Spirit of Racine Half Ironman Triathlon - Triathlon1/2 Ironman

55-degrees. 55-nut-numbing degrees. All I could think of was the time I went down in a shark cage in Australia when the water temperature was 63-degrees and how we froze our azzes off waiting for Jaws to show up. And today I would be swimming 1.2 miles in water that was 8-degrees colder than that. I had visions of my icycled azz sinking into the dark abyss ala Leo DiCaprio at the end of Titanic.

Fortunately, force and I were in the same AG wave, and talking with him while we waited for our wave to start helped calm my nerves. Then, at 8:21AM I went charging into the bracing waves with the rest of the lemmings and before I knew it we were rounding the first buoy to swim the long main stretch parallel to shore. Was it cold? Absolutely. Did my face go numb? Yep. Was I thanking God I had ordered the neoprene hood and booties? You bet. But about 300 yards into the swim, I was so focused on sighting the next buoy and finding my swim form, that really the water temperature just kind of drifted out of my mind (pun intended).

Thankfully, even though the Lake was nut-numbingly cold, it was also calm, so the stomach-churning up-and-down motion wasn’t the concern it could have been. The water was also crystal clear, allowing us to not only see the bottom the entire swim, but also any nearby feet for drafting. That was a real blessing, as I was able to leapfrog from one swimmer to another and really lessen the effort.

Because of the weather conditions, race organizers had made the decision to move the buoys closer to shore and there were several spots along the swim where it was possible to run along the bottom. I saw many people do so, but I just kept stroking along, passing many of these folks as I did. I really found a great groove during this swim, and sooner than expected, I saw the yellow buoy which marked the final turn into shore.

As I reached shore, I saw both force and djdavey exiting with me and glanced at my watch-- 31:25. HOT DAM*! Either the course was a little short, or my desire to get out of the cold water had made me incredibly fast. Whatever the case, this was an absolutely smokin’ swim. And my biggest worry of the day, I reasoned, was now behind me.



Dump a few tankers of oil into the water on Saturday and throw a match on it, bringing the water to a boil. Hope some of the heat sticks around for Sunday morning.

Actually, as it turned out, I wouldn't change a thing. I had one of my best swims in the most challenging of water conditions.

After turning in a fast, smooth swim, I knew this 500-yard run across the deep-sand beach to T1 would really redline my HR, and it did. Still, I made the most of my time, removing my hood and googles and undoing the top part of my wetsuit as I went. Of course, djdavey went flying by me as I did so, and I shoulda tripped his squirrel-y azz for not towing me along.

Because this was a HIM, I really didn’t make too much of an effort to have a fast T1, reasoning I could probably stand to lower my HR after the beach run anyway. But if I had seen Charles Benson, I still would have taken the time to go push him down and kick him in the kidneys a bit.



Nothing.

After exiting transition, I mounted the Guru and immediately made my way up the steep hill to the course. As I did, I reminded myself, just as I had million times since blowing up on this bike course last year, to go out super easy and ramp it up as I got deeper into the ride. So I geared way down, then spun effortlessly up the hill and down the initial straightaway. At the top of the hill, I was surprised to hear my wife and kids cheering me on—I hadn’t expected them to arrive until the run leg. That made for a nice sendoff as I stared down 56 miles of riding.

Along this opening stretch, I checked my HR: around 150 and just below threshold, but far from my z2 that I was supposed to be riding in. So I eased back on the effort and settled into a ridiculously easy race pace. This was a real ego-crusher, as I was getting passed by rider after rider, including force, djdavey, old ladies on fendered cruisers, pre-schoolers on trikes and a three-legged dog pulling an old Buick with rubbing brakes. Still, I sucked it up, remained disciplined and brought my HR down to 143—above z2 but honestly about as low as it was going to get. And I kept it low, as I just cruised along easily.

It was at this point, when I was feeling good, spinning along effortlessly, that a guy comes riding up along me and says, “Uh, dude, not that I was looking or anything, but you’ve got a hole in the azz of your spandex as wide as Montana.” Wonderful. I knew I had a small hole back there for quite a while—ever since I found a small strap on my saddle bag was rubbing against my shorts back in December. But apparently now that tiny hole had run like the opening in some pantyhose, exposing the better part of my left butt cheek to whoever was unfortunate enough to tuck in behind me. Over the course of the ride, that would include cweninger, ajotto, some very complimentary female competitors and one lispy fellow who wanted to discuss the race over a drink at his place later.

On the bright side, worrying about the glory hole in my shorts took my mind off riding and soon 1:23 of the bike ride had passed. I checked again a while later and still only 1:23 had passed. I rode over the 30-mile marker and STILL only 1:23 had passed. It was at this point I figured either I had hit some sort of time vortex, I had been abducted and released by aliens or that something was going on with my Garmin. Sure enough, I had somehow hit the “Stop” button while riding along. On the downside, I was disappointed that now my race info was going to be screwed up for analyzing later. On the upside, I was happy to learn I was 11 MILES further along than I previously thought.

