Santa Cruz Ironman 70.3

Fear (n): An unpleasant, often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger.

I am staring out at a sea of thrashing limbs and bobbing swim caps, threatened to be swallowed up by the actual sea. Seeing this fate that lay ahead of me, I realized that I would literally rather be anywhere else in the world. And waiting for that fate to meet me was the worst part of all.

Why did time have to choose now to slow down? Up until this point, everything in the last few days had gone by in a whirlwind. Arriving in Seattle after our trip to Alaska, rushing to the airport to make our flight to San Francisco, stopping in San Jose to pick up the bike I had rented, making it to Santa Cruz just in time to check in for the race. Meeting up with my race partner Nicole, settling into our Airbnb, making a dinner I was too nervous to eat, laying out my race gear, packing up my transition area bag. Waking up in the darkness, forcing down some breakfast, driving to the race site, setting up my station, fighting with my wetsuit, making the long walk to the beach.

And now here I stood. Finally catching my breath and allowing the magnitude of what I was about to do flood my senses. Despite all my training, I felt completely unprepared. A small, rational part of me knew it was just the fear talking. Of course I was prepared! But rationality rarely wins against fear.

I forced myself to breathe. All I have to do is swim around the pier and I'm home free. Don't think about the distance (1.2 miles), the time it'll take (about 45 minutes), or that despite the thrashing limbs around me, I will be completely on my own. With just my muscles to keep me from being swallowed by the open sea.

The pier, just focus on the pier. It's the openness of the sea that terrified me. Having a little piece of solid land in my view at all times would be my saving grace. (Of course I knew that having a pier nearby wouldn't actually physically save me in a dire situation. But again - fear is not rational).

I was grateful to have a support team as the rows of green and pink caps ahead in line got smaller and smaller. Nicole was by my side in a matching wetsuit and swimcap. We wouldn't be doing the whole race together, but being together before taking the plunge into the icy waves was enough. Jin was also there on the beach, and Nicole's husband, Sandeep. "Don't worry Caity, the sharks won't be out until later." Leave it to Sandeep to make me laugh at a time like this.

One more row of swimcaps ahead of us. Holy crap, this is it. No more thinking, just do it. Nicole and I ran under the starting arch and down the beach toward the water. I saw Nicole get taken out by a wave just as I took a huge breath and plunged in.

The Swim

Mayhem. Chaos. Pandemonium.

After seeing Nicole get knocked over, I completely lost her in the fray. Waves and limbs flailed all around me. Icy water filled my wetsuit. People were spluttering, coughing. I was so distracted by all the chaos I forgot to be afraid. Before I knew it, I was past the breakers and I tempted a glance back at the beach. Big mistake. Abort! Abort! my brain screamed as it registered how far away land was. What are you doing? Go back to safety, now! For one brief moment, I started to turn back toward the beach. But then from another part of my brain came the reminder of all the work I'd put in for the past several months. After all that, I could not give up in the first five minutes.

So I pressed on. I settled into my stroke. I allowed myself to breathe every two strokes until my heart rate slowed and I felt calm enough to breathe every three. I made a point to focus my eyes on the pier every time I turned my head to the right. I had one more moment of panic about halfway down the length of the pier. I tried breathing every two strokes again until I calmed down. 

Before long, I was rounding the first corner. Almost halfway! Emboldened by this thought I picked up the pace a bit. I was keeping to the inner edge of the lane of swimmers to avoid being kicked. But when I reached the second turning point, I found myself caught in a bottleneck to get around the large yellow buoy. It was the first time since the beginning that I paused to take in my surroundings. A man was coughing and holding on to the buoy as if for dear life until a lifeguard came to rescue him. I blinked a few times. Shake it off. You're fine, he will be fine, just keep swimming. 

Once free of the bottleneck, I looked straight ahead and it hit me that all I had to do was swim toward the beach and I would be done. I can do that! The sun was shining right in my eyes whenever I turned to breathe. It was slightly disorienting and more than once I had to re-direct myself to keep going forward. 

As the beach got closer, I registered a loud, barking sound from the direction of the pier. Sea lions! I couldn't see them with the blinding sun fracturing through my goggles, but I knew they were there. Which meant that land was close by. 

I started to let my gaze linger under water with each stroke, anxiously awaiting the moment I could see land beneath me again. Finally, there it was! Sweet, sweet land. A few more strokes and... yes! My feet could touch the bottom. Zoom! Like Road Runner, I sped out of that water as fast as I possibly could.

