Ralph's Half-Ironman Race Report
I woke up with mixed feelings on race day. On one hand, I was extremely excited to be racing again (my last triathlon having come more than six months ago with my DNF at Big Kahuna due to mechanical issues on the bike), and the familiar jangling of nerves was almost comforting. On the other hand, though, since I was training through this race, I missed the freshening period of the taper. Plus, I’d never raced in inclement weather, and the steady drizzle on the way down to the race site was enough to make me long halfheartedly for bed.
Prep for the race was fairly uneventful: The familiar routine of finding a place among the racks in T1, going the rounds of body-marking and porta-john lines, sipping on a Cytomax while laying out the bike and run transitions (stuffed into plastic bags today to keep them as dry as possible until needed). With the crowd of participants, it was near impossible to find adequate space for my warm-up jog and strides, but I managed as best I could, then made my way back to the rack to put on my wetsuit (a challenge, to say the least, now that the skies had opened up and dropped a flash downpour on us—neoprene and wet skin do not slide easily).
My wetsuit on, I followed my fellow M30-34 competitors into the swim corral. As I waited for my wave, I zoned out to the music and noted that nature was calling faintly. After the wave before us started, we moved carefully down the boat ramp and into the harbor. I took a few steady strokes out between the start buoys to get a feel for the water and loosen up a bit, then started to tread water easily to—ahem—warm myself up (nature was calling, after all), when the horn sounded. Most of us looked around at each other for a moment. Was that the start? After a couple seconds, we realized that it was, and we took off, arms flailing and legs churning. I put my head down and swam, determined to deal with the chaos as best I could, knowing that it would clear eventually. My last thought as we headed out on the swim course was that this would very likely be the day I christened my bike.
The swim was largely uneventful. The only two things I noticed, aside from the smallish chop at the turnaround, were
- Wave starts leave a lot of slow swimmers from earlier waves in the way, and it tends to disrupt my rhythm since I don’t sight very often and frequently wind up swimming into someone. I need to improve my ability to maintain rhythm and/or sight.
- I can’t swim in a straight line to save my life—throughout the course, I was doing the military swim: left, right, left, right. Though I never veered too far off course (I actually swam straight into a buoy once), I’m sure my navigation was far from optimal.
Still, I exited the water comfortably in 33:42, good enough for 114/312 in my AG and 603/1795 overall, a solid middle-of-the-pack effort.
After climbing up the boat ramp and crossing the timing mat, I jogged down the chute to the transition area, peeling off my DeSoto top and bib-john suspenders easily (practice, practice, practice) and passing my sister, brother, and sister-in-law (thanks for the cheers, guys!!). I peeled off the rest of my wetsuit, with only my left ankle/heel giving me slight problems and pulled on my shoes. Since it was windy, rainy, and generally just a lousy day, I pulled rolled-up arm-warmers onto my wrists and zipped a vest over my tri top. I put on my race belt, helmet, and sunglasses and stuffed my emergency kit into my tri top pocket (note to self: need to find a way to secure that stuff to the bike beforehand). I ducked under the rack, grabbed my bike, and clip-clopped my way to the bike start. T1 time: 5:11. Without arm-warmers and vest, that would be better, but it still needs a lot of work.
Since the course lies primarily on the Camp Pendleton marine corps base, I’d never gotten a chance to drive or ride it, so my strategizing consisted almost entirely of reading summaries posted by other people who had ridden the course or competed in the race previously. Based on these accounts, my approach to the bike was fairly simple: ride steady but controlled for the first half, leaving plenty of gas in the tank to handle the climbs on the back side and come home strong (not to mention run a solid half-marathon).
As always, I found myself frequently pushing the effort up and had to consciously screw it back down a bit, especially when the headwinds kicked up. I managed to get myself under control, passing where necessary and letting others go who were either senselessly hammering or just plain faster than me, and I was feeling good about my effort on the out and back on Las Pulgas Road, when my front tire went flat. I changed my tire as quickly as I could, repeatedly wiping the road grime on my legs and shorts and trying to ignore the constant metallic whir of the passing wheels behind me. With about 7-8 minutes lost, I remounted and headed out.
In retrospect, I probably pushed myself a bit after the flat out of frustration to get a little time back because there was a section between 25 and 35 miles in where I struggled to hold speed and felt a bit lackluster. (Of course, this could also be due to the headwinds we encountered in this section or to the fact that I trained through the event, with full volume up until a week before and continued light training through the middle of race week.) I avoided pushing through the fatigue for fear of blowing up on the climbs or the run. It seemed to work because when we reached the climbs, my strength returned, and I’m proud to say that only one person passed me on the climbs.
