Ironman Canada 2011 Race Report

This is a bit different type of post that I normally use on this blog, but many of my friends are interested in hearing about the race and others may glean some knowledge on how NOT to race an Ironman.  

Ironman Canada is one of the most historic, spectacular, and well known Ironmans in the world.  It is also a notoriously difficult race in which to gain entry.  It was a no-brainer when five of us from Springfield had an opportunity to sign up last summer.   OK, mostly a no-brainer…the $600+ entry fee was a little ridiculous.  I’m not completely sure why people (myself included) pay so much to destroy themselves for 8-17 hours, but the race production company sure does make you feel like a rock star while you’re doing it.

While it would be my second full distance triathlon, it would be the first for all of my friends (as seen on a detour while scouting the bike course - from left: Kurt Larson, Dave Smay, me, Valerie Sharlin, and Ken Sharlin). 

Everything at an Ironman is spectacularly well organized, from packet pickup to the pasta dinner to the race itself.   Because of the number of athletes, you have to drop your bike off the day before the race.  You also have to organize all of your gear into five separate bags that will be used throughout the race (morning bag, swim-bike bag, bike-run bag, bike special needs bag, and run special needs bag).  

If you are the Type A planner, then you will love this.  If not, then an Ironman is pretty much a logistical nightmare (see left). 

I arrived race morning, got body marked, checked my bags one last time, and meandered down to the water.  With what turned out to be 2800+ athletes on race day and too many spectators to count, this was easier said than done.  2800 athletes also turned out to be the largest mass swim start in history.  As opposed to most triathlons, which usually use time trial or wave starts, all athletes at an Ironman start at once.  So the swim can be a pretty scary experience…you just can’t put that many people together and expect no contact. 

Get out early or it gets ugly

The gun started and I have to say the 2.4 mile swim was pretty uneventful.  Some mild contact, but I just focused on drafting behind others to conserve energy.  I lined up on the far left end of the beach where all of the athletes looked freaked out.  I think this was the key, because the ones with a “kill” look in their eyes are the ones who do the pummeling in a swim.  Although I got pretty tired on the 2^nd half, it went by pretty fast and I beat my Arizona swim by 4 minutes in 1:12:53.  Glad to have a wetsuit for the 71 degree water, and not bad considering my longest swim in training was about a mile and a half.

I'm that guy over there

Transition is one of the funniest parts of the day.  You go in a changing tent (separate for men and women) to strip off swim stuff and put on your cycling clothes, all with the time running.  As I entered the tent, it was just a mass of half naked, type A  guys yelling and trying to dress.  There were volunteers attempting to help but, due to the nudity, no one wanted to get too close.  In Arizona, the water and air temps were pretty cold and I couldn’t grip with my hands.  The volunteer had to pull my shorts up for me, which is a fairly embarrassing and silly thing to go through.  This time I was able to shoo my volunteer away to help someone else.

After exiting the tent, a volunteer handed me my bike and I headed out to the bike course.  We rode south through town on streets that were absolutely packed with spectators yelling.  It was really exciting and hard to hold back. 

The Ironman Canada bike course is one of the more challenging on the circuit.  It can be broken into five major parts… the initial 40 miles of flats, a 6 mile long mountain climb (Richter Pass) followed by 12 miles of “rollers” (what we call significant hills here), 24 miles of flats, a 10 mile long mountain climb (Yellow Lake), and finally a 12 mile cruise back to town downhill.  

If you don’t conserve energy early on, you’re toast.  So I put it in all-day pace, got aero, and enjoyed the scenery.  When we hit the base of Richter pass, everyone seemed to hit the accelerator.  I’m a decent climber, and granted I was nursing a sore leg, but I didn’t pass ONE PERSON on the six mile stretch up the mountain.  I distinctly remember several 60 year old ladies flying by me (you can tell because the race organizers write our age on our calves - so you can decide whether you want to try to keep up with someone in the race in your age group).   A friend who had been tracking us later informed me that of everyone he tracked, I had the least slowdown from the first half of the race to the second.  So that made me feel better about getting passed by the Grandmas.

