As many of you know I did the Wildflower triathlon last weekend. It was a ½ Ironman – swim 1.2 miles, bike 56, run 13.1. It was a huge stretch for me being my first triathlon, particularly as Wildflower is considered one of the world’s most challenging races in terms of heat, dust, hills, etc. All of you, my friends and family, were incredibly supportive during my training and right up to race day. I can’t thank you enough. I am happy to report that the race went really well – and I wanted to share a bit of my story from of race day to give you a sense for the and experience.
I was supposed to do the race with whole crew of friends who have done Wildflower many times before, but for one reason of another they all bailed out, so I headed down solo with Heather and the kids not really knowing what to expect. We loaded up our Vanagon Westfalia on Friday morning and headed 4 hours south with the kids in tow. Getting a 5 year old, a two year old, and all the necessary crap loaded into a camper van seemed like a triathlon event in its own right, but we finally hit the road, only two hours behind schedule. Poor Heather cut her finger the night before and it was still bad enough in the morning that she actually went down to the emergency room to get it checked out, so it was quite a high drama morning trying to get the clan out of town. Also, the whole “don’t forget anything” deal with triathlons is particularly stressful because you are so reliant on your gear….one forgetful screw up can cause a serious panic once you are off the grid without a sporting goods store nearby…so it was a hectic morning.
Wildflower is held at Lake San Antonio which is about four hours south of San Francisco. It is pretty remote down there…an hour from the nearest gas station, etc. We arrived to find that the whole ‘camping scene’ was a lot more complicated than anticipated. Most people were just plopped down in a huge field, but that seemed a really chaotic scene, not good with the kids, so we explored around and tried to find a better site. Through some blind luck we stumbled onto a group of folks who were members of our athletic club here in SF and had a reserved group campsite and welcomed us in. After we set up camp we realized that the food vendors were many miles away and driving there was not an option….you had to walk or bike which was not an option with the kiddos who were already tired and hungry, as were we. We had decided not to bring the whole camping kitchen setup for just 1-2 nights as the program had listed a dozen or more great sounding food vendors. We basically had peanut butter, bananas, yogurt and muffins for food – which was planned for breakfast not dinner. This was not good given I was to do a half Ironman in the morning and needed a real meal with protein and carbs. As we sat there pondering our multiple (bad) options, our new friends came to the rescue and totally hooked us up with big plates of pasta, ribs, chicken and veggies. These folks had done the event ten years in a row and were well stocked – and took good care of me, the newbie. It was awesome and I am eternally grateful.
Went to bed early, woke up at 545am. Grabbed bike and bag full of swim, run and bike gear and headed to the start area, which involved a pontoon boat ride with a bunch of other folks. There was a nice camaraderie among the crew assembled on the boat there at the crack of dawn. Mist was rising off the lake we were about to jump into and swim 1.2 miles, and it was a really beautiful morning. We arrived at the start area and I got to work setting up my little “transition station.” I picked up tips by watching how other people set up….for example, I did not know to wear my bike shorts and jersey under my wetsuit. Got everything set up and made my way down to the ramp area for the swim. Every 5 minutes they announced an age-group wave and honked a loud air horn…”20-24 in five minutes! HOOOOONK.....”25-29 in five minutes! HOOOOONK” – with each honk my heart raced a bit faster as the waves kept inching up towards my group, 40-44. Each age group had its own colored swim gap…I was in the neon green group. My wave finally came and I felt as ready as I could be. I stood there on the ramp with a few hundred dudes all looking like video game characters in black full body wetsuits and neon green swim caps. The announcer asked if anyone was doing their first triathlon and I was one of a very small number of folks to raise their hand. I got lots of good high fives and shout outs from the other green heads….and a few “Dude! You are crazy! This is, like, the hardest tri in cali bro! This is your first?!” – which made me feel equal parts proud and terrified. Then the horn went off and we all ran into the water like penguins in the IMAX movies.
