Ironman Texas Race Report

It has been a long time since I had an Ironman race that I felt sincerely satisfied with.  In fact, when I think about it, it's been just shy of three years.  Honestly it seems crazy that I've even been doing these for three years, even though I did my first in 2004, a staggering eight years ago.  Anyway, the point is, it's been a long time coming and it makes me even more excited for whatever happens next.  But let's get down to it...

I actually slept pretty well the night before the race.  I was on my hotel bed with my feet up from about noon until I got up the next morning, so that helped.  I turned out the lights at 8:30 and fell asleep pretty quick since I was so tired.  I remember waking up at about two or so and rolling back over only to be awakened by my alarm clock at 3:30 for breakfast.  Blech.  I downed the applesauce pretty quick, intermittently sprinkling my protein powder in there to get that down as well.  After quickly eating the banana and chugging my bottle of Powerbar Perform I snuggled back down into my bed after resetting my alarm for 4:30.

I definitely did not fall back asleep before the beeping went off again.  I immediately turned the alarm off - as a side note, always make sure to turn those alarms off on race morning once you've used them because you do not want them going off the morning after the race!  I got up and used the bathroom and just kind of milled around a bit before putting on my awesome Pearl Izumi race kit - seriously, the thing is magical and I had zero chafing! - added sunscreen and some Body Glide to the important places and then headed down to the car to drive the four miles to the race site.

The race guide did a staggeringly bad job of telling us where things were.  I mean, there were vague mentions of locations, such as: "Waterway parking lot."  How exactly we were supposed to know where that was located was anyone's guess.  It might have been nice to have, say, an address or at least a cross street in there.  Same goes for transition and the mention of race morning parking just said something about garages off of Lake Robbins Drive.  There are lots of garages off that street, and I wound up parking in the first one I saw, not knowing I probably could've gotten a lot closer.  I just know that I've never done an Ironman where it was eerie how quiet the streets were and there was no line of cars waiting to get into town.  I've also never had to pay for parking at one of these things before, but $5 wasn't that terrible.

I grabbed my bag with my swim stuff and headed down to transition, which was way too long of a walk.  I wasted no time in there, stopping only to put bottles on my bike, make sure the tires were pumped and put it in a good gear to start.  I was at my bike for a grand total of about ninety seconds before heading to double check my gear bags.  I added a banana to my run bag and then turned on my Garmin in the bike bag to the multisport mode and again, quickly hit the road.  Because now we had to walk another mile down to the swim start.  Seriously, this race was more like 142.3 or something.

Anyway, after wondering if I might ever see the water I'd be swimming in, I finally made it down there to get body marked, eating my Powerbar on the way.  At that point there wasn't much to do aside from wait.  Oddly, I didn't see anyone else from the team even though they had to be somewhere.  Instead I just found a nice spot of grass and sat down.  To be honest, there weren't a lot of thoughts going through my head there.  In my past couple of Ironman races it's been more like, "What am I doing here?  I didn't train hard enough.  This is going to be awful."  I didn't know what to expect, but not in the bad way.  It was more just like, let's see how this goes and just do what you need to do.

Eventually I decided it was time to put on the swim skin, asked a stranger to zip me up and headed toward the water.  Had my Powergel and made my way over to the lake.  It's strange to be starting a race that you really have no idea what you're getting into.  Most other races I do I know the course perfectly and this one was going to be a complete surprise.  I decided to start the swim on the far right so as to avoid spending the first half mile worried that I might actually die from drowning after people tried to swim over me.  Plus, with the nature of that swim course, it is impossible to get off course and you don't lose much time by swimming wide.  I stood in the 80-degree water shivering for a while before swimming up to where I thought might be a good place to start.  It was strange, I wasn't anxious or nervous or anything.  More importantly, I also wasn't thinking about how I'd rather be anywhere else but in that water.

