Ironman 70.3 Lake Tahoe Report

I signed up for this race for the beauty and challenge. The full Ironman is considered the toughest Ironman in North America. So a half would be challenging but doable right? When they opened a 70.3 I signed up immediately. That was 2014 and unfortunately was cancelled due to the smoke. So I returned this year to finish this. This time better trained- mentally and physically.

 

I decided to try this race without my family- mostly because the kids’ schedule was jammed packed all weekend and James needed to be there for them but also as an experiment in mental strengthening. See what I can do when I struggle and see how I handle it alone.   I have an awesome spouse who takes good care of me when I race.  He listens to me spin round and round pre race with my anxieties and offers reassurance.  But what if I could reassure myself? Afterall, no one is with me on the race. Maybe I will learn to work through my pre race and race anxiety on my own and be better prepared for Ironman AZ.

In Tahoe, I was not all alone racing, in fact quite the opposite. I stayed in a house with 14 other Fil-Am athletes and had the time of my life. It was a giant, positive, wacky family. I saw most everyone on the course. Enough support to not feel completely alone and just enough so I really do rely on myself.

Pre Race- Weather had been bitter cold in the morning. I was more worried about swim to bike transition and being hypothermic. I’ve done it before- no fun. In the week air temp was as low as 28 and water was said to be 51. Yikes. The day before we did a practice swim at race time and with the sun it was warm. I felt reassured.  The forecast for race day was even warmer- 52 air.  We did a short pre race ride which was nice. My bike worked well after having to replace a new tire the day before. Thanks Alex for getting it all set!

Race day-

Up 3:30am. The house is bustling with positive energy. Most are doing the 70.3 and a few are bold enough to tackle the full Ironman. We go to the bus and head for Kings Beach. It’s quiet on the bus. I reflect on my training, my attempt last year that was cancelled due to smoke, my feelings of absolute intimidation around this race and most importantly my mother.  I wrote this for her on the bus:

Today would've been my mother's 77th birthday. She passed in Oct 2000. While driving through Truckee on Thursday, I remembered that was the exact place I learned of her passing while frantically trying to drive from CA to IL to say Goodbye in time. The beauty of the Sierras and the upcoming difficulty of this race make me think of how she struggled in life, surviving while trying to weave some semblance of beauty in ours growing up. All in a race against time - that of which she had far too little. Today is for her.

It is chilly at transition but I am prepared and know that by the time I start at 8am it will be significantly warmer. Everything is ready. I see my Fil Am friends and I mill about. I watch the full Ironman athletes start an hour earlier than my start and I am in awe. It was beautiful to sit back and watch the athletes fill the lake. I think about the fact that I will be doing a full Ironman in less than 2 mos. I am excited and afraid.

It’s go time.  

While in the starting line, I am thrilled to see Joy, Rochelle and Grace. We joke around and get ready to go. We all embrace together as we are about to cross the start line. It was a beautiful moment. Then we are off to our own races. I walk in and feel my anxiety building as I get deeper. The cold water hits my hips and I can feel a potential panic brewing. I tell myself to breathe, splash cold water in my face and tell myself to be strong.  Why am I afraid? The water is still and beautiful, no creepy creatures. Why?

I can not fail.

This is a really hard race. I left my family to complete this. I waited another year for this race. While it is my B race it is not one to be taken lightly.

Okay.

I whisper to myself “I can do this” followed by a deep breath and a louder “Let’s do this!”

 And I’m off.

The plan was to go easy the first ¼, then 70% the second, 80% the 3^rd and the final ¼ go 90%.  I did just that. The swim was smooth, I felt fine. As I finish the last bit, I mentally review the important things I need to do in transition – like don’t forget the Garmin. Don’t forget the inhaler. Sunscreen. Eat. I review the steps of finding my bag, rinsing my feet and hurrying into the changing room. I exit the water feeling strong and thrilled to see my time on my Garmin. Not a PR but very close! And the PR I had in 2013 was not earned, it was given to me by lucky drafting and current that was in my favor.

The changing room is new to me. At full Ironman races there are volunteers who help you take off your wetsuit and help you change. Wow. This is cool. My volunteer was awesome and grounding because I didn’t know what I was doing.  I remembered everything I needed  but didn’t really know what to ask from the volunteer. She took charge and asked me: do you need your thermoses? Which one do you want me to open? Do you need your inhaler? I was excited to see my housemate, Grace across the way. All went well except I knew I was in there a long time as I tried talking with Grace and also the volunteer. Need to work on that for Arizona.

