Ironman Louisville has always had a special place in my heart. The last two years I’ve watched it, and will finally be racing this course in 2014. I shot this video and finally got around to cutting it to Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” It’s focused on my friends Robbie, Wasky, and Corey. Hope you enjoy.
Here are a few screen grabs of the stars of this video. Wasky above, Robbie and Wasky below. Corey in the third frame.
Funny how things happen. I saw a tweet today from @blueseventy that said: “10 mile swim in TN – why not? We have an entry for the first person to tell us the winning time from last year #swimthesuck”
Swim The Suck is a 10 mile open water swim through Tennessee River Gorge and sorta sounds crazy and tempting at once. But, there’s no way I could pull that one out of my ass, so I simply re-tweeted.
That’s when my coach @IMRBRUCE, jumped on board with this: “@blueseventy 3:22:44!! I live in Nashville. Hook me up!”
First of all, the winner swam 10 miles in 3:22? Second of all, five minutes ago, my coach said BLUESEVENTY contacted him and he’s in the race. And, oh, it’s this Saturday!
So, he’ll be doing a 10 mile swim on Saturday in Chattanooga, then driving to Alabama for Goosepond to do the swim portion of a 1/2 distance triathlon relay with us on Sunday. Dude is gonna be straight up water-logged. 
This was the moment I thought about a thousand times, the Ironman Wisconsin Swim Start. The thought of being in that water with nearly 3,000 swimmers just blew my mind and it was everything I expected. Here’s a short trailer for the documentary I hope to finish sometime before I die. Special thanks to Roger Jokela and my brother, Chris Tarrolly for shooting this video and saving the film.
More Crushing Iron video can be found here.
Follow us @crushingiron
Quotes come and go, but sometimes they hit like a ton of bricks and stick like tree sap on my windshield.
A few days ago I was feeling a little down and lacked motivation. Here I was, less than two weeks from Ironman Wisconsin and feeling sorry for myself, uncertain, and depressed. Then, our coach posted this:
“Need some motivation? Put your hand over your heart…. Feel that??? Some day it will stop….Now, go be amazing and do everything you’ve ever dreamed of doing.” – Robbie Bruce
It’s funny how a race that takes most athletes 12 or more hours can have so many urgent moments. Watching Ironman is the ultimate hurry up and wait scenario. It rattles your nerves, and even seasoned spectators flirt with exhaustion.
The entire day is like looking at a field of peacocks. A flow of visual distractions inject your mind like a with one powerful drug after another. The potential for obsession is endless, and after spending an entire Sunday in the throws of passion, I feel obligated to make a major confession: My name is Mike, and I’m an IronTrac-aholic.
Ironman has officially morphed into hand-held-crack. Hundreds of athletes, who have worked tirelessly to prepare for the race of a lifetime fly by on bikes while entire groups of spectators, young and old, are watching swim, bike, run progress on phones. One guy I talked to said he spent a good chunk of his day “watching” from inside a coffee shop.
But, Irontrac nearly flushed our drug down the toilet.
The night before the race we were trying to set up our IronTrac “watch list” and none of the competitors were showing up. We were freaking out. In a panic. Would we really just have to watch the race?? It appeared certain when IronTrac sent out this message on Facebook:
I have Good News and I have Bad News. Good News – the Athlete List is up and ready to go for Ironman Canada!! The Bad News – Ironman is testing out a COMPLETELY changed version of the Athlete Tracker for Ironman Louisville and unfortunately IronTrac will not work to track athletes racing tomorrow. This is what happens when you pull info from a ‘Giant’ and the ‘Giant’ doesn’t communicate with us. Thank you for your understanding and support. I will update you as we figure out things next week.
We stared at our phones in disbelief and passed consoling hugs around the room. Everything would be okay, we reassured ourselves, but the night before the race would be also be restless for spectators.
I was sharing a room with Robbie, who was racing, which added another level of anxiety to my night. I was quiet and trying to be respectful as possible, but the whole IronTrac thing had me on edge. Well, that, and the fact that I had some good friends racing in the morning.
I heard Robbie moving around at about 4 in the morning and could already feel the energy. The last two days he had a very calm focus on this this race. He coached us hard, but worked even harder. I knew he was ready to get last year out of his mind. As we walked to transition for a final check of the bike, he was as loose as I’d seen him and posed for an early morning picture in front of this . . . uh . . . novelty shop.
