Oceanside Ironman 70.3 Race Report

Couple of nuggets to get out of the way before I get into the meat of race day.

This was my first half ironman distance.  I also went in with an injury from the Firecracker Ride/Run weekend (morning of the bike) the last week of Feb.  I continued to bike and run on a pulled calf turned hip flexor strain for two weeks...until I was referred to an amazing PT. His request for the next four weeks leading up to race day: stay off of it.  Rx was therapy 5 days a week until race day, and he said he would get me healthy in time. Swimming...that was ok.  But we found even that aggravated things. I got a short brick workout in two weeks prior and a few swims here and there, but no where near my recommended training volume for what was to come. 

I was quick to accept it and started to prepare mentally for going into my first long course race, undertrained.  Very undertrained.  Not to mention the potential pain that may come with it.  My plan was to basically hone in on the swim and bike and hope for the best on the run.

I hired a coach for this race and she transitioned from Training Peaks extraordinaire to therapist really quick.  She dissected each leg of the course, and prepared me for what to expect. I read race reports, watched sped up recordings of the bike ride. You name it, I studied it.  And I was diligent about my therapy. I didn't miss a day. 

I registered for the race with Cal Tri. I wanted to race with friends that I knew (also with Cal Tri)...and I knew I was going to need a LOT of support on the course.  Little did I know having my name on my bib would supply just that...

Race day. 

Stayed with some fellow racers at the Wyndham Pier Resort (awesome) and woke up way before 4a because I had a nightmare I missed my alarm and we woke up at 7:30a.  So, I relaxed until 4a and then got moving. After a simple, good breakfast made a restroom stop and we walked to transition. No GI problems whatsoever. The short walk probably did me good, too.  Meanwhile, I was pretty calm throughout the morning. Eerily calm.  We got to transition at about 6 am and I set myself up.  I was racked away from anyone I knew so it kept me focused, and on task. I had everything ready, filled my tires, and soaked in the moment.  I talked to some ladies in my area and transition was closing in 5 minutes.  With a 7:20 wave time, it left me plenty of time to wait in the restroom line and not be in a rush.  Again...no issues. And I was still quite calm...

The Swim:

I was wave 14 of 23.  As we waited in the chute for our waves to enter the water we got to see the pros come out of the swim. That was pretty awesome.  Waiting time passed quickly, they made sure to let us know we could ask for wetsuit help on the way out before we entered the water.  The volunteers were so awesome and positive.  I had a huge grin on my face. I could feel it.  I loved that it was a harbor swim and I just had been to Zuma two weeks before. We walked down and it was a floating start.  It was a first for me and I liked that a lot. Just enough time to get water in my suit and get my breathing right while we treaded water and warmed up a bit.  The swim was fine.  I'm not fast by any means, but I was steady.  I had the men's wave in mind behind me and was prepared to handle the potential stampede.  It didn't really happen that way, and when I was being caught, people were relatively gentle and polite.  I followed my coaches guidance and stayed on other peoples feet, almost as if I was going to touch them for the draft effect.  The temperature changed and it got a touch cooler before we hit the breakwater and turnaround point.  The chop increased a bit and allowed me to get my daily dose of salt water.  No biggie. The sun on the way back made for a fun game of "where the heck is that damn buoy".  Sighting is something I'm pretty comfortable with so again, no big deal. Exiting the water and running I found that my ankles were cramping up.  Apparently the water was cold enough for that.  I walked a bit and it went a way.  That, coupled with the longer walk to the front of transition made for a longer T1. I planned on taking the time and was ok being better prepared for the ride.  I ate, grabbed my jersey and geared up for the bike. Time: 54:34 T1 11:23

The Bike:

Knowing that the run would be my worst leg, I kept it in mind to not waste any time on the bike.  I also new that there were three good hills on this course and not until about 20 miles or so.  I saved myself and remained steady.  I made a point to enjoy the ride and had every intention to keep moving.  I was passed by some familiar faces too and I loved that. 

