IMAZ November 23, 2008

We arrived in Tempe Thursday afternoon, only this time our faithful chauffer & home stay profferer was also getting ready to race. Graeme picked us up from the airport & we proceeded to register and get our bikes from Tribike transport. No one wanted to be seen with me and my many strips of kinesiotape (thank you, Dr. Steve, you really are the best). Mike twice asked me to change into pants before going to eat. I didn't listen - he counted funny looks & I didn't care. That tape works, so I don't care what it looks like. As Mike pointed out, if triathletes start qualifying while wearing the tape, everyone's going to be wearing the tape no matter how ridiculous it looks hanging out the back of your shorts. Just look at compression socks - there certainly was no shortage of triathletes wearing those & they're not exactly fashion statements.

I was a bit more nervous than usual on Saturday, probably because I've had 2 crappy runs in my last two IMs, and really didn't want to add a third. However, come race morning, my fears had morphed into the realization that it really couldn't get any worse than my race in April (okay - this is debatable). So, I was looking forward to having a good day. In the amateur video one older age grouper described IM race morning perfectly: "It's just like Christmas morning. The package is wrapped and under the tree & now it's time to find out what's in the box." Ironman racing is so much different from 70.3s and less. In shorter races your fitness carries you through, but in Ironman you'll more likely have some sort of issue: mechnical, nutritional, muscular, intestinal - you name it, it can happen in Ironman. Just because you had everything figured out for the last Ironman really counts for very little in the next one. Every race is different & every race holds a surprise in store that is completely unpredictable, even in hindsight! So your nutrition worked perfectly in training? Doesn't mean it will when you're racing.

Got to the transition area early Sunday morning & had plenty of time to get everything set. Got in the water at about 6:45, and was up to the front just after the pros went off (they start at 6:50). This time Mike and I decided to start right of the center buoy, as we would attempt to cut the tangent on the swim (the river bends right). It was one of the least violent Ironman starts that I've had, and I ended up with clear water ahead (well, this IS the swill-hole of Tempe Towne Lake - "clear" does not describe the water itself). The good news was, I wasn't really getting hit or swum over, the bad news was I had no draft. I just concentrated on swimming to the second column of the rural st bridge and tried to get comfy. I found myself being extremely worried about swallowing any water & was constantly panicking about it as I have a bad habit from pool swimming of keeping my mouth open. I did not need a repeat of April's knifing stomach pains. l swallowed a couple teensy amounts of water along the way and hoped it wouldn't matter. With about 20 minutes to go I started to get really cold. Mike Reilly announced at the race start that the water temp was 64 , but it felt a lot colder, closer to 60. I should've had a hot head on, but when I was packing I never dreamed that the water would be so friggin' cold. I was able to catch a draft behind some guy & it was warmer behind him than in the open water. I briefly wondered WHY it was warmer behind him, but quickly pushed that thought from my mind - it didn't matter, I was starting to shiver now. I tried to get my kick going to get some blood to my feet, but my legs were not interested in kicking at all. The last bit of the swim felt like an eternity. Were the stairs really that far away from the last turn buoy? Somehow my feet worked up the stairs and I saw my time - 1:03, I was hoping to be quicker, but instead was consistent. In all 5 ironmans my swim times have been either a 1:02 or 1:03.

2.4 mile swim : 1:03:07

My transition started out a bit slow. I was frozen, so the wetsuit strippers had to do all the work for me. Took a bit longer than usual, but then I was on my way to get my bag. Big smile as I was actually running (as opposed to the hobble I was doing in April). Glad I put red electrical tape on the handles of my bags - I didn't even have to check numbers, just looked for the handles. Ran into the tent & everything else went as usual: shoes, belt, helmet, glasses, inhaler in pocket. I also had gone to Walgreens the morning before and had gotten a $3 pair of little boys stretch gloves to wear on the bike. They were perfect - even had little eagles on them to remind me to soar in the wind. I've discovered that gloves work better to keep me warm than arm warmers & there's the added bonus that they're a million times easier to put on over semi-wet skin. I had tried putting on arm warmers at an early season sprint race (Treeathlon), and promised myself that I would NEVER do that again - what a bumblef*ck. So, I put on my gloves, ran out of the tent, stopped to get some more sunscreen, and then ran to my bike, which I luckily remembered where I had racked it. Ran out with my trusty steed and was on my way. I smiled at the butterfly sticker that Daria put on my handlebars.

T1 (swim to bike transition) 5:25

The first loop on the bike in Arizona has always been fun, and today was no different. There was a mild headwind on the way out on the Beeline & so I looked forward to the tailwind on the way back in. My heart rate was right where I wanted it and amazingly I was absorbing my nutrition and fluids - woo hoo! In the two previous ironmans I launched my nutrition early in the bike leg out of the back water bottle holder. This time I was using an aero bottle on the downtube so that I wouldn't lose it. It worked fabulously. I passed the faster swimmers early in first loop & got passed by the eventual winner early on the second loop. I had no idea that I was in second place, I figured there were still a good 4 women in front of me. I thought the run would be my strongest point & I'd do most of my passing there so it was a surprise post-race to see how much my biking has improved. I didn't see my first butterfly until just before the last uphill before the Beeline turn around. I was starting to wonder if they'd abandoned me on the day, but it seems I just didn't need them until then. Whenever my head starts to get negative, my little winged cheerleaders appear. It was a little black butterfly that ambled in front of me just as I was griping to myself about climbing up a hill into the headwind. The butterfly gave me some extra power and I passed a whole heap of people on the uphill. The second half of this loop was fun, as I had the help of a tailwind back to the Mill Ave turn around. So, as I turned around for the 3rd loop, I was greeted with a headwind, but it seemed to be dying down. I saw my second butterfly at the same spot as the first, just before the last hill on the Beeline. I powered up the hill this time - just after having a brief conversation with a guy I was passing that "hey, the wind has died down, cool". Then, just as I turned around I discovered where the wind had gone. Sometime during the second loop the wind did a 180. Crap! What is THIS tomfoolery? Are you kidding? I have to do the last 18 miles in a headwind? But I was SO looking forward to a tailwind - and then, a butterfly ambled across the road. Okay, I gained some perspective - everyone's got the same headwind in, just be the eagle. During my 86 mile time trial out on Canada road two weeks before, it was crazy windy and a falcon was playing in the wind just about 10 meters in front of me. I thought of that now - the headwind wasn't much compared to that day. I saw three more butterflies on the Beeline, all at times when my thoughts were turning negative regarding the wind or how long it was taking to do the last 18 miles.

The scenery in Arizona is a bit surreal. Giant cacti and big craggy rocks. I've never been in a desert but for this race, and so it feels a bit like I'm in a road runner cartoon. Ironman certainly can treat you like Wile E. Coyote. Just when you think you have it all figured out an anvil comes out of nowhere to crush you - and then your dynamite backfires. We never learn that there is no way to be entirely prepared. Like my husband Mike says, race time calculators are neat and all, but they are entirely useless. I came to find out later that Mike hit a manhole with half a mile to go in the first loop - he hit it with such force (this is impressive) that he stripped the bolts that connected them to the stem. He barely avoided doing a Hincapie (for all of you non-cyclists, Hincapie's steering tube snapped during the 2006 Paris-Rubaix where he flew over the handlebars and ended his race with a severely separated his shoulder) and was lucky to only be half a mile from the Landis cyclery repair tent. They didn't have the right sized bolts, so they had to jimmy the handlebars back on & he had to ride the last loop entirely on his aerobars, without brakes because he couldn't put any weight on the handlebars. He handled the whole situation perfectly (no pun intended), and only lost :10. Sadly, that meant he wouldn't be passing me on the bike. I did get to see him about 2 miles after the turn around coming the opposite way - we both gave a little wave (yay! I actually saw him) -thought he might catch me, but it didn't happen. Graeme also shouted at me somewhere on the Beeline coming from the opposite direction - a got a small glimpse and I think I shouted his name? I have the severe inability to recognize people I know while I'm racing. I think it's a combination of tunnel vision & just plain brain vacation. With the exception of a few mantras repeated throughout the day, my brain takes a vacation during extended workouts. Sorry, Rachael, I didn't see or hear you the entire race even though I was looking for you! My mantra for this race was "I will get stronger as the race gets longer". Seemed to work on the bike as my third loop was faster than my second even with the wind shift which gave me a headwind for 3/4 of the last loop (albeit much milder than my previous two races here). Woo hoo! Looks like I just squeaked under my goal time for the bike which was 5:36 or 20mph. I thought of everyone watching back at home as I cruised over the last mat towards T2 & then remembered to get my feet out of my shoes.

112 mile bike: 5:34:04

The bike catchers are angels from heaven. Thank God I don't have to remember where to rack my bike. Oh, so, I forgot to mention that on the last 3 miles of the bike, as I stood up on a corner to stretch my legs, my left quad cramped up where it inserts into the pelvis. I remembered the kinesiotape strip that I had put in my T2 bag just in case some of my tape loosened up during the race. I was saved! So, in every 70.3 or Ironman race, I always manage to have a full bladder in T2 no matter how much I peed earlier in the bike. This time I just planned on grabbing my T2 bag and going straight into the porto with it. I tossed my aero helmet off in front of the loo (I've worn in there before and it is a total hazard - constantly banging it on the walls) and then proceeded to put on my shoes (I was going to run my first marathon without socks as they always get wet & cause blisters - I liberally applied vaseline along my blister-prone spots inside the shoe). Put on my hat, grabbed my helmet as I opened the door and handed everything to the volunteer saying "I'm done - just stick my helmet in the bag - thank you, you rock!!"

T2 (bike to run transition) 2:45

Uh-oh. Running didn't feel so good. I was fully intending my run to be my secret weapon, but my legs weren't firing. I think my quads got mega tight on the bike & they didn't like being stretched out on the run. Luckily, the kinesiotape I had put on my upper quad quieted it down - I had no problem with it cramping again at all. I couldn't help but wonder if I had put the kinesiotape on my quads too (it had it on my psoas, gracilis, hamstrings, pirformis - on both legs - and also had it on my left lower achilles) that maybe they wouldn't be so sore :) So, the result was very heavy legs and a stomach that didn't feel quite right. My heart rate was right where I planned on having it (right around 145), but I wasn't hitting anywhere close to the 8:30 pace I wanted to be hitting. I started out doing an 8:45, then 8:55, then 9:10, and I was starting to get frustrated as 4 women have now passed me in my age group (although I only saw 3 go by). It was right about then that a butterfly went floating by in front of me. Remember that mantra "you'll get stronger as the race gets longer". Okay, stay here at this heart rate, don't push through this, your legs & stomach can come back, they did in April. Those runners can come back to you at the end of the race. The numbers weren't getting any better on my watch. I stopped looking - no positive mojo there. I also remember thinking "Damn, this is hard. Why didn't I remember how hard this is?" Thought I could run a 3:45, HA! Somehow all those runner's endorphins I got in training totally blocked the memory of Ironman pain. And then another butterfly came by, this time a big orange & black one and flew directly in front of me for awhile. Okay, big smile again, my cheerleaders are back! I saw my last butterfly during the most difficult section of the run, around mile 14. This reminded me that in April, my stomach settled and I was able to jog again at mile 15 (just after the hill). My attitude brightened and I began to imagine myself running faster at the mile 15 mark. Lo and behold, my stomach felt better and I started to run faster. I had been going as slow as 10:30 miles, and now picked it up to around 9:00 miles. I was starting to pass more people and got lots of encourgement from the crowd during the mile before the start of my last loop.

