Dec 17 2008
Ironman Arizona
Better late than never, the race report:
The Buildup
Chris Berg and I packed up and headed East Thursday morning, early. Chris would be my loyal servant through the week, and all he asked for was a couch to crash on in my hotel room. The drive through the desert was uneventful. Once we ran out of triathlon stuff to talk about the conversation degenerated as only a conversation with Chris Berg can. Big rocks and little rocks, snakes vs. spiders. If you know Chris, you know what I mean. As immature as things got he did a good job keeping my nerves in check.
Once we got into the hotel and recovered a bit, we headed down to the expo to register. It was still early Thursday afternoon, and I didn’t have to wait in a single line. Afterwards, we headed out for a quick ride on the race course. I did SOMA here about a year ago. While the swim and transition are in the same spot, the run and bike courses are both a little different. The bike course makes a couple of 90 degree turns until it dumps you on the “Beeline” Highway From there it is about a 13 (I’m guessing here…) miles out and 13 miles back on the highway. It starts flat and gradually climbs. While the climb doesn’t compare to anything at Wildflower or Torrey Pines, it is long and sustained enough to push you out of the saddle. We drove out to the Highway and road it for about 45 minutes. Chris hung out on my wheel and verbally kept me sane, and controlled. He offered plenty of encouragement. I felt really strong and I seemed to easily find my 21 mph goal pace, even on some false flat sections.
Friday I rose early and jumped in the “lake” for a quick swim. The water was cold and I only spent about 20 minutes. Ice Cream Headace Cold. Friday night we took in the festivities and free food at the pre-race dinner. It was here that we ran into Kathy, Joe, Dave and a whole host of other breakaway racers.
By Saturday I was starting to freak out but stayed quiet in an effort to not expose my angst. I don’t know if that worked or not. Chris and I rode again, this time from the hotel to the expo and then on the first part of the course. We took it really easy only did about 45 minutes. I had not ran since Tuesday, which made me a bit anxious. Chris kept reassuring me that the best thing I coud do at this point was stay off my feet.
Saturday night was dinner at Oregano’s. I frequented this restaruant twice during Soma and this was my second time here during this trip to Tempe. When Chris and I came earlier in the week we were locked in a typical immature conversation walking out. We passed a group of college kids waiting for a table in the parking lot. As we walked by my ears picked up the joker of the group trying to antagonize the girls of the group. All I heard was “Why can’t Helen Keller drive?” Without breaking my stride I paused my conversation with Chris, blurted “because she’s a women”, and then resumed my conversation with Chris. I never slowed and never made eye contact. The group erupted in laughter. Its rare, but every now and then, I have a smooth moment.
Anyways, back to Saturday night. I had pasta and a bit of chicken. The crew was Marty, Kelsey, Sharon, Dave, Chris, Lalita and I. Marty, being the typical bad influence that he is, was taking bets on the next day’s finish times for Dave and I. None of us were allowed to share our guesses with the rest of the group and Marty collected the napkin ballets and recorded it all. Here are the group’s bets on my finish times:
Marty -9:40
Chris-9:41
Dave-9:48
Sharon-9:52
Me- 9:54
After dinner I came back to the room with Chris and went through all the race stuff I had not dropped off at the course about a million times. Then I mentally went through all the stuff I had dropped off, about a million times. Chris found plenty of humor in my stress induced anal state. Once I was satisfied that I hadn’t forgotten anything, I did my best to fall asleep while mentally rehearsing my plan for the race. I actually slept pretty well.
The plan I was rehearsing in my dreams went as follows:
Swim - Stay cool and find a good pair of feet to draft. Stay relaxed and the time will take care of itself.
Bike-EZ through the first 50 miles! Let the cyclists go. 21MPH or 145 BPM (whichever is faster if the conditions are good, HR in bad heat or wind) Expect the hr to climb after 60 miles and focus on pace. Stay comfortable, hydrated and fueled.
Run-Get through the first 13.1 miles in at a steady and relatively comfortable pace. Hopefully hold 7:45 miles as long as possible. Suffer in a controlled manner through 18 miles. Gut through the last 8 mile lap. Finish in under 10 hours.
Sunday morning I woke at about 4 AM. After a breakfast of water, coffee and 2 snickers marathon bars, A very sleepy but still supportive Chris and I loaded up the truck and headed to transition. After checking out the bike and borrowing some sunscreen (the one item I had forgotten) Chris and I found a relatively quiet place to chill. The weather was cold and Chris was freezing. I was secretly dreading the sensation of wetsuit swet being replaced by cold lake water. As the race time neared, I realized I was on the wrong side of the transition area to get in the water, and had to quickly dump my stuff with Chris and scrample over to the water entrance. The stress caused by the confusion warmed me up and made my water entry pretty easy. I swam right over to the front row of swimmers and before I knew it…
Boom!
