2012 Ironman St. George Recap- 3rd Place

For anyone who read my last race report on Leadman, I wrote that it was of epic proportions and definitely got me ready for IMSG. What I didn't expect was that IMSG would take "epic" to a whole other level, and that Leadman was simply a warm-up for what was to come. Here is my race report of the final version of (in my opinion) the hardest Ironman ever.

Lets face it, an Ironman is never easy. Add a pretty difficult course such as this one, and you got a real test to see what you are made of. On Saturday, 1700 of us unexpecting athletes were tossed into a situation that came without warning, and tested each athlete to the core of their physical and mental abilities. It became a survival event, with a 29% DNF rate of those who started (which were actually only around 1400 athletes) and the slowest finish times recorded (for pros especially) ever in an Ironman.

The forecast all week looked amazing for a great day, temps much cooler than last year (low 80s) and low winds. I was not worried. It seemed each day it slightly improved, and although Sand Hollow Res had some chop the day before the race when I went for a practice swim, I knew that conditions would be near perfect for race day, and I would hopefully finally have that swim I had been focusing much of my winter training on. The goal was to stay on feet, be aggressive and responsive and put myself in a good spot for the bike leg.

Race morning came fast, and like last year, my family made the last minute trip to come watch Brandon and I. My mom promptly knocked on my door at 3.45 a.m., after flying through the night and driving up to St. George from Vegas. A quick hello, and a quick breakfast at the hotel (which graciously put up a breakfast for us athletes starting at 3.30 a.m.!) and we were off to drop off special needs bags and get on the bus to take us over to the start. As we made our final turn down the frontage road into Sand Hollow, I noticed some slight breezes in the trees as we drove by. I mentioned this to Brandon, but didn't even think twice about it; the forecast after all called for max wind speeds of 9 mph. We did our last minute checks of bike and gear, and before long I was called into the water for the pro start. Although the water wasn't as smooth as last year and had an ever so slight chop, I figured I wouldn't even be able to tell once we got going.

THE SWIM: Just as I adjusted my goggles one last time, the gun went off. (We got a 2 min warning, and after that, you just have to be ready.) Oops. I let the goggles just kind of snap back on my face instead of pushing them to suction, and within seconds my left goggle was filling up with water. Oh great, less than a minute into the race and I was having trouble already. The good news was that I had people all around me. Some of the pro men were right there and provided rather nice drafts. I tried not to let the leaking goggle bother me, but had to adjust it at least 5x in the first few hundred meters. Slightly annoying. Just as I finally settled into a good rhythm, we reached the first turn buoy. I was still in a nice pack and my spirits were good, despite the goggle snafu. Then, everything changed.

From the IMSG FB page- it was worse than this pic shows.

 I could tell that the current had drastically changed as soon as we made the turn. I was now struggling to swim in a straight line and other swimmers next to me were drifting out to the sides. Hm, interesting. I figured it was just a little change in that part of the reservoir and that it would pass. The struggle to swim in a straight line while keeping on feet kept increasing. As we rounded the next buoy, my race suddenly became something like a video game. The water was now officially rough and it was producing mighty chop and waves, and we were swimming head on into it for over a mile, before turning one last time to head back to shore. Everyone around me spread out and my thoughts for a good swim turned sour. I kept thinking that this had to be a joke, and I wondered if the age group swim even went off. I kept thinking of Brandon, doing his first Ironman, and being faced with this. Thank goodness he did Leadman too, and survived that, which hopefully would carry him through this.

