8 weeks since Ironman CdA and I was back at it for Timberman, a half-iron. Weather was gorgeous and I was up at 4:30am for final prep, eating, etc. My uncle was up at 5:15am and we headed out to Lake Winnipesaukee, a 25 minute drive from his house, where the race was to start. Temperature was in the mid 60's and clear. It was going to be a good day. I was particularly psyched because this was to be the first race where I had a contingent of family watching the race. Tracy had joined me in Austin, but no one was at CdA. Tracy, my mom and Rich, my aunt and uncle, cousin Merri, and 3 of my 4 kids were all planning to be there. I was extremely happy to have the support and I knew that it would make the day that much better.
I had dropped off my bike the day before, so when I got dropped off on race day, I headed into transition with my gear bag and set up my nutrition for the day. I was pleased to see that we were going to be allowed to set up all of our gear at our bikes, instead of having to deal with multiple transition bags, which is what was required with both Ironman races I had done to that point. Of course, I quickly discovered that I hadn't gotten their early enough to claim the space that I needed/wanted, and was forced to jam my gear in between 2 others that were liberal in their placement of their gear. Ugh. Water, gatorade, gels, and protein bars. Pumped up the tires, set up my gear - shoes, helmut, glasses, number belt, etc.
The official start of the race was 7am, but my wave wasn't going off until 7:50am, so I had some time to hydrate, put on my wetsuit, and jam caffeine into my body. The beach was lined with racers and a familiar voice was announcing each start, exactly 5 minutes apart. By the time my wave was to go off, the pros would all be out of the water and on their bikes. The day was about to start and I was relaxed and ready. I even had enough time to reflect on how different my mindset was between my first race in Austin and this one at Timberman. This time, I knew exactly what to expect from the race and this one was more about the journey and the day then about times. Don't get me wrong, I was still aiming at a 6-hour-ish mark, but I wasn't stressing about it. I was going to go out and attack the course. Swim, bike, and run as hard as I could push it and if that meant that I blew up, so-be-it. Let's see what I can get my body to do, but also enjoy the day and the journey. I had finished both full and half irons now, so if this one ended in a DNF because I was pushing too hard, I could live with that.
Three minutes before our start and they announced the wave and asked us to line up at water's edge. With 2 minutes to go, they had us wade into the water and wait for the start. I lined up to the outside, mid-pack, so that I wouldn't be caught too badly in the fray that was to take place as we started. The kicking and banging at the swim start is one of my least favorite things. 3, 2, 1...GO!
Now, this is the part where you discover that 1 small change can have a fairly big impact on your race. A few minutes before the start, I heard someone suggest to another that they put their goggles on first, then their swim cap, so that they wouldnt lose their goggles if they got knocked around during the fray. I had never done that before and never had a problem. But, I thought it made sense, so I switched what I usually do and put my goggles on under my cap. Then, I didn't both to double-check the fit of my goggles in the water. As a result, I spent the first 1/2 mile of the swim dealing with badly leaking goggles. Emptying, adjusting, etc., over and over until I finally got them to stop leaking around the 1/2 mile mark, but it had taken its toll and would impact my swim time. And, as I suspected and would confirm in T1, I had lost a contact lense in the midst of it all and would have to take time to put in a new one.
Out of the swim in 41:41 and into transition. As I was running up the beach and pulled off my wetsuit, I glanced down at my watch to see my time. NO WATCH. What?! Must have fallen off as I was taking off my wetsuit. I went back, against a stream of racers, looking for my Garmin watch and, luckily, found it there are the beach. More time wasted. Not only did it come off, but it came apart at the pin that connects the band to the unit itself...it would take time to fix it. As soon as I got into transition, I tried fixing the watch. No luck. I spent what seemed like an eternity trying to get that little pin into both sides of the main unit. No luck. I put it down and went for my spare contact lenses and got that in. Then, I got the rest of my gear on before trying, one more time to fix my watch. As I was taking the time to fix my watch, I kept thinking about whether or not to just abandon my watch and go without it. On the bike, I largely use my bike computer, so that wouldn't be so bad, but the run uses it heavily to monitor my heart rate and pace. Luckily, I got it to snap back in and I was off and out of transition. With all of the messing with my watch, I screwed up the times, so I didn't find out until the end of the race that my T1 time was 8:42. Not short, but given how much time I thought I had spend in T1, I was pleasantly surprised.