I felt a bit of relief wash over me - I was wearing a hat that said "Stay Strong" and then had my chiropractor, Dr. Steve Capobianco's website on it (symmetrysport.com) - I would have looked pretty stupid walking at the end of the race while wearing a "stay strong" hat. Phew. I could see the eventual 7th place woman up in front of me, I passed her with 7 miles to go and said, "come with me, let's do this Kona thing together". No response. She must've been in survival mode - what I refer to as "the world of me". Luckily, I didn't have to go there this race. I then ran into another rough spot - my increased speed required more fluids - I was a bit dehydrated and started to get a side stitch. I decided to walk through the next aid station and make sure I drank a good 8oz of gatorade. This helped, but the stitch was still there, again I walked the next aid station and downed 8 oz of gatorade - this time I had success. The stitch went away and I really started to crank up the speed. I felt GREAT. Hey, I felt GREAT - woo hoo!!! I hadn't felt great the entire race. I got a nice rush of endorphins and went to work on catching the other women in my age group who had caught me much earlier in the run. I knew one of them wasn't feeling well - I heard her tell her coach or friend as she ran by me back at mile one. She had to be within reach. So, over the Mill Ave bridge and into the crowd, only one more loop of a figure 8 left! I felt like I was on cruise control and was picking off people left and right. It had kinda turned into a death march out there on the third loop - I certainly had been part of that in April. WIth about 3.5 miles to go, I spotted two of the women in my age group that had passed me before mile 1, they were running maybe 10 feet apart, I decided to go by them sprinting, since there was a curve coming up - I could slow down after I was out of sight. I wanted to make them think "no way" so they wouldn't try and stay with me. It worked! I had no idea how many women were still in front. I knew that the eventual 3rd place was in front of me, she passed me early on the second loop before I got my mojo back. I let myself believe that I was going to qualify in the last 2-3 miles. I ran by Mike and I didn't even notice (and mind you, at 6'4" he's kind of hard to miss) - he shouted after me I heard him say, "I love you!" and I threw my hand in the air to wave (and briefly thought what a freakin' space cadet I was, that I could miss seeing my husband), and then Graeme who was a couple miles back shouted at me from across the way - I was on a mission, so there was no stopping now. I pretty much turned myself inside out the last 2 miles & ended up averaging 8:30 miles for the last 6 miles of the marathon. Better late than never! It's a good thing that I never hit the wall, and I really did get stronger as the race got longer! It will be so good to have that confidence going into the next race. I had a big sh*t-eating grin on my face as the trail split off to the finish chute. I soaked up the finish & had a good time high-fiving kids all the way to the line. I had my Ironman PR by 18 minutes and was officially a member of the sub-11 ironman club. Oh - and the lack of socks worked - no blisters - not even the start of a tiny one. The Zoot racers were awesome. This was also the first marathon where my feet didn't hurt. I'm attributing that to being sockless - I was able to keep them cool by pouring water on them & I never got the hot foot that has plagued me in the past.

26.2 mile run: 4:05:03
Race Total: 10:50:22, 4/105 starters for my 35-39 age group

So after I crossed the line I got some food and sat down (Moses, was that painful). The only thing I could eat were the french fries which I covered in salt. In between bites I put my head on the table and wondered why I felt so crappy - I'm not moving anymore, why is my body still crabbing? How is it that I was just running? - the edorphins were fading fast and the pain was setting in big time. I was taking a hit on my rescue inhaler every 5 minutes for about a half hour. I was secretly wishing that someone would take pity and carry me to the med tent. Then, when this didn't happen, I was trying to materialize a porthole to the med tent , but I sadly gave up on this fantasy. Finally, I started to feel partially human, so I mustered up the energy to drag myself towards the morning bags to get my dry clothes. I was freezing. Those space blankets only cover so much. Thank God I ran into Rachael. Rachael was kind enough to let me borrow her jacket until I found mine. Mind you, I didn't exactly smell like roses at this point. She also helped me carry my bags & bike. Thank you Rachael!! You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Graeme, did you?

After I changed clothes, I talked to my mom and my sister, Pam, who told me that I was fourth. Hrm - does that mean I qualified or not? When I did the math, my age group made up 5% of the field, and 5% of 72 kona age group slots = 3.6. Does that mean there are 3 or 4? Hell. Mike suggested since I earned .6 of a slot that I should just leave my head at home. Ugh. Guess I would have to wait until the next morning to find out. Thank you, everyone, that was watching at home. I thought of you guys every time I went over a timing mat! I did get to see Mike finish & Graeme finished shortly after Mike. After I played sherpa for Mike (yes, I was carrying 6 bags, and some nice guy had pity on me & helped me carry them for a bit) we dragged ourselves slowly back to the hotel. I always have well-meaning intentions to make it back to the finish line between 11-12, but it hasn't happened yet. Not even at Wisconsin last year when our hotel was less than a 100yds from the finish. This time I wasn't hungry & that was good since the hotel was out of ice cream. It was really bizarre that I wasn't hungry. I guess all those water-only no calorie workouts were effective. In the morning I saw the beautiful number 4 next to the W35-39 age group. listing the number of Kona slots. Yes!!! In the Kona slot tent the "clerks" were Michael Lovato and Heather Fuhr, how cool is that? It was so nice to have my name be on the top of the dividing line for Kona slots instead of underneath. I've been first loser twice by 2 minutes and change, so this was sweet. I also had fun going up on stage at the awards - I especially enjoyed talking to the other women that qualified. The woman who got second did so in her first Ironman - not too shabby! I'm looking forward to seeing them all in Kona again :) Before that Mike, myself, Megumi, and Stewart are all doing Ironman CDA in Idaho next June. I'm looking forward to having fun at that race with no pressure (which, of course, I only put on myself).

Extra kisses to Mike for giving me a stern talking to about setting the bar higher - you helped me believe that I could go faster :)

Thanks again to Graeme for putting up with us - you went from cameraman to Ironman! Congratulations - put all you learned back in the bank for the next one. Louisville 2010, anyone?

Jeanette

 

 Ironman number 4: Ironman Arizona April 2008

If you've read my other race reports, you know that I've always got some sort of issue threatening to keep me from the start and/or finish line. This race was no exception. I started training after 6 weeks off in November. Besides a brief bout with bronchitis in November, training went great up to February. While we were reading stories in bed one night, my much-too-strong-for-his-age 3-yr-old kicked me (trying to get the covers off) in the back & dislocated one of my ribs from my spine. I really only ended up having to take 4 days off of running & took it easy swimming for a week, but thought if this is the worst hang-up that I would have training, I was still in good shape. After doing the half-vineman last yr with a severely bruised or broken rib, a dislocated rib was nothing in comparison. It's a fixed joint, who cares. However, I wasn't done sabotaging my training. In mid-March I ended up running 36 miles in 3 days (trying to make up for missed training days earlier when my kids had the stomach flu). This was dumb. The next day I took off and my body got busy making all kinds of scar tissue which ended up adhering to my sciatic nerve (and branches thereof) and it took 22 days before the nerve was entirely free. The race was four days later. So, I didn't run at all (Ok, I did take a few steps down my hall and such to test, but there were no runs longer than a single minute) for the 26 days leading up to the race. I didn't know if I'd be able to run on race day, and had mentally prepared myself for walking well in advance of the race. I was hopeful, however, as my leg felt better (with the exception of a big fat bruise behind my knee from treatment) the day before the race than it had in 4 weeks. The suspense was killing me.

Mike and I stayed at Hotel Graeme on Thursday and Friday (thanks for being such an awesome host, Graeme) along with Stewart (first time Ironman participant who we used to go on training rides with until he abandoned us for Denver). Graeme shuttled us around everywhere, was our baggage handler, and then personal photographer on race day. You rock.

So, before each race I pray to see my spiritual cheerleaders – butterflies. If I just see a few, I know I will finish & this time I asked for a lot if I was going to do well. I'll just say in advance that I only saw three (although they were strategically placed). It was going to be a long day.

I had been stretching like a maniac in the days leading up to the race, and race morning started with more of the same plus lots of foam rolling. We headed down to transition and I put my foam roll, my massage ball, and a golf ball all in my T2 bag just in case. I also put an airborne container in my T1 bag so I could stick it in my pocket and use it to roll my IT band if needed on the bike. I didn't end up needing it on the bike, but it sure came in handy the third loop of the run. Listened to some tunes, put on the wetsuit, kissed Mike good-bye and good-luck and jumped into the cesspool that is Tempe Town Lake. I decided to start in the front row of the swim since I got stuck behind slower folks at IMWI starting in the 3rd row. I spotted Stewart, was yelling and waving – but he was in a nervous coma so I swam over to him and told him that nothing but a :48 would suffice (you knew I was kidding, right?). No countdown, just a one minute warning and then blammo! This time I planned on sprinting the first 100 meters, but I don't know if it made any difference since I probably have exactly one fast-twitch muscle fiber. The swim was weird. I'd be caught in a big bunch getting pushed from both sides, elbows in my neck, stomach, etc., and then all of a sudden there'd be open water. I'd gap up, and then the pattern would start all over again. The swim never opened up permanently like it has in past races. I was stuck in a big group of sloppy swimmers right up to the end. Unfortunately, with about 500 meters to go, someone sliced me with their fingernail on my neck and then I got jabbed with their elbow near my windpipe. I instinctively went up for air and got a mouthful of sewage instead. I felt it hit my stomach like a rock and immediately thought “I'm done for”. I then pushed that thought out, and went with the positive, but positive thinking doesn't neutralize motor oil, bacteria, and whatever other sh*t was in there. After all, you can't see your own hand in front of your face. In hind sight, I should've stuck my finger down my throat in the porto at T1. If I swallow *water* again in November, that will be my plan. I was briefly disappointed with my time, because I really wanted to go under 1:02, but I was close enough and just shook it off.

2.4 mile swim: 1:03:15 9/101 age group, 276/2027 overall

T1. After the wetsuit pullers had a short battle with my wetsuit, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was jogging! I had to pick up my own bag this time - next time I'm going to wrap colored electrical tape around the handles - it would've been much faster to find. My volunteer was metal - she wiped off my feet, untangled my helmet, cleaned off my sunglasses, and got me water all in record time. Got some sunscreen, and then had to get my bike off the rack myself, which was fine, especially considering that last year a volunteer handed me the wrong bike.

T1: 4:48


Got on my bike and started out in the small ring to warm my legs up. My stomach felt knotty so I decided to hold off on my nutrition for a half hour to see if it would settle. I saw my first butterfly about five miles into the bike, so that relaxed me and I settled into a good pace. The wind was reversed from last year, so there was a headwind on the way out going uphill, and an amazing tailwind going back to town on the downhill. Winds were probably 10 mph first loop, 15-20 on the second, and 15 on the third loop. So much for the weatherman's previous day's prediction of a 9mph max. Temperatures climbed into the 90s, but it felt much hotter out on the Beeline inbetween aid stations. On the first loop, I tried my nutrition (hammer gel & Gatorade mix) after 30 minutes, but my stomach didn't want it. I was able to drink just Gatorade on this loop, but it wasn't digesting. I looked down and saw a nice, distended abdomen & thought of an old Newby-Frasier commentary on a pro that ended up dropping out from IMAZ 2005. "Look at that stomach sticking out. This is not a good sign. She's in trouble." Soon Gatorade was no longer doable, and I at first tried watering it down at the aid stations. I ended up losing my hammer gel bottle near the end of the first loop on that horribly craggy section of McClintock Rd. It's like there are seams in the road, little miniature speed bumps. The woman who then passed me, informed me that it was "back there" as I went to reach for it. I replied "well, I'm not going back for it". Next thing I know, a butterfly floats by & I return to positive thinking. My stomach didn't want it anyways, so now I was lighter! Excellent. I completed the first loop in 1:48 - rock on!


