If only I'd run as fast as the last ten days have gone by.
A little later than anticipated, but here's how life unfolded in Lanzarote May 12-20, 2013. Dezz and I arrived on Lanzarote May 12 about 9pm, picked up the Volvo V60, and slid the bike bag into the back before heading to our fave wee Finca Molina just outside of Teguise (if you ever visit Lanzarote, I'd definitely recommend Jose Carlos' place for a quiet retreat). We promptly started the process of making up for 4 months of sleep deprivation.
The next few days were an opportunity to relax, get the bike assembled, eat, sleep, spin out the legs, eat, sleep, run out the legs, eat, sleep, swim out the arms, eat, sleep, pick up my parents, eat, sleep, scout the race course, eat, sleep. Repeat (well, except for picking up my parents, we only did that once). The water was amazing and for the first time in my life I was actually looking forward to seeing how well I could do on the swim. On Thursday I went to the English-speaking athlete's meeting (I could have also selected Spanish, German or French), picked up my race package, did some shopping at one of the best race expos I've attended (Dezz, being Dezz, managed to by a pair of shoes), and started to prep for race day. Friday was a chill day. Just a little visit to the beach and quick dip to visualize how my swim would go, dropped off the Flying Scotsman for the night, promised I'd be back in the morning, and headed home to rest the legs. I also had a brief chat with coach Grant as he waited for a flight to Florida for his race (oh, the life of a triathlete); I hung up the phone realizing how mentally ready for the race I was. BBQ chicken, yams, grilled corn, broccoli and bed by about 9pm rounded out the day.
Sliding out of bed and into the Team JForce shorts at 3:15am, I slipped on the headphones, made brekky, and started to get my mind ready for the race. By 4:30 the whole house was up getting ready to the race start. My disdain of early mornings is genetic, so to see my mum up at 4:30am for anything, never mind watching 1900 crazy people jump into the ocean at the same time was a wonder in itself. Driving in the dark on the quiet, winding roads with DJ Dezz bumping Kanye, Buju, et al, the butterflies stopped fluttering and started to do the Cabbage Patch. Arriving at transition by 6am, the butterflies went back to sleep as there was final prep to be done. Pump up the tires, wait in line for the baño as the rain poured down, tug on the wetsuit and swim cap, and head to the beach. Lanzarote was a race that Jay dreamed of doing one day. So standing there in my Team JForce shorts, I thought back to where this whole journey started and hoped I could do the man and the team proud.
I seeded myself about mid-pack and as the race started I sauntered (running would only raise the heart rate and would require a fair amount of slalom) towards the ocean, starting my swim 1min 3 secs after the gun went off. I tried to find my rhythm early on, heard clearly in my head "Let's go Dave, you've been here before" and despite utter chaos for the first 750m, I fell into a comfort zone fairly early in the swim. We've been working on accelerations in the pool lately and I was happy to find out they actually work, either to close the gap and catch a draft, or too open up a gap when someone is constantly trying to hold hands with you on the swim. I exited lap one at 39min with a smile on my face and the start of some chafing on my right side. Lap two was no less chaotic at the start, but after having my goggles knocked off a couple of times and swimming directly into the sun, I made the final turn and swam directly towards the end of the rainbow (literally). Fatigue started to creep in over the last 600m and I wasn't surprised to find I'd lost some time. Overall I shaved off 15mins from my IMC time and beat by goal by 5 minutes, emerging in 1h25. Good start.
My transitions took nearly as long as my swim. This wasn't due (completely) to my ineptitude in transitioning as much as it was an artefact of the transition zones themselves. After finally jumping onto the bike on a rain-slicked road, I started putting some distance between myself and Puerto del Carmen. Unfortunately the wind had other ideas. The bike course is stunning and very challenging on a good day. The drizzle only lasted about an hour, but the wind lasted for the entirety of the bike leg. I knew going in that my goal of a 6 hour bike would be a challenge, but as the kilometres ticked away I became more and more aware of how truly huge that ask was. Saying we had a head or crosswind for the entire bike leg would be a fallacy, but it definitely felt like 140 of the 180km were completed without a friendly breeze at my back. I was mentally strong, never once thinking "I don't want to be here", but the legs just didn't have it on the day and a bit of stomach cramping prevented me from being in aero as much as I would have liked. Nutrition and hydration felt pretty solid. After hammering a fun, flowing decent back into town, I was off the bike in 6h37. Ouch. (Looking back on the results and talking to a few other athletes, it wasn't a completely off day for me on the bike, it was more just the nature of the course and conditions). Hands down the toughest cycling I've ever done. Dezz caught a telling photo of me on the bike, passing by oblivious to the cheers, staring at the ground. But it was also probably one of the most rewarding days on the bike too.
