Before I start this recap, you’re probably wondering why a marathoner with limited outdoor cycling experience and minimal swimming experience decided to sign up for a Half-IRONMAN. Well, I’m crazy, okay?
But really, I wanted a different challenge. And around the time that I thought this, registration had just opened up for the IRONMAN 70.3 in Victoria, BC. The course looked beautiful and it was driving distance from my house in WA state. Plus, I had never been to Victoria, and this seemed like a great excuse to go see it!
Just to give you all an idea of what I signed up for (because I don’t think I fully comprehended it) — a Half-IRONMAN consists of a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run. Or to translate into metric (because apparently, that’s what our Canadian friends strictly use), a 1.9 km swim, 90 km bike ride, and a 21.1 km run.
The day before
Athletes either have to claim their race stuff on Friday or Saturday, and you select an hour window in advance of race weekend to check in. Given that we were traveling up to Canada on Friday evening, I chose a slot on Saturday morning.
The check-in process involves several pieces. Athletes have to claim their race bags (which happens to be a sturdy knapsack), which includes a timing chip (that goes around your ankle), race bib and safety pins, and stickers with your bib number to put on your bike helmet, bike, and all gear bags. Then you get a wristband that’s branded with “IRONMAN 70.3” and has your bib number printed on it. This wristband serves as your pass into the transition area and you have to leave it on for the duration of the weekend. Once you get all of that, then you claim your T-shirt and then you check your bike into the transition area.
The transition area is organized by bib number, which makes it incredibly easy to find your section. Additionally, there are separate entry/exit areas for the bike and the run. Luckily, my area wasn’t too far from either the bike entry/exit or the run entry/exit.
Pre-race
The race started at 6am and the start was going to open around 4:30am. So working backwards from there… I got up at 2:15am. I don’t think I’ve had a race wake-up call that early since Santa Rosa in 2014. But I wanted to make sure that my pre-race breakfast of oatmeal and coffee had ample time to digest. Plus, since nobody else was awake, I was able to enjoy some moments of silence. And I attempted to use that time to calm my nerves and remind myself of the sage advice I received to keep on smiling.
I got dropped off at the race busses at 4:30am and arrived at the transition area/race start at 5:15am. This was ample time to get my wetsuit on and get my transition area set up underneath my bike.
Swim
We lined up at about 5:45 for a 6am start. Swimmers were self-grouped by projected swim time, so I started with the 46-50 min group. One of the people standing near me in the queue said that the water temperature was about 15ºC (59ºF). Cold, but at that point, there’s really nothing that I could do. Plus, isn’t this why they make wetsuits?
Swimmers entered the water 3-5 at a time, and there were about 1,200-1,300 athletes. You do the math on how long I was waiting.
While I waited, I could see some of the faster athletes getting out of the water from their swims. I had to ultimately wait until 6:50am (or about then) to enter the water. Once I got in the water, I had that shock of “This is cold!”
There were buoys every 100m (because this is Canada, everything was marked in metric), and all I could think about was getting to the next buoy. Meanwhile, I was still cold and people were passing me on both sides. Eventually, I was convinced that everyone had passed me and I was going to get swept out of the water for being too slow. This was likely the most challenging and demoralizing experience I’ve ever had. I tried smiling through the negative thoughts, but it’s kind of hard to smile when your face is under water.All the while, I saw someone get pulled out of the water and wrapped in a space blanket. Yeah, THAT’S how cold it was. I thought about raising my hand to get a buoy to stop on for a second, but I told myself that we were riding the wire on the time cutoff and we didn’t have time for breaks.
Finally, I got to the last buoy and thought, “Hallelujah, I made it!” I looked at my watch and saw that I made it in under an hour and was so grateful that I made the cutoff of one hour and ten minutes. Next stop, the transition area!
T1
Since I was so slow in the swim, most of the athletes were already out on the bike course when I made it to the transition area. Very demoralizing. To make matters worse, I was so cold that I was shivering and had trouble getting out of my wetsuit. I wondered if I should get medical attention for being so cold, but the stubborn athlete in me said that we didn’t push through the last hour to take a DNF. I finally managed to make it out of the wetsuit and into my bike clothes. And since I was still cold, I put on running gloves. And then, I finally got out of the transition area and onto the bike. When I saw that my transition time was over 10 minutes, all I could do was laugh.
Bike
I opted to wear running gloves for the bike ride because I was so cold from the swim. At the start of the bike ride, I was cold and nauseous. But I was still able to move my legs and pedal, and enjoy the beautiful British Columbian scenery. (Their license plates aren’t kidding when they call it “Beautiful British Columbia!”) I saw Scott and the dogs around the 5K mark, and I was so relieved to see all of them that I smiled.
I forced myself to have some water because I didn’t want any more issues besides the nausea, and hydration was entirely within my control. About 45 min in, I finally had enough appetite to take a salted caramel Gu. (I figured slightly liquid sustenance would go down way easier than Honey Stinger gel blocks.)
I continued pedaling on and saw some cyclists (and passed them), and seeing other athletes on the course helped boost my morale. Somewhere in the first half of the race, the course veered onto a narrow bike path and the path was a “do not pass” zone. Unfortunately, I got stuck behind a couple of cyclists on this path and had to slow down. Thankfully, the path was only about 1 km and I was able to pass them within a few minutes.
The course then went along the water (always restorative) and I saw some signs for the ferries from Sidney to the US. Based on the course map, I thought of Sidney as the halfway point because it’s at the northern tip of the peninsula and that’s where the cyclists turned around and started heading back towards the transition area. I looked at the clock on my handlebars, did some mental math, and felt like I was getting some redemption from the horrible swim. Additionally, I had finally warmed up from the swim and my stomach had calmed down enough so that I could have a few gel blocks. All of that brought me a great deal of joy and gave me more reasons to smile.
