Carl likes it.
We were told there were 137 participants in the race. Disappointing numbers considering they ran a beautiful full page ad in Triathlete magazine all year long. But it is what it is.
The swim looked a lot longer than 1.2 miles. And the water off of Roanoke Island was a little bit choppy. Not enough to be considered rough, but it did mess with your breathing pattern a little, and if this were your first open water swim it might have been a little frustrating. They started the women and teams first, with all the dudes 3 minutes after. I went ahead and seeded myself in the front with my training buddy, Carl Bonner, right next to me. (Aside: this is Carl Bonner's first Half in, like, 10 years. His wetsuit too, which looked tired and unprepared, and I was afraid it would come apart when he put it on.) As soon as we started I noticed at least two guys shot out ahead of me. I assumed there were perhaps a couple more on my blind side, but I just settled into a pace and, once I noticed my typical tendency to drift to the right, I started my usual chant of, "Veer. Left. Veer. Left." I caught almost all of the first wave by the first turn buoy, but could see a couple swimmers ahead by 50 yards or so. At any rate, an uneventful swim, and I didn't feel like I was doing anything spectacular despite the 22,000 yards of training I had put in during the last two weeks. When I got out of the water, though, I saw Angie and heard her say, "Really great job, honey!" She said it as if I had done better than usual. I wondered what she knew that I didn't.
Trying to remember if this thing zips up or down to get off.
Taking off on the bike I noticed my right ass cheek was really sore, like someone had taken a sledge hammer to it. I've felt that before and have no idea what that's all about. It went away. I wondered how far back I was from the front, and put my head down and just got into a good, hard rhythm. I passed a relay team and 3 girls from the first wave before I got to the great big long bridge that takes you to the mainland and right into some heavy headwinds. There's one thing about that bridge that I now immediately remembered from doing the sprint race here a couple years ago. It has these massive metal teeth about 2" wide that separate each section for expansion, and you have to guide your bike right over a tooth pointing away from you or you're gonna take one right to your front tire. It looked like the makings of a flat tire, and I wasn't carrying any repairs of any kind. I passed two more relay teams on that bridge and then headed north on the mainland. This section is flat and boring and you can see a huge distance up the road. Nobody up there. How far ahead are these guys, dammit?! With a turnaround coming up, I started trying to pick out what few landmarks I could so I'd be able to get an idea of the time gap if I saw somebody coming the other way. And then I was at the turnaround.....all by myself! I yelled out to the volunteers, "Where is everybody?!?!" I checked my watch and headed back south. The next guy was 110 seconds back, and the next guys were a bit behind him. Then there was Carl, who hollered something encouraging and I gave him a thumbs up. At the next turnaround I had a 4 minute lead. I was liking this! And the guy in second looked a little muscular, as if maybe biking was his strength and he probably wouldn't be able to run me down.
Coming back on the bridge with a tailwind is an awesome feeling. 30 mph and feeling like you've got no chain! As I was coming into the first lap turnaround back at transition, I got real cautious. The road had a lot of potholes, I already knew there was a turnaround to negotiate, and there was a car that might get in the way, lots of people, and it was a dumb spot for a water station. I picked Angie out of the crowd, told her I loved her (I wanted everyone to know she was the wife of the dude winning!), and accelerated out of there. I now had 7 minutes on 2nd place. And I was acutely aware of one thing: the fatigue I often feel around mile 30 of a half iron doesn't exist when you do a half in the middle of Ironman training. Awesome! The first lap had gone down at an average of 24 mph. I expected that to drop a little on the second lap and it did, down to 23.5 mph. The wind had picked up noticeably on the bridge, and my back was getting a little sore. It was great seeing Dr Bob, Katy, and Carl on that second loop, and the motivation from putting time on my nearest competitors kept my spirits up.
When I came into T2 it was pure mayhem. All the things I had taken inventory of after the first lap were magnified by all the cyclists coming in for their second lap on top of the Olympic folks coming in to T2 with me. I tried a flying dismount between two gals struggling to get off their bikes and nearly took us all out. Then I tried to weave through some Olympic guys running with their bikes into T2 and nearly got taken out by one that couldn't keep his bike up. My T2 attitude was much more relaxed than usual with the lead I had, so I sat down to put on socks (Noooooooo!!!). I had a Red Bull there so I popped the top and tried to down some swigs as I started the run. I took a second to actually open a trash bin and toss it in there despite the lady that offered to take it from me ("Wow, did you see that? What a nice guy." as I tossed it away myself!).
