KONA KORNER

This year, the 34th year of the Ironman World Championships in Kona celebrated roughly 1,88 athletes calling upon all their strength and determination to complete the demanding 140.6 mile journey that would test their absolute limits in every respect. Although making it to the big island is a vivid, heartfelt dream for droves of dedicated triathletes, for many it is bound to remain elusive. Huge thanks to Owen, Eric, and Gail, for letting us share in their incredible experiences! Be sure to make some time to read their reports. Congrats, guys, on the stellar performances!!

From Owen: http://rockskier.blogspot.com/2011/10/ironman-world-champs-2011.html

From Eric: http://erickenney.blogspot.com/2011/10/ironman-world-championships-kona-hi.html#links

From Gail:

Hawaii Ironman Race Report by Gail Matherly

I awoke at 3:40am, beating the alarm by five minutes and ending an ear plug-aided,  restful night’s sleep.   I drank a cup of Kona coffee, ate a couple of packets of maple and brown sugar oatmeal mixed with hot tap water from the sink, and drank two Vanilla Ensures.  I felt full, and my stomach felt slightly queasy, but I knew that I would be feeling hungry again before the race start and would need those calories later in the day.  At Ironman Canada, just six weeks prior, I only ate one packet of oatmeal with two Ensures, and I felt like I was starving before the race start.  Next on the checklist was sunscreen.  I applied water-resistant sport sunscreen everywhere except for the arms, which volunteers at packet pick-up firmly told me NOT to cover with sunscreen because it would cause the race numbers to smear.   With a bit of luck, at least a thin remnant of sunscreen would stay on my skin after the swim, wouldn’t it?  If not, I planned to have more slathered on in T1.  Another 3/4 cup of coffee topped off breakfast as I gathered up my special needs bags for the bike and run, received hugs and good luck wishes from my two groggy boys and Roger, and walked across the street in the dark with a stream of other athletes to the King Kam Hotel to get body marked.  The energy in the atmosphere was high despite the early hour, and smiling volunteers were everywhere enthusiastically guiding athletes on the way to the transition area.

As the sun arose, I saw several familiar faces in and near the transition area, which made it seem somewhat like a local Boulder race, but the ocean swim and humidity were very un-Boulder like and intimidated me.  I passed time in the transition area by stretching the tightness out of my legs and chatting with the other athletes in close proximity.  I was happy to see Teresa Rider and her husband, “Joneser,” who provided me with some words of wisdom that proved to boost my attitude throughout the day.  He reminded me to enjoy the experience of just being in the race because it’s something that relatively few people ever get to experience.  He warned that some people get all caught up in the nuts and bolts of the race and forget to soak it all in.  I did not want to be one of those people.

I heard the pros start at 6:30, ate a Powerbar double latte gel, drank the last bit of water in my pre-race bottle, dropped off my pre-swim bag, carefully pulled on my speed suit over my tri shorts and top, and shuffled slowly with a massive herd of 1,800 athletes toward Dig Me Beach.   I wanted to start the swim on the far left to avoid the thrashing and pummeling that I had endured during the swim at Ironman Canada.  I climbed down the large steps into the water.   In the approach to my chosen start position over a couple hundred yards away  I got in a brief swim warm-up.  I arrived there with ten minutes to spare and found a kayak to hang onto, along with about ten other nervous athletes.  I mischievously wondered how difficult it would be to tip the kayak over.   It all felt like a dream.  The usual pre-race nervousness and adrenaline rush had been replaced by a feeling of calm with the understanding that this was likely going to be a very long day with plenty of time to make up for any mindless blunders.  I was ready for the day to unfold.  Finally the cannon fired, and we took off.  Even starting as far left as I could, athletes that lined up behind me were swimming over the top of me.  Thankfully, that only lasted for a minute or two, and then I settled into a rhythm following almost too close on the toes of people in front of me, sometimes inadvertently tapping their toes.   With each unintentional tap, I anticipated an angry kick in response, but it never came.  The anxiety I experienced on my one lonely “test swim” in the bay two days prior to race day was replaced with sheer focus to stay on those feet in front of me this day.  I was so focused on the feet, that I didn’t notice what was below me.  The kicking feet made the salt water fizz with bubbles, like a carbonated beverage.  Before the turn around I could feel the salt water burning where chafing had started under my arms and on the left side of my neck, and I hoped it wouldn’t be too much worse by the swim finish.  The deep marine blue of the water below was one of the most beautiful colors I have ever seen, and the gentle rocking of the ocean swells was analogous to swinging in a hammock.  I imagined if I stayed out there much longer, that gentle rocking would put me to sleep. It seemed an eternity until we reached the first turn buoy, but after the second turn buoy, I could see the King Kam Hotel and the pier in front of me, and I felt motivated to get there ASAP like a horse headed for the barn.  With a few hundred yards to go, I picked up the pace and started to pass a few people.  Perhaps I was feeling a little too fresh.  Before I knew it, I was climbing the steps up to the pier, pulling down the top half of my speed suit, noting the pathetically slow swim time of 1:27 displayed overhead, rinsing my head briefly under a hose, grabbing my transition bag, and running into the changing tent.

