really would go off any minute. And it did. I got my bottles ready and forced down half a bagel with peanut butter, taking the other half with me. Ralena and I left the hotel and picked up Adam around 4:45. We were about 30 minutes away and weren't sure about parking, so we decided that they'd drop me off and then figure something out. They dropped me off on the ground level of Monona Terrace, but on the side where there are only stairs to take you upstairs (no elevator). I guess when you're about to take off on a 140 mile journey, what are a few flights of stairs. I considered it my warm-up. I first went to check my bike just in case I had a flat tire or something. I then remembered that the special needs drop off was over by the Capitol, about two blocks away. Having no idea what time it was, I hurried off to drop those off. I then hurried back to the building to drop a few things in my transition bags and then back to check my bike one more time. As I was exiting the transition area, I walked right into Adam and Ralena. When the dropped me off, I really didn't expect to see them until sometime on the course. It seemed that the odds of finding someone in a crowd of thousands would be near impossible. But Ironman is all about what is possible, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that we just walked into each other. It was chilly morning (okay, it was cold the entire weekend and I was usually bundled up in sweatshirts or vests, even a hat and scarf one night!) so we headed indoors to wait in the warmth before heading down to the swim start. We had about 30 minutes to kill, so we sat on the floor over by the bathrooms, along with dozens of other people that had the same idea. But how often do you get to use full plumbing before a race?

We headed down to the swim start around 6:15 and got my wetsuit on before leaving the stairwell as I wasn't keen on standing around shivering. It's a water start and the swim entrance is a boat ramp and is literally the size of a driveway. 2500 people don't usher into such a small area very well and they kept yelling at people to get in the water. I didn't want to get too crowded, so I zipped up, said farewell to the sibs, and stepped across the threshold. The water was 68 degrees, which isn't bad once you get started. But the air temp was in the 50s and I was shivering as I stood knee deep in the water. I started feeling crowded and took the plunge and started swimming out towards the start. This kind of sucks I thought. Not only am I cold, but I have to tread water for 20 minutes before we get started. 20 minutes is a long time when you're cold.

I will be honest. I was extremely nervous for the start. After last year's disaster when I really thought I was going to die a few minutes after the race started, well, it seemed kind of normal that I'd be worried (for a refresher, read here). But with so many people still hanging around on shore, I was starting to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. The water was calm and there would be no one from behind running me down (swimming me down perhaps, but this couldn't be nearly as bad as hundreds of people sprinting into you as they try and get in the water). I headed up to the front line by the outside buoy. There seemed to be plenty of space. A few minutes went by and now there are quite a few people around me, but there are all these empty pockets beyond that. So I swam over to one of these, and now there are a quite a few people around me again. There was so much room to spread out so I couldn't figure out why everyone wanted to get so bunched up and why they wanted to get so bunched up around me. Maybe I look like I'm fast. Anyhow, I played this game for a while and as they sang the National Anthem, people seemed to settle a little more into spots. I moved again. And finally, finally, the gun went off (and I actually heard it this year!).

I had positioned myself well and there was no one immediately in front of me. I swam hard and with my head up for the first 50 meters or so to try and get a little more clear of the fray. I had people clambering over my legs, and was sandwiched in between people for a bit, but other than that it wasn't too bad. I started kicking hard if people got on my feet too much and swam around people as they got in my way. I had started wide and eventually cut in towards the inside line, but was still wide for the trip out to the first turn. It's called the Moo Corner possibly because everyone stops and no one seems to move. Apparently the kayakers Moo. I intended to take the first two corners a little wide and was able to swim through both of them. On the way back, I moved into the inside line and tried to hold that for the rest of the swim. I was able to catch a draft here and there, but for the most part I was on my own. The course was laid out nicely (and finally a counter clockwise course!). The buoys were numbered, which was awesome because I always knew where I was and didn't have to worry about how much farther I had to go. I felt pretty good. My only complaint was that my hands felt a little numb from the cold, so sometimes my strokes felt a little off. I'd occasionally have to ball my hands up to try and get a little more circulation. But I'd take that feeling over one of thinking I was going to die. And so I swam on. Soon the finish line was in sight and I picked up the pace just a bit. I was ready to be out of the water and onto the bike.

There were helpers in the water to help you get your balance before running off to what seemed like an endless transition. The wetsuit strippers were a little bit beyond the end of the "driveway". I hadn't even gotten the top half off, but hey, that's what they were for. I don't think they completely knew what they were doing as they didn't exactly yank the top half off and instead managed to get both of my hands stuck. The bottom half went much smoother. And then I was off. Through the gates and up the helix with thousands of screaming people everywhere. It was quite incredible. I had been told by countless people to not waste the energy and just walk up the helix. But that was impossible with so many people cheering you on. I did a very slow jog to make it seem like I was running but actually savoring every moment of it.

I ran into the building and grabbed my bag and headed into the changing tent where I couldn't quite decide what to bring. After last years bitter cold, I had put a ton of warm clothes in all of my bags. I finally decided against the arm warmers thinking that I hadn't been cold running up from the swim and it would continue to get warmer throughout the day. It's a long run up to transition, and an even longer run across the transition area. I decided to keep my shoes off until I got to my bike and then just had to run across the parking lot in them - where at least it was level. There wasn't much of a mounting area before heading down the helix, but I found some space and into the spiral I went.

Being not the greatest bike handler, I was worried about riding down the helix. It was a lot wider and less steep than I had imagined, but still I was a little nervous, especially if there were going to be people surrounding me. Fortunately I had plenty of space and the ride down, albeit a little slow, was totally fine. We headed out along John Nolan Parkway for a bit and then cut into the park for a little jog along the bike path. I knew there was a no passing zone, and I knew we'd be on the bike path for a bit, but I was not expecting sharp 90+ degree turns with blind corners. But I took it slow and made it through the technical turns just fine - there really wasn't much time to panic since the turn would just appear. No time to be nervous, just react, and voila, I made it through. The next few miles were relatively flat and straight, which is the only section on the course that is relatively flat and straight. I knew everyone would be passing me and I just tried to hold a steady pace and ignore everyone. About 30 minutes into the ride, I started to get a side cramp, which I've never had on the bike before. I've had it on the run a few times this year, but it was right off the bike and I think both times I had too much to drink too close to the end of the bike. I've never had any issues on the bike. I wasn't really sure what was going on. It wasn't long enough into the ride for nutrition to really be an issue and I had a gel during the transition. I figured it would just eventually go away. But it didn't and continued to get worse. It was right along my side and it was extremely uncomfortable to hang out in my aero bars because it was just putting more pressure on it.  But I pushed on and still managed to smile for the cameras.


I think I pushed a little hard on the first lap thinking it would eventually work its way out. And since it didn't, I definitely suffered a bit on the second lap. At one point I almost crashed and almost took down a line of volunteers at one of the aid stations. It was around mile 80 and I was starting to think that maybe I should just stick to water. So as I pulled into the next aid station, I went to toss two of my bottles, both of which were behind my seat. The first one wasn't an issue. Not sure what happened with the second. My finger must have gotten stuck and when I yanked it, my hand came flying forward and knocked my handlebars 90 degrees. Ones first instinct is to try and correct by going 180 degrees in the opposite direction. So now I'm overcorrecting back and forth just trying to stay upright, but I was totally squirrely and just hanging on for dear life. I looked up to see a line of volunteers in front of me, ready to hand out water, gels, fruit, etc. I was about to take them all down (or so I thought). Somehow, some way, I managed to straighten out and stay vertical. Whew. Strangely enough the water bottle I was attempting to toss ended up between my aero bars, resting comfortable through the whole ordeal. I managed to get replacement water without any issue, which is good because I don't think I could have handled much more drama. As I was approaching the end of the aid station, a guy passed me and asked me if I was okay. He said "that was quite a recovery" and I believe him.

Fortunately the rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. The crowds were spectacular and some of the hills were reminiscent of the Tour de France with several people deep lining the roads just yelling and screaming. It was hard not to smile. Adam and Ralena had taken the shuttle bus out to Verona and made me a lovely chalk sign on the rode that I completely missed.

I lost one of my water bottles that I nearly died for, leaving me with about a quarter of one bottle left for the remainder of the ride. Fortunately it was only about 10 or so miles, so I conserved and enjoyed the brief tailwind. Before long I was back at Monona Terrace ready to ride up the helix. Again, another piece I was really worried about and it really wasn't bad until I did about one full rotation directly into a massive head wind that had to filter itself in between the different floors of the garage, which really made the wind force very focused on my little section since it essentially was funneling itself in. I was not prepared and almost came to a standstill. I quickly dropped to an easier gear, at least expecting it for the next rotation. After that, I was at the top, and oh so ready to dismount.

T2 was pretty uneventful. I took my time even though I really didn't have much to do other than change shoes. I put my shoes on only to realize that I had forgotten to put on my compression socks. I was looking at them the whole time and made sure the woman didn't put them back in the bag (along with my countless other pieces of warm clothes that I had packed just in case). One doesn't always think so logically at this point in an Ironman. I got outside and ran to the Sunscreen Volunteers. I turned around so that she could get my shoulders and arms. A woman came up to me and asked if I wanted sunscreen on my ears. Um, okay? It was not a question I was expecting. I don't think I've ever put sunscreen on my ears. I don't think it's ever occurred to me to put sunscreen on my ears. Well, at least my ears were protected out there. And then I was off.

