IMDSM Bike: Right Now

With the swim behind us, it was time to bike!  This was really it, guys. The "I Ching" of my Ironman experience.  The damned bike.  As many of you know, I have a really complicated relationship with my bike.  Unlike most triathletes, who ADORE the bike portion, it's always been a source of anxiety for me.  I'm not sure if it's tied to the fact that I never really rode bikes as a kid, am not that coordinated, or have some serious imposter syndrome when it comes to my ability as an athlete, but the bike has always cowed me.  

I have written ad nauseum about my bike struggles (a few giggles on my inner thoughts while riding and ridiculous prep time here).  Since last year, I have improved so much - I FINALLY learned to ride in aero and actually don't have a pit in the feeling of my stomach everytime its time to "mount up".  With that being said, there were fifteen years of anxiety behind me - and in my three Ironmans, I had never made it through the bike portion without a crash (twice in Lake Placid due to bottle launches) or a significant stop for food and drink (whats a bottle hand off?).  Of note, the last Ironman I did in Placid resulted in the fervent attempt to throw my bike away and never, ever, get back into sport again.  It was real.

As I've talked about many times, this didn't happen, thank God.  I met my first coach and one of my best friends who talked me over the horse, and a slew of other athletes that helped me get the hell over myself, along with a TON of physical and mental work that's helped me in the past four years to actually become somewhat of a cyclist (stop laughing, people).  Still.  This was it.  The last 140.6 left me terrified on the bike and the biggest desire ever to just never...again.  I knew, in my heart, this would not be rectified without another go at Ironman.  The time was now.  Right Now.  Time to turn this thing around, as Van Halen would say.

With that knowledge in mind, I ran the half mile to T1 and got ready to do the thing!  I grabbed my bike bag, changed out, lubed up, and grabbed my bike, running the additional quarter mile to the mount line (this was the longest T1 ever known to man, logging in at .72 miles, and I accomplished it in 9 minutes with the switch out of gear and turning on electronics, which was a HUGE win!

Bike: 6:01 (18.75 mph)

My goal for the bike split was 6 hours, with a super secret goal being a 5:59.  My previous

best at the distance was a 6:26 on the butt flat of Cambridge, Maryland.  This course was billed as "rolling" with 4400 feet elevation gain.  During our preview of the course, and riding it on Rouvy (virtually), Ken and I noticed that the first 60 miles was rolling uphill, with a few serious punches, and moreso downhill on the second half, with a few kickers at mile 82 and mile 98.  The direction of the wind and intensity would play a huge factor, as it was wide open to wind and would affect major portions of the course, with its box like nature (that's what she said) - you were pretty much going in one direction for a really long period of time.  The forecast called for such that the tailwind would be in our favor in the beginning, which was both a blessing and a curse - more tailwind while climbing, but more headwind while tired.  

The motto being - it is what it is - lets go get it done!  I mounted my bike and zoomed outta T1 with a big grin on my face - the first five miles or so were pretty flat and in a secluded area with no cars (the course was mostly open to traffic, which was a bone of contention, but again, what could you do about it - nothing).  I expected to fly for the first five miles or so and was averaging about 19.5, but I made the quick decision to go based off of feel as - you guessed it - my power meter was on the futz.  This thing is the most finicky PM on the planet - I had had issues with it for the past week, and trying to be good, put in a new battery (Duracell!) and recalibrated it, no dice.  I was averaging 32 watts while climbing and 332 while going flat, which, if you know, is complete bullshit.  My FTP is 215 and I was hoping to average about 155NP for the course, but I quickly realized my PM was only for decoration (apparently I hit 11,000 watts at one point in the course, which might mean I was climbing Everest and also was Blu, but whatevs).  Ahem.  That aside meant little if you aren't a triathlete, so lets just go with I had to listen to my body and had the bike time, average speed and current speed at my disposal.  Again, we roll with it.

The first forty miles of the bike were a total party.  I leap frogged with a bunch of people, including a girl with a kiss print on the butt of her tri kit (I jokingly asked if she was telling me to kiss her ass - she smiled but was a little bit serious, and we had some major foreshadowing there), a bunch of super friendly Iowans (Iowa nice is a thing!) and a guy in a Wattie kit.  I was feeling amazing - fueling well, drinking water, and at mile 40 I hit a new racing win and managed my first bottle hand off ever - I was rocking a between the bars aero water set up and managed to take a bottle, pour it in to my bottle one handed, and fling it within the trash drop area all within 30 seconds WHILE riding.  Holy shit, I'm a beast!!  At that point in time I was riding with "Iowa" (I have such great names for these people) and we celebrated my victory that any normal triathlete should know how to do perfectly well was momentous!  