I watched Louisville last year and can’t tell you how much I love the swim start. The long winding trail of athletes filing down to the water is an electric sequence. I parked myself in the front row and texted back and forth to people who were with Robbie, Wasky, and Corey to find out when they crossed under the arch so I could get video of their plunge. It worked out perfectly and I caught each of them jumping in and swimming up the channel. (Though this is not a picture of that).
I watched for a little while longer, then we moved toward the Swim Exit about two miles down the river. I got a little sidetracked shooting video of the awesome scene unfolding in the Ohio River. The bridge backdrops were just spectacular and I lost track of time.
When I finally got to the Swim Exit, I realized I was trapped on the wrong side and didn’t have time to get around. I panicked and grabbed a perch about 100 yards away and thought I could catch them with my zoom lens, but it was a madhouse.
Robbie and Wasky started in the back of the line, but they are pretty fast swimmers so by the time they got to the exit, there were tons of people coming out at once. They were shouting names like rapid fire and I knew I was sunk.
Allison sent me a text message and said Robbie was out of the water in a blistering 55 minutes. I didn’t see him come up the ramp, so I ran to the other side of the changing tent, but his transition was less than four minutes and I missed the whole scene.
Then I ran back to catch Wasky and missed him, too. He was out of the water in 1:04 and I was running around like a wild chicken. I put my head down and ran to the street so see if I could catch his bike departure, and caught him as he blew out of town.
Corey was right behind them and I honestly can’t remember if I saw him at that point or not. The fast pace of an Ironman had my heart racing on the sidelines.
I walked back to my car and that’s when I realized IronTrac had fixed the problem. I was now a junkie on an all-day-tracking-bender that would start in LaGrange, KY.
I had genuine intentions of getting a bunch of good video and did manage to catch Robbie and Wasky go by on the bike the first time, but shortly after that I was ready to throw my camera in LaGrange’s community dumpster. It’s so hard to recognize anyone on a bike, and when you do, they are gone in three seconds. It’s fruitless. I put the camera away for the rest of the bike and simply enjoyed the festive atmosphere and cold $6 cheeseburgers.
After the guys came through the second time, it was back to Louisville for a nap. I figured I had around 2 hours to drive and rest for a few, but I may have slept 5 minutes before waking up in freak out because Robbie was rockin’ the bike and I suddenly had the feeling I may be underestimating his arrival time. I still thought I was cool, but two blocks from the Run Out, I got a text telling me Robbie was off the bike. Damn! I missed him again. Just then, I caught him for 5 seconds as he ran by me looking like a boxer headed to the ring. He was fired up, focused, and off the bike in 5:42.
I let Robbie go and stood at the Bike In and waited for Wasky, who was holding his 9 minute swim deficit to Robbie for most of the bike. He came in at 5:49 and gave me a thumbs up as he coasted into transition, which he cleared in just over 4 minutes. Here he is checking his watch before serving himself to the downtown furnace.
Now, it was time for Corey.
Corey and I met at the Rev 3 Knoxville in May. It was a brutal day in the opposite direction. Temperatures were in the upper 50’s and it was raining the whole race. The water temperature was 54 degrees and it was Corey’s first half. I felt bad that such a nice guy had to deal with those conditions as I slinked off after my Olympic.
Corey did a 6:30 that day, and logic would say you should at least double that time for a full Ironman, but Corey had other ideas.
He came off the bike with a huge smile in 6:06. You always want to say your friends looked great during a race, but he really did. I stood with his wife, Donna, waiting for him to come out of transition. Five minutes, six, seven . . . it was taking a while. His wife was getting anxious. “What’s he doing in there?” Eight minutes . . . then, just after 9 minutes, he came running out in his red and black top with the same grin. He was ready for his marathon.
This is where it gets dicey.
I walked with Corey’s wife to the halfway point of the marathon, which is also mile 1, 14, and 26. It’s a good spot to catch runners twice in about 10 minutes.
Robbie’s first run split was 7:24/mile at the 2.5 mile mark. He followed with a 7:38 over the next 3. He showed me his plan for the race and till this point he was dead on, all the way down to projected transition times.
