I Could Go On and On and On. . .: Don't Call it a Comeback. . . (Ironman Raleigh 70.3 Race Report)

Race week is filled with anticipation, planning, fueling and tapering. Since the hubby and I were both racing, we also had to make arrangements for kiddos (and pack a race day goodie bag of fun toys and snacks to keep them occupied), not to mention the fact that the Reporter and I had Saturday school the day before the race to make up a snow day from our harsh Winter. Needless to say, it was a busy, busy week. However, I had already decided to stay "in the green" all weekend, so I did everything I could to alleviate stressors--meal planning, getting ahead on paperwork so my workdays wouldn't be overwhelming, hydrating, and prepping the kiddos for a long weekend.

The week of the race, we decided to see if any hotel rooms were available in the area to eliminate the need to drive an hour to and from the race site, and to get some extra kid-free rest and relaxation after the race. Luckily we found a room at the Marriott that was adjacent to the finish line and transition area. Now, all that was left was the packing. . .

Friday:

The hubby and I decided to go to the Expo and packet pick up on Friday afternoon to avoid the Saturday crowds. This turned out to be a great decision for many reasons. We saw pictures of the line for check-in on Saturday and it was crazytown. Not only did I not want to stand in line for the afternoon waiting to get my race packet, but I needed the time to pack my individual bags (this was a point to point race, so there were three bags to pack--morning gear, bike gear, run gear), unpack them, and pack them again (and maybe again. . .). Also, having to work on the Saturday morning before the race put a time crunch on the whole arrival process, so I wanted to avoid feeling rushed. But most of all, I needed to avoid the chatter. I know many people love the pre-race atmosphere, meeting other athletes and speculating about water temps together, but it was more than I could handle. That kind of talk would take me right from GREEN (my happy place) to RED (sheer panic), and I knew my limits.

The hubby and I milled around the expo, picking up samples and registering for door prizes, but it wasn't long before I became overwhelmed by race talk and the thoughts of Sunday. I quietly slipped out to the lobby and hubby found me a while later, fully aware of my panic. We decided on a quiet dinner before heading home to pack.

Saturday:

The alarm sounded early for me to get the Reporter and myself ready for a half-day of school. Time passed quickly and before I knew it, the hubby and I had dropped the kiddos off and were headed to the lake to rack our bikes. As soon as we reached the Lake, I quickly realized that the position of my bike rack was identical to the location of my rack last year. Suddenly I worried that I was in store for a replay of the events of last year, but I quickly shook off the fear with a reminder to "trust my training, trust myself, trust my wetsuit, and trust God".

Once the bikes were racked and ready, we met up with a few friends for a quick chat, checked out the buoys on the water and were ready to head to Raleigh for dinner and a good night's sleep.

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I am part of an amazing online community of athletes that offer support, advice and friendship on a daily basis. Several of these athletes, that have become long-distance friends, were also racing in Raleigh and the hubby and I had the opportunity to meet up with one athlete and her family that I have grown particularly close to for an early dinner. We planned our early wake-up (3:45am!) and agreed to meet to ride the shuttles to the lake together. After a quick photo op and a pep talk from the hubby, I was ready to turn in and see what Sunday had in store.

Hotel Lobby Shenanigans

Sunday: Race Day:
Wake up came early at 3:45, although I had woken up just past midnight and panicked thinking that we had missed the shuttle. Luckily the hotel had a Starbucks in the lobby that agreed to open at 4:00am for race morning. When I stepped off the elevator (in my pajamas) at 3:50, there was already a line forming outside the doors. I quickly grabbed 2 Americanos with steamed soy, treated my buddy Mike to some caffeine and headed back upstairs to eat my race day "waffle PBJ" before heading down to T2 (This is the location we would arrive when the bike portion was complete, so our run equipment needed to be set up before boarding a bus to the lake.) Before I finished my waffle, Heidi was knocking on the door and in a flurry of nervous giggles, we headed downstairs with the hubby. Once we arrived in T2, run gear needed to be set-up, but I couldn't focus because there was no word of water temperatures, yet. Remember that last post about needing water temps below 76 to be a wetsuit (security blanket) legal race? Well, temps had been borderline, so every athlete was waiting for word from the head official. After we set up our transition areas, Heidi and I sat on the curb waiting for the hubby and checked Facebook for race day updates.

Water temp had been posted.

75.4

We both squealed with joy and at that moment a sense of peace and hope filled my heart, knowing for sure that this time would be different.

Riding a bus full of anxious triathletes for 45 minutes is not the way to calm your nerves, but luckily I remembered my headphones, pumped good tunes for the ride and read encouraging notes and messages from friends near and far on my phone.

When we arrived at Jordan Lake, everyone exited the bus and began prepping their bikes and equipment. Being in the third to last swim wave, gave me plenty of time to set things up and check my tires, but I finished quickly and headed out to watch the swim start. Heidi and I were fortunate enough to watch both the pro men and women exit the water before having to put on our wetsuits and wait our turn. The hubby was in a swim wave about 15 minutes ahead of me, so after a quick pep talk and a kiss, I told him I would see him at the finish line and saw him off. I had nothing to do but wait for my turn, and I couldn't have been more excited to get the race started.

