It’s race day… the alarm was set for 3:45am. The evening produced some decent sleep and only a few moments of waking nerves and racing thoughts. Getting out of bed the air was already thick… thicker than previous days. Even Mel and Linda commented on the warmth and humidity. “Do you think it’s going to be a hard day?” Linda asked after I acknowledge her observation of the air… “It always a hard day.” I tried to put a positive spin on it.
Driving into Nice was uneventful… parking was a different story as the main road, the Promenade de Anglais, was closed due to the race. Taking the obvious detour we were back into the maze of narrow streets, no street signs and direction markers that meant nothing to us. But voile! A car with a TRI sticker on the back window and by the manner in which the driver was driving indicated to me this guy knows where he’s going so I did the ol’ thing of “follow that car.” Going against my instincts we followed him straight into a parking lot. By faith we came out of the garage not knowing were we would emerge and yep, we were a block away from the race venue… Thank you Lord, just like the bike box, things are working out… now, about this humidity and temperature?
Setting up in transition is always a quiet and tense filled space. This is true for just about for all present and if everyone there were honest you’d hear a few people crying, “I want my momma!” But you push on and get ready because the only other option isn’t really an option… really. Now having placed my nutrition of one 24-ounce bottle of water mixed with BASE, amino acids and 2x Hammer, Heed (A thick concoction of electrolytes, carbohydrates, proteins and minerals) I put oxygenated BASE water in my 24-ounce aero bottle (which I sip through a straw without using my hands while racing) and put my Hammer flask on my bike. Spraying myself good with Kynesis sunscreen I put my street clothes in a bag, to be retrieved after the race, handed that in and put my wetsuit on up to my waist.
Swim: As the music was pumping energy into the anxious crowd, the announcer started telling everyone it was time to get out of transition and down to the water. They had put up stanchions for different start placement depending on when you thought you would come in. I went to the 1:10 and got right up front after my warm up. The swim was a two loop, exit the water before the second loop 2.4 mile swim. The first loop was 2.4 kilometers and the second 1.6 layout in a confusing array of large red buoys. Before the gun, people were standing, asking, pointing… I was glad I memorized the course off the briefing sheet. What made this swim even more frustrating was the five turn buoys. As anyone knows who’s done a triathlon the beginning of the swim is a slug-fest: So are the turn buoys, in fact they can be worse. The water was fairly calm for an ocean swim and I chose to breath away from the sun. My Blue-Seventy, Helix wetsuit was exceptionally comfortable and the first time used in an Ironman. The exit after the first loop was extremely crowded and required stutter stepping along as the turn was hairpin and making people loose balance as they struggled with the quick adjustment of being horizontal then vertical as blood flow readjusts in the body. On the second loop things were less crowded as I purposely stayed to the right but was able to keep the next buoy in sight. Coming round straight way into shore I got a good draft from someone but a couple hundred meters out came around him matching stroke for stroke. Looking down at my watch upon the exit I saw 1:06 and about had a party right there on the beach as my best ocean swim up until that point was nearly 10 minutes longer and with all those turns, I knew I had swam better than before.
Bike: The first transition or T1, was slow and long. There was a good distance from the water exit to the changing tent. There were no wetsuit strippers so you were on you own to remove your wetsuit. Also, you had to grab your bag off a rack which was confusing… well, if your brain was in park. I grabbed bag 2326 got into the changing tent, took off my wetsuit and noticed the contents didn’t look right. “Dummy! 2328. Going back I replaced the wrong bag hoping its owner wouldn’t be in a tiz, grabbed the right bag and started over again. Getting everything on for the ride and placing wetsuit in said bag, I stood up to be confronted by a completely naked woman! It appeared she didn’t care I was right there as she shed her swimsuit in favor of bike shorts. Awkwardly, I just gave her a nod and off I went! The first 20K was flat and fairly fast along the Promenade and Var river. Then a leg crushing 500 meter climb that I just easily cruised up knowing there were people already working too hard for the climbing yet to come. My Felt TT bike is not a good bike in the hills but I still opted to go with it because my road bike wouldn’t account for the kind of gearing I needed. Once up in the backcountry the ride really began. There were about two dozen of us that stayed together for most of the journey into Chataueneuf de Grasse. At one point a referee pulled up alongside of me and in French started barking out something. He was obviously serious but he didn’t pull out a black card or pull me over for a stand-down. Honestly, I had no idea why he was on my case. I was clearly adhering to all the rules and kept a good distance while others were getting nailed for drafting right away. Once off the path, we had days earlier traveled by car, we headed up to Gourdon. This section of the course is by far the most difficult. 