Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts

Thursday, 31 December 2009

Ironman Hawaii World Championships 2009 Race Report

Firstly, a few apologies for the extreme tardiness of this blog post. I've been meaning to write it for more than two months now and somehow just never got up the motivation or desire to get it done. Part of me was pretty disappointed with how my race went and was just happy to let it become a memory without much more fanfare; another part of me was looking for a long-needed break from all things triathlon-related: particularly training, analysis, race reports and retrospective navel-gazing at all the minutiae that did or didn't happen. I haven't even bothered to order any of my official race photos yet! (Rest assured a 10% e-mail rebate has kicked me into action, so I'll be replacing a few of the ones in this post with good quality digital copies in the new year.)

But people kept hounding, er, asking me when I was going to write a Kona race report. And I didn't feel I could go on blogging about the new things happening in my life until I put Kona to bed, so here it is finally. With this closure I will be getting back to more regular blog posting, for better or worse (though I admit the self-imposed hibernation has been nice!)

Without further adieu then... the Ironman World Championships 2009.

The Lead-up

The weather: sunny, humid and unbelievably hot. The wind: variable but not nearly as bad as it had been earlier in the week. The atmosphere around town: electric, overwhelming, and just the slightest bit cheesy... like this man-made event was the biggest thing people had ever experienced in their lives. Call me a cynic but as much as I was happy to be there, I just couldn't part with the sense that it was all a bit too surreal. But there I was, in the middle of it, finally experiencing the goal that had driven my training for nearly two years. It was on.

At the bike check-in, I was handed a free Cervelo t-shirt, "thanks for riding a Cervelo!" The industry and media folks lined up along the check-in chute noting down everything from bike brand and wheels to saddle and brake levers. The transition zone on the pier was nothing short of awe-inspiring; to think that 1800 people had, just as I, carefully micromanaged every last detail in the hope of setting themselves up for the race of their lives. The volunteers outnumbered the racers, some coming from further away than I had just to be a part of it all. And all of us were as ready as we'd ever be, or at least as ready as we could be. Can't really ask for much else.

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Note-taking at bike check-in.

Transition
My bike is just one of many Cervelos (#1449).

The Swim

Not much of note here, except a few things:
-- all week long I'd been swimming along the official mile marker buoys with a Garmin 305 under my swimcap noting the distance and swimming 1:36/100m regularly. Race day I managed to swim nearly an extra 400m and not due to zig-zagging. The course was long! Didn't make my 1:09 feel any better, but at least it was the same for everyone.
-- my speed suit chafed the hell out of my neck and shoulders but easily bought me close to 5 minutes, well worth it!
-- I managed not to get sick on the salt water or swallow too much of it.
-- I picked a bad starting spot in the middle and got punched, kicked and swum over more than any other triathlon I've done in my life.
-- for the most part, I was pretty pleased with my swim and feeling fine for the start of the bike.

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Age groupers lined up for the start.

Transition
And the cannon goes!

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Pulling off the speed suit (note the calf guards!)

The Bike

It was a smoking hot day out there, 30+ degrees, and my frozen bottles on the bike were lukewarm in no time. I felt pretty good early on, surprised and pleased by how little drafting I saw, and just generally ready to take on the day. Little did I know just how hot the sun would be, how little food I would be able to get down, and how awful 5 hours and 50 minutes on my TT bike would feel. But it was much worse for the older folks and weaker cyclists; with no tailwind to aid the ride out to Hawi but a brutal headwind kicking up for the ride home, many bike splits were longer than anticipated and more than a few 70-something athletes missed the cut-off. Tough day out there for sure, and the heat didn't help.

As the hours wore on, I did my best to stay cool by dumping cold water over my body at every aid station. My white shirt helped, but my inner forearms were burnt to a crisp by the halfway mark. And I tried to take in the nutrition I had practised in training but just could not. In the end, I managed a few hundred calories in gels but that was about it. Nowhere near bonking, I was determined not to switch to Gatorade or Coke for fear of creating new stomach problems for the run. Instead, I just rode my race, kept my watts steady and did my best. 180km was a long way, but nothing I couldn't handle physically. Mentally, that last 20km was absolute agony, made better only by the people I overtook coming back to Kona, especially on the hills. I was far from the worst off out there! Thankfully my aero position and huge bike mileage in training kept me in the hunt for a top 10 AG finish, even with a time 15-20 min slower than I had hoped. With the marathon left to run, I was still in the race, or so I thought.

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Looking happy early on the bike through town.

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Looking less happy out in the lava fields later on.

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Now just willing it to be over...

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...which it finally was, nearly 6 hours after it began.

The Run

As I've done in every single triathlon race in my life -- and knowing the transition from bike hand-off to run bag on the pier was long -- I left my shoes on the bike and dismounted barefoot. And this is where it all went wrong for me. Somewhere along the pier I stepped off the green astroturf and onto something red hot. I ran with the ball of my right foot burning with pain to the tents, where I sat down and tried to take stock of the situation. Ice? Blister pad? Just grit my teeth and bear it?

