I don’t really even know where to
start on this race report. My memories of last weekend are so
distorted from what I normally recall with my Ironman events. When they
say “Ironman Wisconsin 2006 is one for the books,” they weren’t
kidding. I had seen the possible weather predictions for Sunday, but
it never looked that bad. Yeh, cool and maybe a 30% chance of rain, but
that was about it. When I woke up race morning and saw the radar at
4:15 a.m., I knew it was going to one heck of a day.
I
arrived at transition around 5:15 a.m., and it was only lightly
misting. I had so many layers of clothing on that it took me a minute
or more just to get them off for body marking. Coming from Austin,
Texas I had been training in 95-100+ degree weather. When it’s 50
degrees out I’m literally freezing to death, so the 4 shirts, 2
jackets, 2 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of pants, shorts, tri top, jog bra,
gloves and beanie were only somewhat stopping me from shivering. I got
my trusty Lemond bike ready for its adventure, and then I headed indoors
before the swim start.
Luckily Jamie, my husband, was with me as
I went down to the swim start. I was able to put on a jacket, hat and
socks over my Helix wetsuit and then just pass them off to him at the
last minute. The pro wave would be starting at 6:50 a.m. so I needed
to be ready before the rest of the crowds. I warmed up, treaded water,
and hoped for the best before the horn sounded. I knew how fit I was
starting this race, so I just wanted the chance to show that out on the
race course.
The horn sounded, and I was off. After a few
strokes I looked around and realized that I was completely alone.
UGH! I hate that, and I didn’t want to be the one leading the race.
After about half of the first loop I saw Hillary Biscay on my back
side. Cool, someone to swim with. Eventually I let her go around, and
she led for the remainder of the swim. I felt sorry for her because
she was the one having to navigate through the masses of age group
swimmers on loop two. It was so bad because of the waves and the
wind. We kept swimming into and over age group athletes. At one point
I yelled out to her to take the inside line, and she actually heard me,
which makes me giggle knowing that now. We came out of the water in 53
minutes and headed into T1. I knew I would be freezing on the bike, so
I took the time to put on socks, arm warmers and a vest before heading
out to my bike. Hillary took off out of transition a few seconds
before me as I piled on more clothes.
Once I was out on to the
bike I kept myself in check and tried to get my legs to relax. It was
raining, and I now realized that this day wasn’t going to be an
enjoyable experience. I knew that if I got cold, I would need to
increase my calorie intake a bit to compensate for my shivering, so I
kept that in mind as I moved through my nutrition plan. At about
thirty miles into the bike I was really freaking cold. My fingers were
starting to go numb, and my legs were shutting down a bit. As the bike
progressed I couldn’t make my thumb meet my index finger to pick up my
food or salt tablets so eating became a task in itself. Plus, because
of the cold, my bike handling skills were very pathetic, especially on
the wet turns. Katja eventually came by me on one of the technical
downhill sections, and I was amazed at how fluid she was on the corners
and the turns. My mind and body weren’t responding well enough to move
through things anymore, but I made the decision to try and stay with
her. I knew where my bike fitness was heading into this race, and I
felt that I needed to force myself to keep with her. I stayed with
Katja for the remainder of loop one and focused on meeting my
nutritional needs, especially in the weather conditions we were
experiencing at that point (sub 50 degree wind chill and rain).
By loop two I was really starting to go downhill mentally and
physically. Never before in a race had I tried to come up with reasons
for why I could just quit. I started to secretly hope my tire would
blow out, or I would drive myself off the side of the road on one of
the wet turns and that would give me a reason to stop. My spirit was
leaving me, and my body was rebelling from the cold. Katja was gone and
out of site by this point, and I was all alone. At mile 80 I made a
promise to myself to finish the bike out and see what happened on the
run. It’s Ironman, and you never know.
As I started the climb up
the Monona Terrace helix into T2, I began going through my reasons for
not starting the run. My back was jacked up, my hands were shivering,
I had thrown up a few times, my legs were shut down, my mental state
was at an all-time low, etc… The reasons started flooding my way
without any problem. I handed my bike off to a volunteer as I
completed the slowest bike split I’ve ever posted in a race, and I
headed into T2. The next thing I knew I had a group of volunteers
handing me my run equipment, changing my socks for me, putting my hip
bag on my waist and telling me to go get’ em! They kept saying how
great I looked, how awesome I was doing and how excited they were for
me. Did they really think I was going to run a marathon after the last
six hours and forty minutes I had been suffering? Well, I guess so
because they shoved me out the door and on to the run course.
I
was running in third place at this point. Ok, so now that I am out
here I might as well see what I can pull out of myself. In reality I
wasn’t doing too bad and by mile five I had made the commitment to
stick this marathon out. I knew I wasn’t going to run near what I had
planned (3.20 – 3.24 marathon split was my goal for this race), so I
started making deals with myself. I tried to focus on my nutrition
plan and see if I could dig myself out of the mental black hole I had
previously buried my Ironman race in. Lauren Jenson passed me at about
mile ten, and I let her go. I didn’t want to push my luck with what I
was currently holding since it was the first time my legs were doing
anything remotely decent. In reality she never did get that far in
front of me after that point, but I didn’t have it in me to dig deep
anymore. I was too cold and too far gone to respond to anything, and
now I was purely in survival mode. I kept with it, was passed one more
time two miles out from the finish line by Paolina and held on for
fifth place.
When I look back at my race I’m definitely sad with
my times and placing because it’s nowhere near my current fitness
level. However, I’m really proud that I gutted it out and finished the
race. Because of the day’s conditions, I had served up every DNF reason
I could think of on a silver platter, and I never touched them. That’s
something I’m definitely proud of and will take with me as I move
onward in my racing.
I also have a whole new respect for
Ironman spectators and volunteers. The Madison crew stuck it out in
the rain, wind and cold and kept on supporting the athletes out on the
course all day long. Without the help from the volunteers and the
cheers from the crowds, there would have been a whole lot more DNF’s in
the race. I know that everyone racing that day was extremely grateful
for everything these people did to keep them going. YOU GUYS ROCK, and
I can’t say thank you enough!
I also want to say congratulations
to Katja and Hillary for a great race. These two ladies stayed strong
during a horrendous day, and I absolutely respect what they were able to
do. Kudos for their first and second place finishes, and I look forward
to toeing the line with them again.
As I head back home I’ve
already made the commitment to race Ironman Florida and give myself
another chance to beat the Ironman demons that wanted to end my 2006
season on a sour note. I’m looking forward to the race, and I’m even
more anxious to ride my bike in some warm weather again. Thanks to
everyone who cheered my way on race day, and I’ll see ya’ll in Panama
City, Florida come November.
Cheers,
Fish