Taking the Plunge: Ironman Canada 2013

There are few things in life that truly test the limit of human ability, but more importantly, human will.  I have no desire to, for example, climb Mount Everest, or to run across the Sahara desert.  For those people who do such things, most people say, WHY? Why would you put yourself through such torture, train for years on end, pay thousands of dollars, just to risk death? Good point.

Ironman is my Everest. It's that thing that you always thought was so crazy that only people who were a bit insane (that's actually true) but absolutely and totally fit in every way could do. In fact, running a marathon used to be my Everest.  I did that last year, and I felt like I had crossed it off my bucket list.  My dad had been a marathoner, so there was always a part of me that wanted to do it.  I did not feel the need to make marathoning my "thing"-- to do them over and over again, or to go on to Ultramarathons. I started doing triathlons instead, and  I knew from the beginning that they were, indeed, my "thing."  I felt like I fit in from the get-go, and I loved the training; constantly pushing your body in different ways through three different sports. I did my first Olympic triathlon in March, and I was hooked.

I have always been a go-getter as well as a very impatient person, so I always want to do the hardest thing possible and in the shortest amount of time. Despite some advice to the contrary (and some encouragement from others), I signed up for my first half Ironman (see my previous post). I did it, and I loved it. And in true triathlete style, afterward I said... what's next?

The obvious progression is to go for a full Ironman, but I was still not really sure if I wanted to make the leap. I knew I would probably attempt it at some point- maybe in a few years, but I was not sure I was ready. In the end, it was the constant encouragement (or, shall we say, nagging) from my tri friends that told me I could do it. So, I took the plunge, and I registered for Ironman Canada 2013, in Whistler B.C. Here we go!!

Augusta 70.3 Race Report: The Hay was Well-Stacked

Augusta Half Ironman: My "A" race of 2012, my happy ending to a very fulfilling first season of triathlons.

And so the story begins. A bunch of us flew/drove/hitchhiked (not really, but that would be a cool story) down to the bustling metropolis (not really) that is Augusta.  Most of us arrived on Thursday or Friday, which gave us a day or two to become accostomed to the surroundings and to relax before the race.  On Saturday morning, several of us went on a short bike ride on the run course to "warm up" our legs.  We ended up going a bit further than anticipated, but came back no worse for wear. We then headed over to the expo, where I proceeded to purchase basically the whole store (it was my first Mdot race, ok???).

Anyway, by then it was only a couple of hours before dinnertime, so I spent a considerable amount of time getting ready- including putting speed laces on my new Newtons- and chilling out.  I was surprised by how I was really not nervous at all; I was ready to get it over with. I knew that the "hay was stacked in the barn," as Hal Higdon says in his book, and I had prepared more than adequately for this race.

We actually ended up having to wait for more than an hour for our table at Olive Garden (damn those crazy carbo-loading triathletes!), and while we were waiting, TigerLady taught us how to do the Gangam style dance (yes, really).  We finally got to sit down and eat our mountains of unlimited salad, pasta and breadsticks, and got home relatively early with clear eyes and full bellies.

I turned out the light at 9:30, but I couldn't sleep. This happens to me the night before a race, sometimes, but usually I drift off after not very long.  This time, however, I was still wide awake at 11 pm. I got up to use the facilities, then went back to bed (which I was sharing with Pinata, who had been fast asleep since about 8 pm).  I lay back down, but the toilet was doing one of those continuous-flushing things, and it was driving me crazy. So I got up and went to investigate.  At this point, I was already peeved because I was only going to get 6 hours of sleep, and I didn't want to wait awake for a minute longer. However, I also had no idea what I was doing, and in my groggy/no contacts state, I just opened the top and jiggled something on the left side. HUGE mistake. The whole top of whatever-it-was exploded upwards, spurting tons of water all over me and everywhere in the room. I spent a lot of energy just trying to keep the lid down, and wanting to scream, but not knowing what to do (remember, the house was full of sleeping type-A triathletes who are racing in the morning... would you want to wake them up? I didn't think so.) I was holding it down for at least ten minutes, with water filling up the room, trying unsuccessfully to turn off the water, yelling at myself silently: HOW did I never learn this important life skill? I am such an idiot. Someone has to wake up and help me, right? I'm going to be holding this thing all night until everyone wakes up in the morning. I'm so effed... should I yell at Pinata? How the hell is she still sleeping??