Exiting transition to start the run is another huge crowd moment. If for a second you think you're really just going to dread the run, the crowd instantly changes your mind as soon as you cross the timing mat. They are lined up several deep just going nuts. I saw the time as I exited and I was trying to avoid the clock the whole day, but it was really hard to miss. 8:10. If I had a perfect marathon, I could still be on target. But a perfect marathon I did not have. I was still dealing with the cramp, and it's a little more difficult to run with it that it was to ride. I was forced to walk for bits at a time. It was a little upsetting because when I was able to run, I really felt good. I was actually passing lots of people. But I just had to keep moving forward however I could. I got to the turnaround at about mile 6 where Adam and Ralena were waiting on the curb screaming. I gave them a smile and a high five and continued on. We hadn't really driven the course and I hadn't really paid attention to the map, so that first lap I really had no idea where I was going or where I was in relation to anything. It turns out that mile 6 was only a few blocks from the finish, so Adam and Ralena could just keep walking back and forth between the two. I saw the sign that Adam and I had made a few days before and couldn't figure out how I had missed them on the way out. It turns out that the way out never went that direction so I hadn't really missed anything - it took me most of the run to actually figure out the course. I was starting to feel pretty nauseous at the end of the first lap and heading into lap 2. I had to walk for quite a bit before that passed. My biggest issue (of the entire event across the entire weekend) was that they ran out of cola around mile 4 of the run. It wasn't so horrible on the first lap, but by the second lap, I was at the point where I just couldn't do another gel and I was getting desperate for sugar. I could feel my blood sugar dropping but I was facing the gag reflex with gels. I kept telling myself that I could make it, that I've done this before. About 3 miles to go I started getting a little dizzy and had to walk a bit more. I finally decided to chance it with some orange slices thinking that even if they didn't sit well, there really wasn't much more to go. And I just really needed the sugar at that point.

When I hit the turnaround for lap 2, I heard the clock bells go off and figured it was 7:00. My new target was to come in around 13 hours. I felt very fortunate that this didn't bother me at all. I had definitely made a point all day to enjoy myself and smile whenever possible. Coming in at 13 hours would still be a great time. I had met this woman on the flight out to Madison. Her name was Ann and she was flying out to volunteer. She had told me she'd be a kayaker in the morning and then she'd be a Finish Line Catcher between 8 - 11:30. I was very excited for her - she really did have a great shift. So when I realized that she'd be on shift when I came in, it got me through the last few miles. I might actually know my catcher. That would be pretty cool. And so I just pressed onward. You can hear the finish line area well before you approach it. You can hear Mike Reilly congratulating everyone. And the crowds appear from nowhere. I had the finish line chute all to myself and I clearly heard Mike this time: Jessica Gordon, from Lafayette CO. Jessica, you are an Ironman! And I was smiling the whole time. It really was a fantastic finish.

I was caught by two men and I was definitely a bit shakey. They tried to hand me a foil blanket but I didn't want it touching my skin, which kind of concerned the guys. I was told that my arms were really cold and they were concerned that I hadn't been drinking. I tried to convince them that I was fine - I had been drinking at almost every single aid station. I started to explain the whole blood sugar thing and then realized that I was probably rambling. Finally I just asked if they had any coke. While one guy continued to hold me, the other went to get the coke. He brought it over. It was so cold and oh so good. I told them that it was the best thing I had all day. And then I asked for more. Meanwhile, Ann appeared, poking her head over one of the guys holding me up. She was very excited and congratulated me and it was pretty cool to see her again - it was sort of like a final confirmation that it really was a great day. My handlers finally handed me off to my siblings, making sure that Ralena firmly had me before letting go. Last year when I finished CDA, I was wearing a foil blanket and garbage bag dress. I was soaking wet and freezing. I hadn't felt my hands for much of the day and was pissed off and relieved to finish. And I was coming in around 15 1/2 hours. I don't remember any of the volunteers being even remotely concerned with my well being when I finished that race. And here I was dry, warm, over 2 hours earlier and everyone was acting as though I was going to pass out. Maybe they are just a lot nicer people in Wisconsin. Those mid-westerners.

Anyhow, #3 is in the books. It was a great race. I had a great day despite my setbacks. This was supposed to be my redemption race after CDA. And triumphed I did. Ironman is a long day and odds are that something will go wrong. You have to accept it and move on. I've realized that some things are easier to get through than others - it's a lot easier to push through physical pain than mental anguish. You have to remember why you're out there. And you absolutely absolutely have to smile. It really does help.

Additional photos are here. Enjoy!

Registration...A Pre-Race Warm-up

Had I known this was going to be so entertaining, I would have photo-documented each step of the way. Had I known it was going to be so intensive, I would have brought water. Registration for IMMOO reminded me a bit like registration for the Sprint. Only more complex and with no lines.

I landed in Madison a little after 1p and immediately headed downtown after some complexities in finding the rental car and in driving the rental car. Apparently I can't follow simple instructions (she did say second row) and ended up wandering aimlessly through the first row of parking lot while all my fellow IMers were casually loading up their cars. And apparently I no longer remember how to drive an automatic. This one had both automatic and automatic-manual and I had inadvertently shifted to the manual mode and couldn't figure out why my RPMs were so loud and hovering over 4000. I tried to shift, but ended up downshifting, slowing the car down, creating even more revving and bumping up the RPMs even higher. God was this embarassing...I finally figured it out (I am an engineer after all) and was on my merry way. After several wrong turns, and several laps around blocks, I managed to find a parking spot a mere 8 blocks away and headed over to Monona Terrace.

Check-in:
I entered the main floor and followed the sign point to the left for "Athlete Check-In". It was a long hallway with 2 tables in the middle. Aside from some people sitting at the tables, there was no one else in the hallway. I was expecting to turn into some conference room (they were called Ballrooms) but never passed an open door. I found myself at the end of the hallway with nothing left but the restrooms. And so I headed back. As I approached the tables, it dawned on me that this was the check-in (the giant board with everyone's numbers that I had somehow missed earlier helped with this deduction). I stopped at the table and discovered it literally was just the check-in. They checked my ID. They checked me off a list. And they put a check on my hand (it was actually an "X" but it kills the flow). I was then directed to the opposite end of the hallway.

Paperwork:
The lack of a line had thrown me off, so at least now I knew not to look for one. They had those velvet rope things out that would be useful if there were a line, but at least it told me where to stop. A volunteer appeared and asked me my number and told me to wait for window #2. Someone was already there, so I guess technically, I was the line. Mind you, no one was at window #1. Finally it was my turn and I was given the two waivers that have become a familiar site after dealing with Corporation Ironman all summer. The first has contact information that was supposed to be verified. I was told there was a screw up with the computers and it misprinted everyone's Emergency Contact info so I'd definitely need to correct that (if not, a Bill Davis would be called if anything were to happen to me. Lucky Bill.). I asked if he had a pen. He told me to proceed downstairs and there would be lots of pens.

Pens:
I headed down the escalator and was greeted by another volunteer who told me to go through a set of doors where I'd be able to correct my info. I walked through the doors into one of what has to be The Main Ballrooms of the Monona Terrace. Half of the room was all windows that arched out overlooking the water. Quite a spectacular site (I hadn't had a chance to see the water yet). Down the middle of the room were a line of tables with lots of pens on them. That's it. That was the room. Me, some tables, and some pens. Seriously. I corrected Bill (resolved of all responsibility) and signed what I needed to and headed out the opposite end.

Weigh-in:
I left Pen Room to find 4 men sitting in chairs with scales in front of them. I shed my jacket and backpack and stepped on the scale. My weight was written down on one of my forms and I was pointed to yet another escalator heading downstairs. Really? It was a little more substantial than then Pen Room even though it wasn't even a room, but I could have done that myself.

Filing:
I was greeted by another volunteer at the bottom of the escalator. At this point, there was a small line. Like 2 people. After telling her my number, she pointed to Pete. There were at least 5 other Filers, and none of them had anyone in their line. Pete seemed to be the popular one that day. Pete triple checked all of my information and made sure everything was signed and then filed the waivers into their appropriate boxes. And then pointed me to guess what, another line.

Everything But the Schwag:
Once again, everything was ordered by number and the Everything Elser Volunteers that served my number range were all busy. Finally I was sent to a table to get everything else but the schwag: wristband, swim cap, bibs, stickers, etc. And instructions on how to use everything. After this, I was directed to another line and table.

The Schwag:
The Schwagster volunteer didn't want to repeat himself to everyone, so he waited until there was a small group of us before giving his speech. The schwag bags also contained our gear and special needs bags, so his speech was about making sure we had all of them now, before we left the table. We'd rather find out now than later.

Corporate Greed:
The escalator that was at the end of the Schwag table dumped you off right at the Ironman store. It almost seems like the intent of the maze was to build anticipation: starting off with "oh shit! why did I sign up for this thing?" and working your way through the Registration Stations, gradually building to "I'm a little nervous, but also a little excited" and ending up with a finale of "OMG! I can't believe it's finally here!" so that you now have all this explosive energy that will cause you to run into the Ironman store and grab up everything with an M-dot logo and spends loads of money! If that was the intent, it didn't work on me (though I did spend loads of money throughout the weekend on subsequent trips). Instead,  I was exhausted and really just wanted to lie down. I did have an "oh shit" thought, but it was this: if I was so tired after getting through registration, how the hell was I going to manage on race day?