Suddenly, the cannon fired and we were off.  I went out pretty hard and there was the usual contact right away but it didn't take long at all for me to actually start swimming.  It also didn't take me that long to realize I was swimming way harder than I'd be able to maintain for 2.4 miles because my legs were already burning from kicking, so I tried to settle into a steady rhythm while still maintaining some decent speed.  I was wide enough outside the buoys that I hardly ever bumped into anyone, which was nice.  I was actually surprised when we hit the first turn buoy because it seemed early for that, but I got around that without much issue and started coming back in.  I remained wide right but since we would be taking a right turn into the canal eventually it might have actually made things shorter than if you directly followed the buoys.  Either way, I was still fine and not worried about contact.

The water itself was nice and warm once we got going, although murky which made it hard to see anyone around you.  I am so spoiled by the crystal clear lakes up north.  Eventually we made it to the canal, which is where everyone gets sort of funneled in together which makes things a lot tighter, though aside from two back-to-back kicks to my forehead from the same person, that also wasn't too bad.  I was more concerned that suddenly the water smelled and tasted funny, and in such a way that I had no idea what it reminded me of so I just tried not to think about it.  The water also got really rough in there because with all of those people on such a narrow channel there are waves just bouncing off of the walls and churning things up.  I could feel my legs sinking that late in the race and I missed my wetsuit a little bit, but finally we made a turn and I saw the stairs and was thrilled that it was time to get out.

I exited in 1:11, and I told myself the whole time that I was swimming well and that is my fastest non-wetsuit swim, so I was fine with it.  Would I have liked to have been faster?  Sure, but all in all it wasn't a bad start.  The first transition was pretty quick.  I grabbed my bag and went into the tent where there were a couple of dozen women mobbed around the first bunch of chairs so I ran way down to the end where I had about ten chairs to myself.  A volunteer came to help me out and put my race belt on me while I put on my shoes, and put my nutrition in my back pockets while I dealt with my helmet and glasses.  Seriously, talk about service!  I chugged down about two thirds of a bottle of sports drink to get a head start on the hydration, stopped for another five seconds to get my back and shoulders slathered in sunscreen, and ran up to get my bike.

Oh, the trusty bike.  Well, to be honest, even the trusty bike has been letting me down the past couple of years.  I was a little disappointed with my ride in Galveston in April, so with a course that wasn't as flat as that one, I didn't think I'd suddenly have an amazing ride.  I had a heart rate to target, so that's what I did.  Right away, as usual, I was passing people.  I had a few harder surges early on to get away from people and even from that early on there seemed to be some little groups forming or, my favorite, two guys blasting through - one leading and one just blatantly sucking on his wheel.  It was somewhat crowded, but not too bad.  I tried to find that line between not going too hard but also getting away from groups that were driving me nuts.

Eventually I instead decided to let a couple of groups go, knowing that we still had, say, 90-something miles to go and I'd probably beat them all eventually.  After we made the turn onto the big highway I got passed by a little group that was all bunched up and I decided to let them go for a couple of minutes and use it as an opportunity to drink.  I was told I'd have to drink fifteen bottles.  Yes, three hundred ounces, so I had some work to do.  Probably a mere two minutes after I let that group go off in front of me I heard the crashing noises, saw the wheels in the air and the people in the back trying not to crash into anyone who was already down.  See, that is just one of the reasons why you shouldn't ride in a pack in these races!  Two people were left on the ground, one male and one female.  I honestly don't know if they finished or not.  Those of us nearby rode by and continued on.  I know that sounds awful and rude, but right across the street were a couple of police officers working an intersection, so it's not like we were leaving them alone.

After that, as you can imagine, things started to spread out a bit more.  I just spent my time drinking like crazy, taking in my gels and Powerbars and trying to make sure my heart rate stayed where it needed to.  As usual for me in these races, the more miles passed the less people there were around me.  I had a few random people ask me where I was from or tell me I was doing a good job.  I had my Garmin set to split every twenty-eight miles.  I did the first in about an hour and twelve minutes.  Wow.  Then I hit halfway in an overall time of 2:28.  Now, that is some pretty easy math to do and at the time I realized, holy crap, that is on pace for under five hours!  I knew that was a bit of a stretch, but it was still a good feeling.  And early on the course was very fast and every turn we made seemed to put the wind at our backs, which I knew wouldn't last forever.

