Ironman Hawaii 2011- RR from the back of the (Pro) pack

I still can't quite believe that I'm already back at home in Boulder, sitting on my couch and looking out the window at the cool fall breeze and enjoying the fresh, crisp mountain air. Luckily I have the tan lines and blisters remaining to remind me that it really happened. It wasn't quite the race I had hoped for, but crossing the finish line is really always the ultimate goal, and I achieved that, so no regrets.

PRE RACE

Upon arriving on the Big Island, the oppressive humidity hit right away. It seemed like you would sweat just walking around or doing a chore, much less actually exercising. The few runs I got in prior to race day had me wring out my shorts several times and that was after only 20-30min of running! A couple of rides on the Queen K had me question my sanity of deciding this race was a good idea, as the winds were so fierce that I wouldn't go faster than 10mph riding on a straight road, or even downhill. The cross winds up at Hawi (windiest part of race course at the turnaround) actually made me cut a ride short because I simply could not stay on my bike. Luckily, all these rides were later in the day, which is when the wind would usually be at its worst. But you never know what you're going to get on race day, so I accepted the fact that the race could present challenges like these, or worse.

A hotter than hell run at the Energy Lab pre race.

 For the past 2 months I had been battling a pesky knee issue, that would not respond to any type of therapy or rest. I minimized my running to almost nothing for the key weeks leading up to  the race, in hopes of healing up; however, as soon as I'd try to run (or kick on the swim for that matter) the pain was there and strongly inhibited my run form. My hopes of a fast run in Hawaii grew dimmer and dimmer with each passing day that my knee kept me from training. I decided 2 weeks out that a cortisone shot would be my last resort. I got an injection right into the knee joint, which required me to stay off it for a few days completely, with no exercise at all. Two weeks out from the biggest race of my life, this was extremely hard on the psyche! There would be no guarantee it would work either, as the knee is a very tricky area, which doesn't always respond well to injections. (By the way, if it hadn't been for Kona, I would have never gotten an injection, as I am really not one for that type of stuff, but with the deadline of the race, I had no other option.) I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best as the big day drew closer and closer.

A few short runs here and there felt OK, but definitely not painfree, and my compensation with my other side was pretty obvious. At this point, my goal became to cross that finish line. Forget about a specific run split, I wasn't even sure if my body would let me run 26.2mi at all! For the last month, my longest runs had been 60min. It would be mind over matter for sure, and much less a race for the podium, and more of an internal battle with myself.

RACE DAY

The day was finally here- still pitch black out, and the energy down at the pier seemed so thick, you could cut it with a knife. After running around trying to find body marking, I picked a volunteer whose stamps weren't working correctly, and the whole process took 3x as long, as they had to wipe off the numbers and redo them. Suboptimal if you're the nervous type pre race. I stayed calm and let them do their thing and finally went to go check on my bike, which was in a special gated off area. As I get to the entrance, a volunteer there holds me back and doesn't want to let me in, um what? I showed my wrist band (for about the tenth time that morning) and she says she didn't know who I was. How is that for a 'good morning', on race day for your first Ironman WCs as a pro?! I tried not to let it get to me, but come on... Luckily, a nicer male volunteer made me feel better and later even offered me his phone to make a call to my family, who was impossible to find with all the race morning logistics.

Nervous moments before the start

 After checking my bike over, pumping up tires and filling up bottles, I grabbed my swim skin and cap and goggles, and headed over to find my family, get one last "just do it" nudge of encouragement, and made my way over to the water, where the sun was finally rising.

THE SWIM

All week long, the weather service had been issuing  'High Surf Advisories' for Kona. During my practice swims I nearly got seasick a few times, no joke! The water was pretty rough and choppy for most of the week but a calmer race day was predicted. As we were called into the starting area (an invisible line made by the safety kayaks), it was hard to stay in one spot, as the current would pull us outward. I wanted to stay with some girls that I knew would swim around my speed, so that I would have some people to work with once I exited the swim. This should have easily been doable, but race day is unpredictable and this day was about to start.

Swim Exit

6.30 a.m.- BOOM and the cannon went off. 80 pro men and 30 something pro women, and hands and feet and bubbles everywhere. I had heard that the pros take it out really fast and then settle in after a few hundred meters. I tried my best to stay on feet, but it must have been the wrong pairs of feet, because after only a few seconds they were gone. I could also tell that the water was rough. There seemed to be a few other bodies around me, but we were all rather working on our own, no one was organizing a pull and people were off to the side. I had a paddle boarder next to me for the entire swim (a huge help, thank you!) which in hind sight was clearly because I was one of the last out of the water, ha. I couldn't quite believe it was happening again, but I ended up swimming the entire 2.4mi alone! And lets just say, swimming alone in a choppy ocean is A LOT harder than swimming in the washing machine with 2000 other people, where you might feel slow, but are actually not, thanks to a thousand other bodies providing a draft.

