Beat Your Heat - Finale

Photo by Bill Baumeyer

As I made the left turn to start the second lap along the water way, I was met with the biggest crowds of the day.  The walk way was filled with people cheering and screaming.  Kids running around, people eating and drinking at the shops and restaurants that lined the course.  It was easy to pick up the pace here and smile as the fans lifted my spirits and made me forget, briefly, how hot it was.  This was a section of the run course that closed the loop for the first lap.  There was a group of women dressed like cheerleaders that lined each side of the side walk and as you entered their cheering tunnel the two up front on either side would slap your ass.  This didn’t come as a surprise as I witnessed it happen to the men in front of me.  Two passes by them, two ass slaps!  I don’t remember being behind a female racer when I passed the cheerleaders so I’m not sure if they acknowledged them in the same manner.  Up the path from the cheerleaders were a dedicated group of men and women who were mostly wearing under garments, dancing with music blasting.  They danced all day!  After them the path opened up and the crowd thinned out as I began entering the back-side of the transition area.

True to form I saw David and Brandon and got an update on some of the other racers as they pushed my along to keep racing.  The second lap had a different feel.  Most of the top age groupers and pro’s had already passed me by on my first lap as they headed on to the finish so much of the traffic on the course were moving along with a run walk strategy as I had been doing or were painfully walking.  There weren’t a lot of happy faces on the competitors at this time.  I kept thinking about getting 4-5 more miles to reach that half-way point.  This was the biggest struggle of the race, that first lap had taken a lot out of me.  I kept wondering when my body was going to shut down, I kept waiting for a major malfunction or bodily fail.  It hadn’t happened yet so I kept pushing from aid station to aid station.  I don’t know if being familiar with the course after completing one lap was helpful or hurtful.  The stretch of the run that was mile 2-4 was probably the worst.  You came out of the park where the swim started and had the section of the course that had the least amount of people watching.  There was one longer gradual climb on a blacktopped road that normally wouldn’t be much of anything, but that day in the heat and wide open sun, it was exhausting.  It was during this stretch that I started talking with another competitor whom I ended up walking next to briefly.  It was encouraging as he had no issues or concerns with power walking, his goal was to finish and he knew he was going to, we were both on our second laps.  We both commented on  how that stretch was the worst, we both hated it, even though we hadn’t even finished being on it a second time.  We weren’t looking forward to doing that stretch a third time but happily sighed when we reached the top as it wasn’t just any top of an incline it was shaded!

I had slowed down about 3 minutes for the first stretch of 3.8 miles on the second lap compared to the first.  Perhaps I should have made myself puke the second time around.  That section ended up being my slowest of any all day.  After crossing the half-way point my confidence built.  The shadows were getting longer and even though it was still very hot, the direct sunlight was going away.  I felt I was able to maintain longer stretches of running and the time outside the shade was getting more comfortable.  I could tell it was beginning to cool some as my sweat actually began to feel as if it was cooling me.  It was this pass through the water way section of the run that was the most jumping.  The crowds were their largest of the day in any one area.  It was at this time that I watched a fellow competitor at an aid station grab a big handful of Vaseline and apply it liberally in his shorts.  Heat, tired, whatever the reason I hadn’t considered that up to that point.  I grabbed a popsicle stick that was fully loaded and pinched off as much as I could between my fingers and started digging.  At first it was more like dumping bacon grease on a fire than anything, but the added slip ended up being a positive in the end. 

I was approaching one section of the run course that was another short down and back.  On the first lap as I was headed out I passed a member of Team RWB that I had met on Thursday at lunch, Drew, who was competing in his 4^th Ironman.  Drew and I chatted off and on from Thursday to Saturday.  He came over and hung out most of the afternoon Friday at the homestay as we grilled out and relaxed the previous day.  When Drew and I first passed each other going opposite directions on the down and back, I yelled out and I don’t think he quite caught who I was.  This second lap we met at the same spot, we recognized the other ahead of time and caught a high five as we crossed paths.  We repeated this on the third and final lap as well.  He was less than a quarter mile in front of me.  It was another huge pick me up on that second lap.  After hitting the turnaround of the down and back it was a gentle down slope that was mostly covered by some construction scaffolding.  At the end of the scaffolding was the cone to turn right and become an Ironman, or turn left for another 8 miles.  I went left.

