David skydiving in Jean, Nevada, November 2011

David hiking the Grand Canyon, November 2011

The race was plagued with problems starting well before race day and certainly at every facet of the event itself.

Rather than write a typical race report that describes my day from start to end of the race, I’m going to include a little more detail (prior to race day, for example) to illustrate how poorly managed this event actually was.

In all fairness, it is worth noting that WTC has recently issued an apology to athletes who competed in Miami and also offered a complimentary entry to an Ironman 70.3 event in 2011, which is an appropriate gesture given the loss (time, training, financial) the athletes and their families suffered in Miami at this event.

Event Communications

In the weeks leading up to Ironman 70.3 Miami, several emails were disseminated by race management to alert athletes to course changes, rules announcements, wave start times, etc. Apparently any athlete who unsubscribed from the “newsletters” that were being distributed in early 2010 (consisting of sponsor announcements, advertisements, and professional athlete commitments) was also removed from critical race information distribution.

Course changes were made to all three courses with most dramatic being on the run course. The original event included an out-and-back run course that went along Biscayne Bay and over the MacArthur Causeway but was changed in the last couple weeks before the event to include a smaller double out-and-back course that went over Biscayne Bay to Dodge Island and back before turning around, resulting in eight climbs of the bridge. This change is significant in that athletes must sign up a year in advance for many Ironman events (due to how quickly they sell out, as this event did in less than two months) and the decision to register is made on things such as course layout. While it’s entirely understandable that course changes will occur from time to time, there’s no excuse to run athletes over a bridge eight times, especially when they’ve already committed to a race under such different expectations.

As recently as the week of the event, the website still had questions in its FAQ section that listed “Details coming soon” as the answer. Rules were posted during the week prior to race day that included rules not typically expected in such an event. For example, an athlete with his or her wetsuit pulled lower than the waist and not inside a changing tent would receive a 4:00 penalty to be served in a penalty box. Other rules, such as race management’s prohibition of items other than bike and helmet at the bike rack (all changing of shoes, etc. must be conducted in the changing tent and transition bags removed by volunteers) were communicated which undoubtedly shape the way athletes pack for the event.

Information in the emails conflicted with information on the website, even in cases where the email referred to the website itself for further information. For example, the maximum temperatures for wetsuits were listed as 76F and 84F (for athletes who did or did not wish to remain eligible for age group awards or Championship slots) on the website, whereas some emails referred to the new WTC wetsuit temperatures of 76.1F and 83.8F.

We drove to Miami on Thursday before the race; arriving in the afternoon around the time that packet pick-up was closing, so we decided to go the following morning. When we went to the packet pick-up location around 10:00, we found a line that extended to the expo entrance. I left my wife in line and checked to make sure this was leading to the check-in stations, which it appeared to be. We later realized that there was no line for check-in and that everyone was standing in the USAT Registration line, with the check-in folks taking people who finished USAT registration (many of the athletes were from outside the US so they needed a one-day membership) as they completed the process. We could have waited five minutes, but stood in line for about 45 minutes since there was no signage or volunteers telling people they could bypass the USAT station.

Upon getting my packet, I opened it up to confirm that everything that should be in it was in fact there. I noticed there was no event shirt (which I’m used to seeing) and was told that we get a shirt if we finish the event. A beer company representative was handing out cheap hats with the event logo nearby, and by cheap, I mean that they had cardboard-filled brims rather than the lightweight plastic-filled brim that is common today in sports caps. To summarize, my race packet included three items: my race numbers, a copy of the rules from the event website, and a stack of advertisements about an inch thick.

At the next station, I was provided a timing chip and the coding on it checked to ensure it had my information. We were then directed into the Ironman merchandise section, of course.

We walked back to the hotel (a half-block away) to get my bike on the premise we would check it in at the transition area. Like packet pick-up and the expo, the hours for bike check-in were from 10:00AM to 5:00PM. As we headed out with my bike, we were stopped by another athlete who was returning with his bike and informed us that the transition area would not likely be open for a couple of hours. We decided to instead attend the 11:00AM athlete meeting and drop the bike off afterward.

Given the large international population competing in the Miami event, the athlete meetings needed to be delivered in both English and Spanish. Rather than having separate meetings in the two languages, we sat for an hour while twenty minutes worth of information was disseminated alternating in English and Spanish. It was at this point that we learned many of the rules that had been distributed in the past few days (and even an hour earlier in our race packet) were not actually applicable. For example, there was no changing tent and we had to transition at our bike with our gear. If you packed your gear based on how the race director told you the race would work, this was kind of a pain in the butt. I didn’t bring a towel to lay my gear on at the bike rack (wouldn’t be necessary according to the rules we had been provided) though this was easily solved by “liberating” one from the hotel for the day. I can only imagine that at least some athletes had planned on changing from a swim suit to cycling shorts for the ride; not sure what exactly they ended up doing.

It also became apparent during this meeting that the race officials didn’t truly understand the USAT Competitive Rules. As a USAT Race Official myself, I feel it’s important to point out a few things about officiating staff at WTC/Ironman events:

• Race officials at WTC events are not necessarily USAT Race Officials, as WTC provides its own officials who may or may not be cross-certified,
• WTC events typically request and receive approval for a large number of rules dispensations (fancy word for exceptions) that allow them to add or change rules, or disregard them entirely,
• WTC events often have rules that differ from each other, making it a challenge for both the athletes and the officials enforcing the rules to understand exactly what they should be doing, and
• Aside from rules for which a dispensation has been approved, the USAT Competitive Rules are still the underlying framework for the event rules and there’s no excuse for a WTC race official not understanding them.

Now, with all that said, the head referee for this event began to explain things incorrectly from the start. He started by suggesting that your draft zone is defined as four bike lengths between you and the bike in front of you. First, your draft zone goes backward from the leading edge of your front tire, not forward to the bike in front of you. That’s the draft zone of the rider in front of you, not your draft zone. Second, the draft zone extends back 7 meters (a little shorter than 23 feet) which is less than four typical bikes, so when you include the bike being ridden by the owner of the draft zone, that means there are (at most) three bike lengths between bikes when draft zones are properly observed. This may sound picky (and I’d even argue that it’s not) but when half the athletes are from another country, it is important to properly explain the rules to them if you want them to abide by them, isn’t it?

There were smaller misstatements of the Rules, such as explaining that the wetsuit temperature cutoff was “84-ish”, whatever that means, but one of the most noticeable problems in his discussion on the rules was when he attempted to explained Unauthorized Assistance, which states that an athlete may not accept assistance from anyone other than a race official. While explaining that he doesn’t care if a non-competitive athlete helps another non-competitive athlete who is having a mechanical problem with a bike, he states that since you’re stopped on the side of the road, he’s going to give you both a variable time penalty anyway… WHAT?! Apparently stopping on the side of the road violates some rule that none of us had ever heard of. Nobody asked about it and by the time this had been explained in Spanish, I realized that I didn’t really care anyway.