Wasky started a little slower with an 8:45 first split, then came in at 10:16 for the next 3 miles.
Corey’s first 2.5 were at a 8:37 pace and he followed at 9:03 for the next 3 miles.
For an IronTrac junkie, this is heaven and hell. Refresh, refresh, refresh. It’s the perfect drug because it is often an illusion. You think you’re looking at pure information, but sometimes it’s cut with bad facts. You start doing math in your head and trying to rationalize what’s going on when you really don’t have a clue. They also give you weird split distances like 1.6 miles and 2.3 miles that are simply a pain in the ass to calculate. Then out of nowhere, you get another update.
Robbie’s next split average was 8:52 for 1.6 miles and while it seemed like a bad sign, you just never know if there was a hill or he was just backing off for a bit. But when the next one came in at 11:05, I knew something was up. All we could do was wait.
Wasky’s third split was a 12:41 pace and he followed it with a 12:51. I was with his parents and you could sense real concern in their body language. Mom and dad, standing helpless as their son is battling a war. It’s hard for anyone who hasn’t trained to this level to understand that it’s okay, even when it seems like it isn’t. Wasky was obviously in pain and he knew it was coming, just not so fast.
Corey also came in noticeably higher on his third split, 10:48, but followed it with a 9:45. It appeared Corey was settling in his groove, but Robbie and Wasky were waging war.
It took forever, but Robbie’s next split was 18:25 for 1.2 miles and, if IronTrac was right, I had a pretty good feeling his Achilles nightmare had returned. I know from experience your Achilles is not something to mess with and I pretty much figured he’d reached the end.
I’m still relatively new to Ironman and have always wondered why people wouldn’t just walk it in to get their medal. But, the more I learn, the more I realize it’s not about the medal. It’s about where this process of training takes you. And, especially if you’ve done multiple Ironmans, risky long term injury is a dumb idea, especially when you love to train and race like Robbie does.
By now, Corey had overtaken them both and came rolling through mile 13 like he was on a Sunday jog. You could just see it in his eyes, he had this thing. He swept around the block and came back through and nearly knocked me over with a high-five. He was strong.
Wasky was next, and he had that determined look I’ve come to know so well, but his legs were harboring a cramp fest. Every step was painful, but he kept moving. He came around the block and gave me a vicious high-five as well, then swaddled into the distance thinking about ways he could beat his legs.
I didn’t see Robbie until later, but I knew he had to be disappointed. So many hours. So much focus, ripped away by an injury. It can be a cruel day.
Now, Corey and Wasky were out on the second loop and all we spectators needed was patience. We charged our phones and refreshed IronTrac at ridiculous speeds. Corey’s splits stayed solid and we knew he was coming in soon. I took my place on top of the walkway and pointed my lens and waited.
Around 11:55 minutes after I shot him jumping in the river, I saw Corey’s red and black jersey in the distance. He had the same bounce in his step and was moving at at sub 9 clip. Not only would he finish his first Ironman, he would do it under 12 hours with an 11:57. A remarkable performance on a brutally hot day. Corey Coggins, You are an Ironman.
By looking at his pace, it was obvious Wasky was fighting cramps the entire second loop. I can’t imagine what he went through, but he was hovering around a 12 minute pace, so I knew that, regardless of the pain, he was still running. And even with an agonizing run that was surely below his goal, Wasky crossed his first Ironman finish line in 12:28. John Wasky, You are an Ironman.
I was super proud of all three of these guys. An amazing day on so many levels. I wish things could have turned out better for Robbie, but he’ll be back.
There were other great performances from people I know and/or train with:
Melissa Gomez 13:42
Lisa Kelley: 13:24
Ann Mallin: 13:14
Emily Ryan: 11:06 (5th in age group)
Daveed Jaime: 15:20 (Couch to Ironman in 3 months)
Rodney Bice: 13:30
Carrie Haapala: 13:58
Annapurna Slayman: 13:22
Paul Putnam: 15:27
And of course, Wil Emery, who I just met and realized is my neighbor: 9:26 (10th overall, 1st in age group, and Kona bound).
I have to admit, it was an incredible high, followed by a low the next morning. I’m past the point of being anxious for IMWI, now it’s just flat out impatience. I know the hardest part of these next 10 days will be calming my mind and beating off negative thoughts as I train less and sit around more. Clearly I am going to have to spend more time with IronTrac.
