I want to start by saying that I am incredibly happy with the Ironman 70.3 St. George race, overall. I am beyond happy with St. George as a destination and community because I received nothing but great customer service and friendly conversation. I even had a few honks of support while out on training rides and runs leading up to the race (at least I think they were of support).

The scenery in southern Utah is second to none and the food was great, even though I stuck to a single restaurant leading up to the race. I’ll explain that later. The race itself was challenging to say the least, which I imagine is what everyone is looking for in an ironman championship event. I sure was. The swim was beautiful, the roads were smooth (for the most part), and the run was straight forward and well marked. The weather could have definitely co-operated a little more but that is part of the fun and I think worked to my advantage. I also want to say that I am incredibly happy with my results. That’s not to say that I don’t wish I had done better, and part of me thinks that I could have if I paced a little better on the bike, but I left pretty much everything I had on that course. All-in-all, it was a great day only made better by the non-stop support of my wife from the beginning of the swim to the crossing of the finish line, not to mention all throughout training.

Pre-Race:

This may not surprise many people but what you do in the days leading up to the race can have a dramatic effect on your overall race performance. Not only is this true for training but overall eating and lifestyle choices as well. One of the largest modifications that I have made to my lifestyle is the fact that I have not touched a drop of alcohol in months. Those of you who know me, know this is very atypical for me. I have always hated the feeling of being hungover, don’t get me wrong, but that wasn’t really the straw that broke the camels back. My resting heart rate and my heart rate variability (HRV) is what really got me paying close attention. Mornings after having one or two drinks, my resting heart rate would jump up 5-10 bpm regardless of training and my heart rate variability would plummet 10-15 points. To put this in context, 24-hours after Ironman St. George, my resting heart rate was up only 4 bpm and my HRV had dropped about 5 points and that is after 5 hours of intense exercise. Clearly, alcohol doesn’t agree with me and it was affecting my training and recovery. Simple, it was gone. This was made much easier because Tiffany was also not drinking for obvious reasons.

The second big change that I made in my lifestyle was switching to decaffeinated coffee three weeks prior to the race. I tried to limit all extra sources of caffeine in my diet so that I would increase my sensitivity come race day. I was actually surprised at how long it takes to eliminate your tolerance to caffeine, some sources citing up to four months.

I arrived in Las Vegas on Wednesday morning, rented a car and began my two hour-ish drive to St. George. Gorgeous drive, I highly recommend taking it. I stopped off at target to pick up some necessities and then had time to fit in a quick 1hr bike and 30min run to open up the legs. My pace was not great and it freaked me out a little but I am attributing that to being tired, at elevation and in 94 degree heat. Thursday, I took a few hours to drive the entire bike course specifically looking for potholes, sewer drains, pavement transitions, and any other bumps or corners of concern. I went out for another 15 min run at a pretty slow pace with some hills to recover but keep the legs moving. I then went and took care of registration, athlete info session, Pro panel and tuned up my bike so that I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that the day before the race. I then drove 25 mins out to Sand Hollow Reservoir for a short open water swim to get a feel for the conditions.

Even with a wetsuit, it was bloody cold. Friday, I woke up and did another short 30 min ride and 10 min run as a primer for the work I would be doing tomorrow. I grabbed a quick lunch and headed to the airport to pick up Tiffany. We came back to the hotel dropped her stuff off, did some last minute tweaking of the bike and then headed out to Transition 1 for mandatory bike check in. At this point the temperature had dropped significantly (about 64 degrees) and the wind was picking up. All bikes were being racked by their handle bars because of the gusting winds and some were still being blown off the racks. Some pretty ominous clouds had started to roll in and you could feel the nervousness in the air.

Ominous clouds that were a good indicator of things to come.

After racking my bike, I threw on my wetsuit and went for my last training session. A 15 min open water swim made from nightmares. The water was still freezing, but this time it was the roughness and chop of the water due to the wind. Tough swimming and lots of swallowed water later, I pulled myself up the boat ramp where I would be exiting the swim in about 12 hours time. Tiff and I grabbed a quick bite to eat and as I mentioned earlier, I ate at the same restaurant from my arrival on Wednesday to Friday night for both lunch and dinner. It was right next to the hotel and allowed me to adhere to my diet with good food. Why mess with a good thing? My meals on Friday were: Breakfast - Scrambled eggs, Bacon, Coffee with Coconut oil and cream, strawberries; Lunch - Blackened chicken salad with spinach and a hardboiled egg but I wanted to limit the fiber intake; Dinner - Salmon with a 1/2 cup rice (Finally some carbs). Here we go.

