Well, where to start? As July 31st grew near I could feel the energy and anticipation building. I felt like I was going to get to the race and turn into a ball of flailing arms and legs as I tore along the course. Everyone would ask if I was getting excited, and the answer was always a resounding yes.
Thursday night, I go to Buca di Beppo with some folks from Tri-Sierra to begin carb-loading (mostly just to hang out, though). Friday, I leave work early and drive to Windsor where I meet up with Fred and Lisa for dinner at the Bear Republic Brewing Company in Healdsburg. We buy a bunch of groceries and settle into the condo Lisa booked for us for the weekend.
Saturday morning I go for a short run, bike ride, and swim just to stay loose. Fred, Lisa, and I head out to pick up our race packets and meet up with our cheerleaders, then we all go wine-tasting (well, I watch as they taste). Back to the condo to prepare my bike and stuff for the race and make pasta, garlic bread, and salad (go figure). After dinner, we decide we want to go play wiffle ball. Of course, I had my reservations, so I went along thinking I’ll just take some pictures. Well, as I see people swinging away, I decide it looks like fun and take my swings. After a few misses, I go back to taking pictures. Then I make the mistake of pitching. The second pitch comes right back at me as a line-drive right to my forehead, which forms a lump instantaneously. Laughing, I head back upstairs to ice my head before calling it a night.
Sunday. The big day. This is it. Wait. What time is it? Jeez. 5:00 AM. I must be insane. Well, may as well get to it. Bagel with peanut butter, Cytomax Pre-formance shake, and a banana. Bill is kind enough to drop me off at the start of the race where I set up my swim-to-bike tranisition area and wait for my turn to start. I run into some familiar faces, wish them well, and eventually make it into the water as my wave is called on-deck. Good news: the water is warm and shallow. I joke around with some of the other guys starting in my wave and wait for them to send us off.
And we’re off. I’m surprisingly calm and reassured when I see that I’m ahead of a few guys. Just keep chugging away… stroke, glide, stroke, glide, stroke, glide, breathe. As we approach the bridge, I notice some guys walking. Yes, the river is that shallow here. I try wading, but find that swimming is far more efficienct, so I get back to it. A little before the turnaround, I realize that the leaders from next wave of swimmers have already made up the eight minute difference between our waves. No need to worry, since I know I’m not a fast swimmer. I make it around the turnaround and head downstream. Then, I see the finish! There are a few others around me, so I start picking up the pace a little and eventually end up in an all-out sprint. As I run out of the water I look at my watch – 45 minutes (or so), just as I was expecting. Off to find my bike, strip off my wetsuit, throw on my bike gear and run out of the transition area.
I don’t even bother mounting my bike until I’m at the top of the hill right outside the transition area. I watch others struggle to get going on this 25-yard steep hill. Alright. On the bike and I’m cruising. Thankfully it’s still cloudy/foggy and cool. Let’s hope is stays this way for a long while. I cruise along at 18 or 19 miles an hour and some rather fit- and serious-looking people pass me – they have the full tri setup on their bikes – aerobars, wheel discs, etc. (Maybe I’ll worry about that stuff next year). After a while I think my stomach has settled enough to try to choke down a Clif bar. Clif bars are tasty, but my only complaint is that it is hard to chew one and breathe while you’re riding (assuming you can get the wrapper off). Ah, aid station. And boy, do I have to pee! Grab some water and off I go. At some point after this, Richard passes me, saying “hi” as he cruises by. The ride is incredibly scenic – through some forested areas early on, and then mostly through wine country, surrounded by vineyards. The clouds finally burn off around 9:45 – about 20 miles into the ride. It’s still not too bad, though, since it is still relatively cool. Most of the ride is pretty uneventful, just chatting or saying “hi” to people as I pass them…until Chalk Hill. I was all ready to tear up this hill, but my fron derailleur does it to me again as the chain slips off as I try to shift to my small gear. Trying to keep some momentum as I try to clip out, my legs just free-wheel and I eventually (slowly) fall over. A few greasy fingers later, I’m back on the bike and charging up the hill. I just wish I could’ve done it without the technical difficulties. I make it to the next transition without any further problems. I did notice, however, the carnage of the bumpy areas of the ride – water bottles strewn about the road near potholes or railroad tracks where they were jostled loose from their cages.
It’s a long run from the dismount point to the actual transition area, but it’s a good way to get your legs under you. My legs feel like jello as I hop off my bike and take the first few steps. I hear the announcer calling out finishers’ names as I find the spot where I had left my shoes, hat, bottle, and food the day before. A quick look at my watch tells me the ride took me about 3:10. I hang up my bike, lose the helmet, gloves, and shoes and throw on my hat, running shoes, and race number. A quick stop at the port-a-potty, and I’m on my way.
I up finding a guy who happens to be in my age group and running about the pace I want to be running, so we start chatting and keep pace with each other the entire run. It’s about noon now. It’s sunny. There’s not a lot of shade on this course (and this course isn’t exactly what I would call flat, either), but thankfully there are aid stations about every mile. I make use of every one of them – grab a cup of water, drink some, dump the rest on my head. A couple of stations have hoses and misters set up, too. I have to hand it to the volunteers – doing what they can to keep the water and gatorade flowing, as well as cheering us all on. We make it to La Crema winery – the turnaround point where we actually get to run on a path through the vineyard. About mile nine is when I start feeling my legs want to cramp up – quads, hamstrings, and calves all at once. But I fight it off and keep going, making sure I keep up on my electrolytes through my cytomax/gatorade and gels. About mile 10, Ricardo and Maria pull up on their bikes, cheer me on, and snap a few pictures. Then they ride ahead and wait for me at the finish. Mile 12 aid station. Almost there. Just keep going. We turn the corner and run towards the high school. A lady cheers us on, saying, “only a half mile to go!”. A couple minutes later, another lady says the same thing. “That’s what the last person told us!” I jokingly shout back. But I see the high school and the chute cones. Finally, the home stretch! I see a couple Tri-sierra guys and they cheer me on as I pick up the speed (I’m surprised I have this much leg left!) and bid farewell to my running partner Jake (who is also cheering me on). I round the last corner and hear the announcer call out my name. I hear friends cheering me on as well, but I have tunnel-vision. All I see is the finish tent.
6 hours and 45 minutes after I started the 1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of cycling, and 13.1 miles of running, I have finished my first half-Ironman race. I’m exhausted. But I’m done. Until next year? Well, we’ll see how long it takes me to forget the pain. :-)