Here it is, after many months of no writing, my
race report along with a few pre-race thoughts. Longhorn Ironman 70.3 Austin. In short, a race that I am happy is over,
that went well all the way to the run, then fell apart. A 31:21 swim, 2:20:30
bike, and 1:43:04 run. Add transitions
for a total time of 4:38:59.
In more details:
With the opportunity of being “forced” to go to
Kona to work at the Ironman World Championships, I decide that this will be a
good opportunity to get in some good fall training in warmer climate. I take my vacation time that I didn’t have
time to take earlier in the year in my efforts to finish off the new Ironman
online tracker (project that ended up taking most of my free time, and a lot of
my non-free time – eating up training and social time, which are the same thing). To put this training to good use, I would
have to race later in the month. This is
where Ironman 70.3 Austin fit in. Being
on October 27th, the timing seemed to fit well. I would train in Kona, then fly to Austin,
get over jet lag, and then put all that training to good use. The final goal was to qualify for Mont-Tremblant
70.3 World Championships.
September 29th came around and I
departed for Kona. The last month of
summer has enabled me to get decent training in and this time in Hawaii was
promising. I start off at a hostel for
the first few days, than move to the King Kameameha Beach Hotel, where Marc has
checked in and agreed to share his room with me in exchange for me branding my
bike Sportstats. Sponsorship, if you would like. This provides a good training base. The pool is nearby, the ocean at less than
100m walk, and right on Ali’i drive to provide good running. Iron week is also super inspiring. My days are filled, training and working –
getting the last few fixes in for the tracker and scaling up for the big day. Post race, I move to a condo about 1km up Ali’i
drive with Sylvan, which provides another good 4 days of training. At this time, I complete my first ever HC
climb – the Hina Lani + Kaloko climb – which end up in the hardest bike ride I
have ever completed. This followed by a
run off the bike. At this time, I’m
feeling pretty confident in my form.
Training is going well.
I fly out for Austin on the 18th. Here I check in to a low scale motel. The beds are clean and thus the room is going
to do. The price is right. My main goals in these days leading to the
race are to get another longer run, ride the race course, and overcome any jet
lag.
Riding the course had led me to discover that
it is pretty darn awful. Roads are
really rough, full of cracks. Slightly
discouraged by how awful it is, there is no backing out now.
I am also encountered by the fact that race
site is far from everything – even public transit. This leads me to the realization that I don’t
really have a choice but to rent a car, something I find unfortunate since I am
trying to stay on budget. But I am committed
and will do what I need to do to make this a success.
On the Friday, when I go to check in at
registration, I take the opportunity to be back on race site to go for a last
pre-race swim in the actual lake.
DISGUSTING! Swampy entrance and
very dirty water. I can hardly see my hand
as I pull under my body. The water is
quite cold as well – a lot more than expected – which is good for me since it
will probably be wetsuit legal.
I leave my hotel at 5:30. It is a 15 minute drive to race site and my
start isn’t till 8:20. No stress! About
2 miles out, everything comes to a halt.
I’m stuck behind a line of cars.
Traffic is rush-hour like leading to race site. Surprising, since this an exposition center, and
it is supposedly ready to handle big events.
I get on race site at 6:30. Bring
my run gear bag in T2 and head to the shuttles to go to T1. Fortunately, the wait for the shuttle is very
short. BUT, we stop half way there to
pick up 2 guys, with their bikes. Pros
don’t have to check in their bikes the day before like everyone else. And I don’t have a problem with this, but it’s
now past 7, and you’re holding everyone back.
Transition closes at 7:15, and the pro start is 7:30. Bad planning I would say – starting to get
frustrated by these setbacks. No
problem. Carry on. We finally manage to get off the shuttle to
hear the announcer say: “4 minutes till transition closes”. All of us who just got off the shuttle start running
in a panicked frenzy. I rush to get body
marked, find my bike, throw my helmet down, cycling shoes beside it and away I
go. Not as much time I would have liked
with my bike, but it will have to do.
Frustrated by people now, I find a spot away
from people to slowly get ready for my start.
Change into swim gear, organize my morning clothe bag, relax a bit, etc.
Morning coffee did its trick. I hand in
my morning clothe bag and tackle the port-a-potty line. I’m almost at the front of the line when I’m
still hearing the announce saying the transition is going to close NOW. It’s 7:45.
Well, they’re on schedule. Could
have taken a bit more time it seems. Oh
well. I then start to make my way to
swim start. The grass is full of
thorns. Now that my flip-flops are
checked, I can only tip-toe my way and hope not to get a thorn stuck in my foot. This would be a bad way to start a day.
As I get to swim start I learn that the whole
day is delayed by 15 minutes. Probably
due to all the logistical errors of the traffic, shuttle, transition, etc. Things you’d expect for a first year
event. Not this. Not Ironman.
