Ironman Florida Race Report

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.... Needless to say, I didn't make my main race goal this year. A lot of unforeseen factors contributed to this, but considering the challenges I faced on Saturday I'm proud with my performance. I did manage to eek out a slight PR despite the run disaster, but more importantly, I had a blast this weekend at Ironman Florida. So, let's get on with the race report, already!

Pre-Race
The days leading up to the race were unbelievably fun. I met with fellow bloggers, made tons of new friends, and had a blast soaking in the pre-race atmosphere and sharing it with MamaFL. Mama did an awesome job as photographer this weekend, and I've been sifting through thousands of photos that she took.  While I was running around talking to people or dealing with pre-race crises she was quietly in the background snapping away...

Swim exit chute:

Swim exit showers:

Swim exit run:

More of the swim exit run:

 Empty transition the day before:

Blogger meetup #1: So awesome to meet all of you and talk out our pre-race nerves!

: 

Blogger meetup #2: More pre-race pep talking and time predicting

Transition area race morning:

Checking out the Quintana Roo bikes. I may be a QR athlete next year and was getting the low-down on their bikes. These are some sweet, sweet bikes...

A bit ridiculous with the ballet flats and amusing bike fit, but I still got to feel the bike

Mac explaining how the design of the QR frame helps divert wind resistance away from the drive chain side

After our final blogger meetup on Friday it was time for me to quiet down and focus on the race. We bought food from the grocery store so we could just heat up our pre-race food in the microwave and avoid the crowds.  I had potatoes, a tiny amount of veggies, and rotisserie chicken.  I slept pretty fitfully the night before the race (which is typical) and woke at 4:45am. As soon as I woke it was coffee--oatmeal--gear on time. I went down to transition to put air in my tires, fluids on my bike, and drop off my special needs bag.  After I went back to the hotel room to stay warm and go over last minute race information. Before I knew it, it was time to get my wetsuit on and head down to the beach.

The swim: 1:02:51 (6th in Division)

 When I got down to the water's edge, I was ecstatic. After a few days of relatively choppy water the gulf was flat as a pancake. Since the swim is a mass start, and I knew how the current was running, I positioned myself in the middle of the pack two rows from the back. The national anthem was sung, people were wishing "good luck" to each other, and before I knew it the gun went off and it was go time! Mass start swims usually freak out most triathletes, but I LOVE them.  It gives us women athletes a chance to find some strong male kickers to stick with. The first 5 minutes of the swim were really a fight for survival.  I was fighting to not get kicked in the face and also to find some good feet.  In a mass swim start, all manners go out the window. Males will slap males and females on the head, people pull each other under, and there's a general feeling of "I don't think so. These feet are mine and I will fight you to the death for them". In my mind, all the guys are assholes and all the girls bitches. That's the nature of the swim. It's so primal, and I love it that way.

 The first loop of the swim I kept things really easy. I had a great steady, strong stroke and kept my heart rate low. As I came out of the first loop I saw the clock: 40:00. I wasn't sure if it was from the start of the pros (started 10 minutes prior to us) or not. As we were running the strip of the beach to go back for the second loop I tried to ask the girl next to me. She gave me a look like "hey you crazy girl stop talking to me and swim". I got back in the water dying to know the status of the clock. I tried to push the thought out of my mind and find more feet.  The pack spread out pretty considerably on the second loop.  I found some feet but didn't have the same group pull advantage from the first group. I focused on staying on the feet, keeping my effort relatively low, and dodging the jellyfish that kept appearing by my face (I got just one slight sting on my cheek, so I was pretty lucky). I exited the water and felt really good, but still wanted to know the status of the race clock! The wetsuit strippers yanked off my suit, I did a quick rinse with fresh water, ran up the boardwalk, through the hotel, and into transition. MamaFL was there to capture the action:

Coming...

Coming...Looking for my bag...

Got it!

Thank you volunteers!

And off to the changing tent

Here's what the swim exit looked like:

T1: 5:09
The run for the transition at IMFL is loooooong. I tied with another girl for the fastest T1 in our AG. I ran into the tent and volunteers helped me yank on my arm warmers, put on my cycling shoes, get my sunglasses, and clip on my race belt.  I strapped on my helmet and ran towards my bike.  The bike handlers pulled the wrong bike for me so I didn't have the advantage of the others of having my bike handed to me. I quickly grabbed it off the rack and ran out of T1.