In the changing tent, one of the volunteers asked if I wanted sunscreen.  I replied, “Yes, please put it ALL OVER my back.”  She began to apply sunscreen to my back as I pulled my cycling shoes and knee straps out of my T1 bag.  I absent-mindedly put my shoes on and then realized that I needed to pull my speed suit off; took my shoes off, pulled my speed suit off, and then decided I’d be better off carrying my cycling shoes on the lengthy transition run up the pier and back to my bike.  During this process I was not paying attention to the sunscreen application, and I regretfully discovered much later that it was a bit spotty.  It was probably not the volunteer’s fault as she was dealing with a sopping wet, moving target.  Anyway, I was thrilled to arrive at my bike and finally to be strapping on my helmet, putting on my shoes, and running with my bike to the mount line… and then it hit me… I forgot to put sunscreen on my arms!  Rats!  Oh well, I wasn’t about to go all the way back to the changing tent against the flow of traffic to get sunscreen.  I would find some on the bike course.

I felt confident my bike would be in perfect working order, as Roger had meticulously and precisely adjusted and tightened everything when he rebuilt it after our arrival in Kona.  The only thing I was a little worried about was getting a flat.  Two days prior, I had gotten a flat on an easy ride out to the Queen K and had to take the rear wheel to Bike Works to have them glue on a new tubie.  The worry was for naught.  Fortunately, the Cervelo P3 did not disappoint.  Every shift, without exception, was spot on.  The tires remained rock solid.  The bike was perfect.

Moreover, I had met with my coach, Mark Van Akkeren, the evening before the race to get a detailed briefing on the course conditions and topography, and to review my target power output.  This was extremely helpful, as I felt like I knew exactly what to expect and merely executed the race as we had discussed.  The plan was simply to ride at an effort near my target average power, and to avoid any wild variations in watts on the climbs, descents, headwinds, and tailwinds.  The one exception was the climb up Palani, where Mark said just to get up it, to stand and gently rock the bike until I crested the top, and not to pay attention to the power meter during the climb. It was steep enough that staying near my target power on that climb would have resulted in nearly doing a track stand.  In Ironman Canada six weeks prior,  I had hit the wall with nine miles to go on the run.  To avoid a repeat of that situation, my target power was about 10 watts less than it was at Canada so that my stomach would allow me to consume more calories, and I would be saving more of my glycogen stores for the run.