And then the winds picked up and the sun started blazing. My stomach was still not cooperating, and by the middle of the second loop my front drink was all water. I was still able to take in my salt tabs and I was peeing, so at least I was able to stay hydrated. However, I was starting to worry about my lack of calorie intake. The second loop saw me slow down to a 1:57. I spent most of that loop on the way out trading places with Polly Crawford - another 35-39er looking to qualify. She rocketed off on the downhill section never to be seen again. By the third loop I had been doing water only for some time. I thought I'd better try some Gatorade or I'd really be doomed for the run. I know from experience that if I can't take in calories on the bike, it's only going to get worse on the run. I spit the rest of the water in my front drink onto myself (remember, it's hot) and filled it up with Gatorade at the next aid station. Stabbing pains. Not good. Now it was frying pan hot and the wind would immediately evaporate any attempts to cool myself off. I didn't care anymore (not a good sign) about Kona and dropped into what I refer to as "the world of me". This is where I am completely unaware of my surroundings and am just in survival mode. The last stretch of wind was only bearable because I knew it was the last stretch of wind and I would be able to do a little coasting back into town once it was behind me. Mike passed me around mile 80. We had a bet going that the first one of us into T2 gets a new bike. At the time I didn't care a lick about the bet. It was good to see him and I was glad that one of us was still feeling good. After this, there was about 4 miles to the turn around. It was such a long 4 miles. I looked up and saw that I wasn't past the big craggy (word of the day) rock yet. I searched for the mile markers on the opposite side of the high way. Just make it to the next mile marker. Okay, now to the next one. Alright, one more and then I'll be able to see the turn around. Sweet Jesus, I finally made it to the turn around! I briefly passed Mike at around mile 85 as he was spending lots of time hydrating and dumping water on himself at the aid stations, I had delusions about winning our bet. About a mile or two later he repassed me. Well, there goes my R3 for good. Crap. Tried the Gatorade again on the downhill, but no doing. It was a bit frustrating as I wasn't nauseated at all. So, it was all just stuck in there, sticking out, mocking me. Last loop was a 2:02. I also had "hot foot" which had started around mile 50, but I was able to control the intensity by dumping water in my shoes at the aid stations. I took my feet out of the shoes just before going up the wood ramp into T2. They were not happy feet. Hopped off my bike and a volunteer immediately took it. That is so cool.

112 mile bike: 5:47:11 8/101 age group, 334/2027 overall

Checked out my bike time - somehow I still got my Ironman bike PR by 8 minutes. The highlight of my day! When I started to jog in T2 it was ugly. Searing, stabbing pains racked my stomach. I hobbled to a porto and contemplated trying to throw-up, but I figured it was too late. My stomach wasn't happy at IMWI last year and I was able to jog & it recovered after four miles, so I thought I'd just give it a go. When I exited the porto a volunteer was standing there with my helmet and bag saying, "follow me". What service! I had stuck my massage ball in my shoe so I wouldn't forgot to stick it under my left hamstring while putting on my shoes (see, Dr. Steve, I listen) . I decided the golf ball would be a good idea to break up some of the crap in my feet from the hot foot. That worked great, then I got on my socks and shoes. I passed on the foam roll - no IT probs on the bike. I had wrapped up a Red Bull in ice knowing that it would melt and sweat, placing my hat under it. It was glorious to put a cold, wet hat on. I abandoned the Red Bull to watery grave.

T2: 3:40

Since I had been using the word "craggy" all day (thanks, Graeme) this is the word I'll use to describe my stomach. I started jogging anyways, and for the first 3 miles my legs were working well. I managed to gut out a 9:10 first mile and was still remaining hopeful for my finish time, when I tried to take a sip of Gatorade at the first run aid station. Mistake. Immediate, debilitating, large butcher-knife type stabbing pains seared through my stomach. Usually this type of thing happens when you've had too many calories on the bike, but I had had maybe 400 calories on the entire race course to this point. This was bad. Is it possible to finish a marathon on such a severe deficit of calories? I figure I burn close to 6000 calories during an Ironman with roughly half of those being on the run. I started to have visions of myself passing out or going delirious before getting to the finish line. Shake it off, I have plenty of fat stores to do this. I could still do water and salt, so at least I wasn't dehydrated. I decided to try coke at the next aid station. I used to take coca-cola syrup as a kid when my stomach was upset, so maybe it could work. By the second mile my pace slowed to 11:00. Coke didn't hurt as much as Gatorade, but it still made knots in my stomach, so I decided I was done with calories unless my stomach flattened out a bit. I decided to jog as long as I could.

about mile 4 of 26.2

My stomach got worse with the jostling - every mile got more difficult and slower. The heat wasn't an issue for me - I kept ice in my hat and hands and was able to stay cool enough - but my stomach just wouldn't let me go. By mile 6 my stomach was now rejecting even water, plus my left knee was sore & it was starting to make my hip and hamstring complain. At least 5 people from my age group had already passed me, and I knew that there were several women that were always in front of me. I accepted that Kona was not going to happen for me today and I let myself walk. Shortly after I started walking, I saw my final butterfly for the day. I was going to finish. I thought I would have to walk the rest of the marathon (I would've finished in 15 hrs) and was prepared to do so, but was pleasantly surprised later to be able to jog. As I started to walk, I briefly wanted to cry at my perceived loss, but then I mentally slapped myself. I thought of the guy out there on the handcycle doing the whole race with just his arms. I could still walk – and my real goal at each Ironman is to finish. I could still do that & I could do it with a smile on my face, keeping a sense of humor. To everyone who told me “you look great” I answered back “Don't lie to me, I look like sh*t, but I'm still moving. It won't be pretty but I am going to finish.” I made sure to high five every kid out there holding up his/her hand and flashed a smile for anyone who encouraged me to continue. I remember telling someone who asked how I was doing that it was a long way between aid stations when you're walking. A woman pointed to me and told me that I was her Ironman hero for not quitting. I saw Mike along an out and back section by the lake & erroneously thought he was ahead of me instead of behind him. I had never see him pass me - but unbeknowest to me, he had spent a long time in the T2 change tent. I mentioned to him later that I should've changed our bet to "whoever starts the run first" instead of "whoever enters T2 first", but he told me that he would've dragged his ass out over the run mat and stopped at the first shade he encountered instead of resting in T2. Insanity. I had plenty of time to read signs while I was walking and was just thinking about how gol-dang sore my feet were when I read a sign that said, “your feet are so sore because you are kicking so much ass.” That made me laugh & I briefly lamented that the only ass I was kicking was my own.

Those who win Kona spots foster admiration not inspiration. Ironman inspiration is Julie Moss crawling to the finish line, it's Dick Hoyt pulling and pushing his son Ricky through the entire race, it's Paula-Newby Frasier lying on the ground announcing “I think I'm dying” 100 yards from the finish and then getting back up to walk and finish 4th when she had been in first, it's Chris Sadowski carrying his bike to T2 in his socks after being hit by a motorcycle and then going on to finish the race, and it's Sarah Reinersten returning to Kona after missing the bike cutoff the previous year & being the first female leg amputee to finish the Ironman. It's certainly not embodied in disappointed age-groupers dropping out after having to walk the first loop even though they have 8 more hours to finish the race. It's about discovering what you are made of because everyone experiences lows in Ironman. For me, quitting is not an option – medical will have to drag me off the course. For all of you reading this that plan to do an Ironman – I implore you to persevere no matter what the day brings. Be an inspiration & don't quit unless someone escorts you off of the course (ie you miss a cutoff or you are truly medically unable to continue). You will be a different kind of proud of yourself at the finish line.


I walked with a guy (can't remember his name as the swamp water must have also killed a few brain cells) from SF for about a mile and a half before I was informed that it was his first lap (my second) and I did the math & told him he'd better start moving faster if he wanted to finish before midnight. He was a total trooper and I didn't see him again. Apparently I did pass him on my third loop (although I didn't realize it in the dark) and he did finish the race as we were both on the same flight back home on Monday . That's what I'm talking about. When we were exchanging tales of misery during our walk, he simply said he hadn't trained enough. However, he still had the balls to toe the start line and finish the race. Unlike the guy that I walked with at the end of the first loop who was trying to qualify (I think in 50-55 ag) and just gave up because he wasn't able to run. At the time I had told this quitter that part of my motivation to finish was to get a finisher medal for my kids (I have 2 and we needed 2 medals to come home with). He said he didn't have a motivator like that to continue. I told him that he would regret not finishing tomorrow, but if he stuck with it and walked the whole marathon (or maybe was able to run later on) there was no way he'd regret finishing. He didn't go for it and dropped out once we hit the transition area.

A moth floated in front of me at mile 15.5 and about a quarter mile later my stomach suddenly felt better. I found it hysterical that I was getting moth fly-bys instead of butterflies since it was dusk. So, that made me laugh. I decided to try a jog & found that I could. 11-13 minute miles sure beats the pants off of 20 minute miles. About a third of a mile later I was able to stomach cola at an aid station & decided that I would keep jogging as long as I could. It was like Wild Kingdom out there for awhile. A baby sidewinder skittered in front of me at about mile 16 and then I almost stepped on a frog that was hopping across the path a mile later. Mike commented after the race that he saw a coyote a scant distance from the race course. At the time I started jogging, I still thought Mike was ahead of me – he was actually about 10 minutes behind me. If I had known that, I probably would have kept walking until he caught up with me & then encouraged him to jog to the finish with me, or just walked the rest of the race with him. Since I thought he was in front of me, part of my motivation to jog was to catch him so we could finish together. Bummer. I have even more respect for Mike's Ironman experiences after enduring a 6:20 marathon. I am sure that quitting never entered his mind, and walking part of the marathon (well, the aid stations at least) was actually a part of his plan. It is such a long day out there and it is so mentally difficult watching what seems like everyone that you passed on the bike repassing you on the run.

After jogging through miles 16 & 17 aid stations, I walked through the remaining ones as a treat to myself, but promised myself that I would start jogging again once I passed the last trash drop. That went well, and I was even able to add a few pretzel sticks to my nutrition – they tasted like the nectar of the gods. I only let myself eat 2 or 3 per aid station for fear that my stomach would decide to relock.

I want to add a big thank-you to Graeme, Megumi, and Jill for being out there all day cheering us on, suffering along side us in the heat. It's not easy to be an Ironman spectator – I've never done it, but I have spectated during a Wildflower half at 8+ months pregnant– and it was a tough day (in fact it sent me into labor later that day), so I can only imagine spending twice as much time out there. It was great to see everyone going through the park & Megumi, you have quite a set of lungs on you! If it wasn't for your shouting I would have missed you 50% more than I did.

After the swim start, I didn't see Stewart the rest of the day. Looks like I passed him while he was in T2 as well since he had to go back and find his timing chip (he took it off to put on compression socks and forgot to put it back on). Turns out he was battling stomach cramps all day too, from swallowing the same sewage I did during the swim. He toughed it out and finished in a respectable 12:20.

About half a mile from the finish I got this unexpected big adrenaline push & ended up doing the last mile in 9 minutes - where did that come from?! I wish I could bottle this feeling and sell it. It was fun slapping hands while actually running (vs walking) - it makes a much cooler sound. For the first time in my four Ironman experiences, I actually heard "Jeanette Mucha from San Carlos, California You are an Ironman!". It was appropriate, as I felt like I had really earned the title this time. I'm even considering going to get an Ironman tattoo on my ankle, whereas I had previously decided to wait until I qualify for Kona. All that extra suffering has really made the experience part of me.