In the end I chose the latter, knowing I had to get out and start running or my race would slip away quickly. So ran I did, stiffly at first but loosening up, hoping the heat would let me keep moving if I could only get enough ice to cool myself down. But within a mile my foot was in agony and I started to worry that if I ignored it now, I'd be even worse off later if the blister split open. 26 miles is a long way to run, but walking it was unbearable even to think about. Looking back, this is where the chinks in the armour started and where my mental defenses started to fall down, with reasons to walk becoming excuses not to run. Stop at an aid station and see what they could do for me? Sure! Wait while they radioed another aid station to see if anyone had blister pads? Hey, why not! Over an hour to complete the first 6 miles? Ah well, my heart wasn't in it anyway.

And that was pretty much it. I spent the first half of the marathon just wallowing in my own misery, walking a lot, running when I felt guilty for walking, then walking again when my foot hurt too much to run. Most of the 17 women in my age group who'd been ahead of me blew up on the run, one by one, as I found out later. If I could have only kept moving enough to run a conservative 5:30/km pace, I'd have finished an hour earlier and in the top 10. But mostly it dawned on me that I'd pretty much used up my quota of HTFU for the year at Lake Placid. As much as I wanted to get to Kona, I'd sort of not counted on the mental effort required to do well once I got there. And without that to drive me, I was pretty much lost. Finishing the race was never in question, but racing it was long gone.

Around the halfway mark, I met up with someone in a similar situation and we started to run/walk together. We cheered others on, joked about how the handcyclists were killing us, and shared the contents of our special needs bags. Tried to convince ourselves that it wasn't so bad to be walking the marathon at Kona -- heck, tons of people would give their right arm to be in our position, right? Then with 10km to go, we did the math and realised that if we could run the last 10km in less than an hour, we'd go under 12 hours total. And finally, with a goal in mind and a reason to pursue it, I was back on track. We ran more, walked less, focussed on the task at hand and brought it home in style. My last 10km were the fastest I'd run in the whole race. My last mile was run in 6 minutes and 37 seconds. It was dark when I crossed the finish line, but I crossed it finally feeling like I deserved the finish and the medal and all the accolades that came with it. Sure, the race had taken some chunks out of me, but I'd still beaten it. And even though a few days earlier I'd been thinking that this was my first and last Kona, I suddenly decided that I'd be back sometime for a rematch, just to see if I couldn't do it better next time.

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Fresh into the run, still thinking I could make something of it.

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Not long afterward, realising it just wasn't going to happen.

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The Finish.

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Somehow it doesn't look so fearsome the morning after.

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The final numbers.

The Aftermath

Since that day, I've had a lot to think about. 2009's been a great year, I've achieved above and beyond what I ever thought I could. And every time I reached a goal, I just came up with a bigger one and got busy making that happen too. My yearly totals speak for how much I've improved, and what I've done to get where I wanted to go: over 12,000km on the bike and 1500km running, nearly 600 hours of training. Ironman has been pretty special to me, but 2009 marks the year that I retire from it -- for a while at least -- to focus on other things. Sure I'll be back in Kona someday, but only when the desire to win my age group is as strong or stronger than any desire I ever had to get there in the first place. In the meantime, the hunger can grow a little at a time until it's so great that I'll be looking to call myself an Ironman again. How about 2019?

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Tuesday, 29 September 2009

Kona-bound!

Tomorrow we're headed for Kona, an 20-hour flight from the UK with one stopover on the way. We'll arrive there at 8pm where it will feel like 8am to our GMT brains and bodies... ugh.

But I'm finally just about packed and getting quite excited about going. Hot weather, bright sunshine, new sights to see and food to eat. And the race of course! No matter what happens, you only do Ironman Hawaii for the first time once, so I'm looking forward to a great day.

The TrainingPeaks folks recently asked if I'd like to be featured on their blog and of course I said yes. The timing couldn't be more perfect as I didn't have time to write a proper post for my own blog this week. So for anyone who wants to know more about me, my background and why I do triathlon (plus some insights to what I'll be doing next season), check it out!

Next post from Hawaii with pics!

Thursday, 6 August 2009

Ironman Lake Placid Race Report or How I won my age group and got a Kona slot

Wow, a whole month since I've posted anything. No real excuse other than that I was tapering for and travelling to Ironman Lake Placid, trying to get my head around the race and just generally taking it easy and getting rested. Note to self to get off my arse and post more often from now on! (and shorter posts too, this one is a whopper!)

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The Trophy

Anyway, the race. By now, pretty much everyone knows that I achieved what I set out to do and beyond, not only earning a Kona slot but winning my W35-39 age group. The former was never really at risk, but the latter still amazes me. How often do you really get to win something? I can count the number of races I've won since as an adult -- triathlon, running, swimming, cycling -- on one hand. What a privilege and triumph. But I'm getting ahead of myself here... of course every great race has a story, so here's mine.

