Party at Ironman St. George

Everything about this race week was over the top.

The drive out (Wed): wind gusts of 60-70 mph (some reported 99) and sandstorms as bad for visibility as any snowstorm I’d ever been in. I drove out alone, after Co stayed home to take care of our dog who came up lame the Sunday before we were to leave.  After 10 hours of singing along to my i-pod, I was ready to be there, but instead I took the long route to Saint George Utah, going through Zion National Park. Imposing red rock formations sculpted by the wind and water to resemble intertwined muscle fibers, or checkerboards, or smooth banded surfaces waited around every corner. I couldn’t wait to get back to check it all out properly.

The house: large enough for the 10 of us (8 adults, two kids) with a strange assortment and layout of rooms and addons. The renter was uncommunicative and had me a little paranoid that he had run off with our money 2 weeks before the race – that’s a whole other story. But at $25/night per person, we weren’t complaining. And 3 blocks from T2 and the finish line meant we wouldn’t need to ferry athletes, gear, and bikes by car. Fabulous!

Dinner at twentyfive main café was a yummy “two fifteen” panini, quick, and perfect and we got to see the finish line and T2 being set up on our walk there. (oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy!)

Course Recon: On Thursday, we dropped off gear, saw the expo, and got tattooed with our race numbers.

Deciding to save the swim for Friday, we grabbed lunch at the house, then went to drive the bike and run courses.

Bike- We’d already seen the first 21 miles of the bike on the way into Saint George, so this time we went right for the loop. To me, the loop had 4 parts. 1: through suburbs on decent streets. 2: on worn highway with lots of tar lines patching the cracks, slight uphill. 3: very bumpy chip seal, gradually more uphill with 3 significant hills – two short and steep, one long (1.5 mile) grind. 4: on smooth highway, nice downhill back to town. From the car, it looked very doable. A good challenging ride, no problem. I’ve done long rides with similar hills. I felt like I’d be able to pace this well and have a good run. I thought that my training could equal a 7:15 or 7:30 bike. I’ve only done 4 weeks of bike training (not including 2 taper weeks), averaging 115 miles per week, so I didn’t expect to go fast.

Run- Wow, this looked challenging. It looked like an ultrarun course – except on road, after a 2.4 mi swim, and a 112 mi bike. Nothing but hills (and great scenery). I remember saying that I almost wish I hadn’t seen the run course, as it looked so hilly and hard that I was thinking about how easy I was going to have to take the bike. Sherpa Steve went out and ran it for fun. I believe his words were: “That run course is someone’s idea of a cruel joke.”  He said it with a devilish smile.

I couldn’t help but get excited though, as the race got closer. A hard run course just means that all the ultrarunning I’d been doing would really help keep my head in the right place. Plus, I had Go-Go Green toenail polish on, and Lickety split lime fingernail polish. I was pretty unstoppable!

Friday, after a short bike that confounded my ability to calibrate my powermeter – AGAIN

(%*^&*#$^&*#$) – I strapped on my wireless bike computer instead. We hauled our bikes and T1 bags out to Sand Hollow reservoir. DP nonchalantly suggested we skip the swim – “we don’t HAVE to swim in 58 deg water, really.”  But, being the stubborn person I am, I think my response was something on the order of – “you don’t have to swim, but I’m going to. I’m heading down now.” Bones concurred, and DP followed all of us down. Ken and Kurt are there, having just finished their swim – they report on the chop we can see, and the cold that we can only imagine. Once in the wetsuit, I’m anxious to get in the water. I leave my fellow Outlaws behind, wade in, and take the plunge. It’s not bad. Of course, I have a legendary tolerance for cold. I swim easily to the first buoy, turn in to the chop and breaststroke to the next buoy to avoid swallowing each and every wave. Not a problem. In fact, smoother than I thought considering I haven’t swum in 2 weeks.  Changing back into dry clothes was less smooth, involving a straight-jacket and full moon, but soon we were back at the house and prepping for guests!

Some Outlaws and Outlaw friends were staying at hotels, so we invited them over for grilled chicken and pork chops (done by Flamin’ Mo myself!) spaghetti by Lorna, Kurt and Ken brought salad, Paul da pilot brought fruit, and we had pie from the Veyo Pie Shop for desert. Excellent pie- I recommend the Veyo Volcano. And the mountain berry. And the boysenberry. Heck, it’s all good. The conversation must have been horribly dull for anyone not racing. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

8:30=Ambien time, and I’m off to bed. Race morning goes smoothly for me, but DP’s stomach was refusing to cooperate. I press her to take some Tums. We get to the buses a little later than planned.