26.2mi run: 6:19:21 62/101 age group, 1370/2023 overall (can you believe that over 650 people either "ran" slower or didn't finish?)

TOTAL FINISH TIME: 13:18:14 (two hours and ten minutes slower than a year ago)
24/101 age group, 756/2023 overall

Graeme and Megumi were there waiting and I gave a short tale of my woes until I realized that I might pass out if I didn't go sit down and eat immediately. They stayed to watch Mike's finish while I was able to engulf a couple pieces of pizza and some french fries (french fries are the perfect food after an Ironman). I was done and decided to get up and go get my cell phone so I could call my parents and also see if Mike had finished (hadn't heard his name yet though). I was dizzy and sat back down. A retired EMT from Texas told me that I looked pale even in the dark. He made me lie down and put my legs up on a chair. He got me a coke and didn't let me get up until there was color in my face (a good 30 minutes). At this point some of the food was finally getting into my system and I felt better. I then heard Mike finish and started looking for him in the food tent. At least no asthma problems this race, despite the wind, so I think I have that figured out.

Mike and I will be back in Tempe for the November race this year. This time our fearless photographer will be joining us to attempt his first Ironman. I can't wait.

Ironman #3: Ironman Wisconsin 2007

One week before Half Vineman and eight weeks before IMMoo I crashed my bike (through sheer stupidity - I think I just followed a black tar line right off the shoulder & proceeded to use my face as a brake) and either severely bruised or broke a rib as well as breaking my cheekbone. It still hurts to the touch - so I think I can say even without an x-ray that it was broken. I suffered through Vineman anyways, just as an exercise in pain management - it really did up my pain threshold. I hadn't been in the water at all the week before (due to stitches over my left eye) so I had no idea how bad just standing in the water would feel, let alone swimming. Anyways, I survived and arrived in Madison at 95%, I just had not gotten in all the run work that I would've liked to. A big thanks to Dr. Steve and Dr. C at TEAM Clinic for getting me to the start line. I sure hope next year has fewer mishaps!

I really wanted to qualify at Kona at this race so that I could just enjoy IMAZ in April. The Big Man upstairs had different plans for me. I prayed as usual to see my butterflies, and He didn't disappoint. This was key, especially since Mike and I didn't have anyone personally cheering for us. We thought his brother would be there when we signed up, but he ended up moving away months before the race. The run ended up being another exercise in pain management - although it had nothing to do with my previous injuries.

If you plan to do IMMoo - do yourself a favor and stay at the Monona Terrace host hotel. It was only a few yards from the finish line & just as close to transition. I was able to go down to transition in the morning, drop a few other goodies in my bags (like my inhaler & foam roll), get body-marked and then went back to my room to apply sunscreen and get my wetsuit. When I came back out, it was twilight. The moon was a beautiful, thin crescent & next to it, Venus was shining brightly. I looked up and saw Orion above this - it was going to be a great day. Time to get in the water. I positioned myself at about the 4th row, 20 feet to the left of the buoys. In hindsight, I should've moved up closer or sprinted at the start . Cannon goes off - ah - we're starting! The first lap is all about concentrating to find your space while protecting your face. I got a good jab in my right ribs (hooray - it wasn't the left!) and someone kicked my thumb, hard. I had forgotten this until I went to brush my teeth post-race. I've said it before and I'll say it again, breaststroke kick should be illegal in ironman races. It's that one kick that breaks noses, loses goggles and causes traffic jams. Not to mention it's a horribly inefficient way to sight. As in 2005, the swim was congested and I had trouble getting up to speed. I got trapped and felt like I was going too slow the first lap. Once I cleared the first buoy heading into lap 2, things spread out a bit and was able to draft until that person slowed down. I took off and was able to gap up to the next group once we hit the next buoy (I guess all those breaststroking swimmers slowed the train down - finally, an advantage to be had!). No other incidents besides narrowly missing those small buoys with the flags - I felt like those were more of a hazard than a help.

2.4mi swim: 1:02:47, 6/105 age group, 215/2209 overall

T1 - I felt great out of the water and the wetsuit strippers were fabulous as usual. I ran up the helix, soaking in the crowd along the way. Getting my bag was fast and my volunteer emptied my bag and got me water. I had her put sunscreen on me while I put on my helmet and shoes. Racebelt, inhaler into my pocket, salt tabs, go! Clip-clopped to my bike which was on the bike mount end of transition. About half-way down to my bike a giant monarch butterfly floated down at eye level & crossed my path - excellent, I am going to finish!

T1: 6:04

So I had a big smile - it was the perfect way to start my bike. After hearing Paula Newby-Frasier talk about how the bike mount at IMWI is like the Gong Show, I took my time getting on to the bike and made sure I had clipped in before descending the helix. John Nolan Drive was bumpier than a set of railroad tracks and I'm sure that it was on this section that I launched my nutrition out the back of the bike. I had even tested and retested bottles at home & thought I had found a "launch-proof" one. Wrong. I actually didn't notice when my bottle launched, I only realized it when I reached for it about 20 minutes into the ride and it wasn't there. Another butterfly floats across my path - ok - still going to finish, time for plan B on nutrition. Plan B is getting a gel at each aid station as well as Gatorade. This worked well at the first aid station and then at about two hours into my ride my stomach started to ache. This had happened at Ironman Arizona and it was due to having too many calories for the intensity I was riding at. So, I ended up pocketing the gels and never ended up eating them on the bike. My stomach recovered and I never felt hungry the remainder of the bike. My favorite sign on the bike was, $$$$ equipment, $$$$ + time training, Priceless: passing your husband. Sadly, I never got to make that a reality on race day since Mike didn't pass me on the bike. The spectators were even better than in 2005 (probably because it wasn't 95 degrees) and I started counting butterflies on the bike, but stopped after I saw too many to keep track. Large monarchs would appear whenever I had negative thoughts (stomach cramps) and helped turn my attitude back around. My favorite part of the course is Witte Rd - it's a total roller coaster and on the second loop, a big monarch floated in front of me at the start of the road & then another just as I was turning off the road. The wind started to pick up during the second loop and then there was a notable headwind on the way back to town. With the exception of the stomach cramps, I had a blast on my bike ride. In 2005 the second loop was really tough, but this time it was just as fun as the first loop. I will note, however, that the bumpy section on John Nolan was really painful in the saddle area - I was definitely ready to get off of my bike. The bottoms of my feet were midly sore so I was glad that I had asked the race official (at the race meeting) if I could leave my shoes on the bike. I took my feet out of my shoes before going up the helix and I was so happy not to have to run in my clips. The eventual W40-44 winner passed me in the middle of the helix.

112 mile bike: 6:07:39, 9/105 age group, 657/2209 overall

I was off my bike no problem and a volunteer was right there to take it. I ran barefoot to the bag room and took off my helmet while running. I got my bag and the volunteer dumped my bag, put more sunscreen on me and I put on my socks, shoes, and hat. I used my inhaler while rolling my pirformis on the foam roll (I'm sure I looked ridiculous!). I ran out, used the porto, and got started.

T2: 3:44

The first mile of the marathon felt crappy. My feet were sore and my legs a bit heavy. I decided to eat one of those gels in my pocket for a caffeine pick me up, but it resulted in immediate stomach cramping. Okay, no more gels for a while. My first mile was an 8:30, and the second mile (post gu) was a 9:30 - ugh - not good to see how much those stomach cramps are slowing me down. A guy running next to me commented, "Is that mile two?" - I said hopefully, "Did it seem long to you too?" (hoping the mile marker was just incorrectly placed). Instead he says, "No, I thought I'd be running 10 minute miles but according to my watch I'm going a lot faster!" Bummer - that was not the answer I was looking for! The cramps had subsided on the bike by sticking to water for while so at the next aid station it was water only. My hands started tingling at mile 2 this time, but my chest wasn't tight. It must be all that albuterol and caffeine. Still crampy, but getting better, I was up to 9:10 miles through mile 4. I tried coke again at mile 3 (it has saved my butt in the past), but that was immediately denied entry. Back to Gatorade only. At mile five, things were looking up. My stomach had settled and I felt good again. My feet stopped hurting and I was able to pick up the pace to between 8:40 and 8:50 per mile. This continued up to mile 10 and along the way I was able to repass a bunch of people that had passed me earlier. At the running path turn around I even yelled out to the volunteers that I felt great, gave them a big smile and that resulted in a big cheer. Unfortunately for me, my period decided to start early at mile 10 (My watch was at 1:28 for the run at that mile marker). I've done shorter races during this time of the month, but not an Ironman. Let the uteran cramping begin. In hindsight (I figured this out around mile 18) the uteran muscles were drawing blood away from stomach so that around mile 11 my stomach stopped processing calories. I was thinking, "Crap. I'm already only drinking Gatorade at every other aid station - I can't stop taking calories in all together. I won't be able to finish, or at best I'll be crawling." So, I decided to try just three ounces of Gatorade instead of the about six I had been taking in. It was during this time between miles 11 and 12 that my only live butterfly floated by on the run to remind me that I would finish. Also during this mile another runner ran up to my shoulder and asked me how we were doing (he wasn't wearing a watch). I said 9 minute miles (It was at this point) and he asked if I minded if he ran with me to pace himself. I said I didn't mind, but was really hoping that he wouldn't expect conversation because I didn't want any extra blood flowing to my diaphragm! Later, in the food tent, I saw him again and he told me that I saved his race. So it seems, just as my race was crumbling into a sorry heap of "could've beens" his was re-energized. I'm glad something positive came from my eventual demise :) Stomach cramps led to intestinal cramps. So, I had my entire set of abdominal involuntary muscles working away feverishly - leaving nothing for my legs. My heart rate fell to 120 (I wanted to average 145) and I constantly battled my will - there was no more smiling for me until the last half mile of the race. Part of me was saying, "your Kona slot is gone and you aren't going to PR, just walk." The other half said, "I can keep up these 11 minute miles - just focus on an object ahead and get to it. You never know, competitors can drop out or not show up for rolldown. Just keep going." So I forged ahead. At least I could breathe. Once of the objects I saw at mile 15 was Mike on the other side of the street - he looked to be at about mile 11. He actually shouted out because I hadn't seen him as I was deep in "the world of me" battling myself. He noted later that I didn't look so good. Just before mile 21, I saw the back of a cycling jersey on another Ironman. It was a large butterfly - Oh, how I needed to see that. I was really contemplating walking again, because with 5.5 miles to go I could only get in water with salt tabs, so I was starting to get a bit light-headed. That butterfly jersey refocused me and I thanked her for wearing it as I ran by her. The crowd brought me home the last two miles and I was finally able to smile again once I hit the Capitol building. Running down the finish chute was awesome and no one was in front of me, so I did a little jump at the finish line. I'm sure it was pathetic and my feet probably didn't even leave the ground. The catchers were great and took me to get my finisher picture and also got me a Sprite which tasted spectacular. I was kind of spaced out and felt like complete crap. I went right to the food tent even though my stomach wasn't completely settled. It was so nice not to have to visit the med tent for breathing problems.

