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I was going there to not just complete the 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike, and 26.2-mile run, but I was also going there to compete. I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of a fast time.
After all, I had competed in my first Ironman in Kona, Hawaii, which is billed as the toughest triathlon race in the world, and had finished with a very respectable time. It should be a piece of cake second time around, right?
Not hardly.
My second Ironman proved to be a much more difficult challenge than I had anticipated.
Difficult Swim to Start
We had been informed in the weeks leading up to the Ironman in Coeur D’Alene that we should anticipate colder than normal water temperatures. The week before the race, the water temperature stood at 49 degrees and we were advised to bring neoprene hats and booties for the swim.
By the time we arrived in Idaho, the temperatures had crept up to the mid- to high-50s – not warm by any means, but better.
We went for our test swim a few days prior to the race and were all delighted that we were able to put our face in the water and breathe despite the very cold lake temperatures.
I was nervous, as usual, prior to the start. This was a mass start (all of us started together) like in Kona, but there were over 2,300 triathletes starting this race. There were only 1,800 in Kona.
The start was brutal with swimmers coming up over the top of me. I was trying to establish some sort of rhythm in the water and not think about quitting.
It was not easy.
This was a two-loop swim of 1.2 miles each. We came out of the water after the first loop and back in to swim the second loop. I came out in just over 37 minutes, which was right on for me. However, the cold temperatures made me dizzy.
I laughed as I stumbled out from the first loop, being “helped” by the volunteers back into the water to swim my second loop and feeling slightly “out of it.”
The swim continued to be grueling with it never quite thinning out. I continued to get kicked and pushed with others continuing to swim over me. Some very unsportsmanlike behavior came out of me as I came up out of the water from time to time, yelling and pushing people off of me.
I took in a fair amount of lake water in the process, which came back to haunt me later in the race. I came out in a time of 1 hour, 17 minutes – a time I was pretty happy with considering the conditions.
A Very Hilly Ride
I came out of transition feeling pretty good. It was fun cruising through town for the first part of the ride and being met with cheers and screams from all the spectators, including my husband, kids, and friends that traveled with us. The first 20 to 30 miles were pretty flat with only one big climb to greet us.
As we made our way out of town, I began to have severe abdominal cramping, painful enough that it was affecting my nutrition intake.
The bike portion is where your nutrition plan needs to be carefully and correctly executed. I generally consume two bottles of fluids and a power bar or gel each hour. In the first 30 miles, I was unable to eat due to my stomach and I managed to only consume about 20 ounces of fluid.
I was getting off course fast. My only assumption as to why this was happening was the large amount of lake water I had ingested.
We headed out to an area called Hayden Lake for the first of two loops that we would cover. Each loop had 10 major climbs, many of which were very steep. This was the first time I have ever witnessed people actually dismounting their bike during a race and walking up a hill.
By the 40th mile, I felt like quitting. I was light-headed and feeling weak as we continued to climb.
“Push on” I kept telling myself.
The emergence back into town was a welcome site. The cheers from the crowds helped me to want to continue and I was re-energized as we left town for our second loop. By this time, I was able to drink more, taking in some Gatorade and water as well as taking in power gels.
I could not stomach the power bars that I usually consume, however, and was unable to take in as much nutrition as was needed. My goal had been sub-6 hours on the bike. I pulled into transition in 6 hours, 15 minutes and having bettered my Kona time by about 35 minutes.
The Longest 26.2 Miles
I was out of transition with a new application of sunscreen on, a change of shorts, and feeling a bit tired.
We ran through the crowds for the first five miles of the run. I could tell by the third mile this was not going to be an easy one for me. By then, I already needed to take a power gel. Normally, I don’t take one until about the six-mile mark. By the fourth mile, I was hitting the porta potties.
“Here we go again,” I thought to myself. At the sixth mile, I took another gel. This was according to my plan and I was quickly back to the bathroom. I was only able to take in water, not Gatorade.
I felt OK as I came by my family around the five-mile mark, giving my boys a quick hug and kiss and an “I love you.” I made it through most of the first 13.1-mile loop without walking, but feeling worse by the mile.
As I came through town for the second loop, I told my husband, “I am going to finish this race, but I think I am going to have to walk.”
After about the 14th mile, I was only able to stomach water and chicken broth (on course for the salt content). I also had to resign myself to the fact that I was going to have to start walking due to feeling like I was going to get sick if I kept running.
I am very competitive, so it took a lot to wrap my mind around the fact that it was OK. If I was going to finish this race, I was going to have to walk.
So that is what I did, for about nine miles.
I finally felt OK at about the 24th mile, probably because I knew that I only had two miles left. I began the last two miles into downtown, running once again.
More Emotional Race
It’s ironic that when I competed in Kona at the World Championships, which was my first Ironman, I didn’t shed a tear when I finished. I told people later that it was almost anticlimactic. I expected it to be so much worse, and even though it was extremely tough, I felt really good at the end.
This race that I expected to be so much easier turned out to be just the opposite. I wanted to quit so many times. As I came over the hill into downtown, there were my husband and kids to greet me. They ran beside me for a few yards and gave me hugs and kisses.
As I came upon the line I could hardly fight back my tears. I raised my hands up high into the air. I was proud of myself for sticking it out that day, especially when I had come into the race expecting so much more of myself.
As I crossed the line I began to cry. This day I truly felt I knew what it meant to be called an “Ironman.”
Lesson Learned
Too many times in life and athletics, it becomes about the end result or destination, not the journey itself. Along the way that day, there were many motivational signs to urge us on. The one that spoke to me the most clearly that day was “Great works are not made by strength alone, but by perseverance.”
If there is one thing certain in endurance racing, it is that nothing is for certain. It is not simply how fast you made it to the finish on race day, but it is the fact that you persevered and made it to the finish at all.
My friends and I began the morning with three goals:
1) Don’t die.
2) Finish the race.
3) Set a personal record if you can.
I met the first two goals and know, had I been able to run the whole way instead of walking so much, I would have met the third one.
But I stayed in the game, determined to finish. The next time you toe the line and find yourself wanting to quit, remember to stay determined, persevere, and be proud.
Pain is only temporary, quitting lasts forever.
Missy Janzow is the running and fitness columnist for the Advocate. Contact her at 361-574-1206 or sports@vicad.com.