Ironman Coeur d’Alene Race Report
The last 9 months have been challenging in a number of aspects, and my preparation for the 2009 Ironman Coeur d’Alene has provided safe haven to truly connect with myself.
First, I will bore you with the obligatory first Ironman race report, filled with too many details of what was an inflection week in a number of aspects.
I arrived in Coeur d’Alene on the Wednesday before the Sunday race in awe of the circus that stood before me. A vendor village, and transition zone that you needed a passport to cross, and hoopla like I’d never seen before were just a few of the visual cues that Ironman was more than a race…but a celebration and a business. Upon settling in at my Uncle’s cabin on the lake, I began to unsuccessfully manage the pre race anxiety on my own, but had a number of family events in town that week to force me outside of the tense confines of my head. The opportunity have my quiet lake sanctuary was a true gift, and a major part of what allowed the week to be ultimately a success.
At points the whole process was overwhelming. Five different race day gear bags, having to figure out what Special Needs was (my training partners will attest I have plenty), nightly moments of quiet reflection sitting on the beach at the swim start…at that is to just name a few.
I did light race week workouts to keep the system primed, but repeatedly showed my underlying nerves by showing up to swims without goggles, rides without a helmet, and wearing brown shoes with a black belt (perish the thought). All of the Ironhead’s I trained with complained of feeling sluggish, bloated, and the general taper nerves. This was all new to me but I concurred, as the body looked far less ready than it ultimately was.
Upon learning what the holy hell Special Needs was, checking in my bike, and handing over my transition bags I realized I had crossed the Rubicon. I was going to race an Ironman, for better or worse…because as I learned on race day, I didn’t train hard for there to be any indifference.
So on to the race…
Race Morning Prep
The alarm went off at 4 AM, and I was far too nervous to eat in fear that I would vomit and lose some precious hydration and electrolytes. I arrived at the swim start just past 5 AM to a sea of anxious competitors milling about like they knew what they were doing. As for my list of things to do, it was pretty short:
-Load up nutrition on the bike
-Load up nutrition for the run
-Double check my bags at T1 and T2
-Turn in Special Needs
-Load up the PowerTap and make sure it works
With everything sorted, I met with my family, gave my Father his Father’s Day card, and began the march to the beach. It is a highly claustrophobic sensation shuffling confined in your wetsuit on to a small beach with over 2,000 of your best friends. All the competitors were united in excitement and anticipation, and you could definitely feel it.
Swim
The swim start was the most intense experience of the whole race, and in retrospect the perfect way to break the tension on the beach. Once the cannon blew, I entered the water, starting way wide but stilled tightly packed in with other nervous swimmers, and frankly just wanted to get through the first 500 meters without too much damage. Generally a comfortable open water swimmer, my race day reaction was to water polo swim (re: head out of water) for approximately the first 8 minutes to ensure I wasn’t beaten too badly. The last thing I wanted to do was incur the dreaded Ironman Panic Attack and have to tread water to catch my wits. If you stopped during the beginning of the swim, you were certainly going to be mowed over by the other competitors fighting to find their line and stay afloat.
The chop was enough to impact your ability to hold line, sight, establish a rhythm, and catch a draft. I swam the first loop in a disappointing 34 minutes, and upon realizing my sub-standard result, planned on pushing the pace to knock out a near 30-minute second lap. Lake Coeur d’Alene decided to foil my plan by turning up the wind chop and inviting a couple of All-Star boaters to buzz the turn around section for fun. My second lap was actually slower than my first, which blows me away, but the clock doesn’t lie. Overall, I’m disappointed with my swim time, but relatively speaking I held my own on a day when even the best swimmers were having 7-8 minute setbacks.
