Preface:
Why am I doing Ironman Germany?
I’ve asked myself this a lot over the course of the last 9 months. My foray into Ironman began in 2005 while I was training for 2005 Ironman Florida. What I realized during this race is that there are no sure things in long-distance racing. A small miscalculation, a bad day, or just a good night’s sleep can be the difference between success and failure.
I had suffered an odd calamity at the Ironman event in 2005 due to a stomach ailment two days before the race. After a discouraging race, there was this huge feeling of emptiness. It was strange. I successfully completed the race and I was a so called “Ironman”, but I never really felt that I deserved it. I had suffered, but not in a way that was “sporting”. I wasn’t necessarily in control of the suffering. It was out of my hands. I needed to find a race that would be thrilling. Something out of the ordinary. An event that my wife and I could make memorable. Not only for the race, but for the venue as well. Germany was it! Igda would get the chance to go back to see the city in which she lived for eight years and I would be able to share in learning more about her past.
The bottom line is that I needed to put the demon behind me. I needed to push myself farther and harder than I thought I could without ANY excuses. My original goal was to go sub 11 hours. On paper it seemed simple, but to execute it is another story.
Projected Goal times:
Swim- 1:10 hrs
T1- 5 mins
Bike- 5:30 hrs
T2- 4 mins
Run- 4:00 hrs
Estimated Time: 10:50 with a little wiggle room
The Coaching:
After departing with the 400 Euros upon signing up for the race, I quickly sent Eric Sorensen an email and hired him as my coach. I needed someone to kick me in the tail and guide me in the right direction. Eric has always been there for me when I needed advice and direction, so why not commit and hire the best. It’s a huge plus that I get the opportunity to train with Eric as well. He’s proven not only to be a great coach, but an incredible training partner as well (On the bike at least. I can’t keep up with him in the pool or the run). I owe Eric a debt of gratitude for having me perfectly prepared.
The Support:
What I have learned through my experience training for an Ironman is quite simple; the platform for success stems from the support within the one’s you love. Heaven willing, that love is returned in kind because it will be a lopsided relationship during the course of your training and preparation.
Although this is a boring subject for most racers, this really should be the longest segment of my report. For those that have completed an Ironman, they will understand that to be an “Ironman” you have to have “Ironman” support. This comes in many shapes and forms.
When the Ironman medal is placed over my head after crossing the finishing line, I truly feel undeserving. I really wish my wife could stand at the finish line and a volunteer would place the medal over her neck. She is really the one that deserves it. All I had to do was train and race.
Igda had her own Ironman race. Except it wasn’t a race against the clock and it didn’t involve swimming, cycling and running. It was a race to keep our relationship in tact and unselfishly support her spouse’s dream no matter how crazy I was or amount of time I was away from home training.
I owe a tremendous amount of gratitude to her. She has put up with my mood swings. She has listened to my whining. She has put up with my training. She has done a zillion loads of my laundry. Often, she served as my personal masseuse…although it did cost me a few shopping sprees in return.
Her sacrifice hasn’t gone unnoticed. I hope someday I can demonstrate the same patience and support with her pursuit of a dream.
Ok….just cracked another bottle of wine…I may miss swim practice tomorrow…I’m entitled, right? After all, I’m an Ironman!
The Training:
My recipe for having a great race is simple, just train with a bunch of great athletes and you WILL improve. I’ve been fortunate during the last few years to meet and have the opportunity to train with some incredible triathletes.
Two years ago, Eric came up with the idea of starting a “CoreRide”. The motto is simple, “DO WORK”. It started as a group of triathletes looking to push each other to levels that couldn’t be achieved by training alone. It’s developed into some of the regions top triathletes pushing each other to some incredible results. Me, I’m just happy to suck a wheel on training rides, look at results and tell friends, “Hey, I ride with that guy! He’s an animal!”
