2006 Ironman Coeur d' Alene

After more than 11 hours I’m finally walking through the final aid station on the run and I now only have slightly more than a mile to go until I cross the finish line and today’s death march comes to an end. Right now all I’m thinking about is a little skit I’ve choreographed over the past 10 miles that I’m going to execute when I cross the finish line. I walk a few more steps then I reluctantly begin a slow IM shuffle up the final hill. My training coming into today couldn’t have been better, I’m in the best shape of my life, and I was planning to pop out this race in around 10 hours. Unfortunately the 10 hour time I had my mind set on failed to account for the possibility of tough racing conditions, and today the mercury rose upwards of 90 degrees. The weather, nutritional mistakes, and poor pacing contributed to a tough day in a long and brutal race. Interestingly enough I finished exactly 1 hour, to the second, slower than my time from Vineman last year. Despite a somewhat disappointing finish I learned a several things today, perhaps the most important being - never take IM for granted.

Aim and I flew up to CDA 3 days before the race. Flying over Montana and Idaho I was amazed by how much snow was still on their mountains. Living in Colorado it’s easy to forget that there are other places in the U.S. with terrain above tree-line. On our flight there was about 10 other CDA participants, several with multiple young children in-tote. I can’t imagine bringing all of my gear, plus a stroller, car seat, baby backpack and all the other baby-related gear the families are lugging through the airport. Not only am I baby-gear free, but I’ve also used a bike transport service so I wasn’t dragging my bike around either. This is a nice bit of stress off of my mind.

Our hotel was in Post Falls, a small town about 5 miles West of CDA. We arrive there just after sunset on Thursday night, with enough time to unload the car, unpack our gear and get to bed. Friday we were up early to head down to the start area to go for a swim, pick up my bike from the transport company and go through packet pickup and check-in. The town of CDA is awesome, it’s nestled right along the waterfront and there are cute little fountains on every corner of the main downtown area. From what I’ve heard this is supposed to be the Aspen of Idaho. After finishing check-in we drive the course and it doesn’t look too tough. There are 2 descent climbs on each loop of the bike, 1 steep and 1 longer but more gradual. The 1st half of each bike loop winds through hills then the return half is mostly flat with absolutely no shade. I figure I’ll try to take it easy through the hills then pick up some speed on the flats. The run course winds through 2 out-and-back laps along the lake. Hopefully there will be a breeze blowing off the water as the temp Sunday afternoon is supposed to be above 90 and unfortunately I’m not a fan of any kind of heat and I’ve generally avoided training on any significantly hot days. Aside from the challenge posed by the forecasted weather, the run course looks relatively painless. It’s generally flat, since it mostly follows the shoreline, and there are only a few minor hills spread throughout it. After previewing the course I’m confident about what needs to be done and exactly how I want to do it.

My primary goal going into Saturday is to beat my time from Vineman last year. I’m hoping to go somewhere around 10 hours and I’m planning to do this via an hour swim, a 5.5 hour bike, and a 3.5 hour run. Although this seems very realistic based on my training and last year’s result, this time doesn’t really account for the forecasted weather.

Later Friday afternoon I check over my bike and go for a little ride. Everything seems to be working fine. We head back in to CDA for a noodle dinner at a Asian bistro, then attend the pre-race meeting. I meet up with my buddy, Pat, at the meeting where virtually no new or important information is disclosed. The meeting is held in a huge tent and despite the silence of 2000 athletes listening to instructions from a couple large projection screens, you can hear Paula Newby-Frasier, multiple Hawaii Ironman winner, chatting away with someone at one of the tent’s entrances. While she can pull off a sick IM, this girl is coming off as incredibly rude as her loud voice carries through the entire tent and it’s severely distracting from the presentation. After the meeting Aim and I go with Pat to meet up with his family at a restaurant then we head back to the hotel and I’m in bed by 9:30.

On Saturday morning I meet up with Pat at the lake and we do a short swim to check out our sighting for this same time tomorrow. After the swim we do a little ride and run then head our respective ways to relax and prepare for tomorrow’s test. Pat and I both work with the same coach, Kevin, and during the ride we laugh over a few funny Kevin stories. After today’s short loosen up workout, I head back to the hotel and where I plan to spend the majority of the day sitting on my can, watching TV and chilling out. Before the trip I had setup a spa appointment for Aim today and after dropping off my bike at the transition area I take her to that then I spend the remainder of my afternoon watching World Cup and tennis. When I exit my air conditioned bliss to pick up Aim from the spa I notice that it’s scorching hot outside. Man, tomorrow is going to be tough in this heat. It doesn’t phase me as I figure I’ll just have to dig a bit deeper to get the job done. That night we have dinner at Qdoba (no beans, cheese, or meat for me) then go to bed around 8:30.

