Great Floridian Triathlon, (Another long report by a Mike) - Triathlon Week

10-28-2004, 10:56 AM

Great Floridian Triathlon, Oct 23, 2004

Despite my best intentions, I was probably the least trained for this
race than any of my previous 7 Ironmans. Hurricanes and my growing
model railroad business conspired against me. With an average of two
weekends a month devoted to travel to train shows, my opportunities
for long rides were diminished. Add in the hurricanes and it spells a
potential disaster. My longest ride leading up to the race was 40
miles. My longest run was a half marathon 3 weeks out.

Those are not even what most folks would consider the minimum needed.
However, the bike workouts I did get in were generally high quality
and my running was far more consistent since I was training with Toni
(Mrs. IronPenguin) to get her ready to qualify for Boston in December.
With my base and experience, I figured I could pull it off, but it
wouldn't be fun. The bike would be the real test. If it turned out hot
and windy…

Toni and I arrived in Clermont Thursday at midday, registered, and
then met a group from the GFT forum to bike the first part of the run
course. It's a good way to meet people you've only conversed with on
the net, make sure the bike is working, and burn off a little tension.

At the pasta feed that night we sat a table with two older couples and
joked about it being the AARP section. (I'm 56.)

Friday we met another small group to ride the bike course and look at
the Florida hills. I was the only one in the car who had done the
course, so I gave out as many tips as I could. Bike check-in was
next, and a pre-race meeting. I was tired of pasta at that point, so
for dinner we went to Chilli's for chicken fajitas and an El
Presidente margarita. That's what I needed to relax!

Sleep came fairly easy - I guess I'm becoming jaded. Still, the 5:00
alarm call came early. I like to get to the site about 5:30 so parking
isn't a hassle and I have plenty of time to set up, relax, and watch
the people. When I stepped out of the car, I immediately felt a gust
of wind. Whoo, boy. It's usually dead calm at this time of the
morning. Not a good sign. And it's not cool. As matter of fact, it
feels a little warm.

I think IM race morning is one of the more incredible sensory
experiences going. The whole atmosphere is surreal: the bright spot
lights in the dark, highlighting the transition area with rack upon
rack of bikes; the hustle and bustle as hundreds of fully-revved
athletes scurry around doing their last minute preparations; the
spectators, not quite sure what to do, trying to both help and stay
out of the way; the nervous chatter in the Porta-john lines; the sky
slowly getting lighter, revealing the lake and swim course. It's
sensory overload.

I do all the needed tasks, filling the bike bottles, put food in the
right bags, visit the porta-john again, then find a place to sit for a
few minutes.
Finally we get the call down to the water. I zip up the wetsuit, get
a quick hug and kiss from Toni, and it's time to do it again.

Standing on the shoreline watching the small, choppy waves, I knew my
swim would be a little longer than normal. We'd be swimming directly
into the waves for the first leg of the triangle, and across it for
the second. Navigation would be a little harder and there would be
more swimmers coming to a dead stop while they looked for buoys,
slowing up those behind.

The tension builds on the shore as the National Anthem is sung and the
last seconds tick off. Finally, there it is. THE START!!

I'm determined not to get caught in the washing machine of good
swimmers, so I hang back and ease into the swim. Right away, my
concerns about the swim are confirmed. The chop breaks up my stroke a
little and people are already stopping and craning their necks to spot
a buoy. It's a bit aggravating because at that point all you really
need to do is swim the same general direction as everyone around you.
"The buoys will come," I silently yell. "Just be patient and keep
swimming."

I quickly find my own space and settle in as best I can. My goggles
start to fog slightly and that's disconcerting. The buoys are just far
enough apart so that I can't quite pick up the next one when I pass.
Still, all I have to do is keep stroking and peeking between strokes
and I finally pick it up. After the first loop, I wash out the goggles
and for the rest of the swim I can see perfectly.

The swim in nicely uneventful. I usually end up near some guy who is
zig-zagging across the course, swimming frantically to the right for
50 yards, stopping, then swimming back to the left, stopping, swimming
back to the right, etc, turning it into a 3.4 mile swim. Not this
time, blessedly. Even the Half-IMs coming from behind in waves don't
bother me. I'm very conscious of them, since I've been swam over. But
this time, no problem.

