Ford Ironman St. George - TriathlonFull Ironman

After all the hype about the chaos of the IM mass swim start, this was pretty anticlimactic. Between the width of the starting line and the number of people who hung out on shore until the last second to stay out of the cold water, there was plenty of breathing room and I didn't experience any more contact than in any big wave start. That's not to say that I didn't get slowed down picking my way through slower swimmers around me: Decided to "Tarzan" swim at the beginning to pick my way through the worst crowding. No question that, even though this wasn't as bad as I was anticipating, the mass start cost me time.

First 1000 yds out to the turn went pretty well. Cold wasn't bothering me and I settled in next to a woman swimming about my pace about 500 yds in and we paced each other to the turn. I don't like to draft--generally don't have much luck finding someone I'm not really wanting to pass when I come up on their feet--so having a "companion" was a nice alternative.

Lost my pacer at the first turn and that's also when things started to go a bit awry. Started to feel spasming in my left Achilles--that's a chronic issue for me in running and it sometimes comes up late in long swims in the pool. Today the cold water was triggering it. Limited the amount of power I could generate with my kick and it was especially set off by my raising my head up to sight. Fortunately, this course was tailor made for me for navigating--all the buoys were on the left and that's the side I breathe on, so I was able to limit my sighting.

It was during the second leg that I could tell my outer swimcap (with my bib number marked on it) was starting to slip off the silicone cap I had on under it for warmth. Broke rhythm for the first of about three times to yank it back on--oops, there goes my left ear plug. Rush of cold water into my left ear was a little disconcerting, but no big deal ultimately.

Another left turn. Now comes the longest straightaway--more than 1500 yards. Achilles would get spasmed up any time someone whacked my left foot. (To my dying day, I'll never understand why people think its okay to smack someone in the foot repeatedly...this isn't a pool and they aren't doing that to pass...I've done over a dozen OW swim tri's now and have never done that to anyone else and I've passed lots of people in those races.) At about 3000 yards, near disaster struck: My left calf completely cramped up. Had to come to a dead stop and tread water. Not good. If it didn't loosen up, my day was over...no way I could swim another 1200+ yards in this cold water with this cramp. Mercifully, it let up after what seemed like an eternity (but was probably 30 seconds)...still can feel it more than a week later writing this and it became an issue later in the day on the run.

Last turn and I was "smelling the barn." Stretched out a bit here, but my speed was limited by the calf and the still-spasmy Achilles. Definitely finished stronger and with better positioning than I did at Vineman, but the cramps and the congestion at the start definitely contributed to a slower time.

Pretty happy with where I placed myself in the field. Navigation was good. Given that even with a sub-par time I was still well up in the top half of the field and most of the faster swimmers stay to the inside, I probably could have placed myself all the way up front and on the outside--likely wouldn't have been swum over much and would have avoided the congestion of the start.

What cost me time were swimming to the outside and cramping due to the cold water that limited my kicking. Nothing I could do about the water temp and I'd certainly swum in colder water, so it isn't like I wasn't generally acclimated.

Well, getting out of the water 4+ minutes after I thought I would set a tone for the day. Decided right then I was going to be comfortable and finish and let the time be what it was. Wetsuit stripper yanked off my suit and I got my bike bag and went into the change tent. Made myself at home on a chair and toweled off. Put on tri top and then a sleeveless PI bike jersey over that for some extra warmth--good decision ultimately...felt like I was dressed just right for the conditions. Getting arm warmers on took a bit of time (first time I've worn them in a tri). Opted not to wear full finger gloves or shoe covers--good call on both counts. Strapped on Garmin 205, which I wouldn't be turning on until T2. Stuffed wetsuit into bag and handed it to a volunteer.

Got to bike and had to initialize my bike computer sensors--speed and cadence both working. Trotted to the mount zone and got on the bike.

Not sure. This was really slow, but I was taking it very deliberately all the way through. Could have just done everything I was doing faster. This is probably where I could have gotten my finish under 15 hours with a bit more urgency...but I just didn't feel I was going to be well served by urgency on this occasion.

