›Ironman Canada 25th Anniversary
Race date: August 26, 2007
Penticton, British Columbia, Canada
Written by: David Uri
It was one of those days when things just came together; better than I could have planned. The result was breaking my 10 hour time goal and qualifying for Ironman Hawaii. If you had asked me 24 hours prior to the race, would I have expected such an outcome I would have bet against it. This is my third Ironman race and consistent with previous races, one cannot walk away without learning some new lessons about oneself and the training process. My first Ironman race was far more emotional for many reasons; however, Ironman Canada was the first race that my mental and physical preparation peaked at the right time.
The purpose of these race reports is to enable me to remember the event and hopefully reflect on the lessons learned in a positive manner. This race report is not meant to focus on all the training and preparation that was completed. That said, I did the necessary long rides and brick runs. In fact, this year I added on a 2000-3000m swim prior to the 5-7 hour brick workout. I think mentally that gives one an edge in that it more closely mimics a real Ironman race. I also focused more heavily on my running over the past 12 months. The Central Oregon trail system enabled me to put in hundreds of long run miles, often times running for 3-4 hours in a single workout. I completed three ultra-marathons over the past year of lengths up to 60k. This had an enormous benefit with my run pacing on race day as well as my ability to just mentally lock in to that finish line. Suffice to say, I was physically ready come race day with the natural caveat that everyone that final week questions whether they did enough cycling to be competitive.
My taper started two weeks out this year. However, my taper took somewhat of a crash landing (no pun intended) as we boarded a plane for Vienna, Austria, 12 days prior to the race. My sister announced in June that she was getting engaged and several days later determined that they were going to get married in Central Europe in mid-August. The purpose of the taper is to give the body a chance to absorb all the training prior to the race while still working out enough to maintain your level of fitness. There is not a special formula but essentially you cut back on the duration of the workouts, while maintaining your intensity. With all of the events we had planned during our week in Europe, the fact that I had no bike and the intense jet-lag we all experienced, the taper that week was going to be more art than science. Importantly, we had a fantastic time. My sister and her new husband were thrilled we could attend with our three kids. We spent time with grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins from all over the world. While I would not have ideally planned it this way, that week gave me a serious physical and mental break from my regular regimen. This is important as most athletes, myself included, begin to re-think their training and second guess everything. I did not spend any moment thinking about the race with the exception of about an hour each day when I was doing some make shift workout.
We arrived back in Oregon on August 21 (a 25 hour journey) and the following day we set out for Penticton Canada, a 10 hour drive from Bend. I was disappointed Lisa and the kids could not join me. I know how wonderful and supportive it is when you hit that finish line with the whole family. It would have been unfair to put them right back in the car for another adventure. I was able to convince my father a few months earlier that a road trip with the two of us would be fun. My guess is that he had some reservations when he first heard about it, but agreed to join me. We had a really nice time being away from day-to-day pressures at home. The drive through Oregon and Washington is really beautiful. You cross the Columbia River, climb several thousand feet to forests filled with pine trees than drop down to sea level in areas that look like a mini-Grand Canyon. We arrived in Canada that evening as the sun was setting so we could not get a good feel of the surrounding area.
The next morning, we checked in to the race and I went for a short swim in Lake Okanagan. Rumors were that for the 25th anniversary race they were going to increase the field size. That was true and the number of athletes typically in the range of 2000-2200 for an Ironman race would in fact be closer to 2800 on race day. This just makes the swim a lot tougher, particularly for a somewhat average swimmer like me.
Checking out the swim course on Thursday, we drove the bike course. Penticton is located in the Okanagan Valley. You have these relatively low mountains (say a few thousand feet) that sharply ascend from the valley floor. At the base there are long and narrow finger lakes that connect with one another. It almost has a feel of some villages I have seen in France or Switzerland. The bike course is a single loop that heads back to nearly the U.S. border and then climbs Richter pass, the first of two mountain passes. Training in Central Oregon made these passes seem somewhat easy. Richter pass climbs about 1200 feet over six miles and tops out at an 8% grade. You then descend into the next valley and work your way up the other side called Yellow Lake, another mountain pass that gains about 1200 feet. From there you gradually descend back to Penticton. We also toured the run course which is an out and back run alongside Skah
Lake. There are a few hills near miles 11 and 15 but nothing too severe. Historically, wind and heat are the hallmark elements of the run course.
Friday and Saturday were all about relaxing. I did an easy swim both days and a couple of short workouts along the lake. Our hotel had a fantastic courtyard replete with pool and hammocks. My dad and I took full advantage of the mild temperatures and felt good about “wasting” the afternoon without any second thoughts. I mainly focused on trying to get myself mentally prepared for the race. I was using imagery from prior races, music, the Internet, books, etc., but nothing could get me psyched up. I called a few friends seeking some encouragement. My fear was that come race day, I would not have that mental edge to dig deep when the pain started (which it would). One by one I began to downplay my pre-race goals: finishing time, place, Kona qualification. My mood was one of total ambivalence. I mention this just to put in perspective what I accomplished at the race. I somehow shifted from minimal focus to laser focus on race day where I was counting every second I needed to break 10 hours. As a write this journal, the best I can come up with is that this enabled me to thoroughly relax and minimize the stress that typically comes along with an Ironman race. The takeaway for me is the importance to be BOTH physically AND mentally fresh and rested on race day. With all the distractions we had in the prior two weeks, I simply had no time to focus or get nervous about the race. At the start line my attitude was, “just give it your best shot” which was absolutely the right mindset.