Race Morning:

The alarm went off at 3 a.m. sharp. My sleep was nothing to brag about but was not bad by any means. I have been very lucky in the fact that I very rarely have difficulty sleeping... anywhere, anytime. I searched out my trusty camping head lamp and turned it on so that I could see but also wouldn’t completely disrupt Tiffany’s sleep, she’s busy making a human. I grabbed a water bottle and some sweet potato fries. I wanted to replace some of the glycogen that I had lost overnight so that all of my stores were topped up but I also didn’t want to spike my insulin to cause a crash from some sort of simple sugar or easily digested carb. I also avoided gluten like the plague all of race week. I spent the next 20 mins adding maple syrup, amino acids, electrolytes and water to my fuel bottles. Something that I learned is to add water slowly when you have 6 fizzing electrolyte tabs in a single bottle, or it will overflow/explode... which it did... everywhere. I put on my tri kit, sweat pants, sweater, got my bags together and kissed a sleepy Tiffany goodbye. Off to the shuttle, down into St. George where Transition 2 was located. On the ride, I drank a high protein "Ensure" (mainly because they had the least carbs, only 5g). I was the only person on the earliest 4:05 am shuttle. Surprise, surprise. My wife will be the first to tell you that I get places painfully early because I prefer to relax and take my time rather than be rushed and stressed out. I laid out my shoes, rolled up socks, race number, fuel bottle, hat and sunglasses. Bike-to-Run transition was good to go. A few minutes of walking the transition to find out where I would come in with my bike, the fastest way to my assigned location and then the fastest way out to the run course. I was good to go. I headed off to the shuttle bus that would take us on the 25 min ride out to T1 and the swim start in Hurricane, Utah.

It was a packed bus but I pulled up my hood and closed my eyes. I just did my best to remain relaxed. We were dropped off and all headed into Transition 1. I found my bike and removed the protective plastic bags that I had put over my electronics. I then immediately headed to the bike mechanics in order to check my tire pressure. It’s important to do this right away (and this is also why I like to get to transition early) because this line can take upwards of 30 mins if you're late. I added all of my nutrition to the bike and re-racked it. The announcer came over the PA system saying there was 15 mins left until transition closed and I reassured myself that I made the right choice coming early. About 10 mins before my swim wave, I found Tiffany wandering through the crowd searching for me. I got a solid 5 mins with her, which did wonders for my nerves. My wave was called and I entered the swim shoot that shuttled us down to the waters edge. I was nervous and excited but wasn’t sure which one outweighed the other. It was cold, low 50’s with the sun just coming over the horizon and a broken cloud cover above head. Looked like it would be a great race day. My weather app had said a 30% chance of rain by 11 am and the rest of the time was less than 10%.... Perfect... but horribly wrong.

Swim - 1.2 miles:

A view of the swim course in much better conditions than we had. This was from my practice swim two days earlier.

I was in the second wave of male 30-35 years of age. Our starting gun was set to go off at 7:15 am and it was a swimming start. While standing in the starter shoot with my goggles on, I noticed that my goggles were starting to fog... Shit. In an open water swim, where sighting buoys is vital to your swim, this is the last thing you want. I immediately took them off and did the oldest trick in the book. Spit. It’s the best I could do at this point, fingers crossed. At 7:10 am we were allowed to get our feet in the water, which was nice because you need a few seconds before they are cold enough so that you don’t feel them anymore. The starter gun went for the wave ahead of me and we were now allowed to completely enter the water. First thing I did was put my head under the water to get that initial shock out of the way. Your heart rate and respiratory rate will spike about 60-90 seconds after entering cold water. This is when your sympathetic response kicks into overdrive and a bunch of cortisol is released. This is also when a lot of people get that feeling of panic and is the time of highest risk for a heart attack. The last thing you want is to have this 60-90 seconds concurrent with the beginning of a mass swim start where there is absolute chaos. I then spent the next 2 mins treading water and mentally prepping myself... I managed to get a “good luck everyone” out before I heard 10 seconds over the PA system. My favorite part... A kick of adrenaline immediately warmed me and a smile came over my face... I love this sport.

Treading water in the distance and waiting for the starter cannon.

