Race Reports:
Here, albeit late, is my race report from my very first triathlon.
First, however, my Beginner Triathlon Tip of the Week.
 |
| Ironman Foundation - and worth every penny. |
First, however, my Beginner Triathlon Tip of the Week.
This week I was reminded that Triathlon is a part of my life, rather than what I live for. The week got away from me, time wise, and there was nothing I could do (or was willing to do) to put in more training than I did.
Wednesday: 60 minute Z2 trainer session at 178 watts
Friday, 100 minutes Z2 trainer session at 168 watts.
That's
all I had! That's it! I just had to let it go. Tomorrow is another
day, and I'm not getting paid to do this. I'm doing this to enhance my
life...not take it over.
So here's how Oceanside panned out.
The night before the race was overwhelming as well. I didn't know how
to put my numbers on my bike, what all the extra bags were for, where
the transitions were and how I might set them up in the morning.
Finally, about two hours later than I'd hoped, I was packed and ready
to go for the next morning. Thankfully, the starting line was 5 miles
from our hotel. Thanks honey! GREAT job on accommodations!
 |
| Zero Dark Thirty |
 |
| Note the Monkey Graphics on the towel! Keeping a piece of our boys with me was a big part of my joy. |
The anxiety of not even knowing where I was supposed to park to set up
for T2, or wait...was that T1...really added to the stresses of the
entire day. Finally, however, I found a place to park not too far from
T2. I took my red bag and walked to T2. I saw Rudy! Yep! You know,
Rudy Garcia Tolson? He's the young man with no legs who competes in
international triathlons all over the world. The morning just got even
more intense. I set up T2 and headed back to the truck to grab my bike,
my swim bag, and T1 bag.
Looking rather like the Beverly Hillbillies with the amount of crap I
was trying to carry on my bike, I headed to the harbor. Still with a
couple of hours before sunrise, I took a moment to soak up the energy of
the event. Gently coasting down the road toward the harbor, with
athletes of all ages and abilities surrounding me, I heard a horrible
crash. My first real shot of adrenaline of the day! Someone immediately
in front of me got one of their transition bags caught in their spokes
and literally flipped over the bars, landing with a heavy, head
first thump on the ground. The unsuspecting victim laid bleeding on the
ground in a pile of transition bags as bystanders came to her aid. All I
could think of is, "Holy crap! The day hasn't even started." I
stepped off the bike and resituated my things.
After a short roll across the harbor bridge I walked my bike under the Ironman banner. That was a special moment for me. It was a little bitter sweet because with other similar experiences (playing live music at iconic venues with my older brother, and unloading a roadracing machine at Daytona International Speedway for the first time) I was alone. I wanted to share the excitement, anxiety, fear with someone who 'gets it'. However, there was an amazing feeling of "Wow, I'm actually here!" that came over me. That in itself raised my heart rate. Then, trying to re-focus on the task at hand, I fell into what I'd rehearsed 15 years earlier while racing mountain bikes. I got my nutrition sorted out, marked up my legs, and put on my race-face.
Years back,
I was a bit of a mess, but somehow through the pain that I always
managed to prescribe myself, I could hear my Grandmother's voice saying.
"Ok!" Not so much in a tone of satisfaction or conviction, but in a
tone as if to say, "OK! Well, I'm not sure what's next, but I'm gonna be
OK!" When I raced my biggest race (up to that point of my life) I
wrote "OK", in Sharpie marker, on my right thigh. This way, when I was
really suffering...I could hear that voice and somehow find peace. This
time though, things were different. I wasn't a mess. I was focused.
And although I still heard the comfort of my Grandmother's voice in my
head, I had a more important, less self centered motivation; my wife,
Adrianne, and my young sons, Michael and Jeffrey. I'd only heard of the
dreaded "Mount Mother F@#ker" on blog posts I'd read, but I knew that
I'd be finding strength in the reminders sketched onto my thighs when
the moment came to dig deep.
So, leg's inked up, I was off to get my numbers, then into my wetsuit.
Wait! Leave my jersey on? Yea, yea! I saw that on some races I
watched on YouTube. Ok...no! Wait. Can I wear my heart rate monitor
strap into the water? MAN! What am I doing here? So, monitor strap
on; jersey on, slow down...what else do I need. Go through what you
visualized so many times and don't forget anything. Slow down.
