“Why are you doing *this* race, Teri?”
We’re riding in a rental Ford Escape up to Yellow Lake. I’ve finagled a ride with Steph and Teri from Colorado and Utah, to “drive the course” here at (the last) Ironman Canada. Meaning, we get in a car and travel the 112 miles (180 km) of the bike course, to get a feel for the road surface and steepness of the hills.
Steph and Teri have just finished riding 20 miles or so of the “out-and-back”, a segment thrown in simply to get in the required mileage. I’m trying to follow my old rule of no swimming, biking or running two days before an IM. Teri had done Ironman St. George in May, and qualified for the World Championships at Kona this October. Like me, she was facing a 7 week turn around from one exhausting race to another, possibly even harder Ironman on October 13th.
Because we have to sign up for these races a year in advance, at the time we registered for IM Canada, we had no clue we’d be facing coming back in less than two months for a second race. I qualified in November, at Arizona, and for the longest time was determined not to race here in Canada, to simply eat the registration fee. So I didn’t get housing (which is supposedly hard to get in Penticton for the race, and spent my winter skiing, and then training on a Kona cycle.
As I got into Feb and March, I noticed that things were not as bad as the year before. I seemed to be still healing, getting stronger. And I would probably be putting all my oral surgeries behind me by May. So, in early April, I looked for lodging, and found a great place in walking distance from everywhere associated with the race. It had a kitchen, two double beds, and seemed perfect for Cheryl and I to celebrate our 25th anniversary on Saturday, then me cruise thru the race on Sunday.
Then Cheryl decided she needed feel more comfortable in her midwifery and childbirth knowledge for her planned work in Haiti. She wants to go back there and help Midwives for Haiti by photographing and publicizing their work. MFH trains local women to become birth attendants at a small clinic in the island’s interior. Compared to other countries in this hemisphere, things are fairly primitive there, but even so, she wants to be able to “help out” if need be. She wantys to feel more like a participant and less like a voyeur.
So she signed up for a six week midwifery refresher module at the Oregon Health Sciences University in Portland. She’s down there now, and will miss one of my races for the first time since 2005 in Wisconsin. She’ll also miss my training camp in Aspen next month. But she will go to Hawaii with me in October.
Anyway, I’d been explaining all this to Teri and Steph. I asked Teri why she went through with racing here, knowing it would put a crimp in her preparations for Kona.
“Well, I’d already spent the money for the townhouse and the plane fare, to say nothing the race fee and planning to take the time off …”
“OK, that’s fair. It explains why you’re here. But why are you going to race … you could have just watched, supported Steph and the rest of us. Or even just did the swim and bike, and bagged the run.” It’s really the run, especially the last hour or two, which tears you up and requires recovery. Not running, or only running 6-13 miles, would really make the most sense, training-wise.
She laughed (keeping here eyes on the road). We were just hitting the lower slopes of the Yellow Lake climb, a false flat which comes after 90 miles into the ride.
“I mean, really, you’ve already done an Ironman this year at St. George [widely known to be the hardest race on the circuit, so hard they canceled it after two years when no one would sign up for it again]. You’re already into Kona, so that’s not a motivation. And, you’ve got another race to do in 7 weeks, one you presumably want to do well at. So why risk messing things up racing here?”
I was really searching for my own reasons to get out on the course on Sunday. Without a really good reason, it’s easy to have a miserable day in an Ironman. Unless you’re racing, it’s simply too long to just enjoy yourself doing a little swimming, biking, and running.
“I guess I’m just stubborn,” she admitted.
“Bingo! That’s probably one of the key characteristics of successful, highly competitive Ironmen. We’re just too stubborn to quit.”
But being stubborn is really not a good reason to go out there and risk a bike crash sailing down Richter Pass, or multiple lost toenails on the run. And. wed lost another 7-10 training days just recovering from the effort.
I mulled this over as we cruised down the final twelve miles into town. That’s one of the really cool things about this course. The bike ends with a massive downhill, which you can coast if you want to, from the top of Yellow Lake at 100 miles, down to Skaha lake, at the south end of Penticton.
As we turned off of 97 towards their townhouse, I finally figured it out. I’ve been stressing about the weather on Sunday. Initially predicted at 76F, the latest forecasts have it at 87, overcast, and humid. I realised, this may be exactly like Kona weather, at least on the run. I can truly use this as a full blown race rehearsal, re-learning how to pace in the heat, how to keep the fluids and calories going down, how to mentally get ready to have a great finish on the big Island. That will be my one thing – “I’m getting ready to have fun on Hawaii.”
Which of course is the second of my two goals for the year.