As much as possible, I am trying to “let go” of Wisconsin for a few days. The Southeast is heating up again and it’s time to reflect on a major reason I am in these shoes: Ironman Louisville.
Last year at this time I agreed to drive up to Louisville with Jim to watch Racer K tackle his first Ironman. Jim and I settled into Skyline Chili along the way, then went to the Galt House to find Kevin before regretting that I overloaded at Skyline Chili.
It was all so foreign to me at the time and I couldn’t believe how many people were milling around the host hotel talking about swim, bike, and run. I knew something big was about to happen, but didn’t quite understand the magnitude.
This year I will be going up to support coach Robbie, Corey and Wasky (pictured in that order below). Three guys that I’ve spent a ton of time with this summer and must be literally sitting on the edge of their seats as the clock counts down to cannon.
I haven’t quite “been there” yet, but I’m guessing there’s not much you can do those last few days other than pack up your shit and battle anxiety. There’s nothing left other than not losing your mind and finding a zone. It’s one of those weird places where you don’t want to be distracted, but really need a distraction.
I’ll be in Louisville tomorrow night, then getting up early to ride the bike course in case I choose to put myself through the fires of hell in August one day in the future. I may even run around the town a bit and down 4th Street to see if I can imagine the electricity that will be filling that finish line on Sunday night. I’ve seen it and it is definitely something to write home about.
Then Sunday morning, I will tread lightly as three close friends stand in the swim line ready to culminate months of hard work. And this is what I imagined when I created Crushing Iron. Being around people who push themselves to the limits to see how far that will take them. And while I’m not racing, this morning will be about the incredible journey we’ve taken together.
It will be about all those little things that help keep everyone on track. About the selflessness we all shared in order to bring out the best in each other. Hundreds of days and thousands of little inspirations that have all come down to this day. Now, it’s time for them to show everyone else why we have so much faith in what they’re about to do.
This is it boys, make no mistake where you are.
17 Days Out Lesson – from my Neighbor James – My lil James Jr. gonna come out that door right there and start yellin, “Mr. Mike, Mr. Mike,” and you gonna be like, “Damn, James Jr. out here screamin ‘Mr. Mike’ again.” And you gonna be right, but he just wanna say what up. Take a minute to say he a good kid.
If you think adventure is dangerous, try routine. It’s lethal. – Paulo Coelho
My coach brings a lot to my life both in and out of triathlon. He’s youth with experience, and has a insatiable hunger for learning how to make himself and his athletes better. He’s pushed the right buttons with me from the start and has taught me control while inspiring me to push my limits. One of the truest measures of proof is the difference between my two open water Olympic swims. Before 
Robbie’s coaching I swam 42 minutes in NashVegas and after 4 months of swim instruction I was out of the water in 26 minutes at Rev3 in Knoxville. But, if I had to choose the most impressive thing about Robbie, it is clearly his ability and patience to type these comprehensive guest blogs on his phone.
————————————
Looking for Someone To Turn To? Try Doing a 360
By Robbie Bruce, RxE
Taper days/weeks tend to lend themselves to personal questions, concerns, over analyzed aches and pains as well as questioning your overall SBR fitness. It just happens. Every time. Today’s run took all of that and multiplied it by 10.
There is nothing more frustrating than heading out to do anything you consider “going over and beyond or epic” all for it to smack you’re over confident ass back into reality.
If you are reading this in Nashville you are more than aware we have been bombarded with
Noah’s Ark type conditions. I woke up staring at a 4 hour trainer ride right in the face. I made some coffee and then got caught up in a very lack luster Wimbledon Women’s Final. I made the call that a 4 hour ride was just not looking that promising. So I said,”I will swap days and do my 1.5 hr run in this pouring rain. Who cares. Get it done even though the elements were sub par.”
I knew I would be one of the only people on the streets and probably wouldn’t even see many cars. I have been running extremely well as of late so the thought of running pretty fresh in cooler than normal temps had me pumped. I was expecting to cruise. No phone, no music, just me, my thoughts and the sound of feet hitting the ground.
It was supposed to be an easy run. Around the 25min mark things began to go south.
