“Really, Universe? Really?! What are you trying to tell me about racing Ironman?” This is what I was thinking while standing on the side of Highway 95 in 100F+ heat at around mile 51-52 of the bike course this past Sunday at Ironman Coeur D’Alene after I rode over a sharp rock (I assume) during a descent that shredded my front tire and ruined my race day dreams.
My trip to Ironman Coeur D’Alene, ID was a ball of clay right from the start. It was my deferral race from the COVID cancelled Ironman St. George, and up until early March was still a question mark if it would even go off as planned due to the uneven roll out of COVID vaccines across the country. But in early March it started to seem like it might actually happen, so I suggested to Marion that we use the race as our first road trip in our Sprinter and spend a whole week in Coeur D’Alene versus my usual slim four day stint over race weekend. However, about midway through May it became very clear that once again Marion would not be able to break away from work for any amount of time (let alone a week where he might have spotty internet access) and I’d be heading to the race Han Solo. I quickly pivoted my plans, booked a flight, car, bike transport, and continued on with training until it was time to board a plane the Tuesday before race day to the gorgeous and toasty Pacific Northwest.
POV from the back patio of my house rental overlooking Hayden Lake.
Although I was alone all week, I never felt lonely.
The days leading up to the race were filled with hugs and chats with old and new friends, teammates, my coach, and other like-minded triathletes soaking up the electric vibes of being back together doing what we love. Plus, Marion was clutch every single night delivering exactly what I needed to hear to stay focused and enjoy what I came to Coeur D’Alene to do, race an Ironman.
Screen left, Hillary, her daughter Ellie, and a slew of incredible TeamSFQ teammates gathering on the Friday before race day.
I barely slept all week due to buzzing nerves and the long-light of the day, so my 2:30A wake up call on Sunday morning to make the 5:35A start time was not jarring at all; I was awake at 1:40A.
I left my cozy guest house on Hayden Lake at 3:30A, parked my car minutes before transition opened at 4:00A, walked next to Lake Coeur D’Alene under the sparkling moonlight, unpacked my gear next to the most gorgeous bike hanging on the racks, accomplished three bathroom visits, zipped up my wetsuit, and headed toward the lineup for the swim start.
I felt calm, grateful, excited, and ready to give the long hot day everything I had. I was the strongest I had ever been going into an Ironman, and held the mindset that I just needed to do what I had been doing in for the last five weeks in training and I should have a good day.
The swim was two loops in lovely Lake Coeur D’Alene. The Pro’s started at 5:00A, and the age-groupers started at 5:35A, but since it was a time-trial start (starting us two at a time) I entered the lake at 5:49A. Right away I knew I would have a solid swim. I have been swimming primarily with a snorkel for the last four weeks and widening my arms in order to help fix my stroke, but I believe it was the lasting impression of swimming 11K in the ocean during our Swim/Run adventure during camp that made the biggest impact on this swim. I felt confident that as long as I stayed on course I would finish quicker than usual.
Swim exit.
I was right. Almost.
I did slightly veer off course after the red turn-a-round buoy on the second loop, so it wasn’t a perfect swim, but it was my favorite and fastest Ironman swim so far.
Swim: 1:07:24
On to T1.
Also, I was very happy that the run to transition had very little concrete. Even though my foot has come back to life from my plantar plate tear, I still wrap my toes religiously with kinesio tape everyday, and rarely walk, let alone run barefoot on any surface (much less a hard surface) in any scenario, so to be able to run mostly on the glorious grass of CdA Center Park to reunite with “Big Red” in transition was very much appreciated.
"Big Red" ready to roll!
Speaking of transition, since we are still lingering in COVID times, it was an old-school set up of keeping our gear next to our bikes on the racks rather than using change tents, i.e., we needed to strip off our wetsuits, and shuffle through all of our gear on our own without the help of volunteers. It turns out I could’ve used a second pair of eyeballs to make sure I had everything I needed, but more on that later.
