Full Ironman #13 - Ironman Boulder 8-3-14

Going into this Ironman I decided to get into the best shape of my life. For the past year, I have cut out processed foods and added sugar and moved to a more whole foods approach to eating (Thank you, Dave Scott). I also decided to challenge myself physically during my preparation in ways I had not in the past. This included doing “the double” at Wildflower the first weekend in May. The week leading up to Wildflower was a 20-hr week, no taper, culminating in the half ironman distance on Saturday & the Olympic distance on Sunday. My muscles were already sore going into Saturday and I knew that I was either going to level up my fitness or get injured. It was a risk I was willing to take. Saturday, I took it easy during the half with the mantra to finish feeling fresh. It worked, and I finished feeling like I did before I started. On Sunday, I felt good and had a great swim-bike, so I decided to go for it. I was in the top 5 starting the second run (shorter distance is not my thing) so I went for it up Beach Hill. As soon as I came down the little hill at the top, I felt a bad pain shoot through my left calf (upper and lower peroneals). I tore both of those muscles. This was not good – I still had 2 miles to go, and the peroneals are used mostly on downhill efforts. The last mile is a pretty steep downhill. Adrenaline took over, and I finished – albeit slowly. I got passed by 3 people in the last mile, but there was nothing I could do. After I finished and the adrenaline wore off, I couldn’t walk at all. It took 7 weeks of no running before I would even attempt to run a mile. Taking the time off running was wise, as the injury fully healed even though I thought it would be a wildcard in the race; it ended up being a non-issue. Not even sore the day after! Instead, of running during those 7 weeks, I biked a ton (3 x 300+ miles weeks) and added in an extra hour of swimming (although I couldn’t push off the wall for 4 weeks). It wasn’t ideal, but it was doable. In the end, I was able to get my running distance up to 16 miles and run training also included some very limited interval work. My swim and bike were stronger than ever, and my run was almost back to levels before Tahoe last September. I was primed for a good race until my body pulled a whammy on me a few weeks out. I’m about to describe female TMI issues (although, I’ll refrain from getting graphic). Okay guys, this is the part where you can stick your fingers in your ears, sing, “la, la, la” and pretend that women don’t actually have monthly cycles. Go ahead male coaches, ignore the topic completely. You have no idea how lucky you are to NOT have this be an issue. This is something I never see discussed in coaching forums, with the exception of one article by Gale Bernhardt. That article (which I can longer find) said that great performances have been had at all times during a woman’s monthly cycle and that it didn’t matter. Bullshit. Ladies, I agree that your best performance timing during the month is specific to your body, but you should take notice in your training logs and connect when your best performances are. For me, I perform the best immediately following my period. My body temperature is lower this week and it proceeds cramping from ovulation. My best race performances are during this week over and over again. Leading up to this race my cycle had been regular at 25 days, 25 days, 25 days, 25 days, 25 days, 25 days, and in July right before the race…30 days. The timing was supposed to be perfect. Once I realized that I had ovulated late, it was too late to do anything. In 2009 before CDA, I tried to take the pill to keep Aunt Flow from visiting, but it didn’t work. She came anyway. So for whatever karmic reason, I once again found my period starting on Ironman race morning. This has happened in three previous races, with three previous awful performances (for me). I was somehow still being optimistic, “this time it will be different because I’m in better shape.” I believe Einstein is the one who pointed out that doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results is the definition of insanity.

Pre-race

We (my husband, Mike Mucha and a mutual friend, Stuart Mauer were also racing) got the high school early, dropped food into our T2 bags and got on the buses. It’s pretty dark, so I’d recommend having a flashlight or headlamp when heading out in the morning. That went smoothly, and there were no issues pre-race. I did have my tires pumped up by the mechanics – take note that the presta valves were not closed. So glad that I checked and didn’t just assume he had closed them. I told everyone around me in transition to double check their valves, but I wonder how many people didn’t think to check & rode on low tire pressure. The rest of pre-race was spent making sure I had no knots in my hips, and just relaxing. What an awesome sunrise we had over the reservoir. This picture was taken of the swim exit an hour before the race start:

