My Ironman 70.3 Boise, Part 2 (The Bike)

The swim to bike transition is one of my favorite times in a tri...second only to crossing the finish line!

Exiting the water I was happy the brutally cold swim was over and my favorite part of every triathlon lay ahead: The Bike. I was a cyclist for several years before my cycling friends talked me into attempting my first tri in 2003. I've always considered the ride portion to be my strongest of the three events.


The wet suit strippers

Running up the long hill into transition I stopped, dropped and let the wetsuit strippers pull off my synthetic rubber whale skin. More than 1,200 volunteers, nearly one for every athlete, did a great job throughout the course, guiding us at every turn, handing out water, Gatorade and Power Bars and Gels at the aid stations and offering words of encouragement.

Wet suit off, helmet, gloves, glasses and cycling shoes on, I began the 56-mile ride. But it quickly became apparent that the leg cramps in the water were going to make this ride painful. And the headwind on the descent from Lucky Peak Reservoir meant there would be no coasting on the ride. But the worst part of the ride, by far, was the long, desolate stretch of road through an industrial section of town highlighted by its total lack of scenery to keep my mind off the pain in my legs.



Heading out on the 56-mile bike course (#865) I was hopeful I could pick up
some of the six minutes I lost on the swim. 

After 40 or so miles of bleak terrain and unforgiving wind (apparently not as bad as last year) the ride reentered Boise and headed back towards the capitol. The final ten miles of mostly downhill were welcome but at this point I began feeling the dreaded hot foot that plagued my first Ironman 70.3 in 2007.

Hot foot is caused by pressure on the nerves that runs between the metatarsal bones in the ball of your foot. It's called hot foot because your toes feel like they are on fire. The pain can be excruciating on the bike, but even worse when running, as the pressure on the nerves intensifies with every step.


I stuck my bike dismount, stopping just short of the line. If there had been judges on this part of the event I would have received all 10s!

Crossing the bike finish in 3:12:21 (17.5 mph average) and a total elapsed time of 4:11:06, I knew my goal time of six hours was shot and my PR of 6:06 in Boulder was safe. There was no way I was going to pull off a sub two-hour run. I thought I might possibly be able to better my Vineman time of 6:28:43. Possibly. If I could run at all.

As I sat on the ground to put on my running shoes I contemplated quitting once again. But once again I told myself, "Just finish." I decided then and there that even if I had to walk the 13.1-mile run course I would cross the finish line. So I got up and headed down the long aisle of bikes towards the run exit.

Heading out on the 13.1-mile run course, the final leg of Ironman 70.3 Boise

As I started to jog I felt the familiar stab of pain each time my left foot hit the ground, my left knee ached and my right calf and hamstring felt like they could both seize up at any moment. Clearly, then pain would continue for at least another two hours.

Next up: The Run.

 

Ride on...

 

Daren

Hot, Cold, Cramps and Pain...My Ironman 70.3 Boise Part 1 (The Swim)

As I stood sweltering in my wetsuit approaching the dock on Lucky Peak Reservoir I watched as the first waves jumped in the water and began the swim. I quickly noticed people struggling and one woman was pulled from the water shortly after she began. Thus began my Ironman 70.3 Boise.

When the time came for my wave to jump in the water I didn't hesitate. I wanted as much time to aclimate as possible before the horn sounded. The shock to the system was immediate. As cold flowed down the back of my neck into the wetsuit I gasped for air. "Just breathe," I thought, and got calmed down. But then my hands began to hurt. The only part of my body that was covered, other than my face.

Arms raised...trying to exude confidence as my mind was saying "Don't do it!"

When the horn sounded I started swimming, head up (polo style is what my swim coach Nancy Strickland calls it). The first time I put my face in the water the gasping returned. Just breathe. I couldn't. It was like sticking your face into a bucket of ice water. So I continued swimming polo style. Having practiced this in the pool for short distances I knew I couldn't do this for 1.2 miles. Too inefficient. I would expend too much energy. So I stuck my face in the water and tried breathing on every stroke. Gasping. Just breathe. I couldn't do it.

That's me just to the lefts of the yellow starting line bouy. Just breathe!