Out on the bike and I could immediately tell I needed to start on my nutrition. I had learned at CdA what my legs and mind feel like when they need calories. So, I started right away and opened up a protein bar. I took one bite and realized that I was about to repeat my problem with the bars from CdA. Couldn't swallow. So, I threw the bar away and abandoned them. Luckily (or not), I had planned for this. I knew that this was a possiblity, so I had loaded up on gels that would take me through the bike, and adjusted my plan to take gels every 20 minutes, instead of alternating bars and gels every 30 minutes. And, to get past my hunger pangs, I would grab a banana or two out on the course.
This bike course was very hilly, with 9% grades in some cases. At CdA, I knock down my bike gears for those hills and saved my legs. Here, I attacked. I stayed in the highest gear I could manage and, in some cases, I cranked up a gear or two and got out of the saddle. It was a much better strategy, even though it hurt towards the end of each climb. I attacked the uphill and then spun out or, depending on the speed, rested my legs on the downhills. I was regularly doing 30+MPH on downhills and, at one point, hit a maximum speed of 47.2MPH according to my bike computer. Not exactly sure which hill that was, but I imagine it was the one that I braked into as I got a little nervous about how fast I was going.
Overall, it was a good bike ride. I was still happy to get off the bike, as I usually am, but I felt good coming off. As I came around the final turn and into transition, my entire family was there cheering me on. It was the first time I had seen them and found out later that they weren't able to make the swim because of traffic. I was psyched to see them and knew that I would look for and see them again, when I came out of transition. Bike 3:27:09. Not nearly as fast as I would have liked, but this was no flat course. Goal had been to match my Austin bike performance of just under 3 hours.
Off the bike and into T2 I felt pretty good. Legs were wobbly, but that is normal. If it weren't for my decision to put my medicated pads on my hips to prevent hip problems on the run, my T2 time would have been rocking. T2 was 4:45 and I was off on the run.
The whole time coming out of the main shoot and onto the course, I was looking for my crew. I found them on the opposite side of the entrance, where they had been, but wasn't able to get over to them, so I waved at them and went out on the course. I was feeling decent as I started the run. My cheering section had bolstered my spirit and I wasn't having any issues. I took cola (what?! they didn't flatten the cola???? bubbles wreaked havoc on me as I ran) at each station to make sure I staved off any nutrition problems, and threw ice in my hat wherever I could. At one point, they offered ice cold towels and I grabbed one and ran with it on my neck for the majority of the run, dumping ice water into it at each station to make sure I stayed cool.
There were all kinds of volunteers out and they were all having a good time. And so was I. I was chatting with some of them, doing a little dancing at stations where music was planing, and generally enjoying my time on the course. I felt strong for the first 6.5 mile loop and as I came back into the park for the start of my second loop, I saw my family again. This time, they were within reach, so I stopped, kissed my wife and my kids, and told my son that I would be back in one hour. He is all about time and numbers, so I knew he would be looking for me when I was coming to the finish. It was so great to have them there!
Around mile 8 or so, I started having GI issues. Stomach wasn't so great. There were periods of walking to try and get past those issues. Finally, after a mile or two, I was back in business. Still feeling really strong and good. If only the stomach had been OK, the whole run would have been good. The final mile of the run, I was moving. I felt really, really good and I was pushing hard. My final mile, after some slower miles, was 9:13. I was pretty happy with my ability to crank it up for that last mile +.
Coming into the finish, I looked for my family in the same spot they were during the first lap but didnt see them. I raced through the finish line, which is where I found them. Happiness all around! Total run time 2:17:34.
My total time for the race was 6:39:51. Not great, but I enjoyed the journey. I enjoyed the race and wasn't so hung up on the race itself or my times. I loved having my family there to experience the race with me, and see me work through such a long day and race. Timberman was a good and challenging course. We may just dance again, Timberman.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
CdA Race Recap
That was one of the most physically and mentally challenging things that I have ever done. Coeur d'Alene Ironman 2011. It took me 14 hours, 47 minutes, and 2 seconds to complete; the longest time I have ever spent in continuous activity. In the end, I still can't believe it.
