Dora Jih
05/07/11
3^rd Ironman

Summary:

Time:  12:06 (40-44 AG, 6^th) - Swim:  1:11 (AG 10^th), Bike:  6:06 (AG 5^th), Run:  4:32 (AG 7^th)

I felt pretty calm during the days leading up to race day.  My coach suggested that I race Ironman St. George last year because he believed a hard course is best suited for me.  He told me this after Ironman Coeur d’Alene last year when I set myself up for a great day with the swim and bike but I lost the mental ability to “race” the run. He encouraged me to race St. George because he believed the course is for the “fit and strong” (apparently, that’s me) vs. the small and fast.  When he said this, my comment back was “I must be big and slow.”  After months of not wanting to register for this race, I forced myself to hit “submit” on the registration page.

Race Day
Alarm went off at 3:30. I had my morning coffee. For breakfast, I had an almond butter and jelly sandwich using cinnamon raisin bread. Sam drove me into town where I boarded a bus to the swim start. At Ironman St George, the swim start is about 22 miles away from the T2 and the finish line.

Swim
I situate myself far left fairly close to the buoy and toward the front of the pack. The start is the typical washing machine nightmare. There are people everywhere. I’m getting beaten up. I can’t get going. I’m getting kicked left and right. It’s rough out here. Then, my goggles get kicked almost entirely off my head. I have to stop in the washing machine to put them back on which is horrible because now there are people on top of me. My heart rate is soaring. I hate this. I sight fairly often because I know I do not swim straight (although I am getting much better at it since my stroke has improved drastically this year).  I’m doing a pretty good job staying close to the buoys. Whenever there is clear water in front of me, I pick up the pace to make up for the slow swimming when I’m in congestion. The only time I know I did a bad job staying on course is after the last left turn. I was too far right for some reason and I think I swam a bit more than I had to. I see the finish of the swim and when I exit, I am not overjoyed because I wanted to see 1:10 or under, but 1:11 is well, close enough to 1:10.  As I approach the wetsuit strippers, I notice my Garmin is gone. This stops me dead in my tracks for a little bit. I am not happy about this because I removed my Polar watch and know my Garmin is my only source of information including time of day for the run. The wetsuit stripper says, “May I help you?”  I respond, “My computer is in the reservoir but I guess you can help me get this wetsuit off.”

Bike
I take my bag into the tent, get shoes, helmet, glasses on, grab some chomps and shove them into my pocket and off I go. My body feels pretty good, except in the first 20-24 miles of the ride, my left glute and quad was really bothering me and I have no idea why. I just try to not focus on it and hope it goes away. It does and I’m glad. I just focus on riding strong and staying hydrated and getting calories in. I start to feel the heat during the first loop and I am trying to be diligent about taking my thermolytes, because temperatures are expected to reach the high 90s today.

At special needs, I did not grab my extra salt tabs and GU Brew tablets (I don’t know why – rushed I guess), so I did not take any on the 2^nd loop (big mistake). After special needs, my aero bottle was being filled with plain water (another mistake).  Looking back, I know I’m drinking too much plain water and not getting the sodium that I need with the food I am eating.  I look at my computer and I see I’ve been riding somewhere around 5:45 and have 5 or 6 miles to go.  I am fairly satisfied with that.  I know I’ll be off my bike a little after 6:00 hours.

Run
I dismount from my bike and ouch!  My legs feel horrible.  Wow – it feels like I just biked 112 in the heat. I walk (slow walk) to the person who has my T2 bag.  She walks with me into the tent and helps me with my stuff. It’s all a little too personal which makes me very slow with this process. She’s talking to me so I’m talking to her and it’s just slow.  She hands me my visor, my glasses.  I take my compression socks and slowly put them on, then my shoes.  I’m done getting into my gear and I actually take the time to stretch out my legs on the chair.  I lunge on one side  and then the other.  Then, I ask where run out is and off I go.  Wow – this took 12 minutes!  That is so NOT ok.  Big lesson learned – don’t socialize with those helpers like I just got home from a training ride. This is a race.  Get going.  Should I stretch?  I know stretching loosens up my legs and helps me run off the bike.  Maybe next time I still stretch but I don’t take so long.