20K of straight-up climbing and here the heat began to become noticeably oppressive. The race organizers spaced the aid stations along the road by distance but in my opinion should place they by ride time. Climbing is much slower than descending so, going up you ran out of water too soon, coming down, you didn’t need it so soon. I wish I could describe for you the beauty and awe of this countryside. BY FAR, it is the most majestic and historic course I’ve ridden. Many of these old French villages were just marvels to behold (Courtney, you’d be proud to know my head was up a lot!). Gourdon, was just stunning and the ride through tiny Bouyon, my favorite as locals lined the street as we passed through along a road that could barely squeeze through a Smart Car. These are the roads, these are the towns I’ve seen on television so many years watching the Tour de France and now I’ve ridden some. Getting to the Col de l’Ecre will be one of my happiest moments as my legs got a breather and realizing that I had forgotten to close my hammer flask attached to my top tube spilling out a sticky raspberry coating all over my bike (I chose to stop at the next aid station and wipe most of this off with a bottle of water but this proved to be a stupid move, not only in time lost but for the next 30 miles I kept using the little bit of water I could spare wiping down my hands and handlebars). The decent was technical and fast! I could let the design of my bike take over. My legs were getting some respite as the aerodynamics and my bodyweight glided me down at breakneck pace. Many who passed me on the climbs were getting reeled in quickly and I made good use of those who knew the course by staying close. Once back to the flat run in along the Var, again the aero advantage was paying dividends with onshore winds blowing hard up the river gorge. Coming into T2 the scene was unlike any I had seen before in an Ironman. The course was lined with thousands of spectators screaming and cheering. It was a good vibe and I was in a good mood as I knew I was well up front. BUT Coming off the bike it was as if someone tuned on the humidity. I had already wilted a bit in the mid 90 temps up in the mountains but now without the ventilation effect of those winds the low 90 temps along with high humidity got my attention… in a bad way.
Run: I’m a heavy sweater. So, in hot and humid conditions I knew hydration and electrolyte replacement was key. I had prepared well with my little plastic baggies of Endurolytes and salt tablets stapled to my race belt and another pouch in my special needs bag. Recalling what happened in my last Ironman and finishing with 3 liters of IV due to dehydration I realized I would have to walk the aid stations to insure plenty of replacement. But even that proved to be not enough. The run is a flat, four loop run along the beach with no shade with a slight exception down by the airport. However, here the road was flanked by fence and tarmac and produced a stifling thickness and it was here where the carnage began. In several locations lie multiple athletes and some being carried of on gurneys. Running back to the start line and comparing the conditions to Coeur d A’laine two years ago I had begun to talk myself into the need of walking. “These conditions were worse… why not walk?” I thought. At the finish line I saw Joy and Julie and they were cheering me on. I pulled up and warned them that walking may be in my future because I’d rather finish than DNF. So, I kept running and walking the aid stations. Once out on the second loop the heat at the airport took it’s toll on my bonking body and I could not for the life of me get my heart rate down. Barley moving at a snails pace I was holding low 150’s. Walking the aid stations dropped it down to 119 consistently but I had missed two aid station feedings because of the other nonsense running through my head. So, I immediately took some Hammer gel but needed to walk some as I was woozy and got a bit tunnel-visioned (it’s a weird sensation; kind of like being intoxicated.) After regaining my composer and walking nearly a mile and a half, I started running again. And this became my pattern for completing the race. I recall thinking sometime out there how it was hotter and more humid than Hawaii, how I should have trained more for these kind of conditions, but how do you do that? And even though my time was going to be the longest it will ever take me to finish an Ironman… I’m happy with the day. Which to me seems ironic. An hour slower than my best 10:29, less than a half hour slower than my worst 11:00 I was high fiving people coming down the shoot and shared a smile with the French guy (just found out he was a German and in my agegroup! Darn) who came in just seconds before. With our arms around each other’s shoulders we both knew what had just happened… we were Ironmen! Not because we went the distance but because we endured the day. Immediately after the race, it’s about getting food, a massage (excellent BTW) your stuff and back home. My post race meal is traditionally a Cheeseburger and a beer. Luckily we had discovered O’Sullivans, an Irish pup nearby in La Napoule and Sunday happens to be BBQ burger night. That with a Beemish Red Ale, I couldn’t believe how everything came together.
Finally, I thought of so many of you yesterday and trying mention each of you by name would prove frustrating and embarrassing because I know I’ll forget someone. Thanks to those who’ve commented on the blog and watched from afar. Thanks to those who helped get the word out and increased the passion for triathlon particularly Spence and Chad. Thanks to the entire gathering at Twin Oaks who cheered, supported and essentially kicked my butt out the door (we’ve got a special picture to bring back to the kiddos!).
All in all; was it my best race of my triathlon career? No way… will it go down as one of my favorites? It already has… now it’s time to vacation. Stay tuned as I’ll continue to make my way to McDonalds and post further updates on the French connection.
stats...
Overall Rank: 476/2328 Age Group Rank: 36/224 Swim: 1:06:43 T-1: 00:07:22 Bike: 5:46:46 T-2: 00:03:34 Run: 4:23:43 Finish: 11:28:08
Blessings! (I’m feeling rather American today)
