Ironman California 2022 - Full IM #24

 

Since I came down with COVID during my race at Kona, I was not sure I would be able to race in Sacramento since the start was just 17 days later. I took my recovery very seriously and threw the kitchen sink at myself so covid would not get into my lungs. I ended up with a negative covid test on October 14^th – that gave me 9 days to sharpen the saw before the race started. I was going to race! Mike and Max were freshly COVID positive (since I gave it to them) and the plan was for them to test Saturday morning (10-22) to see if they could drive up and spectate.

I drove up on Thursday by myself. A pelican flew right over my car near Berkeley. When I had a pelican fly over me while doing a bike check before Texas, the meaning I found was “…could be a sign that in the near future, someone might try to win something that belongs to you rightfully. The very idea of it is bound to make you feel anxious and threatened, but you need not be. Do not let these feelings get to you. If the stakes are high, it is even more important for you to maintain your composure and give it your everything. If you are good enough for this award of prize, you will end up winning it in the end.” Oof. Texas was hard. Super windy and the marathon was all grit trying to hold my position after running out of salt. In the end, I got the last Kona spot for my age group. Maybe I could get a repeat, but it was not going to be easy. 

I met up with some TriDotters at registration and then joined them for dinner. 1285 was my bib number. As I have mentioned in previous race reports, I like to look up the meaning of the number for fun. 1285 means “have courage in ourselves and our ability. We have all we need to succeed.” Ok, that is good. I fully admit that there are not a whole lot of bad number meanings when I look bib numbers up, but that is why I look them up! On Saturday, I saw my most excellent chiropractor, Kevin Golden, after dropping my bags in the stadium. He had some broken ribs from a bike crash and was not sure when I last saw him if he was going to start (his first full). He told me he decided to go for it. I decided to keep him in mind while racing, because I had done a half with broken ribs back in 2006, and it was painful and stupid, (but I would do it again) I knew at least one person was going to be in more pain than me (Kevin did end up finishing with plenty of time to spare – hurray!). The stadium was an awesome place to have a transition – if only it was closer to the swim exit. It was such a joy to have real bathrooms with toilets that flush, soap, and actual running water. The women never had a line – it was glorious. I did some recon with TriDot the previous day and found the T1 run to be ridiculously long.

I got word from Mike and Max No Mike or Max as Mike was still COVID positive on Saturday morning. Okay, so no Mike or Max. But I finally got to meet my coach, Jason McFaul, in person! My first meeting was thwarted by COVID and this one almost was. Jason had another athlete, Darin, racing and so he decided to fly up and cheer us on. We Zoom call once a week, but in person is so much better.

I should have slept like a baby with no one else in my room but could not quiet my brain and I slept 2-3h. By far the worst sleep I have ever had ahead of a full Ironman. Shuttles take you down to the race start from outside transition. Some athletes had left running shoes by the swim exit the night before and many of them were stolen. It was a long barefoot run, but I still had some fairly tough feet from years of sandal running, so I had not placed shoes. Barefoot it would be. Unfortunately, all the bus drivers were given the wrong directions to the swim start. Our driver had to turn around (had to do a 180), after hitting a roadblock with the given instructions. She announced that she did not know where to go now. Several athletes pulled up Waze to give her instructions. There was a lengthy line of buses following us and every one of them had to turn around. A bus ride that should have taken 10 minutes, took thirty. The whole bus burst into cheers along with a standing ovation (LMAO) for the bus driver as we arrived. At least one thing will go wrong during a long, full race. I thought if this was the only thing that went wrong today then I would be in good shape!!

I met Jason there and did a quick warm up run (it was cold). I was a bit thrown off – I did not have as much time as I wanted before the race, and I completely forgot to use the band (that Jason brought from home and then I did not use it) to warm up my upper body before lining up. I should have waited a bit longer before lining up because I stood there for a long time and unlike some other venues, it would have been easy to slide back into the upper part of the queue. Not only had I forgotten to warm up with the band, but I also forgot my Nuun – I had left it in my morning bag that Jason was going to drop for me. Oh well. I had throw-away socks on in line (I typically grab two mismatched socks from my ever-growing single sock bag in the laundry room) – the path leading down to the river was steep, rocky, and cold, so that was an excellent choice. I threw them out before the start. There was not a trash can along the queue, so I asked a spectator to throw things away for me. I figured that outside assistance is technically allowed since the race has not yet started!