I keep on stroking, breathing, stroking, until at last the shore line
looms again. I come out of the water in a somewhat disappointing 1:45,
but I feel OK and I expected it to be slow. The wetsuit strippers are
right there for me and I have nice, smooth, transition.

As I push my bike to the end of the corral, I'm not sure if Toni will
be there to see me off. She had to get a 10 mile run in and she wasn't
sure if she'd make it back. She does, though, and we high five as I
leave T1.

I make it up the short little hill after T1, enjoy the quick downhill,
then on the next little hill, I realize things are not right. My heart
rate skyrockets on that little climb, I'm gasping, and my legs feel
dead. What the…? 200 yards into a 112 mile bike leg and I'm already in
trouble?

On the first downhill to the lake, I try to regroup. But when I hit
the flat, the legs are still dead. I feel like I'm riding in mud. OK,
use some of that great advice you so freely dispense on the race
forum. Think it through. Figure out a course of action.

Actually, it's like some hands in bridge. Sometimes there's only one
way of winning a particular hand. If the cards are distributed one
way, you win. If not, no matter what you do, you lose. So you play the
hand as if the cards are the way you need them to be.

So it's simple. I maintain a do-able, comfortable pace that I know I
can sustain. I don't push it. I stay patient. If that pace works out
to be fast enough, I'll finish by the bike cut-off. If not, pushing
now will only make it worse.

I have roughly 9 hours until the cut-off. I'll take a time check at
the top of Sugarloaf (40 miles) to see how long it takes to get from
there to the finish. Combined with the time split at 56, I'll know
then if I'm in real trouble for the second loop. Meanwhile, I'll stay
patient.

The next 5 miles are not pleasant, but finally, finally, my legs start
to come around some. It's not quite the struggle it has been, but I
also know the hardest parts of the course are still to come. The long
gradual uphill into the wind on SR19 is mentally one of the hardest
parts of the course. It seems to take forever, but finally we get to
the northern point and pick up the tailwind down to the Buck Hill
area, where the real hills begin.

The GFT course is deceptively hilly. There aren't any long climbs,
just lots of constant smaller hills interspersed with a few very
steep, short ones. The inclination is to get out of the saddle on the
short ones, and I think that's what hurts a lot of riders. It's the
cumulative effect. Add the heat and the wind and it can beat you up
badly.

As I approached the Buck Hill area, I got a nasty surprise. Both inner
thighs began to cramp. I shifted gears, spun backwards, got up and
stretched and they went away. I was drinking regularly, had taken my
Succeed! tabs on schedule, and my stomach felt fine. In the past I've
had minor cramping after getting through the hilly area and it always
went away, so I wasn't too concerned. Still, this was before the
climbs.

Buck Hill is a series of 4 very steep rollers, the second being the
steepest. You can't carry your speed all the way to the top of the
next one, but at least you have a downhill break between each one.
They're a nasty surprise for Yankees who didn't check out the course
before the race and think Florida is flat. One such guy was near to
me as we crested the first roller and he saw what was just ahead. His
body language said it all. We zipped down the hill, but as soon as we
hit the very steep beginning of the next roller, he stopped and got
off the bike. Wrong gearing.

The next challenge was the "signature" hill of GFT - Sugarloaf
Mountain. It's short, but the beginning pitch is 10%. Then it levels
out to 7-8%. It's short enough so that if you decide to walk it,
you're only going to lose 2-3 minutes over climbing it. I wanted to
climb it, but as soon as I hit the first pitch, I knew it wasn't worth
the stress to the legs. I was already in minor trouble, so I did the
smart thing and got off and walked it up. I wasn't alone.

I got to the top and took my time check. 2:50 out. I estimated that it
would take a bit over an hour to get back to the Transition area at
mile 56, so it didn't look too bad.

The great thing about getting over Sugarloaf is the awesome 50 mph
downhill that follows. Plus the next 2-3 miles are predominately
downhill and you can make up time and relax for the last few hills
back into town. It's a pretty part of the course, too, rolling through
Ferndale and Monteverde. There are only two or three short steep hills
to get over, the rest is rolling. Unfortunately, I get a few more
spasms in my legs and that is beginning to concern me.

The last 3 miles back to Transition follows the run course (in the
opposite direction,) so the Half IM participants are running toward
you. It also includes going down Hospital Hill - another 45mph
descent, which is a hoot.