The half way point took forever. I had some negative thoughts cross my mind, and had to really focus on the task at hand. The good news was that I was able to kick the entire 2.4mi, which my knee had not let me do for a few months prior to the injection. Shortly after the turnaround, I noticed a movement under me and at first thought believed it to be an arm of another swimmer or something, drifting into my streamline. To my amazement, and through my fogged up goggles, I could make out a group of 4 dolphins, who were passing under me. I wanted to stop and yell to my paddle boarder "did you see that?!?", but decided he had probably seen lots of them before and I should regroup and keep moving forward. It was one of the coolest, and slightly creepiest (at first, since it was just me all alone out in the ocean, over a mile from shore, with these large animals) things I have ever experienced. Thanks dolphins for making my swim slightly more exciting :)

I finally reached shore, knowing I probably didn't break any swim records. As I glanced at my watch, I couldn't quite believe just how bad of a swim I had. A whole 7min slower than what I did as an Age Grouper 3 years ago, and 15 min slower than my swim at Ironman Frankfurt. Turns out most pro swim times were slower than normal, but this was a bit sad. Trying not to dwell on it, I ran in and out of the changing tent, around the entire transition area to my bike, which was one of 3 still in there, and off on my bike, where I knew I had my work cut out for me if I wanted to catch anyone.

Swim time: 1:12


THE BIKE

The first 5 miles or so loop around town and are very spectator friendly. I felt like I was in an individual TT, with no one else in sight. Finally at the turnaround, I saw a few other women, but they were a good mile or so ahead of me. My HR was way too high, trying to play catch up, and I knew I had to bring it down if I didn't want to blow up half way through the bike. Once I climbed up Palani and got out on the Queen K Hwy, I settled in to a more acceptable pace and also did a self check on my nutritional needs at this point. It had been more than 90min since the race started, and it was time to take on some fluids at least. (as the salt water on the swim pretty much dehydrates you before you even come out of the water)

I took some glances around me and looked up the long stretch of road in front of me, and there I was, all alone, completely by myself, at the Ironman World Champs. I had missed the group on the swim and was on my own now for who knows how long. The winds were calm, even as I passed the Kona airport, where they typically start to pick up. The heat was rising though and the pavement up ahead started to get that liquid look. It seemed like I was out for my own training ride for at least 90min when the first age group male passed me. It didn't take long until the next, and then the next passed. I still didn't catch up to any other pro females ahead of me at this point and just kept chugging along by myself. It felt slightly weird, that's for sure. At around 30 something miles in, I saw Jackie, a first year pro who made it to Kona!, standing at the side of the road with a wheel in her hand. I felt so bad for her, she had probably been with a group since she is a great swimmer, and then lost them due to a flat. Not sure how long it took for her to get it fixed, but she would go on to a strong finish, despite this setback.

Hot Lava Fields

Anyway, before I knew it, I was at the end of the Queen K Hwy and turning to start the climb up to Hawi. I couldn't believe how still the winds were up to this point, but didn't want to jinx myself as the winds are so unpredictable and could start up at any point. I felt strong and alert, although slightly hot, but I grabbed water at every aid station, and drank some, then squirted the rest on me, to try and get some cooling. The age group men were now passing me in full force. Packs of 20-30 guys at a time. The refs just seemed to drive by, look at them and not do anything! I tried my best to ignore all this, but after awhile, it does get hard mentally, when you are riding a completely different race, being honest and doing all the work by yourself, while watching packs go by.

The winds up the climb increased and started to push me around a bit, but I managed them and even finally caught up to another pro. Funny thing is, on the uphills, I would pass the guys who zoomed past me on the flats or downhills, but they would of course catch me right back as soon as the road straightened out. After the turnaround at 60mi, I grabbed my special needs bag and forced myself to eat a bar, something I don't usually do, but my stomach needed something other than gels only. AG men passed me like I was standing still, some gave me almost no room as they went by, which totally freaked me out a few times. When I looked up the road on the rolling descent down Hawi, it was just packs of riders, all tucked in behind each other, getting some nice drafts. This continued all the way back into town, even with the headwinds we faced for the last 30mi or so. I even saw some age groupers turning around to see if a ref was near, and then tucking back in behind someone. Really quite unbelievable, as this was the World Championship, yet so many people rode illegally. I realize there are so  many racers of the same ability level who will be close throughout the race, but you can still keep a legal distance, us pros did.

Anywho, enough about the drafting. My bike leg was hard fought, alone and with my own strength, the way it should be ridden. Towards the end, in the last 3 mi, I started to feel cramps in my adductors, forcing me to ease up on my pedals. I thought I had taken on enough salt and fluids, but not clearly enough. It felt hot out like a sauna, and I was ready to get off my bike.