First clue that things might not go well? Less than a quarter mile into the ride, as I'm still exiting the state park, I hear a "tick...tick...tick" sound which I think must be coming from a bike next to me. Then I realize its coming from my bike...as, a split second later, my front bike computer sensor literally explodes into pieces as it is demolished by my spokes. How it got in there when I had just initialized it by free-spinning the front wheel right before leaving transition is a complete mystery. But, there ya have it: 111.8 miles to go with no speed or elapsed mile readout. Just cadence.

Which was okay, really. I was pretty determined to govern my effort by riding to cadence and that's what I did: Other than on the toughest grades, I stayed between 82 and 92 throughout most of the ride.

My expectation going in was that I'd average somewhere between 15 and 16.5 mph. Not having had a chance to train on the course (only having driven it once), I was speculating a bit there, but a minimum of 15 mph was absolutely doable based on similar training rides.

Nutrition and hydration plan was pretty much the same as for my first IM and my most successful long training rides: Gatorade at 25 min. and 200 cal's of either gels or blocks plus water at 50 min. Kept that up for the whole ride...until things went south...

The first 22 mile stretch coming into town from the swim venue is tougher than advertised. Much of the pre-race attention was focused on the northbound section of the loop we'd be riding twice, which had the two most attention-grabbing hills, but there were two challenging grades in the opening ten miles. After turning onto SR 9 from Sand Hollow Road, around five miles in, there is a long, relatively steep, grade for about a mile. Then on Telegraph Road, at mile 10, there's a roughly 10% grade for about a half mile. Add to that a one mile, less severe, grade around mile 20 (which we'd see twice on the run) and the supposedly easy opening to the ride is really not.

Anyhow, I knew my wife would be at the "designated bike viewing zone" in the suburb of Ivins. I'd told her I'd probably be there around 10-10:30am and--voila--I passed her at 10:13. Right on schedule...despite having exited T2 about 10 minutes after I anticipated. My 20 mile split worked out to right around 16 mph and I was husbanding my effort according to plan. So far so good.

Decided from the moment I hit town to thank all the volunteers I passed. Then I decided I'd also say "hi" to all the spectators. So that's what I did. I'd pass a knot of viewers at an intersection and shout out, "Good morning! How you doin'?" You could tell it fired them up to cheer more...and you could tell a lot of them were shocked and tickled that a rider was cheering for them. At one point, a rider behind me--who could see my name on my race number on my back--said, "You're my inspiration, Todd!" I replied, "Just trying to make the miles go faster." Because that's just what it did. And I could tell on the run later, when things went bad, that it was that much harder to stay out of my own misery and pay attention to what others were bringing to the day to help us all get through it.

Heading out of Ivins, you turn right onto "Old Highway 91" and into more rural surroundings...and much crappier roads. The stretch on 91 is both consistently rolling and has more uneven pavement. After a few miles you veer right onto 3184 to the little hamlet of Gunlock. This road is features incredibly beautiful scenery...and just ghastly chip seal surface. I'd been warned about this, but have never really ridden any significant distances on chip seal before. OMGZ! No way to carry any speed off a downhill into the next uphill...the road just sucks all the speed out of your bike. But there was nothing to do but to do it, so I kept to my small chainring and kept my cadence in my comfort zone, reminding myself that I had to come through here again.

Along with the chip seal roadway, I was contending with headwind here as well. After the cold water at the start of the day and riding into the wind, my nose was running and, eventually, my lips got chapped. Although lots of scouting reports on the SG loop indicated that the tendency was for tailwinds on this section, which translated into headwind for the downhill to follow, today we were going to be fighting a pissy headwind on the toughest part of the course.

Anyhow, I got through the first 10%+ half mile long hill without a lot of trouble and knew I was getting close to "the wall"...a big switchback that everyone writing about the course in advance of the race mentioned. Driving the course, I was not impressed and, frankly, climbing the "wall" wasn't that bad. A bit of a slog, but nothing that extreme. Got out of the saddle just for a few seconds near the top, but didn't really overexert myself.

I was monitoring the levels in my Gatorade and water bottles against my elapsed time and was pretty much where I thought I should be. Swapped out my water bottle at the next aid station and Gatorade after that.

