Ironman France - Race Report

Jun 22, 2008

As I approached the finish line, the announcer said my name and that I was from Canada. I don't know if he said "You are an Ironman", I was just proud of the fact I was from Canada. I didn't raise my arms in Victory as I crossed the finish line; I merely raised a hand in acknowledgement. The race was too humbling an experience for the Victory gesture. This is my race report.

Pre-race:

At 4:00 am, I woke up, put the coffee on, and made a batch of crepes. Crepes are pancakes without the powder that makes them fluffy. You get used to them after awhile. Although, I guess nobody else has yet because they all declined my crepes. The coffee, though, was gone in no time and a second pot was required.

We had all pretty much gotten things ready the night before so, after a quick breakfast, we headed out the door with our race stuff and walked down to the race site. It was about a 20 minute walk and along the way the streets were empty, save for the rebel rousers returning from a night of carousing and other athletes walking to the race site, somber and quiet by comparison.


Falcons in transition.

Once at the race site, we pumped up our bike tires and then it was time to assemble at the swim start. Just like that, it happened pretty quick. The queue onto the pebbly beach was quite slow so by the time we got onto the beach it was nearly time to start the race.

The swim:


Swim start at dawn.

I had seen videos of swim starts before and had heard stories about flailing bodies, inadvertent punches, kicks to the head, flying goggles, etc., all of which served to put in me a dread regarding the swim portion of the race. But standing there on the beach, I was actually a lot calmer than I thought I'd be. I didn't even hear the signal to start. I just noticed people walk into to the water and start swimming so I followed. The flailing bodies never occurred, at least not to the extent to which I was expecting. I couldn't see the buoy markers so I just swam in the general direction of everyone else. The air was refreshingly cool, the sun not yet over the horizon. A helicopter hovered overhead where the pros led the school of ~2300 starters towards the first buoy.

Though there was ample space to swim between buoys, it was at the buoys where contact with other swimmers occurred, as everyone converged to round the buoy. The swim portion of the race consisted of a 2.4 km loop followed by a 1.4 km loop. By the time we rounded the third of three buoys and headed back towards shore, the sun had risen over the horizon. I breathe on my right side so, with every breathe, the sun glared down from above the mountain tops - a sign of things to come as the sun would become factor in not just my race but of Bill, Brian, and Jim as well.



Jim and Brian, surprise each other, exiting the swim together.

My first loop was uneventful, long, and slow, about what I expected. The second loop went much quicker and in no time I was heading back towards shore again. It was fairly frustrating to be swimming that last leg and have people pass me doing the breast stroke but that's what happened. It was about then that I had thoughts of specializing in duathlon. The jellyfish that we were concerned about weren't a factor. We had read race reports from people who had done this race in previous years, where the Jellyfish had been a problem, with one guy even getting stung in the face. But, though we could see the Jellyfish while we were swimming, they were deep enough as not to bother the swimmers. Having said that, I did pass directly over one barely two feet below the surface. That woke me up. I stopped all kicking for fear of antagonizing it and, thankfully, it left me alone. However, a short distance after, I touched something wet and rubbery. I freaked out, flailing and splashing, and my left calf seized up. The discarded swim cap did not leave me with any ill effects and, after swimming on my back for awhile until my seized calf returned to normal, I finished my swim.

Swim time: 1:27:07
Overall rank: 2024/2276
AG rank: 80/112

Transition 1:

Coming out of the water and heading up the ramp towards the transition tents, I heard Natalie's voice: "Go Rick". That was comforting, to know that Michelle and Natalie were there to cheer us on. Thanks guys! I ran along the narrow blue carpet dodging the other competitors as they strolled leisurely to begin the next leg of the race. "What's the matter with these people," I thought as I weaved in and out between them, "don't they know this is a race?" I retrieved my bike bag from it's place in the rack and hurried to the change tent where I stripped out of my wet suit, donned my cycling gear (helmet, sunglasses, and race belt), and stuffed the wetsuit into the bike bag. After slapping on some sunscreen, I handed my bag back to a volunteer and went off in search of my bike. Since I was in the old guy section (the bikes were racked numerically; the older you were, the higher your number), my bike was one of the furthest from the transition exit so I had quite a run, pushing my bike beside me, until the paddock exit. Again, I was frustrated by the other competitors who seemed content to just stroll along with their bikes. It was slowing me down. I managed to find some open space and sprinted to get by a slow bunch when the guy in front of me stooped suddenly. As he stooped, he pushed his bike to one side directly into my path. I went down, falling onto his bike. I swore, picked up my bike, and started to run again. "Messeure, messeure," I heard behind me. I looked back. One of my bike shoes had come out of the pedals. I leaned my bike against the fence and ran back for my shoe. Halfway to the exit, I thought to check my water bottles. I was missing one. By all accounts, nutrition is an important factor in an Ironman. I had done some research and discovered a product called Infinit that seemed to provide enough nutrition without the gatronomical upset that often occurs. One third of my Infinit solution was lying back there somewhere. I ran back (again) and retrieved my Infinit solution from a helpful spectator. By this time, I had given up all hope of having a fast transition and walked my bike from the transition area along with everyone else.