Hugs with SWTrigal and Lorna, and we’re off to the reservoir in the dark. I’m calm, but excited, not too nervous. I check my tires, get through the port-a-potty line, and get into my wetsuit. I see Ken, and he’s all smiles.  DP, however, is still waiting in the port-a-potty line. And waiting, and waiting. She looks like a deer in headlights, and asks me to find Michi and borrow some silicone earplugs as she doesn’t have any, and they prevent her from getting cold and dizzy in the water. I wander the whole transition area, but do not find her in the chaos. Ten minutes to race start, DP finally makes it to the change tent and starts to don her suit. I decide that although I am getting VERY VERY NERVOUS about making the start, that I want to stay with DP and get her there too. She begs me to find her some earplugs, so I ask the change tent if anyone has some spare silicone – and I luck out. A very nice racer splits her wad of silicone, and gives one half to me to give to DP. Two minutes to the start, and we start walking down on the rocky pavement. Hurry! Ouch. Hurry! Ouch. My feet don’t hit the water (where other athletes are 50 yds out treading water) before the gun goes off. (On the plus side, this meant I had a great view of the line of thrashing at the start line, and the start of the great washing machine that is the ironman swim.)

No warm up, and I can tell I am tight and anxious  – not the way I planned it.  So now it’s time to think about relaxing, long smooth strokes, and hopefully finding some feet. The first section seems to go so quickly. I found some good feet, but then lost them at the turn. I never found another pair that could sight or swim straight. I had put Aquaphor around my nose and on my lips, and this made my goggles leak a little. (Doh.) The next turn comes quickly, but the last turn buoy, at the end of a 1600 yd straight-away takes forever. I lose focus. I dawdle. I got hit and swam over, I got kicked in the chest by someone doing breast stroke. My shoulder starts hurting – like a rotator cuff hurt. Finally the last turn, and I think I recovered and swam a bit faster to get out of the water. 1:30:13 – ok, that was my estimate, so fine. I got what I deserved for only swimming 9 times before the IM (wow, I didn’t realize it was that bad). I struggle to get my wetsuit sleeves down, a volunteer has to help, then through the strippers to my bag. A volunteer hands it to me, but there’s no one to help me with my stuff. Keeping the sports bra and tri shorts on the whole time worked very well, but I still struggled a long time to get my bike jersey on. 9 minutes later, I’m out on my bike, munching on Fritos.

My bike went ok. I settled in during that first 21 miles to the start of the loop. The cover to my aero drink holder managed to slip out of my fingers on this section. (farfagnugen!) The cover is a flexible gel that has a slit in it, so that water from a squeeze bottle can be added to the aerobottle while riding. Without it, there’s a big gaping hole on the top of the aerobottle, so I spent the next half an hour getting splashed with water as I went over bumps. I finally finished the Fritos in my ziplock bag, which provided the solution. I tore off a part of the bag, and unscrewed the o-ring that used to hold the cover to the bottle, put the plastic over the bottle, and screwed the o-ring back on. Then I carefully poked a small hole through the plastic. Ta-Da!  All fixed.

The surprise on the bike for me was how slow the chip seal section was. In aero position, it felt like my shoulders were resting on a vibrator. Not pleasant, either. Glances at my bike computer showed agonizingly slow speeds. Oh boy. “There’s a second loop…  No. One thing at a time. Finish the first loop.” The three hills I had noticed in the car were harder than I expected. The gradual climbing on this chipseal was harder, too.  Finally I hit the “Veyo wall” the long 1.5 mile hill, and spun up it in my 11-28. No problem. I grabbed my next bag of Fritos at special needs, and stood there drinking my mini coke for a minute. The subsequent downhill was fun, reaching speeds close to 50 mph. Wahoo! I love downhills, and was surprised to find that this felt like maybe a little too much. I had to remind myself to relax, trust my bike, and not use the brakes. Very quickly, I was on the start of the second loop where I saw our support crew cheering me on.

