"Ironman
Compressed"
New Zealand Race
Report 2006
by Mike Coughlin
Standing at the waters edge on Lake Taupo the day before
Ironman New Zealand, it looked as though 2006 was going to be
a bit of an odd year for the race. IMNZ had been at this location
for 8 years now, and had yet to have a significantly choppy
day. Yet for the third day in a row, there I was wading into
the swells and crashing waves of what was normally a calm piece
of water. "No worries", I thought - everyone says
this is meant to pass. Besides, I am ready for anything, and
it can't possibly get worse than this...
Fast forward to race morning: It's 6:15 am and the transition
area is abuzz with anticipation and nervous energy. Par for
the course at any Ironman event, but the vibe here was beyond
the normal collection of Pre-Ironman jitters. It was ominous.
And for good reason too. Normally, we would all
be making our way down to the race start, having triple-checked
our tire pressure, race nutrition and everything else under
the sun as A-Type triathletes are want to do on race morning.
Yet we had all been instructed to sit tight and wait in T1 for
news about the status of the swim - indeed the status of the
whole race, due to the howling winds and resulting whitecaps
becoming visible down on the water in the emerging light.
For me, such an unexpected stressor was met with
a strange calm. I had been nervous all of race week, not a normal
feeling for me. Perhaps it was because I had built up some expectations
for this race, having given myself some lofty personal goals
after enjoying several months of dedicated training in New Zealand
during a leave of absence from my job back home. Sure, I talked
a good game about just having a solid day, pacing myself and
letting the outcome be what it may, but it was clear from my
race week jitters that I expected something more, something
special. Having an external stress to focus on somehow made
me feel better.
When the announcement was made that the swim was
cancelled and that we would all meet again at 8:15am to be told
about the terms of the bike+run event, I zipped home to get
different race gear and adjust the plan. One thing nobody was
expecting was that this new duathlon event would in fact be
a triathlon after all. Wait, Bike, Run.
The 8:15 meeting ended quickly as we evacuated
the Marquee tent under threat of collapse in the wind. Outside
the tent, we were kept waiting until 9am before race organizers
announced the format of the bike+run. Due to the continuing
strong winds and the fact that the morning was dragging on,
we would only be doing one lap of the bike and one lap of the
run - essentially a Half Ironman without the swim. We would
be sent off individually one after the other on 5 second intervals
starting at 11am.
Having a last name (and therefore race number)
fairly high up on the list, I only had to wait half an hour
or so after the pros started 30 seconds apart (those "Wilson's"
out there had to wait an hour and a half!), so when I got started,
it was only 4 1/2 hours after the original start time (!). I
used this time wisely, staying away from nervous crowds and
altering my race clothing, nutrition and setup to reflect this
much shorter, and therefore faster event. I even managed a run
warmup by doing a zillion loops of the transition area. When
it was my time to go, I took off, ready to race.
The first 1km of the bike ride was crazy, with
crosswinds off the lake blowing us all over the road. Once out
of town, however, we were treated to the best tailwind I have
ever experienced. In the past, I have argued that the vast majority
of triathletes are way overgeared on their bikes. For the first
time in my life, I found myself undergeared in a triathlon.
The reason was simple - we were all absolutely flying.
Over the years I have learned to have a bittersweet
opinion of tailwinds, especially early in a ride. It is tough
to truly enjoy it when you are all too aware of what you will
be up against on the way home. In this case, I tried my best
to stay in the moment and have fun whipping along. I got to
the turnaround at 45km in an hour flat.
I am sure you all know what happened next - myself
and everyone else was introduced to Mr. invisible brick wall.
Luckily, my lack of gears had kept me pretty fresh and I was
ready for the challenge. I kept passing people and felt strong.
The really evil thing about the Taupo bike course
is that although you are lead to believe it is mainly flat,
the whole second half of the way back is slightly uphill, with
a few real hills to sting you good. With the headwind we were
all contending with, it became a game of survival. In fact,
the entire return leg (more than 90 minutes of it) felt like
one continuous big gear session with no real opportunities to
coast and stretch out, or even stand in that wind. My heart
rate monitor told me I was not going as hard as I was on the
way out, but my legs told me different! It was like the Ironman
course was compressed, giving my legs the 160km feeling at 80km.
Ouch! I was happy to get off the bike.
The start of the run was good and I was happy
to be moving well. There was no question I had heavy legs though,
which was compounded by the headwind on the way out. Everyone
was leaning way into it, and those lucky enough to have a big
triathlete near them to draft off of had an advantage for sure.
The way back was like heaven, riding the tailwind and feeling
like this race might go ok after all. Up until the last 4km
that is.
Hitting the 17km mark, I could feel the wheels
coming off. I had eaten and drank quite well before and during
the event (275kcal/hour of InfinIT, adding coke to the equation
at the 8km mark of the run), but my systems were starting to
shut down. My legs were trashed, but I had trained them to take
a pounding with lots of downhill running and they were holding
together and taking me down the hills just fine. Any requirement
to add energy of my own to the process, however, became another
story. Once I hit the lakefront crosswinds in town again, it
became a comic affair of trying to stay upright, literally tripping
over my own legs in the wind (an experience others shared I
later learned). I had bit off more than I could chew, and once
again it felt like an Ironman compressed, hanging on to the
finish.
The finishing chute was a strange experience.
It had the grandeur of an IM finish line, without the full scale
IM experience. Still, I found myself staggering along like many
an Ironman finisher, so at least I got that right. As a bonus,
I had the joy of watching my friend Ciaran Cassidy from Ireland
blow by me in the final metres on his way to a Kona slot and
3rd place in the 45-49. Great job, you sneaky bugger!
After the race, I found myself really shattered,
both physically and mentally. This surprised me since it was
"only" a half distance bike+run event, but it makes
more sense now that it has been a couple of weeks. I am learning
that the fatigue associated with a big race has a lot to do
with the preparation for the race rather than the race itself.
I also figured out that the pressure of my high expectations
and the structure of my training over the past few months had
me a bit flat on race day. I still raced pretty solid (until
the meltdown of course), but not quite at the level I was capable
of. It seems I still have a bit to learn about peaking at the
right time!
Live your dreams!
Mike
IMNZ Shortened Bike+Run event
90km Cycle: 2:31:27
Transition: 1:02
21.1km Run 1:38:33
Finish: 4:11:03
58/~1250 Overall
13/~175 M30-34