Euphoria. Rapture. Elation. You'd think I just finished the entire race with how insanely happy and relieved I felt. There was also a bit of shock that I'd actually done it! This thing that I'd been so afraid of for so long. And what's more, I'd finished the swim in 43 minutes! I never imagined I could finish under 45 minutes. The hardest part was over, now came the fun.

Transition 1

The swim-to-bike transition would be a long one because I still had to make it back to the transition area, which was almost a half mile away. I had read tips from other triathletes to stash shoes and some energy gels near the beach exit ramp. Such a great tip! I found the shoes I'd stashed earlier and tried to get some of the sand off of me before shoving them on and hurrying to the path. 

A few minutes later and I was at my bike wrestling with my wetsuit once again. I went through the list in my head as I completed each step. Wetsuit off, swim cap and goggles off, bike shirt on, quick spray of sunscreen, towel dry feet, socks on, bike shoes on, bike gloves on, sunglasses on helmet on, camelback on, grab bike, and go! I tried to balance going quickly without being reckless. I would be on the bike for the next three or so hours, so if I missed something it could lead to a very uncomfortable ride. 

The Bike

I reached the edge of the transition area, mounted my bike, and was off. 56 miles, here I come! I caught a glimpse of Jin and Sandeep at the edge of the crowd as I sped off toward the water. The first mile or so was lined with spectators as the winding path took us along the waterfront. The twists and turns continued for 3 miles before I was deposited onto Route 1, where I'd stay for the next 50 miles.

It sounded so simple. The majority of the course would be a straight out and back on Route 1. I knew there would be hills, which I was very much prepared for. What I wasn't prepared for was the blast of headwind that hit me. This was not good. A headwind now meant a headwind for the next 25 miles.

So I focused on the positives. Like how cool it was to be biking on Route 1! Not too long ago, I'd run 26.2 miles on this very road during the Big Sur Marathon. That was south of here, finishing on the other side of Monterey Bay in Carmel-by-the-Sea. What a cool way to experience more of this seaside road. The views were stunning! I couldn't get enough of the glittering blue ocean and the green-dotted cliffs. I really wished I could take some pictures - you know how much I love taking pictures during races. But it's against Ironman rules (immediate disqualification!).

At this point, the road was closed to cars, which was good because so early in the race there were a lot of other cyclists around me. In fact it wasn't long before I'd settled into a little pack of people going about the same pace as me. Biking with the pack, I discovered that I'm a natural climber. I would speed past most of them on the uphills, but apparently I need to work on my descent technique because they'd pass me right back on the downhills.

Maybe I owed some of that uphill speed to the bike I was using. It was a really nice and light road bike with fancy, automatic shifters. A Porsche compared to the heavy, nearly decade-old Cadillac of a bike that I'd been training on.

But though the lightness of my bike was a blessing when it came to climbing, it was a curse in the headwind. I'd gone about 10 miles on Route 1 so far and though I was pedaling my hardest, I felt like I was slogging through mud. My watch said I was averaging 12-13 miles per hour, which was much slower than I'd anticipated going. I didn't really have a time goal, but I was still hoping to finish the bike leg in around three hours. Well, I could kiss that dream goodbye.

Exhaustion. Anger. Defeat. A few miles later, I had hit rock bottom. I wanted to scream in frustration. I had lost so much steam fighting this wind. How could I possibly bike 40 more miles? And then run a half marathon?! The prospect seemed laughable. At this rate I'd be finishing in the dark. And then right on cue, a ginormous hill - nay, mountain - appeared.

I somehow made it up that mountain by way of alternating self-pep talks and hysterical breakdowns. I reached the top spent, but with renewed fortitude. That had to be the worst of it, and I'd made it. I told myself that I just had to get through the next ten miles and this nightmare (the wind) will literally be behind me. 

So for the next ten miles I entered a familiar meditative state - the one I usually call a runner's coma during a marathon. Where my brain can only focus on the singular task of continuing forward and nothing else registers. I finally awoke from my coma when a woman biking the opposite direction on the other side of the road shouted to me "Don't worry, you're almost there! You're about to feel like you're reborn!" Did she say reborn? I must be losing it.

