Two days ago I completed my first Half Ironman, 70.3 miles of swimming, biking and running. What follows are my post-race thoughts in as much detail as I can remember. Here is the short version: it is indeed a long race, and it is hard. I did finish and I am pleased with that accomplishment.
Now for the long version!
Race morning started pretty much like all the others. I slept some, woke up before the alarm, and tried to choke down some breakfast. Today it was oatmeal pancakes, cold and dry. I choked down half of them and gave up. I was hungry a bit later and wished I’d brought the rest of them with me. Two pancakes was all I was going to get to eat for the next twelve hours.
Pre Race:
We got to the race site, set up my gear, and proceeded to wait. This is where my nerves really kick in, and today was no exception. It was also cold, in the low 50’s so I found myself wearing sweats in the middle of summer. We positioned ourselves about 50 yards up-stream from the start and watched a couple of waves start. There were a couple of people who panicked and quit the race or received assistance very near us. I wasn’t sure what the problem was (piranha in the water did cross my mind), but it certainly made me a bit more nervous. I needed to pee again, but the line was too long for how much time I had, so I opted to wait. Then they called my wave. I got a kiss for luck and made my way to the start.
The water was 72.5, probably the warmest start I’ve had. I actually did a little bit of swimming to warm up for the first time. The water was waist deep, so I was able to walk around and pick my starting spot. It was a river swim, there and back, with the first leg being up-stream. I didn’t notice much current, but there had to be some as I’d noticed the water flowing over the dam below us. I’ve come a long way with my swimming and I absolutely wasn’t nervous about the swim or any aspect of this leg. 10, 9, 8… the gun sounds and we were off!
The Swim:
The river was fairly narrow, so I figured that as long as I kept my distance from the bank I wouldn’t have to sight much. That worked until I ran smack into the first buoy. My wrist hit something hard like a chain and I was afraid I had knocked my watch off. I hadn’t, but I vowed to be a bit more careful, especially since I spotted a couple of bridges up ahead. I settled down and got into my rhythm. I tried drafting some, but it seemed that they would start zigzagging and I kept running into their feet. I came up on some guy doing the breaststroke. I didn’t realize it until he raked my arm with his toenail. I was so irritated I wanted to accidentally hit him in the head with my stroke. Instead I moved over and out of his reach. The stinging in my arm gave me something to think about for a while.
The next thing I remember was being able to see the bottom. I thought that was odd because the water wasn’t all that clear, and then my hand started scraping rocks. I noticed a lot of people walking, and the turn-around just ahead. I finally decided the water was too shallow and walked around the end myself. A glance at my watch revealed 23 minutes, a 46 minute swim would be fine with me. There were a couple of more times on the way back where I hit shallow water again, but kept swimming. I saw two bridges ahead and chastised myself for not remembering how many bridges I’d crossed and where they were on the course. After going under the second bridge I thought I saw a beach and a big blue object (darn these old eyes!). It was way too soon for the finish, but I didn’t remember seeing anything like that on the way out. As I got closer I thought I heard a vuvuzuela and some cowbells, then the announcer, but I still didn’t believe it was the end. Finally I saw racers walking out of the water and I knew I was there. I finished this leg in less than 42 minutes, much faster than my Lonestar attempt.
Transition #1:
I remember jogging to get to my bike, and relief at spotting my wife. I struggled to get my wetsuit off (they didn’t have any strippers), shove it and my other gear into a bag to hand to her. That was a relief as now I knew I didn’t have to worry about losing any of it in the transfer to the finish line. The ground was dirt and gravel, which made it interesting to get my shoes on. Not wearing socks made it easier, but now I had to worry about dirt and rocks irritating me. Duh, use the towel I’d brought just for that purpose! Well I wasn’t going to waste time to take the first shoe off and wipe my foot, I’d just have to deal with it. That never crossed my mind again so it must have been fine. I walked to the bike mount line like most of the others. Some were running, but I knew it was going to be a long day and 30 seconds wasn’t going to make much difference.