Swim
I only had traffic for about the first 800 meters. I was quickly run over by three pretty quick swimmers, and then I started fighting for a good pair of feet that were being dragged along by somebody who was holding a pretty good pace. After that 800 meters I decided that enough was enough and fell off the lead pack of age groupers and enjoyed the clear water in no-mans land. I felt tight through my back, a problem that would come back later. As we swam past the Sun Devil stadium the turn around on this out and back course seemed like it would never come. Of course it eventually did, and after I turned the buoy somehow I ended way right. I felt like I was continuously swimming left the whole way back. My navigation worries made the time go by faster on the return trip and before I new it I was clawing my way up the stairs out of the lake.
I don’t remember seeing a clock but somehow I knew I had finished in 54 minutes. Somebody must have shouted it to me. I was expecting about 56, so 54 minutes was a mental boost, especially since I had felt that I was off course for half of the swim. I do remember hearing my name being mentioned with “Navy” over a loudspeaker. In my rush through transition I missed the wetsuit strippers, but took the top of my two piece De Soto T1 off as I ran to the change tent. Once in the change tent I had my very own volunteer to help get the bottom piece off, bike shoes, bib, sunglasses and helmet on. I charged out of the tent and was surprised to have somebody actually hand me my bike! Out of transition, I mounted the bike and was off.
Volunteers rock. I made it through T1 in under 4 minutes, something I never considered possible in my pre-race estimates.
Bike
I spent the first twenty minutes repeating “stay cool” as a steady stream of guys (and maybe an occasional chick?) sped by.
My heart rate monitor wasn’t working, and it never did. I think the signal was initially blocked by the layer of body glide I had coated myself in. While racing, i didn’t have the clarity of mind to figure out how to get the watch to search for the strap again. I’m very proud of the fact that I did the whole race off of feel. Remember, this is Me. Mr. numbers. I did a 140.6 mile race with no HR data, just percieved effort. Fricking Amazing. If I would have known my HR monitor was going to fail me the night before the race I would have lost it. But during the race it was just, “oh well” and on I went.
By the time I made it out to the highway, my lower back was knotting up, a problem that would stay with me the whole ride. To my disdain, there was a steady breeze blowing out in the desert. It was in our face during the climb up to the turnaround. I executed as planned and didn’t freak out when my speed dropped to 16mph because of the climb and wind. I drank my mix of Infinit steadily (on the first lap, quite tasty) and plain water often from my aerobottle. It was great to spot the turnaround the first time and once I rounded it, instant speed. Effortless 30 MPH. Awesome. Before I knew it I was off the highway and headed back into Tempe in good spirts.
The corners on the way back to Tempe were an opportunity to get out of my aerobars and give my lower back relief. I loved the corners. Once, you were through, you could even justify getting out of the saddle to accelerate. Heaven.
As I came into town I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about looking for Marty, Felipe, Luke, Chris and the whole crew. They would make it obvious. Sure enough, on my way into town I could hear Marty screaming illegibly on the other side of the street. Then on my way out of town I would swear I almost ran over his goofy ass. Stay on the sidewalk man….sheesh.
The second lap I realized i was probably drinking a bit to much, as the first urges to urinate hit me. I’m not going to go into this in detail again. To Matt, my faithfull Mechanic: Don’t worry man, I took some 409 to the saddle.
I was continuing to get passed more then I was passing people. This was my first hint at how fricken fast this race was this year. There were some “groups” that seemed to be pushing the 10 meter envelope. I remember one pack that was in clear violation, at least while it was passing me. I saw plenty of penalties getting handed out, but in my humble opinion, a 4 minute trip to the penalty tent is not severe enough in a race this long. I think I saw some folks who were happy to risk a single penalty for a free trip into the wind. Maybe i’m just slow and bitter, but in Marty’s words, “I’m just sayin.”
Again, it was slow on the way out and then super fast on the way back. Again, the trip trough Tempe was a huge mental boost.
The third trip out was definitely the hardest. My back was still in knots and now I was climbing out of the saddle every 10 miniutes or so just to stretch it out. I think my bike fit may be partially to blame but it started early on the bike and I even remember it from the swim. Part of me thinks it was just stress and tension.
I swear to god, as soon as I summited the hill the third time, the wind stopped. No push on the way back down for me. I had really been looking forward to cruising into transition and a bit of a respite before the marathon, but Mother Nature wanted to make me work. Sure enough, when I came through Tempe the last time, the American flag in front of the stadium was just hanging with gravity instead of flapping in the wind. Damn the luck!
While I had no heart rate data I did have my watch and I knew I was going to come well under my 5:20 21mph goal. Another mental boost. I ended up finishing the bike in 5:16. The overall race time was about 6:19 as I came into transition. I had about 3:40 to get through transition and finish the marathon to get under 10 hours. So far so good, but I still had so far to go.
When I came into transition I was already out of my bike shoes. I dismounted and handed off the bike and started running for the tent. It felt so good to be off the bike! I vividly remember how great the cool grass felt to my bare feet.
Again, I had a volunteer savior to get me through transition. While I was putting on socks he had my shoes out of my T2 bag and switched out my sunglasses. He handed me my visor and I was off. I flew through T2 in 1:18. That was my fastest T2 to date.
Run
I had been dreading the first few steps of the marathon for weeks. This was mostly because of how difficult the brick runs after my century rides had been. If 30 minutes of running after 100 miles on the bike was such torture, how was I ever going to manage 3+ HOURS after 112 miles?