Finally, in the midst of my panic, I heard the door open. I said over my shoulder, "what do I do??" I heard a barely audible, "What's wrong?" I turned around, and it was TigerLady- apparently she was woken up by water dripping down into her room below (oops). I was so relieved. She walked over (standing on towels) and just turned off the water right away (I really need to remember how to do this).  She helped me clean up a bit, then I had to take a shower and wash the toilet water off me (ew), and finally got to bed. Somehow, the adrenalin in my system must have exhausted me because I fell asleep pretty quickly.

The next morning, I woke up a bit tired, but just relieved that I had slept at all, after the night I had.  I went downstairs and got my normal pre-race meal ready- banana and bagel with peanut butter- and packed an extra sandwich for later, since my wave wouldn't be starting for more than three hours.  When we were all ready, Jewel and a couple other DC tri members and I all walked the mile or so over to transition.  Jewel, the guidette/former collegiate athlete that she is, had brought a handheld speaker with her so that we could listen to pump-up music the whole way (including but not limited to: "Gangam Style," "Call Me Maybe," and "Thriller") and dancing.  The permanent residents of Augusta must hate us.

We got to transition at about 6 am, with more than 45 minutes to spare until it closed. Setting up my transition area is pretty routine at this point, so it didn't take me long. I waited for Jewel and we both hopped on a bus to take us to swim start. We got there right as they were starting the elites, and we went to meet up with our fellow DC Tri members to take pre-race photos. Then came the long wait. I ate some of my sandwich, drank some water, stood in the bathroom line. Ate some more. Did Jewel's hair. Drank some more. Listened to music. Watched people swim by. Ate some more. It was a long couple of hours.

Finally, it was time to head over to the start and get our wetsuits on.  Our wave was the women from 18-29, all of which had silver caps on.  I felt a similar jolt of excitement to when I was waiting before the start in San Diego, though that was a running start- there were so many young women there, all doing something that not that many people can do.  It's one of the reasons I love tri's- the sense of community and belonging.  Anyway, we filed down the docks like little ducklings, high-fiving the volunteers as we went by.  Jewel and I were two of the first women to jump in the water, and we had to tread water for a couple of minutes while everyone jumped in.  What I had heard about the current was definitely true- I had a hard time staying still and not floating past the start buoys.  Finally the horn blew, and we were off! I felt like I was flying downriver (this race was well known for its fast swim times).  I saw Jewel near me as I breathed to the left, and for several minutes I tried to pace with her.  I knew I didn't need to hold back as much for this swim, but I didn't want to tire myself out unnecessarily either.  Eventually we got separated, but I still felt like I was keeping a good pace. I got out of the water and looked at my watch- around 25 minutes, which was a few minutes faster than my Nation's time. Not bad.

The run up to transition was a bit longer than usual, but the great thing about it was the infamous wetsuit strippers.  TigerLady had told me beforehand to pull my wesuit down to my hips so that they could take it off- which I did- but I ran over and lay down in front of one of the strippers and he said, "Ma'am, you have to pull it down over your rear. I am not allowed to touch that." So there I was, laying on my back, trying to wiggle my wetsuit down so that he could take it off (isn't this supposed to be FASTER?).  Finally he ripped it off and tossed it to me, and I ran over to my transition area.  T1 was not that remarkable otherwise- except that I wish I had stopped to wipe my feet off.  I regretted that later, since my socks never dried on the bike.

So I started the bike feeling pretty good, like I normally do after the swim. The weather was cloudy and in the seventies, so it was ideal weather. I had a pretty strict nutrition plan which I followed, including eating two honey stinger waffles and several shot blocks.  I was also trying to stay within a general HR range of 150-160 while keeping my speed at around 18-19 mph.  The big problem for me on the bike is that I get bored. I need a constant source of stimuli- whether it be music, or chatting with a training buddy- and three hours without either of those is a pretty long time (I don't know what I'm going to do if I end up doing a full Ironman). Anyway, I was keeping up a good pace during the whole ride, leapfrogging with a few other women over and over again.  One of them, Eugenia, would always yell encouragingly when we passed each other, and another even complimented me on my wheels.  Somewhere in the first third I also passed Jewel, which I sometimes do in the bike- but she always catches me in the run (more on that later).  The course was pretty fast, with a few rolling hills and not too many sharp turns. The only big problem was that they put a water bottle handoff on a hill, which was a pretty bad idea- it was hard to keep your momentum going while grabbing water and nutrition from the volunteers.

