I was there, it happened - Ironman 70.3 World Championships Race Report

As usually happens on the mornings of big races, it was an early wake-up call. I had a surprisingly good night's sleep, so I was ready to go. After a little breakfast, I grabbed my morning bag and joined the parade of athletes on their way to the race site. The music was blaring, and the transition area was well-lit and busy with people. I hopped into the body-marking line, then made a quick stop over at my bike. Everything was still in working order, so I pumped the tires, filled the drink bottles, and set the watch. Then I cleared out to join my wife for a few quiet moments on the beach before everything got underway. I started putting on the sunscreen and Body Glide and slipped halfway into my wetsuit. When I looked up, right across from us, was once again Dick Hoyt, this time with his son. They were in their final preparations for the race, and after a few minutes, they left to take their place on the beach. Soon after, I bid my wife goodbye and joined the other athletes starting to congregate on the beach.

My swim wave wasn't going off until 7:30, so at about 6:30 I jumped in the water to warm-up a bit and get things flowing. I was out early enough to watch the male and female pro waves take off, then I moved into the corrals. Every five minutes we would move a little closer to the front, and conversations seemed to get a little quieter. The M35-39 age group was divided into two waves by last name. I was in the second, so it was a bit disconcerting to know that you aren't racing all of the people you're actually racing (if that makes any sense). Finally we were in the last corral, and with 2 1/2 minutes to go, we were called to the start line. I seeded myself at the back of the group, knowing my swim isn't going to win me any races. Shortly after the "ten seconds to go" announcement (probably about ten seconds), the smallest loudest cannon on the East Coast went off.

Swim:
It begins with a sprint from the beach. I followed along, and when everyone else stopped running and started swimming, I did the same. I wanted to find a decent set of feet and just follow along. Amazingly, I felt good enough to go past the group I was with, and started working my way up to the next, even faster, bunch. Knowing I wanted to catch up, I put my head down, and knocked out thirty hard strokes. It was around this point that the guy in the kayak told me I was swimming off to sea. Not a great start, but I got myself back on course, found another draft and made the first turn a half-mile from shore. (For a non-swimmer, that's disconcertingly far from dry land.) Just a couple hundred meters later, we made another right turn for home. Home, at this point, was due east, directly into the sun. If you weren't blinded by the glare of the sun, you were blinded by the glare off the water of the sun. I was able to vaguely make out a buoy, and started swimming for it. A short while later, the guy on the paddleboard informed me I was cutting across the course, apparently trying to start again. Now I could see the buoy to my left (no longer looking east), and got back on course. I pulled in behind what I assume was the group I left in the first few hundred meters (what a worthwhile exercise that turned out to be). Now I just hung in and tried to get to T1. No more heroics in the swim. I was out and up the beach in 36 minutes and change, not too bad considering I lost probably a minute or two swimming all over the place. I noticed some green caps over my shoulder as I exited the water, meaning my number one goal was accomplished. Not last.

T1:
The run from the beach took us through a fresh water shower, then to the wetsuit strippers. I grabbed my T1 gear bag and was in the change tent as quick as possible. A helper came over as I sat down, and once I dumped the contents of my bag, he grabbed the bag and started filling it with my discarded material (wetsuit, goggles, swim cap), then took it to the pile of bags to be replaced. Once I was fully suited (glasses, helmet, shoes, race belt), I grabbed my bike, hit the mount line, and was moving.

Bike:
I passed a few people on the first roads out of town, up and over the Memorial Causeway. I tried to find my rhythm and let my heart rate fall back down to where it belonged. I passed the Hoyts about 20 minutes into the ride, and felt more than a little inspired. Then it was just a matter of pedalling, and keeping up with fluids and energy.

There really isn't much to report on the Clearwater course. It's a series of relatively long stretches of flat roads, not much scenery. I had my heart rate a bit higher than I probably should have (145-150 bpm), but I was trying to stay in the game. This may have cooked my legs going into the last discipline. There was a bit of a westerly wind, which was in our faces on the homestretch, but nothing too significant. Two hours, thirty one minutes after I left transition, I was back where I started, with a half-marathon to go.

