Summer’s Pro Debut Race Report: 2019 Ironman 70.3 Indian Wells

Goals:

• None. Expectations lead only to disappointment.

Splits:

Swim	33:29
T1	3:10
Bike	2:25:50
T2	2:12
Run	1:29:19
Total	4:34:00

Training:

Four weeks before my first race as a professional athlete I had the best four days of training in my life. Thursday, between classes, I went to the track just down the road to do 8 x mile repeats. It was about 12:30 and the weather was finally sunny and warm enough to strip down to shorts and a sports bra after my warm up. My allergies had been extra intense the few days before, and I worried slightly during the warm up that I would feel like I couldn’t breathe during these repeats. My first one went out a little quick but felt fine. By the third one I could feel my chest tighten and my trachea felt like it was the size of a coffee stirrer. Ugh, again? I’ll text Brett and let him know I might only be able to do 4 of these mile repeats…I mean…8 was insane anyways, right? I jogged to my phone and texted him, and jogged right back to the start line to do my fourth. It seemed like my airway was now back up to bubble tea straw, so I did another, and then another. Then I was on my 7^th, and feeling normal again. And then the 8^th one came and went. Heck, that was the best track workout I’ve had in years. Have I mentioned my inability to cope with pressure? Seems that text alleviated the pressure in my chest as well as my mind. I knew I would need to do that for this race as well. 

That week continued to show promise as the track workout Thursday was followed by a three-hour tempo ride and a swim on Friday, an 18-mile run, lift and swim Saturday, and a 4-hour ride Sunday. Except the ride Sunday was supposed to be 5 hours. Around 3 hours my right knee started to feel very “angry” and inflamed on the inside. Thus, began the nagging knee injury that would derail my biggest build and cripple me on race day.

Pre-race:

This was not how I had hoped to go into my first race as a pro, but I suppose it really fulfilled my “zero expectations” motto because now I had a three-week taper and was feeling extra flat and terrified of race day. Race morning hit me like I was the broad side of a big red decrepit barn. I couldn’t figure out where the sudden nerves were coming from, because in all honesty, I knew this race was not going to be spectacular unless my knee magically healed. Getting into the 57-degree water moved the nausea from the bottom of my stomach to right below my larynx. But I was here. And even though I felt like throwing up into my new wetsuit, I managed to smile at a friend on the kayak at the start line and quickly give myself a moment of complete mental silence and gratitude before the race began.

Race:

Interestingly, I cannot say that my “zero expectations” motto really held up throughout the race. Although I did not have a place or time expectation before the race, while I was swimming, I felt like I was on FIRE. I even passed a couple of girls towards the very end. My expectation based on perception was that I had just swum an incredible PR (which would not have been surprising considering my progress in the pool) but instead I came out of the water an entire minute slower than last race, and was shocked to see my time as I ripped my goggles off. At this point in the story I must make an aside: I used to coach high school pole vaulters for about 5 years, starting when I was in college. The biggest thing I would tell my athletes, especially when it came to their third attempt to clear the bar, was that they had to be like Dory. They absolutely had to have short-term memory loss. They had to forget everything that had happened before this jump, or else it would wreck their mental game. So that’s what I told myself, as I came out of the water and saw a time that I knew did not reflect the effort I had just put out, or the effort I had made in the pool for the past six months. 

As my coach would later tell me, I have a lot of work to do on T1, but I still managed to get onto the bike and safely onto the course. Which, let me tell you, was beautiful. Wide open roads, grassy fields and a wild race track thrown in the middle. But ten miles into the bike my knee started to hurt. I told myself not to think about it and it would just go away. I tend to overthink every little feeling in my body, and now was not the time. But it just kept getting worse. Every turn that meant a “burst” of speed and a need to “lay down some watts” hurt like a mother. At mile 25 I was crying. Not because of the emotional toll this was taking on me, but out of shear pain. I can’t say I’ve felt pain like that before. I was reminded me of the tour I took with my best friend; a tour to meet the midwives. My friend is pregnant, and has chosen to work with a midwife (heck yes!), and so asked me to come along to find out where she goes when she starts to have labor, who might be there when she comes in, etc. etc. The midwives talked about the births they had recently attended, speaking with such honor and regard for the mothers. The common theme of the night was that just when these mothers thought they couldn’t do it anymore, they did. They would tell the midwives, “I just don’t think I can do it.” And they always did. To be fair, they didn’t really have much choice if the baby wasn’t in a position to need a C-section… that little nugget had to come out. So, as each pedal stroke caused excruciating pain, I remembered the midwives talk about how strong mothers are, and I focused my attention on that. And I practiced my deep breathing just like they taught. And occasionally I would yell “PUSH!!!!!” For sure, any bystander I passed must have been incredibly confused, but never-the-less, I pushed through it. 

I had made the choice on the bike that the pain was as bad as it could possibly get, so there was no use in stopping or crying about it (unless I rounded a corner, at which point crying was not a choice, it just happened). But I knew once I got to the run that it would most likely go away. Which drives home the point that it is almost definitely due to my fit on the bike, rather than something permanent. (We are still working on adjusting the fit- my position became much more aggressive, and theoretically faster, but clearly needs to be tinkered with). When I started to run, I felt no pain in my knee. I did however, do what I always do, which is forget to sinch my shoe laces. So, 8 miles into the run the tops of my feet were practically not functioning. I’d say lesson learned; except I do this every race. Perhaps I’ll start leaving a sticky note on my shoes in T2. All in all, the run went fairly well and I was able to enjoy the scenery, thank the volunteers and pass those age-group men who kept cutting me off and sliding in to my 6 bike-lengths from another pro woman. I surprised myself by being able to be relatively consistent throughout the run, though I never could close the gap between me and the 8^th place girl. Hands down the best part of the race though goes out to the person I do not know, who told me with less than a mile to go, that Ben had gotten 4^th place. My race wasn’t exactly a great showing of my training the past year, but to cross the finish line and immediately be bear hugged by Ben was, without a doubt, the most wonderful way to end a long season.