Here is a race report from my first HIM race; the IM 70.3 CA.

I had a great time, and wrote a truly long report to try and capture my experience as best I could.

Grab a drink, put your feet up, relax, and I hope you find the report interesting. Just know that I wrote it explaining lots of things very simply as I also sent it to some family and friends that wanted to know about the experience.

Thanks,

Kevin

2008 Ironman CA 70.3
March 29, 2008

Half Ironman Distance (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run)

http://www.ironmancalifornia.com/

Prelude: The night before I left for Oceanside, I went through my gear to make sure I had everything I would need. Triathlons are challenging in this area in that there is so much stuff. Running is easy: shoes, check; socks, check; running shorts, check; anything else just isn’t too critical. The running portion of triathlon is basically the same. The swim and bike areas require more equipment and then adding in the transition and nutritional needs I begin to feel like a quartermaster planning a camping trip for a week. I had it all laid out on the bed and was going through my checklist and it all seemed to be where it needed to be. It all fit nicely into my workout bag; as Hannibal Smith used to say “I love it when a plan comes together”. I even had my bag packed for the weekend as Leslie and Andrew were going to come down after my race and we were going to spend a couple days in Del Mar! The thing about packing is that something always gets left behind. Something did in this case…

I had always transported the bike in or on the back of the minivan; but since Leslie and Andrew were coming down separately, I had to take the Caddy. Naturally, I waited until the evening before my trip to try and adjust the bike rack from the van to the car. Hey, guess what…. It didn’t fit! Checking the manufacturer’s website, it turns out that the rack we purchased isn’t compatible with a ’97 Cadillac Seville. Brief moment of panic as I think of possible solutions… everything from switching Andrew’s car seat to the caddy (no AC, can’t do that to him) to taking the train (done it before and it took forever) blurred through my brain. After about 20 seconds of this, a sensible idea lit the figurative light bulb above my head (maybe it was there- I didn’t bother to look ;)- maybe the bike fits in the back of the car. I rolled the bike over to the car and eyeballed it. It would be really close. I would definitely have to take the front wheel off, which is an easy proposition with road bikes these days. I didn’t want to have to take the rear one off, as tinkering with the chain is a messy proposition. Fortunately I didn’t have to as the bike barely fit with just the front wheel off. If my Nana & Grandad preferred an economy car or even a smaller sedan, I would have had to come up with something else. Fortunately, the car they thoughtfully passed along to me was able to hold my bike.

Driving to Oceanside was great. It was a nice sunny day, there wasn’t any real traffic to speak of, and I passed the time visualizing myself at different points in the race. I made an effort to picture myself smiling in these different situations as I had read that this can help positively influence a person’s mindset. Why not? It made sense to me. I even pictured myself smiling during the swim (and imagined myself spitting out the water I took in while smiling). I am not a pro after all, nor do I have any illusions of winning my age group or qualifying for Kona; I am doing this for fun and anything I can do to help myself enjoy the experience seemed like a good idea. I pulled into Oceanside to the Best Western that I booked. I checked in and had a room on the first floor next to the pool. Great! In addition to making it easier bringing the bike to and from the room, I could take a relaxing dip in the pool after checking in and taking a bike ride to get my muscles some exercise. The smell of the room instantly reminds me of Vacation Village, a fun place in San Diego that my family used to vacation at as a kid. If I had to describe it, it would be a magical combination of hotel cleaning products mixed with ocean air and a slight mustiness. I may be the only person ever to have checked into this hotel and described the scent of the room as magical, but it worked for me.

I went over to the Oceanside pier to check in for the race at the local auditorium there. It was packed! Of course, there are about 2,000 people racing here so it makes sense that there are so many people. First order of business is to pay my USA Triathlon one day license fee of $10. This is mandatory, as at all (read: both) triathlons I have competed in prior to this. It provides insurance coverage for the athlete during the race. I also have the option of putting this $10 towards the cost of an annual membership that gives me a license for the year. I decide to splurge for the year, plunk down another $29, and I am good to go. I exit the foyer into the main room and am again impressed by how many people are here. I check in with the Marine working the desk (many of the “volunteers” at this race are Marines from Camp Pendleton- I don’t know, maybe they did volunteer to work at the race?). He gives me my bibs, timing chip, transition wristband, and something like 6 forms to fill out. I am only half joking when I say that I think I had to give fewer signatures to buy a house.

There are a couple long tables packed with athletes filling out these forms. Naturally, I didn’t think to bring a pen. There are a bunch on the table, but it turns out almost none of them work. The woman next to me points to one that she saw someone else using and sure enough it works. I thank her and start with the paperwork. At some point I noticed that a code on my sheet was listed as 01/05. My birthday is May 1 and I wondered if this code had to do with my birth date. I mentioned this to the woman who had pointed the pen out to me. She replied that she wasn’t sure as she had the same code on her paper too. She also said that her birthday is also May 1- 1980, ten years after me. I had never met anyone with the same birthday as mine. We checked with someone else who didn’t have May 1 as a birth date, and yes, that is what the number referred to.

Next up for me was the weigh in. The line was long, but moved fast. At my turn, I step up on the scale and the Marine declares loudly “210”. Ouch! She sees the smile and exclamation on my face and says not to worry, that there is a strong possibility I will weigh less tomorrow. I laugh and think of all the water, Gatorade, and food I have been eating over the last few days. Still, 210?!? When I signed up for the race back in September I was right at 200. I figured that I would certainly be under 200 after all the training leading up to the race. I had done some minor weight training, but certainly not in an effort to bulk up. Looks like I am a Clydesdale (+200 lb male athlete) for this race. I find out later they keep me as a regular age group racer as I signed up for the age group slot. It turns out they weigh people so that if an athlete has medical problems out on the course, one indication they can check is how much weight they have lost.

No time to dawdle thinking of the weigh-in as there are several more stations to go to. I go get my swim cap (powder blue), have my chip activated, etc. Last up is a mandatory 20 minute video that takes the place of the usual pre-race meeting where the route, logistics, and elements of safety are discussed. The line for this is the longest and it barely moves. I happen to be wearing a shirt from a pub in Galway, Ireland and a guy behind me excitedly asks me where I got the shirt. I can tell by the lilt in his speech that he is Irish (or doing a heck of an impression). Turns out he is from Galway. We passed a good 15 minutes talking about how much better Galway (and Cork and Limerick and Dingle et al) are than Dublin. One of the race organizers comes down the line and tells people that we are welcome to come back to view the film later. No one budges and she makes her way down the line saying that it isn’t exactly “mandatory” that we view it, it is “suggested”. Are you trying to get rid of us? Is there nothing I need to know? I cram myself into the room where people are watching the film and catch it about halfway in. About the only information that I didn’t already have from the official Athlete’s Guide that I pulled off the website was that because of construction of a bridge over an estuary, I have to walk my bike about 1/8 mile on a dirt road on the way to transition in the morning. Good enough. Time to check out the race expo!

