So…how’d it go?

It was a busy couple of days leading up to the Aix half Ironman…

• My poor coach was far more stressed than I was. He dropped off a couple of things shortly before I left Spain for France. As we talked, I was my usual happy-but-deadpan self while he was like a proud and nervous parent leaving a child at university for the first time.

• Getting my bike on the train to Aix was a near disaster when the ticket agent said I wasn’t allowed to bring an unboxed bike onboard. Fortunately I speak enough Spanish that I convinced them it would be fine if I just removed the wheels. I also mentioned (repeatedly) that it was my birthday!

• I had assembled an international, 4 person cheerleading squad to join me for the weekend and, since I hadn’t seen 3 of them in months and years, it was great to hang out together again.

• It took awhile to methodically organize all of my gear into the appropriate transition bags, affix race numbers on my bike and helmet and number tattoos on my leg and arm.

• After exchanging emails for a few months, Kay and I finally got to meet in person. A fellow Canadian temporarily working in France, she has several half and full Ironman tris under her belt, so it was really nice to be able to bounce a few questions off of her and to have a buddy alongside to scout out the swim course.

There was just one thing left to do. Race!

I was awake before my alarm went off at 4:28 am, partly because I generally wake up before my alarm anyway and also because my coach had wisely advised me to get in the habit of rising early so that come race day, my body would be accustomed to rising and eating breakfast hours before sunrise.

I hopped on the shuttle that would take me the twenty-odd kilometers out of town for the swim. The bike transition area was full of athletes double and triple checking their gear, going through their pre-race rituals, and queueing for the port-a-potties.

I found Kay among the 2,500 triathletes. We donned our wetsuits and headed off to the swim start together.

I wasn’t sure what the water temperature would be so I was really pleased when I plunged a foot in the lake and discovered it was mild. My wetsuit keeps the bulk of my body warm and buoyant, but I can think of at least one training session this spring where the water was so cold, it felt like daggers on my face and I could hardly feel my fingers and toes. I went through my warm up swim and then stood onshore. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and mentally ran through the race from start to finish. Ok, I think I’m ready. Hmmm, wait, why are there so many people just standing in the water? Oh, they’re peeing! Good idea! So I waded in up to my waist just to be polite and watched as a couple hundred peeing people tried not to make eye contact with anyone. Now I was ready!

The announcer said it was time to make our way to the start corrals. The professional women would start the swim in the water, while the non pro women like me would start on the beach at the same time. Every 5 minutes after, a wave of men would start. Kay and I wished each other good luck and then quickly lost sight of each other. Just enough time for one more deep breath and then an ear splitting air horn sounded the race start!

I had lined up close to the front so I only took about two steps before I was swimming. The 1.9 kilometer course was more or less an upside down U. I know a lot of people hate the swim and really struggle with it mentally, but I really enjoy it. I count the entire time which not only keeps my left brained self happily occupied, it keeps me roughly informed as to how far I’ve swum. I breath every third stroke, so on the first stroke I count the breath number, the second stroke is “and,” while the third stroke counts which set of hundred meters I’m currently working towards completing. So this is the soundtrack in my head:

(Breath. Stroke.) 1…

(Stroke.) …and…

(Stroke.) …100…

(Breath. Stroke.) 2…

(Stroke.) …and…

(Stroke.) …100…

In the pool, it’s usually in the neighborhood of 36 breaths for 100 meters, so I round up to 40 breaths while in open water in case I am not swimming in a perfectly straight line. And when I reach the 1,000 meter set, I switch it so that rather than say “1,000” which is way too many syllables to keep my rhythm, I say “K!” (there’s even the exclamation mark in my head). I’ve discovered that I can do most anything in life so long as I have some sort of rhythm, so even if this makes no sense to you, dear reader, or if it sounds miserably tedious to just be counting for such a long time, this system is not only what keeps me going, I actually find it really enjoyable!

If you’ve never watched an open water swim before, it’s kind of mesmerizing to see so many little neon swim caps poking out of the water alongside windmilling arms. It sort of looks like creatures popping out of the sea trying to catch neon balls but with no success. In no time, I found myself swimming alongside another woman and we matched each other stroke for stroke to the point where we accidentally bonked the other on the head or mashed arms from time to time. I kept to my rhythm and made sure to poke my head up every third or so breath (more counting! Hizzah!) to check for landmarks and see make sure I was swimming as straight a line as possible. I rounded the first turn and after a few more strokes, made the second right hand turn. I bridged to the pack ahead of me and saved some energy by drafting off of them. I got really confused when I realized I was only a couple hundred meters shy of finishing the swim. Surely it can’t be done already? I’m not even tired! Not even a little! But the swim finish was indeed fast approaching so I started to properly kick my legs in order to get the blood pumping so I wouldn’t stumble over when it was time to switch from horizontal to vertical. Swimmers on either side of me were tripping as they struggled to maintain their balance or stood up too soon. I ignored them and stood up only when the water was too shallow to swim, bypassing all of the helpers offering a hand to keep the exiting swimmers steady.

