IRONMAN Wisconsin Race Report

IRONMAN Wisconsin
September 7, 2008
Madison, WI
Previous Best: 13:54:12
Goal: With spotty training, breaking 13hrs is my focus.

(To be filled out later, but here are photos in the meantime)

PRE-RACE WEEK
It seems the more I read race reports, the more I'm convinced the real story isn't the race, but the journey that leads up to the race. In truth, the race itself is only a small microcosm in the grand scheme of things. Ususally the more interesting and compelling part is are the trial and tribulations people have to deal with before the race. The anxiety and fears building to a bubbling boil. This race would be no different. With only two triathlons under my belt, one of them IMAZ April 2007 and the other an Olympic distance this summer (NJ State Triathlon), what awaited me in WI was anyone's guess, but with much more knowledge than before, having ridden the bike all winter long and a better understanding of my limitations, this race would prove to be exciting if not encouraging. With that said, it was about to be the most hectic Pre-Race Week of my life. A good friend of mine, Ellen, got married just a few weeks prior to the race in Sutton's Bay, MI (the NW corner of the lower peninsula) and they were kind enough to hire me as their photographer, but they were having the reception back in Grand Rapids, MI a few weeks later. Everyone see where this is going? Right...so as said photographer, I shot the wedding, but I also agreed to shoot the Friday night reception. YIKES! Not a bad mistake considering the race was on Sunday, but certainly not the most sane decsision I've ever made. So here's the schedule: Fly into Milwaukee, WI on Thursday (much cheaper flights than Madison), have my parents pick me up (they were driving in from MI), do packet pick-up, get in practice swim, pick up the pick and then relax back at the hotel. Friday morning would be tentative as far as a workout was concerned, then get on a plane at the Madison airport headed for Grand Rapids for the reception. Spend the night in Grand Rapids, leaving EARLY Saturday morning, make the tailend of the practice swim in Madison, prep the bike and gear, make all appropriate Gear Bag dropoffs and then rest up for the big day. Oh, and once Monday rolled around, I was heading out to LA that afternoon for a photography conference until Thursday morning. When it was all send and done, I think I was on 12-14 separate flights that week. Exhausted and drained, I prayed these sacrifices wouldn't show up too much in my overall time. But who knows? Only time would tell. On the other hand, for those who silently chastised me for biting off more than I could chew, think of it this way: By shooting the wedding and sacrificing a part of my race, I was able to pay for the entire trip to WI and LA from the money I earned shooting the wedding. Ergo, without the wedding I wouldn't have been able to financially afford the race. Either way, I was glad to be at the wedding as a friend and as a photographer. The photographs rocked!

With flight schedule after flight schedule checked and accounted for, my epic juggling of all
things logistical began to run its course and before I knew it, I was on my way to WI. First up, after landing safely of course, packet pick-up and then a practice swim. Usually the practice swims sessions are during the morning hours, but since the Lake Monona was public, we could swim at any time--at your own risk of course. Unfortunately, today would be riskier than normal. It was raining in Madison - and though the eye of the storm had already passed - the water was extremely choppy. Nonetheless, I was told the water was a decent temperature and I figured what the heck...I'm going to be wet anyway, why not? Besides, if race conditions were going to be anything like this, I better get all the practice I can right now. As I jumped into the water I realized this was not going to be easy. And after a 60 minute, 1 mile swim (yes, I said 60 minutes for 1 mile) I began to panic. I hurried back to the hotel and got on the DC Tri Club Forum immediately:

What does one do when swimming in tidal waves. I'm only kidding...slightly. Today was my first day in the water at IMWI, and though it rained all day (and still is) and the weather prediction is slightly better for Sunday, I'm a little concerned for Sunday.

We all know I suck in the pool, but today was a completely different beast. Going out was OK, but when I made the turn at the final buoy it became quite difficult. I felt like I was going nowhere. I was tossed and turned every stroke. Half the time I'm kicking with my leg out of the water and the other half my arm enters the water near my hip because of the waves. (The waves were white capping at moments).