Feeling Frazzled

I feel like I have about a million and one things to do and I seem to be getting none of them done. Have I started packing? No. Have I started thinking about packing? Only for the last two weeks. Not much progress has been made. I started making a list. Yesterday. At this rate, I'll make it to Wisconsin with my helmet and not much else. For some reason, I keep thinking I still have so much time. My bike leaves on Tuesday, with me following two days later. Once work starts again on Tuesday, it will suddenly be Thursday in a snap. So, no, I really do not have much time.

And here it is Sunday morning and I'm wasting my time blogging. Well, at least I'm resting. One might think that I'm enjoying tapering so much that I don't want to do anything with all this free time. Certainly not packing. But I'm actually kind of bored. So bored that I spent the evening a few nights ago putting boxes away in my garage and changing the batteries in the smoke detectors. I know, such an exciting social life! Of course, packing didn't make the agenda that night.

And now I have the song Fraggle Rock stuck in my head. Which is a million and one times better than what has been stuck in my head since yesterday morning (seriously, when I woke up to pee in the middle of the night, I was still singing it). So I'll do you the favor...Warning: Adult Content (but damn catchy tune).

Time to get away...worries for another day...let the music play...down on Fraggle Rock.

Okay, now back to time to start packing!

The Ironman Nightmares Have Begun!

I got to my hotel late-ish Saturday night. Upon checking in, I realize that the race site is actually 5 hours away. There was supposed to be a charter bus to drive us all over, leaving at midnight, but no one seems to know anything about it at the hotel. In fact, they don't even seem to know what I'm talking about. My stepmom agrees to drive me so that I can "sleep" in the backseat. My dad wasn't planning on coming, but at the last minute does due to the midnight driving. My stuff seems to be scattered all over the hotel and it's getting close to midnight and I'm not even close to being ready. It's also not clear how everything is supposed to fit in the car for there to still be enough room for me to lie down and rest. The more I rush around trying to collect stuff, the more I realize I'm missing more stuff. Making it to the starting line at 7 is seeming more and more unrealistic but I've been training so hard and for so long, and so I rush around even more getting slower and slower by the minute.

And then I wake up.

Why do these dreams always involve getting to the race late or not having all your stuff ready or a combination? Well, I guess I should consider it a good thing that at least they're not about crashing or drowning...

Peaking or Breaking?

Well, whatever you want to call it, it's over and Taper Time is here. If exhaustion is a sign of bluing ready, then I'm ready. Regarless, I'm as ready as I'll ever be. And now I just have to rest as much as possible and not do anything stupid for the next 3 weeks. This will be a lot harder than it sounds...

Long live the taper.

Ready or Not...

My last long weekend...Since I screwed up my last long brick so terribly, I had the option of attempting it again (75/10) or doing a really long ride (130). The problem was that I wanted to do both for different reasons. I had an 18 mile run on Thursday, so attempting a long brick on Saturday would be tough. I hate doing long workouts on Sunday because I'm dead at work on Monday and I just barely get through Mondays as it is. I wanted to do the long ride because in previous years, I've only done 2 and I felt like doing 3 this year would give me a mental advantage of really knowing that the ride wouldn't be an issue, which I felt I especially needed after last years disaster in CDA. But then again, a long brick is a better simulation for race day.

What to do, what to do? I was starting to wonder if I should just stay in bed and sleep instead. It sounded so tempting.

In the end I went with the long ride. I had essentially done a long brick at 70.3 and that was quite successful. And I have another shorter brick this weekend. And Saturday promised to be the slightly cooler day.

I got off to a later start thanks to being out a little too late the previous night and having one too many glasses of wine with my sister. It seems that 1 is my limit these days and being how tired I am all the time, I really need to stick with that limit. Despite all the talk about chip sealing up around Carter and Horsetooth, I decided to chance it and head up that way primarily because I didn't feel like trying to find a new route. This was a no brainer and I knew where all the water stops were and it just seemed like a hell of a lot of work to try and find something else. And did I mention how tired I already was? It seemed more important that I go to bed rather than spend who knows how long fighting with MapMyRide.com...Does anyone else have this problem where it adds miles on for you, as though it's sending you back and forth on the same section of road 100 times? This only seems to happen for longer routes and god forbid you try and overlap and instead of plotting the point, it decides that you really want to add a marker instead. It can get frustrating to say the least. So braving the chip seal seemed much less stressful.

I got off to a great start. My legs actually felt good. It had been a while and my last few long rides had all started out with me feeling very sluggish and just not quite right. I was surprised considering my long run two days before but I wasn't about to complain. It was still early...Carter Lake came and went and then the oil started. The signs said "Fresh Oil on Road" and I wasn't quite sure what that meant. I had read about it and envisioned something else entirely. First of all, the road was still smooth and I sort of expected the oil stage to come after everything else. Instead, it looked more like a stage 1 thing. The road was just a lot darker and a lot dirtier. There was a ton of what I assume was gravel on the shoulders. I should know considering that I brought half of it home with me stuck to arms, legs, bike, clothes, water bottles, and so on. Fortunately there's not a ton of traffic so I could get away with riding more towards the middle of the road which seemed to have a lot less stuff on it. It was also pretty sticky, but it wore off of my tires quickly - it was just the rest of me that was a mess for the rest of the day.

There's one hill around mile 45 or so that doesn't look bad, but for whatever reason kills me and I immediately have to drop to a super easy gear and still seem to struggle. It didn't help that two people were riding down the hill a the same time and one of them screamed at me to get in the drops. That's easy to say when you're flying down hill, but when you're already in an easy gear and struggling, yeah right. I discovered on the way back that it's a 7% grade, so I felt a lot better for struggling and really just wanted to punch the woman screaming at me.

There was a cute little fair going on in Masonville with a sign that said "Come Meet the Alpacas". I was so tempted to stop. They're my favorite. I decided maybe on the way back (sure) and kept going. Then the chip seal started. It actually was much smoother than it was a few weeks ago - at least the shoulder was. Overall, I couldn't complain. I really had envisioned myself a riding tarball.

And then I started complaining. There's this other hill before the big climb up to Horsetooth that really doesn't look like a hill, but it is a long steady climb and goes on for miles. This is where I started questioning everything. I had planned on coming back the same way, which would be just as hilly, but at this point wasn't sure I'd make it. At this point I was starting to wonder if I'd even make it to Ft Collins. I was getting slower and slower by the minute. I thought I might have to ride back the easy way. I wanted to stop but somehow managed to convince myself that the end was just around the bend, which of course it never was. Until it was. And then I was find. I had no issue with the steeper climbs and soon found my way to my new favorite gas station in Ft Collins. I refilled my bottles and had a coke and part of a bagel. I pepped myself up for the ride back deciding that I needed to go back the hard way - more climbing would be better for Wisconsin.

Heading back immediately starts off with some tough climbs back up and around Horsetooth. But I did actually feel much better and actually passed some people. Yes, passed. And they were riding bikes too. It was final climb before the now long gradual downhill that nearly killed me on the way out that I realized how hot it was getting and I knew then that it was going to be a rough trip back into Boulder. For once the wind didn't really bother me as it was cooling me down a little and I had already resigned myself to riding a little slower. Back over the chip seal. Past the alpacas (I didn't stop). Through the oil fields. And then Carter Lake.

I have never ridden up the back side of Carter Lake and it was sort of haunting me for much of the ride. But since I was actually feeling okay on the ride back I had somehow managed to tell myself that it would be fine. Ha! Clearly I was delirious! It worse than sucked. It hurt like hell. I thought I was dying. I was questioning my sanity. And it really seemed to never end. And let's remember that I am now probably around mile 80 or so of my ride so I'm hot and tired too. I did not see a single other person heading up the hill. I determined at this point that I truly was insane. What the hell was I thinking? Well, I was thinking that I needed water and I really needed to pee and Hygiene was a little too far away.

After what seemed like an eternity (and I'm sure it was close), I made it to the top. I stopped by the marina to fill up and use the bathroom. Only it was locked. There were two rangers there telling me that I really didn't want to go in there. They emphasized "really" multiple times so I took there word on it. They said there was another bathroom way across the really rocky parking lot, the risk of killing myself trying to walk across in bike shoes seemed very likely so I decided I really didn't need to pee that badly. Besides, relatively speaking, I wasn't far from home. And so back in the saddle.

Aside from witnessing the second half of a car crash (I saw the second car go off the side of the road down a really steep hill really fast that in such a manner that you would never intentionally do before realizing what was going on), the rest of the ride was uneventful (which was fine with me as the crash kind of freaked me out a bit as I had to ride over bits and pieces of broken car). I really had no idea what time it was but I was seeing fewer and fewer cyclists (other than those doing whatever ride was going on) so I figured it was probably getting pretty late. I had another quick stop in Hygiene, which is now a required stop for me. It was 3:30 - I was assuming closer to 5 as one tends to lose all concept of time during such a long-ass ride.

