THE LONG ROAD BACK

I have not posted here since New Orleans 70.3 in April.  That was an auspicious beginning to my most focused season in the 20 years that I have competed as a triathlete. Last october I finished my first Ironman World Championship....not well.  I had high ambitions which got in the way of my real time perceptions.  So, I was determined to get back to the starting line this year, to be more in the moment and practice what I preach as a coach, “Take what the day gives you.”

After New Orleans in April, I went down to southern Ohio for my fifth and last Triple T, four races one weekend, endless hills.  It was a great weekend with a group of very talented triathletes all sharing the same cabin.  I kept my perfect five year record of never riding back up the hill after a race.  

I really enjoyed spending the time between races with cabin mates Joe Lotus, JB Birkelo, Cindi Bannink (First Place Woman Overall), Andy Nesheim and of course my regular TTT mate Tom Geldermann.  Other friends sloughing through the races were Sam Hill, Erin Finnegan, both competitors from New Orleans, and Jennifer Takata and Michelle Lanouette (First Place Senior Female Team).  

Two weeks after the Triple T, I headed west for the Kansas 70.3.  It was probably a little too soon.  For the first time in my triathlon life, I got on the bike following the swim, and had nothing.  Within the first couple of pedal strokes, it was clear that I couldn’t generate any power.  I didn’t panic, figuring that it would come if I just relaxed.  Well, it never did.  I managed third place in my age group, but was about 8 minutes slower than the year before.  It was still a great experience.  I finally got to meet Steve Ryan, and saw Ben Schloegel return to his previous form.

After Kansas in mid-June, it was all about preparing for IM Lake Placid.  My calf was no longer giving me any trouble, so my running such as it is, was beginning to come around.  With a small blip required to adjust to the arrival of heat and humidity, my training became steadily more focused on Ironman training as the race approached.

I left for Lake Placid, the Tuesday before the race with JB’s and Cindi’s bikes along for the ride.  JB would fly in a couple of days later and Cindi the day after that.  Cindi was there to support JB and me as well as her the athletes on her team who were in the race.

I arrived on Wednesday afternoon at the same moment that the rain began to fall steadily for the rest of the day.  I skipped the planned workouts for that day, but when the rain continued on Thursday, I had to get out.  I rode the first 10 miles of the bike course, out and back, in steady rain.  I was a bit intimidated by the descents, and worried that I would lose a bunch of time as I cautiously braked my way down them during the race.  This was confirmed the next day when JB and I drove the course.  A much longer descent was up the road a few miles from where I had turned around.  It proved to be the site of an interesting experience on race day.

By Saturday, Lake Placid was splitting at the seams with triathletes of all ages and shapes.  Lots of posing on Main Street.  Cindi, JB, and I met Sam and Liz Hill for dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, and almost had a “Five Easy Pieces” moment, for those of you old enough to get the reference.

My usual pre-race night of about four hours sleep was interrupted by the usual slugging down of 2 Ensures at 1am.  By 3:15am I was done.  Unfortunately, I misread my watch and was half way out of the lobby on my way to Starbucks to get my race day cup of coffee before I realized my mistake.  

After a few other race morning miscalculations, (some things never change), I was in the water waiting for the start.  The swim was relatively smooth.  The usual piranha start evolved into the usual first lap slap and pull fest.  This swim was a two lap affair requiring us to get out of the water after the first lap, run through the exit where the timing mats were located and jump back in.  The second lap was much smoother, and I managed to finish with a slight PR at 1:11.  

Transition to the bike was long, requiring a run up to the Olympic speed skating rink where all the bikes were racked. I quickly picked my bike transition bag and headed to the changing tent, out to the bike and on the road for the first 56 mile loop.  The day was overcast, with some drizzling during the swim. The bike began with a series of quick descents through town and out past the Olympic ski jump, and then proceeded to climb for about 6 miles.  At this point, the fastest part of the course began.  It was really raining at this point.  My anxiety about the descents was in the background, but lurking. I made it through the first section of downhills at full speed.  A relatively short section of rolling terrain led to the top of the famous 6 mile descent. My plan was to try to stay relaxed in the wide handlebars rather than the aeros.  I managed this till I hit a steep section that followed the only easy pitch of the long run down.  At that point, curves began that I made me uncomfortable.  I started feathering the breaks.  At about 40 mph, as I was getting near the end of the twisting descent, I heard what sounded like a gun shot.  I immediately realized that my rear tire had blown.

