July 2, 2006
90 miles to go baby, its 99 degrees ... (IMCDA '06)
Heading into Ironman Coeur d’Alene this year I was sure I was in for a fabulous race. My training had gone very well – I saw noticeable improvement both running and on the bike, and I was feeling very calm and confident and good going into the race. No injuries, no illnesses, I was ready.
The trip up to CDA was uneventful. The days in CDA leading up to the race were fabulous. Because I wasn’t so damn nervous this time around, I was really able to enjoy it. CDA is just beautiful. We arrived on Thursday and the temperature was nice and cool – 75 degrees or so, without an ounce of humidity. Aaaah … heaven. Friday it was noticeably warmer. Saturday even moreso. Come Sunday they were calling for temps in the high 90s. Bloody hell … this chickie does not do well in the heat.
But there was nothing I could do about it. It was going to be hot regardless of how much worrying and wishing I did. I accepted it and adopted a sort of “Ok … its gonna be hot … BRING IT ON!” attitude.
Actually managed to sleep well the night before the race. I was in bed at 10 p.m. and up at 3 a.m. for a big dose of Perpetuem and then back to bed. When the alarm went off at 4 a.m. for real, I was ready. Went down to the start area, checked the bike and transition bags, etc and was ready to roll. I was shocked that when I arrived at the start they were playing Widespread Panic loud and clear! I sang along to Space Wrangler as I pumped my tires. I took it as a good sign. Go time came and I gave the boyfriend a tearful goodbye and headed down to the swim start. Here I am minutes before heading down …
Lined up with my buddy Lee (who I didn’t even know would be there) for our plunge into the freezing water of Lake CDA. We started in the front, way the hell towards the outside of the course. I remember standing on the beach hearing Coldplay’s “Clocks” playing over the loudspeaker. And then the cannon blew.
Twenty-three hundred of my best friends and I rushed for the water all at once. Any mass start is violent, but for some reason the CDA starts seem especially bad. This was the biggest field I have ever swam in and I’m starting to think it was just a little too big. You expect a lot of body contact on the first loop … but on the second? I never had clean water, was never able to relax. Got punched in the face several times, took some elbows and a kick to the stomach. It was rough out there.
The swim was over quickly and it was time to head out on the bike. Felt awesome the first 16 miles which is mostly flat. There’s two big hills on the loop and they hurt the first time around – I couldn’t imagine what the second would be like. The good thing about this course is that after the hilly section its 20 miles of flat roads until you have to start the whole thing over. Those 20 miles are supposed to be easy, but we got smacked with a nasty headwind the whole way. No rest for the weary. By the time I started my second loop of the bike it had started to really heat up. Going up the big hills on the second loop it was absolutely blazing out. The sun was hot hot hot. I was a little fuzzy when I got to the top of each of those climbs – which meant I was a little fuzzy on the long twisty downhills that follow. Apparently I wasn’t the only one feeling that way as I heard of several people crashing pretty badly on those downhills that day. It could have been worse I suppose.
After the big hills I started noticing cyclists all over the road. Lots of people sitting under trees trying desperately to cool off. At each aid station there were lots of people sitting under the tents trying to cool down. I actually didn’t feel that bad on the bike. I stopped at every aid station to poor icy cold water on my head. An aid station volunteer told me they had heard it was 94 degrees, already, and that they had had probably 15-20 people pull out of the race at that aid station alone – and that was only mile 85 of the bike! Rolled into T2 at the end of 112 miles and was soooo happy to be off the bike. I had long since given up any notion of going 13:xx in these conditions and was just going to try to finish. Just a marathon to go.
Mile 1 of the run course is nice and shady and my legs felt great. I was trotting along smiling to myself because at this pace, I’d probably still have a new IM PR. And then I got out of the shade.
Good freakin’ lord it was hot out. I talked to some dude who said they had measured the temperature on the run course (right above the pavement) at 101 degrees. A HUNDRED AND ONE FREAKING DEGREES?! I later learned that at other places on the course the mercury read 98, 95, and 92. Whatever it was, it was HOT.
