The adventures of a marathon/triathlon athlete who is not built like a marathon/triathlon athlete. I may not be as fast and good looking as other runners, but I still finish. Like a bulldozer in an F1 race.
This race was a deferral from Washington 70.3 2021, which was a deferral from Coeur d'Alene 70.3 2020. And after my poor performance at Victoria 70.3 I was treating this as my 'vindication' race.
Jen and Thomas were going to come with me, but decided to stay home to visit with family. As much as I would love for them to be there, this did solve alot of logistical issues that come with travelling to a race with a toddler.
I drove down Friday night and went straight to the Ironman Village for athlete check-in. I was going to get everything done as soon as possible so I could rest and not have to rush all day like in Victoria.
After check-in, I went to the hotel. I was starting not to feel well. I had been battling a cold all week, and now I could feel a migraine coming on. I checked into the hotel, unpacked, ate, the went straight to bed.
Saturday morning I was feeling better, but still had a lingering headache. The only plans I had for the day were bike drop off and the athlete briefing, then I could rest all day.
With the first athlete briefing not until 11am, I decided to drive the bike course. I don't normally do this but I did for 2 reasons; I wanted to know where the 'big hill' was and I wanted to scope out the downhills, to see what wheelset to use.
The bike course was beautiful. The first section comprised of slight rollers that lead into flat farmland. Then the big hill on 218 Ave. It was not steep, just very long. I had done a similar climb during the Tour de Cure about a month ago. The second half was hilly and curvy. I determined that the descents never put me in danger of cross winds at speed and decided to keep my 40mm wheels on my bike.
Once back at Ironman Village, I checked my bike in and headed to athlete briefing. Afterwards I went and bought by race sticker and a hoodie. I don't usually buy merch on the day, but this was a very nice color and it has my name on it.
On the drive back to the hotel I stopped at a grocery store and got food for lunch and dinner. Back the hotel it was rest up, eat, and try and get rid of the returning migraine. Surprisingly, I was able to take a 2 hour nap that afternoon.
Around 7pm, my head was feeling fine and I organized all my gear. I set my alarm for 3:30 am and went to bed,
But I never slept.
For some reason I could not sleep. At all. I tried every trick in the book and no luck. The time was now 2:30am and my alarm would be going off in an hour.
I made the decision right then and there... I am not doing this.
I am going to get up, pack, drive to the race, turn in my chip, grab my bike, and drive home. No way, I am not racing with no sleep and the off chance my migraine would return mid race.
Resolved to not race, I managed to get about 45 minutes of sleep. My alarm went off at 3:30am and I got up, packed, drove to the race, turned in my chip, grabbed my bike, and drove home.
Well, thank for taking the time to read this race report, stay tuned for......
My alarm went off at 3:30am and I sat in bed thinking, 'What a waste of a trip if I go home now. I already have my race shirt, a sticker, and a finishers hoodie. Would I be able to wear those? Would I feel right wearing them?'
I sat and thought, OK what is keeping me from doing this?
No sleep. Well I don't feel tired so that is not really an issue right now.
You could get a migraine again. Well I don't have a migraine or even a headache right now.
I decided to take a hot shower and see how I felt. Then I decided to gear up, then see how I felt. I then resolved to at least start the race and see how it went. If I had to pull out for whatever reason, at least I can say I started.
I loaded up the car and drove the dark and rainy highway to the race start. Luckily the rain stopped in time for it to not factor into the race at all.
I parked and walked to transition. As usual I took my time setting up transition and took the time to chat with my neighbours. I earned some race karma by letting them use my tire pump.
After staring at my transition area, I realized there was nothing more I could I do, so I did my transition walk through and then started toward the water.
I did do one more thing before leaving transition, Those who ready my Victoria 70.3 report may remember that I wanted to get a new tri suit that made it easier to go to the bathroom. I stopped off at a porta potty to test the suit (both 1 and 2). It worked great.
I had originally heard there would be no swim warm up, so I only put on the bottom half of my wetsuit. As I walked to the swim start my feet where starting to get very cold. I found a spot near the washroom that was paved hoping it was warmer. When I rounded the corner, I saw a few athletes in the water doing a warm up swim. I put on the rest of my suit (getting a needed assist from a fellow athlete to get zipped up), and started to make my way to the water.