A loud bang was followed by arms flailing and relatively flat water surface turning into the wash cycle of a clothes wash machine. For anyone who hasn’t taken part in a mass start swim, the first few minutes is spent with your head above water, jockeying for position and trying to avoid as many kicks and elbows as possible. This is known as Tarzan swimming. I settled in, tight against the line of the buoys with what felt like a pretty smooth stroke. I was sighting every 2nd or 3rd stroke at first as I was continuing to pass swimmers. If you don’t sight, you will run right into the back of other people and that is no fun for either of you. I felt calm and solid on the swim, I was pushing myself but not out of my comfort zone. The water was choppy, but not unmanageable and considerably better than the day before. There were only two 90 degree left turns and the halfway point of the swim was marked by a change in colour of buoys. I hit the switch to orange and was pretty surprised that it was already half over. I had been passing a significant number of swimmers, some of which with different colored caps meaning that I had caught some swimmers from earlier waves. I only had a handful of people pass me, some of which also had different colored caps meaning they were from swim waves behind me. There was one swimmer in a yellow cap and she cruised passed me like I was stopped. She was the strongest swimmer I think I have ever seen. There were a few more times where I had to adjust course to get out and around swimmers but for the most part my sighting was spot on, my line was spot on and my swim was smooth. On the home stretch, I reached a little bit deeper to finish strong. Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, stroke, sight. Finally, while I was looking down into the darkness of the water, I saw the paved boat ramp underneath me and got to my feet and ran out of the water. The first part was over, and my weakest... Now, the race really starts.

Coming out of the water and trying to hold my balance.

Transition 1:

As I got to my feet out of the cold water, it was incredibly difficult to get my balance. Especially because the water had been so choppy. I took a half second to get my bearings, reached up and pulled off my cap and goggles with one hand. My other hand went over my shoulder to unzip my wetsuit. I ran up the shoot and there were lines of volunteers lovingly called strippers. They help "strip" you out of your wetsuit. You pull down the suit over your hips and your butt immediately hits the pavement, they grab a hold of the wetsuit and pull it off your legs, reach out to give you a hand back up and hand you your wetsuit. You're off running in less than 3 seconds. This is when I first realized that my feet were pretty numb and now I could feel the cold wind. I was wet, in very thin clothing and it was barely 50 degrees. I was also about to get on a bike and create more wind... Not good. I ran into transition and found my bike. Right shoe on, Left shoe on... helmet on and clipped. Run to the bike mount line.

Bike - 56 miles:

The first 8-10 miles of the bike was expected to be rough, literally. We were off the beaten path of urban Utah and the pavement was actually chip seal, which made for a really bumpy ride. This section is notorious for causing flat tires which could immediately derail someones hopes for a good race. Within the first two miles, I had already passed two people that were pulled over waiting for bike support. Not only did this make for a bit of an uncomfortably bumpy ride, but you feel like you are putting down a lot of effort and yet, you are not going anywhere. It’s amazing how much the road surface impacts efficiency on the bike. It was at this point in time that I realized my Garmin was not recording. I decided to turn it on and record the rest of the race as a "brick" so that I would at least get a recording of my effort on the bike and run. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that my brick setting is set for “Indoor Trainer rides”, so I didn’t catch any of my GPS, speed or distance for the entire ride. Complete user error.

At the top of "Mercy" still on the chip seal but feeling great.

I looked up from my watch and it was the first of a handful of significant climbs on the bike. Nicknamed “Mercy”, this hill is just over a mile long with an average gradient of 5% and elevation gain of around 350 ft, a category 4 climb. I told myself not to go above and beyond my means here, or else it would bite me in the ass 50 miles down the road, when I reach the infamous snow canyon. Even still, I found myself pulling out and around a significant number of riders that were out of the saddle trying to power up the hill. I was in a light gear, still sitting and spinning up the hill. I reached the top of the hill, a little out of breath but knowing that I had a pretty significant downhill to recover, then a long flat portion to put the hammer down.

Heading through Hurricane hunting down people ahead of me. Taking in some water from my torhans aerobottle.

After about a mile of a gradual descent, the road turned right and we headed straight toward a cliff face. I took this time to get some nutrition in (a powerbar gel) because my heart rate had recovered and I would be able to get it in without causing to much GI distress. The road took a 90 degree turn to the left and the pavement became a nicely refinished new asphalt. Immediately, I felt like I was going 5 mph faster with the same effort. I had made it through the chip seal without a puncture, a big win in my mind. I spent about 10 minutes riding through residential Hurricane, setting my sights on the rider in front of me and hunting them down. This was one of my emotional highs in the race because there were a bunch of spectators and I felt really strong on the bike. I was drying off and starting to warm up as my legs were turning over. My head was tucked into my shoulders and I was down in my aerobars making myself as small as possible to cut through the wind. Another 90 degree left turn put me onto highway 9, the longest stretch of a single road that we had in the race.