I was floating at this time running through the crowds again, I had one lap from that spot, I just saw Drew and I was hitting the large crowds.  I could tell now that the sun was going down, I felt better about running in the sun and tried to keep a nice steady pace to avoid any more walking.  Before I got back to the transition area I looked across the water and saw Rachel and her guide Caroline.  I yelled out and we all exchanged some laughter from opposite sides of the water.  I was also met by Matt Miller, founder of Cdifferent as he tried to snap a quick picture of me.  He was having issues with his phone while on his bike so I stopped and let him get ready, then posed for him.  Got a high five and took off. 

Photo by Matt Miller, CDifferent

I truly don’t remember much of the final lap.  It was the first time I looked at my watch to see how long I’d been out there racing that day; 12 hours, it was 7 o’clock.  I had mixed emotions about seeing that time.  I didn’t have a goal time to finish in but 12 hours was where I thought I may end up.  I wasn’t disappointed, wasn’t mad, I actually took solace in knowing about where I’d finish giving the changes I worked through and how I made my training my own with a different attitude, better prioritization and confidence that I could finish my own way.

As I entered the water way area for the last time I still saw all the same faces that had been out there all day.  I know I wasn’t running that fast so it was pretty amazing that these people were still there.  There was one group that had set up a large tent and had a big stack of hamburgers sitting out.  As I passed I said “that looks really good!”  A woman replied “you can have one on your last lap.”  I said “it is my last lap!”  She yelled, as I had passed by already, to come get one.  After eating GU, Gatorade Perform, Perpeteum, water and not much of anything else for 12.5 hours, I was ready for something new.  She handed me a burger, I thanked her and kept running.  It was probably the driest burger I had ever had, but it was incredible!  My mouth was so dry it was hard to eat; with the huge bite I took it was about 5 minutes of chewing before finally swallowing.  I ended up ditching the burger after that first bite as it was just too much effort for that late in the race. 

The worst part of the final lap were the looks of defeat.  I was coming through with only a few miles left to finish and overheard others talking about only being on their first lap.  Some were sitting on benches, some had it painted all over their faces in frustration and agony.  It was hard, I felt selfish for being so excited I had so little between where I was and the finish line, and here were others that looked so beat.  If they were still out there then they had a chance to finish.  They hadn’t been pulled from the course yet so they had a choice to make, keep pushing and don’t stop until someone makes you or you finish.  It wasn’t my place at that time to remind them, so I kept on running.  I had very little interest in the last two water stations, I wanted to be done, it was a very real feeling that after this long race I’d be able to stop moving and not worry about the clock.  I entered the last down and back and true to form, saw Drew, I encouraged him to push it on in as he had less than ¼ mile.  I made the turn around, crossed the final timing mat on the run course and pushed.  I ended up side by side with a woman coming to the finish as well.  We exchanged some congratulations and then I said “push on ahead, I’m going to back off for a second. . “  Then I thought to myself. . . “what the hell are you talking about. . . back off?!!”  I picked it back up as I approached the fork in the road cone one last time.  Right turn! 

There was one last hill to go up as I neared the finish area.  At the top of the hill I could see all the lights and the big screen TV that showed a feed of the finish line.  There was about a block that appeared to be dark because of the brightness of the finish area that was up ahead.  The fences started along both sides of the road that were draped with Ironman and all the major sponsors.  The cheers were getting louder and I could start to make out faces of the people lining the fences on either side.  The finish chute then took a 90 degree right as you enter the crowd, music and The Voice.  As I turned the road was split in two, I went down the chute away from the finish high fiving people along the right, then at the bottom of a small hill turned 180 degrees heading up the road to the finish.  I put out everything I had left, as I got within steps of finishing I did what I can only describe as a sort-of-high-step-arms-flailing-kind-of-dance.  I thought the crowd cheered louder after my celebration, but that was probably me.  I crossed the line, thought I heard my name called as an Ironman, but couldn’t quite tell.  I was met by a friendly volunteer who handed me a small bottle of water and asked how I was.  I said I felt good, opened the bottle and did one of the things I had trained myself to do all day, dump the water on my head. 

Next thing I knew I had a shirt, a hat and a medal.  I got my picture taken in front of the Ironman back drop and started walking to the finishers’ area.  Within a few steps from getting my picture taken I saw Drew.  We walked up and exchanged a hug.  It felt good to finish and have him there, a coincidence I was happy to participate in. 