Needless to say, it is also a group of individuals on the verge of insanity that would risk freezing limbs on cold January days to get a ride in. Anything to avoid the indoor trainer! It toughens you up, right?
There was one breakthrough workout worth mentioning. I met Ted “SunRise” Waugh and Sean Ward bright and early one Saturday morning in May. They proceeded to put a beat down on me that I will never forget. We managed 116 miles in roughly 5hr 55 minutes doing two reverse loops of Mt. Weather. For the last 30 miles, I was doing all I could to hang on. It was a huge confidence boost to get this ride under my belt. I had never ridden as hard for that long, ever. I truly felt after this ride that the 112 mile Ironman leg would be a walk in the park. These guys are going to kill it at Lake Placid.
Along with the 5:30 a.m. Masters swim practices where I was constantly being pushed to my limits and the joyous track workouts (thanks, Ole) in tandem with a weekly long, sweaty run, I’d put in the time. Physically, there wasn’t much more I could do without sacrificing my career or my personal relationships.
Side note- Pre-Ride with Faris Al-Sultan:
Check out this article (I was on this ride with Faris):
www.ironmanlive.com/columns/ironmanlife/kevin-mackinnon-reports-on-ironman-germany-jon-blais-and-ironman-western-australia
Funny Story about the Pasta Party:
After the pre-race briefing on Friday afternoon, Igda & I hung out for an hour or so to chow down at the Pasta Dinner the race organizers had coordinated. We were a little skeptical at first, but after seeing the spread of delicious food we were pretty excited. There were all sorts of various pasta dishes that were incredibly tasty. But my real amazement instantly turned to the sheer number of people sitting around us that were drinking huge pints of beer. I began to look around further and noticed something that I think only would happen in Germany. See, there were two beer stands at each end of the arena that were at least 30 people deep waiting to get a beer. The individuals in line weren’t race supporters; these were in shape athletes waiting for their daily nourishment. The four coke and water stands were empty. Only in Germany!
Race Day:
I slept like crap. I awoke after 1 a.m. and toss and turned for the remaining 3 hours. Oh, well. The alarm finally went off at 4 a.m. and I slid out of bed with the realization that today was going to be an incredible day. The previous morning I woke up with a huge krink in my neck. After a few massive rubs from Igda the day before, I was somewhat pleasantly surprised that the stiffness had loosened up this morning. A good sign.
I had a banana, bowl of muesli and I was good to go. Since I racked my bike the day before, all I had to do was grab my wetsuit, mix the magic potions in my water bottles and head out to catch the bus.
The swim is roughly 12k’s from downtown Frankfurt (where the bike/run transition is). Shuttle buses start at 4 a.m. and constantly shuffles athletes and spectators to the swim start. Everything progresses as clockwork.
I arrive 90 minutes before the start and begin setting up my transition area. Nothing unusual, with the exception that at European events you have the choice of changing at your bike or a makeshift tent (for the bashful Americans). I chose to keep my transition bag at my bike and lay out my belongings very typical to other triathlons. In customary fashion, I got in line for my ceremonial pre-race number 2. Uh, oh…major problem. I can’t go. Nothing. Not a good sign, but I just can’t worry about it now.
With 10 minutes to go before the start, I’m in the water and slowly moving toward the middle of a massive group of bright neon green swim caps. I start to realize that this swim is going to be unlike anything I have ever experienced. I slice my way through the herd until I’m just about 5 rows behind the front, smack dab in the middle. The area for the swim start is approx. 100 x 100 meters. Racers are actually backed up to the beach when the gun goes off.
The Swim:
I’ve been in rough swim starts before, but I’ve never had to endure the punishment for 2.4 miles. It was crazy. I was swimming over people. I had people swimming over the top of me. PANDEMONIEUM! I overheard afterward that some of the kayakers actually got knocked over after the gun went off.
