Full Ironman #11 - Ironman Arizona 2012

Leading up to my 11th Ironman in early September, I got a bit overzealous with my Luna sandals and tore my right calf –gastrocnemus – while doing intervals. I switched to Lunas in early August (because I am sick of blisters & bruised toes) and absolutely loved running in them compared to standard running shoes. Problem is, I didn’t give my calves enough time to adjust to the extra pounding and, yes, I totally should’ve known better than to try doing an interval workout in them when they were already sore & tight at the start of the workout. It is not the sandal’s fault! The fault was all mine, and I am still switching to Lunas for my short runs & hope to work my way up to running intervals and eventually my Ironman marathon in them. It is my belief that your personal best running form is however you run barefoot (as nature intended) and Lunas allow me to really dial in my form without poking or burning the bottom of my feet. For good or bad, the injury forced me to switch up my training. Instead of water running (hate), I decided to spend the time I would’ve spent running either biking or swimming. I was able to start running again four weeks before the race & worked up to a long run of 14.5 miles (usually I run 20-21mi 6wks out). That would have to be good enough & so the marathon would be a big question mark.

This would be my 6th time racing in Tempe, Mike & my race of choice due to proximity & our friend Graeme’s hospitality. Always a great host, Graeme was our chauffer, home stay, and race support. Thanks again, Graeme! 
Race morning there were no problems prior to the start and I was excited to start the day! There is about a 100 meter swim to the start line and I was surprised to see so many people scaling the wall sideways to the start instead of swimming to the start. The water wasn’t as cold this year as it has been the two previous years. Maybe 62 instead of 59-60 of 2011, 2010. I got to the start line just as the female pros were starting. Ten minutes to go! There was a lot of jockeying for position during those 10 minutes. It’s always extremely crowded with 2600+ starting together. When the gun goes off, you bury your head and move as fast as you can, trying to get some sort of open water. I just expect to be continually hit, and this start didn’t disappoint. In fact, whenever open water appeared, it would disappear just as quickly and the swim never opened up for me along my sides. Unfortunately, I never caught a good draft and swam most of the swim with no one directly in front of me. However, there was always someone on my left & right and a third on my feet. It seemed like the person to my right was always swimming left, and the person on my left was always swimming right. So, I was constantly getting squeezed and several times had to literally climb over one of them to stop getting pummeled. At one point early in the swim, one of the people swimming to my side cut one of my toes open with their toenails. Cut your nails, peeps! It’s bad enough getting kicked – please don’t add ammunition with long nails. It could have been much worse. Sighting was easy, and it felt like I had good endurance. My addition of a weekly long swim definitely made the last 1000 meters or so easier. With 500 meters to go, I got the hardest blow to my jaw, but it was still intact and it gave me a bit of an adrenaline rush to swim faster. With about 300 meters to go I passed someone with absolutely hideous form. He was crossing over so badly that he was zigzagging through the water. A series of thoughts flashed through my mind. How did you swim faster than me? Did you completely fall apart the last quarter of the swim? Did you just power your way through the entire swim like this? This was clue number one that my swim time wasn’t quite as fast as I’d hoped. When I hit the last turn buoy, the exit steps seemed much farther away than I think they should have been. It can be tricky to climb out of the bleacher steps, but no real problem today. I was hoping to see 1:05 or less, and was a bit disappointed to see a 1:06 – still better than last year and looking back at the results, the best time in my age group was a 1:03:46 which means either the swim was slow or no fast swimmers showed up this year. Okay, so I was not going to have a perfect day, but it could still be great ?
Swim 2.4mi: 7th age group, 1:06:48, 1:43/100m
I refuse to disparage any of the volunteers because they are all so awesome, but boy did I get a bum deal on my wetsuit stripper. Note to self – stick with male strippers. My chosen female wetsuit stripper didn’t have the technique down, and I’m sure that it would’ve been faster to just step out of it myself. Usually it takes one pull & it’s off. This time, it took 3 pulls with extra assistance on pulls 2 & 3 from a second volunteer AND I wasn’t even too fat for my suit (which has occasionally been an issue at B&C races). Finally got the dang thing off (probably lost :30) and tried to run a bit faster to grab my bag and get in the change tent. I had two volunteers that kicked ass and got me on my way pretty quick. I decided to go with gloves, but no arm warmers. My bike was second from the aisle, so I grabbed it before the volunteers had a chance to find it. Both tires were still inflated – a good start! 
