THE MORNING
Starting the night before I'd had some reluctance about this race. Maybe it was the weather: the forecast was low 50s and cloudy in the morning, low 60s by the time I was running. Maybe it was the fact the I know the course, and I know that no matter how well you pace it the run is gonna hurt. Maybe it was just that I didn't have someone to meet up with and hang out with before the race started. Whatever the reason, I took my time getting out of bed, grabbing my stuff and heading into town. I did notice as I walked to my car at the hotel and again as I was boarding the shuttle bus to T1 that it was actually a bit warmer that morning than I'd been expecting, which was awesome.And then I got off the bus in T1. Not sure if the weather changed during the 30 minute drive or it was just different 20 miles from downtown St George, but it was colder. And it was windy. WTF. I was somehow hoping it was temporary and would blow over. Ha.
I'd gotten to transition around 5:40am. This was way, way earlier than I needed to be there. It took me maybe 10 minutes to get my bike stuff set up (still in the bag, just organized, because when I re-checked the forecast at 4am there was a 20% chance of rain from 7-8am). So then I had 40 minutes till they closed transition, and another 75 minutes after that till my swim wave went off. I really should have slept in a little more. I stood there for a while, wandered around a bit trying to find people, and finally walked out of transition around 6:20. Hit the port-a-potty (my race day exception to my strict no-port-a-potty rule) and found a place to sit and try to stay warm. I was wearing sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt under a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, socks and sneakers, and by 6:45 I was shivering. Fuck.
Warning: the remainder of the write-up will contain an excessive use of F-bombs because it's the only way to accurately describe the day.
When I heard last call for morning clothes bags at around 7:00 I ran over and changed into my wetsuit as quickly as I could - which is to say it took me about 10 minutes - and sadly gave up all my warm morning stuff. Except my socks. No way I was going barefoot. Returned to my spot to sit and wait and continued shivering. At this point some fellow D3-ers randomly appeared so at least I had friends. Lisa and I made one last port-a-potty run and it was time to move toward the water. Fuck - it was already cold and now I'm about to get into cold water (63 degrees, apparently). Why the fuck did I leave my neoprene booties in the hotel room. Are we really fucking doing this? Maybe actually the water will feel ok because it's warmer than the air. A few steps in - not so bad. Waist deep - fuck it's really cold. My hands and feet are never going to warm up. I can barely stand to put my face in the water. What. The. Fuck.
THE SWIM - 36:08 / 9th in AG
It took me a few hundred meters to acclimate to the cold water. I figured that was why I couldn't find my rhythm and my breathing was out of whack and it felt overall like shit. Then I realized it was because the conditions were horrible. Lots of chop - the worst I've experienced in a long while. I tried to figure out which direction the chop was coming from so I could breathe to the other side, but it was bad in both directions. Just put my head down and kept going. I knew the conditions were really bad when we caught the wave ahead of us by the 2nd buoy. Lots of people were struggling.On top of the cold and the chop, my left goggle was leaking. I stopped three or four times before the first turn to clear it and try to reseal, but it kept leaking and so I just gave up. Swam 2/3rds of the course with my left goggle full of water. Didn't seem to be anything I could do about it, and at least there wasn't anything in the water that was irritating my eye. Eventually I forgot the water was even in there.
By the time I was heading to shore I was seriously ready to be done with the swim. Last year I wanted the swim to last forever because I was terrified of the hills on the bike and the run. This year, I never ever found my rhythm and just wanted the swim to be over and to get out on the bike and settle in. Ha.
T2 - 6:11
First thing, of course, I checked my Garmin for my swim time. Pretty pleased, since I hadn't totally regained my swim speed after my 4 month post-IMCdA swim hiatus. Had been expecting 36-37 in calm water, so this was a good swim. Then I turned to assessing my temperature level and realizing that my left eye was a little whacked from all that water in my goggle. Totally forgot to start taking off my wetsuit BEFORE I got to the peelers. Luckily they were super helpful and knew exactly what they were doing. So then I'm off to find my bike.I'd left two clothing options in T1 for the bike leg, thinking I'd wait and see how cold I was after the swim and then make a decision. I wasn't actually as cold as I thought I'd be. And the sun was peaking out and it was supposed to warm up during the morning. So I went with arm warmers instead of the long sleeve jersey. Stupidest fucking decision ever, and not because arm warmers are nearly impossible to pull on when your arms are wet. So yes, my extra long T2 time is due to that and trying to put socks on wet feet and gloves on wet hands.
THE FUCKING BIKE - 3:24:12 / 26th in AG
The first two minutes were fine. Only the first two minutes. Then it started raining. Fuck. So the course is crowded and the chip seal on the road is rough as hell and it is RAINING. I was just focused on trying to avoid the extra rough sections of road and not run into anyone and deal with the fact that it was raining. I knew the course turned left at some point and it looked brighter to the left and I was clinging to the fact that in just a few miles I would ride out of the rain and it would get better.We hit the first climb around mile 4. I'm from Colorado and we have hills there, and southern Utah has lots of oxygen, plus I'm pretty pissed about the rain and so I'll be damned if I'm not going to blow by everyone on these stupid hills. I watched my watts (a little) so I didn't screw myself for later, but honestly I barely felt it. Wasn't even breathing hard. That was kinda cool.