I’m up at 3:00 am on Sunday to eat my breakfast, shower and make sure everything is good to go. We leave the hotel at 4:30 as several other athletes emerge from their rooms to make their way to the race. We score a great parking space about 200 meters from the transition area and finish area. I wanted to get a good parking space so Aim can easily go to the car and nap if she needs to during the day and also because when I finish the last thing I’m going to want to do is hike ½ a mile to find the car. As we leave the car to walk down to the start I suddenly realize I left my water bottles that are filled with my custom fuel mix back in the fridge in our hotel room. Dooh! Not wanting to lose our parking space I have Aim pull out a folding chair from the trunk and sit in the space while I cruise back to the hotel to pickup my bottles. See, I usually bring my bike loaded up with bottles with me the morning of a race. Since I dropped off my bike last night I totally forgot to bring my bottles this morning. I can be a bit neurotic at times with lists of what I need to do, or pack. This morning I obviously neglected to make my lists, won’t make that mistake again. I return to CDA, bottles in-hand, about 40 minutes later and Aim tells me she was a wreck while I was gone. Apparently she called her mom and was crying on the phone. She thought that somehow I was going to miss the start, but I return with ample time to stretch out and make my way down to the beach to go for a little warm-up swim.

The swim start is supposed to be crazy. I’ve never done a mass start like this with about 2000 athletes all gunning for a single buoy about a ½ mile away. There’s a sailboat in the distance directly behind the 1st turn buoy so sighting should be easy, assuming the boat doesn’t move. I position myself about 2/3 down the line on the outside hoping to avoid as much as the WWF-style chaos as possible. BOOM, the cannon sounds at the strike of 7 and the day begins. The first few hundred yards are tough as I’m getting beat up from every which way. I do my best to remain calm and patient and I find some open water after about 10 minutes. At the 1st turn I get sandwiched between the swimmers on my outside and those on the inside line. This is the worst water battle I’ve ever experienced so I try to make my way to the outside of the pack before the 2nd turn back towards the beach. Not so much. The 2nd turn is only slightly better and after a few minutes into the return leg I finally wrestle my way to the outside and find some room to stretch out my stroke. Unfortunately the lake is not closed to boats this morning and I’m tossed around by a few power boat wakes as I finish my 1st lap. I pull up at shore, trot over the timing mat and dolphin my way back into the lake for a 2nd lap. This lap is much more relaxing than the 1st and a few hundred meters into it I swim over a pair of scuba divers who are supposedly out in the water to help out in case someone gets clobbered too bad. I slightly increase my effort level on the out section of this lap and by the time I hit the 1st buoy the field is strung out far enough that I don’t have to jockey for position with anyone else. I round the final buoy and notch up my effort level to cruise back to the transition area.

I exit the water and there are a ton of spectators cheering everyone on. This gets the adrenaline pumping as I head into transition and have my wetsuit stripped off by a team of volunteers. I cruise into the changing tent where a volunteer runs me over to a chair, dumps out my swim-to-bike bag, asks me what I need and as I run out he packs up my wetsuit into my bag. As I jog out to my bike I see Aim as she cheers me on. I head out onto the bike course feeling great aside from my left hand which is exceedingly sore from a street fight-like battle with a big ‘ol boy during the swim.

The first 10 miles of each bike loop is an out-and-back leg along the lake where I just take it easy, exactly like I planned. A bunch of people are passing me, but don’t get too competitive and stick to my plan. After passing the transition zone again I head into the hills for a little climbing. I notice that my race number belt seems a bit tight and I begin to worry that it could be restricting my GI tract which could lead to some serious problems down the road. I spend a few minutes trying to ride while awkwardly adjusting the length of the belt, next time I’ll be smarter and stop instead of risking a crash to save a few seconds. I finally get everything set just as I begin a few windy descents down to the valley floor. After reaching outer-Spokane I turn around and am greeted with a nasty little headwind. Man I wish this was a draft-legal race right about now.

So here’s where I make my first critical mistake of the day. The headwind makes me work considerably harder to keep my intended pace, but instead of backing off my speed I push through the wind, not wanting to lose any time this early in the day. On the way back to the town of Coeur d’Alene the course passes through a mixture of sub-urban / rural sprawl. This county could sure benefit from consulting the Boulder city planners during their zoning process. The headwind persists for the entire 2nd half of this 1st loop, and the temp quickly starts to heat things up. At this point I’m still averaging about 20 MPH and that’s right where I want to be. However I’m also working much harder than I should in order to maintain this pace. I was hoping I could use the flat 2nd half of each bike loop to easily cruise along and gain some speed. Instead with the headwind this section of the course has me working just as hard if not harder than I was in the hills.

The 2nd loop on the bike is much more of the same, except on this loop things turn exceedingly hot. I’m taking on as much fluid as I think I can handle, and my nutrition is on schedule, however I have no urge to tinkle and with the amount of fluid that I’ve drank (about 21 ounces per hour) my bladder should definitely be screaming for some relief. Not a good sign. There’s more wind on the 2nd half of this loop and around mile 100 my legs make a clear announcement to the rest of my body, “thanks for the fun but we’re done for the day.” Although I’m not feeling too great right now I figure things should turn around in a few miles when I start the run. I’m feeling very parched right now, and I still have no need to go to the bathroom. Adding to my troubles my attitude begins to sour and I quickly loose sight of the fact that I’m supposed to be enjoying this.