I nearly jumped off my bike and hugged the course volunteer at the turnaround point. Finally! And after only a few pedal strokes beyond the turn, I immediately knew what that woman had meant. I felt like an entirely new human. I'd emerged from a cocoon with beautiful, rainbow-striped wings. Without the constant, combative resistance of the wind, I could finally move forward freely with each pedal stroke. 

I spent the next ten miles pedaling as fast as I could and taking in every detail that I'd missed during my biker's coma. My pace was now 18-20 miles per hour. That's more like it. When I reached the top of my old friend, the mountain from the other side, I had a split second to take in the amazing view before plunging down into the descent at 40 mph. There is really nothing like the thrill of flying down a steep descent on a bike. It's exhilarating and terrifying all at once. 

I spent the remaining miles pedaling fast, but also letting the tail wind do its thing so that I could recharge a bit. I had brought a lot of snacks on the bike leg since it's much easier for me to eat while biking than running. In a 6+ hour race, you have to refuel at some point. I ate some energy bars and an entire PB & J, broken up into smaller pieces in individual ziploc bags (another bomb tip I'd read!).

Before I knew it, I was turning off of Route 1, onto the winding road that would take me back to the transition area. There were orange cones all along that road, keeping the cyclists to the left because the runners were on the other side. That will be me soon! I could see the pier in the distance. It felt like a lifetime ago that I had plunged into that icy water. Finally, I reached the crowd of spectators again and made the final turn toward the transition area.

Transition 2

It took me a moment to find my legs after getting off the bike. It was like taking that first step after removing roller skates at a middle school roller rink birthday party. I eventually made it back to my station and went through the list of steps. Bike on the rack, helmet off, hat on, gloves off, camelback off, bike shoes off, running shoes on, bike shirt off, running shirt on, running belt on, more sunscreen, and go! 

The Run

I spotted Jin as I was leaving the transition area. "You got this babe, this is the easy part now!" he shouted. Was it? It should have been, running is my strength. But my legs felt so heavy after hours and hours of pedaling. My stride was tight and awkward, it took almost a mile to feel like my normal running self. But once I hit my groove, watch out world! I passed runner after runner, never feeling more at home on two legs. 

The stretch along the curvy road was invigorating. With bikers on one side, runners going in both directions on the other, and spectators and pedestrians along the sides. Plus the views were indescribable. A couple miles along that road, I spotted Nicole coming the other way on the bike side. "Go Nicole!" I shouted. I was happy to see that she had made it through the brutal bike leg and seemed in good spirits. A few days ago she had crashed while riding and still had an injured wrist! She's a tough one for sure.

Just like the bike route, the run course eventually turned left onto Route 1, except instead of being on the highway, we were on a parallel pedestrian path. This is where things started to get rough. The sun was beating down viciously. I hadn't realized how hot it was until now. All the work my body had done today was catching up to me. My pace slowed from 8:30 miles to somewhere in the 9s. 

I was relieved to finally leave the hot black pavement behind when the course turned onto dirt roads for three miles of off-roading adventure. This part of the course soon became my favorite. The path wound through waist-high shrubs, so I could see layers of other runners zig-zagging through the path ahead, but just from the waist up. Like some bizarre assembly line of torsos. And then I reached the cliff edge, which the course continued along for about a mile. It was strikingly beautiful! One of the moments I really wished I could have taken a picture.

Exiting the park, I realized again how hot and thirsty I felt. There had been no shade for that entire off-road stretch. I was now about five and a half hours into the triathlon, which was longer than I had ever raced continuously before! And I was really feeling it. Miles 8 and 9 were my slowest yet, so I tried forcing down some energy gels. Though physically, I felt more spent than during a marathon, I realized that mentally I still felt pretty great. I think that's what draws people to triathlons - it's certainly what I like most about them. You get a bit of a mental recharge at the start of each leg.

While on the path parallel to Route 1, I passed Nicole going in the other direction and we cheered and high fived each other. "We're so close to finishing!" This gave me the boost I needed to climb out of my slump. Once back on the winding road, I knew I was in the home stretch, and my pace picked up again. Three more miles... Two more miles... One more mile!! I was finishing the race the way I started it; with my eyes glued to the pier: my destination. 

As if from sheer will, I brought that pier closer and closer until I was sprinting down the final downhill. The crowd was going nuts as I turned the corner to the beach and spotted the finish line. Joy. Awe. Elation. That final stretch on the beach was a mixture of tears and smiles as my legs carried me across the finish line. 