As I roll into the Bike Special Needs area, my watch says 4:15 hours
elapsed and I breathe a big sigh of relief. Even though I figure the
second loop will be slower - more wind and less energy, I have a full
30 minutes in hand.

The next pleasant surprise is Toni standing there as an official
volunteer handing me my Special Needs bag. She'd volunteered for that
duty and was waiting for me to come in. It was nice being able to chat
briefly and get a little emotional lift. I replenished my Gu supply,
wolfed down a little PP&J sandwich, and took off.

I knew the second loop was going to be tough mentally and physically.
First, when you're as far back as I am, there aren't a lot of folks
out there with you. The riders are spaced out and usually you just see
them ahead on long straights. Everyone is going about the same speed,
so there's very little interaction. It can be depressing.

In addition, the long stretch into the wind on SR19 was going to be
harder, since the wind had picked up. All you can do is focus on
spinning, keep eating and drinking, and try not to think about how
long it seems to be taking. Because there isn't the long line of bikes
from the Half-IM sharing the course anymore, vehicle traffic is moving
faster and closer to you. And if that isn't enough, my legs are
cramping again.

All in all, it's a mentally difficult period, but finally I reach the
northern point again and turn downwind. That helps a lot, but as I
approach the little town of Astatula, about 3 miles from the Buck Hill
area, my legs really cramp up on a minor hill.

This is serious and can't be ignored. I am not a big fan of taking
any kind of pain killers or medication during a race. Masking pain is
not a good thing. However, I do have 3 Ibuprofen stashed in my pouch
and I figure the muscle relaxing effect may help, so I toss them down
and hope for the best. To make along story short, it works. I have no
more cramping. I get through the Buck Hills section in fine shape,
then walk up Sugarloaf again.

My previous time calculations showed that if got to Sugarloaf at 7:55
into the bike leg, I'd make the cut-off. As I get back on my bike, my
watch showed 7:25, so I had plenty of time. That stress relieved, I
enjoy the final miles back into town.

As I ride through the area where the run course is, I see my fellow
back-of-the-packers starting the first part of the run. I shout
encouragement and give them all the thumbs-up and they all return the
favor. Trust me, there is a bonding back here.

Finally, I make the last turn into the transition area and there's
Chuck Peltz cheering me in. Chuck is a retired real estate agent and
is THE Transition Chief and runs that area with an iron fist. But he's
also the biggest cheerleader out there. We've been friends for several
years and he is an ambassador for the sport in Florida. It's great to
see him there at the end.

I grab my run bag from the always-fabulous volunteers and head to the
changing tent. As I'm almost finished changing, I notice my watch is
gone. That's a shock, but no big deal. I figure an hourglass would be
better to time my run, anyway. I joke with one of the volunteers in
the tent, asking him if he's got any "moonscreen" lotion instead of
the sunscreen oil from the morning, then head out the tent.

As I begin jogging through the bike area to reach the run start, I get
one of the few pleasant surprises of the race - my legs feel great!
Not just sort of good, but great.

And suddenly there's Toni again. She's managed to get herself
stationed at that end of the transition area, checking out Half-IM
bikes and directing us out onto the running course. We chat briefly
and she comments how good I look. From her expression, I can tell it's
true and that she's surprised. She's seen me in really bad shape, so
this is a good sign.

The GFT run course is laid out in a unique manner. The first 6 miles
is through a residential area, a brief out and back on a bike trail,
and then back to a lake. There are several hills in the first three
miles, including Hospital Hill which is over 7%. Once back to the
lake, it's mostly flat. You run around the lake three times, passing
the transition area each time. On the third loop you turn up a short
hill to the finish line.

You pass all the aid stations on the lake three times and get to know
them. The last station on the lake loop is always run by the St. Pete
Mad Dogs Triathlon club and they always offer outstanding support.
This year there was also a PlayBoy Mansion themed stop about halfway
around which was a hoot.

As I begin the run, I start my usual tactic of walking the first
hills, then get in a pattern of jogging for 25-30 seconds, walking
5-10 seconds, jogging 25-30 seconds, etc. It's a pattern I've used
every time and it works for me. Only this time, I can feel that my
jogging speed is faster than normal and my walks are short. My
stomach feels fine, my legs feel fine, the temperature's pleasant - it
looks like it'll be a good run in the moonlight.

