The shuttle from the Hampton Inn to the buses that would in
turn take us out to the swim start at Sand Hollow reservoir in Hurricane Utah,
a small town about 7 miles outside of St George, was set to leave at 5:15AM for
a 7AM start. As I stepped outside of the
hotel the temps were in the low 60’s, perfect.
I studied the trees an early morning ritual to be pleased to see that
the leaves were dead still, this meant no wind. In another 2 hours we were all about to
learn how the town got its name…Hurricane.
The bus ride over was filled with the usual nervous chatter
of first time Ironman athletes discussing their race strategy. I had left my head phones back at the hotel
so no music to drown out the annoying nervous nellies. We approached Sand Hollow reservoir at around
6:25AM. We all poured out of the school
bus and made our way to get marked.
Because I was wearing my white Swiftwick compression socks and long
sleeve Swiftwick compression top the markers got a little confused and felt the
need to want to put my race number on my arms and legs despite the fact that
the would not be seen, at least till the run.
After the obligatory marking I made my way over to the ever-fast Felt B2
Pro racing machine. Filled the tires to
95-100PSI due to hot weather that was predicted and the bumpy chipped asphalt
surface that we’d be riding on. This
proved to be a solid move that averted a near wreck going 48MPH on the last
descent of the race.
I sucked down a hammer gel, got my new wetsuit zipped and
headed over to the swim start. It was a
perfect morning. A gentle breeze, a
slight ripple on the water surface, the sun was climbing above the mountaintops
off in the distant. The water
temperature was 62F as we entered the reservoir for a water start, a first for
me. I was well prepared with my neoprene
cap. There is something very unnatural
about getting into cold water at 6:50AM, I’ve never gotten use to it and don’t
ever expect to.
As we were treading water I looked off into the eastern sky
to see a dark cloud of dust. Last
December I went to Death Valley to compete in the DV Trail Marathon. The race was canceled due to high winds and
the dust storms that accompanied them.
St George is located in the desert.
It sits at about 3,000 feet above sea level and is arid and hot. I really don’t know why someone would build
a town there, but they did. I said to a fellow athlete treading water next
to me…”do you see that cloud of dust?”
“yes”, he replied. I then said
“you know what creates a cloud of dust that big? No, he replied. “ High winds”, I said, and they were coming
from the east, which is the direction we’d be swimming in for about 1.5
miles. This was a problem.
The gun went off about one minute late according to my
Garmin and it was the usual scrappy swim rugby start. Everyone was fighting for their space. I went immediately to the inside of the buoys
to avoid the mass chaos. It’s my usual
safe haven that took me several Ironman races to figure out. Its always a great place to swim because a)
you avoid getting beat up, kicked and scratched and b) you are next to the
kayaks if something was to go awry (a psychological security blanket). The course was a single loop in the form of a
rectangle of sorts that had us swimming about 1/3 mile down hanging a left and
going about 1/6 of a mile before the long haul up the reservoir. It was just as we were making the first turn
that the wind had whipped this little body of water into an angry washing
machine. Chaos ensued, having dozens of
athletes screaming and panicking for their lives. I’m thinking, shit..I’m in a wetsuit, this is
going to be a pretty cool swim. What I
didn’t realize is that it was going to create the worse finishing rate in the
history of Ironman racing. The last time
that I experienced such panic, I was in Pamplona Spain getting chased by a 2,000-pound
bull. My old coach told me the rougher
the water the better the swim, the windier the bike the better the ride and the
hillier the run the better. His
philosophy was to train in those conditions so that on race day you were
prepared for any condition, and to boot you’d have the advantage on those that
hadn’t. So as the white caps were
breaking and the 3-4 feet irregular waves pounded the athletes I was thinking advantage
Theodore J
.
The only time that I actually felt any panic on the swim was
when I stopped and looked at my watch and it said 1:45 and I still had a long
way to go to get to the swim finish. I
was thinking, holy shit I may actually miss the cutoff. As I made my way to make the last turn I knew
that I’d have the wind to my back and the swells that had pounded the shit out
of me for about 2 miles was about to be at my back. The last 1/3 of a mile was like swimming down
stream and I made it to the swim finish in 2 hours and 5 minutes. As I exited the water I stopped and turned to
take in what I had just experienced. As
I looked at the angry water there were still hundreds of swimmers in the
water. The boats were filled with
triathletes that had surrendered to the punishing water. These athletes probably spent all winter long
preparing for this race, traveled from all corners of the country to be shut
down and out at the swim. That sucks.
I took my time through T1.
Met a really nice guy named Troy, a volunteer that has done a bunch of
IM’s. He asked me if I was ready for the
bike and I responded, “Hell yeah, I’m so happy to be out of that damn
water. My worst finish on a swim was
1:45 in my first IM in Brazil, while my average has been around 1:25-1:30, so
finishing at 2:05 I thought was pretty lame but given the conditions it was
actually pretty damn good just to make the cutoff.
The bike course was a two-loop course with about 6,000 feet
of gain/loss in elevation. The winds
that had caused such problems in the water were going to do the same on the
bike. Throughout the bike course we had
sustained 30MPH winds. I knew that I was
in for a long day, so mentally and nutritionally I was prepared. I had taken in quite a bit of water during the
swim that wreaked havoc with my stomach and left me cooking inside the port o
potties sauna as my ass spit out everything in my body. It was an ugly scene, but I felt much
better. I focused on taking in about
30oz of water with Hammer Strawberry Perpetuum, per hour which gave me about
250 -300 calories/hr. There was not a
cloud in the sky and the temperatures climbed to about 85F as the wind beat us
all down. Of the 56-mile loop, about 45
of it was directly into the teeth of the wind.