I didn't know what to expect but I really loved this bike course.  And that's not just because it was fast.  Sure, some of the roads were a bit rough but mostly it was just riding on some very pleasant back roads by farms and stuff.  The course had more hills than I thought but it broke things up nicely.  There were also tons of aid stations, which definitely helped.  As for getting down fifteen bottles, I completely lost count after only about four or five, so I have no clue.  I do know that I never felt dehydrated and my stomach never bothered me.  After sixty miles or so, I was more and more alone.  At mile seventy-four, I passed my first female pro.  Gradually I was passing less and less women until I got to the point where the only people I saw were men, and even then there were hardly any of them.  In fact, at one point late in the ride I got a bit concerned that I took a wrong turn or something because there was not a soul in sight in front of me.

I knew I had slowed down and the winds had kicked up and that wasn't helping, but it also wasn't quite that demoralizing wind that makes you want to give up and throw your bike on the side of the road.  It just meant you had to use some different gears.  Finally we were approaching the end of the ride and I was definitely ready to get off.  I mean, it was fun and all, but a person can only stand being in a bike saddle for so long.  I took my feet out of my shoes and reached the dismount line before crossing into transition and handing off my bike.  I forgot how nice that was.  I glanced at my Garmin and was amazed that I had set a new Ironman bike PR.  Previously it was a 5:15 I rode in Kona in 2006.  In 2006 I was in some sort of otherworldly place fitness-wise, so it was incredible to beat that by six minutes, finishing in just over 5:09.  I hadn't set a PR in anything since about 2007, so it was certainly a good feeling.  But, well, now I still had to run a marathon.

As I ran through transition my legs felt... well, they felt like I had just bike 112 miles in a mere five hours and nine minutes.  But one thing I made sure to do all day was remain very present.  By that I just mean never getting ahead of myself or wondering how I was going to run an entire marathon, or being upset my swim split wasn't faster or whatever.  I took it all one mile at a time, so I didn't go through T2 thinking that I'd just wrecked my marathon.  I just thought about putting on my shoes and stuff and running the first mile.

I had about a four-person team of volunteers helping me out, which made things easier.  I just threw on my shoes and socks, stuffed my gels and Clif bloks in my pockets, threw on my visor, ate the banana and was on my way.  Even after only sitting down for a minute my legs felt much better as I ran out.  Right away as I began running I saw Tim Snow.  Tim is a great spectator, even when he's racing, and fortunately this time he didn't have to yell at me to keep my eyes up or anything as I was actually running.  I don't remember the last time I set out on a run course feeling anything aside from absolute dread.  I wasn't delusional and thinking I'd somehow run a 3:40 or something either, but I also wasn't afraid that my run would take longer than my bike as has happened in my last couple of races.  And again, I just wanted to take it one mile at a time.

I'm sure I went out too hard, but amazingly, it was already kind of fun.  I was careful to seriously hydrate at the aid stations and dump lots of water on my head and use the icy cold sponges.  I have to say, the aid stations at this race were phenomenal.  The volunteers kept up with the crazy demands as there were always cups being held out.  Sometimes if you grabbed a sponge a volunteer would run behind you and wring another one out on the back of your neck.  There was plenty of ice to dump down my shirt and sometimes people with hoses.  You'd think it would be difficult to keep up on a three-loop run course, but they did an amazing job.  I really don't think they could've done any better.

By the third aid station, I was ready to start walking those.  Not because I was exhausted and needed a break, but because I knew a huge key would be getting in enough hydration and walking through would help with that, but also in training I never ran more than thirteen miles straight so I knew my legs just weren't ready to handle the pounding of twenty-six consecutive miles.  So to avoid walking like, the last four, I just walked each aid station and it always refreshed me enough to keep going pretty well to the next one.

It was the weirdest thing.  I actually had fun running that marathon.  I mean, sure, I was ready for it to be done when it was done, and it was certainly far from my fastest, but I never felt badly about how things were going.  And given the conditions, I was still passing lots of people.  The course also went along the canal where there were tons of spectators which also made it more fun.  The heat never bothered me, so thank you, Alabama.  My stomach never bothered me as I was able to get in all of my nutrition.  I might feel something weird in my stomach for about a minute at some point after having a gel or something on the run, but the feeling would go away as quickly as it had arrived.