I start running taking little light baby steps. I do not rush my pace. I know that if I rush my pace and cause my heart rate to soar, then I’ll get miserable and explode.  I tell myself to take it light and easy and keep the turnover quick – just let my body settle in and then start picking up the pace after I find my stride.  The outbound is not a great feeling but I am prepared mentally for it. I am actually looking forward to cresting that horrible first grade because I remember the amazing feeling I had at mini camp, just flying down and up those grades. I am patient. I am not miserable. I do not walk. I keep running – light little steps, quick turnover.  I am going to do this. I just know it. I take water, ice, cold cloth, and sponges at aide stations.  Around mile 3, I take my first Gu. I am carrying 3 or 4 Gus with me and then I’ll use the Powerbar Gels on the course.  As I am running up the horrible hill, I notice I have lost the thermolytes I brought with me for the run. So much for taking thermolytes on the run (mistake)!  After the horrible grade, my hand-held bottle (which was a test) is really bothering me.  It is heavy.  I am not used to this. I decide to ditch the bottle. I toss it and put my bottle carrier in my back pocket.  With this toss of the bottle, I have also now eliminated my plan of filling that bottle with water at aide stations and using my Gu Brew tablets (2 of them) that I brought with me.  All my sources of sodium are now gone.  I am now relying on sodium from Gus entirely since I only use water when running.

At this point (probably mile 4 or 5??), I feel I need to use the bathroom. I do not want to stop. I am actually in race mode. I want to run. I want to do this marathon in around 4 hours.  I try to pee while running. I am wishing for the pee to come out and nothing. I keep running. I don’t want to stop. I am uncomfortable. I feel full. I actually hide behind a bush and try to pee. I wait and wait and I can’t believe nothing is coming out. What is going on?  Please just go!  Forget it – I start running again. This is the start of disaster.  From this point on, all I can think about every step of the marathon is “I have to pee.  Where am I going to stop?  Am I going to stop?  Should I stop?  I have to stop. I have to relieve myself of this feeling so I can RUN!“  Then, I’d stop and try to go and nothing.  I start running again.  I’m taking in water at aide stations.  I’m taking in my Gus every 4 miles maybe?  I am not at all trying to diagnose my problem. I have no idea why I can not pee. I have no idea my sodium might be too low because if I knew that maybe I would have tried some Gatorade, maybe I would have tried some chips.

On the entire return of the first loop, I stop many times. I go into porta potty after porta potty.  I even sit on the porta potty thinking it will help. I sit and wait for the pee to come out. Maybe I get a trickle or 2.  I’ll take it.  But, when I start running, I still feel full and uncomfortable. This is horrible.  At this point, I am not racing like I was in the beginning of the run. I wanted so badly to tear up this run course because I know I could.  Now, I’m stopping and stopping all over the place. I don’t even go into porta potties anymore.  It take time to open the door.  I just stop, hunch over, holding my knees and I try to pee in my shorts knowing that not much will come out anyways.  Oh my gosh – I am stopping sooo much.  I hate this!

I get to the end of the first loop and I see Sam and the kids. Sam asks how I am doing. I say, “I can’t pee.”  He is so worried.  He says, “If it gets terrible, you will need to stop. You could get kidney failure.” Great way to start the 2^nd loop of the marathon – my husband is telling me to stop because I will damage my kidneys. I know Sam does not want me to stop but he plants this idea in my head that I am sick and it is ok to stop. He plants this very damaging idea in my head that my health is more important than a silly Ironman. I start thinking about my health vs. finishing an Ironman.  Which is more important?  I am running along Bluff St. (I say running but who knows what I am really doing – am I even running?).  I have no idea what time it is.  I have no idea how long the first 13.1 miles took.  I know nothing except I am in pain and I want it to go away.  I still want desperately to be able to run.  I just want to run this stupid marathon.  At the corner of Bluff before the horrible grade, I see an ambulance. Should I go in that ambulance when I get to the corner?  Sam said I should stop if it gets bad because I will get kidney failure. Well, it’s bad and I want to stop. I need to pee. I still do not know why it won’t come out.  I just keep tapping along the course and now I’m playing scenarios in my head.  What will my friends think if I quit?  They will understand.  I am sick.  They won’t think I am a horrible athlete. How will I feel if I quit?  Am I ok with that?  How will I feel if I go home with a DNF?  I’m not even thinking about my place in this race – top 10, top whatever – doesn’t even cross my mind.  I’m thinking about a finisher medal. How would I feel if I go home without a medal?  Will they give me a medal if I DNF?  Probably not.  It’s now about the silly finisher medal. Good thing I did not know the IMSG medal would be the cheapest, ugliest medal I’ve ever seen (worse than a walk-a-thon medal).  If I knew the medal was as horrible as it is, then I probably would have gone into that ambulance.  I play this scenario of DNF in my mind and I decide, no way, I will not check myself into an ambulance.  I will only go into an ambulance when and if I collapse.  I just hope the finish line comes before I collapse.