26.2 mile run: 4:19:05 20/105 age group, 617/2209 overall

TOTAL TIME: 11:39:17 8/105 age group, 453/2209 overall

After twenty minutes of shivering in the food tent, I went straight to the hotel and stood in a hot shower for what seemed a very long time. I then brought our bikes back to Tribike and grabbed all our transition bags and brought them back to the room. All in enough time to see Mike finish - although I cut it close! So looking ahead to next time - when I see ahead on the calendar that I might be having my period during an Ironman, intervention will be mandatory! I'm sure I could take the Pill to make my luteal phase longer a month or two before the race. I don't like the pill, but a week or two on it to adjust things would totally be worth it. Guys, thank your lucky stars you don't have to think about any of this. So, I'm proud that I soldiered on to an 8th place finish, especially given the circumstances. One of these races everything will finally come together and I'll get myself to Kona. There were only 3 spots in my age group this time, and the last slot rolled down to 5th place (that's what place I was in at mile 10 on the run). Until then it'll be six weeks of whatever I feel like doing or not doing (with the exception of that evil mountain century that Mike volunteered me for in October). This is the least sore that I've been after an Ironman, so I'm hoping for a quick recovery and then I'll be back to training for IMAZ the third week of October. So the plan is to get my run times down in training - back to doing sub-7 minute repeats, so that even if I feel crappy or it's really hot, my "slow" will still be fast enough to qualify. The trick to doing this is staying injury-free for 7 months (of course, I've never been able to do this while training for an Ironman). Until April.

Jeanette 

 Wildflower Long Course 2007

Yes, we just did an Ironman three weeks ago, but no way were we going to miss our favorite race of the year, especially on its 25th anniversary. Wildflower has become a part of us. We went to our first race (we did the Olympic course) back in 2000. We showed up Saturday night completely unprepared for camping. We had bought a couple of sleeping bags figuring on sleeping under the stars or in our car. It gets COLD & dewy at night at Lake San Antonio. Reality hit home once we arrived and we frantically bought a two person tent down at the general store. Since then, we’ve upgraded to the long course & we’ve added to our camping inventory. Every year, though, I always seem surprised at just how dang cold it gets there at night. Most years it’s freezing at night and oppressively hot mid day. Every couple of years, however, mother nature throws a curve ball. In 2003 it was a deluge of rain, and this year it was wind.

The night before the race, our tent was whipping around in the wind which was a first in our seven year stretch at Wildflower. The next morning, things were calmer, but then the wind really starting picking up again around 9am. Mike started the swim at 8:40 while I started at 9:20. The swim start was a first for me. The start line was on the beach & so a run and dive was warranted at the horn. We had these race starts all the time in Florida, so that was nothing new, but the fact that I was the first to dive in & then led the entire swim was entirely something new. Perhaps I was first in because I decided not to wear a watch (I didn’t want to be discouraged if I was slower than normal due to IMAZ), so I didn’t have to start it before diving in. At any rate, it was an anomaly not to have faster swimmers at Wildflower this year in the women’s 35-39! When I dove in I fully expected to get swum over and then would have plenty of pickings to draft off of. Nothing doing. There were two other women up with me, but they slowed down after the first couple minutes, so I was out in front. It was really enjoyable not to get kicked, slapped, etc. Just open water. Once I got around the first buoy I noticed that there was a sizable current & chop in the water. On the way out it was really fun - up and down on the waves, but I was also getting pushed forward. A first for me in Lake San Antonio. I remember a tiny chop in 2003, but usually the lake is glass & there’s no noticeable current at all. There were hoards of 30-34 women to swim through as well as other previous waves. After the turn around I even saw people over on the wall resting, which I’ve never noticed before. I fully expected a strong current and chop on the way back in, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. It reminded me a bit of the Alcatraz swim, but only in the sense that I couldn’t breathe on the right side (waves breaking in your face) and there was a noticeable up and down motion to the swim. No salt and no crazy cross currents disorienting you like at Alcatraz. At any rate, I was having fun. It was nice for a change to have a bit of challenge on the swim. Out of the water I enjoyed the crowd since I didn’t have a watch to look at :)

Swim 1.2 miles: 34:51 1/77 in age group, 401/1966 overall

Transition was smooth. Wetsuit off (always takes a bit of an effort), race belt on, sunglasses, helmet, and then a long drag on my inhaler before sticking it in my back pocket. Unracked my bike and headed toward the exit. My shoes were on the bike already. I always put my left foot in my shoe as I get on my bike & then the right one was easy to slip in once I got into the finish chute (you ride through the finish chute at the start of the bike). I looked at the clock as I was riding through the finish line - 1:57 and change. Since I started 1:20 after the first wave of pros, that means my swim was over 34 minutes. I thought “yikes!” since my swim has never been slower than 32 minutes at this race. Never mind, that would be the only clue the whole day on what my overall time was. I purposefully took my odometer off the bike and decided instead just to enjoy the day.

Transition: 2:18 4/77 (but temporarily still in the lead!)

I was pretty sure that I was out in front of my age group, so I decided to count how many people passed me & then barring some misses in the transition area, I could figure out what place I was in. After going through the finish chute, the paths that you ride on are narrow and in bad shape - pot holes and bumps everywhere. This is the stretch that I pinch flatted on back in 2005, and it’s in even worse shape now (I now use Tufo’s tubeless clinchers). Since the women’s start is so late you also have to contend with crazy mountain bike sprinters that share the same path for the first 2-3 miles. At the bottom of beach hill the mountain bikers go to the left on the trails while the long course veers right up Beach hill. Beware of mountain bikers cutting left in front of you & also turning around part way up the hill as volunteers & spectators scream at them “you’re going the wrong way, turn around!”. My advice is simply to stay as far right as you can as you turn the corner to go up the hill. Beach hill isn’t bad as long as you slip into your lowest gear and spin. It’s to early to mash up the hill as it’s a long, hilly ride. So, I took it easy and appreciated the spectators who had climbed the hill to cheer. Once up, it’s a pretty fun ride out of the park (just a couple of ups). Somewhere along that stretch I got passed by a 37-year-old. I was able to keep her in sight for another 10 miles or so, but then she took off. As we turned on the Interlake Road, we were hit with a lovely headwind. Shades of Arizona. I was hoping this meant we’d have a tailwind on nasty grade, but I was wrong. At any rate, the hills are mild on this stretch. The biggest problem was control on the downhills. Gusts would push your bike out of nowhere, so I was out of aero position on every downhill, whereas in years past it was no biggie to stay aero. I was so glad not to know how slow I was going in the headwind. I was enjoying all the wildflowers, but didn’t see any butterflies yet - a bit too windy on this stretch! As we turned on the Jolon Rd, I thought we’d get a crosswind, but shortly thereafter the road winds a bit and the wind became a tailwind. There were still some cross wind sections on Jolon, but for the most part I was flying. This section was exceptionally fun & although the super-fast women from the 40-44 age group were now passing me, I didn’t see anyone from my age group. Then we turned up Nacimiento and were once again with a cross/head wind. It was coming at an angle, but doable. It was here that I started seeing butterflies (my spiritual cheerleaders!). Butterflies always reassure me that I will finish and usually appear when I’m having mental difficulty with the race. One in particular did a full circle in front of me while I was climbing a hill, a beautiful orange and black butterfly that I’ve never seen before. I then got passed by two women in my age group, one following a safe distance behind the other. I kept them in sight for twenty minutes or so. We’ve now made the left turn, around mile 40-42, that takes you up nasty grade. Full blown headwind. Crap. Nasty grade in a 20 mile-an-hour headwind. Half-way up we see the energizer bunny. Now, I’m not one to complain about people supporting the race, but I was promised that the Energizer bunny would be at the TOP of nasty grade (by the race announcers before the race), not half-way up. So, it was cruel and unusual to turn the corner after the bunny and realize I still had to go up. This must have been particularly demoralizing for first time racers who didn’t know any better. There’s a little downhill before the last section of up in nasty grade where I shifted into my big ring. Along this stretch, I noticed a DEAD butterfly on the road in front of me. Dagnabit! Why did I have to see that? That can’t be a good omen. Not two minutes later as I was shifting back to my small ring, my chain dropped & was caught between the frame & the crank cog. I quickly stopped and got the chain back on (maybe 20 seconds tops?). Once I got back on the bike though, I couldn’t clip back in to my pedals. Before the race, we had to walk our bikes through some dirt trails on the way from our camping site to Lynch Rd. I should have stopped and taken my cleats off, but I didn’t. I have Speedplay cleats that do not work well if you get dirt and sand stuck in them. It took me ten minutes to get enough dirt out of my shoes in order to clip them in before the race. So now, I was having trouble clipping in again. It’s not fun to be unclipped on nasty grade, at the very least, it’s suboptimal. With some major effort, I finally clipped in with about 100 yards to go from the top of nasty grade. Well, I was hoping that was the reason for the dead butterfly, but decided I’d better take it easy down the other side of nasty grade just in case :). Last year, I was able to go down the evil winding steep grade on my aerobars (it felt comfortable). This year, with the winds whipping out of nowhere at any given moment, I held on to my brakes for dear life. About five minutes after the downhill I heard screaming sirens and a helicopter. Apparently, I had just missed someone using their face as a brake down the hill. Talking to another woman after the race who was there, a woman was flying down in the aero position when her bike got pushed with a crosswind, she hit the rear tire of a woman in front of her, sending herself over the aerobars and landing on her face. The other woman who’s tire had been hit looked like she had broken her femur. Please, if you are thinking of doing the race, make up the 10 seconds you’ll save flying down this hill somewhere else on the course. It just isn’t worth the risk. So, after this incredibly dangerous downhill, you have more hills to contend with. You think, I made it up nasty grade, I’m practically done. Wrong. Just realize that getting back to T2 is mostly uphill from here. Plus, on this day, you got the unusual privilege to do the last climbs with a head and cross wind. I was mentally fine with it, because I know to think of this last section as tough. You get two nice downhills, the first when you turn back in to the park and the last going down Lynch. With about two miles to go I got passed by another woman in my age group, so I was now in 5th. I kept her in sight up to T2. I took my feet out of my shoes at the top of Lynch hill (you don’t need to pedal any more after you crest the top). Braked for dear life going down again, while watching some pros finish their race (you run down the same stretch before finishing). If you can peak a look, the scenery is unbeatably gorgeous on this hill, but my eyes are usually fixated on the task at hand.

Bike 56 miles: 3:12:54 9/77 in my age group, 677/1966 overall.

In T2, got off the bike OK. I really need to practice sliding my right leg to the rear of the bike, so I can just run off, but still haven’t mastered this enough to try it in a race. I had a short run to my rack. Racked the bike, removed my helmet, slipped on my running shoes (I don’t wear socks, I just smear a ton of vaseline inside my shoes), grabbed my visor and ran toward the exit.