Bike-

I was able to just ride with my windbreaker. No crazy winter gear, warmers, etc. The weather was perfect. I feel good and am cruising at a solid pace. My heart rate isn’t dropping as planned but my perceived effort was low. I was spinning. A while into the ride I realized I could seriously PR on this ride. My average pace then was over 18.5mph giving me a sub 3  hour finish. That would be awesome but not realistic. The next part was a big climb – Brockaway Summit- 5 miles. I know it would be slow but what goes up also comes down. I can make up on the descent and after the descent was a repeat of what I just did.  So going against everything my coach taught me, I went even faster to have speed in the bank and mostly ignored my heart rate. It’s only 56 miles and I’ll be fine on the run. It’s getting hard, my perceived effort is high, I’m getting tired but remind myself that this ride is not 100 miles and Brockaway is not steep. Before Brockaway is a short steep hill. I don’t recall this on the elevation chart. What the heck is this????? It’s really steep. My legs are exhausted and feel weak. I’m worried that I may walk. NO! But I do realize I went too hard for the altitude. I’d get away with this at sea level but the altitude was making my muscles tired. I felt overall muscle fatigue the day before and this morning. I make it up the hill and remind myself of the next downhill.  There is another uphill and downhill right before Brockaway. I start ascending and ascending and ascending…hmm is this Brockaway? I’m getting really tired. How will I handle Brockaway if I’m tired on this little hill. It doesn’t seem steep, in fact with the trees, the illusion is almost flat. And it keeps going. I realize this must be Brockaway. Okay that’s good. I’m getting slower and slower and fussier with each pedal stroke. My nutrition is fine. Someone passes me on the right and I snap at them. “You need to pass on the left not the right! You know that!!!” I am bunched up with other riders and feeling cramped. Too tired to commit to surging and passing them but annoyed at how slow and unsteady they are. I see the top, the sign “Brockaway Summit” and surge up from the group tearful that I am done.  My heart rate jacks way up and I feel it. Damn, why did I do that? I don’t think I have anything left.  

Then the descent.

Oh that was awesome --best ever! I felt safe enough to attempt to hit 50mph, tried and tried but only maxed at 43.2mph.  It was fun. I look at my time and realize I lost any chance of a PR from the climb. In fact I lost A  LOT of time.  I can’t make it up.  I’m tired too. I give it my best and am looking forward to running.

Run-

My goal for this race was to run it no matter how slow as long as long my knee cooperates. I wanted this more than anything.  I have yet to completely run the run portion of the 70.3 as I always implode mentally and walk a lot. I know I am stronger mentally and have really enjoyed running this season. This would be the first time I run on pavement in over a year. I’ve been training only on sand and dirt to protect my knee.  Plan was easy first 3 miles with heart rate at zone 1-2 then see what I can do at zone 2. If my knee hurts, walk.

I start the run feeling excited about running (I have never felt that way in a race!) tired and my heart rate is high already in upper zone 3 walking. I get it down walking and want to try running slowly. I am creeped out by the pavement and cobblestone. I’m afraid it will induce pain. I try and my hart rate jumps. Okay lets walk for the first 3 miles.  After 3 miles, I start running on a little sand part next to the road. Slow slow slow I tell myself. HR is over 3.5. I have trouble breathing. Ok so maintaining a run at zone 2 is not realistic in altitude and heat. So I work with keeping it below 3.5. I spend the rest of the run doing just that. I walk the aid stations and the uphills to keep my HR from going over 4. I don’t pay attention to miles or time, just the HR, my knee and perceived effort. Hardest part was breathing. I often hyperventilated. I waffled about taking my inhaler. I know it will increase my heart rate. At the same time I was struggling. So I finally take it. A few minutes later it is easier to run without struggling. I get a nice 30 minutes of normal breathing and then back to hyperventilating.  I keep cool with ice, hydrate at every rest stop and keep moving forward. I keep thinking if I could breathe better I’d really enjoy this run. My knee feels fine.  Then around 6 miles on the cobblestone I feel the knee. Ouch. Not now. I walk the cobblestone, start jogging the pavement. And grab some ice at the next aid station to put on my knee. Better. Last 2-3 miles I feel the knee again but in a different area, very annoying. So with each aid station I ice it for a few seconds. It’s really achy but not sharp so I keep going. I walk more of the uphills.  Finish is in sight and I am struggling. The last short section is the cobblestone again. I can do this as I start up the cobblestome. Oh crap that actually hurts.  Cobblestone is mean. 

Maybe it’s all in my head since when I arrived I cringed at the idea of running on cobblestone. So I try again. I am feet from the finish chute, c’mon I can do this. I stop and rub my knee. I’m angry. All I want is an ice pack. At that point finishing means real ice pack. I see the chute and remember there is carpet at the finish. I start in the chute and every step hurts. Where is the red carpet??? I though there was more. It wasn’t soft. There is the carpet, much less than I thought. All I’m thinking about is the soft carpet as the announcer calls my name. I cross the finish line and someone is handing me a medal and water. Screw the medal. I want ice now. I tell the lady, I need ice, NOW. They take me to the medical area and get right on it. So no, I didn’t absorb the happy feelings of finishing. I wasn’t paying attention. All I wanted was ice and I got it.

In reflection I really loved this race despite any struggles. It was special in many ways. It was harder than any other of my 70.3s even Wildflower. I am thankful for Fil Am where I stayed with the most awesome triathletes ever- we even partied a bit. BY the end I felt like we were family. Thank you!

(Check out the video above. That's my coach Julie Dunkle on your right with the pink cap in the swim start. Near the end of the video is my friend Brian who organized our Fil Am house. He is in the yellow with white beanie finishing at the end. I'm in the video but won't tell you because it's creepy.)

Today, I learned the news that the Tahoe Ironman and 70.3 will no longer take place. The news made me sad. I am proud to have been part of such an epic race. I am proud to have shared it with so many incredible people. It will always hold a special place in my heart.