Just before Hospital Hill I'm passed by a guy about my age who zips
past me and then proceeds to jog up Hospital Hill. Now, maybe the good
age groupers can run up Hospital Hill, but someone back where we are
should not be doing that. It just takes too much energy you're going
to need later. I figure I'll see him later, but if not, he's a better
man than I am.

One early decision I have to make is nutrition/hydration. I have some
Gu with me, but I know I can also do the marathon on coke and
pretzels, which I seem to be able to keep down well. Standard advice
is not to switch from coke to Gu after you've started, so if I go with
Coke, I'll need to stick with it. Although I'm feeling good and a PR
for the run is quite possible, breaking 16 hours isn't. The Gu might
give me more energy but I know I can get through with coke. Coke and
security wins out, since sub-16 isn't in the cards.

That decision made, I settle into my pattern. When I get back to the
lake from the out-and-back, Toni is waiting for me. This is the first
of 3 planned meetings we'll make. She says again how good I look and
then it's off for the first loop.

I have to hit a Porta-john (good sign) but other than that, it's
uneventful. I begin passing folks - something that will happen all
night. At this point you don't know who is on what loop, so you can't
get to excited, but it got to the point I was the only person who was
still running.

I meet Toni again at the Mad Dogs station and she joins me for a
little while, then it's off into the dark again. The second time
around the lake there are fewer people. I'm still feeling good, my
jogs are at a good tempo and the walks short. At this point I could
slow up or even walk longer. In fact, it becomes harder to start
jogging again each time. But it's still a race. My goal is to finish
as quickly as possible, but finish.

I meet Toni one last time and ask her the time. It's 10:30, which
means I should finish before midnight - somewhere around 16:30 if I
don't falter. My legs are starting to tire, but knowing I'll get under
6:00 for the run is an incentive.

There are quite a few couples (one racer, one non-racer) out on the
course and I make a joke to one about strolling around the lake in the
moonlight with a pretty girl. They laugh and wave me on.

I'm feeling good the whole way, tired but without the overwhelming
fatigue that can set in. I hold to my pattern and zip by walker after
walker.

Finally, the Mad Dog station looms in the night and I know there's
less than a mile to go. Toni's there again and we jog/walk on
together, turn up the last hill, and run across the finish line
together. (A first for us.) 16:25:03. About where I usually finish. I
get the medal, t-shirt, and a mylar blanket while Toni gets my bag
with dry clothes for me.

We watch a few more people finish, then I begin chilling so we pack it
in and go back to the motel. Ironman #8 is done.

I'm pretty happy with the results, especially given my inadequate
training going in. The bike leg hurt and the slow speed is a refection
of the small amount of training. All I can say is it was enough, but
barely. I'm going to have to find a way to get the traditional long
rides in.

However, the run was great, 5:42. I started the run 45 minutes behind
the next guy in my age group and passed him and 2 more who were over
an hour ahead. The next guy was still over an hour ahead at the end,
so I finished as high as I could expect. I'll take it.

Oh, yeah. The guy who ran up Hospital Hill? I passed him just past
mile 10. He was walking slowly and I never saw him again.

"IronPenguin"

10-28-2004, 12:13 PM

"Mike Tennent" <[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]> wrote in message
news:[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]...
> Great Floridian Triathlon, Oct 23, 2004
>
>Awesome race report snipped
>
> "IronPenguin"
>

Mike,
Once again, an inspiring race report. I met you at GFT last year and use
your advice often. Thanks for the great report and congrats on #8.

Chris Janus

10-28-2004, 04:55 PM

Mike Tennent <[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]> wrote in
news:[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]:

> Great Floridian Triathlon, Oct 23, 2004
>
> Despite my best intentions, I was probably the least trained for this
> race than any of my previous 7 Ironmans. Hurricanes and my growing
<snip>
>
> "IronPenguin"
>

Great stuff Mike! Nice job of beating some serious challenges.

10-29-2004, 12:11 PM

great post, Mike. I'm considering this race next year for my first
Ironman. Glad to hear that it went OK for you.