0 – 3.8 miles:  11:51/mi

3.8 - 7.8 mile: 12:46/mi

7.8 – 8.9 mile: 11:14/mi

8.9 – 12.7 mile: 13.03/mi

12.7 – 16.7 mile: 11:59/mi

16.7 – 17.8 mile: 10:16/mi

17.8 – 21.6 mile: 11:54/mi

21.6 – 25.6 mile: 11:24/mi

25.6 – 26.2 mile: 11:31/mi

Total Run Time: 5:15:11, 12:01/mi pace

Total Finish Time: 13:03:46

Beat Your Heat - The Run

Photo taken by Bill Baumeyer

 

As I entered the transition tent it appeared to be more like a scene from MASH than an over-sized changing room.  Half the competitors sitting down were packed with ice.  Big ice bags on their necks and heads, many slouched over looking like they’d been there for a while.  I grabbed the first seat that was open and a couple glasses of water from a volunteer and started pulling out my socks (pink), shoes and hat.  As I was changing I started talking to the guy next to me who was wearing about 5 different bags of ice in his tri top, in his shorts and around his head and neck.  I tried to encourage him by telling him he had tons of time, just get out there and start walking.  He just kept shaking his head and saying he couldn’t.  I repeated my message a couple more time until I was all changed.

I came out of the tent and stepped in the direct sun for the first time since getting off the bike, it was hot.  I stopped by the volunteers lubing athletes up with sunscreen.  I turned my back to the woman and said “put it everywhere you see skin”.  She got my shoulders and neck and then to my surprised reached around front and got my exposed belly.  Protected from the sun and partially felt up, I started running.

The run started on the edge of the channel that was part of the swim.  It was lined with spectators and again I saw David and Brandon and stopped for a quick chat.  I headed out on the path and was quickly confused; I approached a construction type sign that marked the end of the nice paved path we were on.  We were directed around it on to a beat up grassy path.  As I started running on the grass I noticed runners coming at me and taking a hard left up what looked like a grass embankment.  I followed those in front of me and just kept moving.  About 100 yards up the grass I made a 180 degree turn back and eventually up the grassy embankment.  I remember looking at the run route and elevation chart and there was one hill on the run, that grassy stretch was it.  At the top of the “hill” I started weaving through some parking lots and I reached Mile 1.  I started to have some dry heaving and before I knew it, I was puking.  Pure water, 3 to 5 good pushes worth.  The competitors that passed were nice enough to ask if I was doing alright, I could only answer, between puking, “I’m not sure yet!”  The puking stopped and I started walking and picked it back up to running. 

It didn’t take long for the sweat to start pouring.  In the sun it could only be described as hot as hell.  The run course did offer some reprieve as it joined up with one of the many paths that were tucked away from the road in the trees.  There was a good mix with stretches of pure sunlight and shade.  I adopted the plan of power walking in the sun and running in the shade.  It served me well as running in the sun quickly made me feel like lying down.  The shaded path was filled with a number of well-placed humor.  When I’d come out of the sun and feel like crap it was a nice pick-me-up to see a sign of the super hero Iron Man with some competitor’s face phtoshopped in.   Another favorite coming out of one of the wooded path stretch was “If this was easy, it’d be your mom!”  Apologies to all the mother’s, but it was funny.  Of course the sign that stood out the most "Puke and Rally!"

Most of the run was through the residential part of town.  I remember one older woman sitting in her lawn chair all three laps who thanked me for coming each time I passed, it was very nice but I wasn’t sure how to respond.  Residence set up some water hoses, sprinklers and there were plenty of kids with squirt guns happy to shoot me.  What I thought about during this first lap of the run is how it no longer felt like a race.  Athletes are pretty spaced out and your pace is more or less determined already so if someone flies by there isn’t much there to pick it up and push them back.  It really became a personal fight at that time.  It was a mix of joy knowing that I’d finish if I stayed smart, wondering what my actual finish time would be, wanting to run faster and thinking about what it will feel like to finish and be done. 