Sunscreen! I know you put it on, but do it again. This is going to be
a long day. One last trip to the 'boys room', and I was ready.
Oceanside is a wave start, so we lined up in waves; 24 waves in all. I was in the 23rd. OH MAN! Really? Am I going to be the last guy on the course? What if everyone behind me is faster than me? They probably are! Who the F@#& does a 70.3 without loads of triathlon experience. What a dork! "It's OK. Like Macca wrote about in his book. You've filled your head with memories of success. When it hurts, you know you can push through because you've done it in training so many times. You deserve to be here! Enjoy it! If you're last, you're last. Enjoy it."
Before I knew it, the leaders were coming out of the water! They'd swam 1.2 miles already, and I'm 5 minutes away from even getting my toes wet. But then it was time. "OK, you can go!" said the volunteer at the bottom of the boat ramp. So I took to the water. My first few breaths were very, very shallow. It was bloody cold. Cold like instant head ache cold. I remember Macca talking about getting yourself acclimated to the water so I immediately took off for the start line about 150 yards away. A bit of a sprint to get loosened up and get into race mode. My brand new goggles (to avoid fogging) immediately filled with salt water. They fit exactly as my previous ones did, but? So I stalled out and got my goggles and swim caps sorted out. "Think calm. Think gliding. Think peace. You've got this." was going through my head. My goal: 31 minutes.
The gun went off and I started swimming my race; calm, smooth, fast and steady. About 45 seconds in I was gasping for air. "Calm down." I told myself. "You're fit. Just feel that glide. Breath every two if you need to." But it never came...ever. This was the worst experience I've ever had in the water. If my family hadn't been so supportive, I'd have given up 400 yards in. Breast stroke, side stroke, freestyle...gasping. Breast stroke...freestyle again...gasping. I never swam. I never found my rhythm. I finally got out of the water and ran up the ramp thinking, "Thank GOD I got out of the water and I'm I can get onto my bike."
I actually did have a smile on my face as I ran with my wetsuit pulled
down to my waist. "It's a new day." I thought to myself. "I can handle
this!" T1 was LONG for me. I just took my time and made sure I was
ready for what might be a 4 hour ride. Needless to say, I'm not fast.
Nutrition, Sunscreen, other...um...necessities, like Dave Zabriskie's
"DZ Nuts!" Didn't want to miss anything and pay for it later. I
finally got on the bike and rolled! I remembered some of the MaccaX
crew telling me not to get sucked into the easiness of the first half of
the ride, or the 2nd half would make me pay. I did heed that warning
and found success. Several of the athletes on $8,000-$10,000 bikes that
got out of the water behind me passed me like I was parked. I
remembered a comment that, Francesco, one of Macca's crew posted on our
Facebook group; "Andy, it doesn't take a special bike! It takes special
legs, and you've got 'em." Most, of these big dollar bikes I re-passed
on the 2nd half of the course. Guys with fancy bikes, once piece suits,
areo helmets, and all the high tech stuff were grabbing their
hamstrings on the side of the road at the steepest point of the ride.
For me, I was doing all I could to follow a guy from Mexico on an old
steel bike, wearing sneakers! He had special legs too! Over the last
12 miles I didn't get passed at all and easily and comfortably passed
well over 100 athletes over the last 30 minutes, before getting to T2.
Oceanside is a beautiful race. The bike leg is a dream ride. Quiet,
safe, fun, and challenging.
T2! I'm gonna make it! I cruised into T2 feeling fantastic! It wasn't a fast ride, but to be honest, I'd only run 13.1 miles twice in my life, and it wasn't pretty. My goal was to show up to the run with a fresh mind, body, and soul. I did just that! Ok, sit down, socks, more sunscreen, more DZ Nuts, more nutrition, Salt Stick tablets, glasses, compression socks for my calves, number belt, Macca visor (with a little tiny bit of pride) shoes, and I was on my way. My plan was to walk to T2 exit. I did that. Then an easy jog. Now my 10k pace is 9min/mi. Anything near that would be great...for me. 1st mile was all smiles. I feel fantastic. I feel fast. I don't want to change anything because I feel fantastic. Then, 400 yards later...it hit again. Gasping! It was JUST like when I was in the water. I could go as slowly as I wanted, but I could NOT catch my breath? "Don't walk, just run slowly and smoothly! If you start to walk...you'll keep walking. Just smooth and steady!"