My usual easy/marathon pace is around a 7:40 as of late and that is in the 85-95 degree heat. Today I was almost suffering to hold a 7:50…. I should be getting fresh. Except my legs felt like lead. I felt hot (WTF it is 73!!) and then GI issues set in. I made it back to my truck exactly at 40:00. Spent. Toast. Frustrated. Mentally beaten and not feeling well. I walked for about 10mins pondering what to do. Questioning everything. 40:00 at a 7:50 pace in OPTIMAL conditions made me feel like absolute crap. Here is where the quandary sets in:
As a “coach” who do you turn to in your times of need. When you begin to question yourself in every way. I spend a majority of my time taking care of the emotional psyches of my athletes after bad workouts or bringing them to reality when they get to high. Where and who do I turn to. If I turn to an athlete of mine will I seem weak?
I vent to a few people and most are athletes only because I know they will relate and most likely
just regurgitate my previous wisdom to them right back in my face. I did that today and then as I sat in my truck, rain pouring, almost wheezing, I looked in the rear view mirror, saw the look on my face and came to a realization. I have looked like this before.
The results are always different but I had seen that look. Robbie, it is just one workout. We all have them. For every horrid workout we also have a great workout. The rest are filled with just the same old same old training day. I got my Garmin out and decided to take a trip down memory lane. Training version. I went back to almost 2 weeks ago when I had one of my best run workouts of the year on tired legs in 90 degree heat on a freaking track for God’s sake. It was a 10×1 mile repeat day. The goal. Negative split them all. So after a 20 min warm up it commenced. As much, as today hurt to hold 7:50s in cooler temps on fresher legs, my splits for that day were as follows:
6:49
6:45
6:41
6:34
6:31
6:24
6:16
6:12
6:05
5:38
Pretty close to a perfect negative split. Longer and much faster than today in worse conditions.
So what does all this mean? I am human. Just like we emotionally have good and bad days in our personal life as well as at work. Shit happens. What would and did I tell me after today? Move on. Especially leading up to a race it is “less is more” and “do no harm.”
There will not be any make up run tomorrow. It is what it is. Did my fitness all of the sudden leave me? Ha. No way. In fact I haven’t felt better about my overall SBR fitness the last few weeks. My bike fitness FINALLY feels like it is coming back after my injuries earlier this year.
Another confidence booster is having gone through races like CMM this year, totally under trained and off injury. Yet I believed I could do well. So I did.
It is the belief in ones self that silences your body. I think people forget that most often the only part of your body you are not working out (your head) is in charge and in control of all the parts you are putting through grueling and never ending pain. You control you.
I wont lie. Every person that has text me the last week has guessed I will go sub 4:30 at Muncie. My response “I believe I have a sub 4:30 in me.” Might sound cocky or over confident to some but I do believe that. I believed I could finish CMM on basically no run training for 4-5 weeks with a long run of 14.
I ran the back 13.1 as my fastest 13.1 split ever over any course. Why? Not because I am a great athlete or the best runner. I just believed I could. So after today am I discouraged about my run? Yep. You can always do better. But I am not deterred. I will bike tomorrow and let it come back to me. Then I get ready for race week. I wont worry about every workout because the only one that matters is the workout I will do on Saturday and that is the one I believe in. Today will just be a memory. See you in a week.
Nothing like good friends and a little beach vacation to start your Memorial Day Weekend. 
Photo: Robbie Bruce
Allison started training with the Fab Five in January and has stayed with us the whole way. She was right there in early January, hammering spin bikes for hours, then joining us for frigid “brick” runs through the shadiest Nashville neighborhoods (Ie…Wasky’s* hood). It didn’t take long before all the guys welcomed her as “plus one” to make the Fab Five, “six.” Below is her awesome recap of a race that weighed on her mind for months and pushed her limits beyond anything she imagined.
70.3 – Gulf Coast Triathlon Race Re-cap – by Allison Leigh Miles
I was nowhere ready to train for a full Ironman when the Fab Five started tossing around the idea of racing Wisconsin, but I thought if I put my mind to it, I could focus on the 70.3 distance. Jim suggested the Gulf Coast Half, it was his first, it was at the beach where I grew up and it was in May so I had 5ish months to train. I was nervous but I committed to doing that race.