View from part of the way up Richter Pass

Upon cresting the top, you hit a super fast downhill with plenty of visibility.  It’s basically an excuse to let it all hang out for several minutes and go really, really fast.  I did anyway…48 mph.  A bit wobbly and scary.  I don’t want to think about how much skin a person would leave on the asphalt crashing at that speed.

The bike course really tuckered out my kids as well.

The next section of seven rolling hills made it very difficult to get into a rhythm.  Each was steep enough that you had to work a bit to get over the top, but if you took full advantage of the preceding downhill you could minimize the effort.  I worked this section fairly hard and passed a ton of people back.  

At this point we were riding alongside a small river in a valley between the mountains.  Each side of the river had miles of orchards and vineyards.  Really pretty.  And apparently a lot of bees.  I heard of several people, including my buddy Kurt, who were stung in that section.  

The last climb, Yellow Lake, snuck up on us.  It started out so gradually I forgot I was even on it at first.  Several other riders and I had been passing each other back and forth on the previous stretch and so we all became friendly and chatted a bit on the climb.

Anyway, Yellow Lake was long.  But as we got closer and closer to the top, the spectator density went off the charts.  People on both sides of the road were screaming, ringing cowbells, and dancing around in ridiculous costumes.  I really fed off the spectators and that made me want to ride harder.  This is where my quads started cramping up and I ran out of my own nutrition (honey stinger chews) so I grabbed an energy gel from a volunteer as I rode by. 

I’m fairly certain that nutrition donated to races is basically the flavors they can’t sell otherwise.  I always seem to get the gross flavors.  I sucked down the gel and about gagged…double caffeinated espresso.  For a non-coffee drinker, it was pretty bad.  But I had done some math in my head and knew I was going to be down on calories so I grabbed another 2 gels and gulped.  Any guesses as to the flavor for both?  Double espresso.  What were the chances?  Well, I’d say 100% because I only ever get the nasty stuff at races.

A person could theoretically turn around and go back to the aid station but who wants to lose the time?  After all that climbing, I just wanted to get off the bike.  So with 3 caffeinated gels in my stomach in a short time period, I hit the top of Yellow Lake and proceeded to absolutely fly down the mountain and back into town at 30-40mph.  This last 12 miles gives you a chance to rest the legs and settle the stomach (theoretically).  Final bike time was 6:05:21, for an 18mph average.  In retrospect, this might have been a bit too fast (I only went 10 minutes faster in Arizona, on a ridiculously easy course).  My secret goal was to beat my friend Jeff’s bike split from a couple of years ago and of course it’s usually a sign of stupidity (or what they call “man thinking”) going into a race thinking like that.

Saying hi to family at mile 1

Talking to some veterans convinced me to change into clean, dry running clothes for the marathon.  Being comfortable is well worth an extra minute or two in an all day race.  As I hit mile one, I saw my family and stopped to say hi and hug my boy.  My wife’s parents made the trip with us to help watch the kids (Gabriel is almost 3 and Grayson is almost 4 weeks old).  They would later tell me that the entire event was spectacular, and although they knew there were crazy people in the world, they didn’t realize there was another whole level of crazy.  Apparently, there were people already stumbling and looking incoherent even at mile 1.

I headed out with a slightly sour stomach but not thinking much of it.  This marathon is an out-and-back course and we had the same awesome crowds cheering as we headed out.  My plan was to run 8 minutes, walk 1-2 minutes, and repeat.  The run-walk method worked exceptionally well for me in Arizona on little run training so I hoped it would again, because this time my long run was 3 miles.  If this sounds quite stupid, you are correct, but with some chronic issues it was the best I could do.

I actually got through 10 miles of run-walk-repeat before my stomach totally shut down from the caffeine.  Gas, bloating, burping, the strong sense that it would be awesome to vomit.  A girl who I had been running with was having similar issues.  We talked about trying to make ourselves gag but were both too chicken.  And who knows, maybe that would have made things worse. 