This is a long one, so hold on...
The day started out the same as my other big races - Austin Longhorn 70.3, NYC Marathon, etc. I didn't sleep well the night before because of anxiety, as expected, and I was up before my alarm which was set for 3:30am. Race wasn't until 7am, but transition opened at 5am and I wanted to be up, fed, and out in time to get a parking spot near the start. The main reason I felt I needed to be close was because I fully expected to have trouble getting around after the race and I didn't want to have to go far to get to my car. I ate, drank a 32oz Gatorade, and a Red Bull, ran through all of my checklists in my head, and left for the start, about 2 miles from my hotel.
Because I was so early, I had some time to burn and sat in my car to stay warm, since it was only 42 degrees outside at 4:30am. While there, I traded some texts with Tracy, Chris Draper, and other friends who were up at 7am ET. People slowly starting filling the lot I was parked in and, around 5:30am, I got out and went to get marked with my #1630 and to set up my nutrition on my bike. I knew it was going to be the start of a very long day.
I had set a number of goal times for each leg of the race, but I also knew that the last 4 weeks saw little of the training that I needed to meet those times. I hadn't put in the time and I was sure that I would pay for it. Turns out, I was right. My primarly goal was to finish and to race my race, listening to what my body was telling me. You can't try to cheat Ironman by not putting in the training hours, because it will make you pay.
Walking up to transition, I walked by the pros rack and saw my buddy, Craig Alexander, and others setting up their bikes. They were set to go off at 6:25am in order to give them enough of a headstart that all of the rest of us wouldn't get in their way. Craig is shorter than I am, but as solid as they come. When I took a picture with him on the Friday before, we put are arms around one other for the photo and he was solid. You have to be to do what he and these pros do on a regular basis.
I walked into transition and did a quick setup and then changed into my wetsuit and checked in my clothes bag until after the race. The feel of this race was different than any I had been to before. Austin had sort of a casual feel to it, but CdA had some sort of intense, yet welcoming atmosphere. I don't know how exactly to describe it, but you felt like you were about to bond with 2499 other people in doing something really special.
At 6:30, transition closed and everyone started making their way to the beach. It was still cold, but I was warm (except my feet and hands) because of my wetsuit. The water temp was still a whopping 58 degrees, which still had my worried. Even with a wetsuit, that is cold enough to take your breath away. We watched as the pros finished the first of 2 laps just before we were set to start. The beach was crowded with what I found out was 2430 other triathletes, some 900+ were doing their first Ironman.
7:00am, the gun went off, and 2430 people rushed into the water. Now, for those of you who have never seen an Ironman race, the first several hundred yards of the swim are tough. There is no, "swim nicely, free from other people." Everyone is swimming in the same space, going at different speeds, trying to get into their stroke, and they are kicking each other (accidently) and bumping into one another. To have to battle to have space and to find a rhythm, while dealing with freezing water that just took your breath out of you, is difficult to say the least.
While the water was cold, it didn't seem as bad as the 2 days prior, when I went into the lake to get acclimated. I don't know if it was adrenaline or something else, but I settled in and the cold wasn't top of my mind. The biggest thing was avoiding getting kicked and bumped into, which is irritating enough that it can throw off your stroke. I finished the first lap of the swim, feeling lucky to have a brief reprieve, and got around the marker and back into the water. This was a critical mental part of the race because towards the end of the first lap, my mind was already asking me why I was doing this. You are going to do ANOTHER lap? Yes, I am going to do another lap in this freezing water, with people banging into me, and draining my strength. Mental victory #1.
I came out of the water in 1:26:37 and ran into transition. I knew that my hands and feet were a little cold, but I didn't realize how much until my feet hit the sand on the beach and burned from the coarse sand. Then, when handed my bike gear bag, my hands wouldn't work the way they were supposed to. They just simply wouldn't do what my mind was telling them to do. I managed to get dried off and my gear on, but it came at a price, as my transition time was over 10 minutes.