I hit my first 5 mile split, which was way behind pace and that was super annoying. Also realized at this point that I hadn’t had any nutrition yet, and then immediately following that I realized that my water bottle was really hard to grab when it was wet. Uh oh. I started looking toward the 8-mile mark when I knew the shitty chip seal ended and maybe also when the rain would end. Hit the 10 mile split and things were starting to look better. Great pace, smooth road, and those five miles had gone by really fast. It was going to be ok. And then we turned left and it started raining again.
Fuck. The next 20 miles were horrible. I had lost feeling in my feet before the 10-mile mark and knew at this point I wouldn't regain it till sometime on the run. I was shivering and my whole body was cold. I tried to be grateful that I could still feel my fingers but was worried that it wouldn't last. (Thankfully it did - for most others that wasn't the case.) The rain would come and go, and each time I desperately hoped that would be the end of it. I strategically downed some nutrition every time it stopped raining, when I had a greater chance of not dropping the bottle. I would see brighter skies in the direction I thought we were headed and convince myself I would get dry. And then we'd change direction and I'd be staring at grey clouds and I knew we were fucked.
I really, really did not want to be out there. The miles were going by so slowly, and I didn't know how I could possibly last through the entire bike. I thought, well, if I wreck then my race will be over ... but then I'll just be lying there in the cold for ages till someone comes for me, so that won't help. I thought, A LOT, about bailing. I worked very hard to convince myself that there were reasons to stay out there. My right ankle started hurting a little, and I figured this was a fantastic reason to bail. I also figured it was definitely an excuse and not a real reason, so I decided to ignore it. Ultimately, I knew that if I DNF'd I'd regret the fuck out of it, so I kept going.
I thought a lot about that damn jersey that I'd left in T1. I mean, I was longing for that thing. My shoulders were cold and the arm warmers were cold and soggy and I really, really wished I hadn't been such a fucking idiot and had put on the jersey. Maybe even on top of the arm warmers.
I bombed the downhills even though it was really wet because I didn't want the bike to take a minute longer than it absolutely had to. I worked the uphills because I could and it was fun to pass people and frankly uphill was a lot more pleasant than flat or downhill because you lost the wind chill of biking at a reasonable to fast pace. I've never actively looked forward to hills on a bike ride before. For several miles at various points I totally lost focus, because I was too cold and miserable and was either getting rained on or dreading getting wet again and couldn't get my head around staying on the bike for the next however many miles. Oh, and I dropped f-bombs like it was my job.
Finally, at mile 30-something, we got to Ivins, the neighborhood before the Snow Canyon climb that had the "flat and fast" out and back section. This meant that I could start breaking down the remainder of the ride into manageable chunks: a few miles to the out and back, maybe 4 miles there, then turn left to the final aid station and a much needed port-a-potty, 4 miles up Snow Canyon, then 10 miles downhill to T2 and WARMTH.
I wanted this ride to be over, so I was not holding back. I kept up my watts and passed people constantly and, especially on the flat and fast, tried to figure out why everyone wasn't going as fast. From what I've heard, I think many had lost feeling in their fingers and couldn't shift gears. I also think many had more sense than I and were being careful because it was so wet. It really did not occur to me to deliberately slow down - or even deliberately not go as fast as possible - and make the bike take any longer than absolutely necessary.
I hit the pit stop that I’d needed 10 miles ago and started getting excited because I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could totally get my head around the 4 mile climb up the canyon. 10 miles downhill - 30 minutes downhill with a death grip on my bars??? - was harder to grasp, but I figured I'd cross that bridge when I got there. I walked out of the port-a-potty and Don't Start Believing kicked in on the aid station speakers. To say this pumped me up is a real understatement. I grabbed my bike, thanked the volunteers and pushed off. The music faded as I put distance between me and the aid station but I was still singing - and practically crying. WTF???
I crossed the entrance to Snow Canyon and I started gunning for the top. I didn't want to blow out my legs for the run but I wanted this mother fucker DONE because it had, of course, started raining again, and I knew I could handle the climb. Plus it's super fun passing people when I'm feeling strong and they're struggling. And, you know, oxygen. I occasionally remembered to keep my watts in check, and that last mile did have a few tough moments, but pretty soon I was at the top and then ONLY 10 MILES TO SALVATION.
I made the turn downhill and instantly dropped into aero, shifted to a big gear and start moving. I mean MOVING. I was passing people like they were standing still. I was flat out bombing that thing because I wanted to get down as fast as I possibly could because then this fucking bike ride would be done and I could get the dry socks and shirt I had in T2 and my feet would thaw out and the run would be dry. (Ha.) There were a few other people going as fast or faster than I was, and so somehow what I was doing seemed ok. But at one point I thought of my kids and thought that there was a real chance that I was being recklessly irresponsible, but honestly at that point there was no way I was slowing down so I just went for it. I averaged 30mph for the 8 mile run downhill. What the fuck.