Bouy to bouy I headed towards the first turn. One thing about swimming head up was that I swam straighter than normal. I have a major issue with weaving in the water. I knew if I could make it to the first turn I could finish. I thought about quitting and remembered the look on the face of the woman as she left the race minutes in. All that training, anticipation and angst for nothing. "Just finish," I told myself.

Rounding the first turn I settled down and was able to keep my face in the water for brief stretches. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe. Then the cramps hit. First my right calf. Then my left. Then my right hamstring. are you kidding me? Half a mile in to a 70.3-mile race and I'm cramping. Not good. What do you normally do when you get a calf cramp? Scream, right? Then what? Stand on it or grab your big toe and pull, right? How do you do that treading water? It's not easy.

That's me in the center of the picture approaching the loading ramp. Face in the water!

Rounding the second turn I was now breathing OK and able to keep my face in the water, but was dragging my legs uselessly behind me. I couldn't bear to look at my watch, thinking I was probably approaching an hour in the water. I thought of Leslie standing on the shore getting worried. I could see the swim finish now. The light at the end of this very dark tunnel. So I picked up the pace and finally reached the dock. Then I saw the concrete of the boat ramp below me...then the carpet they laid for us.



Struggling to get out of the wetsuit.
Happy to be on land...alive!

 Standing, stumbling, I ripped off my goggles and neoprene hood and screamed, "This sucks!" As I crossed the swim finish timing mat I looked at my watch 51:xx. Slow, but not as bad as I thought. More important, I was alive. And the swim was done. But the pain was just beginning. Next post: The Bike.

Ride on...

Daren

Let's Do This!

Dane and I check out the swim course at Lucky Peak reservoir

"More than 1,450 triathletes -- professionals and age group athletes -- are registered for the fourth annual race that starts at noon in the cold waters of Lucky Peak Reservoir," reads the front page of the Idaho Statesman.

The noon start is a strange twist for this event. Typically I'd be at the starting area getting ready to swim at this time of morning. Instead I'm sitting in the Metro Cafe at Hotel 43 enjoying a latte and bowl of oatmeal. Doesn't seem like race day, but it won't be long before we head out to catch the shuttle to Lucky Peak Reservoir.

The water temperature, reportedly 53F, remains my biggest concern. Leslie, Dane and I drove up yesterday to drop of our bikes and stick our feet in the water. Sure enough, it's cold. Dane doesn't seem too worried. But then again he plans to spend about 28 minutes in the water (my goal is 45). I was encouraged, though, by the clear water. This will be the first triathlon I've done in water with visibility greater than 1-2 feet!

While we were at the reservoir we ran into Pam Reed, who back in 2000 became the first woman to win the 135-mile Badwater Ultramarathon outright (which climbs from the lowest point in the country in Death Valley to Mt. Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48!).  She repeated that feat in 2003.


Pam Reed (center) tells Dane and me how much she loves BEEF!



When Pam saw my Team BEEF shirt she immediately said, "I eat a steak the night before every race." She also shared the story of her 490-mile run in the Self Transcendence Six-Day Race (she is the American record holder in this event). What she told us is that she craved steak throughout the race. As she wrote in her book, "The Extra Mile, One Woman's Personal Journey to Ultrarunning Greatness," "We all went back to the hotel, where I had a bath -- I couldn't even stand up to take a shower. Then I put on some clean clothes and went to dinner." Her friend Craig Bellman explained, "Pam wanted, I don't know -- a hamburger or steak. Some large slab of beef."


At 5'3" and 100 lbs, Pam told me she used to eat pizza and pasta before a race but she couldn't ever eat enough to really fuel her body. Beef, she said, fills her up; and gives her body the nutrients she needs. I think I love this woman!



Traci O'Donnell (left) and Idaho Beef Council staff took Dane (right) and I to dinner at Fork in Boise

Of course we took her advice and fuled up on beef last night at Fork in Boise with the staff of the Idaho Beef Council. Beef is the official protein of Ironman 70.3 Boise and beef council staff and volunteers will be handing out beef sliders at the finish line in the BEEF Recovery Zone. I can't wait to see them there and celebrate with other members of Idaho Team BEEF! 

Well, it's time to pack up my run gear bag to take to the bike-to-run transition (T2), then catch the shuttle to the start. Let's do this.

Ride on...

Daren