Stay in the Moment: October 2014

On September 28 I competed in my 2^nd Ironman. The Inaugural Ironman Chattanooga. It was quite a weekend, but as with every epic journey like this, it honestly was the process of getting there in which I learned the most. The race was, truly, just the icing on the cake. And the crazy thing is, I don’t really remember much of it! So different from the first one. I started writing this blog the week after the race, and it has taken me this long to finish it. In part due to travel and other similar things, but also in part because it’s taken me a while to really absorb the experience. I’m sure I still haven’t fully.

I originally had a finish goal of a sub 11 race, hoping for a 1 hour PR (Canada was 11:54). With the course’s late addition of the extra 4 miles on the bike, I honestly did not think that was going to be very realistic. It was going to take, literally, everything falling perfectly into place, which is ultimately the holy grail of every triathlete (to have everything fall into place at the right moment), to even make 11 hours. Here’s how this one played out.

Pre-race

I decided to give myself lots of time to get settled, so I showed up on Thursday. My Mum and sister, Leona, drove down from Ontario and Michigan and arrived Thursday as well. We had a nice dinner, that actually turned out to be not so nice as we all felt kinda blech after, and then I drove them around the bike course so they could see it. It truly is beautiful, and they wouldn’t obviously be seeing it during the race. Leona, joker that she is, asked ‘ok, so you’re still on the bike?’ about every ½ mile for the first 10 minutes. Probably one of the funniest things all weekend, though, we were about mile 40ish, about ¾ of the way through the loop, which we in fact would ride twice, and she says “You’re not still on the bike though, right? Where does the run start?” I laughed and said, ya, we haven’t even finished the first loop, and then we have to do it again, and THEN we do the run – back where we started this drive. She just looks at me and says “Are you - fucking – kidding - me?” And not in that incredulous way in which you probably just read that statement. Try it again and say it with real anger and contempt. Yep. That’s more like it. Hilarious. I go, uh… nope. “You need to have your head examined” she said. Yes, yes indeed!! I’ll proudly own that one!

As for how I was feeling, it was better and better each day. Taper was coming around as it should. Thursday I swam after getting to Choo, at the local Y. Lo and behold, with the last 100 in the set, I achieved my long-pursued goal of getting under 1’30. And I wasn’t even going all out! That felt pretty awesome…and Nice Timing!! I also gave a quick test of the wetsuit, as well as jumping in and just going, which we would have to do race morning, and which kinda freaked me out a bit. All was good, and I don’t know why I was worried about it. Friday was all good, and I was getting pretty psyched. Got all checked in, started running into more and more teammates and friends, and generally just felt good and strong. I wasn’t sleeping all that well though, with only about 5 hrs of sleep each night. And Friday night I just simply couldn’t eat. I actually texted Coach and asked if it would be ‘really bad if I didn’t eat tonight’. He said not to force it. Saturday morning I had a good pre-race workout, ate some brekkie, checked in the bike, and then had a really great lunch at Maple Street. Yep, took a little Maple Syrup to get this Canuck feeling better. The best sweet potato fries ever didn’t hurt either. And a good simple dinner on Saturday night topped it off. I was in bed by 8:30 but honestly I didn’t sleep till 11ish. <sigh>.

Race Morning

This will likely surprise some of you, but I still haven’t figured out the right race morning breakfast. This is something I will make it my mission to sort out for next year. I did get some calories down, but I know not enough. Starbucks, however, went down very well, GOD LOVE STARBUCKS for opening at 2:30 am for us!!... and for the first time EVER on race morning my body cooperated beautifully as I got ready to leave the room.

Linda, Tanya, and Joan were my wonderful race morning chauffeurs. I’d been debating in the days before whether to line up early to be near the front, or get there later and not worry about it. We (read: Coach) decided we’d go early and just get on with it. We picked up Thomas (TO) on the way, and got into transition. So happy to get marked by my buddy Jim in his awesome train engineer outfit. Transition setup was quick, as it is in IM where there isn’t anything to really set up…drop off nutrition, make final additions to the transition bags, and head to the swim start…done! Thanks to our great Dynamo sherpas we didn’t have to take the bus the 2.4 miles down the river. TO and I were there pretty early, and we found a spot under a tree where we waited. Eventually they started to collapse the line, getting us crammed up as tight as they could make it. TO’s plan, which was to simply weave in as the line started moving, was spot on and we fit in with a friend of his. Saw Coach, along with Brent, Kathryn and Shanks. Was very glad to be hanging with TO at this race start, he was definitely The Man at this pre-race line waiting, and we ended up starting together. Also, managed to learn a new trick from him – goggles on first and then the cap. Definitely a keeper.