WHAT DO I DO?

Do I just suck it up and deal with it? Is there a special technique for choppy water? Am I that bad of a swimmer? (The answer is YES) But truly, do I just plug away? A couple of points I just stopped after I took the 6 mouthful of water and said "What the F**K!

Here's to hoping the water is calm on Sunday.

I was lost and concerned. More importantly, I was tired and it showed the next morning. So I forwent my Friday swim and boarded the plane headed to Grand Rapids thinking only of my sore body and my propensity to be dead weight in the water. I swam a 1:39 in AZ last year, which isn't good at all, but now I was looking at barely making the cutoff of 2:20. I was worried.

The reception went well and it was great to see old friends and crazily enough, I even saw new friends from DC all the way in Grand Rapids...crazy! But it was great mainly because I wasn't thinking about the race. I had a job and a task to do and as long as I stayed focused, I would be alright. That is until I had to fall asleep. They say the most important night of sleep is the evening 2 nights before a big race...not the night before. If this was true, I was screwed. With all the partying and snoring of all the guests, I managed to eek out a mere 3-4 of sleep before being wisked away to the airport. I was in trouble. Feet sore, back still hurting from Thursday's swim it was time kick it into overdrive: Sleep with a little bit praying on the side.

I had made the decision the night before not swim on Saturday, but I wasn't entirely certain that was the best option. Though I was tired, I certainly wasn't mentally prepared to tackle that swim. Thursday's practice swim left a bad taste in my mouth...literally...and now I was doomed to relive that in my mind. Luckily Phil had just arrived in WI and wanted to know if I wished to join him for one last swim. That was all I needed. I texted him back "YES" and immediately called my folks and arranged for them to bring my wetsuit, cap and goggles with them to the airport. Our destination now wasn't the hotel bed, but the water. And THANK GOD! we did. What an easier swim. With the whitecaps subsided and my fears alleviated, I could now focus on preparing for the race instead of preparing for my death. I was 18 hours away from my 2nd Ironman.

PRE-RACE
The morning of was pleasantly calm and with my new found appreciation for compression tights I was ready to race. Wetsuit? Check. Racing Kit? Check. Special Needs Bags? Check. Bike and Run Gear Bags? Check...only because I was late to drop them off the night before. Sanity? Sanity?....Sanity? Well, we can't always be perfect. :)

I strolled into Transition after dropping my bags off and took note of which aisle I was positioned in. More importantly, I noticed that Phil and I were right next to each other in transition. His bib number - #498. My bib number - #497. This meant that our bikes and bags would be right next to each other. Additionally, it also meant that since I had borrowed Eric's TT helmet our bags looked exactly alike. Not good...well, not good for Phil. Fine for me. He's the faster swimmer by far, so if there was going to be a screw up, it would happen on his end, not mine.

I headed to the bike corral and found Phil there making a few last minute adjustments. I did the same. Taped on a few more Hammer Gels and Endurolytes, removed the plastic bag protecting my handlebars from any rain and placed my water bottles in their cages. I warned Phil about the helmet issue and he said, "No worries, I've marked my bag with some blue tape on the handle so I'll know it's mine." "Nice idea," I replied. "Very smart." (I learned later that Phil had indeed picked up my bag heading into T1---too funny!) And that was it. It was now a waiting game. Sit down and relax, head off to the bathroom for the morning ritual, sit down and relax, head back to the bathroom. - all routine. We put on our wetsuits, stretched some more, introduced my parents to Phil and we made our way down to the start.