At the close of the meeting (around 11:50AM) the presenter told us that he was being told that the transition area was now open and we could go check our bikes in, so Jen and I headed back to the hotel so that we could drop my bike off and we could continue on with our plans to visit the Vizcaya Museum for a few hours.

I walked my bike to the transition area two blocks away to find a couple hundred athletes standing in the midday Miami sun and looking really, really happy about it. All of them had been consistently told they would have to wait 10-15 more minutes, and this message had come from the transition director every 30-40 minutes for the past couple of hours.

As more and more athletes arrived, I waited stood around for about an hour and then moved into the nearby park to find some shade where I stood for another half-hour. Jen showed up about the time I relocated to the shade and brought with her a cold Gatorade. The transition folks were nice enough to bring a dozen or so bottles of Ironman Endurance sports drink to the transition entrance for the 300 athletes to fight over.

Eventually the transition area was opened I moved out of my shady spot to make my way to the bike racks. As I went into the transition area, one of the volunteers checking bike numbers rerouted everyone within about a 400-number range to the side (in the sun, again) and told us we had to wait because our bike racks were not ready. After about 15 minutes, they told us they had sectioned off the wrong people, our racks were in fact ready, and we could go to our racks and leave our bikes. The bike numbers were approximately 13″ apart, which hardly leaves room for bikes to be racked properly. On many racks, bikes had to be racked with the from wheel turned 45 degrees for the bikes assigned to the rack to all fit.

We were told several times while waiting that bike check-in would not be extended past 5:00PM despite the late opening, so many of the athletes who were there during their lunch hour waited and waited because they worried they wouldn’t make it back at the end of the workday in time to drop their bike. We came back to look at the transition area a few minutes before 5:00 to learn that bike check-in was now running until 8:00PM.

Through discussions the following morning and written comments later by other athletes, I’ve learned that our bikes were left in the transition area with a single security guard walking around in the general proximity. It’s worth noting that there was no place outside the transition area where all of the bikes could be seen simultaneously. Several athletes came by on their way back to their hotels and mentioned that they saw nobody near the transition area. One athlete was with a friend who reached over the soft fencing and picked a competitor’s race bike to see how heavy it was. Nobody challenged the athlete or, to the best of their knowledge, even saw that this occurred. Indeed there was a Scott triathlon bike missing the following morning and after numerous announcements asking athletes to look around their racks for it, a competitor with no bike was forced to withdraw before the race even started.

A number of bikes were leaned against the fencing during bike check-in as there were not bikes marked for numbers within their range. These bikes had been moved to a rack by the following morning, and it was one of the bikes in this group that went missing.

Pre-Race

On race day morning, I woke at 4:00AM to eat and get ready for the event. All of my gear was packed from the previous night and I was pretty amazed that I was able to fall asleep with no problem the evening before. Having eight hours of sleep feels so much better than trying to race on only two or three hours. I had a bagel with peanut butter and got dressed, sipping on a bottle of Gatorade as the time passed. Around 5:00AM, I headed out to make my way two blocks to the transition area.

Body marking stations were set up outside transition and there were adequate and friendly volunteers. This is a good place to have friendly people since it’s most often the first contact you have with a race volunteer. The kid marking me made small talk and wished me luck and I made my way to my bike.

While I was entering transition, I overheard the announcing telling us that the race course was not ready, it was almost certain that we would be starting late, and that he would let us know shortly how late. I tried to feel surprised about this but was unable to do so.

I checked the air in my tires and set up my transition gear, including overlaying my run gear with a plastic bag in case the rain in the forecast was enough to soak my shoes while I was out on the bike. It sprinkled for a few minute at one point but that was the only precipitation we saw.

As the time to swim began to arrive, the transition area was closed and athletes made their way toward the swim start. The delay of the race start was between 10 and 15 minutes.

Swim

The swim portion of the event takes place in Biscayne Bay and consists of a 1.2-mile loop into the Bay and then around the buoys back to Bayfront Park where you swim parallel to the park and exit onto a wooden dock stairway close to the entry point.

The entry point is from a wooden and cement dock behind Bayside Marketplace which is approximately 5′ in width. The athletes do not enter the water as a group from the side of the dock but two-by-two off the end of it. Some of the waves contained 200-250 athletes and the waves were 4:00 apart with about a 40-yard swim from the dock to the start line buoy. You do the math. Getting 250 athletes into the water in 240 seconds means that one goes every second, and even at that rate, a fair number of them will not even be at the start line when the wave starts.

There were two volunteers stationed at the end of the dock whose sole responsibilities were to push athletes off the dock and into the water in quick succession. I understand the necessity to move athletes quickly into the starting area, but pushing athletes unexpectedly into water is never acceptable, and there was no time given to the athlete ahead of you to clear the water or in most cases, even surface completely. I was pushed into the water with little clearance from the cement dock and into an area of water that still had an athlete submerged in it. Before I could surface, the athlete behind me landed in the small of my back.

For many of the waves, the field was not entirely in the water when the wave started, meaning athletes were still lined up on the dock making their way into the water and their swim time was already ticking. For each of the waves where athletes were still on the dock, there were also athletes who had swum beyond the start buoy and were already into the course when their wave swim started.

Once in the water, we realized that it was impossible to sight the course as only four buoys had been placed in the Bay (those at each of the four turning points) and it was not possible to see across the length of the second, third or fourth lengths of the course. Adding to this challenge, the earlier waves started before sunrise when it was still dark, and the later waves were swimming into the rising sun. In response, the lifeguards on their surfboards (and tired of being asked the way to the next buoys) sat pointing at the next buoy so that athletes could tell which way to go. While this is helpful to the athlete that is swimming, a preoccupied lifeguard is not particularly helpful to an athlete that for some reason is no longer swimming.

I expected to swim about a 2:30 pace (per 100 meters) and though I felt like I had a strong swim, my chip time was 58:04, which translates to approximately a 3:03 pace. A number of athletes have suggested that this course was in fact about 2,400 meters in length (as opposed to the expected 1,900 meters) which would mean my swim pace was around 2:25. Based on this (and this alone) I see sufficient reason to support that the course may have been long, though I have no way of estimating how long.

The exit from the swim was onto a wooden stairway that had a rail on each side and was extremely slippery. Volunteers were in place to instruct us not to climb the stairs unless we were holding onto the rail, which means only two athletes can emerge at the same time. This wasn’t a problem for me since I’m not usually in a competitive pack of swimmers, but I understand there were several “fights” for the stairwell in the faster groups.

Transition 1: Swim to Bike

My transition from swim to bike is something I had hoped to improve upon and was able to do so with a 4:32 T1 time. There were no problems with the transition and, as usual, I had plenty of room to work since all the faster folks were long gone.

Bike

The bike course requires getting out of the downtown area from transition, and as such includes roads that are perhaps not in the best of conditions. One would think this should be a factor when identifying potential venues for triathlons. The street conditions during the first couple of miles included a massive number of potholes, bumps, road cracks, etc.

