We all Fall

I don’t know how many miles I’ve pedaled since training for my first triathlon in 2009, I’ll make a simple guess that it’s between 1,000 and 3,000.  One of the consistent thoughts I’ve had is wondering when I’d crash.  Wondering what the circumstances would be that lead to it, wondering where and how it happens.  It was never a worry, more of a lingering thought that in time, I’d fall.  It’s why I shave my legs; the thought of ripping gauze tape off hairy legs or hair drying in scabs, forget it, shave em.  When I’d think about a potential crash I’d wonder if I’d react quick enough or in a manner to change the outcome from a crash to a great save.

If you’ve crashed this is probably a review of your experience, if you haven’t, I can only say that once it starts there is very little you can do and it’s over before you even think to do anything.  It’s moments that you simply participate in as the details unfold as you and your body are subjected to whatever gravity, momentum and God have put in place. 

I was entering Verona on the Ironman Loop after making a nice sweep of South Central Wisconsin going from Verona, to Cross Plains, Dane, Lodi, Merrimac, Sauk City, Black Earth, Mt. Horeb then back in to Verona.  I took the left in front of Epic on to Cross Country.  There was another biker in front of me wearing neon green.  He stopped at the first stop sign and I rolled up next to him.  We chatted quickly and joked about the heat and what looked like a storm ahead.  We laughed and wished each other a good ride.  Cross Country is a great road to ride, smooth, wide, even a little down grade and over too soon like any smooth road is.  I had noticed while I was at the stop sign how there were some big rocks scattered next to the curb, that seemed odd as this road didn’t have a shoulder, it is curbed on each side and then grass, no rock shoulder at all.  I took note and shoved off from the stop sign.  I was up to speed about half way between that stop sign and the next, I estimate I was doing 20 give or take an mph or 2.  I was tucked down in aero keeping my eyes out over the front tire.  Then a thud; a quick feeling of the front tire wobble without control and before I realized it my hands and elbows had jumped off the aero bars and pads, my head hit the road with another loud thud.  My eyes were closed as I listened to my helmet scrape along.  Quicker than it took to read this, it was done.  I didn’t notice the front wheel wobble as it happened but I quickly remembered the feeling of it quivering which happened right before my back tire went vertical pointing my front tire down.  My weight went down and forward and my clipped in feet pulled the bike along as I landed on my head and shoulder and begun my slide to a stop.  There was a young man coming up behind me in a car who got to see the whole event unfold.  By the time I opened my eyes he had already gotten out of his car and was almost as shaken up as I was.  As I stood up and started to take inventory of my body as he kept asking what I needed, holy $%#@, who he can call, holy %@#$, should he call the cops, holy $#%.  He eventually asked if I was OK to which I replied “I think so, but I’m not sure.”  I took my helmet off and tossed it to the grass, I was walking and moving my legs, there were scrapes and a big chunk missing on my left knee that must have been one of my first points of contact with the road.

Taken at the scene about 5 minutes after the crash

 

My legs were working fine so I moved up to my arms, I started  with my right and it seemed normal, then as I moved the left I noticed some stiffness and some odd noises.  At this time the young man had walked behind me and dropped some more F bombs and other pleasantries as he saw the road rash.  By this time the man I rolled up on at the previous stop sign was there and examining my bike.  He pulled it off the road, took the front tire off and showed me how it was flat.  I said I hit a rock.  We were trying to decide what to do, I was coming down from whatever rush of energy I had from the crash.  I grabbed my phone and did what anyone would do, took pictures. . . .

Another selfie of my wounds, oh yeah some of my fingers drug too

As we debated calling the paramedics a cop started to near us.  There was a family who’s kids were playing on a trampoline across the grass way and I have a feeling they called 911 thinking the young man who stopped to help me actually hit me, that of course wasn’t the case.  Once the cop rolled up he said an ambulance was already on the way.  The cop asked some questions and got my information.  I wasn’t in a lot of pain, still some shock from the fact that I actually crashed, it finally happened.  The young man and the biker took off and I thanked them for stopping and helping.  The ambulance showed up and the paramedics started their field examination.  I called my friend Becky whom I was supposed to hang out with later to see if she could swing by and pick up my bike.  I decided to take the ride to the hospital in the ambulance as I could tell my shoulder wasn’t right.  I cracked my helmet with the fall so the paramedics tossed me on the straight board and neck brace for precautionary reasons.  The cop helped load up my bike in my Becky’s car and off I was to the hospital. 

The hospital was pretty uneventful, the doctor checked me out and got me off the straight board and out of the neck brace.  He looked over my wounds and checked me over.  He suggested an x-ray on my shoulder.  The x-ray showed a fracture on my clavicle near the socked, I still had a good range of motion but discomfort with the movements.  The nurse started to clean my road rash and I suggested cutting off my tri top.  As hard as those are to get on and off I didn’t think there was a chance I’d get my hands above my head and peel it off.  Couple snips and the tri top is retired.  It is the top I wore at Ironman with Rod last September.

