Ironman Brasil part II: The bike and peeing my pants

I really had to go to the bathroom during transition but I held off because I told myself I was going to do it on the bike.  Literally, do it on the bike.  Pee my pants on the bike.  This is what Ironmen and women do!  In Cozumel I stopped at the port-o-potties four times to relieve myself; but this time, I wasn’t giving my time to the sh*%ter.  No pun intended.  No.  The problem was however, that people and cars surrounded me for a long time at the start of the bike.  Even though I was dying to go, I couldn’t. So, I pedalled on.

The bike course in Brazil is pretty flat with the exception of a few hills.  Us Clements have been blessed with claves (we call it calfitis) that have abnormal wattage potential.  I am a solid cyclist on flat, but in reality, my strength lies in the climb.  It would be the hills that gave way to passing, and passing many.  Pass the guy in the blue, pass Humberto, pass the big guy in black.  Hey that guy’s name is Ricardo. Smile. Diane passes Ricardo and many others. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is not to say that they didn’t come back and pass me on the flats, a few of them did, but I ate the hills. 

The water stations were set up every 5km or so and you could get Gatorade and water.  The Gatorade was given in plastic Gatorade bottles (that you would buy in a store) so they rattled around in your drink cage, and the water was given in a tall, green “Gatorade” bottle.  These bottles would be used to fill up the aero bottle at the front of the bike.  The problem with these bottles, was that the stream of water that came out (when any came out at all) was minimal.  It felt like you were squeezing the water through a hole the size of a syringe.  I squeezed, and squeezed, lifted and adjusted the bottle, and squeezed 45 more times until my bottle was full.  Really?  Who thought that was ok?

Km 56.  I really have to pee. By this time I had probably already had a solid 2-litres of liquids.   Just stand up Diane.  This is what people do. It will just fly off the back as you are going so fast.  Don’t slow down though.  Diane looks around. No cars. Diane looks behind. No one behind.  I stood up and let it go.  I will spare you the details but yes, I laughed at myself.  Out loud.  When are you allowed, and encouraged, to pee your pants as an adult.  I mean really?  I had to seize the moment.   Would you?

The bike was going seemingly perfectly and as I entered town for my second loop and heard, “Diaaaaaanee!”  It was Karina cheering me on and I loved the spirited scream.  That girl has lungs.   I smiled and cruised over a speed bump when my Nutella sandwich jumped out of my little bento box taking my little bag of Advil and Amodium with it. Should I stop and get them.  No.  Don’t stop Diane. But the Advil?  No Diane.  I was a little devastated with the loss of the sandwich, I am not going to lie, but more with the loss of the Advil.  My knees started hurting early on in the bike and now knowing I didn’t have any pain relief meds they really hurt.  Totally psychological. 

This was an unusual knee pain.  It felt like there were bruises behind my knee caps.  Anyone? Buler? I considered the height of my bike seat and thought for a second that maybe I should get off and raise it. Don’t get off your bike Diane.  I have become very good at listening to my race voice.  In Cozumel this voice instructed me through the marathon without a glitch, so I know it’s reliable.  I didn’t get off the bike for the entire 180km but by the end, my knees would be feeling a lot of wear.  What if I didn’t put Advil in my bike-run transition bag?  Will I ask people in the tent for Advil.  I am going to need something.  What is this pain?  What does this mean?  (Imagine double rainbow video here)

As I closed in on transition, I checked my leg to see what my lack of sunscrean had cost me by lifting my shorts.  I was surprised with my ol’ Canadian skin.  I wasn’t burnt.  A per Chrissie Wellingtons tip #35, I increased my cadence in the last 500m and started to take my feet out of my shoes.  This was the first time I ever rode 180km without stopping at least once to stretch the legs.  I didn’t know what I was up against.  As I stepped off and gave my bike to a racking volunteer, I managed an “Oh my…”  “Ooooooooh.”  “Ooof.”  Those were the only sounds/words I could make.  My legs were J-E-L-L-O.

Bike time:  5:53:32

Transition 2 (T2): Advil. Advil. OMG there’s Advil in the bag.

I was more than delighted to find Advil in the transition bag.  Along with it, two more gels, fresh socks, my shoes (Asics Kayano 18), a visor and compression cuffs (for my calfitis).  I got myself all set and slopped some sunscreen on my shoulders for good measure.  Off I went, not knowing what to do with these legs of mine.  I wanted to take an Advil right away.  But where would the first water station be?  I decided that washing the pill down with a gel might have dire consequences so I held the little guy in my hand as the sweet-sugary coating bled all over my hands. Where would the water station be?

T2:  4:51