Ironman Arizona 2012

By now, most of you know my results, so I'll skip the drama:

Swim:  1:01:18
T1:  3:49
Bike:  5:29:51
T2:  1:49
Run:  4:17:43

Total:  10:54:30

A personal best at the Ironman distance by over an hour.  The 5th place girl in my age group crossed the line in 10:45:30.  I was exactly 9 minutes behind her.  In 6th.  Obviously I fell short of my ultimate goal (podium!) but I am so beyond thrilled with my race. 

Was it a perfect day?  Absolutely not.  But did I execute perfectly?  Absolutely.

So here's how it all went down...

I slept well on Saturday night until about 1 am and then sleep was fitful.  Leading up to this race I had been practicing visualization for months.  And my visualization always started with "I wake up feeling rested".  I didn't feel tired, mostly because my adrenals were kicking out adrenaline like I was about to enter a war zone.  I went through my normal routine, very calmly and relaxed, just like I had practiced over and over in my mind.  For the first time ever, it was my husband who seemed the more frantic one of the two of us.

We made our way down to transition.  Pumped our tires, set up our bottles on the bikes, walked through transition to feel the flow, and located our gear bags one last time.  We went for a short jog and got suited up in our wetsuits.  The whole time, I felt very in control and calm.  Not that I wasn't nervous as heck, but I had practiced this routine so many times that it went smoothly.  The only thing I forgot was my bottle of Ensure I wanted to drink before the swim.  Lucky for me, my husband had an extra gel so I swallowed that instead.

At the swim start, we stood on the wall next to the buoy until after the pro start and then we hopped in the water to claim our space on the front line.  The final song we would hear before the cannon began to play.  Titanium.  I couldn't have picked a better song.  

I'm bulletproof.  Nothing to lose.  Fire away.  Fire away.  Ricochet.  Take your aim.  You shoot me down.  But I won't fall.  I am titanium. 

Floating in the water amidst a sea of swimmers, I told myself two things.  "You belong here."  And, "You have to get through 5 minutes."  I hate, hate, hate the swim start.  It is the one thing that I have anxiety about.  I hate getting kicked and punched, and feeling like I'm going to drown.  It's the only time I've ever had a panic attack (IM #2).  I just dread it, even though I am a strong swimmer. 

This year, in my visualization, I practiced being calm and swimming strong.  I told myself that I belong on the front line.  I need to survive the first 5 minutes of chaos in the water, and then generally the crowds have thinned and I can swim comfortably.  Those key words, I belong here, worked wonders in my head.  I refused to be intimidated.  I can hang with any of those guys.  You will not push me off the front line, where I belong.

When the cannon went off, we took off and I put my head down and just focused on swimming strongly and forcefully amidst the arms and legs.  I was pleasantly surprised when after no more than 2 minutes, I was without company.  No one to beat me up.  No one to drown me with their limb that weighs as much as me.  I was free.  And free to swim my race.  And so I did.

I felt like the buoys were flying by.  Before I knew it I was at the end of the lake making the turn for home.  And I was picking people off left and right.  Everyone who had gone out harder than their capability was now falling back.  And I was bulletproof.  My cadence was high and I felt great.  I never once tired.  My shoulders didn't get sore.  I was flying through the water.  And loving every minute of it.

As I approached the bleachers, a volunteer reached down and pulled me up onto the stairs.  I let out a little "whoop!" when I saw the clock read 1:01.  Another set of volunteers whipped my wetsuit off me and I was running through transition, on a mission.  I grabbed my gear bag and headed into the change tent.  The volunteer in the change tent was a friend of mine.  She said, "I'm gonna let you do your thing and when you're done I'll package up your swim stuff for you."  She was so calm, and her voice was very reassuring.  There was no pressure.  I secured my helmet and sunglasses, threw my feet into my bike shoes and I was out of there.  Fastest T1 ever.

Swim:  1:01:18,  1st place AG, 10th Female Overall.

I flew through the racks, located my bike, and quickly E'ly and I were out onto the bike course.  I was totally out of breath and tried to settle into a comfortable pace, relaxing as I went.