 

So there I was being discharged from the emergency room in my tri shorts and a sling.  Becky and I walked to her car and headed back to my place to unload the bike, 3 water bottles, cycling shoes, cracked helmet, driver’s license, credit card and iPhone – everything I had with me for the 85 miles of riding and 15 or so feet of sliding.  What a day.

There was one consistent as I sat on the curb right after crashing, rode in the ambulance, sat in the hospital – I was OK that this happened.  I’ve expected this since I started training.  I’ve accepted that some things are beyond my control and the only way to pursue things like triathlons, marathons and Ironman is to accept that things will happen along the way; don’t know when, don’t know how and may not be able to influence what happens as it happens.  I can’t ride my bike in fear of falling; it’s the price of admission.  Could I have done better looking ahead, yes, could I have ridden slower - I had 2.5 miles to go and could have mailed it in, sure but I didn’t, I rode ahead like many of you do every day or weekend.  Don’t be afraid of the fall, accept that falls happen, you can’t plan to stop the fall but you can plan to get back up after you fall, choose to keep riding, choose to get up.  The fall doesn’t hurt, it’s over before you know, it’s the picking yourself up that’s the test and will be mine.

One quick point as I’m here licking my wounds, I would like to credit some of my positive attitude about this particular fall to a man who recently completed a 50 mile trail race, a 3:15 marathon last December and was well on his way to improving on what I believe is the fastest Ironman finish for a visually impaired/blind athlete (someone correct me if I’m wrong) – Richard Hunter, a man who spends as much time training as he does raising funds to put on the championship marathon race for the blind and visually impaired community in conjunction with USABA.  In early July Richard was on a tandem bike ride when a car pulled out in front of the bike which caused Richard to go airborne and ultimately flying through the windshield of the car.  Here are some of Richard’s own words from his most recent update on his healing:

This past Monday, I had 22 staples and 4 stitches removed and other lacerations are well into the healing process.  Mentally, I’ve had a couple of bad days but most days are tempered by the knowledge that things could have been much worse and that I have had lots of people calling and visiting.  That has helped a lot.  My neck, on the other hand, hurts all of the time.  The C7 fracture will take a while to heal.  I am able to manage the pain with rest and a prescription muscle relaxant and Advil.  I am able to leave my house for short outings such as dinner out, coffee with a friend or watching Lindsey’s performance.  Heidi has been amazing.  I’m sure things will get very quiet as time goes on.  I miss my training and the friends who help me do what I do.  The reality is that sports is my freedom, friends and rehabilitation for my vision loss.  I thank God for my life and have no ill will in my heart.  I hope to be a spectator at IM Lake Tahoe since I won’t be able to race.   

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

2nd half

The half way point of the race brought a few things; Becca was taking over on the tether and another opportunity to run through a crowd.  The nice thing about doing marathons that also have a marathon-relay going on is that every 10k there's a crowd gathered at the exchange area.  The relay teams have one ankle bracelet for a timing chip and it has to be passed from relay member to relay member.  The first half of the course did have a number of spectators who braved the weather to still come out and cheer, but the crowds always pick me up.  The only downside to marathon relays is that it messes with your mind a little; fresh runners coming on the course have a tendency to fly by you.  The race was thinning out but each marathon relay check point brought more runners near by.   

When Richard Hunter asked if was available to guide he said how he prefers to have two guides for each marathoner in order to let the athlete run their best race without worry of a guide not being able to maintain.  My only question I had after his proposal was if I could keep running with Rachel to the end.

With Becca tethered up we proceeded on.  I could see that it lifted Rachel's spirits, she was running very strong coming to the half way point and I kept telling her that the real half way point wasn't for another 5 miles.  With me off the tether I was able to move about and shuffle people out of the way.  As we would approach a water station I'd take requests on what Rachel and Becca wanted and run ahead, grab it and deliver as needed.  This allowed them to stay as far away from the crowds of runners that tend to gather at a stand still at the water stations as the race wears on.

Becca was chatty, which helped keep Rachel calm and added a lighter feel to our run.  Becca was commenting on the rain that was coming down which we quickly threw back in her face and updated her on the side ways rain, stream crossing and garbage bag dodging.  The three of us got along great from our initial meeting so it seemed appropriate that the three of us would be crossing the finish together.

This was only the second time that I was a co-guide in a race with the other time being my first attempt guiding with Kathy.  Since that first co-guiding I've gotten a feel for how I like to guide and how I want to control the situation.  Different people have different ways of doing things and I could feel myself getting very anxious when Becca was or wasn't doing something I would or wouldn't have.  She wasn't wrong and I wasn't right but it was interesting to me to feel that.  I later spoke with Rachel about that and she said she could tell.  I knew that it would be counter-productive for me to try and guide and influence where Rachel was if I wasn't on the tether so the three of us continued on, joker to the left, clown to right.