So, I turn right and I do not go into that ambulance. I am not going to make a decision to DNF out of illness. I am not going to do it. I will keep on trying to run until the finish line shows up.  So, here we go again. I squat in the park again. I stop in multiple porta potties.  I stop on the side of the road, hunched over, trying to go.  I get little trickles.  I never get the big huge release that I so desperately want.  On the return, I am now struggling with dizziness. I feel faint a lot.  I feel shakey. I feel like I’m going to fall over at times.  When that happens, I take more Gu, I drink more water.  I hunch over and try to pee.  With 7 miles left, I know I will finish. I know I can run 7 miles.  Then, it’s 5.  Then, it’s 4.  Oh my gosh – I’m going to do this.  It still hurts.  4 miles to go - no need to stop now.  What time is it?  How long have I been running?  Who knows?  Who cares?  Many hours ago, my race turned into a race to just finish – just cross the finish line.  I am so happy I am going to finish. Yeah – I did not quit.  I am going finish.  I see Sam and the kids and I am smiling.  Yippee.  I run through the finish line.  I’m done.

I ask for the porta potty right away.  I try to go and again – it’s just not flowing out.  I go to the medical tent and Sam is already there describing my problem to the attendants. I take a seat and they take my blood pressure. They tell me I look pretty good. I describe what happened to me and I believe my sodium is too low.  They give me a cup of chicken broth. I drink it all. I sit for maybe 5 minutes then they tell me to get up because I need to keep moving. Now, I have to pee.  I go to the porta potty again and finally, I am getting the relief I wanted throughout the whole marathon.  Finally.  I walk around the tent to Sam and the kids.  Ava proceeds to throw up all over the place – 5 times straight.  The day took its toll on her too.  Good thing we’re right in front of the medical tent.  5 minutes has not gone by and I have to pee again. The flood gates have opened up.  Sodium did the trick.  Wow – that is amazing.  I desperately needed sodium today and I did not take in enough.  It started on the bike and just got worse during the run.  I suffered.

When I finish, I learn my time is 12:06 from Sam. He tells me I was 10^th out of the water and 5^th off the bike. I did not get the chance to run my way to top 3.  I wish I had that chance. In my heart I know I could have done it.  Later, Sam looks up the results and tells me I placed 6^th.  What?  I placed 6^th!  You have to be kidding!  My overall feeling about the race changes at this moment.  Before, I was fully satisfied with my race.  I made it to the finish.  I was tough and did not quit.  Now, I am sad because I know if I was healthy, I could have been top 3.  I know that.  I stopped so many times, losing so many minutes, losing so much ground on that course.  Now, I’m bummed.  I blew my day.  I messed up.  I did not take in enough sodium.  I did not plan appropriately for the heat.  I did not know the implications of heat on nutrition plan and race execution.  I did not know what can happen to my body when sodium is low because I have never experienced it before – not in training and not in a race.  Uggh – what a bummer!

Even so, I’m proud of myself for finishing.  I thought I was not going to make it to the finish line.  The medal is the ugliest, cheapest thing I’ve ever seen.  I did not check into that ambulance so I could get this ugly medal around my neck.  I will look at this horrible medal in the future and remember my day of survival at St. George, UT.