T2 wasn't much faster, but I was anxious to get out on the run. This time slipping out of my bike shorts and into the new Talisman tri shorts, my first 6km had me on pace for a 3:40 marathon. And then things fell apart. Feelings of nausea kicked in and the tummy decided it was done with all that jostling around. I felt my pace slow, pick up a little bit, and slow again. The 3 loop course gave me lots of opportunities to see Dezz and my parents cheering, and I also walked a few hundred metres chatting with Dezz. The legs felt strong and when I did kick I could still get some good speed (usually when some little Spanish kids were shouting Venga Davi! Vamos Davi! Rapido, Rapido! but it was followed by more nausea kicking in. Having the legs ready to go but not being able to do much with them definitely started to get into my head. By the end of the run, the odd orange and many ice cubes got me through. A shot of red bull and water with 5km to go gave me that final boost as I dug deep to avoid a 5 hour marathon. 4:59:44. Phew!
My overall time was a very disappointing 13:28. It's funny the thoughts you have when the body is fatigued. After months of training, I felt I'd let down Dezz after all her support, coach Grant after getting me to the start line with great potential to lay down a solid race, and Rick because I know my training partner wants to see me succeed almost as much as I want it myself. I sat on the curb, literally dozed off for about 30 seconds, woke up, looked down at the fuchsia pink wrist band I was wearing, and suddenly everything fell into perspective. Sure there would still be disappointment, but thoughts of Swe-Yen put the race back into perspective. I just completed one of the toughest Ironman courses in the world under gruelling conditions, had my wife and parents there waiting to congratulate me (my folks probably learned more about triathlon in a single day than they have over the last 7 years), and whether I did an 11h50 or a 13h28 wasn't going to change any of that. In 2009 and 2011 I barely had an appetite following the race. I certainly didn't suffer from that symptom in 2013. Bring on the food!
Dezz and my dad hired bikes (thanks to ProBike Lanzarote who actually opened their doors on their day off to get them kitted up - amazing service) and we got out for an easy 40km spin the next day. Dinner that night was very enjoyable, as was a well-deserved glass of wine (or was it two?). On Monday we headed to Gran Canaria and spent an all-too-short 6 days with my sis, Alberto and our nephews. A great way to end the trip, and at 1 and 3 1/2 years old, they really don't care how fast Tio David can run unless it's how quickly I can go get that soccer ball.
Muchas Gracias Lanzarote. Hasta Pronto.
A little later than anticipated, but here's how life unfolded in Lanzarote May 12-20, 2013. Dezz and I arrived on Lanzarote May 12 about 9pm, picked up the Volvo V60, and slid the bike bag into the back before heading to our fave wee Finca Molina just outside of Teguise (if you ever visit Lanzarote, I'd definitely recommend Jose Carlos' place for a quiet retreat). We promptly started the process of making up for 4 months of sleep deprivation.
The next few days were an opportunity to relax, get the bike assembled, eat, sleep, spin out the legs, eat, sleep, run out the legs, eat, sleep, swim out the arms, eat, sleep, pick up my parents, eat, sleep, scout the race course, eat, sleep. Repeat (well, except for picking up my parents, we only did that once). The water was amazing and for the first time in my life I was actually looking forward to seeing how well I could do on the swim. On Thursday I went to the English-speaking athlete's meeting (I could have also selected Spanish, German or French), picked up my race package, did some shopping at one of the best race expos I've attended (Dezz, being Dezz, managed to by a pair of shoes), and started to prep for race day. Friday was a chill day. Just a little visit to the beach and quick dip to visualize how my swim would go, dropped off the Flying Scotsman for the night, promised I'd be back in the morning, and headed home to rest the legs. I also had a brief chat with coach Grant as he waited for a flight to Florida for his race (oh, the life of a triathlete); I hung up the phone realizing how mentally ready for the race I was. BBQ chicken, yams, grilled corn, broccoli and bed by about 9pm rounded out the day.
Sliding out of bed and into the Team JForce shorts at 3:15am, I slipped on the headphones, made brekky, and started to get my mind ready for the race. By 4:30 the whole house was up getting ready to the race start. My disdain of early mornings is genetic, so to see my mum up at 4:30am for anything, never mind watching 1900 crazy people jump into the ocean at the same time was a wonder in itself. Driving in the dark on the quiet, winding roads with DJ Dezz bumping Kanye, Buju, et al, the butterflies stopped fluttering and started to do the Cabbage Patch. Arriving at transition by 6am, the butterflies went back to sleep as there was final prep to be done. Pump up the tires, wait in line for the baño as the rain poured down, tug on the wetsuit and swim cap, and head to the beach. Lanzarote was a race that Jay dreamed of doing one day. So standing there in my Team JForce shorts, I thought back to where this whole journey started and hoped I could do the man and the team proud.