My mantra for the swim was “breathe / relax” at every stroke. This was a huge success. Mentally I stayed focused regardless of the two times I had my goggles knocked off. Or the time at the halfway point a German decided to stop and tell me how unhappy he was that I had just crawled up his back. I have no idea what he said but I can still see his face yelling what I believe were a slew of profanities. Too funny to think that I had no idea what he was saying!
In my head, I kept telling myself that it would loosen up and calm down, but it never did. It felt like there were 400 swimmers all swimming the exact same pace as me. I’d see a bit of open water and head to it. Immediately it would close up. I think we all were thinking the same thing. I just had to roll with it and stay relaxed.
I knew my swimming had improved and I was feeling much stronger, but I was extremely happy to see 1:06:39. A PR by 3 minutes even with the rough conditions.
T1:
I jogged up the steep hill out of the water and realized I had to go pee. I noticed the Toi’s to my right as I was running through transition and decided to make a bee-line to them. Unlike North America races, you’re on our own for taking off the wetsuit. I nearly fell over into the Toi while taking off my wetsuit. After my exit, I ran to my bike and without any bashfulness I strip down to the bone. It actually felt liberating. It sort of felt like I was changing armour. I threw on my bike kit and I was off.
What you will hear: Sounds of German Enthusiasm on the bike and run
schneller (faster) pronounced "schnella"
los (go) pronounced "LOS"
auf gehts (let's go) pronounced "off gets"
hopp, hopp, hopp (go) pronounced "op"
The Bike:
My race advisor, Steve Tappan, gave me a lot of great advice leading up to the bike course and it proved to be spot on. Thanks, Steve! As I was rolling from the Lake into town and smiling inwardly at all the cyclists shooting past me – it crossed my mind that I was a better swimmer than they were and hopefully better at pacing myself. I would see them later I told myself. I passed a group of draft busters (bike marshals) who were being given a briefing. I subsequently had one of the Marshalls pull beside me and yell at me in German of which I understood absolutely nothing. I shouted back, “English, please.” But he growled back at me again in German. The only thing I could figure was that he was telling me that I had to get over. Remember, this was 20 minutes into the ride and we were stacked up 2-3 deep everywhere. I smiled and gave him the universal “OK” sign. I just slowed down and moved over until he was out of sight. I was determined that I would not have any altercation with a draft marshal having been wrongly accused of drafting.
Once we were out of Frankfurt and into the villages, the crowds lined the route and had set up tables and benches off to the side of roads and sidewalks. Some had already started on great big Steins of beer and were very merry – don’t forget this was 9:00 am! The course is technical and at one of the more technical portions there is roughly 300 yards of cobblestone to cover. This is the real deal. As you enter the cobblestone section there is a sharp 90 degree left turn. Since I couldn’t carry any speed into the cobble section, I found the best way to get through it was to lighten my weight on the handlebars and gear down, grinding through the vibrations. Even though this portion of the race was unusual, in a weird sort of way it rattled me enough that I felt invigorated after it. It was my very mini Paris-Roubaix.
As the course continued, the crowds closed in ‘Tour de France’ style and were shouting “Hopp, Hopp” or “Los, Los, Los” all while ringing giant cow bells and other noise makers in support. I felt a great sense of pride that they had taken the time to come out and support us. The children held their hands out in anticipation of a ‘high five’. To allow my mind to wander for a short while I allowed myself some time out to oblige the children as long as it was safe to do so. It’s so hard to describe until you have experienced it. No offense, but the fan support is unlike anything found in North America and I’d venture to guess anyplace on the planet.
Vergil Arbuckle gave me a great piece of advice which I implored along the way. It was a simple, “smile, it makes you feel better”. I used it a lot along the way. Thanks for the reminder, Vergil!
I always kept in mind a quote from Eric:
“Everyone looks good at 80 miles on the bike. It’s after that point where things begin to unravel if you don’t pace yourself correctly and save energy.”