In the past 18 months, I’ve cycled more than 4,500 miles and have lost a water bottle once, during a Sprint distance race on a road that had a huge pothole, which also happened to also bounce everything out of my Bento box as I discovered it during a pass and too late to avoid it.

I lost my water bottles four times in the first two miles of Ironman 70.3 Miami. The first time was my Perpetuem nutrition bottle so I had no choice but to go back for it. As I ran up to it, I watched a police officer kick it across to the other side of the roadway, only then realizing that he and his partner were trying to kick them hard enough to burst them open. Yes, because that’s really funny. I made a comment that they were being stupid, he made a comment that I was the only athlete to come back for my bottle, and I headed off quickly before I got myself in actual trouble, placing the bottle in my frame cage instead of the one behind my seat.

I lost my other bottle (which only contained water) three times, prompting me to eventually shove it into the pocket of my triathlon jersey. I was doubtful about whether it made sense to go back for a bottle with only water in it, but the USAT Official in me has trouble leaving anything out on the course, and I would be thankful later that I did retrieve it.

During this first five-mile lap on the bike, my average speed was only 17.02 miles per hour (as opposed to in the mid-19s or low 20s for the next several laps) which highlights not just the amount of time wasted as a result of having my bottles ejected from their cages, but the amount of energy expended to stop and get back up to speed several times. Anywhere along the course that a significant hole or large bump in the road was found, 50-60 water bottles were within 20′ of the obstruction.

Once out of the downtown area, the bike course seemed fairly nice, though there was an excessive amount of 90-degree turns that required athletes to turn and accelerate an unusually high number of times. The course basically zigzagged through the suburbs of Miami.

The bike course was supposed to have three water stops, at miles 15, 30 and 45. We learned in the athlete meetings that these aid stations would each have bottled water, bottled Ironman Endurance sports drink, PowerBar gels, bananas, bagels, and fruit. It was reiterated to us several times that we needed to throw down a water bottle before the aid station and pick up a replacement as we went through.

In actuality, the first two aid stations had no nutrition and the third one had some PowerBar gels. As for hydration, the first station was handing out bottles of water or Ironman Endurance, and I took the latter. It was still sealed and quite slippery, so I rode in aero using both hands to try to open it.

By this point, I was starting to see well-formed lines of athletes that numbered 60-75 in strength. While there were certainly packs of 20 or 30 that were just bunched up, there were as many well-formed, wheel-to-wheel, actual pace lines. If you figured 60 athletes and four or five pace lines, that’s a fair percentage of athletes cheating. What I didn’t see frequently, was race officials. On the rare occasion that I saw an official, he was usually following some solo rider who was struggling along and staring at him as though he would eventually discover a violation.

I did notice that illegal position and blocking violations were significantly more prevalent that I’ve seen in past races (both as an athlete and as an official) and to some extent, I attribute this to the number of foreign athletes and their lack of understanding of the rules under USAT. I heard several people suggest that South Americans drive on the left side of the road, and the rules on the event website do append their explanation of the illegal position rule with “Since in the USA we usually ride on the right and pass on the left,” but after checking four countries in South America, Mexico, and Cuba, I’ve discarded this idea as they all drive on the right. It’s also possible that many of the athletes just don’t care about the rules, as I would see on the run course, but I have trouble believing that riding to the left creates sufficient convenience for the athlete that they would do it just out of disregard.

Around halfway through the bike course was when the wind picked up. I had expected wind of 10-20 mph based on the weather forecast, according to weather service data for that area at that time of day, the sustained wind speed was 18 mph and gusts were at 27 mph. The turnaround point was a three-mile straightaway head-on into the wind on a road that leads to a landfill. In other words, while you’re sucking air, it’s nasty air. The ride back out, though accompanied by a tailwind wasn’t much better and still smelled horrible.

The second aid station had neither hydration nor nutrition and the volunteers had actually moved away from their tables so that athletes wouldn’t think they had supplies and slow down unnecessarily. By this point, I had learned that Ironman Endurance, while fine by itself, when consumed on top of Perpetuem makes me sick. I had a little bit of my Perpetuem left and a few sips of water from my second bottle, so I continued on. Athletes were reportedly seen consolidating water from discarded bottles near this station. There was also supposed to be a penalty tent at this stop, but there was not one.

To be honest, by this point, I really didn’t care about my time anymore. I had slowed down after the confusion of not knowing where the second aid station was and my average speed had dropped from 19 or 20 mph in the first half of the bike course to 17 or 18 after the wind had picked up. As I knew coming into the race, my swim would be slow and my run would be a challenge, so I saw little reason to push hard on the bike, and the circumstances of the event so far simply made it easier for me to let off.

With the wind picked up now, it was good to get back into the neighborhoods where the houses added at least some level of barrier to the winds. I was riding on new Bontrager 50mm aero wheels and to some extent, I’m still getting used to the squirrelly feel of the bike in a good crosswind, but I didn’t experience any problems during the race.

By this point, I was literally yelling at athletes who were riding to the left of their lane to move over. I realize they don’t understand “on your left” and I had grown tired of slowing await their movement out of the way. That takes a lot of energy across a span of 56 miles.

One positive thing to recognize about this event is the way in which local law enforcement managed the bike course. I felt horrible for the people of Miami, where traffic is always significant, and who sat for hours on roads where perhaps one or two cars were able to get through every few minutes. The police officers at intersections along the course were professional and courteous, even friendly, and they did a spectacular job.

On the approach to the third and final water stop, I could see volunteers in the roadway, so like the other athletes around me, I offloaded the empty bottles in my cages and slowed slightly to grab a fresh bottle of water. Also like the other athletes around me, I screeched to a stop just past the water stop to go back because they weren’t actually handing out anything. They had five-gallon jugs of water, but not bottles. There was also no Ironman Endurance (which was fine by me at this point) and as mentioned earlier, the only nutrition they had was a few gels. Some of the athletes went back to where they had discarded bottles and grabbed one (no idea whose) to fill with water. Other athletes simply drank from the jugs and moved on. I filled my mostly-empty water bottle and headed out to finish the bike course.

Transition 2: Bike to Run

My transition from bike to run was slower than I wanted because I took time to grab a few energy gels from my bag (which I didn’t expect to have to do) and put on sun block. A number of athletes complained that there was no water, ice, Ironman Endurance or nutrition at the water stop coming out of T2 but I was able to get a cup of water that was a little warm but not too bad.

Run

I’m going to start by saying the air temperature for Downtown Miami on this date was 87F and the humidity was 82%, which yields a heat index of 104F. Given that the course had only about 400′ of shaded area (in the shadow of a building and only very late in the race) and another 200′ where it passed under the causeway bridge on the east end, there should have been both ice and sponges available on the course though neither were. In fact, a couple of the aid stations never had ice, and a one had two volunteers (who kept refilling coolers) and no cups. This means that sweaty, salty, disgusting hands/wrists went into the drink to scoop out cupfuls.