I have high expectations for the race expo as the Ironman brand and North America Sports are putting on this event and they are highly regarded in the race industry. Leslie and I got tons of free goodies at the SF Marathon the year before and the LA Triathlon proved to be a bounty too. Turns out this race expo had nothing free- just opportunities to buy everything from truly expensive bikes to those pools that generate a current to swim against. I did get a free granola cookie. Thanks for the cookie! Time to go get my bike ride and maybe a quick run in. I open my race bag and get my racing outfit for the ride and take the opportunity to lay everything out on the bed for one last inventory in case I need to pick something up. Everything is there and I decide I will get out my swimsuit for after my workout for a nice dip in the pool afterward. Where did I put my suitcase… crap! The one thing I forgot for this race was my suitcase! Brilliant. The consequences of this mistake eluded me at the time but would be realized later on.

I ride from the hotel through Oceanside, past the expo, towards the transition area where everything begins and ends. I come upon the dirt road alluded to in the film and recognize the two race organizers of said film talking with some construction workers. They simply point to me and tell me to turn around. Looks like I won’t see transition until about 5:30 tomorrow morning. I head back to the hotel and decide to bail on the run; I’ll have plenty of that tomorrow. I stretch out and flip through sixty-some channels on the TV while I think about what I want for dinner. I don’t really care; I just want to eat early and get to sleep as soon as I can. I pick up some chicken piccata w/ veggies and pasta, eat as much as I comfortably can, and sip some Gatorade (as I have been doing for the past couple days as I try to load up on water and electrolytes). As I try to get sleepy I work on getting ready for my rotisserie baseball draft in a week. I can’t really concentrate as I can’t stop thinking about the race. I am just too excited. The feeling is reminiscent of Christmas Eve as a kid. Listening to iTunes while I am doing this, I come across a song that I got from a Quincy Jones album my parents have that I hadn’t really listened to much. “Everything Must Change”, a song performed by many different artists, sounds really familiar. I probably haven’t heard it since the early or mid 80’s, but it is beautiful and its reflective sentiments really strike a chord with me as I lay there thinking about the race, my family, myself, and life in general. I end up hearing it in my head throughout different parts of the bike and run during the race.

Turned the TV off around 9:30 and tried to fall asleep. Yeah, right! After what seemed an eternity, I turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. “9:57” it taunted. This red-faced clock would be my adversary for the next 4+ hours!!! That’s right; I didn’t fall asleep until sometime after 2:20am. This was inconvenient as I ordered a wakeup call for 4:30am and set my cell phone alarm for the same time. It was fortunate that I did set my phone alarm as I never got the call from the hotel. Two hours of sleep. I actually felt fine when my phone went off. I didn’t expect a great night’s sleep, but I thought 5 hours was a reasonable expectation, particularly when I usually am in bed before 11 and up between 6 and 7. The excitement of the race trumped all other sleep considerations.

I made my oatmeal, sliced up my banana, ate a Clif Bar, and sipped more Gatorade. As I enjoyed my breakfast, I inventoried and packed my race bag. Everything was set. I mentioned earlier that there was a consequence for me forgetting my suitcase. The only clothes I had were my racing clothes and the t-shirt and shorts I wore for the drive down from Pasadena. The upshot here is that at 5am I wore everything I had in an attempt not to be freezing cold before the race. It was my good fortune that while it was a little chilly race morning, it was not foggy, misty, or freezing. I packed everything in the car, checked out of the hotel (along with a bunch of other triathletes whose license plates said they were mostly from Utah and Arizona), and headed over to transition.

Pre-race: Checked into transition, I walked along until I found my specific rack. This was already better organized than the LA Triathlon (which is a well done race) and light years ahead of the Sacramento one that Leslie and I did together 11 months earlier. There were tons of volunteers everywhere (this time the Marine ratio was pretty small, I think they were all outside of transition handling traffic duties). The racks were all numbered so I found the one that contained my bib number (#814), and contrary to reports, there was even a tag with my name and number on it. Usually, there is a land rush for people laying out all their equipment. Here, I was told where to be and about how much room I had so I could decide for myself how to use it. I racked my bike, dropped my bag, and went to get body marked. A nice volunteer with a furry moose hat scribbled “814” on my left arm and “37” on my left calf. The time at this point was about 5:40 and my swim start wasn’t until 7:07, plenty of time to kill.

I walked over to where the pros were prepping and gawked at their equipment. The bikes these guys ride look like NASA designed them, or at least Boeing or BMW. These things weigh something like 5 lbs and could be curled with your index finger. There was somewhere around 2,000 bikes here and I didn’t see one that figured to be cheaper than mine. This isn’t an indictment against my bike. I like it just fine. I bought it off craigslist for $500 and it works great. It just means I have to work a little harder to push my bike the 56 miles. Of course I am already pushing 210 lbs, so what’s a little more, right? I couldn’t see spending $3,000+ on a bike with so many other useful, practical, and fun things out there. Still, it is neat to see where the technology has gone with these machines.

The lines for the portos were already pretty long. I spotted one off in the distance in an unlit area towards the end of the harbor. I took care of my needs and exited to find that I had started a little trend with about 5 people in line. Better than the other longer lines I suppose. At this point, it was still pitch dark; the only light coming from the amber lights in the harbor parking lot that served as our transition area for the race. It made for a surreal setting, though I found most pre-race settings to feel like this. Combined with the excited anticipation for the coming race, it really stands out in my mind. Since I was out near the end of the harbor, I walked out to the end and checked out the swim course. It was laid out just like the athlete guide said it would be. It just looked a whole lot longer in person! Swimming is definitely my strongest discipline, and it is the weakest for most of the triathletes I have spoken to. All the same, there is a certain unsettling fear that comes with swimming a distance in open water with a bunch of other people. I have done double this distance more times than I can remember, but those were in a pool and it is different. At least it isn’t the open ocean. The LA Tri swim in Santa Monica Bay was rough and choppy. The breakwater of the harbor would protect me here at least from much of the force and energy of the open ocean.

I hustled back to my transition area and laid out all my stuff. I liberally applied BodyGlide in all the important areas to avoid chaffing. I then took the opportunity to put on my wetsuit. Even though I wasn’t freezing without my sweats, it still was cold and this would provide an additional layer of warmth before the race. I spent the rest of the time just kind of wandering around and ate a gel about 20 minutes before my start time.

About 10 minutes before my start time, I found a woman carrying a sign with a blue swim cap that said “M35-39 7:07” and decided that was who I needed to follow. I got in line behind her and within a minute there was a bunch of people lined up behind me with the same blue cap. Looks like I’m in the right place! Every few minutes we moved forward towards the boat launch where the entrance/exit to the harbor was. She grinned as she told us blue caps that she did the race last year and that the water was so cold that she didn’t feel her feet until the run. Great! This race is famous for its cold water, so I have something to look forward to in a few minutes in addition to swimming with ~130 guys that I have never met before. Every minute or so, someone with a different colored swim cap would go running by and I could see that they were trying to find their group. A couple times that group was already in the water trying to get to the starting line and one guy ran by when his group had already started to race. Like an airline flight, better to be way too early than just a little late.

