Race morning went without a hitch. The alarm went off at 4:00am, but I was already up and getting breakfast going at 3:45:
· Coffee
· 2 Boost
· Oatmeal with maple syrup
Marvin and I boarded the shuttle, with our friends Jacquie and Charmian who had come out to Cozumel as race supporters, at 5:15 and were down at T1 by 5:30.
Pumped my tires and loaded up my bike with my ride nutrition:
· 3 bottles of high sodium Infinit
· 1 bottle water
· 8 salt pills
· 12 Power Bar gels
Put on the swim skin, took my pre-race gel and got in line on the dock by 6:50. The plan was to start far left near the front, but I had been hearing from a lot of people that Cozumel was an aggressive swim and decided to seed myself a bit back from the front line.
In the water it was the strangest thing: people were immediately swimming all over me and rushing ahead as if the race was already underway. I couldn’t understand why there was so much commotion and why there seemed to be 100+ people charging the first buoy. I yelled to someone around me asking if the race had started. No, there were still 4 minutes to go. The marshals were blowing their whistles and zipping around on their jet skis trying to get the swimmers back to the start line. It was total chaos. All of a sudden the gun went off and the open water beating began.
I have never experienced anything like it. There was no space and everyone I could see, like me, was breathing every stroke as a means to stay in control and look for any opportunity to get clear from flying body parts.
Despite the inability to move freely forward, I was not anxious or frantic. I just kept trying to gain distance and find rhythm. I was trying to swim hard to the turn buoys because I had read a number of race reports saying how fast the Cozumel swim can be if you catch the current. Around the bend, I wasn’t feeling any faster even though I found a bit of open water and was finally able to swim rather than flail around.
My goggles, which fogged up within a few minutes of starting, would not stay clear for more than a pool length before fogging up again. I stopped to clear them a half a dozen times which meant being clobbered by the next wave of swimmers coming from behind. It got to a point where clearing them wasn’t worth the beating, especially since they were fogged again before any progress was made.
Even though I knew trusting the feet of others rather than sighting for myself would be a gamble, I felt like it was my only option. So, having no idea where I was going for the back half of the swim, I carried on, until pulling off my goggles and realizing our group had gone completely off course. We were in the rocks by the shoreline, with what seemed like tons of others who were equally lost. The current was working against us and the sun was blinding – even without goggles it was almost impossible to see the buoy line and / or exit dock.
As I swam towards the exit, I was extremely frustrated. I knew it hadn’t gone well. I was cursing my goggles, tired from fighting the bodies, which never really spread out, and swearing to myself over and over – ‘Get me out of this f’ing swim’.
Climbing out, I saw the clock: 1:21.
With a look of desperation I called out to one of the spectators, ‘Is this the pro-clock?’ Yeah, no.
Running into T1 I told myself to remember your advice, and the words typed in bold on my Race Plan: Whatever happens in the swim happens. Let it go.
I was quick in transition. Kept my head together, and didn’t let the swim time get me frazzled. It was a long run from my bike rack to the mount line so carried my shoes and ran with my bike to the T1 exit. Marvin had seen Sylvie do this in Tremblant and after my running face-plant 2 days before leaving for Mexico, he thought going barefoot to the mount line was my safest course of action! It was definitely fast, I saw a lot of wobblers trying to run in their clip shoes, and others dragging bikes with shoes already clipped to pedals that had rotated low and were catching on the pavement.
Once on the bike, I followed Fiona’s plan to the tiniest detail. I had my Garmin and Power Tap, each with different screens to keep me on track. About 10 minutes in, I passed a friend who swam a 1:04 last year. Going past her I asked how she found it this time – ‘Awful’ she said. My spirits lifted immediately. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who had had a bad swim?
The ride went very well. I didn’t look at my speed at all, instead, kept my eyes on the Garmin – average watts, and the Power Tap – actual watts. I had the Ontario Lottery & Gaming slogan on repeat in my brain, ‘Know your limit, play within it, know your limit, play within it’. My plan had average watts between 120 – 135; I focused on holding an average of 133 for the whole ride.
Nutrition was great. After finishing the Infinit I grabbed 3 additional water bottles, and that was it for the aid stations. With the exception of bottle exchange, I didn’t come out of my aerobars once the entire ride. This helped my speed particularly on the 2nd and 3rd laps when the head winds were more persistent. I couldn’t believe how many guys on wicked-nice bikes were riding on the top bars on the 3rd lap!
Fiona had me aiming for a 5:46 bike. Coming in at 5:38, I thought, ‘Ok – I have picked up 8 minutes on the swim, that means I am only down about 5 minutes heading into T2’.