I finish the bike and I head out onto the run alongside another competitor, when he turns to me and says “you ready for this death march?” I hadn’t really thought about it that way but he pretty much sums up my thoughts about slogging through a marathon right now. 1st off it’s hot. I mean like mid-90’s and no wind. 2nd, I can already tell that my GI tract is extremely messed up and I sense the pending onset of some ridiculous stomach pains. 3rd, I have no energy or motivation. This is a terrible mixture of issues to have beginning this run however I figure things can only get better and I push through the 1st 2 miles.

Well things don’t improve one bit. Actually they worsen as the little motivation I had I quickly lose, and the lake I’m running next to keeps begging me to come jump in and relax for a while. Adding to my misery there are countless people BBQ’ing in the front yards of houses along the course and others hanging out in boats along the lakeshore. Why am I doing this right now when I could be having so much more fun doing that? The only answer I can come up with is I’m an idiot and I need to take some major life lessons from all these people on how to enjoy myself. As I pass by Aim on my way out on the 1st lap I briefly stop and tell her that I fell absolutely terrible and I really want to drop out of the race. Deep down I know the only way I’m not crossing the finish line is if I’m med-evac’d off the course. I say this to her mostly as a pathetic plea for any encouraging words that will help push me another 24 miles. While she is great and tells me I can do it, I don’t feel any better as I trudge off down the course.

After the first few miles the pain in my side becomes too much to bear and I’m reduced to short bouts of running followed by increasingly longer bouts of walking. While I feel like death right now at least I’m not alone. Except for the occasional elite athlete that passes by almost everyone out on the run course looks terrible and no one seems to be moving much faster then me or having any more fun than I am. At this point I forget all pre-race goals and my sole focus becomes pushing on through each successive mile. The occasional thought that I might collapse from dehydration of malnutrition and be forced to drop out of the race gives me strange motivation to keep pushing along.

At this point I decide I need some kind of distraction to take my mind off the throbbing pain that’s radiating throughout my mind and body. As I approach an aid station I have a revelation dump a cup of ice down my shorts. Whoa, now that’ll wake you up! This ice-induced shock seems to overpower my other sensory mechanisms and it helps me to push through a few minutes at a time. I repeat my ice pain-mask at each successive aid station, dumping cups down both the front and back of my shorts. Thinking about what a freaking weirdo I must look like makes me laugh and this humor works wonders to improve my mental state.

Finally I finish the 1st lap of the run and heading out onto the 2nd I feel like I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel as my spirits continue to improve. During the 2nd lap I spend most of my time trying to concoct a little dance or skit that I’ll enact as I cross the finish line. I know my final time is not going to be what I was hoping to be able to celebrate about, however I need to do something entertaining to mark the end of today’s misery. I decide that I’m going to do the archer move that Richard Virenque pulled at the end of Stage 10 of the 2004 TDF. It’s a bit copycat I know but I’m really low on energy right now and it’s the best I can do.
The 2nd lap is not much better than the first, but at this point my body is numbed to some of the pain and this makes each mile to tick by quicker and quicker. Finally I can hear the crowd along the finishing straight as I crest a hill and come to the top of the final straightaway that leads down through the Min Street to the finish line. With the finish line in view I feel no pain and my pace quickens to something mistakable for a run. Wow, wish that could have happened about 25 miles ago. I pull away from other runners who curl off the Main Street and head out onto their 2nd lap. Suddenly there’s no one around me and I’m cruising down the street all alone. I spot Aim a few blocks from the finish. She’s and my buddy’s family are there cheering me on. As I approach the finish I check to make sure no one’s on my tail and just before I cross the line I pause and motion to the crowd to stop. I pull out an imaginary arrow from the invisible quiver on my back. I load it into my bow while tracking across the sky, then release the arrow and let out a final scream as I step forward and finish my day. Dorky? Definitely. Necessary? Absolutely.

So CDA was nothing close to what I anticipated or hoped for. I came into this race completely physically prepared to do well, however I made a crucial error when I failed to listen to my body and ease up on the bike when the wind and heat set in. I paid dearly for this mistake during the run. I’m disappointed that I lost the mental focus and allowed these errors to occur and that I also lost the mental strength to keep a positive attitude amidst severely demoralizing conditions. However not all is been lost as I did finish IM #2 and I learned a critical lesson: take it easy on the bike and pay attention to the signs that your body gives you. While this sounds simple, it’s also all too easy to get caught up in the adrenaline rush during the first few hours on the bike when you still feel fresh, get a little competitive, and push yourself too hard.

Well I live to fight another day. Going forward I’ll suppose I have to take this race for what it was, a long and painful learning experience. Once again I have to give Aim a big thank you. Over the past year she’s there every day to listen to me debrief her on my training, she moved to Boulder with me, and she’s always ready to come along on each successive trek to these events. An IM is a tough day physically, mentally, and emotionally, the race would not be nearly as enjoyable or memorable if I couldn’t share the experience with Aim. Until next time...

-Maxwell


Results
Overall : 294th (1755)
Age Group : 32nd (140)

Time : 11:27:55 (58:03, 5:41:21, 4:43:18)