Pacific Crest Half Ironman Race Report 6/26/2010
Due to some significant heel pain on my left foot, my last run prior to this race was 4 weeks ago. 2 days before the race, I finally saw a PT, whose initial diagnosis is a bone bruise of the calcaneus. She did not try to tell me not to do the race. She merely said that as a consequence of doing the race, I should be prepared to spend a lot of time with her over the coming weeks and months. I can live with that.
In the days leading up to the race, I had a lot of people asked me how I was feeling. My typical reply was that I was feeling pretty good. I've put in the time, and whatever will be has pretty much already been written. Time to execute. As always with me, the biggest crapshoot is the swim. I put in tons of time in the pool this year, never skipping workouts. My times are fairly consistent. My problem is a fear of open water. Sometimes I panic, and other times I do just fine. Three weeks ago, I swam a very good 1500meters at an Olympic tri in Portland, without any panic problems, so I was feeling very calm going into Pac Crest.
I arrived in Sunriver on Thursday night and got settled into the rental house. On Friday I biked the run course, both to give my bike a last once over, as well as to completely familiarize myself with the course. It's a fairly flat course, several miles of which follow the beautiful Deschutes River. After my ride, I picked up my race packet, then drove to Wickiup Reservoir to drop off my bike in T1. (This race is a point to point, with T1 and T2 in completely different locations.) After dropping my bike at T1, I went for a swim. To say the water was cold was an understatement. Much, much colder than last year, and with an overnight low projected to be 36 degrees, I was very concerned about my ability to stay warm. I suffer terribly from Reynaud's Syndrome and have been coming out of my open water swim sessions at Hagg Lake with dead white feet and hands. Fortunately, swim booties are permitted, but the neoprene swim gloves I've been relying on at Hagg are a definite no-no. I swam halfway to the first buoy then back to shore, feeling much of the confidence I'd gained in the recent Oly draining away.
After warming up in the sunshine, I drove the bike course. As courses go, it's a fairly challenging point to point ride. The swim at Wickiup Reservoir is at 4700 feet. From there, the 58 mile course travels up and over Mt. Bachelor, with three climbs culminating in finally summiting at 6500 feet. With plenty of undulations along the way, the total gain is well over 2000 feet. Add in the challenge of doing that gain at that altitude, and it makes for quite a ride. The final 18 miles includes a 14 mile, wide open descent off the mountain, with a final 4 flat miles to T2. It's also a STUNNINGLY beautiful course, with views of Mt. Bachelor, Mt. Jefferson, Broken Top and the Three Sisters. Oh, and multiple alpine lakes including the emerald green Devils Lake. After driving the course, I was feeling really good about it. The course suits my riding style.
Back at the house, I finalized my T2 bag, and my start bag. After dinner, I tried to relax and get to bed early. Before going to bed, I inked up my arm with my race day mantra: "SUCK IT UP!!"
I awoke race morning at 5am. Breakfast was oatmeal with raisins, and coffee. I filled all my bottles and left the house at 6:30 for the 10 minute walk to T2. I set up my T2 transition spot: sneakers, run hat, race belt loaded with Gu, mp3 player, spray sunscreen, chapstick and allergy meds. Then I caught the 7am race bus to T1 and settled in for the 25 mile ride. I had a good seatmate who was also doing his first half, and we chatted about the course. It helped the time pass quickly.
At T1, the sun was shining brightly, and the air temperature was thankfully warming quickly. It was 46 when I left the house, but was closer to 60 by race start. I found my bike right where I'd left it, and set up my bike gear: helmet, sunglasses, gloves (I skip gloves for an Oly, but felt I'd need them for 58 miles), socks (my PT firmly insisted I wear my compression socks for both bike *and* run, not just run as I'd planned), shoes, etc.
I was in the 5th of 6 waves. As a slower swimmer, I dislike being in a late wave, since it puts me fairly far back in the field, but we play the hand we're dealt. As expected, it was quite a shock to wade into the frigid water. Suddenly, we heard the crowd give the 5 second countdown and we were off!
It started really badly and went downhill from there. My heartrate spiked immediately and my goggles fogged over (warm body, cold water, surprise surprise!). The sun was directly in our faces, still rather low over the water, and I felt completely blind. I could not see the buoy, and struggled to make out the horizon marker I'd chosen to sight off. In no time at all, most of the swimmers in my heat were well ahead of me, and I was alone in the middle of my freakout. I forced myself to slow down, breathe slowly, and cleared my goggles as best I could while treading water. SUCK IT UP! For the next 55 minutes (the longest 55 minutes of my life), I stroked, breathed, stopped, sighted, freaked, despaired (SUCK IT UP!), stroked, breathed, sighted, stopped, freaked, despaired (SUCK IT UP!) and slowly inched my way around the course. Eventually, I glanced back and saw very few other caps bobbing along behind me. The kayakers and skidoo course volunteers each seemed to have adopted a straggler or two to shepherd along. My kayaker was a very nice gentlemen. He recommended I sight more often, as I was veering to the right a fair bit. I joked that I'd decided to get my money's worth and make it a 2500 meter swim. He concurred that I would likely meet that goal.