** Note: I may or may not do a post about the drafting situation in the next couple of days. (I definitely have some things to say.) Unfortunately, I'm afraid it would just come off as sour grapes as an under-performer. I will make only two points:
1. I didn't see a single person in a penalty tent on course, and I didn't see a single official during my entire ride. And they wonder why there might be a problem.
2. I can look myself in the mirror and know I rode 100% clean, and that's enough for me.

T2:
A bike-catcher took my bike from me to rack it, and I was left to go get my T2 gear bag, and get back to the change tent. This time it was a bit more crowded in the tent, so I didn't have any assistance, which slowed me down a bit, but I felt like I made pretty good time. Once I had running shoes and a hat, I left for my foot-powered tour of Clearwater.

Run:
The run course is essentially an out-and-back 6.5 mile course, done twice. Each lap goes over the causeway twice, but is otherwise flat. I didn't feel too hot right from the start, but just tried to keep one foot in front of the other. I was running again without a watch, so I had no idea of my splits. It worked at Muskoka, so I was hoping it would work here. I did some passing on the first loop, and was caught by a few, but seemed to still be moving forward. Without "age on the calf" as part of body-marking, it was tough to tell if I was making any ground in my AG though. During the second lap, I was really feeling the effort, and that, combined with the beating from the sun, and a general sense of discouragement (I felt SOOOOO slow), slowed me down even more. By the last 3 miles, I was taking a little walk break every mile. It's hard to believe, but I was still smiling though that. My attitude was pretty much "OK, I'm out of the race, but I'm at the World Championships, and that's pretty cool, so I'm not going to kill myself. Enjoy the moment." I thanked the volunteers, got a little chuckle when the electronic message board read: "#847 - D. Wilton - Your Awesome!" and I thought, "My awesome what?" I had my last walk at 12.5 miles, then did the run for home. I didn't pass anybody in the last stretch, since they fought and earned their placing. I had some clear roads, and gave a double Guns Up all the way through the line. I hope it comes out in the pictures this time.

By the numbers -
Swim: 36:23 (1:54/100m, 154/169 AG placing after swim)
T1: 3:14
Bike: 2:31:07 (22.23 mph, 153/169 AG placing after bike)
T2: 3:05
Run: 1:40:44 (7:41/mile, 132/169 AG placing after run)
Finish: 4:54:33, 132/169 AG, 768/1254 overall

So a quick glance at my feelings about the race: Even though it's easy to argue that I could have done more (by my admission I gave up on the run), I had the best day I was capable of today. There honestly isn't any more I could have done. I'm disappointed with the time and placing, but I went sub-5, and I was here. That's still the big thing.

I was sick coming into the race, and I think that's indicative of begin generally overtrained. It's been a very long season, almost non-stop since marathon prep last August. I pretty much shot my wad for Muskoka, and tried to do too much in the build for this race. Two 'A' races two months apart is tough. It's too long to just recover and go again with the trained fitness, but too short to fully rest and build back up. Looking at the last month of training, I think those bad days on the bike weren't just computer issues, but more likely real issues with fatigue that I was trying to ignore. I bet if I timed my weekly long runs, I would have seen the same thing there.

Speaking of timing, the watch-free plan didn't work. I think Muskoka was just kind of magical in that way for me. If I was conscious of the time, I would have seen that I actually was ahead of pace for the first 3.5 miles (my 1:35 half plan is 7:15/mile), and pretty much bang on at the halfway mark. That would have been a great motivator to keep things up for the second half, rather than suffer that letdown. Live and learn. I'm not going to beat myself up too much about it. I may have been able to run my way up to perhaps 120th by leaving it all out there? That doesn't change much.

Now I get to relax for a few weeks. I didn't pick up any hardware, and it takes a long time to get to my name in the results, but I have a hat and a medal that say I got to the starting line, then got to the finish line, of the 2008 Ironman 70.3 World Championship race.