After months of preparation and trepidation, the Arizona Ironman was finally here, my first Ironman race in 8 years, after doing the world championships in Kona in 2000, which happened
to fall on my 40th birthday!
After some mild coercing from some training partners I signed up for the race, even though my body had other things in mind at this point in my life, such as sleeping in, happy hour, pizza...you get the idea.
Race morning came early with a wake up call at 3:45. The people at the Ramada were nice enough to open for breakfast early, so a bagel with peanut butter and a cup of coffee were enough to punch the breakfast ticket and I was officially "carbo loaded". Down to the race venue which was held at Tempe Town Lake, the pre dawn light lit up the transition where athletes were busy pumping up their tires and put the finishing touches on their bikes. After a potty stop, I slipped on my wetsuit, which came in handy in the cool morning air. At this point all the competitors headed toward the beach staging area, where the pros went off, then it was into the 63 degree water like penguins for the age groupers for the 7:00 start. After a few hundred yard swim warm up I found a place to start, swimming is really not my strength and these swim starts can be brutal, unless your name is Chuck Norris.
Swim Time
The gun goes off and 2200 plus athletes churn toward Rural Rd bridge with intermittent elbows
and occasional kicks, our long journey is under way. For some reason, my stroke mechanics while swimming in a wetsuit are completely different than just swimming in a pool, maybe cause I'm hyperventilating all the way. After getting pulled out of the water at the swim exit, I look at my watch and am elated when I see 1:07, after hoping for 1:10. After getting stripped out of the wetsuit I dash to the transition tent to get ready for the bike ride.
Time to roll
This course requires athletes to complete 3 38 mile loops on a fairly flat course, half of which includes riding on the inside lane of a highway. After getting gradually settled in on my Soloist Carbon, I get my speed to 22 mph and just focus on heart rate and breathing. Half way out on the first loop a group gathers around me, which can happen with this many athletes on a flat course. It gets crowded, and the drafting marshall roles up and picks a couple "perps" to sit for 4 minutes in the penalty box for a drafting violation.
Things that have changed in the past few years: tear drop shaped helmets...for aerodynamics, as I ride by these I think you should need a permit to take them through airports, as they resemble a weapon rather than head attire. Everyone has deep carbon rims. Everyone. Competitors can rent full carbon time trial bikes rather than riding their own. No economic downturn here. And compression socks, popular with the Europeans these knee high thin smart fabric looking pieces are designed to facilitate blood flow and circulation. Shouldn't these be worn in the hospital after the race?
After sitting up the last couple miles to stretch out the back and spin to get the legs ready for the marathon, I am happy with my 5:06 bike split, 10 minutes ahead of where I want to be starting the marathon.
Run Baby Run
After a quick change into my running shoes I am off on the run and much to my delight I find my running legs right off the bat. Another plus is milder than normal temps, in the low 80 deg. range which was a concern for me as I don't run well in the heat. Right away I pass a couple guys in my age group and keep the pace up, going through 5K in 20 minutes. Way too fast. This marathon course is 3 loops around the lake we swam in a few hours ago, very spectator friendly and good for the competitors in the same respect. My first loop is run at just over 7 minute pace, the second loops starts with a more crowded sidewalk, with more competitors on the run now. This means having to battle at the aid stations, which number one per mile. If you can imagine, these aid stations can be very busy during an Ironman marathon where hydration is paramount. These stations could include, but are not limited to: water, Gatorade, oranges, bananas, Coke (sugar), sponges, cookies, and other assorted fruits. The volunteers who man these stations must be impervious to verbal abuse as some competitors come in barking out their particular needs as if their life depended on it.
My second loop took a little longer, following the laws of normal fatigue. But I am still on my expected splits and am informed that I am 3rd in my age group at this time. As soon as I hear this, I pass yet another guy in my age group, and I am 2nd. However at this point my energy levels are draining quickly, and I slow up a little. I go through 16 miles in 2 hours, keeping an 8 minute pace. I told myself before the race not to start drinking Cola until 5k to go, but this might have been my mistake as I am barely running a 9 minute pace coming up on the 20 mile mark. That's when I am passed by a couple guys in the age group (45-49), and I re think my strategy. After being passed again, I start drinking Cola with water to get some sugar stores back. I drop another place as my thoughts of a podium finish start to fade.
Coming down the final mile by the water, I focus on my form, which is hard to do when your mind says one thing and your body does not respond. I am happy to have this thing done and the crowd appreciates the effort as I come by and I can see the turn to the finish chute. As I take the turn toward the finish, yet another guy in my age group passes me, and I can't answer as my quads are concrete blocks by now.
I cross the finish line in 9:53 and change, a P.R. for me by 9 minutes, which is tempered by being passed with a few hundred yards to go. I find out I finished 7th in the age group, and will go to bed not knowing if this is good enough for a spot to Kona.
I arrive the next morning with my lactic acid to what they call the roll down. The slots to Kona are divided up equally in proportion to the number of competitors in each age group regardless of gender. I'm hoping there are strength in numbers, as there were 300 plus in my age group. After arriving late, I am asked to check my name out on the finishing sheet and a pleasantly surprised as there are 7 slots in my age group. I gladly take my slot, as it is very hard to get into Kona and when you qualify you step up and take it. I'm a happy camper as I write a check for $550 for yet another Ironman, just 14 hours after finishing one. A lot of people would consider this an act of insanity, but as most triathletes would say, it's the show; the holy grail of triathlon. To test your mettle against the best in the world.
That's what we're here for, right?