I was debating how I felt about the three loop run, and then at about mile 5 there was a sign that said “Mile 13, now your race starts.”  It was refreshing to know that one loop from there, I’d be half way.  Each aid station I went through I executed a similar routine as I did on the bike: drink a little Ironman Perform, some ice water, and then start dumping everything cold on my head.  I kept moving through the stations but took my time to get fluids and try and stay cool.  Something I had packed in my run transition bag was a small towel from the Door County Half Iron the previous year.  That was a hot day in July and they had ice cold towels; I grabbed one early on in the run that day and tucked it around my neck and in to my tri top.  The towel worked just like soaking my arm sleeves on the bike, it retained some water and helped keep my head cool.  Each aid station had a kiddie pool of ice water that was loaded with sponges, I’d drop my towel in and wrap my neck.   

Those first 5 – 6 miles were the worst of the run, which provided the biggest smack in the face reality of how hot it was.  As it often goes in races when you start to get down maybe reaching your lowest point and then you start seeing some familiar faces.  I arrived in Houston on Wednesday and was invited to come to a meet and great at a local bike shop, Shama Cycles.  The owner Philip has worked with Brandon, whom I mentioned from my swim, on helping him get a good fit on his tandem.  Philip was nice enough to open up his shop to CDifferent and allow a number of guides who have raced and trained with Brandon as well as other local athletes to meet another visually impaired athlete who was competing in Ironman Texas, Rachel Weeks.  Rachel has Usher Syndrome, which means she was competing to become the first visually and hearing impaired athlete to ever complete an Ironman.  At Shama, Rachel and I had the opportunity to talk about our experiences racing and guiding as well as meet and talk to a great group of athletes, some of whom were also competing and volunteering at IMTX.  While going to and from the Shama meet and great David and Brandon gave us a quick tour of some of the places that they had trained.  Brandon was discussing his stardom in the Houston area referring to the many interviews he’s done and the people he’s talked to.  His stardom was only confirmed as I ran; I wore my CDifferent tri-kit which across my shoulders on the back says “Blind Athlete Support”, athletes like Brandon, Rod and Rachel have tops that say “Blind Athlete”.  There were three things I heard over and over while running:  1 – “where’s your blind athlete?”  To which I would respond “Not this race unfortunately”.  As I got asked this more and more often I began responding “I had him at the swim. . . “  2- “Go CDifferent!” and 3 – “Where’s Brandon?”, to which I would respond “he’s got CapTex next week” referring to the Capital of Texas Triathlon which is a USA Paratriathlon Champsionship Race. 

Sam Lopez (doing IMTX next year) and I, photo by Ignacio Marquez (multi IM finisher) - met both at Shama

Although the faces that recognized me were new and I didn’t remember all their names right away, having them cheer me on at that point in the run was great.  As I looped back in by the channel, on the opposite side as the run start, the crowd was denser and my excitement was jumping again.  The walk-way was packed on each side with just a narrow enough gap between the spectators to run side-by-side with another competitor.  There was one fan holding a big sign that only allowed you to see his bare legs and arms, the sign said “If you don’t smile, I’m dropping my sign”, I gave him the biggest dumb fake smile I could, then I realized he was standing next to an Ironman photographer:

 

The best part about this section of the run: the crowd, the worst part, hearing Mike Reilly welcome finishers to the end of the race.  There’s a literal fork in the run course, turn right – run ¼ mile and YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!, turn left – run 17 more miles.

Beat Your Heat - The Bike

Flying Penguin

When I loaded my bike before the race my plan was to fill my speed-fill bottle with a mix of Gatorade and water, carry another bottle on my cages behind the saddle with the same mix and have a third bottle with my heavy goop mix of Perpeteum in the cage down by the crank.  After dumping my bike pulling it from the rack my rear bottle fell out, I remembered that there were stations every 10 miles on the bike loop, so I decided to ditch the bottle behind me and stick with the one speed-fill and my Perpetuem. 

The start to the bike was two lanes of smooth sailing.  There were a number of turns from street to street as the course led out of town.  I sat up on the horns for most of the weaving out of town before dropping down in the aero once we reached the first section of highway.  I was comfortable and settled in pretty well.  Prior to race day I had spent some time comparing the elevation chart for IMWI to IMTX.  The two really had very little in common other than the distance.  IMTX offered a relatively flat course with a number of longer rollers, nothing that looked like a true climb, but a steady stream of ups and downs for most of the ride. 
  

