Ironman New Zealand - March 2003
“This is what we do”
- Oakland Rioter, following their Super Bowl loss
As you might have guessed from my pre-race report, I was tired during race week. In fact, I didn’t feel “good” until the day before the race. At last, I was encouraged and comforted myself that, although I wasn’t light (78.5 kilos at registration weigh-in), I was certainly fit.
My race day had a unique start when I awoke to a wet mattress and soaking sheets. I didn’t wet the bed! Instead, it was a huge “night sweat” session. I get these from time to time when I am overextended but this was the first time that I experienced it when ‘rested’. Of course, it may have had something to do with covering my body with Tiger Balm following a full body shave – seemed like a good way to promote pre-race circulation when I originally fell asleep in a mentholated-stupor.
It rained quite a bit overnight but a little chain oil had my bike ready to roll. I had lots of time before the race so I listened to some kick butt music and ran the race through my head.
I guess that I still haven’t figured out the swim and had a shocking start when I lit myself up with a deep lactate burn. The trouble with blowing up behind the first pack is that the second pack swim past (or over) you whilst you try to clear the lactate from your body. I regrouped and started the long slog to drag myself back up to the back of the second pack.
At about midway through the swim, I noticed Lisa Bentley (thanks to a shiny Gold cap) and realized that all wasn’t lost. I have a tendency to kick a bit hard when bridging and my reunion with Lisa was short lived when my right calf cramped. My foot locked up, so I said adios to my ride and stretched until the cramp cleared. It didn’t take long as the cramp was a minor one – not a precursor to a round of full body lock-up, I hoped. The rest of the swim was a solo effort and I was relieved to read 55 minutes on the clock when I lumbered out of the water. We’re still in the game!
I had planned on riding the first 60K of the bike fairly easy. At least, it certainly feels easy at the start of an IM bike leg. My heart rate was elevated but seeing as my pace was solid, I eased off and settled into my rhythm. As usual there were a lot of people to pass in the first 10K then it thinned out.
At the first turnaround (45K or so), I realized that I was more than twenty minutes down on the leaders. The lads must have been taking it out hard to put that much time into me. There were several groups of athletes in front of me, including Larsen (somebody had taught the guy to swim!). My pace was reasonable so I consoled myself with the prospect of a personal best time, even if my shot at some prize money was disappearing up the road.
I passed Molina at the 80K mark and wished him a Happy Birthday. I rolled through the 90K mark on 2:25 and headed back out of town. The first lap had been pretty cruisy for me but I had hoped to clock 2:22. As usual, my back started to get tired around the 100K mark but I relaxed as best I could and focused on keeping my heart rate up.
Before the race, Scott had reminded me of all the bike miles in my legs and encouraged me to ride the last 60K strong. However, at this point of the race, I had doubts about my ability to push harder. Fortune was on my side and I felt a presence at my side just past the 120K mark. Uber-biker and former world duathlon champion, Matt Brick rode past me.
Matt has an aero helmet that covers his whole head and face. The helmet is white and it makes him look like an all-white cross between Darth Vader and Peter Garrett (of the band ‘Midnight Oil’). I figured that I’d lock on to his wheel and see if I could ride with him. My heart rate jumped up 10 bpm and my pace picked up considerably. However, after a few Ks, he settled down a bit and I figured that he had simply been surging past.
This was the first time in all my Ironman races where I had been able to forget about my pace/heart rate and simply “ride” behind a guy that was setting the tempo. There is a HUGE benefit from being able to switch off. After more than three hours of blowing through the field, Matt must have assumed that anyone behind him must be drafting and he pointed me out to every single official we passed. He surged, swore, chatted and gestured to me over the next 30K. All the while, I simply held his pace. Following the last turnaround, he rode up the middle of the road for about 10K checking over his shoulder at me as I continued to shadow his speed.
We made up huge time on the field as nearly everyone slows at the end of the ride. At the 160K mark, an official pulled up beside me and showed me the yellow card – seems he agreed with Matt that I was drafting. So I waited, stretched, had a drink and dialed it back up to 150 bpm when I started riding. I repassed the two bunches of riders (some of whom had heckled me as they rode past while I was chilling with the referee) and, following my four-minute stand down, finished the bike 3:45 behind Matt.
The penalty slowed my momentum but enabled me to realize just how great I was feeling. I knew that I was going to have a solid run. I did a full change of clothes in T2 and headed out on the run. My strategy was to take on as many calories as possible in the first fifteen minutes and then hold aerobic threshold as long as my legs would hold out.
A group of about eight of us hit the run within one minute of each other and I was immediately gapped by Rhodsey, a Singaporean age grouper and an Estonian. There were a couple of speedy 40-somethings behind me, Shaq and Steve Farrell. So, I hit the run in 15th and quickly found myself in 18th spot with two quality guys on my heels.