Once my feet were in the water, I realized that the water temperature was warmer than the air temperature. I was not going to do a warm up swim. If I did, once out of the water the near 45 minute wait would be freezing.
I made my way to the swim start line up and seeded myself in the 43-46 minute swim time. I chatted with several athletes. Some were doing their very first 70.3, others were seasoned veterans like myself. I even met 2 athletes who will be in Arizona doing their first Ironman along with me!
The start gun went off but we still had some time before it was our turn. We cheered as the first swimmer came out of the water and through transition and before we knew it, it was our turn.
The Swim
As the sea of athletes narrowed, the music was loud and the volunteers energetic. The rolling start was releasing 2 athletes every 5 seconds. I walked up the volunteer who gave me a fist bump before signalling me to start my race.
I walked into the water (past the swimmer ahead of me fiddling with their watch), dove in and I was off.
The water was nice and warm and had a bit of weeds in it, but it soon dropped off to 'clear' water. The start of any race is always crowded. I stayed calm as I swam by a few people and headed to the first buoy.
The buoys heading out were yellow and very easy to see, but the turn buoys were dark red. Against the dark green in the early morning light, it was sometimes hard to see the red turn buoys.
As we passed the first turn buoy, the pack began to spread out. I was able to keep my sighting pattern and my line (both of which I am now famous for amongst my Coach Stewart peers).
Halfway to turn 2, it began to get crowded again. I suspect those who started off too fast were slowing and those better paced were catching up. I was cut of several times by zig-zagging swimmer, something I am all to familiar with by now. I stayed calm and moved out of their way.
I took turn 2 very tight and began to swim to turn 3 (or the 'toe'). Around the toe (turn 3 and 4) it got very crowded. This was the halfway point and people were starting to fade.
Turn 5 was interesting. In order to keep us in the 'boot' shape of the course, we had to swim to the right of turn 5. There was a long, orange, hot dog shaped buoy leading to the red turn buoy. If the orange hot dog did not clue you in, there were lots of volunteers on SUPs yelling directions.
On my first sighting pattern after turn 5, I could see all the orange buoys leading to the swim out were lined up perfectly with the Lake Wilderness Lodge. It was a large white building on a hill, an easy sighting target.
The second half of the swim seemed to go by faster than the first half, but more crowded. Turn 6 was another left turn with a hot dog buoy. Once past that, it was one orange buoy then the swim exit.
As I approached the last buoy, I could see the bottom of the lake. I was sure I would see people start to walk as soon as it was shallow enough. To my surprise there were only a few people who stood up too soon. I did my usual and swam all the way up onto the shore, popped up and the swim was done.
The way to transition was lined with cheering spectators. While walking at a good speed I began to take off the top half of my wetsuit. I stayed to the right to let those who chose to run though transition by.
While I (more than most) know not to judge athletes by their appearance, I could not help but look at a few of those running past me and think, 'I beat him out of the water?' A small confidence boost for sure.
As I entered transition I walked around the bike stands and to my bike. I had scoped out my landmarks the day before and new I was in Row D, on the left just after the first set of supports.
I did my 'under control' transition, not too slow but not so fast to forget or rush anything. I have a rear, saddle mounted bottle that usually gets in the way when unracking my bike from transition. If no bikes are next to me I can usually tilt my whole and get it through, but this race I tried something new. I have since changed the pads on my aero bars to be the much longer Tririg Scoops, so I left my bottle on one of the pads and put it in the rear cage after I unracked my bike. It worked pretty well.
I made my way to the bike out across roots and then eventually pavement. I walked through the mount line and immediately moved up and to the right (to be out of the way of other athletes) as I mounted my bike.
Then I was off!
The Bike
The way out onto the bike course was once again lined with spectators cheering. Once out of the Lake Wilderness Park area the course was very crowded. I had to slow a few times to avoid drafting/blocking penalties.
There were a few rolling hills at the beginning, but it was a good warm up. The course soon flattened out. Based on my recon the day before, I knew the first loop would be flat. But I also knew a big hill was coming and that the second loop was hilly. I was sure to pace myself accordingly.
Once at SE Auburn Black Diamond road we had a great view of Mt. Rainier. We took a right on the roundabout and started the first loop with a good net downhill that lasted almost 12k. On one of those descents I hit 60 kph and did not even know until I looked at the data while writing this!
