One word:
DISASTER.
I knew going into the event it was going to be tough, as I wasn’t well trained. My workouts over the past few months were shoddy, at best.
Having muscled my way through events in the past, I wondered: Could I muscle my way through an Ironman distance triathlon?
Answer: Almost, but not quite.
PRELUDEI set out for France a week prior to the race to meet up with Chris and our friend Phil in St. Maxime, France. Phil and Chris had been in St. Maxime for the two weeks prior training and acclimating to the area.
St. Maxime is about an hour from Nice, just outside of St. Tropez.
The final race participant, Jake, arrived the day after me, along with Phil’s girlfriend. During the week prior to the race other supporters filtered in, including two friends of Phil and Thayer, Thayer's brother and his fiance, Phil’s parents and Jake’s dad.
The Thursday before the race we headed to Nice to register. After registering, Chris took me on a preview drive of the bike course. Twelve miles into driving the course I wanted to throw up. It looked ridiculously hard. I knew the course was hilly, but seeing the hills in person made it a thousand times worse. I continued to feel more and more apprehensive as we continued to make our way around the 112 mile bike loop. Why was I doing this?
By the time we made it back to St. Maxime I was not feeling confident about my ability to meet the bike course cut off time limit. In fact, I felt worse than I had 6 hours before.
In North America, Ironman events start at 7 am and end at midnight, leaving 17 hours to complete the course. In France, the course had to be completed within 16 hours. There were certain cut off times for each leg of the course. I knew I could complete the 2.4 mile swim before the cut off, however, I wasn’t as sure about the 112 mile bike course that had to be completed in less than 8:15, due to uncertainty about how much time it was going to take to conquer the climbs. From what I understood, if you didn’t meet certain check points on the bike course by a given time, you were “swept” from the course and asked to board the sweeper bus, which would deliver you back to the transition area.
I had a very tough time sleeping that night, due to nerves and a house full of recently arrived guests who were celebrating their arrival.
NICE, FRANCEFriday we said goodbye to St. Maxime and headed into Nice for the race.
Last year, when doing IM Coeur D’Alene, we stayed at the host hotel and it was wonderful. Not true in Nice. Our race hotel was AWFUL. It was literally a box with a horrible bed in the middle of the room, with barely any room to walk around it. It didn’t help when we saw the hotel our friends were staying in a few blocks away. (Our hotel was so bad that we ended up booking a room where our friends were staying for the night before the race.)
The final days before an Ironman are not much fun, due to stress and anxiety.
It was very difficult to locate food that met the needs of what we were looking for in pre-race meals. Friday night I ate some pasta in an attempt to carbo load that did not sit well and ruined the entire day before the race.
We headed to bed relatively early the night before the race, hoping to get a good night’s sleep before the race (impossible). I slept from about 8:30 pm to 12:30 pm, when I woke up anxious to start the race. I was not able to fall back asleep. I lay in bed from 12:30 am to 3:40 am praying that I didn’t get swept from the bike course.
RACE DAYThree alarms went off at 3:40 am.
After eating breakfast we headed to transition to drop off our special needs bags and make our way to the swim start.
We were all anxious to see the buoy placement, as the buoy’s had not been out all week. Unfortunately, they were still not out 2 hours before the start of the race. The swim was setting up to be a surprise course.
As 6:30 am approached, we made our way to the swim start. Chris headed off with the boys and I headed off with two fellow San Franciscans, Barbara and Jenny. Barbara disappeared and Jenny and I made our way as far left as we could. I followed Jenny’s lead, as she had done the event last year and she seemed to know something no one else knew. While we nervously stood at the start she said, “did you know there are only 200 women doing this event?” Um, no, I did not know that. I knew I was in trouble.
SWIM – 2.4 MILESWith the gun, I was off. I was surprisingly calm the second the gun went off. All I could do was my best and try to have some fun doing it.
My swim started off well, as Jenny had wisely led us to a location that didn’t involve being swum over by frantic swimmers trying to find open water. However, about 5 minutes into my swim I felt incredibly nauseous. While wondering what I should do, I discovered that one could throw up while swimming. Interesting. I kept going.
