Ochsner Ironman 70.3 New Orleans - Triathlon1/2 Ironman

So it's game day. My friend, Maggie, and I wake up and do our usual pre-race stuff before heading over to transition and to the race start. Walking along the swim course, I kept thinking, "Crap, this is far." Refocusing, I told myself that I only had to swim to the next buoy; no looking ahead...just look to the next buoy. In the swim corral a fellow competitor said, "Just enjoy the lake." We line up in the water and I'm telling myself to just go slow so that I don't end up out of breath and panicked. Well, that didn't exactly happen. By the first buoy I was so out of breath. Other swimmers take off swimming fast...I take off breathing fast. :) Anyway, the trip through the first three buoys (there were maybe 10 in all) involved a lot of sidestroke. I had promised myself that no matter what, I would keep moving..that was my whole swimming game plan. So then I thought to myself, "Just enjoy the lake." Four strokes later I'm thinking to myself, "I hate this! Just keep moving and tolerate it." I wondered to myself why I don't just do duathlons...let me digress here...

In the pre-race meeting, the speaker let us know that we could "opt out" of the swim. If we really felt that the water was choppy and we couldn't complete it...we could be corralled for a bit and then be released into transition. Swimming is one of the main reasons I am a triathlete. I like to swim even though it's not easy and I do struggle. I can't quit simply because I'm not good at it...that goes against my grain. Opt out...not this chick. One day I hope to be a shark. Until that day, I will go on being the goldfish I've always been. Anyway, back to the water...

I developed a sort of pattern of swim, swim, swim, stop, float, sight, swim, swim, swim, stop, float, sight etc. I got surpassed by swimmers from about 4 waves behind me, and I swallowed the humble pie and kept going. The reality is that no one really cares how I'm swimming except me. And pretty soon I saw the wonderful orange buoy signaling the turn into the beach. Two things ran through my mind:
1. "Thank you, Jesus" and
2. "Lucy, I'm coming!!!" (Lucy is my bike).
Of note, my average heart rate during the swim was 165. For comparison, my average heart rate during the bike was 149 and during the run was 143.


Go out slower and with more control.

I wanted to be able to regain my composure during the transitions so didn't focus on decreasing my time that much.

I made it to my bike (yay!) and took off. I got used to the sound of the big boys with Zipp wheels coming up from behind...it's kind of a cool sound. My game plan here was to not push hard on the bike and to enjoy the scenery. Now many of you know and have experienced first hand how much I love to see animals from the road (by the way, on Hambright Road someone has cows in their front yard!). Guess what I saw!!! One stinking butterfly and I think one bird. That was it. Not even a squirrel. It was the most boring 56 miles that I have ever ridden. And they ran out of water and Gatorade! In addition, the 20-30mph headwinds were brutal. I ended up averaging 16.8 mph which wasn't bad considering I couldn't get my training ride average over 15 mph in December.

Ride harder during the easier stretches.

The first three miles of the run were very, very hot...reminiscent of the Chicago marathon I ran several years ago with the sun beating down on my head. I realized that I had 3.5 hours before the cutoff, so I was okay to walk/run (the triathlete in me was happy though the runner in me was cringing). My legs were okay but I was just so tired. I picked it up a bit for the second half as there was more shade. Somewhere near the end, everyone kept saying, "You're almost there! You're almost there!" Please note: do NOT say this to athletes unless the finish line is actually IN VIEW. I kept looking and thinking, "Where is it? Where is it?" :P Finally I saw it and it was wonderful to be finished. Maggie found me and we got our stuff. 6:41:11. That was my time. Turns out my swim took over 53 minutes. It's one of the slowest times out there, if not the slowest. And I wouldn't trade it for anyone else's time. It's actually what I'm most proud of about my race. That's my time. Those are my fears, my doubts. That's my sweat and my obnoxiously high heart rate. I earned it. I own it. I'm an Ironman 70.3.

Force myself to run consistently and watch my HR more.

I stopped and started eating!! The post-race Big Mac combo was totally necessary!


Poor nutrition and lack of focus on the run.


So what did I learn? Buoys, Zipp wheels, per mile averages? Nope. I learned that I have awesome friends. From Alison offering my her tires the day before I left after I realized mine were cracking (who knew you had to check your tires? :) and for letting me drive her car all the way to New Orleans. And for Suzanne and Lisa who offered to drive with me so I wouldn't be alone. I was worried that I would be too slow for them to stay excited during the race, but they planted themselves at least 8 times on the course to cheer for me. When we were driving out of New Orleans, they asked if they could be my athletic groupies (I almost cried). You people are the B-O-M-B. Your support meant EVERYTHING to me. There are countless others who have contributed to my success and it overwhelms me every time I think of it. Special thanks to Maggie who got me to do this race and for my hero, Stephanie.

So what's next? I have another half ironman next month, a sprint triathlon in June, and then the beast (Ford Ironman Wisconsin) on 9/13. :)

Just a girl with a goal and a plan.