At 23k the course took a sharp left onto SE Green Valley Road. As I turned a could see several athletes on the side of the road fixing flat tires.
From here to 36k was flat farmland. The bike course was a mix of Victoria 70.3 and Muncie 70.3. I stuck with my plan if not pushing too hard on the flats to save for the hilly second half.
At one point during this section I looked up and could see I was in a string of athletes all going the same pace (but keeping with legal draft distance) and it looked exactly like those pro photos you see from Kona.
Then at 36k, we made a left turn and onto 218 Ave. I shifted to my easiest gear and took the hill nice and easy. I saw a few people get off their bikes and walk. I made a note of their kit and hoped to see them finish.
As with most uphills, I was passed by alot of people. But all of them were very encouraging as they passed. At one point I jokingly called out, "Don't you all know we still have a run to do?!'
About 2 kilometers later we were at the top. I chanted my 'top of the hill matra' from my coach, 'No reward at the top. Just recovery."
The course continued to climb, but at a much more gradual rate. Soon we turned right back onto SE Auburn Black Diamond Road and were back at the roundabout from earlier. The flat(ish) first loop was done. Only 50 kilometers to go.
At 41k there was a short but very steep hill. There were jokes about would we rather a long gradual hill or a short steep one? Well.. This course had both.
At 50k we ride over the Green River Gorge and I posed for what could arguably be my new favorite race photo.
There was a small out-and-back up Enumclaw Franklin Road. I knew from the drive the day before that this road was rough, but was not prepared for what we saw. As we climbed up, we could see a minefield of not just rough road but lost water bottles strewn along the descent. As we climbed, I called out warnings to those coming down the hill, "Watch for bottles! Lots of bottles! Watch for bottles!' The athlete in front of me said I was earning my race karma points. I just didn't want to see anyone hurt.
We made it to the turn around and it was now our turn to run the gauntlet. I descended very carefully and offered up encouragement to those on the climb.
It was a shame that downhill was so treacherous, we could have use that speed to get up the punchy hill as we turned onto Green River Gorge Road.
It is hard to get into specifics on the next section of the course as it was a series of rolling hills and fun curvery bits. It was definitely not a boring course and kept us well engaged.
On the hilly sections I was sure to build good speed and use that to get up the next hill. According to my data I hit 63 kph at one point.
At around 81k, the course flattened out a bit and I had some fun riding in aero for that long stretch. We crossed Highway 169 and took an immediate left onto Witte Road. This was the section I missed when driving the course the day before so it was an unknown. But I knew we were close to the end.
This section of the course was closed to traffic so I could just focus on power/pacing. There was a punchy climb at 86k and I could hear athletes around me groan exclaiming, "I thought we were done with hills!" I responded, "I always assume there is one more hill. That way I am never surprised/disappointed." We had a good laugh and made it to the top of (what was indeed) the last hill.
We rode past the parking lot where we all parked, went through the roundabout, and then back to transition.
I was feeling the same knee pain I did in Victoria and was worried about the run, but by the time I made it to the dismount line, the pain was gone. I was feeling good and was very curious to see how my legs would feel on the run.
I walked along the pavement very gingerly, The bike shoes can make pavement feel like ice, especially if your legs are not quite working.
Every. Single. Spectator cheered for me. Every single one. It was a great feeling.
I made my way to my transition area, racked the bike, and got ready for my run.
I needed to use the washroom and knew where the porta potty was from earlier, but chose to use the ones on my way out of transition. Time to test the new suit in race conditions. It worked great and soon I was exiting transition.
The Run
I started my run nice and slow (aka walking). I wanted to ease into it. I took a gel and some hydration and made my way around the concessions/bathroom building. After about 5 minutes I started to get into my run. As usual, I stuck with my 10 and 1 run/walk strategy as it continues to work best for me.
About 3/4 of a kilometer in, we hit a small uphill that took us onto the Green to Cedar Rivers Trail. I made a joke to the volunteer saying, "I was to understand there would be no more hills." She shrugged and said, "I've heard that joke alot today."
The trail was very nice and very similar to the Richmond Dyke which I run in training. At 1.3k we went through a tunnel that took us under Witte Road. The overpass was full of spectators cheering us on.
