Sunday May 17th, 4am. Beep, beep, beep, beep . . . I don't think my iteration of the ear piercing alarm does it justice, but alas, I was awake. My excitement almost overcame the fact that my eyes were still glued shut. I usually sleep well in hotels, but this measly 4hour interlude was the exception. I managed to slide my rag doll body into my tri gear and start in on my very precise pre-race nutrition. Some may laugh, others will need an explanation, but my pre-race nutrition consists of a two Clif bars and alternating sips from a big bottle of neon yellow Gatorade & my SIGG water bottle. Today would prove to be a big step for me towards becoming the Fat Man to Ironman I intend to be. Out the door 7 minutes later than planned and 3 minutes earlier than my race-day usual. Off we went. Outlook: good.By the time Christi and I reach the race site I am one part excited and 2 parts nervous. Of course, I maintain my calm cool exterior, but on the inside I am a fragile mess. The transition area was teeming with athletes, some quiet, with intense internal focus, others with big eyes darting left and right trying to take it all in. Although I would like to think otherwise, I was definitely more the latter than the former. After setting up my transition area with my mother's OCD tendencies shining through, off to the swim start I mosey.
Due to the overwhelming popularity of my age group I ended up in the second of two waves. I don't know why they would ever split up 167 adrenaline infused testosterone junkies into two groups but they did. I suppose it made for a little less 'clan of bull sharks feasting on a school of wounded yellowtail' swim start. I slowly crept down toward the water with a little apprehension for the water temp. This being a lake swim, my mind drifts to my childhood in Canada where the lakes, even in the middle of summer, never really feel warmer than ice water. To my utter surprise, the lake felt like a warm bath. Uhhh, creepy.
Although the swim was uneventful I did manage to cast water into my mouth just often enough to induce a three stroke burp count. Not distracting at all. Well at least this gave me a timer for sighting. I had also developed a swimming skills set that can aptly be characterized as bullet dodging or public drunkenness: no rhythm, a little wiggly & all over the place, reminiscent of my failed break dancing career.
The shore could not come quickly enough. Funny though, one of the last thoughts I had was to get my swim cap off quickly so not to suffer a similar fate as my last race. No, the swim cap did not cause some sort of huge time wasting issue, but my photo coming out of the water did look ridiculous. Not this time, pal. As soon as my head broke the crest of the water, off that neon green cap came. Cameras?
Scouting out the transition area on Saturday proved to be highly beneficial. I quickly found the red rocket, threw on my helmet, shoes, and race belt and off I went. A short hobble/run with the bike later, I was on two wheels and moving quickly.
I pledged not to repeat the quad assault I put my legs through on the bike during the Miami International Triathlon, so I held back a bit. Ensuring that I did not slow below 20mph but also ensuring I did not expend so much effort that I couldn't put one foot in front of the other for the impending 13.1. 30 miles into the bike is a turn around point, 180 degrees and off the other way you go. As I approached the turnaround, people were yelling, screaming and feverishly waving their arms as if to protest my advancement. I slowed, only to look down to my right and see a fellow triathlete covered in blood. This ghastly sight made me realize how risky 20+mph speeds can be. The man managed to speak through his crimson cloak to the 4 people tending to him. The medical team was on its way. I hadn't made it a 1/4 mile out of the turn before the flashing lights and sirens had reached him.
The rest of the bike proved anti-climactic. About 1 mile out from the T2 (bike to run transition, folks, try to keep up) I said to the guy beside me, half jokingly "now comes the fun part, right?" to which he replied dryly, "there's a fun part?" Well played sir, well played.
Transitioning from biking to running is an surreal feeling. I always feel like an action hero at the climax of a summer blockbuster. Explosions all around me, endless excitement and most importantly; me in slow motion! regardless of my pace or effort, I feel slow. This race was no exception. Because the race route took all 2667 of us on 3, 4mile loops, I planned to take it easy on loop 1, pick it up on loop 2 and bring it home on loop 3. Well, even the best intentions are fraught with disappointment. My plan was foiled by the evil being we all know as THE SUN. It was freakin hot. I managed through a 2 mile adductor spasm, I battled through the repeated change from asphalt to grass and back, I even toughed out the severe chaffing under my arms, but I could not defeat the sun. After the first 4 miles I was forced to drain ice cold sponges over my head, neck and chest and pour ice water everywhere else in order to continue. Every single mile from 5 on, I utilized the aid station to the best of my ability. First, two or three sponges, one for my head, one for my back, and one for my chest. Next, drink a cup of Gatorade, then a cup of water. From there I would take two ice water cups and pour one over my head which always resulted in a sharp gasp for air, and repeat. I found this technique would sustain a relatively 'cooler' body temp for about 1 mile.
As for my game plan, easy first four miles: average of 7:30minute mile. Next 4 miles, 8:30minute mile. Last 4 miles, 8:50 minute mile. So much for 'bringing it home'. The second casualty of the day was a man who on my first loop appeared to be in yoga's child's pose, stretching. When asked if he was OK? He replied with a casual "oh yeah". On my second loop, that "oh yeah" had turned into a lying face up in the bushes "oh no". As with casualty numero uno, there were 4 people tending to him. By the third and final loop he was enjoying an IV cocktail with the requisite oxygen mask chaser.
Coming down the chute of the Ironman Florida 70.3 brought a feeling of relief coupled with feeling of apprehension. 5 hours and 33 minutes for a half-Ironman (politically correct or not, that is what this race is and represented to me) means absolutely no less than 11.5hrs for Ironman Canada at my current fitness level. That makes for a pretty long day. Anyone know of a substance that can enhance your performance in athletic endeavors? No? I can't believe in this world there isn't a pill or a shot or something that you can take to make you a better athlete. Nothing? Really? Come on? Oh well. I guess I will just have to become a faster swimmer . . . and cyclist . . . and runner. Seems easy enough.
After the race, the food, the water, the massage and the stretch, I took the liberty of collapsing under a tree in the grass. My body, totally exhausted, was splayed out like a chalk outline at a police crime scene. With cool grass, the light breeze and the treachery of the race behind me . . I let out a deep breath, my eyes grew heavy and I dozed off into a peaceful sleep. . .