The first loop of the bike, we had a little tiny head wind on the way up the beeline which turned into an amazing tail wind on the way back down.  I felt awesome the first loop, so strong.  At the turn around point (roughly mile 19) I heard my husband yell for me.  He must have been about a mile behind me.  I hauled ass back to town at about 32 mph.  I cruised through the first loop about 5 minutes faster than scheduled.

The second loop, I started to get a little worried because I hadn't seen my husband pass me yet.  By my calculations, he should have caught me by mile 38 but there was no sign of him.  Add to that the wrecks that I kept passing on course and I was getting a little freaked out.  Each time I'd look at the bike of the down cyclist to make sure it wasn't his Felt, and breathe a small sigh of relief and a quick prayer that whoever it was would be OK.  On the way up the Beeline the second time, my adductors began to cramp a little bit.  My husband finally passed me just past 50 miles, and yelled for me to increase my cadence.  I had been distracted by my leg cramps and wasn't paying attention to my form.  I dropped a couple of gears and spun  a little faster.  I also slowed a little to take in more fluids and electrolytes.  The winds changed, and at this point there wasn't a significant tail wind in either direction, which means I felt like I had a head wind in both directions.  I was only able to push 22-25 down the hill back into town.  I finished my second loop 10 minutes slower, which put me right on target pace.

Thankfully, my cramps resolved with the fluids I was able to take in and I felt fantastic again on the third loop.  I felt strong and was flying by cyclists who were only on their second loop.  One thing I noticed about biking at the front of the pack (as opposed to mid-pack where I usually am) was that I had so much open road to myself!  I got passed a couple of times by packs (cheaters!!!), but for the most part I was biking alone the entire day.  The people I passed were significantly slower than me so other than the actual pass, there wasn't much interaction.  And the people that passed me were significantly faster, so again- riding solo.  I was watching my time and I knew that I could break 5:30 if I didn't let up.  I felt so strong that I just put the hammer down and went as hard as I could through town.

I got off the bike in 5:29:51, 4th in my age group. 

The volunteer grabbed my bike at the dismount line and I flew through the gear bags, grabbing mine from another volunteer and then back into the change tent.  I got into my socks and shoes, tossed my helmet aside.  Grabbed my visor and Amphipod belt and was gone.  1 minute 49 seconds.  Fastest T2 ever!!

Out on the run course, I was moving fast but my legs felt like jell-o.  This feeling is pretty normal and I figured it would shake out in a couple of miles.  I tend to go light on calories on the bike because if I come off the bike over-full, I run into stomach problems like bloating and cramping.  However, I am lucky to be able to eat whatever I want on the run so if I come off underfed, I can usually catch up pretty quickly once I start running.  Having taken in only 800 calories on the bike, I started sipping my Cytomax after the first mile or so.  I was really surprised to be passing people in the first mile who were walking.  I thought only mid and back packers walked during the marathon.  Here I was, at the relative front of the women's age group race and I was passing dozens of men who were walking! 

I felt really good through about mile 5 or 6 and then it was like someone flipped a switch.  I passed my cheerleader (JA) at mile 5 roughly looking great, smiling and waving, and then 1 1/2 miles later I looked like death warmed over.  Running, but feeling like I was crawling.  She screamed at me and told me to get moving.  I was running along when all of a sudden, my throat filled with fluid.  I guess technically it was more regurgitation, not vomit, since there was no warning and no abdominal contraction.  But either way, I stopped to throw it up on the side of the road before I kept running. 

I felt better, but I felt pretty weak.  I knew I needed more calories than my Cytomax was providing.  My legs just felt all wobbly.  I ran through Tempe Beach Park to start my second loop and handed my Amphipod belt off at my TriScottsdale team tent.  At the next aid station I looked for something that I thought would do the trick.  I grabbed a coke and then a volunteer said the magic words.  "Potato chips!"  Yes, that's exactly what I need.  Potato chips.  I grabbed the cup that was offered and slowed to a walk while I consumed my salty snack.  It was like a gift from God.  Instantly my legs felt better.  Not just better.  Amazing.  Strong.  Steady. 