Just as our group descended the ramp, the first two pro men exited the water in something like 22 minutes! The first one out was last year’s champ, Andy Potts who I saw earlier in transition. He was running hard with a guy right on his tail. The race is on! My feet hit the water and my first thought was “this isn’t so cold”. My second and third thoughts were also, “this isn’t so cold”. Either the water was unseasonably warm (above 60) or these guys are a bunch of pansies. Turns out the water was unseasonably warm. I swam over to the starting line and found myself right where I didn’t want to be; in the front of the pack and right in the middle instead of off to one side. I said half jokingly that “you guys are going to be swimming right over me as soon as this guy tells you to”. I was part right. The last thing I remember before the start was the starter sitting in his kayak pleading for authority to start our wave. It sure seemed to take a long time.

The Swim: The first thing I remember about the start of the swim was being overcome by my fellow swimmers. Thinking back, I would compare it to a single plankton being overcome by several strands of baleen as I am engulfed by a whale. That may be a little too dramatic and it wasn’t really that bad, but the chaos was palpable and I was surrounded. All I could do was swim on and that is what I did. Maybe it is more like a stampede as you don’t dare slow or stop your charge lest you be overcome by the masses behind you. At first I breathed every second stroke as the adrenaline surge was very strong. The surge probably had to do with the open water setting, all the swimmers crowded around me, and the kicking and grasping I felt as the people around me made their presence known. The distance was just short of 2000 meters and I had this panicked feeling for probably the first 500. This has happened in my other triathlons as well. The thoughts that go through my head are that I can’t make it, that I won’t be able to breathe, or that I will get too tired. I think to myself why did I do this, I won’t do this again, and I think to myself that I have to plug on because I have Leslie and Andrew that need me to finish. Fortunately, I learned that if I just plug along, those feelings will subside and they did.

Once the panic fell away, I began to enjoy the swim. It was a beautiful day and dawn had just broken. I was still occasionally punched and I kicked a couple people (accidentally) in the close quarters of the race. I focused on my form, counted my strokes, and pictured myself smiling (I didn’t smile because I didn’t want to have to spit out the water ;). My sighting was much easier than the LA triathlon as I felt more buoyant in the steady water and I didn’t have a strong current to fight. Instead of sighting every 6 or 9 strokes, I took a look every 15 or 18. A few times I swam behind the feet of another swimmer for the draft benefit and just followed their bubbles and trusted their navigation. As I neared the halfway turn, everything got a little more difficult. The swell from the ocean sneaking around the breakwater was having a pretty good effect of raising us all up and down. I hoped I wouldn’t get seasick. No problem there, but coming upon the two turn buoys was a bottleneck of swimmers all trying to make a tight turn rather than swim extra distance. I felt a little more panic, but focused on swimming strong and was able to relax a bit after the second turn.

During the swim, I noticed plenty of people in different colored swim caps. I know some of these were from the waves of racers behind me and some from the waves in front of me. Even with a three or four minute gap, these waves intermingle pretty quickly. I remember somewhere on the first half of the swim when I just gotten over my initial panic that I was overcome by the front runners of the wave behind me. Several guys overcame me in one fell swoop and it took me a second before I realized why I was in the middle of so much commotion again.

Swimming back to the boat ramp on the second half of the swim, the buoys on our left started to angle back to the right following the bend of the harbor. Most of the swimmers were staying in line with the buoys on the left. Since we had to veer right eventually, I swam to the right side of the path to cut the distance. I may not be the smartest guy in the world, but I know I don’t want to swim more than I have to. Once I could see the end in sight, I started to feel a little fatigued. Knowing I was almost at the end inspired me and I swam as hard as could while maintaining my form. The last 100 meters seemed to take an eternity, even though I could tell I was swimming smooth and fast. I beat the guy who had been on my right for the last minute to the turn from the harbor to the boat ramp and swam the last few strokes until my fingers felt the cement below. I stood up, lifted my goggles, and felt a volunteer in a wetsuit give me a quick pull. Suddenly I was running up the ramp to the timing mats at the top. One leg down, two to go.

Swim Goal: under 40:00
Swim Actual: 34:59
Age Group Rank: 126 / 380

I felt good about my swim time in this race. Swimming is the first discipline I picked up seriously before I got into triathlon and it is still my strongest. I only swim about once a week so I can focus more time on the cycling and running portions of the sport, where I need more attention. I certainly improved my pace from the LA race (30 min over 1500 meters in LA compared to 35 min over 1950 meters in Oceanside). I don’t think my swim fitness was any better than 6+ months earlier. I think the difference is that I didn’t have to fight a strong current, I had a much easier time sighting, I was able to draft a little more effectively, and I didn’t have to run in and out on a sandy beach 100 yards each way. While I expected to be under 40 minutes, I was pleasantly surprised to beat 35 (by the smallest possible margin ;).

T1: I crossed under the inflatable “Ironman” arch that signifies the dividing line between the swim course and transition. As my bare feet squished into those rubbery mats that read the timing chip strapped to my ankle and record my time, I heard volunteers shouting “no passing”. I was glad to hear that as it was a narrow, carpeted path that we had to follow. While I am just looking to finish (hopefully in under 6 hrs), I know some athletes are so focused on winning a slot to the championships in Kona that they will knock people over without even blinking. Not that they are trying to injure anyone; I think their focus is so tight on getting the fastest possible time that they aren’t as concerned about the other racers. Jogging along, I felt very comfortable running and this was a welcome improvement from the LA race where my run into transition was breathless after sprinting up the sand from the ocean.

I made the turn into the bike racks after about 30 seconds and jogged the wide aisle to where my bike was racked. Volunteers were calling out “bikes on the left, runners on the right”, so I stayed to the right and found my bike. I was happy to see that most of the bikes were still on the rack. This signified that these guys who were all a part of my wave were still swimming or jogging somewhere behind me. One guy whose bike was next to mine gave me a somewhat surprised “good job” which told me he didn’t expect me to be there with him; all the better! Next thing I knew the racer on my other side was there too, so it’s not like I left everyone at sea.

I slid my wetsuit down to my ankles and dropped onto my butt to get it off. Right then a volunteer ran by and yanked it off like a parent rips a band-aid off a hesitant child. What could have taken me 20 seconds was done in an instant. I focused on getting my socks and shoes on, loading my pockets with my salt tablets and food (Margarita flavored Clif Bloks with extra sodium), putting on my watch, throwing on my sunglasses and helmet, and taking special attention to buckle my chin strap. My bike comes off the rack and I am back jogging on the carpet, staying to the left, and heading towards the black giant inflatable Ironman arch titled “Bike Course”. Again, I am surprised at how good I am feeling, particularly my legs.

T1 time: 5:09. This was right about average, but some people did it in 2 minutes. Some took over 7 minutes, but I can do better. I do focus on slowing myself down a bit when I am going through my things as I would rather take an extra minute here than forget something I would want out on the road later.

The Bike: I crossed the mount line, hopped on my bike, pushed forward, and fumbled trying to snap my shoe cleats into the pedals. Most of the serious triathletes cycle without socks and leave their shoes attached to their pedals. This is done to save time in transition and once they are pedaling with their bare feet pushing on top of their shoes, they then slip their feet into their shoes while they are moving. I thought about trying this before the race, but ultimately decided that saving 20 seconds wasn’t worth the agony of trying to put my shoes on while they are attached to my pedals as I am moving down the road.