I’m irritated at this point. I
want this to get going. Oh oh! Need to go back to the potty line. I navigate through the thorns, then on the
street – to avoid the thorns. This
street is full of gravel and hurts almost as much as the thorns. Why the
hell isn’t this swept? Luckily at this point there is no line up and
everything is good. Back to the street and heading back to swim start. Why the hell isn’t this road swept? But
oh oh! To get back to swim start, I have
to cross the swim out line. There is
only one opening to cross marshaled by 2 volunteers. But there are quite a few swimmers coming out
now and a ton and a half of athletes and fans trying to push through. I’m antsy.
I need to be getting ready to go NOW!
Fans can wait. Arg! Bad planning.
Why the heck aren’t there any
toilets where ALL athletes have to be? And to get to them you have to cross
this minuscule opening and fight with fans? Thorns again. Finally line up with my wave. Everything is okay. I’ll channel all this frustration into the
swim.
After what seemed to be an interminable
morning, we’re allowed into the water. A
few warm up strokes later I’m lined up and ready to go! GO!
I start swimming. Go off hard, find good feet to follow and
ease up in the draft. I find a pair of
feet. Unfortunately, this guy was aiming
for a yellow kayak instead of the yellow buoy.
Fortunately for me, I find out before going too far off course. I keep swimming hard hoping to find another
good set of feet. Soon enough I find out
that there aren’t many feet available in my wave. I’m amongst a few spread out leaders. Good.
I’ll keep chasing the few people in front of me hoping that I’ll catch
on to their feet. Before the 3rd
buoy, I start hitting the slower people of the wave before me. Already? Okay. I’ll take it.
This becomes more difficult to navigate.
The water is super opaque and makes it hard to see the whip kicking
people and stalled athletes. I find feet, lose them, find them again, and lose
again. As long as I can keep swimming
hard, I’ll be fine. Before the first
turn (of a triangular course), I start hitting a different color swim cap (2
waves earlier). Wow, these people left
10 minutes before me. This motivates me
to keep on pushing. By the time I hit
the next turn around I’m in a sea of colours.
Irritating, because there is people everywhere and this makes it harder
to find clean water to swim in properly. But, at the same time I’m very motivated
by what feels like a good swim. You can’t win Ironman in the swim, but you
sure can lose it there. This isn’t quite Ironman, but still; I’m not losing
today. Very few people of my wave ahead or around me (as far as I can
tell). Final stretch – keep pushing. At this point I’m starting to think of
transition. I have to nail this – if not
only to avoid the heckling/reprieve from coach Adam. Shoes weren’t allowed on the bike, which
makes me a bit more nervous. Flying
mount with shoes on the bike is hard for me now. To do it with my shoes in my feet is
something I am dreading. I decide that I’m
not going to attempt and just mount calmly and make it work. Out of the water I come. 31 minutes 21
seconds.
T1 goes well.
No problem, but due to the rain the night before the race, there is
quite a bit of mud – I think nothing about it till I mount my bike. I can’t clip in! Cleats are full of mud. I start cycling ether way. Total time spend
in thorny T1 is 2:08.
I start my bike ride with trying to get my
cleats clear of mud and into my clips.
About a kilometer down, I manage with rubbing and tapping of the cleats
on the pedal. Then I pass a hosing stating they had setup to hose down cleats
for people who couldn’t clip it. It made
me smile – happy that I didn’t have to use it.
I wouldn’t start a ride properly.
I put my head down and away I go.
In training I have maintained 300+ watts on 15-20 minute intervals. I’m telling myself I can hold around 280 in
race setting. The rolling hills in the
first 40km make it harder for me to keep a constant power setting, and I go by
feel a bit more, pushing 350-400 going uphill and keeping a constant 220
downhill, which seems to work – I am passing many. The roads are better than the crapiness I had
built in my head. Happy I didn’t
overinflate my tires like many it seems. Every kilometer or so there are about
1-2 people changing flats. I’m surprised
at how many there are. I’m a bit scared
that this bad luck will happen to me, so mentally I start to get ready to
change a flat quickly – hoping I will not have to do it. I pass a few 25-29 guys. A few try to hang on, but I don’t give them
the change. I know I’m a strong cyclist
and weaker runner. I am on this bike course to take a lead – aiming for about a
2:25 bike (hopefully better than what I did in Tremblant earlier this
year). I’m frustrated that they allow
cars on course. I’m stuck behind a few
cars that, in turn, are stuck behind slower cyclists. I pass a few on the right
to then squeeze by the cyclist holding the car back. Not what you would expect of an Ironman
branded race.
I pass aid station 2 (22 miles) grab a bottle
of Perform – as was the plan. Look at my
Garmin. I’m at 1 hour! Good stuff! Mid-point and I’m at just about 1:10. Hmmm… I
could do sub 2:20. Why the heck not. Let’s
go for it. I keep pushing. The rough roads make it a bit harder to keep
the speed up, but its working. Come to
the last portion of the course where we hop back on a more major road. It’s not even closed to traffic at all. They cone off the rough, un-swept, 3 feet of
shoulder. This is horrible. To pass I have to look behind, jump in the
late of traffic and then re-cross when the pass is completed. This is awful – and dangerous. I knew the bike course was bad, but this
brings it to a whole new extend of bad.
