RACE
REPORT from Greg McDowell
Saturday, I completed my
first Half IronMan - 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, 13.1 mile run
- in 7:10:30, at Beach to Battleship in Wilmington, NC.
Swim - 35:36
T1 - 10:56
Bike - 3:32:28 (15.8 mph)
T2 - 4:17
Run - 2:47:15 (12:45 per mile)
Overall, I finished #484 of 544 men, and ahead of 68 women (of 277),
so ahead of 15% (or...85th percentile, if you must). In my age group,
I was #45 of 50 men.
Whatever I write will only cover a fraction of the story. You'd have
to be somewhat obsessive to even bear listening, but however much
I write, I should start and finish by mentioning a couple individuals.
Yes, my wife May had some concerns when I first disclosed this goal.
And yes, 7 weeks ago, she was extremely concerned when she had to
retrieve me from the hospital following a bike accident and some bone
breakage. But a few weeks later, she helped me find a second opinion
from a more aggressive orthopedic doctor who supported my attempt
to try. And she supported my physical therapy efforts, even becoming
somewhat competitive in comparing her own efforts due to a rotator
cuff tear. (Yes honey, I believe they stretched you harder, and earlier
than I was able to bear.) I will be the first to admit that triathlons
are not spectator-friendly. So, many thanks to my lovely wife for
being there through all the equipment loading, hours of travel to
and from the event, bearing my tossing and turning which started about
1am, rising at 5:30 am (the Only reason I couldn't stay up to watch
the St. Louis Cardinals seal their 11th World Series victory); walking
a mile to the body mark-ups at 7am in 45-50 degree temps and back
to the hotel for more fretting, walking a half mile to the swim start
and taking pictures of many important preliminary moments before my
9:10am start, walking and ultimately hitching a ride to arrive at
the swim-to-bicycle transition area 35 minutes later and at least
2 miles away via an indirect route, to encourage me and send me on
my way for the longest bicycle ride I had ever taken, and then rendevousing
at the finish line at least 10 miles away and a couple hours before
my 4:20pm finish. But all of those logistics followed a week of tending
my needs at home, followed by another week of transporting me everywhere
(until I got off the meds which suggest not operating heavy machinery
and such), followed by a couple more weeks of whining and moaning.
And some of that was just from getting out of bed to apply ice to
the sore spots. Okay, in retrospect, I understand why the Hinson Lake
event five weeks ago (where I only walked 18 miles, and I did wear
the sling) might not have seemed the wisest of moves. But somehow,
May tolerated my need to try, and to prove wrong the first doctor
who nearly laughed out loud when I told him on 9/19 that I was shooting
for a 10/29 event. So, thank you May.
May gives credit to Maurice for saving my life. I gotta admit he was
a big help, but I don't think I was in any real danger of dying. Still,
Mo, thanks! After taking that spill at 33 miles into our planned 56
mile training ride, Mo never left my side until I was safely delivered
to the ER and he needed to drive from Huntersville to Charlotte and
back to retrieve May. And for several weeks, Mo encouraged me via
e-mail and texts, even suggesting that I encouraged him by not giving
up. He delivered my bike back to me in time for me to get it repaired
(only $20), after garaging it at no cost! So finally, we got back
together Friday night before the big event, and were able to share
dinner with Mo and his wife Lindsey. All four of us walked to the
body mark-up Saturday morning. Then we parted ways - me to fret for
35 minutes longer than Mo because the wave starts (and our disparate
ages) gave Mo a head start on the day. Many hours later, after a great
effort (40 minutes faster than me) in Mo's first Half IM, he stayed
at the finish line (remember the extra 35 minutes, too) to cheer on
my finish and celebrate our accomplishment together. Wow. I appreciate
that.