And then 10 years later, I was home. Actually, it wasn't that bad. Nothing was that bad after That Hill. I had the world's slowest transition and eventually made my way outside to do a very short, very slow run. And then I was finally done. Whew! I was glad it was over for many reasons. The main reason being that I'd only have to do one more long ride and that would be on 9/12. The other main reason was that now I could taper. I knew I was as ready as I was ever going to be and finally felt like I was actually ready.

So let the tapering begin...

Boulder 70.3 Race Report

It wasn't a perfect race and of course there were things that went wrong. But all of that went right out the window when I saw the clock as I was crossing the finish line. 5:37. Finally breaking 6 hours. A 26 minute PR!

I had good feelings about the race since I've been putting so many hours into training over the last few weeks. But I was so tired last week and did very little in terms of workouts and by the time Friday rolled around, I was starting to wonder if I was actually ready. I knew I was being silly, but doubt creeps in so easily sometimes. I haven't been sleeping all that well and I was worried it was going to start to affect me. In addition, my stress numbers were getting higher due to increased volume and that had me a little concerned about possible overtraining. Fortunately I was able to put all that aside and had a remarkable race.

I slept horribly the night before the race, as well as the night before that. In addition, there was a massive storm that came through at some point during the night with lots of lightning lighting up my room. I refused to look at the clock, but figured it had to be nearing 4. Would it actually be raining when I got up? It's not that easy to get motivated for a race in the rain. But it had passed by the time I finally got out of bed. I managed to force down a bagel with peanut butter and made sure I got an earlier start to the Res than I did for the Peak. I did, but there was still mega-traffic. I found a spot towards the end of rack which seemed fine at the time but does explain my 3+ minute T1 time. But it just doesn't seem worth arguing for people to move over and just have them get pissy. I got all set up, grabbed my swim stuff, and chose the shorter lines for the porta pottys outside of transition. At this point there were 3 minutes left before they closed transition. At this point I realized that I had lost one of my ponytail holders. I need two because I've been wearing my hair in pigtails the last year in part to avoid the whiplash on my neck during the run, which at this point already is suffering from a little wetsuit chafing. It must have come off my wrist when I took my shirt off. And naturally you could only get back into transition via the bike exit, which was the opposite side of where I was. And I was barefoot. I did a quick and painful hustle back into transition and ran back to my rack. At this point volunteers were going around to the few people left in transition asking them if they were almost ready. I was looking on the ground when someone came over. I said I was almost ready but was still looking around. She asked what I was looking for and I told her. Mental note: keep extra bands in my bag!!! (which I do with every other bag I have, not that that helped me at the time). Volunteer to the rescue (yet another reason to LOVE volunteers). She had one on her wrist and asked if it would do. She said it wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. It was the thickness of the rubber bands they put around broccoli (the wide purple ones) and it was a lime green, but could I really complain? I grabbed it and made my way out of transition, passing a very late arrival who was rushing to find a spot to get set up. At least I wasn't in his position.

I headed down to the beach and decided to skip a swim warmup. I did one for the Peak and then stood on the beach freezing until my start. It seemed like it was a little cooler due to the rain the night before and I had a much longer time to stand around and wait. And so I waited. The swim course was laid out so much better than the Peak so I was a lot less concerned about swimming the wrong way. When my wave was allowed in, I headed to the front. My wave seemed exceptionally small and it seemed like I was going to have plenty of room. The gun went off and we were off. And I had plenty of room. I was actually able to keep pretty close to the buoys and for the first section I was pretty much swimming all by myself. I could see a cluster of purple caps maybe 25m in front of me and just tried to keep the gap close. As I rounded the first bend, I started running into earlier waves. Another purple cap appeared next to me and I hung on her feet for most of the way back. Rounding the final corner we really started running into slower swimmers, so I lost mid way on the final stretch and had to go it alone. Overall I felt pretty good on the swim and felt like I was right where I should be. I exited the water and really struggled to get up the hill into transition - the sand seemed extremely soft and it was hard to run in. Not to mention the trying to catch my breath at the same time.

My transition was slow. Partly due to the fact that I had racked over in Utah. I still had a lot of sand on my feet and wanted to get some of it off before putting on my bike shoes (it was still there during the ride). At the last second, I also decided to have a gel since I hadn't had one before the start and it seems like I've been struggling with becoming starving on the bike. It cost me a few seconds, but I think it was worth it considering I was able to manage my nutrition a lot better this race.

Soon I was off on the bike and immediately felt fatigued. I started to worry that I really wasn't rested and if I was already feeling tired now, what was it going to feel like in 30 miles? I pushed those thoughts aside and reminded myself that the weekend rides I had been doing were significantly longer and I got through those just fine. I also reminded myself that it was taking me longer to feel warmed up and I should just try and settle into a rhythm and then re-evaluate. After 5 or so miles I still didn't feel completely on, but there wasn't much I could do about that and would just ride. And eventually I started feeling a little more normal (finally warmed up?) and just tried to ride at a consistent pace. Not that I had anything to measure that. I decided to go without a watch, HR monitor, bike computer, etc. I misplaced my watch holder for the bike and had been riding the past two months with my Garmin in my pocket, where I would take it out every few hours or so just to see what my mileage was. And I found that just going my feel and not being a slave to the clock seemed to really help me - my bike definitely seems to be improving. So consistency was just a feeling. I was passing a lot more people than I normally do, especially over this distance. I was pushing it, but not too hard, and just tried to take advantage of passing people on the few climbs and trying to recover on the descents. And I made the two U-turns over by IBM with no worries whatsoever. This is a HUGE improvement for me as I usually end up unclipping to make the tighter turns like that. I made a point to keep drinking and finished all 3 bottles I brought with me. I also made a concerted effort to try and stop drinking on the final stretch along Diagonal in the hopes of avoiding cramping on the run, just in case it was due to too much liquids. I pulled back into the Res feeling like I had a decent ride and was ready for the run.

T2 was a lot better and I was in and out in no time. I think they called my name as I exited, but it could have been all my fans just yelling my name. Actually, HEP was working the aid station right outside of transition, so there were many hellos to say as I started the run.

I flipped my bib around to the front shortly after exiting transition only to discover that it had ripped and was now only attached by one corner. Knowing that it would drive me nuts to have it flapping for 13 miles, I managed to attach it to the lower corner (which is not easy to do while running). So although I was running around with a lopsided bib, it actually worked out better for me since my shirt tends to ride up a bit exposing my belly, which I hate, even though I know it's silly, and this angling allowed for the hiding of that. The first part of the run is always tough. There are a few rollers and just getting used to the heat and the fact that its so exposed. Similar to the bike, I didn't feel quite normal at the start of the run, but at least I didn't have the same sort of cramps that kept me from running like at the Peak. I sort of felt like I needed to eat, but I was still trying to determine how "full" I was from all the liquids on the bike and figured I'd give it a few miles before having a gel. I stopped at the first aid station to get lathered up with sunscreen. It seemed like it would be a good day for frying and I've sort of had enough of that. I was slowly passing people and felt much stronger than prior years. As I was approaching mile 5ish, I saw Craig ride by cheering on all of his athletes. I think he was a little surprised to see me as he called out after he passed. At this point I was feeling much better and could just concentrate on running, so when I saw him, I got a little extra boost to get me over the dam. At the start of the second lap, there was another round of hellos to the HEPsters and another little pick me up. Heading up that first hill towards mile 1, Craig rode by again cheering me on. It was around that point that I realized that I had this race. I really had no idea about the time and had purposely avoided looking at the clock at the start of the second lap and tried to avoid anyone talking about time (it's screwed me before because what else are you going to do out on that hot run but calculate and re-calculate things. The last time, there was a woman whose daughter was pacing her on the bike and kept shouting out her time and that she was on track to get a certain time. And I knew which age group she was in and I knew when she had started in relation to me, so I did the math despite trying not to). But it was just a feeling I had. I felt pretty good and it seems like the start of lap 2 is always a bit of struggle. And I was still running strong and passing people so it was just a matter of hanging on. Of course, it's one thing to think this at mile 7.5 and a completely different story at mile 10. A blister started forming at the base of my big toe and my timing chip was digging into my leg with every flex of my foot (same foot), so every step was literally a little painful. And on that long stretch along the death canal, where it sometimes feels like a death march, the feeling of pain can sometimes start to take the lead. I told myself just one aid station at a time. 3 more before the finish. Last hill. And so on. When I got to the dam, I suddenly remember something someone once told me about a visualization technique and so I decided to give it a try. The idea is to pick someone ahead of you and imagine a giant rubber band surround the two of you, so it seems like the other person is pulling you along. And sure enough, I immediately felt a little bit lighter and a little bit faster. On the second dam I came up with some silly little mantra that I kept repeating over and over and before I knew it, I was back on the asphalt and heading home.

As I rounded the final corner, I saw the clock. 6:15. And I knew that I had shattered my previous best. I hadn't even crossed the line and started throwing my arms in the air. There were two other people next to me, with me in the middle, and somehow it seemed like they were slowing down and converging in on me. I pushed through them with a Get Out of My Way! sort of urgency and crossed the line with a huge PR.