The last part of the bike had some very fast downhills, and I was really grateful that I had followed a training buddy's advice and rented Zipp wheels- I felt SO fast. By the time I was finally heading back into town, I was ready to get off that darn bike and get into the run.  My overall time was just over three hours, which was my goal.

T2 was pretty fast- it would have been even faster, but I had to take the time to change my socks since they were still drenched (was it sweat? the river water? the rain? who knows). As I ran out of transition, I felt pretty good; I was glad I had taken so much time to train well on the bike and to do a lot of run bricks.  As I ran onto the course, there were a lot of people already starting their second loop who looked pretty tired. I was really jealous. Just like the bike, though, I knew I could beat my goal of under 6 hours if I raced smart and followed my plan- take a shot block every two miles, and run at about 10 minute miles.  I could speed up at the end if I felt better (or even on the second loop) but I didn't want to take it out too fast and bonk.  I ran the first couple of miles with Eugenia, who was planning on keeping it pretty slow too so that she didn't anger an injury.  As I got to the first water stop, which I knew that TigerLady would be cheering from, I started to hear the dulcet tones of "Gangam style" in the distance- and then I saw her, in a full Hot Dog costume, dancing and ringing cowbells.  When she saw me, she went crazy and screamed, "Do Gangam Style!!" So, of course, I did.

I felt fine for the first loop, just plodded along at my pace (unfortunately, I had forgotten my Garmin on my bike so I didn't know my instantaneous speed).  At a turnaround point, I started looking out for Jewel, since I knew she probably wasn't super far behind me- unless she had decided to stop after the bike. She actually saw me first, and she was probably only about a mile behind me.

I tried to just keep up with my nutrition and think about getting through the run, two miles at a time (that was my mental trick for getting through the marathon too).  I had already far exceeded my expectations for my splits so far, so if I just didn't completely bonk I would be able to pull in a time well under my goal. The run course was also extremely well-supported with cheering spectators, except for one lonely mile around mile 6-7.  I was waiting for Jewel to catch up to me- and she finally did, at around mile 9 or 10. Since we are training buddies, co-coaches of the Masters team, mentor and mentee, and bffs (duh), she wanted to stay with me so that we could cross the finish line together (just like we had done at a sprint tri earlier in the year).  I told her over and over again to go ahead if she wanted, but she refused. That's true friendship, no?

I felt pretty crappy after that point. I was spent. I had already been racing for more than five hours, and my legs were just feeling pretty awful (breathing-wise, I felt fine).  I kept thinking to myself, though, that no matter what pain I felt now, it was NOTHING in comparison with how I felt during the final hour of the marathon.  Since I had gotten through that, I knew I could get through anything, and it toughened me up mentally.  I told Jule that I had to stay pretty slow, or my legs would cramp up. She didn't tell me until later, but she also hit the wall at around mile 11 or so- but the total optimist that she is, she did not complain one bit. Instead she constantly coached me, telling me to breathe deeply, told me not to walk too much in water stations (so that my legs didn't lock up), and just to think about getting through the next mile.  We finally ran past the final mile marker, and all I could think about was that finish line. I knew our friends would be waiting there.  Jewel and I rounded the final corner, we heard all the cheers and saw our friends waving and taking pictures.  We grasped each others' hand and held them up, waving our way to the finish line.

Finish time: 5:46:49

As we crossed the finish line, I laughed and cried at the same time.  It was an emotional experience, similar to finishing the marathon- I hugged Jewel, and she and I hobbled over to get our medals. I felt pretty sore, but super happy. I was done.

The Augusta 70.3 is an excellent race, and I hope to do it again. I recommend it to anybody who wants to do their first HIM on a good (somewhat fast) course. Now that I finished my first season, I am looking towards my triathlon future, which may or may not include IM Canada 2013. But for now, I can't compete or train at the level I have for the last several months for medical reasons, so I'm just going to take a little time to breathe and relax. Triathlon is my sport, and it's not going anywhere.