I was having SUCH a good time, you guys.  I stretched out in aero for most of the ride, sat up for the bigger climbs, took in the scenery, and burned no matches.  I was having such a wonderful day, and remembered WHY I loved this sport so damned much.  At mile 50, we entered Madison County (yes, of the famed "Bridges of Madison County") and here we encountered a few "punch you in the face" climbs, the beautiful smell of cows (blech) and a little rainstorm!  Apparently, the fun had actually begun.  Miles 55-70 were a bit low for me, I got grumpy and worked through it with some solid food (some bar with caffeine in it that tasted like hell but worked).  The wind turned into a crosswind then a headwind, so I tucked in and spun out.  I hit mile 56 at 2:59 and felt like the pace was manageable, and continued spinning at a comfortable pace.

At about mile 70 I felt much better (another successful bottle hand off and a wonderful hit of salt with a slim Jim) and was starting to enjoy life again! This lasted until the sun came out full force and I also realized that while my new (as of this year) bike saddle was super comfy for up to 4 hours outside was um....no longer comfy.  To walk a fine line of TMI, the nose was far too long and my sensitive parts were not happy with life.  I found a decent position but had to stand and stretch every once in awhile, and the road bumps were...less than kind.  

At mile 82, there was a friggin mountain to climb.  I had enough energy in the tank to spin up that beast, but I saw a few bikers walking it and felt bad for them.  I was in the midst of congratulating my controlled effort (never, ever congratulate decisions made 6 hours into an Ironman) when I realized that I was almost out of water.  Shit.  There was an aid station at the bottom of the hill, but in the 90 degree heat I had thrown water over my head and not into my bottle.  Shit. 

I knew there was another aid station at mile 92, and luckily, I still had Gatorade Endurance,

though it was warm as hell.  I got a little silly here, guys.  It was in the low 90s and I was running low on everything but my mental game.  My mind began to wander, and as I passed a farm at mile 86 advertising Baby Goat petting, along with two "kids" out front bleating at me, I started giggling and thinking about goat-speak.  That made a quick turn to thinking about those golden retriever videos where they show the goldens talking in silly words like "what the floof is this?" and I kept thinking to myself "Need some heckin' water" or, "we don't need no straw-boozle gels", or "what the floof is up with this heat?"  Despite my obvious lack of sanity, this was hilarious to me and I kept the internal monologue up well past mile 92, where I finally got some water-dizzles.  (For those of you slightly concerned, I was too.  Thank god Ironman didn't know what I was thinking or they might have pulled me off the course and into a loony bin).  

At mile 98, we hit the beef prim segment, where there was a 5 mile TT to see who could race the segment fastest to win a beef package.  (That's what she said).  As we hit the timing mats the guy behind me yelled out "I want me some steak!" and I burst out laughing again.  Everything was funny again, despite the heat and my battered crotch.  Fourteen miles to go!!  (I did not win this segment in case you were curious, but did manage to hit 6th in my age group for the bike, which is a giant win!)

The last half hour of the bike was uneventful, save for the fact that I ran out of water again at mile 107 (I later found out it was already in the mid nineties) and that railroad tracks are horrible things after being on a bike for 6 hours.  I kept an eye on my bike computer and was hoping to squeak in at 5:59, but once we got into the park and had to dodge kids on bicycles (I'm all for open roads but the walkers and kids out were paying no attention and we literally had to dodge them), I knew a sub 6 wasn't gonna happen.  However, my second half of the bike was a 3:02, which is a pretty darn even split for 112 miles, so I was really happy with my decision making and energy expenditure!

 I dismounted at T2, ran my bike into transition, handed it to a volunteer and told them I would appreciate them baby sitting my sweet child for a few hours.  I still, after six hours, loved my bike.  It was a fantastic, amazing 112 mile journey through Iowa, and I was BACK, baby!

Now, it was time do DO THINGS!  7:30 into the race, and we were on to my favorite part - THE RUN!