Prologue


We left the UK on July 14, flew to Boston then picked up the rental car (fully loaded with a bike box (mine), bike bag (Jim's), two large backpacks and two small ones. Thank God for American cars, this would not have worked if we'd been flying and renting a car in Europe!) Drove straight to Ottawa that day, arriving after midnight. My brother and sister-in-law were generous enough to put us up for the week, which meant great food, even better company (my parents and sister came up on the weekend to visit) and lots of downtime to ride around Ottawa. In particular the Gatineau Park is a fabulous place to ride, but I'll save that for another post.

A week later we drove to Lake Placid to get settled into our three-bedroom condo just on the north side of town. We'd lucked into a place with some other folks when one of their friends had been unable to do the race, thanks to a nasty car/bike accident. It turned out to be perfect for us, though, as our housemates were fantastic and a great mix of first-time IM competitors, vets, and supporters. We were close enough to walk to town but far enough to be away from the bustle of the Ironman Show, which can really wear you down if you're immersed in it 24/7.

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Transition Zone

I had been feeling a bit under the weather most of the week, just generally tired (despite sleeping quite well) and my stomach was a bit off (though I did avoid eating a lot of junk food -- no Taco Bell the whole time I was in North America!) That was a bit worrying, but I knew I'd done the training and I was prepared. We spent the days before the race driving the bike course, riding the sections that I thought might be good to know in advance, namely the descent into Keene and the climb back into Lake Placid. I also ran the big hill on the run course into town so I knew how it would feel on rested legs (on rested legs it was tough, so on the day I knew it would be a heartbreaker!) The night before the race my stomach did not want the usual two bottles of Ensure I force down, so I went with one bottle and a bit of Sustained Energy, then went to bed and tried to get some rest.

Race morning dawned, tummy still not happy but not rebelling either. Dropped bags at Special Needs, then onto the body marking station. It was 5am, still dark but the place was completely alive. Lake Placid certainly gets behind its Ironman! Half the town must have been out there already. The weather was fine so far, muggy and cloudy, but calm and warm with a threat of rain but otherwise predicted to be a good day. Mirror Lake epitomised its name, for a short while anyway til 2250 athletes and thousands more spectators invaded its waters and banks.

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Body Marking

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Mirror Lake at 5am

The Swim

It had started to rain quite hard just before the swim started, though those of us in wetsuits didn't mind of course. The pros set off at 6:50am and ten minutes later the American anthem had been sung and the gun went for us. I had seeded myself right near the buoy line (at Lake Placid the swim course is marked by permanent buoys connected by a yellow underwater rope, making staying on course pretty easy) and pretty close to the front. One thing I don't mind is the washing machine bump-and-grind that characterises mass swim starts; as an ex-club swimmer and lifeling ice hockey player, I generally feel both comfortable and protected in the water. All those bodies moving in the same direction mean extra free speed for me, so bring it on! As it was, I ended up getting on some good feet just inside the buoy line and only came outside of it to go around the corners.

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The Washing Machine

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Lap 1 to Lap 2

I had been swimming the course earlier in the week with Jim's Garmin 305 and thought that the course was a bit long: one lap exactly following the underwater cable was 1960m instead of the 1900m it should be for an Ironman. Not that 60m (120m for the whole course) matters to me, but at least I was prepared for when the clock said 29:28 as I came over the mat, ran across the beach and jumped back in for the second lap. The second lap is always slower just by virtue of fewer people moving in the same direction. So I knew my swim was going to be slower than IM Germany and defintely slower than the sub-60 minutes I'd hoped to go. This wasn't helped by my ridiculous re-entry into the water where I followed some guys the long way around the dock. Regardless, it was a nice swim. My only regret was taking off my swim cap as I ran along with my wetsuit under my arm towards T1. The Garmin was under there, and while I managed to juggle it, the cap, my goggles and earplugs all together, at some point I dropped the Garmin and had to double back to look for it (at a few hundred dollars, I didn't want to lose it, not to mention my data on it!) Thankfully a volunteer saw me looking, took my race number and offered to find it for me so I could carry on. I hoped for the best and made my way to T1.

Swim time: 1:01:58 as 29:28 first lap and 32:30 second lap, 6th AG and 239th overall

Ironman Lake Placid swim 26-07-2009
Swim course and speeds

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Chute to T1

T1 and The Bike

A long run up to the Olympic Oval where the bikes were racked, made amazing by the throngs of people lining the chute screaming like crazy. Transition was pretty easy, I grabbed my bag and ran into the tent, threw on my helmet, sunglasses, race belt and shoes and handed my wetsuit and gear back to a volunteer. Since I've discovered 2XU Endurance Tri shorts this year, I've been able to swim, bike and run wearing the same clothes throughout, which makes for quick transitions. My number had been called out on the megaphone but by the time I reached my rack, I was greeted by a poor confused volunteer who sort of looked at me helplessly. I was fortunate that my bike was only three spots from the end of the row, so I just waved at her and smiled and grabbed it myself. She looked relieved and I was on my way, running through the grass in my bike shoes.