Mike and I started in the back of the sub-hour group. My training times suggested that I should be about 3 minutes faster than I was at Tahoe (my Tahoe swim was 1:06) and I wanted to guarantee that I’d have someone to draft off of that was slightly faster than me. Mike just starts up there so he can finish sooner – at 6’4” and 230lbs people swimming over him is a non-issue. This was the least body contact I’ve ever had during a swim. I wasn’t hit, kicked, or punched even once. This also meant that I wasn’t drafting off of anyone. I don’t know what happened, but I felt like I was faster than everyone else I was swimming around, and was constantly passing people. I suspect I was passing the same people over and over again because every time I looked up, I was right of the buoys. Really, again, I have to swim left? I don’t usually have navigation problems in the open water, but I had to constantly correct during this swim to the left. It was unfortunate that WTC didn’t let us do an actual practice swim on the course like they do for all other races. I could have figured this out on Saturday and then corrected for it early on Sunday. I would get short drafts for a while, but nothing substantial, and nothing like the smooth, drafty swim I had at Tahoe. I found that most of the time I had open water and was forcibly navigating left. I will say that it was wonderful not to have a full contact swim (like IMAZ) and it was also great NOT to be swimming directly into the rising sun. It was easy to sight, but mentally exhausting that I was almost never on the buoy line. I love that the buoys changed color half way through, although I wouldn’t allow myself to look at my watch (which was covered by my wetsuit anyway).  I didn’t notice the altitude, but I had also decided to breathe every 2 strokes instead of my usual 3. This worked for me as I never felt short of air or overly-taxed.  I will say that it took FOREVER to reach the swim exit. You can see the exit a long way before you actually get there! Again, I thought I was going faster than I was because I was passing so many people in the final stretch. I’m not sure if a bunch of people started earlier than their ability level, if they went out hard in the first half and died, or if I just swam closer to 2.6 miles instead of 2.4. Probably a combination of all three! My goal was sub-1:05 and I was just shy, however I “secretly” thought I should have swam a 1:02 or a 1:03, so I found myself being just a tad disappointed. It was a harbinger of things to come.

Swim 2.4 miles  1:05:06, 6/133

Transition one was well laid out, about half the running was on grass, the rest was on concrete. You come up a boat ramp & immediately hang a right to get your bag. I almost forgot to have a volunteer strip my wetsuit, but they thankfully flagged me down! I have a tendency to drop into what I call, “the world of me,” or what my friend Stuart describes as, “being in my own swim lane.” It’s difficult to get my attention while I’m racing, almost like I have blinders on during the race. I’m not trying to ignore you, really!! I can be shaken out of this, and luckily was or I would have discovered in the T1 tent that I still had my wetsuit on J. Helmet, glasses, shoes on. Stuffed my pockets with nutrition and inhalers (I have asthma) and moved on to my bike. I love that we don’t have to wear our race numbers on the bike anymore. Always hated that thing flapping around, worried about it flying off. This was the first race where I had to tie my bag off myself and carry it to a specific location outside the tent. In all other races, I just leave my bag and dumped contents in the tent & the volunteer (always wonderful) takes care of my mess for me. I think I lost a little time here, because I had everything dumped and spread out.  I was also disappointed (but not surprised) to find that we had to run our bikes all the way up to the road before mounting. I understand that there would have been a great many “fails” mounting in the middle of an uphill, but I would have preferred it. My right leg is shorter than my left by 1.2cm, so I have a shim that same size on my right shoe that is terrifically awkward to run in. I made it, and loved the crowd support & the music blaring at the bike start. Thanks, Boulder for dragging your butts to the high school and taking the shuttles down to the reservoir. We all appreciated the support J.  As usual, all the volunteers had amazingly wonderful attitudes and made my transition smooth plus mostly enjoyable. Ironman always has the best volunteers!!

