I did it! I finished my first Ironman triathlon last weekend, I got a ticket to Kona, and I'm still alive. That's pretty much as good of an outcome as I could have ever hoped for, and wow, am I truly thankful and blessed. 9:37:10, 4th in my age group, 66th overall.
Along the way training for this, a very peculiar thing happened. I innocuously posted a set of questions to the triathlon community at Slowtwitch.com, and well... click here to read all the details. So this weekend I wasn't aiming just to finish, I wasn't aiming just to do my best, I was also aiming to not embarrass myself in front of the internets. So on that note, let's start with a list of first-timer IM mistakes Xiao made:
Pre-race (Theme song: "She's so cold" - Rolling Stones)
Along the way training for this, a very peculiar thing happened. I innocuously posted a set of questions to the triathlon community at Slowtwitch.com, and well... click here to read all the details. So this weekend I wasn't aiming just to finish, I wasn't aiming just to do my best, I was also aiming to not embarrass myself in front of the internets. So on that note, let's start with a list of first-timer IM mistakes Xiao made:
- Spend 5+ hours on Friday outside under the sun at the expo, working out, trying to figure out the transition area out
- Not putting any identifying markers (tape/ribbons) on transition bags
- Never testing out how to use a crack pipe in advance
- Not having any idea how to use a wetsuit stripper
- Thinking it'd be a more efficient idea to pour 10 additional gels into nutrition bottle to increase total amount of calories on the bike without ever trying it out in practice
- Skipping the garmin for the run
- Skipping the sunscreen people
- Wearing nearly new (2 runs prior) shoes the run
Pre-race (Theme song: "She's so cold" - Rolling Stones)
- I packed zero warm clothes out to Texas. I mean, come on, I'm flying from the perpetual polar vortex known as Boston out to balmy Houston! False. It was freezing. I was sad.
- Arrived in Houston on Tuesday, handled a bunch of family obligations, and got into the Woodlands Thursday night
- Skipped the pre-race swim but did attend my first pre-race banquet, which was quite an inspirational experience. Eight people lost over 70 pounds training for IMTX! How amazing is that!
- Spent most of the day before the race outside like an idiot.
Swim (Theme song: "Bodies" - Drowning Pool): 1:11:25
- I feel like wearing wetsuits is an excuse for people who don't swim well (like myself) to get out our pent-up physical aggression by beating on each other. This situation wasn't helped by the complete lack of visibility in the water and my natural tendency to drift left when I'm only breathing on my right. I am very sorry to the guy who I kept smacking in the leg... just think of it as a gentle massage.
- The swim course was very straight forward. Go out, make a U-turn, come back, take a right into a narrow canal. Only the canal feels like it never ends and the water progressively tastes worse. Wait, you weren't supposed to hydrate on the swim?
- I have never heard crowd support on a swim before, which was actually really nice. Unfortunately I was focused the whole time on not having my hamstring or hip flexor cramp from kicking people. I didn't know there was a stroke called "grab the person's leg in front of you and pull yourself forward with an iron grip"
- Got pulled out of the water in 1:11, which was right on target... for a non-wetsuit swim. Oh well. I'm alive. Onwards!
T1 (Theme song: "Oh Shit" - The Pharcyde): 5:11
- First time I've seen a bunch of women offering to take off my clothes since Thailand. Was too confused by what was going on to say yes, so ran straight to my transition bag and began taking off my wetsuit.
- PSA to other Ironman newbies... 3 mistakes here: (1) wetsuit strippers are faster than you, just lie down and assume the position. (2) Trying to take off your wetsuit in the corridor where everyone else is running to grab their bags gets you yelled at. (3) Most importantly, grab the right bag! I ended up grabbing the bag next to mine because we had similar helmets and didn't find my mistake until I made it up to the changing tent. After some choice expletives, I ran back upstream to return this stranger's bag, grab the right one, and return to the changing tent. To the poor girl I ran straight into on my frantic scramble back - I'm so very sorry.
Bike (Theme song: "Waiting" - Green Day): 5:01:05
- I digested both the advice everyone gave about being conservative on the bike (good idea!) and the mouthfuls of lake water (bad idea!). But the general theme on my bike ride was to take it easy the first 30 miles, grit out while taking it easy the next 50, and let 'er rip the last 20. The entire ride I was repeating "get to 80" over and over again in my head.
- And so, the first 30 miles felt fantastic. Was a bit under 23mph at 165-170W and legs felt so fresh and free. I was taking in calories and slingshotting past rider after rider. I have often remarked that the bike leg is the only one that feels good during a triathlon. I'm floundering in the water and my legs feel like bricks on the run. The road was smooth, the route scenic, I was in flow...
- And then the middle part hit. Chip seal, rolling hills, baking sun, headwind. I decided to try out this single "nutrition bottle" concept (take the on-course fluids and put into my between the aerobars bottle cage, and have my liquid sludge bottle on the frame). However, I failed to account for what this sludge would taste like after baking in the sun. It was terrible. I think I got through 1/3-1/2 of the bottle before I just couldn't do it anymore. At that point, I realized I needed to just shove Perform (the on-course gatorade) down my throat. But I'm not really good at opening those bottles yet with my teeth and tended to spill a bunch on my bike and headset, which made it a very sticky and uncomfortable ride. Upped my power to 180-190W, but with a slower speed.