T1: 5:13, 4th AG and 177th overall

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Straight out of T1

The rain had stopped but the roads were still wet, and with a crazy 180-degree turn followed by a steep downhill straight out of transition then another sharp corner and more downhill, I mounted my bike and rode the first few minutes very gingerly. Once out of town, I settled in and assessed myself. Stomach still not happy, though feeling hungry which I took to be a good sign. Legs however were unaccounted for. Still, not time to panic yet, it's only an hour into the race and I've got at least nine and a half to go! I climbed out of Lake Placid in an easy gear, then ate a bit of my Perpetuem mix before tackling the 7.5km descent into Keene (where I managed to average 54km/h on the first loop and 52km/h on the second -- max was over 70km/h which I know is not super fast, but then again I'm a bit of a lightweight!) The roads were closed to cars which made me feel better than on the day I had practised it, though the winds are tricky through there and my 60mm deep front wheel had ideas of its own about where to go. I kept repeating to myself "you are a good bike handler! this descent is easy!" the whole way down, which seemed to work as I didn't crash like a few unfortunate folks I saw along the way.

Ironman Lake Placid bike 26-07-2009
Bike Course and speeds

From Keene to Jay was a massive tailwind and given the number of fast guys on the course by then, I was towed along by the draft it seemed. It actually took some effort not to draft as there were just so many bikes along there. Overtaking one person just to hit another's draft zone was frustrating and meant I either had to continuously overtake at least three people a minute (maximum 20 seconds in each person's zone) or pick and choose who I should pass and who I should let sit legally in front of me. Once we hit the hills between Jay and Wilmington, things broke up a bit more, but even so this was a difficult course to ride 100% within the rules. Thankfully I didn't see any huge draft packs and the smaller ones I saw were breaking up regularly due to the hills and aid stations.

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Heading into Wilmington

Jim had left town right after I got through transition, and had ridden the opposite direction on the bike course so he could meet me before the out-and-back section for photos and encouragement. By then -- 45km into the bike leg -- I knew I was going to struggle with my body all day. I felt bloated, blah, head-achy and completely off my game. The average watts I'd planned to push on the bike just didn't happen without an alarming rise in heart rate, so I settled for racing on "feel" while keeping half an eye on heart rate and mostly ignoring the watts on the powertap. In some ways this worked great, as I was able to conserve a lot of energy on the tailwind and downhill sections of the course, yet still climb the hills the way I'm used to -- steady to FTP watts but nowhere near blowing up. In the end my VI was 1.11 for the whole race which I think is quite high. But given my state of disarray on the bike course, going on feel meant surviving on what felt right to me at the time, which meant ups and downs instead of a steady watts ride. I'm still thinking this one over and the truth is that I haven't done enough "bad" long rides and IM races to know whether I did myself a good or bad turn with this strategy. Interestingly enough, my normative watts over the whole course were only about 5-10 watts off from what I'd wanted my average watts to be! All I can say is I hope to ride more steady at Kona.

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A happy moment

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The wheels are in sync even if I'm not

So, plan B then: after burping up my Perp mix a few times, I decided to back off and go with plain water for a while. I knew I had to keep up with my scheduled Endurolytes and Anti-Fatigue caps, but even those were hard to get down. In retrospect, I think I should have had more water early in the bike leg as I probably took in too many calories without enough water to process them. Given that it wasn't really warm on the bike until nearly an hour into it, and that the swim had been in cool water, I thought I didn't need as much water -- and mindful of the multiple times I had to pee during the Stein race, not to mention that I'd already peed twice during the swim -- didn't want to start drinking too much. As it was, I didn't start to need to pee until the second lap (over 3 hours into the bike leg) and didn't stop til nearly 5 hours had gone by. If that wasn't the biggest clue that I was underhydrating.... hard to believe now that I could have been so dumb! It wasn't for lack of aid stations either, it was just me being a newbie. Speaking of aid stations, at the out-and-back I tried to grab a fresh water bottle, but between the right-hand hand-off (I'm left-handed), the size of the bottle and the fact that it was cold and dripping, I managed to drop it not once but twice! Finally the third hand-off worked, but to all the folks riding anywhere near me at that moment, I sincerely apologise for making your day needlessly stressful by having to steer around my dropped bottles. Mea culpa.

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Crowds at the aid station

All along I'd been taking split times on the bike and I knew after the end of the out-and-back that I was in pretty good shape timewise for someone who was riding too easy and not having a great day. When I hit Wilmington just after 2 hours on the bike and started the last ~20km back into town to complete the first lap, I knew I was still in the money. Climbing past Whiteface Mountain my legs finally put in their first appearance of the day and I started to feel better all around. The Papa Bear climb was packed with cheering fans, and I got a real call-out for my in-the-aero-bars climbing technique, especially as I passed a dozen guys out of the saddle and grinding their way up the hill.