As I was leaving town on the highway and got my first taste of some of the smaller rollers I found myself exchanging position back and forth with a competitor named Ricky.  He had his race belt and number spun backwards so as we flip and flopped I just started talking to him by name.  I said “we’ll figure this out sometime” simply referring to the fact that we exchanged spots at every up and then subsequent downhill.  He was wearing a tri kit from OutRival Racing, who are the official coach and training group of IMTX.  We began chatting as I solicited some advice from him regarding the bike course as I assumed he’d been there many times.  He said the rollers would continue throughout, once we turned to head back we’d be right in to the wind and to try and save some for the last 20 or 30 miles because it was another fast section of the course.  In our chatter Ricky mentioned how he forgot to load his electrolyte pills, so I offered him some of my salt tabs.  I handed him my bottle, he grabbed some and said that was plenty to get him to his special needs bag.  I figured a little good race karma couldn’t hurt.  Ricky and I rode together for the first 20 miles of the race, our back and forth never really stopped.

The first 30 miles went by and was a breeze.  My goal was to just spin free, not push too hard and be smart on the hills.  When I’d get to one of the long gradual inclines I’d stay in the aero until I had shifted down to the lowest gear on the rear cassette.  At that time I’d get up on the horns and do my normal hill routine, pulling up on the crank, the rest of the way up while staying in the big ring.  I was able to stick with this strategy the entire ride.  It was around mile 30 that my curiosity really went wild . . . race morning I tipped the scale right at about 140, probably one of the lighter guys out there.  If I think of how gravity works, my advantage would be had on the longer uphill climbs and then on the downs the heavier riders would fly on by.  Somehow the exact opposite was happening.  I was getting passed going up the hill by riders in the aero cranking away then at the crest of the hill the riders would sit up and coast and roll for a while before pedaling back at it.  On the way up I’d get to my low gear, hit the top and start slamming through the gears in the aero as I passed rider after rider.  Regardless of what they were doing, I felt good with my strategy.  I remembered my first ride on the IMWI loop when I rode it with a multi-Ironman veteran; he said “If you’re doing something different than everyone else, you’re probably doing something right.” 

Up to this point I was regularly taking sips of my Perpetuem and dropping a salt tab every so often while washing both down with my Gatorade/water mix.  During the swim my Ironman Global Trainer lost it’s GPS signal and it never managed to hook back up the rest of the day.  So for the ride I relied on feel.  I had a couple mantras that I visited the entire ride: Let the penguin fly, spin free and princesses never give up.  To me, letting the penguin fly was my reminder to ride and feel the bike (I call my bike the flying penguin by the way), if I was picking up speed and spinning too fast, shift and keep maximizing the push I was feeling from the bike.  It also reminded me to shift gears, be picky about what gear I was in and not work the legs too hard.  Spinning free is really an extension of letting the penguin fly.  A few weeks before IMTX my son and daughter (6 and 4) had their triathlon (swim bike run as they call it).  At their age they allow for parents to be out on the course helping them along.  I was following and encouraging Emmie and during the bike portion there were a couple inclines.  On those up hills I heard Emmie saying something I couldn’t quite make out, then as the climb extended and she worked harder she began speaking louder.  “Princesses never give up” is what she said as she powered her way up the hill.  I guess it stuck with me.  It provided me a great reminder, a smile and boost of energy at each hill. 

Princesses never give up!

The IMTX loop was really a road to nowhere-ville.  Riding through the national forest offered some good shade and plenty of trees, but after that it was pretty rural.  By the time I reached the half-way point the trees were more or less nonexistent, the hot air would blow off some of the bare land and most importantly the road quality deteriorated as I pedaled in to major head winds.  I passed the special needs bag area as I hadn’t packed one, I felt good mentally and physically.  At each aid station I would rotate pouring Ironman Perform and water in to my speed-fill.  I slowed quite a bit at each aid station because I had two goals: 1 – get hydration in my speed-fill bottle and 2 – get water and spray it all over my body.  The wind was such during the bike that I never felt like I was sweating but I could tell it was getting hot.  The first couple aid stations I’d just concentrate my water spray on my head, neck and chest.  As I continued through the ride I started making sure I got my arms.  This was where wearing my arm sleeves came in handy; I’d get them soaked and having the water retained in those sleeves helped keep me cool as the wind would blow.  This, obviously, was a very temporary relief but a relief none-the-less. 