T2: 1:30 1/77 in my age group

So, since I had a nice quick transition I was now back in fourth place. I only know this, because about half a mile into the race I got passed by the same person that passed me last on the bike. Okay, I was in 5th again. But, the signs were not good for a fast run. I felt sluggish & after going up the steps out of transition, I had cramping in my quads (up by my insertion point at the knee). I had to stop jogging and massage them while I walked. This hasn’t happened since the first year I did the long course back in 2001. While I was hobbling along, another woman in my age group flew by at a good clip. Okay, so this must be a case of Ironman legs in combination with a lack of hill running in my training. Since I was nursing a foot injury during my IMAZ training, I did all my intervals on a treadmill and for the most part did my long runs on the flats. Hello, I was paying for that lack of hill training right now. Luckily, my quads warmed up to running (I was trying desperately not to use them & was trying to just use my hamstrings) and cramping wasn’t an issue the rest of the run. Again, I was so glad not to have my watch on. I’m sure I would have been mortified with how slow my first mile was. Instead of focusing on time, I looked to the volunteers and spectators & gave them smiles whenever I was able. When you take the effort to smile on the Wildflower course, the volume of cheers goes up tenfold! It’s well worth the effort. The volunteers at the aid stations were great & I took the time to thank everyone. There used to be a naked aid station around mile 4 (just before you go up the steepest, longest grade), but the past couple of years this station has been manned by mostly kids. Kids get so excited when you take a drink from them - it’s fun to watch and it reminds me to do my best since my kids are at home. A nice reminder to make the most of my race time while we are separated! The hill up between miles four and six sucks. It’s not bad at the bottom, but it gets progressively steeper and unless you are feeling really good, your “running” at the top isn’t any faster than walking. The naked aid station is now around mile 6 (?). There were two naked women and two naked men. I high-fived one of the guys, but really, unless you’re ripped, naked men are like that Seinfeld episode (there’s bad naked and good naked & men usually fall into the latter category). I’ll say no more on the subject. I was pleasantly surprised that there is a downhill from miles 7 to 8 and then 8 to 9 are pretty flat. At this point, you’re running through the campground and so lots of people are cheering as you go by. In the past I’ve remembered the entire run as being uphill from miles 0-12. Mentally, this is a good thing to say to yourself even though it’s not entirely true. The run is just so tough. So, miles 10-11 are an out an back section where you go up a hill, down, then back up and down. I had two more people in my age group pass me somewhere in this section, but I didn’t care anymore. I did see Mike as I was heading in to the turn around and he was heading out. He was about half a mile or so in front. Ah, my carrot. It took what seemed liked forever for him to actually be in sight up ahead. That helped me pick up the pace, and he seemed unusually relieved to see me (apparently he was making himself run until I caught up to him!). This was at the base of the last hill before Lynch. I muscled my way up the hill & was relieved that now I really was just about done. Luckily, my quads were okay with the pounding down the hill & I was able to “run” through the finish chute to the line. I was thinking that since I was 9th in my age group, that historically that would mean my total time was around a 5:40 or so. The clock read 15 minutes later than that - again, I was so glad that I didn’t wear my watch! I waited in the chute for Mike so we could get a picture together. I knew that he’d only be a couple minutes behind me.

13.1 mile run: 2:03.21 16/77 age group, 699/1966 overall
TOTAL: 5:54:54 9/77 age group, 49/459 women, 538/1966 overall

Once I looked at the results, I was really happy to see that my bike was a PR! My previous best on this course was a 3:15 and change. Awesome that I was able to get a PR even with the wind.
I wouldn’t hesitate to take off my watch and odometer again.

So, after the race, we walked slowly up the hill to the campsite. They do have shuttles and bike transport up the hill, but it’s a good 45 minute wait. We talked to a Trek employee doing field research on tri bikes - he was asking why I bought the P3. I tried to state my case that not enough bike companies make small enough frames. I’m 5'4", but short-waisted so I need a short top tube. I was interested in Orbea, Trek, and Kuota, but none of them make a small enough frame. No matter, the P3C is probably faster than all of those anyways :).

Once we got back to camp, we noticed that the ROTC group from Montana (camped in the very cool army tent next to us) was grilling. The night before, they had let me borrow some bike tools and gave us some zip ties. Tonight, they were unbeatably cool as they let us eat their food and later dug out a trench as the camper next to us was creating waterfall of used water. Kelley (I think that was his name) invited us over, and we shared race tales. I love it when people do naively stupid things like pick the Wildflower long course for their first triathlon. I love it! The best thing about the cook out was the sausage - it was made from a wild boar shot after last year’s Wildflower! In past years, I’ve heard the boars outside of our tent before, snorting around and scaring me out of using the bathroom & now I was eating one :). Near the end of our meal, you could hear the shrieks in the distance coming from the naked college students as they do their annual streak through the campgrounds. Much to my surprise we learned from a proud ;) parent of one of these participants that they are all stone-cold sober. The funniest thing was one of the soldiers next to us yelled out to his superior, “I have to run naked, Sir!” “I need your permission to run naked, Sir!”. His officer answered something along the lines of, “Well, don’t let me stop you.” He and another guy ran after the group and returned about 10 minutes later, whooping at their experience. Only at Wildflower. We’ll be back again next year.

Jeanette

 2007 Ironman Arizona Race Report

Getting to the starting line of this race was quite an accomplishment all on its own. I finished my race season early last year at the Vineman 70.3. I finished with a chronic injury involving my right piriformis and my right hamstring. It had my running muscles aching before I even got off the bike. I had incisional hernia surgery scheduled for mid-August and thought that the 2 weeks before and 6 weeks after should be enough time for my hamstring & hip to heal.

 About a week before my surgery, we had a sewage spill in our house (I’m talking a river of sewage running through the house complete with a waterfall down the steps to the living room). This led to the discovery of toxic mold in our master bathroom and kitchen. We had to move out of our house within 2 days of getting the news & then proceeded to live a nomadic lifestyle moving from friend’s house to hotel back to friend’s house (we made 14 moves from August to January). It made training a bit difficult. Oh, and did I mention that my then 3-year-old daughter had just had tonsil & adenoid surgery in July?

Back to my leg injury: Unfortunately, the first short run I did after my surgery left me with a piriformis and hamstring just as sore as they were before the time off. I decided it was time to go see someone about it. Dr. Steve, Dr. Vid, and Dr. C at TEAM Clinic in Santa Clara discovered that I had given myself scoliosis stemming from a large muscle imbalance in my back (from carrying my two small children predominately on my left side). This misalignment caused some nerves in my lower back & hamstring to misfire & manifested themselves into my leg pain. I also had some midback pain associated with the whole mess. The main issue was getting rid of all my scar tissue, while lining everything back up to where it was supposed to be. Just due to muscle tightening, my right leg was quite a bit shorter than my left. Through ART, stretching, core exercises and a lot of rolling around on tennis balls & foam rolls, my legs are the same length again, and the pain is mostly gone. On the rare occasion when it flares up, I have the know-how to get rid of it. I know a lot of you think this chiropractic stuff is some sort of voo-doo, but it really does work!

Just when we were two weeks away from moving back into our house and I was just getting back into running again, I rolled my left ankle hard by sliding down the carpeted steps at a friend’s house. Merry Christmas to me. I heard a loud popping noise & wondered what I had done to myself now! Turns out I had torn the fascia that holds my toe tendons down, but luckily had not damaged my tendons or broken any bones. Once again TEAM Clinic helped put me back together :) I didn’t start running until the end of January & it wasn’t pain free until I fully rested it the week before the race. I am happy to say that there is no pain in my ankle after the race!

But wait, I’m not finished - I didn’t yet have enough cards stacked against me. A little over two weeks before the race, stupid me decided it would be a good idea to swap out my aluminum seatpost for a carbon one. I figured I wouldn’t be changing my position, just making my bike lighter. Well without boring you with the details, let’s just say the aluminum seatpost had become one with my carbon Hotta frame. Sadly, I was unable to get the old seatpost out. Darrell Eng (he also raced at Arizona) at Front of the Pack in Palo Alto tried earnestly to get my seatpost out as well, but he too failed. He was extraordinary by practically giving my a P3 Carbon (he sold it to me at cost). Charged me no labor for swapping out my components & gave me a free bike fit that lasted an hour and half. I only got to ride the bike 3 hours before I had to ship out to the race, but had no real problems on the bike at the race - THANK YOU Darrell!

So, now you know that I really was thankful just to be on the starting line :) So, prerace nothing really worth noting. Hung out by the portos and worried a lot. Jumped into Tempe Town Lake (I’d swear it was a river, but locals insist that it’s actually a lake). The water is a brown and disgusting. You can’t see your own hand when it’s stretched out in front of you. However, it was the perfect temperature with a wetsuit on. Not too hot, not too cold. The start was much wider than it was for IM Wisconsin in 2005 (my only other Ironman experience), so thankfully it wasn’t as brutal a start as my first ironman. I had my own space as long as I didn’t try to swim the shortest line right up against the buoys (these are hard to find anyways, since the rising sun is glaring off the water and on to your goggles). Normally I’m a good drafter, but because the water visibility was zero, I’m sure I drove a few people temporarily insane hitting their toes over and over again. If you are thinking of doing the race, practice siting efficiently. Some people were lifting their entire chests out of the water every other stroke. If you can just swing your head to the front after taking a breath without lifting your chest, you can save yourself a lot of energy. One thing to note, the swim past Rural Rd bridge is a lot longer than it looks on the map. I kept wondering if there was a third bridge in the middle that I had somehow missed on the map :) Then, just when I had convinced myself that I hadn’t swum under the Rural Road bridge yet, there was the first buoy. As expected, people get crazy physical around the buoys, doing their beastly breaststroke kicks and clawing their way around. I hate this - just turn 90 degrees and keep swimming freestyle, gol dang it! Got smacked in the back of the head once around this first buoy and then again just before going under the Rural Rd bridge on the return. Whoever it was hurt himself more than he hurt me. I heard him yell “All Right...” I ignored him & kept swimming - he hit me, right? There was only one other woman that I saw the entire swim (we had blue caps, men had white). We kept swapping positions. I thought the swimmer with the long nails scraping me must have been some female with Flo-Jo like acrylic nails, but I was wrong - it was a guy. Please guys, cut your nails before the swim start - really, don’t they just add unnecessary weight? I mean, the extra water that you’re pulling with these claws can’t amount to much when you are getting them stuck in other people’s wetsuits. Return swim was then uneventful until the last buoy into the finish. Some a-hole grabbed my left thigh squarely, and pulled for what seemed like a good 10 seconds (which, believe me, is a long time when you are going backwards that close to the swim finish). At first I was thinking , “let go of my f-ing leg, you slimy bastard,” but then I thought that was a pretty crafty cheating tactic since I wasn’t able to kick him in the face (oh, and believe me, I tried). Up the steps and over the timing mat. Hooray! I bested by IMWI time by a minute.

2.4 Mile Swim 1:02:08 1:39 per 100m 7/98 age group, 224/2066 overall 

T1 (swim to bike transition for all you non-triathletes) was good. Didn’t see Graeme (a friend of Mike & myself who came out to watch the race) - guessed he was busy shooting the pros with his press pass (Graeme you crack me up - I can’t believe you talked your way into a press pass). Lots of spectators lining the chute, and the wetsuit puller-offers are awesome. I still wish these volunteers existed in shorter races! Ran with my wetsuit, around to the bags. They have a good system of calling out your number over a speaker before you round the bend to get your bag. Into the change tent where your own personal volunteer dumps your swim to run bag on the ground and asks what she can do. Make sure to put a small towel in your bag to wipe the grass off your feet - my feet were covered. Out of the tent - thought it was prudent to stop and get covered with sun screen. After all, the race is in the desert! I did have to wait about 30 seconds or so for my bike after I explained that the bike they were handing me wasn’t 2210 (my number), but was 2211. No matter, didn’t bother me at the time, I just used the time to get my heart rate down. Clip-clopped to the mount line and was on my way.