I started riding down the road and before I even got to the first turn, my hamstring tightened up really quick. Fantastic! I’ve got a 56 mile ride in front of me with some good size hills and I am about 50 meters along. I quickly standup on my pedals and stretch out both of my thighs. I have been riding plenty of miles in training and haven’t had any such problem. I decide to attribute it to my muscles being cold from the swim and am glad that this didn’t happen in the harbor (I never cramp in the water, but there is a first time for everything). After this twinge, I continue through the remainder of the race concerned about my legs cramping, but thankfully it never happens.

Winding along the roads that lead out of Oceanside harbor, I think back to some wisdom I picked up online about the bike. Since I am not part of a triathlon club, I don’t have a coach, and I only know one other person who is into triathlon (Chris Shinn, who will make himself known later on the run); I have relied heavily on learning and picking up tips online and from a magazine subscription that Sharon (my mother-in-law) gave me for Christmas. The couple things I mull over have to do with pacing. The first thing is that coming out of the water and starting out on the bike, it is smart to JRA or “Just Ride Along”. Pedal as if you are going for a ride along the beach with a friend; that you aren’t racing here. This will give your legs a chance to warm up and your body can acclimate to the rhythm of riding. The other idea is that it is best to ride at a pace that will allow me to enjoy the run later. This makes a lot of sense to me. After all, I am doing this for fun. While I have various time goals I have set for myself, I really just want to finish and enjoy the race.

While I am spinning along (high pedaling cadence at low effort in an easy gear), I am getting passed by all sorts of people. This makes me smile as another mantra I have learned is “don’t eat the paste”. I picked this up from a coach who posted it on trifuel.com (a site I have found useful- thanks Chris). The idea is that just because lots of people are hammering away on their bike doesn’t mean that you should. The paste analogy is that even though several kids in your classroom may think it’s a good idea to eat paste, it doesn’t mean it is a good idea for you. So, I content myself to watch people zipping by while I resist putting in more of an effort. Of course, some of this probably has to do with the fact that many of these people have superior bike fitness to me, but the not-eating-paste analogy is the explanation I prefer.

Climbing up and over I-5, the train of cyclists that I am happily a part of crosses into USMC Camp Pendleton. I am curious to see what Camp Pendleton looks like because I have driven by countless times driving between San Diego and LA. Since non-Marine athletes don’t have access to the base except for during the race, I have previewed the course on Google Earth (great application). Still, it’s not the same as actually riding it. We pass the main gate and wind through the commissary area before heading north along the 5. There are some small hills here, but nothing too bad and it isn’t cold or windy, so it is an enjoyable ride.

I notice several “race support” vehicles passing by us during my time on the base. It is an even mix of pickup trucks and motorcycles. Early in the race, I saw several athletes on the side of the road with flats. I am fortunate that I haven’t had to deal with that since I was a kid riding my bike to school. I know this is sheer luck, as it is due to happen sometime. Unfortunately, Leslie had a flat 2 miles into her first race, so I do appreciate my good fortune.

I think most of the motorcycles were referees that were out to enforce various regulations, primarily the no drafting rule. If you follow a cyclist within ~4 bike lengths for more than 20 seconds, you can be called for drafting which means that you have to report to a penalty tent along the course and wait 4 minutes before continuing. I was in the penalty box plenty in my hockey days, but I had no desire to sit in the sin bin now. Certainly not if I am going to finish the race in less than 6 hours, which is the goal I set.

I made the turn from Stuart Mesa Rd to Las Pulgas heading east for 1½ miles to the turn around. Riding up a hill here, I opened up a package of my chews to get some calories in. Most people prefer the gels that are so common in endurance sports because they are easier to eat and they are more quickly digested. I like the Clif Bloks better because I prefer the texture and they aren’t too sweet (some of the gels taste like cake frosting – while I like cake frosting, it isn’t what I am looking for during a run or bike). Naturally, it is while I am chewing my bloks that I catch the photographer on the side of the road. I think to myself that I am going to look funny in the picture; though if it wasn’t from the camera catching me chewing food, it would probably catch me spitting or crashing. Maybe an “action eating” shot isn’t so bad.

I get to the turn around and head down the hill to exit Camp Pendleton. Lots of cyclists are clumped up on both sides of the road heading towards or away from the turnaround. As soon as I exit the base, I get a nice downhill with a sharp turn to the right at the bottom. There are lots of Marines and volunteers telling people to slow down, so I do as I am told and lose plenty of momentum and as I complete the turn I get to climb a decent hill. Climbing the hill, I see the 1st aid station for the bike. They have them every 10 miles or so. My water and Gatorade levels are fine so I pass it by, but the Marines that are staffing it are REALLY cheering people on and giving the riders a hard time for riding slow up the hill. I have no trouble taking their abuse; their hard days are a lot worse than this and I am enjoying it. I can’t help but smile at them and it just gets the ones that see me grinning going even more. I thank them for helping out (I thank lots of people on the course), and I continue on.

Now we are on the Old 101 which serves as an access road for surfers getting to somewhat isolated beach areas. We come up to Trestles which is a famous surf spot and has been probably as long as there has been surfing in California. I know when I asked Dad about his surfing days he said that this is one of the places he would come. I picture him coming down here in his teens and 20s and smile. It is a beautiful spot! There is talk of putting a toll road through here. While there is a ton of traffic through this I-5 corridor and it figures to get worse with the ever expanding population, I sure hope this isn’t the solution. There has to be another way other than spoiling this pristine spot. Easy for me to say as I don’t have to commute through here, but it would be sad to see this paved over with a byway.

We pedal right by the San Onofre Nuclear Power Plant, or so I expected to. I never even noticed it. I was lost in my own world thinking about something. By the time we got to Christianitos Rd at the Orange County line, I realized that we passed it and I didn’t even see it. Up and over I-5 we go along the rolling hills headed east back to the north end of Camp Pendleton. Turning onto San Mateo Rd, we are back on the base and there is an aid station staffed by Marines. I have plenty of water (I only drink it with my Bloks), but am down to a 3rd of a bottle of Gatorade. Since I know there are some big hills coming up, I grab one of the Gatorade bottles on offer and put it where my bike bottle was. I then throw the bottle at the “last chance” trash bin at the end of the aid station… and miss.

I coast around a curve at the top of a rise and smile at the sight of a little downhill portion. I am almost at the bottom of this hill when I see in the distance a huge one rising up out of the ground. I knew there were two or three really big hills on the course, but this was enormous and sure enough there was a trail of ants slowly making their way up it. I was going to be one of those ants in about 5 minutes. I gained as much speed as I could before the hill without really taxing myself, but it evaporated quicker than a pool deck on a hot day. It was a steep hill and there were a couple people walking up it. It wasn’t as bad as my training rides up Altadena Drive as it only lasted about 8-10 minutes. I managed to stay in my saddle the entire time (not stand) and kept my effort as light as I could. I even managed to pass a few people here who had whizzed by me earlier. I was pretty sure they would pass me again, but it was nice to see a little payback for the ol’ slow-and-steady approach. Cresting the top, there was a Marine telling us sorry bike riders to get off his hill. With pleasure, sir!