We ran through 2 more tunnels before coming to a small downhill at 3k. We then turned right to start the first of 2 out-and-back sections.
I love out-and-back races. The encouragement and comradery shared between those going out and those coming back keeps the athletes engaged and adds to the overall atmosphere of the race.
I was surprised how good my legs felt at the start of the run and saw that my pace was pretty quick. I decided to keep with what felt good and not worry about speed (fast or slow). Obviously for Ironman Arizona I will pay close attention to pacing, but for the 'short' 21k I was doing today, I knew I would be fine.
The course had aid stations every mile and I was sure to use them to grab extra water, some for drinking and some to pour over my head to keep cool. And as always I thanked all the volunteers. I had my huma gels I took every 20 minutes and water bottle with Nuun which I refilled every hour.
As I was running out, I noticed the back of one of the signs had a big 9 on it. I thought to myself, 'Oh this must the shorter out-and-back if we end on 9k." Then a few seconds later it dawned on me. We are in Washington State, that sign was 9 miles. This was good. I get the longer section done first then I know the next section is the final stretch.
This part of the course included some very pretty views from a few bridges as we crossed the Cedar River a few times each way.
I kept with my fueling/hydration plan, my pacing, and the encouragement as I saw other athletes.
I was soon at the 10k timing mat, or as I like to call it the 'Oh good he's not dead' mat. I thought of my coach, my teammates, and my wife at home getting a notification on the tracker app. I thought about how my day started off with me fully resolved to not even start and here I am, halfway through the run.
On my way back I was sure to give those behind me the same encouragement I was given. I saw a few people I knew from the bike but there were a few I never saw. I hoped they were part of a relay team and did not end their day after the bike.
Shortly stopping at 16k to use the bathroom, I passed the small hill and continued to the last out-and-back. Once finished with that, it was just over 3k to go.
I walked up the hill to get back onto the Green to Cedar Rivers Trail. I knew I had to go through 3 tunnels and then it was the home stretch.
I was beginning to feel the length of the day get to me and found it hard to run for the full 10 minutes of my interval. I resolved to do what I could and kept repeating to myself, "Each step you take is one step closer to your ultimate goal of completing an Ironman."
I have a playlist with songs that help me stay motivated. Today I had this song stuck in my head the whole run, and I kept it going (especially for this final push).
Three tunnels later and I knew I was almost there.
Just before turning right off of the trail, I was passed by an athlete whose kit had their team mantra on it. As I read it, it really hit home for me. It read:
"The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start."
Given how my day started and where I was now, this really hit me hard.
As I ran down the small hill and into the trail leading back to Lake Wilderness, I was joined by another athlete named Mike. We ran together past the lodge and into the parking lot. Once we entered into the last stretch along transition, I let Mike go.
As I ran down the gradual downhill along transition, athletes on their way back to their cars all stopped to cheer for me. I made a left turn between Ironman Village and Transition, then a right turn and there it was.
I ran down the finisher chute, heard my name called, pumped my fist, and crossed the finish line.
It was pretty emotional. Nothing about this race was special. It was not my first 70.3, it was not a PR, but given the mental strength I showed to show up (let alone finish) was alot to take in.
I got my medal and took a moment for a photo.
Then grabbed some food and found a place to sit. Shortly after I sat, Mike came and joined me. He thanked me for running with him at the end and said if I would not have done that, he would have had a terrible finish. We sat and chatted about the race as we stuffed our faces with pizza.
After eating, I went to transition to pack up my gear. I called my family and told them about my day. My wife expressed how proud she was that I stuck it out.
I sat for a bit looking at the lake and reflecting on my day. It was indeed vindication for my poor performance at Victoria. And a huge confidence boost heading into my last 2 months of training for Ironman Arizona
While Arizona will be twice the distance of this race, the bike course will have no hills. Pacing/power will be easier to control and maintain. I was surprised by how fresh my legs felt off the bike and onto the run. All those brick workouts are paying off. At Arizona I will be sure to pay closer attention to my run pacing so not to fade too soon. And when I fade (at whatever point in the race that will inevitably be), I know I possess the will power and sheer force of will, to push to the end.
Back in March when I heard a new Cycling Team was forming in my community, I was eager to join. And when I heard they were forming a team to ride in the Tour de Cure, I was just as eager to sign up (after checking with my coach to ensure it fit our Ironman training plan of course).