From IMSG FB page- notice the sideways buoy and the dust in the background

 The further out we got into the lake, the worse the game got. I was no longer swimming freestyle. I couldn't see another person anywhere near me and the safety kayaks were gone as well. I figured that if the age group start had gone on, they were probably helping pull people out of the water at this point. There was just no way most people would make it through this. Then suddenly I saw bubbles in front of me. I reconnected with two guys who had gotten away but were now back in front of me. I wanted to stop and ask them if they too wondered what the hell was going on, but they kept a surprisingly steady stroke, battling waves that were now literally tossing us up and down. I swallowed water and gagged on it, thinking my breakfast would definitely come out (luckily it stayed in, I got some good burps though).  As I reached the rock island, I found myself completely alone again and couldn't even make out a buoy. I treaded water for a few seconds every couple of strokes to get my bearings, and wasn't quite sure what to do. I felt like I was completely alone in an angry ocean, with waves crashing into me, spraying over my head, erratically. Finally, another female pro swam up and we quickly discussed the absurdity of all this before making one last turn towards shore. I could make out the swim exit in the distance, through dust and spray. I had been in complete survival mode for the last 1800m, swimming breast stroke for most, just so I could see where I was headed, and realizing I was going just as fast doing that, as I would have been trying to swim freestyle, which resulted in catching air more than water.

The last few hundred meters to shore were probably my fastest as the force of the wind and waves (now at my back for the first time) literally pushed me so hard that I could barely get a complete stroke in. I finally made it to the swim exit, dizzy and in utter disbelief of what transpired out there, pretty sure I was last out of the water. The crowd cheered, Dave Erickson followed me with the camera as I ran my way into the changing tent, and I realized that maybe I wasn't last? I asked my volunteers in the tent if the AG swim had indeed gone off, and couldn't believe it when they said "yes". I had a hard time focusing on my race as I kept thinking of the hundreds of age groupers that were first timers, and hoped that enough safety personnel was out there helping.

Leaving T1 dizzy and confused.

THE BIKE: As soon as I left transition, I veered off course. I was still dizzy and disoriented and the wind was blowing me sideways. After catching my bearings, I decided to not ride aero until I felt better, battling some severe cross winds as I rode up the frontage road out of the reservoir. I got pelted by sand and dirt that was swirled up in a mini twister across the roadway. At that point I felt pretty good about my decision to wear an aero helmet this year, as my ears were at least somewhat protected. Once I reached the end of the frontage road, I made a turn to head up the highway, and was now slammed with a headwind. I secretly still held on to the hope that this would go away, that the canyon where we rode most of the 112 mi, would be sheltered and not windy. I thought that no way in hell would I be able to last 112mi in a head and cross wind. I thought about seeing my family and stopping to tell them how awful this was. I thought about Brandon surely passing me very soon as I felt like I was moving at the speed of molasses.

20mi into the bike leg, and the wind had not let up. I remembered something I had heard about the wind directions in this area. A north/ northwest wind was the worst case scenario for the bike, as it presented a headwind for most of the bike, with a tailwind on the downhill section for 15mi on each of the two loops. That meant a headwind for roughly 80mi. I tried not to think about it and kept up hope that this would all die down. Weird thing was, I couldn't make out the mountains in the distance. They were covered by brown dust. Probably not a good sign. As I struggled on, I still had no idea what place I was riding in, but male age groupers, likely strong swimmers, were already passing me. When I finally reached Snow Canyon, all hope for the wind dying down went out the window. If anything, it now increased to ridiculous amounts, slowing me down to 5mph in parts. I love climbing on my bike and last year really enjoyed the bike course. But with a headwind at 25-30mph, reported gusting into the 40s, it was a struggle to get up even the smallest hill. You simply never caught any speed. I was in my smallest possible gear and was barely moving coming up the first of the two big climbs. This just could not be good, considering I still had another lap of this.

Finally, as I reached the infamous "wall",  the steepest climb of the course, I turned up the switchback, and the wind ceased. It was now at my back, literally pushing me up. It was the most effortless climb up a steep grade I have ever done. I heard a spectator tell me I was in fourth place, which tremendously helped lift my spirits. I had not seen another pro since getting on the bike. And it lasted all of 5 min or less, until the head wind returned and I was forced back in my small chain ring while riding the flats. My nutrition had been going OK, despite being scared to let go of my handlebars. I tried getting down more solid foods than gels on the bike, to try and settle my stomach and get some much needed calories in before the marathon, and I think it worked well. I also had a couple of Tums, to help with settling my gut and electrolytes. I popped a couple of salt pills as well, although the wind kept me pretty cool, even in my aero helmet. At last I reached the long downhill section of the course, and just like the prediction, I now had a screaming tail wind, almost scary fast in some parts. Still, my split for the first bike segment was ridiculously slow, but I kept telling myself that everyone had these conditions and that times today would simply not matter. I wondered how Brandon was doing, how the other female pros were doing.