T1 4:49

On the road. When Mike and I rode the course on Friday in the car, we were pleasantly surprised to find that (in the car) it seemed much easier than the computrainer file we had been riding in our garage. Based on the computrainer and my fitness level, I was expecting to hold close to 20mph on the bike. I knew that most of the first 10 miles are uphill, so I decided to wait until mile 20 to assess my pace. My legs did not feel fresh – they didn’t have the go in them that they had the two previous days. It wasn’t looking good, but maybe I just wasn’t warmed up yet? Air wasn’t an issue, my heart rate was a little lower than I wanted it to be at my current RPE, but I know from experience to trust my RPE over my heart rate. Hang in there, you can come around. Crap, but hasn’t this happened in every race when I’m also riding the crimson tide? Ugh. The St. Vrain out and back was no big deal. I got there ahead of the crowds, though. I honestly got to the top ahead of when I expected to – exclaiming to myself, “that’s it? What was everyone whining about – barely a hill in my book!” I should explain that I live at the top of a 2 mile 800 foot hill with grades peaking at 20%. Hills are most definitely relative to where you train. Back when I was a hill virgin training in South Florida, St. Vrain would have been mountainous. Not anymore. After I hit the 20 mile mark, I checked my progress. 18.5mph. Crap – that’s well shy of 20mph and definitely not Kona worthy. I knew I wasn’t eating enough – actually I hadn’t eaten anything at this point. I race using hunger as my eating queue, but at this time of month whenever I eat it causes uteran cramps and I just flat out don’t feel hungry. I forced myself to eat, backed off until I felt better and then continued on my way. I will also mention here that the officiating was great – I only saw a few packs of three or four people drafting. In all but one case, an official rolled up and issued penalties (well I hope they were penalties and not warnings) shortly after the group went by. Then it started to get really hot. I don’t usually overheat, and have even had some of my best performances in the heat, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy melting while I ride. The Boulder course is a relentless, open field course. Absolutely ZERO shade trees. It’s you, black asphalt, and infrequent aid stations. Plus, there are pockets of spectators, but it’s pretty bleak for miles and miles. Since it’s a one loop course, aid stations are every 15 miles instead of every 10 like other multiple-loop courses. I spent the time to dump a full bottle of water on myself and my feet at the front of the aid station, and then grabbed a second bottle to carry so I could rinse between stations. As the race got longer, I found myself using up that second bottle long before the next aid station.  The only other race I have felt the need to sit up in order to cool off, was in Kona. Difference at Boulder is, you can actually cool off! It’s so dry that any water you poor on evaporates quickly. This strategy worked great until about mile 85 when I was using up water too fast. Before this, around mile 50 I made a huge mistake and ate a Justin’s Classic Peanut Butter/ chocolate packet even though I hadn’t trained with them. I got this for talking to a city of Boulder employee upon exiting the registration tent. My thought was that I had been training with blind spot nut butters and those were peanut butter based & worked well, so wouldn’t the Justin’s version be an awesome treat during the ride (I love their version of snickers)? Wrong! Immediate and violent stomach rebellion ensued. I tossed it halfway through – just as the first stomach cramp kicked in. It took until mile 80 to recover. I ate NOTHING during this 30 mile stretch of the ride. Still drinking some red bull and lemonade (a little), but mostly drinking straight water on this stretch. The only thing I remember from this stretch is a sign a guy was holding up, “I trained all year just to hold up this sign.” I was blissfully unaware that my picture was being taken. I had the thought that if this had been a training day, I would have packed it in early and gone home. Stop whining to yourself, cupcake! Look at the mountains! Oh, yeah, nice backdrop – I forgot they were there. Once my stomach recovered, I went for a salt tablet and a nut butter. Suddenly, my legs felt much better and I started passing people that had passed me earlier. When I check out my splits, they were pretty darn even for all three sections, but there were plenty of people who got slower and slower (I presume due to overheating) as the race progressed. I absolutely loved the couple of steeper down hills in the last third of the ride – although they were too short. While riding the course on Friday, Mike and I were unable to locate the “3 bitches” that everyone was mentioning from training rides. We kept looking for 3 steep hills in a row and never found them. That is, until I turned at mile 100 or so during the race and saw the sign, “It’s all downhill after the three sisters.” Oh….this must be the three bitches. Seriously, they are just sisters, not bitchy at all. You all have REAL MOUNTAINS here. Boulderites, how could you possibly think these were tough hills? What softie coined this term? The 3 bs are in fact, short, very doable grades. And, since I finally found my legs at mile 80, I was not too worn out at this point. There is awesome crowd support on this stretch, so I found it to be one of the more enjoyable parts of the ride! The rest of the way into town was mostly a downgrade, so no problems there. As far as wind is concerned, it felt like a slight headwind most of the way back to Boulder, but it was welcome as it helped to cool me off. I knew we turned off into the high school somewhere off of Apache, but wasn’t sure exactly where. I started taking my feet out of my shoes way too early and missed a photo op ;).