There was no nutrition on the run course. None. No gels, no bananas, no bagels, nothing. All of this was promised by Ironman and reiterated as being available through race information on the website and by race officials in the athlete meetings. To be fair, two of the aid stations did have Coca Cola, though one just had cans of it sitting in the sun so it was not only hot, but carbonated. This causes obvious problems for the people behind you.

Cheating on the run course was rampant, particularly with South American teams. Pacers on both bike and on foot were a common sight, and these groups had people openly changing out Fuel Belt bottles and providing ice or cold drinks. This creates an unfair advantage in any triathlon, but especially so in the conditions of this particular event.

I had originally planned to run intervals with 4:00 runs at a 9:35 pace target with 1:00 recovery walks. This plan never really materialized, perhaps because I was behind on my nutrition expectations, perhaps just because of my attitude at this point. I instead jogged down the bridge on all eight passes, walking the rest of the course.

During my first of two loops of the course, I was on track for a three-hour half-marathon, though I ended up finishing in 3:10. I attribute this to having to stop longer at aid stations to get my own drink, etc.

Post-Race

Crossing through the Finish Line was not exciting in the I-just-did-a-half Ironman kind of way, but more so in the thank-God-this-mess-is-over way. After coming through and letting them take my chip, I was given a medal and pointed to the shirts. At the shirt table, I was told that all the Large shirts were out, but more were on the way and it would be 10-15 minutes. I was told that I could just come back and get one if I wanted. After confirming with other volunteers that I wouldn’t be allowed back into the Finish area, I ruled this option out and waited, along with 15-20 other athletes, despite there being no shade or place to sit.

After about 45 minutes, I told the Finish Area Director that I couldn’t stand here any longer, that coming back later for a shirt was not an acceptable option, and that we needed to go to where the Large shirts were and get me one. He and I walked the 150′ or so (makes you wonder what happened to the guy who left 45 minutes ago to get them, huh?) and discovered that there are no more Large shirts. So, I had to settle for a Medium shirt, which he gave me along with a Finisher towel. Maybe I’m a shirt snob, but based on my experience with Ironman and for $275 entry fee, I would expect a technical shirt. I received the thinnest, cheapest cotton shirt I’ve ever seen, which was made in Laos. The total time from when I crossed the Finish Line to when I exited the Finish chute with my shirt was 55 minutes.

Later that evening while having a drink in Bayside Marketplace, my wife and I observed a guy still wearing his bright orange volunteer shirt, carrying a black garbage bag stuffed full of race material, and handing out Finisher towels and shirts to employees in the various shops. And I thought my Ironman 70.3 Miami swag couldn’t possibly feel less special.

The post-race area had Cuban food (rice/chicken) available which is probably understandable given the demographics of the athlete field, but there wasn’t anything else. Apparently there was pizza that had already run out. Many of the food vendor stations were empty and a couple others were nearly finished packing. The food area was comprised of numerous tables and few chairs, though the tables were all covered with garbage and half-eaten plates of food. Several trash cans sat empty around the perimeter of the post-race area. Athletes are to blame for not throwing away their food, but Ironman is to blame for not having at least a couple volunteers to throw away trash.

Race results are unavailable as the event website (http://ironmanmiami.com) has been taken down and Ironman.com is not providing any further information. Individual results could still be retrieved through Athlete Tracker for a couple of days, but assessment of penalties (or the lack thereof) cannot be reviewed.

Final Results

1.2-mile Swim: 58:54
T1 (Swim to Bike): 4:32
56-mile Bike: 3:11:27 (17.55 mph)
T2 (Bike to Run): 6:17
13.1-mile Run: 3:10:10 (14:30/mile)
Total Time: 7:31:20

I have all the backups (I think) from the past 12 years.. I guess I could pull those out, but I guess I’m not that disappointed.

The site is located at: http://katierideforlife.org

Their new website allows visitors to register for the event, review information about safety and training, or learn about the Foundation itself.  I have some ideas for sprucing the site up a bit more, but those will have to wait until after this year’s event when the site can stand a day or two of partial downtime.

I chose Beach2Battleship in Wilmington, NC as the venue for my first Iron distance triathlon based on a number of factors. First, the location is much less likely to experience hot weather on race day, as opposed to Ironman Florida, which is on the same date. The course is known to be more or less flat and the swim takes place in the a channel of the Intracoastal Waterway where the tide is usually coming in at the start of swim, so swim times are generally a little shorter. Since swimming is my weakest discipline, I figured that this was probably the best event for me for a fall race. Factor in that my training essentially fell apart during the summer (after being sent twice to Hungary on business) and a course with no real hills or heat, combined with a bit of a current on the swim, and I had the perfect venue for my first Ironman triathlon.

Preparation

Having arrived in Wilmington, NC and checking in at packet pickup on Thursday, Jen and I went to the athlete’s meeting and then back to the hotel to set up my transition bags and special needs bags. I had organized all of these items at home, but felt the need to walk through it all again now that I was onsite — maybe it was nerves — before bagging the items up and taking them to the drop-off location. It was difficult to decide what I needed to take since the air temperature would be cooler than I was used to swimming or biking in so I didn’t have a lot of context on which to make decisions about gear needs. Once completed, I racked the bike and headed over to T1 to drop everything off.

Nutrition Plan

Nutrition is another area that I wished I had been more prepared for as the race grew nearer. A friend of mine preached Hammer products to me and a few weeks before the event, I learned that the aid stations on the course would all have Hammer products. I used the BikeMS (event for Multiple Sclerosis Society) as a test run for my nutrition and was very pleased with the Perpetuem product.

My day would start with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a 20 oz. (roughly) Gatorade for breakfast. I would mix a bottle of HEED to sip on during the pre-race hours and up until the start of the swim. On the bike, I would consume two three-hour bottles of Perpetuem (two scoops per hour, based on my body weight of 180 pounds) and the occasional solid food if I felt so inclined. I mostly carried solid foods (Cliff Shot Blocks) for the taste rather than as an active part of my nutrition plan. I also carried another peanut butter and jelly sandwich in case I felt like eating. I did not count on this nutrition, but I knew that my stomach could handle it with no problems. I would stop taking on any solids at least one hour or 20 miles before the end of the bike course, and my goal was to have the last of Perpetuem consumed about this time as well, moving on to only water for hydration purposes.

Once on the run, I planned to use Hammer gels every 45-50 minutes as needed, making sure to always have at least two with me in the pocket of my triathlon jersey. I actually found that during the run, I consumed only four Hammer gels, though I took on several cups of warm chicken broth and flat cola, as well as several pretzels. I felt at the start of the run as though my body had started metabolizing fats for energy (i.e. hitting the “wall”) so I had an unplanned Cliff Shot Block as I came out of T2.

Pre-Race

I had difficulty sleeping the night before the race, much like before my first marathon. Oddly, I slept fine for every marathon after that one, so I’m sure this is just a “first race” nerves issue. Regardless, after lying down at 8:00PM, it was after 1:00AM when I fell asleep. Given that my wakeup time was 4:00AM, I knew this would likely come back to haunt me later.