As the miles wore on I could tell that Rachel's injured hip was hurting more and more.  I was trying to "remind" her to keep some running form tips in mind that we discussed on the previous day's run.  Hips forward, shoulders relaxed and keep looking ahead.  I gave her the opportunity to hit me at one point because the only thing louder than my reminders was her sigh of annoyance after each reminder.  After a while I would simply turn to look at her as a reminder which she would reply with a roll of her eyes or a shake of her head.  Somewhere around mile 20 as we were getting closer to Sacramento there was a nice crowd gathered and through it all I managed to hear someone say "Free Beer!!"  My ears perked and I began to seek out where this offer was coming from.  I found the source and happily accepted two small dixie cups of beer.  Can't tell you what brand or type, but it was good.  I was trying to play the role of pseudo coach, comic and motivator.  My main goal was to keep Rachel's mind off of the pain in her leg and keep her progressing towards her goal.  I could hear her feet getting heavier as she tired.

The sun was coming out and we were greeted with the weather that I took for granted that I would have traveling to California.  The crowds were getting more frequent as we continued to close in on the Sacramento and the Capitol building.  There was one group on the sidewalk all dressed in pink tu tu's, continuing to add humor to the run I went and asked if they had an extra?  They didn't as they looked at me a little perplexed answering the question.  As we neared downtown things were picking up, crowds were cheering and people were hanging out on the sidewalk seating at bars.  It was a lot like running Ironman on State Street in Madison.  All the bars got me thinking about football and how all the people were out watching the games, of course it was about noon so the games were starting. . . . or the first set of Sunday games were already done!  I forgot about the time difference and then I said out loud "CRAP!". . . I didn't think I had updated my fantasy football team.  Rachel didn't either as we discussed our fantasy football woes.  At about mile 25 we heard a live band playing outside a bar on the sidewalk.  I think it was a polka-folk type beat.  I looked over at Rachel and asked if she wanted to dance. . . She smiled and we stopped in front of the band and did an abbreviated polka jam.  We were laughing and circling before realizing that Becca was still attached to Rachel, so she was forced to run around us to avoid getting tangled.  Rachel and I finished with a twirl completing the intertwining of the sisters in the tether.  They untangled, we all laughed and continued on for the last mile.

One of the dead giveaways that you're approaching a finish line is the number of people in running gear with medals around their necks cheering you on.  We could hear the announcer and the music as we got closer and closer.  The California International Marathon did offer a unique finish experience.  One chute for women, one for men.  As we approached the woman directing the segregation between male and female, she yelled at me saying "Men to the right" I responded with a "I'm with her" and her final response of "You'll get DQ'd" I just laughed and kept my post by Rachel's side.

Rachel was the second VI female to cross the line, she completed her first marathon and did so with only a few stops for stretching.  She fought through the discomfort from her injury and ran even splits through the entire race.  She was smart from the beginning by choosing to back off from what her original goal was to a pace that was manageable given the fact she was coming off from sickness and injury.  I know she's faster, she knows she's faster but that doesn't matter, she put together a great race and made it through that first marathon, which is what I believe to be the hardest.

Rachel is training for her first Ironman, she will be competing in Ironman Texas in May.  While training she continues on in a fight with other VI athletes, that I knew very little about prior to meeting her last week.  There are rules in place for blind and VI athletes in triathlons that require a VI athlete to wear black out glasses as a means to put them on an equal playing field with the blind athletes they compete against.  It is looked at as an advantage for a VI athlete to use what little vision they have during the run portion of a triathlon.  If an athlete like Rachel wishes to qualify and compete at a national level she must comply with the black out glasses rule or be disqualified.  Much of the ground work has been laid out by Aaron Scheidies, a world record VI athlete who has brought a lawsuit against the organizations who created the black out glasses rule, you can see his filing here.  Rachel and Aaron are teaming up in hopes to make change.  I hope to help in that fight and may be calling out to you USAT members for your support.    

On a mission

Through my journey of seeking more guiding opportunities I was given the name of Richard Hunter.  I could dedicate an entire blog post to him but not this one.  Richard organizes runners and guides for the National Championship Marathon and Marathon Relay held at the California International Marathon in partnership with the USABA (United States Association of Blind Athletes).  In early November Richard called me out on a Facebook post I made that said I guided "anywhere, anytime at any pace".

Richard paired me up with Rachel Weeks, an athlete with Usher Syndrome.  I won't try and tell Rachel's story better than in some of her own words, so I encourage you to click her name and read her story of strength and drive.  As an athlete with Usher Syndrome Rachel suffers from both vision and hearing loss.  At first meeting Rachel I wouldn't have thought she suffered from any impairment at all if I wasn't previously told.  Her sister Becca had traveled from South Carolina with her to guide Rachel the second half of the race.  Rachel and Becca have teamed up for for many of Rachel's races ranging from her first sprint triathlon and a recent half marathon.  Becca has never competed in a race of her own but has so far chosen to guide her sister instead.