Mike Tennent <[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]> wrote in message news:<[Only registered and activated users can see links. ]>. ..
> Great Floridian Triathlon, Oct 23, 2004
>
> Despite my best intentions, I was probably the least trained for this
> race than any of my previous 7 Ironmans. Hurricanes and my growing
> model railroad business conspired against me. With an average of two
> weekends a month devoted to travel to train shows, my opportunities
> for long rides were diminished. Add in the hurricanes and it spells a
> potential disaster. My longest ride leading up to the race was 40
> miles. My longest run was a half marathon 3 weeks out.
>
> Those are not even what most folks would consider the minimum needed.
> However, the bike workouts I did get in were generally high quality
> and my running was far more consistent since I was training with Toni
> (Mrs. IronPenguin) to get her ready to qualify for Boston in December.
> With my base and experience, I figured I could pull it off, but it
> wouldn't be fun. The bike would be the real test. If it turned out hot
> and windy?
>
> Toni and I arrived in Clermont Thursday at midday, registered, and
> then met a group from the GFT forum to bike the first part of the run
> course. It's a good way to meet people you've only conversed with on
> the net, make sure the bike is working, and burn off a little tension.
>
> At the pasta feed that night we sat a table with two older couples and
> joked about it being the AARP section. (I'm 56.)
>
> Friday we met another small group to ride the bike course and look at
> the Florida hills. I was the only one in the car who had done the
> course, so I gave out as many tips as I could. Bike check-in was
> next, and a pre-race meeting. I was tired of pasta at that point, so
> for dinner we went to Chilli's for chicken fajitas and an El
> Presidente margarita. That's what I needed to relax!
>
> Sleep came fairly easy - I guess I'm becoming jaded. Still, the 5:00
> alarm call came early. I like to get to the site about 5:30 so parking
> isn't a hassle and I have plenty of time to set up, relax, and watch
> the people. When I stepped out of the car, I immediately felt a gust
> of wind. Whoo, boy. It's usually dead calm at this time of the
> morning. Not a good sign. And it's not cool. As matter of fact, it
> feels a little warm.
>
> I think IM race morning is one of the more incredible sensory
> experiences going. The whole atmosphere is surreal: the bright spot
> lights in the dark, highlighting the transition area with rack upon
> rack of bikes; the hustle and bustle as hundreds of fully-revved
> athletes scurry around doing their last minute preparations; the
> spectators, not quite sure what to do, trying to both help and stay
> out of the way; the nervous chatter in the Porta-john lines; the sky
> slowly getting lighter, revealing the lake and swim course. It's
> sensory overload.
>
> I do all the needed tasks, filling the bike bottles, put food in the
> right bags, visit the porta-john again, then find a place to sit for a
> few minutes.
> Finally we get the call down to the water. I zip up the wetsuit, get
> a quick hug and kiss from Toni, and it's time to do it again.
>
> Standing on the shoreline watching the small, choppy waves, I knew my
> swim would be a little longer than normal. We'd be swimming directly
> into the waves for the first leg of the triangle, and across it for
> the second. Navigation would be a little harder and there would be
> more swimmers coming to a dead stop while they looked for buoys,
> slowing up those behind.
>
> The tension builds on the shore as the National Anthem is sung and the
> last seconds tick off. Finally, there it is. THE START!!
>
> I'm determined not to get caught in the washing machine of good
> swimmers, so I hang back and ease into the swim. Right away, my
> concerns about the swim are confirmed. The chop breaks up my stroke a
> little and people are already stopping and craning their necks to spot
> a buoy. It's a bit aggravating because at that point all you really
> need to do is swim the same general direction as everyone around you.
> "The buoys will come," I silently yell. "Just be patient and keep
> swimming."
>
> I quickly find my own space and settle in as best I can. My goggles
> start to fog slightly and that's disconcerting. The buoys are just far
> enough apart so that I can't quite pick up the next one when I pass.
> Still, all I have to do is keep stroking and peeking between strokes
> and I finally pick it up. After the first loop, I wash out the goggles
> and for the rest of the swim I can see perfectly.
>
> The swim in nicely uneventful. I usually end up near some guy who is
> zig-zagging across the course, swimming frantically to the right for
> 50 yards, stopping, then swimming back to the left, stopping, swimming