I stuck to my game plan and forced down 500 calories of Leppin in the first 2K, only stopping when the dry heaves began. I let myself settle a bit and then continued to keep my stomach right on edge with large glasses of cola. I noticed that I was running a little quicker than 4:20 per K pace (three-hour marathon pace) and decided that I’d simply maintain this pace/effort for as long as possible.
Following all the mega-sessions that I had done to prepare for this race, three more hours of racing seemed very do-able at the pace I was holding. In the first 10K of the run, a few of the guys in front of me cramped and I gained a few positions. I noticed that Garrett MacFayden was reeling me in and I resigned myself to dropping a position to his superior run fitness. When the inevitable happened, I held my pace and let him run on by. Again, I consoled myself with the fact that he had dusted me on the run as opposed to the 30K mark of the bike (like last August in Canada).
Garrett slowly pulled away and I could see that I was holding him about three minutes down. I went through the half marathon mark at 1:30 and waited for the shoe to drop. In my last three IMs, somewhere around the 20-30K mark, I fell to pieces and ended up holding my POLAR (Pace Of LAst Resort) of 8-minute miles or 5-minute Ks. Strange thing was, this time I kept on trucking. I honestly can’t remember if it was difficult or painful, I was simply ‘running’ while trying to get as much cola in me as possible.
Scott was out racing and we saw each other on the run. I knew that I was outperforming his best expectations of my run. To outperform whilst wearing his victory race singlet from IMC gave me a tremendous boost. The impact of a coach’s presence at a race is significant. There were huge crowds this year, and I heard my name a lot. However, I was dialed in to my running – rolling along and drinking my cola.
With 10K to go, word filtered back that I was ‘reeling them in’. I had no idea who ‘they’ were but I passed three runners that had hit their own personal POLARs. One of the guys tried to stay with me. No surges, no mind games and no wasted energy – I held my pace and he eventually fell away.
At the final turnaround, I saw that Garrett was less than two minutes in front of me. 9K to go and one long climb coming up. My hamstrings were crampy. Did I risk it all to reel him in or simply conserve myself and seek to hold my position? I knew that it was more than three hours since I went to the bathroom and cramping couldn’t be far away. I decided to run just under my cramping threshold and see what happened. Up the hill, I got the gap down to 45 seconds.
I know that Garrett is one hell of a fighter. I hesitated because I was scared to challenge his position. Why? I think that I was unsure if I wanted to hurt at this stage of day. My race was going well. I only had to hold five-minute Ks to go sub-9. We were only battling for a few hundred dollars of prize money... the reasons rolled through my head as I continued to slowly catch up. Eventually, I was faced with either slowing down or passing him. Here we go...
Garrett stuck with me and lifted his tempo to match mine. Splits, heart rates, effort, overall times… all ceased to matter. Mano-a-mano we headed home. I pulled ever-so-slightly ahead but tripped and went down! I ended up in the dirt (for the second time in two weeks). A very kind lady walked towards me to help me up and was shocked when I yelled, “don’t touch me!” and staggered up. I could sense Garrett back on me but didn’t look back.
I ran as fast as I could and snuck a look over my shoulder to see a mix of people. I had no idea what was going on and was confident that I was minutes away from a full body cramp. With a mile to go, I saw a friend in the crown and asked, “is HE there?” She simply yelled, “run as fast as you can!” This was going to hurt. I gave it everything I had (which enabled me to continue to hold pace) and heard loudspeakers announcing Steve Larsen’s finishing time. I did a quick calculation and realized that I might just be able to get under 8:50. Hammer down, I crossed the line at 8:49.
My time was a 22 minute PB and good enough for seventh overall. I remember smiling across the line but my finisher’s photo makes me look like I spent the afternoon sparring with Mike Tyson. Garrett and Mitch were right on my heels and it could have gone anybody’s way. What a way to end the day!
Post Script
When I made the decision to race elite in 2001, I had a goal of a sub-nine hour time. For me, nine hours represented a ‘respectable’ elite time. Not necessarily fast enough to make a living at IM racing, but certainly quick enough to win a race if the right guys blew up (or didn’t show).
On Sunday night, I was up on stage with Larsen to my right and Garrett to my left. While the lads aren’t likely to be writing about how they got their check next to Gordo, I was exactly where I wanted to be (a long, long way from my old desk job in Hong Kong).
After The Baron came up on stage (fourth overall, ran down even more folks than me), Steve leaned over and asked me if Baron was an Epic Camper. I confirmed and Steve followed up with... “We got a kick out of reading the reports. Do you think it helped you?”
I said :: “As a cyclist you must be familiar with the benefits of aerobic volume.” I thought :: “DUDE! I’m up here standing next to YOU!”
“Train, rest, race, repeat... this is what WE do”.
See you at the races,
gordo