August 28, 2011

This year’s trip to Penticton, B.C. was a special one for me. I raced Ironman Canada in 2007. It was my first Ironman and I learned at the finish line on 8/26/2007 that “I am made for this (Ironman)” – these are the first words I said to Sam, my husband, when I crossed the finish line 4 years ago. In 2007, I felt like I did all 3 sports with ease and had the time of my life, shocking myself to finish in 11:49. I hoped to finish in less than 13 hours and I finished under 12!  Now, I was returning to the place that ignited my passion for Ironman racing. And, this trip would be the first time Sam and I went away alone without our kids since Ava was born in May 2001.

I registered with a community slot in May a few weeks after racing Ironman St. George. At IMSG, I placed 6th in my age group. I suffered from hyponatremia (high heat and not enough sodium on the bike), so I failed to run myself into top 3 coming off the bike in 5th. I finished 6th in my age group – my highest age group ranking in an Ironman (my 3rd).  I decided to leverage my fitness and make an attempt for a top 5 age group finish at Ironman Canada.  Unfortunately, during an easy 6 mile run in June, I developed a stress fracture in my right foot, which required an entirely new training and race plan. No running for at least 6 weeks brought me to 2nd week of August before I can even start running. My entire training plan during the summer months consisted of swimming and cycling.  The goal was to swim fast, ride fast, and hang on for the run.   

My parents came to my house from Maryland to take care of my kids while Sam and I were in Canada. They arrived on Tuesday. On Wednesday, I showed them the drop-off and pick-up routine at school. Aidan is starting Kindergarten and I won’t be around to take him to school and pick him up. Canada is hard in this way – race day is always the weekend after school starts. I am lucky that my parents came to help. This was a big deal since my parents disapprove of my ironman training and racing. They think it is excessive and dangerous. On Thursday morning, Sam and I boarded a flight to Spokane, WA. We drove to Penticton from Spokane – a pretty easy 5 hour drive that went by fast with no kids in the car.

Upon arriving, we headed straight to God’s Mountain – the B&B that we are staying at. Our friends, Nancy and Skip, have always stayed here when they raced IMC. They spoke so highly of the location, the owners, and most importantly, the amazing breakfast!  We were lucky to get a room here. The B&B is about 7 miles from the start of the race. It is right along the bike and run course on a huge hill overlooking the lake. It is tranquil and beautiful up there – like an escape from the world. The hot tub was perfect too. The breakfast lived up to our high expectations.  

Race Day
On race morning, Sam and I woke up at 3:45 and went to breakfast at 4:15. Who eats at 4:15 am?  Ironman racers do. The breakfast room was filled with athletes and their spouse, family, and friends. I hate race mornings. By 5:00, Sam and I are hopping into our car to head to the start. Sam always takes me to the start of my races. He is my security blanket.  

Swim
The time from breakfast to race start goes by so fast. Pumping up tires, checking nutrition on bike, filling aero bottle, using the porta potty, getting wetsuit on – suddenly it’s time to walk to the swim start. I line up toward the front right in line with the big red buoys. My strategy is to swim right on the buoys – either directly to my left or directly to my right. The pros are lined up in a small little group right in front of me. I start talking to one of the girls (not knowing she’s a pro) about the turnaround buoys. She tells me I’ll see larger ones and it will be obvious. At that time, I realize she is a pro. I see Meredith Kessler ready to go. She’s the only person I recognize. The pros take off and I know it’s just a short 10 minutes and it’s time for me to start swimming too.