It has been 5 years since the last time I did an event for a cause and it was good to get back to my roots. After all, this whole ongoing journey started out that way.
When last I left you, I was coming off a poor performance at Ironman 70.3 Victoria. Since then, my training has been going very well. I ran the Vancouver Half Marathon on June 26th and posted my best half marathon time since before the pandemic.
My cycling has progressed and I am now riding over 100 kilometers each week. And the 2022 Tour De Cure would be the culmination of my latest training build.
I woke up early to start what would end up being a very long day. My bike and my gear were all ready and just needed to be loaded into the car. I picked up a fellow teammate and we drove the 1 hour to the race.. I mean event.. start.
All week I had felt nervous about the ride. I kept calling it a race and soon realized that calling it that, was adding extra pressure. It was a charity ride and it's supposed to be fun. Once I changed my way of thinking, the pressure was off.
Don't get me wrong. This would still be quite the challenge.
My plan was simple, stop at every pit stop, average 25 kilometers per hour, have fun, and finish.
I had my road bike set up with 1 bottle and several bags of my hydration/fuel mix. The pit stops were positioned every 25-30 kilometers on the course. If I refilled my bottle at each stop, it would average out to be one bottle per hour (per my current Ironman training fueling strategy).
I opted for my 40mm race wheels despite there being some wind. I let vanity make that decision as my road bike looks oh so much better with deeper wheels.
We arrived at Chilliwack Heritage Park and went inside to take advantage of the free food. We found our team captain and planned to meet back at 7:45 for a team photo.
After catching up with some old and dear friends from the 2015 event, we headed back to the car and finished our final prep.
After out team photo, it was time to line up.
It was a great send off. We heard many sad/inspiring stories. We heard about the medical breakthroughs happening right here in BC due to the funding from this event. And we heard that we had raised over $6.3 million dollars this year for further research funding and patient outreach.
I was getting flashbacks of all the Inspiration Dinner's from my Team in Training days (and all the same feelings).
There was a very powerful ceremony where a bike with no rider was walked through the crowd. This bike was to represent all those who could not ride, are no longer with us, and/or those for whom we ride.
After that moment of reverence, the energy of the MC and the room began to build, and soon... We were given the go signal.
Heading out was slow as we all funneled through the main entrance. We made a right turn and rode through the parking lot and out onto the open road. You can see us about 4 minutes in.
It was pretty packed until about 4k in, when the riders doing the 50k ride split off. Then it was just us select few going on to 100k or 160k.
The weather was cool and partly cloudy. Ideal riding conditions. Our team stuck together in a good pace line as we rode through farmland, taking turns at the front.
We hit our first Pit Stop at 25k. I refilled my bottle, used the washroom, and grabbed some crackers.
Then we were off again. I must have misread the sign (or read the sign meant for the 100k course), but I was under the impression that the next Pit Stop was in 28 kilometers, putting us at 53k.
I read the wrong sign
At 40k I was leading the group and we hit some hills. I soon realized that I had pulled away from our group quite a bit. At the top of one of the hills I pulled back and waited for the others to catch up.
Once we regrouped around 44k, I noticed my chain was skipping. I changed gears and it stopped. At first it only seemed to be skipping at one spot, but soon it began to skip no matter what gear I was in.
Our team captain was convinced it was the chain and asked me if I could make it to the next pit stop. I said yes, once again thinking next pit stop was at 53k.
The skipping kept getting worse and worse, and I was getting worried. I slowed down and tried to reduce my power to save (what we all thought was a bad chain).
Around 54k, a truck passed me. It had a Tour De Cure Volunteer sign on it and I could see a bike stand and tools in the back. As I took a right turn, I saw the truck turning around ahead of me. As it passed I flagged it down and asked if they could help.
2 amazing volunteers, Wade and Olivia, got of the truck, setup the bike stand, and began to take a look. They offered me a chair and water but I politely said no. After taking a good look at the bike, Wade found that the chain was in good shape, but one of the links (specifically the 11 speed connector link) was not articulating. So every time it went through the derailleur, it jumped and caused the chain to skip. Wade was able to successfully get the link to move again, but recommended I replace it once the day was over.
I thanked them profusely and they thanked me for riding. Before leaving, Wade asked me who I was riding for and I told him (the quick version of) Abi's story.