The Swim

TO was totally right. Once that line started moving, it went FAST. We were really quite near the front, and I’m telling you, as he told me, you need to be all ready to go, because once it starts, you are there before you know it. Although there were supposed to be 2 lines, really people were just running onto the dock and jumping in at multiple points. We went to the far end of the dock, as planned with Coach, jumped in, and we were off. It was a non-wetsuit swim, so I was wearing my Roka Swimskin for the first time ever. My goal was to go hard the whole way. Hard enough to question the intensity. “You have the fitness to do this”. The thing is, with the downriver swim, I never ever felt like I was working hard. I was trying, and kept trying to pick up the intensity, but it was very hard to do that. I’d like to think that part of that was due to my fitness, and all the 4K-Fridays. I could actually feel the current pushing me, especially when I managed to get into a long and smooth gliding stroke. The course itself was a bit odd as it snaked it’s way along the river, and at times it seemed that swimming the buoys would actually give a longer swim. I don’t know that they were in an actual straight line. Of course it could have been me swimming off course, as I’m known to do. But literally I swam under one buoy (yep, turned my head to breathe, and couldn’t!), and then almost immediately they were way off to the left. We simply had to keep them on our left, and so I just kept sighting the ones farther up and swimming straight for those, ignoring the ones that appeared to be off course or long. The time went fast, and by far it was the best race swim I’ve ever been in, including all distances from sprint to full. There was almost no contact, and I was able to swim right from the get go. SO different from Canada, a difference so vast they really can’t be compared. I even managed to find a few moments of drafting that lasted more than a few strokes. Coming out of the water, the crowd was just phenomenal, and that was to continue for the rest of the day. Seeing all those people right there, 10+ deep, cheering for us, was just so freaking great! Heard lots of “Go Dynamo!” and saw a few friendly faces in the crowd. Out of the water in an astonishing 56:51. 26^th AG. Actually not too shabby for me, putting me in the top 22%. I’d planned on a 1:05, hoping for a 58’ or 59. For the record, the release rate was 12k at the time of the race.

T1
I ran pretty quickly into the tent, despite the nasty little uphill that greeted us out of the water, and started getting my stuff together. Unfortunately, I didn’t actually have anyone help me. I don’t know if I just ran too far down into the tent, because there was almost no other athletes in there yet, but I was on my own till almost the end. I struggled to get my hair through the back of my helmet. Gonna have to look at that and figure it out better for next time. I usually braid my hair so I don’t have to worry about that, and this time I didn’t. Unfortunately my T1 time was SLOW. Very unusual for me, as I pride myself on being in the very top of transition times. And at the end of the day, this actually cost me a spot. For real! That’s the first time that has ever happened to me. I’ve always said not to shirk off transitions, and now here the proof is in the pudding. T1: 5’17.

The Bike

I was out on the bike course in just over 1 hour, and was just ecstatic about that. The course sets up as a lollipop course, with an 11 mile stick, a 47 mile loop done twice, and the 11 mile stick back home. Ya, this is the infamous 116 mile IM bike course. J As with any IM race, the first stretch was pretty crowded. And it was even moreso here, with a basically flat stretch out to the start of the loop. I did my best to ride my own race, and for the most part I was able to do that once we were a couple miles out. I did have one guy that was riding in the left with his buddy, and ignored my repeated shouts of ‘on the left’. I finally just went up and around him, almost having to cross the yellow line (Yes, I know this is a no-no) and I was like “dude! what the hell?” and took off. He caught me back up and was like “what the hell what? I was just having fun”. That’s great man, but get out of the left lane. I actually want to race my race. I mean, Seriously? If you’re at the back of the pack, hey, have at it. But don’t pull that shit up front.