The Bike: 5:25: 37

As soon as I got on the bike I realized I could check the actual time on the Garmin to figure out the swim clock. As soon as I realized I did a 1:02 swim I yelled out "F yeah!" It was a great feeling to have all my pool efforts pay off. After my mini celebration I knew it was time to focus.  Goal on the bike was stick to between 160 and 165 watts. I was cruising at about 163 and feeling really great. Nice, easy effort. As soon as I turned out of town and onto the main highway the packs started coming. Some of you know IMFL is known as a huge draftfest. It's the nature of the mass swim start and flat bike course. It made me mad to see some packs with people literally on the wheel of another.  I tried to focus on my race and not get caught up. Right when I thought the packs were gone, one went by me fairly slowly. It was a group of men.  One of the guys at the back of the group got out of his saddle to pass me (easily going 200+W). As soon as he passed me I came right up on his wheel because he slowed down (I was reading 120W). So I got back up to my 160W and tried to pass him. He turned to look at me, then got out of his saddle again. I was getting irritated, because I was in danger drafting zone. I wanted to go 160W, but the guy wouldn't let me around him. So frustrating. After doing this dance for a few minutes I finally pulled back and let him continue with the main pack.  Another rider went by me and I told him "thank God they're gone. I don't want to get stuck in a drafting pack!" Literally the moment I said this a motorcycle came up to me with a race official. A man on the back yelled at me "141! 141! You! have! a! penalty! I've been watching you for the past minute!" I was heartbroken. I said "Yes sir. I understand." He continued yelling military style: "You! must! stop! at! the! next! penalty! tent! or! you! will! be! disqualified! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" I started getting upset and said "yessir. I said yes. I do understand. Thank you sir." He sped off and I dropped my head in shame. I tried so, so hard to avoid this. A guy behind me came up and said "did he just give you a penalty? That's such bullshit. What about all those other guys up there?" I was upset, but that's the nature of the race. Technically what I was doing was drafting according to the rules. The draft marshalls can't catch everybody, so there will be a lot of "real" drafters who get away with it. I backed off on my watts because the last thing I wanted was another penalty. I tried to get my mind out of my funk and kept pressing on. Chloe (a draft marshall herself) came by me and gave me a mental boost. I told her I had a penalty and I was heartbroken. She yelled at me to shake it off and that I was looking good.  She snapped a pic of me on the bike and was off.

When I stopped at the penalty tent, it was a huge cluster F. There were probably 30 people and they had about 4 stopwatches. The poor volunteers were trying to keep track of everyone but I knew it was hopeless.  I decided to keep track of my own time. 4 agonizing minutes watching everyone else blast past you. I did get a laugh because when I came in to the tent full of guys one guy said "oh I know why we were all drafting...it's because we wanted to get behind you!" That made me smile during an otherwise craptastic portion of the race. As soon as my four minutes were done I got ahold of the volunteer and told her my time was up and then I was back on the course.

The rest of the course should have been uneventful, but the wind...oh, the damn wind.  It was bad. It was 14mph when I was on the course and at this weird angle that made it a head/cross wind for most of the bike. Awful, awful, awful. At mile 80 I started getting mildly nauseous and had a difficult time getting my nutrition in. I prayed I wouldn't puke. Thankfully I didn't. I usually smile the whole bike, but at mile 90 I was so over the bike. I wanted done. I wanted out of the wind. I wanted away from the men who can't keep a steady wattage and have issues with chicks passing them.  The last 5 miles of the bike were the worst. Stupid, gusty winds. Stupid, stupid penalty. That's all that went through my head. I was so happy to see T2. I literally threw my bike at a volunteer and ran into T2.

T2: 3:05 Ran to the transition bag area...

Coming...

Coming...

Grabbing the bag. Thanks volunteers!

Running...

And into the empty female changing tent.

Inside the tent I changed into my socks and shoes (wore Brooks racing flats, which were a stupid, stupid choice on my behalf...more on that later) and lost about 30 seconds due to speedlace malfunction the day before the race. Tying laces after 6 1/2 hours of racing is rough.

MamaFL got a great shot of me coming out of the changing tent:

And running through the long transition:

And I'm out!

Despite what I thought was a shitty bike, I was the 7th amateur woman to start on the run (would have been 5th without the penalty).

The Run: (4:08:53, where it all fell apart)

I started the run feeling awesome.  My stomach had settled, my legs felt amazing, and I was in great spirits. My first mile ticked off at 8:15. Ooops. A tad fast. My next mile: 8:30. Oops again, a tad fast. My goal was to do about 8:45 for the first loop, then kick it up a notch. I was on fire. I was talking to people, profusely thanking all the volunteers, and having a HUGE smile on my face. I even high-fived the kids on the road. My splits were awesome and I even had time to walk aid stations to get in fluids and nutrition. I ran through the park still on track (first run split 8:43) and thought I had it in the bag. I ran out of the park, through more aid stations, and kept up my awesome splits. Then, at mile 9, I landed squarely on a rock with the ball of my right foot. The same foot that has had weird shooting pain during some of my last training runs. I yelled in agony and jumped up to grab my foot. I took another step. Shooting pain. I tried one more, but it was the same.  With each step I took the sensation of a nail being driven into the bottom of my foot got worse and worse. I decided to walk. A walk break took the impact off of the foot and tempered the pain. I walked about a quarter mile then tried to run again. The same. I was so upset. My legs felt great--I had it in me to run. I tried to change my gait and ran on the inside arch of my foot.  That worked for about a mile. Then I did my little run 3/4 of a mile, limp 1/4 of a mile routine. Once I stopped running I started getting nauseous. I still don't know if the nausea was due to me being so upset about the "run" or truly from nutritional issues.  I saw MamaFL for the first time at the turnaround at mile 13. She started cheering but I tearfully walked by her and said "Momma I can't run this. My foot. I'm not gonna make my goal. I'm so, so sorry." I don't remember what she said but she just tried to cheer me on. I got my special needs bag and took a GU and some salt tabs.