As the miles built I became more and more impatient with how long it took to go 10 miles between water stations.  Near each station was the appropriate mile marker of a ten mile increment.  I’m not sure I saw a mile 80 or if I had reached a new level of impatience but by the time mile 90 came I was cranky.  My legs felt good but I knew I had some major chaffing happening down below.  I had a hard time getting comfy on my seat and it became more and more difficult to stay in the aero position.  I spent much of the last 20 miles sitting up.  I was moving along but had certainly fallen off my pace from earlier.  The combination of heat, head wind, chaffing and rough road had maximized my discomfort. 

Photo by Bill Baumeyer

The ride in to town did offer nicer roads, I’m not sure about Ricky’s assessment of the last 30 miles but my opinion was influenced by the fact that miles 95-105 were heavily lined with vehicles stuck in traffic due to the race.  Riding next to heavy exhaust on the shoulder wasn’t my favorite.  As I entered The Woodlands the course winded through neighborhoods where crowds had gathered.  Other than volunteers at the aid stations this was really the first group of spectators I saw since leaving town on the bike almost 6 hours prior.  It was nice to know the ride was coming to an end.  With around 5 or so miles left I had my last sip of Perpetuem, I took a sip and went to put the bottle back in the cage and missed.  A competitor next to me said “eh, you didn’t need that anymore anyway.”  I agreed.  I came in on the last couple roads I went out on, the last block of the bike is lined with fences with Ironman tarps hanging creating a chute.  I dismounted at the line and for the first time since I left that same spot, I wasn’t clipped in.  I had never ridden that long without stopping.  I pushed the penguin in to transition and handed the bike to a volunteer as I shuffled through the bike staging area to get to the walk way where my run bag was sitting.  After grabbing my bag I stopped at a port-o-potty.  I’ll just say about 4 oz and blaze orange – enough said. 

I walked in to the transition tent and was a little shocked at what I saw. . .

Bike Splits:

Mile 0 to 30 pace: 19.95 mph

Mile 30 - 56 pace: 17.88 mph

Mile 56 – 112 pace: 17.36 mph

Total time: 6:11:00

Total pace: 18.11 mph

T2: 7:31

Temperature at bike start: 78.4 degrees

Temperature at bike end:  91 degrees, heat index:  96.6 degrees

Beat Your Heat

 

Beat your heat

Not unlike life, in racing, there are things you can control and things you can influence.  The longer the duration of the race the more important this simple fact becomes.  To continue the metaphor, there are many opportunities to recognize the circumstances that surround you and make a choice, keeping in mind that not choosing a specific action is a choice in and of itself.  It’s these choices along the way that are the difference between a successful race, an unsuccessful race, or an extremely difficult day.

On May 18^th I competed in Ironman Texas.  Prior to registering for the race I was aware of the fact that race day would be hot (duh), maybe not by Texas standards but very much by Wisconsin standards.  Most of my training would be indoors or in cold to cool climate outside.  True to the bi-polar nature of Wisconsin spring, it was and still is, a delayed spring that was nice enough to offer lots of rain and colder temperatures.  All of my longest rides were done on the trainer which did offer a couple big positives; Ironman Texas bike course is relatively flat, yes there are some longer gradual hills, but time in the aero position was to be expected – so the trainer afforded me this opportunity as much as I could handle.  The heat expected on the bike was an obvious other expectation, so my bike rides indoors included me wearing a couple long sleeve shirts, my plastic rain jacket and on one cold Saturday’s 4 hour ride, spinning next to the fire place – which I don’t recommend without putting your bike and trainer in some sort of kiddie pool to capture the sweat.  My runs were outside like normal and swims all in the pool.  Ironman Texas was a race I truly looked at with no expectation of finish time.  With the variables in temperature, biking outside two times prior to the race, no outdoor swimming, running in cooler temperatures, my true goal was to finish and have fun on my terms.