Fairly soon into the loop you hit the first set of rollers. As is often the case, this helped to break up the athletes. My target power, 160W, was all that was on my mind. I’d been steadily climbing power-wise through the first 15 miles, and was about 155 by this point. I’m generally a steady cyclist, and very good at not overdoing the hills. I’m also one to be aggressive on the downhills. C’mon folks, the downhills are not the time to stop pedaling! Argh. My biggest frustration with most cyclists – they hammer up the hills and then coast down. (See Rule #93, and secondarily Rule #26. In fact, please read and familiarize yourself with all of the rules!). I was really expecting the course to be very crowded. And maybe it was later on, but for the most part, I did not have to deal with this. Certainly I was even more grateful to TO for getting us in the water early. For most of the first half of the loop, I rode either alone, or with a couple others - one girl and a couple of guys, whom I continually traded the lead with in their frustrating game of surge and coast. I’m fairly certain that I had one dude drafting off me for a very large portion of that road on the second loop. I also had officials with me for the first section of that first loop, up to Hog Jowl. More than I’ve ever seen actually at any race.

I didn’t run into much of a group really until we hit the only real “climb” on the course, just before the hairpin turn onto Hog Jowl (and I’d say it’s a stretch to call it a climb). After making the turn onto Hog Jowl I was able to lose many of them and really take advantage of the quick ups and long downs. Once I hit mile 45, things changed. I was swallowed up by a large group of men. It was clear that these were the faster male athletes who had simply been much further back in the swim line than me. It took a couple of miles to break away from them, meaning drop back enough to not be right in their midst. It was literally impossible to avoid drafting during these 2-3 miles. I literally would have had to get off the course. There was a lot of clear and blatant drafting going on, and I don’t mean the unavoidable stuff that happened to athletes like me who were casualties of these groupettos. Those were intentional groups riding together. I hit this again once I made my way to the start of the second loop, but that lasted only moments until we hit the rollers again. There were long stretches of truly being alone (at least out in front of me) on the back half of the loop.

My nutrition had been going okay. I was a little behind in calories, but felt I was doing well on hydration. I actually was able to pee on the bike about 90 minutes in, which is a miracle for me. Starting around a third of the way into the 2^nd loop I had to pee again, and just couldn’t. I think that caused me to slow down my intake, which would later come back to haunt me. (dunh..dunh..duuuunnh). And I couldn’t believe how fast the time and miles were passing. Unfortunately I was still at 155W. To the point where I started wondering if my power meter was working. I hadn’t wavered from that since the start of the first loop. I recall thinking around mile 70 that I wasn’t really feeling it yet, and Coach had said I ought to be feeling it by then. I knew I needed to push harder, and I tried, but I just wasn’t getting more out. I felt good, but I couldn’t seem to give more. Somewhere around mile 90 I had a little bit of a bonk. I quickly took in some calories, and tried to drink a ton, and although it helped, and I was able to eventually recover and bounce back, it did cost me and my normalized power dropped to 154, never coming back up. By the time I got to Chickamauga, I felt pretty normal again. I have to say that going through this town the 2^nd time was definitely one of the highlights of the race. I was literally by myself. There was no cyclist in front of me within my sight, and I actually did look back to see if anyone was behind me, and there was no one. The ENTIRE TOWN, and I don’t mean an aid station’s worth, I mean a line of people several deep, and at least 3 football fields long, absolutely erupted in cheers for me as I rode through. It was literally one of the most awesome experiences I’ve ever had in a race. Actually even outside of a race! I was just like ‘You guys are AWESOME!!’. Even thinking about it now, I get goosebumps. You can actually see my heart race increase in my file. I was able to put out so much more feeding off their energy. It was an absolutely humbling and inspiring experience.