I immediately miscalculated my time because race day math never adds up. I have a few bets going with someone I work with and we have to take the other one out to lunch if we make our time goal. On Friday, I had sat down to calculate what I realistically thought I could do. The number I came up with was 5:35. That seemed way too fast, so I told him 5:45, which also seemed way to fast considering I've never broken 6. But I decided to go with it because I've been feeling pretty good about my training. My first attempt at calculating my time post finish line, I came up with 5:35. I went to find Steve, who was enjoying himself at the massage tent. I tried screaming at him and gave him thumbs up, but we decided I should just wait until he was done rather than interrupt everyone's massage with my yelling. I sat down to wait and recalculated. And recalculated. I came up with 5:40. And recalculated a few more times to make sure. I was still ecstatic. We had a beer to celebrate and I finally made my way over to find Craig. He hadn't seen me finish so didn't know how I'd done. I told him 5:40 and immediately shared my excitement. I found my brother and shared the good news. At this point, I was finally getting hungry and decided to make my way back to the food tent by way of the posted results.

I had probably been done for over an hour at this point, so my results should have been posted. I found the 5:40s and started looking down and down and down. Couldn't find my name. And now I was in the 5:50s. Could I have miscalculated again? And by that much? I saw a friends name in the 5:40s and got a little concerned with my math skills. He had said he had finished a few minutes before me, and for some reason I thought he had started after me, so I kept looking down the list. It finally dawned on me to look up the list. And so I looked at the previous page. I eventually found myself at 5:37 and a huge smile broke out on my face and I think I actually said "No way!" out loud. I really surprised myself. And it was a HUGE confidence booster for good things to come on 9/12!

swim: 34:39
t1: 3:14
bike: 2:53:09 (19.4 mph)
t2: 1:40
run: 2:05:07 (9:33 pace)

total: 5:37:58

age: 14/74
female: 89/399
overall: 449/1193

108 is Great! A Journey to Horsetooth and Beyond

I'm not sure why I was dreading this long ride. Two weeks ago wasn't much shorter but the temperatures were way hotter, so this should have been a breeze. But I've just been so tired lately and the thought of spending all day on my bike was, well, making me more tired. The last few weeks have been intense - approaching 18 hours a week of training. So I guess it's not surprising that I've been struggling to get out of bed in the morning. I had already kind of ruined my long run of the week because I couldn't get up early, so my 16 miles became two runs of 8 each, separated by a few hours. It still mostly counts, right?

Anyhow, no excuses for the long ride. It was the weekend after all. I mapped out a route on Friday afternoon that was roughly 112 miles and the plan was to get started by 7:30. I felt like I owed myself a little bit of sleeping in time. And I had a horrible nights sleep, though I'm not sure why. I woke before the alarm and wasn't exactly feeling awake. But that's nothing new. I took the dogs for a quick walk and tried to force down some food while I waited for Adam to show up. He agreed to do part of it with me.

We were off by about 7:45 and I was immediately sweating. Does anyone else's sunscreen cause them to start sweating profusely as soon as they get out in the sun. I was dripping and it was barely 70 degrees. This was going to be a long, gross day.

We headed north to Carter via the mandatory Wisconsin rollers. Adam turned around at Carter and I was on my own for the rest. I headed up and around Carter and north towards Horsetooth, past the uncharted lands of two weeks ago. I had to stop and consult my map several times as the last thing I wanted to do was get lost in god knows where amidst the thunderstorms that were predicted for the afternoon (and the clouds were starting to look promising). I eventually made it to the L2L bike course, which made me feel better for having a vague idea of where I was. But it was the section of the course that starts the climbing. Fortunately the wind decided to pick up at this time as well. So the long, slow climb was even longer and slower. I've decided that I'm more like Contador and am probably better suited for the steeper climbs rather than the long gradual slogs. At least that's what I told myself. I made it up and around Horsetooth and began the descent into town. The descent is slightly more frightening when it's not race day. There were a lot more cars and I wasn't all that willing to veer too far out of the bike lane.

I made it to some big gas station right before the turn onto Taft and decided to refill and take a quick break. After mixing some more drinks and treating myself to a chocolate gel (yum!), I was ready to start the ride back to my country (it's a little scary up north). I turned onto Taft and was immediately greeted by an extremely pleasant headwind. Of course I did. The winds always turn with me. When I left Adam, he had a tailwind and I was looking forward to that helping me back into Boulder. No such luck. And the clouds were starting to worry me, though it didn't look quite as bad to the south. If I could ride fast enough...

During my two times racing L2L, I remember the stretch on Taft with fond memories. It was here that I was able to finally pass people for good on the rollers. Maybe it was because I was the only one on the road, but more likely because of the wind, but there went the fond memories. It sucked. One hill after the next - they never end. And it's so exposed. There's nothing to block the wind. Did I mention it sucked?

I made it through town and thought I missed my turn. I turned off on a side street to consult my directions, which I no longer trusted. Google maps to the rescue. What on earth did we do before GPS phones? Seriously. Turns out that I hadn't reached my turn yet. I guess it was just wishful thinking to get out of the wind. But nope, the wind wasn't ready to leave me yet and unfortunately I didn't have many options since I had to go south.

It was exhausting. All I could think about was getting to Hygiene. It never sounded cleaner. And still the wind kept coming. I got to that sharp turn onto 75th (north of Hwy 66) where it starts to go downhill and you can usually fly on in from here, and started to feel relief. There was still wind, but I knew it was slightly downhill and I was a mere minutes away from Hygiene, new love of my life. Some guy passed me on the curve (I had passed him shortly before on the slight uphill and I guess he thought it was payback time). But he just wasn't going fast enough and that just wouldn't do. So I flew past him and could tell he was trying to hang on to my wheel. I'd been riding for over 80 miles at this point and I was NOT about to give someone a free ride and so I pushed harder. He finally got up to me at the light and was totally out of breath. But he managed to huff out "You're really strong".

WOW! That's a first! Of course, he was a slightly overweight middle-aged man. So I just told him that it was the lure of Hygiene.

I finally made it and was so ready for a break. It had taken me almost 2 hours to go 27 miles! I felt a break was much deserved after battling the wind for that long. Naturally there was no wind in Hygiene making me think I had made it up. I double checked the weather for verification. 10-15mph winds. I didn't make it up. I hung out in the shade for a bit trying to motivate for the last 20 miles.

The last 20 miles were tough. Not nearly as bad as the 27 in the wind, but by this point my legs were just tired. I was hot and sticky and covered in bugs. And for some unexplained reason my knees were covered in dirt. Maybe the wind was blowing dirt at me? My one break of the day came during the last 3 miles where I have to ride up Baseline. I finally had a tailwind! And I made it over the railroad tracks without losing any water bottles.

I finished at 108.1. A little over 6.5 hours. 2400 feet of climbing and at least 2 hours into the wind. And being exhausted from training. Not too bad all things considering. I was supposed to run 5 miles afterwards and decided to shoot for 3. After about a 20 minute transition, I was out the door. The first mile really didn't feel so bad, but at this point it was close to 95 degrees and the heat was starting to get to me. In the end, I made it 2.1 miles and decided to call it a day. I am definitely feeling better about Sept. 12. For a while I just didn't think I was getting enough distance. The last few weeks have been intense, but I've gotten through them and each week feeling more confident in my training. Which is a good thing because there are only a few weeks left...

Watch out for Snakes!

On Thursday, I had the misfortune of encountering a snake while out on my bike ride over lunch. The problem was that I didn't see it until it was too late and I ended up riding over it. Yes it was alive. And no, I didn't kill it. But it kind of freaked me out for the rest of the afternoon.

It was towards the end of my ride and I was starting to get hot and hungry and guess I wasn't paying too much attention. But it's not like I always stare at the road straight in front of me. One has to look ahead as well. Anyhow, I realized that the stick was moving and was not actually a stick. I started to slam on my brakes, but then my overactive imagination got ahead of me and I thought that I was going fast enough that slamming on my brakes might actually send me over the handlebars, which would put me on top of the snake. It seems like a better idea to try and keep the bike in between us. This was a big ass snake. It was probably about 4 feet long and about twice as thick as a garden hose. It spanned across the entire bike line. So my options once I decided to not slam on the brakes were to go off road into the dirt and grass, possibly where there were many other snakes awaiting to attack. Or I could swerve into the road, and would have to be well into the lane since the snake was heading towards the center of the road. But this would possibly put in front of a car because I didn't have time to check behind me. Plus it would require me to look, which meant taking my eyes off of the snake, which meant that it might be in a different spot when I looked back. And yes, you can think of all of these options in a split second. And so all that was left was to go over. My first thought was to pull up my legs, but then realized (after starting) that I was still clipped in, so standing up and screaming seemed the next best thing. I had slowed down enough from my attempted effort of slamming on the brakes, so by the time I hit it, it hopefully wasn't such a big impact. There was a distinct bump (front wheel) followed by another distinct bump (back wheel) and then it was over. When I finally looked back, it seemed to be continuing on its way to the middle of the road where it would likely be hit by a car.

It was a bit traumatic. I kept my feet off of the floor for the rest of the afternoon.