I broke the rule about doing nothing new on race day, but quite honestly, long ride practice conditions in Boulder did not exactly warrant drinking the large volume of fluid or consuming the amount of electrolytes that the racing conditions in Hawaii required.   I had I decided to try to drink two bottles of Ironman Perform every hour instead of one, and to eliminate the one gel I was to consume with water each hour because the first one I ate coming out of T1 seemed to make my stomach queasy.  The two bottles of Ironman Perform provided 40 ounces of fluid, 350 calories, 1000 mg of sodium, and traces of other important electrolytes each hour of the ride.  It emptied from my stomach quickly, so I didn’t experience the bloating and nausea I had endured at Ironman Canada.  It was also readily available at every aid station on the bike course so I didn’t have to carry a bunch of bottles on my bike.  With this hydration/nutrition solution, I did not have to fiddle with salt pills either.  I love keeping it logistically simple, and this time it couldn’t have worked out better.

As I approached the first aid station on the Queen K, I yelled for sunscreen.  The volunteers pointed to the far end of the aid station.  I grabbed a bottle of Perform from one of them as I rolled by straining my eyes to see where I needed to go to get protection from the UV rays.  I shouted again for sunscreen as I neared the last half of the aid station.  One of the volunteers ahead waved for me to pull over and stop, and she quickly grabbed a bottle of sunscreen from a table and handed it to me.  I applied a thick layer to both of my arms and shoulders.  In hindsight, I wish I had thought to reapply it to my back and sides.  I jumped back on the saddle and, one by one, caught and passed those same familiar athletes I had caught and passed prior to my sunscreen pit stop.   Déjà vu.

The miles through the sun-baked, blackened lava fields ticked by easily with the recurring thought that this bike ride was simply a warm-up for the little run to follow.  Due to my relatively poor swim performance, I was continually passing athlete after athlete on the bike, working my way up through the field.  I laughed to myself as thoughts of my boys entered my mind.  Hunter and Weston love playing Halo video games and shooting Airsoft guns, and I imagined how this race would appear to them.  Each competitor materializing in the distance before me became a target viewed through the scope of a gun with crosshairs centered on his or her butt.  As I passed each target, I thought  “BANG!  Another one bites the dust.”   Akin to video game and Airsoft targets, they would often come back to life and pass me again on the uphills as I climbed with a steady effort near my average power goal.  Much to my surprise and delight, I discovered that my streamlined aero position provided the means to easily slip right by them again with the same steady effort soon after I crested the top.  Eventually, the folks hammering up the hills faded into the distance behind me, never to pass me on the bike again.

Coach Mark had warned me about the severe crosswinds on the several mile stretch to and from Hawi.  Per his instruction, I was studying the athletes in front of me and the grass on the sides of the road for clues to determine from which direction the gusts would attack me in the ensuing moments.  At least if I knew when to expect a gust, I could brace myself for it and try to relax in between those scary moments.  Occasionally, it seemed the wind was whipping my front wheel, a Zipp 808, from opposite directions multiple times per second.  The unpredictability of the gusts was somewhat unnerving.  The climb to Hawi was especially scary because I was moving so slowly that it felt like the wind would just rip the wheels right out from under me.  Thankfully, the speed and momentum carrying me back down from Hawi made the wind gusts far less of an issue.  Even so, I stayed in a low, tucked position on the bullhorns instead of the aero bars just in case I needed a little extra control.  I learned afterward that the winds were not as strong as usual and felt very thankful to be there this year.

The race strategy continued to play out the same all the way back to T2, with a very steady effort and continuing to pass more athletes, one by one by one.  My legs felt relatively fresh.  My stomach continued to absorb the fluids, electrolytes, and calories I gave it (I peed twice on the bike!). I was thankful to be hydrated during the final miles of the bike.  The sun bearing down combined with the lack of air movement on the short climbs created an environment that felt like an oven.  Finally, the ride was coming to an end, and I found myself too distracted to remember to get my feet out of my shoes as I neared T2.  I clicked my shoes out of my pedals, handed off my bike to one of the many helpful and much-appreciated volunteers, removed my cycling shoes from my feet, and carried them as I began to run.  The smooth, rhythmic rotation of the pedals was replaced with that familiar off-the-bike-awkward-shuffle toward the changing tent.  When I arrived at the opening into the tent, another volunteer quickly grabbed my cycling shoes and led me to a chair.  She emptied my transition bag at my feet, and the first thing I grabbed was Body Glide.  I applied several coats of it to the deep-red, burning, chafed areas under my arms, hurriedly gulped a cup of water,  donned my pre-Body-Glide-slicked socks and lighweight K-Swiss flats, and shuffled out to the run course.