It took what seemed ages for me to stop.  The road was still curving back and forth.  I was on my rim with the tire half off.  I finally managed to stop.  Evidently the explosion had forced the tube out of the tire and it grabbed my hydration system, and ripped it off the bike.  I never saw it again.  Fortunately 3/5’s of my supply was still in a bottle in a cage behind my seat. I unzipped the pack that carried my spare tubes with an accompaniment of expletives.  My tools and spare CO2 cartridges dropped to the ground.  As I bent over to pick them up, a scooter with spare wheels attached to its rear fender pulled up.  The woman on it asked me not if I was okay, or if I needed help, but “What took you so long to stop?”  I explained that the rear tire kept fish tailing each time I tried to break.  At that point she could tell that I might not be thinking all that clearly.  She calmly said, “Let’s go slow to go fast.”  She then asked me to lift up the seat so she could get my rear wheel off.  I mumbled something about giving her my tube, but she had all ready pull out one of her own.  By the time, I had gathered the crap that had fallen from my pack, she was putting the wheel back on.  Amazing.  She changed that flat faster than I could have taken the wheel off and begun prying the tire from the rim.  She told me to get on and gave me a push which I hardly needed to start off on what remained of the hill.  When I looked back at my computer file, I found that it took about 80 seconds to stop after the blow out, and another 4 minutes and 40 seconds to get going again.  Bad luck was immediately followed by good fortune.

The rest of the bike was relatively uneventful if cruel.  Once you turn back toward Lake Placid, the euphoria at the fast time you’ve compiled turns to frustration as a long set of uphills and a steady head wind mark the journey.  On my second lap, I was faster on the downhills and slower on the climbs and sloughs into the wind.  I finished the bike in 5:50, not a PR but respectable on the the hardest terrain that I have encountered in an Ironman.

My run plan was simple; run 9 minutes, and then walk for a minute through the aid stations that occur each mile while maintaining a 10 minute per mile pace.  I did slightly better than that on the first 13.1 mile lap.  I even managed to run, (I use that term advisedly), up the two monster hills from the ski jump and into town.  On the second lap, the day began to get to me, I handled the hip discomfort that set in at mile 16 by actively engaging my core.  The side stitch that hit at mile 19 forced me to walk on two separate occasions.  It was finally cured on the long walk up the hill from the ski jump.  I saw an old guy, who turned out to be in the age group below me, walking just ahead of me.  I noticed how slow his gate was, and assumed that with my determined pace that I would catch him quickly.  It was like being in a bad dream as I watched him pull away.

As I turned into town, I began to run the up the last section of the second hill.  At this point you run out of town for about a mile, turn around and head back a mile to the finish.  At each run turn around, (There are four of them.) I was looking at the bib numbers of the runners coming toward me to check to see if anyone in my age group was either just ahead or behind me.  At the last one, I forgot to check.  It was a slight downhill all the way to the finish.  I ran as fast as I could manage while trying to keep something in reserve in case I was passed near the end of the race.  I may not be a great marathoner, but I have always been able to out sprint any other geezer in my age group.  I rounded the last corner and headed into the skating rink.  You finish by running a half lap that leads to the big finish arch that has a large grandstand just before it.  As I crossed the line, I saw that I had PR’s by 1 minute and 15 seconds at 11:42:26.  This was a more challenging course than Wisconsin where I had put up my previous best time.

I was greeted at the finish by Cindi and JB.  Cindi said that I felt strangely cold, and looked a bit grey.  Perhaps I should check in at the medical tent.  I had never been in the medical tent, and consider it a badge of honor that I haven’t.  JB showed me the bandage over the crick of his elbow, and said that he had just had an IV and that he felt great.  I listened and began to think that feeling great might not be a bad thing.  I let them guide me to the tent, and practiced acting slightly out of it.  As they handed me off to a medical volunteer, I pretended to be weak kneed, and when asked by the triage staff how I felt, responded with a number of vague symptoms.  I was weighed with Cindi and JB laughing behind me as I tried to fool the scale into making me weigh less.  The staff finally determined that I had lost 11 1/2 pounds.  I was helped to a medical station where they took my blood, and asked me to try to drink a Coke.  I had no real symptoms  other than the cold skin and feeling cold.  It turned out that my core temperature was 93.  Mine is usually around 97.5.  I was also the first hypoglycemic patient of the day.  That was strange since I had eaten regularly all day.  After 2 IV bags, 2 Cokes and a bag of potato chips, I was released.  I cannot say enough about the volunteer medical staff at this race.  They were kind, attentive and generous.  As a side note, I must say that I have never recovered so quickly from an Ironman.  This was my fifth.  I think all finishers should be offered an IV.

Larry Rosa Photography

When I was released, I went to pick up my bike.  I still did not know the results of the race.  When I got to the transition exit, I asked one of the volunteers to watch my bike while I walked over to the trailer on which the results were posted.  I found my time, looked over at my placing and saw that I was 1/2. (Even after about 40 minutes in the tent, only one other 60 - 64 year old had finished and had their results tabulated and printed.)  That was it.  I had won my age group and would be heading back to Kona in October.  Mission accomplished.  I was thrilled.  Just as I began to turn away from the results, I noticed that right beneath me was someone whose division place was listed as 2/2.  I quickly saw that it was the guy that I had determined would be my stiffest competition.  He finished 11 seconds behind me.  Amazing.