SWIM (2.4 MILES)
Like a mass of lemmings headed to the edge of the cliff, the athletes slowly shuffled into the water. In the past my thought was to hold back as long as possible before getting in the water, conserve as much energy as possible - but this year I said screw it. Nearly 10-15 before the gun was to sound I made my way into Monona Lake...and let me say, "Thank Heaven!" I was calm I was focused and most importantly I was acclimated to the water BEFORE I had to swim. The latter fact alone is reason enough for me to get into the water early from now on. The swim had me scared, but my hopes were to just beat my abismal 1:39:19 from IMAZ, if I could pull off a 1:30 I would be ecstatic. But with a new found exuberance in the water, I was happy. This might be a fun day after all. I looked to the shore as the crowd roared with anticipation, then the sea of swimmers roared. We were about to embark on a journey and later today we would all be an Ironman. BANG!

With what is normally categorized as a human washing, with the water turning, the tide shifting and the bubbles stirring, the race began. Snap! went my cap as I was trounced by another swimmer. Crack! A shot to my nose. Pushing and pulling, we were salmon swimming upstream. A jolt to the ribs here and a nip at your toes, the water became a violent colliseum of gladiator swimmers. I hadn't experienced anything like it. I was so slow in IMAZ that I was never in a pack, and this year I THOUGHT I had positioned myself behind the better swimmers...but I guess not. It was a nasty, constant battle the entire first lap. Surely it would lessen on the 2nd lap. Alas, it was not to be and we continued to jostle under the water. The worst was at the turns - every athlete trying to cut off those few precious seconds and yards by taking the inside track. Was it worth the risk? I deemed it a worthy NO, and headed for the inside inside track - I swam on the inside part of the buoys. As long as I made the turns it didn't matter. I was not alone in my thought process and was accoompanied by what seemed to be over half of the field. Stroke, stroke, kick, PUNCH. Stroke, stroke, kick, PULL SOMEONE's FOOT. It was a controlled chaos. Any unseasoned swimmer would have given up instantly, and though I may not be the most seasoned, I was certainly here to fight back all day long.

The funny part about the 1st part of an Ironman (The Swim) is you never know how you're doing. You don't really have time to check your watch, you're attempting to stay calm and relaxed and yet your objective is to get out of the water as fast as possible. For me the objective is magnified by my inability to swim anywhere near a decent time. The longer I'm in the water, the further I fall to the end of the pack.

As I spotted the final turn and headed for home I had a gut feeling that I was around a 1:38 at best. It didn't feel much different from IMAZ and although I attempted to stay straight and glide my way through the water, I was certain my pace was only a slight improvement, if anything. Stroke, stroke, kick. The exit for the beach seemed a mile away. Stroke, stroke, kick. No more punching and pulling...thank God! Stroke, stroke...sand? SAND! Get up and run!!! I stood up in the water and headed for the exit. My googles removed, I looked at the clock: 1:24:10!!!!!!! A 15 minute improvement! HOLY SHIT! 1:24:10??? That's incredible! How did I do that? At best, the very best, I figured a 1:30, but not this. Excited and pumped up, I headed for T1.

1:39:19 IMAZ 2007
1:24:10 IMWI 2008
1559th overall (still at the back of the pack)

T1
T1 was interesting to say the least. The changing area was at the top of the Terrace, but the olnly way to get up there was through what they called the Helix - the circled 4 story parking garage ramp. We just swam 2.4 miles and now I need to run up what? This better count towards the 26.2 miles later on. Nonetheless, I was on cloud nine coming out of the water, stipped my wetsuit off and ran like hell up the ramp. "Go KIP! GO!" I heard from the crowd. I looked to my left and it was Mom and Dad. I'm pretty sure she yelled something obscene since she didn't expect to see me that soon and then I did something I hadn't planned on doing...I threw my wetsuit at her. I didn't toss it at her, I threw it at her. Over the heads of 3 unsuspecting spectators, dab smack it the kisser. "Put it in the car!" I yelled as I sprinted away. I thought to myself, "If you're going to do a 1:24:10, you better realize your racing this thing today!" And so I was.