At least someone was having fun at this point.

At that point, it was a struggle to walk for more than a few minutes without stopping.   Fortunately, there was regular shade and aid stations every mile.   Everyone says to drink de-fizzed cola with a sour stomach.  Unfortunately, the person in charge of the aid stations didn’t tell the volunteers to de-fizz the cola.  So it took me 3 aid stations to discover that fully carbonated cola just makes a gassy stomach worse.  And of course lined up below each aid station was row after row of 2 liter bottles with lids tightly in place.  I probably should have said something but wasn’t sure I had the energy.

I finally realized I needed to let my stomach settle so I switched from powerade and cola to water and fruit.  It was a little tough to do this as I knew I would really be going into caloric deficit by doing so.  I didn’t see any other choice so slogged through it.

Finishing hard

This is the time in a race that veterans refer to as a “bad patch.”  They say every race consists of “good patches” and “bad patches”, and long races are all about accepting the bad ones, knowing that eventually they will pass. 

After 6 miles/2 hours of walking alternating with laying on the ground (I would say at least 60% of the people around me were walking as well – someone told me it got up to 95 degrees F that day, which explains a lot), my stomach began to settle and I began to perk up.  

I began chatting with a guy from Arizona and we decided to try running together.  It’s amazing how much working with another person can help your energy and your attitude.  We both began to steadily increase our pace from about 10 minute miles to 9 minute miles.  Around mile 20 I really started feeling good so kept steadily increasing the pace, finally finishing the final mile with a 7:00.  There was no logical reason to work that hard at the end…my marathon time would be a 5:45:35…and a big part of my limp over the next few days was surely from that surge at the end, but it felt really good to finish strong.  

Final time 13:17:16.  1 ½ hours slower than Arizona, but two important lessons learned…pack enough nutrition for the entire race and stick to your nutrition plan.  Duh.  This isn’t exactly rocket science, and it’s embarrassing considering I tell this to new runners just about every day.  Yet if you don’t plan everything out in advance to the letter, small mistakes can become big problems.

After I finished, a volunteer grabbed me and attended to my every need.  She retrieved my finisher shirt and hat, brought food, help me get a finisher photo, got me in for a massage, everything.  This is one of the coolest parts of doing an Ironman…the rock star treatment.  I read afterward that there were 4000 volunteers for the 3000 racers. 

I felt pretty drained at the end and a nurse who saw me while getting a massage threatened to give me an IV if I didn’t drink a bunch of water and eat some chips right then and there.  So I did.  I guess I got lucky because there were some people in bad shape.  Kurt, who beat me by 45 minutes, spent 4 hours in there before he finally got an IV.  I was out in 30 minutes.   Somewhere deep down I think this is pretty funny. 

All five of us made it back to the states in one piece, and like any long race, we all learned something valuable.   We also were reminded that doing long, stupid things to your body is much more fun with your buddies.

So that’s it.  All in all, Canada is definitely a bucket list race for the triathletes out there.  Canadians are super friendly, the dollar is fairly strong, and it’s a race you will never forget (even if it’s because you cried a little and thought you were going to need an Ambulance at the turnaround).

Minimalist Shoes: Are YOU right for them?

We have been fairly supportive of recommending quasi-minimalist shoes for our store customers over the past year.  I define a quasi-minimalist shoe as one that has some, but not, all elements of a minimalist shoe.  Elements of a minimalist shoe are a wide toe box, minimal cushioning, and a low heel to toe offset.

Examples of quasi-minimalist shoes are the Newton Isaac, Saucony Mirage, the soon-to-arrive Brooks Pure Project shoes, and New Balance Minimus.  Full minimalist shoes would be Vibram Five Fingers.  We recommend quasi minimalist shoes for our runners because they are a transitional step toward minimalism without quite the risk of putting someone in a minimalist shoe (we hope).

We are learning that even quasi-minimalist shoes don't work for everyone though.  We are seeing that people with very inflexible calves/achilles tendons do not tolerate the lowered heel very well and often come back to swap for a traditional shoe.