I was having a solid bike ride and I knew it. I started passing a number of racers 2/3 through the bike that were slowing. This was a good sign. I checked my avg. HR at 110 miles and it read 144, so I knew I was well into my aerobic range for 95% of the ride. My legs felt great and my nutrition was dialed in perfectly. No stomach issues. I was just a little sad I couldn’t do one more loop and soak up the fanfare just one more time. It was really that incredible.
Bike split: 5:19:29. 10 minutes faster than I needed to be, but I knew I paced myself well without ever really pushing it hard.
T2:
Going into T2, I gleefully handed over the bike and started to prepare myself for the run. I charged into the transition tent… there was only 1 tent for the ladies and gents to change in but by this time I did not care and stripped off totally to don the fresh run kit, subconsciously hoping it would make me feel fresh. I thanked the volunteer and started my rampage down the red carpet.
The Run:
The crowds of support were AMAZING and they lined the whole route, several deep in places. In many places, the crowd closed in so tight that runners had to be in single file to get through. The energy was incredible. They all deserve a medal for their assistance as they had had as long a day as the athletes. My goal was to run the marathon in 4 hours or below. I knew I had banked some time to reach my goal, but I was counting on not needing it. Since the run course was set up for 4 11k loops, my plan was to complete each loop in under an hour.
My first lap ended in 55 mins. Bang, a little ahead of target. I was ecstatic. I had made my pace without really trying. I knew the next three laps were not going to be that easy.
Because the run was in an ‘H’ shape, Igda could cross a walking bridge over the river during each lap so I had the chance to see her twice – I never really knew where she was going to be so it kept my mind alert looking for her. I slowed a bit on the second lap and come in just a hair over 1 hour. From this point on, I knew it was going to hurt.
The third lap was a struggle. I kept reciting my run mantra “Quick and light” while trying to drown out all the noise and pain beginning to surface throughout my body. This became my mantra for the rest of the run. My head began to ache so when I saw Igda next I had asked her if she had any Ibuprofen. She didn’t but she told me she would run to the hotel and get some and see me back there on the final lap. What a trooper! (FYI…at European IM’s you can receive outside assistance as long as it’s within 50 meters of an aide station and it only involves nutrition. There are no special needs bags at the halfway points of the bike and run).
Then the next panic – a started feeling sharp pains in my ribs. It didn’t really feel like cramps and even after some deep breathing and stretching it wouldn’t go away. Suddenly, it hit me. I needed to find the next porta loo pronto or there would be a big problem! After limited success at the first stop, I had to make one more visit to the porta loo a few miles down before I felt relief and the pains subsided – not pleasant I know but this is a warts and all account of what my body was going through. I completed this lap in 1:13. I was losing ground. I told myself to keep moving. I really wasn’t looking forward to having to sprint (like I would be able to) the last mile or two in order to go sub 11.
One lap to go and its over! From this point forward, I transplanted water with Red Bull. What the hell, it couldn’t hurt. I hear Igda yell my name and she asks me if I need the ibuprofen. With some slurred speech, I let her know that I’m feeling much better and I don’t need it. Sorry babe for making you run to get it!
As I made the last turnaround on the run, I realized that I only had a few km’s to go and the race was going to be complete – this really spurred me on and I forgot about all the aches and pains and tried to get out of my IM shuffle and run normally to prove to the hordes of crowds I could run, even after what I had put my body through. Without a complete implosion, I knew I was going to be under 11 hours and the jubilation was beginning to creep into my mind.
The Finish
I headed up the red carpeted cobbled path to the finish grandstand and was met by an almighty roar from the crowd. I was flabbergasted at this reception – it was truly awesome! I raised my arms in joy as I crossed the finish line. I grabbed the shoulder of a volunteer and stood motionless. I was finally able to release the Ironman monkey from my back. I now felt that I was deserving of calling myself an Ironman. I felt like I was on top of the world and the medal around my neck made it all worth while. In my dazed and confused state I heard Igda’s voice yell my name. With blurred vision, I stumble over to give her a hug and a kiss. We did it!
