How Not to Race a Half Iron Man

(I know that this post is about two weeks late. The craziness referenced below continues...)

Step 1: Preparation and Training

The weeks prior to the race had not put in me in a good mental state. I was stressed from many things from volunteer responsibilities to advocating for my children in school. The stress of my day to day life became debilitating, draining, and demoralizing. I began to view my workouts as something more that I needed to get done. I would be riding my bike and always be calculating how much more time I needed to ride. On my runs, I would do the same.

What made matters worse in my training was that I seemed to keep getting slower and slower. I was deteriorating into a really bad mental state. I began to doubt my ability, question the authenticity of the result at Racine, and chastise myself for having “podium dreams”. Up until the day of the race, I was still fighting my mental battle. I just tried to get myself into a positive mental state, through self talk and tough love from M. My goal for the race was to race the best race I could that day and to have fun. Whatever will be, will be.

Step 2: Tapering and Resting:

After much anticipation (rather dread) race weekend was finally here. The plan was to leave early Friday morning, to get the kids settled at the in-laws and then Mr. Spie and I would drive the bike course, pick up my race packet, enjoy a nice dinner without kids, return to the in-laws, and retire early for our big day of racing and spectating.

The reality was that Mr. Spie had a mandatory meeting Friday morning and we hurriedly ate lunch and left town about 1. We drove down to my in-laws. Pushed the kids out of the car –err I mean dropped off the kids and hurried out to packet pick up. We scoped out the swim course and got lost driving the bike course. We searched out dinner about 8 and arrived back at the in-laws by 9:00. We were greeted by our brood in full grandma/grandpa frenzy. After many bedtime reminders and idle (and not so idle) threats, we FINALLY got everyone settled and asleep by 11:00 p.m.

Step 3: Technology and Pacing

My electronics and gadgetry were spot on for this race. My watch (as I was just going “old school” again) was on its last legs. The Indiglo was not working for days prior to the race and I hoped that the battery would last throughout my race.

I guess my hoping was for naught as I forgot to hit start at the swim start… and again at the bike start…. And just didn’t even bother for the run start.

You would think that I would check my bike computer before the race started based on the fact that at my last HIM my bike computer didn’t register. Well, you are wrong and once again my bike computer did not register.

In summary, I was swimming without time, biking without mph, miles, and time, and just said “what’s the point” and ran without knowing my time.

Step 4: Nutrition and Hydration

Nutrition for the entire race (including breakfast)

• Bowl of Raisin Bran (pre-race breakfast)
• One Cliff Chocolate Brownie Bar (on the bike)
• One- half of a bottle of Gatorade (on the bike)
• One aero bottle of water (on the bike)
• **crickets chirping***

Raise your hand if you see a problem!

Why are all of your hands raised?

Oh….. yeah….ummm…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, all of the above elements were setting me up for a craptastic event. But, sometimes I even surprise myself.

THE SWIM


The swim was fantastic. It was two loops of a rectangle. The white capped HIM men started the race at 6:45 and the yellow capped HIM women started the race 3 minutes later. The water was much warmer than Lake Michigan (77 vs. 64) and…. I actually swam it – freestyle. There was no panic. There was no “cannot put face in water”. I fell into a rhythm and just swam. I breast stroked just a few times to sight, when I lost visual on my destination buoy, and once when I got goosed by HIM man. (He apologized – no offense taken!) Amazingly enough, I exited the swim surrounded by more white cap than yellow.

What was even more amazing is that Mr. Spie figured out which of the yellow capped wetsuited woman was me and actually got a picture of me exiting the water. He said that he saw a person wearing my style wetsuit and was acting like me so he took at chance. (At first I was very impressed and excited that we were more in "sync" than I thought. Then I took offense and grilled him about what he meant by acting "Spie" like.)

THE BIKE

The bike was two loops on country roads with several finger offshoots with 180 degree turns (not my favorite). Because I was riding blind, I just decided to pedal. It was not the slaughter fest that was Racine (even though my final mph was slower --on the new bike *sniff*). I was passed, but not with the magnitude that it was in Racine. I stared at the calf of each of the women that passed with much interest. As the fourth one in my age group passed me, I said aloud, "There goes my Olympic dreams" and just kept pedalling (and obviously not eating). I was not downtrodden, as I know my strength is in the run.