So we are now doing three tests on customers who want to try a minimalist or quasi-minimalist shoe:

1) Assess heel cord length.  Should be able to easily go beyond 90 degrees flexion at the ankle.
2) Assess big toe mobility.  Should be able to get to 30 degrees or more of extension at the big toe.
3) Assess single leg balance.  Should be able to easily balance 30-60 seconds with no wavering.  We instruct customer who buy a minimalist shoe to work up to 2 minutes with their eyes closed and no wavering on each leg.

The demands of running closer to barefoot require greater strength and flexibility of the foot and lower legs.  If you are considering a more minimal shoe that you are already in, make sure you can pass these three tests.  If not, then get to work!

Alter G Treadmill

One of our local fitness centers recently purchased an Alter G treadmill.  The treadmill features an enclosed skirt that you are secured into with special shorts.  You can then control air pressure inside the skirt to partially unload your body weight.

Here's a short video of me running on the treadmill a couple of weeks ago.

If you are injured or injury prone, this is a great way to get in miles.  I'm using it 3 times a week over the next month to prepare for Ironman Canada.  Without it, I'd have trouble running more than once a week.  For more info about using the Alter G locally, contact Nancy at the Meyer Center.

Asymmetry & Bike Fit - The Pelvis

I think a crucial missing piece to most bike fits is an assessment of pelvic stability while riding under load. 

Steve Hogg, a fitter out of Sydney, writes about it often on his blog: http://www.stevehoggbikefitting.com/blog. In sum, no one is 100% symmetrical is structure or function.  The people who function most symmetrically on a bike generally can train harder and longer without injury.  Here is a post with a video showing a severe case.  You probably aren't this bad, but just about everyone could use correction. 

So if you function asymmetrically, your bike fitter should adjust your fit to accommodate the way you function.  This can be accomplished through moving your saddle to the left/right with an FSA seat post with a data head, by twisting your saddle to the left or right slightly, by shimming one shoe to make it longer than the other, wedging one or both cleats/shoes, or by other methods. 

I am a devoted reader of Steve's blog, mostly because I have been struggling with cycling injuries for the past 7 years.  I think it is a good use of your time if you also struggle.

And to give a personal example, shimming seems to be helping me.  I have an x-ray verified leg length discrepancy (left tibia is 18mm shorter than my right one).  It turns out that shimming my right cleat (I know, opposite of what you would think) allows my pelvis to function more symmetrically on the bike seat.  I tried shimming the left cleat for the past 6 months and it felt worse than no shims...but with the right cleat shimmed I immediately felt more symmetrical.

I have not been able to apply more than 80% effort on the bike without severe left calf cramping and soreness for years.  Now with the right cleat shimmed, I am riding at 95% effort with only minimal soreness the next day.  Still have some details to work out, but I feel like I'm on the right path (finally).

Midsole Cleat Position

The topic about cleat placement on cycling shoes comes up from time to time.  Here's a recent post from Joe Friel on it. He is a big fan.

I've asked several experts and the consensus I get from them is that when you take out the calf, you remove a limiter BUT you also lose a potential power source on climbs and sprints.  Not a bad deal for steady state races like triathlons. 

Jay Dicharry at UVA told me that it's a wash in terms of cycling performance.  But Joe's post says that you might RUN better with the arch cleat placement.  If the cycling is a wash and the run is a gain, then it's definitely something to consider.

I actually drilled a pair of old MTB shoes with arch cleats last summer and really liked the feeling.  I felt like a diesel truck...not as much pop, but lots of power. 

I went back to a regular toe placement as the season progressed for 2 reasons.  1. I had a little trouble with spasms in my left calf, which I'm now finding is due to a leg length discrepancy.  So a shim will probably help.  2. I crashed taking a turn at high speed when the tip of my foot rubbed the wheel (your feet overlap the wheel on turns).  So the arch placement takes a bit of learning to take turns more carefully.

Losing skin shied me away for a while.  About ready to give it a try again though.  Anyone else tried it?