After having gotten sick, the first lap of the swim went relatively quickly. Soon I found myself out of the water, circling a timing chip and heading back out for the second loop.
While on the second loop, I was sick again. What was going on? Was I incredibly nervous? Sick? I had no idea. I had never before gotten sick swimming.
I trudged on.
As I neared the swim finish line I wondered how much slower I would be over my prior year with no swim training this year. As I excited the water I learned the answer – approximately 10 minutes.
BIKE – 112 MILESAs I left transition I knew regardless of what the day held for me, that it would be a beautiful bike ride.
The first 12 miles of the course are relatively flat as you leave Nice and head for the hills. At mile 12 I met that first hill that I had seen from the car and was pleased to discover it wasn’t quite as bad as it looked. Thank goodness. It was a long, gradual assent into the base of the mountains we were about to climb. At the end of the first ascent the steepest grade of the day awaited – only for 500 meters – but it was STEEP. It was at that very moment I developed a greater appreciation for Tour de France riders, as those hills were brutal.
I knew at mile 30 or so the toughest climb of the day was awaiting me – a 12 mile ascent. This hill has haunted me for about four months. I knew this hill was going to make or break my race. In the end, it broke me, but at the time it seemed fine. I had done a century ride earlier in the year with a 10+ mile climb that I felt was much harder. So, all in all, at that time it didn’t seem that bad. I passed a bunch of people on my way up and thought I was having a good day. That is, until I got to the top and the aid station was out of water. I had consumed every ounce of water on my way up and was dying of thirst. Needing a steady stream of calories to fuel my day, I kept consuming the calories, but was lacking the water to wash them down.
By the time I reached the next aid station with water I was dehydrated and not feeling well. I had started dry heaving at that point and was hopeful that it would stop. It did not. I learned that one could not only throw up while swimming, but also while cycling.
I had told myself before I departed for France that at the very least I was going to enjoy a beautiful, challenging bike ride through France and I did exactly that.
While cycling, I met a lovely couple from San Jose, California.
After completing the remaining climbs and making my way back into town I realized that while I was going to beat the bike cut off time, I was not going to have enough time to complete the marathon before the course closed. It was a disheartening moment.
During my final mile into transition I spotted Chris out on the run course, looking strong. It was such a beautiful sight, it made me cry.
RUN – 20 MILES (INSTEAD OF 26.2)While sitting in transition I was sitting next to a man who said, “I don’t have enough time to complete the marathon.” I responded that I didn’t either. He asked me what I was going to do. “I am going to go as far as I can before they closed the course.”
The gentleman commented that he wished the race had the same finish time as in the US, as he would have had time to finish. Me too.
I was very ill on the run. I hadn’t been able to consume any calories for about two hours at that point and was very nauseous. I threw up again the 5K mark. I was in good company, as many others were suffering a similar fate.
The run was a tough, humbling experience. I didn’t have the energy to run – I could only walk. Every time I tried to run, I started dry heaving. I was dehydrated, void of energy and heartbroken that the race would not result in the completion of my second Ironman.
While the run was my most frustrating part of the day, it also held my favorite moment of the race. I just happened to be at the turn-around/finish line completing my first lap when Chris finished his race. I looked up at the clock... 11:56! Under 12 hours! A personal best! I was so proud and so happy for him. I laughed as he LEPT across the finish line. Such a clown.
As I made my way back to the lap turn-around/finish line my third time, I knew that once I reached the turn-around for what would have been my final lap, I would not be able to head back out. It was not possible to complete the final lap prior the end of the race.
As I saw Chris walking towards me wearing his finisher shirt and medal I tried to hold back the tears, but could not.
My race ended when I crossed the timing mat with 10K left to complete of the marathon. The 140.6 mile Ironman became a 134 mile training day.
EPILOGUEDoes Ironman remain part of my future? Definitely. I have to do another – just for me.
I cannot tell you how wonderful it was to open the door to the house last night after spending 27 hours trying to get home...