The Swim 1.2 miles:
The swim was in a triangular formation, with buoys every 100 meters for sighting. As I approached the in-water starting line, I hung toward the back, as I usually do, with my friends Heidi and Lisa. I checked my cap and goggles and before I knew it, the starting horn sounded. I did my regular "count to 10 and get in" routine, but there were so many women in my age group, that I had no choice but to just GO. The first 100 meters I worried that I would get kicked, hit or swam over. Then I began to think about the two waves of swimmers coming behind us, and I wanted to move to the side to get out of the path of the strong aggressive swimmers. However, with every stroke I felt strong and able and. . . calm. The worry of someone getting in my "personal bubble" went away and I felt confident in the middle of a pack of swimmers. As I rounded the first buoy, I looked to my left and saw Heidi. We had made it to the first buoy without stopping, without meeting a kayaker, and without panic. As I made my way across the long back leg of the swim, I found my rhythm, got kicked a few times, and took advantage of drafting off of other swimmers (and I may have even laughed when I saw a girl swim head-on into a blow-up buoy). There was no hesitation, only joy. As I rounded the last buoy to start the final leg of the swim, I was tempted to look at my watch. This was the very spot that I realized I was going to miss the swim cut-off last year. Dare I look? 43:00. YES! I only had to swim about 500m to reach the shore and I knew I could make it and even have a "best time" at the 1.2 mile distance. I pushed hard those last few meters, remembering that I had 56 miles ahead to ride, but wanting to post a good time (for me).

Time: 53:52(a personal best)

T1:

After a quick clock check and a visit with the wetsuit strippers (these people are wonderful, and trislide is a must-have), I headed into T1 with a smile. I quickly dried off, pulled on my socks, shoes and tri top and began spraying myself with sunscreen. Suddenly I winced. I realized that the body glide I had applied to my neck to prevent wetsuit burns hadn't done it's job. My neck was covered in "wet suit hickeys" and they were burning. I endured the burn and headed out of transition to the bike course.

The Bike--56 miles:

Having ridden the first 35 miles of the Raleigh 70.3 bike course more than a few times, I felt confident beginning the bike. The first three miles, or so, were uphill on less than wonderful pavement. But I knew that when we turned the corner, it would be smooth sailing and downhill for a few miles. What I didn't know is that we would encounter a wicked headwind and crosswind for a large portion of the bike course. I wasn't happy about the conditions, but it could have been worse. I made the best of it, thankful to just be on the bike and sailing down the road.

My ride was solid for the first 35 miles. I averaged around 15.6 mph (good for me, while still keeping my legs ready for the run) and fueled just as I had planned. I stopped at the second aid station to shove a Honey Stinger waffle in my mouth, chase it with Blueberry Banana Pocketfuel and switch out my bottle of cocogo. The ride was going well, although my left hip had been giving me a fit since mounting the bike out of T1. I stood to stretch it out at every opportunity and kept moving forward.

As soon as we reached the 35 mile mark, the hills began. I LOVE climbing on the bike, love it. But I am a huge scaredy-cat with the downhills. For every huge uphill that I passed a handful of people, the same people would zoom past me on the downhill. I made a new friend on the bike as we leap-frogged each hill all the way to Raleigh. Coming into Raleigh, I had peeked at my bike computer and was sad and disappointed to see my average pace slip so much in those last 20 miles, but I felt certain that I had made the bike cut-off and would have a shot at crossing the finish line.

Time: 3:51:13

T2:
When I arrived at T2, so many bikes were back that it made me panic. Would I get to run? I thought I had met the cut-off. I yelled to Coach E, who was standing outside the transition area, and he assured me that I still had plenty of time, so I quickly changed shoes, grabbed my water bottle, sprayed more sunscreen and headed out.

The Run--13.1 miles:
I had 3 hours and 30 minutes to complete the run and still get to "finish" and after almost 2000ft of climbing on the bike, I was worried that I would take every last second of that time. I had decided to use my tried and true 4:1 run:walk for the run, but when I tried to run I knew that I would need to switch gears and take plan B (It appeared that I wasn't the only one with a Plan B. People were walking everywhere). The first half mile out of transition was uphill, so I decided to walk it until I could hydrate a little and stretch my hip out. When I reached the top of the hill, I decided to go with a 2 minute run to 1 minute walk plan. I continued that pattern for a few cycles and suddenly my legs felt alive again. I tried for 3:1, then 4:1, feeling good and making good time. I knew from my Marathon that the "main drag" of this race was full of small, rolling hills, so I made the decision to walk the uphills and run the downhills and flats. Suddenly I was cruising. Everything seemed to be working the way it should and I had no pain during my run. I stopped to grab ice and water at a few aid stations and even snagged a Coke in the last few miles for some extra energy, but I primarily fueled with pocketfuel and cocogo (I had Endurolytes with me, but the case fell out of my pocket around mile 5 and I didn't realize it until it was too late).

The two loop course made for a very spectator and athlete friendly race. I loved seeing my kiddos and parents as I looped by the finish line to start my second lap. I even got a high five and a kiss on the course from this guy:

The miles went by quickly and I felt great. It was hot, but the course was dappled in shade and the energy from the volunteers and spectators was motivating. As I checked my watch at mile 11, I knew that I was on track to beat my time from my own 70.3 from the previous year. I gave myself enough of a walk break that I knew I could run the entire length of the "finish line"--a long city street lined with fans. As I approached the finish, I smiled, I cried, and I looked around for the hubby in the sea of spectators.