It was at this point that I realized we were heading into a pretty significant wind and it was a cold one. Again, at least I was dry but It didn’t look like that was going to last very long as I saw the ominous dark clouds on the horizon. Another relatively mild hill was broken into two smaller segments, climb, short flat, another climb. My legs were feeling really warmed up, so I took advantage of the descent to put the hammer down, reaching some significant speed. Again, my speed sensor wasn’t working but I would estimate at the upper end of 30-40 mph. The road was like butter, with very few bumps. I had rented some Zipp racing wheels (a 404 on the front and disc on the back) from "Race Day Wheels" and could really feel the difference.

The rain no longer held off and I started to see drops hit my visor. First one, then three and then more than I could count. At the same time, I started to hear a strange noise coming up from my bike. It’s an interesting sensation when you are wearing an aero helmet that covers your ears. It significantly increases the amount of noise that you hear from the bike and road below you, especially when you’re used to training with a regular helmet. My immediate thought was that my brake pad was rubbing on the wheel and now that it was a little wet, it was audible. Not dangerous, but it means I would have to be working harder to overcome the drag it placed on my wheel. You have quite a bit of time to think while you are in an ironman event, especially because you are not allowed to have any music or electronics. The first thing I thought to do was to pop my quick release on my brake handle (super convenient on the p5). This is what you do to release your brake pads even farther so that you can remove your wheel. On some bikes, it is on the brake itself but on the p5 it is on your brake lever. This would allow me to spread my break pads further but would still allow me to quickly re-squeeze the lever and reengage the break if I needed in an emergency. I popped the front quick release, no change. Re-engaged the break. I popped the back quick release, no change. Re-engaged the break. Not good. If it wasn’t the break pads rubbing on the wheel, that meant that it could be the wheel itself. My mind immediately went to the fact that the Zipp 404’s recently had a recall and I wondered if Race Day Wheels would have replaced them... Of course they would have, but this is where your mind goes. Well, looks like I just have to hold on and hope that my front wheel doesn’t fail or if it does, I am hoping it is at least on an uphill when I am moving relatively slowly.

Heading up the second Cat 4 climb of the day.

Another significant Category 4 climb that was spread over 1.7 miles with an average grade of 4% and another 350 ft of climbing. This was again followed by some descending before coming up to the second aid station around mile 27. At this point, I was slightly regretting the fact that I put all of my fuel and electrolytes in a single bottle. I was not sweating nearly as much as I initially thought because the weather was so cold and rainy. Unfortunately, this meant that I had to loose some water some other way. I will happily admit that I have never answered the call of nature on the bike but going into this race I was considering it. Apparently, it’s pretty common. As I came up to the aid station, I decided today was not the day to pee myself as an adult.

I hopped off the still moving bike and hit a wobbly sprint. I handed off my bike to a volunteer and found an empty porta-potty. Thank god for a two piece tri suit, thats all I have to say. Fast forward half a minute to a minute and the volunteer had turned my bike around so that it was ready to grab and go. I took a second to lift the front end and spin the wheel. Turns out my brake had shifted and the right brake pad was rubbing. A quick shove with my thumb and it spun smooth. I was off to the races again.

I had about 8 miles of clean riding before the rain really started to come down. This was around the descent off of the red hills parkway and I have to admit that it was one of the scariest points in my day. It’s a really short but really fast descent with a banking right turn right at the bottom and with wet pavement, you really hope luck is on your side. The next 10 miles were wet and cold. So cold in fact, that I lost all feeling in my feet and had trouble opening and closing my hands. No joke. There was a short out and back section on center street that was directly into a head wind followed by a relieving tail wind and then it was Snow Canyon.

A view of the weather conditions while climbing snow canyon. It is hard to see the gradient here because of the background, but I was suffering at this point.