T1 time: 7:33
Overall rank: 1109/2276
AG rank: 31/112

The bike:

Since October 15th of last year, my focus in training has been to build a strong bike fitness in order to NOT have to use it. Let me explain. If I could complete the bike leg of this race using a low percentage of my threshold power (threshold power is the maximum number of watts you can maintain for one hour) then this would leave me comparatively "fresh" at the start of the run. I had done quite a lot of research about training with a power meter and, having a good estimation of my threshold power, I was confident that, by maintaining an everage of no more than 185 watts during the bike leg, I would get through it without excessively fatiguing myself. So as I started off on the bike, I consciously resisted racing. Using percieved effort, I felt I was going easy, yet everytime I checked my power meter, it was in the neighorhood of 200 watts; this was too high. I checked my heart rate: 148; this also was too high. I didn't worry about it too much and just rode how I felt.

The first 20 km of the bike course is flat and fast. The thing that most struck me about this section of the race was just how many riders there were on the course. Being a slow swimmer left me with most of the race competitors out on the course ahead of me. Being a strong biker meant that I had to pass a lot of them. There seemed to be an ebb and flow to this part of the race, with packs of riders slowing the race down in sections and spaces in between where the road was clear. Another thing I noticed, it was starting to get hot. I had my Infinit solution but I needed water.

The first water station was just before the first climb into the mountains. I grabbed a water bottle from a volunteer and stuffed it into an empty bottle cage. Then grabbed a bottle of the energy drink and drank as much as I could before tossing it aside. A left turn onto a narrow country road signalled the start of the mountaineous section. The road started off easy enough but the grade increased steadily until at the top of this 500 m climb we were climbing at a grade of 12 degrees. That's pretty steep. I had setup my bike with an easy gearing (compact 50/34 crank on the front with a 27 tooth cog on the rear), knowing that sections like this would otherwise be difficult, so it was comparatively easy for me. But there were others around me without such a setup who were stuggling a bit, their bikes weaving back and forth across the road as they tried to keep the pedals turning.

After the 500 m ascent, the road continued to climb, winding back and forth against the side of the mountain, offering a panoramic view of the river valley below leading out to the Mediterranean. After about 4 km of climbing, the road turned away from the river, flattened out somewhat (sort of) and the next 15 km or so were fast, winding through numerous quaint villages and tree-lined roads. It was along this section of the route that I saw Jim. I wouldn't have seen him except that, from the corner of my eye, I recognized the Ironman jersey he wore that morning. Our conversation was brief. "Just enjoying the ride," he said. This was typical Jim-ism. Jim had a busy spring, buying and moving into a new house, effectively changing jobs as the place where he works was sold to another company. So "just enjoying the ride" was the right thing to do given the training he got in. At the next aid station, I grabbed another bottle of water and again drank as much energy drink before tossing the bottle. Before I knew it, I was at Tourette su Loop, the beginning of a fast downhill. At high speed, I passed a local doing what appeared to be some kind of worshiping gesture with his hands. Next thing I know, my bike leaves the ground. Speed bumps!!! Ack!!! I guess that wasn't worship after all, the old man was trying to warn me about the speed bumps. The water bottle that I retrieved during T1 went flying. I was going way too fast to stop now so I elect to keep going. Finally, after the first of numerous exhilarating descents, the road crossed a river and turnsed a corner for the start of the long 20 km ascent to the Plains du Caussols.