96 miles, 96 degrees*

* Okay, so it was 95.93 miles and it was over 100 degrees by the time I finished, but it doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

The day began early. Very early. It's really hard to set the alarm for 6:15 on a weekend when it's not a race. But the temperatures were expected to reach over 100 and I had a long ride ahead of me. So it was either suffer early, or suffer late (at which point I'd probably be 30 miles from home). So the alarm went off and I snoozed. Fortunately I had factored that in. I finally dragged myself up, took the dogs out for a quick walk, and was on the rode by 7:10. I am not a great rider to begin with, but riding just out of bed is really not my thing. My legs just didn't feel as they had been, but that's what being tired does to you.

By 9am, I was almost at Carter Lake having just done the Wisconsin Rollers. Again. It does really suck that it's such a short section of road. My phone rang. I thought it was weird because everyone knew I had this really long ride and who the hell would otherwise be calling me so early on a weekend. I pulled over and got out my phone. Missed call from Adam (brother). Missed call from Rachel (sister-in-law). Missed call from Lavonne (stepmom). Shit! That feeling of dread hit my stomach like a brick. What the hell happened? And I'm 30+ miles from home. I listened to the first message from Adam, who sounded like my stomach felt. He didn't give me much information other than my dad needed emergency eye surgery and to call him. I won't say that it wasn't bad, because the whole situation did really suck, but I was imagining much worse. My dad has been dealing with eye issues for the last 5 months. He had just had his second surgery a few days beforehand, but I guess something went wrong. One of the options was to put a gas bubble in his eye (he had oil in it before). The problem with gas is that it has to stay at a certain pressure, which meant that he'd have to stay at the same altitude. The problem with that is that surgery was in Denver, elevation 5280 feet and my dad lives in Nederland, elevation 8000 feet. So of course he could stay with me or Adam, or both, if that was the better option. We got the logistics somewhat squared away, but surgery wasn't going to be until much later and so I was off again. Though not quite with the same oomph I was starting to get to before.

The rest of the ride went like this:
* Quick water stop at the bottom of the lake
* Up to the lake and over/around.
* Headed north towards Loveland into unchartered territories
* Started getting nervous about water supplies and not sure what was up ahead, so turned around a little early and headed back towards Carter.
* Did that awful little jog back to the water hose at the bottom of the lake. This was the second time on this painful stretch of road. At this point it was starting to get damn hot and I felt like I was frying.
* Not so quick refill this time.
* Back across the Wisconsin rollers
* Painful hot stretch towards 75th. I think I may have started hallucinating at this point.
* After what seemed like an eternity, I made it to Hygiene where I refilled and sat under the trees for at least 30 minutes. Only 20 miles to go.
* Stopped again at Tom Watson park, which is only like 8 miles away but I already felt like an almost dead man crawling through the desert. 12 miles to go.
* Slowly made my way over to Baseline.
* Even more slowly made the long climb up Baseline to 95th.
* Crossed the railroad tracks 1 mile from home and lost my water bottles. I wanted to cry and I stopped to go back and get them. I might need them for that last little stretch.
* Home sweet home.

After checking the current temperature (100.2), I promptly laid down on the living room floor directly under the ceiling fan and didn't move for 20 minutes. Forget the run I was supposed to do. Even if I had been able to, it just seemed like a really stupid idea to try and run in 100 degrees after having spent 6 hours frying on my bike. But being that I really couldn't get off of the floor, it wasn't much of an issue.

But I did it. I ran a very slow 13 miles the next morning (another morning setting the alarm before 7). My legs were a bit tired but I think I was way more exhausted from the heat. It just zapped everything from me. I'm not quite sure how I pulled it off, but I ended the weekend feeling a lot more prepared for IMMOO. Worse case scenario come Sept. 12...if it's 95 degrees on race day, I can get through it. It just might not be too pretty.

Boulder Peak Race Report

The last time I raced the Peak was in 2007. I was sick and it was anything but pretty. Getting up Olde Stage is hard enough. Getting up Olde Stage when you're sick and can't breathe is near impossible. On 36 leading up to the turn on Nelson, I ran into Adam, walking his bike because he had a flat and his CO2 cartridge failed. I gave him mine and then desperately hoped for a flat so I could quit with respect. It didn't happen and I staggered on to one of my worst Olympic finishes -  right up there with racing in 40 degrees and rain. I expected this year to be drastically different.

I actually felt pretty rested going into this race. At least more so than L2L. I switched out my gearing the weekend before and my final spin up Olde Stage a few days before was so much easier! Wow! 27s are AMAZING! Well, for Olde Stage that is.

I felt like I got to the Sprint insanely early, so I gave myself a little less time. Stupid mistake. Of course there are way more people at the Peak. I got stuck in the traffic line as soon as I turned off of Jay. And I wouldn't say it was moving quickly. Fortunately I've been really good this year about not panicking and I was surprisingly calm. After all, there are only so many ways to set up ones transition spot. I finally was ushered into a parking spot and made the long walk to transition. My body marker was awesome. After I told her my age, she said "I don't believe that for a minute" and made my day. She also happened to be the wave leader for my wave as we were lined up the beach and got everyone going with cheering.

A quick comment about numbering: why the hell to the men get the low numbers and the women get the high numbers? Let's think about this. Our arms are so much smaller, much less surface area, hence much less writing area. So doesn't it makes sense to give us the 3-digit numbers rather than trying to get 4-digit numbers and have it come down past your elbow. I just don't get it.

Anyhow, I got marked and picked up my timing chip, trying to avoid the Bossy Volunteer from last time, who literally does everything by the book. Fortunately she was yelling at someone else. I made my way through transition only to find the racks full. That's what happens when you're sitting in the traffic jam. I counted 7 bikes on one rack and noticed that people had their stuff spread out like a picnic blanket. Why on earth do people need that much room? Maybe this is why we end up with 4-digit numbers. I asked to squeeze in, which would require moving someone's stuff (unless they were really two people wide), and people actually balked. "Well, we don't really have room" and "I don't know who's stuff that is". I tried to explain that there were only 7 bikes racked and there should be room for 8 and the whole time I was in shock that people were making such a fuss. I always seen people be exceptionally nice at these moments, sometimes offering a spot before even being asked. I mean, it's not like it was the end rack. So I just moved on and found a rack with fewer bikes. And nicer people. At this point I probably had about 5 minutes to set up before they closed transition. When I was heading over to my rack, I ran into Adam who was waiting in line for the bathrooms. Him: "Did you just get here?" Me: "Uh, yeah" Him: "What happened?" Me: "Traffic". Mental note: arrive early for 70.3.

Fortunately I didn't need much time to set up and for once I didn't need to use the bathroom. I'm really not sure how I managed that but I'd like to try and work this into my regular pre-race routine, because the last thing I need is to be gagging after I've struggled so hard to force food into my body.

I headed down to the beach and waited for my start.

I was a little disappointed to learn that it would be the same clockwise swim as the sprint. I can handle the sprint because it's short, but the longer distances, I prefer counter clockwise due to me breathing on my left. Another strike against Ironman. When we entered the water, I went to the front line since no one else was. The problem was that I again chose the outside, which is fine if it's counter clockwise because then I can see where I need to be and can eventually start to cut in. Doesn't work so well the other way. The gun went off and I started swimming wide. I zigged and zagged because I couldn't stay straight, but at least I was making forward progress. All of a sudden I slammed into something. It was a very large man from several waves ahead of me at a near dead stop in the water. He had to be treading water because his body was vertical, hence me slamming into to. But my first thought was that I had swam into a manatee. Brains are weird.

Fortunately Ironman decided to explain the swim course after the race started and we were not to do a 90 degree turn at the far buoy. The swim course was shaped like a house (square with a triangle on top). I got to the top of the triangle and started back to shore. Unfortunately, I somehow ended up heading towards the buoy I had just come from. And even more unfortunately, the kayakers decided to let me almost reach this wrong buoy before stopping me to tell me I was going the wrong way and needed to go waaaayyy over there. Thanks. And no, I was not by myself. There were quite a few of us that made this detour. Well, there goes my swim. I finally made it back to shore and didn't have any run-ins with things sticking into my feet like at the Stroke n'Stride a few days before.

Fortunately someone had pointed out a star-shaped balloon on the rack before mine, so I didn't have too much trouble finding my bike (you'd think having a yellow and orange bike would be sufficient, but it's amazing how it blends in). And off to the ride.

I didn't feel quite as good on the bike as I was hoping to. During the sprint, by the time I got to Jay, I was ready to fly. This time around, by the time I got to Jay, I was ready to turn around. It doesn't help knowing that Olde Stage is looming ahead. I pushed the thought out of mine and just continued forward. At least the hill is at the beginning. The climb felt a lot harder than a few days before, of course, I hadn't been swimming or riding hard going into it. But at least I had my faithful 27. I got to the steep part and saw Mike the Devil, who came running over and proceeded to run with me for a bit. That helped except when he asked how I was feeling and I could barely breathe to respond. I think I told him to ask me again when I got to the top. I wouldn't say the top came before I knew it, but I did eventually reach it and started the long descent. I actually got cold on the ride down but that didn't last long. I played leap frog with a few women on the rollers on 63rd - I catch them on the hills and they catch me on the flats. The one downside of the 27 meant I lost the 11. I felt like I was struggling at times but overall felt like I was doing much better than previous years. I got passed by Adam right before the turn back onto Jay and was pretty psyched that it took him that long to catch up. After that it's just that one last hill and then back into transition.