Race week got here much faster than I anticipated, but it was almost as though my mind was 
preventing itself from being nervous; I was way too calm. I had so many sweet friends write encouraging letters and cards. My good friend, Season, even wrote everything I needed to remember in a small square that I could attach to my race bib!
Jim and I rode packed up his Smart Car and headed down to Panama City bright and early on Thursday morning. He thought it was crucial that I have an extra day to get acclimated, settled and calm since this was my first 70.3 distance race.
We checked in to the hotel about 1pm and decided to do take a quick swim to test out the water temperature. Once Robbie got settled in his hotel, we met up with him, grabbed some dinner with a few of his other athletes and settled in for the night. We planned a SBR (swim, bike, run) workout the next morning with all the X3 athletes and I was a bit nervous. I was the only one who was new to triathlons and this distance specifically; they were all racing for PRs and podium finishes for their age group, I was simply TRYING to finish.
The swim workout did NOT go well for me; I was struggling to swim parallel to shore, got separated from our group and was wondering why in the world I thought this race was a good idea. I could tell by the tone of Robbie’s voice and the look on his face when he finally spotted me in the water that he was concerned too.
I was in full on silent panic mode coming out of the water, barely said a word to anyone else on the bike or the run, both of which went well I think but I was so mentally distracted by the swim I honestly don’t remember. Robbie, Jim and I met for a post workout chat/lunch and they knew I was freaking out so we talked a bit about expectations and what I needed to focus on going in to the race. I had a lot of things to remember, mostly regarding nutrition, but for the first time coach gave me a really vague race plan, and per usual I was banned from wearing a watch:
Swim controlled
Bike smart
Run fast
My first thought was seriously?!? I made it all the way here and THAT’S all you’re going to give me? I asked a few more silly newbie questions and started to feel better; I trust coach to help me achieve my goal, but made up some arbitrary goal times.
Swim- 60 min
Bike – 4 hours
Run- 2.5-3 hours
That put my estimated finish time right at 7.5-8 hours (I’ve been told to note that both Robbie and Schwan thought these estimates were complete crap and way too slow)
Robbie, Jim & I went to dinner at Angelo’s Steak Pit, with the other elderly snow birds just as they were unlocking the doors at 5 pm – that place was a madhouse, but we managed to get our pre-race steak and potato meal in, plus a glass of wine and a picture with none other than the local celebrity, Big Gus.
By 6pm the seasoned vets were ready for bed, but I was wide eyed and nervous as hell, no way I’d be sleeping much tonight. Between newbie jitters and the head cold (which I’ve just learned developed into bronchitis) I acquired almost a week ago, I woke up about every 2 hours. Around midnight I had a notification of a new Crushing Iron post Tarrolly wrote regarding the three of us racing -I read it, loved it, and remembered a note he sent me a few days earlier- he reminded me that the work was there, I simply had to trust it and stay out of my head.
My alarm went off at 4 am- we had to get out the door and walk the mile from our hotel to transition by 5 because my swim wave was the first to go off at 6:20 am and transition most likely closed by 6. By the time I got set up in transition, body marked, my wetsuit on and met up with the other x3 athletes I had about 5 min until my wave went off-
SWIM- CONTROLLED
My swim got moved up by 10 min, which I found out late the night before; I don’t like change AT ALL, so I was very anxious and antsy. Once I started walking towards the beach the nerves set in 
and needed a pep talk—I couldn’t find Robbie or Jim, but thankfully Carrie and Betsy offered to walk down to the start with me since their wave was going off second. We got there about 4 min before my start, some photographer that Carrie knew snapped our picture really quick, the girls zipped me up, got my cap on, talked about breathing, staying calm, and not worrying about time. They kept reminding me to stay relaxed and just focus on getting to the next buoy, not stress about how far I had to swim.
I stepped in to the start chute, had about 3 seconds to decide I wanted to start at the back of the pack, looked around to see if Robbie or Jim made it down to the start, didn’t see them, waved to the girls, and then the horn blew. I knew the water would be shallow at first and I could wide knee jump the waves, then it would get deeper and I’d have to swim, before hitting a sand bar and being able to stand up and jump again. What really happened was all the women decided they were going to wade out to their necks, then doggie paddle to the sandbar— that hindered my plan a bit because I couldn’t get around them until after the sandbar. Once I got beyond that, I started calmly swimming. It was a bit crowded at first and I had nowhere to go so it was a very slow start. Some girl next to me was having a complete meltdown so I decided to talk her through it since I couldn’t move any faster–that allowed me to stay calm before actually having to put any work in. Finally the field broke up, and for whatever reason–probably poor sighting on the lead swimmers part, the field took off to the right and I sighted the shortest path left to the next buoy.
