For those not familiar with a 70.3 race it consists of a 1.2 mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1 mile (or half marathon) run; one-half the distance of a full Ironman – hence the name – and is a test of both physical and mental abilities. Not only did my finish mean I was officially back, I proved to myself that I had the mental and physical ability to continue with a sport that has drastically changed my life. There are many people to thank for helping me get from broken/one-arm guy to a 70.3 finisher – first my family, doctors, CAF/Paratri folks (who know something about overcoming adversity) and my support network of friends and Asphalt Green Tri Club (AGTC) teammates.
Training for this distance is not about speed, it is long and slow…based on keeping a steady and calm heart rate (we typically train in Zone ranging from 1-5) and cadence (the number of times/minute you turnover the pedals on the bike). No longer was a 30-mile bike ride on a Saturday enough – I had to be sure that I was in my saddle for a good 4-5 hours. Short runs were 8+ miles and short dips in the pool were 1,500 meters. I mention this only a primer to the following – the Story of My First 70.3 Race….
Pre-Race
Timberman weekend was always about fun – a nice weekend away from NYC with teammates – those competing alongside me in the half as well as those doing the shorter, Sprint distance. Our journey started on Friday with a 5+ hour drive to Laconia, NH. Bryan Webber and I in one car, Kerry McGrath, Tom Mullane, David Weiss, Reveka Wallace, Anne Ronzoni and Randi Gordon in other cars (there we more than 25 of us from AGTC racing; these are just a handful of people). Bryan, David, Randi, Anne and I were first-timers at this distance. We all knew it was going to be a long, and hard day, but the party after was going to make it worth it. Bryan and I picked Tom up at the hotel and headed over to registration to meet up with David and Kerry and to do some pre-race shopping at the Ironman store (being superstitious, I never wear anything with a race logo until after it is done). Both Tom and Kerry were doing the Sprint on Saturday so after dinner, we called it a night. Saturday after watching Kerry and Tom compete, Bryan and I drove the bike course, swam a bit and biked part of the run course before racking our bikes (Ironman rules dictate that participants must rack their bikes in transition the night before a race). While you can get a bit of a feel for a road when driving a course, you never really understand how much a hill hurts until you actually try pedaling up it. While testing the bikes, I realized my cadence monitor quit on me. Dumbfounded, I brought it to the on-site bike shop who couldn’t figure out the issue either. Nothing I can do about it; at least I have the Garmin to monitor my heart rate zone.
Following the same routine as I do before all races, I prepped my transition bag (check, all things there), had dinner with the team, downed my ambien and hit the bed.
Race morning…
My two alarms go off (can’t take any chances) at 3:30am; need to hit the road by 4:20am in order to secure a parking spot. We get to the race site and get one of the last remaining parking spots (maybe this is a sign of good things to come) and head over the transition to start setting up our areas. The forecast for the day called for 30% showers. Looking at the sky, it seemed more like 60%, but maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll hold off until the run. As my wave is scheduled to go off at 7:40am I was prepared for down time. Looking down at my Garmin to see exactly how much time I have, I notice is reads 4:48am (not possible!). You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME…my Garmin froze….of all times for this to happen! How am I supposed to race in the right heart rate zone if I cannot monitor it? Quickly I head to the bike shop and ask if they know any way to re-set the damn thing. Nope….ok, Plan C…let’s do this race by feel…I email Kerry who is in our cabin and hope that she can find my Timex watch so I can at least keep track of how long this damn thing is taking me…
I leave transition with David, Bryan and others and wait for the swim to start with the team. I watch the waves ahead of my start including the pros and slowly make my way up to the swim start. Kerry suddenly appears and hands me my Timex…ah at least I can monitor something (the control freak in me didn’t relish the idea of not having any data available). For me the swim is probably the segment I fear least, so while I am nervous, I am not panicking as I used do when I first started doing triathlons. We line up, get into the water (as this is an in-water, as opposed to beach, start) and wait for the journey to begin. The cannon goes off and so do we.
The Swim…
The lake is really shallow…shallow to the point where I can walk out over 50 yards of the swim. Bored, I just dive in and start swimming past people who are still wading into the water. Relaxed, I focus on sighting, pulling the water and breathing the way Coach Neil told me to do. The course was set up like a trapezoid – 750 meters put, 400 meters across and 750 meters back to shore. While choppy, the water is clear so I can see others in front of me. I keep following bubbles and strategically pass others until I see the last buoy and the swim exit gate. I pop out of the water when my hands hit sand and jog to shore saying hi to a few spectators I know and heading over to the wetsuit strippers (a luxury having someone else take off your suit). Time check…a little over 39 minutes; not bad. Knowing I have at least 6+ hours ahead of me, I take my time in transition, putting on socks, taking some water in, and mentally prepare for the next leg of the race.