Bike Time: 5:26

THE RUN

Leaving T2

Right away as I left transition, I could tell that my body was overheating. I felt goose bumps and that's never a good thing when the thermometer is pushing 90 degrees. I saw my family at the 1mi mark and didn't even have energy to let them know how I was feeling. The bike leg took more out of me than I wanted it to. I made it to 2mi before I came to a screeching halt. I needed fluids and calories and I needed lots of them. I walked through the aid station and took everything they had. 2 cups of water over my head (that felt so good), one down my throat, sponges everywhere, a sip of the Powerbar drink, and even a banana slice. After doing this for the next 3 aid stations, I finally felt myself coming around, but continued to walk the aid stations to get adequate fueling and cooling.

Run along Alii Dr

Just like last time, Alii Dr seemed the toughest part of the run for me. Lots of walking and self doubts and "I don't think I can do this", and "How long would it take me to walk the entire marathon?" thoughts were swirling in my head. I knew I had to finish, I had to cross the finish line. I worked too hard to get here and let it all go. As long as my knee would let me, I would get across that line, no excuse. With that thought, I picked myself up and started my shuffle. Long gone was any thought of running a good marathon, I was in pure survival mode.

Once back on Kuakini Hwy, the top 3 men were about to finish, which was bitter sweet, considering I wasn't even half way through the run :) I saw my family for the second time as I got ready to leave town at mi 11 or so, and I had to tell them that I wasn't feeling great at all, but they told me to keep pushing, which I figured they would :) So up Palani I went for the last time, heading out on the Queen K once more. I hit a few more lows, my knee started acting up and forced me to walk some more. I saw some familiar faces from Boulder, suffering out there as well. I told myself to suck it up and pressed on. Chrissie and Rinny came shooting down the other direction, looking fresh as daisies, about to have their big finishes. I was hanging on by a thread.

Still standing

Finally, I reached the energy lab, which in a strange way, actually gave me energy, and I also knew my special needs bag with Red Bull was waiting for me. At the turn around, I saw that a few pro women behind me were right there, and I made the decision that I would not stop until the finish line. I owed this to myself. I am a runner after all and I needed to pull it together. My Red Bull did indeed give me wings, even if short lived, but those last 6mi felt the best, and I even passed some people. I started looking at my watch and I knew I could still do a respectable time. Coming down Palani was less painful than 3 years ago, and although that last mile took forever, I was able to pick it up a notch, which of course made the guys around me pick it up a notch as well. I could see the finish line, I could taste the sweet relief of stopping and being done. I even managed a few high 5's, although I missed most hands, and then up the ramp onto the carpet, and the world stood still for a second- I was an Ironman for the 7th time.

Upon finishing, I was surprisingly alert, running on pure adrenaline. I didn't even need to visit Medical, imagine that! I felt a little numb, relieved, a little sad and happy to have finished. I saw my family and all was good.

Run Time: 3:33

Overall Time and Place: 10:19.09/ 21st FPro

Now that I have had a few days to let it all sink in, I really should be happy with yet another Ironman finish. There will never be a perfect race, things always come up, and you have to deal with them. Sure there were things out of my control, things that I couldn't change, but I know I gave it all I had that day, and with suboptimal preparation, I ought to be happy with my finish. I realized that racing pro at Kona  is a whole different animal from racing age group, you cannot even compare the two. Two completely separate races. Just very hard to witness the blatant cheating going on when you work so hard to have an honest race. I do hope WTC addresses this and makes some changes to make the age group race a little more fair. Maybe all it takes is a little more wind next time :)

A big, big Mahalo (thanks) to my sponsors especially to Saucony and Jess for all the support: thanks for making me feel like part of the family- things will only go up from here! To Chance at Blue- thanks for offering the race wheel help! And TYR- thanks for the support from the TYR house, Powerbar- awesome post race breakfast and fuel to get me through race day! Thank you Rudy Project, The Right Stuff , Boulder Furniture and Mattress, and Lifesport Chiropractic as well!

To the volunteers, you are what lets us all finish! Thanks for being out there all day long! To everyone who cheered for me on the course, spectators, fellow athletes- thank you so much, it's what gets me through the day! To my family- I couldn't have done this without you. Your support and presence on race day is what I look forward to the most while I'm out on the course. You know me best and you know how to get me to the finish! And thank you to everyone near and far who offered support and good luck, it means a ton!

I learned a lot about racing and myself at Kona, and I'll carry this with me into next season. I plan on being back at Hawaii, wiser and more experienced. Mahalo for reading and Aloha :)

Finish line area post race