I made my way through the rest of that loop, climbing out of Chickamauga mostly alone, and not even with the opportunity for any legal drafting at that point. I rode through that last aid station and dropped all but one of my bottles, knowing there was only 11 miles left to go. About a mile and a half into the stick, I was joined by this massive group. I cannot even imagine where they all came from, it was so sudden, and so big. There were at least 20-30 people riding together. It was impossible to get out of. And to be quite honest, it did not help me, it truly hindered me. I tried to get away from them. All I could think was ‘no way in hell am I getting a penalty with 5 miles to go’. I literally passed dudes twice my size, and I passed ALL of them trying to stay legal, and pulled out in front. But the first hill that came along, they caught me, only to slow down again on the downhill; and so I went again. And the last few miles into town were actually a little scary with the amount of cyclists. My total normalized power dropped even further, along with my speed, and I got no benefit from any of that. I coasted so much of that last 5 miles, it really pissed me off. I’ve looked at the data, and tried to determine if I really got much advantage out of the few miles where I couldn’t avoid drafting, and I really don’t think I did. I compare the course ride we did at camp, where I put out 147W and 18.6 mph. Given that was at the end of a major training block, in temps much warmer, and in a fatigued state, and comparing that to 155W and 20.2 mph it seems actually quite comparable. I think this is generally just a fast course, both given the road conditions and the way the terrain sets up. I had my fastest century EVER on this course during that camp, and that included the first loop at ‘warmup scenery gazing’ pace. I feel that the comparison is legitimate, and that actually I was hindered more than helped by the groups that I encountered. (although I definitely do not think that was true for everyone, ie the actual groups themselves which seemed to be moving around the whole course together).

I came to the end, and truly don’t know how it passed as quickly as it did. I never felt like it was a long ride, and sure didn’t feel like it was a longer ride with the extra 4 miles they’d tacked on. And I absolutely lapped my garmin at the 112 mile mark, which was 5:29 into the ride. Total time for the full bike was 5:40’17.

I ran quickly through T2, and didn’t waste any time. And yet, again, my transition was slow, and that is just not like me at all. I did try the Injinji socks for this race, which I like, but which took a bit of extra time to get on right, and I did make a quick stop at the porta potty since I’d essentially been holding it for 40 miles or so. Not sure what the heck went on with my transitions in Chattanooga. Even after 3 weeks of thinking about this, I don’t know what the scoop is. Time: 3’29.

The Run

Out on the course, and I was determined to stick to my plan. The crowds, as with the rest of the day, were absolutely phenomenal. The cheering was so loud, and I saw several friendly faces in the crowds – Brent, Holly, Marcus, and was even able to give a few high fives – I think I did anyway. The first mile is a bit of a bitch. It’s straight uphill. I knew this was coming, and I was focused on keeping my hr controlled. In retrospect, I do have to wonder if that first mile just set me up for what was to come.

Coming off the bike, knowing I had underdone the target power, and given the cool overcast conditions, I felt certain I would be running the ceiling of 8’35 for the first 8-9 miles, which are relatively flat. In fact I imagined I was in a really great place to absolutely hit my run target of 3’55, and possibly beat it if things went very well in the hills. I truly expected to be ‘holding back’. I was okay with that – 26.2 miles is a long way, and I knew that if I had to hold back on the first 9, I would be well positioned for the back 13. Sadly that just never happened.

I never actually felt good on the run. I didn’t worry about the pace of the first mile, knowing it was a hill. I kept my hr ceiling, and it came in just under 9’, so I was fine with that. But then the next mile just didn’t come faster. The mile after that included this stupid setup of an aid station where we had to snake around, and it cost me a good 30”, and that was running through it. It was very crowded, and almost impossible to move through at any pace, both from crowding and from setup. Jogging or not, there was no way to limit the damage to 5-10”. I distinctly remember going in running an 8’30 pace (thinking I have to slow this down or Coach will not be happy) and came out running a 9’. Although I gained a bit on the rest of that leg, pulling in some 8’46 – 8’50 miles, I never hit anything close to 8’35. I briefly saw Coach, enough to yell all was good from a distance around the 3 mile mark. I kept expecting to fall into a good rhythm, to start feeling good like I do after a few miles on most of my long runs, but I never did. I saw Coach again on the road side of the same spot around mile 6ish? I definitely wasn’t feeling great by then, although I was getting down all my calories. Half a gel every mile. I told him I had heartburn, and although I don’t think that’s what it was, it was the closest I could think of as I ran by. I just felt generally uncomfortable in a way I’d really not experienced in training. I remember him saying ‘ok, heartburn we can deal with!’.