By now the sun was hot and this section of the course had no shade. Though long, with my easy gearing this section of the course was not particularly difficult. But the heat of the sun and the length of the climb combined to erode my level of "freshness"; I knew I was working. About 2/3 the way, just past the village of Gourdon, was the third aid station. It was located on an uphill, making it somewhat tricky to negotiate the volunteer-to-rider handoff. I took two water bottles this time, since I now had an empty bottle cage, and grabbed a powerbar from a volunteer. Riding one-handed, I tried to stuff the powerbar into the pocket of my jersey when another rider cut across in front of me and braked to negotiate his handoff. My front tire hit his rear wheel and down I went. Again! I cursed, again, as I hit the groung and watched my water bottles roll back down the hill. I needed that water. I got up and scampered downhill as best as my bike shoes would allow me, dodging between riders to get to my precious water bottles. By the time I got to them, they were somewhat deformed but still mostly full. "Ca va?" the volunteers asked, as I mounted my bike. I was ok, just angry, so I answered "Ca va, bien. Merci," and rode away, fuming that all these things were happening to me and none of the other 2300 participants on the course. I do tend to get a little self centred at times.

During the final 8 km of the ascent I passed a number of riders who had simply pulled off under what little shade there was available. They didn't seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere. I couldn't say I blamed them. The sun was unforgiving and served to make a difficult climb even harder. The road ahead continued to be packed with riders. I don't really know how to describe it. It was almost like watching the peleton during the Tour de France. Thinking back, it was kind of neat that that many riders were out there doing this thing together.

The reward for completing this arduous 20 km climb is the Plains du Caussols. Here the road flattens out and, in contrast to the 10-12 km speed on the ascent, fast speeds of 20-40 km/hr become attainable. This is a welcome relief as travelling at speed provides a much needed cooling effect. After the plains is another fast descent. I attacked it. Don't ask me why. I think it was the adrenalin rush from being able to go fast that got me going. That and the high speed turns. I passed Brian on a long downhill section. I recognized the FMCT jersey ahead of me and before I knew it I was by him. I did manage to yell a quick "Bonjour" as I went by. A short while later, I saw Bill on a short ascent. We chatted briefly, me to tell Bill that Brian wasn't far back and Bill to tell me to go ahead and have fun. During our brief interchange, a course marshall, who happened to ride his motorcycle up behind us at just that time, awarded us each a 3 minute penalty to be served once we arrived back in transition. I didn't even know at the time that I was recieving a penalty but Bill got the black card signal. Que sera sera.

Before the out-and-back section, there is another climb of about 7 km. As with the previous climbs, I held back from expending too much energy but, nevertheless, by the time I reached the out-and-back section, I knew I wasn't going to have a good run. I'd done enough training to know the symptoms: shallow breathing, a tickle in my throat, the feeling of not getting enough oxygen to my working muscles. I had lost my "freshness". It was pretty much all downhill after the out-and-back section (kilometers 155-125), so I backed off and tried to recover as much I could. My average watts up to this point had been 196, about 10 watts too high. My average the rest of the ride was only 129 but, between the combination of heat, 2200 m of climbing, and being a tad too aggressive on the bike, I had a nagging feeling I had cooked my race already.

The descent was exhilarating. With the exception of 3 or 4 switchbacks, most of the turns were smooth and comparatively sweeping. That's not to say they weren't tight. But that's what made it exhilarating. In younger days, I rode motorcyles and loved to tuck in, lean into the curves, knee close to the ground, and see how fast I could take the turns. I rode the descent the same way and was rewarded with an extremely fast time in the final section.

Bike time: 5:53:33
Overall rank: 629/2276
AG rank: 20/112

Transition 2:

In shorter races, taking the time to put on socks after the swim can cost you places. So cycling and running in bare feet is common. Though I intended to run the Ironman with socks, I rode the bike leg without them. The run leading into the transition zone was carpeted but the racks containing our bags was not. It was on hot ashphalt. Stepping onto the ashphalt, I discovered how hot; I mean REALLY HOT. It was burning my feet. I danced around, in attempt to minimize the contact, but that wasn't working. I looked around for some shade; there was none. I sat on my ass, my feet burning, got up again to look for my run bag, couldn't find it and sat again. A volunteer came to help. She couldn't find it either. In her broken english, she asked me if I recieved a black card. I shrugged. She pointed to an area just inside the change tent and said "Try the prison". I looked that way towards a sign that read "Prison". Inside, they looked up my number in the computer and, sure enough, I had recieved a black card. They politely told me to sit for 3 minutes. To be honest, I wasn't too disappointed. I wasn't eager to begin my marathon just yet anyway.