I ran, more and more slowly. I was really uncomfortable, and only about
2 1/2 miles in. Oh my! This is gonna suck. My heart rate was very
low, but I couldn't breath! Then, just then, boom! My wife and kids
were there! I almost cried! I was so excited to see them all.
Adrianne had made shirts for the boys. "Team Daddy!" I heard them
screaming. Their eyes were wide open! They had smiles bigger than I'd
ever seen! "GO DADDY!" they all screamed! I jogged over to them and
hugged them all!
Then I remembered. I've got about 10 miles left. This could be a long day still. But what a lift they gave me! They were out there for me! Mommy, Michael, and Jeffrey! Man...that's love! I set off again, jogging away with buckets of motivation. "GO DADDY, GO!" I could hear them as I turned to run up the hill. Then out of the corner of my eye, I could see them running across the parking lot to the other corner. Laughing and running, screaming "We love you Daddy!" That is pure, unadulterated love; for me anyway. I made the turn away from the family and found my rhythm. A couple minutes later, a guy came buy me and smiled. "So you must be Daddy!" "Yep!" I replied. "I'm feelin' pretty rich right now."
The run went on, continuing south for what felt like forever. I'm still
struggling with my breathing but, if I really bring my pace to a crawl,
I'll be OK. We went onto another street, away from the ocean, and I
thought, Am I 5 miles in? Am I 8 miles in? Then to the turn around.
Ok, I'm headin' back now. A couple of guys were to my side when I heard
one say to his partner, "Dude! This is 2 loops?" "Yeah." was the
response. "Oh F@#%!" was the reply back. Exactly my thoughts. Wait.
Wait. I'm not even half way done? Oh my. My family is sitting on the
side of the road and I'm in trouble. I have more than 7 miles to go.
At this point, who knows how long that is going to be. Then came the
walk. The news that I was still so far away just sucked the soul out of
me. I did a little walk jog, then some more running. "Andy! Andy!
It's Milhouse! You're doing it! You're really doing it!", came from the
other side; lap 2. I crossed into the oncoming lane and stole a hug
and a high-five from one of Macca's crew. It brought me back. Focus.
Yea! If I just saw him, I'll see him again on his way back, plus I have
my family...on the way back out...and at the finish! I can do it!
Back to start finish. Ok, I'm half way there. I stumbled upon a guy that was in about the same physical and emotional condition I was. We ran silently, side by side, for about 5 minutes. Finally, I broke the silence. I needed to get my head somewhere else, and I hoped I wasn't interfering with his Zen moment. "So why are you here mate?" I said, with the rhythm of my breathing breaking up the question. The guy turned to me and I noticed, no hair...no eyebrows. I wondered if, in a selfish moment, I'd stepped somewhere I shouldn't have. The gentleman told me that he'd just lost his best friend to cancer. He'd shaved his head, beard, and eyebrows off, in honor of his fallen mate. "Whew! That's great friend! Great motivation. I'm sure your friend is smiling!" "Yep! I can feel it." he said with a tear in his eyes. "So why are you here?" he asked me. "......well." Nothing came. "Things have been..." I couldn't even get the words out, "...hard." Long pause; "I'm just really happy to be here." I couldn't bring myself to share the seas of struggles, the mistakes, the broken heartedness, the injuries, and the self disappointment that I'd made it though to get hear. I was doing Ironman California 70.3, and I'd just started lap two. It hit me again. "I'm on the last lap! That means there's no way out but to finish!"
Finally,
with the friendly chats, some deeper than others, and cheers from
Milhouse and my family, I saw the finish line. Again, I'd visualized
this in my head 100 times. I was going to grab my MaccaX visor in my
right hand, and the picture of my family in the other, and reach my
goal; I finished. 6:55. A long day. A stunning, beautiful, and life
improving day.