After the turnaround I started feeling better and ran for an entire mile before needing to walk again. I continued this charade.  Along the way several other athletes who were struggling came up to motivate me. They tried to get me to run with them. I managed to make it about a mile before succumbing to the agony of my right foot. As I got closer to the park, I made a promise to myself: no walking in the park. I found a run/limp that I could do that allowed me to "run" continually at a meager 9:30 pace and I stuck to it as I went through the park. The pain in my foot intensified but I refused to walk. I told myself I'd be able to run the last 10k without stopping, but as soon as I exited the park it all fell apart as I stepped on another rock squarely on the ball of my foot and doubled over. I let out a loud, primal yell and tried to get back going again. Things were getting ugly. With the pain came the nausea and I knew I had to walk for a bit. A spectator saw me struggling and tried to run with me for awhile. It was really awesome having people trying to pull me together. I limped, I walked, I yelled, I cried, but I did all keeping my head high. The last 3 miles were pretty raw. I tried to see if I could run all the way, but my damn foot. I pushed and pushed and groaned and grunted and when I finally couldn't take it anymore I would let out a huge yell and resort to a walk. In some sick way the crowd loved it. When I got to the last mile and a half, I knew it would be either me walking in or me giving it everything I had. So I went for it. My legs were so great that I could just fly when I was running. But the pain under my foot had me streaming tears down my cheeks. My head went upwards and I was letting out labor-like yells. The crowd was yelling "you got this girl! Dig deep! Fight!" My friends slapped my butt as I went by. Chloe snapped a pic of me half a mile from the end. I was fighting. I was hurting.

I got in the final stretch and just wanted to see the finish! When I saw the clock I realized I managed to eek out a PR. I must've been flying because the announcer yelled "wow! She looks like she could do another lap!" I raised my hands high and blew the announcer a kiss. I knew I had just a few feet more left in me. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Arms raised high, I crossed the finish at 10:45:35.

In the chute...

Arms up...

Pushing...

Blowing a kiss...

Crossing with my last ounce of energy

...and then I promptly collapsed in the arms of my catchers. I told them "don't worry I won't puke on you." I actually kept repeating this over and over after the race. I was horribly nauseous and think I was saying this just to myself. I bypassed the food tent and started the slow shuffle to find my mom.

Shuffle...

Shuffle..

Talking to another (rare) female finisher

And then I found the person I was looking for all day....my Momma! I went up to her and said "I'm so sorry Momma. I didn't make my goal." I started to get all teary but she wouldn't have any of it and just wrapped her arms around me and told me how proud she was of me. 

Hands down the most amazing support a girl could ask for. Momma, thanks for an amazing weekend and all your love and support. Definitely wasn't the race I wanted, but it was so special sharing all the memories with you. How can I ever thank you for all of this?

I hobbled back to our hotel room and Momma helped strip me and get me in the shower. While I was showering she washed my pee-laden clothes (now that's love!) and got my mac and cheese ready. She even went back to transition to get my bike and gear bags. Once my stomach settled we toasted the day with a much-deserved beer!

And then Momma got this awesome photo of me trying to move my legs

After the race I went back down to meet up with Chloe and some of her friends to cheer on the finishers. It was awesome. I had several beers in my system and we were totally rocking it in the stands! The crowd was just electric. A fantastic way to end the night. Here's a video of one of the last finishers.

I went to bed not disappointed in my race, but happy with everything that happened during the day and night.  As predicted, my body only let me sleep 90 minutes.  I spent most of the night watching Netflix while MamaFL slept soundly next to me.

The next morning we stuck around for the awards banquet. It was nice to get up on stage! I have to admit that it feels weird for me to be up there. I still don't feel like I belong. I don't feel like a real athlete; I feel like an impostor. I think because this is all still no new to me I don't feel like I'm part of the "big girls" club.  Will I ever get over this? Who knows. But it was nice to get up there so MamaFL could get photos and we could celebrate my race.

And that, my friends, ends my 3rd Ironman. Not the sub 10:30 I was hoping for, but I know I had it in me. I learned a lot of lessons and can't wait for next year. Thank you all of you for your support. From my sponsors to my family to my "real" friends and my "internet" friends---thank you. We all know these things are not a solo effort.  Sure, I was out there racing by myself that day, but I was backed by hundreds and hundreds of hearts and minds pushing me through.  So thank you to each and every one of you. This race belongs to all of us!