I was still behind most people, but I didn’t want to go out too strong with such a far distance to cover. I focused on picking off the buoys one by one and finally got to the turn; everyone was out right so I got to cut close and just as I made the turn my cap fell off. I found it, stuck it back on, caught my breath and a glimpse of “control” written on my hand and re-focused. I turned and made my way across, I couldn’t see the shore or the other buoys yet so I sighted off a sailboat just ahead of me to the right–occasionally looking left to figure out when I could see the buoy–finally caught the top of it and headed towards it-made the turn towards shore and mentally took an assessment–legs weren’t kicking, arms weren’t tired, breathing wasn’t bad. I felt good but still had 950 meters left.
I picked off the rest of the buoys, elbowed a girl in the face pretty hard because she was trying to swim ON my back (Season told me not to be nice haha) then at the last buoy, with 125 meters left I decided to hammer it….two seconds later BOTH of my calves cramped up and I had to sit up in the water. I remembered Daniel Hudgins saying he tries to run through his cramps and they usually go away, so I flexed my feet, put my head down and plowed toward shore. They relaxed pretty fast, but the twinge would last all day. I swam over the sandbar and didn’t stand up until I knew the water was about thigh deep. I was walking faster than people were swimming around me so I started pulling my wetsuit off.
When I hit the sand I looked up at the clock and it said 44 min and some change. I was surprised and I remember thinking that the clock must have been wrong or that it restarted with each wave. I was so confused by my time that the woman behind me thought I couldn’t get my wetsuit unzipped (I paused with my hand on the string when I was trying to focus on the clock) and she kindly yanked the zipper down for me. There was no way I swam 1.2 miles in 44 minutes. Robbie later told me that my swim time was shocking, as in, no one expected me to come out of the water that fast, myself included. I walked the few hundred yards up the beach to the showers, ran through the showers and sat down on a bench to pull my suit off. I thought this was a better plan than trying to pull it off in transition and it paid off.
T1-
T1 was just about 4 minutes. I had to chug some cough syrup, spray some sun screen, and dry my feet off enough to get socks on. I decided not to risk the no-sock ride since it was probably going to rain and my feet would be drenched. I grabbed my helmet and sunglasses, slipped my bike off the rack, and made my way to the bike exit. My garmin was already set up for the 10 min interval alarm so I didn’t have to worry about starting it. The women that passed me while I was sitting on the bench calmly removing my wetsuit were still struggling as I rolled my bike out and on to the course. I rolled a couple yards past the bike mount sign, clipped in and I was off.
RIDE- SMART
Robbie told me I needed to ride smart, not hammer it, and basically survive. It was a fairly flat course with the exception of one bridge we had to cross twice, but I also knew it would most likely start raining at some point. Nutrition was going to be a HUGE component for me, so I needed to focus on taking in Gatorade or water every 10 min and nutrition every 30. Jim set my Garmin up to alarm in 10 min intervals, so all I had to focus on was spinning my legs and hearing the alarm. That worked beautifully.
The day before Season told me not to worry or get upset by the amount of people passing me on the bike. She told me that there were a TON of much faster, much more experienced athletes that would be coming up fast behind me and that if I just followed Robbie’s plan I would pass a lot of them on the run. These words turned out to be invaluable to me during the 56 mile ride.
Once I hit the highway, which comprised the majority of the ride, I watched the road ahead of me; it wasn’t smooth and the cones were not in a straight line so if you took your eyes off them for one minute you risked hitting one. My biggest stressor was the fact that other racers did not respect the “on your left” etiquette when passing. I spent a lot of time in aero, more time than ever before and felt comfortable; the next thing I knew I was half way through the ride and feeling great.
