This past Saturday, 4 April 2009, I had the pleasure of participating in my second half-Ironman event: the Ironman California 70.3. Being a course that I’ve raced before (and having plenty more consistent and tailored training under my belt this time around) I wasn’t sweating this race. I figured I’d be able to finish the swim in about 45 minutes, power through the bike in around 3 hours and 20 minutes and cruise through the run in a little over 3 hours for a total time of somewhere near 7 hours and 10 minutes, wrapping up the race near an hour faster than I did back in 2007.
The air was chilly at 5:30am when I arrived at the transition area to set up my gear the morning of the race but it felt good on my warm skin. I was completely prepared and ready to race. I set my bike up on the rack, layed out my helmet and other post-swim race gear, took a pre-race bathroom break and then slid into my wetsuit making sure I checked and re-checked that all of my gear was put in easy to access locations. I was race participant number 148 today, a number I think was assigned based on the order in which I signed up for the event (last year I was number 1280).
Shortly after I finished drinking my morning bottle of Gatorade the announcer broadcast that the professional men were about to enter the water, followed shortly thereafter by the professional women, CAF participants and the age group 25-29 year old athletes. Anyone in those groups was to start lining up at the swim start and get ready to race. The Ironman was about to begin.
As I made my way towards the swim start a slight wave of anxiety swept over me. What if, despite my training, I completely bombed the swim? What if, regardless of how fast I guestimated I would complete the swim based on laps in the pool, I came in much later than I anticipated? What if I actually took longer than my 2007 race? My girlfriend made her way down this weekend to cheer me on (and experience her first Ironman event) and despite all of my estimation and self-confidence, what if I pushed too hard and burned out before the end of the race?
The cold morning air no longer felt pleasant.
After the National Anthem a cannon fired signaling the start of the race: the male pros, who had been treading water in Oceanside Marina for around ten minutes, exploded from the starting line causing the calm marina to froth in a frenzy of flailing appendages. The female pros headed out into the water and calmly swam towards the starting gates.
Before long both the female pros and the CAF athletes had all started and I found myself swimming out into the harbor, making my way to the giant red inflatable pyramids that signaled the beginning of the swim course. I tried to put the thoughts of how incredibly difficult the 1.2 mile swim seemed back in 2007 and replace them with the more recent memories of very nice 2,500m training swims at my local gym.
Without any other people.
Without the threat of getting kicked in the face or chest by a stray heel.
STOP IT!
“Swimmers, you’ve got thirty seconds!” The warden was rapping his knight stick against my bars. My fate was sealed. A blueberry bagel and a bottle of Gatorade an hour earlier had been my final meal.
And the air horn went off, signaling my group to start.
I made absolutely sure to moderate myself this year; in 2007 I started my swim WAY too hard and ran out of breath very quickly. This year my strategy was to start slow, warm myself up and find a good rhythm that I could keep up while still being able to breathe comfortably. I kept to this strategy beautifully and it worked very well! Before long I was halfway done with the swim and making the turn back towards the boat ramp.
I wasn’t even tired yet. This was going to be a great race!
The rest of my swim went without a hitch. I tend to stray a little bit to the right but I was able to manage it and maintain a relatively straight swimming line, all things considered. As I ran up the boat ramp and through the timing gates I checked my watch. Forty-six minutes and eight seconds! It really was shaping up to be a great race.
I jogged down the path into the transition area and stripped out of my wetsuit, threw on my sunglasses and bike helmet, slid my power bars into the back of my tri suit, trodded to the bike mount point and got on my bike, cycling away with my feet outside of my shoes briefly until I picked up enough speed to coast. Then I put my feet into my already clipped-in shoes and strapped in for 56 miles of cycling.
Still being full from breakfast, I waited on eating my power bars but downed a quarter of my bottle of Gatorade. Salty sea water and the smell of ocean permeated my body and the air around me. In the fifty minutes it took me to finish my swim and transition to the bike the air temperature had warmed considerably. Before long the 10 mile marker coasted by and I decided to eat my power bars since I knew the aid station was coming up and I’d be able to replenish my stock. I was still doing good at this point and quite pleased that my average speed seemed to be pushing 17mph. Hadn’t reached the hills yet, but I wasn’t worrying too much about them at the moment. The aid station was coming up.
I rolled through and grabbed a Gatorade to replenish the bottle I had drained on my way there and looked up, eager to grab a Power Bar or two to stuff back into my tri suit for later on in the ride.
…only there were no Power Bars at this aid station. There were gel packets so I grabbed one and hoped that they’d have some Power Bars at the following station. I’d maintain my hydration and replenish calories once I got a decent fuel source.
After the third aid station slightly past mile 45 with not a Power Bar in sight, I noticed that I was starting to lose energy. I had grabbed a gel packet at each of the aid stations but I was burning close to 600 calories per hour (according to my heart rate monitor) and had only consumed 500 calories (counting Gatorade and the gel packets). After close to three hours on my bike, I was running quite the calorie deficit and at this point, my performance was starting to suffer.
I managed to finish the remainder of my bike ride without burning out but once I got into the transition area I knew I was in trouble. My legs were rubber, my breathing was labored and I was light headed getting off of my bike. I had hydrated plenty but most certainly hadn’t eaten anywhere near enough food to cover the amount of energy I burned between the swim and bike. I had trouble racking my bike and putting on my shoes. My transition time was nearly double the time it took to transition from the swim to the bike. I tried to jog out of the transition area to start my run but I knew I had hit a wall. I had felt it speeding towards me since mile 50 and now I had collided headlong with it.
I needed food.
I walked as fast as I could manage and tried to get a few jogs in but my heart rate wasn’t budging. It had fallen to 137 beats per minute and wouldn’t go up or down regardless of whether I was walking slow, briskly or trying to manage a jog. When I did attempt a jog I wouldn’t last more than six or seven steps before I couldn’t breathe comfortably anymore.
I strolled into the Mile 1 aid station and grabbed everything I could get my hands on. Still no Power Bars or high calorie foods of any sort but they did have more gel, some orange slices, bananas and pretzels. I skipped the bananas and pretzels and went for the gel packets and orange slices. Grabbed some cups of water too. So it went for almost eight miles before I was able to comfortably throw some jogging back into the mix.
I kept grabbing as much food as I could as I passed the aid stations on the run, and eventually I was able to get back to a sustained jog which I held through my finish. I had planned for a 7 hour 10 minute race and had told myself that at worst case I shouldn’t take longer than 7 hours 30 minutes.
It ended up taking me 8 hours and 14 minutes to finish my race.
I completely owned my swim and ended up finishing my bike ride faster than 2007 (still took longer than I originally estimated) but I completely bombed my run. I don’t feel too bad about the whole experience, nor am I too disappointed with my time. I was able to hold in there and finish my race despite having almost no substantial nutrition source on the course (and I swear they had ample Power Bars even on the run back in 2007). I finished in a faster overall time than I did in 2007 (my 2007 time was 8 hours 20 minutes exactly) and once I had eaten enough food to make myself feel energetic again, I felt like I could go out and do it all again.
I suppose come June 21 at the Ironman Coeur d’Alene, my first full-distance Ironman event, I will end up doing twice the distance of Ironman California 70.3.
And you better believe I’ll be packing enough of my own Power Bars.