Heading out of T1 onto the bike course.
The bike course was fun, hard, and beautiful.
My plan was to stay within my power range, be consistent with fueling (hydration, food, and salt), an absolute necessity since the temperature was supposed to be above 100F all day.
I was feelin’ good and riding well during the first loop, and then while descending around mile 50 in the shaded no-pass zone, I heard a guy behind me hitting his brakes, so I inched to the right to let him pass, and instantly heard a loud crunch. “Dammit.” My bike shifted suddenly, so I grabbed the brakes, got it under control, and brought it to a stop safely.
My front tire was spewing sealant and was completely flat.
Luckily, there was a group of supporters nestled in the side of the mountain about 100 feet down the road that I walked to and asked to borrow a phone. I called Marion, it went to voicemail, so then I called my Mom to let her know that I was okay, but that my tire blew, and I was probably out of the race. The amazing strangers I met tried to help me change the tire anyway, but we quickly discovered what we thought was a chip on the carbon wall of the wheel, a definite KO for the day.
I had no idea what time it was, but I was just hoping I could get picked up by SAG, and driven into town to turn in my chip and hopefully be allowed to run the marathon. I was determined to run a marathon either that afternoon, or the next morning.
Not running a marathon in Coeur D’Alene was not an option.
I was about five miles outside of town, so I started walking down the highway. Suddenly, I heard someone yelling behind me, and turned around to see a somewhat official looking guy, (he had a walkie-talkie), running toward me with a pump and tube. I felt bad breaking the news to him that it wasn’t the tube, but the wheel itself that was damaged, so he couldn’t help me. Instead he called in my race number over the walkie-talkie and I told him I would wait down the road at a turnout to be picked up by SAG.
Time kept ticking away, but since I thought my race was over, I wasn’t eating, drinking, or taking in any salt. Actually, I couldn't take in salt if I wanted to because I discovered around mile 30 that I forgot to put it in my bike’s built-in fuel box, a VERY BIG mistake.
After waiting for who knows how long, a fellow racer peeled off in my make-shift hangout spot and asked if I had any tubes? I gave him what I had and helped him change his tube, but all of our CO2 cartridges were failing to inflate, then the cavalry arrived!!!
Two Knights in a faded gold Toyota Corolla parked on the opposite side of Highway 95, and ran over to us with a pump, tools, and tubes. They were bike techs from Play Tri, and quickly went to work on fixing my fellow flatter, then sent him on his way. I didn’t think they could do anything for my busted wheel, but they went to work trying solve the problem anyway. First they changed the tube, but after pumping it up we realized it wasn’t the carbon rim that was chipped, but the tire itself was shredded. One of them ran back across the highway and miraculously pulled out a BRAND NEW TIRE from their treasure chest of a trunk, ran back over to us, replaced the tire and tube, pumped it up and yelled, “Get back in the race!”
Back in the race and moving through lap two.
I couldn’t believe it!! To go from utter shock and then acceptance of having ANOTHER Ironman dream dashed, to then be brought back to life and able to get right back in it was both exhilarating and embarrassing. This was not how my race was supposed to go, but I was amazed and grateful that I could at least keep going.
I rode as hard as I could for as long as I could, but the hour plus chunk of time I spent baking in the heat without taking in any nutrition would come back to haunt me. Also, riding that second loop later in the day than I was tracking to, (when it was hotter and windier), did me no favors. Nevertheless, I finished the ride safe and sound, and was ready to do what I came to Idaho to do, run a marathon.
Bike: 7:03:25
The first real punch from the heat would come in the form of cramps rippling across my abs as I was changing my shoes for the run. Awesome. While writhing painfully in the grass, I took a few hits of salt, ate a gel, slugged some Gatorade, stopped by the Port-O-Potty, and then ran out of the park to find my amazing athlete and friend, Laurel, checking in and cheering me on as I headed onto the course.
Laurel and her coach after a quick splash in the lake the day before the race.
