2006 Half Vineman Race Report
This One is For the Volunteers and Spectators
The competitive Ironman life style is lonely one. Key phases of the training must be done alone - just you and the heat, rain, wind, hills, and whatever else is out there. I traveled across seas for competitions, most of the time accompanied only by a bike case. I learned to plan for maximum success, plan for contingencies, and flawlessly execute the plan. No mistakes. Be self sufficient and depend on no one.
Last Saturday, however, my parents and all the UCD volunteers that Cater brought showed me a side of IM. And to think, I would've missed it all that had I pulled out of the race like I almost had.
80% of the IM racing is being mentally intact. For weeks, I was anything but. "No race report from Half Vineman?" Jean-Marc asked. Nope, not this time. "I'm gonna pull out if I'm not mentally intact in 1.5 weeks. I just don't know what's going to happen", I told my other buddy. "I know what's going to happen", he said, "you're going to do your fastest IM ever! Trust me. I know."
2 weeks before the race, all sorts of crazy, scary thoughts went through my head. I thought about pulling out of the race. I thought about quitting the sport. I thought about offending the food Gods and be damned to spend eternity in grass-grazing hell; I....thought...about...becoming...a...vegetarian (Yeah, scary!). A foie gras sandwich the next day fixed that last one quick.
1 week before the race, Joe called me from Wheelworks. Marion was very sick. I always knew she's high maintenance, but I had no idea one of her components needs more pampering than Paris Hilton. Apparently, I've been riding on a worn-out bottom bracket for 3 years. Being the great mechanic he is, Joe put Marion back in racing shape in no time.
1 day before the race, I was physically ready. Mentally, well, that's another story. Ran into Wendy at the packet pick-up. I enjoyed chatting with her even more than usual that day; takes the mind off of what may become unravelled tomorrow.
Race morning. Amy, Zipp, my parents, and I caravaned to the start. We accidentally took the scenic route. That's okay as I've planned in a buffer for the travel time. After setting up my bike, I found Zipp filling his GU flasks, pinning his number, and do other preparation stuff. "Dude! You were supposed to do all that last night!" I said impatiently. Looking back, that was not helpful to anyone. I tried to help by filling one of the GU flasks for him, but 2 delays on race morning was not covered by one of my contingency plans, and I was in danger of miss my 5th trip to the toilet. It was probably a selfish thing to do, but I've decided to leave Zipp and Amy behind.
The line to port-a-john was long. No way I could have set up my transition and made it through the line. My mom offered to wait in line for me. Wow, I had not imagined that scenario! That could put me back on schedule! With that, I set up my transition, got my 5th trip in, and made it into the water with 3 minutes to spare.
The swim was un-eventful other than that I kept getting pushed off-course by the current. After the swim, my dad took my swim bag (no searching through bags after the race!) as I headed out on the bike. A whole bunch of girls yelled, "Go Sinclair!" It was none other than our UCD Barb's crew (and Curtis from the Mad Cows...) Nothing like have a group of fit women cheering for me, I felt like the sexiest man alive. "Hey Brook, how many people are in front of me?" "Two!" I knew that wasn't true, but who cares.
The bike was smooooooth. Marion and I became one. She hummed with joy as we cut through the wind. It was just the two of us for the most part. There was no one in front or behind. I thought I was lost more than once. At mile 45, a spectator told me I was 17th overall, and I knew there were at least 3 relay guys in front of me, so I was in 14th.
Hearing Cater and Amy's cheer at the end of the first loop lifted my spirits. I smiled. My mind was getting back in racing mode. The hunt for those lucky 14 had begun! To my surprise, no one in front of me cracked. I thought for sure someone would have gone out too fast and end up bonking. No such luck.
"You must dismount here!" Hmm... that voice sounds familiar even through the megaphone. Hey, that's Roper! What a pleasant surprise! I shot out of T2 and picked out Kensuke in his blue sporty outfit. Ropered cheered again. Heading out on the road, I heard Maxine, then Cater. After that Kristen ran by, followed closely by a jubilant Julia. By now, I was all smiles. I was happy. 6:57 was my first mile split. I felt great! I finished the first loop in 1:07, close enough for a 3:20 marathon and a sub-10 finish. Went past 4 people in the first lap, and I was getting a little tired. Ok, no 3:20 marathon today. I settle for a slower pace... and then an even slower pace.
I was really hurting midway through the second loop. Beth said "hi", and I whimpered something back. It was now survival mode. Zipp ran across again, and he was still energetic! Boy, all that training was paying off!
Coming back to the start for the third loop, I was in bad shape. I shuffled and watched helplessly as people went by me. I stopped keeping track of my placement and just focused putting one foot in front of another. I saw Maxine's smiling face, but could offer no response. "Here Cater!", I tossed her my GU flask. Every little bit of weight counts at that point. Thank God she was there! I tried to smile at Matt and Kensuke at the turn-around, but it was probably more like a grimace.
The pre-race shadow came back, and I started to lose motivation. Why suffer for no reason? Heading out for the 3rd loop, I thought about walking the rest of it. I thought about turning around and quit. And then, I thought about everyone waiting out there, cheering for.... ME!
That seed of positive thought grew! I wanted them to see a strong finish. I wanted them to hear spectators clapping as I hunt down my competitors. I wanted them to feel my joy of becoming an Ironman... again. I wanted to spark the IM flame within each of them. My feet started to feel light. The strides quickened. 7-minute mile was easy again. The last 5 miles were... POWERFUL. I ran past those who passed me earlier and never looked back.
Juan was singing (or was trying to sing) the French national anthem when I headed toward the finish line. That was the last straw. I laughed. I've never laughed in an IM.
10:27 was the finish time. 3 minutes faster than my goal time. Over 1 hour faster than my previous IM time. To my parents and the UCD volunteers, this one's for you. Maybe IM is not so lonely and painful afterall.
I thought about Karen Smyers the days following Vineman. One time Hawaii Champion, one-time miscarriage, and one-time cancer-surviver, she's got more than her share of bad lucks. Karen never quit an Ironman, "No matter how bad it gets out there. If you just hang on, things will usually get better."