But now I’m done my bottle of Perform and back on my Cytomax I had in my
own bottle. I’m burping and can hardly
take in any more. If force myself
between burps and discomfort. I know I need this liquid, but no more hard stuff
(honey stinger chews I had in my bento box).
Near the end! 2:20 is totally
possible! I’m encouraged! I start thinking of T2 – again to make sure I
don’t disappoint coach Adam with a bad transition. Into transition I go, with a last glace at my
Garmin: 2:20! I did it! (Official time
says 2:20 and 30 seconds).
T2 is a clean transition. Nothing is on the ground. I rack my bike – then by loosening my slip
knot, the bag containing all my run gear rips.
PERFECT! Unexpected, but this
very fortunate, everything becomes easily accessible. This bag ripping transition took me 1:56.
Off I go on the run. Not even half a kilometer in I know I’m in
trouble. I’m starting a stomach stitch and my legs are hurting. I decide I’m taking a gel now (I have 4 with
me). It helps. Aid station: Perform, water, and Coke. I take it all! It’s helping.
I take another gel. My legs feel
much better and my stitch is dissipating, and I feel energy come back to me. Maybe I can salvage this. Next aid station, I dismiss the Perform and
go with Coke and water. I do the same at
each aid station and ingest as much as I can.
It’s helping! I reach the first
turn around pretty quickly (it’s a 3 loop, out and back course). Make it back to transition on a steady pace
ingesting all that I can. At this point,
I decide to take another gel. I’m
clearly just lacking sustenance. If I continue feeling better, I might actually
be able to change my jog for a real run.
But then disaster hits. I took in
too much. My stomach cannot take
it. I feel like vomiting. Not good. Skip the aid stations all the way to the turn
around. I slow the pace down a bit to
allow my heart rate to slow down a bit so I can absorb this sustenance. The way back to transition is painful! The idea
of the third and final loop gives me a bit of hope – and I’m feeling
better. There is a big crowd at the turn
around near transition, which might have given me too much hope. As I leave I’m hurting. I start taking water again, fully knowing I’m
totally dehydrated as my lips are cracking.
A few times I catch myself closing my eyes for almost 5 seconds at a
time. It feels good. My eyelids are really heavy. I want to lie down and sleep. NO! You’re almost done you panzy. GO GO GO!
I’ve seen a few 25-29 guys pass me on the run, but I tell myself they
started on the wave ahead of me, and thus they have a 5 minute advantage. I need to make sure I don’t give them that
time. But my body cannot push as much as
I want it to. Mentally the 3rd
loop is helping. I push a bit more,
especially going downhill where I can let myself go a bit more. Going up is really hard. My legs are screaming at this time. I see the arena in which the race ends. No time to stop even though every fiber
within me wants to stop just there. The
last kilometer is the most painful I have ever experienced. My legs are seizing, my stitch is back, and I’m
at the point of exhaustion. Fully
knowing this is a lot, if not as much, a mental game; I push. FINISHED! Finally finished suffering through
this 1:43:04 half marathon.
My chest is tight; I have trouble breathing,
but am not dizzy. I accept my medal, and
hat, and find a calm corner to sip my water bottle and calm down. Wow!
That was hard! That hurt! WTF… am I crying?! My eyes are
watery. I can barely control myself. Such
a weird feeling. I try to contain
myself. A mixture of extreme effort, disappointment,
contentment, happiness, and being done created a very weird emotional buildup.
I knew at this point, my only hope was roll
down. 1 spot out of 3 had been claimed. I came in 8th. Fully knowing chances were slim, I wanted to
hope that there might be a chance. Roll
down made it to 6th place. I
had already made peace with the fact that I wasn’t qualifying at this race, so
I wasn’t overly disappointed by this.
All I know is that I need to be focusing on my
run. If I can keep my bike where it is
and improve my run, there is potential there. It would be nice to be able to “RACE”
off the bike. Not just suffer. Better nutrition on the bike is also another
lesson I have pulled from this experience, which might lead to better racing on
the run.
But now, I will have to qualify elsewhere. What next? To be determined! For now, I am
happy to be returning back home. Special thanks to all who have supported and
encouraged me through this endeavour.
Thanks for reading.
A bet/challenge/common goal set with Trevor is also pushing us towards the Chicago Marathon in October next year. This would be my first marathon. Ever. And if running your first, might as well make it a World Major! I am looking forward to see how this turns out. I am slowly letting go of the idea that my first marathon would be during an Ironman. As much as I'd love to Julie Moss it - first Ironman in Kona AND first marathon in Kona, I don't think this is so realistic nowadays. My dad ran his first marathon is 2:41:14, so the bar is set quite high. I think I have made peace with not beating that on my first attempt, but a sub 3 hour would be very nice! Ouf.