Out on the bike and I was feeling pretty good. The first part of the course wasn't very steep and I was cruising along. This was the beginning of what would become a 7 hour and 40 minute ordeal of hills, climbs, broken equipment, and botched nutrition. I am not going to rehash that entire ordeal, but will give some of the highlights as I remember them. The downhills on the course were awesome. At one point, I topped out at just over 41 mph, but regularly saw speeds in the low to mid thirties. The uphills, on the other hand, were brutal. I don't know the grades, but I do know that I was consitently in the lowest possible gear on my bike and I was still having to play games with my mind. I would stop looking at the top of the hill and, instead, focus 6 feet ahead of my and tell myself, "Just a little at a time. Just a little at a time." Before I knew it, I would be rolling over the top of the hill and accelerating. The problem was, those uphills were killing my average speed and the downhills weren't long enough to make up for it. As the race wore on, I just didn't have the legs to keep pushing hard.
Somewhere around mile 39, I was passed by Craig Alexander. Apparently, the leader had passed me 8.5 minutes before and Craig was chasing him. That was another highlight for the race. They were on their second (and last) lap, with about 17 to go. I found out later that Alexander, who finished 2nd coming off the bike, had averaged nearly 25mph. By contrast, my average was under 15mph.
Overall, it was a gorgeous day for a race. But, I realized after about 2 hours on the bike that I was having trouble with my nutrition. For whatever reason, I couldn't swallow the protein bars that I was eating, and had trained with. Without a substantial amount of water to wash them down, they just got stuck in my throat, which was not only uncomfortable, but dangerous. So, I shifted away from the bars and went to gels-only. Problem was, I had not trained with gels only and I knew from past experience that I would get hunger pains without solid food in my stomach for so long. The result was that I (apparently) didn't eat enough gels to keep my calories up, which, in turn, cause greater fatigue in my legs, which caused my times to slow. I should have known better, but I didn't directly attribute my increased fatigue as a sign of need more fuel. To add to it, I was drinking more fluids on the bike than normal, in part to get Gatorade in my to help compensate for the lack of calories from bars and in part because I was overly concerned with staying hydrated. As a result, I had to get off of the bike 4 time to use the port-o-potty, costing me even more time.
Around mile 80 on the bike, I hit another snag. I was running down a hill and changing gears when something sounded funny. I didn't realize, until I tried to downshift to my small ring, that my derailer broke and would allow me to shift to a higher gear, but not let me go down to a lower one. With so many steep hills, I had no choice but to get off of my bike, phsically put my chain on the small ring, and only change gears within that ring, seriously limiting the amount of speed I could get on any downhill or flat sections. I basically only had the lower half of my gears and could only get up to a maximum of about 21mph while pedaling.
To say that spending 7+ hours on a bike is mentally challenging is an understatement. Throughout, I was constantly battling with myself over why I was actually doing this. How much longer is this going to take? Am I there yet? When is the next downhill? Is that ANOTHER person passing me? Just like on the swim, the end of lap #1 on the bike was a time when I had "a chance to get off." I could have ended my suffering right there. Heck, I knew at that point that it was going to take my another 3.5+ hours to finish the bike. Why would I keep going? My time was blown, I was tired, and I knew that after the bike I had a FULL MARATHON yet to run. Mental Victory #? Keep going. You are going to be an Ironman today. You have come this far and there is no giving up.
It was a long bike and I was happy when it was finally over and I got off. My butt was sore, along with other parts, but it wasn't as bad as I felt getting off of the bike in Austin. I ran into transition, grabbed my bag, sat down (ahhhhhh!!!!), and made a quick change. Much better this time around than T1. I was off.
The first mile of the run and I was shaky and something was off. I thought at first that it was just the switch from bike to run, but would finally realize a little while later what the problem was. Coming off of the bike, I was hungry and my stomach panged with hunger. So, at the first station, I walked through...banana, oranges, water, cola. A little better and I started running as I left the station. Around mile 2, the calories must have kicked in because I was feeling a ton better and I was moving at a 9:40-ish pace, which is where I expected I should be. I dialed it back to 10 min/miles, knowing that I needed to be careful in the first half so that I didn't wear myself out. You can always push on the 2nd half of the marathon and negative split.