The next 25K (45-70K of the 90K course) was a blur of hills, water views, mental math, and passing cyclists. Around the 70K mark, I saw a crowd of kids yelling “Only 20K more to go!” I’m not fully fluent in metric, but I’m fluent enough to know that 20K is about 12.4 miles. And after 40+ miles, another 12 seemed manageable. I also saw another spectator who said something along the lines of, “You look strong; how long have you been riding?” I’m not sure if those were their exact words, but that’s what I thought I heard, so I glanced at my watch and saw that I had been on the bike for about 3 hours. In that moment, I had this thought of, “Holy crap, I think I got this.” There was an aid station handing out pieces of unpeeled banana, and because potassium seemed like a good idea, I grabbed one. (In case you were wondering, teeth work quite well for peeling bananas when you still need one hand to steer.)
Somewhere around 75-80K, the course turns onto Willis Point Rd and goes up the steepest hill on the course. To make matters worse, the sun had come out and the road wasn’t shaded. Climbing it required shifting into a low enough gear and getting out of the saddle once or twice. This 1-2K hill (no, I don’t know exactly how many miles it was) had a flatter section tucked into the middle, which provided a morsel of relief. Finally, I reached the turnaround point and could start going down this hill. And shortly after, saw a road sign that indicated that the hill was a 9% grade. So glad I didn’t see that until I started the descent! Downhill was a great reprieve, and seeing the 80K marker soon after turning back onto the main road was a huge boost. Only 10K left!
I saw Scott as I made the final turn of the bike course and just focused on making it back to the transition area. Finally, I could see the “Cyclist Dismount” sign, and so I unclipped, got across the timing mat, and dismounted.
T2
I scurried from the dismount area to my transition area. I saw some athletes who had already finished the race and just thought, “Oh fuck, I still have the third leg of this!”
Since I was going to run in my cycling clothes, T2 was going to be much shorter than T1. Unfortunately, I didn’t think that I should pin my bib on my cycling jersey beforehand and had to use some of my T2 time to do that.
Run
Not wanting to waste any time, I started jogging/running to the run start, which seemed like it was 400 meters away and was likely only half that far away. I finally felt like I was in my element and hitting my stride, but let’s face it, I have way more experience running than with the other two sports.
The run course was two loops around Elk Lake. I merged onto the path and immediately just focused on moving and passing people. (Fun fact: most of the athletes competing will run/walk the running portion of these races.) The first sign I saw was the 11K marker, and I started doubting if I was on the right path (because I most certainly had not run 11K). A few minutes later, I saw the 1K sign and then it dawned on me — the run was 21K, which means that each loop was actually 10.5K. 10.5K is about 6.5 miles, and thinking of the course as two 6M loops made it seem very manageable.
But the course. For the most part, it was a well-shaded trail run. Shade was much appreciated because by this point, the sun had come out and I forgot to pack sunscreen in my transition supplies. (In my defense, the forecast said it was going to be cloudy all day.)
In the first couple of kilometers, I saw the “live entertainment” (a spectator playing “About Damn Time” by Lizzo), Scott filming, and horse crap (apparently, the horses use this trail too). I had a few gel blocks to hopefully give me some extra oomph. Around 7-8K, there was this steep hill to go up (okay, maybe it wasn’t very steep, but after all of the previous activity and the race guide saying that the run was flat, such a hill seemed steep and less than welcome). This hill led us through an aid station and then to a turnaround point with a timing mat. One of the volunteers asked if I were on my second loop. When I informed him that I wasn’t, he said something like “I’ll see you again; keep it up!” And a couple of kilometers later, I started the second loop. The second loop was much like the first loop, except it seemed better because it was my last loop.
I got to the branch to turn to the finish line and booked it towards the finish line. After nearly seven hours, the end was so close. And just like that, I was done. One of the volunteers took my timing chip, gave me my medal, finisher hat, and water, and then sent me to the food area. I claimed the pasta salad they were serving and then Scott found me. (He was at the finish, but I didn’t try to look for him because I was focused on the finish line and only that.)
Race Analysis
So here’s where I’ll dissect things so that I can learn for future races.
Segment | Distance | Time |
Swim | 1.2 mi/1.9 km | 59:27 |
T1 | 10:24 | |
Bike | 56 mi/90 km | 3:50:04 |
T2 | 6:25 | |
Run | 13.1 mi/21.1 km | 1:48:41 |
Final time | 70.3 mi/113 km | 6:55:00 |
I know I have a good deal of opportunities to improve my swim. To start, I need to do more open water swims. The pool is all good and well, except it’s about 20-25 degrees warmer than the open water. Additionally, there isn’t a wall every 20-25 meters to offer milliseconds of rest. Also, the wetsuit chafed the back of my neck and I had no idea for two days after the race, so I’ll have to try Body Glide or an equivalent product.
I also need a better or more concrete fueling strategy for the race itself. I struggled here because my stomach was so off from the swim that I didn’t want to eat anything. My virtual coach recommended Maurten (essentially, liquid fuel that you drink) and since liquids/gels seemed way more palatable than solids, maybe that would work better. I realized at the end of the race that I only had half a bottle of water and a third of a bottle of Nuun during my ride. That is likely not enough fluids for a four hour ride.
To save time during transition, I definitely need to just pin my bib number to the back of my bike jersey before the race.
Was this hard? Oh yes. Did I enjoy it? Cold swim aside, yes. Will I do another one? Also yes.