I made my way through loop two, being careful to walk through the aid stations to take in the calories and salt I needed to stay on top.  It's easy to be on top, but if you don't watch it, you can slip right back off in a matter of moments.  The miles ticked by and I literally counted them down, one by one.  Never once did I run a mile slower than 10:50 (and that was the mile I stopped to pee).  And never once did I walk outside of an aid station.  Starting the third loop I was feeling great and was picking up my pace.  I kept hearing people shouting my name and giving me my key words (from my previous blog).  It was amazing to have so much support out on the course. 

Making my way past Tempe Beach Park for the final 5 miles, I knew I was going to break 11 hours if I could maintain my pace.  I thought I'd be emotional and weepy, achieving such a huge PR.  But honestly, I worked so hard in training, I had already visualized this and practiced this so many times before, I expected to break 11 hours.  Plus I was so focused, and physically exhausted at this point that I don't think tears would have even been possible.  I was flying by people.  Most everyone I was passing was in either their first or second loop.  Many, many people were walking.  Running a 10 minute pace I literally felt like I was flying.  It was an amazing sense of accomplishment to feel this good and to be running this well after nearly 140 miles. 

Coming into the park for the final time, I wanted to be able to celebrate and enjoy my time in the finish chute.  I asked a friend if there were any women behind me (I didn't want to have to sprint to the finish!) and he assured me that I was alone.  I felt like I was sprinting when in reality it was probably about a 9 minute pace.  I looked at the clock and saw it roll to 10:54.  I put my arms in the air and I smiled for the camera. 

10:54:30.  Mission accomplished.

What I absolutely loved about this race experience is that I felt so prepared for everything that I encountered.  Nothing was a surprise to me- none of the hardships, and none of the good times.  I truly felt like I had been through every possible circumstance in training and when things came up, I knew exactly what I needed to do.  Cramps on the bike?  Been there.  Weak legs?  Dealt with that.  Delicate balance of staying on top of calories without overloading?  Hello?  Trained through that.  Week in and week out.  I trained through every possible circumstance.  And when they presented themselves on race day, I dealt with them and it never phased me.  Not once. 

Would I have liked to have felt perfect all day?  Of course!  I don't know if that will ever happen.  A small part of me believes that if it does, I probably wasn't racing hard enough.  I love knowing that I paid so close attention to my body in training that I can know instantly what it's telling me.  In that second loop of the bike, when my legs were cramping, I had started to think "oh well, my goal was really a stretch anyway.  I never really thought I could go that fast."  But before the thought even fully materialized in my mind, I recognized that I had started to feel sorry for myself.  And I know from training that when I start to feel sorry for myself I am low on blood sugar.  It's odd, I know, but it's my minds way of saying "feed me!".  And all I have to do is eat and I am back to my usual I'm-gonna-win-this-bitch-or-die-trying self.  And that's just one example.  Over 11 hours, there were plenty of moments for me to listen to my body and respond, rather than ignore it or not even notice it at all.     

I'm also excited because I still have so much room for improvement.  Which means that my goal of making the podium is not dead.  I merely have to do more work in training.  I can still bike faster, and I can definitely run faster.  That's exciting. 

I'd like to give a big THANKS to all of the volunteers out on course.  Without the volunteers, we would not be able to do what we do during the race.  Having been on both sides of the table, I can honestly say that it is much harder to be a volunteer than to be a participant.  The volunteers are often out there before we arrive in transition, and are still there when I'm packed up and heading back to the hotel.  So, thanks.  You are much appreciated. 

The hardest part of recovery, is recovering.  I am so excited to get back out there, but I know my body needs time to heal.  I feel really good.  I'm not sore or tired.  I am ready to put my head down and work hard.  Again.  For the next time around. 

The Goal

6 months ago, I came home from work and my husband presented me with a handout.  On the top of the list was this:

Swim 1:04
Bike 5:35
Run 4:00
Total:  10:46

He told me that he had studied the times of the top 8 women in the 35-39 age group for the last 5 years, but specifically since Ironman Arizona moved to November (4 years).  He gave me the list with the breakdown of all the swims, bikes, and runs of these amazing women.  And then he said this:  I think you can do this.   