As had been mentioned in scouting reports, the first hill after the turn south at Veyo (off of the chip seal...finally) was significant. Got over that okay and started into the long, mostly downhill, section on highway 18 back to St. George. Here's where I missed my bike computer: Since my Garmin wasn't on, I had no way to know my top speed on the couple screaming downhills. I got on the horns and leaned way down over the bars and was barreling past people at what I'm sure was around 45 mph. From my drive of the course, I was conscious of canyons where there might be crosswinds, but they weren't enough to scare me. Fun!

Kept up the greetings of spectators on the second pass through Ivins, which boosted my spirits. Finished the loop in pretty much exactly what I'd expected. But heading out onto 91, the headwind had picked up and my energy was flagging a bit. Kept my cadence and effort where I wanted it, but I was definitely starting to be passed more than I was passing.

Second trip up 3184 was--probably not surprisingly--slower than the first. Wind was somewhat lighter than on 91, but still enough to sap some energy. As I got closer to the aid station in Gunlock, I realized that I was going to have to take a portapotty break...wasn't going to make it to T2 without taking a dump, not to put too fine a point on it.

Apart from that, though, my legs were starting to feel weary and I was getting a bit overheated. I'd been staying on my nutrition and hydration plan, but the reality was I was getting dehydrated. So the stop was going to be a good idea all the way 'round. Ended up spending seven minutes at the aid station, between the portasan and a minute or so of stretching. Got back on the bike and headed for the second climb of the "wall."

Second climb wasn't really too much tougher than the first--kept my effort modest and stayed in the saddle for most of it. Getting to the top and into a flatter section, I was a bit relieved. Temperature up here was chilly, actually, and had my jersey zipped down a bit and my arm warmers rolled down part way to address the overheating and my fears of dehydrating.

As I got into Veyo, I knew I was in trouble. Stomach was getting a bit queasy...started taking in more sips of Gatorade. Hitting the start of the long grade on Hwy 18, my left quad absolutely seized up. Had to pull onto the shoulder and jump off. Horrible cramp. Worked it out with some walking and started again. Got a couple hundred yards and the other leg went...quad and hip. This wasn't good. I was afraid I was done...wasn't sure I could make it over the grade. Spent a few minutes stretching against the guardrail until the cramping was passed. I knew it was mostly downhill to T2 if I could just spin over this hill. Took it slow and very easy and managed to get there. Cold and windy on this section, but finally I was going to be able to head downhill to town. Only one last short hill after the weird no-pass zone bike-path cloverleaf on Snow Canyon and then into transition. Saw my wife and dad cheering on the final stretch down Main St. and waved to them. Made it in and handed my bike off to a volunteer.





Apparently take in more fluids. Rode this according to plan and was very conservative with pace...nutrition has worked fine in the past. However I was probably a bit short on hydration...although I was watching my intake, I did find that I was playing catchup a bit on the level in my bottles. And--in hindsight--what I really suspect contributed to my dehydration was the 3-4 hours of headwind. Haven't really done a 6-7 hour ride with that in the mix. Overall, though, tactically this was an okay ride and I was headed for within 5-10 minutes of my goal. Portapotty stop and stops for cramping, along with limiting my effort once I could tell I was dehydrating added a lot of time.

I'd made a last minute decision to add a 10 oz. flask of Gatorade to my run gear bag on my way to the shuttle to the start...good move. I was able to let the volunteer take my bike and then head for my bag without fumbling to remove what remained of my bottle in the cage on my bike. I knew I was going to need to start addressing my dehydration immediately.

As with T1, I gave up on time considerations here with the aim of getting squared away for the run. Got changed pretty quickly, but sat and drank the flask of Gatorade and ate the mini Clif Bar I'd stashed in my bag. After I handed off the bag to the hovering volunteer, I headed outside...and was waylaid by a group of volunteers wanting to slather sunscreen on my. Oh, why not...another minute or two there. Had sunscreen spray in my bag (and hadn't seen evidence of the sunscreen I put on in the AM wearing off, for that matter), but they were so darned eager to help.

I could have cut this in half or better, but I needed to get my system settled down. Run went badly enough as it was...rushing through transition when I was in no danger of threatening the leaders in my AG would only have made things worse.