Going in to the weekend I had the opportunity to exchange some emails with Rachel to discuss race pace, recent injuries and her getting over an illness.  I also knew that I'd have the opportunity to meet many of the people whom I've corresponded with electronically through various online visually impaired/blind groups and was excited for that.  Saturday night prior to race morning there was a dinner held for all those that helped make the National Championship possible.  Sponsors, organizers, athletes and guides from all over the world.  In all there were 31 athletes and 37 guides participating in the marathon or as a member of a marathon relay team.  Being considered part of a group that included: multi-world record holders, sub-3 hour marathoners, multi-Ironman finishers as well as the first blind athlete to complete an Ironman was an honor.  Amazing enough from an athletic stand point, let alone the fact that this group completed all these races with little or no sight.  A fantastic humbling night.

I'd been checking the weather for Sacramento daily as soon as I booked my flight.  The forecast never changed much the entire time. . . rain!  When I landed in Sacramento it was sprinkling and windy.  Saturday was a great day by Wisconsin standards but a little cool by Sacramento standards.  We had the chance to go for a tune up run Saturday afternoon.  It was my first opportunity to run with Rachel as well as run using a waist tether.  The waist tether allows Rachel to use the vision she has while giving her the confidence and comfort in knowing that someone is there to help if needed.  Our warm up run was a sidewalk run in downtown Sacramento.  Pretty much the worst conditions for guiding.  To add to the fun, most of the rain from Friday and Saturday had gotten trapped near the curbs do to the abundance of leaves that had fallen and jammed up the sewer drains.  If Rachel and I were doing a tough mudder we were prepared with the number of "long steps!" or "jump" or "let's just run around this big ass puddle."  Had we known exactly how the conditions were going to be the next morning we probably would have just ran through the puddles. . .  A couple mile run and me never passing up the opportunity to discuss, I mean share my thoughts on Rachel's running form and we were ready for the race.

The best thing about doing a race in California is that 4 am really wasn't that bad of a wake up time.  I was able to fall right asleep after the dinner and not feel like I had to work to get out of bed.  I drove and picked up a fellow guide at his hotel in order to make our bus at 5.  The USABA went out of their way to put together a great transportation system for the VI athletes and guides.  On the bus I had the opportunity to talk more with some of the athletes I hadn't had the chance to meet the night before.  Another VI athlete, another multi-Ironman finisher.  Rachel was listening to music as I chatted away.  We knew the rain was coming and not too long in to the bus ride the skies opened up and started to dump.  When we arrived at the start area we got to wait in the pacer tent to stay out of the rain.  It was also nice to have access to our own porta-potties, all race-day luxuries I've never had.

For anyone that's been to a race with a chance of rain, the accessory of choice is a garbage bag.  Great for keeping in some heat and offer protection from the rain but bad when tore off, tossed to the wind and left for someone to slip on.  Unfortunately one bag got the better of one of the VI athletes ending her race before it had a chance to start.  Rachel and I nestled in with the crowd and found our groove.  There were pouring rains and 30-40 mph gusts of wind.  Luckily for Rachel, I was at her left, the same side the wind was coming from.  For the most part the rain came down sideways.  We managed our way in the larger crowd just fine.  From a guiding perspective I find this to be the hardest time simply because of the number of people in one spot.  I'm trying to plan the next move as far ahead as possible to make it feel less abrupt for Rachel.  To me running is about feel and being smooth and I try to allow the person I'm guiding to keep that feel as long as possible without interruption. 

The miles were moving by just fine as we settled in to a comfortable pace.  We had the pleasure of crossing a four lane city street under 6 inches of water.  That lead us to sharing some Forrest Gump quotes about rain coming from above, from the left, the right and even from underneath.  We were drenched waiting for the race to start so crossing a creek really had little affect on our spirit, it actually had us laughing.  After the race ended I read that for the first time in the marathon's history, they gave runners the opportunity to take the bus back to the finish line.  30% of the runners registered for the race either no-showed or took the bus back to the starting line.  100% of the VI runners and guides were there, ready and running.

Other than the weather, the first half of the race really went off as smoothly as I could have hoped.  There was one mud puddle Rachel ran in that turned out to be a mini pothole, but other then that the guiding and running was progressing nicely.  At about mile 12 we started to hear music.  It seemed too close to be the half way point, but sure enough, the music got closer and closer, these goofy point to point races and their endless straight-aways. . . the rain was lightening up and the winds had died down.  Now we just had to find Becca mixed in with the relay runners and get her clipped up and running.