What he showed me, and what I have studied week after week for the last 6 months tells me that to land on the podium at Ironman Arizona in the women's 35-39 age group, I need to finish 10:45 or better.  Consistently, no matter what the weather conditions are, the 5th woman comes in somewhere right around 10:45.  That's 10 hours, 45 minutes.  I have carried those papers, with those splits, in my training log for 6 months.  And every week when I lay out my plan for the next week, I review them.  I study them and decide if I have done the work that needs to be done, day in and day out, to achieve my goal.  And then I go out and do more work. 

The goal?  To podium (top 5 finish) at Ironman Arizona 2012. 

There it is.  My goal.  That has been my goal since discovering that I can push myself on the bike and still run fast.  Going into Oceanside 70.3 last March, I made the decision that I was going to podium.  I had finished top 10 the year prior and I knew I could do it.  I went into the race with that goal and I did not back down until I crossed the line with a PR and a 4th place finish.  Mission accomplished. 

I decided that if I could podium at Oceanside, a difficult course that doesn't necessarily play to my strengths, then I could also go after it at IMAZ.  And now, here we are, with just over 12 hours to race time, and I am going into the race tomorrow believing that I belong on the podium.  It's my spot to lose.  I will work from start to finish to hold onto my dream and if someone wants it, they are going to have to rip it out of my bleeding, dying hands because I will not relinquish it without a fight.  So be prepared. 

5 girls are going to podium in my age group.  I might as well be one of them. 

This is the mantra that I've used to push myself in training.  When I start to fatigue during a difficult tempo section of a run.  Or at mile 15 in my long run when I think, 11 more miles?  Or in the heat of summer, when I'm at mile 80 of the bike and my legs are screaming.  This is what fuels my fire.  On race day, there will be 5 girls in my age group on the podium.  I might as well be one of them.  I have worked harder and smarter, and stronger, and better than everyone else, and I am going to be one of them.  Tomorrow when it starts to hurt and I am tired and just want to walk, I will remind myself that 5 girls are going to be on the podium in my age group.  And I might as well be one of them. 

Swim 1:08
Bike 5:25
Run 3:26
Total:  10:07

The few weeks ago, I was in our bedroom making the bed or folding laundry, some mindless task.  I gazed around our room, the walls of which are covered in Ironman posters and finisher's certificates.  My eyes landed on a finisher certificate from Ironman Arizona 2008.  I looked at the times printed.  Swim 1:08.  Bike 5:25.  Run 3:26.  Studying the numbers, I was thinking to myself, I can do that.  And then I had to do a double take because I realized that it wasn't my certificate.  It was my husband's.  Those were the times from his 3rd Ironman race.  I looked again, added 30 minutes to the run time and I thought, I CAN do that.  10:37.  I can totally do that. 

So there you have it.  Above you have my husband's prediction for my race.  And now you have mine:

Swim 1:05
Bike 5:25
Run 3:56
Total:  10:36 

Tomorrow is a long day.  There are so many things that can happen, most of which I have no control over.  I can't control the weather or the wind on the Beeline.  I can't control the road conditions and whether or not I get a flat or other mechanical.  I can't control other competitors.  They might beat the shit out of me in the swim, or make me crazy on the bike with tactics.  But I can control how I handle myself and how I react.  I will strive to remain positive throughout the day, because negative energy will not land me on the podium.  Only focus and hard work will. 

If you see me out there tomorrow, my key word is:  Focus.  Tell me to focus.  Tell me "quick feet".  Tell me I need to take "top 5".  Tell me I can rest when I'm finished, but the fastest way to the finish line is to "run faster!"  Tell me I look great, even if you're thinking it's a lie.  Tell me I have great form and you like my smile.  Tell me you're proud of me and that I'm kicking ass.  Tell me you believe in me.  Tell me I can do it.

If you're at home watching on www.ironman.com, I'm bib #757.  Send me your positive energy if I cross your mind.  Talk to me in your heart and mind.  As you impatiently wait for the splits to update, scream at the computer for me to "GO!!" 

I have slept like a baby the last 2 nights.  I'm calm and focused.  I'm ready.  Above all else, I need to get myself across the finish line to count #8 toward my Legacy.  But I will leave everything out on the course tomorrow and if it is a perfect day, and the winds aren't too terrible, and I nail my nutrition, and I don't get a mechanical, and God smiles on me.... Look for me on Monday morning. 

I'll be the one on the podium.