The lake temperature was nice, 68 or so, and with the wetsuit it was not cold at all. I let all the hardcore types zoom out and just eased myself in and picked a nice line on the side of the pack and began to swim out towards the first buoy. But for some reason I could not catch my breath. I tried breathing with each stroke and still my heart raced and I could not get enough air. I typically take a breath every 4 to 6 strokes, and here I was unable to keep my breath at one per stroke. It sucked, badly. I would not say that I had a full on panic attack as that is too severe, but it was certainly in that category – I just could not get my breath and it really freaked me out. My mind raced and I truly thought my race may be over right there in the first 60-90 seconds. I scanned the horizon to look for the support boats and had the fight/flight thought that “I need to get over there, now” – it was awful. I then had the thought that I just could not let this be the outcome after all the training and hard work, not to mention all the friends and family supporting me, so I took a few deep breaths and just started swimming, hoping for the best. After 2-3 very bumpy minutes with super-forced breathing, I finally eased into my stroke and began to feel I was getting enough oxygen. It was a huge relief. I have no idea what happened or why, but it totally sucked…and luckily passed quickly. (I have since heard that this is a common experience for folks who are not properly warmed up cardio wise before the swim, which I was not as I had always been fine in training from a cold start, but race day was very different, probably due to all the adrenaline and nerves…live and learn…). The rest of the swim went really well and I actually quite enjoyed it. The weather was great and the water was not cold at all. There were there huge triangle and circle shaped buoys every 300-400 yards and I had to “sight” every 5-6 strokes to be sure I was on my line, which was totally new. It all worked out fine and I only got kicked in the face a few times, which I now assume is a rite of passage for triathletes. By the end of the swim I was feeling good and really not tired at all. It was pleasant and went by pretty quickly, like 45 min or so in the water (the pros do it in 20-25 minutes, which is unreal).
When I came out of the water Heather, Max and Skye were right there cheering for me, it was amazing to see them because I was not expecting it. Our plan was that they would see me on the run which went right by our campsite as it was too much hassle to drag the kids all the way down to the swim area. But there they were, it was awesome – very touching and motivating to see them. I was not at all “going for time” so I stopped, took some pics with them, and had a long, slow transition, like 10 minutes (the elites do 1-2 minute transitions).
So with the swim behind me I hopped on the bike and started the ride. It was a beautiful day and the course was full of supporters cheering and ringing cowbells etc. Sounded like an Olympic ski event. The ride was really fun – which I did not fully expect as I am not a super experienced road cyclist. In fact I have never owned a road bike, always been more of a mountain bike guy. In fact I only really went on 3-4 long road rides before the tri, so I knew this would be a challenging part of the race. I was not pushing it and killing myself for the first 20-30 miles, my plan was to save my energy knowing of the huge hills after mile 40 on the course. I must have been passed by 300-400 of the really amazing elite female athletes as their swim started after mine. I probably watched $2 million worth of bikes pass me ridden by women in $250 tear-drop shaped aero helmets. There were a few notable moments on the bike including a helicopter evac of a rider who had a bad crash. The helicopter was one of the largest I have ever seen and looked sort of spaceship-like. It took off just as I was approaching it and hovered right over me, which was really intense. The conditions for the ride seemed OK to me, a bit windy, but not too bad. But when I spoke to the veterans we were camping with later they said it was one of the windiest years ever, and that their times on the bike portion reflected the tough conditions. This, of course, struck me as good news as I did not find it too bad…or perhaps being new I just did not have anything to compare it to.
The big “monster” at Wildflower are miles 40-45 on the bike course – they call it the “Nasty Grade.” It is basically 4-5 miles of straight up hills on pretty rough bumpy road in the direct sun at the heat of the day. Nasty Grade has swallowed up many Wildflower triathletes in her day and seems to occupy something bordering on “lore” status among people who have done the event. I saw multiple people gasping for air, stopped on the side of the road, their energy sapped. It freaked me out big time. Biking a steep uphill for a mile or two is one thing, 4-5 is another altogether, particularly after swimming 1.2 miles and biking 40. For the months preceding the event I would wake at night thinking about Nasty Grade and picturing it in my mind’s eye something like one of those fortresses in Lord of the Rings that sits on top of a massive mountain, totally impenetrable – a “don’t even try” kind of thing. So as I hit mile 35 I began to get anxious and mentally prepared. Then all of a sudden I looked down and saw a huge ass rattlesnake. No joke. Inches from my right foot. It was massive. I nearly jumped off my bike. It took a second to realize it was dead and being eaten by ants, but by then I was past it. I actually think this was a big plus as my body released a bunch of adrenaline. As I hit Nasty Grade I felt strong like ox. I powered up the hill actually passing people….this was not at all what I had pictured, and it was awesome. The stronger I felt the more confident I got, and I motored up much faster than expected. When I made it to the top all the fear and anxiety washed over me as the steep downhill swept me closer to the finish at 40+ mph. It was awesome. Definitely a highlight of the day.