To make a very long story short-ish, my day was basically done by mile 90 of the bike when I was both cramping and dehydrated. (The two were not necessarily related, but the effects of both were to pretty much shift me into survival mode for the remainder of the day.)

I figured I could probably gut out a 10:00/mile pace for the run (I'm about a 3:45 standalone marathoner) even in my still-dehydrated condition. So off I went, determined to take it easy. Passed my family at a nice clip and gave them the thumbs-up.

Main feature of the SG run course? No flats (other than the first block out of T2). One nearly half-mile steep grade and one mile-long, only slightly less steep, grade to run up (and down) twice, plus a number of other hills, a couple of them pretty steep (albeit not long). I was actually feeling pretty comfortable (even the ITBS) at about 9:00-9:15/mile and decided to run the aid stations initially. Kept that up through the top of the steep hill at mile three. Lots of people were walking right out of T2 and more by the time we got to this hill.

After that, as at Vineman, I started walking the aid stations. Kept up that routine...running everything...through just about mile 7.

At about 6.5 miles, the course leaves the road and enters a loop path in a park, with a couple steep hills. Going up the second, I was getting very queasy and I knew I was in the weeds again with dehydration...I'd bought myself some time with the Gatorade in T2, but now I was on fumes again. Made it to the next aid station at the loop turnaround, but as I entered the off road park loop again, I had to walk the uphill. And after that came the mile-long grade. The die was cast...I'd be walking the uphills. No way I could manage them at a run without puking and that would be the beginning of a very ugly scenario.

So walk the uphills I did. Ran the downhills. (Remember there weren't any flats, really.) I was doing my best to keep taking some calories and do get down as much fluid as I could given my GI distress. Along the way I tried Gatorade, water, Gatorade cut with water, Coke, and even a sip of broth (knew that wouldn't go down well and I was right about that). Ultimately, as things got bleak, I settled on taking a cup of ice at each aid station and then nursing ice chips as I walked.

Managed a fair amount of running in the long downhill section comprising the last three miles of the loop. It was clear now, though, that I'd be out well after dark and the temperature up on the ridge was starting to drop. Decided to grab the long sleeve t-shirt I'd stashed in special needs. Stopped at SN as no fewer than three volunteers yelled out my number as I approach. Get to where my bag should be and they haven't heard all the yelling of my number. That's fine. But they can't find my bag. D'oh! Having worked bike SN at IMAZ, I'm working up a bit of righteous indignation here. Two volunteers are combing through all the bags and not finding mine. I'm looking, too, and letting them know I really don't want to be freezing up on the ridge for the rest of the evening. Finally, they look in the box the bags were transported in--which should only have used bags in it at this point--mine is, for no apparent reason, buried in there. Whatever...just glad by this point to have the long sleeve shirt.

Run up to Liz and my dad. Liz has brought my warmup jacket and my fluorescent yellow long sleeve bike jersey from the hotel on her own initiative, so she's glad to see I have the long sleeve T on and doesn't have to break the outside assistance rule by giving me outerwear. I quickly tell them what's up--that I dehydrated on the bike and its caught up to me big time now. Run on around the traffic circle to complete loop one and run right back by the two of them. I blur of math runs through my head in a moment and I flash three fingers at Liz: "I'll probably be back in three hours." My conscious mind has no idea if that's even remotely right, by the way, but there ya go...

The following pace chart from my Garmin probably tells the tale of two half marathons as well as words will do:



Barely got past Liz and my dad before I was on the first uphill slope and started to walk. This...and nausea and chips of ice and whatever pretzels I could stomach (and a couple electrolyte capsules, since I was mostly just taking in water and didn't want to flirt with hyponatremia)...would be the story of the second loop.

One small victory: Originally I wanted to finish by dark. Lowered my sights to making it to the turnaround on the second loop by dark. That mission, at least, I accomplished.

Things got bleaker as the night got darker. I recognized as I got onto the steep climb up to the ridge, that my breathing was labored even at a walk. Not a good sign: Equals elevated HR, which--at that effort--almost certainly equals low BP from pretty significant dehydration. So there'd be no attempts at Julie Moss-style heroism here...unless I re-hydrated sufficiently, running the hills would get me where I wound up after LA Marathon this year, fainting in the gutter.

