Gulfman 2005
After completing Ironman Lake Placid in 2003, my triathlon life was set to change. I couldn’t believe that I had actually done it. I didn’t have the immediate “wow, I can do anything” moment that so many people talk about. I had an amazing feeling of accomplishment, but I also had a feeling of being a “pretender” in a world full of athletes. People who knew more about the experience than I did. People that had honestly worked harder to achieve their goal than I did. You see, in my mind, I didn’t do the work to have a great day at Lake Placid. I did enough to get me across the line without doing it in an ambulance. Part of it was life, part of it was a conservative coach, but mostly it was how I was living my life. I was doing enough to get by and in some cases barely that. I was coasting on ability. Call it a lack of direction, a misguided motivation, or whatever, but it wasn’t living life to its fullest. Crossing the line and knowing that somehow I hadn’t really done it stuck with me in a very profound way. To me, 2004 was going to be the year that I found my direction. In sport, in life, in all things. What I found was that my focus could not sustain that many different ideas at once. To do something great, you have to do that one thing, and do it as well as you can, everyday. By the time I felt ready to reclaim some amount of sport in my life the end of the year was looming. I decided then that to really enjoy triathlon, I needed to dedicate myself more to the process. This doesn’t make it work or reduce my enjoyment of riding my bike or swimming in a lake, it enhances it; it gives it even more meaning and purpose. With that, a plan was in the works to actually see what I can accomplish in triathlon.
I officially kicked off my training year with a New Year’s Day ride. It was gorgeous short-sleeves and shorts weather in South Texas and I rode a fairly windy 42 miles. I loved every second of it. I knew from that ride, that this would be a year of accomplishment. My training from that point on was very good. It had its occasional ups and downs not the least of which was a mostly inconsistent March. But it was still very good. I had to trust that and remind myself that fitness isn’t lost over a workout or two missed. Fitness is built over weeks, months, and years of consistent, appropriate training.
Gulfman was the first triathlon in which I toed the line in over a year. I knew I was ready to accomplish my first goal, to break 6 hours in a half-ironman. This course was perfectly suited to my training: flat, fast, and windy. The exact recipe that I train in 90% of the time. Race morning came after a night of fitful, almost non-existant sleep. I lay resting in the bed, just envisioning the first few strokes in the bay between the island and the mainland. It was perfect, it was going to be perfect. I finally got up and took a hot shower and made some coffee. I heated up my scrambled eggs with bacon and potatoes cut up in it and just ate a little around the outside. I could tell my nerve weren’t going to allow a full breakfast so I mixed up a little extra liquid nutrition and downed that. At least I knew I would have some fuel in me to start the day. I arrived at the race start with an hour to go. Towards the back of transition there were loads of empty racks, so I just quietly spread out my things and went about my business. Everything was there, everything was laid out, everything was ready. I didn’t let the race’s lack of organization bother me. The chip pick up was a do it yourself affair. Body marking ended up being a do it yourself affair. And I was most thankful that I remembered to fill my bottles before I left the hotel. On with the wetsuit and down to the start area I went.
The swim course was a counter-clockwise triangle in the lagoon between the island and the mainland. It was salty, cool, and flat. With the waves not numbering more than 100 people, there wasn’t much of a draft anywhere on the course. The waves started 3 minutes apart which gave us ample opportunity to swim over the slower folks in the earlier waves. I don’t think I have ever had such an easy swim. I started way to the left and quickly found my own space when the gun went off. As I went out a little quick to stay out of the washing machine that is a mass start, I quickly found the open water and went to work. About 200 meters in, I discovered one of the more annoying issues I would have that day. The swim turn buoys were yellow and not all that big. The caps given to all the swimmers were also yellow. Just lifting your head for a couple of water polo strokes was not enough to accurately sight the buoys and the correct swim line. I ended up swimming off course a couple of times as I was sighting on swimmers that had already made the turn. I had to stop and find a tower on the mainland to use as a reference point rather than the buoy. I made the first buoy and absolutely felt great. I was swimming strong and controlled. At that point I made the decision to keep the effort about the same and headed for the second buoy. I could feel my left shoulder starting to fall into bad habits and really focused on making good strokes. I held the effort to the second buoy and made the turn for home. By then I had overtaken quite a few folks from the prior waves and had an easier time following the crowd into the swim finish. I upped the effort slightly over the last 500 meters or so and added a bit of kick to warm up my lower back. I was rewarded with the fastest half-im time of my short career, 32 minutes and change.
T1 was a long slog up the beach, around on the sidewalks to a giant tented concrete area. I had managed to get my wetsuit down to my waist by the time I got there, but that was where it stopped. There I was standing next to my bike, wanting to be on my bike, but I was trapped by the neoprene sleeve that encased my lower body. I finally dropped down on the ground went to wiggling and squirming until it finally gave way to my ungreased (doh) calves and ankles. I’m not really sure how long I was in T1, but it was certainly longer that Mike Peerless would have approved.
