Post by Randy Stueve on May 15, 2012 21:31:46 GMT -5
The 2012 edition of Ironman St. George was the hardest race I’ve ever run. It didn’t really hurt that much more than other races, because if you give an honest effort, every race should hurt. With the conditions, however, you had to measure your effort over the day, so it hurt a lot longer than normal.
The swim start was perfect. The water was pretty calm, and I had great positioning with some open space around me, so I was able to get a good reach and pull in my swim stroke. It felt like I was going to have a great day. Within about 10 minutes of the start, I noticed that things had changed. A 40mph north wind had kicked up out of nowhere, and when I reached the first turn buoy, I knew this was going to be a long day. Huge swells with broken crests broadsided me until the second turn buoy. From here, we faced a long beat directly into the wind and the waves. I tried to keep a rhythm as best I could, but it was always short lived. After what seemed like an eternity, I made the turn around the last buoy and let the waves rush me to the swim exit. It was good to be on dry land until I removed my wetsuit, and the winds quickly chilled me to the bone…not a good way to start the bike.
I spoke with a few volunteers and race officials later in the day. A volunteer kayaker on the lake said that they were getting tossed out of their boats. Paddle boards were catching air and being flipped over like a piece of cardboard. A race official told me that if the swim start had been 15 minutes later, they would have cancelled it. As hard as it was, I’m glad we were able to do it.
The St. George bike course is hard enough on its own with around 7000 feet of climbing. Adding winds like this just made it miserable. Crosswinds blew bikes across the roadways, and heading straight into the wind meant your strongest effort was required to maintain forward motion. With a marathon awaiting me, I told myself to be patient and ride within myself. By the second lap, my lower back was starting to spasm so I’d take every opportunity to stand up out of the saddle to stretch things. I had no idea what kind of time I was making, but I took solace in the fact that only a handful of guys passed me on the bike. Mental notes such as this keep your attitude positive and focused. I was very relieved to get of the bike and out of the winds.
As I changed into my run gear, I asked a volunteer which pro led off of the bike. Ben Hofman with a bike split of 5:10. I know Ben well. He’d lived in Durango for a few years, and we’d trained together, so I know his abilities. For him to ride a 5:10 meant that everyone suffered out there. It boosted my confidence a little more. Starting an Ironman marathon is a mental hurdle. You just don’t feel like you’re in any shape to run. Mentally, you have to know that your body knows what to do even if it doesn’t feel like it. You turn your thoughts and physical sensations over to muscle memory and will your legs to start going through the motions. Usually, within the first mile, things start to feel ok. That was the case today. I knew I had a lot of ground to make up, but I was in my element….the ironman marathon. Just keep the turnover rate high. Shorten your stride a bit on the uphill sections, pump the arms, and focus. Pick out people ahead of you and run them down. When you pass someone, pass with force and conviction. Put any thoughts they may have of keeping up with you out of their minds. They are as tired and pain-racked as you are, but they will fold easily because you are mentally stronger – at least that’s what I tell myself.
I know my legs pretty well, and I could tell that I was on the verge of cramping after the first few miles of the run. This meant that I needed to replace fluids and electrolytes and keep moving…so I did. I slowed to a brisk walk through only a few aid stations so I could get down some solid nutrition. At the midway point of the marathon, they give you your “special needs” bag. This is bag you pack with whatever you think you may need. I always pack an almond butter and jelly sandwich. It feels so good to eat real food after having nothing but processed energy bars and gels all day….always lifts my spirits. I kept picking people of and my friend Colleen kept yelling at me to pick up the pace and pump my arms. She’d been doing this the entire marathon, and although she had my best interests at heart, I was getting a little annoyed with her.
Miles 21-24 were uphill, but I kept positive knowing that I’d get the chance to pass more people. Making the final turn at mile 24 meant it was all downhill, and I lengthened the stride and let it ride. A quick check behind me before I entered the finishing chute revealed no one close behind, so I was free and clear. Crossed the finish line, smiled for the camera, and grabbed a couple volunteers. As soon as I was sure they could support me, I gave up the ghost. My legs were done. Once I allowed my leg to relax, there was no way I could have stood up under my own power. I gratefully accepted a wheelchair ride to the medical tent. After lots of Gatorade and salted pretzels, I felt well enough to make my way to the massage tables and some well deserved pizza.
I’d learned that my friend Ben had won the race by a pretty good margin. After cleaning up, I headed over to a cookout where he was staying and spent the evening catching up with him and his family. Other than my legs feeling totally blown, it was a wonderfully relaxing evening with great friends. We eventually made our way back to the finish line to watch athletes struggling to come in before the midnight cutoff. This is always an inspiring sight. These athletes have spent months training for this event with as much purpose as I have, and they’ve been out there for up to 17 hours.
I got about 4 hours of good sleep that night. I never sleep well the first night. Exhausted, to be sure, but the aches and pains and sore muscles result in a lot of tossing and turning. Coffee strong enough to dissolve rust gave me the boost I needed to pack everything up in time for the awards ceremony the next morning. After an alltoo-quick goodbye to friends old and new, it was time to get started on my 7 hour drive back to Durango. I was looking forward to getting home. There was someone special waiting for me, and I was looking forward to some extra free time over the next few weeks to spend with her.
I ended up finishing 2nd out of 243 in my age-group and 23rd overall out of over 1400 athletes. I can’t really pass judgment on my swim and bike splits because of the wind. I did manage to PR my marathon split with a 3:06. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that this was the fourth fastest run time for the entire field. Now that I know I can push the run without blowing up, my next goal will be to break the magic three hour mark. It will take a special day to do this, but there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this racing – whether a day is special or not depends more on me and my attitude than the vagaries of the universe.