Into town and passing the crowds, I blew right by Special Needs (the flat tire monsters had thankfully stayed away this year, so there was nothing I needed anyway) and started the second lap. Pretty much the same as the first, though now the course was quite a bit more deserted, the wind had kicked up, the sun was hotter, and the people I did see were looking considerably rougher around the edges. I continued to feel a bit better, tested the waters with some more Perp, then switched to Hammer Gel instead. I attempted to pee on the bike several times between Keene and Wilmington, but as the day was sunny and bone-dry, I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Frustrated by the lost seconds spent coasting and trying to go, I finally gave up and stopped for a minute at the portapotty on the out-and-back.

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Still aero

My stomach and I had seemed to come to a truce: I wouldn't keep trying to overfeed it, and it wouldn't get worse on me (though never truly came around and felt great either). But apparently I'd forgotten to negotiate a deal with my legs because a few kms after leaving Wilmington for the final painful jaunt back into Lake Placid, I got a wicked cramp in my left quad on the inside. Tried to stretch it out and massage it on the bike, but every time I put any power into my pedal stroke it would seize up again, so I finally had to stop by the side of the road and try to fix it. This was particularly frustrating as I had been overtaking lots of people at this point (minus the stops, my split times between first and second lap were pretty good). A guy with a maddeningly squeaky disk wheel and I were trading places on the climbs and descents, and I wanted to cry when I was off my bike stretching and saw -- heard -- him go by.

The muscle cramps got me twice more on the road back to transition, the left leg again and then the right. The final time was just before the last five rollers into town, the Cherries and Bears. I pulled over to the side, right leg unclipped and in agony, thinking "the shoulder's not that wide here, better pull off into the rough so people can get by me" and promptly hit the sand and crashed on my left side, still clipped in, expletives leaving my mouth rather loudly. Some guy rode by and asked if I was all right in that sort of "I'll stop if I have to help you but I really hope you say you're fine" way -- and given the number of ambulances we'd all seen on the course, I can't blame him -- but I waved him on. Took stock of the damage, a scraped knee and big bruise on my thigh where it hit the top tube and felt pretty mad at myself. Which then sort of woke me up and got me going again, I jumped back on my bike and rode the rest of the way into town cramp-free and with fresh resolve to get the suffering over with and start the run. By the time I got through transition, I was in 3rd place in my age group and 263rd overall in the race, 114.4 miles down and only 26.2 more to go.

Bike time: 5:49:49 as 2:50:19 first lap and 2:59:29 second lap, 3rd AG and 333rd overall

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Head down to climb the last hill

T2 and The Run

The second transition was quick and painless, with the only interesting moment happening when I dismounted my bike, leaving the shoes on the pedals, and ran -- rather hobbled -- barefoot towards the bag racks wondering how I was going to run a whole marathon when I could barely make it through transition? Socks and shoes on, decided to start with a visor and see how it went (lately I've been finding it cooler to run without any hat), grabbed my packet full of goodies while a volunteer slapped some sunscreen on my shoulders, and then I ran out. The packet contained all the individual Hammer gels I'd prepacked for the run, plus two Hammer coin purse thingies, one for Endurolytes and one for Anti-Fatigue caps, all in a Ziploc bag. I started loading my pockets as I ran out onto the course to save time, then tossed the baggie at the first aid station. Jim had seen me coming in from the bike course and shouted that I was in third place in my age group by only about five minutes or so. Good to know, but at this point I had to focus on running well and pacing carefully or all that holding back on the bike would be for nothing.

T2: 2:22, 2nd AG and 121st overall

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Sorting through the packet

My legs loosened up right away, and I ran the first half mile (albeit all downhill) in only four minutes, which was a bit quick for my plan. I figured I might as well take my first bathroom break to help slow me down a bit. My goal was to run about 5:10/km for the first ten kms -- those splits including all walk breaks at the aid stations -- then try to pick it up a bit or hold steady, depending how I was feeling and knowing that the last six or seven kms of the course with their tough uphills would be the hardest and slowest. I had the Garmin 405 on my wrist so I could keep track of how hard I was going, and it proved to be a great time-manager (and later a whip-cracker) for my pace. I was feeling more or less like my old self again, choking back gels as I needed to and getting my aid station ritual down: dump the old sponges at the start, grab two cups of water (one for my mouth, one over my head), a crushed fresh cup of ice to sit in my trishirt behind my neck, then fresh cold sponges across my chest. Walk just enough to make this all happen, then start running again. I was passing tons of people even in the first lap, as predictably many guys had overcooked the bike leg and were looking at a long day's suffering on the run. Just before I reached the turnaround at 9km, I saw the two women ahead of me in my age group running towards me. I estimated that only about half a mile separated us which put an age group win in reach for me, unless one of them turned out to be a great runner. But as I ran back I spotted the fourth place girl about the same distance behind me. Nothing I could do about it, just had to keep going.