Now the course took me through several valleys and the closest thing I can compare it to is Maui or Kauai. I know that may sound bizarre, but these dramatic, steep hills/mountains were blanketed in verdant growth and were stunning and untouched. The only indicators that we were on a military base were the occasional barracks, artillery range, or activity hall. There was a little shack signed NCIS, but it looked empty and abandoned. Might as well have been a shave ice stand.

I came upon the second big hill, which turned out to be longer in elevation gain, but not as steep so not as strenuous. The pace slowed and I ended up talking to someone who was alongside me. We both mentioned how surprisingly beautiful it was back here and that the only way it could possibly survive being developed is to have the Marines control it. I had read recently that Manhattan had a real estate value of $1 trillion. We agreed that this much gorgeous land bordering the ocean would definitely fetch even more. While developing it would be one quick way to pay off foreign debt, somehow I don’t expect to see it on the market any time soon.

The descent from that hill was one that we had been warned about in the athlete’s guide and on the “mandatory” pre-race video. It turns out a racer had died in a crash at the bottom of the hill several years ago because of a severe decreasing radius turn at the bottom of the steep grade. As a result there was a 25mph speed limit on the descent and it was declared a no-passing zone. Naturally, as I kept my speed at 25 I was passed by a couple guys who didn’t slow until the bottom. Supposedly this was grounds for DQ, but I doubt that happened. Again, I am not so competitive that I am going to take any such risks. I don’t think the turn at the bottom was all that bad, but if someone died there in the past, I am not going to argue if the race organizers are a little over cautious.

I was about 40 miles into the 56 mile ride at this point and thought that with the big hills behind me, I had a good chance to beat my goal of finishing the ride under three hours. Limiting my impulse to hammer out the last 15 miles were a couple things. I thought back to my hamstring tightening up and even though I was pretty sure that was a result of the muscle being cold from the swim, I wasn’t positive. The other was that I really didn’t want to tax my legs too much before the run. Something one of the online coaches wrote on one of the sites was that if you ride too easy, you have 13 miles to fix it on the run. If you ride too hard on the other hand, the run has 13 miles to fix you. Since the second option really sounded unappealing, I continued to focus on not eating the paste and kept my pace easily maintainable.

The last 10 miles or so heading back to Oceanside and the transition area had a nasty headwind. This meant I had to work a little harder to keep up a decent pace. Everyone’s pace slowed in this stretch and I watched as people bunched up. My slow-and-steady pace paid off one last time as I heard a motorcycle come up from behind. As I expected it was a referee; he was even wearing a striped referee jersey like I used to wear when I refereed hockey and soccer in college. He paced me for 20 seconds or so which seemed strange to me since there was no one near me. I waved ‘hi’, but got no response. About 100 meters in front of me was a clump of about 10 riders. From my vantage, it appeared that they were in danger of a drafting call. Almost as if the referee read my mind, he sped up and caught up to the group. I watched him as I pedaled and after a minute of no action, I thought the group might be ok. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I saw the ref pull out a red card and talk to a couple of the riders. Looks like a couple people had a 4 minute penalty to serve. Having been a part of several packs, I don’t think people are intentionally drafting (at least not in the age group realm where I exist). I suspect that most of these drafting calls are a result of people not changing their pace as they come upon riders riding at a similar pace. All I know is that I had to either slow down or speed up a few times so I wasn’t at risk for the infraction.

As I made my way down Vandergrift Rd on my way back to the gate, I recognized the road as what I had travelled on my way out on the bike course. This was exciting as I was feeling really good and ready to run. Exiting the base and crossing I-5 it was obvious that I wasn’t going to finish the bike under 3 hours, but I was relieved that I didn’t have any cramping problems or flat tires. As I wound my way through the curves and down the hill to the harbor, I shifted into an easier gear, started spinning at a quick and easy pace to loosen up my muscles, and did some light stretching. I released my shoes from the pedals and got ready to dismount, but did so too early as what I thought was the dismount line was a group of volunteers telling us not to pass anyone as we had to ride along the narrow path we ran on after exiting the swim to get to the back of transition. I awkwardly pedaled with my shoes on the pedal axles (not in the cleat) and dismounted at the timing mats at the back of transition.

Cycling Goal: <3:00:00
Cycling Actual: 3:04:41
Age Group Rank: 191 / 380

Turns out I finished just below the midpoint for my age group of M35-39. While I really wanted to come in under 3 hours, I was glad that I finished without feeling too fatigued. I knew I had the hardest part still to come. Looking back, I probably could have picked up 5 minutes somewhere in my pacing without sacrificing too much, but that is something to work on for the next race.

T2: I hurriedly jog my bike over to my place in the racks. It is awkward to run in the biking shoes I have with the bike cleat on the bottom and stiff sole. I suppose it is kind of like walking in ski boots or ice skates though not quite as difficult. The second time in transition is much simpler compared to changing from the swim to the bike. No wetsuit to worry about and no nutritional supplies to take as they are all readily available on the run. Just rack the bike, lose the helmet, throw on a running hat, change into my running shoes, and head off. I had packed extra socks and a towel to wipe sweat off with, but my cycling socks were fine and the wind on the last 10 miles of the bike meant I was pretty dry. Time to go! I jog along the carpet towards yet another black inflatable Ironman arch, this one appropriately titled “Run Course”. Looks like I am headed to the right place.

T2 Time: 2:31. I suppose I could go slightly faster, but like in T1, I don’t want to forget anything.

Run: The swim is swum, the bike is done and racked, only the run stands between me and my goal for the day. A half-marathon on a relatively flat course along the Strand in Oceanside is ahead. Fortunately, the conditions are great. Temperature is in the mid 60s and there is a light ocean breeze. There are just a few scattered clouds which means I will get quite a bit of sun, but it is cool enough where I shouldn’t overheat. It is a few minutes before 11am which means I have been going for almost 4 hours. All things considered, I feel really good. Starting the run, my legs aren’t the least bit wobbly and my heart rate is steady and right around 150 bpm which is just fine. I fall immediately into a nice easy stride which gives me a nice boost of confidence. In fact, my legs feel better now than they usually do when I go for a run. It looks like I may have stumbled upon a new, albeit long, warm-up routine. Actually, this tells me I could do a better job of warming up for my other runs instead of lightly jogging for 2-3 minutes and stretching. It reminds me of playing 3 hockey games back-to-back-to-back with my friends Greg, Stu, and Les when we all lived together. The first game felt like any other. The second game, my legs felt fantastic, I was flying all over the place, and I think we were all surprised at how good we felt. The third game, I lacked any jump and it felt like my skates were pushing into snow instead of hard ice. I suppose it all comes down to getting sufficient blood flow and having the body’s various systems optimized for the activity at hand. Hopefully, I can find a better routine for future races.