After cresting the final climbs and reaching the long downhill on Vandegrift back to transition, I increased the effort and pulled in some more folks who had clearly taken it out too hard. I dialed it back after the freeway overpass and tried to give my legs a chance to prep for the run. Official bike split: 3:03:23 (160/312 AG, 742/1795 OA). The bike computer recorded a ride time of 2:58:08, but this includes the run through T2 and some walking the bike out of the transition area after the event, so I’m estimating about a 2:56 actual ride time, which would have given me about 111 AG and 508 OA.
In T2, I got a little ambitious, trying to peel off my vest and arm-warmers on the run with the bike, and my vest wound up tangling in the spokes of the rear wheel, costing some extra seconds. As I racked my bike, a guy next to me asked if I had any extra socks. As luck would have it, I had worn one pair and brought another, so I loaned him the extra pair. I needed all the karma I could get at this point! (The guy turned out to be Rich Sawiris of Wheelbuilder.com, and we ended up chatting a bit after the race. When it comes time to invest in race wheels, I’ll be looking him up.) Socks and shoes on, cap on, and off to the run. T2 time: 3:13.
The run was my focal point of the day. My entire strategy had been geared toward going sub-1:40. Right off the bat, I knew it would be a challenge, as my gut greeted me with cramps and a somewhat bloated feeling. (Part of the problem, I knew, was that I’d staved off nature’s call throughout the swim and the bike.) I kept the effort up as high as I could, but I found it difficult to take in any kind of nutrition for the first mile or so. Finally, around the mile two marker, I pulled over to a porta-john, but it was occupied. After spending precious seconds waiting for the occupant to emerge, I took off again and steered over to another porta-john on the other side of the road a few hundred yards further on.
After that, my gut cleared fairly well, and I was able to put in some solid miles, though the effort was always high, with my heart rate steady at 150 and a rapid, rhythmic breathing. I saw the other Forward Motion racers out on the course and cheered them on as best I could.
The second lap was tough. Heading out, the wind picked up fiercely and drove rain into my face. I started counting my strides and telling myself that this would be a nice tailwind to drive me home once I reached the turnaround. I willed myself to keep the effort up, knowing that each step carried me closer to home.
At around mile 11, I began to feel a bonk in the distance. I wasn’t dizzy or light-headed or sick yet, but I could feel the warning signs approaching. Still, I knew I wasn’t far away, so I kept the effort up, giving myself permission to bonk at the finish line. This, with a conscious effort to take in more calories at the final aid stations, got me to the final approach, where I simply gave it everything I could through the finish line. Alas, no sub-1:40 today! I could only manage 1:42:53 (79 AG and 402 OA). I’m actually very pleased with the result, though, since I was able to hold a very solid effort all the way through, and, hey, it’s actually my second-fastest half-marathon time ever.
Finish time: 5:28:21, 99/312 in my age group and 509/1795 overall.
Though it's a far cry from my stretch goal of breaking five hours, given the conditions, the relative difficulty of the bike course, and my training strategies thus far, I'm actually pleased with the result. Without the flat, I would have been at about 5:21-5:22, for 85 and 410 or so, respectively—only about five minutes off of my Vineman finish time last season, which I count as my peak fitness and best race to date. I'll take that. Plus, there are some great things for me to take away from the race.
First, for an early-season event after some fits and starts to my training due to illness, it’s a solid effort and way ahead of what I was capable of at this time last year. With three months remaining until Ironman Coeur d’Alene, there’s obviously plenty of work to do, but this result gives me the confidence that I’m on the right path.
Second, every race will throw you curveballs. On Saturday, it was inclement weather, a flat tire, and an unfamiliar course. Your personal result (and satisfaction in that result) is directly tied to how you handle those issues. When faced with apprehension, frustration, and the unknown, I can take some pride in being able to rise above them and focus on giving my best effort under those conditions.
Finally, it really does help to have a good, loud cheering section! Extreme props go to Amy, Parker, Rhys, Griffin, Mom, Dad, David, Ryann, and Becca for braving the cold, wet, and wind to cheer me on for a grand total of about 10 minutes out of five and a half hours. Those were my favorite ten minutes of the whole day!