I had no idea how fast or slow I was running.  I purposely had my heart rate monitor display my heart rate only.  There was no reason to see more than that.  So I was clueless as to how things were going.  Was I going to run 4:10?  4:30?  I had no idea.  I knew it wouldn't be great, but the last two of these were about five and six hours respectively, so something in the four-hour range was going to make me happy.

Due to the nature of the course having no out and backs, I almost didn't see anyone.  Amanda Kourtz and Cait passed me on the run, and Pat Wheeler passed me just before he finished and I headed out for my third run loop, but I never saw a lot of the rest of the team, including Jesse.  Of course the QT2 spectators were out in full force so they at least knew I was doing all right.  I almost couldn't believe how fast the miles were going by.  Somewhere around mile 21 I had a banana at one of the aid stations since my hands started to feel kind of... puffy, I don't know.  But that made me feel better and I just kept on going.  Okay, so my aid station walk breaks were getting longer each time, but I still knew I'd be able to make it and I wasn't giving up.

22, 23... wow, is it really almost over?  I wonder how I'm doing?  I had my last Clif blok at mile 24 and was so glad to be done with my fueling plan.  Admittedly I took some Coke from the last two aid stations just to get me through, but I was almost done, anyway.  Once I hit the last turn-around at a short out-and-back I picked up the pace, knowing that when I reached the end this time I'd get to bypass that arrow to the second and third laps and head down that glorious lane that read, "to finish."

I had no idea how far to the finish I had to go, I just kept trying to run hard and get there as fast as I could.  The fact that I was able to pick up the pace at all probably means I could've done the whole thing faster, but I don't really care.  Finally I thought I was there, ran down this hill at whatever full speed I could muster at that point in the race only to see I had to turn around and run back up in order to finish.  Well, that was sort of mean!  But finally I turned to run up the hill and saw the finish arch and looked up to see 10:45 on the clock.  I smiled.  Finally!  I crossed the line in 10:46 with a marathon of 4:19.  Yes, in the not-so-distant future a 4:19 marathon will be a huge disappointment.  But at the moment, I am completely happy with it.

My finish line catchers were awesome and I got my medal and shirt and hat and they got me some food so I could just sit down.  There was nobody there but fortunately Michelle finished only a few minutes after me so I wasn't alone for long.  I called my mom and texted some people and really just felt so good to have finished the race that I was happy with.  More importantly, it gives me hope for things to come.  Honestly, two months ago when I started this whole winter journey I was in pretty rough shape.  So if in two months I can do that, just imagine what can happen in another two months.

I want to thank all of you who cheered whether in person or from afar, or those of you who posted encouraging words on my blog or through e-mails or texts or even just "liked" any of my facebook posts.  I often feel like I'm in this alone but that always makes me remember that I have a lot of people who are pulling for me.  I need to thank my coach, Jesse, who has been far more patient than I deserved over the past few years but never stopped trying to help me and bring me back.  I know he doesn't waste time with anything he knows isn't going to get anywhere, so just the fact that he was willing to continue to work with me told me I shouldn't give up just yet.  Another special thanks to my new friend Kelli who opened her home to me in Birmingham so I could train through the winter in the heat.  I don't think this race would've been possible without that.

And of course to my family who could not attend the race because my cousin Kevin got married the night before.  And I'm sorry, Kevin, for missing the event!  My family has been very supportive and especially my mom who has just been amazing through a lot of things over the past couple of years.  And of course any other friends and teammates who ever said anything encouraging.  You know who you are.

It has been a pretty rough couple of years for a variety of reasons.  Yes, some were out of my control but a lot of it was my own fault, but finally I've been able to pull out of it and I really can only look forward to whatever races I do next.  Now that's the big question: What races do I do next?  I'm not signed up for anything!  But one thing I've decided already is that in the not-too-distant future, people are going to have to be scared of my run again.  It's in there somewhere and I'm getting dangerously close to finding it.