Ironman Florida 2010
By: Jack Shannon
My first full Ironman was in 2007 at Panama City Beach, FL. I finished in 12:47:58. My goal for this Ironman was to beat my time in 2007.
The week of the Ironman is a bit surreal. I’ve been training for this event since January. When I started training, I was 49. I’m now 50. My youngest was in the 10th grade, now he is in the 11th grade; and he had the whole summer off in between. You get the point; I trained a long time. For most of that training, the race was pretty far in the future. Now I find myself in Mike Ham’s driveway at 4:00am on Thursday, November 4. At 4:10, the car is loaded with his stuff and we, along with my wife Lorraine, head south to Panama City Beach. The reason we are leaving early Thursday morning is because packet pickup closes at 4:00 on Thursday. If you don’t have your packet by 4:00, you don’t race.
The trip down was uneventful, but it was wet. Thankfully, we left the rain somewhere in Alabama, and it didn’t follow us to Florida. That didn’t mean we were off the hook weather wise. The forecast was for a cold morning warming up to a cool day on race day. The wind was also supposed to be calm. The wind forecast changed by Friday afternoon. The temps stayed the same, but wind was now in the forecast. Cold and wind… We figured that was better than hot and wind. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Our destination was the Boardwalk Beach Resort. That was where we were staying; it was also the host of the Ironman. The transition area was in the parking lot. So were the expo, packet pickup, and the merchandise tent. I don’t recommend the resort to anyone, unless you are doing the Ironman. The convenience is worth putting up with the crappy rooms and total lack of customer service. When we got there, we noticed a line wrapped around the building. It was the line for packet pickup. Since it was around 1:00, we decided to have lunch, let the line subside, then get our packets. No luck. We got back at 2:20, waited in a line that was just as long. And slow. We had to wait in line for 1:45 to get our packets. In 2007, it took about 20 minutes. Not a good start to our Ironman experience.
That evening we went to the “Athlete Dinner” and mandatory meeting. The dinner was convention food served in a room that was too crowed. The meeting was good, we heard lots of stats: 75% men, 25% women, 49 states (ND let us down) and 44 countries represented, youngest athlete was 18, oldest was 81 (second oldest was 80). After that we sat around in our room, watched some TV, checked the weather, and turned in early. I did sleep really well. I knew I need the rest, I’m glad it came to me.
Friday had one deadline we had to meet: Get our bikes and transition bags to the transition area by 3:00. If you have done tri’s, you are probably used to bringing your bike to the transition area the morning of the race, laying a towel next to your bike, and arranging your bike and run gear on the towel. The Ironman is different. In your packet are plastic bags: one for your swim to bike transition, one for your bike to run transition, one called a Bike Special Needs bag (on the bike course at mile 56), one Run Special Needs bag (on the run course at mile 13), and one morning clothes bag. You also have a race number for each bag.
We had a nice big breakfast at IHOP, and then wandered around the different merchandise tents while we let our food digest. Then we checked the weather. Wind was in our future. According to the forecast, Friday’s weather was a carbon copy of Saturday’s forecast. By around noon, Mike and I went out for a short bike ride. Our goals were to make sure nothing on our bikes got messed up during the drive down, see how the weather felt, and see how the wind felt. The bikes were fine, the weather was cool but fine, and the wind was awful. We told each other the wind was out of our control; and we reminded each other the benefit to all this was a cool run. After the bike we went out for a 30 minute run. We both felt good.
We got our bikes and bags to the transition area in plenty of time. After that, we killed some time doing a lot of nothing, then headed out to dinner at 4:30 to beat the crowds. We got to Carrabba’s at 5:00, walked right in, and had a great meal. As we were leaving, there was a large crowd waiting for tables. Going to dinner early was a veteran move on our part.
That evening we laid around watching TV. Really we were just trying to kill time. We were ready to go, but all we could do was wait. So wait we did.
I slept pretty well Friday night; better than I thought I would. I felt very calm and at peace with the race. Swim. Bike. Run. Stay in control. Be smart. Don’t deviate from my plan.