I got up at 4:00AM and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and drank a water bottle of Gatorade while I got dressed. During this time, I mixed two bottles of Perpetuem for the bike and mixed a bottle of HEED to sip on before the swim start. Heading out 5:00AM, I met up with my training buddy, Rob, down in the lobby to ride in to the transition area where his wife, Brandi, was going to drop us off. As Jen walked me down to the lobby, she handed me a booklet and told me to read it once I was waiting to go to the swim start.

We drove the 10-minute drive over to the transition area and went through body-marking and I took my water bottles to the bike. I was cold, despite wearing a pair of warm-up pants, a pair of thick socks, and a sweatshirt. I got into my wetsuit and took out the booklet Jen had given me. She had asked a number of friends to write words of encouragement, personal stories, or words of advice, and compiled them in a booklet for me to read. Some were runners I had coached in the Team In Training program, others were friends from work, many were fellow members of the Hammerheads Triathlon Club. A couple of them were personal heroes that I’ve admired since I started racing. By the time I was on the shuttle arriving at the swim start in Wiltshire Beach, I was teary-eyed, but felt like I had a hundred friends with me as I started the biggest challenge of my life.

Swim

The swim is a mass start from the beach in Wrightsville and the full-distance event participants start at 7:00AM, an hour and a half ahead of the half-distance participants. There was a camera crew following around behind Jaron Tate, who was apparently a contestant on some season of The Biggest Loser. The air temperature was around 36F and while the water was certainly warmer, the sand on which we were standing was very cold and made my feet hurt. When it was time for the start, we all headed into the water, which was pleasant with a wetsuit. I saw one guy with only a pair of triathlon shorts – there’s one in every bunch, I suppose.

Once in the water, I was actually very comfortable. I focused on swimming intervals of freestyle and breaststroke for as much of the first half of the swim as possible. I hadn’t been in the pool since late May or early June (five months) and the swim went similar to how I expected. I swam most of the second half of the course in breaststroke, coming out of the water in 1:17.

The swim ends at a marina dock in the channel and athletes run about a quarter-mile to the transition area. A number of athletes stashed shoes just off the dock so that they could wear them across the marina parking lot and down the road to T1, but I didn’t bother doing this. I figured that while the ground would be cold, but it actually wasn’t bad at all. I bypassed the wetsuit strippers because I am pretty good at getting out of it on my own and didn’t really want to lie on the cold ground.

I saw my wife and her family (her mother had come down from New Jersey to watch and her brother and his girlfriend drove over from Charlotte) as I ran down the road, which made me happy.

Bike

Heading into the changing tent in T1, I grabbed my T1 bag, which had all of my swim-to-bike gear. I had packed cold-weather gear based on the forecast, so I ended up donning a long-sleeve running shirt under my cycling jersey, tights over my cycling shorts (I opted to wear cycling shorts rather than triathlon shorts, which I wouldn’t do on a shorter course) and a fleece-lined skullcap. I tossed my wetsuit and swim suit into the bag with my cap and goggles, left them for a volunteer, and headed out to get my bike.

I headed out onto the bike course feeling good and looking forward to the next six hours. The weather forecast was promising with a slight head wind of 0-2 miles per hour, which you would hardly feel. About the time we were turning around to head back into Wilmington, the wind was forecasted to increase to 5-7 miles per hour, making for a nice tail wind to help push me back home. [average info]

I saw Jen and her family around mile 25 and stopped for about one minute to say ‘hello’, get a kiss for good luck, taking time to brag about how I was totally going to average a faster speed than I had originally planned due to the wind. Heading off as quickly as I had stopped, I got back on the road and settled in for the ride.

When you’re in an Iron distance triathlon, you aren’t allowed to draft (except at Ironman Florida — from what I’ve seen, it must be allowed there) and you are basically alone for the 112 miles. My point is not that this isn’t OK, but that there’s nothing to do except watch the scenery of the bike course and stare at your cycling computer. I use a Garmin Edge 705 which gives me tons of data while I ride, so I spent much of the time doing math and realizing what great time I was making. I think this probably helped me ignore the fact that there was more than a 0-2 mph head wind, as it was probably more like 3-5 mph.

As we cycled across the northern part of the course to head back south to Wilmington, I stopped at Bike Special Needs to change out anything that I had packed for the bike course. This bag is intended to hold any special items that are available in the aid stations on the bike course. I packed basic First Aid items (Alleve, sun block, Band-Aids, etc.) as well as an extra water bottle with extra Perpetuem nutrient solution (in case I dropped and spilled one of the bottles on my bike) and a HeadSweats cool cap. I traded my fleece-lined skullcap for the cool cap and headed off, only staying about a minute. It’s worth noting that some of the volunteers from the Navy were on the course just before this stop with two-way radios and when I pulled up to the aid station, someone was calling me over to them and holding my bag out to me before I even unclipped from my pedals. The volunteer support in this event was absolutely stellar.

As I was turning south toward Wilmington, I noticed not only that the wind was quite faster than 5-7 mph, but that it now seemed to be coming out of the south. I continued to power into the wind hoping that it would slow or change directions again, but it didn’t. Suddenly I had a lot of time to watch my speed and do more math. It wasn’t pleasant as I figured out that I was actually going to go closer to seven hours than to six. Every flag that I cycled past was standing straight out and facing toward the direction from which I was coming – well, except for the many Confederate flags which were all laying limp.

This is about the time that my lack of sleep from the prior night came back to haunt me. I could feel myself getting sleepy despite the adrenaline of the event. There were times that I recall wishing I could just close my eyes for a few minutes, despite the fact that I was cycling. I felt as though I should be at the end of a really bad, long day, rather than finishing a bike course and preparing to start a marathon. Ugh, a marathon.

I think the biggest hit to the psyche is the math. I got so excited that I was going to come in faster than I expected that dealing with the wind and recalculating the time took a real toll on my mental state. There were times that a gust of wind would slow me to 14.5 mph and really nothing I could do about it. I saw a couple of groups go by that were in outright pelotons and it made me furious. Not only would they keep their time low, but they would expend less energy than I would even at the speed I was travelling. Regardless, I kept my head down and continued pedaling until I saw my wife at mile 107.

Seeing my wife again, even though only for a few seconds, helped and I headed out to finish the last few miles of the bike course and start on the dreaded marathon. I did not want to admit to my wife that I secretly worried I would walk the entire marathon. The last mile of the bike course was a monster bridge that was not only long but quite steep. It was amazing how miserable those few minutes felt. I turned the corner and headed into T2 (at the Battleship Park where the USS North Carolina is a floating museum), handing off my bike to a volunteer, grabbing my bike-to-run bag, and heading into the change tent. My final time on the bike was 6:50, almost an hour longer than I had at one point thought.

Run

I changed out of cycling shorts and a jersey (including sleeves and tights) and put on triathlon shorts and a triathlon singlet. I took time to dry my feet completely and put on fresh socks, and then put on my running shoes. I took a couple of Alleve since I was starting to feel a headache coming on during the last hour or so of the bike and headed out of the tent. My official time for T2 was 14:24. I didn’t feel like I took any longer in this transition than the one earlier that day.