T2 was equally uneventful thanks to the star balloon. I did a quick shoe swap, grabbed my hat, and was off.

I had a side cramp immediately. I don't even think I made it out of transition before it set in. I told myself to just run through it and it would eventually go away. The cramp thought otherwise. It was so insanely painful - I don't think I've ever had a cramp like this before. It hurt to touch my skin. My run slowed to a shuffle and I tried not to breathe. At one point I actually stopped running to see if the pain would immediately subside. It didn't, so I started running again - I mean if it's going to hurt regardless, might as well run. The most comfortable position I could find involved pushing my stomach out. But it's really hard to run and do that at the same time. The two are sort of opposing forces. The cramp finally subsided shortly after mile 2, at which point I was finally able to run like I wanted to. I had a great run at the Stroke n'Stride a few days before and had been hoping for similar. Unfortunately the cramp put a damper on that for 2 miles, but I was able to really pick up the pace after that. My goal was 2:50. I rounded the corner to the finish and saw the clock at 3:10 and change (I started 20 minutes after the start). I had to smile. It was still in the 2:50 minute, so I'd say it counted. Either way, I still PR'd by 6 minutes even with a swim detour and a cramp. I'll take it.

swim: 29:11
t1: 1:55
bike: 1:25:33 (18.3 mph)
t2: 1:13
run: 52:54 (8:32 pace)
total: 2:50:44

age group: 28/105
females: 114/541
overall: 524/1347

And I have to say that Ironman is starting to get it together a bit more. Of course, I went to packet pickup on Friday and avoided the rush, but there were way more volunteers working and the layout made a lot more sense. And although we got the same hideous race bag, at least the t-shirts were technical this time.

Stroke n' Stride #6

First Stroke n' Stride of the season. I did it more to support a friend and to get in another open water swim before the Peak. And despite some slight mishaps*, it went pretty well. I believe the swim was long, so I believe I am happy with my swim results. My transition was slower than molasses as I was checking in on said friend who was not staying for the run. But I was happy with this as well - it made me feel a lot calmer to be able to chat with friends and took some of the pressure off of myself. I was very happy (and surprised) with my run. It's amazing what rest and an easy week can do...

*slight mishaps:
- Too many jellybeans on the drive over to the Res
- I left my goggles and swimcap in the car and didn't realize it until about 5 minutes before the start of the race.
- Ditto for picking up my timing chip
- During the run over to both the car and the booth, the jellybeans took their revenge. I immediately felt insanely full and about to throw up. This made for a very uncomfortable run between swim laps and an even more uncomfortable run.
- I stepped on a sticker of sorts as I stood up to exit the water. It is a bad idea to try and balance on one leg to examine the opposite foot immediately after swimming a 1500. It is an even worse idea to try and do this while still in the water.
- There is such a thing as too many jelly beans, despite what Ronald Reagan may have said.

swim lap 1: 14:39 (yikes!)
swim lap 2: 16.22 (even more yikes!)
T: 2:06 (I definitely dawdled)
run: 23.58 (7:44 pace)

total: 57:04

age group: 2/7 (kind of funny after my last posting)
females: 13/41
overall: 39/103

Afterthoughts...Appreciation

So after wavering for some time between being okay and being not okay with my L2L results, I started thinking about why I wasn't okay with them. I mean, considering the circumstances, it was a really good race. I should rephrase - considering my circumstances, it was a really good race. Because let's face it. Many people go into races with their own circumstances. And I'm sure some do much better than me and some do much worse. But maybe they're okay with the results.

Last weekend, as I was heading into the final stretch of the run before heading back into the park, a man was pretty much just starting his run. He was pushing a stroller, with whom I'm assuming was his son. It was very much in the spirit of Team Hoyt, who are nothing less than inspiring. Talk about selflessness. These men are doing these races entirely for someone else. Sure, they get something out of it was well I'm sure. But they are giving up speed and winning for something so much bigger. It reminded me of Vineman two years ago. I was way at the back of the pack, sick and feeling sorry for myself. A wheelchair athlete passed us going the other direction (heading towards the finish). As he passed us, he yelled something along the lines of "You guys are my heros!". That sort of killed the feeling sorry for myself - I had absolutely no right to do so.

So why do I keep letting this happen? Not to be pessimistic, but I'm not going to be winning my age group any time soon. It's Boulder after all. And at one point I thought I might have a chance when I'm 70, but then I realized that I'd still be racing against the same people. I think I've accepted this, but where I'm struggling is the happy medium between not winning, but still doing better. My biggest competitor is myself. At what point is being better good enough? If I'm one second faster, that should be sufficient because I'm faster. It's important to have goals, but it's also important to have fun.

So, I should be happy with being 15th (the Sprint), or 10th (L2L) in my age group. And now that I've had some time to think about it, I am. I'm a lot closer to the top than I am to the bottom and that definitely counts for something.

Training Through...Lake to Lake Race Report

 

I'm not using this as an excuse, but I do need to preface this report with a disclaimer. Craig asked me last weekend if I was okay with training through Lake to Lake. And since Wisconsin is what I'm focusing on and since Wisconsin is right around the corner and since I don't feel like I'm close to being ready, I said yes. That was before I got my training schedule. *Since the disclaimer is really long, I put it at the end so that this still seems like it's a race report as opposed to a history of my week. Read at your own discretion.

The nice thing about this race was that it was on Saturday, which meant that I could still enjoy part of the weekend. The bad thing about this race is that it's on a Saturday so I felt like my pre-race routine was all thrown off. So after coming off of a full day of work, I had to get up at 3:30a on Saturday morning. Yes. That's really early. I tried to force myself to go to bed early, but when it doesn't get dark until 9:30 it's sort of hard to do. I wouldn't say I slept great, but I did sleep for a bit without the horrible OMG I forgot my bike sort of dreams. I woke up at one point half convinced I had overslept. But I was pretty sure I had set the alarm correctly and was afraid that if I looked at the clock, it would say that I only had 15 more minutes to sleep. In which case I would have not gone back to sleep and have just counted down the minutes. But on the other hand, if I had not set the alarm right, then I might oversleep and miss the race. Of course, it's insanely early, so maybe I'd be okay with that. In the end I talked myself out of checking and the alarm went off as planned however many minutes later. 

When we did this race 2 years ago, we were one of the first to get to the site and had no line to contend with for packet pickup. Except that they didn't have Matt's registration for whatever reason. And we had to wait until Someone Important showed up to clarify everything. Well, Someone Important was really late and by the time he finally got everything squared away, the transition area was pretty full and we had to squeeze our way in. I didn't want to run the risk of dealing with that again, so I was out the door at 3:45. 

Which was way too early.

I got to the race at 4:30. There were all of 2 other people there. At least I got a good parking spot. But packet pickup didn't open until 5 and transition until 5:15. I tried to sleep for a bit, but it wasn't really working. Around 4:50, people were starting to see if the building was open, so I headed over as well. There were no lines and no issues and I was back at the car 10 minutes later. I dawdled for quite some time getting stickers on and what not, so by the time I headed over to transition, all of the front racks were taken. Knowing that I would have a very difficult time finding my bike (since racks were not numbered, not that that helped me last weekend) so I headed towards the middle so that I could get the end of a rack and be able to see my bike as I was running up the aisle. It did mean that I'd have to run more with my bike, but I figured that was still better than running around looking for my bike. I got everything set up and put my running shoes on for a light warmup. It was already getting hot and it's wasn't quite 6 am. It was going to be a hot one. After one last pit stop, I double checked transition, grabbed my wetsuit, and headed down to the beach.

Okay, so here was the problem. If you've read previous race reports, you know that I really struggle to eat in the morning. I had brought a plain bagel with me, thinking I'd have plenty of time to wake up and struggle through it before the race. Well, getting up at 3:30 threw me all out of wack. Or maybe I hadn't eaten enough the night before - I was so tired making dinner that I almost gave up. I don't know. But I started picking at the bagel during the drive, maybe around 4. Only I wasn't really picking at it. I was actually eating it. I had eaten most of it before I had gotten to the race, finishing up the rest of it while applying stickers and dawdling. By 6a, I was starving. I had a gel and figured that would do the trick. It did for a while. About 20 minutes into the ride, I was starving again. And since the first part of the ride is all uphill, I really needed to eat now rather than wait. I had a few Honey Stinger fruit chews and some water. Wasn't doing it. I had some Hammer Perpetuem. Still wasn't doing it. I didn't want to eat too much at once, but I needed something. I finally broke down and had another gel and lots more liquid. All of this caught up with me on the run when I really thought I was going to throw up. *Grossness alert* At one point, something started to come up and somehow I fought it but I had just passed a water stop and now had to wait another mile with this awful taste in my mouth. Lesson learned: eat before a race, but not 2.5 hrs before a race. Find a happier medium.

