Well, folks, grab some popcorn and your favorite beverage, get the kids off their newfangled social media machines and gather round the fire for another of my Ironman Race Reports.
This one involves many members of the tribe know as the Dallas Tri Club and its adventure known as Ironman Santa Rosa. The date was May 11, a day that really won't live in infamy, but will be talked about on at least five continents for years to come.
As always, an Ironman day starts WAY too early. Always crucial to get a good nights sleep two nights before, as that is your fuel for race day. I did get a decent night's sleep on Ironman eve, but once I woke up at 3, it was toss and turn until the alarm at 4:07. Breakfast consisted of half a flat coke with a honey stinger waffle, abundant amounts of the butter of the peanut and a banana, topped of with the first of MANY ounces of the H20.
About 4:45, Chris Peaslee (of the day's tri Chrises), Paris, Roger and I headed for the buses that would get us to T1, about 35 miles north of Santa Rosa. Nothing better then a yellow school bus packed with Ironman nerves. I nailed the driver with a spit wad, Paris jumped in the back seat with his fifth grade girlfriend and off we went. Its an advantage to do a west coast IM when you are from the 214, as you are definitely awake. Eventually, the light of day that had spread across the amber waves of wheat and fruited plains began to peak is sleep eyes over the vineyards and cool climes of NoCal.
Once you arrive at T1, the record player jumps from 33 to 78. The side of a random bus became a public restroom, but no one cares. Your mind attempts to process the next 11-12 hours of intricate dance moves. Fill tires, load fuel onto bike, drop off morning clothes bag, calibrate bike computer, put the meatloaf in at 425, hit the port-a-let get to start by 6:35. This swim start is done by predicted time, so we all line up like cattle thinking its an all you can eat hay buffet and not the first step becoming someone's bone-in rib eye.
Swim start was five at time, uneventful. Water was cold but tolerable. I had opted for a sleeveless wet suit, as I like prefer the shoulder rotation over full, plus I knew that that the fish of Lake Sonoma would enjoy the gun show. First loop went well, little under target time. Only downside was that last night's sausage and pepperoni pizza turned my wetsuit in to a veritable Dutch Oven, will definitely address that next pre-race meal But, soon the cold started taking its toll. Seriously painful cramp in the right calf lasted 4-5 minutes, subsiding in time for the seriously painful cramp in the left calf to start. This was new one. I began to see the buoys as yellow, orange and red icebergs as opposed to the usual flavor varieties of doritos. I turned to see Jack holding on for dear life as Rose pleaded for his life, ignoring me (bitch). Luckily, I turned the last iceberg heading for shore with Celine Dion spurring me to land. When I got out I was seriously discombobulatedfunctionchallenged. I almost had trouble walking up hill, then in T1, getting my arm warmers on took a village and five minutes. Valuable time was ticking and I knew I my body had spent a little too much money at the Warm my Ass up shop. But, made it to the bike and soldiered forward.
The start of the bike included at long downhill with a couple of bumps that saw a lot of nutrition and fluids ejected from would be consumers. My brakes got a nice workout, since I am a downhill wimp. This also made it hard to warm up and I still had not recovered from my polar plunge. Yep, definite mistake on my part going sleeveless. Eventually, I found a rhythm and got it going, warming up a bit in the process. The road was rough, which made it hard to really garner serious speed, plus a lot of the downhill portion was into curves and turns. Started the nutrition plan and began clicking off the miles. All my previous thoughts of "no more of this IM s#$%" had somewhat subsided for now. But, that's one of the aspects of an IM. You have so much time to think, so many ebbs and flows that you go from wanting to quit the race to figuring out a way to sign up for the next one while still on the bike.