Back in the saddle, I made my way to the next Pit Stop. Good thing I flagged down Wade and Olivia when I did because soon there was a pretty good climb ahead of me. No way I could have done that with a skipping chain.
At the top of the climb (at 58k not 53k) was the next Pit Stop. I met up with my team and told them what had happened.
It was at this point that the team decided to split up and ride their own day. A few had been wanting to go faster and a few were falling behind. This way, we could all ride and not feel pressure to speed up or slow down. We would meet back up at the 79k Pit Stop (which we all thought was the lunch stop).
I was going to head out with the faster group, but as we pulled out of the pit stop a line of cars came by and separated me from them.
I tried to catch back up, but the course was becoming hilly again. I pulled back so not to sabotage my day.
I began to play leap-frog with another team. They would pass me up a hill then I would pass them on the flats. They would pass me up a hill, then I would pass them down the hill.
We turned right onto 16th Avenue and things got a little dicey. Traffic was very busy and this was a popular trucking route. The bike lane was narrow, full of rocks, and the line doubled as a rumble strip.
The wind was still a factor, but also still manageable. That is, until a semi truck passed and the combined wind and gust from the truck hit you.
After 5k of the gauntlet that was 16th Ave, we turned right and the course calmed.
After a long stretch of more hills, we made it to the Pit Stop at 79k, but it was not the lunch stop. I did my usual pit stop routine and chatted with my leap-frog buddies. I overheard someone say that 105k was the longest he had ever ridden and at 110k (the real lunch stop) he would celebrate.
I had read somewhere that lunch stopped at 2pm. With it being 12:45pm now, I was worried I would miss lunch. But one of the volunteers told me that as long as riders were out, lunch would continue to be served. This took any added pressure off.
I rode on knowing that lunch was only 30k away. After some welcome downhills we made our way through a residential area. Something about this area looked familiar, but I could not figure out why. But then, I took a turn and saw why. I was at Fort Langley. I come here once a year as the MC for Try Events. It suddenly began to dawn on me just how far I had ridden.
While riding a long, flat stretch along the Fraser River, I started to do the math to see how much further it was to lunch. Based on the math I did in my head at the time, it was 30 minutes to lunch.
The course turned into some local farm land where I enjoyed a good (but fleeting tailwind). I stopped for a bit at 98k to let my grip rest, stretch my back, and eat a bar I picked up at the last aid station. I did some quick math in my head to see how far lunch was. 30 minutes? Again? What?
At 103k I was passed by another cyclist going very fast. As he past he encouraged me and he sounded like he was not breaking a sweat. I did more quick math to see when lunch was and it was going be... 30 minutes? Again? I stopped trying to do math in my head after that.
Then, as we turned a corner into a wooded section, the road seemed to rise up (and keep rising). This was The Hill. I wanted to unclip and walk up, but I was already on a very steep section and could not unclip safely without falling over.
It soon became very apparent that I had 2 choices: Ride up this hill and possible not finish the whole ride or walk up this hill and save energy to finish.
While pondering my choices I looked up at the cyclist who past me earlier. He was off his bike and walking. It was almost as if I need his permission, but as soon as I saw that, I was able to unclip and start walking.
Halfway up the hill, my calves started to ache. My cycling shoes where making me walk very awkwardly up this steep, long hill. So I decided to take off my shoes for the remainder of the hill. The pavement was just rough enough that every step felt like a mini foot massage.
As I trudged up this hill, I began to think of all those for whom we were ridding. Here I was upset I was not strong enough to ride up this hill, but there are so many people in this world who give anything to be healthy enough to walk up this hill with me. I thought about Abi and how she would gladly walk up this hill 100 times if it mean one more day with us.
Once at the top, I slowly and carefully put my shoes back on. I looked down the hill and saw one of my leap-frog groups. They were all walking.
One rider, Peter (who I was playing leap frog with since 50k) rode with me for a bit. We chatted about training and how our day was going. We encouraged each other to just make it to lunch. At 108k, we hit a downhill and I knew I would take off. I wished Peter luck and took off.
After a nice steady downhill, I reached 110k and lunch.
I stopped and took my time. I was not hungry but knew I needed to eat. I almost had to force feed myself. I chatted with a few smaller groups and shared stories about The Hill. It was then that I learned there was yet another big hill, Mt. Sumas.