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Running the tangents

Up the hill to town and man did that hurt. People were already walking. At least I knew how long it was and that it flattened out after the corner, so I dug a little and kept running. Through town and onto Mirror Lake drive to complete that cruel race director's joke called the second out-and-back. On the first lap, at least the Special Needs bags are there providing some distraction from the fact that you need to run nearly a mile past the finish line entry point then back again before you can head out of town for the second loop. At the end of the race it's nearly unbearable to have to run past the finish chute again before you can enter it! Special Needs had only one thing I wanted: a (no longer) frozen bottle of Heed that I'd made up the night before. The sun had come out again and it was getting hot, so I also dumped my visor in the bag. That bottle of Heed tasted like nothing ever has or ever will again -- I grabbed a cup of ice and poured the Heed over top and drank like it was the last drink of my life. Awesome! It lasted until I made the turnaround and ran past the aid station again, where I chucked the empty bottle and ran past the cheering crowds feeling like a million bucks to start the second half of the marathon. Kms 20 and 21, the ones after Special Needs, rang in at 5:00 and 5:05 respectively, keeping my overall pace to that point at 5:15/km. I did feel bad, however, to see the folks still riding in after their second bike lap and who hadn't even started the run!

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Fleetfooted after Special Needs

Running downhill out of town again, I finally saw the end of of a long day slowly coming into sight. Just had to keep up the relentless forward movement, counting down the miles -- now fewer to go than I had done -- and I would be done with Ironman Lake Placid. The run course was really crowded now as most people had started the marathon, and it was hard to tell who was on the first lap and who was on the second (note to IMLP organisers: little bracelets to hand off after the first lap would help competitors keep track of each other!) The run out River Road to the turnaround was again pretty quiet, though the cramps that had taken me down on the bike were threatening to return again on the run, this time in my calves. My aid stations walks were becoming longer and I had to stop several times to stretch out my calves. I had been running the tangents, saving myself as much distance as possible, but now I wondered if it was better to run slightly longer but in the shade. Midway to the turnaround I saw two women in my age group coming at me and looking quite strong, and in my mentally exhausted state couldn't remember if they were the same women who had been ahead of me all along. If they were, then they had me beat by a fair bit. If not, then where were the women ahead of me? At that point I realised that it was out of my hands either way. I couldn't run any faster without risk of cramping up, and as long as I didn't slow down, I wouldn't lose any places (the 4th place girl who I did recognise in her Endurance Nation kit was falling behind steadily). So to my great relief, I just gave up caring where anyone else in my age group was and ran on as best I could.

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Trying to run, not walk

Ironman Lake Placid run 26-07-2009, Elevation - Time
Run Elevation and Gradient

Turned out that the two women in front of me were fading fast while I was still running 5:17-5:18/km, but I didn't manage to catch them until the final half hour of the race. I barely noticed overtaking them as I was going by tons of people by then, particularly on the hills where many were walking, and the body marking had worn off hours ago. Later, the third place girl would tell me she saw me go by but just couldn't hold my pace. I saw Jim at the top of the hill with less than two miles to go and suddenly had a moment of panic: what if there was some hotshot marathoner who'd been creeping up on me all this time the way I'd crept up on the others? I shouted to Jim "who's behind me?" and he gave me a confused look. "Everyone is! You're in first place!" I shook my head thinking it couldn't be possible, what about those speedy ladies I'd seen before? But no time to argue, I had to keep going but for the first time I allowed myself to think that I might actually win my age group.

Just that awful last out-and-back to do along Mirror Lake, helped immensely by the thronging masses cheering me along for actually still running at a reasonable pace, then I was done. I made sure to toss my sponges and ice at the aid station to make myself presentable for the finisher's photos, and Jim (where did he come from? must have hoofed it up that hill double time!) shouted to smile when I crossed the line. Then into the Olympic Oval and half a lap around before running under that magical Ironman banner. I reminded myself that this could be the last race I ever do -- after all, you never know what could happen in the future -- which did indeed bring a grin to my face, and with a sort of gay fist pump I ran across the line. In the end I ran the fastest marathon in my age group.

Run time: 3:42:31 as 1:49:16 first lap and 1:53:15 second lap, 1st AG and 131st overall

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Fist Pump!

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Across the finish line

The Aftermath

Despite aching legs, I actually felt pretty good when the race was over. Mike Reilly had called out my name when I finished, but no mention was made of what place I was in my age group so I still wasn't quite sure I had won. I grabbed some food then got my dry clothes bag and took off my wet shoes, socks and calf guards. Found Jim and chatted briefly, then went to get my scraped knee bandaged and a massage before my muscles completely seized up on me. The medical tent was full of rough-looking folks --only 152 people out of 2250 had finished in front of me and half of them were in that tent! But given the number of ambulances carting people from the run course I wasn't really surprised. As much as I wondered how good it would be to get an IV, I knew I didn't need it, so I got changed into my compression tights and went out to take care of some lingering business: checking out the results and tracking down the lost Garmin!

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Thankfully I didn't need one of these!