I ran out of transition feeling basically like I had hit a wall. Unlike in my first couple of marathons when I would get grumpy and miserable, I typically just get hazy vision and a craving for greasy food when I hit a wall these days. No sooner was I out of T2 than I started to feel this way. I stopped briefly in a portable bathroom and made my way out of the Battleship Park onto the run course.

The run course consists of two loops of an out-and-back course, so you run out 6.5 miles and back (where the Run Special Needs bags are handed out) and then do it again to finish up the marathon. Miles 1 and 2 are both huge bridges (who does that to people?!) and by definition, so were miles 12 and 12, and 25 and 26. It was pretty miserable climbing the bridges and I probably spent more time at the first aid station than I should have. Once I got something cold to drink and started running again, I began to feel better.

Throughout the run, I continually felt better and better. The first loop was a little warm since the sun was still high, though I knew the temperatures would drop quickly as the day went progressed. I made the turnaround in mile 6 and headed back toward the midpoint, slowing enough to tell my wife that I would maintain a 3:00 half-marathon pace at the slowest, putting me through the Finish Line in less than six hours. It dawned on me as I left her that perhaps I was being a tad ambitious that my pace would remain the same (or close to the same) as it was at only nine or ten miles into the course. One thing that continued to resonate in my mind was that only did a couple of long runs since starting my training for this event in May and the longer of those two runs was ten miles. I worried that things could still fall apart on the run.

The temperature was dropping quickly and I was getting cold (I had put on a pair of running gloves not long after turning around at mile 6), so I grabbed some items from my Run Special Needs bag. I pulled on a pair of sleeves, stuffed a knit cap in my triathlon singlet pocket, and ditched my visor and sunglasses. Heading back out, I decided that I would start taking chicken broth at the aid stations, the thought of which had completely repulsed me prior to the race. I learned quickly that as the evening got colder, the chicken broth got better. I had only taken a couple of small cups of HEED on the run, so starting on the second half of the course, I took a cup of chicken broth, a cup of flat cola, and two pretzels at almost every aid station. I ran through a couple of them without stopping.

As I made my way through the last leg of the marathon, I noticed that my run intervals were getting significantly faster, usually at about 9:45/mi or so. During this six-mile stretch, I was able to make up about ten minutes of time on the course and was ahead of my mental schedule as I headed down the second of the two bridges toward the Battleship Park. As I turned into the park, a couple women from the UNC track team joined me and told me they were going to run in with me for the last quarter-mile and continued to say encouraging things to me as they did. At one point I told them that I needed to walk, but realized as soon as I slowed that I actually needed to keep running. We all laughed about that and as I headed into the Finish Chute, they congratulated me again and then broke off to go back to their waiting area for another runner.

As I ran the last 100 yards or so, I could hear my wife and our family screaming for me. I actually felt better at this point than any other time during the run, and probably could have gone on a bit longer, I think. That said, I was damn glad that it was over.

I came in at 5:48 for the marathon, certainly slower than my previous standalone marathons, but given that I started running approximately 115 miles into the course, I’m fine with the time.

Post-Race

After gathering my transition bags, we headed back to the hotel so I could take a quick shower and put on compression gear. We caught a water taxi that left within minutes of our arrival at the dock and dropped us at the hotel dock only moments later. The post-race transportation was apparently a problem at times last year (the inaugural event) but things seemed to flow very smoothly this year.

We went out for Italian and I had wonderful lasagna that I couldn’t eat more than a quarter of for some reason. I stayed in compression gear as we came back to the hotel and was asleep in less than a minute after lying down. I remember telling Jen after my shower that I felt no worse than after running a marathon, opting to not even take an ice bath, which I usually do after any run longer than 18 or 20 miles. I woke up the following morning and was trying to make my way to the bathroom when I realized that I didn’t quite feel as great as I did when I came back to the hotel. I was pretty sure my quads would explode before I made it across the room, but that soreness wore off over the next few days and I was pretty much back to normal by Wednesday.

Final Times

Also of notable interest, the elevation gain on the bike was 1,219 feet and I burned approximately 6,775 calories. On the run, the gain was 3,561 feet and I burned another 2,728 calories.

About the Race

One last word about Setup Events and the Beach2Battleship triathlon. This was my first Iron distance event, but certainly not my first triathlon. To date, this is the best run event that I’ve seen with excellent support from the company that runs it and the most fantastic set of volunteers I’ve ever had the pleasure of coming across. There were two volunteers for every three athletes and it showed. I would highly recommend this race for anyone looking to do their first full or half-Ironman event and would also urge anyone interested in their other venues (Setup presents approximately 150 events per year) to consider doing those as well.

This is my first time doing the event as I just started cycling in November 2008. It is one of the main training rides for my upcoming Ironman event a month later. My goal is to cycle down to Daytona and run five miles before joining the festivities that will be ongoing at the time. I hope to finish the run without vomiting, hitchiking, or dying.

The BikeMS event is first and foremost a fundriasing effort. It raises money to fund research to cure MS and my personal goal is to raise $1000 by September 26. I can’t do this alone — I need your help. To donate, please visit http://bikems.davidcarr.org

I am riding with my friend and co-worker, Chris, who has participated in this ride for many years. He is a close friend (one of the groomsmen in my wedding) and an avid cyclist. He was also my boss for several years. He and I have been riding together to train for this event for a couple of months now.

I believe in ‘racing with a purpose’ and while this isn’t technically a race, I am riding in memory of my grandmother who died when I was six. She had suffered with MS for several years and had lost part of the use of her arm. I am also riding in honor of a friend from high school, Diana.

Please take a moment to donate to this very worthy cause and check back here after the event for pictures and an update.

Pre-Race

After falling asleep with no problem around 9:00, the alarm went off at 5:15 and I got up to make a bagel with peanut butter. I tried to get some Gatorade down with it but wasn’t all that thirsty. I grabbed my bag and headed down to the transition area for body marking.

After getting my number printed on my arms and legs, I headed into the transition area to check my bike and lay out my gear. I like to lay my gear out, walk through using it once, and then lay it out again. It’s not that the order of things or their orientation ever changes, but I just like to do this. It’s become something of a ritual for me I suppose. I took my empty transition bag and my swim gear (cap and goggles) and headed back up to the hotel room, stopping to say ‘hello’ to my Hammerhead friends that were there for the race and wish them luck.

The swim start is a running start in waves by age group. The first wave was at 6:15 and mine was not until 7:00 or so. Jen was awake by the time I got back up to the hotel room and had gotten dressed and gathered her camera equipment. We headed down to watch the swim starts and bumped into the rest of the Hammerheads along the way.

The water temperature was 78° so we were able to wear wetsuits — thankfully.

After a few minutes of swimming out through the waves and back to shore a few times, I was warmed up and ready for my swim wave to start. I watched a few of my friends in the waves before mine head out, gave Jen a kiss, and walked to the swim start corral. The buoys didn’t really look too far out — I figured this couldn’t be as bad as I had thought during training.