As a way to compensate for my lack of feedback about my ride, I came up with an alternative plan. In triathlon, you are always staring at the backside of someone, I noticed that this guy and I were going about the same pace. I decided, since I have no feedback on my own riding other than my mental assessment, that as long as I could keep that guy in my sights, I was going to be okay. He would pull ahead and I would push harder, I would catch up and back off a little to rest. He was my carrot and I was the rabbit. Now, before you start having drafting thoughts run through your head, I always remained draft legal -- three bike lengths behind --as I am totally a rules kind of girl. I only was in the draft zone once when I pulled along side him during the return leg of the last loop to thank him for his pacing help and we exchanged pleasantries. I pulled forward for a little bit and a short while later, he passed riding off into the distance (but still in my line of sight!).

THE RUN

(During my run, my visor was really bothering me. Here I screaming at Mr. Spie to take the visor .

Oh and the lady in the bikini behind me was very popular with the spectators)

The run was brutal. I was so excited to be off the bike (my weakest discipline) that I could not even imagine the torture that lay before me. The run course was a C shaped course (two loops of course) on old and crowned country roads through cornfields. The Olympic course athletes were running on the same course as well (1 loop) so you knew that some of the people running with you were "almost done". As I got through transition and onto the run course, I noticed that I was quite tired and the "pep" I was used to running with was no longer present. (I know that you are all screaming at your computer "DUH! You didn't eat!", but realize that when I am that deficit in calories, I really don't think straight) After a few minutes of running the internal arguments commenced.

"Just walk, there is no shame in walking"
"You haven't even given this a fair shake, walking admits defeat and you are not defeated"
"Okay, how about using that watch that is just telling the time on your arm and go Galloway?"
"You can do this, just keep moving forward. It will be okay"

Just repeat this or a variation of this internal conversation about 1000 times and sprinkle with some self defamation such as "What were you thinking -- podium? Hah" and "You are really slow" and this paints a pretty accurate picture of my mental state during the run. Then, after a couple miles, I passed a person in my age group -- the fourth woman (and last) woman in my age group that passed me on the bike.

After the pass, my new goal was to just keep moving so she could not pass me back. I started coming up with a "run survival" game plan. I would "get a drink" (walk, rest, whatever...) at every other water station. Run and look towards my next rest --er drink. Drink quickly and start moving again. I passed another woman in my age group as I was implementing my plan. She stopped at one of my "run through" water stations. As I passed her, she screamed "Hey, she's in my age group! You go momma!!!". I smiled and decided to keep on moving, keep with my survival plan, and keep her behind me. As I looped back again, I saw the two ladies I had passed and I was gaining ground, but I still kept with the plan. The final water station, a mile from the end, I decided that I wasn't going to stop. I pumped myself up with the thought that it was only 8 more minutes of work (during a normal run) and I could make it. When I crossed the line, I could stop. As I gained a little speed in the final mile, I passed another woman in my age group and that was all the incentive I needed to keep the feet moving. I was going to finish and I was not going to be repassed. Finally, as I crossed the finish line, the wheels came off. I could barely stand upright to get the chip taken off of my ankle. Mr. Spie was furiously taking pictures and I barked at him to stop and to immediately come over, keep me upright, and direct me toward the food.
I downed a Pepsi and went for the pizza. I tried the pizza and my body wanted no part of it. They were streaming the Olympic results on a large screen TV in the park pavilion. Due to my technological ineptness, I had no idea of my results. With some sugar in my blood stream, I was starting to think a little clearer and I went to find out when the results for the HIM were going to be posted. The volunteer told me it would be a few minutes and I went back in search of Mr. Spie. On my way back to the pavilion, I ran into my "carrot". I thanked him again and asked how he fared. He had difficulties on the run. His wife was racing too and introductions were made. As we were chit chatting, Mr. Spie came up and told me that he had good news and bad news. He asked me which news I wanted first. I said tell me the bad news...

"You were 15 minutes slower than your last race"

A bit disappointing, but not unexpected. The swim in this race was not short and I totally fell apart on the run. I accepted the result and chalked up the increase in time to a big nutritional lesson learned.

So what was the good news you ask?


How cool is that?
(I now am over the top addicted to the sport of triathlon)