There's another group of supporters I usually just call Ron and the
gang. Ron Horton will give you the shirt off his back (he offered
me a selection of 15 bike jerseys if I promised to not embarrass him
by using a waist pack on the bike), and I possess (just borrowing)
his bike trainer and wetsuit. Last year, I did my first 3 triathlons
on Ron's bike - just to make sure I was serious before investing in
my own equipment. The gang includes Marc DeLuca (busiest retired police
guy I know) and Ricky Scott (fellow Boogie runner and host of the
Crooked Trail 24 hour run in 5 weeks), who ceaselessly encourage and
share the excitement of every accomplishment. I came to know these
two through Ron and always look forward to sharing exploits via e-mail
and texts, when we can't get together in person.
Okay, with all these thoughts of appreciation, you'd expect that I
won, huh? Well, I accomplished a halfway step towards a bigger goal.
And I succeeded in doing my best. In short (ha, right?), here's my
view of the event.
Swim - cold and confusing. I started slowly and quickly moved to the
back, staying clear of any kickers who might bring me pain. I have
little experience with wetsuit swimming or tides. My pool time for
this distance used to be about 44 minutes, but recently was about
50. I restrained myself from even looking at my watch until I was
nearly 10 minutes in. Without a 50 meter by 25 yard container and
a wall clock, I find it quite difficult to estimate time and distance.
15 minutes in, the water became choppy and I started inhaling more
saltwater. Lifesavers standing on surfboards were shouting for us
(or just me) to move left. The overall swim followed a backward Z,
but apparently the first big yellow buoy that we were told to keep
at our left had drifted. Now we were being redirected. Another lifesaver
shouted that we should aim for the big white boat. I was 20 minutes
in when I realized I couldn't distinguish forward movement. The waves
were sometimes going over my head. I began to use some freestyle strokes
(yes, I had changed from my usual 50% breast stroke approach to 100%
because it didn't hurt my shoulder as much), but the freestyle actually
seemed to bring objects in front closer, after I strung together 5-6
of them. While I suspected I had passed the halfway point, I couldn't
be sure and I tried to calm my inner excitement, convincing myself
that it would be fine to keep stroking for 50 minutes or more. I took
a break on my back and noticed some folks behind me (I wasn't last!),
and before long, on my stomach again, I could distinguish the dock
where we would exit.
Pre T1 - I was out of the water in under 34 minutes (note previous
PR of about 44 for this distance). On the dock, we were assisted in
wetsuit removal and ran under a series of warm fresh-water showers.
We had to walk/jog/run 400 yards down a path and across a street to
the T1 transition area. I spotted May outside the fenced area for
bikes and ran the maze to my bike. It was near the fence, so May was
able to stand within 5 yards of me. The music was blasting so loud
we couldn't converse easily, but she could sense my excitement because
my original goal was to be out of T1 in an hour. I took my time; ate
a nutrition bar; washed it down with G2, stretched. Actual was just
over 46 (swim plus T1). I estimated 3.5 to 4 hours till I finished
the bike, but told her 3:15 was possible, in case she would be looking
for me. Optimism reigned.
Bike - cold, windy, rain, interminable. More difficult than I had
imagined (and I had imagined difficult). Since this is the longest
section, you can make or destroy your goal on the bike. I knew all
the numbers. A 14 mph average would take 4 hours. 16 mph average could
cut that to 3:30. After being off the bike 5 weeks, I had done training
rides of 10, 12 and 8 miles at 14, 15 and 16 mph, and then finally,
a 31 mile ride at about 15.5 mph. Each time I got off the bike, my
right arm would hang limp. I had pretty much taken a week off, with
only two short swims to test wetsuits. My shoulder had always ached
during the rides and swims, but I hoped that the rest would improve
that shoulder "performance," and the cold water helped numb
it, so that was a good start. While I was able to build to a 15 mph
average overall through the first 8-10 miles, the wind hit us fiercely
on the open highway. I could see other bikers and feel myself leaning
into the wind. Due to past experience, I was determined to stay strongly
focused. However, the elements took their toll. It began to mist and
rain a little between 11 and 11:30. It was hard to get over the hump
when halfway seemed so far away. I removed my sunglasses when they
were wet and fogged. I stuffed the lense in my shirt. Bikers leapfrogged
each other, and some of us encouraged each other by saying "headwinds
now mean tailwinds later...right?" But somehow we faced headwinds
for 40 miles. I stopped a minute at 22 miles for a bottle exchange
and felt energized from the brief time off the saddle. I saw Mo on
the other side of the road, not sure of how far ahead he was (turned
out at least 10 miles) and hollered his name. He returned the holler.