Seeing my name listed as first in my age group, it finally sunk it that I had won! I immediately felt a sense of guilt, as I had had such a bad day that I almost didn't believe I deserved it. Still, upon checking out the bike and run times, I realised it was my months of training and my race execution on the day that got me through it, and not how good or bad I felt during the race. Staying cool-headed and trusting myself rather than panicking or giving up was the key to getting through the tough moments. So in that sense, it was one of the most deserved victories I've ever had. And ultimately, if I had to choose between an awesome day with a lesser result, and a tough day with a great result, I'd pick the latter every time. :)

Total race: 10:41:52 as 1:01:58 swim, 5:49:49 bike and 3:42:31 run, for 1st AG, 16th woman and 153rd overall

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Ironman Mom

The Kona rolldown was at 9am sharp the following day (we were nearly first in line) and then it was the awards banquet. Mike Reilly gave an update on the last finishers of the night and played the poignant pros, volunteers and finishers videos. Then we were presented with our trophies (little M-Dot plaques in graduating sizes) and called up by age group to the stage for photos and applause. Though it looks like we were standing in order of height, that's actually the order than we finished!

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Male and Female 35-39 Podium

Later that evening my five housemates and I went out for a group celebration dinner, with plenty to celebrate as both Jeremiah and Esther had completed their first Ironmans with excellent results. Bob had enjoyed his time volunteering (and drinking beer for a change while in Lake Placid for race week, as he'd previously done the race several times himself as a competitor). Our loyal supporters Jim and Armando stuck it out the whole day despite the rain, the sun, the crowds and the long hours standing around wondering where we were. So a success all around and a great time had in Lake Placid.

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The gang from 4 Cherokee Trail

All pics by Jim except for a few from the official race photo guys which I'm planning to purchase shortly.

Epilogue

Some bike power data for those who like that kind of stuff:

Lap 1:
Duration: 2:50:19 (2:50:21)
Work: 1515 kJ
TSS: 137.5 (intensity factor 0.696)
Norm Power: 164
VI: 1.1
Pw:HR: -11.49%
Pa:HR: 12.33%
Distance: 89.771 km
Elevation Gain: 2598 m
Elevation Loss: 2591 m
Grade: 0.0 % (6 m)
Min Max Avg
Power: 0 344 148 watts
Heart Rate: 102 169 150 bpm
Cadence: 47 166 91 rpm
Speed: 0 75.8 31.6 kph
Pace 0:47 0:00 1:54 min/km
Altitude: 195 672 395 m
Crank Torque: 0 57.6 15.6 N-m

Lap 2:
Duration: 2:59:29 (2:59:30)
Work: 1587 kJ
TSS: 147 (intensity factor 0.701)
Norm Power: 165
VI: 1.12
Pw:HR: -2.99%
Pa:HR: 23.89%
Distance: 90.3 km
Elevation Gain: 2597 m
Elevation Loss: 2606 m
Grade: -0.0 % (-10 m)
Min Max Avg
Power: 0 394 147 watts
Heart Rate: 104 170 154 bpm
Cadence: 30 166 90 rpm
Speed: 0 93.5 30.2 kph
Pace 0:39 0:00 1:59 min/km
Altitude: 195 672 396 m
Crank Torque: 0 66.8 15.8 N-m

Entire workout (30.9 kph):
Duration: 5:49:49 (5:49:52)
Work: 3102 kJ
TSS: 284.4 (intensity factor 0.698)
Norm Power: 164
VI: 1.11
Pw:HR: 2.62%
Pa:HR: 7.25%
Distance: 180.083 km
Elevation Gain: 5194 m
Elevation Loss: 5198 m
Grade: -0.0 % (-4 m)
Min Max Avg
Power: 0 394 148 watts
Heart Rate: 102 170 152 bpm
Cadence: 30 166 91 rpm
Speed: 0 93.5 30.9 kph
Pace 0:39 0:00 1:57 min/km
Altitude: 195 672 396 m
Crank Torque: 0 66.8 15.7 N-m

And run data too:

Lap 1:
Duration: 1:49:15
rTSS: 126.8 (0.788)
NGP: 5:05 (196.8 m/min)
Pa:HR: 7.29%
Distance: 20.719 km
Elevation Gain: 418 m
Elevation Loss: 408 m
Grade: 0.0 % (9 m)
Min Max Avg
Heart Rate: 91 162 145 bpm
Speed: 0 16.7 11.4 kph
Pace 3:36 0:00 5:17 min/km
Altitude: 504 583 530 m

Lap 2:
Duration: 1:53:25
rTSS: 128.1 (0.781)
NGP: 5:09 (194.0 m/min)
Pa:HR: 2.5%
Distance: 21.354 km
Elevation Gain: 442 m
Elevation Loss: 451 m
Grade: -0.0 % (-9 m)
Min Max Avg
Heart Rate: 104 161 151 bpm
Speed: 0 22.5 11.2 kph
Pace 2:40 0:00 5:22 min/km
Altitude: 504 583 531 m

Entire workout (149 bpm):
Duration: 3:42:40
rTSS: 259.5 (0.785)
NGP: 5:07 (195.5 m/min)
Pa:HR: 4.98%
Distance: 42.073 km
Elevation Gain: 860 m
Elevation Loss: 860 m
Grade: 0.0 % (1 m)
Min Max Avg
Heart Rate: 91 162 148 bpm
Speed: 0 22.5 11.3 kph
Pace 2:40 0:00 5:19 min/km
Altitude: 504 583 531 m

Tuesday, 7 July 2009

The speedy P3C and the Hed wheels that were worth the wait

The weather's gone from beautiful and sunny and almost but not quite too hot the past couple of weeks to cool and rainy today, more typical English summer weather I suppose? Given a hard couple of training weeks including a 165km ride on Saturday, I've felt a bit blah the past couple of days. So I figured I'd blog about my new (used) TT bike to help pick up my spirits. It's a 2006 Cervélo P3C with a Powertap Pro+ in Hed Jet C2 60mm rims. In short, more carbon fibre than I've ever seen in my life, and easily the most bling bike I've ever owned.