I crossed the line into the arms of my wife and kids. I did
something good. I showed our boys that if you try hard enough; if you
never, ever give up, you can do whatever you want. Motorsports was easy
for me. Going fast was natural. This, Ironman; it's really, really
hard for me. The boys picked up a habit. They'd ask me, every night,
after reading bedtime stories and brushing their teeth, "Daddy! Are you
going swimming now?" "Yep!", I'd say. "Wow! You're going to be fast
Daddy! I think you're going to win!" I would simply reply, "I'm going
to try boys. I'm going to try."
That afternoon, I was aching, but still all smiles. Aches fade. We'd stood in the Oceanside surf for about an hour after the race, watching the kids splash and be kids, while blissfully allowing my muscles to enjoy the comfort of the ice cold water. Then we ate. I ate like I'd never eaten before. I just wanted to eat everything! Then we were off to the hotel. Again, Adrianne's support was evident. I got to soak in an ice bath. The boys were well cared for...and I just soaked it all up. I received calls from my brothers and sister, and my folks too. My cell phone was blowing up with text messages from people who'd followed my progress online. I was so happy. I am so happy.
Finally, about 9:30 or 10 PM, I got up to tuck in our boys and to thank
them for being there with me. I told them how thankful I was that they
were there to share this special day with me. Our son Jeffrey (5) said,
and I'll never forget this..."It's OK Daddy! You did your best! Thank
you for winning a medal." Then to my 7 year old son, Michael. "Dad, I
wanted to tell you something. I wanted to tell you that I'll never ever
forget putting that medal around your neck." Then he gave me a hug; the
kind you don't forget.
You know, people sometimes ask why I would put myself through so much to do this in the first place? To me...I think...
...how could I not?
After a short roll across the harbor bridge I walked my bike under the Ironman banner. That was a special moment for me. It was a little bitter sweet because with other similar experiences (playing live music at iconic venues with my older brother, and unloading a roadracing machine at Daytona International Speedway for the first time) I was alone. I wanted to share the excitement, anxiety, fear with someone who 'gets it'. However, there was an amazing feeling of "Wow, I'm actually here!" that came over me. That in itself raised my heart rate. Then, trying to re-focus on the task at hand, I fell into what I'd rehearsed 15 years earlier while racing mountain bikes. I got my nutrition sorted out, marked up my legs, and put on my race-face.
 | |||||
| Smiled on by Paula Pezzo |
 |
| My motivation; to be better. |
Oceanside is a wave start, so we lined up in waves; 24 waves in all. I was in the 23rd. OH MAN! Really? Am I going to be the last guy on the course? What if everyone behind me is faster than me? They probably are! Who the F@#& does a 70.3 without loads of triathlon experience. What a dork! "It's OK. Like Macca wrote about in his book. You've filled your head with memories of success. When it hurts, you know you can push through because you've done it in training so many times. You deserve to be here! Enjoy it! If you're last, you're last. Enjoy it."
Before I knew it, the leaders were coming out of the water! They'd swam 1.2 miles already, and I'm 5 minutes away from even getting my toes wet. But then it was time. "OK, you can go!" said the volunteer at the bottom of the boat ramp. So I took to the water. My first few breaths were very, very shallow. It was bloody cold. Cold like instant head ache cold. I remember Macca talking about getting yourself acclimated to the water so I immediately took off for the start line about 150 yards away. A bit of a sprint to get loosened up and get into race mode. My brand new goggles (to avoid fogging) immediately filled with salt water. They fit exactly as my previous ones did, but? So I stalled out and got my goggles and swim caps sorted out. "Think calm. Think gliding. Think peace. You've got this." was going through my head. My goal: 31 minutes.
 |
| On dry land. |
The gun went off and I started swimming my race; calm, smooth, fast and steady. About 45 seconds in I was gasping for air. "Calm down." I told myself. "You're fit. Just feel that glide. Breath every two if you need to." But it never came...ever. This was the worst experience I've ever had in the water. If my family hadn't been so supportive, I'd have given up 400 yards in. Breast stroke, side stroke, freestyle...gasping. Breast stroke...freestyle again...gasping. I never swam. I never found my rhythm. I finally got out of the water and ran up the ramp thinking, "Thank GOD I got out of the water and I'm I can get onto my bike."