It was about this time I also met up with ajotto who, of course, was kind enough to point out, like so many others, that I had a hole in the azz of my shorts that was bigger than the national deficit. We wound up riding the final 15 or so miles together, having a nice chat as we kept leapfrogging each other.

By this time, my HR was up over my threshold, but still within reason. Because I was still feeling really good, I rolled the dice a bit and continued at the same pace. I was still riding with considerably less effort than my previous HIMs and figured I would be okay. I was also heartened by the fact that I was now passing a lot of familiar faces—people who went blazing by me in those opening miles. Granted, they weren’t exactly the top competitors in my AG (or likely in the top half of my AG), but familiar faces nonetheless.

..Only one familiar face was still missing as I turned down the final stretch toward the hill leading down into T2… Charles Benson. I knew he was out there—I could almost smell him-- but I still didn’t know where.

All in all, this was a smart, steady and consistent ride. Not spectacular by any means but one that accomplished what it was intended to do—allow me to actually run the run leg.



Really, nothing. I rode a very disciplined, smart ride.

Again, I was in no hurry to rush through T2. I even took the time to stretch out my lower back a bit—it had been stiff and hurting ever since the 1-hour mark on the bike.

As I ran for the exit, I saw ajotto cursing himself for forgetting his bib number. I then reset the Garmin for the run and off I went.



Maybe apply suntan lotion. I got cooked on this run. But I never could have anticipated how sunny and hot it was going to get after the weather we had all weekend.

As expected, right outside of T2, I saw Terri and the kids waiting to cheer me on. I stopped briefly, gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her I felt great, I’d see her again in an hour or so. That felt especially good because last year, at this exact same spot, I told her I was hurting bad and that it was going to be a really long run. I knew my discipline on the bike—and also the longer, slower training that I had been doing in the weeks leading up to the race—were about to pay off.

Just like with the bike, I took off at a nice, easy pace—about 9:30/mile with the idea that I’d adjust it accordingly with how I felt. Just so I wouldn’t spike my HR, I walked the two hills leading up from the beach, then resumed my measured pace. My HR was around 158—above my threshold, but comfortable, especially considering the intense heat that was now beating down on us. I remember asking where the morning’s cool fog was now that we needed it—temps were now in the low 90s and shade was a scarce commodity. In fact, I was thanking God I had at least put sunblock on before I left the house in the morning, ‘cause I knew I was going to get extra crispy before this run was over.

Soon, I hit the first aid station and began what would become my ritual of walking through and taking in HEED, water and Endurolytes at each one. I had made the choice to forgo taking my Fuel Belt for this race and instead take the risk of living off what they had available on the course, which included a supplement I had never tried before-- HEED. It had a very subtle melon flavor, and whatever they put in it, it seemed to agree with me as I had no problems whatsoever with bloating or sloshing. Plus I was grateful I didn’t have to lug the extra weight of the Fuel Belt around my waist.

Not long after the first aid station, I met up with travisvb24 and were able to have a nice chat before he eased on up ahead. I would like to have kept pace with him, but I was once again committed to my slow, steady trot. From there, it was just living from one aid station to the next, passing donks here and there—jszat, djdavey, mutri and force heading back from the turnaround. I also remember NOT seeing one donk I expected to see on the course--tripletmom01. But I figured I had just missed her… or perhaps she was blocking Charles Benson for me.

I hit the turnaround and couldn’t believe I still felt so good. Because of my ankle rehab, I was really undertrained by my standards for the run. I had struggled to finish the Oly in Memphis in May and I hadn’t run more than 9 miles continuously all season. But my slow, steady approach was paying off. By now, I was probably slowing down to a 10:00/mile pace but I felt like I could maintain it for the distance. I also checked my watch— if I could keep this pace up, I had a very realistic shot of sneaking in under 5:45 for the race, a goal I had really thought to be unreachable considering my lack of sufficient run training.

On the way back to the start, I passed 1stTimeTri who encouraged me with a big “EEEEAAAAAAWWW!” and before long I hit the Zoo, feeling grateful to reach the extended downhill portion. Soon I was at the donkey tent, where Terri and the kids were once again waiting to give me a mental lift. I told her that this year I thought I’d actually run the Run and I’d be back to buy her lunch soon. She is really a trooper to drag out two kids under 4, set up a shade tent by herself, then entertain the kids all day long just to be there to encourage me on race day. With a full loop yet to go and the heat and sun really beating down, it was a huge lift to see her and the little men cheering me on.