This will be the third time I have tackled 13.1 miles, though the first two times were run-only races. I finished those two in 1:46 and 1:40. I had no illusions of setting a new personal record today, even though this course had much fewer hills than the San Francisco and Rose Bowl half marathons that I ran the previous year. My goal here is to finish and hopefully beat 2 hours. I hadn’t done as much running leading up to the race as I would have preferred. I took about 4 weeks off from running as I was having some knee pain. As best as I could tell, it was a tender ligament on the outside of my knee; most likely a result of overtraining. I had been able to resume running for about a month before the race, and was pain free which was important to me. I had to ease myself back into it though so I wouldn’t put too much pressure on the knee or any other area after taking time off. This meant that I had only built up to just over 9 miles on my long run a week before the race. It turns out that was the same distance I had done prior to my first half marathon in July ’07, so at least I knew that I should be able to handle the additional 4 miles.

While I wanted to finish in less than 2 hours, I wasn’t going to try and stick to a specific pace. My plan was simply to run within myself; meaning that I would maintain a pace that I was comfortable with and felt that I could sustain. At least, that was the plan. I usually finish a 10k run somewhere under 50 minutes. Since this distance was just over two 10k’s, I felt under 2 hours was reasonable. My run at the LA Triathlon was 52:xx over a 10k distance, so I expected a bit of a slower pace than what I usually run at.

About 100 meters into the run, I crossed over some timing mats. As I wondered what they were there for, I heard the announcer say my name and that I was from Pasadena. Looks like the mats read my chip and send my information up to the booth for announcing to the crowd. I heard some applause which was nice and gave a thank you wave to everyone. It seemed like there was a huge crowd in attendance and it brought a lot of energy to the festivities. I could certainly feel it and it definitely gave me a nice jolt. The bike being on Camp Pendleton was pretty solitary, save for the Marines, since spectators weren’t allowed on the base. The length of the run was filled with people. I didn’t go 30 meters without finding people cheering the runners on. Watching people supporting strangers in this way brightens my spirit. I am sure many of them were there to cheer on a loved one or friend. All the same, my bib had my number and “Heinz” in block letters under it. I got all sorts of calls out for “Go Heinz”, “Alright Heinz”, “Lookin’ good Heinz”, or “Where’s my ketchup” (ok, I made up the last one). All these interactions just make me smile, even if I don’t feel the greatest at the moment.

I made my way past the turnaround that signified the halfway point of the race. Since this was a 2 loop course, I had to run just over three miles along the Strand, turn around, cover the same distance back to about 200 meters short of the finish, then turn around and repeat the distance. I watched as runners either turned around here or continued on to the finish line. Most of them at this point were turning around, but of course this meant that they were halfway done with the run and I was just starting out. I thought to myself that hopefully I would be back here in an hour or less still feeling good. I then made my way up the dirt road that I had to walk down in the early morning on the way to transition.

After the first mile, I made my way to the beginning of the Strand and the first aid station. It was right on a corner and was pretty crowded as runners slowed to grab some of the things on offer and others made the sharp turn onto or off of the path along the beach. I chose to run past this station as I felt fine and had taken in a lot of calories on the bike. I didn’t want to have an upset stomach during the run, so I chose to continue along. Just past the beginning of the Strand, I saw a bike going the other direction with a sign on the front that read “1st Place Female”. This was Erika Csomor from Hungary and she went on to win the race. A couple minutes later was another bike with “2nd Place Female” on it. Both ladies were running at a strong clip, far faster than I could hope to be running. The pro triathletes are truly fit people!

Settling into my run, it was interesting to watch how others ran. There was a wide variety of paces and some looked very comfortable, while others were simply enduring. I suppose that is to be expected in any event like this. Age had almost nothing to do with it. Like the “37” written on my left calf, all the athletes had their age displayed for others to see. I remembered getting passed by plenty of people with 50-something or even 60-something on the bike. This trend continued on the run as well. Maybe it’s a sign of my own maturity, but where my younger self might have taken being passed by someone 30 years older as a sign of my own weakness; now I simply admire these people who are able to compete and excel at a discipline such as this past retirement age. Obviously, these people are the exception- few people are in this kind of condition in their 50s or 60s.

Going along, I recognized many people from the bike ride earlier. I talked with several of them as I generally like to talk with people and I have found most racers to be friendly and engaging. It is easy to tell how someone is doing while talking to them and it isn’t necessarily what they say. If I can hold a conversation with someone for a couple minutes and they aren’t laboring to speak, they are usually just fine. Others may only be able to get out a couple words or phrases. The same applies to me, of course. My goal is to be able to go at a pace where I can have a talk with someone. This helps keep a sustainable level of effort and really can help pass the time. This is especially true on this loop course where I will see the same scenery four times. It can get monotonous, so finding someone to talk to is great. Racing is very much a personal and solitary experience, as is the training which there is substantially more of. It can also be a very social environment; certainly at the races where people are pretty outgoing and approachable.

As I continue, I come upon the next aid station- they are spaced roughly every mile which is convenient. I decide I better get some Gatorade in me for the calories and the sodium. I am what is known as a “salty sweater” this means that my body flushes sodium and electrolytes more than most. It also means I need to replace these elements a little more than most people. If I don’t keep my levels up, I risk cramping or other problems that I don’t want to face. I gulp down some Gatorade (lemon lime Endurance formula; they served the orange version on the bike course – thanks for the variety!) and continue along the station. At the end of it volunteers are handing out sponges soaked in cold water. I am not too hot yet, but I have read about refreshing they are and decide to try squeezing one over my head. Wow- it feels like jumping in cool pool on a hot day. The sponges become an integral part of the rest of my run as they become a goal to run towards at every successive aid station.

Running down Pacific St (after The Strand ends, the race climbs up Wisconsin Ave a block and then continues south on Pacific), I start to see some people running awkwardly, limping along, stretching by the side of the road, or- worst case- sitting on the sidewalk. My goal is to avoid all of these situations, but they are a reality in the experience of endurance sports. At some point, anyone’s body will reach a point where it cannot continue; where the level of fitness won’t support exertion at the current level. The obvious goal for anyone in this race is to compete at a level where they can go as fast as possible without eclipsing their energy level (known as bonking where the athlete becomes fatigued and lightheaded) or their fitness level, which reveals itself in several ways though cramping is the most common. Considering this possibility helps me moderate my pace. I recall my hamstring tightening at the beginning of the bike leg. I also had a close call where I felt my hammy tighten up during the run at the LA Triathlon. I had to quickly get to a tree and stretch out my leg on that run and the fear of cramping kept me from enjoying the rest of the race that day. I didn’t want to push it here.

Heading back under the Oceanside Pier, I knew I was a little over a mile from the turnaround at the halfway point. I turned off the Strand and headed around the condos that separated the Strand from the transition area and the turnaround. This is where I ran into Chris and Kat. I was glad to see them; actually it was the first time I had ever met Kat, so about all I said to her was “Nice to meet you”. Chris had told me they were coming to watch a friend of Kat’s race. When I had told Chris that I was racing, he was surprised as I had told him about my knee pain a couple months before and that I wasn’t sure I would be able to race. He told me he would keep an eye out for me and this is where I found him; or more accurately he found me. It was nice to see a familiar face and he was very encouraging, telling me that I looked like I was doing well. I told him I felt great and I was pleasantly surprised at how well the run was going.