As I started making my way back to my bike to refill my bottle, the rider from the last pit stop rolled in. I remembered he had said 105k was his official longest ride. I walked up, gave him a high five, and congratulated him on his NEW longest ride.
I got back on my bike and was mentally ready to go. The course began to climb a bit and I pulled back my power. I had already been riding for so long and I (only) had 50k to go. I wanted to do this smart, especially if there was another hill to climb.
The course had some rolling hills and some steep, punchy hills up until about 120k. Then it became long stretches of flat farmland with strong winds. There was a rider in front of me I knew I could pass, but decided to keep him in front to help with pacing.
I began to talk to myself. Telling myself to grateful for all I had, not just my health for the ride, but everything I was fortunate to have in life. I offered up my suffering to those not as fortunate.
During my self talk, I realized I was using 'you' and switched to 'I.' I had read somewhere that using 'you' is like an outsider looking in while 'I' brings a level of ownership and conviction.
At 130k, we hit the next Big Hill. I got off my bike, took off my shoes, and began to walk. Once a the top, I chatted with a course marshal while putting my shoes back on. I said something about being glad the last big hill was over. She gave me the most apologetic look as she explained that the hill I just walked up was not the Big Hill.
After recovering from that mental blow, I rode on. The next 6 kilometers was a steady uphill. It was not steep, just very long. I was able to keep my pacing/power under control. At each turn I kept waiting for the road to rise up and for that last big hill to there.
At 134k, I stopped at the last pit stop. It was a bit hidden behind a school, but I was glad I found it. After using the washroom and refilling my bottle, It was now all about finishing.
As I returned to the steady climb, I saw my lunch buddies and told them where to find the last pit stop.
I continued to climb and even hit some smaller descents. I kept waiting for that next big hill to come.
Then at 136k, I turned right onto Sumas Mountain Road. Ok, this was it. At any moment that hill will be here. Get Ready!
It was a fast descent with lots of blind turns. I took it very cautiously due to that and the car traffic on the road. With each blind corner I took, I expected that hill to be there.
But then, as I rounded a corner, I could see through a break in the trees. I saw, not a hill, but flat farmland. Was that long steady climb the 'big hill' everyone was going on about? No more hills? Really?
At the bottom of the hill, I stopped to give my grip a rest. I saw that I was right next to Highway 1. I knew excitedly where I was and how far I still needed to go. Just over 20 kilometers to go. If I paced it right I could be done in.... 30 minutes.... Oh hell. There is was again.
The last 20k was the longest 20k I have ever ridden. The first 6k was a long stretch along Highway 1. I decided to push a little harder for this since I had a nice tail wind. I assumed we would just follow this rode all the way back to Chilliwack Heritage Park, but at 147k we went over the highway and back into farmland.
As the course took several confusing turns in the local farm land, I kept thinking I could see Chilliwack Heritage Park, but each time it just ended up being a big red barn.
But then, at 158k, I could see it! And for the first time all day, I KNEW exactly where I was and how far I had to go. I got into my drops and pushed.
I rode past the parking lot and got cheers from riders loading their bike into their cars. I navigated the maze that was the finish area through said parking lot. And was surprised when once of my teammates (the one I gave a ride to the event) was on her bike waiting for me, so she could ride in with me.
We rode past the building and then into it for the finish area. I put my arm up and was glad to be done.
Once across, I broke down. The day was so long and so hard, how would I ever finish an Ironman!?
After I let myself calm down (and get a beer), I began to put thing into perspective. This course was super hilly, Ironman would not be. I did not have the option to rest my grip and back by using my aero bars, at Ironman I would. I was not tapered/well rested for this race. At Ironman I will be.
As more and more cyclists finished, I was sure to get up and congratulate those with whom I had played leap frog with. We had only known each other a few hours, but the way we spoke, it was like we were lifelong friends.
After some more rest (and even more food) we headed home.
If I do another ride like this in the future I will be sure to train more on my road bike and maybe put some aero bars on.
It was good to get back to my roots of charity events and good to test myself with the longest distance I have ever ridden. I have alot to reflect on for Ironman and even more ride data to go over with my coach.
I have a few more training blocks and an Ironman 70.3 before I tackle my first Ironman. Be on the look out for one more race report and some entries on training.