As for the actual transition goes concerning clothes, shoes, helmet, etc. Enough cannot be said about the support staff and volunteers at this event. I sat down to put on my shoes and before I knew it some guy with rubber gloves had pulled out everything in my bag asking me "What's Next?" A personal assist in T1? This was amazing! I thanked the gentleman kindly and went on my way. The time may seem long, but so is the run to the bikes. Next time I'll be sure to run to my bike, THEN put my cleats on. You'd probably only say about 20-30 seconds, but it adds up at the end of the day.

7:30 IMAZ 2007
8:03 IMWI 2008 (slower, but not comparable)

BIKE (112 Miles)
Here's where the race is really won or lost. You either go out to hard in the beginning and blow up or you go out to slow and have too much energy at the end of the day. The former puts you in a world of hurt physically, while the former puts you in a world of hurt mentally. Either way, the elusive balance between pushing and conserving is what you need, but you don't always find it.

With nearly 1600 athletes ahead of me, I made short work of those around me and headed for the front of the pack. A hard, long winter of training on the bike gave me confidence that I could tackle a 6-hour leg, but with all the mitigating factors, I was unsure, but I had to try. To let a good swim go to waste would be a crime (a good swim for me that is) so I set off attempting to fuel up and fly by.

From what I gathered, most athletes considered this bike course to be harder than Lake Placid and since I've trained on the LP course a couple of times, I was cautious of hammering it early on. The last thing I wanted to do was to destroy myself early on, but my body was telling me something else. Mile after mile I began passing rider after rider. Now to say I didn't draft would be a lie, but with that many people in a pack, there's no way NOT to draft. It's the one problem of being a good biker and runner - you're always having to negotiate traffic. Nonetheless, I put my head down and picked off people one by one. 19.3 mph...smooth sailing. There were rollers, there were climbs, there were a couple of flats and there were also Pirates. What more could you want? (The Pirates were located at one of the aid stations near the latter half of the course. Everyone had a Pirate costume on and when you threw your empty bottles away, they actually had goals, nets and targets to shoot for. So small and so insignificant, yet it was my favorite thing of the day. When I got back to that spot on my 2nd loop, it provided the smile and energy I needed to push on, because I was hurting.) We went through a little town where the race was busing people out to and I was on cloud nine again. Flying through the field, I heard Mom & Dad scream (though I never actually saw them) and made the turn for loop number two. What I didn't know, was that I had the wrong directions.

Somehow, someone forgot to inform the field that there would be a massive headwind for the entire 2nd loop. Slapped with the backhand of reality, our dreams of setting new PR's were smashed to pieces. My only consolation lived in the Time Trial helmet I had borrowed from Eric. As the wind whipped by, my helmet cut through the forceful gales, however, my helmet alone could not save me. My overall speed dropped 2mph to a dismal 17.3. We were all hurting. Even my back.

Around mile 70-75 Mother Nature called me up and with the constant wind in our faces I made a judgement call: Get off now, use the port-o-john, stretch and pick it back up. I got as far as "Get off now." The moment I stepped off the bike my lower back seized up on me. I was in pain. Hunched over, the race is done, throw in the towel pain. Somewhere along the line I was pushing it too hard in the big gear and my lower back was paying a price. Stretching did not help, standing did not help. And as I was consoled by fellow riders I realized the day was done. My quads were beginning to spasm on me - a sign that I was either dehydrated or bonking - and my back would not let me push the pace. My goal now was to relax and enjoy the rest of the race. PR of no PR, I needed to come to the realization that it was over. A few more minutes of rest and I decided to give it one last go. I was going to finish the race no matter what, but "racing" was no longer an option. I clipped in at a measely 10mph, unable to pull up on the pedal nor get out of the saddle with the fear of cramping. I was a wounded athlete headed for enemy territory without any cover. I was a goner. Pedal, pedal, pain, pain. Pedal, pedal, pain, pain. Pedal, pedal...pedal, pedal? I can't believe it, my back was relaxing. My legs were still cramping, but my back was better. I was back in the game and though my 10 minute break would cost me, I was elated to continue on. Maybe not as fast as I wanted, but IT'S ON! Though I had to attack every hill/mountain by staying in the saddle, I pushed on. The Terrace in sight, I took stock of my situation. The run wasn't going to be pretty, but it was going to be. Like a horse smelling the barn, I pedaled home to a respectable time. 15-30 minutes slower than I would have liked, but overall, solid, very solid.