I ran back down the dirt road, which was narrow and crowded, making me slow down. It was probably a good idea as the path was pretty uneven and pitted. It struck me immediately what a shame it would be for me to twist an ankle here and not be able to finish. I came to the turnaround fork where going straight takes me the last 200 meters to the finish and turning around sends me back the way I came. I dutifully made my u-turn and headed back up the hill. I was still feeling pretty strong, though not nearly as fresh as when I first left T2. I wasn’t really feeling too fatigued; it was more that my legs were just starting to get a little heavy. They were about to put on some more weight.

I made my way back down to the Strand and started running next to the beach. Shinn called out to me again and tried to take my picture. Thanks Chris! I have no idea if it came out. In fact, he ran alongside me for a few seconds trying to get another one I think and then gave up. He said I was still looking strong. I appreciated his encouragement and started doing some math.

I do lots of math while swimming, biking, and running. Essentially, I am trying to determine my pacing and estimate at what point I will finish. The race had signs every mile indicating how many miles the runners had completed. At this point, I had a little under 6 miles to go and I had been running for just over an hour. I decided that if I were to continue my current pace, I would finish the run at about 1:55 or so. I still felt pretty decent and thought of the distance as a little under two loops of the Rose Bowl area back in Pasadena where I often train. While I wasn’t trying to record a personal best, I decided that now would be a good time to pick up the pace as I can always slow down later if I have to. I chose someone just in front of me who was running at what is about my normal 10k pace and fell in behind him, expecting that I might get a little drafting benefit as well. In each of the half marathons I had run, I ended up finishing well under my goal time and attributed both to following the pacing of someone a little faster than me. He was tall, wearing a black and white tri-top, and was running quite steadily. I kept up with him for about 8 minutes; around a mile is my estimation. I came to an aid station and decided to grab some Gatorade and a sponge. He continued past and I thought I would catch him with some extra effort. It never happened.

Leaving that aid station near mile marker 8, I accelerated to catch my pacer and found that my legs were really sore. This was an indication that I had reached what is known as my “lactate threshold”. I had probably exceeded it near the turnaround, but by running faster in the last mile I really accelerated the process. This is the point where the rate of production of lactic acid in my leg muscles has exceeded their ability to cleanse it from my system. This is also an indication that my body has turned from burning fat as its primary source of energy to protein; i.e. - it is taking from my muscles instead of my fat. Obviously, it isn’t ideal; particularly with another 5 miles to go. I have yet to run a marathon, but people talk about hitting “the wall” and I think I had just hit it- or at least the beginning of it. The wall is where it becomes much more difficult to continue; where your body begins to try and convince your mind that walking at this point would probably be just fine. The goal here is to maintain a strong mental focus and continue running. I was able to do so, though at a slower pace. I set little goals for myself: just keep running to the beginning of that little hill, make it to the next aid station, etc.

I started to walk at the aid stations to give myself a little break. This is also where I started to enjoy the mini buffets they laid out for the runners. Gatorade? Yeah, I’ll have a cup. Cola? Actually, I’ll skip the Gatorade and try the Coke. Gel? Maybe the calories will help pick me up. Cookie? What idiot would turn down a cookie? Banana? I am sure some potassium would be useful. Water? Sounds like a nice thing to pour over my head. Sponge? Well, I just poured water over my head but it feels so good… yes, I’ll take a sponge too please. I didn’t have all of these things at each station, but I had something at all of them. As much as I may have benefitted from the food and liquid, the aid stations became primarily a motivation: “Only three more stations to go, two more stations until the end, need to get to that last aid station…” Interestingly, I kept expecting to reach a point where it was really difficult to start running again after walking the aid station. It never happened. When it was time to start running again, I would steel my mind against the desire to keep walking. Just getting the first running stride under me was all it would take. As I accelerated away from the final aid station, I wondered how many more times I would have been able to been able to continue doing this. I am signed up for the inaugural Pasadena Marathon in November, so I may get a chance to dance on the wall some more then.

Leaving the final aid station in my figurative rear view mirror, it began to occur to me that I was going to finish. I also realized that by my math, I would tiptoe right on the border of finishing at the 2 hour mark. I really wanted to finish under 2 hours, but I know I wasn’t going to be sprinting at the end like I have in some other races. This did motivate me to pick up the pace a little bit, but I didn’t want to cramp by overdoing it. The one thing I wasn’t sure of was how far after I started the run did I remember to start my stopwatch? It couldn’t have been more than a minute; probably closer to 30 seconds. I came down the final hill on the dirt road focused on not stepping into a rut or doing something to risk injury. As I started up the slight incline to the finish, I looked at my watch and thought to myself that I am not going to beat 2 hours on my run. This didn’t deflate me in the least. I ran past the turnaround point that I had visited a little over an hour earlier and saw the final black inflatable arch in the distance with its bright yellow digital clock quickly elapsing. The time said 6 hours and something like 15 minutes. Since the pros started about 28 minutes before my wave, this meant I would beat my overall goal of 6 hours!

The last few steps were a great feeling. There were tons of people crammed along the railing on each side of me, cheering me and all the other athletes on. Just a great moment. It’s all a blur and seemed so at the time as well. All the training was going to pay off. My legs were pretty darned sore, but I was still running. Those last hundred meters I was simply thinking to myself to just keep smiling, to enjoy this moment that I had worked towards since setting the half iron goal after completing the LA Triathlon back in September of ’07.

I came up to the finish line and they held up an “Ironman 70.3” finish tape for me to “break”. I had never had a chance to do this before. As soon as I crossed the line, I watched a volunteer behind me hurry across with another tape. I suppose it is a part of the experience. I am sure some people visualize it as the goal they are working towards in the race. I visualized someone placing a finisher’s medal over my head as I ran. Moments after crossing the line, a little girl did just that. I had to bend way over to let her get it over my head. Someone invited me over so they could take my timing chip. Finally, a couple volunteers shoved a finisher’s shirt and hat into my hands. The shirt is the most comfortable one I have ever worn!

Run Goal: > 2:00:00
Run Actual: 2:00:29
Age Group Rank: 197 / 380

Post-Race: After I had my goodie handouts in hand, I started my post race wander towards the food and massage tents. I felt great except for my legs which were sore and seemed as if they were made of lead. It was an effort to do anything more than walk slowly. Thinking about the run I had just finished, I was surprised about how sore my legs were. While I had just finished a long race, I didn’t expect to be so sore or to finish quite as slowly. I attribute this to a few things. Mostly, having to take close to a month off from running had to set my running fitness back a peg or two. I used an elliptical machine a couple days a week in place of running, but it isn’t the same. I also think that I “boogered” (commonly used term in some triathlon communities online) my run pacing pretty badly in the 2nd half of the run. Hind sight, as they say, is always 20/20. Had I continued my easy pace, I think it is reasonable to expect that I would have been more comfortable at the end of the race and maybe even had a finishing kick for the last mile or so. I got a little cocky at the beginning of the 2nd loop and made a rash decision to increase my pace. This is the kind of experience that should be helpful in the future. I don’t really regret it, in that part of the process is challenging the body to go a little farther, a little faster. I am curious to know if I would have broken two hours on the run if I kept the original pace. While I’ll never know, it is a possibility; a likely one I believe.