 |
| Climbing out of T1 |
 |
| Heading into T2 |
T2! I'm gonna make it! I cruised into T2 feeling fantastic! It wasn't a fast ride, but to be honest, I'd only run 13.1 miles twice in my life, and it wasn't pretty. My goal was to show up to the run with a fresh mind, body, and soul. I did just that! Ok, sit down, socks, more sunscreen, more DZ Nuts, more nutrition, Salt Stick tablets, glasses, compression socks for my calves, number belt, Macca visor (with a little tiny bit of pride) shoes, and I was on my way. My plan was to walk to T2 exit. I did that. Then an easy jog. Now my 10k pace is 9min/mi. Anything near that would be great...for me. 1st mile was all smiles. I feel fantastic. I feel fast. I don't want to change anything because I feel fantastic. Then, 400 yards later...it hit again. Gasping! It was JUST like when I was in the water. I could go as slowly as I wanted, but I could NOT catch my breath? "Don't walk, just run slowly and smoothly! If you start to walk...you'll keep walking. Just smooth and steady!"
 |
| Jeffrey (5) and Michael (7) - Team Daddy |
Then I remembered. I've got about 10 miles left. This could be a long day still. But what a lift they gave me! They were out there for me! Mommy, Michael, and Jeffrey! Man...that's love! I set off again, jogging away with buckets of motivation. "GO DADDY, GO!" I could hear them as I turned to run up the hill. Then out of the corner of my eye, I could see them running across the parking lot to the other corner. Laughing and running, screaming "We love you Daddy!" That is pure, unadulterated love; for me anyway. I made the turn away from the family and found my rhythm. A couple minutes later, a guy came buy me and smiled. "So you must be Daddy!" "Yep!" I replied. "I'm feelin' pretty rich right now."
 |
| Built more for rugby or MMA than endurance, but I love this sport. |
Back to start finish. Ok, I'm half way there. I stumbled upon a guy that was in about the same physical and emotional condition I was. We ran silently, side by side, for about 5 minutes. Finally, I broke the silence. I needed to get my head somewhere else, and I hoped I wasn't interfering with his Zen moment. "So why are you here mate?" I said, with the rhythm of my breathing breaking up the question. The guy turned to me and I noticed, no hair...no eyebrows. I wondered if, in a selfish moment, I'd stepped somewhere I shouldn't have. The gentleman told me that he'd just lost his best friend to cancer. He'd shaved his head, beard, and eyebrows off, in honor of his fallen mate. "Whew! That's great friend! Great motivation. I'm sure your friend is smiling!" "Yep! I can feel it." he said with a tear in his eyes. "So why are you here?" he asked me. "......well." Nothing came. "Things have been..." I couldn't even get the words out, "...hard." Long pause; "I'm just really happy to be here." I couldn't bring myself to share the seas of struggles, the mistakes, the broken heartedness, the injuries, and the self disappointment that I'd made it though to get hear. I was doing Ironman California 70.3, and I'd just started lap two. It hit me again. "I'm on the last lap! That means there's no way out but to finish!"
Finally,
with the friendly chats, some deeper than others, and cheers from
Milhouse and my family, I saw the finish line. Again, I'd visualized
this in my head 100 times. I was going to grab my MaccaX visor in my
right hand, and the picture of my family in the other, and reach my
goal; I finished. 6:55. A long day. A stunning, beautiful, and life
improving day. |
| The 1st will always be special |
That afternoon, I was aching, but still all smiles. Aches fade. We'd stood in the Oceanside surf for about an hour after the race, watching the kids splash and be kids, while blissfully allowing my muscles to enjoy the comfort of the ice cold water. Then we ate. I ate like I'd never eaten before. I just wanted to eat everything! Then we were off to the hotel. Again, Adrianne's support was evident. I got to soak in an ice bath. The boys were well cared for...and I just soaked it all up. I received calls from my brothers and sister, and my folks too. My cell phone was blowing up with text messages from people who'd followed my progress online. I was so happy. I am so happy.
 |
| Unforgettable |
You know, people sometimes ask why I would put myself through so much to do this in the first place? To me...I think...
...how could I not?
No comments:
Post a Comment