7:27:25 15mph IMAZ 2007
6:07:10 18.3mph IMWI 2008 (I wanted a 5:45, perhaps a 5:30 on a great day.)
688th place/bike overall

T2
Back up the Helix that we started down 112 miles ago, the only excitement here was when I got off the bike, I was running. Last year my foot cramped immediately. Tight back or not, I was racing! Woo-hoo!

7:27 IMAZ 2007
4:46 IMWI 2008 (You can even tell the I was better trained this time from the Transition time.)

RUN (26.2 Miles)
Shoes, hat, socks, gu packets, a tiny fanny pack and swig of gatorade. Everything you need to conquer the marathon - sans a fresh pair of legs and some extra salt tablets. Step, step, cramp. Step, step cramp. It wasn't debilitating, but it was painful. Daggers stabbing and slicing through my quads, my usual running gait was impossible. The only solution lay in a quick step stride increasing my cadence t0 around 100-120 steps a minute. An uncommon stride, but the only way I could push on. I passed Phil around mile 3 or 4, wished him good luck and pressed on. The run was pretty great, a two loop course around University of Wisconsin's campus including two laps around Camp Randall Stadium and a plethora of Michigan State Fans. (I wore my MSU racing gear instead of the normal DC Tri Club gear for two reasons: 1. The DC Tri Club gear is a little to tight on me and therefore doesn't breathe as well as I'd like it to - leading to overheating and 2. More people recognize the MSU gear leading to more cheers...ergo, I have more people who are watching me, and I can't let them down, can I? I know it's a weird psychological thing, but whatever it takes, right?) My original plan of 8-minute miles went out the window pretty quick, probably while I was on the bike, but somehow I managed to pull off a few of them at the top of the run. However, if was looking to finish this race in one piece I was going to have to reevaluate my pacing. 8:30's? Possible. 8:45's Likely. 9:00's? Hopefully not, but I'd still take it. I refused to walk the hills though most did, I continued to drink water and gatorade at every aid station and even began a new ritual - putting ice under my cap and even down my jersery (front & back). I found that, as the race wore on, my need for ice and water increased frequency, but the aid stations did not. So, whenever I needed some ice, I just zipped open my jersey and PRESTO! Yeah, I know it might seem disgusting, but it was a lifesaver. Mile after mile, I plodded along the course taking an expected and planned break for a 100 yards at the 21st mile and continued on. My pace was slowing slightly, but not dramatically and my dream of finishing the race while there was still daylight was about to come true. 22, 23, 24. I was feeling good. 2.2 miles to go and began to kick it in. Kicked it in at a nearly 7 minute mile pace until the end and I caught everyone that was in sight. Crossed the line with my arms held high, my jersey zipped up and legs completely dead. It was a PR by over 2 hours.

4:32:33 10:25 mile/pace IMAZ
3:55:10 8:59 mile/pace IMWI
267th place/ run overall

At the finish line I found my folks, or rather they found me, being held up by a couple of volunteers, I got my picture taken with my medal and was taken off to the food tent. Nearly 30 minutes later I gathered my wits and began for the exit. Gathered my gear and headed back to the hotel - not before heading to Pizzeria Uno's a late night victory meal. It was just my folks and me, but that was all that was needed. We ordered some wine, ate some pizza and I had a smoothie. I was stuffed and exhausted - and I need to be on a plane in Milwaukee in the early morning. It was time for bed. It was time to recoup. And it was time to rest. Afterall, Ironman Lake Placid is only 10 months away and a 10:45 is within my grasp. :)

Overall: 11:39:19
476th overall
101st/267 overall 30-34M
PR by over 2 hours