The good the bad and the ugly of Ironman CDA 2009
I arrived the Wednesday before the race, as did my friends from Vegas, Katherine and Garner. Garner was also doing the race. Thursday morning, we went to the lake for a swim. The sky was grey, and the wind was blowing hard from the south. With our wetsuits on, we stepped into the water and soon came to the realization that even with a wetsuit, the water was going to be mighty brisk. There were 3 buoys in the water; we decided to swim to the first and take a break. The chop was worse than anything I’d encountered. I think I drank several gallons on the way to the first buoy. As soon as I turned my head to breathe, a wave would come over my head and fill my mouth with water. Surprisingly, it was easier to breathe as we headed across the waves to the 2nd turn buoy. It was pretty disorienting, though, from the rolling. Even though the water was cold, we both felt pretty warm by the time we’d reached buoy number one. We swam each morning, and the chop seemed to get even worse each day. However, the water was getting warmer. I was also getting used to swimming in nasty chop. I got to where I could anticipate the waves and where I needed to breathe in relation with them to avoid taking a drink. In addition to swimming, we also did a little biking and running. We rode our bikes on the run course and just ran a little through town. My bike had been tuned right before flying out, but after making the trip, one of my gears wasn’t working. I took my bike by the Ironman repair tent, told them the problem, and they’d supposedly fixed it. Garner and I did one more bike ride the next day, gear check-in day. We rode the run course again, and instead of one gear not working, THREE gears weren’t working properly. At that point, there wasn’t enough time to get the bike fixed and check it in, so I knew I’d just have to deal with it. We checked in our things and awaited race day.
Throughout the week, we’d watched the local television stations and checked online forecasts. Nobody seemed to know what was going to happen with the weather on Sunday. We got to the lake, and it was cold and windy. You know it’s bad when the air temp is 10-15 degrees BELOW the water temp. The water temperature was 60 degrees. We quickly got into our wetsuits for warmth. That wetsuit never felt better. We were a bit let down, though, when we saw the water. The waves were bigger than they’d been all week. Whitecaps were visible all across the lake, and the kayakers were clearly struggling to stay somewhat stationary. Garner and I positioned ourselves near the inside and in the back 1/3 of the group. The cannon fired, and we headed for the water. The water actually felt warm, due to the cold air temp. I got knee-deep into the water then dove head-first and started swimming. I wasn’t far into the swim before I realized this was going to be the most insane swim I’ve ever done. The chop was so bad, I could rarely see the buoys. I had to use the helicopter and the masts of the rescue boats for sighting. I quickly had gotten into a good rhythm, but there were a lot of slow swimmers in front of me. As I started passing people, I started to seriously get beaten up. I’ve never taken such a pounding in a swim. I only was hit by hands a couple times, but the kicks are what did the damage. During the first lap alone, I was kicked once in the crotch, twice in the head, and countless times in the torso. One kick to the ribs just about knocked the wind out of me. I still felt pretty strong, though, and kept my rhythm as best I could. Lap 2 started out a little less crowded than lap 1, but the chop was even worse, and I was still passing people and was getting kicked in the torso. I finally got some free water on my last return leg. I seriously felt like I’d been in a bar brawl and could not wait to exit the swim. I got out of the water and looked at my watch. I was surprised to see I’d done the swim within my goal time, especially considering the water conditions. I jogged to the wetsuit stripping area, where Sister Madonna was waiting with a smile on her face. As soon as I got out of the wetsuit, I remembered how cold the temp was. I ran into the changing tent and tried my best to get as dry as I could before getting on the bike. The tent was just as crowded as the water, and I had to wait a bit for an empty space. It was pretty much like a Turkish bath house. There were naked people everywhere trying to get dried off and put on something warm. I used a couple towels to dry off, and then I slipped on my arm warmers and tights and headed for my bike.
Garner and I had driven the bike course the day before the race, so I knew what to expect. There were some decent hills, but there was nothing worse than I’d encountered on my training rides. I started in my small ring, trying to spin a bit and get the legs warm. This was a wise decision. It didn’t take very long for my legs to feel loose and ready to go. I got into the big ring, and there I went! My bike felt really fast, even with gear issues. I started having major trauma not too long after mile 20, though. All of the sudden, my upper abdominal muscles started cramping. I slowed down and sat up on the saddle, thinking that might get them to stretch out and relax. Well, I was wrong; the cramping persisted. I stopped and the next aid station and dismounted the bike. The volunteers instantly ran to me, thinking I was in major distress. I told them I just needed to get my abs to relax, but the volunteers stood by me just in case I needed something. After 5-10 minutes, the muscles relaxed enough to get back on the bike and ride. I headed out again, and it wasn’t long before the cramps returned. I wound up stopping at nearly every aid station throughout the bike course just to try to ease the pain in those two cramping abs. I’d never encountered that problem in my training or any past races, and I assumed it was caused by the kicks I’d received in the swim. When I was actually riding and not standing at an aid station, I was averaging 20-27 mph on the flats, and I whizzed by everyone climbing the hills. My legs felt really, really strong. On the 2nd lap, the pain forced me to ride almost the whole time sitting up and at a slower pace. I tried to alter my nutrition plan in hopes of it having a positive impact on the cramping. I started eating a lot of bananas and high salt foods, but that didn’t help. It was really frustrating having the legs to ride fast but ab cramps keeping me from doing just that. Near the end of the bike leg, the clouds grew thicker, and the wind began to blow even harder. I was really starting to have to lean into the wind, and I was scooted across the lane a few times. The sky was looking pretty ugly.