The swim start was perfect. The water was pretty calm, and I had great positioning with some open space around me, so I was able to get a good reach and pull in my swim stroke. It felt like I was going to have a great day. Within about 10 minutes of the start, I noticed that things had changed. A 40mph north wind had kicked up out of nowhere, and when I reached the first turn buoy, I knew this was going to be a long day. Huge swells with broken crests broadsided me until the second turn buoy. From here, we faced a long beat directly into the wind and the waves. I tried to keep a rhythm as best I could, but it was always short lived. After what seemed like an eternity, I made the turn around the last buoy and let the waves rush me to the swim exit. It was good to be on dry land until I removed my wetsuit, and the winds quickly chilled me to the bone…not a good way to start the bike.
I spoke with a few volunteers and race officials later in the day. A volunteer kayaker on the lake said that they were getting tossed out of their boats. Paddle boards were catching air and being flipped over like a piece of cardboard. A race official told me that if the swim start had been 15 minutes later, they would have cancelled it. As hard as it was, I’m glad we were able to do it.
The St. George bike course is hard enough on its own with around 7000 feet of climbing. Adding winds like this just made it miserable. Crosswinds blew bikes across the roadways, and heading straight into the wind meant your strongest effort was required to maintain forward motion. With a marathon awaiting me, I told myself to be patient and ride within myself. By the second lap, my lower back was starting to spasm so I’d take every opportunity to stand up out of the saddle to stretch things. I had no idea what kind of time I was making, but I took solace in the fact that only a handful of guys passed me on the bike. Mental notes such as this keep your attitude positive and focused. I was very relieved to get of the bike and out of the winds.
As I changed into my run gear, I asked a volunteer which pro led off of the bike. Ben Hofman with a bike split of 5:10. I know Ben well. He’d lived in Durango for a few years, and we’d trained together, so I know his abilities. For him to ride a 5:10 meant that everyone suffered out there. It boosted my confidence a little more. Starting an Ironman marathon is a mental hurdle. You just don’t feel like you’re in any shape to run. Mentally, you have to know that your body knows what to do even if it doesn’t feel like it. You turn your thoughts and physical sensations over to muscle memory and will your legs to start going through the motions. Usually, within the first mile, things start to feel ok. That was the case today. I knew I had a lot of ground to make up, but I was in my element….the ironman marathon. Just keep the turnover rate high. Shorten your stride a bit on the uphill sections, pump the arms, and focus. Pick out people ahead of you and run them down. When you pass someone, pass with force and conviction. Put any thoughts they may have of keeping up with you out of their minds. They are as tired and pain-racked as you are, but they will fold easily because you are mentally stronger – at least that’s what I tell myself.
I know my legs pretty well, and I could tell that I was on the verge of cramping after the first few miles of the run. This meant that I needed to replace fluids and electrolytes and keep moving…so I did. I slowed to a brisk walk through only a few aid stations so I could get down some solid nutrition. At the midway point of the marathon, they give you your “special needs” bag. This is bag you pack with whatever you think you may need. I always pack an almond butter and jelly sandwich. It feels so good to eat real food after having nothing but processed energy bars and gels all day….always lifts my spirits. I kept picking people of and my friend Colleen kept yelling at me to pick up the pace and pump my arms. She’d been doing this the entire marathon, and although she had my best interests at heart, I was getting a little annoyed with her.
Miles 21-24 were uphill, but I kept positive knowing that I’d get the chance to pass more people. Making the final turn at mile 24 meant it was all downhill, and I lengthened the stride and let it ride. A quick check behind me before I entered the finishing chute revealed no one close behind, so I was free and clear. Crossed the finish line, smiled for the camera, and grabbed a couple volunteers. As soon as I was sure they could support me, I gave up the ghost. My legs were done. Once I allowed my leg to relax, there was no way I could have stood up under my own power. I gratefully accepted a wheelchair ride to the medical tent. After lots of Gatorade and salted pretzels, I felt well enough to make my way to the massage tables and some well deserved pizza.
I’d learned that my friend Ben had won the race by a pretty good margin. After cleaning up, I headed over to a cookout where he was staying and spent the evening catching up with him and his family. Other than my legs feeling totally blown, it was a wonderfully relaxing evening with great friends. We eventually made our way back to the finish line to watch athletes struggling to come in before the midnight cutoff. This is always an inspiring sight. These athletes have spent months training for this event with as much purpose as I have, and they’ve been out there for up to 17 hours.
I got about 4 hours of good sleep that night. I never sleep well the first night. Exhausted, to be sure, but the aches and pains and sore muscles result in a lot of tossing and turning. Coffee strong enough to dissolve rust gave me the boost I needed to pack everything up in time for the awards ceremony the next morning. After an alltoo-quick goodbye to friends old and new, it was time to get started on my 7 hour drive back to Durango. I was looking forward to getting home. There was someone special waiting for me, and I was looking forward to some extra free time over the next few weeks to spend with her.
I ended up finishing 2nd out of 243 in my age-group and 23rd overall out of over 1400 athletes. I can’t really pass judgment on my swim and bike splits because of the wind. I did manage to PR my marathon split with a 3:06. It was a pleasant surprise to discover that this was the fourth fastest run time for the entire field. Now that I know I can push the run without blowing up, my next goal will be to break the magic three hour mark. It will take a special day to do this, but there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this racing – whether a day is special or not depends more on me and my attitude than the vagaries of the universe.