FL 70.3 Report a/k/a -- "Don't Count Your Chickens, A Cautionary Tale"

As it seems that all the cool kids are doing race reports these days, I thought I’d chip in my $0.02 after finishing my first race at the 70.3 distance. I have been told by those in the know that the human brain has a remarkable ability to block out recollections of pain in your long-term memory reserves. At the outset of this tale, let me say that I now believe this proposition to be 100% true. Let me also say that I am very happy for this ability. While I have no specific memory of the ACTUAL feeling emanating from deep within my quads and hamstrings yesterday, I do have specific memories of thinking at the time that they had never hurt like that before. Despite the fact that I’m registered for IM Lou this August, I also vaguely recall swearing off long course races at least 6 different times on the run as the heat radiated from the sand, the grass, the canals, and pretty much everywhere else on the run.

For those who want just the meat and potatoes, here it is:
Swim: 36:48
T1: 1:51
Bike: 2:37:53 (21.3 mph)
T2: 5:06 (read the story to find out why)
Run: 1:54:06
Total Time: 5:17:54

Pre-Race:
I was the second to last wave out of 22 waves to go out. The pros started at 6:20 a.m., and my wave left at 7:20, so I had plenty of time to sit, relax, and harness my “chi.” Ate a gel about 20 mins before go time, prayed about 1 min before the start and was relaxed and ready to go.

The Swim:
36:48
For me, the swim is generally the most predictable – at least in fresh water. I am not a particularly fast swimmer, but I was a lifeguard as a teenager and have never had any fears with OWS. I am a 26-27 minute Olympic swimmer and hit pretty much what I expected to hit here. The only caveat to the foregoing is that an Olympic I had done 3 weeks ago resulted in a 30-minute swim split….Of course, in the spirit of rationalization I had convinced myself that the course was long then and that I hadn’t actually gotten slower over the winter (which actually was a possibility because I had sacrificed some swim workouts to focus on biking more).

The 22 separate waves meant we were going out in groups of less than 100, so there was plenty of room after the initial bumping and grabbing thinned out. Sorry to whomever I wacked in the face that was behind me, but you let your face get in the way of my hand. As a side note, I felt bad for the slower swimmers from the earlier waves, as many of the slower folks that were determined to hold the buoy line appeared to be getting swam over and on top of by the faster guys in the 30-34 AG. That would not be fun.

T1:
1:51
Nothing much to talk about here. A long run from the mat at the water into transition, and another long run out of a huge transition area. I was in the very back, so I had to lug my bike for what seemed to be a half-mile in and out of T1, which was nice.

Bike:
2:37:53
Happy as can be with this split. I was shooting for 2:40:00 and, in retrospect, actually held back on the bike more than I should have. Going into the race, the people I know with long course experience kept saying not to worry when folks blew by me early in the bike leg and to not get caught up chasing them. Because I was one of the last waves, it started playing with my head that I was the one blowing by people (for the most part). Also, it kinda freaked me out that I was pushing 23-plus M.P.H. on the flats, which is something I’m not used to on my home terrain because we don’t have many long flats……That all translates into me getting concerned that I was going too hard despite what my PM and HR were telling me. I had a pre-race strategy of averaging 200 Watts and I dialed it back to about 185 Watts during the race. But I still averaged almost 21.5 m.p.h. and have no complaints with that. It rained a couple of times on the bike, but I had ridden in the rain plenty of times before so no worries, just slowed WAAAAY down on the turnarounds and sharp curves. I did think there were too many turnarounds on the course that cost time, but everyone has to ride the same course.

T2, a/k/a, “The SetUp”
5:06
Okay, here is where it all gets interesting. The swim and bike were not only cloudy, but as noted above the bottom fell out on us a couple of times during the bike. So, as I’m coming in off the bike, I’m thinking, “Wow, it sure is nice to have this cloud cover…..it should make for a fast run split.” Additionally, as I look at my watch coming into T2, I realize that I’m well ahead of where I thought was my “most likely” scenario, and pretty darn close to my “best case” scenario.

