Ironman France race Report
Last fall I agonized over choosing which Ironman event to do this year. It had finally come down to two choices, Brazil vs Austria. I consulted with the herd and after weighing the responses I finally settled on Austria. Then some smart aleck (Ric) offered an option I hadn't considered, a new event for 2005, Ironman France in Nice. On closer examination it looked like it would work out really well for me, plus I can speak some French but not German or Portugese. I stayed noncommittal, though, opting to keep my entry in the Austria race so I could change my mind later. Winter came, I started training, time passed. I totally spaced on the deadline for withdrawing from Austria and missed the chance to get my $$ back. When I realized I'd done this I decided to just keep my entry in case some catastrophic event kept me from finishing, or even starting, IM France…I'd have a backup race. So I planned my European adventure to start in Nice, pass through the Jungfrau region of Switzerland for R & R and end in Austria where I would *watch* IM Austria and visit a country I've never seen before.
I got to Nice 10 days ahead of the race giving me lots of time to settle in and be over jet lag and any airplane acquired sickenesses. Jean- Marc's parents live in Nice and had graciously offered to rent me a room for an incredibly reasonable price. They are wonderful, kind, generous folks who ended up totally adopting me for the time I was there. They were my caretakers, my tour guides, my French teachers, my support crew and my fan club. They were the highlight of my time in France.
Nice was chilly, windy and rainy when I arrived. About the same as California was when I left. My grand plan of being heat acclimatized for this race had totally gone bust thanks to the whims of mother nature. I had not one single truly hot training day leading up to this race and it looked like I'd get no heat exposure in the final days. Fingers crossed that it wouldn't be hot on race day. My bike did not arrive with me. It was kind of a sickening feeling to stand by the luggage carousel watching the last bags coming down with my bike not among them. After a lengthy process of filling out forms I was assured that my bike would be delivered to me in the next couple of days. Gulp!
My initial practice swims in the Mediterranean were a bit of a surprise. I'd pictured warm, placid waters. It was the roughest water I'd ever swum in and, though not freezing, not as warm as I thought it would be. The beach…rocks. Ouch! My bike did turn up and I successfully put it back together on my own (and it worked!) and got out for a couple of rides. The notable thing about riding out of Nice is that the terrain very quickly starts to go UP. My hosts drove me around the race course on the Tuesday before the race (still cold and rainy). It was a spectacular 180 km drive through stunningly beautiful country in the mountains outside of Nice and it scared the crap out of me. There was a very generous amount of climbing, that didn't scare me. There was a generous amount of very narrow road with sketchy surfaces, that didn't scare me. The course would mostly be open to traffic on race day, ok, that scared me a little. But it was the white knuckle descents with hairpin turn after hairpin turn and vertiginous dropoffs to the river valley far below for the hapless soul who might drift to wide on a curve that really got my heart racing. This course was not only difficult, it was very technical. Now I had a new dilemma…carbon rimmed race wheels or the safer handling clincher training wheels?
Three days before the race the skies cleared, the winds died, the sea grew calm and it got really, really hot and humid. The jellyfish also came out on this day. Fortunately, they didn't stick around but the heat and humidity did. The pasta dinner, held in a large tent right by the sea, was a sweatfest. I was dripping by day and soaking the sheets by night. I had a nagging feeling that despite drinking a ton I was losing more than I was getting down.
Bike checkin, less than 24 hours to start. Eveyone had their game face on, more so than either US race I've done. This was the most serious and fit looking group of age groupers I've seen. No one looked like they were there “just to finish”. Though the number of women in the race was small this would be no cherry pick. I spoke with half a dozen women in my division while we were setting up. Every one of them was gunning for the one available Kona slot. I'd agonized to the last minute about which wheels to use and finally settled on the carbon Zipps. Now I worried I'd made the wrong choice, nearly everyone else had metal rimmed wheels. Should I be reassured that Tim DeBoom had opted for his carbon rimmed wheels? None of the pro French team had them and they'd been training on this course all spring. Oh well, it wouldn't be the end of the world if I had to creep down a hill or two.