The bike…
I jump of my bike (Malibu) and head out on the 56-mile journey. The course is an out and back loop- ~ 28 miles each way and fully expect that it will take me between 3:30 – 4 hours – especially as the bike is my weakest part of this crazy sport. Immediately out of transition we face our first hill. Letting others pass me, I get into my small ring and head up the hill. We finally hit some flat land when I hear Tom yell my name from the sidelines. I keep going…keep getting past, but just focus on trying to feel what a Zone 2 heart rate would feel like. By driving the course the day before I remembered that one of the biggest hills was around mile 9 – but w/o a way to track distance, I just wait for it. Oh year, there it is…I see other racers struggling up that damn thing. I get into an easier gear, grin and bear it. Up and over I keep saying…where there is an up, there has to be a down..somewhere…I keep telling myself “don’t push too hard, you have 45+ miles more to go and need to deal with this hill again.” Finally the hill crests and I head downhill. Given that my crash in Miami happened on a downhill, I am even more cautious not to pick up too much speed and ride my brakes (hell, I am not going through any more surgeries). Finally I hit a big stretch of road where I can go into my aero position, and try and open up a bit, just when it starts to rain, just a few sprinkles so it’s not that bad. During the next 15+ miles, I pass some people (but am still passed by more people than I pass), take in food (as crazy as it sounds, I trained using snickers bars for some nutrition; something I will change in future races), make sure I stay hydrated and take in salt tablets according to a personal schedule/clock I set up for myself. As the time on the bike increases so do the number of miles…Then I see the turn around and know I am at least headed in the right direction – home.
One piece of advice an AGTC teammate gave me when doing this distance is not to think too far ahead. So in my mind I was focused on 5 mile segments and not on the half marathon that awaited me. As I pass mile markers 30, 35, 40, 45, I am focused…not on time (which is kind of liberating), but on taking it all in. The rain is coming down a bit harder now, so I am even more cautious of the white lines and on the descents (again, I am here for the experience and not for a podium spot).
Suddenly I started to have this strange cramp-like feeling – thinking it’s a stitch cramp, I cough, breathe, take in water to get rid of it. But it’s not going away…then it hits me…it’s not a cramp, I have to pee (all of this focusing on taking in fluids, I had no plan for getting rid of it--note to self, learn how to pee on the bike for next race). I pass mile 50 and know that I have 6 miles – or one loop of Central Park to go. Staying calm, I pass others…one girl just says to anyone in earshot ,“I want off so I can have kids one day.” I laugh and say hell, I’ll marry you…she laughs back (too bad I have no idea what she looks like as we both were in our aero position). Finally the last hill (the one we faced when first leaving) and I am headed home. Two down, one to go…
The run….
I get off the bike, and mentally prepare to run 13.1 miles. Earlier this spring I developed a really bad neuroma, which for those who have never heard of it, an inflamed nerve in the ball of your foot which makes it feel as if your toes are on fire….not the best situation to try and run. Anyway, I ice my foot (another trick Neil suggested), pull on my shoes and head out……but first I hit the porta-potty.
The course is a two-loop, out and back run. This is great as you can see lots of people and you can get a good feel for the course. Having done a few half marathons, I know I can do the distance; I just have never done it after a 56-mile bike ride and a 1.2 mile swim). Knowing this I had to set a strategy…walk when needed, but run when able. Neil suggested that I pick a point to run and then run. However, it’s bad as you pass the finish line and see others ending their day when you now you have 6.5 more miles to run. As I head out, I am slow – much slower than my typical pace, but hey I am not going to win this thing. My foot is in some pain, and I stop once in a while to adjust my shoe and the pad to lessen the impact and the pain. At times it is pretty intense to the point that I need to sit down on the sidelines and rest the foot. I keep telling myself this is just four 3+ mile runs…take one segment at a time. I opted to walk through water stations and up the few hills – to both hydrate and get my heart rate down. I see Randi on the first loop out and decide to walk/run with her for a while. But I started to feel ok, so took off; it was great to know that if needed, she was behind me to mentally get me through this. Every once in a while I would glance at my watch to see how I was going. Going into my second loop (and seeing others finish – damn, 6.5 miles to go), I was running close to six hours…wow I was going to finish this thing.
On the second loop, I decided to employ the run/walk program Reveka lauds – hey, she ran five marathons in five months using it, so it had to have merits. I opt for a 1:2, 1:1 (one minute walking/one running…one minute walking/two minutes running…you get the idea). When I was able to run, it was great – passing people who were in all different types of pain – one racer even commented on my stride and cadence (that made me happy). As I head out for the first 3+ miles, I see other AGTC teammates finishing – I slap their hands as we pass, tell them I’ll see them soon and ask them to get me a beer… Finally, I hit the turn around – walking but saying to myself one foot in front of another…one foot in front of another. As I head to the finish line, I am with a few others who I use as pacers – I pass them when running and they pass me when I am walking. We trade positions for about 2-miles when I start to approach the last hill, I know that I have less than a mile to go. Head down and focused, I decide the walk for a few and then go for it. Then I hear it…the sound of the finish line and the cheers…I am almost there…Kerry who has been standing on the run course watching everyone finish cheers and yells out my name…then it hits me, I am about to finish my first half ironman. Entering the finish chute I start to speed up get into my stride as I cross the finish line, grab my medal and then it hits me…I completed my first 70.3 race…
Wow, what an experience…yes I was in a lot of pain at times, yes I probably could have pushed more on the bike, but am so glad to be back physically and mentally.
Next up, the Chicago Marathon where I will be running with friend and colleague Julie Freeman to kick off her 40th b-day celebration.