Ahead in the distance I saw the first climb. I witnessed a cyclist zig zagging to maintain momentum.  He then turned around, toppled over and took three other bikes with him.  That started a parade of bike walkers.  By the time it was my turn to climb, there were quite a few.  That's where my bib came in handy with my name on it.  Anyone that passed me kept me going, yelling my name and pushing me.  Anyone that I passed, they yelled back as well.  And that I did.  And there were walkers for all three hills.  It just wasn't an option for me. I also didn't stop at the aid stations.  The last one forgot to break the seal on the Gatorade I grabbed so I had to stop to settle that...   Back through some winds, that awkward back alley and super uneven roads, and I was headed back in.  I was tired, and happy to be out of the saddle but super proud that I handled the ride like I did.  I felt very prepared. I saw the 8 mile marker of the run on the way in from the bike and that reminded me that I had a whole new battle ahead. Time 4:32 T2 8:49

The Run:

Clearly I spent it.  Every bit of recovery I had left in me was depleted.  In the first mile I was already hurting.  I managed to stay on top of ibuprofen every 4 hours but apparently that didn't really matter.  This entire run was going to be a rough one.  In general, I am not a fan of out/back runs.  No matter the distance.  But for this...13.1 miles it made it so much worse.  I was passed by the other two thirds of my three musketeer clan better known as team shiiiiiiicago.  It was great seeing them but hard nonetheless. They were one lap ahead and I was struggling. It no longer helped to walk as that only hurt just as much as the jog.  As the second lap came, things thinned out quite a bit.  I had to endure the "almost there" cheers for those really "almost there" and press on.  There were so many times during that second hobbling lap that I wanted to break down and cry, and I even thought about my little one at some point.  Wishing I could just be done and going to pick her up...but the support on this route made it impossible.  I made friends...we shared our frustrations, and I talked them up.  We were worried we would make the cutoff and I was determined to make it.  We did....I did.  I made the cutoff at the second loop turnaround point and I was the last one.  I passed a woman just getting to the end of the second loop after me and I later learned that she was taken of the course and unable to finish.  Yes, you read that right.  3 hours and 31 minutes of a limping, uneven jog/walk that took everything I had to push through.  All of the same cheering squads, front yard parties, high five trains, and resident supporters were all out there.  Still.  The only difference, is they were cheering for one person.  Me.   I swear,I until this day I never thought being last at anything could make you feel first at everything.  It was overwhelming.  From the guy in the golf cart talking me through the last mile and a quarter, to the aid station crews forming arm tunnels for me to run through to the family that fed me advil from their personal medicine cabinets, to the sight of the finish line in the distance.  It was all so surreal and pretty incredible.  As I neared the finish James (in the golf cart) let me know that the last aid station would run me in and the announcer was there waiting for me.  I pushed it as hard as I could, and I could feel the points on my feet that were on fire from my inconsistent gait. I just pushed through. I wanted to lose it when I saw my friend Selena there, waiting at the finish line.  A familiar face, and it meant the world to me to have her there when I was done.  And the kids at the last aid station...as I passed them they all started to run behind me screaming and cheering.  I was so glad to be done, I was so glad I pushed through and I was headed for the carpet.  Finally.   I heard someone else yelling my name and I looked over to my left and saw Ben from PTC yelling "you did it"! (thank you so much for the video!)  Theres something about the last ones that come through the finish line at an ironman race, and there is even more to say about those that stick around to witness it.  It really is priceless and I had so much love in that moment for everyone that did.  Time 3:31

It took me 9 hours and 18 minutes to complete my first ironman 70.3 course.  
I would do it again, (injury free, that is) and have no regrets.  As you may have heard before...its 99% mental. And I am proof of that.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.

Thank you for the card Winnie! xo

Happy, emotional, finisher

Team #shiiiiiiicago

We dig racing together n' stuff

Selena & I (best first timer HIM guide and #1 hustle partner)

Dr. Pat and his crew at Advanced Sports Rehab