Beyond that was actually a bit of an uphill which I hadn’t really expected. But I got through it, thanks to a VERY cute volunteer in some kind of uniform. I must’ve been delirious because I do recall looking at him and saying you are very cute! “you stop” he flirted back. (and yes, he was still there on the 2^nd loop and I said even more that time, which I defend by the fact that I was extremely out of it by then!). Then I turned into the 8^th mile, up a quick biter. I think I saw Holly again there, and maybe Rod and Jim. I got to the turn to head over Veterans bridge, which I’d been focused on, thinking I’d see a bunch of friendly faces…Leona, maybe Mum, maybe Linda and gang. Nobody was there. That was actually tough. Going into the hills I had really needed some friendly encouragement. But I quickly put that aside, and carried on. Focused on my cadence, my heart rate, and getting the gels down. I was actually relatively pleased with the first loop, and my speed through the hilly section wasn’t as bad as I had thought it might be. I really don’t like that pedestrian bridge – it’s a bigger uphill than you think it’s going to be – but thanks to the couple of training runs I’d done on it, I was prepared for that. I saw Leona on the bridge here, and she actually made me start crying! She was crying, and she ran for a few steps with me, and she says "Kayla says to say she is so proud of you" and starts bawling. I start crying. It was typical Ferguson MO. And then Mum was on the other side of the bridge, so this time I actually saw her too.

Halfway done, again thinking man this is really flying by, and special needs was coming up, which was something I really needed – in it, I had a note from Kayla that I’d been thinking about reading for a while. She had mailed it to me pre-race, and it had been sitting in my transition bag for about a month. I also needed more of my Salted Caramel GU’s…I’d miscalc’ed somehow and had run out on the first half and so had needed to choke down one of the god-awful gels that are out on the course. I never stopped running as I grabbed the bag, yelling out to the volunteer to ‘just rip it! Just rip it!”. She did, and I quickly grabbed the precious prizes within. That next mile went by quickly as I focused on trying to read the note from Kayla. She had written me a long note, and to be honest I wasn’t able to read it all, but she’s so smart and had highlighted the key phrases in different colours. I was able to focus on that. I was worried that by the time I got to the finish it would be all smudged and smeared and I’d never be able to read it! She’d also included a handmade green bracelet, which she instructed me to tie on my wrist and push harder each time I focused on it. Not sure still how I did it, but I did, and without stopping. Probably cost me about 30 seconds in that mile, but it was worth it.

At some point here it started raining. Maybe before? I don’t even know. If you’d asked me after, I wouldn’t have remembered that it rained, and I think it actually rained for a while. I remember thinking “oh ya, it was raining” when someone mentioned it. I don’t remember much of the rest of the run. We had broken the run into 6 segments – pathway to the turnaround, back to the bridge, and the hilly back 5. I knew around mile 17 I couldn’t take any more gels after that one, and that I needed to switch to coke. I started with it at the aid station after the turnaround on the south side. I remember seeing Kathryn, I remember seeing Chance on the bike, I remember Rod and Jim just before the Veteran’s bridge turn, and Jim telling me to leave it all on the course. I remember Matthew and Brent in the middle of the bridge, and Matthew yelling to get my cadence up. I came back a bit there, but in retrospect I think it was too late. I did make it all the way up that hill on Barton, still not stopping, and around the bend. I was not really feeling great, but I was still running, even if it was slower than I’d wanted. I was actually thinking at this point that I was going to make it all the way in without stopping, and I just needed to keep hanging on and pushing. Although honestly have to say I feel certain it was not that coherent of a thought. Which was unusual itself because I usually can focus on coherent, if short, thoughts and focus on those while racing.

And then literally all of a sudden, at mile 22.8 the wheels just fell off. I remember distinctly right before turning onto Riverside, and a bunch of cheering girls with great signs, and I just had nothing. But I kept moving, even though I was now walk/running. I made it up that hill, and when I got to the top, I was literally weaving all over the road. I’ve seen that on videos, but I’ve never actually experienced it myself. And yet, somehow, I never stopped moving forward. I don’t really remember much, and I am pretty sure I had precious few coherent thoughts that sounded like ‘keep moving forward’. In fact, I was so out of it that all of the things I usually pull on were not present in my mind. I do recall at the top of that hill thinking ‘do I really want to do another full?’, but I didn’t dwell on that for long. I ran when I could, and walked when I couldn’t, but I didn’t stop moving. This was the part where I really really needed some friendly faces, but there weren’t any. There were really no spectators at all, friendly or otherwise. When I hit the aid station just before you turn back onto Barton, I was weaving again. I distinctly heard one volunteer say ‘she looks like she might die’. I grabbed more Coke, which I could barely even say anymore, mouthing ‘coke! Coke!’ like a dying man stumbling out of the desert, and then Ron was still there (God love him), and I did my best to be running in response to his cheering.