Within a couple hundred yards my running legs joined me, and as I rounded the corner at our hotel, I saw my son, Hunter, up on the balcony outside our hotel room waving and cheering for me.  I waved wildly and shouted back at him with huge smile.  Roger later told me Hunter had waited out there for hours for me to come by.  Awwww… How sweet is that?!  Moments after I saw Hunter, I saw Roger standing in the crowd on the sidewalk cheering me on.  I was so pumped, but the memories of the nine-mile death march at Ironman Canada kept my pace in check.

Overall, the run was a fun and positive, yet challenging, experience.   The Body Glide successfully eased my painful chafing.  Much of the route along Ali’i Drive was shaded with trees and buildings blocking the sun’s hot rays.  The steep climb up Palani led to a longer gradual climb on the Queen K, where spotty cloud cover provided some minor relief from the heat.  With only a few miles before the turn to the energy lab, the clouds disappeared, and I wondered if I should adjust my pace to keep from overheating, but the sun was getting lower in the sky and didn’t feel as hot.   I saw quite a few familiar Boulder faces out on the course,  Simon Butterworth, Eric Kenney, Teresa Rider, Barry Siff, and Lynnda Best-Wiss.  I also had the chance to briefly chat with lots of other new acquaintances, but it seemed the farther we got into the run, the fewer words were said.  The volunteers and spectators on the course were cheering on the athletes by name.  I smiled and enthusiastically thanked them as I ran by.  The effort on the run was very much like the effort on the bike, smooth and steady.

I wore a Garmin, which didn’t really help with moment-by-moment or mile-by-mile pacing due to the speed fluctuations with the varying grades.  The average pace and total run time displaying on the Garmin was also incorrect because it included a very slow and easy hourish-long run from the previous week.   Rats! I had fogotton to reset it prior to the race start.   Oh well.  I continued on with a steady perceived exertion that I felt would allow me to continue to ingest calories and save a little energy for the final miles.

I continued to learn what my stomach would tolerate as I went through the aid stations.  I walked briskly through them all so that I was certain to get all the calories and fluids my body needed, but that is the only time I walked.  I always grabbed ice and dumped it in my top, shorts, and hat.  That kept me cool enough that overheating never felt like an issue.  The volunteers often laughed when I dumped ice into my shorts.  Why? Doesn’t everybody do that during hot races?  It works!  The nutrition was a little trickier to figure out.  At first, I would try to eat an entire gel and wash it down with water, but then, I could only tolerate water for the next couple of aid stations because I was burping up gel and feared that putting more sugar in my stomach would shut it down.  Then I tried alternating water  and Ironman Perform at every other aid station.  That approach played nice with my tummy, but I was concerned I might not be getting enough calories for the long haul.  Subsequently, I alternated cups of water, Coke, and Ironman Perform, with an occasional squeeze of gel, depending on what my instincts and my tummy were telling me.  By the last few miles I found that just grabbing a single gulp of water, a gulp of Perform, and a glup of Coke at each aid station worked best, sometimes including just a tiny bit of gel and washing it down with a sip of water.  With this approach, I didn’t have to slow down as much because I didn’t have to drink an entire sloshing cup of fluid, and I seemed to get a little of everything my body wanted without upsetting the tummy.