T1 – 5:30
Plan for the bike was to take it easy since I was lacking run endurance. I would keep my heart rate between 130-135 instead of my usual 135-140. Forecast was for perfect race conditions for everyone else – 75 and little wind. Crap, I was really hoping for 90-95 and some miserable amount of wind. No really, I was. History will show that I ride and run the same speed in 90 degree heat as I do when it’s 65, but most others melt when it’s hot. I would have to have a perfect day in order to have a chance at qualifying. This day, I would get no help from mother nature. The first loop of the bike was alternatingly fun and infuriating. The wind – albeit less than any of the other 5 races I’ve done here – was perfect the first loop. The bike leg at IMAZ is 3 loops. The first half of the loop is a slow upgrade (maxing out at a wimpy 3% or so) and the way back is a slight downhill. First loop was a headwind on the uphill, and a totally sweet direct tailwind on the downhill. I believe I averaged 25mph for a 9 mi section on the way back – that was fun! The infuriating part was getting overtaken and passed by several large packs of cheaters. I had more than a few choice words to say until I decided it was not worth the energy I was expending to yell. I just don’t understand – why would you do an Ironman which is supposed to be a personal journey, a personal test that you undertake to achieve what most people perceive as impossible, on your own, only to spoil your result by drafting in a pack? How can you be proud of yourself or even call yourself an Ironman when you’ve been hanging on someone’s wheel for the better part of the bike leg? Does other people’s approval and “admiration” matter so much to you that you’ll cheat to get that podium spot? Don’t believe it when people tell you that it’s impossible not to draft at IMAZ. The only time it’s impossible to drop back to the proper 3-4 bike lengths is when a giant pack of cheaters envelopes you, and you’ve got nowhere to fall back until they’ve passed all the way through. The sad truth is that lots of people will cheat when given the opportunity and then justify it in their minds when they feel that cognitive dissonance: “everyone else was doing it,” “it’s a flat course”, “it’s too crowded”, blah blah blah. There seemed to be only one official watching the amateurs – most motorcycles were media or sag support. It would be awesome if Ironman could set up volunteers to video tape (still pictures are not evidence) along the side of the road & then send the evidence to an official. Something needs to be done, because there are too many weak-minded amateurs that can’t police themselves. Okay, done ranting. Probably due to drafting, this race had the most bike wrecks I’ve ever seen. People lying in the middle of the road, broken. Four in one pile up, two in another, a single person laid out in another. Although, I will say that there were a few instances while being overtaken when an athlete would pull too quickly to the right (before they’d actually cleared my front wheel) and I’d have to lay on the breaks to avoid getting clipped. Some time on the climb out during the second loop, the wind did a 180. I did notice that there was no longer wind in my face the final 3-4 miles heading to the turn around, so I prepped myself to expect a headwind after turning around. Just as I had this thought I saw my first, long overdue, butterfly fly across the road. Yep the wind switched - a headwind on the downhill. Oh, so disappointing - I was really looking forward to a push on the way into town. At least I had gotten to enjoy the tailwind for the first loop. I thought of the slow swimmers that might have had the misfortune of a headwind both up and back on the first loop. At the start of the third loop, my right foot just starting giving signs of hot foot. I took off my gloves (your hands contain your body’s main temperature sensor) and poured water on my shoe and it was not a problem the remainder of the race. Third loop was also tailwind on the uphill, headwind on the downhill. The wind wasn’t that strong, so it didn’t really matter all that much – I was remembering worse conditions from the past & trying to convince myself that I was cool with the switch. I did get to see Mike on all three loops – twice on the third, so that was a good thing. Every time I saw him, he was a couple miles closer to catching me. A fellow PCCC athlete was also doing the race, John Sanders. I think I saw him once in the first loop going the opposite direction, but that was it for the rest of the race. He ended up getting his personal best on the bike and for his total race time – way to go John! I had wanted to ride 20mph (5:36), and ended up about 6 minutes slower, but only two minutes slower than last year even though I had ridden at a lower heart rate. At this point, I still had delusional thoughts such as – maybe I can run a 3:45 and still have a chance at qualifying. Stranger things have happened. It was possible. I was still thinking clearly at the end of the bike (optimistic even) – my second race without losing focus for the entire 112 miles. Nutrition was Red Bull & lemonade alternating with Zym, one salt tab, and I ate a grand total of two gels for the ride. No solids for me & wouldn’t you know my stomach still needed a break from calories the first couple miles of the run.
Bike 112: 14th age group, 5:42:34, 19.62mi/hr
I always have to pee off the bike and as such I usually do my second transition in the loo. Grabbed my bag, noticed my stomach was a little off, and did my business. Helmet off, Vaseline & run shoes on. This is the first time I’ve actually needed my spare number in transition, as one side had ripped on the bike. That took way too long – and I should have changed it while running. Got some sunscreen & got on the course. I run with a water bottle & Zym tablets. This way I can drink whenever I want & also poor it on myself as needed. I find that the cold bottle on my hands also helps cool me down. Transition was way too slow, a good minute longer than usual. 