The rest of the bike was extremely fun. Once Nasty Grade was behind me I felt a sense of total freedom, like the rest of the race was in the bag. The final 15 miles of the bike had a few hills, but nothing serious…and the run was my event having done a bunch or marathons this past year. I was home free!
Oh how utterly wrong I was. I cruised into T2 (transition 2) full of positive energy and confidence, ready to cruise to the finish. Then, within the first 100 yards of the run, I -- again -- thought my race might be over. My lower back wrenched as soon as I began running. Right side was fine, but the left cinched down like a cold, wet rope and throbbed with each step. I could not run. Given my relative inexperience on the swim and bike, and deep experience running, the last thing I expected was a problem on the run. But here I was, hunched over like an old man grabbing my back, trying to isolate the muscle that was screaming out in pain. I’d stretch, try running, cinch up, wince in pain, repeat. I did this for about 3 miles. While it as getting better, it was far from “OK” as I came to a huge hill. I knew where I was now and that our campsite was up at the top of that hill with Heather, Max and Skye waiting to cheer me on with their “GO DAD GO!” sign complete with their drawings of jaguars, ostriches and otters (Max’s favorite animals….to give me “animal strength”). I gritted it out and made it up the hill and met the family, which like the swim exit, was awesome. The kids saw me coming a hundred feet away and were going nuts…and not to get overly dramatic but at this emotional moment I knew damn well I was not going to slink into camp and crack the ice cold Pilsner Urquell I had been thinking about since jumping in that lake. I did, however, duck into camp and grab 4 Advil and pound them with a coconut water that tasted like nectar from the gods. And on my way I went, back still killing me, but feeling refreshed and super motivated to finish strong having come this far.
As I came down the backside of the hill I saw a poor girl being held up by two policemen and being tended to by a race officials. She was dry heaving and crying and her body was wrenching. It was awful. Friends who had done the race had told me I would see people “bonking” on the run but this was not what I had envisioned. This poor girl seemed like she needed serious medical attention and it was disturbing. It really put my back pain in perspective as I jogged by and went on my way. Within 20 minutes or so the Advil was working its magic and my back started behaving…thankfully. The run course was beautiful, and the run was punctuated with moments of great enjoyment and moments of great exhaustion. It was definitely harder than I had expected, but once my back mellowed out I knew I would finish strong. I normally run a half marathon in 1:35-1:40, this one took me 2:20 to give a sense for how zonked I was. My legs were heavy and it was hot and dry out. I pounded water and Gatorade at every stop. My body was starting to crave real food too. I felt kind of nasty in my gut after 6 hours of nothing but sports drinks, gels and energy chews etc. I was now choking down the gels, eating them only for the much-needed energy, hating the taste and texture…but they sure helped the legs and energy level. The miles ticked down and by the time I got to mile 10 I knew I was close. 11 and 12 were very hilly and hard asphalt miles. Then the last mile was an awesome straight downhill mile to the finish. I sprinted the last ½ mile (for my friend/running pal Tim “Jackrabbit” Roberts, who always takes off on me towards the end of our runs)…and I finished strong, 7.5 long hours after I started. While I was not at all going for time, I was happy with this result, particularly knowing I could have easily cut out 15 minutes from the transitions. Then when I found out how people felt about the impact of the wind of on their swim and bike portion I felt even better as the general consensus was that the conditions were as hard or harder than any in the last decade....but I must say it was really nice to just “do the race” and enjoy the day not look at my watch every 30 seconds like I’ve typically done during marathons. Not being attached to the watch was really liberating. I am excited to do it again next year and really “race it” and see what kind of time I can do now that I have this first one under my belt.
So that is my story. It was a really rewarding experience and I am recovering nicely…muscle soreness almost gone at this point and all the gear washed and put back on the shelves. On Sunday I had a 90 minute massage, fell sound asleep on the table, then bought a $10 gallon of Mitchells strawberry ice cream and had a milkshake party with H and the kids. It was an awesome way to celebrate.
Thank you all, again, for your amazing support and encouragement. The support of friends and family is absolutely what got me through the race -- and the ‘crisis moments’ at the outset of the swim and run in particular -- so I truly thank you.
T
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