Race morning. I was dripping with sweat at 5:00 AM just from the 15 minute walk to the race venue. Even Kona wasn't this warm on race morning. It's really hard to get a wetsuit on when you're soaking wet and that exercise had me sweating even more profusely. I was so ready to get in that water! The sea was beautiful, like glass. The only ripples on the surface were created by the helicopter hovering overhead. Standing on the rocks those last seconds waiting for the gun I felt that now familiar prerace calm wash over me. All the worries and anxieties of the last few days slipped away. I smiled. The gun sounded. Ironman number three began.
As is the case with all Ironman swims, the swim start was congested with plenty of contact but it felt somehow more polite and civil than either Coeur D'Alene or Kona had been, like people were really trying to respect my swimming space. Maybe I was just getting more comfortable with the contact of a mass start. I felt relaxed and smooth and I navigated easily. The first loop was over in a flash, then it was around one more time. No problems (and no jellyfish). Another enjoyable Ironman swim.
It was, by far, the longest run into and through T1 I've ever negotiated, the first bit of it uphill on a ramp with a switchback from the beach to street level. You have to be more self sufficient in European races than the North American Ironman events. No wetsuit peelers here. No one to hand you your gear bag or even help you find it. It's up to you to remember where it hangs and hope no one has moved it. No one helping you with your stuff in the change tent and no one pointing you to your bike. None of this is bad, just different. The women's change tent was virtually empty when I got there. I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. It seemed like a lot of the bikes around mine were still there so I decided the lack of women around me was a good thing. I transitioned efficiently and was soon underway on the bike.
The first 25k of the bike course was a gift, flat and smooth with only a slight headwind. A chance to settle in and get focused before the hard stuff comes. It got a bit chaotic at times with varying degrees of road closure and tons of nonracing cyclists jumping onto the course to ride with the racers (!). At one point when a group of club riders merged into the race all around me a marshall started pointing at me and blowing his whistle. I heard him say “warning” and I was afraid I'd just gotten a drafting call even though no card had been held up. Bummer! I'd really been trying hard to ride clean. During this flat stretch several women I recognized from my age group blew by me like I was riding in place even though I felt like I was moving along. I concentrated on riding my race and let them go…physically and mentally.
The real riding began when we diverted onto a levee road with potholes you could lose a car in. The orange paint used to mark hazards was all over the place, it looked like someone had spilled the can. When we got off this road the climbing and the endless curves began and so it continued for the next 135 kms. It was hot, it was tough and it was beautiful. I was thoroughly challenged and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Though the roads in this stretch were open, traffic was light and very respectful. Spectators were sparse except in the villages but they were enthusiastic. The aid stations were quite far apart and they were disorganized and chaotic. By the time I was reaching them they were pretty much self serve as the volunteers were scrambling just to get supplies out onto the tables. Though having to stop completely on the bike to get what I needed wasn't ideal everyone was in the same boat so it wasn't a big deal. What was a big deal is that two aid stations in a row had run out of water. That meant ~75 km with no water. I ended up stopping in a village to find some water. In the heat and humidity not finding water would have been suicidal.
I followed my game plan perfectly on the ride. I kept my hr where it was supposed to be, I ate everything I planned to eat, I drank as well as I could with what was available out there. A lot of people started coming back to me. By the time we hit the flats for the final 20K coming back into town I was gobbling people up like Pac Man chewing up power pills. I'd repassed most of the women in my age but I knew there was at least one still in front of me. I started to fantasize about running her down in the marathon. The last 5K of the bike parallels the run course. I scanned the oncoming runners for my competition but didn't see her.
Now I started to worry about that whistle from the marshall in the early going. A drafting call has to be paid for in a penalty box in T2. If you get a drafting penalty your running stuff will not be in its place on the rack of bags but awaits you in the penalty box. I thought he marshall was supposed to show a black card if you've gotten a penalty. But this was France. Would my bag be where I'd left it? It was (phew!). I got through T2 quickly given the vast distances that had to be run inside T2 (5:15).