Up to this point, Robbie had caught up to me around mile 5, I saw Carrie and Mike on the first and second out and back and finally saw Jim around mile 38. It was so calming to have familiar faces on the course. I clearly was wearing a “newbie” sign somewhere on my back because it seemed like every experienced cyclist that passed me had some encouraging words or tips; I thanked each person for their offerings.
This was the first long ride that I didn’t have any negative thoughts or “get it together Allison and get through this” moments. When I hit mile 40 I stopped wanting my food, but kept drinking fairly regularly and right about the 45 mile mark it started POURING. It was sprinkling before, but this was full on downpour. I slowed down a bit knowing that it was notoriously windy the last 10 miles and I didn’t want to crash on the wet roads. I witnessed several crashes, falls, and many a racer that had clearly taken a spill based on the road rash flying by me. I had to come to a complete stop with about 5 miles left in the ride because a pickup truck decided to back out in my path, unfortunately the jerk riding behind me didn’t head my “I’m slowing” signal, sped around me, started yelling about not slowing or stopping during a race and promptly rode right in to the side of the truck—so sorry sir, you should’ve listened.
I got back in the groove, finished out the last 5 quite cautiously and couldn’t believe I was 2/3 of the way through the race. My time took a hit for riding smart, I finished at 3:40, but my legs would thank me later.
T2
T2 took a bit longer than I wanted because the girl on the opposite side of the bike rack decided to rack her bike DIRECTLY ON TOP of my transition stuff, with her back tire resting squarely on my running shoes. She jammed her aero bars on top of the rack leaving it impossible for me to unwedge my shoes so I had no choice but to flip her bike up and grab by shoes (please note, its illegal and grounds for immediate disqualification for touching another athletes equipment. Had an official noticed any part of this, both her bike placement and my subsequent flipping, we both would’ve been out) I finally got my shoes on as a kind volunteer was picking up that girls bike from the ground on the other side of the rack, grabbed my race belt, visor and some nutrition which were all linked together and took off running, putting it all on as I tore to the opposite side of transition. About halfway to the exit I remembered that my garmin was still strapped to my bike. Robbie told me to leave it there, but the control freak in me just couldn’t let it go. I made a turn and snagged it off the bike, picked up speed and headed out to run. Just about 2:30.
RUN-FAST
Run fast, that’s what I was supposed to do. I had NO guidelines pace wise, just to listen to my body. I blew out of transition too fast, about a 8 min mile now that I’ve gone back to look at the splits, but I ended up catching up to an older super talkative guy. He asked me my plan, I said run fast and he said that he was planning on run/walking the entire race. I was only going to hang with him till I caught my breath and slowed down, but then he said he could complete the entire half on that plan in 2:06. I made the decision to stick with him as long as I could.
Even though my legs felt great, I was still worried about my calves cramping again and wasn’t sure how the 13.1 miles would play out for me. I saw Robbie on the second mile, of course in the midst of our first walk break, and I knew he wasn’t happy with me. I needed to stick with this guy and come out with a quick-ish half otherwise I’d never hear the end of it from coach. My buddy talked a lot and I blocked him out a lot but he stuck to the 5 min run hard, 1 min walk brisk and what seemed like 5 minutes later I heard him say we were approaching the 7 mile mark. My only thought was “well hell that went by fast…I’ve got this”.
Once I focused, I realized I hadn’t taken any liquid or nutrition yet and remembered Meg Willoughby telling me to drink the coke if it was offered. I snagged one at the next water stop and it settled well- I was feeling 
great. My hands were sore from gripping my bike in the rain, so I was grabbing the cold sponges, one for each hand, and holding on to them so I didn’t clinch down too hard. The miles ticked away and then we hit 12. Buddy (I don’t remember his name) said he was going to skip the last walk break and hammer it the last 1.1–I told him to go for it…I wasn’t going to walk either; I knew I couldn’t keep up with him but I would run as fast as I could. I sailed in to the finish, saw my sweet friend Lisa and her yellow lab cheering for me and caught a glimpse of the race clock. I thought it said 6:44 something. I WAS ECSTATIC. I had finished under 6:45!!!! All in all I finished my first 70.3 roughly 45-75 min faster than my estimate and 17 minutes faster than Robbie’s guess. I FELT AMAZING! I couldn’t believe it was over so fast or that I felt as great as I did when it was over.
* Wasky eventually became +2