Just to turn the knife...so to speak...the calf cramp from the swim came back in spades on the second loop. And the ITBS had finally had enough of my running the downhills. Up til then, I'd actually gotten through the day feeling pretty physically sound: My fitness was where it needed to be for the day, it was my hydration plan that seemed to have turned out to be an epic FAIL.

I'd faced the thought of a DNF once each on the swim and the bike with serious cramps, but got past those in short order. Here on the run, in the dark, feeling sick, it was a tougher challenge. This was both physical and mental...I was constantly persuading myself in the late miles that I wasn't going to pass out, that I could get through it if I managed my effort.

Played leapfrog with a lot of other folks through the miles in the dark. Kept on sucking on ice. Kept on monitoring myself for severe light-headedness or disorientation. Only late in the long grade at mile 22 did I really start to worry that I wouldn't finish...breathing was especially labored and I was getting stressed.

Through all of this, I was aware that I'd at least managed to run some part of each and every mile of the course. Tough to manage that on miles 22 and 23...only ran the very end of 22 and the beginning of 23.

Then, as I neared the top of the steepest slope, marking about 3 miles to go, I was aware that my stomach wasn't upset anymore. I opened up my pace a bit on the downhill (as much as the left calf and right knee would allow on that steep a descent) and it was as if the clouds had parted. Apparently, I'd gotten myself rehydrated. I was thinking now of running out the last three miles.

Now before I got all crazy there, I reminded myself that there was still one steep, if short, uphill left and that I could quickly find myself back in the weeds. So I did walk the two steepest sections of that hill, but actually ran the shallower middle section.

At the top was the "inspiration station," where I anticipated seeing the message Liz have input for me at the expo. I ran across the chip mat and see the LED board scroll up...and there's my message: "T Covert 2077 - Go Greg U R a real stud." Um...okay. That's inspiring. Who the eff is "Greg"? *sigh* Technology...

Coming down from that hill (which is on a short out-and-back off the main drag), I decided to run in. And I was running at a respectable clip now that I was no longer on the verge of puking my guts out with every step. Ran through the mile 2.5 aid station, passing people with volunteers looking up and cheering me on. Turning down the last long straightaway, Diagonal, it was dark but there were knots of spectators and passers-by scattered along the way. Everyone cheered me on--I suppose at that point in the race, a bit surprised that someone that far back in the field was running that fast. People at the last aid station were really cheering and telling me the traditional "you're almost there...just around the corner." Memo: One mile is not "just around the corner." Just saying...

The last stretch is a nice gentle downhill grade and I felt like I was flying. Kinda sucky--I was edging down under 8:00/mile pace, reasonably comfortably, and that was a reminder of how much failed hydration had sabotaged months of physical conditioning.

Came around the traffic circle at the intersection of Diagonal and Main that marked the last stretch into the finish. Now I was running into the light and the crowd and I could tell people were into having someone come by with a serious finishing kick. Wasn't trying for a time goal...hadn't even looked at my watch in ages...just wanted to enjoy running--fast--after the hours of walking.

One block from the finish, I looked ahead to see who was in front of me. There was one woman sort of playing to the crowd near the start of the chute. I decided I wanted Mike Reilly to myself, dammit, so I turned it up a bit to pass her. Went down the chute alone...lots of cheering and, for the first time ever in a tri, I actually waved back. Couldn't hear Liz, who says she was in there cheering (and crying too hard to take a picture), but I heard Mike Reilly loud and clear: "Todd Covert from Encino, California...you are an Ironman." Cool. Not my first time...but it was nice to do one with that particular bit of tinsel.

And sure enough...whatever lizard-accountant-brain dredged up the "I'll be back in three hours" prediction to Liz was right on the money. Scary.

Run was pretty much over at mile 90 of the bike. Actually pretty proud of managing to run the first 1/4 of the course (including some tough climbs) and working my way back from what was potentially pretty disastrous dehydration. Might have been able to start my final run a bit sooner, but that might just has easily pushed me back into distress. Hindsight's way too 20/20.