T1 5:17

The first loop (you do 3) on the bike was great, the wind was minimal (probably 7-10mph) and I was doing 22mph out of town. This surprised me since the way out of town is a slight uphill grade, but I was properly humbled when I learned it was just the wind pushing me at the turn around. Butterflies are kind of my spiritual cheerleader, so I pray before my big races to see them on the course just so I know that I’ll be OK & that I’ll finish. I knew there weren’t going to be so many butterflies in the desert, especially on a windy day, but I was still looking :) Just a couple miles or so on to the course, on Rio Salado I happened to look up and saw a giant butterfly on a billboard (woo-hoo!). That was cool and settled me down into the ride. So after I turned around and hit the wind, even though I was now going downhill, I averaged about 18mph back into town. You get a nice lift from the crowd at the Mill St bridge & it was so nice to get out of the wind at the bridge turn around. I heard Graeme somewhere near the start of the second loop, but didn’t see him. My vision was a bit blurry, don’t know if it was the wind or dryness or what, but between the bike vibration and my contacts not being clear, there was no way I was going to make a face out in the crowd. Back out onto the course, dang! I forgot to look for the billboard. No problem, I’ve got one more loop to look. Now I’m going 24mph, so I know the wind will be stronger when I turn around. It’s definitely harder now going into the wind. The hourly weather forecast I had looked at was right on the money. Now the sustained winds were around 15mph with some larger gusts. Now I’m averaging about 16mph downhill back to town. Somewhere along this second loop my stomach started getting tight. I was drinking more since it was so dry and windy & since I was drinking more Gatorade & my raspberry lemonade concoction (raspberry hammer gel & lemonade Gatorade), I was taking in too many calories. I cooled it on drinking for the next half hour & stuck to water at the next aid station. So just as the pros are getting out of the wind, it gets ugly. On the third loop I forget to look up at the billboard again. Just as I’m crabbing at myself for missing it, a small butterfly ambles right in front of my bike - that was a total spirit lifter & that was a brave butterfly out in 20mph winds! Early on in the loop, I catch a glimpse of Rutger Beke cruising into T2 - envy fills my soul. But it’s OK, so now I’m going uphill at 26mph thinking I’ve got this 20mph avg thing bagged, and let’s get on to the run. I should have clued in that 26mph uphill is awfully fast, especially for me! By now, my elbows are sore and my traps are killing me - no doubt due to a more aggressive position and the new bike in general. I shrug it off, thinking I don’t need my elbows and traps to pedal & I don’t need them to run, so who cares. Then I hit the turn around - a wall of wind hits me. Alright, now we’re up around 20mph sustained with 40mph gusts. This is getting a bit ridiculous, but at least this is it. I just have to crawl back to town & I can get off this God-forsaken lump of carbon (really, the P3C is awesome, but I was done at this point). Just after the turn around I notice my left foot is starting to get “hot foot” where the metatarsal area swells up and the pressure becomes painful. I had this at IMWI around mile 40 and it was severe by the end of the ride. I thought no socks would solve the problem, and that certainly helped since I only had about 18 miles to go, but it didn’t stop the problem altogether. I decided to do some extra toe wiggling and dumped water on my foot at every aid station - that did the trick. Now I was slowing to 12mph in some spots & had to come out of the aero position (which I had barely done previous to this) just to keep from getting blown over. It was mainly a head wind, but there were some good swirly gusts sweeping sideways too. I heard a couple tales after the race about near misses and battles with tumble weeds in the spokes. I was glad to have been spared! With 11 miles to go, Mike (my husband) goes screaming by me & doesn’t notice me till I yell at his behind (well, I did just get a new bike & he must have been in the zone). This helped my morale, because he was having an awesome bike & his swim must not have been as bad as he imagined it would be. That lasted for about 30 seconds until the next swirly gust smacked me in the face. Darrell would tell us later that he lost both of his contacts on the bike - even with sunglasses on. I wear contacts, but if I lost both of them on the bike my race would be over. I have to special order my contacts because no one keeps my prescription (or anything remotely close to it) stocked. Time for lasik. Well, until then, an extra pair goes in my T2 bag. I always keep an extra pair in my swim to bike bag because sooner or later someone will knock off my goggles and I’ll lose them in the water, but I never even considered them falling out on the bike. Luckily Darrell was prepared & had another pair for the run. So back to the bike, I desperately wanted to stand up and change positions, but there was no way I was going to stand up in that wind. On previous loops, the wind dissipated once you turned off the Beeline, but not on the third. Seemed to still be a headwind even when you turned 90 degrees. Shades of Wisconsin 2005, but the wind was much stronger this time. I also needed my inhaler the second half of this loop, but didn’t have it. I’ve never had breathing issues on a bike before, but then I don’t usually ride 112 miles in the desert with 40mph wind gusts either. I was never so happy to be getting off a bike, and these sentiments were shared by everyone else around me. Misery loves company. I still managed to meet my goal time (just barely!), but man did the second half of the last loop crush my average. I really improved my bike from Wisconsin (thank you Megumi, Stuart, and Graeme for kicking my sorry behind every Saturday). In Wisconsin my bike time was 27th in my age group, this time I was 9th with a tougher field and a tougher conditions (well, maybe not tougher conditions, but certainly windier). I’m sure it didn’t hurt that I was riding a new P3C (thanks again, Darrell!).

112 Mile Bike: 5:55:16, 18.9mph 9/98 age group, 470/2066 overall 

T2 is awesome. As soon as you step off your bike, a volunteer takes it. You run up and around the bags, got my bag & then ran directly (with my aero helmet still on) into the porto-john. It was so dry & windy, I didn’t have to pee until the last hour of the bike & I figured I could just hold it until I got off. That worked, but I felt like I was peeing forever. It was a good minute. Ran into the tent changed my shoes, grabbed my inhaler and then took off. Noticed I was leaving the tent with another woman who could be in my age group but I couldn’t see her age on her calf as she was wearing some sort of Leider-hosen (ok, probably that silly-looking support sock meant to ward off cramps & plantar fascia, but it looked like Leider-hosen. Don’t ask what Leider-hosen is. Just say it out loud with a German accent [yeah, I know Leider is Dutch] & you’ll know what I mean). More on her later. Skipped the sun screen this time (It’s too late by now) and puffed away on my inhaler to the start.

T2 3:29

Saw Graeme on the timing mats to start the run leg (he’s got a press pass, remember!) & he informed me that Mike was just a couple minutes ahead. Since my inhaler had me feeling normal again, and I had no real “hot foot” to contend with this time I belted out an 8:25 pace for the first mile. Passed Mike somewhere in there while we were still in the park. He seemed surprised to see me so quickly, but he had stopped to chat with Graeme so I kind of sneaked up on him. Gave him a tap on the behind and went off. Shortly thereafter, Katja Shumaker passed me and Leider-hosen girl (who was still with me) asked if she was in “our” age group. I thought since she was German, and Katja was German, she ought to know she was a pro, but I just told her, “no, that was a pro, and she just lapped us” (you do three 8.75 mile loops on the run). Granted, they started 15 minutes before us, but we still got lapped. So now I look down and can see the “35" written under the Leider-hosen girl’s leg (Incidently, she does have an actual name - Alexandra - but she got the last Kona spot in our age group, so she’s officially Leider-hosen girl). She then takes off after Katja, I thought never to be seen again. About a mile later, the eventual woman’s winner, Heather Gollnick goes by running with a male pro. I shouted out to her to go get the leaders, she was looking stronger. It’s very cool to be in a sport where you can participate right alongside the pros, doing the same course at the same time with the same support. So the first 8 miles were awesome, I slowed a bit after the first mile & was averaging 8:40 miles to that point. And then, my hands started to tingle just like the second half of my run at Wisconsin. This time, though, I knew that meant I wasn’t getting enough oxygen. I took out my inhaler (against doctors orders) and took another drag. Now it was just my finger tips. Okay, so I knew now I was going to slow down some. If I’m not getting enough O2, my body refuses to get the heart rate up and I’m forced to go slower. Saw Graeme in the park (actually saw him!) - tried to give a smile. On the second loop I passed a pro on the run, Amanda Lovato, but I know she has trouble with asthma too, so I wonder if that’s why she was walking. On the back of the loop there were signs & Graeme had made one that said “Jeanette - Kona Bound”, that helped pump me up a bit every time I passed it. There was a sign somewhere in there that said something along the lines of “Time to suck it up”, that made me chuckle. They also have a big monitor up with less than a mile to go on the loop & Mike and Graeme had typed in messages. I only got to read them the first 2 loops, on the third one it was too crowded & mine didn’t come up. Around mile 20 I could feel a side stitch starting to form. I breathed deeply & staved it off until I could guzzle some gatorade at the next aid station. It helps to know all my body’s signs from training. I figured out some time ago that I only get side stitches when I’m dehydrated. I had to use my inhaler twice more & then a fourth time on the third loop when my chest was actually starting to hurt. I took the last hit & then decided I could go the last three miles & then head to the med tent. All of a sudden with 3 miles to go, Leider-hosen girl appears from nowhere. I totally thought she had smoked me, but she must’ve stopped somewhere. I stayed with her for half a mile & then she really turned on the after burners & I couldn’t go. Sadly, although I didn’t know it at the time, I watched Leider-hosen girl run off with my Kona spot. Nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the finish line really is “just around the corner” after you get off the bridge. Spectators (especially the non-athletic ones) have a tendency to tell you that “you’re almost there” when you still have a mile to go or more. A mile is a long way at the end of 140.6. As I crossed the finish line, I didn’t hear my name called again (I didn’t hear it at IMWI either). I don’t know if that’s because I finished too closely behind someone else, or if my ears aren’t working at the end of the race :) The finish line was awesome to see, and although I was a bit short of my goal time (I wanted to go sub-11), I was proud of my performance & enjoyed the finish.

26.2 mile Run 4:02:24 9:16/mile 9/98 age group 231/2066 overall

TOTAL 11:08:31 6/98 age group 236/2066 overall

I saw Graeme just after the finish line, but I had to go to the tent to get a nebulizer treatment. I knew that my asthma would flare up about 10 minutes after I stopped. I wasn’t the only one getting a breathing treatment - a couple other guys were in there. We shared race experiences while raising our resting heart rates with albuterol. I had to do two rounds of treatments this time. I have to figure out this asthma thing for the next Ironman race. I’ve never had any trouble in half ironmans or in training, but sure seems to be a problem at the long distance. I will try something different for my medication and use my inhaler proactively on the bike. It would probably help to do a race that isn’t windy :) I lost Graeme since I was in the med tent for so freaking long (a good hour). Decided to go get my phone and warm clothes (by this time I was freezing). Got my morning clothes bag & was so happy to see my warm hat & jacket. There’s just no moisture in the air to trap the daytime heat & it gets cold at night. Especially with the wind whipping around. I called my parents (who were graciously watching our 2 & 4 year old at our house back in California - Thanks Mom & Dad - you rock) and learned from my dad that I got 6th place again, missing 5th by a couple minutes (2:15 to be exact). A bit disappointing since I was 6th at IM Wisconsin and just missed 5th by 2:01. Despite taking 51 minutes off my Ironman time (granted, it’s a different course) I was still 2 minutes from qualifying. After getting Mike’s finishing time from my Dad (12:54) & went to find him in the food tent area. I was not disappointed and Graeme was there too. Mike did such an awesome job finishing over an hour and a half faster than he did in Wisconsin despite being 25lbs heavier. Whenever Mike is ready to put IM training to the top of his list (it’s waning around 4th or 5th right now) watch out, he’ll be contending for Kona too. His bike time is practically already there, so with some more swim and run training he’ll be all the way there.

We hobbled back to the hotel, ate some ice cream & fell asleep. I was so hepped up on albuterol and caffeine, that I stared at the ceiling for quite some time after Mike fell asleep, but it was just good to lay there and not move. We went to the IM slot roll down Monday morning, but of course it only rolled down to 5th & Leider-hosen girl was there to take the spot. First loser, again. So, if I can just figure out this asthma thing I’ll have a good shot at getting a spot in September (Mike and I signed up to do IMWI on September 9th). At least I know all the fastest women are already going to Kona 5 weeks later, so the competition shouldn’t be quite as fierce as Arizona (although, you never know). We also signed up to do Arizona again next April, so I’ll have another go at it then if September doesn’t pan out. That should take off some of the pressure. Honestly, Wisconsin is such a fun race with all the spectators, I’ll have a good time regardless. And, strangely, I enjoy training for the long races although it does take a big hit on my life socially. Plus, somewhere along the way Mike and I became the crazy triathletes whose only vacations are built around Ironman races. When did that happen?