The Bike (start):
The bike let was at the bottom of a hill. Friday night a multi-year veteran of this race told me to walk my bike up the hill. Too many people crash right at the start. I looked up the hill and the people walking and riding, and decided I could ride up. I was confident I could get cleated and was in a very low gear just for this occasion. Click, one foot in. Push hard, second foot in. Oops, I missed the pedal, my foot slipped and down I went. Question: If you fall over at the start of a race going less than 5 miles an hour, is it called a fall, a spill, or a wreck? Neither, it is embarrassing! I heard all the people gasp, then I lay there for a second. My cleated foot was on the bottom and I had a hard time getting it out. I’m sure there were a lot of people behind me that decided then to walk up the hill.
As I stood and picked up my bike I realized my water bottle cage had fallen off. I picked it up and didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t have any water bottles in it, but it also housed my spare tire and tools for fixing a flat. Someone (bless her whomever she was) shouted there was a bike mechanic at the top of the hill, so I ran up the hill with my bike in one hand and bottle cage in the other. Why hadn’t I just run to begin with?
A mechanic quickly came over, grabbed my bike over the railing and went to work. While he worked, I assessed my situation: I had a scrape on one hand, dirt on several other areas but no major road rash. I would be fine. The mechanic was taking forever, and lots of people were passing me as I stood there. I thought about telling him to just give it to me, but I didn’t know what to do with my cages. They were carbon fiber, very expensive and I didn’t want to just lose them. Then I spotted my guardian angle wife walking up the hill, laden with gear. I called her over and discussed my predicament. A spectator came over with a napkin for me to try and clean off my hand which was now bleeding a bit and full of dirt. She was trying to talk to me but all I could think about was getting my bike back. Finally he finished. I had lost a screw and he didn’t have a spare of that size. He had tightened the other down real tight and thought it would hold. I got on my bike, a bit more carefully this time, and was off.
The Bike:
We had driven the bike course the day before, so I knew what to expect. It was pretty hilly in the beginning and I’d wished that I had gone in blind. Thank goodness I didn’t, because at about mile 7 the battery on my computer died. I was going to have to ride the remaining 50 miles by feel, without knowing my cadence, speed or power expenditure, but more importantly I wouldn’t know how far I’d ridden or how much was left. The only gauge I had were the aid stations at miles 19, 29 and 41. I tried asking several people on the way what the distance was, and was amazed at how many people didn’t know. How can you do a race like this and not know where you were?
Did I say it was cold? I was riding along at 18-19 mph, in wet shorts and a tank top, in temperature in the low 50’s. Yes I was cold, and jealous of people I saw with arm warmers or jackets. I remember thinking that it would warm up and they would be jealous of me. Besides, I would want it cooler for the run leg. The challenge would be drinking enough since I wasn’t hot.
My next challenge was the need to pee, despite having done that not far from the end of the swim. We’d been warned not to pee on the side of the road, so I was very grateful when I saw the aid station with porta-potties. Unfortunately so were a lot of people as there was a line. I stood there for a while, silently cursing the people inside. What could they be doing? After a short delay I was back on my bike, only to realize that I needed to pee again! What was I thinking, was I in such a hurry that I didn’t give myself a chance to finish? I was forced to stop at the next aid station, and believe it or not also at the last one. I told myself it was a good sign that I was hydrating, but I wasted a lot of time in the bathroom. If I keep doing these races I might just have to learn how to pee on the bike!
On to the course… The first third was pretty hilly. Not long or hard hills, but just a steady up and down. The roads were pretty bad too, full of potholes and cracks in the road. The shade from the trees was nice, but it made it hard to spot the faults which made for a bumpy ride. You could tell when a particularly bad section was coming up because the road would be littered with water bottles and stuff that had fallen off of other bikes.
I was passed a lot by some pretty fast people. That didn’t bother me so much because I knew the waves behind me were the younger people, and it showed! I was able to pass quite a few people myself, mostly women, that had started before me, which did my confidence good.
The last third included a road called Chalk Hill, with a hill that was supposed to “keep us honest”. It hadn’t seemed that bad driving it, but there is a big difference when you have ridden 45 miles and your legs are tired. I’m grateful that it wasn’t real steep, but it was long. I was in first gear the entire hill, stood up for some of the worst parts, and just gutted it out. I’m pretty sure I passed some people, though I wondered how we could be going that slowly and not fall over!
After Chalk Hill it was pretty flat and easy. I dialed it back it bit to let my legs recover and get ready for the run. This is where I was going to pass some of those people who had passed me on the bike.