T2: 4:00
I took a look at my watch. It was 1:58pm and not 1:45 like I had planned. Ugh. Well, you never know, I could still have a perfect run – I was due for one, wasn’t I? My PR was probably out of reach, but I could still go my fastest since I started working full time. Last year was 11:43, year before was a 12:09. Legs felt better than they had in previous races. I wasn’t cramping. As usual, I was the weirdo covered in Rock Tape. IT bands, gracili, hamstrings, calves. I got more than a few stares on the course when I would remember, oh yeah, it’s the tape. Imagine if I had been wearing kinesiotape AND sandals. Mark my words - it will happen. At the first mile marker I clocked an 8:35 mile. Sweet! Now I just have to hold it. Next mile marker – 9:30 mile. WTF? I was working just as hard. Maybe someone put that mile marker in the wrong place. Then I remembered a book that I read recently which examines the reasons why most fighter pilot accidents are caused from pilots trusting their instincts over their instruments. Okay, Jeanette. Reality check - your watch was not broken and the second mile marker is NOT in the wrong place. You are just slowing down. Third mile – 9:30. Yep, you slowed down. Third mile, my stomach felt better & so I started drinking a coke at every aid station. Next mile 9:00. Okay, hold this. Then a 50-yr old woman passed me (our ages are written on our calves), shortly after a 55-yr-old woman. Ugh. Not a good sign for qualifying. Then I decided I could be those women in 10-15yrs – they rock. Back to work. Stomach was settled now and I didn’t feel the need to walk through the aid stations. The entire run I only had coke to drink. Everything else was completely unappetizing. The gels in my pocket along with the sports beans stayed there for the whole marathon. Even the Powerbar Perform (their version of Gatorade) tasted awful. I accidently grabbed perform instead of coke & had to spit it out. I was continually managing my body temperature with ice and water, but it was cool enough outside that I never actually felt hot. Once I got to the 10k mark, I was getting more confident that my calf would hold out and I’d be able to “run” the whole marathon. Another butterfly went by while I was thinking this which made me happy. I was able to smile through the marathon when running through crowds. And, because I was wearing bright green tape, people remembered be from lap to lap. I really enjoyed the run this time - there’s nothing quite like a running injury that prevents you from doing what you love to make you fully appreciate being able to do it when healthy. This is the first Ironman marathon (since I started work full time in 2009) where I didn’t have to bribe myself into running by rewarding myself with a walk through each aid station. I didn’t run any faster than last year, but not walking the aid stations cut ten minutes off my time. Don’t misunderstand, part of me still wanted to walk, but I was able to shut that part of my whiney, left brain off. When I hit the mile 13 marker, I looked down at my watch – 2:06. Just a mile past the half way mark on my second lap I spotted Larry Arnold – same high school alma mater as me & a member of my high school swim team. Great of him to come out and cheer me on. Thanks, Larry! Shortly after this, there is a climb & then a downhill. Right around mile 15-16, I was feeling the mileage. Now I am beyond my longest long run & the finish is still a long way off. It was starting to get dark now. To finish before sunset at IMAZ, you’ve got to go 10:25 or faster! I was thought that I would just run comfortably hard until the 20 mile mark and then go from there. I passed Fireman Rob (A guy that does tons of Ironmans each year wearing a full fireman’s uniform – oxygen tank & all – on the marathon. He raises money for fallen fireman’s families) – I told him that he’s awesome & then hit the loo again. I hoped there was still some speed in the reserve tanks. It was a good sign that I never dropped into what I call “the world of me,” where I get apathetic and stop enjoying myself. Here are the symptoms & cures I’ve learned over the course of 11 Ironmans:
• Peripheral vision starts to cut off, I stop noticing what’s at the side of the road
o Eat!!! Your blood sugar is too low. Coke fixes this within 30 seconds of ingesting.
• Apathy – I start to wonder why I paid to do this race. I no longer want to do my best.
o Same cure as #1
• Headache 
o I need salt
• Tight stomach and/or bloating
o Too many calories – switch to Zym only – no calories until this goes away
o I can only eat gels, no solids. I only eat gels when my stomach growls & not before
• Nausea 
o I’m overheating! Ice in hand down the shirt, wherever I can put it. Dump water on head & feet at every aid station. Put water soaked sponges in my shirt (there’s plenty of room). Carry a cold water bottle & fill with ice every aid station. This was not an issue at this race. I never felt hot.
• Cramping
o Doesn’t happen when I add Zym to water. Rock tape helps prevent this as well. This race I had zero cramping all the way through. 

