One of my last orphan posts…
Ironman USA – Coeur d’Alene June, 2005
I’ve been here before, but this time, I’m getting desperate. Last year I was fourth, and the top THREE got into the Hawaii Ironman World Championships at Kailua Kona – known to tri-geeks as “Kona”, or “Mecca” for those into religious metaphors. I’d already made my pilgrimage the year before, and now I want to get back on my own right.
I’d caught the bug for Ironman about 14 months into my triathlon career. In February, 2000, I was out on my “long run” one Sunday, and realised that the 13 miles I was doing (the longest I’d ever run in my life up to that point) seemed almost tolerable. I could actually envision running for 26.2 miles without dying or shredding my knees. So I went to the computer, and looked up “Ironman California”, which was to be held for the first time in May, near my sister’s home in North County San Diego. I discovered – horrors! – that the event was full. So I surfed around for another option, and found Ironman Florida, in Panama City, on the first weekend in November – just before election day, 2000. I registered, charged $300 to my credit card, and had a goal.
I came back humbled. I’d felt good for 9 hours – roughly through mile 10 of the run – and then the wheels came off. It took me 3 hours and 20 minutes to do the next 16 miles, half running and half walking. Even though I was only 2 years into my triathlon/running career, I felt a distinct bitterness, but also a sense of hope. I devised a Five Year Plan – a race by race timetable of how I would get my time down in order to qualify.
I had learned my lesson on registering for IM California, and had signed up in May for the 2001 race. I also signed up for the August 2001 Ironman Canada – figured, why not, Canada was closer, and racing there annually might give me a better shot. In Oceanside the next year (2001), I felt I was not yet ready to push the bike portion, and also was determined to not walk a step of the marathon. I rode 20 minutes slower than Florida, and ran one hour faster, not walking a step. Now, I figured, it was just a matter of getting the bike time down, while keeping my running stable.
Canada 2001 provided a further lesson in Ironman pacing. My bike time was back down to my Florida level, but the run was also at Florida speed. Hmm, something’s not working here, and my 5 year plan is going backwards!
For the next summer, IM California was off the books (somebody had died on the bike course, and the Marines – we biked in Camp Pendleton – didn’t want the intrusion anymore), so I’d signed up for IM USA in Lake Placid and Canada once again. Well-trained for Lake Placid, I didn’t race at all, due to my mother’s illness starting a week before the race. And Canada – a repeat of Florida and Canada ’01.
This brings us to 2003, and the inaugural running of IM USA – Coeur d’Alene. Now, by this time, I’d learned a bit about weather and racing. Specifically, let the temp go over about 62F, and/or let the sun come out full force, and my body (along with most others) starts to decompensate while running. It’s hard to get enough fluids in when the temperature goes up, to replace the body water and salt lost by the increased sweating. I’d begun to let this knowledge affect my mental preparation, becoming overly concerned with weather reports and race day conditions, when what I really should have been doing was learning how to acclimatize myself and pace myself so I could remain hydrated, and thus running (each mile I walk is AT LEAST 7 minutes slower than my slowest running pace). I also should have learned my lesson, preached by all tri coaches, and personified by me in California, that the true key to running faster in an Ironman is to be a better biker. Specifically, one must be a strong enough biker to go at an easy pace, so as to not be tired for the run.
IM CdA would give me a chance to prove myself on these two points, I hoped. Not. The weather, which had been cloudy and 65F up to five days before the race, rose by about 5-10 degrees each day, so much so that by the time I got to mile 80 on the bike, the thermometer was reading 98F, and I was baked. I had to get off and sit under the shade by the greyhound race track in Post Falls for five minutes to revive. I wobbled in to T2, saw my wife Cheryl broiling in the shade of an underpass, and quit. I didn’t see the point in trying to “run” in that heat. I already had my finisher’s medals and T-shirts from 4 IMs. Who knows what damage I’d do to try to get a fifth, having no chance to qualify for Kona, being one of the oldest in my age group.
Sensing some unfinished business, I signed up again for the next year. The weather was a bit better – mid 80s – and my pacing was a bit smarter. My bike time was halfway between California and the other three finishes I had, and my run time and finishing time likewise was halfway between them. But, I’d “aged up” and was now at the bottom of my age group, so my time was good for 4th place – a trophy, a “podium” finish (meaning I got to go on stage and shake Dave Scott’s hand), and the supreme disappointment of just missing a Kona slot.
So I signed up AGAIN for CdA, for 2005. By the time I got there, I was also signed up for IM Wisconsin for that fall, as a “back-up”. By this time, I’d developed a support group of like-minded athletes and friends, who kept my mind occupied during the lead up to the race.
IM CdA 2005 – The Race
World’s Shortest Race Report
Pre-race: cool, even showery. I forgot my jacket, and buy a cool looking bike one with the race logo. Everyone thinks it’s perfect for me; I’m a walking advertisement for the gear tent. Friday night’s pasta dinner is in the big tent. We go with about 10 folks from the SS Triathlon Club, siting in the back row. Loads of food, loads of jittery talk. Many first timers, who want to know what they can only learn by experience.
Saturday: we have the by now ritual lunch with the Manants, fresh from their dance camp, at the local Greek restaurant. In the PM, I start a new ritual – a giant sized Jamba Juice for dinner.
Race Day: Oops, it’s warming up, maybe into the 80s. Oh well, can’t win ’em all (but I’d like to win just once on the weather here). Sun rises about 5:30 this far north, this close to the solstice. Body mark, check bike, blah blah blah.
Swim: I head for my special spot – aiming directly for a large post about 50 yards into the course. It’s maybe 70 yards to the right of the direct buoy line; I figure no one will want to swim towards an obstacle they’ll have to swerve around. Plan works, I’m in clear water until about 400 yards in, then BOOM, I’m swamped by everyone to my right heading towards the buoys. Oh well, more chance for feet to follow. Idea is to cruise the swim, which I do in about 69 minutes, 8th in division, 1 minute slower than 5th. Third fastest T1and T2. Bike is a cruise for the first loop, a little work and drafting in the second, when it rains just a bit and I feel strong. 5:54, 5th in division, 12 minutes behind 4th. At this point, I’m in 5th place. On the run, which I do just under 4:30, I pass one guy, and am passed by another. My time is 3rd, 20 minutes behind second. That’s key, as the guy finishing second is the one who passed me in the run, and I finish 20 minutes and change behind him. I walk maybe 3-4 miles in the race, which just might translate into an extra 20 minutes.
I’m fourth overall, but I feel ecstatic. For the very first time, I can actually see HOW I might be able to get the improvement I need to qualify for Hawaii. The heat didn’t bother me this time, despite temps in the low 80s on the run – a combination of specific heat acclimatization (run when it’s hot!), psychological neglect of the impact, slower start, and increased hydration have brought my run time down 15 minutes from last year, with bike and swim times the same.
What I now see is just how slow I have to go at the start of the run to be able to (a) absorb enough fluid to stay reasonably hydrated and (b) run all of the miles, not just 22 of them. I felt good in the last four miles, enough to hug my wife at the turn into town coming off Lakeside Drive, and to then turn on some jets for the push through town to the finish. My mantra at the end of the race is I See How!