Transition #2
Normally at the end of the bike leg I take my feet out of my shoes, leaving my shoes attached to the pedals. This makes it easier to walk/run and supposedly saves some time. I wasn’t worried about the time, but easier is always better. For whatever reason I couldn’t do it this time. I tried a couple of times but just couldn’t reach. I certainly didn’t want to crash trying so I decided just to leave my shoes on.
Approaching the dismount line I decleated my right leg, swung it over the bike and coasted to the line. I timed it perfectly and came to a stop right at the line. Unfortunately my left shoe wouldn’t decleat and I started to lose my balance. Certainly I wasn’t going to crash again! There was a volunteer 2 feet away that I thought would help, but I think she was so startled she didn’t know what to do. I struggled for what seemed like forever to get my foot out, catch my balance and not fall. Just about the time I got my foot out another volunteer ran up and grabbed my shoulder to help steady me. As I walked off he called it the most entertaining dismount he’d seen all day!
As I walked past my wife I remembered how I’d felt at this point in the race 3 months ago at Lonestar. I was in much better shape. I knew she was relaying information to family so I let her know I was good.
When I finally made it to the transition area, there was no room for my bike. The racer next to me had used his space to store his bag, and my space for his bike. I didn’t waste much time before I shoved his bike out of my way. Once again I didn’t rush out of transition. I made sure I was settled before starting the next leg.
The Run:
As I started running my legs felt reasonably good. I was passing a lot of people, and really telling myself to hold back. The first three miles were at 9 minute/mile pace. I knew that wouldn’t hold up, but I wasn’t complaining, yet. Then the hills started. I hadn’t driven the course so I didn’t know what to expect. In hindsight that was probably a good thing, because I would have been freaking out. It was pretty darn hilly. Not long or hard hills, but like the start of the bike with a lot of up and down.
I remember thinking to pat myself on the back when I hit mile marker #5, because I hadn’t made it that far in Galveston. Then I either forgot or missed mile #5. I think that was about the time where I realized I wasn’t going to be able to run up all these hills, not without risking blowing up and not finishing. I started running about halfway up, walking, and then picking up the run after cresting the hill. As the race went I ended up walking more.
This was the longest I’d run sockless in my Zoot shoes, and I was a bit nervous about how my feet would hold up. I started to rub on both my feet, and remember thinking it was a good thing because it game me something to think about other than how tired I was.
I carried a water bottle, which I filled at each aid station, in addition to dumping water over my head. At some point I started asking for ice for my bottle instead of water. Squirting that down my back really helped wake me up.
I drank a lot, both at the aid stations and from my bottle. That plus my regular GU kept me pretty full and at times unsettled my stomach. I remember thinking that if I smelled that orange GU smell again I would throw up!
The run was an out and back, with the mile at the end being through a winery, on a dirt/gravel road. Normally I would have been very grateful for the respite from a concrete road, but now I worried about getting dirt or a rock in my shoe.
Around mile 8 I could feel my leg wanting to cramp. I knew this was because I hadn’t drunk all my fluids on the bike which contained the bulk of my sodium for the day. There was nothing I could do about it now but hope it didn’t get worse.
The last half of the run was more of the same: walk uphill and run down, water and ice at the aid stations, just keep going. I watched the time and tried to calculate my finish time. At first it was 6:15, then 6:20, near the end I hoped I would beat 6:30.
The Finish:
I don’t remember much about the finish except wondering where it was. I heard them announce my name, and the beep of the timer as I crossed the finish line. I struck a pose for the photographer. She started laughing and falling backwards, so I don’t know if she got the picture or not!
I had finished, and what a great feeling it was putting that medal around my neck. It was a huge burden lifted off my shoulders. This is by far the hardest race I’ve ever run, and now I know that I can do it.
There were two questions that needed answering Sunday night: will I sign up for another one and will I sign up for the full Ironman in the Woodlands. The answers are a resounding yes and another resounding no. I am absolutely NOT ready for a full Ironman. I’m not even sure I would be ready in two years let alone next year. For now that distance is off the table, maybe one day though.
I will sign up for another half Ironman though. I’m not sure when or where, hopefully they don’t sell out before I decide. I might return to Vineman, do something exotic like Hawaii, or try one further north where it would be cooler. Where ever I go I know two things: the race will be hard and I will have fun!
Thanks for listening and have a nice day!
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