I hit the mile 20 marker and reset my watch trying to convince myself that I was just running a 10k. When I hit marker 21 I looked at my watch. 10:15? That was going uncomfortably fast. I started to think the mile marker was wrong & caught myself. No, you just don’t have the run endurance today & it really shouldn’t be a surprise given your run training. At least you are still jogging & I knew I’d be able to finish the race “running.” It’s funny because at this point it felt like I was going much faster than a 10:15 mile. I was passing droves of people and the effort required to run a 10:15 was akin to running a 7:00 minute mile when fresh. I decided to go back to comfortable or I might not be able to finish with a jog. If I had to walk, that would be devastating to my overall time. I was now headed out to the last half of the last loop. I still felt a desire to do the best I could do on this day. Larry was there in the dark with 3-4 miles to go. That helped me get through that section & I was still able to jog up the last uphill. I was so focused on getting to the top without walking that I almost missed seeing Mike! I heard his voice after passing, so I turned around to yell hi & sorry. Good to see him, but he was walking & was only on his second lap, so I knew he wasn’t having the run he wanted to have, but he still seemed in good spirits. Down the hill, I got a “tape girl – you’re almost done!” Down through the disco aid station for the last time – my favorite of the themes. Less than 3 miles to go. Less than a 5k. Just before heading on to the Rural Rd. bridge two women caught up to me. They were way too fresh to be on their first lap, but I didn’t ask. They commented that I was going to have some wicked tan lines with all that tape (I noticed that they were both wearing compression socks – so right back at them). I remember saying something like, tan lines? I’m not here for tan lines! If I wanted tan lines, I’d be on the beach in a bikini. Really, tan lines are the last thing on my mind. Now I’m on the bridge & a 30-something guy catches up to me and starts to poke fun at all my Rock Tape. This is followed by “Does that stuff work?” I thought, I wouldn’t be wearing it if it didn’t work, moron. Instead, I said, “I’m still running – so, yeah.” He says, “Well, you’ve still got a ways to go.” I reply, “Oh, are you on your second lap?” “Yes.” “Well then, you have a ways to go. I’ve got less than two miles.” I then worked the downhill off the hill to get away from him. Now all my attention was on finishing as fast as possible – which was not very fast. Every ounce of effort I could must resulted in a paltry 11+ min/mile. As I got within a mile of the finish line, three women passed me - one in my age group. I thought of Harriet Anderson and her 9:30 last mile at Kona this year. If a 77-yr-old woman can run a 9:30 mile after almost 17hrs, why can’t I run any faster than an 11-minute mile? I suck! Come on brain, move my legs faster you’re almost done. It’s around here that I saw Graeme (for only the second time all day). He was up on a light pole shooting some video. When I finally turned the last corner and could actually see the finish line a switch flipped in my brain and all of a sudden I could sprint. I’ll bet I was running close to 7 minute mile pace in the chute. I passed one of the three women, and was just 5 seconds shy of catching the woman ahead of me in my age group. The brain is a funny thing – it’s like it didn’t believe I was almost done until it could see visual proof. Up until then, my brain was reserving energy just in case this *lion* would continue chasing me for another couple of hours. 

Run 26.2 miles: 4:34:44, 18th age group, 10:29/mi

Thanks to everyone tracking me on line! I thought of you when I ran over timing mats, and it helped keep me focused on my effort and not my pain. After I finished, Graeme walked the entire last lap with Mike – that rocked and let me be selfishly sluggish in the food tent. One thing I love about Ironman is that you’ll always meet multiple people that are crazier and cooler than yourself. I talked to one 20-something guy in the food tent that had just done a seven day 250k race across the Sahara, finishing just two weeks before IMAZ. I asked why in the hell he had planned to do a 250k just two weeks before an Ironman. He said it wasn’t really his choice, but since ultra running is his thing, he had sponsorship obligations that arose well after signing up for IMAZ. He was definitely trying to spread his love of ultra running – which is a bit hard to digest at the finish line of an Ironman. I would love to branch out, but that’ll have to be after my kids are older and I have more time to dedicate to running. When I mentioned that IMAZ must seem like a piece of cake after his race in Egypt, he replied No – it’s a completely different animal. Apparently, running a single marathon is more difficult for him than running a seventh, in a row in the middle of a desert. 

Next year I will be racing more after only doing one half and one ironman this year. I have come to the conclusion that in order to qualify for Kona, I’ve got to do something different in training. In addition, Louisville is my best chance to qualify. I’m toying around with the idea of doing Louisville just 4 weeks before Lake Tahoe. Louisville has a ton less cheating on the bike with its time trial format and lots of hills. It’s always wicked hot and it’s my best finish (7th) since trying to balance working full time. If I succeeded in my goal to qualify, I’d be doing 3 Ironmans in 7 weeks. The cool thing about that (besides just being a badass), is that I would only have to do the heavy training for one Ironman. I don’t expect to qualify at Lake Tahoe anyways, as the altitude and colder weather won’t work in my favor. Nonetheless, it should be just amazing in the view category. Everyone have a great holiday and off season! See you next year.