It's funny to reflect on how my bikes have evolved since I did my first Try-a-Tri on my old mountain bike back on Labour Day weekend, 2003. After that race, I was well and truly bitten by the tri bug, so I set about finding a "real" road bike and ended up with a circa 1988 12-speed Italian roadbike knock-off that I picked up for $100 at a secondhand sports store. I replaced the drops with tribars and managed to rig up the downtube shifters to the aerobars, though I couldn't get up any hill over 5% without standing due to its 53/39 Biopace rings and 11-24 cogset. Still, it did the trick for the next two summers and even saw me through my first half-Ironman. Alas, it's been sitting in my parents' shed ever since I left Canada and though I've been resisting for a while, I've finally given in to their wishes to just get rid of it. My sister will probably sell it at a garage sale for $50...

The trusty old 1980s "Finelli"


When I moved to Holland in 2005, I bought another old steel roadbike, this time a Batavus, as my daily getabout, stuck some flat bars on it and used that for the first few months of bike training until I found a secondhand 2002 Giant OCR for €400. With clip-on aerobars and a nice female-friendly saddle, I rode that Giant into the ground for the next 10,000+km, including a trip to Lanzarote where it got lost on the way for three days, all kinds of races from sprints to 3/4-Ironmans, and even a city criterium on the cobbled streets of Utrecht. It was finally replaced by my Cervélo Soloist Team a year ago, and after riding that for a few months I realised that the OCR is actually just a bit on the big side for me. So with the addition of the Fuji track bike cum fixie last Christmas into the overcrowded bike room, I knew it was time for the OCR to go. With sadness I sold it for £180, trashed Rolf wheels and all, where it was parted out by an enthusiastic Bike Radar bike flipper -- hopefully the frame has gone to a good home!
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2002 Giant OCR


Once I knew I'd want to tackle an Ironman -- and coincidentally decided that I was finally a "good enough" cyclist to get a nice new bike -- I figured I'd better get a proper TT bike. The mid-priced and solidly engineered Cervélo P2SL fit me like a glove, so I picked up a new old stock in beautiful anodised black when home on vacation in the late summer of 2007. The difference in speed was immediately noticeable, as it had 650c wheels which allowed me to get quite a bit lower and more aerodynamic. It got me through a number of races including Ironman Germany and with some secondhand Hed Deep wheels it was going to be my IM Lake Placid bike this year.

2006 Cervélo P2SL with Hed Deep wheels


Which brings us to the P3C. Jim found the right-sized frame for a great price on ebay, and once we won the auction and picked up the bike, I set about transferring over all my bits from the P2SL. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for my Hed wheels to be built with the Powertap Pro+ for the bike to be race ready. And frustrating as that wait was, it was well worth it as this is by far the fastest bike I've ever ridden! After three weeks of tweaking the bars and stem and saddle, all the while hoping my legs would remember what it was like to ride in that low TT position enough to regain their power, last weekend it all finally came together.

2006 Cervélo P3C


Hed Jet C2 60 rim with Powertap Pro+ hub

With a 30km run in my legs from the day before, I set off on what I thought would be a ~150km/5-hour ride on a more or less flat course, the goal being to cycle at Ironman watts with a few harder intervals thrown in. The wind was pretty strong but to my surprise it never felt like a headwind unless I was literally riding straight into it; at every other angle, I felt like the wheels were being pushed along like a sail. I kept looking down and seeing speeds between 34-38km/h while barely hitting 150 watts, something that would be unheard of on my regular road bike. When I caned it along at 200 watts for 30 minutes into that direct headwind, I managed to hold 36km/h! Later with the tailwind it was an effortless 45km/h as I overtook cars in the towns I passed through. Finally home 5 hours and 23 minutes later, to my amazement I had ridden 165km in 5 hours flat of riding time.


All that shiny gridded carbon

No doubt that Ironman Lake Placid is hilly but that one long ride has done more to boost my confidence for the race than any ride has in months. I've started to taper this week, easing back on the high volume though keeping up the intensity, and my last big race rehearsal ride this weekend on reasonably fresh legs should yield similar if not better results. I've got half a mind to find a last minute 100 mile time trial if only they'd let me have a late entry...


A few more shots of the P3C and my setup:


Profile Design bars, nearly infinitely adjustable


Nice narrow profile for the wind