Swim

When it was time for my wave to start, the group of 40 or so of us headed off into the surf and were immediately met by the smell of gas and oil. That’s not really what I expected, but givne the number of athletes in the water, the only way to safely manage the swim course was by utilizing jet skis and power boats, both of which were sitting idle (and spewing fumes) during most of the event.

The swim went about as well as I had expected. I stopped going to the pool a couple of months before the race and my only training was a couple of organized ocean swims, which is hardly sufficient. That said, I didn’t have high expectations and expected to finish the swim in around 46-48 minutes. I took a watch so that I could monitor my swim time at different points in the course. The course was set up such that you swam out to the 7th bouy on the west side, crossed over to the eastern side of the course and then swam back in past seven bouys on the east side of the course.

I got out to the end of the bouys at just under 29 minutes and crossed over to the return side of the course. It’s worth pointing out that all the bouys that didn’t look like they were too far out appeared to have drifted farther out to see as I swam toward them. It took me about five minutes to swim over to the return side and start to head back in to shore.

My swimming was as pathetic as I had feared; much of it was in breast- or backstroke. It seems that the discipline where I have the most trouble improving endurance is swimming, yet I pretty clearly avoided the pool for the last couple of months. I don’t need to be told that this makes no sense — it’s just plain stupid of me. However, I did do fairly well at sighting (keeping an eye on the bouy) and staying on course rather than straying off the shortest path around the bouys. I noticed a couple of guys swim by me with snorkels and I had to resist the urge to drown them.

As I came in to shore, I caught a couple of waves to help me get in easier. I also tried to swim until I could basically touch the bottom with my hands. I didn’t realize that there was a sandbar before the water got deep again and then shore, so my smart effort to swim as far as possible (as opposed to trying to walk in waist-deep water was somewhat wasted as I waded from the sandbar (back into deeper water) to the shoreline. Regardless, I came out at about 51 minutes, not too far off from my estimate.

Transition 1

I was able to shed my wetsuit quickly and get into cycling gear within about 3:00 though I did take time to put some sunblock on, which is not something I usually do. I’ve worked at a few time-saving techniques in transition though I’m mostly concerned about this on short courses. I felt good about my transition time of 5:40 and ran out of T1 ready for the bike portion.

Bike

The out-and-back bike course does a short leg to the east of the transition area and then heads back west through town and then north where it turns around and follows the same route back. One of the roads (338) on which we travel are a little more rough than I would have expected and that was a pretty common complaint with many of the athletes. Fifty-six miles of this take a toll on your wrists and I can’t imagine doing the full 112 miles (Ironman Florida is here in November) on these roads.

During the first few miles of the bike, I was a little surprised at how different being wet (from the swim) on the bike affected me. All of my previous triathlons had been in fresh water lakes and my brick workouts that involved an ocean swim did not include timely transitions (i.e. we changed and stood around for a few minutes while everyone got ready) so I wasn’t really still dripping with salt water when I got on the bike. It took a few minutes for the salt water to stop running into my mouth, and it was a noticeably different feel on my arms and legs compared to fresh water. Neither of these were a big deal, but the taste of salt water got old pretty quickly.

I took my first gel only a mile or two into the bike portion on the assumption that my reserves were pretty heavily taxed from the swim. I also had two bottles of Gatorade on the bike and started hydrating immediately, partially in hopes of battling the taste of saltwater in my mouth.

As I headed back past the transition area and out onto the better part of the bike course, I tried to settle into a rhythm that would keep me moving along at a good speed but not wear me down too much for the run. I had not swam this distance in training and so I was admittedly less familiar with what to expect from the effort than I should have been.

I hadn’t practiced taking water bottles at water stops before, but this came fairly easily for me. It’s good that this didn’t present a problem, as failing to get water a stop when you’re out can ruin the rest of your bike portion (if you don’t go back) if it leads to hydration/nutrition issues. I didn’t lose more than one or two miles per hour in water stations and was able to get down quite a bit before ditching the bottle. If I had an Aero Drink bottle, I could make better use of the water at stations, or if I had left a botte cage empty, but I didn’t think about that. Fortunately, I had enough fluids that by loading up after each water station, my hydration levels were fine. I managed to get two packages of Cliff Shot Blocks down during the bike course, which felt right at the time, but was probably a lot less calories than I should have taken in.

There was a bit of a wind toward the north during the bike course, which caused a few different effects. During the part of the course that parallels the beachline, the side wind felt like a head wind. If you live in a beach area, and since this is the case whether it’s coming from the right or left, you know that this feels like a head wind in both directions. Also, the entire second half of the course was to the south so a head wind was present for most of the last hour or so. This gave me a slower average speed during the second half of the bike course with an overall average of 18.37 miles per hour.

Overall, the bike portion went fairly well and I came in at 3:03:41, having told my wife to expect me between 3:00 and 3:30. I was pleased with the time (lower speed goal than what I would have liked) and was ready to head out onto the run and get this over with. I saw my wife as I was coming into the dismount area and hearing her scream at me (she had noticed that I was a bit of ahead of schedule) really helped my energy levels. Looking back at it, there were a lot of spectators there that were cheering for everyone as they came through.

Transition 2

I went into T2 feeling pretty strong and fairly confident that I had enough gas to get through the run. I was able to get to the bike rack and change shoes fairly quickly, trading my spare tire tube in my shirt pocket for a couple of gels, and headed toward the run exit. I failed to add more sunblock, which would later prove to be a mistake. I opted to leave behind my Fuel Belt, as the Gatorade in them was at about the same temperature that I usually drink my coffee. My total time in T2 was 3:38.

Run

The run portion of this race is where everything fell apart for me. There was no shade on the course and while I thought I would be OK with this, it had more of an impact than I thought. I had not been running during the hotter parts of the day and so my body was not at all acclimated to running in the heat. This was May in the Florida panhandle and during the middle of the day. I don’t really know what I was thinking.

I’ve dumped plenty of water over my head to stay cool during runs, especially marathons. I knew I would be dumping water today, but there was one small difference. I was wearing socks that I originally bought for running but now only wear when cycling. They have a little padding on the bottom of them and I never for a second thought they would wick moisture any differently than the other running socks I own. I was wrong. They apparently soak up water, meaning it was pooled at the bottom of my feet.

Between miles 4 and 5, I was on track to come in around 6:15 or 6:20, which was just ahead of my goal. I began to notice that my feet felt gritty, like I had sand in my shoes. I knew from experience that once you begin to feel this, it’s already too late. Without a change of socks and with nothing to clean/dry my feet, there was nothing I cold go but keep going.

By mile 7, I had 3-4″ blisters on the bottoms of both my feet and could barely walk. Just crossing a speedbump or a scattered pile of pebbles in the road was excrutiating. I was reduced to walking the last six miles of the course on the heels of my feet and moving at about an 18:00 minute/mile pace. There was a state park in the middle of the run course which was the turnaround point — I thought that this meant some shade might be in store — I was wrong. It was a beachfront park that is all sand dunes and blacktop roads. So much for that!

