California 70.3 • March 2007
Jenny T

Exactly 7 days before the race I developed a cold, over the next 3 days it grew into a bad cold, mother of all colds, I suffered like a man, not the stoic female response that’s expected of me. I had 2 days off work and went home early twice – that’s bad for me. It was in my gums & sinuses making my life hell and making me wonder whether I was going to get to the race at all. Training, even at a tapering level, was out of the question, I couldn’t breathe or balance. About 3 days out I started to get better and I hoped that the improvement would continue until race day.

Two days out I felt good enough to travel, no doubt fuelled by the excitement of getting my race season underway. On arrival at San Diego, and subsequently Oceanside, everything went very well, none of our precious kit bags were lost and I assembled my bike without a hitch and it rode like a dream. All the same I got a Shimano Tech to give it a safety check at the Expo and he confirmed that it was bang-on. I had already swam in the Ocean that morning, which I had been warned would be frightfully cold. I was concerned that my already under-capacity lungs would clamp up completely in the cold, but it wasn’t so bad once I got my head in & out of it a few times to get over the ‘ice cream nose’ syndrome. I was feeling like everything was falling into place and this race was meant to be for me. I still didn’t feel good enough to run at this stage though.

Race morning dawned and the last bit of my cold had not quite cleared. Bikes were not accepted into transition the night before, so I got in there as soon as it opened up on the morning (5am) and secured an end position on the rack (racks were not numbered, just grouped), got bodymarked, no line-ups and back to the room for breakfast. I had built this plan in to go back to the room because temperatures were pretty low before dawn and the organizers said that they wanted us in transition between 0445 and 0545. So there would have been a lot of standing around outdoors waiting for my start of 0721. As I left transition it was getting congested and I was glad that I’d got in early. I felt somewhat light headed and still a little congested. Nothing too bad, but all the same I didn’t dare tell John in case he pulled me from the race, or even worse just shamed me into pulling myself by making it clear that he didn’t think I was being very sensible. So I swayed my way down to the start, bouncing off John several times on the way (he thought I was just being clumsy and/or dreamy), wondering if the complete rest I had had from training for a week would help or hinder me. Part of me wanted to know if I could still achieve a finish while I’m not on top line – if I could, I’d know that I’m strong. I didn’t want to be silly and risk my health longer term, but I didn’t come all this way to quit either... before I knew it I had done all the normal pre-race ritual and I was mustering with my wave for the swim start.

The swim start was broken down into about 19 waves, for a deep water start, as there wasn’t enough room to manoeuvre 2000 athletes in the Harbour at Oceanside. I went with the flow, some people entered the ramp and the water very slowly, this was a little frustrating, but I just moved as I could; once in the water I made my way without delay to the startline. Before I got there the hooter went, so I went for it immediately, wishing to myself that I’d gone towards the front more while we were mustering. I tried to settle down and find a draft, but I seemed to keep passing people. Even without trying too hard, I felt as though I was going well. The buoyancy of the salt water and the smooth water of the harbour was giving me an easy ride. I toyed with the idea of going at it harder, but decided that it was going to be a long day and I wanted to make sure that I could last the course. I reckon that I had a draft on and off for about half the time. Navigating on the return leg into sun was very difficult, I just went with the flow. The swim seemed to be over fairly soon and I felt fine. My swim pace is just the same as it was at the end of last season, but at least it was faster than my first race of last season. My relative position in my age-group was better for the swim than for the other 2 disciplines, that was the first time ever for me, usually it’s my slowest.

It was still chilly so arm warmers were order of the day for the start of the bike. My t1 time was huge for this race reflecting the long trot from the water all the way up the harbour into transitions and then the subsequent trot back down again to the mount line. It felt great to be on the bike outdoors. Not sure when Pete thought I’d done any outdoor training, in fact I’d done none except for the shakedown the previous day. 100% on the trainer pushing out the miles in the basement with Coach Troy (Spinnervals) and old Tour de France DVDs since last fall. I knew that the hills were going to come on the second half of the course, so I tried not to go crazy, but I did feel fairly exuberant and I was achieving 23-27mph easily, the rolling resistance on the road was so much less than on my trainer. My HR was down on target below 150 (except on climbs – well what I thought were climbs until I saw what was in store on the second half). Very few people went past me and I passed hundreds, until we hit the 3 main hills….then the story changed. People climbed right through me, I felt as though someone had a grip around my windpipe. Actually everyone was very quiet. Temperatures had risen inland as expected and I had dispensed with my arm warmers. As we turned back towards the coast for the last 10 miles a stiff sea breeze came into effect. I was reasonably content with my bike leg considering that I had not been able to do any outdoor hills, and considering my recent illness.

I was looking forward to the run, usually my strongest leg... not today. The last half-marathon run I did was in temps of -23°C with wind chill, today it was +21°C. Normally I would have found this a comfortable temperature, but I was unacclimatised. I had also underestimated the strength of the sun, and I got badly sun burned. By the time I realized that I needed it I didn’t see any sunscreen available on course. I took every cooling opportunity I could from sponges and water. I drilled myself to think of form, 2 strings pulling my head up and chest forward, arms back & forward, not rotating, and a tune (from "Match of the Day" a British Soccer programme), to encourage the cadence up, eventually I got into the run and the middle hour was probably my best. For the last half hour or 3 miles-ish I would normally push things along a bit, but this time I had nothing left in the tank, due to my cold mostly I think, so I was glad to get to the finish. Three yards out I was just about to raise my arms and take the banner when I was mobbed by someone else in my agegroup, my finish stolen – thanks! Guess that I should have checked behind me, but I was running strong, not exactly dawdling.

What did I learn about myself? I am strong; I can do this, even when I’m not on top line. I am determined (or should I say stubborn?); I don’t give up easily. Having an enforced rest (in this case through illness) is not the ideal preparation, but it was not the end of the world either. Maybe I’m a fool and I should have taken the day off and not raced, because a relapse back into my cold was inevitable (I’m suffering now, 3 days later, not due to anything muscular, but due to a very sore throat, congestion and a cough), but then I would have wondered what I could have done if I’d have tried and I would be worrying that I’d missed this major race on my training journey towards IM CDA in June.

How did I rate the race? I was a little disappointed with the race organization and communication with the athletes. I had expected that an Ironman trademark race was going to be bigger and better than the previous races that I’ve done over the same distance, but it was just bigger. In fact it was so big that it seemed too much of a tight squeeze for the venue. Getting away from the race afterwards was a painfully slow shuffle through crowds, occasionally carrying my bike over the sand. Optimum use did not seem to have been made of the space available, and it didn’t seem very athletes friendly. There were times when overzealous marshals (almost hysterical) were screaming at age groupers to get out of the way because the pros were coming, when they were mustering where they’d been told to, and were not on the pros line at all. The Expo was not where it was marked on the map on the race website, in fact it was 1.5 miles away, off the map entirely, there were no notices that it was at a different site, we just had to find it eventually. It appeared that there had been a lot of development around the race site in very recent years and still ongoing, so the remaining space available was restricted, while the race has probably grown.