Lap two of the bike was a repeat of lap one, with the difference being that now more age groupers were out. I wondered how any of them had gotten past the swim cutoff, as they seemed so far back in the race.  (Turns out, the officials let some people continue without their timing chip and hence an official finish time, but allowed them to go on if they missed the swim cut off by a few minutes.) I urged on a few of them who were walking their bikes up the climbs, but I was struggling badly myself. With the conditions it was hard to believe that some people still managed to blatantly draft, going by me in a nice train, looking back every few seconds to check for course marshalls and taking turns pulling. Really rather disheartening, especially when you work hard to race fair and cover every inch of the course with your own strength. But it will be what will be, and I couldn't let myself waste energy on something I could not control.

After over 6 hrs on my bike, finally back in T2

The wind was literally eating my strength. I could tell my quads were getting tired and yet I couldn't let up on the climbs, as I was barely moving at all. The wind drew up a few more mini twisters of sand/ dirt, and I had to turn my face sideways as to avoid getting blinded with it in my eyes. (I did get some in my mouth, yum) When I got up the wall for the second time, I knew I was relatively close to being finished with this beast of a bike course. The wind managed to nearly push me off my bike one last time, before I reached the downhill section for the second and last time. I put my fear of high speeds on the bike aside, and booked it downhill at speeds that I have probably never reached on my  bike before. Nevertheless, there were still some parts where a nice cross wind would surprise you, so I couldn't shut my brain off quite yet. At least I reached the dismount line, and boy was I happy to be off my bike. I literally could not wait to get my run on.

 THE RUN: I left T2 with a bounce in my step, something I have never felt before in an Ironman. Could have been the massive crowd support right out the gate, or Dave's camera again, or the fact that I was just so happy to be off the bike, I don't know. I literally had to tell myself to slow down, I still had 26mi to go. Then for the first time all day, I heard my mom's voice. She told me I looked good. Thanks mom. The run course was changed from last year, made a little easier by meandering mostly through downtown, up and down neighborhood streets. Although slightly hamster wheel- like, the crowds on every corner were such a big help, so the fact that we had to do 3 laps of 4 out and backs was almost forgotten. Still, the course wasn't flat. It was either a false flat downhill, or a false flat uphill, with a steeper climb out to the last out and back on Diagonal Street.

I felt really good during the first lap. I had a lead bicycle to clear a path for me and I was in fourth place. Shortly before the turn-around on the third out and back, I came up on Mackenzie who had pulled out. I wanted to stop and talk to her, but the Ironman brain had set in and so I just looked at her and hoped that she would start up again. My bicycle now changed from fourth to third, and it looked like this day was turning around for me. I had to make a stop at a porta pottie and as anyone who has done an IM knows, once you start going, you can't stop. I think I was in there for 2 mins and it just kept coming... I knew fourth place wasn't too far back, so once I got done with my little break, I picked up the pace a bit, trying to make up for lost time. I felt pretty good and before I knew it, I passed my family again who encouraged me and told me I looked strong.

Passing family shortly after halfway, starting to feel the effort, trying to stay cool

Lap number two went good for about half, which happened to be the halfway mark of the marathon. I had only had a gel so far and I knew I was in need of some calories. However, my stomach had shut down and all I could seemingly handle, was coke and water. I took sips at each aid station and dumped plenty of water on my head as well, and loaded up with wet sponges. Although not as insanely hot as last year, it was pretty toasty now and I knew that in order to keep running well, I had to cool my engine. By the end of lap two I had to start walking some aid stations. The effort of the day was clearly setting in. I was getting bouts of nausea now and needed to figure out what I could eat. Nothing at the aid stations looked good to me, except the orange slices, so I sucked down a couple of those along with some salt, and was able to pick it up again.