A few minutes later, Jin was squeezing me in a salty embrace and I was screaming "I did it! I did it!" We watched Nicole finish and then there was more screaming. 

Looking out at the long pier, I could hardly believe that earlier that day, I had done the impossible and swam around that thing. Nicole had started off her race by literally getting knocked to the ground. We battled brutal headwinds, climbed mountains, then overcame heat, heavy legs, and sheer exhaustion. Strong. Resilient. Limitless.

We are Ironwomen.

Half Ironman Training

 

I might have had a moment of insanity when I signed up for the Santa Cruz Ironman 70.3. A triathlon where I would bike 56 miles, run 13.1 miles, and – most significantly – swim 1.2 miles. If you’re a long-time reader of my blog, you’ll know that open water swimming is not my thing. And by not my thing, I mean I would rather jump out of a plane into a pit of fire-breathing dragons.

 

I owe that moment of insanity to my friend and frequent race partner in crime, Nicole. When she asked if I wanted to do this half Ironman with her, my heart immediately started pounding. But when have I ever been one to say no to a race, or more importantly, to a challenge? No matter how overwhelming or heart-pounding that challenge may be.

 

As you may know, I have done a few triathlons before. Though they were all Sprint triathlons – the shortest type of triathlon – because I was too terrified to swim any distance longer than 500 meters in open water. 1.2 miles is FOUR TIMES longer than that! And did I mention that it’s been four years since the last Sprint?

 

Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me this year. But as terrified as I was, I was also really excited. Triathlons are a lot of fun! I love the excitement of racing three different events. And I might as well admit (so that it’s out there in the universe and I can’t take it back) that it’s a life goal of mine to complete a full Ironman someday.

 

I found a training plan that wasn’t insanely time-consuming and tailored for someone who already has some swimming/biking/running experience. I wasn’t necessarily aiming for a specific time, but I did want to do well. Below is an example of a typical training week.

M	Tu	W	Th	F	Sa	Su
Rest	S: B: 45 min R:	S: 1200 yd B: R: 4.5 mi	S: B: 50 min R:	S: 1200 yd B: R: 5 mi	S: B: 45 mi R: 15 min	S: 1800 yd B: R: 11 mi

In general, the workouts were meant to be moderate effort but often included some higher intensity intervals throughout the workout to keep a competitive edge. The longer distances were on weekends, which worked well for me, but even still it was a time commitment nearly every day. Especially on days with “brick workouts” (two training types back-to-back), which, let’s be honest, was most days. I also continued strength training and stretching weekly because I'm a big proponent of a balanced workout routine. 

 

I won’t go into too much detail on the running part of my training, since running 3-4 days a week is old hat by now and I’m sure I’ve bored you enough with details on run training in the past☺. The one thing I’ll mention is about the brick workouts. On those days, I made a point to always run second/last because the run would be the last leg of the race. These workouts prepared me to get used to the feeling of starting a run when I’m already tired, and to get used to the feeling of “lead legs” right after biking. I actually felt that the plan didn’t include enough bike+run bricks, so I switched things around some weeks to work more of those in.

 
Now, on to the more interesting stuff (with lots of pictures!). How did I fare training for the swimming and biking segments? I tried to make the whole experience as fun as possible by doing events with friends, exploring more areas around Boston, and going on adventures while traveling. It honestly ended up being a very fun and memorable training period.

 

I’ll start with biking. Biking is something I really enjoy. I earned my biking endurance chops 8 years ago when I biked across the U.S with 4K for Cancer. And since then I’ve always included biking / indoor cycling as part of cross training for running. But racing on a bike is a whole new animal, especially for an entire 56 miles. How should I pace myself? I hoped I would figure it out as I trained.

I kicked off my training by biking in the 5 Boro Bike Tour in NYC with some of my 4K for Cancer teammates. I can never pass up an opportunity to bike with my 4K fam again. Even when it’s 40 miles in a downpour! Of course we had no idea it would be pouring the entire time when we signed up. Despite being miserably soaked, I had a blast. When else would I get the chance to bike through all 5 boroughs? In fact, the route was very similar to the NYC marathon, but in reverse, so it started in Manhattan and ended on Staten Island.