I was up at 5:00, had a bagel, took a shower and got dressed. Mike and I went to the transition area around 5:30 to fill our tires, load our bikes with food and drink, get our body marked, and drop off Mike’s special needs bag for the run. We noticed the chill in the air. It was 44 degrees. We both hoped what we packed for the bike would keep us warm. Then back to the room to get our wetsuits on. At 6:45 we headed out to the swim start. Our feet were freezing, the sand was so cold! Since the water was 72 degrees, we stood in ankle deep water to stay warm. At 7:00, the cannon went off and around 2,400 athletes were off. No wave start here; welcome to the Ironman washing machine. We were like sardines, only less organized. I swam a few strokes, and then did a head-out-of-water breaststroke for a couple yards. Repeat for about 100 yards. After that, it thinned out enough for me to get into a rhythm.
The swim is two laps. The water is really clear – and salty. I sure got my salt intake for the day during the swim. The water was fairly calm, though there were small swells that lifted you up and then dropped you down. My goal for the swim is just finish. The difference between a good swim and a fast swim is only a few minutes. I knew I needed the energy more than I needed the minutes on the swim. I was out of the water in 1:09:23 (1:10:27 in 2007). 44/198 in my division. So far, so good.
The transition area changing room was the first hiccup of the day. It was a mess; there were people everywhere. The room should have been twice as big. We were so crammed in, I think half my butt butter went on someone else’s ass. When I was ready to go, it was a slow shuffle out. T1 time was 15:53 (9:04 in 2007, different set-up). When I got on the bike, I was about six minutes behind 2007, and I was going to face more wind than I did in 2007.
Swim – done. Bike. Run. Stay in control. Be smart. Don’t deviate from my plan.
My biggest concern starting the bike was the cold and wind. I was wearing my tri shorts, sleeveless tri top, arm warmers, biking gloves, cotton gloves and a biking jacket. As it turned out, the clothes worked just fine. My toes were cold, but I knew they would warm up as the temperature rose. The wind was manageable, but I remember in 2007 the 30 mile section back to the gulf shore was 30 miles of headwind. My goal was to get my average speed into the low 19’s, so when I fight the headwind and my speed drops, I’ll still average 18 MPH.
At around mile 10, Mike came up on my side. I knew he was going to pass me on the bike, but I didn’t think it would be so soon. He had a really good swim, and a quicker transition than me. I wished him luck, told him I’ll see him on the run, and off he went.
I had a mishap at the first water station. I was going to skip it all together because it was pretty crowded. I felt I shouldn’t pass up drinking some liquids though, so I passed the front area of the station and went towards the back where it wasn’t as crowded. I slowed down, got water from a volunteer (while still moving), then my front tire rubbed against the rear tire of another bike. Down I went on my left side. I looked behind me, saw a bike headed right at me and rolled out of the way. I went from a triathlete to an action hero doing my own stunts. A few volunteers grabbed my bike, made sure I was OK, and off I went. My left knee was skinned and bloody, my hip and elbow was bruised, but nothing to hinder me the rest of the way. About a mile beyond the water station, I realized I left without my water. All that for nothing…
Somewhere between mile 35 and 40, a cyclist rode up next to me. It was Mike! “What happened?” I asked. He said he had to pee, and he went way off course so no officials would see him. I told him of my fall, after that off he went.
At around mile 45, a cyclist rode up next to me. Yep, it was Mike again! “I should just pee while I’m riding” he said. This time we rode side-by-side for a few miles. We were both relaxed and relieved our clothes selection was working well. Off he rode, I didn’t see him again until the run.
My average speed was climbing the entire time, I peaked at 19.5 somewhere around mile 45. At mile 56, I dropped my jacket (gloves were dropped at around mile 45-50). My time was 2:54, my average at this point was 19.2. I was very pleased with that, felt good, and felt I’ll finish faster than last year. I was still dreading the long headwind I knew I’d be facing, but at least I had enough speed in the bank to protect me.