Thank you, aid station volunteers!

By the way, the aid stations were great. Just like last year, they were my saving grace, encouraging me on ("girl power", "you go girl", whoo hoo, 3rd place") when I felt my lowest, some even getting in my face and telling me to keep moving when I started to walk. Thank you guys, you made a huge difference! My lead biker would diligently stop and wait for me when I slowed down, and lead the way again when I was running. I think his name was Brandon, and although we never exchanged a word, thank you for your help out there!

By lap three I was in a world of pain. The hurt was turned on 100% and every step was a struggle. My knee felt good, so that kept me mentally really happy. I needed this. I needed to prove to myself that I could race an IM again after last year's injury that had me question at times if my days running were numbered. (Never believe the docs who say surgery is the only way out; it is not, especially not for the knee. Thanks to the help of a trusted friend who is a PT, I had been doing daily strength work for my knee all winter and spring and I am now confident that I have beaten this injury, as evidenced by my finish Saturday.) I developed cramps in my feet. My quads and calves were screaming, but I knew this was it, I had to keep pushing. I could tell my pace had slowed down tremendously, but I was still in third place and if I just kept going, I had this! Another female with a "4th female pro" biker was catching up to me, although still far back enough to not have to worry, but I could not figure out who it was. Turns out she was actually a super speedy age grouper who was in the mix somehow. Either way, she had me running scared for a bit, so thank you, Danielle :)

Rounding the "Hot Corner". I got this!

Finally I could hear the finish, I freaking had this in the bag! I rounded the last little out and back right before the finish chute, attempted to slap people's hands as they stretched them out for high 5's, and then there it was: the finish line! My biker stopped and I gave him a half waved thank- you, and then deliriously kept shuffling along the right side of the chute slapping more hands (sorry left side, I couldn't muster the energy to make it over there) and tried my best to fake a smile ( I don't think it worked too well.) through the pain, and then everything halted and my feet crossed the finish. What. A. Day. Over 40min slower than last year, even with the "faster" run course. My mom was right there, two volunteers half carried me to medical as I thought I was going to pass out. I couldn't make the interview for whoever wanted to talk to me (sorry!) and then finally, I was able to stop moving. Through all the day's ups and downs, its tremendous challenges that no one could have predicted, I still managed to finish third. Repeat third that is. I was happy. But I was also sick and nauseous. A few sips of chicken broth and a few good burps helped settle my gut again and off I was to see Brandon come in. When he did, he made me really proud. My first Ironman was Kona 2008, and I think this was tougher for sure. The mental challenges of the day were something you cannot optimally prepare for, and Brandon didn't give up, played it conservatively, and finished without being defeated by the course.

Meters from the finish, feeling pain and relief at the same time.

Contrary to last year, I did not get drug tested, most likely because of the huge decrease in the prize purse? I will get a whopping $1700 for my effort, last year it was over $5000. Without the help of main sponsors, this is pretty minimal salary for months of training and commitment, but all I can do is move forward and get the results and hopefully someone will notice and believe in my abilities to take me on board. A few not so nice circumstances early in the year left me with empty promises and minimal support. I am grateful for the support I do get from Powerbar, Rudy Project and Rock Tape however, thanks for letting me represent your brand!

I wouldn't trade the opportunity to have raced in St. George for the last time. Anyone who was out there battling these conditions all day, is a stronger person for it. It will only build a tougher athlete in the long run. It will be sad to not have the chance to race this Ironman next year.

My recovery is going well, and I cannot wait for a race that will have weather conditions a little less dramatic than my first two races this season. I am proud of finishing, proud of my fellow pros for toughing it out as well, and so proud of Brandon for dealing with the situation and finishing the hardest ever Ironman out there. Hopefully this won't scare him from trying another one :) Everyone who raced this event shares a special bond that only truly can be understood by those who were out there. Thank you to all friends and family for their encouragement and well wishes. It certainly helped me get through the rough patches. Thanks for reading and until next time!