Run Time: 4:19. A little disappointing, but I was in no mood to complain.
With my arm firmly attached to the volunteer’s shoulder, I’m led to the athletes garden about 100 meters away. This was an area where the IM organizers had assembled a massive party with a banquet tent; massage tent, medical center, portable hot tubs and showers. It was closed off and only the participants could enter. People just stripped off and hopped into the hot tubs without a care in the world. After about 15 minutes of solitude and gorging myself with water, I mustered up enough energy to go find Igda outside of the garden. I let her know I was ok and that I was going to shower and try to down some food.
I felt a lot better after showering, but I hadn’t regained my appetite, yet. Since it was still early, I decided to get my bike and other race gear and take it back to the hotel. We decided to head back up to the finish line to view the remaining finishers struggling to beat the time cut off. It was like nothing I’d seen before. With strobe lights flashing and music blaring, the crowd was in a roar. It had been a very long day! I was now ready to sit down at the local brewhaus and cap off my day with a well deserved pint of German Pilsner. Best beer I have ever tasted!
Post Race:
A special mention has to go to Igda, family, colleagues, Tri buddies and friends. Thank you all for all your support and good wishes! It was you all who pulled me through the darker moments of the race- as you have read above there were quite a few of them. It still brings me out in goose bumps when I think of the event and I start to get all emotional!
Now that I’ve had time to reflect a bit, there’s still one question mark in my mind. Had I set my goal time too high? Maybe if my goal was 10:30, I would have been able to run 4hrs? Dang it! I now know this is going to eat at me for some time. Who knows, maybe I’ll just have to give IM one more shot. Yikes! I can’t believe I just wrote that.
Interesting Observations:
Compression Socks – These are definitely the rage over in Europe. I don’t know much about them, but Timo Bracht (winner) was wearing them. They do look odd, though. Think Paula Radcliffe.
Road bikes- I’d venture to say that 60% of the competitors used road bikes with clip-ons. I guess not everyone needs a tri-bike to be fast. Germans can ride!
Talking while racing- There was very little race chatter going on. On the bike, I think I had one person say something to me. They take their sport seriously and everyone is very focused. Maybe it’s also due to the fact there were many countries represented in the field.
Xentis wheels- I’d say I saw many more people using this wheel set than disc’s. Interesting. My guess is that Faris drives much of the fervor since he uses them.
Body marking- They don’t do it. And personally, I can understand why. It’s pointless since you have to wear your race number on the bike and run. No race #= DQ anyhow. Just one less thing you have to worry about taking care of before the race and you don’t have to worry about having your number emblazoned on your body for the next few months after a sunburn.
Race Numbers- A much higher quality than the thin, paper numbers I’ve ever seen. It’s like a thin cloth material. Much stronger and it won’t tear.
Trash and water bottles- I don’t know if it’s in the culture of cycling in Europe, but I witnessed on many occasions indiscriminate discarding of gels and water bottles along the course. It really didn’t matter where you were at. The kids lining the course would be crying out for you to toss them a bottle. I must admit, it was fun to toss a water bottle and watch them chase after it.
Bike Number- I’ve always been miffed when a race provides you a huge bike number that always seems to take some creativity when mounting on your top-tube or seat post. They provide a small number sticker that is attached to the rear brake cable. Very easily seen and not nearly as annoying. They also provide 3 small number stickers for your bike helmet. One in front and one on each side of helmet. Marshall’s can easily identify racers.
Aide Stations- These are organized extremely efficient. Each station is set up in the same sequence….ice cups, water, gel, food, coke, water, and finally Red Bull. You never had to think about it. It was like clockwork. Did I mention they love their Red Bull?
The competitors- Ok, I thought I was in pretty good shape going into this race, but the Age Group talent at this race was fascinating. I looked like a couch potato compared with many of the racers. Maybe I need to incorporate a little more beer into my diet. It seems to work for them.
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