> back to the right, etc, turning it into a 3.4 mile swim. Not this
> time, blessedly. Even the Half-IMs coming from behind in waves don't
> bother me. I'm very conscious of them, since I've been swam over. But
> this time, no problem.
>
> I keep on stroking, breathing, stroking, until at last the shore line
> looms again. I come out of the water in a somewhat disappointing 1:45,
> but I feel OK and I expected it to be slow. The wetsuit strippers are
> right there for me and I have nice, smooth, transition.
>
> As I push my bike to the end of the corral, I'm not sure if Toni will
> be there to see me off. She had to get a 10 mile run in and she wasn't
> sure if she'd make it back. She does, though, and we high five as I
> leave T1.
>
> I make it up the short little hill after T1, enjoy the quick downhill,
> then on the next little hill, I realize things are not right. My heart
> rate skyrockets on that little climb, I'm gasping, and my legs feel
> dead. What the?? 200 yards into a 112 mile bike leg and I'm already in
> trouble?
>
> On the first downhill to the lake, I try to regroup. But when I hit
> the flat, the legs are still dead. I feel like I'm riding in mud. OK,
> use some of that great advice you so freely dispense on the race
> forum. Think it through. Figure out a course of action.
>
> Actually, it's like some hands in bridge. Sometimes there's only one
> way of winning a particular hand. If the cards are distributed one
> way, you win. If not, no matter what you do, you lose. So you play the
> hand as if the cards are the way you need them to be.
>
> So it's simple. I maintain a do-able, comfortable pace that I know I
> can sustain. I don't push it. I stay patient. If that pace works out
> to be fast enough, I'll finish by the bike cut-off. If not, pushing
> now will only make it worse.
>
> I have roughly 9 hours until the cut-off. I'll take a time check at
> the top of Sugarloaf (40 miles) to see how long it takes to get from
> there to the finish. Combined with the time split at 56, I'll know
> then if I'm in real trouble for the second loop. Meanwhile, I'll stay
> patient.
>
> The next 5 miles are not pleasant, but finally, finally, my legs start
> to come around some. It's not quite the struggle it has been, but I
> also know the hardest parts of the course are still to come. The long
> gradual uphill into the wind on SR19 is mentally one of the hardest
> parts of the course. It seems to take forever, but finally we get to
> the northern point and pick up the tailwind down to the Buck Hill
> area, where the real hills begin.
>
> The GFT course is deceptively hilly. There aren't any long climbs,
> just lots of constant smaller hills interspersed with a few very
> steep, short ones. The inclination is to get out of the saddle on the
> short ones, and I think that's what hurts a lot of riders. It's the
> cumulative effect. Add the heat and the wind and it can beat you up
> badly.
>
> As I approached the Buck Hill area, I got a nasty surprise. Both inner
> thighs began to cramp. I shifted gears, spun backwards, got up and
> stretched and they went away. I was drinking regularly, had taken my
> Succeed! tabs on schedule, and my stomach felt fine. In the past I've
> had minor cramping after getting through the hilly area and it always
> went away, so I wasn't too concerned. Still, this was before the
> climbs.
>
> Buck Hill is a series of 4 very steep rollers, the second being the
> steepest. You can't carry your speed all the way to the top of the
> next one, but at least you have a downhill break between each one.
> They're a nasty surprise for Yankees who didn't check out the course
> before the race and think Florida is flat. One such guy was near to
> me as we crested the first roller and he saw what was just ahead. His
> body language said it all. We zipped down the hill, but as soon as we
> hit the very steep beginning of the next roller, he stopped and got
> off the bike. Wrong gearing.
>
> The next challenge was the "signature" hill of GFT - Sugarloaf
> Mountain. It's short, but the beginning pitch is 10%. Then it levels
> out to 7-8%. It's short enough so that if you decide to walk it,
> you're only going to lose 2-3 minutes over climbing it. I wanted to
> climb it, but as soon as I hit the first pitch, I knew it wasn't worth
> the stress to the legs. I was already in minor trouble, so I did the
> smart thing and got off and walked it up. I wasn't alone.
>
> I got to the top and took my time check. 2:50 out. I estimated that it
> would take a bit over an hour to get back to the Transition area at
> mile 56, so it didn't look too bad.
>
> The great thing about getting over Sugarloaf is the awesome 50 mph
> downhill that follows. Plus the next 2-3 miles are predominately
> downhill and you can make up time and relax for the last few hills
> back into town. It's a pretty part of the course, too, rolling through