Until next time,
Jeanette

Ironman Wisconsin 2005

My first Ironman. It was a really tough day. The race director has dubbed this race the "Carnage Man", as it had the highest DNF percentage (19%!!) out of any Ironman race conducted in the past 20 years. Temperatures reached 94 degrees and it was really windy on the bike. The heat, hills, humidity, and wind took it's toll - over 200 people didn't make the bike cutoff and were pulled off the course. On top of all this, the air quality was at a poor rating (more on this later).

Before I begin my race day, I should mention that all through my training I would see butterflies. They seemed to fly in front of me & beside me during almost all of my training runs and I came to think of them as my spiritual cheerleaders. Seeing a butterfly would always lift my spirits during a training run. So, in my pre-race prayer I asked God to please let me see at least one butterfly on the course, just so I would know that I would finish.
After spending the prior three days in a nervous coma (phrase coined by Mike), I was glad to wake up to the actual race morning. One year of work was finally going to pay off. I was unusually calm race day morning. Everything went smoothly pre-race. I got in the water with enough time to wedge myself into the second row fairly close to the buoys. After swimming a bit of the course Saturday morning, I had decided to get close (but not right next to) the course buoys, as starting wide would add a good extra 200yds to my swim. There were 2000 people starting at once, so I was going to get clobbered wherever I started, I figured I might as well swim the shortest distance as possible. This was my first experience starting with males (they made up 75% of the athletes), and let me say they are quite a bit more aggressive than females. I got elbowed in the face once pretty good, and got kicked & clawed in the ribs and legs more times than worth counting. Things finally started to spread out after making the turn around for the second lap. At the start of this lap another woman was next to me and we were swimming stroke for stroke the same speed. After 5-10 minutes of this I decided to let her go ahead and I slipped in behind her for the draft. That was great, as I just had to follow her feet as she maneuvered through all the people. Going the same speed with 20% less effort! I did this until there was a quarter lap left. My drafter started sighting poorly and wasn't swimming in a straight line anymore, so I went solo in from there. I got kicked a few times in the ribs (I hate it when people stop to sight and then do a breaststroke kick), but otherwise it was painless. I did feel my triceps throbbing at the end, but I wouldn't be needing them the rest of the day, so all was good.

Swim 2.4miles 1:03:04 11/111 in my age group

Exiting the swim was a breeze. Volunteers pull you up and out and then you lie down on the ground and more volunteers pull off your wetsuit. This was really cool - I hate getting out of my wetsuit! From there I grabbed my wetsuit and ran up two stories of the parking lot ramp to the transition area. The ramp was swamped with spectators cheering, so it didn't take much effort to get up to the hallway. From the hallway you run into a ballroom, volunteers shout out your number and another volunteer grabs your wetsuit and your transition bag and leads you over to the changing room. There you can sit on a chair as the volunteer dumps out your bag and asks what they can do for you. Mine was great - she unsnapped my race belt, laid everything out and got me a cup of water. I put on my socks, helmet, and race belt and ran out the door, down the hall again to the parking lot where the bikes were racked. I was carrying my shoes and had planned to put them on at my bike (so I didn't have to run in my clips), but the ground was wet at the entry point (they had cups of water there), so I stopped and put them on there so I wouldn't get my socks wet. I ran to my bike, a couple of volunteers unracked it for me, I ran wayyyy down to the other end, then mounted my bike to ride down the ramp.

T1 6:36

I saw Maggie (my sister-in-law) on the ramp on the way down, and then I was off. For all of you unfamiliar with the bike course, it's a two loop lollipop. You ride a straight stretch out to Verona, do two loops through Mt Horeb and Cross Plains, and then ride the stick back to Madison. Once on the bike I tried to relax and get my heart rate down from a raging 150. My plan was to keep my HR in the 130s for the bike so I didn't blow up on the run. Since I had never ridden the course before, I didn't know what speed that would be. It seemed like forever (it was about 20 minutes) before my heart rate came down and I was able to relax into a good cadence. There are a ton of turns in the first 5 miles, so it's hard to get any speed going. Once I hit the first hills on the lollipop stick, I was feeling good and enjoying myself. There were a lot of farmers and other townsfolk out at the end of their driveways cheering us on. Shortly after starting the first loop, I saw the sign that gave me the best laugh all day - it was "Holy F**K - You're doing an Ironman!". The first loop of the bike was awesome. After training in the Santa Cruz mountains and foothills all year, the hills at this race were small & I was cruising up and down them & having a blast. It was so much easier than the computrainer course (you can't get much momentum transfer off of hills on that - for those of you that don't know it's a bike trainer) and easier than our usual training ride at home. I saw my first butterfly at about mile 15. It was a small white one, not unlike the butterflies at home. That put a huge smile on my face, and relaxed me a lot. I saw the second one right by the Virgin Mary statue. That was also cool. In all I saw 20 butterflies on the first loop. Old Sauk Pass was very cool. Just like I had read from other race reports, it was just like the Tour de France. People lining the hill, leaving a narrow path for you to ride through - everyone shouting your name. The only negative on the first loop was pain in the balls of my feet starting around mile 54. This hadn't happened in training except on really long rides (100-125 miles) so that was disappointing, and no matter how I tried to shift my feet, I couldn't get rid of the pain. It followed me through the rest of the bike. In hindsight, my feet probably swelled from the heat and this put more pressure on my clips. Nonetheless, I was feeling great and right on target for a 6:15 bike split when it got realllllly hot and reallllly windy.

On the first loop, there was a noticeable head wind for maybe 5 out of the 42 miles, on the second loop there was a headwind for roughly 40 of the 42 miles. The stretch from Verona to Mt Horeb felt easy the first loop, on the second loop I was battling the wind & was hoping it would dissipate at every turn. Somehow, with the exception of a few downhills, the wind would switch direction all the way around the course. There was a headwind all the way around the loop! It was crazy. I felt bad for the slower swimmers and bikers that would experience that headwind for both loops. So now the temperatures were really starting to rocket and I knew I wouldn't be seeing as many butterflies on the second loop. I still saw 10 more and four of these were Monach butterflies that floated right out in front of my bike (no, I didn't hit any of them!). On the second loop, those butterflies really helped cleanse me of any negative thoughts. They always seemed to appear right when my foot pain was intensifying, or when I started having negative thoughts about doing what I was doing. Going up Old Sauk Pass this time, someone yelled "Hey, red bike, it's you again - pull over, we've got bacon on the grill!" Mike said that the devil (a guy always dresses up as a devil and hangs out on this hill every year) had bacon on his pitch fork and was waving it in front of people. On the second loop I was starting to worry about Mike, as I was expecting him to pass me on the first loop. I figured since he's so big, the heat was taking a heavy toll on him. He did pass me around mile 90, and it was awesome to see him! That was a big relief and allowed me to relax once again. I will say, this was the first time that I ever saw people laid out on the grass (in the shade) on the side of the road. One guy pulled over to the side a few feet in front of me, got off his bike, and did a nestea plunge right into the grass. The race director mentioned that at a usual race, ambulances pick up 20 people off the bike course. This race, it was somewhere around 220 people. I heard ambulances screaming all day long. I'd say hundreds of people passed me on the bike. I just stuck with my mantra of relaxed, patient, strong, and let them go by. They were either much faster than me, or I'd be seeing them on the marathon. And see them on the marathon, I did!

112 mile bike 6:35:03 27/111 in my age group

By the time I got off my bike at T2, I didn't much feel like talking. It was outstanding to have a volunteer take my bike (I didn't have to rack it - hooray!). My feet were absolutely killing me, so I took off my bike shoes so I wouldn't have to run on my clips. I carried them into the T2 room, and sat down in a fog. The air conditioning felt great. I changed my socks, put on my run shoes, took one long drag off of my inhaler, and was off. Got slathered with sunscreen, took a quick stop at the portos and started my run.

T2 3:31

The run started off HOT. It was about 2:45 when I started, so I knew it would keep getting hotter until about 4:00. So, I dumped ice into my hat at the aid stations and held more in my hands as I ran. This did wonders in keeping my body temp down. My feet were throbbing the first mile, and then either I got used to the pain, or it subsided enough so that I could stop thinking about it. I passed Mike about 15 minutes into the run. He still looked good, I gave him some ice out of my hand and squeezed and went on. I was a little disappointed to find that there were no people in the stadium as we ran around, but it was nice to run on the turf instead of the cement. My plan was to keep my heart rate in the low 140s, so I was sticking to that. At the end of the first 10K, :55 had passed and I thought I'd be able to reach my sub-4 marathon goal. Then, at around this same point my hands began to tingle - a slight pins and needles like both hands were asleep. I tried not to think about it too much, but this continued for the last 20 miles of the marathon. I also slowed down to 10 minute miles for the second half of the first loop. Heart rate was the same, but I was slower. At the time, I thought this was just a matter of my body saying "Hey, aren't we done now?" since I didn't do any transition runs longer than an hour in training. However, in hindsight, I now know the hand tingling meant I wasn't getting enough oxygen and I just couldn't go any faster without it hurting. I passed hundreds of people on the run, so that was really cool - kept giving me the will to go, go go. Every time we ran on State Street, I was looking for my parents, Daria and Max, but unfortunately I never saw them. Our timing was off. I did see Chris 3 times (or I should say Chris saw me 3 times - I always ended up shouting his name after he had passed and my brain registered who that was that was talking to me!). I also saw Maggie on Observatory Hill the second time around, so that was cool. I did see Mike again (or rather he saw me) with about 1.5 miles to go. The last 10K I was able to ratchet my speed up to 9 minute miles (well, close to that) and at mile 25 I realized that I only had 9 minutes to go 1+.2 miles if I wanted to finish in under 12 hours. I dug deep and thoroughly enjoyed the run down the finisher's chute. It's pretty amazing to have hundreds of people shouting your name - gives you that rock star feeling for a bit :)

Run 4:11:40 3/111 in my age group
Total time 11:59:52 6/111 in my age group

So after I finished, two volunteers walked me around and asked me how I felt. I told them about my hands and they walked me over to the med tent. They weighed me (I was half a pound heavier than at weigh in) so that wasn't the issue. Then they had me drink half a coke (this tasted sickly sweet to me), plus they gave me some chicken broth. Then, as I was sitting there I realized I was about to have an asthma attack, but I hadn't carried my albuterol with me. The med tent had been sent air meters instead of inhalers, so I had to go sit in an ambulance to get a nebulizer treatment. Of course, my dad is watching me go into the ambulance without knowing what's going on. They even started up the engine to get the AC running - when I came out he yelled at me. Something about being insane and jeopardizing my health - and I'd better never do one of these again! I had never had an asthma attack in warm weather before, but then I had never exercised for 12 hours straight before, either. Next time I'll be sure to use a preventative inhaler the week before the race. Next time? Yeah, next time. I was too close to going to Kona for there not to be a next time. Top four in my age group automatically got slots to Kona and I was 3 minutes from 4th place. One of those four people denied their bid, so one slot rolled down to 5th place (I was two minutes from 5th). Soooooooooo close. Arrgh. I'm a firm believer that things happen for a reason, so I'll be riding my bike a lot this winter to make up some time. If I had qualified I don't think I would have quite the desire to improve that I have now.

In all, it was a great day. One that I won't forget. I think I will be sticking to half-ironmans next year, but I'll be back for more in 2007!
 

ride.