The day before the race it was 90 degrees and humid.  The lake where the swim takes place normally doesn’t allow swimming, so the morning before the race they open it up for 2 hours for practice swim time.  When I think outdoor swimming I naturally think “wet suit”.  There was some phenomenon that I can’t explain regarding participants in Ironman Texas and wetsuits:  Ironman has rules against wearing wetsuits if temperatures are too warm – somewhere around 82 degrees, this protects the athletes from overheating in the water.  Race week the lake had been near 75 degrees.  At 75 it was in the ‘wetsuit legal’ temperature.  With Friday being a hot day the expected race morning temperature of the water was between 76 and 77 degrees.  This is the ‘wet suit optional’ temperature.  Athletes had the choice to start at 7 am without a wetsuit and be eligible to qualify for Kona, or wear a wetsuit, start at 7:10 am and not have the opportunity to qualify for Kona.  For me it was a no brainer, but that practice morning as I began pulling my wetsuit up I had three different athletes point out the fact that it was going to be wetsuit optional temperature and stuck their noses up as they zipped up their ‘speed suits’.  I swam the practice without my wetsuit on but quickly realized how cold 75 degree water felt after spending 2 hours a week during winter and spring in a heated indoor pool.  My mind was made up; I was wearing the wetsuit for a couple reasons:  temperature wise it was no big deal, more importantly it split up the swim group – big difference swimming with 2,400 friends and swimming with 1,000.  Also, I’d minimize me getting run over in the water as I’d be out in front of the slower swimmers from my start as well as catching the slower  swimmers from the non-wetsuit start which meant keeping traffic in front of me where it was more manageable.

Logistically the race start is quite a bit different from what I am familiar with here at Ironman Wisconsin.  In Texas the transition area is located between the finish line and the swim entrance.  This means on the morning of the race I prepped my bike and loaded it up with my hydration and nutrition and then had to walk about a half mile to the swim start.  Special needs bags were to be dropped at the swim start near where the morning clothes bags went.  While packing my gear two days before the race I made the decision to not bother with the special needs bag.  For guiding Ironman Wisconsin I loaded both bike and run special needs bags with frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but this year I had been using Perpetuem on my long bike rides and calculated that between a heavy goopy concentration of the Perpetuem, GU and Ironman Perform, I’d be taking in enough calories.

Race morning was like all mornings I had in Texas, about 75 and muggy.  The plan was to park near the finish line, but the finish area to the race is a large mall area so much of the parking lot had been blocked off to accommodate people who were actually going to shop there during the day.  I ended up parking in a ramp near the transition area; biggest downside – the walk from the finish area after completing the race back to the car.  The bike staging area was hustling and bustling with everyone getting tires pumped, loading nutrition and making other last minute adjustments.  This was also a time you could access your T1 and T2 bags as they were laid out on a walk way just outside the bike area.  I had nothing to add as I went pretty minimal and basic with my needs for the day.  With the delay in finding a parking spot, which must have been the case for many, as many of us were leaving as they were shutting down transition.  The walk moved quickly as fans and athletes shuffled along to the swim start.  As the swim start neared I was greeted with the first funny sign of the day: a man wearing a snorkel and a speedo standing up on the bridge, his sign said “Swim lessons $140.6!”  He had a counterpart in the park at the swim start area.  I arrived a few minutes before the pro’s started (6:50 am).  I got body marked and dropped off some bags.  I was curious to find out how many others had chosen to wear their wetsuits.  After the pro’s started the non-wetsuit athletes started flooding the water.  There was another staging area we wetsuit athletes went to on the water’s edge.  It’s hard to estimate the number of people wearing wetsuits; it appeared to be less than half the field as the swim start area thinned out significantly as the non-wetsuit group entered the water.