Coach Mark was out on the run course in several different places cheering for all of his Kona athletes and his other friends.  I would just be running along, intently focused on putting one foot in front of the other to catch the athletes ahead of me, and then I would hear Mark’s enthusiastic voice cheering, “GAIL!!! GOOOOO GAIL!!! You look like you’re moving well.  Keep it up!  Keep eating!  Keep drinking!”  I would shout back with a big smile or a thumbs up, “The wheels aren’t falling off yet!” or “Woooohoooo! I’m still feeling great!”  or “It’s getting tougher!”  The encouragement from my coach, who knew exactly how much effort I had poured into this, enabled me to dig a little deeper and summon energy I didn’t know I had.

As I neared the left turn to the energy lab my quads started to hurt.  The feeling was like the onset of that deep muscle pain that penetrated every battered fiber within my quads at Ironman Canada, and which left me unable to walk unassisted  after the finish there.  This time the pain was milder, but seemed to grow more intense with each foot strike down the hill to the energy lab.  Despite that, I was in awe of participating in THIS race, THE race in which triathlon history was and is made, the one I had seen on TV many times, the one for which I qualified at a shorter event seventeen years ago but never entered because I thought it was way too insanely long.  Thoughts of past Hawaii Ironman races I had viewed on TV played through my head.  The energy lab section of the run was not at all what I had expected.  By the time I arrived there, the sun was getting lower in the sky, and the strong breeze blowing against me as I ran down toward the ocean actually felt somewhat refreshing.  I longed for the climb back up to the Queen K to minimize the pounding on my legs.  Shortly after the energy lab turn around, I stopped briefly to retrieve 200mg of ibuprofen out of my special needs bag and swallowed it with an entire cup of water, hoping it would take the edge off the pain.  Sure enough, within a couple of miles, my legs were feeling much better.

Around the 20 mile mark, it seemed that many more people in front of me were walking or slowing down.  I drew energy from this as I passed them one by one, and started to push the pace just a little bit more.  It seemed the miles and the aid stations were rolling by quickly.  When I finally reached the downhill at Palani, I saw a woman in front of me who appeared to be about my age.  I ran past her as fast as my legs would carry me down the hill, determined to discourage any lingering hope she might have of beating me.  I maintained some good speed through the left turn at the bottom of the hill onto Kuakini Highway.  That last mile seemed sooooooooooo long!  Where is the right turn to Ali’i?!  I can’t see anyone in front of me.  This is too far.  Did I miss the turn?  Crazy thoughts.  I think I was delirious.  Finally, I was relieved to see the cones guiding me through the right turn that would lead me to the long-awaited Ali’i Drive. Moments later, I was on the home stretch,  high-fiving a few of the kids and spectators who were yelling my name, but keeping my speed up so no one would pass me.  I could see the finish, and then I heard Mike Reilly bellow those awesome words, “Gail Matherly, you are an Ironman!”  Rog and the boys were at the finish line cheering for me, but unfortunately, I didn’t hear or see them in the excitement of the moment.  I raised my arms in triumph as I crossed the line in 10 hours 14 minutes and change.  I felt great!  What an incredible contrast this was to the way I felt at the end of Ironman Canada where I threw up multiple times and collapsed at the finish line.  This time, I was able to walk on my own.  I didn’t need the medical tent.  I was hungry.  I wanted pizza, but they had run out so I grabbed a cup of vanilla ice cream and wolfed it down.  Then, I gulped down some chicken broth.  I picked up my finisher’s medal, t-shirt, transition bags, and bike, and hauled it all back up to the hotel room, which was only a block away.  Rog, the kiddos, and a warm shower were waiting for me there.  What an incredibly wonderful, awesome day!

Over the Edge – a big day out by Andy Tuthill

So you can swim, bike, and run.  Triathlons are your domain and race venues tremble at the mention of your name.  If variety is truly the spice of life then why not apply those skills to something similar for a new and exciting experience?  I did just that and managed to make some great friends along the way.  September 17^th was the Over the Edge adventure race in Golden Gate state park near Golden.  I had formed a team with fellow BTC’ers Ian Sprod and Lauren Greenfield who both volunteered to join me on what would prove to be a totally amazing day out.