The more I ate, the better I felt and ran, so at each aid station, I did the same thing: banana, oranges, cola, water, sports drink. The people at the stations were great. They were playing music, cheering us on, and keeping spirits up. Considering some of the hills on the run, we needed it. I was feeling good and happy to post about the same times on the first and second 10K splits. It was around mile 13 that a decision that I made at mile 1 came back to haunt me. At mile 1, you had the option of grabbing your Run Special Needs bag. In my bag, I had placed hip pads that help in the event of hip problems. At mile 1, I was having no issues with my hips, so I opted to bypass getting my bag, thinking that I could always hit it at mile 14, if I need them. Well, I need them at mile 13 as my hips, once again, started to flare up and brought me to a walk. I probably could have forced myself to continue to run, but I knew I had 13 miles left and I wanted be sure to finish. I knew that if I walked the last 13, there was no way I couldn't finish.
I threw the medicated pads on at mile 14 and started to walk. It wasn't until mile 23, more than 2 hours later, that I got some relief and felt like I could run again. It was on-and-off with a slow jog, as now fatigue and stiffness were setting in. And I had a lot of company. Most of the people still on the coarse at that time were walking, just trying to finish. Injuries and fatigue were everywhere.
As we got closer, more and more spectators were cheering us on. Some were more drunk than others, but all were enthuisiastic and helped with our spirit. With about 1.2 miles left, you could really start to feel the energy again. We were almost there. The journey was almost over and I could taste it. With about 5 miles left, I told myself that I was going to run the finish with everything that I had. I didn't know exactly how far out I would be able to start, but as I hit the 25 mile marker, came around a turn that brought me onto main street with a clear shot of the finish, I knew it was time. I started a slow jog and quickly realized that my hip was holding up. I stepped up my pace and actually felt really good. Andrenaline or whatever, my mood and condition were the best they had been in hours and I increased my speed even more. I was now passing other runners at a pretty decent clip. Almost a ridiculous clip considering it was the end of the race.
By the time I entered the chute, I was sprinting. The crowd was cheering, but as soon as they saw my surge, they went NUTS! I felt fantastic. I was sprinting, feeling good, and hearing the crowd. I raised my hands over my head the entire length of the chute. Jubiliation! Still passing people. Hands raised, "Christopher Morgan. You are an Ironman!" Crossed the finish line in 14:47:02 and had such a tremendous sense of accomplishment. 140.6 miles.
After I crossed the line, I was immediately pointed at a woman volunteer who supported my waist and was making sure I didn't collapse. So sweet she was. I got my finisher's medal, hat, shirt, and got covered up. She walked me over to my next handler, who shuttled my off to get some water, cola, and pizza. Elated. Before the race, I would have guessed that I would have just been happy to have it over with, but I would have been wrong. I was happy to have finished and succeeded in a tremendous challenge of mind and body.
Having now finished an Ironman, I have new perspective on the pros of this sport. I knew that they were fast, fit, etc., but I didn't realize just how amazing and ridiculous they are. Doing this race put it into even more perspective for me how gifted they are. The winner of CdA, Craig Alexander, finished with a time of 8:19:48. Julie Dibens, the women's winner, finished in 9:16:40. It took me 5+ hours longer than them to finish. AMAZING.
This is a long one, so hold on...
The day started out the same as my other big races - Austin Longhorn 70.3, NYC Marathon, etc. I didn't sleep well the night before because of anxiety, as expected, and I was up before my alarm which was set for 3:30am. Race wasn't until 7am, but transition opened at 5am and I wanted to be up, fed, and out in time to get a parking spot near the start. The main reason I felt I needed to be close was because I fully expected to have trouble getting around after the race and I didn't want to have to go far to get to my car. I ate, drank a 32oz Gatorade, and a Red Bull, ran through all of my checklists in my head, and left for the start, about 2 miles from my hotel.
Because I was so early, I had some time to burn and sat in my car to stay warm, since it was only 42 degrees outside at 4:30am. While there, I traded some texts with Tracy, Chris Draper, and other friends who were up at 7am ET. People slowly starting filling the lot I was parked in and, around 5:30am, I got out and went to get marked with my #1630 and to set up my nutrition on my bike. I knew it was going to be the start of a very long day.
I had set a number of goal times for each leg of the race, but I also knew that the last 4 weeks saw little of the training that I needed to meet those times. I hadn't put in the time and I was sure that I would pay for it. Turns out, I was right. My primarly goal was to finish and to race my race, listening to what my body was telling me. You can't try to cheat Ironman by not putting in the training hours, because it will make you pay.