It was the hardest bike ride of my life.
I spent 7 hours on the bike in Lanzarote with the trade winds blowing us
all over that course. I thought that
that race was the toughest in the world.
I was wrong. I averaged about
14.5MPH on the bike….yep that’s right 14.5MPH and that was giving it everything
that I had and averaging 35-40MPH in the last 10 miles of the loop which was a
descent with the wind to our back. You
can do the math…it was a long day on the bike..7 hours and 35 minutes. I made the bike cutoff at mile 80 or 90 by 30
minutes. I’ve never had to worry about
making any cut offs in the past, today was different.
I’m not sure if I was happier getting out of the water or
getting off of the damn bike. Either way
I was sooooo happy to be putting on my running kicks. I was thinking, all I have to do is a simple
marathon. Just 26.2 miles and I had
about 7 hours to finish it…a piece of cake.
I took my time getting through T2.
I changed into a comfortable pair of running shorts and tri top. I put on plenty of sun block, sucked down
some water and sat there in a chair to observe the athletes that had made it
this far. I was surrounded by some tough
tough dudes in that tent. I knew that
this was an epic race, one for the record books. I got inspired to be a part of it and on my
way to my 5th Ironman finish.
I started out as I always do on the run, too fast. It’s usually because I’m so happy to be out
running. It’s my strength. I started the day at about 1,100th
place out of the water and knew that I would climb the ranks throughout the
day. Despite having a tough bike ride I
gained about 250 places during that grind.
I knew that I wouldn’t have any more issues with cutoffs so after the
first 8 miles I slowed down my pace and began my ultra run walk strategy. Run the flats and down hills and walk the uphills.
I met a very nice guy, Chris, a surgeon from Atlanta at
about mile 8 or so. I started up a
conversation with him. He had recently
gotten into trail running and ultras and we chatted it up for a couple of miles
on a subject that I could only talk forever about. He had gotten quiet and I knew that he was
having problems. He was no stranger to
the IM, he had successfully knocked a couple of them off, thinking this was his
third. His two buddies had signed him up
for this race. His two buddies ended up
cheering him on from the sidelines because the DNF’d, one on the swim, one on
the bike. They had thrown in the towel. Chris was out there with a great attitude,
pounding out mile after mile. He had
positive energy and I needed it. He
talked about his two daughters, supportive wife, etc. The conversation helped pass the time and get
our minds off of the fact that we still had a long haul in front of us.
Somewhere around mile 13-15 Chris hit a low, sodium and
glycogen. He wanted to lay down in
someone’s front yard. He was feeling a
little nauseous as well. He asked me if
it was ok to lie down, and I said, “no way, we need to get you some sugar and
sodium.” I have been in the belly of the
whale many many times. When you’re in
the valley you cannot see a way out. I
knew what he was experiencing and the art of Ironman and endurance racing is
being able to self diagnose your symptoms and prescribe the right remedy. It’s always easier to recognize what is
happening to someone else, than it is yourself.
When you hit a glycogen low your ability to think is dramatically
reduced.
The volunteers at this race were nothing short of
EXCEPTIONAL!! Every aid station had such
positive energy that they gave to the athletes.
Somewhere between mile 18-22 we were met at an aid station with
pizza….cannot say how that hit the spot!
When you are that deep into a race the volunteers often make the
difference between a finish and a DNF.
St George had THE BEST volunteers out of any IM that I’ve done to date.
By the time we had whittled down the miles till one to go we
only gained momentum. It was approaching
10:30PM we had been going at it for over 15 ½ hours at this point. There was nothing that could stop Chris and I
from getting to that finishing line at this point. It’s simply amazing how the body feels at
this point. There is no better feeling
in the world. It’s hard to explain or
describe other than euphoric.
As we came down the stretch I asked Chris to go down the
finishers chute in front of me…to get a clean pic of himself crossing the
finishing line. I followed shortly
thereafter, high stepping and high
fiving fans along the way. I stopped to
pose and give the fist-clenching pose as I approached the finish line. Lots of emotion and a feeling of
accomplishment. This was my 5th
Ironman. I had perspective. As I stopped before the finish line I took it
all in. I knew that this was a race for
the ages. It was a race that would hit
the history books. Lots of records
would be broken on this day….none of which were good. It was my slowest swim, bike and run. It was the worst pro finish in the history of
Ironman racing. It had the highest DNF
race as well. I was glad to have
finished this race, I never gave up., but instead persevered. The only injury that was sustained was a
bruised ego with at 15:40 finish….while I am grateful for just getting though
the day…I need to redeem myself.
Lucky for me, I’m signed up for IM Phoenix this fall. I will knock more than 4 hours off my St
George time. I will get a PR at this
race, which means I need to go under 11:38 that I achieved in Australia. I cannot wait for redemption.
To all of those athletes that did St George, my hat is off
to you. It was the toughest Ironman on the
planet. To be a part of it was pretty
special. There will not be another
Ironman in St George as it has been reduce to a 70.3.
A great day of racing…a great venue….and great volunteers!
Cheers!
No comments:
Post a Comment