Sunday morning rolls around. I did not sleep too well that night, not due to nerves, just could not get comfortable. I woke up at 3:45 am and went for my traditional 10 minute run. Downed a 1000 calorie breakfast and we were out the door by 5 am. My dad dropped me off near the race start and hunted for a parking spot. I dropped all the special needs bags and readied my bike. The transition area was enormous. 2800 athletes is an insane number of people to coordinate. Despite the size, the volunteers did an outstanding job making each person feel special. Rumor has it there were 5000 volunteers supporting the event. The hour prior to the race always ticks by a bit slower than other hours but at 6:45 am the pro athletes started so we were allowed to officially begin to enter the beach area. I was able to meet my father who was standing above the beach. It was a sea of humanity as there had to be at least 10,000 spectators cramped along the beach. Temperatures for the day were expected to be in the low 70s with some slight rain. Ten minutes before the start Ready to race 4 I seeded myself up towards the front on the left side. The swim course was pie shaped with the first turn buoy out at 1800 meters. The cannon goes off and arms start flying. At about 300m, my breathing became very erratic and I knew that if I did not relax, I would begin to hyperventilate. There was a swimmer just off my left and right side and they were coming together. I backed off a bit and after about a minute, my breathing became more regular. At about ten minutes in, a guy came up left side, his arm came out of the water and re-entered on the right side of my head as I was breathing. Unless you are a really strong swimmer it’s hard to avoid getting beaten up during the first part of the race. I emerged from the water at 1:05, about 330th place. Not a great time, but a minute or two at this stage did not mean much. Transition was reasonably quick and importantly uneventful.
The first 40 miles of the bike is flat with a bunch of downhills. I had heard that this is not the time to race but just hold a steady pace. The other challenge is to remain in the moment. By that I mean, try not to focus on the climbing to come, the potential for heat or wind or the marathon that will begin five hours from now. Just focus and concentrate on the task at hand. I did a good job here or at least for the next three hours. The gradual descent to the base of Richter pass was nice. I passed more people than those that passed me but I knew it was about conserving. I was eating and drinking well and trying to consume about 350 calories an hour. We got to the bottom of Richter pass and I felt awesome. While I was really trying just to spin up the hill, I was in fact passing a bunch of people. In fact, I backed off thinking I was going to pay for it down the road. There were spectators everywhere, more than ANY other race I have ever completed save for a big city marathon. Even hard to reach spots of the course had one or two people with cow bells or horns making us feel welcome. This was the only event I have ever done where the entire community gets involved.
We crested the summit and then had about 30 miles of rolling hills. I had biked this section of the course on Thursday and it actually felt pretty easy. Today we hit a serious (and I mean Kona-like) head wind. Descents where I had previously reached 45 mph, today I was pedaling hard to get above 30 mph. Again, you just have to remember that everyone is feeling the same elements, but it took its toll physically. I got through the next two hours but it was not fun. The special needs bag was at mile 78 which is a chance to eat whatever food you place in your personal bag. I had dropped in some candy bars, pretzels and beef jerky. For the Ironman athletes reading this journal, try beef jerky on your workout. The combination of salt and spices is awesome. As we approached the next mountain pass, I noticed that many of the riders who had been around me for the past 30 miles were starting to drop off. The five mile incline over Yellow Lake is akin to a pass on the Tour de France. People were on both sides of the road; enabling only one rider to get through at a time. All I can recall it was loud and I was really moving. I knew the effect of the wind was going to catch up to me, but right now I felt good. At the summit, I estimated that I could in fact finish the bike leg in around 5.5 hours. The last ten miles is mostly downhill but that damn headwind prevented me from making the descent as fast as I would have liked. I passed my father at mile 109 and coasted back to town down Main Street. I finished the bike in 5:27 in about 150th place overall. This is a great time for me considering times were 15 minutes slower than prior years.
Transition was again pretty fast but my legs were wobbly. I hit the restroom, which somehow I had held off for the past two hours. My stopwatch had stopped 31 minutes into the race but I had a general idea that I had to run a 3:20 marathon to break 10 hours. I mentally said at that moment that was unlikely to happen. Despite cool temperatures I knew that was a tall order to fill. I bolted out of the restroom and began the run. I said let’s try to run just two miles and see how things go. Looking back this was the most focused and consistent run I have ever had. The first three miles weave through downtown.