                Adventure racing is most similar to an Xterra tri but every race is slightly different.  This one involved mountain biking, trail running, orienteering, kayaking, and rappelling.  The entire course required the teams to be able to navigate between check points because the course wasn’t marked and it wasn’t even revealed to us until we checked in for the race that morning!  To add to the mental aspect each check point was assigned a time penalty if it was missed so with a time limit the team had to strategize how to collect them most efficiently and later, as the deadline loomed, decide which ones were even within reach.  Racers are required to carry some items like emergency supplies and bike parts but we also had to carry running shoes on the backpacks for the ropes and orienteering sections.  Combined with water and food we were carrying from 5 to 7 pound packs everywhere.  The only restrictions were that we had to stay on the trails and couldn’t use any roads, but given there was only 1 trail to use finding our way on the main course wasn’t too hard.  We found that planning our race as we ran it gave the race a mental dimension that tri’s will never have with their rigid course definitions. 

                The morning was chilly and almost overcast as we set up our transition area.  After the race briefing we lined up on the bikes and started our climb up the trails.  The first stop was the orienteering leg held in a small valley.  Every team had a laminated sheet called a passport with a box to be punched at each checkpoint.  We charged off on foot and collected all of the points on the map but found that on returning to the start/finish point the staff had missed our check in and Alpine Search and Rescue was getting ready to start patrolling the course to find us.  We managed to cancel the alert easily enough and switched back to the bikes to ride to the ropes in the next valley.  Climbing from the bike drop to the cliff where the ropes were set was its own challenge because of the 400’ scramble up the boulder field.  At the top Ian volunteered to do the rope ascension challenge but we all had to do the 4 storey rappel.  I know for me at least the first steps are always the hardest when you’re about to walk off a cliff, ropes or not.  Back on the bikes and much more level ground we worked hard to get around the course back to transition for the kayak stage.  Lauren volunteered to paddle while Ian and I strategized on the run course check points and their values against the time we had remaining.  She blew through the flat water course and we were soon back to running thankful we could drop many of the extras we’d needed to carry earlier.  Now we only needed the required emergency stuff and enough food and water for the last 90 minutes of trail running.  A 3 pound pack felt so much better!  A few hills and a rain shower later we had collected several check points including the 3 highest valued ones and were returning toward the start where most of the points were clustered on the top of the ridge.  We decided we were getting very short on time before we reached the top and turned back down to head to the finish line.  Our team crossed the finish line cheered on by many of the other teams, the volunteers, and a relieved Alpine Rescue with only a few minutes to spare on the 9 hour deadline.  It’s just as well we only signed up for a sprint distance course!  Yes, this was considered a short one, and we were all pretty tired from a demanding day out.  By comparison a half ironman was very similar in overall demands for fitness and endurance training.  I think my team seemed to be in better shape than I was at the finish but the supplied dinner during the awards and spot prize draws helped me to feel human again for the drive home. 

                In the end we accomplished all of our goals.  We had a blast, nobody had any injuries that required more than a band-aid, no equipment was lost or damaged, and we weren’t last in the standings.  2 teams finished after us really pushing the time limit and some others didn’t collect nearly as many check points so were heavily penalized with extra time.  By hanging in and using a typical triathlete’s attitude of ‘go the distance’ we finished with a respectable score.  For a team that had never met before deciding to do the race and never trained together we felt those were achievable goals and it just whet our appetites for next time.  This was a text book team exercise with each of us bringing a different talent to the team and using our tri fitness to conquer the course together.  We’re now a pretty good group of friends and are looking forward to more adventure races next year.  Not bad for a day’s work.

 Hy-Vee 5150 US Championship 2011: My exciting first race as an elite amateur by Steven Zawaski

Friday morning. I got out voted in my car pool to leave early. I intended to get up and train at 5:30 but after a week of little sleep that just didn’t happen. I passed out in the back seat of the car with my bike as a pillow for most of the trip. It was supposed to take eleven hours, but former bike track racer Deanna Hoover got us there in ten. Our other companion was music teacher, pilot, and running enthusiast Loraine Green.