The visibility was limited in the water, but I could still see my own hand. Somehow, I smacked into some sort of square buoy in the middle of the American River. That kind of stunned me, but I decided I needed to sight a bit more often! It was fun to see my five hundred times coming in well under 8 minutes with the current, but I did not really feel like there was much assist the first half. The only other swim mishap was misjudging where to turn out of the American River – I had a kayaker tell me I had to swim back around the turn buoy against the current. It was not that far; you can see from the blip in my swim line where the buoy was, but I did lose some time there. I was irritated that a whole bunch of swimmers were ignoring those instructions, missing the big, red turn buoy, and just continuing right on down the river without consequences. The orange buoys were set up too far left and it had me doubting my knowledge of the swim course. I decided to stay right where I knew the exit would be. That swim exit came up insanely fast after going under the first street bridge as the current in the Sacramento River was zooming. My brain was confused as to how we could have gotten here so soon – I started gas lighting myself about where the exit was until I could see people getting out.

 

Swim 2.4mi: 50:01, 7/111 50-54AG, 40/616 WO, 227/2610 OA

 

There are steps (or ramps – cannot remember) that go below the surface of water, so it is easy to grab the rails and pull yourself up. I looked at my watch getting out but forgot to press the lap button. Arrrghhh – I just missed going under 50 minutes. Fast, nonetheless, but that current is an equalizer on this course. Swimmers do not have much of an advantage. There is a labyrinth of ramps heading up to a paved trail. At the start of the trail, I finally remembered to hit the lap button on my Garmin. I used the wetsuit strippers up there and then started the long run to the stadium. Jason was there (he has a whole story about using an electric Uber scooter to get there) and stayed just a bit behind me so as not to pace. I was focused on watching my step and my form since I was barefoot. I know I was breathing hard and needed my inhaler, and then I started to get a side stitch. Dammit, forgetting my water prerace was coming back to bite me. The balls of my feet were starting to get sore on the pavement. Jason stayed back on Capital Mall as I crossed the street to the stadium. For some reason (see the Strava pic of T1), organizers had us zigzagging around the back of the stadium to get into T1. It was crazy! T1 was longer than the Strava pic posted here because I had not stopped the swim portion on my Garmin until I had run up all the ramps. I thought I heard Frieda, my friend and Team Zoot teammate inside the change tent, she must have passed me in the water, but we were both in a hurry and we did not chat. Wow, this is the longest transition EVER. We even had to run a good distance to the mount line to get out of the stadium.

 

T1:14:10, 5/111 50-44AG

 

My power meter did not connect until almost 9 minutes in. It was super windy, but I knew from the weather forecast it was going to be very windy. I had done IM Texas earlier in April that had soul crushing winds, so I had mentally prepared ahead of time for the same at Sacramento. Even though the winds were stronger during this race, they did not feel as bad because I was expecting them. When my power did connect, I was not hitting those 150 watts that I had wanted to, I was in the 140s, and my power would decrease as the bike went on. When I had ridden the course back in 2021, there was a headwind out and an amazing tailwind back in. Today, there was a tailwind out. It was cold and I had tethered hand warmers on the outside of my shoes to try and warm up my feet. Pedaling faster was going to be the only way to warm up! I had throw away gloves on and they made reaching into my pockets tactically difficult. Add in the gusts of wind that were close to 30mph and I was afraid to take my hands off my bike and knew I would be poking around in there longer because of the gloves. I was disappointed at my speed (21ish) given there was a tailwind, but you can see from the graph that those gusts did not start until after I had turned around into a headwind. It was going to be a tough day. My legs were not back yet given I had just raced Kona and just gotten over COVID. I had my chain drop twice during the bike ride which seems only to happen during windy races. I must have shifted out of the big ring just as a big gust of wind came up. I did not lose much time putting the chain back in place. If there had not been a headwind to deal with on the return, there really would not even be a reason to ever leave the big ring on this course. There is a short bridge close to the turnaround, but otherwise no elevation. The bike course was modified a bit from 2021 plan, and I did not like the change. Not only do you have to cross the bridge now, but the extra section at the end of the out and bike (mile 28, 84) is very narrow, and the wind was mostly a horrible crosswind. I unclipped both times to do the turn, especially because the wind is at its worst on the course the farther south you go. I was glad I had clipped out the second turn around because a first timer came to a complete stop without warning in front of me! At mile fifty-six turnaround at the stadium, there was an announcer and big crowds. My racing brain missed seeing Jason, but I did hear the announcer say my name and that I was currently in fifth place. I was focused on a lengthy line of people I had to jam past before I could slide over and earned myself a top ten Strava segment in the process! About five miles later, I saw my Zoot teammate Ashley, as she passed me just before we turned on Babel Slough. All the small cross sections were the best with straight tailwind, but the main part of the course had a lot of gusty crosswinds. It was brutal, but I knew it would be. I repeated one of my mantras, “I am under the wind,” and tried to smile and sail away negative thoughts. Yes, I am going a lot slower than I could be on this course, but everyone here is dealing with the exact same conditions and it is out of my control so it should be out of my thoughts. On the return to T2 that first timer I mentioned at the last turn around drafted off me the whole way back. I channeled my irritation into my pedal stroke. I would finally say something to her (it was too windy for her to hear me on the bike) during the run and she feigned complete ignorance.