When I got to T2, I knew it was going to get worse really fast. I put on my run gear and took off. My legs had never felt so good after having done a long ride. I don’t think my legs had even felt that good after doing the bike leg in a sprint race. They were ready to run fast. I started at a moderate pace, trying to tell the legs that they’re off the bike and it’s time to run. About a mile into the run, though, the same 2 ab muscles started getting tight again. I was forced to walk before I even got to race pace. I walked a short bit then tried doing a light jog. The same 2 muscles started cramping even on a light jog. At that point, I realized I was probably going to have to walk the entire marathon. I had no problem with that. I looked at my watch, and I had plenty of time to walk and still finish. I tried jogging a few times along the course, and the cramping persisted…and my legs still felt like a million bucks, WTF??? I was getting really frustrated, watching everyone slowly jog by me. Why did my legs have to feel so good and my abs be what were keeping me from having the race I’d hoped to have??? I swallowed my pride and kept on walking. About mile 4, the winds picked up a little bit more, the rain began to fall… and I kept walking. By the time I reached mile 5, the temperature had dropped into the 40s and was still falling. The people at the medical tent were trying to get all the racers to take space blankets to keep warm, and I gladly took one. Unfortunately, walking wasn’t generating enough heat, even with the space blanket. As the air temperature fell, I could tell MY temperature was beginning to fall. Around mile 8, of the run (or walk in my case), I was cold enough to start shaking. The wind and rain were taking their toll. It was near that point along the lake that I knew I was probably getting really close to hypothermia. I reminded myself that I do triathlons for fun. Avoiding hypothermia was much more important to me than having a medal draped around my neck. I knew there was a medical tent ahead, and I abandoned the race around mile 125, after having gone 12 hours. A man volunteered to drive me back to the transition area to meet my family, and he cranked the heat in his truck. I was shaking violently the entire time. He was one of the race medical volunteers and said the race conditions were the worst he’d ever seen at CDA, from the chop in the swim to the weather on the run. He expected to be driving a lot of other cold runners back to the transition area. That was little consolation, though. I got back to the transition area, met my family, and we headed back to the house. Garner had already finished, and his wife brought him home behind us. It took about 2 hours for me to get warm enough to stop shivering and my heart rate to drop. And according to my heart rate monitor, I’d burned 9700 calories. My first Ironman experience was done. It wasn’t the race I anticipated, but we use the cards we’re dealt.
I never got nervous the entire week of the race. I didn’t even get nervous while standing on the beach waiting for the cannon to fire. I was confident that my training had prepared me well and that I would finish strong. I may not have been called an Ironman that day, but I will be soon. I know I can do the training, and I know I have the legs to do the race. My sincere thanks goes to all of you who helped me and encouraged me along the way. Thanks to everyone who joined me on my Tuesday hill rides and Monday lake swims. Thanks to Amanda and Chrissie for kicking my butt on the Friday swims and making me a somewhat decent swimmer. After having been in that race, I feel like I can swim in any kind of water! Thanks to Tom, Teresa, and the gang at Cycle Extreme for making my bike super fast. And thanks to Tim, Steph, and MacKenzie Morgan for totally kicking my butt on those long rides, even in horrible weather.
Some final thoughts on CDA and Ironman, and racing in-general:
Coeur d’Alene really is a fabulous town. The course is beautiful, and the residents are amazing. The volunteers there really are the best I’ve ever encountered. They come out by the thousands and do anything for the athletes. Even in crappy weather, they stand out there with smiles on their faces to help us. I got to know several of them at the aid stations, and they’re all amazing. Ironman impressed me. It’s the most organized and efficient event I’ve done. Even at the athlete meeting/dinner with over 2000 people, everyone had their food and sat down in 10 minutes! These people have their shit together.
Okay, here are my random thoughts and advice on practical racing after having done this race. When you hear someone coming up behind you on the bike, please stay to the right. When someone says, “on your left,” please stay to the right. When someone yells it repeatedly, please either stay to the right or MOVE to the right; don’t move to the left. The person yelling at you may be going a lot faster than you and can crash into you if you move to the left. Among a few special moments, I almost wiped out while going 32 mph through downtown CDA because some jerk was too good to let me pass. When doing a swim in a wetsuit, please don’t use the breast stroke (frog style) kick. You float without doing it, and you just kick the people around you, and it really hurts. If you’re doing an event with a long swim and know you’re not strong enough to make it to the first buoy without stopping to tread, don’t start at the front of the pack. Know your limits. For the love of God, learn how to swim in a straight line. I saw people literally swimming zig zags and even perpendicular to the course!