I seeded myself about mid-pack and as the race started I sauntered (running would only raise the heart rate and would require a fair amount of slalom) towards the ocean, starting my swim 1min 3 secs after the gun went off. I tried to find my rhythm early on, heard clearly in my head "Let's go Dave, you've been here before" and despite utter chaos for the first 750m, I fell into a comfort zone fairly early in the swim. We've been working on accelerations in the pool lately and I was happy to find out they actually work, either to close the gap and catch a draft, or too open up a gap when someone is constantly trying to hold hands with you on the swim. I exited lap one at 39min with a smile on my face and the start of some chafing on my right side. Lap two was no less chaotic at the start, but after having my goggles knocked off a couple of times and swimming directly into the sun, I made the final turn and swam directly towards the end of the rainbow (literally). Fatigue started to creep in over the last 600m and I wasn't surprised to find I'd lost some time. Overall I shaved off 15mins from my IMC time and beat by goal by 5 minutes, emerging in 1h25. Good start.
My transitions took nearly as long as my swim. This wasn't due (completely) to my ineptitude in transitioning as much as it was an artefact of the transition zones themselves. After finally jumping onto the bike on a rain-slicked road, I started putting some distance between myself and Puerto del Carmen. Unfortunately the wind had other ideas. The bike course is stunning and very challenging on a good day. The drizzle only lasted about an hour, but the wind lasted for the entirety of the bike leg. I knew going in that my goal of a 6 hour bike would be a challenge, but as the kilometres ticked away I became more and more aware of how truly huge that ask was. Saying we had a head or crosswind for the entire bike leg would be a fallacy, but it definitely felt like 140 of the 180km were completed without a friendly breeze at my back. I was mentally strong, never once thinking "I don't want to be here", but the legs just didn't have it on the day and a bit of stomach cramping prevented me from being in aero as much as I would have liked. Nutrition and hydration felt pretty solid. After hammering a fun, flowing decent back into town, I was off the bike in 6h37. Ouch. (Looking back on the results and talking to a few other athletes, it wasn't a completely off day for me on the bike, it was more just the nature of the course and conditions). Hands down the toughest cycling I've ever done. Dezz caught a telling photo of me on the bike, passing by oblivious to the cheers, staring at the ground. But it was also probably one of the most rewarding days on the bike too.
T2 wasn't much faster, but I was anxious to get out on the run. This time slipping out of my bike shorts and into the new Talisman tri shorts, my first 6km had me on pace for a 3:40 marathon. And then things fell apart. Feelings of nausea kicked in and the tummy decided it was done with all that jostling around. I felt my pace slow, pick up a little bit, and slow again. The 3 loop course gave me lots of opportunities to see Dezz and my parents cheering, and I also walked a few hundred metres chatting with Dezz. The legs felt strong and when I did kick I could still get some good speed (usually when some little Spanish kids were shouting Venga Davi! Vamos Davi! Rapido, Rapido! but it was followed by more nausea kicking in. Having the legs ready to go but not being able to do much with them definitely started to get into my head. By the end of the run, the odd orange and many ice cubes got me through. A shot of red bull and water with 5km to go gave me that final boost as I dug deep to avoid a 5 hour marathon. 4:59:44. Phew!
My overall time was a very disappointing 13:28. It's funny the thoughts you have when the body is fatigued. After months of training, I felt I'd let down Dezz after all her support, coach Grant after getting me to the start line with great potential to lay down a solid race, and Rick because I know my training partner wants to see me succeed almost as much as I want it myself. I sat on the curb, literally dozed off for about 30 seconds, woke up, looked down at the fuchsia pink wrist band I was wearing, and suddenly everything fell into perspective. Sure there would still be disappointment, but thoughts of Swe-Yen put the race back into perspective. I just completed one of the toughest Ironman courses in the world under gruelling conditions, had my wife and parents there waiting to congratulate me (my folks probably learned more about triathlon in a single day than they have over the last 7 years), and whether I did an 11h50 or a 13h28 wasn't going to change any of that. In 2009 and 2011 I barely had an appetite following the race. I certainly didn't suffer from that symptom in 2013. Bring on the food!
Dezz and my dad hired bikes (thanks to ProBike Lanzarote who actually opened their doors on their day off to get them kitted up - amazing service) and we got out for an easy 40km spin the next day. Dinner that night was very enjoyable, as was a well-deserved glass of wine (or was it two?). On Monday we headed to Gran Canaria and spent an all-too-short 6 days with my sis, Alberto and our nephews. A great way to end the trip, and at 1 and 3 1/2 years old, they really don't care how fast Tio David can run unless it's how quickly I can go get that soccer ball.
Muchas Gracias Lanzarote. Hasta Pronto.