Around mile 70, it felt like the miles were getting longer. The marker for mile 80 took forever to show up. After what seemed like an hour after that, I checked my mileage, and I was at mile 83. Ouch! Then the dreaded left turn into the headwind. My average speed was around 18.9/19.0 at this point, so I was ready for it. After the turn, there was a slight downhill so my speed picked up to about 25. This party will be over soon, I thought. But the party didn’t end, because the wind was a tailwind! What a gift! I was going between 22-26 MPH. That really put the wind back in my sails (bad pun intended). My average speed started climbing; I finished at 19.3 MPH. I had a negative split on my bike, and I felt good. I was off the bike in 5:48:47 (6:12:06 in 2007). 68/198 in my division.
Swim – done. Bike – done. Run. Stay in control. Be smart. Don’t deviate from my plan.
T2 wasn’t as crowded; I was out in 7:18 (10:56 in 2007).
Going into the race, I knew the run would make or break me. The swim is just something you do. I knew I could bike 112 miles. But that run… Who knows what could happen. There are plenty of stories that all sound the same: Everything was going well until mile <fill in the blank> and I hit “The Wall”. I didn’t want to be telling one of those stories. This year, I was wearing my Garmin so I could pace myself. I didn’t want to go out too fast; I wanted it to motivate me if I was going too slow.
I’m glad I had it. I started out with a nice easy pace. I looked at my Garmin: 8:15. Whoa! Slow it down, cowboy. 8:30…, 8:45…, 9:00… That’s better. Run, run, run…8:15! Ah-h-h-h! Slow DOWN! This went on for the first two miles. After that, my 50 year old body showed up and regulated everything for me. I fell into a 9:00-9:30 pace, slowly climbing into a 9:30-10:00 pace. Perfect.
My goal for the first half was to run the whole thing. For the most part, I achieved that goal. If I got something to drink, I walked – but only while I drank. I did sit at one point, but it was to get a rock (and sand) out of my shoe. I never stopped or walked because I was worn out. (Thank you long, long runs and Tuesday track work.) My only downer during the first half was my Garmin ran out of juice somewhere between mile 10 and 11. I had it fully charged, but I think the cold night it spent outside drained the battery.
At the turn, I realized that breaking 12 hours was in the realm of possibilities. If I finished the second half in under 2:20, I would do it. I didn’t dwell on this too much though. My bigger concern was blowing up. Everything was going well until mile <fill in the blank> and I hit “The Wall”.
Run. Stay in control. Be smart. Don’t deviate from my plan.
I knew I was in a good spot to break my 2007 time, I didn’t want to jeopardize that. I figured I’d see how I felt at mile 20. Onward I went. I did stop at more water stops this half. Walked a little bit more after I was done with the drink. But I never felt any despair. I never wished I was further along. When I hit mile 15, I thought, “Five more miles to mile 20.” It seemed very doable.
When I hit mile 20, I had to do a 10K in about 55-60 minutes to break 12 hours. Hm-m-m-m-m… Let’s see how I feel at mile 23. At this point I was still feeling positive. I didn’t have the Ironman shuffle going, I wasn’t leaning, my shoulders weren’t slumped. Mile 23 came, it was 6:30pm. 11.5 hours had passed, so I had 30 minutes to run 3.2 miles. Normally, that’s not a problem, but normally I don’t swim 2.4 miles and ride 112 miles before a run. I knew at that point I would finish in the low 12’s, and I was good with that. So I walked for about ¼ mile, took in the whole day/experience, and then ran it in.
At about two miles out, I could start hearing the announcer at the finish: “…you are and IRONMAN!” That was cool to hear. I’m almost there. I’m going to make it. I’m going to finish in the low 12’s. My training paid off. All this was swirling around in my head. Next thing I knew, I was on the last mile. Soon, I could see the finish. I was running where I was walking just the day before. No one was close in front of me, no one was close behind me. I’ll get a clean picture at the finish!
I finished strong, I finished happy. 4:43:34 (5:05:27 in 2007) on the run, 62/198 in my division. Overall 12:04:52 (12:47:58 in 2007), 58/198 in my division. A 43 minute PR!
All the work was worth it. It was very fulfilling to have something to show for it.
