›The Grand Columbian Half Ironman
Race date: Saturday, September 16, 2006
By: Joe Barrett
Pre-race Jitters
Like an ill-timed caffeinated beverage, the days and hours before race time can take you for a ride. I am hoping the worst of it is over for me. I have been slowing down the training in prep for “The Big One” tomorrow. An intense physical therapy session behind me, I am hoping for a solid pelvic girdle to support me through the finish. As I write this, I am planning for an even pace and a heart rate average of 150. Just want to get in the groove and hope my bowels work well. These seem like reasonable expectations.
The weather frankly does not look good so far. I am leaving Bend under rainy and cloudy skies. I have the prospect of a wet camping night ahead. This should be an adventure…
The Trip
6 hours of car travel are a nice distraction. After reaching the Columbia at the border of Oregon, I basically follow it north to the race. The weather has been rainy and thinking of a wet, freezing night alone in a tent is too much. I opt to stop 52 miles short of my goal and take shelter. “The Royal View” in Soap Lake, Washington advertised a vacancy. It’s not much, but it’s warm, dry and quiet. The Lake apparently is soapy because of minerals. Dinner consists of eggs and cereal purchased at the local market. I cooked in the handy kitchenette.
Early Morn
The night was fitful, but I used sleeping aids to some benefit. I left “The View” at 0600 for the race. Start time isn’t until 10AM so I should have plenty of time. The ride up the Columbia was stunning. This part of the river cuts deep into the earth. Jagged rocks remain as steely objectors to the erosion. The landscape is transected by the road in a way that provides tasty views. The Ironman athletes will ride this road as part of their race, but no luck for me (I’m just a half breed).
When I get to the race site, the Ironmen and women have already started their swim. There is an English Gent provide excellent commentary on mike. It appears to be a very organized and well-run deal. Lots of volunteers and bundled up fans are around. It’s still around 50 degrees with a nip in the air. The water is a balmy 68 degrees, which seems warmer than it looks. This is the first race where there is a bag provided for you at every transition. That took some organizing, but the help was excellent. I spend most of my prep time trying to decide what to put in each bag. I also load up the bike with a bunch of sugar and fluids. After 200mg. of caffeine I’m ready to go!
The Swim
I decided to wear full warm gear for the swim. I had the full wet suit and skullcap. But the water temp was quite mild. I still remember doing September races at Elk Lake, NOW THAT WAS COLD! After a brief warm up I positioned myself well for the start. The 300 others in the male half iron were all bunched up near the shallow end. I was able to get away pretty freely by starting just north of the starting float. I decided to conserve on the swim and it served me well. When I could find a set of feet to follow, I would take the opportunity. For some reason the people providing a draft for me didn’t seem to appreciate it much. 34 minutes later I was at the end of the 1.2 miles. With only a slight forearm cramp, things were looking good.
I made my way to the transition tent. It was weird having a bag with all my stuff in it already. It took a little extra time, but eventually I stuffed my wet suit in the bag and mounted the bike.
The Bike
I heard that this bike course was hilly, but my goodness! First, we start up a 6% climb out of the river canyon. Things keep going up for about 10 miles. I feel some urinary pressure and relieve, “Hmm, maybe too much caffeine?” Things flatten for a bit and my shorts keep bunching up on me. An intense woman keeps passing me on the downs. I make the mistake of passing her on the right (no-no) going up a hill and hear some protest. After some rolling hills we enter Almira, Washington. There is a crowd gathered there and things feel good. That’s when the real race began.
Coming out of this small town, we climbed and climbed! It was probably only 12 miles, but in a 56-mile race, it seemed like forever. I could feel fatigue creep in. I kept compulsively downing sports drinks and GU for fear of bonking. The last 18 miles were mostly downhill, so I could spin to my hearts content. Would I be able to run after this effort on the bike?
The Run
The end of the bike had a nice twist. We were routed over the top of the Grand Coulee Dam right before the second transition. The scenery was spectacular and distracted me from run fear. As I entered T2 somebody was there to take my bike! Unbelievable, I felt so special. I then was given my transition bag and proceeded to slowly put on the running shoes. As I sprinted out on to the course my legs felt surprisingly good, but the bladder was full again. I stopped, and a fellow competitor ran by commenting, “The pause that relieves.”
I was striding easily with a HR around 152. “Maybe I could cruise this out.” I said to myself. Then the heat started coming in. My thoughts went to needing hydration and calories. There were ample filling stations every 3 miles or so. These spots became my oases. I got a glimpse of one of the pro males wearing #1 running strong in the opposite direction towards the finish. He was from the Czech Republic and looked like one large muscle, coordinated and toned. He was impressive to see.
I was still doing pretty well at about a 9 min. clip when I felt some stomach discomfort at about mile 7. Passing wind helped relieve that. I felt sorry for the guy that was passing me. Then I found out that I knew him, it was Jeff Patterson from the Bend Triathlon Club. I said, “Is that Jeff?” It was and we chatted for a bit about the difficult bike before he tore off down the road.
I felt pretty strong and benefited from a supportive crowd. It was about mile 10 when the wheels started coming off. First, the old hip injury started to cramp. I’ve had that one many times before and learned to just run through it. I didn’t have to walk until mile 11. That was when the abdominal cramps began. I haven’t felt those since my last marathon in 2001! I kept telling myself that “I only have 2 more miles to go,” but the body wouldn’t cooperate. I walked about 5 minutes when I saw a volunteer show me the last uphill half mile. He seemed to think I could try running again.
I decided to hobble along when I came upon another walker. I said, “spasms be damned, we’re running in!” The dude started to follow me. I actually started to pick up some slow speed when I heard the voice of the English announcer. I was in the finishing stretch when I heard my name being announced. “A Psychiatrist from Bend, Oregon…. is about to be passed right at the end!” I sprinted as fast as I could and beat out the other injured warrior.
Denouement
It was over. I had finished! I was now at the end of a long journey that culminated here under the shadow of the Grand Coulee Dam. I started to refuel my body that had been crying with muscle spasm. I started slamming protein like crazy, hoping it would be what the body would need to start recovery. Some stretching revealed that the muscles did, in fact, still function. I was now free to enjoy the post race festivities with my comrades…or, so I thought.
I took a harmless pit stop at the rest room. My bowels were complaining, but that could be expected. Unfortunately this started a chain reaction of nausea and loosening that wouldn’t quit. The post race chow was good Mexican food. Everyone was eating heartily. I spoke with an experienced Australian dude who educated me on electrolytes to prevent cramping. All I needed were SALT PILLS! Drat!
All I could do now was pack the car and get to the nearest toilet. Recovery will be long, but well worth the adventure. Will I do it again? I don’t know. I think I’ll bask in this accomplishment and lower work out intensity for a while….
Peace, Joe
P.S.- I almost forgot that I placed 23rd out of 44 in my age group. 93rd overall and broke the 6 hour barrier at 5:52….whew!
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