The second loop wasn’t as bad as I feared – I had no desire to quit, I just wanted to get to the run. It was, however, slower than the first. I lost focus and noodled along. I chatted with a few people that I had been riding near the whole time. I have to say, I didn’t see any drafting around me. People were being very good. I stopped for sunscreen at potty stop #3 (ugh, this takes forever) so with special needs I stopped 4 times. Too much! Getting to the Veyo wall again, I was near a guy in yellow who told me he wasn’t going to stay near me much longer, as he was going to have to walk. Walk? Up the hill? On the first lap, I saw 2-3 people walking. On the second lap, I was the only person I saw who rode up. Thank you 11-28. The second downhill was just as fun as the first. I was much more relaxed, even though we now had to deal with some cross winds. I was speeding down, holding a steady line moving out only to pass. Until at a change in the pavement, a girl in front of me, riding her brakes, swerved sharply left directly in front of me crossing the whole available lane. She didn’t look behind her, and was swerving to avoid a small rough patch (it was ride-able – I know, I rode over it on lap 1). I was closing fast, and as she started to swerve, I yelled – “NO – STAY RIGHT, STAY RIGHT!” I was so sure I was going to either take us both out or swerve in to the traffic lane and sacrifice myself. She pulled back to the right just in time. I had to take a few deep breaths before I could unclench my death grip on my aerobars. Too close. I saw our cheering section again (hi guys!!!) and went around the no-pass loop, to face a last unexpected hill. (oh come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.) Then, finally, thankfully, into transition at 7:52 for the bike. I had a volunteer (Cheryl) help me here, and she was wonderful. After changing shirts and socks, I was digging through my bag looking for my mini coke… and it WASN’T THERE. “awww.. dangit.”

Volunteer: “what are you looking for, honey?”
Me: “my coke... I guess I didn’t put it in here.”
Volunteer: “I can get you one, what kind do you want?”
Me - eyes wide in disbelief: “YOU ROCK!!! A regular coke. WOW. THANKS!”

And then in celebration, I sat there and drank half of it. My transition time reflected this, at 11 minutes. But, after a 7:52 bike, what did it matter? I probably wouldn’t finish the race under 15 hours at this point, what difference does a few minutes make?

I carried my bag of Fritos (which I hadn’t finished on the bike) and my coke out of T2, and walked quickly along. The crowd soon started smiling at this triathlete grinning from ear to ear with a coke in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “How’s your lunch?” one asks.  “mmmmm. It’s just a little snack,” I say.   Lorna got a pic:

She said I was walking much better than Bones or Paul when they came out. I was so happy to be off the bike and starting the run, but the first order of business was to finish that coke. Mmmmm. *burp*

Once on Diagonal St. I started running, and didn’t look back. It felt great to run. I ran all but a few of the hills, and walked the aid stations. I kept myself cool with sponges and my arm coolers, enjoyed the view, thanked the volunteers, cheered on my fellow athletes. There was a live band near the park we went around at mile 5 that was pretty good. I passed Paul da pilot at the first aid station – he was starting his second loop. After mile 2 I saw the other Paul. Then trotting down a hill, I saw Bones and Kurt running together. Kurt looked amazing – I was so glad to see him running, and it was so cool of Bones to keep him company.  We exchanged hugs – they told me to come get them, and we headed off in opposite directions. I reminded myself not to push the first out and back, to save a little. Soon, Ken comes running towards me, looking like he’s just out for a quick run.

This is fantastic. We run right up against red rock bluffs, overlooking all of St. George. You could hear Mike Reilly calling people in across the finish line at the farthest point out on the bluff. They’ve closed the road, so we have it all to ourselves. The volunteers are cheering at every point, and locals have come out to sit on the side and cheer loudly. The aid stations are clean and organized – no cups on the ground, all in the trash cans, and athletes seem to be trying their best not to litter. I took two gels, at mile 6 and mile 19, otherwise sticking to water, a few grapes, and a few sips of coke. The course rolls, and is interesting enough that I keep going to find out what’s around the next corner. On the way back I spot DP – she’s smiling and running – uphill! Gooooooo Pirate! It’s easy to be in a good mood out here. Not too hot, I’m passing people left and right. My stomach starts feeling a little sour, so at special needs I take some Tums powder, and that fixes it. *poof!* The second loop comes, and I can tell that I’m not going to have any serious problems. I do stop twice at port-a-potties, but I keep right on trucking. The glow stick man attempts to hand me a pink glow necklace “pink for the lady” he says, to which I say, “no pink! Please anything but pink!” I pass all my friends and they all appear to be doing great. Night falls just after mile 20 as I’m on the last leg back into town and the start line. The run was satisfying – after such a hard bike, to run the marathon (except for the steep hills) brought home a little bit how far my running has come. The volunteers cheer me through the darkness, I’m one of the few people running after mile 20, and I still have spring in my step and a smile on my face. I round the corner and see the finish two blocks away. The crowds are literally pressed against the sides of the chute, yelling and banging on the chute. The loudness surrounds you in a cave of sound. They hold out their hands, and I run down the chute giving high fives with Mike Reilly shouting out over the loudspeaker, “Margaret Welk, you are an Ironman!” 

At the line, I jump into the air. Yes!