Pumpkinman 70.3 Race Report: No dumping

I am finally less limpy, less sore, and ready to recap the great Pumpkinman 70.3 race of 2011. Like I said before, this was my test race to make sure all is in order as I enter into the last 2 months of Ironman Arizona training...

At 4:45 AM on Sunday morning Kevin and I piled into the car to head out to the race. We stayed at his parent's house about 45 minutes away. Who can beat free food and a free place to stay? We arrived at the race site just before 6 AM. I headed into transition to set up all of my gear. Usually during this part of the day I get a horrible feeling of nerves in the pit of my stomach. But today I just felt calm. It was strange; it was nice. Once the gear was all in order (bike shoes open and ready to go, cliff bars partially opened because I can't do 2 things at once on my bike) I made my way to the port-o-potty line, did my business, had my Sherpa (Kevin) lather me in sunscreen (the 80 SPF kind), then made my way to the swim start. Then I waited...

And waited, and waited. The fog was so heavy that the start of the swim was delayed about 45 minutes. They wouldn't let us in the water until the far buoy was visible. Safety first, kids. That was fine because it gave me more time to stretch out and talk to my sister-in-law who came to watch! Wahoo - I had a cheering section, not just a cheering person! I was also happy someone was going to keep Kevin company in the beer tent.

Finally they gave the all clear to start the race. I was in the last wave - 17 minutes behind all the others. I stepped into the water and it was surprisingly not as cold as I imagined 68 degrees to feel. I was a bit nervous because I didn't rent a wetsuit but rather swam in a speed suit - no arms, short legs, and no real warming properties. I've seen YouTube clips were people wore suits like mine in 68 degree water and had to be taken to shore because they were too cold to continue. (I silently prayed that this would not be me). My wave took off. I stayed to the outside right of the swimmers. I figured I would rather swim a little more distance than be stuck in the middle of the "washing machine" of flailing arms and legs. I stuck my face in the water and got a face full of seaweed. Gross (at least it wasn't a foot to the jaw). I made my way out of the weeds and the race was on. I wanted to remain calm on the swim and not go out too hard. I found myself catching up to the wave in front of me and even some guys from the first few waves. I was out of the water at 34 minutes.

I tried to remain calm in transition so I would remember everything I needed to. Bike jersey, check. Gels and cliff bars stuffed in the pockets of my bike jersey, check. Sunglasses, check. And I was off. First thing I remembered about 500 yards from transition - I did not re-apply my sunscreen. CRAP! This is what got me into trouble at Timberman. Lucky for me the bike course was shady.

Out on the bike I took my time for the first few miles. I was working on "getting my biking legs" and trying not to expend all of my energy. I will say this, I am a slow-ass biker. People were flying my me. "On your left," was the phrase of the day. I was starting to wonder if the entire field had finally passed me. Then around mile 15 I started to approach a girl, her right calf told me she was 28. I finally got to say, "on your left," and boy did I say it with authority. I didn't want to make her feel like I was better than her (because there are athletes out there that can make you feel like that when they go whizzing by). I was just so excited to finally be passing someone. My time had come. Then she looked at me, and I knew that look all too well. That same look was plastered across my face during the entire race at Timberman. She asked, between breaths, what mile we were on. When I told her "mile 15" she made a groaning noise and put her head down. I looked at her feet. She was wearing sneakers and had the pedals with the straps. She will learn from this experience, because it will most likely be awful for her. I wanted to tell her to stay in the moment, it will get better, one day you will do another race, you will be mentally and physically prepared for it, and you will finish with a smile. But that's a lot to say when I myself was sucking wind. So maybe she will read this post.

I will say that the volunteers were fabulous. As I approached the turn for the last 1.3 miles there were 2 women flagging and cheering. As I got closer (and their cheering became louder) I started to yell, "Get me off this bike!" and she responded, "1 mile and your off!" And then out of the depths of my lungs I let out my warrior yell that said "Suck it 56 miles - I own you!" and in response the 2 women were frantically jumping and screaming and flag waving. They made me feel like I was in 1st place. Thanks ladies at the last turn.

I clocked my bike at 3:45, 15 mph. Just as I had hoped. I told you I am a crappy biker. Off the bike, on to the run. A few high fives to my cheering section... 13.1 miles to go!

I felt awesome during the first few miles of the run. I passed a few more people. My toes were no longer numb. Things were looking up... until around mile 4. People had warned me about GI distress. Well let me tell you, it is absolutely no fun. Running with your ass cheeks clenched together is super difficult/uncomfortable. I had passed the last port-o-potty about a mile back. I had succumbed to walking because running just made matters worse. I had a choice: back track about 1 mile or dash into the woods. The woods was the most viable (and closest) option at the time. So I started staking out places I could hide. Finally, about another mile down the road I darted into the shrubs. Some lady yelled out to me, "It's OK honey, all the guys do it." Yeah, great, thanks for drawing more attention to me as I waddle into the trees. I felt MUCH better after that. As I came out of the woods I noticed a sign, "conservation land: no dumping". Oops.

For the rest of the run I took it all in - the people in agony because they neglected their nutrition, the 60 year olds flying by me shouting words of encouragement, the wonderful sunny but not-too-hot day. 13.1 miles actually flew by. I never thought I would say such a thing. I headed back home - the last mile was a whirlwind. I started thinking about all of my training, how this race is a stepping stone towards my ultimate goal, how 5 years ago I never thought something like this was possible for me. Then I started to get all choked up. My throat tightened and my eyes welled with tears. Then I told myself to stop being a pansy and save it for Arizona. I headed down the finishers shoot - high-fived the cheering section and posed for my finish line picture. 7:20, not too shabby.

Then I went to the beer tent.