I quickly do the math and realize that to run sub-5 hours I “only” have to run 8:00 /miles. My running has improved vastly over the past year with almost all of my training runs off the bike falling somewhere in the 7:30 – 7:45 / mile category for half-mary pace. Consequently, I then proceed to take my sweet @ss time in T2. My wife and son are standing at the fence cheering me on, so I slow down a bit to chat with them as I get my run gear on. I was thoroughly enjoying the moment and the day, and their support was more valuable to me than I can express. Due to the rain, the shoes I set out at transition were wet, so I run over to my transition bag by the fence and pull out a dry pair. I also have to “go #1,” so I actually WAIT IN LINE AT THE PORTA POTTY inside T2.

Again, I am a moron.

At the time, I’m thinking I have my best-case goal time “in the bank.” Little did I know what was waiting for me on the other side….

The Run, a/k/a, “The Reckoning,” a/k/a, “The Gods are Angry at You”
1:54:06
After waking from a quick nap in T2 I am off and running. Literally, as I cross the timing mat, the clouds break. The sun fires through. Suddenly, every cloud in the sky seems to mysteriously evaporate into nothing. It’s insanely hot. Napalm hot, only if napalm also came with 100% humidity. The gods are Angry with me toying with them in T2. They obviously think I was taunting them in T2. This is not good for me.

At the time, I am obstinate. “Fine,” I reply to the gods. “I can deal with it.” Mile 1 feels great. My legs feel strong. It’s flat and fast here in Florida. I look down at my Garmin, it says I’m running a 6:50 pace. “Better dial it back,” I say to myself as I still have a long way to go. I force myself to slow down to 7:15, then 7:30. I’m still moving along and feeling great when I hit the dirt/grass trail.

This trail is so evil I don’t even have a name for it that would do justice. I had heard about the trail portion of the run from numerous people but I didn’t believe the hype. Beforehand, I thought the additional cushion of getting off of the pavement would be good. Beforehand, I thought it would be cooler running on the ground than on the pavement. I was terribly wrong on both counts.

It was now hotter than napalm. The temperature seemed to go up 10 degrees just stepping onto the dirt/grass. My HR was still in a good place, but the heat started sucking the life out of me. Literally. My pace slowed from 7:30 to 7:45. “No problem,” I thought. Then it slowed to 8:00. “We’re still on target,” I convinced myself. Then it fell off to 8:15, then to 8:30, and it kept falling.

Because it was a 3-loop run, even once I got off the dirt it was demoralizing because I knew the dirt was still there, just waiting for me to come back around. Moreover, it appeared to me that well over ½ of the people out on the course were just walking. My mind starting trying to trick me into doing the same, telling me to “just walk a little bit and it will feel better….everyone else is doing it.”

I was putting everything cold on me at the aid stations that I could. Sponges on the head and neck. Ice down the front and back of my shirt. Hell, even ice down the shorts. Whatever it took to give me relief from the heat – no matter how momentary -- I did.

And I resisted walking. I didn’t resist because I was tough, mind you. I kept going because I knew if I walked that I would be out there even LONGER. By Mile 8, I wanted to be DONE. I wanted out of the sun, and I certainly wanted off that dirt once-and-for-all. I couldn’t go fast, but I kept going. At least 6 different times I swore off IM Lou. Me feet and shoes were soaked from the sponges and ice. Everything hurt. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be finished as fast as possible. Not for time, but so I could stop. That was my sole driving force.

I proceeded to watch my “done deal” sub-5 finish drop to 5:05, then 5:10, then 5:15. At just short of 5:18, I crossed the line. At that point, there was no elation other than joy at the fact that I could sit down. It hurt. Bad. But here’s what’s funny. Now, just one day later, it was freaking AWESOME!!!!!! And I can’t wait to do it again. How’s that for mind games?