Bike 112 miles  6:03:51 16/133

T2 is LONG. It’s about a 0.4mile run with your bike to the track. Definitely the longest T2 in all the races I’ve done. I did not consider how hot the ground would be at this time of day. Since I do all my runs in sandals, I have pretty good pads on the bottom of my feet (kind of like soft leather) that saved my feet from getting burned. Judging from the burn pictures posted on the FB Ironman Boulder thread, many others were not so fortunate. The hot ground had me using my best run form ever. Light on my feet, light on my feet, up, up, up, up…. This was my thought process running to the track. Along this stretch I got asked by the cameraman about how my day was going. He ran alongside me while I explained that my worst legs showed up, and that I had a real rough spot from mile 50-80, but I came back & I’m feeling pretty good. He asked my thoughts on the marathon to come, and I told him it was a wildcard as I didn’t run for 7 weeks in the last 3 months. Really, it was a wildcard because I was on the rag, but I wasn’t going to say that to the cameraman. Anyways, I didn’t make the final cut. In fact, I got interviewed by the cameraman twice – the second of which I will revisit halfway through my run commentary. Neither time was I especially bubbly or jubilant, although I’d say I was real and overall positive in my attitude. Now over the bridge. HOLY HOT COALS, Batman! WTF??? Holy crap that was hot. Black mats strewn over the bridge to keep bike cleats from slipping on the wood turned into a furnace from hell. No, I’m not exaggerating. It was like running over a heated up iron skillet on HIGH. My turn over has never been faster – never. On to the BLACK track which was not any cooler. I’m handing off my bike and trying to run the white line on the track like competitors do at Badwater to keep their shoes from melting. Only, I don’t have any shoes on. Thankfully, someone put cardboard down on the track between the race bags. The cardboard was substantially less hot (but not comfortably so) and I decided to stop right there and put my sandals on so I wouldn’t have to run on the track barefoot again to the change tent. A spectator yelled – “smart thinking - you’re prepared!” She thought that I brought flip flops just for the track, little did she know that those sandals ARE my running shoes – I hadn’t thought about a hot track at all. My last race was Tahoe, and that was more about not freezing to death. I don’t think I could even feel my feet at all – through the entire race. Well, I was feeling them now! My feet were a little tender from the hot surface run, but they weren’t burnt and putting my sandals on brought immediate relief. I felt like I had the change tent entirely to myself. The volunteer that helped me was totally awesome, I just wish they had had water in the change tent. I wanted to drink some while sitting & fill up my water bottle. I was completely parched as I had run out of all liquids a couple miles from T2. I already had my shoes on, so I simply grabbed my running drink belt (with number attached) and was on my way. Quick stop in the loo, sunscreen (where I was politely informed that it was too late - I was already burned to a crisp) and out. Crap. I missed the water. How the hell did I miss the water? Ugh. I knew it would be a mile of running before I could get any liquids.