 

Bike 112mi: 6:06:42, 5/111 50-54AG, 33/616 WO, 457/2610 OA

 

The change tent in T2 was inconveniently located. We had been instructed to leave our bike to run bags at our bikes. If you wanted to use the change tent, you would have to carry your stuff a quarter mile to the change tent. I opted to put on my shoes, etc. at my bike and run on past the change tent. That saved me some time!

 

T2: 7:24, 1/111 50-44AG

From the first step of the marathon my glutes were already screaming. They were still sore from Kona. Crap. None of this marathon is going to be easy. Oh man, it is going to be hard from the very first step to the last. This whole run is going to be clutch and not flow. Coach Jason is always reminding me that, “We fall to the level of our training and not our expectations.” I know when I am tired like this, I train around 10-minute miles, and I never run a full marathon when doing so. I had a race plan to come out of the transition running 9-minute miles, but I was falling short at closer to 9:30 miles and my rate of perceived exertion was such that I knew I was not going to be able to hold that pace for twenty-six miles. I saw Jason around mile 1 (hooray!) and he kept my form honest. There were a few other TriDotters just up the road from Jason who told me I was currently in 3^rd or 4^th (it is always hard to know when there is a rolling start as slower swimmers that start later tend to be faster runners). I saw Karyn from Team Zoot cheering around mile 2 or 3 which was a pleasant surprise! Then, just after starting the south end long out and back on Ramp Way along the Sacramento River, I saw Jeff Raines from TriDot (whose visor I was wearing) running the other way looking fast but sounding deflated. I did not realize how far ahead he was and how long that section was until I hit the turnaround miles later. I was slowly losing speed and thinking about how I could see my coach at any time and had better stay on my race plan even though half my brain was screaming to slow down. And, yay! There he is on Front Street keeping me honest (picture credit).