I talk a little to the girl next to me. It’s her first Ironman and she is very excited. She tells me her goal is to swim around 1 hour – she’s thinking 1:02 or 1:05 at the slowest. She tells me to stick with her. I know that is impossible in open water swimming but it sounds good to me. I know her goal time is something I am capable of if all things go well. I am ready – I am doing this. I want to see a time under 1:10 when I exit. The start line is raised and we’re off. What a disaster right away! Within 60 seconds, my goggles are knocked off my eyes. I can’t believe it – I put my goggles under my cap for the first time in hopes of preventing this. I don’t even touch the goggles because I know if I stop to fix them, I’m history – I’ll be demolished and pummeled to death in the water. It’s a typical Ironman swim start – people everywhere, arms everywhere, feet everywhere, bodies everywhere – over me, under me. There is no clean water for a long time. It’s not a peaceful or calm experience. How can I race under these conditions? All I can do it stroke and sight and try to keep going without panicking. This is why I hate Ironman swims so much. I love to swim and I actually can swim but in Ironman, I can’t swim. I am relegated to surviving and trying to keep my stroke as clean as I can.  What a mess!  After the turnaround, there are a few brief moments when I have clean, clear water in front of me. During these times, I try to pick up the pace to make up time. I am feeling somewhat warm too. The water this year is over 70 degrees. I swam in the lake in my bikini and the temperature felt perfect so with a full wetsuit on, I am definitely toasty. I keep looking at the numbers on the buoys. When I start seeing numbers in the 20s, I know I am getting close.   The end finally arrives. I exit and look at my watch. It reads 8:13. I am pissed. Not much faster than 2007. I am a far better swimmer than in 2007 and my time does not reflect this - another frustrating swim.  

Bike
I always say about the swim “it is what it is”.  I forget about it and get on with the bike.  I try to transition quickly (getting better at it I think). I start pushing my pace fairly early. The early part of the bike course if fairly flat except for a few grades to climb after the leaving the lake. I am not really saving myself for Richter or Yellow Lake because I know that I am fit enough to not need to conserve too much for those climbs.  Before mile 20, Tana Jackson passes me and says hello.  It felt like IMSG all over again. This also happened at St. George when she went on to win our age group. Tana and I leap frog a few times.  Before mile 40 and Richter, I start to feel the heat. At this point in the race, I am feeling pretty strong and doing decent. I notice that I have completed over 50 miles in 2:30.  I do some quick calculations in my head and know I have to keep the pace if I want to get off the bike anywhere close to 5:30. The heat gets worse and with the Richter and the rolling hills after Richter, I start to notice my pace slipping. I notice my energy slipping too. I stay diligent about eating, drinking (alternating water and sports drink – Ironman Perform in my bottles and Ironman Perform on the course). I am also very diligent with my thermolytes – 2 every hour at the top of the hour. I eat Powerbar bites and chomps during the ride – front-loading with Powerbar bites then switching to chomps. By mile 70-80, I think I knew I was not going to be off my bike in 5:30. I think mentally I lost it a bit here. I must have. I put in the training and the miles to have a really good bike split in Canada, but it wasn’t happening. Or, maybe it could of but I did not try hard enough. I don’t know what it was.  I do know that coming home from Yellow Lake where it is suppose to be smooth sailing and easy, I felt really low energy and could not push much power at all. I kept drinking and eating some chomps to bring my energy back but the 10 miles to transition, felt like an eternity and I believe it also took an eternity. I know I lost a lot of time here. At this point, I didn’t even care.  I wasn’t looking at my watch, my pace, my power – nothing – I just pedaled and could not wait to get off my bike.  

Run
Despite knowing that my bike split was far off my goal time of 5:30, I still managed to get into T2 with some sense of urgency.  I found my T2 bag quickly and tried to transition right there at my bag. The volunteer stopped me and told me I must go to the change tent. I was not happy. The change tent looked so far away. I had to pick up all my stuff strewn all over the grass and schlep it into the change tent. I turned my Garmin on and placed it outside of the tent to catch a signal. Then I proceeded to get my shoes and visor on. I reached for my Garmin and it was gone. I panicked and screamed, “Someone stole my Garmin.”  A volunteer handed it to me fairly quickly. I am so glad I have a loud mouth. She heard immediately and said it was turned it to lost and found.  Wow – that was fast. I literally just placed it out there. I put the watch on my wrist and headed out. I had to pee. Knowing I struggle to pee on the run, I stopped in the porta potty in the transition area before heading onto the course.  

