Before I jump into the race, I want to take a minute to thank the people who helped get me to the starting line: Coach Kelly Williamson with Durata Training who pushed, pulled and encouraged me for the past 15 months; Darrel Johnson, the personal trainer who got me off to a good start and has been supportive even after I stopped using his services; Ironman Betsy Morgan, my first real triathlete friend who was a wealth of information for a rookie triathlete and is always supportive of my efforts; newly ordained Ironman Susan Wallace, who gave me my first swimming pointers, calmed me down before the start of my first half Ironman, smacked me around when I needed it, and most importantly turned me on to coach Kelly; Sam Sann, owner of Iron Sports Gym, who is always there to push me and provides me with my aerodynamic ‘race-cut’ haircut; Gwen McFadden, who let me swim in her lake when she didn’t even know me and has been a good friend ever since; Airrosti Rehap Centers, who helped me recover from a badly sprained ankle earlier this year, and is always there to help with the injuries that come with this sport; Jason Kolodjski at Natural Health Center for making sure all my parts are working together correctly; Phillip Shama at Shama Cycles, who has been super responsive in helping me keep my bike running; my parents and number one fans, who always want to hear about my training and races and have waited for me for hours at a number of races; Professional triathlete Natasha Van Der Merwe, who’s company Tri Team Transport got my bike to California for Vineman 70.3, and has been very supportive of my efforts, always pushing me to do better. Finally, a special thanks goes out to my wife and the love of my life, Kelli Lachner, who has given me the freedom to put in all these hours of training; tolerated my whining about training, injuries and being sore; driven me to the ER; driven to the middle of nowhere to pick me up when I couldn’t repair my flat tire; and been to more races than I can count. Thanks guys!!
Two days before the race, at packet pickup, I ran into Frank Shorter, the 1972 Olympic gold medal winner for the marathon. We spoke briefly while he was signing my race number, and I loudly proclaimed that I was going to beat everyone in the area. I was sort of jesting, but I did expect to beat most people on Sunday. I was feeling rather confident.
It was pretty cold for my Saturday morning run. I thought I might have to wear gloves and a long sleeve shirt. I also decided against getting a race-cut. After a much too short visit with my parents, I was sitting in my hotel room, resting and trying to not think about the race. I knew I would finish, and set a new personal record, but after all my talking I started to wonder if I could live up to my own hype. I did get some sleep that night, but not as much as I would have liked.
Race morning was about 50 degrees, perfect running weather. I planned to start with the group of people attempting a 1:45, and hang on as long as I could. The pace leader Matt said we would start with the third wave, run the first mile a bit slower, and then run the rest of the race at about 7:50/mile pace. That freaked me (and a couple other runners nearby) out, as I wasn’t sure I could run that long at that pace.
As we stood there my teeth were chattering and I was pretty cold, the start couldn’t come soon enough. Then we were off. The pace was a little quicker than I would have normally started, but it was ok. After the first mile Matt indicated we were picking up the pace, and we certainly did. I would have liked a bit more of a warm up, but I was going to stay with the group.
We hit an aid station, and suddenly the entire group split (there was water and stuff on both sides of the road), leaving me running all by myself. Since I had my personal water bottle, I had no need to stop. I figured either the group would speed up and catch me, or I would start to leave them, gaining 5-10 seconds at each station. I didn’t see them for a long time, and in my head they were falling minutes behind me.
I fell into a comfortable pace at about 7:45/mile. At the halfway point I started to think I could finish with the current pace, I was in no distress at all.
Around mile 9 I was really into my groove: keeping an eye on my pace, watching the distance, and listening to how my body was feeling. I was snapped back into the moment when I looked up and the pace group had passed me on the left. I was totally bummed, wondering how I had let my pace drop enough that they could catch me. They were running faster than I, and I was concerned that I might not be able to keep up and would thus not hit my goal time.
We hit mile 10 and the pace setter announced we had 5K left and I knew I had it. I was 30 seconds ahead of schedule. As long as nothing unexpected happened, I was going to finish strong. We hit another aid station, the group split and I was running alone again. This time it was for good!
Coach’s plan was to pick it up at mile 8 (not necessary), pick it up at mile 11, and give it all I had at mile 12. I hit mile 11 and decided against picking up the pace this far out, I was afraid I might blow up. I started to cramp up a bit in my hamstrings, but had nothing with me that would help. I would just have to hold on and hope for the best. When I crossed mile 12 I decided I couldn’t go any faster. I was really tired, but seemed to be holding a good enough pace. We made the last turnaround, and I saw that the last bit of the race was uphill and a lot of people were walking. It had been mostly flat with a few rollers until then and was a little irritated that they saved the biggest hill for right at the end.
There was no way I was going to walk. I didn’t end up picking up the pace, just fighting to hold what I had and finish strong. People around me were waving to the crowd (I couldn’t even smile, I was giving it my all), and a couple of runners sprinted past me. I was irritated at those sprinters, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. And then I was done. 1:43:05!
I didn’t think I’d gotten any faster at the end, but unless my math was off during the race, which is certainly possible, I’d gained 90 seconds in the last 5K or 30 seconds per mile. I know the chip results don’t agree with what I’ve said, but that is what my watch told me. Officially I was 39/644 in my age group and 838/20436 overall.
Conclusion
Race season 2010 is over (really dear, I promise!) Triathlon season ended last month, and while I am very satisfied with the time I posted on my last race, the run split left a bad taste in my mouth. My performance in San Antonio wiped out all of that. I always though I could run, but never seemed able to post the results relative to everyone else. I finally did that yesterday. I finished in the top 4% of the field, and am pretty darn proud of myself.
I rewarded myself with a large beer and Mexican food yesterday, and doughnuts today. Now I rest up for a couple of weeks, and then we start all over again!