Next challenge of the day was the first time up Chalk Hill at about mile 30. This was a pretty solid one mile grinder that was a little worse then I thought when we drove it. As we hit it, I did see Stephanie and Scott, always energizing to see your teammates on the course. After Chalk Hill, you get a little respite then you start the "second" loop, rolling through at bunch of vineyards, which I would have really enjoyed if I was stopping at them for a nice Cab tasting. We were now going north, and with a wind from the south, this was the third of the race with wind at your back, while for the other 4/5ths you were into the wind. Not a fortuitous bounce of the atmospheric ceiling fan.
Collected my special needs bag at mile 68, a little more of my accelerade cocktail, couple more Honey Stinger waffles and a sourdough Jack burger. Then at mile 69 you had to switch positions meaning you were going into the wind for the rest of the time, yay! Tried to just maintain my power range, increase hydration and not worry about the speed. Talked to a couple people along this stretch to break things up, unfortunately my shot bloks were tired of the ride and ejected themselves, but I as OK on calories. At mile 80 ------- something flew into my helmet! Thought it might be a bee, so panicked a bit. Took off my helmet while riding (violation) and released the butterfly bastard from its helmet haven. Unfortunately, had to stop and buckle. At this point I ran into Chris Peaslee and we rode together legally for a bit, him flying past me on downhills, then me catching up. We survived Chalk Hill II, the sequel, which was worse then the original. Two thumbs down, 3.33 thumbs sideways and .44 thumbs up its.......Now it was time to head to Santa Rosa, still fighting the wind and it was warming up. When you hit 100 miles, you're pretty much over this tour of the wineries crap and just want off the bike. Especially your posterior.
Pulled into T2 about 15 minutes later then the plan, before I knew the course, but you can't control that. Transitioned mentally and physically to the run, hoping the calf soreness would not be an issue. Dropped off the kids and headed out. Was great to see the family and it buoyed my spirits. Grace gave me the always encouraging, "only 26 more miles to go"! I gave her the bird, which was triumphantly captured on video!
Its a three loop run, but unfortunately only the mile or so at this end is heavily populated with widely cheering humans, making the rest of the run a little low on energy. Daniel flew past me as I started, rolling into his second loop. Omar of I Love to Transport Your TriBike fame appeared out of nowhere and ran with me for a bit, despite him not being a participate (oops). I started breaking the course into pieces. First 10K, cutting it to 20, seeing Chris P again on the out and back, then finishing up the first loop and getting some crowd and family energy. Unfortunately, I saw and passed Daniel, as the Ironman Grim Reaper had tapped on his shoulder with bad news. Paris came by heading out on his first loop, exhibiting normal Paris energy (Sunio, not the French city).
Next goal was to get to the halfway point. The isolation of miles 9-13 took something out of me, plus the acknowledgement that sub-11 wasn't in the card. Could feel muscle soreness and potential cramps lingering in my future. Didn't see Chris P at the out and back. Obviously the bike course had made the Grim Reaper a busy beaver today. Made it through the second loop, but the occasional stroll had become a part of the game plan. I saw the family, tried to leverage that last bit of crowd energy and headed out for Loop 3.
On the next walking portion of my program, I recalibrated and set my sites on an 11:30 finish (race time, not clock time). Got it to a 10K, then a 5K with pain becoming regular, but the light shining at the end of the tunnel. Said hi to Scott and Bobby, finding out about Scott's toe distress, unfortunately. Went by the annoying Base salt people for the last time and headed for the finish.
The last mile (well, really the last .25 miles) is the best. You reflect on your day and what you accomplished and in my case the fact that a year ago I had just gotten off crutches from my fractured femur, not knowing if an Ironman was still possible. You head down that finishing chute, buoyed by the energy of the crowd and sight of your family. Emotions flow as your name is called. Did it again! Each Ironman seems to taste sweeter. I finished with my new buddy, Arturo from Lima.
After the race it was great to share stories with Jen Temperly, my friend and GREAT triathlete. We trained together for our first Ironman 17 years ago and are still going strong, especially Jen who regulary garners the podium. Then watched as the rest of the team finished, Paris coming down the chute like a madmen. Another great day shared with family and great friends. Until next time, thanks for coming along on the journey. df
