Ironman Coeur d’Alene 2009 Race Report, Part 3

Pacing

I felt calm and relaxed throughout the swim—as calm and relaxed as one can be in close contact with 2,000 other swimmers—and when I finished my first lap, I was surprised to hear the 36:00 split called out. This was the benefit of being in close contact with 2,000 other swimmers: the draft. The second loop took 40:00. I took my time in T1, walking, not running; drying off; applying chamois butter; getting dressed methodically; having sunscreen applied (thanks, volunteers!); ambling to the bathroom; moseying to my bike. All told, it was just over 10 minutes.

No draft on the bike, of course! That was all me, and my style is to go slow and deliberate on the bike. Here’s my power file, with only wattage (fuchsia) and heart rate (red) showing. You can see my humble speed at bottom left. I do wonder when I hit 40 mph—probably right before passing my family.

You’ll see the double loops evident in the power file. They started and ended with relatively flat sections, before hitting the hills in the middle. I’m pleased with the data here: I kept things under control, which set up my run. With my four potty breaks, I spent a little over seven hours on the bike course.

My second transition was faster, six minutes. Donned my Garmin and headed out.

It seems that barometric pressure affects the altitude reading (green, here) on a Garmin. Despite how it might have felt, the hills weren’t steeper the second time around on the run. I started with two too-fast miles (around 8:55), despite what I thought were my good efforts to keep it in check. I was just so excited to be running, and the crowds were great. You’ll see from the blue line (mph) on the graph that I was able to get my speed in check, then to hold it there. There’s an inevitable downward trend, but it’s not that steep. The dips in my heart rate (red) and speed show that I took walk breaks at each aid station; these were spaced about a mile apart, with a tighter cluster around mile 7/20, the far turnaround point on a hill. Note the steep uptick in speed and HR at the end, and the sharp drop in elevation: lovely Sherman Avenue! Not counting potty stops: 4:18 marathon, my slowest ever, but a very comfortable pace. Total for the day: 13:08.

Equipment

The weather was much cooler than had been predicted earlier in race week, and the lake was much warmer.

I felt perfect in my full wetsuit with a single swim cap. (Not everyone did; some wound up hypothermic, sitting in the 110-degree sauna yurts set up by transition). As you can see in this picture, some folks wore neoprene caps like I had for Worlds in Vancouver. I wore an Athleta bathing suit underneath the suit and made a full change in the tent. Others, like the guy behind me in the picture, or the woman in front, swam in their cycling clothes and just added bike gear outside the changing tents. You could tell who these people were, because they had grass on their backs throughout the race, picked up when they assumed bridge pose for the wetsuit shuckers.

I wore shorts and a short-sleeved jersey, with knee warmers and a bolero jacket that I wound up keeping on throughout. I never felt too hot, and I never felt too cold. I didn’t need the serious cold-weather gear: head covering, toe covering, jacket, or full-fingered gloves, but it would have been very cold to go at my modest pace in a sleeveless top.

My bike got a lot of compliments for its hot-pink accents: bottle, Fuel Belt box, bar tape, and a brand-new addition: Schwalbe Ultremo tires with a hot-pink stripe. I carried three bottles: one with water, one with sports drink, and one with sports drink powder, to be mixed at an aid station.

In T2, I changed my entire outfit, including sports bra, donning compression shorts, a singlet, fresh socks, and arm warmers. It was pretty cool out there, but not awful. Folks around me were wearing garbage bags or mylar blankets, but as the wind picked up, they looked like they were wearing parachutes. With dry socks on my hands, I felt just fine for the second lap of the run. I’d brought my Fuel Belt but decided that the aid stations would suffice, so I never wore it. If you’re out after dark, you have to wear reflective material. My Athleta hat took care of that, but I intended to—and did—finish before dark.

Nutrition

Here’s one area where I shone! Nutritional mistakes can jettison a year’s worth of training, and I was glad not to have made any. I wanted to play with the lower edge of the caloric range, and a few times, I was straddling the line. This showed up as slight dizziness on the bike, and of course staring at the road for seven hours will hypnotize anyone, but it was easily corrected by eating a caffeinated PowerGel. Here’s what I ate over the course of the day. It may be very, very different from what would work for you.

Breakfast: 3/4 of a Honey-Roasted Nut PowerBar; ~8 oz. PowerBar Endurance Formula Fruit Punch; coffee

Prerace, five minutes before swim start: half a packet of lemon PowerBar Gel Blasts

Bike: four 24-ounce bottles of PowerBar Endurance Formula Fruit Punch; a lot of water; a PowerBar Nut Naturals Trail Mix bar (man, was that good!); 2 packets of lemon Gel Blasts; 2 packets of gel, one Chocolate (25 mg caffeine); one Double Latte (50 mg caffeine); 2 banana halves

Run: 1 chocolate and 3.5 Double Latte PowerGels; a few pretzels for the salt; chicken broth and cola, alternating aid stations, beginning at mile 18 when I couldn’t stand the thought of another gel. They were both delicious!

Postrace: another cola; the crust off a slice of pizza in the food tent (it had green peppers and olives, the only vegetables I detest); leftover salmon and quesadilla with salsa verde and sour cream; a lot of Tostitos; Champagne

Conclusions



As I wrote in part 1, I’ve felt conflicted about the experience. It was enjoyable enough, but it wasn’t the most fun training cycle or the best race of my life. It was tiring, but it didn’t push me to the brink of exhaustion to learn new things about myself. It didn’t yield any revelation.

Or maybe it did. Maybe it showed me that the experience becomes what you make of it. My intention was to see what it was like to train for and race an Ironman. That was it. So that was what I did: I trained. I raced. Maybe the revelation is this: moving into something with intention, paying attention, and focusing on using good, efficient form and breathing (both for respiration and to stay in the moment), is a recipe for success.

Part 1 | Part 2