The Swim:

The waves weren't so much age groups rather than age buckets. They squeezed a whole lot of people into 6 waves. I was in the first wave (nice and early at 6:30), with all the other 35-39 (men and women) and the elites (men and women), and possibly some others thrown into the mix. It's a beach start and I don't remember how I worked it two years ago, but I couldn't figure out where I wanted to be. Starting with the elites, I certainly wasn't going to be front and center. And not knowing where the elites ended and the age groupers began, I ended up hanging back a bit. So I was stuck in the chaos up until the first buoy. I found someone to draft off of, but they were a little too slow so I kept running into their feet. Unfortunately my wetsuit was really rubbing against the back of my neck and it was starting to get painful. So I stayed with my draftee so I wouldn't have to turn my head so much. Heading back to shore, my swimcap felt like it was coming off. I reached up and sure enough, half of my head was exposed. So I kept trying to pull it forward, thinking I didn't have much farther to go, but clearly it was bothering me. I slowed down even more (as though that would keep it on). It was also really hard to figure out where we were supposed to get out of the water until we were pretty close to sure, so for a while, I really wasn't sure where I was going and decided to leave all my trust in the swimmers ahead of me. The problem with this particular swim course is that it's about 1/4 mile from transition, so it's a really long run up the beach, across the field, and then into transition. So not only are you going suddenly from horizontal to vertical, you now have to run 1/4 mile in a rubber suit. But so does everyone else...

T1:
 I didn't have any issues finding my bike this time (I would have felt really stupid if I had). I've been practicing my sockless rides and this was going to be the inaugural race. I figured it would save me so much time because I wouldn't have to dry my feet and try to put socks on wet feet. However, my feet were covered in grass and I felt like I had to get most of that off before putting shoes on or something was going to start poking me. I think I saved a total of 5 seconds. Maybe a little more because the transition area is on grass, which is awesome, because you can actually run on it in bike shoes and not really have to worry about wiping out. The thing is that you exit down a short little hill and then onto the parking lot to mount - so you can't be going too fast or wipeout is inevitable.

The Bike:
I remember the bike course being awful for the first half. It took me a while to get into a rhythm. But I was hoping for something different this time. Things seemed to start of better. The first few miles are some ups and downs and I seemed to be handling them okay. But once out of town, there's a long gradual climb until you get to the two big hills. This is where I died. I just couldn't find a good pace and was being passed right and left (well, left and more left). This was also where I got really hungry. My legs ached and I really didn't feel like I had it in me. My "training through" had caught up with me. I was really hoping that I'd be able to pull through and get at least the same or faster bike split during this race. I really wanted something to show that I was improving (my 1 second PR from last weekend wasn't quite what I was looking for). But I felt like I was starting giving up, and I just couldn't get my legs to move. I kept reminding myself that I was tired and that I had a really long week, but it just seemed like an excuse. And so I plodded on with this argument in my head. Once I got to the big climbs, I did feel better and was able to pick up my cadence and eventually my pace. I remember passing people on the climb two years ago and put that image into my head. I don't remember if I actually made it happen again, but I did get passed towards the top of the final climb, but I was sort of expecting it. The rest of the ride was much better - maybe because it's mostly downhill. But even the rollers felt pretty good. I wouldn't say I felt strong, but stronger than I had started. There would be no PR today - it was just a matter of hanging on. Once past the rollers, the rest of the ride is fast and the testosterone kicks in and the guys go flying past. It's a little weird on the final stretch because they close the entire lefthand side of the road. So do I ride on the right, which is actually the middle of the road, or stick to the curb. It wasn't quite as much of a dilemma as before, but it does make you think. Someone had crashed on the turn into this road and we had to swing wide around them. It's sort of unsettling to see someone sprawled out on the ground with paramedics on their way. It's also not a good picture to have in your mind. So I backed off a bit and let the testosterone through and started mentally getting ready for the run.

T2:
The dismount was fine, though a little slippery. But I struggled trying to push my bike up the short little hill into transition. Tiredness had clearly set in. I had put my bag at the front of the rack facing outwards so I'd know where to stop on the run back. I knocked one of my water bottles off while racking my bike and had to pick it up. I know I should have left it, but it was all of 5 seconds. I did have to take a little extra time as well to put on socks - I'm not sure I'm ready to try running sockless anytime soon. And then off again.

The Run:
The run starts off cutting across the field and down a steep hill out of the park, with the steep hill sort of catapulting you out of the park and onto the road. It's an out and back course, which is great because you get to see and cheer on the winners. And it's no so great in that you can see everyone that is ahead of you, but that really doesn't matter for me as there is always someone ahead of me. I don't really love the course. The options are to run on the road, which is banked, or to run on the sidewalk, and deal with all of the ups and downs of people's driveways. The last little bit by the turnaround is the only level surface, but a good deal of it is totally exposed. But it's only 6 miles, right? Things started off well - better than last week with no cramping. But I was really full at this point. Big surprise considering all I had eaten. I saw Adam around mile 2 and he was heading home. Suddenly 4 miles felt like a lot. I made it to the turnaround without any issue, but heading back, I started to feel like I was going to throw up. If you're reading from the beginning, you already know what happens so I won't go into it again. But it wasn't pleasant. I just took it one step at a time and soon I was back in the park, approaching the world's cruelest finish line. Recap from two years ago: as I was entering the park, a volunteer directing us was cheering everyone on and said "only 1/2 mile left". And I thought "yeah, right". She doesn't how far a 1/2 mile is. Besides, we're back in the park, close to the beach, so it's what, maybe 1/4 mile. Time to start kicking it. Well, she was right. Every bend I went around, there was always a person still in front of me. I could hear the finish line, just couldn't see it. At one point, we ran along this waterway and I looked across it and saw people still running, but the other way. Needless to say I was dying - when would it end. And then, shortly before the actual finish line, they put a timing pad and then have someone standing there yelling at you not to stop because it's not the finish. And then you finally hit the finish line gasping for air. End of recap. Well, even know what the finish is like didn't make it any less cruel this time around. And this time, the announcer and spectators were trying to get races to sprint finish. If they were anywhere near someone else, they'd be goaded on to try and beat each other. I picked up the pace a little on the final turn, but didn't really have it in me to go much harder. It's one thing to almost throw up somewhere out on the course. It's entirely different to do it right at the finish line. So I let the older guy that I had been tailing go flying past me at about a million miles per hour and gave him the "win". And then I saw the clock turn over from 2:59 to 3:00. Aaggghhh! If only I had known sooner, I would have tried to find something.


swim: 30:19

t1: 1:33

bike: 1:35:31 (18.8 mph)

t2: 1:19

run: 51:49 (8:21 pace)

total: 3:00:34

age: 10/64

female: 72/317

overall: 282/715

*Disclaimer

When I got my schedule, I almost cried. Monday off. Tuesday 25 mile ride, 13.5 mile run. Wed 4 mile run, 3200 meter swim. Thursday 18 mile ride, 7 mile run. Friday off. Saturday race. What?!? Um, I wasn't exactly sure how all of that was going to happen. But somehow it did. Most of it. It works out better for me (and the dogs) if I take Tuesdays off, so I decided to swap Monday and Tuesday. But of course, Monday was the day after the Sprint, so it was the ideal rest day. I decided that it was only a sprint, so I'd be fine. So Monday I rode at lunch and it was actually a really good ride. I felt really solid, and actually started to think that I could get through this week. I was going to run after work but around 3:00 or so, I started getting stomach pains. I think I had bad salad dressing. Anyhow, they were getting worse throughout the afternoon and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball. Running under such conditions really didn't seem like a good idea. It probably wasn't even possible being that I was struggling just to walk. So I set the alarm for 4a Tuesday morning. I woke up and still felt sick. But Tuesday was supposed to be really hot in the afternoon (90s) so the odds of me going after work would be slim. I felt exhausted, and I needed to get this run in, so I decided to take a Wellness Day and called in sick. I slept for another few hours and then headed out for my run around 8:30. It was 75 degrees. It quickly heated up and it was high 80s when I finished. It didn't quite go according to plan. I had to stop a few times and run through some sprinklers as well as stop to walk for a bit. At one point, I figured I'd just stop and then try and get in a few more miles later in the day. But I decided that it would be better to just get it over all at once and so I plodded on. Overall I finished faster than I was expecting, so I was pretty happy with the results. I wasted the rest of the day buying new running shoes, running errands, and other general nothingness. It was a much needed day away from work, even though I did have to put in a few hours from home. Wednesday's 4 mile run went fine. I was surprised how okay my legs felt. Of course, I had been living in compression socks since Sunday's race (and would continue to do so for the rest of the week). The combination of compression socks, my massage stick, arnica, and some cooling metholy creme seemed to help tremendously (and there was an ice bath thrown in there after the long run). I was pretty dead for Wednesday's swim and just tried to hold on, which I can't really say I did. It was a good effort though. Thursday was another long run, but at a very easy pace, which was good considering I went out in the heat of the day at lunchtime. I ran with 2 people from work, which was probably a good thing as I may not have done the whole thing without them. It was getting damn hot out there, but fortunately Boulder Creek was right there and I stopped twice to dunk my hat (which felt SO GOOD!). The run ended up being roughly the same pace as my long run, which was decent considering it was much warmer out and I was way more tired. I also rode to and from work, not quite getting in my 18 miles, but pretty close. I was going to go longer, but figured Thursday night was my important night of sleep and figured it would be better to get home and rest instead. Friday was the long awaited for day off. It would have been great had I not had to work. But I guess I have to to support this lifestyle. Anyhow, I made it through the week and was just hoping for the best on Saturday.

*End Disclaimer