Initially, coming off the bike I felt great. I had to really concentrate on holding myself back, reminding myself that it was extremely hot and I still had to run a whole marathon. The first 5K of the quadruple out and back run went well. Nearing the first turn around I saw the first 45-49 woman. She was only a couple of minutes ahead of me. I was in striking distance of the lead!
In the next 5K my universe changed. The first thing I noticed was an overwhelming feeling of sleepiness. It was very much like the feeling of falling asleep while reading, where you struggle to finish a sentence but after you're done it made no sense and you have to read it again, with the same physical sensation of nodding off. I felt my pace slow but could do nothing about it. Even though I had eaten and digested everything I'd planned I felt like I was suffering from an energy deficit so I starting grabbing coke and gel at the aid stations. I would feel more “with it” for about 5 minutes then struggle again. I watched the leader pull away, out of reach, as I used every fiber in my being just to keep running. I refused to walk, but my running had gotten so painfully slow…going as hard as I could and going no where. As on the bike course the aid stations were just a bit too far apart and were virtually self serve. At the aid stations I realized how poorly I was functioning, barely able to perform the basic task of filling my bottle. I didn't understand why I couldn't get enough sugar in me to last more than a couple of minutes at the aid stations and why sugar consumed between aid stations didn't seem to help at all. I was also pouring as much water on me and in me as I could at each aid station but there was no relief in between.
At about 30K a cloud cover rolled in and I honestly believe the outcome may have been different if it hadn't. There was a brief shower, then it became a steam bath but the air temperature came down some. Turning the corner to head out for the last time I saw something I hadn't noticed before. The 3rd place woman was only a few minutes behind me and looking pretty good. The way I was going I was catchable. That realization lit a fire under my a##! It was unlikely that second would earn a Kona slot, but it was pretty much an impossibility if I was 3rd. Somehow I had to pick up the pace. I don't know how I did it, but somehow I did...just a teeny, weeny bit. At the last turn around she was closer but not by too much. The final 6K I was running scared. "Linger at an aid station and you're toast." "What if she has a kick?" "Don't look back, if she can see you that may be all she needs to motivate" "Are those footsteps behind me her?" Even down the final chute I kept expecting her to blow by. She didn't. Unlike my other two Ironman races finishing wasn't so much a thrill as it was a huge relief. As soon as I crossed the line the "catchers" were at my side. My legs gave out and my vision darkened. I didn't quite pass out but I was awfully close. I was aware of being carried to the medical tent and aware of the IV being placed. I could hear the medics and the doctor but I couldn't talk or move. I heard the doctor say my body temperature was 40 degrees celcius (that's 104 F). I felt iced fluids going into my veins and cold, wet blankets on my skin. Gradually my world started to come back into focus and I regained the ability to move. The medical care was wonderful and attentive. After 2 liters of fluids my temperature had only dropped a degree so I was given an IV injection of something. I have no idea what, my guess is an NSAID. After the mystery drug and a third liter my temperature came down enough to be released.
I was tired but otherwise ok. It turns out the few minutes of relief I was getting at each aid station had nothing to do with sugar or caffeine, but rather was from the transient cooling effect of the water I was dumping on and in me. Then I was rapidly reheating. Mystery solved :-).
I made it through the final "sport" of the day--gathering up my gear bags and my bike and schlepping it all back to the apartment. I still had time to shower, eat and make it back to the finish line to watch the last finisher and a fireworks show. The French know how to put on a fireworks show!!
Final result: 12:29:19, 2nd place W45, 506th place overall. 24 minutes behind the eventual winner, 2 minutes and 19 seconds ahead of third (I actually pulled away a bit in that last 5K!). swim = 1:16.15, T1 = 5:05, bike = 6:41:15, T2 = 5:15, Run = 4:21:39