Clearwater Ironman 70.3 World Championship: Dizzy Biking and the Death Shuffle
This was to be my glory year – a comeback from pregnancy and that first, grueling year of parenting. In my mind it played out beautifully: a short sprint race with age group podium, a qualifying 70.3 race in mid-summer, again with a podium spot and a “cherry on the icing” performance in Clearwater at the 70.3 World Championships where I’d log a personal best. The reality was slightly different; okay, okay, VERY different.
Sure, I managed a podium spot at my sprint race which boosted my confidence but heck, I was glad to just fit back into my wetsuit! The 70.3 race in Newfoundland had me wondering how I had ever done an Ironman as I crossed the finish line feeling spent after only 5:29 of racing. I had, however, come 4th in the age group and snagged a spot to Clearwater so my pain was eased a little. Right, now I had to get REALLY serious.
So with coach Nigel guiding me with training, and drilling the nutrition lessons into me (yes, even us coaches need to be reminded about nutrition), I jetted down to Clearwater 3 days before the race (with baby and husband) to join some of the best athletes in the world at Pier 60. The scene was just like you’d expect a world championship to be – buzzing, hyped, loud and filled with shaven, bronzed men and women all nervously eyeing each other, assessing their odds to win.
The lead up to the race started less than ideally with me fighting the remnants of a sinus/chest infection and our 14 month old deciding that she would spend 2am –5am the first night alternately screaming her head off and wanting to play peekaboo. Well, they said that the sleep TWO nights out was the one that counted right? The next couple of nights were marginally better, and I thought, “hey, I’ve been training in a sleep-deprived state all year anyway so no difference there!”.
Pre-race
Yikes, I’d forgotten about those race nerves. My stomach had closed off to allow only a couple of cans of Boost in, so that’s what I went with. The race was a wave start and my husband’s wave started earlier than mine, so he went down to transition while I waited with our toddler for the babysitter to show up (and yes, we found someone who was willing to arrive at 6am on a Saturday morning!). I felt calm as I waited for my wave to start, and was inspired by my chats with other mums in my age group. Many of them made my efforts to race pale by comparison: doing Ironman with 3 kids!
Swim
The wave starts meant that it wasn’t the horrific punching match that is the hallmark of triathlons, but there were still a couple of pushes and shoves before we all settled down. I felt strong and smooth on the way out, which made sense as I hit the turn around and found the water was a little choppy on the way back! Apart from the men’s 40-44 age group ploughing through our wave (and over the top of me), the swim was uneventful, and I exited the water in an acceptable (for me) 36 mins.
Bike
It was a long run through transition with the bike, but at least I had decided to leave my shoes on the bike so it was a bit easier to run without the cleats on! The first part of ride was actually great, although crowded. The Clearwater course is very flat, but with very narrow lanes so there were a lot of packs gathering, even back with my wave. Most of my concentration was spent trying to keep on top of my nutrition, and trying not to get caught up in drafting packs.
The packs soon cleared and I was able to settle into some long highway stretches and hold a steady wattage (too high as it turns out. Sorry Nigel, I REALLY thought I was following that race plan!). The long and short of the ride was that, at about 30 miles I started to feel dizzy with tunnel vision creeping in, and so I immediately tried to think about how to fix the situation through adjusting fluid, gel and salt intake. Nothing really helped, and to add insult to injury, the last 15 miles were into a headwind.
As I came into the final few metres, I could feel my chest tightening with the familiar symptoms of an asthma attack, but since I was trying to get my feet out my shoes and avoid other dismounting cyclists, I decided it wasn’t the best time to reach back for my inhaler! The asthma got worse as I ran to the change tent, but I managed to get it under control with my inhaler and a sit down for a few minutes. So much for my quick transitions!
Run
Whether it was leftover from the bike ride, or the lack of oxygen to my brain from the asthma, I was still feeling quite dizzy as I got going on the run. The first few miles felt OK, but I could tell there wasn’t much in the legs. Trying to stay positive, I focused on my gel and fluid intake and breaking the run down into the mile sections between aid stations. Yep, it was one of those “just make it to the next aid station” days.
And so my run continued in this fashion, with the only change being that I got slower as the run went on (and felt worse). It was doubly disheartening that, being one of the last waves, there weren’t very many athletes left on the course, so it was quite a lonely, slow run. Cheesy as it sounds, the thing that kept me going was the fact that I desperately wanted to get to the finish to see my little gal.
One motivating factor was my husband hammering by me, heading into the finish as I was heading in for the end of the first run loop. He had had a frustrating ride with multiple flats/slow leaks and was taking his anger out with a fast run. He almost knocked me over as he slapped my rear and yelled, “keep it going!”. Yeah, yeah, I’m moving – it just looks like I’m standing still.
As I approached mile 11, I was ready to walk it in, rationalizing that at least I’d finish, but a combination of pride (what a great motivator one’s ego is eh?), and seeing an electronic message from my daughter (typed by Dad) on the board they had set up as you crossed a timing mat that kept me running…well, doing my death shuffle.
Incredibly enough, I managed to pick my knees up a little as I spotted the finish line and give the official photographer a decent chance of capturing me in motion. I was pleased, relieved and proud to cross the line at a World Championship race.
What next? Well, a few weeks of taking it easy, and then the plotting for a more successful Clearwater race begins!
A big thanks to Nigel for his coaching expertise, and patience with all my whining about “baby not sleeping”; to my clients for all their support and good wishes; to my daughter Leah for her patience in the babyjogger, and to my husband Dan who worked with me so that we could both race this race – there was a lot of juggling, but we did it!