My goal pace for the marathon that I had been training toward was 7:50-8:00min. mi., but that pace went out the window once the high heat was forecast, so I was just hoping to stay as close to 8:00min. mi. for as long as possible.
When I turned into McEuen Park, I saw Hillary, and heard her report, “Okay the leaders in your age group are running 8:30-8:40 pace, so let’s go for the fastest run split.” That’s when reality really hit me. I felt a jolt of momentum to run my comrades down, and then just as quickly a wave of sadness crashed over me.
Obviously, I knew I was way behind the leaders, but to be so far behind at the point of the race where I usually shine suddenly felt so unfair.
Luckily, mind-melting heat slices through self-pity pretty quickly, and I snapped out of my funk realizing my new goal was to simply run a smart and safe marathon.
The marathon course was three loops.
The first loop felt okay. I was in robot mode, finding and locking into a steady pace, but the searing heat started to seep in around mile five, and I slowed down through every aid station to take in water and Gatorade. I managed to run four miles at the desired 8min.ish pace, but every mile after that was a battle.
Thankfully, I did tuck my salt capsule into my back pocket in transition, but when I went to grab it around mile nine, I accidentally broke the cap off and salt flew everywhere. “Oh, no!” And, there was no salt offered on the course. Gulp.
Around mile 13.
I managed a steady run gait though mile fourteen, but then the wheels came off.
"Fake it 'till you make it!" I crumbled after this photo was taken after mile 14.
I started to feel queasy, sleepy, and my stomach was cramping; I just wanted to curl up and go to sleep, but besides one bathroom stop around mile fifteen, I kept trudging onward.
Slowly.
I wish I could type out words like, then I felt a surge of energy, or I was able to pick up my pace, or finally, I felt okay. But this is not a fiction piece. The truth is that my legs were stiff, my stomach was tight, my breathing was shallow, and my head was annoyed, but my heart powered me forward, and promised one good mile.
Relishing the final mile running down Sherman Ave. to the finish line. Photo credit, Laurel Brantley.
I finished the race.
That’s it.
And that’s enough.
Run time: 4:16:51 - Marathon #56
Overall Time: 12:39:58 - Ironman #18
Done!
The fact is over 500 people did not finish the race.
The conditions were beyond brutal, they were borderline unsafe. Next time there should be at least one more aid station on the bike course, salt available on the run course, more roaming bike techs, and official supervision of the no-pass zones on the bike course. Nevertheless, there is never a perfect scenario for an Ironman. It is a long event that provides ample opportunity for things to go awry, but adding in a few more safe-guards may help smooth out the kinks, and aid in more competitors to reach the red carpet.
Above all of the heartbreak and unfortunate events that I experienced last Sunday, the race was amazing. The volunteers were incredible, the citizens of Coeur D’Alene were kind and generous with their cleverly rigged hoses and sprinkler systems, and sharing the course with my teammates was very special. However, the part of the day that truly turned me upside down and inside out was being cheered on by my coach AND one of my athletes. Both Hillary and Laurel provided a unique blend of vulnerability and power that fueled me through one of the most painful and disappointing marathons of my life, and shifted my mood from sorrow to satisfaction. THANK YOU!
I knew the instant my tire blew that I would be back to race another Ironman as quickly as I could. I felt too good and had come too far from injury, sickness, and emotional and physical fatigue the last year and a half to allow this singular race to halt any belief in myself and progress toward my goals in triathlon and overall endurance; it was just a hurdle, and I am a hurdler.:)
I do want another crack at an Ironman as soon as possible, and I’ll get it on October 24th at Ironman California in Sacramento.
Let’s GO!!
This week I have TWO special treats of content for you. First up, the recent episode of the Ironwomen Podcast where my friends and pro-triathletes, Alyssa Godesky and Haley Chura share their Ironman CDA race experiences.
CLICK HERE:
Next, my favorite tune on the charts, Leave Before You Love Me by the Jonas Brothers and Marshmellow.