Walking up to transition, I walked by the pros rack and saw my buddy, Craig Alexander, and others setting up their bikes. They were set to go off at 6:25am in order to give them enough of a headstart that all of the rest of us wouldn't get in their way. Craig is shorter than I am, but as solid as they come. When I took a picture with him on the Friday before, we put are arms around one other for the photo and he was solid. You have to be to do what he and these pros do on a regular basis.
I walked into transition and did a quick setup and then changed into my wetsuit and checked in my clothes bag until after the race. The feel of this race was different than any I had been to before. Austin had sort of a casual feel to it, but CdA had some sort of intense, yet welcoming atmosphere. I don't know how exactly to describe it, but you felt like you were about to bond with 2499 other people in doing something really special.
At 6:30, transition closed and everyone started making their way to the beach. It was still cold, but I was warm (except my feet and hands) because of my wetsuit. The water temp was still a whopping 58 degrees, which still had my worried. Even with a wetsuit, that is cold enough to take your breath away. We watched as the pros finished the first of 2 laps just before we were set to start. The beach was crowded with what I found out was 2430 other triathletes, some 900+ were doing their first Ironman.
7:00am, the gun went off, and 2430 people rushed into the water. Now, for those of you who have never seen an Ironman race, the first several hundred yards of the swim are tough. There is no, "swim nicely, free from other people." Everyone is swimming in the same space, going at different speeds, trying to get into their stroke, and they are kicking each other (accidently) and bumping into one another. To have to battle to have space and to find a rhythm, while dealing with freezing water that just took your breath out of you, is difficult to say the least.
While the water was cold, it didn't seem as bad as the 2 days prior, when I went into the lake to get acclimated. I don't know if it was adrenaline or something else, but I settled in and the cold wasn't top of my mind. The biggest thing was avoiding getting kicked and bumped into, which is irritating enough that it can throw off your stroke. I finished the first lap of the swim, feeling lucky to have a brief reprieve, and got around the marker and back into the water. This was a critical mental part of the race because towards the end of the first lap, my mind was already asking me why I was doing this. You are going to do ANOTHER lap? Yes, I am going to do another lap in this freezing water, with people banging into me, and draining my strength. Mental victory #1.
I came out of the water in 1:26:37 and ran into transition. I knew that my hands and feet were a little cold, but I didn't realize how much until my feet hit the sand on the beach and burned from the coarse sand. Then, when handed my bike gear bag, my hands wouldn't work the way they were supposed to. They just simply wouldn't do what my mind was telling them to do. I managed to get dried off and my gear on, but it came at a price, as my transition time was over 10 minutes.
Out on the bike and I was feeling pretty good. The first part of the course wasn't very steep and I was cruising along. This was the beginning of what would become a 7 hour and 40 minute ordeal of hills, climbs, broken equipment, and botched nutrition. I am not going to rehash that entire ordeal, but will give some of the highlights as I remember them. The downhills on the course were awesome. At one point, I topped out at just over 41 mph, but regularly saw speeds in the low to mid thirties. The uphills, on the other hand, were brutal. I don't know the grades, but I do know that I was consitently in the lowest possible gear on my bike and I was still having to play games with my mind. I would stop looking at the top of the hill and, instead, focus 6 feet ahead of my and tell myself, "Just a little at a time. Just a little at a time." Before I knew it, I would be rolling over the top of the hill and accelerating. The problem was, those uphills were killing my average speed and the downhills weren't long enough to make up for it. As the race wore on, I just didn't have the legs to keep pushing hard.
Somewhere around mile 39, I was passed by Craig Alexander. Apparently, the leader had passed me 8.5 minutes before and Craig was chasing him. That was another highlight for the race. They were on their second (and last) lap, with about 17 to go. I found out later that Alexander, who finished 2nd coming off the bike, had averaged nearly 25mph. By contrast, my average was under 15mph.
