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17 abril Ironman Arizona 2007DNF
Did not finish. Ugh.
I knew I was in trouble when the forecast called for 18mph winds on race day. I figured I could keep a 15-16mph pace, which built in a two-hour "grace period" before the bike cutoff--leaving room for a little wind, mechanical problems, etc. I would just grit my teeth and keep pedaling until they made me stop or I managed to finish, which is exactly what I did until my tragically ironic end...but I will get to that in a bit.
This was my first attempt at an Ironman. I will own the fact that I did not train as long or as intensely as I should have, but it was still an AMAZING experience! Even with the DNF, I still feel good about my race-day effort and with the audacity to even sign up for such a thing. Plus my dad caught the bug, and if all goes well with his shoulder surgery this summer, we may enter Ironman Arizona together in 2009. (Wouldn't THAT be something?!)
Swim
The swim takes place in Tempe Town Lake, which looks more like a river or a canal. As such, there is not a beach start like in other Ironmans, where you get to stand on the beach or waist-deep in water before the cannon goes off. No, at Arizona, you jump off a dock and swim about 200 yards, under two bridges to the start line where you tread water until the start. The swim and deep-water start aren't so bad -- it doesn't take much to stay afloat in a wetsuit. It's the jumping off the dock -- taking the plunge, as it were, that's seemed daunting to many. The announcer kept trying to get people to move more quickly about that part, calling us all out for standing around on the dock. I admit that it took me three passes before I finally got in. On the third try, I collected myself, went and sat down at the edge and plunked myself into the water. Not nearly as bad as I was imagining. I was ready to go.
Slalom?
Sighting on the way out (to swim in a straight line) was a little rough. The sun was just coming up, which made the buoys hard to see. I decided to just "swim toward the light" but I didn't bother orienting the sun (which should have been in the upper left side of my goggles) until about 3/4 of the way to the turn-around. I weaved in and out of the bouys like a world-class skier. My swim time was 1:48 -- undoubtedly because I actually swam 3 miles with all that zig-zagging.
Then onto the bike...
Remember the two-hour grace period I talked about? Well, that two-hour "grace-period" did not leave room for the actual 30mph HEADWIND with 45mph GUSTS that I faced heading back into town on every loop. Because of the permits the race organizers had to get to close the roads, there were actually 3 cutoffs on the bike: the usual at 5:30pm, one at 4:15pm at the turnaround back to town on the third loop, and one at 3:00pm -- you had to start the third loop before 3:00 to be allowed to continue. After the first loop, I knew I wouldn't make it. It took almost twice as long as I had planned. The winds in Arizona are not unlike the winds here in New Mexico. They come up strong in the middle of the day and get progressively stronger until the sun goes down. I knew that wind would blow harder and I would just be getting more tired as the day went on. BUT I KEPT GOING...all the way until they took my chip.
As I came into town, I asked spectators the time. When this blond woman finally said "three o'clock," and I still had another mile to go, my heart sank. (But let's face it, even if I made the first cutoff, there would be no way for me to make either of the next two cutoffs.) One neat thing for spectators at IMAZ is that the athletes pass through this one intersection about 12 times. For the bike, you come through the intersection, go out and back across the Mill St. bridge, and through the intersection again to start another loop or head back to transition.
The Thrill of Victory and the Agony of Defeat Within 50 Yards
When I came into the intersection after my second loop, I was already starting to cry. Then I crossed the timing mat at the far end of the bridge...and no one stopped me. I thought, "Hmmm...maybe I'll get to keep going!" So I did. Then I approached the intersection again. And this official-looking man in Ironman garb stood in my path with his arms extended out in a T -- to keep me from going on. I was the first one they stopped. They guy just seconds ahead of me got to keep going. At this exact same moment, Rutger Beke from Belgium was crossing the finish line which was literally 50 yards away. The announcer exclaimed over the cheers of the crowd, "RUTGER BEKE, YOU JUST WON YOUR FIRST IRONMAN!" That's right. The first guy across the line did it at the very instant that my chip was being removed, providing a heartbreaking if not ironic soundtrack to the images of me getting off my bike and walking off the course in tears.