Leading up to Cozumel, I felt the most confident in my running. With the PBs at Muskoka and Run for the Toad, I thought if I could get off the bike in a decent position I could run my way into the top 5. Since there were 4 Kona spots for w35-39, I was still thinking I had a chance coming out of T2.
I started the run feeling really good. I allowed myself to run the first kilometer at what felt natural; knowing it was too fast. Immediately after km 1, I spent the next 5 kms focused on bringing my speed back to the 4:55 – 5:00 in my plan. It was an effort, but by the time I hit the turnaround at 14km I was on pace. As I passed the 14km marker Marvin held up his hand and told me I was in 5th. I was so excited! That was the position I had in Tremblant 18km into the run, and I knew I this time I could be faster.
Nutrition was bang on. I was taking water at every station and carried 2 gel flasks which I took every few kilometers.
And then the unthinkable happened. At 16 kms I felt a snap in my hamstring. I have never had a running injury and generally don’t believe in running through joint or muscle pain. With every step the shooting pain got more intense. I started limping. To say I was demoralized is an understatement.
I didn’t know what to do. For the next kilometer I considered a DNF. I couldn’t help thinking, ‘What’s the point in hobbling through another 25km? I won’t qualify. I will be out on the route for hours and I could do some serious damage to my hamstring.’ Literally moments before I broke to a walk and packed it in – I thought of my bike ride and how it had been a personal best. And then I heard the NRG voices: ‘It wasn’t a great bike, if you didn’t have a great run.’ I started to worry that everyone would discount my ride time if I called it quits in the marathon. It wouldn’t matter that I had pulled my hamstring. Trying to explain away what happened, would sound like an excuse for ‘I cooked my legs on the bike.’ Damn Fiona, Nigel, Brandon and Sylvie!! I couldn’t face the idea of getting that lecture at the Christmas party. So, my brain said ‘Fuck it. I’m a runner. If I slow down and run my Tremblant pace, I will still go under 3:40 and can celebrate my bike time.’ That was it; I switched into Suck it Up mode and carried on.
By the time I was ½ way through the 3rd lap, I had mind-over-mattered the pain in my hamstring and realized that no Q girls (w 35-39) had passed me since Marvin told me I was in 5th.
At that point it was all head games. I decided that if I could just hold on until the last turnaround, I would give everything I had for the last 7km. The sun was going down, which had cooled the temperature and brought some welcome shade. My nutrition was on and I was now passing a lot of people who were slowing down or walking. I was on the hunt for Q’s but had no idea as I passed them whether they were on their 1st, 2nd or 3rd lap. This was actually quite motivating because even if they were behind me and passing them was meaningless, it felt like I was getting ahead. I ran as hard as I could for the last 5km to the finish.
Crossing the line at 10:39 I was surprised, and happy with the time. Considering I wasn’t able to run the marathon I know I could have, and after a really disappointing swim, I was proud of myself for holding it together mentally until the end. With Marvin, Jacquie and Charmian out there in the heat, cheering all day, it was really important to me to be a good sport no matter what happened.
For a change, I wasn’t all smiles in the recovery area. My hamstring was terrible and my knee was aching from overcompensating. Walking was agony. I was pretty sure I had hung on to 5th and thought I may have even run myself into 4th, but I had no idea really. I was shocked when Marvin, Charmian and Jacquie came screaming over waving their hands and saying I had come in 2nd in my AG.
As I talked to more people after the race, I learned that most had had a rough swim. Rumor has it, 100 people were pulled out of the water and another 200 didn’t make the swim cut off. In my age group, only 68 of 110 (120 registered) made it out of the water. The irony is that with so few Q’s completing, the Kona slot allocation was reduced from 4 to 2.
Had I known at any time on Sunday that there were only 2 spots, I would have mentally given up long before the finish line.
I guess it goes to show, Fiona and Brandon have a point when they always lecture me about never, ever giving up in a race. As they say, ‘you never know what is going on with the other athletes, so give it everything you’ve got until the bitter end, and leave it all out there’.
This race wasn’t fun for me in the way that my other Ironmans have been. But in reflection, it feels good to have posted my best result, because I left it all out there.
I cannot emphasize enough how appreciative I am to have Fiona as my coach. There is absolutely no question in my mind that 2012 would have been a very different year without her. She believed in my ability to qualify for Hawaii long before I even allowed myself to dream about it.
From zero to Kona in 3 years? That has NRG PT written all over it!!!
Special thanks also goes to Ayesha Rollinson, for being such a patient swim coach. Not only was Ayesha at the finish line with open arms, she had me swimming laps in the resort pool a few days later, taking underwater video and smiling: ‘Time to start training for Kona!!’