There was a steep ramp and then a surprisingly long run to get to the transition area (T1). There were some spectators along the path (my cheerleaders were no doubt still tucked away in their beds) just standing and staring as we swimmers began to shed our wetsuits, goggles, and swim caps. Spectators just standing there? No, no, this would not do. My general feeling is if I’m watching someone do something athletic, I should be cheering just as hard as they are working. So when I’m doing something athletic, I’m going to make the spectators cheer for me! This I achieve with lots of arm waving and shouting.

I was in high spirits arriving in T1 where I found my bag and threw on my bike gear. I had no clue how long the swim had taken me, but there were lots of others in the T1 area so I figured I was safely in the middle of pack. In January, I did a swim test and my projected time for 1.9k was about 44 minutes. Four months later, I thought I could do the swim in about 40 minutes and my coach said 38. As I wheeled my bike on to the course, I saw the time and realized I had done the swim in about 36 minutes!

All around me, fancy bike computers chirped to life. I opt for a more old school style of racing and had strapped my cheap digital watch to my handlebars which allowed me to know what time it was and nothing more. (Actually, I’d love a nice bike computer, I just haven’t gotten around to researching them yet!) Basic for sure, but it was enough to help me remember to drink every 10 minutes and eat every 20 minutes.

The 90.1k course was just as beautiful as when my coach and I had made a long day trip the month before to ride it. The only difference was instead of cars, I was now sharing the road with triathletes. Plenty of riders passed me in the first 20 or 30k but I had expected this. The bike was my weakest of the 3 disciplines and the plan was for me to ignore everyone else and just stick to my pace. Drafting wasn’t allowed, but the road was so packed with riders that it was absolutely impossible to keep 10 meters distance.

I hit the first of the 3 climbs sooner than I’d expected and even managed to pass 1 or 2 riders. I checked in with myself and realized I felt really good, no fatigue at all from the swim, and my legs felt fresh. I had been riding conservatively so I picked up the pace and, about halfway through the ride, I started to pass other riders! I reached the second climb and was still enjoying myself. I even remembered to let lose the odd, “WAHOOOO!” on a couple of the descents. The final climb was only about 2k but it was the steepest of the day, maxing out around 10%. Just as I hit the bottom, I heard an enthusiastic, “Go, Kathryn, go!” as Kay rode past me. She is a much stronger cyclist so she didn’t stick around for long, but it was great to see her riding so well. (I also spotted a rider fully decked out in an AG2R time trial skinsuit: booties, helmet, the whole 9 yards!) I slowly made my way up the climb, marvelling at the panoramic view. I’m not kidding, I was riding so slowly that as other riders passed me, they’d shout “Allez, allez!” to me! They probably thought I was really hurting when in fact, I just don’t yet have the leg strength to bury myself that deeply. But no bother, I always appreciate a little encouragement! From here, it was a few more rolling Ks into Aix. I had hoped to do the ride in under 4:00 and had finished in it about 3:47 in the recon. My trusty digital watch said I was looking at about 3:39 and, better still, my legs felt great and ready for the half marathon!

I spotted my cheerleaders just as I rounded the final corner and dismounted my bike. I ran as fast as my bike shoes would let me and grabbed my T2 bag. All I had to do was change my socks, shoes, grab my race belt, and put on a hat, so this was a faster transition than T1. Almost without even realizing it, I was already on the run course: 4 laps through town and a park with a couple of short hills that my legs would no doubt notice.

The first lap went really well and I ran it strongly and consistently. I spotted Kay and found my friends on the course. Even if I slowed down a little, I was still on pace for a half marathon PR! But then lap 2 happened. My legs still felt great but my bladder didn’t. On the bike, I had kept myself well hydrated so it was only natural that I’d have to pee but I couldn’t find a port-a-potty! I was forced to slow down as my bladder yelled at me and because the course went through the center of town and a park filled with picnicking families, there was no where to grab a moment’s privacy (meanwhile I ran by dozens of guys standing with their backs to the course, doing what I wished to do most at that moment. Not fair.) Near the end of lap 2, I finally found a port-a-potty and was back on the course as quickly as possible but it took until lap 4 for my body to feel normal again. My shot at a PR was gone but I was still on pace to go under 2:00, which had been the goal all along. My form was definitely falling apart as I started to hunch my shoulders and lean forward at the waist, but I was still having a blast. My friends had split up and spread themselves around the course, screaming like maniacs every time I approached.

The kilometers on the run weren’t marked, which drove me more than a little crazy, but I was determined to run the last few Ks as fast as I could. I lengthened my strike, corrected my form, and picked off runners all around me. Coming in to the final stretch, I had to weave my way around slower runners as the road got ever narrower, overflowing with spectators. I had to put on the brakes a couple times to avoid barreling into athletes and spectators alike, but I opened up into a full sprint with about 150 meters to go. Or what I thought was 150 meters to go! It was really more like 300 meters as the narrow finish line wrapped around a seemingly never-ending roundabout. The guy in front of me was easing up well before the finish line, but I was still going full gas and just managed to avoid plowing into him as I crossed the line in 1:56!

And that was it. Done. Months of training boiled down to 6:22:27 on a Sunday morning in France. Can’t wait to do it again.