Registration day was less than stellar. The expo was quite lacking and the required info session was worthless. We got bike jerseys instead of shirts which were so big I had to get a small and I don’t even wear bike jerseys. Bike check-in was elsewhere and it was raining all day. We only found a half-mile of bike lane. However, Deanna and I saw the pro’s training with police escort. That evening I had my yummy pre-race meal at Panera Bread. I got myself ready with the TriTats and Mix 1 on my arms. I felt so cool with the “E” on my calf. My Facebook friend Joe Nicolini came in about 8:00PM that night and stayed with me. He turned out to be a cool guy.

Race morning 3:40AM or 2:40AM MST, freaking early! It was cold from the weather front last night and we were freezing. The water temperature dropped ten degrees overnight making it wetsuit legal and people scrambling back to the hotels to find their wetsuits. Others were out of luck. I always bring my Blue Seventy PZ3TX and Helix so I’m ready for anything. Some Red Bull and a PowerBar gell and I was ready to go.

Male Elite Amateurs were the first to start. Normally my age group starts near last, so this was going to be a very different race. I started well, drafting very close to the guys ahead and hitting their feet sometimes. I’m weaker at swimming so I just wanted to survive without embarrassing myself. The fast guys pulled ahead and I passed the slower guys. I was right in the middle alone for most of the rest of the swim. It wasn’t too bad especially with all that air being away from Boulder.

T1 was a 300m run around the bikes into transition. Whose bright idea was this? My second Olympic race, I got passed taking off my wetsuit and getting ready to bike.

Bike time, my favorite! There was nobody in sight ahead of me, time to move it! I caught one guy in a few miles. He passed me back once, but I got him again and he was done. The roads were wide open, a bunch of carpeted railroad tracks and annoying turns. The sun glare made it hard to see which way the next turn would go. Lactic Threshold was my limiting factor. I don’t think I could have broke VO2 if I wanted to with all this air.

There was a pack of three guys ahead I kept seeing on the out-and-backs. I kept gaining on them, especially on the uphill. I close in near mile twenty going around a U-turn. “They’re mine!” I said aloud. Sure enough I passed all three and not one could hang on to me. Next came a rather cracked up road and then the finish.

T2 I wasn’t thinking and forgot to take my feet out of my shoes early. I got passed again fumbling with my K-Swiss Blades.

I started the run with another PowerBar gel. I kept pace with the guy who passed me in transition. My legs began to turn over faster and faster and I caught up to the guy and passed him after two miles. I kept pushing the pace, still limited by lactic threshold. We made our way into downtown Des Moines via nice paved running paths. Running though the close streets was cool. The finish was coming up. I picked up the pace faster and faster. My legs were giving out going too far past LT, so I held back. The finish was up a hill and I plowed up and then over to the line.

What fun! The finish was so empty with only a few elite males finished. I got right into the massage table. While laying there I heard the announcer say my friend Christine Anderson just got passed right before the finish. She almost won that Mini Cooper! Deanna came in not too long afterwards. Loraine took another two hours, but she did well.

I got 17th so I beat 8 Elite Amateurs. I would have taken 2nd age group and won a $300 gift card. I was very happy, but still aware how much faster the other guys were and the work to come. We made the long trip back to Boulder that day and got in after 10:30PM. Next week, Without Limits Productions Harvest Moon half-ironman.

 Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim

A small group of BTCers and friends recently ran/hiked the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim, and it was one of he most painfully incredible journeys ever. Check out these links for the details.

From Wendy McMillan: http://www.fit-and-frugal.com/2011/10/18/rim-to-rim-to-rim-anticipation-to-euphoria-to-delirium-and-back/

From D3 Coach Dave Sheanin: http://sheanin.blogspot.com/2011/10/rim-to-rim-to-rim-complete-write-up.html