Overall, it was a gorgeous day for a race. But, I realized after about 2 hours on the bike that I was having trouble with my nutrition. For whatever reason, I couldn't swallow the protein bars that I was eating, and had trained with. Without a substantial amount of water to wash them down, they just got stuck in my throat, which was not only uncomfortable, but dangerous. So, I shifted away from the bars and went to gels-only. Problem was, I had not trained with gels only and I knew from past experience that I would get hunger pains without solid food in my stomach for so long. The result was that I (apparently) didn't eat enough gels to keep my calories up, which, in turn, cause greater fatigue in my legs, which caused my times to slow. I should have known better, but I didn't directly attribute my increased fatigue as a sign of need more fuel. To add to it, I was drinking more fluids on the bike than normal, in part to get Gatorade in my to help compensate for the lack of calories from bars and in part because I was overly concerned with staying hydrated. As a result, I had to get off of the bike 4 time to use the port-o-potty, costing me even more time.
Around mile 80 on the bike, I hit another snag. I was running down a hill and changing gears when something sounded funny. I didn't realize, until I tried to downshift to my small ring, that my derailer broke and would allow me to shift to a higher gear, but not let me go down to a lower one. With so many steep hills, I had no choice but to get off of my bike, phsically put my chain on the small ring, and only change gears within that ring, seriously limiting the amount of speed I could get on any downhill or flat sections. I basically only had the lower half of my gears and could only get up to a maximum of about 21mph while pedaling.
To say that spending 7+ hours on a bike is mentally challenging is an understatement. Throughout, I was constantly battling with myself over why I was actually doing this. How much longer is this going to take? Am I there yet? When is the next downhill? Is that ANOTHER person passing me? Just like on the swim, the end of lap #1 on the bike was a time when I had "a chance to get off." I could have ended my suffering right there. Heck, I knew at that point that it was going to take my another 3.5+ hours to finish the bike. Why would I keep going? My time was blown, I was tired, and I knew that after the bike I had a FULL MARATHON yet to run. Mental Victory #? Keep going. You are going to be an Ironman today. You have come this far and there is no giving up.
It was a long bike and I was happy when it was finally over and I got off. My butt was sore, along with other parts, but it wasn't as bad as I felt getting off of the bike in Austin. I ran into transition, grabbed my bag, sat down (ahhhhhh!!!!), and made a quick change. Much better this time around than T1. I was off.
The first mile of the run and I was shaky and something was off. I thought at first that it was just the switch from bike to run, but would finally realize a little while later what the problem was. Coming off of the bike, I was hungry and my stomach panged with hunger. So, at the first station, I walked through...banana, oranges, water, cola. A little better and I started running as I left the station. Around mile 2, the calories must have kicked in because I was feeling a ton better and I was moving at a 9:40-ish pace, which is where I expected I should be. I dialed it back to 10 min/miles, knowing that I needed to be careful in the first half so that I didn't wear myself out. You can always push on the 2nd half of the marathon and negative split.
The more I ate, the better I felt and ran, so at each aid station, I did the same thing: banana, oranges, cola, water, sports drink. The people at the stations were great. They were playing music, cheering us on, and keeping spirits up. Considering some of the hills on the run, we needed it. I was feeling good and happy to post about the same times on the first and second 10K splits. It was around mile 13 that a decision that I made at mile 1 came back to haunt me. At mile 1, you had the option of grabbing your Run Special Needs bag. In my bag, I had placed hip pads that help in the event of hip problems. At mile 1, I was having no issues with my hips, so I opted to bypass getting my bag, thinking that I could always hit it at mile 14, if I need them. Well, I need them at mile 13 as my hips, once again, started to flare up and brought me to a walk. I probably could have forced myself to continue to run, but I knew I had 13 miles left and I wanted be sure to finish. I knew that if I walked the last 13, there was no way I couldn't finish.
I threw the medicated pads on at mile 14 and started to walk. It wasn't until mile 23, more than 2 hours later, that I got some relief and felt like I could run again. It was on-and-off with a slow jog, as now fatigue and stiffness were setting in. And I had a lot of company. Most of the people still on the coarse at that time were walking, just trying to finish. Injuries and fatigue were everywhere.