- And then, finally, at last, mile 80 hit. The road became smooth. The headwind died down a bit. And I started to see the speedometer tick up. Apparently my wattage wasn't higher (~180W) but I felt like I was flying! Unfortunately since I only had 2 long outdoor rides all winter, my man parts also started complaining about this point. Luckily I have no plans to make babies anytime soon. Mind over matter, mind over matter.
- Some miscellaneous thoughts:
- I really didn't do the nutrition right. I had a stomach ache the whole ride from drinking too much lake water and didn't eat nearly as many calories as I was supposed to.
- But I did manage to master relieving myself on the bike! I enjoyed it so much I did it five times... which in retrospect probably meant I drank too many fluids and flushed out my electrolytes. The only rule I had was that I couldn't take a leak right after passing a girl (that's just improper!)
- Strava details here: http://www.strava.com/activities/143086258
- Wasn't sure if I should take my feet out of my shoes before dismounting, so left them on... not the best move.
- Didn't prepare for the dismount line so had to slam on the brakes and almost fell. Real graceful, that one.
- Started running with bike shoes on, realized that was silly, so took them off and ran with them in my hands into the tent. Checked to make sure I grabbed the right bag a few times.
- Decided against the Garmin 305 because I didn't want to deal with swapping watches, stuffed some Nuun and gels into my tri shorts, and off I went!
Run (Theme song: "Like a Stone" - Audioslave): 3:16:26
- When I do triathlons, I think of the race in three phases (original, I know). Time in the water is like survival (I made it!), the bike is about holding back (don't overcook!), and the run is finally when I mentally "clock in" to work. Here is where I'm supposed to shine.
- Unfortunately, it didn't quite turn out that way. I was planning to run the first four miles conservatively, loosen up the legs through the next lap and a half (the run course was three eight-mile loops), and see what I have to give on the last lap. I began the run around 6:20 so to hit 9:30 I would have to run a 3:10. I figure I'd aim for a 1:37 first half marathon, which was around a 7:10/mile pace.
- My first mile was a 6:30. Whoops. Second was 6:40. Double whoops. Finally stabilized around 7/7:05 pace by mile three but probably some of the damage was already done.
- I've traditionally had cramping problems with my calves, but throughout the run I was fighting off quad (primarily VMO), hamstring, and tibialis anterior cramps. The first one to bring me to standstill happened around mile 7. Literally I stood there, cursing life, unable to move, while a truly generous volunteer massaged the knot out. Lady in orange, you were an angel.
- Given the real sketchiness going on with my legs, I decided that a quick pit stop to empty the GI system might not be a bad idea. Surprisingly that was the only one of the day. Small victories!
- Before the race, I had told my wife, parents, and a few friends that came down for the race that I needed to get 3rd in my age group and for them to tell me on the run both what place I am and how far behind 3rd I am. I got my first update around mile 8, when I was told that I was in 4th place and around 10 minutes down. So you're telling me there's a chance...
- Unfortunately, during the second lap, no one told me any information. I took that to mean that the gap was growing, I had no shot, and they are all just trying to be nice. In reality, the tracker wasn't updating and they didn't see the 3rd place runner. In my mind though, the game was over.
- But, since I was cramping up and walking aid stations, I figure you never know what could happen - everyone in front of me could be dealing with the same demons. So I continued my plan of running around 7:10/mile pace but with a slowdown at each aid station and 2-3 walking breaks per lap to get my muscles under control.
- Lap 3 felt terrible. There is no other way to describe it. The weather's hotter, the course super crowded, you've read all the witty signs already, you just want to be done and crawl home. Around mile 20 I was told by a friend that if I were to keep my pace and 3rd place were to keep his place, I would finish 2 minutes behind him. At that point, I decided that either I would make it or else I would crumble in a spastic heap - I have come too far to not give it a shot.
- However, my body had other ideas. Every time I tried to speed up, some muscle would tighten up, reducing me to a walk again. Throughout this dark, dark place I was in, I just kept reminding myself that (1) it was going to end soon, no matter what, and (2) I don't want to have any regrets after this.
- At the out-and-back around mile 25 I finally saw 3rd place on his way to the finish. Looking at my watch, he was around 90 seconds ahead of me. At that point, I realized only the most absurd gamble would work. Gritting my teeth, I literally told my legs that I needed them to cooperate for 7 minutes and then I'll let them cramp all they want afterwards. People around me gave me weird looks as I was yelling at myself. Ignoring them, I began a steady acceleration to what felt like a full sprint with 400m left. I made the turnoff to the finishing chute and saw the 3rd place in my age group in front of me by around 50 yards and sadly just not enough real estate left.
- I crossed the finish line in the most emotional state I have ever been in. 10 months of effort. All of those early mornings on the trainer and late nights in the pool. All the friends I blew off, all the time I didn't spend with my new wife, all for being 10 seconds too late. I had declared to everyone that this would be my "one shot" to qualify for Kona and I had always dreamed it would miraculously work out, and not end 10 seconds in front of my face.
- As I was shedding tears (I'm not too man to admit it) in an embrace with my wife and wanting to just chuck my water bottle at something, anything, Aaron (the 3rd place finisher before me) walked over and told me that he already had a Kona spot from IMAZ and wouldn't be taking a slot here.
- WHAT!?
- I may have just raised both of my arms into the sky and yelled "We're going to Hawaii!" Hopefully no one caught that on video. In the span of less than a minute, I went from an absolute pit of despair to a level of unprecedented elation.
- This is why we do this. For those moments of pure, absolute joy.
More to come, including nutrition, gear, pacing, etc.