I made the left hand turn onto Diagonal and was practically euphoric. At that point it occurred to me that I’d been so focused on finishing the bike that I’d kinda forgot that I had to now run 13 miles. I was trying to move my mental finish line out 2 hours when someone's stupid fucking little black dog starts walking across the bike course 15 feet in front of me. What the fuck?!?!? Brake, swerve, curse loudly, move on.
Overall, my bike was 10 minutes slower than last year but 5 minutes faster than I thought it would be at the top of Snow Canyon. Other than the first few miles and those miles when I was unfocused (delirious?), I put out a solid effort, which is all I can ask of myself. Thankfully I don't feel like I need to come back to prove I can do it better.
T2 - 4:54
I racked my bike and started fumbling with my gear. I thought my hands were doing ok with the cold, but given how poorly my hands and arms were functioning apparently I was wrong. I was doing better than the woman across from me, though, who had to ask a volunteer to unclip her helmet because she couldn’t do it herself. (The volunteers, as always, were amazing - they'd find you in transition and help with helmets, shoelaces, whatever you needed. Love those people!)I am thrilled as hell when I realize that the bag I placed over my socks and shoes did in fact keep them dry. I fumble getting the wet socks off and dry ones on, and didn't do a great job brushing the pebbles from the pavement off my feet. It took forever to get my gloves off. And even thought the sun had poked out again, I was clearly not making the same mistake twice and grabbed my long sleeve shirt. I needed to get going while I still had momentum, so I grabbed the rest of what I needed and ran off. I crossed the transition line and went to hit the lap button on my Garmin and it's not there. Left it on my bike. Fuck. Now I have to run the whole fucking run without knowing where the fuck I am. But I wasn’t going back for it.
THE RUN - 2:04:57 / 20th in AG
I started out on the run course and was just trying to monitor my breathing rate and settle in. Instantly I am chilly and am trying to put my shirt on without stopping or dropping my Nathan bottle. Finally get all that sorted out and go back to trying to to find my groove. My legs felt pretty trashed, which was a little disconcerting, and I was worried about unconsciously starting out too fast. The whole damn reason I had come back here was to crush the run and get a little redemption on this beast of a course. I needed to make sure not do overdo it before the final climb at 8.5 so I could bury that one and then crush it home.First 3 miles are all uphill and all about pacing. You overdo the first 2.5 and you won't even be able to run the big climb up to the 3 mile mark. But those miles actually go smoothly, I realize happily that I can start to feel my feet again, and I settled into the middle section of the course. I've found my groove and am running well. I get caught up chatting with another runner about almost hitting that stupid fucking dog and realize I'm bombing down a hill. I ease up because don't want to overdo the middle section or I won't be strong when I want to be.
I hit the turnaround at mile 6 and start back uphill. This is where I started to slide last year. It does hurt but I'm not as dejected as I was at this point a year ago. The pebbles in my sock are making themselves known but I can deal with it. The sky ahead is dark grey and it's going to fucking rain AGAIN. I'm not feeling awesome, but I'm moving forward and monitoring my effort level and am focused on getting to 8.5 and crushing the beast.
One slow bit at a time, I get closer to that final hill. It is the only reason I am here. I hit the base of it, dial in my effort level to something I can sustain, and head up. I am focused as hell on defeating this thing, even though it’s slow going and long as hell. By design, I had run enough hills in training that I knew how to get to the top: head down, take it slow, one foot in front of the other, find the crest, count it down. It takes a while, but it's not a struggle. Redemption. Oh. Hell. Yes.
Even better, I get through the aid station and realize I have enough in my legs to turn to part 2 of my goal - a strong finish. Last year I struggled to sustain 10 minute miles downhill for the final miles. This year I wanted to do better, and I definitely had it in me. I was excited - only 4 miles to go - and so I turned it up a notch. I realized this may have been a little early, but there's almost no climb left from that point and from mile 10 on it's literally all downhill. I spent 2 miles bouncing from working hard to reigning it in so I don’t blow up too early, and by mile 11 I was feeling it for sure.
I make the left turn onto Diagonal. It's gotta be a mile and a half now. I was really wishing I had my Garmin so I could count down the final bit - I couldn’t see the last aid station or the last turn, and I was moving at a solid clip, even keeping pace with a strong-ass woman who’d blown by me a few miles back (apparently I caught up!), but it was hurting. Had to find the baby steps. One cone at a time, keep the goals small. Finally the last aid station came into view, and the turn to the finish beyond that. One cone at a time. Last drink of water. Just make it to the turn. Five blocks to the finish. Halle-fucking-lujah.
Ironman's website blew up so I didn't see my run splits till after dinner. I took 6 minutes off my run time from last year and averaged an 8:38 pace for the final 4.2 miles. I did what I set out to do, and I will never come back to this course again. (Mic drops.)
Final Time 6:16:22 / 20th in AG
Per Julie’s Garmin:
46.5 °F
Avg Temp
39.2 °F
Min Temp
53.6 °F
Max Temp