This is when things got really bad. I saw that it was a little after 2:20. A 4 hour marathon would put me at 11:20.  Wow – I have to run sub 4:00 to even beat my CDA time of 11:19. I got depressed and lost any desire to run this marathon.  Because of my stress fracture, my training consisted of three 20 minute runs and only one 60 minute run. I knew I was not trained to run a marathon let alone push my pace to PR or get a decent age group ranking. I wanted to quit now.  At one mile, I stopped and told Sam, my husband, I was done and did not need to run this marathon. I had not trained for a marathon. I knew my position in my age group could not be good. I knew I could not run myself into a top 5 place.  I was done.  Sam would not let me stop. I went another mile and saw him again. I stopped again and tried to quit. He again would not let me stop. He said, “I’ll see you at 13.1 miles”. Canada is 1 loop and 13.1 miles is a turnaround spot that we always meet each other at. I must have stood for at least 3 minutes talking to Sam. He would not let me stop.  So, I started running again and my head was just not in the race. The heat was in the high 90s, maybe low 100s. It was hot. I was miserable. Our B&B was at around mile 7 so that was my next target. I’d run to our B&B and that would be it. I’d call Sam and tell him I’m back and showered. That became my focus – just get to our B&B.  As I approach our B&B on the left, I see a athlete who was also staying at the same place walking with her fiancé.  She too was struggling.  She was walking. I approached her and she and her fiancé say, “Go Dora!”  At that moment, I could not turn left and stop.  Something about hearing the two of them say “Go Dora!” completely erased the option of quitting at my mile 7 milestone.  Darn!  I have to make it to 13.1 miles now.  I knew Sam would be there with our car.  That now became my focus.  I have 6.1 more miles to go before I’m done for the day.  One foot in front of the next – I just have to get to 13.1 miles.  Around mile 9, I feel my right foot aching.  The right foot is where I had my stress fracture.  I think my foot was aching because of the pounding and my body was not used to the impact.  I had only done 1 60 minute run prior to this race.  I was kind of happy to feel this pain because now I had a real excuse to quit.  I can’t run – this is a true and valid excuse.  My focus became get to 13.1 miles so I could tell Sam I am injured and must stop.  I remember going down the grade toward the turnaround and there’s Sam on the side of the road, right where I knew he would be. I stop and tell him my right foot hurts and I’m ready to stop for real.  He says, “How bad does it hurt?”  I say, “It hurts and I am only half way.”  He says, “Who cares.  I’ll see you at the finish line.”  Oh no, he is still not letting me off the course. I run around the cone and head up the grade starting my return to downtown Penticton.  Now I knew there would be no more stopping.  At least on the return the thought of quitting never entered my mind.  I tried 4 times to stop and did not.  I now knew I would finish this race and my focus was simply on getting to the finish line.  I did not focus on my pace or racing.  I just focused on finishing – keep moving forward and finish this thing.  The only time I looked at my watch was when I had about 6 miles left to run.  I noticed it was a little after 6 0’clock. This last hour is the only time during the run that I focused a little on pace. I knew I could finish under 12 hours if I keep running and do not walk. I did not even have to run fast – a sub 10 minute mile pace would do it.  No more stopping to pee. No more stopping to walk.  My goal at the start of the day was to break 11 hours.  My goal now was to break 12. How things can change during the course of an Ironman!  During last mile of this race, athletes enter into town and turn left away from the finish line, turn around at a cone and then head back toward the finish line.  After I rounded the cone, I had to haul it.  Haul it would normally suggest a sub 7:30 pace for me, but in this case, haul it means just an 8:00 min mile pace.  I ran toward the finish line as fast as I could and did not even care about my finish line photo and if someone was directly in front of me.  I just needed to get across the timing block before the clock hit 12:00:00.  I did it, crossing in 11:59:45.  I made it with 15 seconds to spare.  Man was I happy to be done.  I was not happy with my time but it will do because on this day, it was amazing I even finished.  My run was a constant battle to try to quit.  I am thankful my husband would not let me.  

My return to Canada to PR and place top 5 in my age group did not happen. I went slower than my first Ironman by 10 minutes.  I feel happy to be done (but, I am always happy to be done); however, I am deeply disappointed in myself.  I leave Penticton knowing it will take some time for me to understand why all this happened – why I am a better swimmer and my time does not reflect it, why I am a better cyclist and my time does not reflect it.  I don’t understand this and maybe I never will.  Ironman is definitely a journey, a learning experience.  I will keep plugging away at the sport because I love to swim, bike, and run.  Hopefully, one day I will get “my day” at a race where I am able to execute all 3 sports to my potential as an athlete.  Today was not that day for me.  I think I may have known that going into the race . . . I think that could have been the problem.