 I try to catch up to another woman in front of me and follow her feet so I could just empty my mind for a while. It worked for a quarter mile or so before I could not hang on any longer. I was about to enter the long out and back wooded area where spectators were discouraged from going in. I was thinking about how the race plan is to speed up at mile eighteen and I was wondering how I was going to manage that. Ok, maybe I cannot speed up, but I can work harder and keep from losing even more time and I certainly will not be walking. I passed Ashley (who had passed me on the bike) around mile sixteen or so – she was walking. I tried to encourage her to run again. I ended up running ahead. After turning around, mile eighteen was approaching fast. All right, all right. Pain cave is a coming. When mile eighteen hit I pushed my turnover and pumped my arms, but I was going nowhere fast. Somewhere around here, I saw Frieda going the other direction. Normally, she would be running faster than me and making up time, but she shook her head, and I knew her hamstrings were not doing well. I saw Max Kam (Team Zoot) headed in the other direction running screaming fast and making it look so easy. But that is the thing, the better shape you are in and the faster you can run, even though it always hurts, it is still easier. If only because the aid stations arrive that much faster. When I have been walking 20-minute miles like at St George, that is the absolute worst. I have so much respect for the back of the packers who are out there all day. *That* is hard. *That* offers so much opportunity to quit and those folks just keep going. My hat’s off to you! Ok. I was going to try and hold this 11-minute pace – it felt like my 7+ minute miles during an assessment – I was breathing hard, and my perceived exertion was higher than it would ever normally be running at 11-minute miles. I saw Jason at mile twenty-one deep into the hurt locker and I could not talk and hold my pace. He ran a step behind me so as not to pace and asked me some questions and gave me some encouragement. I did not answer. I was happy to have some company on a lonely stretch of road heading to the Capital loops, but I had no energy to reply. He told me later that he wondered if he was making me angry and then decided that, if so, good because I could use it for fool. LMAO – no, I just could not talk without slowing down. The three loops around the Capital were brutal. Everyone has a depleted race brain at this point and so having us run three times around without any way to help us mark it (no wrist bands) was peak ignorance. I was closely watching my mileage on my Garmin. I was constantly doing the math of where the finish line was in my head. There are 2.9 miles left in my triathlon season, there are 2.8 miles left in my season, hey, you can last for another 2.3 miles. Yes, you can. Somewhere around there, Ashley came running by looking fresh. Woo-hoo, can I borrow your legs and your lungs? It was dark. It was cold. I was hungry. Shut up, brain. Ok, ok, distract yourself with math. 1.9 miles, 1.85 miles to the finish AND so on. The turn into the finish line was glorious because I was finally there. This was the last time I would hear Mike Reilly call my name over the red carpet. Before this year I might have agreed that running a standalone marathon was harder than a marathon at the end of a full. It depends on how hard you are running. I’ve walk-runned a standalone with a friend and also given my all to get under 4h while arguably over trained. One was easy and one was hard. Before this year with a couple of exceptions, I had always stayed high zone 2/low three at the end of an IM. This year I was in the upper end of zone three and zone 4 RPE (thinking this pace will land me in the med tent pace) to KQ because I do not have the natural athletic talent to have fun and still get on the podium. I must be a racer and get that RPE up if I want to qualify. I must work hard for every second - especially on the run. There is no “enjoy the red carpet” because with a rolling start, you might lose that slot by 1 or 2 seconds. And this is why my finisher pictures are always anticlimactic.

For 30 years I participated in triathlon without a coach. Part of what I love about being coached by Jason is how my accountability meter has drastically risen. I am not just disappointing myself anymore. Do not misunderstand, my family cares about how I do, but they are not invested in my results, they just want me to finish and come back home. If I am having a rough day, I do not really disappoint them. I feel like I am disappointing Jason, though. He has helped to dial in my fitness and mental game, and I have not yet been able to capitalize on it. I want to scream that he is better than this, I am better than this. But realistically, that just sounds like I am making up excuses and being delusional. Execution is the only convincing argument. One of these days I will be able to execute, and it will be that much sweeter. I have had some good results, and I’d say this race was a good result, but it doesn’t reflect what I am capable of doing and that drives me to do better both for his sake and mine.

Run 26.2mi: 4:35:14, 7/111 50-54AG, 100/616 WO, 606/2610 OA

Total Time: 11:53:30, 4/111 50-54 AG, 47/616 WO, 413/2610 OA

I was not breathing well after finishing - my chest was tight, so the volunteer catchers took me to the med tent. Awesome volunteer went and got my morning bag so I could check my phone, text my family, and let Jason know where I disappeared to. The doctor was concerned it was a COVID relapse (I got an earful about racing a week after COVID after he asked me if I had had it), but extra hits on my inhaler and a 10-minute wait fixed it. Sometimes my asthma goes into overdrive after I have stopped at a full (happened at Wildflower half once too). It happened after my first full IM and I did not have my inhaler on me, so a medic took me to an ambulance to use a nebulizer. My dad watched me go into the ambulance and then watched it start up (for the A/C and power) while having no idea what shape I was in. He wanted me to promise him that I would never do another one of these again - I told him I could not do that. And here I am at #24 still landing in the med tent post-race. Since I didn’t have my family with me, Jason graciously hung around with me post-race, we watched his other athlete, Darin, finish his last legacy full requirement (see pic with the 3 of us), Jason almost broke his phone prioritizing my now disgusting with gross kit race bag, and then he went back to the stadium with to help grab my bike and bags. Meeting my coach in person was the highlight of my weekend and I most definitely would not have gone as fast without him there. It was a good result, but a tough race that will make me think more than twice about ever again scheduling a second ironman two weeks after the first. 

I got lucky the next day and got a roll down Kona spot from the first-place woman (who had also done Kona but went a good hour faster than me). Elise Loftin, another TriDotter and Zooter won an entry to the 2024 IMCA and so would have to hold off her retirement of fulls for another year! Next year, Kona is only 8 days before IMCA, so I will not be partaking next year, but I will be back to race here again – maybe 2025?