> Ferndale and Monteverde. There are only two or three short steep hills
> to get over, the rest is rolling. Unfortunately, I get a few more
> spasms in my legs and that is beginning to concern me.
>
> The last 3 miles back to Transition follows the run course (in the
> opposite direction,) so the Half IM participants are running toward
> you. It also includes going down Hospital Hill - another 45mph
> descent, which is a hoot.
>
> As I roll into the Bike Special Needs area, my watch says 4:15 hours
> elapsed and I breathe a big sigh of relief. Even though I figure the
> second loop will be slower - more wind and less energy, I have a full
> 30 minutes in hand.
>
> The next pleasant surprise is Toni standing there as an official
> volunteer handing me my Special Needs bag. She'd volunteered for that
> duty and was waiting for me to come in. It was nice being able to chat
> briefly and get a little emotional lift. I replenished my Gu supply,
> wolfed down a little PP&J sandwich, and took off.
>
> I knew the second loop was going to be tough mentally and physically.
> First, when you're as far back as I am, there aren't a lot of folks
> out there with you. The riders are spaced out and usually you just see
> them ahead on long straights. Everyone is going about the same speed,
> so there's very little interaction. It can be depressing.
>
> In addition, the long stretch into the wind on SR19 was going to be
> harder, since the wind had picked up. All you can do is focus on
> spinning, keep eating and drinking, and try not to think about how
> long it seems to be taking. Because there isn't the long line of bikes
> from the Half-IM sharing the course anymore, vehicle traffic is moving
> faster and closer to you. And if that isn't enough, my legs are
> cramping again.
>
> All in all, it's a mentally difficult period, but finally I reach the
> northern point again and turn downwind. That helps a lot, but as I
> approach the little town of Astatula, about 3 miles from the Buck Hill
> area, my legs really cramp up on a minor hill.
>
> This is serious and can't be ignored. I am not a big fan of taking
> any kind of pain killers or medication during a race. Masking pain is
> not a good thing. However, I do have 3 Ibuprofen stashed in my pouch
> and I figure the muscle relaxing effect may help, so I toss them down
> and hope for the best. To make along story short, it works. I have no
> more cramping. I get through the Buck Hills section in fine shape,
> then walk up Sugarloaf again.
>
> My previous time calculations showed that if got to Sugarloaf at 7:55
> into the bike leg, I'd make the cut-off. As I get back on my bike, my
> watch showed 7:25, so I had plenty of time. That stress relieved, I
> enjoy the final miles back into town.
>
> As I ride through the area where the run course is, I see my fellow
> back-of-the-packers starting the first part of the run. I shout
> encouragement and give them all the thumbs-up and they all return the
> favor. Trust me, there is a bonding back here.
>
> Finally, I make the last turn into the transition area and there's
> Chuck Peltz cheering me in. Chuck is a retired real estate agent and
> is THE Transition Chief and runs that area with an iron fist. But he's
> also the biggest cheerleader out there. We've been friends for several
> years and he is an ambassador for the sport in Florida. It's great to
> see him there at the end.
>
> I grab my run bag from the always-fabulous volunteers and head to the
> changing tent. As I'm almost finished changing, I notice my watch is
> gone. That's a shock, but no big deal. I figure an hourglass would be
> better to time my run, anyway. I joke with one of the volunteers in
> the tent, asking him if he's got any "moonscreen" lotion instead of
> the sunscreen oil from the morning, then head out the tent.
>
> As I begin jogging through the bike area to reach the run start, I get
> one of the few pleasant surprises of the race - my legs feel great!
> Not just sort of good, but great.
>
> And suddenly there's Toni again. She's managed to get herself
> stationed at that end of the transition area, checking out Half-IM
> bikes and directing us out onto the running course. We chat briefly
> and she comments how good I look. From her expression, I can tell it's
> true and that she's surprised. She's seen me in really bad shape, so
> this is a good sign.
>
> The GFT run course is laid out in a unique manner. The first 6 miles
> is through a residential area, a brief out and back on a bike trail,
> and then back to a lake. There are several hills in the first three
> miles, including Hospital Hill which is over 7%. Once back to the
> lake, it's mostly flat. You run around the lake three times, passing
> the transition area each time. On the third loop you turn up a short
> hill to the finish line.
>
> You pass all the aid stations on the lake three times and get to know