It was interesting about the Coke. I’ve never quite felt this before either – the quick up and down roller coaster. I’ve felt the up before, but not the down, and not how quickly it rolled. I know now that I simply wasn’t taking in enough, either Coke or water. I didn’t pee once in the entire marathon. I made it up the Barton hill, and started running again. I was just so out of it. Linda, Tanya and Joan were at the bottom of that road but I barely noticed them. Casey was apparently down there too but I never even saw him. I made my way to the pedestrian bridge, and thankfully Shanks was standing at the bottom of it, and yelled at me “there’s no walking this bridge!” and so I ran. And then, thankfully, Matthew was at the crest of the bridge, and he just screamed ‘turn over those legs!” and I really didn’t see him, but he must have followed me for a bit. I never saw him but I heard him. That’s all I heard for the next half mile, and then I was in the chute. I’m not sure how I managed an 8’30 in that last mile. The miracle of racing. And oh my! It was totally amazing. The crowd was just out of this world. I do remember that feeling, and just looking at the crowd, and being dumbfounded by their energy. It was a very very cool moment. I saw my Mum and Leona, and managed to high-five Leona, and I saw Brent, and Holly, and maybe some others. But it was truly a spectacular inspiring moment. A bit like childbirth when the moment you see your baby daughter you forget the hours of pain you just endured. One of the cool things was having Mike Reilly announce "You are an Ironman". He didn't announce at IMC when I did it, so this was a first for me. And Klafter sent me the video of my finish, which was very cool, and even more cool was what Reilly announced: "And Katrina Ferguson, from Alpharetta GA, running in for Canada!" One of these days I hope to officially 'run in for Canada'.

And then, in my typical race fashion, I collapsed into the arms of the volunteers and was escorted to the med tent, where this time I received only one IV bag. And some chicken soup which was awesome. Total Run Time: 4:05’42

The After

After leaving the med tent, I found Mum and Leona, and we made our way back to the hotel. They got on the road actually to start their long drive home. I went and showered, and then headed back down to the finish line. I’d missed it the first time around, and I didn’t want to miss it this time. Plus I really wanted to see Coach. I finally found him, and just gave him the biggest smile and the biggest hug. It wasn’t the race I had truly hoped for, and wasn’t the race I know I have in me, but it was nonetheless an incredible race for me, and definitely a whole new level of competition for me. I finished with a final time of 10:51’36 putting me 5^th in my AG. Finishing top 5 in an Ironman race is nothing to sneeze at, and I truly was very pleased with my performance. And this is in no small part due to the expert and magical tutelage of my most amazing Coach, Matthew Rose. I cannot even begin to express how happy I am with not only the outcome of this season, but with the coaching relationship we have started to develop.

And the good news is, I know this isn’t my best race. Seems weird maybe to call that good news, but the way I see it, if this was my best, and I came 5^th, I’d be pretty bummed. Instead I know I came 5^th, but have lots more to give under the right circumstances. I know as I look at my race and the overall race results, that in those conditions, in that race, on that day, I’m capable of the 1^st place times. That gives me hope and encouragement to keep pushing, and keep finding more. And thankfully I have the master of that in my corner.

Huge congrats to all of my Dynamo teammates and other friends that competed at Choo. It will be hard to beat this race in terms of atmosphere and camaraderie on the race course! Thanks so much to all for the amazing support before and during the race. Huge thank you to my Mum and sister for traveling so far to see my for a few 10 second moments. And thanks most of all to Matthew. I literally cannot wait for next year!!

Happy transition season everyone!

Kat

Stay in the Moment

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

The Journey Continues...

Thursday, October 23, 2014

All Aboard - Ironman Chattanooga Race Report