As we got closer, more and more spectators were cheering us on. Some were more drunk than others, but all were enthuisiastic and helped with our spirit. With about 1.2 miles left, you could really start to feel the energy again. We were almost there. The journey was almost over and I could taste it. With about 5 miles left, I told myself that I was going to run the finish with everything that I had. I didn't know exactly how far out I would be able to start, but as I hit the 25 mile marker, came around a turn that brought me onto main street with a clear shot of the finish, I knew it was time. I started a slow jog and quickly realized that my hip was holding up. I stepped up my pace and actually felt really good. Andrenaline or whatever, my mood and condition were the best they had been in hours and I increased my speed even more. I was now passing other runners at a pretty decent clip. Almost a ridiculous clip considering it was the end of the race.
By the time I entered the chute, I was sprinting. The crowd was cheering, but as soon as they saw my surge, they went NUTS! I felt fantastic. I was sprinting, feeling good, and hearing the crowd. I raised my hands over my head the entire length of the chute. Jubiliation! Still passing people. Hands raised, "Christopher Morgan. You are an Ironman!" Crossed the finish line in 14:47:02 and had such a tremendous sense of accomplishment. 140.6 miles.
After I crossed the line, I was immediately pointed at a woman volunteer who supported my waist and was making sure I didn't collapse. So sweet she was. I got my finisher's medal, hat, shirt, and got covered up. She walked me over to my next handler, who shuttled my off to get some water, cola, and pizza. Elated. Before the race, I would have guessed that I would have just been happy to have it over with, but I would have been wrong. I was happy to have finished and succeeded in a tremendous challenge of mind and body.
Having now finished an Ironman, I have new perspective on the pros of this sport. I knew that they were fast, fit, etc., but I didn't realize just how amazing and ridiculous they are. Doing this race put it into even more perspective for me how gifted they are. The winner of CdA, Craig Alexander, finished with a time of 8:19:48. Julie Dibens, the women's winner, finished in 9:16:40. It took me 5+ hours longer than them to finish. AMAZING.
Friday, June 24, 2011
CdA Prep - My First Full IM
Wow, I haven't been back to this blog since I posted about running the NYC Marathon. I have come a long way since last November when the second half of my marathon ended in disappointment.
Today, I am in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, preparing for IMCdA this Sunday. This place is absolutely gorgeous. What a great scenic place to spend some time. If it weren't for the 58 degree water temp and the frigid and constant breeze, it would be perfect for a race!
I got to registration early today, after a late night of putting together my bike and unpacking my gear. As I was walking out of the "village" that has been set up just for the race, the pro press briefing was taking place, including Julie Dibens (3rd place in Kona 2010) and Craig Alexander (2-time world champion). After the press had their way, I got an opportunity to meet and take a picture with Craig. Super nice guy and a highlight of my trip...one that I didn't expect when coming out here.
Race day is on Sunday, so today and tomorrow are more getting acclimated, prepped, and through some low intensity, low duration swims, bikes, and runs. My swim today, in a wetsuit and neoprine cap, was frigid. So cold that I could feel my face tighten up and started getting a headache. Race should be interesting!
Soon, I will be off to a pre-race dinner and meeting for the athletes, then hopefully to get some much needed rest. Not sure how much I will post here before the race, but certainly will give a blow-by-blow post-race. I hope it is a good one. Wish me luck!
Today, I am in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, preparing for IMCdA this Sunday. This place is absolutely gorgeous. What a great scenic place to spend some time. If it weren't for the 58 degree water temp and the frigid and constant breeze, it would be perfect for a race!
I got to registration early today, after a late night of putting together my bike and unpacking my gear. As I was walking out of the "village" that has been set up just for the race, the pro press briefing was taking place, including Julie Dibens (3rd place in Kona 2010) and Craig Alexander (2-time world champion). After the press had their way, I got an opportunity to meet and take a picture with Craig. Super nice guy and a highlight of my trip...one that I didn't expect when coming out here.
Race day is on Sunday, so today and tomorrow are more getting acclimated, prepped, and through some low intensity, low duration swims, bikes, and runs. My swim today, in a wetsuit and neoprine cap, was frigid. So cold that I could feel my face tighten up and started getting a headache. Race should be interesting!
Soon, I will be off to a pre-race dinner and meeting for the athletes, then hopefully to get some much needed rest. Not sure how much I will post here before the race, but certainly will give a blow-by-blow post-race. I hope it is a good one. Wish me luck!
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