> them. The last station on the lake loop is always run by the St. Pete
> Mad Dogs Triathlon club and they always offer outstanding support.
> This year there was also a PlayBoy Mansion themed stop about halfway
> around which was a hoot.
>
> As I begin the run, I start my usual tactic of walking the first
> hills, then get in a pattern of jogging for 25-30 seconds, walking
> 5-10 seconds, jogging 25-30 seconds, etc. It's a pattern I've used
> every time and it works for me. Only this time, I can feel that my
> jogging speed is faster than normal and my walks are short. My
> stomach feels fine, my legs feel fine, the temperature's pleasant - it
> looks like it'll be a good run in the moonlight.
>
> Just before Hospital Hill I'm passed by a guy about my age who zips
> past me and then proceeds to jog up Hospital Hill. Now, maybe the good
> age groupers can run up Hospital Hill, but someone back where we are
> should not be doing that. It just takes too much energy you're going
> to need later. I figure I'll see him later, but if not, he's a better
> man than I am.
>
> One early decision I have to make is nutrition/hydration. I have some
> Gu with me, but I know I can also do the marathon on coke and
> pretzels, which I seem to be able to keep down well. Standard advice
> is not to switch from coke to Gu after you've started, so if I go with
> Coke, I'll need to stick with it. Although I'm feeling good and a PR
> for the run is quite possible, breaking 16 hours isn't. The Gu might
> give me more energy but I know I can get through with coke. Coke and
> security wins out, since sub-16 isn't in the cards.
>
> That decision made, I settle into my pattern. When I get back to the
> lake from the out-and-back, Toni is waiting for me. This is the first
> of 3 planned meetings we'll make. She says again how good I look and
> then it's off for the first loop.
>
> I have to hit a Porta-john (good sign) but other than that, it's
> uneventful. I begin passing folks - something that will happen all
> night. At this point you don't know who is on what loop, so you can't
> get to excited, but it got to the point I was the only person who was
> still running.
>
> I meet Toni again at the Mad Dogs station and she joins me for a
> little while, then it's off into the dark again. The second time
> around the lake there are fewer people. I'm still feeling good, my
> jogs are at a good tempo and the walks short. At this point I could
> slow up or even walk longer. In fact, it becomes harder to start
> jogging again each time. But it's still a race. My goal is to finish
> as quickly as possible, but finish.
>
> I meet Toni one last time and ask her the time. It's 10:30, which
> means I should finish before midnight - somewhere around 16:30 if I
> don't falter. My legs are starting to tire, but knowing I'll get under
> 6:00 for the run is an incentive.
>
> There are quite a few couples (one racer, one non-racer) out on the
> course and I make a joke to one about strolling around the lake in the
> moonlight with a pretty girl. They laugh and wave me on.
>
> I'm feeling good the whole way, tired but without the overwhelming
> fatigue that can set in. I hold to my pattern and zip by walker after
> walker.
>
> Finally, the Mad Dog station looms in the night and I know there's
> less than a mile to go. Toni's there again and we jog/walk on
> together, turn up the last hill, and run across the finish line
> together. (A first for us.) 16:25:03. About where I usually finish. I
> get the medal, t-shirt, and a mylar blanket while Toni gets my bag
> with dry clothes for me.
>
> We watch a few more people finish, then I begin chilling so we pack it
> in and go back to the motel. Ironman #8 is done.
>
> I'm pretty happy with the results, especially given my inadequate
> training going in. The bike leg hurt and the slow speed is a refection
> of the small amount of training. All I can say is it was enough, but
> barely. I'm going to have to find a way to get the traditional long
> rides in.
>
> However, the run was great, 5:42. I started the run 45 minutes behind
> the next guy in my age group and passed him and 2 more who were over
> an hour ahead. The next guy was still over an hour ahead at the end,
> so I finished as high as I could expect. I'll take it.
>
> Oh, yeah. The guy who ran up Hospital Hill? I passed him just past
> mile 10. He was walking slowly and I never saw him again.
>
> "IronPenguin"

10-29-2004, 12:43 PM

[Only registered and activated users can see links. ] (Drew) wrote:

>great post, Mike. I'm considering this race next year for my first
>Ironman. Glad to hear that it went OK for you.
>
>

Thanks, you won't regret doing GFT.

If you decide to, the online forum is a great place to hang out and
get to know people.

Mike Tennent
"IronPenguin"

11-01-2004, 08:00 PM

Congratulations and thanks for sharing this!

Susan