One place I lost time that was out of my control was at special needs. Wasn't very happy that late in the day, esp. given how I was feeling, that they couldn't find my bag for what felt like an eternity. Having worked bike SN at IMAZ, I can feel for the volunteers...but I also know from that experience that there's no excuse for my bag to have somehow still been in the box it came out on the truck in and not laid out on the ground with the others. Don't think I spent five minutes there, but might have saved enough to have made a realistic push for sub-15 hours if I hadn't lost time there.

Like all the other volunteers, my catcher was enthusiastic and solicitous to a fault. He guided me through getting my medal and finisher gear and asked if I was okay--at this point, having rehydrated and with all the relative downtime of walking, I was actually just fine. My calf was in a knot and my knee felt like someone had kicked it, of course, but I was doing okay otherwise.

Found Liz waiting along the exit chute and we agreed on a rendezvous point. I was hopeful of getting a massage for the calf. Signed up on the waiting list but eventually took my name off--wait was too long for my tastes and I wasn't that hurt.

Got some post race pizza...frankly, I was disappointed in the post-race food. Vineman took care of us a lot better on that score...a whole lot better, actually. Left the finisher area and went to meet Liz. Pictures ensued...including with the two birthday presents (jersey and polo shirt) that I now could have. We went for my run and bike bags and got my bike and walked the three blocks back to the motel.

Next day at the expo, I looked into getting a massage, but discovered that the woman at the appointment table had a pretty cool transcutaneous e-stim device that she could treat my calf with. Worked great! Saved me waiting for a massage. Anyhow, I bought myself a cheap cotton finisher t-shirt I can wear for training and a cheap Headsweats "IronMan" running hat (for same) and that...and farewell lunch with my dad...brought my IMSG experience to a close.

Can't close without thanking the legions of volunteers out there who were so eager to help. And the spectators who were just constantly expressing admiration out on the course. But most of all, I have to thank my wife, Liz, for all her support through not only the race, but through training for Wildflower, followed by Vineman, followed by this. And to my dad, who made the trip from Memphis despite declining health and just radiated pride in me like I've never seen the whole weekend.


Well, the lingering ITBS didn't help, but wasn't really a significant factor: According to my Garmin, I was running around a 7:30 pace for the last half-mile, so I clearly wasn't exactly hobbled.

Ultimately, it appears the hydration that worked at Vineman (and in training) didn't work here. Since I also had some post-race dehydration in March at LA Marathon, it's possible that my system has changed a bit over the last nine months. Given that I was having therapeutic blood withdrawals every two weeks in September through late December, I suppose that might have had some kind of residual impact on blood serum volume or something. Seems a bit unlikely four months later, though. The most likely answer is that I was letting myself get behind the curve on intake in the second half of the race plus there may have been some impact from the headwind and the chip seal road--I may have been working harder than I realized.

Beyond all that, though, on some level there was a bit of a been there, done that factor. Once I didn't nail the swim, it was really hard to justify "racing" the course. The reality is that I'd hoped to get within a half hour of my Vineman bike and take about an hour off my Vineman run. With the walking, my run was pretty much in the same ballpark as VM (as was my swim with the intermittent cramping late) and the first 60 miles of the bike had me close to my projected time. Where I really lost time was in the portapotty in Gunlock and the two stops south of Veyo for cramping...none of which was avoidable, unfortunately.

At the end of the day, there was basically one point in each discipline where I was afraid I was done and I got through all of them. Despite the 1:20 longer this race took vs. Vineman, I actually had a much happier attitude at the end. I suppose being able to run across the finish line will do that.


Wow...what a tough course! Like the Wildflower Long Course, the word on the street going in was "tough bike course" but the run was really the challenge--almost entirely hills, up or down. As long as this is an early May race, the swim is always going to have the potential for very cold water. The bike is challenging, but not just because of climbing: The chip seal roads on the loop are a significant obstacle. But the scenery is spectacular and the people of St. George are about the friendliest I've ever encountered (and been a lot of places). Just go in mindful of one bit of race trivia: 13% DNF. Just sayin...