Finally finally finally, I reached the boat dock and slowly walked up the ramp. After almost 56 minutes of being horizontal, standing up made me dizzy. Plus I was exhausted from the struggle. On the bright side, finding my bike was a snap, as it was one of only a dozen still on the racks. I stripped off my wetsuit, sat down on my large transition towel and slowy dried off my feet. I knew that putting on my compression socks would be a challenge on damp feet, but what I'd not factored in was that my hands simply would not work. They were stiff and cold and definitely not coordinated. It took me more than 5 minutes to wrestle them onto my feet. I might have given up, but I didn't have anything else to wear and I couldn't go sockless on the run. Besides, given the complete unknown of my heel even after 4 weeks rest, I knew I needed them. I finally got them on, pulled myself together, and got out of transition after 9 agonizingly long minutes. At this point, perhaps 6 people were still in transition.
As soon as I got on my bike, I told myself to shake it off. (SUCK IT UP!). The bike is MY event, and I knew I could rock that course. I got into my aerobars, and set myself a goal of catching 50 cyclists. I caught my 1st one at 3 miles. By the turn onto the Cascades Highway at mile 8, I'd caught 8 more. Mile after undulating mile, I caught more cyclists. By mile 27 when the real hard climbing began, I'd caught nearly 30 people. Over the next 13 miles of climbing, up up up past Elk Lake, Devils Lake and finally the incredible summit at Bachelor, I'd caught 48 riders. 2 more to go to make my goal. The descent off of Mt. Bachelor was....how to describe it? I've never done drugs, so I have no idea what that must feel like, but in my imagination I think that maybe the high they are seeking is like the high I get when swooping down a mountain. The rush of adrenaline, the thrill that feels like flying, the scream of the wind in my ears. There's nothing else like it. I topped out at 41.3mph, rocketing down the mountain. I went 10 miles without seeing another rider, and started to think I might not find riders 49 and 50. Finally I spotted some riders up ahead. In short order I passed 49, 50, 51, 52 & 53! Goal!
I cruised into T2 feeling really jazzed. I was spot on my bike time goal of 3:15, having averaged nearly 18mph over a tough course. In T2 I shed my bike stuff, grabbed my run stuff, and trotted off to a much-needed blue room. Ah yes, that's better.
Now the big unknown. My heel. I started off at a very easy trot. No pain. OK, this is good. I walked the first small incline, then trotted down the other side. No pain. The course flattened, I trotted, and still no pain. Maybe this is gonna be ok... My heart rate, on the other hand, not so OK. By this point, the temp was at or over 80 degrees, and the altitude was definitely noticeable (Sunriver is at 4200 feet). I decided to rely on my heartrate monitor. For the next 13 miles, I ran until my heart rate hit the low 170s (my anaerobic threshold is 169), then walked briskly until it dropped below 160. Over and over and over again, up to 170+, down to 160, up down up down (SUCK IT UP!). There was an aid station every mile. At each one I dumped a full cup of ice into the front of my sports bra. As I ran, I sounded like a cocktail shaker. 10 miles to go - OK, I can do this. 6 miles - hey, that's a 10K.. I can do this! I missed the 9 mile sign, so when I hit the 10 mile sign I was overjoyed. It was like a gift mile! 5K to go. No sweat. Hey, I might make my run goal! 12 miles, 1.1 to go. In the home stretch now. 13 miles. 0.1 mile left!! Run now, don't stop, suck it up, hey there's my friend Lauren, smile for the camera, there's the big Red Bull finishing arch, WOO HOO, ohmigosh I made it, oh my gosh I'm dizzy....mind if I sit down???
I plopped down in the chair where the volunteer removed my timing chip. I thought about getting up, but my butt was glued to the chair. I thought about going across the chute to med tent (the crowded med tent), but my butt was still glued to the chair. I finally stood (SUCK IT UP!), and made my way towards the lady with the finisher's medals. Lauren & Jill found me and took some pictures of me with my medal around my neck and a goofy, tired, happy grin on my face. I found the open air shower, where blessedly cold water poured out of the spigots. A big dousing of cold water on my head revived me. I found Lauren & Jill again. We sat in the shade of a coffee shop adjacent to the finish line, where I devoured the most amazing cranberry walnut scone, and listened to the finish line announcer congratulating the final competitors.
I did it. It wasn't pretty, but I did it.
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The nitty gritties:
Swim: 55:40 (2:38/100 abysmal. Way slower than what I'm capable of. Maybe I should try hypnosis...)
T1: 8:51 (credit 5:00 to the d@mn socks. But hey, NO heel pain!)
Bike: 3:15:00 (17.85mph 3:15:00 was my goal, so I'm very pleased. Spot on!)
T2: 5:58 (potty break!)
Run: 2:44:22 (12:33/mile. Slow, but goal was under 2:45, due to my lack of running for 4 weeks, so happy).
Total: 7:09:51