T2 4:20

Longest mile ever. I couldn’t even enjoy the crowds because I was so dang thirsty – that was the only thing on my mind. Water, water, water, everywhere but none to drink. This is what I’m thinking running alongside the creek. At least there was shade. The Boulder run course is the mostly shady and definitely the most filled with spectators out of all the races I’ve done. Absolutely amazing spectator support in Boulder. I considered begging spectators for water, but then told myself to suck it up – I could wait 5 more minutes. The course is filled with little over and under passes that athletes were whining about, but I found that they helped break up the course and later in the race they served as walk and run to markers for me. If it hadn’t been for my stupid ovaries with the worst timing ever, I might’ve had a good run. I was still having uteran cramps every time I took in calories, so I stopped taking them in. I knew this was dumb, but in the moment I chose dumb over cramps. You might do the same. I kept taking in salt and fluids, but calories were out. Perform was unthinkable. Coke was the only thing I tried, and that still didn’t go over well. I knew I was running on a severe calorie deficit, but I trained for that, so I thought I could still get away with just eating when I got hungry. Problem was, I never felt hungry. I was well hydrated, though. I made at least four quick loo stops along the run course. About once an hour, so I was feeling confident in that regard. I never felt overheated, the heat wasn’t my problem. And darn it all, people. My luna running sandals were also NOT the problem. These ARE my running shoes. I love them and they love me. I just have a really bad habit of shaming them during races. One of these days I’m going to shock everyone and have an awesome marathon running in sandals. Mark my word – the day will come. Seriously, when YOU are walking I don’t blame YOUR shoes. I figure you either went too hard on the bike, you’re overheated, having gastro-intestinal issues, or you are just plain having a bad day due to altitude or whatever. I was just having a bad day courtesy of my uterus. My uterus has absolutely NOTHING to do with my sandals. And, no, my feet don’t hurt any worse than yours. In fact, the two races that I have worn sandals for, my feet have felt the best. I love that I can pour water on my feet. It really is the next best thing to heaven to have your feet soaked in cold water during a hot run. No blisters, thank you very much, and absolutely no knee pain.  I got a couple of, “you are my hero for running in sandals, “ but, I’m telling you that it’s no big deal. I’d rather be running in sandals than wearing the foot-binding, microbe heaven, miniature saunas that you are wearing. The great thing about running in sandals is that your calves absorb most of the running impact – not your shoes & knees. You have to be very patient in switching over to sandals. I tore my right, upper peroneal shortly after switching to sandals because I tried to do too much too soon. I tore my left upper & lower peroneals in May also because I tried to do too much on tired legs. My calves are healthy now, and they are now beasts that save my knees and hips from the impact of running. My husband used to tell me that I looked like a duck while running. I used to roll on to the inside of my foot and this rolling motion would be murder on my hips. Not anymore.  A neighbor recently told me that I have beautiful running form. I almost fell over in disbelief – but then my husband confirmed that I no longer run like a duck. I will be sticking to my sandals and proving you all wrong - soon J. But not today -back to the course. Around mile 10 or 11 the cameraman rolled up again. Up to this point I had been “running” about  11 minute mile pace and walking the aid stations. I knew that I was well over 20^th place at this point, and Kona was very far out of reach. I told him that the run had been tough so far, that I was slower than I knew I was fit for and it was frustrating. I also said that there was amazing support on the course and that I knew I would finish – and that I would finish with a smile. Ironman is a lot like Christmas morning – you’ve got your training and fitness all wrapped up and sitting under the tree. Race morning, you get to open it up and see what you’ve got. Well, if I had opened up this package on Christmas morning, I would have sent it back! And I almost NEVER return things – it’s just not in my nature. I haven’t had a good race since Louisville 2010 where I came in 7^th after being 6^th across each discipline. I was most disappointed that yet again, I’ve got a physical problem out of my control that I can do NOTHING about in the moment. I kept plodding along at about 12 minute miles until mile 15. This is when I got severely dizzy, which was a major wake up call. Uh-oh. If I don’t stop and eat NOW I just might pass out. I started walking and forced down a nut