Saturday I did my first half Ironman and it was quite an experience.
It was a nice morning, and it wasn’t raining. It was a damp Northwest 50 degrees, so it felt pretty cold. I did an Olympic distance race on this course in June and it was cold and raining, so dry was a vast improvement.
I was wearing a tri-specific wetsuit for the first time, so I didn’t know what to expect. When the gun went off, I bobbed to the surface like a cork. The suit kept me in perfect swimming form the whole time–thanks Blue Seventy!
The swim went really well. I felt good and navigated fairly well. I found myself thinking about things other than not drowning, which was good. The field was smaller than the tris I did earlier in the year, so I wasn’t bumping into people after the first quarter mile.
I came out of the water feeling great after 0:35:40–faster than I had expected. At the bike, I decided to dress warm as I had had two experiences this season with very cold bike rides and I did not care to repeat. I wore my neoprene biking jacket and lobster gloves. That was the best decision I made all day. I was gloriously comfortable for the entire ride.
The ride was really a blast. My bike is a speed machine, and there is nothing like freshly paved rural roads and surrounding competitors to make you go fast. The first 28 mile loop went well. I felt great, and was smiling thinking just how much further I had to go. I kept telling myself to take it easy on the second loop, and I did. My second half of the bike was definitely slower than the first. I have no idea by how much–I came in with a total bike time of 2:52:00, an average speed of 19.5 mph.
On the bike I drank Nuun and ate Shot Blocks. I ate on a schedule and tried to drink all the time. My stomach started to feel a little weird so I stopped eating with about 45 minutes left on the bike. I ate some more on the run, and generally my nutrition was pretty good, I think, for my first real effort at it.
I got to the run and pretty quickly realized I was in for quite a challenge. I’ve only ever run 13 miles once–I had more training planned but had some injuries in August that kept me off the roads. I expected the first mile or so to be a slog after having been on the bike for 3 hours. I started to feel better and my first couple miles were at a 9 minute pace. I walked at every water station, taking a minute or so to rest and drink. They had 4 stations on the course, and I damn well visited them all.
At 5 miles there was a false flat that took it out of me. It was about a mile long and made me feel like I was dragging a spare tire on a rope. I think this was the first time I walked out of fatigue. I ran some more, then walked some more, and them came to the 6 mile mark where they had inserted a very large hill. I walked to the top, and ran down then continued to run back down the false flat I had trudged up before. At the 7 mile mark, I first felt an overwhelming desire to stop running and take a nap by the side of the road. At one point I was running with my eyes closed, or I should say shuffling.
It wasn’t really pain, just this heavy feeling that I could barely resist. I’ve never experienced it before. I mean, every run I do I wish I could stop running, but this was qualitatively different, like irresistible sleep. So I walked some more, then ran a bit, then walked some more.
The course was out-and-back, meaning that there was a constant stream of runners on the other side of the street running in the other direction. Lots of waving and words of support was going on–that was nice. As I was dealing with my inner struggle to keep running, and being surprised at just how hard it was, I had the realization that everyone else was somewhere in their own struggle. Whether they looked great or were struggling, we all were pushing ourselves just for the sake of doing it. It was a voluntary test were had all decided to put ourselves through, for our own reasons. And we were all in the midst of it, supporting each other, and counting out the steps and the minutes with some goal in mind.
I didn’t think too much about it at the time, as I had other things to deal with, but since the race I’ve been thinking about it more. I was in the midst of really intense personal struggle on a vast scale. Amazing.
At 8 miles, I felt some pain in my right foot where I had injured it in August. The pain wasn’t intense, so I walked a bit and then ran. I was dull, so I decided not to abandon and keep going.
The 11 mile mark was pretty close to the park entrance, and I did the math and knew there was some sort of loop in the course that I didn’t know about, but my mind was trying to convince me that we were going directly to the finish line and that somehow that would miraculously add up to 13.1 miles. But no, they brought us to within 300 feet of the finish, where you could hear them calling out the finishers, and then sent us off on a mile and a half loop around the lake. Cruel!
Only a mile left, but I couldn’t run. I ended up walking probably half of that last mile. I just had nothing left. I started running as I recognized how close I was to the finish. I crossed over to the announcer saying, “Steve Andersen of Seattle, 70.3 miles…Finished!” 2:17:00 for the run, or 10 min pace. My total time was 5:57:00–I had guessed I could do it in 6 hours.
I was so glad to be done I didn’t really get excited. Relief was the primary feeling, followed by hunger. I ate a ton immediately and discovered that it was really hard to get up from the picnic bench–my legs didn’t really work. The person serving food asked me if I was OK.
Unfortunately the desire to nap continued on the drive home–next year I’ll get a ride or at least a triple latte before I get on the road!
I’ve been asked, will I do another one? Maybe, but with more training. If I had to answer today, I’d say I’ll focus on Olympic distance because of my limited training hours, what with work and kids and all. But I’m so glad to have done it. It was a struggle with myself for the last couple hours, and it was so nice to cross the finish line.
A special thanks to my wife and family who put up with all the hours of training. I couldn’t have done it without your support!