I watched the video of this last night, thinking I might post it here for entertainment value...mmm maybe next year. I'm still a little raw about that moment. After getting off the course, I had this long, lonely walk back to the transition area (alongside the finish chute while they interviewed Rutger about his win). About halfway, this man named Dean Schmidt of Houston, TX saw me crying and walked along with me. "What happened out there?" he asked, innocently. And very melodramatically I sobbed, "I couldn't ride faster than the wind!" He said a lot of things that were comforting (which I can't really remember except I know they calmed me down). And then came the Big Question: "How long have you been training for this?"
At this, I chuckled and said, "Heh-heh. Only since January, so I shouldn't be too surprised that my day ended like this."
He laughed, too, and let me use his phone to call my dad.
I had imagined that if I didn't finish I would be inconsolable, but I was pretty much done crying by the time Colin and my Dad met up with me. I did give race day everything I had. But I know that I did not do the same for training. If I had, I think I would have been really heartbroken then. Really, from this side of the finish line, I think my overall journey was not tough enough or long enough (I gained and lost the same 7 pounds repeatedly throughout my training), and to fail after giving about 60% isn't really that tragic. It's just a waste of money.
Gratitude after 78.4 miles
Here is where it is VERY tempting to say something like "Oh yeah, if it weren't for the wind, I would have been all over that Ironman." Um...no (though I do think I would have had a better shot at it). As I rode the course, I passed people experiencing all ranges of crises, from flat tires, to road-rash-inducing crashes, to vomiting, to head and eye injuries, to unknown calamities requiring stretchers. I may have been fighting a mean wind, but I was still relatively healthy, no mechanical problems, no gastro-intestinal issues. And there's no telling what other obstacles might have presented themselves if it hadn't been the wind. Soooo...I guess I'm grateful that my biggest problem on Sunday was the wind.
Also, your race number has your name printed on it. So a lot of the people who passed me on the bike wished me luck by name. "Hey Krissy, good effort," and, "Keep it up, Krissy! You're doing great!" and "Hey Krissy, stay strong!" I can't even begin to tell you how sweet it was to hear such personal encouragement from strangers while out on the course alone. My favorite was that last one -- "stay strong" which someone said as I battled that nasty wind on the second loop and my spirits were really sinking. Seriously, the wind was so bad coming back to town, that I couldn't wait to get to the sections of the course where we briefly had a crosswind. After one of those stretches, I turned right to continue following the course -- right back into the headwind and even wailed out loud, "AAAAGGGHHH! NO MORE!" Despair at last.
Of course, I have to mention how grateful I am that my dad and Colin were there to support me, encourage me, cheer for me, and still be proud of me when I didn't finish. It's seems cheap that they only get a few lines on this blog, but my feelings about this run deep and are indescribable.
What's next?
 Now I MUST do this. I start training for next year's IMAZ in two weeks, after I recover from Sunday. Since I didn't get to the run, I can already start up with that. (I'll treat Sunday as a long swim/bike brick.) The volunteers who slather up athletes with sunscreen -- bless their hearts -- missed a pretty big section under the criss-cross straps I was wearing (I look like I backed into a grill), so this means I'll have to do my swimming inside or at night for a while until the burn heals, but after a week off. (My swim technique was all over the place from the adrenaline when the race started -- I aggravated an old mountain biking injury from last year when I separated my left shoulder after going over the handlebars and landing on it and my head.)
LOTS more weight- and hill-training are in store for me this year. Plus, Iowa City is only at 650 feet, so in addition to any potential wind, which I will just assume will be there, I will also have to overcome the change in elevation (Tempe's at 1100 and the course climbs to 1550ft).
Also...
 No, I won't race Wisconsin this year...I will volunteer and get a sense of the course (it's 3+ hours from Iowa City) and then I'll possibly do it after I have avenged myself at Arizona.
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