My typical 2:15 to 2:20 half-marathon turned into a three-and-a-half hour nightmare as my head and hands began to fry in the midday Florida sun. I had found an aid station where I could get sunblock, but I was still running at the time and only lathered my arms, not continuing any lower onto my hands.

As I hobbled the last mile or so of the run course, I passed athletes that were leaving the Finish area and many of them had words of encouragement for me. It was helpful to hear that I was almost there and many of them assured me I could make it. About a quarter-mile from the end, I passed my friends, Beth and Kathy, who were walking back to their condo. Beth had experienced a problem during the swim and was not able to compete, whereas Kathy had just finished a while earlier. They encouraged me to keep going and off I went.

As I came into the Finish Line, I saw my wife who was yelling at me and gingerly (as the announcer at the Finish area described it) made my way across the timing mats and on to the volunteers with the medals. I asked one of them where I could find the medical tent and he pointed me in the right direction.

Post-Race

Many of my friends from the Hammerheads Triathlon Club were at the Finish area taking pictures. I missed them by only a few minutes, but was able to talk to a few of them before heading on to have my feet looked at by a nurse. I retreived my bike from transition along the way, as I was pretty sure I would not be able to get shoes back on after I took them off.

The visit to the medical tent didn’t really confirm anything surprising — I definitely had big blisters. What I didn’t realize was that they probably popped some time in the state park. I was hoping that if I took it easy with my weight distribution, perhaps I could finish without bursting them. I realized later how foolish that line of thought was. The reason they hurt so bad was because they had been popped.

I managed to get down a couple pieces of pizza, three footlong chili dogs, some potato chips, and a soda before feeling like I needed to take a nap. I took a quick shower and passed out within seconds of hitting the pillow.

It goes without saying that when you walk (“stroll” is probably a better descriptor) the run portion of a triathlon, you’re not likely to perform all that well in comparison with other athletes. In the swim, I was 110/117 and 925/1045. On the bike, I was 96/117 and 795/1045. In the end, I finished 109/117 in my age group and 902/1045 overall. Certainly not a good ranking within my age group or the overall field of athletes, but given the hellish experience on the run course, I can’t be too upset about it. And while it’s not the way I would hope anyone’s first half-Ironman goes, it certainly means the probability of improving on my next one is rather high.

I can’t say that I will come back to race this course again. The timing of the event and location are a bad combination and the effect is measurable at the point in the race when you’re most susceptible to overheating. I’ve heard that Ironman Florida, which takes place in November is much better, but I don’t know. I certainly wouldn’t do this in May again. The bike and run courses both could have been of better quality, between the bad road surface in the bike portion and the fact that much of the run course was covered in sand or gravel.

I think it’s also worth pointing out that we stayed at the Boardwalk Beach Resort, and while it’s probably not any worse than the other hotels in the area, we found it to be of much lower quality than we would have expected for the cost per night. It was, however super-convenient for the triathlon itself, as the swim started behind our hotel, the transition area was next to it, and the Finish Line was in front of it.

It offers several courses, ranging from 31-miles (50 kilometer) to 100 miles. I participated in the 100-kilometer (62 miles) event and had a wonderful time, while raising money for a very important cause. Overall, there were 550 riders registered for the event, which started in Amelia Island, just north of Jacksonville. The course was fantastic, with most of it taking us along roads covered with tree canopy and past the coast in Fernandina Beach. This year the event also added 5- and 10-kilometer walks for folks who do not cycle.

It was a beautiful day for a ride, starting out at about 60° and staying sunny all day. There was only supposed to be a slight breeze (4-6 mph) during the time I would be riding, though the wind speed by about 10:30 or 11:00 was closer to 12 mph, which makes for a bit of a challenge when riding into the wind along the coastline. For about 30-40 minutes, it wasn’t much fun, but once we got a little bit inland and started riding through Amelia Island Plantation, it was all worth it.

I ended up on a team that a friend of mine rides on each year, called Team Liver Families. A couple members of my triathlon club rode with us as well. Most of us did the 62-mile course, though my triathlon friends went on to finish the 100-miler.

I decided to ride my road bike for a couple of reasons, as my triathlon bike was in the shop for a tune-up and I had planned to ride in a group for most of the ride and it’s hard to do that on a triathlon bike since it requires sitting more upright in order to get to your brakes easily. As it turned out, our group split up into faster and a slower groups, and while I was running out of gas trying to keep up with the faster group (they were doing 24-25 mph) and knew I couldn’t do that for the entire 62 miles, I wasn’t wanting to stay with the slower group, which was doing 17-18 mph. I ended up riding with different teams and even by myself a bit in order to stay at the 20-21 mph pace I wanted to maintain.

I hooked up with two women cycling in a group as we came out of Amelia Island Plantation when the three of us broke away from the group to ride a little faster. We followed the rest of the course (along the coastline) back toward the start and after about 30 minutes or so, I was struggling to keep the pace with them. We were doing 21-22 mph into headwinds for most of it and they showed no signs of tiring. I stuck with them until we got to the Finish Line, by which time I was pretty much fried and they seemed barely out of breath.

It was a beautiful ride and a great opportunity to see friends and make some new ones. My physical therapist was riding with the Mayo team (they always have the best jerseys!) and I saw a couple other folks out there as well. The Fernandina Beach police department did an excellent job (thank you, Mark!) at keeping us moving through the course despite being on roads that were fairly busy with traffic. I raised a little over $300 for the Katie Caples Foundation thanks to these donors:

• Kim Brock
• Janis Compton
• Louise Favata
• Kim Fore
• Alan Harmon
• Heather Harper
• Gloria McNeil
• Rebecca Nimnicht
• Edward O’Keefe
• Amy Sharp

This was my first cycling event and I can definitely say that I’m looking forward to doing another one. The Tour de Cure (a ride to benefit Diabetes research) is at the end of May, but I’m reluctant to try to fundraise again that quickly (my friends get a little tapped out if I do this too much) but that could change since it’s only a $150 minimum. I’d like to do the Tour de Forts next weekend, but I have a half-Ironman coming up in three weeks and should probably not kill myself during what should be the start of a taper period. I’m definitely doing to do the MS-150 this year, though I haven’t yet decided if I will ride with Team Citi or Team Mayo, as I have friends on both.

There was a little more going on this year and we met up with groups of friends from both Team In Training and my triathlon club. We managed to get most of the members of the Hammerhead Triathlon Club together for a group picture before the race:

The weather this year was the best of all the years we’ve run, especially in comparison with the 40 mph wind gusts last year. This year was cloudy the entire time which kept the temperatures around 60° and comfortable.

There were a few problems with water stops not being able to keep up with filling the cups (I grabbed my own water at a couple of them) but none of them appeared to actually run out of water.

We hung out afterward for an hour and a half or so and then headed home to take a well-deserved nap.