But I went through the first mile almost effortlessly. I still had no heart rate data, so all I had to go off of was the mile split off my watch at the first marker. I remember it was well under 6:50. “Wooaaaa!!!!” I thought. “Cool it Man!, It might feel easy now, but you know you can’t hold this as far as we have to go today!” (This was the beggining of an internal dialog inside my head between me and myself that would take me through much of the run)
It took me about 4 miles to slow myself down to a 7:40 - 7:50 pace, which was what I thought I could sustain. I was finally passing people, which felt great! Through the whole run, I only remember being passed by 3 or 4 folks. At least one was a pro who had a 10 minute head start anyways! Being able to continuously pick off people for the entire marathon is a great position to be in!
Much of the course was familiar to SOMA. But this one included a trip through a park which included a much unanticipated hill. It wasn’t a big deal on the first lap, and was a minor annoyance on the second lap. On the third lap…it was the work of the devil himself.
Between the eighth and 9th mile I finished the first lap and again I knew I wouldn’t have to look for the breakaway support crew. I remember passing Chris and Luke first. I think I saw Sharon. I know I saw Marty becaeuse he about mobed me as I ran past. Then he ran with me and I had to “sho” him away before somebody claimed he was pacing me. Felipe offered a “Dood…goud job, don’t stop” as I ran past.
The second lap took some focus. The internal dialog continued. “I’m doing good…I’m doing good…I’m doing good…Sweet, an aid station…eat…eat…eat…drink…drink…drink…I’m doing good…I’m doing good…I’m doing good…” That pattern turned into “Just get to 13.1…just get to 13.1…just get to 13.1…” Which turned into “just get to 20…just get to 20…just get to 20″. I was still hitting anywhere from 7:30 to 7:50 and things were going well.
As I finished the second lap things were starting to hurt. And by things I mean my entire body. It happened all at once. I went from “hold back, be patient and and race smart mode” to “oh my god this hell and i never want to run again mode” in about 3 steps. I put up a false facade as I ran through the crowd near the lap mark and again, I picked out friends in the crowd. This time Felipe’s comment was “Dood, just one more lap!”.
Note to Felipe:
There is no “just one more lap” when the lap is over 8 miles long and you have 112 miles of cycling and over 17 miles on your legs.
Somewhere around this point I threw a mile split. It dropped from 7:50 to 8:50. I was dying. I stayed surprisingly calm and walked the next aid station, taking in as much fluid and food as I could stomach and always making at least some forward progress. The sentences in my internal dialog were now single words.
“cookie…cookie…mmmgood…melon…melon…coke…coke…water…water”
Once I passed the aid station I started running again. I surprised myself at the next mile marker, as my split, including the aid station, was just over 8:20. I was running the same pace I had been the entire time and the “break” at the aid stations only added about 30 seconds/ mile. This was how I managed the rest of the race. Suffer to the aid station, recover, fuel, repeat. It worked and I hung on, didn’t give up much time and was only passed by one person that I didn’t get back. 8:20s and 8:30s were much more acceptable then say…10 minute miles.
In this manner I suffered my way through the last lap and through the finish (at the last mile I even managed another 7:40). As I came through the finish chute and saw 9:40 the flood gates let loose in my mind. I had to hold back my emotions. In the finish picture on the breakaway blog my arms are up but my head is down because I couldn’t believe I was holding back tears. That few last strides was the culmination of of something I started 13 months prior and at the moment it was all a bit much to handle.
Afterwards:
I race for selfish reasons. I do this because I love it and I want to see how good I can get. So I don’t know why I get so damn emotional at the finish line. There are people out there on the course who had to overcome way more then me to finish. These people have super inspirational stories. You name it. Obesity, prosthetics, heart disease, cancer. There are these types of people who suffer with me on the course. I don’t know why I get emotional when I finish. I’m no Lance Armstrong and I’m no Blazeman. I’m a young guy with a steady job and some free time to devote to training. I’m no big deal so why do I get so emotional over me?
It may be a selfish endevor but the magnitude of the distance and being around so many people focused on the same goal was an unbelievable experience. I’m going to have to do this again.
9:40 was more then I thought I was capable of. In the week prior, I was preparing myself in case I didn’t break 10 hours. Everything came together so well. My execution, nutrition, the weather, even the flawed heart rate monitor probably helped me in the end because I just focused on feeling controlled instead of stressing over a number.
This is a bit long already so let me keep this brief:
-The pizza at the finish line was the best pizza in the world. Ever.
-I was extremely sore for three days. It took me two weeks to get back in the pool and on the bike and three weeks to run again.
-I can’t believe how close Marty and Chris came to predicting my performance. Unbelievable.
-I did not qualify for Kona. In past years, 10 hours at AZ was usually good enough for my age group but not this year. There were three slots available and the first three 25 to 29 guys went under 9:20. I want it bad now, there will be another race.
-A typical day in the office is much more bleak after my race in Arizona.
-Congratulations to everybody who finished with me and thanks to the people who came all that way to support us.