Ironman Arizona, two weeks after the NYC Marathon. A 40-minute PR, a finish-chute I genuinely don't remember, and a new personal record I'm not proud of: peeing on myself 16 times.
"Want to keep the season rolling…"
That was the subject line of an email I got on August 4th from a friend at Ironman, inviting me to race Ironman Arizona on November 20th. Fresh off a fantastic day at Challenge Roth, I was intrigued but hesitant — did I want another iron-distance race so soon, and could I race it well just two weeks after a NYC Marathon I already planned to run hard?
My coach Darbi Roberts (who was also racing AZ, after a 4th the year before and a win at IM Wales) and I decided it was low-risk: no time goals, just pick a few things to work on — starting with the dreaded swim. I'd targeted the Philly Half and the NYC Marathon first. A glute injury (courtesy of an L5/S1 disc I've fought for years, plus a new L4 tweak) wrecked Philly (1:44) but — with no expectations — I somehow ran a strong NYC (3:32). Funny what zero expectations will do.
I flew to Arizona Thursday just wanting to have fun. The expo became a who's-who — hanging at the Ventum booth with Rachel and Diaa, meeting Heather Jackson, getting my bike dialed by Paul and Jeff from CeramicSpeed (Jeff even fixed a front brake three other mechanics couldn't). If you ever get to meet Diaa and Rachel at a race, do — they've been incredible friends since Kona.
Swim
The swim is in Tempe Town Lake. I'd been warned it was murky and cold; having done the only Ironman ever held in ~~New York City~~ New Jersey, I found it clear and comfortable at 65°F. Silly Westerners in booties and neoprene caps.
My practice swim, though, was bad — 50 yards in, I panicked, then spent most of 14 minutes treading water. Darbi and Diaa talked me down afterward with encouragement and stories of pros who fight the same fear, and I felt great the rest of the day.
Race morning, the XC guys gave me clutch advice: seed higher than your swim time so you start early and don't psych yourself out in the corral. So I went off in the 1:00–1:05 group, got in the water calm within five minutes of the gun, hugged the line of kayakers, and kept the lake wall equidistant the whole way. TJ Tollakson's tip — sight off bridges and buildings, not the curving buoy line — kept me from swimming long (I still can't swim straight; I veer right constantly). Around 3,200 meters I panicked for no reason I could name, found a kayaker, told him my "leg was cramping" (he saw through it), got 30–60 seconds of calm, and finished clean.
Swim: 1:39:22 (Goal: 1:39) — dead on.
Bike
I hit my max heart rate of the entire bike just 24 seconds in — because the moment I'm out of the water, the hardest part is over and I know I'll be fine for the next 138 miles.
The plan was conservative negative-split loops (it's three out-and-backs on the Beeline Highway). My legs, two weeks off a marathon, had other ideas. The Beeline outbound is a gradual climb into a wicked headwind that dropped me from 20 mph to 13 — strong enough that I had to stand to fight it. The reward is a 35+ mph tailwind home. My power was well under target all day, but pushing harder would've cost me the run, so I kept my head down.
Two self-inflicted comedy beats: I'd prepped a slick on-the-fly nutrition plan, then reached into special needs and realized I'd packed the wrong bottle. And I drank water the way I drink wine — very, very quickly — peeing on the bike four times over 112 miles. (Foreshadowing.)
Bike: 6:10:26 (Goal: 5:50)
Run
Out of T2 with a Honey Stinger waffle and my secret weapon — a roll of Mentos (discovered at Roth when Abby handed me hers at mile 23 and they got me home upright). Plan: run by heart rate, keep it under 170.
First mile 8:22 at 160 bpm — so 3:45 was already off the table, but I felt good and figured I'd hold 8:20–8:30 for a 3:50. The volunteers were unbelievable; the BASE team's Tony Demakis recognized me, ran to his tent, dug out an ice-cold Rocket Fuel and sprinted back to hand it to me mid-stride. Running parallel to the swim, I kept staring at the landmarks thinking, "I swam here?!"
Then the wheels came off in a very specific way. After mile 14, every aid station triggered an uncontrollable need to pee — full fire-hydrant gushers, while "running." All told: 14 times on the run, 16 counting the bike. A new record. I washed my tri suit twice afterward and left my shoes in the hotel.
Mile 26 was the most painful mile of my life — and somehow my third-fastest of the back half. I'd planned to celebrate down the chute; I don't remember it at all. I remember a small hill, then everything went blurry. I was weaving, and the finish-line volunteers caught me as I crossed and walked me straight to the med tent. (I did have the presence of mind to stop my Garmin.) They gave me an IV — four tries across both arms — and brought me back to life. To this day I don't know what made me pee so much, and I doubt I ever will.
Run: 4:17:03 (Goal: 3:45)
Overall: 12:13:29 — a 40-minute PR from Roth, four months earlier.
Closing
I'm very happy with the effort. I pushed hard and gave it everything I had that day. I'm not happy with the bike and run times, but I couldn't have pushed harder — and that's all I can ask of myself. It gives me a lot of motivation: I can be faster, and I will be. Work works. Can't wait to race again.
(The finish-line video, for the record, is the best finisher video ever. Sorry to everyone back home who was watching it live.)