butter – I waited until the dizzies and cramping went away and then started to jog again. I walked the better part of a mile. Dede Griesbauer’s voice echoed in my head, “once you start walking, it’s just easier to keep on walking.” Isn’t that the truth. Spectators love to lie to you, and I began hearing, “you look great!” To which I replied, “I appreciate your lies, but I’m walking – slowly – I look awful!” I got back a, “No you don’t, you look fabulous – you are covered in the most awesome tape imaginable. It’s not about feeling good, it’s about looking good, and you look marvelous!” It was around here that I was walking with some folks who were on their first loop. They immediately stopped talking to me once they realized I was on my second loop, looked at their watches,  and took off. One of those ladies was remarking that at least she didn’t have all the injuries I have. I didn’t have the energy to explain that I wasn’t injured – I tape my IT bands, peroneals, adductors, and hamstrings preventatively, so that they last longer. It’s a performance issue that has saved my butt from cramping many times over. Now, I started doing fartlek, because walking 20 minute miles just plain sucks and I was walking so slow that even other walkers couldn’t walk with me. It seems EVERYONE else that was walking can walk faster than me. It simply amazes me how fast everyone else can walk. Really, I’m stumped – how do you all walk so fast? A 70 year old man passed me and asked, “did you run the whole marathon in sandals?” I answered yes and his face became very startled as he said, “I was just kidding! I thought there was no way you ran the whole thing in sandals.” I tuned out all the horrified, “she’s running in flip flops!” exclamations and just started jog/walking in my own swim lane. I barely saw Stuart – and only saw him 3 times because he shouted my name. Rats, he looks just as bad as me, and seems to be eternally 3 miles ahead of me on every stretch.  Just as I was lamenting my performance, I see Mike running the opposite direction near mile 13 (for him – I had 3 more miles to finish). The two times earlier that I had seen him he was in good spirits. This time he tells me that he hasn’t peed in 11 hours and he’s walking 25 minute miles. I tell him that finishing the race is not worth his kidneys or health and that if he’s feeling that bad, he’d better just go to the med tent. He pulled out. He just couldn’t keep up with the heat along with his sweat rate. He wasn’t the only one out there suffering from dehydration. About half the field resembled the walking dead. As one participant noted, it was a lot like a zombie apocalypse with people groaning and lurching. It was around mile 20 that I decided Boulder was just a training race for Tahoe. I have never previously decided to sign up for another Ironman while doing an Ironman, but I just felt like my fitness was all going to waste. I should be running past all these zombies! I was walking more and more until a 26 year old woman started chatting with me (I was too out of it to get her name or number, but wherever you are – thanks for the company), and walking with me. We decided together that we should jog it in the last couple of miles. While I was high fiving spectators and exclaiming, “here’s to a personal worst!” she was telling me that even though she was walking, she was about to PR. This was her third Ironman after St. George, and Lake Tahoe – talk about a list of tough races. So, we helped each other to jog and even though she was yelling at some other guy about sandbagging the run, I think she had been sandbagging! When we hit the aid station around mile 25 I told her to go without me – I had to walk through. I picked it up again after the aid station and was able to jog to the finish. This was my first daylight finish in many races, but not because I had gone fast.  I managed a smile at the finish, because I said I would, but I didn’t feel like raising my hands in the air and celebrating. That would have to wait until I had a good race. I found my husband near the med tent, but not in the med tent. There really should have been a volunteer to scout out people too trashed to walk to the med tent, and still too full of adrenaline at the finish to request an escort (a volunteer will “catch” you and walk you to the med tent at the finish if you so desire), because they were all over the place. Mike had recovered of sorts after drinking and eating, but I made him get checked out by a doctor anyway. He was given the green light to go. Our friend, Jay and his wife, Sylwie, were at the finish. So nice to see someone else I know at the finish (it doesn’t happen often). Sorry we were too out of it to party with you!!! I was thankful that the hotel was only a block and a half away. We loved Boulder and will totally be back (maybe 2016?) to give it another go in the future. Now on to recovery and Tahoe on September 21^st!

Run 26.2 miles 34/133

Finish 13:21:02