I was disappointed to realize that the turnaround was a long 10-12
mile loop. I stopped for 30 seconds by myself around 32 or 33 miles
in, trying to shake off the shoulder ache. My triceps were beginning
to burn and my low back felt like it was approaching its limit. Finally
("thank you Jesus" seemed appropriate to say), the wind
eased up as I turned the corner for what felt like a break. I had
discarded a shirt at the second bottle stop, as the sun emerged and
the numbness in my toes wore off. I put my sunglasses back on. As
I sped up to see if I could improve upon my now average 14.8, I encouraged
myself to remember I could meet my goal by staying anywhere above
14. And really, there was a generous 9 hour limit, so I could meet
the only important goal by finishing. But pride is a funny thing.
And sometimes the combination of Gu and a tailwind speeds things up.
I tolerated the ride as best I could and smiled at the thought that
faster speed meant getting off the bike sooner. I found myself passing
more bikers than passed me. My speed was staying in the 22-24 mph
range and sometimes above 26. I was flying...until a real cyclist
would pass me like I was standing still. Triceps ached some more.
But the end approached and I calculated a spectacular finish - until
I saw the hill. Yes, there was a huge bridge ahead and I would see
my speed in the 20s drop to the teens and then to 10.0, and lower,
as I used my smallest gear. According to plan, I would coast into
the finish, giving my legs a few minutes to recover.
T2 - That worked fine...till it didn't. I mean, it worked in my head.
It just didn't transfer to my legs. When I got off the bike, all relieved
and smiling, my legs wobbled. A volunteer handed me my changing bag
(this part of the system worked well) and I headed to the changing
tent. I didn't see May and wasn't sure she would be there. I changed
quickly, stripping off the second layer of bike shorts and putting
on running shorts, over the tri-shorts I wore throughout. Shirt change;
apply Glide. No change of socks was needed, but shoes came off and
then were put back on after changing shorts. Put on waist pack (with
hidden cell phone). Grab the Gatorade bottle from the bag; place helmet
and gloves inside the bag and re-tie, hand back to volunteer and off
we go. My watch said 1:32pm as I exited to begin the run.
Run - more of a jog/walk. Four hours and 22 minutes into this thing
and I only had to cover a half marathon. Hmm, when was the last time
I'd done that? I'd run about 15 miles during the month of October
so far. Before I could worry about it, it was time to walk uphill.
No shame in walking uphill, right? During the next 2 hours and 47
minutes, I would mostly walk while limiting my jog/run to no more
than 30 seconds at a time. Nearly 4 miles in, I spotted Mo; we slapped
hands and cheered each other. I called May (traveling to the finish
line with Lindsey) to let them know Mo was 3 miles away and I was
9+ behind him. At first, I thought my legs would return to me in a
few miles. By the halfway point, averaging 12:30 per mile, I realized
that was as good as it was going to get. I had met almost all of my
goals. I was getting colder as the temperature began to drop, or maybe
it was the shade of the trees in the park. Dozens of runners passed
me...running. Sure there were plenty of walkers, but this thing was
going to take forever at this rate. My return pace was 13:00. And
I was fine with that.
Finish - I phoned to let May know I was very close (get the camera
ready!) and tried to jog more than I walked. A familiar smile built
up inside and expressed itself on my face as I crossed the finish
line. Yes, I had felt this way before. But never had a feeling like
this taken so long to arrive. I'd done 12-hour events, but this one
took seven weeks.
Thanks again: May, Maurice, Ron and the gang!
click
here for all the pictures
Return to tricharlotte Home Page
|