People were all over the course cheering for athletes. The fact that I did not have anyone waiting for me (my father was heading to the 13.1 mile mark), made it easier as I just kept focused on the guy in front of me. I hit the first mile in 6:58 and felt pretty good. I said that I needed to slow down as I could not hold that pace for the next 25 miles. I hit the next mile at 6:50. I did a quick double take at my watch. I knew that a 3:20 marathon was about a 7:40 pace, so if I could run every mile at or below 7:30 I had a shot save for the last few miles which were an unknown. So it was at that moment I said, “what the hell, might as well go for it.” As my cousin told me a week earlier in Vienna, “go big or go home”. I turned my hat around and just let it rip.
When you are running on average a 7:20 pace and you pass someone going 9 minutes a mile, it’s like they are standing still. I had no pain or fatigue in my legs to which I attribute to all the long miles I did on the trails. Further, those long runs (i.e. 3+ hours) enable you have a mind-set where you say, “I am going to be out here a really long time so don’t even bother looking at your watch.” I got to the point in my training where my two hour weekly run seemed short or at least the time passed quickly. There were several weeks that I did four 90+ minute runs and often incorporated tempo drills at the end of 20 mile training runs. This was absolutely key to me having a solid run on race day. I was running through the aid stations, alternating Gatorade and water and beginning at mile 10, Pepsi. I had a gel every third aid station and salt tablets every fourth. I resisted the temptation to eat the cookies, bananas, soup, etc. In fact, I never walked through one aid station. I hit the hills at mile 11 which slowed my pace a bit but I picked up even more runners. In fact, I was starting to run into the female professionals even thought they started 15 minutes before me. I hit the halfway point and my dad seemed startled to see me. Grabbed my special needs bag of gel, salt and candy and made the turnaround. I ran the first half marathon in 1:37. This meant that I need to run 71:43 for the return which is about a 7:50 pace. It’s at this point you start asking yourself, “can I hold this pace for the rest of the race?” Barring some serious issue, I knew that I had a real shot.
Miles 14-20 went by pretty fast and I could see all the people heading out on the run course. I continued to pass people and by mile 20 had started to catch some of the slower male professionals. My splits were still plus or minus 7:30 per mile. One mile ticked up to 8 minutes but I think I just got lazy more than anything else. At mile 22, I got a side cramp which dissipated by mile 23. By then I was beginning to approach town and the crowd was a big boost. I quickened my pace a bit and tried to enjoy the moment. I say try because I was so focused on my time goal I tuned out the noise. The last mile of the race you turn onto the street where the race started and have to pass by the finish line before you complete a 1k out and back loop. I looked down and realized I had completed the marathon in 3:15, or a 7:26 average mile. I felt awesome particularly after running the second half of the marathon in 1:38, only one minute slower than the first half. I got myself ready for the finishing picture and literally jumped over the finish line to finish in 9:55 and 47th place (including 24 professionals) and 10th in the Men’s 35-39 category out of 363 entrants. It was my best run although about 30 minutes later wondered why I did not push it to try and go sub-3:10. Who cares, I broke 10 hours which holds serious bragging rights.
Got a quick massage shortly after the race and met up with my dad. I showered up and had dinner downtown. The first beer after an Ironman tastes really good. We went back to the finish line to cheer the people across but left before midnight. Woke up the next morning feeling great trying to absorb what I had just done.
I cannot overstate what a fantastic event it was, from the race director’s planning and organization to the massive crowd support. This makes such a difference to the athletes. I have never participated in a race where someone stands just in front of the aid station and asks what I want and once I pass the table someone has it outstretched for me to grab. When the hotel had no pasta on the menu, they suddenly appear with a bowl of pasta and sauce. There are many examples of the Penticton residents making all of us feel welcome and at home.
I want to thank my dad who was a real trooper throughout the week. He made himself available for any task or need. I really appreciate his commitment and support. Thanks to the folks at Zoot (especially Eli) for their support and sponsorship. I can now claim that I have one of the fastest marathon times in their new triathlon race shoes. No socks and no blisters; available to the public in early 2008. Thanks to all the friends and family around the world who followed my progress. Thanks to my local training partners (particularly Jeff who has had a tough year; you will be sub-10 next year too). Finally, of course thanks to Lisa and the kids. Promise no more Ironman races in the foreseeable future. I know you have heard this two times prior. To do this right does take a toll on the personal side of the equation which I hope to do a better job of balancing going forward. It was tough to let the Kona slot go this time, but I know it was the right decision and importantly there will be other opportunities to get back to the Big Island. So the real take-aways for me are:
- Be confident in your physical preparation once the training is done. No need to second guess.
- Coming into a race relaxed with modest expectations enables you to take prudent risks and hopefully achieve great outcomes. There is no reason this attitude should not apply to other challenges life offers us.
- Lower expectations may mean less pressure and not necessarily weaker performance.
- Knowing that sometimes you just have to say “what the f&@k!” and see what happens.
- The key to a great marathon is about pacing. Integrating some hard tempo drills at the end of a long training run works wonders.
- No matter how many ironman races you have completed, it still feels great hearing the announcer yell, “You are an Ironman!”
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Mass start!
10 miles into the bike
Heading out on the run
No caption necessary!