After starting the second loop, I once again caught up with travis and this time we stayed together quite awhile, talking about his experience at the Florida 70.3, the TdF and assorted other stuff. We also passed jszat and mutri making the final push to the finish, both flying past and looking strong. I remember being jealous that their pain was almost done as travis and I just kept snailing along farther out into the heat.

Somewhere along the back stretch by the turnaround I lost travis and I was also starting to lose that loving feeling. I could feel my breathing becoming labored and I was really feeling the heat. I checked my HR: 165—high, but manageable. Still, I decided to walk the long incline back from the turnaround just to be safe. Near the top I saw PeterAK with my camera, shooting the runners as we passed (not literally, of course, or else he’d be locked up.) I’m sure I said something incoherent and trudged on.


Just minutes later, I see a slightly recognizable figure on a cruiser bike coming toward me out of the wavy heat like some sort of mirage in a Robert Louis Stevenson novel. He’s wearing a Polo shirt and khakis and sporting a perfectly styled haircut. And… that chin! I know that chin! Yes… it’s none other than Charles Benson, coming to mock me in my hour of pain and agony! Charles Benson, who it seems was too afraid to even toe the line and dive into that roiling 55-degree water. Charles Benson, who knew deep down he didn’t have what it takes to man up and throw down with me on this, the most challenging of days.

As I passed him going in our opposite directions, our eyes met, and I swear to you ( I’m not even kidding) I saw a glimmer of recognition and surprise in his eyes-- as when the baby water buffalo glimpses the submerged crocodile at the watering hole right before it strikes. Perhaps our rivalry is not as imaginary as I thought. Don’t worry, Charles—you will have your chance to stare down the crocodile again, my friend. And on that day, I will feast on your fear!

As I had just passed Pete with the camera, I was sooooo tempted to run back and tell him to get a shot of Charles and me. But then I came to my senses and simply muttered “CHARLES BENSON!!” through my gritted teeth. I like to think he heard me.

Still, knowing that Charles didn’t even have the guts to race today gave me all the fuel I needed to make the final 4-mile push to the finish. It seemed weird to think that with every step I took I was now running my longest run of the year—I have never gone into a race before without having done the distance recently with complete confidence.

By now, my hip flexors were just gone and I could barely lift my legs. I was still running, but my pace had fallen off to 11:30. By now, I knew I had no shot at breaking 5:45, which was actually a relief to me. Until then, I was worrying I may face a tough decision at the finish line—to stop and kiss my wife and take Rainer along with me to the finish, which I knew would take several extra precious seconds, or stay in full kick mode to try to break 5:45. Now, the decision was made for me and, really, I was glad for it.

Finally, I hit the final stretch and saw Terri and the kids and the other Donks under the tent. I ran over, gave Terri a big smooch, Reed a high-five, and grabbed Rainer’s hand to invite him to come run along with me down the chute. As we did, the crowd erupted in cheers for Rainer and he loved every second of it, skipping happily along. I’m sure he has a memory he’ll never forget and I was so happy to be able to give it to him.

At last we crossed the finish, and my left hammy immediately seized up, nearly making me fall over. One of the volunteers grabbed me and, of course, wanted me to immediately go to the Med Tent. But I knew it was just a cramp I had to work through and soon did. I got my Finisher’s Medal and had my picture taken with Rainer—I can’t wait to see that.

My final time? 5:48:14 – a full 24 minutes faster than last year! I had come for redemption for my poor performance last year, and I had gotten it. Having overcome my ankle injury, subsequent lack of run training and my poor showing (again) at Memphis, I would rate this as my most satisfying race ever.




Not ruin my ankle the year before, requiring me to take 6 months off from running immediately before the season begins.

It was more like a collapse. My left hammy, which had been threatening to seize up throughout the second loop of the run, finally did and I almost went down. However, I was able to work through it, then meet Terri and lay down under the tent for a while.

After a few minutes, force, mutri, cweninger and I headed down to the lake, where that cold water could finally serve a useful purpose-- icing our legs down. Man, that felt great and I think it really helped with recovery.

After packing our stuff up, Terri and I took the kids to The Chancery for a celebration meal.


My short little legs and the fact that my run training wasn't where it should have been because of my ankle. By the way, my ankle was pain-free throughout the race. I'll always have problems with it because of the damage I've done to both of them over the years, but at least I know I can still run on them now.


As always, HFP ran a very well-organized, professional race. If I had a gripe, it's that the post-race meal is lacking, but that's being really picky. They were also on the verge of running out of supplies at the aid stations when I finished, so I doubt they had enough for those behind me.

The big thing was that results were not posted online until late Monday night. That's really not good and I can only think there must have been some sort of snafu uploading them.

Overall, though, HFP rocks.