Swim Time – 1:11:17
Bike
The bike portion of the course was of the greatest interest to me because I feel I’ve made measurable strides over the last year in regards to my cycling ability, even though I had never ridden further than 85 miles prior to race day. Coeur d’Alene’s bike course is an intelligent setup: the first 20 miles are relatively flat, the next 20 miles contain 2,000 of climbing, and the final 16 are relatively flat back towards the lake. From the outside looking in, it looks like you just have to manage 40 miles of 112 and lock in your watts on the other 82. The race day winds were exactly the opposite of optimal, and it seemed that you caught a head wind on each downhill. My wheel choice was a Blackwell 100mm rear/50mm front setup that seemed to play nice with the wind, but I will note that the best cyclists were laced up with disk wheels. I most notably almost quit the race around mile 70 because my mind just fell off the face of the earth. I suddenly lost all confidence and energy, and seriously doubted my ability to run the marathon.
My goal was to lock my watts in at 215 on flats and climb the kickers at a maximum of 300. I followed this without issue until midway through the second lap, and I backed off 5 watts, with the intent of having a fighting chance on the run. In the end, my normalized wattage ended up at 215, which is a bit lower than I would like. I would attribute this to general anxiety over the impending marathon. I embarked on the first lap wearing a long sleeve cycling jersey to ensure my core body temperature would remain high after the cold swim. There was no chance I was going to risk dealing with the chill in a normal tri top. This plan worked perfectly and I ditched the top as both Mother Nature and I warmed up as the day progressed. Coach Ciaverella thought I would be around a 5:40 on the bike, and I did not disappoint him.
Bike Time - 5:41:28
Run
The Ironman Marathon is the real deal. What I quickly learned is that you cannot hope, wish, pray, and negotiate over those 26.2 miles: you are ultimately responsible for your performance. As a teammate of mine says, “There is no god on the marathon”, and he’s right.
My plan, much like the rest of the script I had written in my head for raceday, had to be altered due to a little thing called reality. Weather and the previous 114.4 miles of activity quickly made their presence known, and even though I was smiling, I entered survival mode at mile 2. In my opinion, I made a number of mistakes that are probably inherent in first time Ironman competitors.
Most notably, I allowed myself to accept a fear of pain. I had trained for 9 months for this very moment, and I decided to stand on the edge of the pool instead of dive in. My own emotional struggles were depressing my overall pain tolerance and I unconsciously decided to commit resources to sorting those out instead of pushing myself physically. At points I became a spectator to the whole process. Looking back I know that I had it in me to hold my 8-8:30 pace, but I chose not to, which will bug me until my next race.
Fast forward to the end of the marathon. As I turned the corner at the top of Sherman, I had the entire stretch to the finishers chute to myself. My coach informed me that I had 90 seconds to get in under 11 hours, and I decided to at make the last mad dash. My eyes were focused on the clock, and once I knew I had it, I allowed myself to hear Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, announce, “A.J. Kemp, you are an Ironman”. I like the sound of that.
Run Time – 4:00:41
Finish Time – 10:59:35
Closing Thoughts
Ironman distance racing is no joke. There are no excuses, only explanations. Nothing tells a truer story of what kind of racer you are than an Ironman.
For a first crack, I’ll happily take getting into the 10’s. For the first time in my short racing career, I was forced to call audibles in race, and they all turned out okay. My major disappointment lies in how I handled the onset of pain. Good racers have nice times, but great racers soak up the hurt and go faster. My goal is to one day be confident enough to embrace the pain. Simply put, I’m not there yet.
Acknowledgements
Mom, Dad, Kari, Kris: Your support throughout the last 18 months has been remarkable, and without your patience, understanding, and love I would not have crossed that finish line. We did it.
Coach Dave Ciaverella: Thank you for empowering me to impersonate an athlete from time to time. Your knowledge, friendship, and passion for Ironman is infectious.
IM CdA Crew: Jason, Aleck, Jake, Ryan, Bonnie, and Laura…5:30 AM at Kettlemen’s
Ironhead’s Raceday Spectators: Kaytee, Bonnie, Denny, Ann, Ciav, Jen, & Bill…your encouragement on the course was why our team rules. (I’m sure I forgot a few here).
…Now I’m off to prepare for Ironman Arizona in November.
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