T2 time: 9:30
Overall rank: 1570/2276
AG rank: 63/112

The run:

Near my house is a section of trail about 9.7 km long. It's where I did most of my long runs. I'd run on a thursday evening, after a two tough days of running and biking, and my legs would always be tired. I'd read somewhere that if you suffer enough during training that the Ironman would seem easy by comparison. This is what got me through many of these long training runs as they were extremely taxing mentally and physically. I'd imagine myself running each lap of the Ironman run. I'd read and heard that you should start an Ironman marathon easy and that failing to do so could be very costly later in the run. So during my long runs, I'd practice this. I developed a strategy of using one breath in, one breath out for every 4 steps for the first lap and for each successive lap I would allow myself more oxygen. This was akin to imposing a rev limited, restricting my oxygen intake and forcing me to go slow during the early laps. In training, this worked to produce negative splits during my long runs where each lap was successively quicker. In the race, it worked to keep me from going out too fast.

The run was four loops of 10.5 km, 5.25 km out and 5.25 km back. There were 3 aid stations spaced equally between each end. I ran straight through the Aid stations on the first split (half lap). I was happy with my first split of 27:51. Not long after the turnaround, Bill called out encouragement. I think he was just letting me know he was coming because before the end of that second split he passed me like I was walking.

My first 5.25 km split was then 31:42, 33:17, 35:22 even though I was progressively allowing myself more oxygen. But mainly this was because I was taking longer walking through the Aid stations. The pattern was always the same: two cups of water poured over my head, take in some cola and gatorade, two soaked sponges under my hat. This seemed to work well at keeping me cool at least until about halfway to the next aid station where I'd repeat the process. But the fact that my heart rate was in the high 160's told me that the heat was affecting me. A high heart rate indicates dehyrdration; a low heart rate is an indicator of low nutrition.

My fifth split was 1:16:14. Coming out of the middle aid station, on the 5th leg, I attempted to resume my running. I couldn't. I felt wobbly. If I didn't lie down I'd fall down. I saw some shade, just off the course, on the median between lanes of the Promenade. There were some palm trees there that offered some shade so I went there and lay down. From previous experience, I knew my day was done. This had to be one of my lowest points in recent memory. I thought about all the time and effort I had put into the previous 8 months. "What a waste of time," I thought. I was there a long time. I dozed in and out and, after about half an hour, felt well enough physically, if not emotionally, to get up.

Lisa Bentley, in one of her race reports, said you should always "finish every race". This is one of those philosphical debates that could be argued one way or the other but to me it rang true. And so, since reading that, I've adopted that philosophy. This is the only reason I continued. At first, I could breathe only through my nose, breathing through my mouth caused a wheezing and tickle in my lungs. This effectively restricted me to walking the run course. I walked dejectedly, head down, as runner after runner passed looking strong. From "why do people do this, this is so stupid", my thoughts got progressively better until I began to watch other runners in admiration, knowing that within myself I too was capable of running that well.

Even though I was walking, my love of running returned. By the end of my 6th split, I was breathing easier and tried to run again. It worked! I was running. I ran the 7th split fairly easily in 1:36 or so. At the turnaround of the last loop, I saw that the time was 12:28. Figuring that 12:59 would look a lot better than 13:01, I gave the last split. It was hard but it was the medicine I needed.

Run time: 5:19:49
Overall rank: 1475/2276
AG rank: 56/112

So I finished, humbled but complete. Now I know what it feels like to be an Ironman; it's not what I expected. Good things come from where you least expect them.

Overall time: 12:57:32
Overall rank: 1173/2276
AG rank: 37/112


Postscipt:

I wasn't the only one to suffer on the run. Bill, Jim, and Brian also had their share of problems. Bill threw up a couple of times on the third lap of the run and ended up walking much of the last lap, suffering dehydration. Jim suffered from some kind of heat stroke or something that stayed with him a couple of days. He walked much of the run. Brian had blisters on his feet from the hot pavement in transition (as did I) as well as chafing in some rather uncomfortable spots and he too ended up walking much of the run. It was a long, tough day for all of us. Maybe that's why we still haven't removed our athletes wrist bands.