Snow canyon is a category 3 climb over 4.7 miles with an average grade of 4% and over 1000 feet of vertical climbing. There is no holding back on this, you are going into the red or you are coming back down the hill. This portion alone took 20-30 mins, I imagine, but seeing the small security booth at the top was one of the best feelings I had all day. I had time for a quick shake out of the arms and hands before putting on my seatbelt and descending for the last 9 miles. I found myself spinning out of my hardest gear as I flew down the descent. I had to stop peddling because my legs were spinning too fast, dropped my head to the aerobars and got as small as possible with the sound of wind in my ears. I felt like a dog with my head out the window and a smile on my face. Thankfully, the majority of this descent was straight because I don’t know if I had the motor function to pull the break even if I wanted to. I hit the fastest speeds I have ever hit on a bike during this descent, no question (>45 mph). One of the two lanes was still open to traffic and we were passing cars the whole time, exhilarating. The descent continued right into downtown St. George where we had to dismount for T2.

Transition 2:

This transition proved to be quite difficult, running on numb feet in bike shoes is difficult in the first place (I have not perfected the flying dismount in bare feet). Putting on wet socks and shoes proves even harder. I got my shoes on relatively quickly, grabbed my race number, hat, glasses and gel flask... Off to the races. Once again, nature was calling so I figured I would hit the porta-potties before starting the run. The only problem was the fact that I ran directly toward them and they were unreachable due to fencing. It turns out that I had to run to the other end of transition and out the run shoot before getting a chance to use them. Oops.

Run - 13.1 miles:

Well this is the part where my race truly began to unravel. I came out of the run shoot like a bat out of hell, feeling good and knowing that I would finally warm up. Feeling slowly came back to my feet over the course of the first mile, which was a very strange feeling. The first three miles were all uphill gaining nearly 400 vertical feet with the majority of those coming in the third mile. Pushing myself a little too hard on the bike, along with the altitude and my way-to-aggressive initial pace sky rocketed my heart rate and figuratively brought me to my knees. More accurately, it ground me down to my first bout of walking. At first, it was for a second or two before I could continue running. Then 5 or so seconds. A third time for about 15 seconds. Finally, I came to the apex of the first hill and knew I had a bit of undulating hills to try and recover. Much easier said than done.

Between mile 4 and 5, I decided to take on the attitude of running from aid station to aid station and walk while I take in water and calories. I could tell that my fueling had tanked because I had zero energy, my heart rate kept sky rocketing and most notably, my mood base jumped off a cliff without a parachute. I decided it was time to throw my initial fueling strategy out the window and I took in two cups of coke and a cup of redbull. Desperate times come for desperate measures. I was really concerned that this would cause some GI issues so for the following two aid stations I would take in water and then repeat.

After about 10 mins, my mood began to improve dramatically. I had my first long descent where I was able to make up a good amount of time before turning around 180 degrees and coming straight back up the hill. This time I felt stronger and was able to muscle through it, albeit at a dramatically slower pace than training. I was starting to get excited because I expected this to be the second last hill, with the last one being a short punchy ascent. I was wrong.

At the top of the hill, they had us do a 180 degree turn, straight back down the hill. This meant, you guessed it, time to run back up the hill and head for home. I struggled a little back through the undulating hills and decided to take on a little more fuel. My pace was about 1m30s per mile slower than what I was originally hoping. I hit one last aid station at about 10 miles and figured that if I got close to the paces I wanted, taking on more calories would likely not help until the race was already over. Two last cups of water and I hit the home stretch.

Coming through the finish line in a world of hurt.

Running downhill, I was just focusing on getting my feet to turn over so that they would land in front of me and I would not end up on my face, sliding down the hill. I was able to hit 7m35s during the steep descent and when it leveled out a little, I got my feet back under me. The last two miles I averaged a 6m52s per mile pace, which is what I was hoping to average for the full half marathon. Thankfully, I was able to chase down 3 people in these last two miles putting a decent amount of time between us. Coming through the finisher shoot was a very gratifying and relieving feeling but to be honest, I was really just trying to shake the disappointed of my run.

Finish:

As soon as I came under the finisher banner, I looked up and there was my beautiful wife. Six and a half months pregnant and glowing with a bright smile. What a feeling. I can’t thank her enough for her support through all of this crazy journey. She captured a few very unflattering pictures (which I will include) that capture the day perfectly. She congratulated me and told me I did very well. She said that she was super happy that I was safe because the tracker had frozen and didn’t update for nearly an hour. She thought I may have crashed. As we walked/waddled towards the food tent, she pulled up my official time. 5h08m27s; 24th out of 265 in my age group and 181st out of 2556 athletes. Overall, I am super happy. What makes me more happy is that I see so much more room for improvement! Sorry for the novel but that was my experience!

Amazing all of that was for this... Totally worth it in my opinion.

Ironman 70.3 St. George - Race Recap

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