After that 40 mile “warm-up”, training officially started. I did all my shorter weekday workouts on an indoor spin bike and the longer bike rides on trails around Boston. Finding places to ride where I could get enough mileage in was a challenge. Plus, I’m a bit of a chicken when it comes to riding in the city. Boston roads are hardly bike friendly and before I moved here, my sister warned me about people she knew that had died(!) biking in the city. So I tried to mostly stick to trails or remote areas, even if that meant driving out of the city to start my ride. At a coworker’s recommendation, I found that my favorite place to train was Blue Hills Reservation, a few miles south. The hills of Blue Hills were just what I needed to prepare for the hills of California’s coast.

 

Sometimes Jin or my friend Nick (one of the aforementioned 4K teammates) would join me on a training ride. In July the three of us did a ride in Maine called the Seacoast Safari, to benefit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation – a cause near to my heart since I work on developing CF treatments. In fact my company has a pretty solid turnout at the ride every year. The 66-mile course along the coast of Maine was full of hills and gorgeous scenery. I felt strong on the ride so afterwards I was feeling pretty confident about tackling the hills in California. 

One week before the triathlon, Jin and I took a trip with his parents to Alaska. True to form, I made sure to get some last-minute training in by signing us up for a bike ride to explore the rainforest! Biking really is the best form of exploration.

Moving on to swimming. How did I go from terrified to capable of swimming 1.2 miles in the open ocean? It was a long, gradual journey.

 

Even though my official training was 12 weeks long and started in June, I was too anxious to wait that long, so I unofficially started in February when Jin and I took a trip to Turks and Caicos. We discovered that coral reefs were abundant and easily accessible off shore. No need for an expensive, touristy boat excursion. We just walked out to the beach from our villa, went out into the ocean with flippers and goggles and voila. Every day we swam around, exploring the reefs, and – you know it – searching for sea turtles! Of course swimming is a lot easier with flippers (they keep you afloat) and we weren’t trying to swim particularly fast or far. But it helped me gain some level of comfort being out in the open water for extended periods of time.

Oh, and by the way, we did a thing while we were there!

For the rest of the spring I stuck to the pool, slowly working my way up to being comfortable swimming 1000 yards continuously, which is where the training plan would start, and probably the most I’d ever swam continuously before. Once I began the 12-week plan, I had no trouble gradually working up my distance in the pool. In fact, I may have gotten a bit too comfortable in the pool because it wasn’t until early July that I attempted open water while visiting my parents at the lake. It was a bit of a rude awakening. Why is open water swimming SO much harder?

By now you’re probably thinking, hello, don’t you live right by the ocean? Yes, I do. It’s practically in my backyard. So why wasn’t I out there all the time? Well, I don’t have a good answer except that I was intimidated. And so I continued to put it off. I took baby steps. I joined the Boston open water swimming group on Facebook. Maybe if I pretend I’m one if them, I’ll become one of them. I learned that people went swimming in my backyard ocean all the time. But I still didn’t feel ready to join them.

 

Instead, I decided to go with the less threatening option of trying my first wetsuit swim in Lake Michigan while visiting my sister in Chicago. I grew up in Michigan; lakes were familiar territory. I did some research and found that Ohio Beach right smack in downtown Chicago is a popular triathlon training spot. There are even buoys set up to indicate quarter-mile increments from the shore. When we got there, I was relieved to see that in fact I wouldn’t be the only crazy person in a wetsuit and swim cap. (Putting on my wetsuit for the first time though is a WHOLE different story). I wouldn’t say it was my best swim. I mostly flailed around and had a few small panic attacks. But I got some distance in and discovered that I really liked swimming in a wetsuit. It helps you float!

After that I felt a little less intimidated about the ocean back home. I only had four weeks until race day to squash my fear. I chose to swim in Pleasure Bay. It’s about a half-mile wide and a popular spot for kite surfing, mostly because it’s enclosed. So it had relatively calm waters and – crucially – some form of land on all sides. Even if that land was far away, the fact that I could see it all around me was key. And so, every week until race day, I swam there with Jin, who is a much more experienced swimmer. We’d swim across and then back to total 1 mile. And every week I felt my comfort and confidence growing. I still had those little panic attacks, suddenly gripped with the overwhelming feeling of being stranded. But they were getting further apart and when they came, I practiced mental exercises to push them aside.

And so, as race day approached, I felt as ready as I would ever be. I was still extremely nervous about the swim, but mostly I was excited! Excited to put my training to the test and hopefully, ultimately, become an Ironwoman.