Heading out on the run course, with Cory the biker escort dude in front.
I had an escort biker on the run, since I was leading the race! I gotta say this is the coolest thing. And he was pumped about it! He was hollering out to people, "I got the first half ironman right here!" And then they'd look at me and barely clap. "Yeah whatever. Good job. Yay." These folks had already applauded 200 Olympic runners ahead of me. His name was Cory, and I got the sense he was a talker if I had had the energy to converse. He asked where I was from and maybe some other stuff I can't remember. As we came up to the first water station he asked what I wanted. "Coke." No Coke. After that he asked if Pepsi was okay. In my head: Geeeeez!!!!! This is no time for a Pepsi Challenge, I just want some caffeine! After a nod, he went ahead to the next aid station and got a Pepsi ready. A whole can of Pepsi. I guess I just assumed a half iron race would have flat Coke at the aid stations. I took a couple swigs but the bubbles weren't working for me and the whole thing went all over me anyway. Cory said he had water and Gatorade on board if I needed it. This escort thing was starting to prove a great advantage. After that he asked what I wanted at the next station and I said water and Gatorade. He was great as he zipped on ahead at each station and I could hear him directing where one guy should be with water and one should be several paces further up with the Gatorade. He did this Every. Single. Aid. Station.
I got a rush seeing Katy and then Dr Bob, just after he made the 10k turnaround of the Olympic course. I hollered out and then told Cory that Dr Bob was the man. Then there was that turnaround that Bob had just gone around, and beyond that was like this crazy void. The rest of the Half Iron course, and for all I knew it looked like a barren wasteland that nobody had ever set foot on. It was weird how there had been all these runners on the Olympic course and now all of a sudden silence. Just me and Cory the bike escort dude. I hit a low point at mile 5 and told myself to push through. I had been running a 6:45 to 6:50 pace so far. Perfect. But there was something lurking from within that told me things were gonna go south.
I was still pumped up enough because I had my own turnaround to hit in another mile or so, and I wanted to see what the gap was on second place. As soon as I turned I looked up the road and there was nobody in sight. There was no way I was gonna get caught, but my pace had already slowed to over 7:00/mile. By the time I met the 2nd place guy going the other way, I had over a 10 minute lead. Doing great! And I was on pace to go sub-4:30, which I would have told anyone before the race was not only the goal, but in my mind "easy pickin's" given the shape I thought I was in even without a proper taper for this race. But just then I felt the wheels start to come off. And it was totally mental and I knew it! Everything was going just fine, but I just felt the will oozing out of myself. Carl ran by somewhere around then and we high-fived and he told me I was rocking this thing, but I knew right then that was it. That's the last bit of stimulation I get before the finish line. I was now running all alone with no more feedback from time splits, no more friends to see on the course, nothin'. And I hit a mental wall. At mile 9 I started walking through the aid station (which as I had suspected, was shared with the 2nd place guy as he came around, giving him a little hope I'm sure) wondering what my problem was. I got going again but my pace had slowed way down. At least I wasn't panicking about getting caught. I knew the lead was more than enough, but I was letting my goal slip away and it ate at me. I decided to just be happy that I was moving, and now that I was back on the Olympic course I was passing stragglers from that race. I gave encouragement to every one I passed, many of which were walking. "Come on, I'm hurting too. Let's do this!" I know it got one of them running again at least.
There is nothing like the sight of the finish line........!!!
Just prior to the finish I thanked Cory for his kind words and help out there. I ran in and had just won my first Half Iron distance race! That felt pretty good, but deep down I was horribly upset that I had fallen apart on the run. My whole point of doing this race was to feel confident and on track for my training for Ironman Florida in November, but all I feel is way behind. I have a tendency to get weak in the head and fall apart. I guess that's something to work on.
I stuck around the finish line to shake hands with 2nd and 3rd place. To me, that's important. I cheered Carl in as he came in 5th place. He's a good training buddy and lightened the mood of this trip a great deal, as anyone that knows him would expect him to do.
Katy, Carl, Dr Bob, and I after the finish.
To those of you that know you coulda kicked my butt out there, thanks for not showing up! It was a fun race and a fun weekend. I'm deeply humbled and sore all over.
Richter, out.
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