#22 - Ironman St. George, 2012

Wind.

It comes and it goes,
sometimes it’s fun,
and sometimes it blows.

 

I grew up encountering a handful of windy storms that wreaked havoc in Southern California because we are not used to, my mind is blanking, what is it called?  Oh right, weather. I always found running and riding in windy conditions incredibly annoying, but not scary, that changed soon after I hopped in the water of Sand Hollow Reservoir a second time for Ironman St. George, 2012. 

 

The water was glassy, and gorgeous for the 7AM start, perfect conditions for a 2.4 mile swim with a thousand or so of my nearest and dearest fellow competitors. We were a smiley, happy bunch of muscly misfits swimming into another amazing all day triathlon, except about ten minutes into the swim, the smiles switched to screams, and our race turned from a feat of endurance, to an act of survival.  The swells grew to 5ft. high, and began to roll like ocean waves after our first turn, which I initially I thought was wake from the rescue boats staged in the reservoir, but after I made the second turn I realized the waves were not from the boats, but from a massive and sudden windstorm that swooped in over all of us.  We were too far into the race for the officials to stop it, and too early into it to get ahead of it.  I kept my cool because I knew my swim fitness was there, and I was thankful that I grew up playing in the waves of Torrance beach and was able handle myself in mighty waves such as this; I was practically body-surfing.  I accepted that the expectations I set out for myself for the day were blown away by the 40mph winds, and now the goal was just to finish the race in one piece. 

 

My heart skipped a beat for all my buddies in the water who were not accustomed to these conditions, and a sick feeling washed over me that many people may be scared to death by these waves, and not prepared at all  of how to handle them.  Swimming in open water is completely different from swimming cozily within lane lines in a pool on the best day, a day like today was treacherous for all of us, and I prayed that we would all emerge from the water alive.  Thankfully, I later heard that even though many dreams were dashed during the swim, no lives were lost. 

 

When I finally emerged from the raucous waves and into transition I was thrilled to be on land, but as I hopped on my bike and rode out I yelled to my family, “Mission aborted!!”  This was because my goal swim time was 1:10hrs., per usual, but I came out of the water in 1:35hrs., and I knew the wind was going to continue slamming us on the bike, and wanted to let them know that this was going to be a much longer day for all of us than I had planned.

 

The bike leg was hysterical.  Imagine riding your bike as hard as you can into a relentless headwind for nearly 7.5 hours, so pretty much an entire work day for the average American.  I was not surprised by any portion of the course because I rode it the previous year, and it was just as tough as I remembered it.  Ironically, the steepest hill on the course, “The Wall”, turned out to be the easiest part of the day. I had to give a wink and a smile to the heavens as the wind downshifted to a slight breeze after the first sharp right turn up “The Wall”, and miraculously it felt more like a hand on my back than a tornado in my face. 

 

The saving grace of the grueling bike course is its beauty.  There is nothing more glorious in my opinion than the red rocks surrounding St. George, Utah.  I was alone over a large portion of the day, but I felt giddy and appreciative at how hard this race was turning out to be, I knew I was part of something special.  Did I think the bike course would never end? Yes.  Was I happy with my split of 7:27hrs., over an hour slower than my time in 2011?  No, but I finished under the cut-off which considering the conditions was not impressive, but respectable.  I had no idea as I rolled into Transition how many athletes did not make the bike cut off, or even the swim cut off for that matter, I just knew I had a marathon ahead of me, and it was time to run.

 

The upside to the 2012 race was that the run course was moved from the exposed, hot, hilly suffer fest of 2011, to a much more manageable course that looped around downtown St. George. Even though I appreciated the race organizers efforts to make our lives somewhat more pleasant, I don’t think I had ever been so annoyed during a marathon as I was that Cinco De Mayo in 2012.  It was probably because I had never started a marathon so late in the day, around 4PM, and my legs and spirit were weak from the beat down the wind had given me all day.  Luckily, the air was still for the marathon, another gift from above. Nevertheless, try as I might, my legs were like cinder blocks, my stomach was rock hard, until it gave out around hour 12, which I understood; I was usually done by then. I had some dark moments between miles 10 – 20, and I am positive that only reason I did not walk off the course and weep in my spandex was I knew that my family was waiting for me at the finish line. I had to pick my sorry spirits up and run for them.  I knew I would be fine if I quit, I was that delusional, but I didn’t quit, I “ran” as fast as I could to the finish line not only to finish the race, but to just put an end to this bloody day.

 

When we arrived back at the hotel I stopped to talk to a family who congratulated me for finishing the race, a normal sentiment, yes, but their tone was weighted and sincere because their daughter did not finish.  It turned out that Ironman St. George 2012 had the largest attrition percentage ever, 29% of the participants did not finish.  That is a HUGE number.  My time was an abysmal 13:39hrs., nearly 2.5 hours slower than my best time at IM Arizona, but I still had a finishing medal dangling around neck, and was proud to be a part of such a historical race.  Plus, marathon #22 was in the books, and I was well on my way to reaching 35 by 35.