Ok, so running isn’t going to happen in this heat … I’m going to walk. And walk, and walk. I thought for sure I could make it through this thing walking. Somewhere during those first 4 or 5 miles, food stopped going down my throat. I just couldn’t get anything in me besides water. I had some sort of acid reflux thing going on that was making my throat just BURN. Ouch. I did my best to consume water and chicken broth and pretzels, but it wasn’t easy. Took lots of sponges and lots of ice and just tried to stay cool as I walked.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people on an Ironman course walking. The vast majority of people that were out there when I was weren’t running at all. I saw lots and lots of people being loaded onto ambulances on the run course, with IVs already in their arms. Scary. Around mile 10 I met up with my buddy Lee again and we started walking together. Despite the fact that eating was just not happening, I still thought I would finish. We crossed the mats at the halfway point and thought to ourselves “just 13 miles to go! No problem!!”. It was around that point that things started to really go downhill for me. I was having trouble keeping up with Lee, although I don’t think he had sped up anymore. The world had started to get a little fuzzy and I was starting to feel a little out of it. Conversation was becoming harder and harder to maintain … it just required too much … energy? Thought? Focus? I couldn’t do it.
At the aid station at Mile 17 I decided I would sit down, try to get my body temp back to normal, take in some food, and just generally regroup and then head on down the road. That didn’t happen. I sat down and some nice volunteers brought me water and broth. They asked if I was doing ok. I tried to joke with them “that depends on what you consider ‘ok’”. But the truth was, I wasn’t doing very ok at all. I’m not sure how long I sat there but at some point I started shaking and shivering. Shivering? It was still in the high 80s out. Why was I shivering? One of the volunteer ladies came over to me and said “Honey … do you want a ride to the med tent” and I heard myself saying “Yeah … I think so.” I don’t remember making that decision. I think my subconscious made it for me.
So that was the end of my day. I got a ride from a really nice 86 year old man to the med tent where I was largely ignored because there were a lot of people in there who were doing way, WAY worse than I was. They gave me an emergency blanket, checked my blood sugar and body temperature and gave me some more water and broth and just sort of let me be. I sat for a while on a cot (that I had to share because they were running out of room) and watched what was going on around me. They probably had 50 cots set up and they were all full. They had people laying on the ground because all the cots were full. They were taking people from the med tent and putting them in the lake to lower their body temperatures. All around me people were throwing up, were completely incoherent, or were just looking absolutely miserable (and I couldn’t even see the ones who were the worst off who were getting real medical attention and IVs and whatnot). I probably spent 20-30 minutes in the med tent and was then sent on my way – they needed more room for other people. I went back to the hotel, took a shower, and ordered a club sandwich with lots of salty bacon and fries – food was finally tasting better.
Here I am in the med tent, not looking very pretty: 
I have absolutely no regrets about how this race turned out and about my decision (or my body’s decision) to call it quits. I may have been able to make it a few more miles, hell, I may have even been able to finish – but was it REALLY worth it? This would have been my third IM finish – was it worth getting that sick to do it?? I wanted it, but I didn’t want it badly enough to push to the point that I was incoherent. Its just not worth it.
The good thing about only getting to mile 17, and walking all 17 miles of it, was that I felt well enough a few days later to go hiking with the family. The morning after the race we headed up to Glacier National Park. One morning we got up early and went for a hike. We wanted to see wildlife, although I don’t think any of us really thought we would. We hiked a few miles out to a beeeautiful lake and sat for a while on the shore. All of a sudden my mom pointed to the opposite shore (50m or so away) and said “something’s moving over there!!” … It was GRIZZLY BEAR!!!! It walked along the shore for a little while and then got spooked and ran into the woods! From the safety of being across the lake, it was really REALLY cool. At that point we all thought we could die happy … and that we SURELY wouldn’t see another one. We were heading back down the trail when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a freakin’ black bear came tearing around the corner, STRAIGHT TOWARDS US. I let out a yelp and it stopped about 25 yards away. The bear and the four of us stood there staring at each other for a second … while I kept trying to form a compete sentence “Is that a …? It looks like a …. It CAN’T be ……” and then it ran down into the woods next to the trail. But seriously … we were so close I could see its eyes, clearly. It was very very very cool.
I’ll take seeing a bear up close and personal over another Ironman finish any day!!!
Here I am in Glacier … not a three time Ironman finisher, but VERY happy nonetheless!
Anywho, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. I know I have said this before, but I am officially “retired” from Ironman, at least for the foreseeable future. There was seriously a point on Sunday when I was out there killing myself that I thought “this can’t be good for me”. I’ve dedicated the last five years of my life to this endeavor, and have a few finisher’s medals and many many stories to prove it. I have NO regrets, but its time to try something else. I’m going off road, getting back to my mountain biker roots. Going to try out some off-road triathlons (SHORTER triathlons), and maybe some mountain bike racing. Yesterday I made sure this was actually going to happen by blowing a paycheck and a half on a swanky mountain bike. I’m so excited about what the future holds.
Thanks for reading (if you actually made it this far … ;)