I made my way to the food tent and was surprised to see somewhat slim pickings. I had heard that the Oceanside race was famous for offering pizza at the end. They had what looked like 100 Little Caesar’s boxes piled high on a couple tables. It reminded me of an old beer ad that went something along the lines of “I just did (hard thing X) and all you have for me is light beer?!?” I just pushed myself a little over 70 miles in 6 hours and all you have for me is Little Caesar’s?!? I know it sounds like a bunch of whining, but all the other races I have done- back to my first 10k a little over a year earlier- had better spreads than this. I had a couple pieces of pizza, a few cookies, some fruit, and some lemon-lime and cola (Sam’s Club) before I exited the food tent. They didn’t even have granola bars or anything. While I certainly don’t do the race for the food at the end, it was a little disappointing. I guess I am such a gourmand that maybe I need to organize a race with Wolfgang Puck as organizer of the post race buffet.

I sauntered over to the massage tent and waited in a line of about 7 people that barely moved over 20-30 minutes. By the time I was a couple people away from the front of the line, I overheard that they were understaffed and the wait would be about an hour. I can easily understand how the massage tent can be overwhelmed with athletes, but why did it take so long to get someone’s bib number, what areas they want worked on, and give them an idea of when to come back? Even when I learned what was going on, it still took about 10 minutes for me to have a chance to tell the guy what I wanted. I put my name in, told him that I wanted some work on my hamstrings, my low back, and my right shoulder. He asked if the shoulder was hurt from the swim. I told him it was, but I had no idea when it got hurt. I didn’t feel any pain until after the race was over. It hurt to lift it, though my range of motion was uninhibited. Fortunately, it was fine the next day. I left and headed back to the food tent.

I think it was about 2pm at this point and I had been done for about an hour. The awards were at 4pm and they were going to offer slots to Kona, Clearwater (70.3 distance championships), and several other full Ironman distance races. I still didn’t know my actual finish time, but figured I was somewhere in the middle of my age group. While I didn’t expect to be offered a slot to any of these races straightaway, I had heard that the “roll down” of race openings can go pretty far. The roll down is where the slot is first offered to the top finishers in the group; if they don’t accept it or aren’t present, it then goes down the list in order of finish until all the slots have been accepted. Several hard-to-get-into races offered slots, including Ironman Canada and Ironman Coeur d’Alene. While I am thinking I may take a shot at a full iron distance race someday, I know I am not ready and there is no sense in me hanging around for a slot to a race I am not ready for. Heck, I haven’t even run a marathon yet, or cycled 100 miles. Those aren’t things you pick up in a short time; at least not without really risking injury. I decided it was time to go.

I headed back to transition for the last time and packed up my stuff. I talked to a couple of the racers that I had met in the racks before the race. We were all pretty happy and recalled various things we noticed during the race. We wished each other well and I called Leslie on my cell phone and left her a message that I finished and was going to head over to the hotel. I told her I would be there by the time they drove down from the birthday party they were at in Culver City. Leaving was no easy proposition. Most races have logistical challenges, and IM 70.3 CA is no exception. After getting my bike and stuff out of transition and getting my hand marked with a black slash signifying that I had taken my bike out, I had to make my way through a gauntlet of people and barriers.

I walked my bike along a 3 foot wide precipice between a barrier and the beach. Lined along the barrier were a bunch of people looking for their favorite athlete on the other side. I had to walk my bike along without hitting people or falling into the sand. Of course, there were also people trying to make their way along the same path in the opposite direction. What fun! It probably took me 10 minutes just to amble past the finish line, but because the path I was on ended, I had to cross to the other side, in front of the end of the run course. I crossed, went down about 100 meters and had to cross back over the course, in between athletes, to the other side because of where the barriers were placed. Fortunately, there were volunteers helping direct people when to cross so they didn’t interfere with people still on the course. I can’t imagine how horrible I would feel if I caused anyone to injure themselves this close to the end of the race! Another 50 meters, I had to cross yet again, and then walk my bike back up the dirt hill for the last time. Getting back to the paved road and being able to cycle the couple blocks back to the car was a great feeling.

I got to the Doubletree in Del Mar, checked in and dragged all my stuff up to the room. I knew once I was there that I wouldn’t want to leave because I was in a pretty good post-race daze! I showered up and found that I had a huge cut on the front of my neck. At first, I thought it was my chinstrap rubbing the skin raw, but it turns out it was the zipper of my tri top that did it. I also had really rubbed the back of neck raw- it was extremely sensitive. I had put a ridiculous amount of BodyGlide there to avoid this because I had a similar one from the LA Triathlon, but it didn’t matter. I definitely felt it’s sting in the shower!

I rinsed off all my stuff and hung it in the bathroom to dry. At this point, I was able to lie down in bed for a nap before the family arrived. Surprisingly, it took a little time to fall asleep. I did, but I think I only slept for about 30 minutes before I was woken by a tiger! Our 2 year old son had his face painted at the birthday party for our friends’ little girls, and he was the cutest tiger I ever saw! “Daddy, I’m a tiger!!!!” He sure was!

Final race tally:

Race Goal: sub 6:00:00
Race Actual: 5:47:47
Age Group Rank: 168 / 380

I was pleased to beat my overall goal of 6 hours. The swim time was a nice surprise. The bike was about what I expected, though it would have been nice to get in under 3 hours. The run was a little disappointing in that I think I could have hit my goal of under 2 hours if I had a little more patience and held my comfortable pace. I guess the little kid in me just said “go for it” and I listened. Ahhh… experience. From what I have read, this race draws a lot of seasoned racers because it is one of the first “big” races in the season and due to the huge number of slots awarded to Kona and other races. I am very pleased and a little surprised to finish in the top half of my age group in my first shot. Hopefully, I can continue to improve, but even if I don’t I really hope to continue to enjoy the sport as much as I do now.

It turns out I started the run just after the top two male racers crossed the finish line. I missed a heck of a finish as Andy Potts held off Craig Alexander by three seconds! Their finish times were 3:58:22 and 3:58:25 (yes, they finished almost two hours faster than me!). After racing for 70.3 miles, the gap between first and second was three seconds!!! Reading about the race in the San Diego paper the next day, Leslie and I found the description of the winner immediately after the race pretty amazing. Potts had been leading all race and was caught by Alexander with a mile to go in the run. Alexander caught up to Potts three times in the last mile, only to have Potts immediately expand his lead. The finish came down to a sprint which had to be thrilling for the spectators. According to the reporter, he went to talk to the winner a few minutes after the race. Asking him if he was ready to talk, the only response was a quick shake of the head. A couple minutes later, Potts was able to talk. While leaning on a race official for support, he breathlessly said “Why… did… he… have… to… do… that?”. This made us laugh out loud! It certainly was illustrative of what it takes to win these types of races.

While I don’t ever expect to compete at the level of Potts or Alexander, it really was a thrill to see the training and the goal come to fruition! I am really looking forward to finding other fun races to enter and enjoy.

I know this was really long, but I wanted to capture as much as I could for posterity. Thanks for reading!

Kevin