The national anthem was sung and the cannon went off.  As the non-wetsuit swim started I made my way to the water.  There were a couple docks where we entered and a number of athletes were hanging on as they waited for our start.  I made my way just inside the far right starting buoy.  This had me on the outside of the front line.  I feel I’ve been swimming pretty well and that this would allow me to slowly move on in towards the buoys that lined the course as traffic thinned to the inside.  Our cannon shot and off I went.  The first leg of the swim was a straight shot of about 1,400 or 1,500 hundred meters.  I started out just fine but found it hard to find a rhythm.  I kept swallowing water and wasn’t breathing calmly.  Somewhere between the start and the first turn buoy I had some doubts.  Doubts about my ability to get through the swim, doubts about the day, doubting my rationale in thinking I could do this race.  Then I thought of a conversation I had the day before.  I was relaxing at the pool of the homestay that I was at with David Adame and his son Brandon.  David is the director of Cdifferent, the organization that sent a tandem up for Rod and I to use at Ironman Wisconsin.  I met David and Brandon last June in Denver where Rod and I did the Denver Triathlon as a part of the Cdifferent team.  While in the pool David was describing Brandon’s swim at the inaugural Texas Ironman 2 years before.  Brandon was one of the 5 visually impaired or blind athletes whom competed that year.  Brandon was in the pool with us and was on his back kicking and pulling with his arms.  David said this was how Brandon started swimming that race day as he struggled with the normal freestyle.  So I did what Brandon did, flipped on my back and kept moving ahead.  I’d catch my breath and flip over and keep swimming.  I still couldn’t get comfortable, so I’d flip on my back again.  I was getting frustrated but I was progressing and my thoughts of doubt were passing.  I eventually reached the first turn, 90 degree left then a 400 meter straight away before another 90 degree left.  I don’t know what happened at that red turn buoy but I flipped back on my stomach and never left until I exited the swim.  During that stretch my mind wandered as I settled in.  My issue on the first straight away:  not rolling enough to each side to breath.  My pool swimming got me lazy, get in choppy athlete filled water and you have to roll that much more to get your mouth out to breath.  As I swam the long straight away I went from triathlete to doctor. . . as I was catching swimmers it seemed my stroke found a way to end up in other’s crotches.  I’d be looking down trying to keep good swimming form and I’d reach out in front and hit an ass.  I was surprised at the number of direct hits I had for that 1,500 – 1,600 stretch.  The swim started to get fun, not because of the ass grabbing.  It felt good to pass people with ease as I calmed down and kept going long and slow.  For long stretches I wouldn’t even sight ahead as every couple strokes I was brushing someone and pushing them aside.  The last turn was a right as we entered a man-made channel that went through the down town of The Woodlands. 

Photo credit: clydesdaletriathlon.blogspot.com

 

It was about 30 yards wide and provided even more fun than crotch-grabbing.  With each breath I could easily see the sides of the channel so again I kept my head down and moved traffic with my hands out front.  Most of the back stretch and the channel I was passing non-wetsuit athletes whom were more vertical than horizontal.  It was a nice change to see the crowds that had lined each side of the channel and hearing the cheers each time I rolled to breath.  The channel had a couple gradual light turns in it that prevented me from looking ahead and seeing the swim exit.  This last stretch passed quickly and I knew it was coming to an end and I finally arrived at the red buoy, made the hard left and swam the width of the channel to some steps that were put in to climb up to the exit.  There were plenty of volunteers there pulling us up.  I swam right to the swim exit so I was already out of the water and standing at the wetsuit strippers before I even had a chance to unzip, so it took a couple seconds to stop and pull my wetsuit off my shoulders before jumping on my butt.  I wasn’t too concerned; speed here really meant nothing to me.  I was handed my wetsuit after I stood up and I began walking the route to the transition bags.  Before I got to my bag I saw David and Brandon, said a quick ‘hi’ before they shuffled me along to keep moving.  The transition bags are lined up in rows on a wide walk-way, having placed my bag the day before I knew which row to go up.  It’s a tight squeeze with three rows of bags and athletes stopping at various points in each row to grab their bags.  I just walked and kept my cool.  The transition tent was a big scurry of wet bodies.  The one addition I wanted to include on my race day that I didn’t in IMWI was some arm sleeves.  The type I have are one unit, the two sleeves are joined together across my shoulders.  With the sun and heat I figured it’d be a good addition to help keep as much of my skin out of sun.  It was a little bit of a challenge to put it on as I was still damp from the swim.  I managed on my gear and started the long walk all the way through transition.  There are many volunteers lining the bike area as they help you navigate to your bike.  Having a foundation slot meant I was up in the first two rows farthest from the transition tent.  Having placed all my fluids and nutrition on the bike before the race start I just had to pull my bike from the rack and walk out.  My bike was wedged in pretty tight between bikes on either side and I couldn’t pull my bike under the bar and had to push it, which meant I had to go under the bike rack also.  Doing a limbo in grass in cycling shoes resulted in my dumping my bike.  My nutrition spilled out of my bento box, my bottles fell off, so I collected everything and repositioned it on the bike and kept pushing on through.  I exited the park and onto the road to the bike mount line and got at it.

Swim time: 1:19:25

T1: 10:39