Out on to the bike and I immediately felt great. The first little section wound its way from Moody Gardens out onto the Seawall. This was an area that the race organizers could have done a better job with. The coned off section was quite narrow and did not leave much room for racing and the corners had not been swept. Once out on the seawall and I settled in for a good ride. I was trying to keep the effort under wraps and did a good job. I rode up to a group that was working together, but not always legally. I would go off the front and someone would latch on my wheel. After they sat there a bit, they would pull out to pass, get about half way up and fall back. I ended up pulling a pretty good sized group for a while until the headwind came up at about 20 miles. My average speed to that point was at an all time high, and I knew I was having a great ride. My nutrition plan was working, my heart rate was where it should have been, and my legs felt like they could go forever. The headwind however had other thoughts. My average speed slowly dropped bit by bit as we ground our way to the turnaround. The group around me continued to bunch up and I couldn’t shake them. I was probably spending too much time thinking about it, but I just knew that my race was going to get shot to hell because of a drafting violation. Once at the bike turnaround I jumped off the bike to try and relieve myself. I spent 4-5 minutes standing behind a truck trying to “go” and couldn’t. I finally said to hell with it and got back on the bike for the ride home. Nutrition and hydration were on track and I felt like a million bucks, except for the fact that I had to pee and couldn’t. With a bit of a tailwind, the first 6 miles after the turnaround absolutely flew by. Then the wind moved a bit to a crosswind straight off the bay and the free ride was over. My concentration at this point started to wane and I caught myself backing off the throttle some here and there. My back started to tighten up a little so I spent some time trying to stretch it out. I continued to push along and focused on the great day that was unfolding around me. This really helped to get me back in the game. I got back to my nutrition plan and rolled along. As I came to the last aid station, I yelled out for water, the volunteer at the front yelled back “Gatorade!” I hollered for water again and the next volunteer handed me up a bottle. I cruised on knowing that I had finally licked my nutrition problems. I looked down to get a drink from my concentrate and realized that I had dropped it at the aid station. I said to myself “no worries, I’ve got enough water and gel with me to handle the last 14 miles.” So I reached down and grabbed my bottle of water and took the most awful mouthful of super concentrated Gatorade ever. This was going to be a problem. I can’t stomach Gatorade, and I can’t take my gels without water. I had done a good job up until this point and just went with it. I was forced to take a few more sips of the Gatorade to get all the way in, it was awful. But I also knew that the run aid stations were every mile so it wouldn’t be long before I could get back on track. I finished the bike after negotiating the last turns off the seawall and rolled back into transition with a bike time of 2:52. I was stoked to say the least.
In T2 I spent a couple of minutes getting the shoes, race number, and cap on. I knew that I was on the edge nutrition wise as I couldn’t seem to focus on the task at hand. But, I still had to pee and found my way to the port-a-loo and was finally able to “go.” All that behind me and only 13.1 miles to run.
An amazing thing happened early in the run. I was running. It was the newest feeling on a great day. Here I was, starting out a run in a half-ironman, and I was running. Not fast, but controlled and easy. I was able to capture the feeling of my long runs at home and channel it into the effort of the day. In the back of my mind though, I was still wary of the fact that for the last half-hour plus, I was running on fumes. I got to the first aid station and was able to get some water in me. The problem was, my stomach was still upset from the Gatorade. So I decided that I would get to mile 2 before I would take on my gels. That’s when it happened, I motored on by aid station 1 with a little water and a plan. I kept the effort steady, but I could tell I was out of fuel. When I got to the second aid station, I slowed to a walk and strolled on up to an empty aid station. I was toast. No water, no Gatorade, no gels. I had gels with me, but I can’t digest them without water. That nearly broke me for the day. I had to reach deep and get going again. As I rolled on, I had to force myself to push back the defeatist ideas and look towards what I had already accomplished on the day. I perked up a bit and found myself closing in on the 3 mile aid station. It was stocked, I was happy. I stopped, walked, grabbed two cups of water. I downed a gel and sipped my way through the water. I walked out of the aid station knowing that I needed to do that at least one or two more times to get back on track. The run from there is a little bit of a blur. I jogged and walked a bit, but almost all of the walking was at the aid stations. I was still moving pretty well, but I knew I was still walking a thin line. The turn around aid station out on the hottest part of the course had nothing but Gatorade. That was not a pleasant surprise. That and the idea that it was a full mile and a half back to the next aid station. The saving grace was that it was cold. I quaffed it down and set out. The gels from mile 2 and 4 were finally starting to catch up with me and I picked up on the fact that I had a race on my hands if I wanted to finish under 6 hours. From there on, I had one thought only, beat the clock to 6. I worked my way back from the mile5/8 aid station and slowly picked up the effort and the pace. By mile 9 I was actually feeling it again. I got some ice in my cap and wow that was nice. From there on, I would get a couple of cups of water and walk my way through the aid stations. I slowly kept adding some pressure to my pace and rewarded myself with my 3 fastest mile splits over the end of the race. And there it was, the finish line, and my watch said 5:56. Finally, a long distance race, and a performance that was commiserate with my fitness. I know I have more in me, this was the first step. I set a goal, I did the training, and I was rewarded with the best race of my long course career.
Official splits:
33:00
3:04:45 including both transitions (2:52 on my bike computer) so my transitions were way stupid.
2:18:17
HR info:
Time HRavg HRmax
5:56:29 155 173
Splits
Time HRavg
32:32 159 out of the water
22:06 158
15:38 162
14:56 162
16:44 163
12:59 159
17:21 157
15:28 157
12:44 157
19:07 154
13:06 154
14:04 152
8:15 146 end of bike 3:35 total time
3:02 133 T2
10:03 152
10:12 153
10:08 158
12:12 148
11:49 155
14:38 149
14:29 148
11:54 147
11:34 149
11:25 154
11:08 154
8:45 156
Thanks for reading.