IM Los Cabos: The Run and Being Hunted

If you missed IM Los Cabos: Pre Race/H2O click here.
If you missed IM Los Cabos: The Bike click here.

I left the tent screaming, "I feel like a million bucks."

And I did.  My legs felt great and the streets were filled with people cheering us on.  The run in Los Cabos was shaped like an M, at least, that's what I heard.  It makes sense too.  We would have six turn arounds where you could see who was in front, and who was behind.  We would run three loops of 8.5 miles (or so).

I started to see some familiar faces, and cheer out to people I knew, and didn't know.  For some reason, my race number had MEXICO instead of CANADA written on it so needless to say, I got a lot of "Vamos Mexico"  from the crowds of Mexican  supporters.   

I ran the first loop feeling great, but I was well aware of who was steadily gaining on me.  There were too many turn arounds to start counting time, but I knew it was coming on the second lap.  Upon reaching one of the water stations, I saw a girl with sunscreen.  Although it was far too late, I took a glob and rubbed it on my shoulders.   

As the sun set, and people became silhouettes I could see who was approaching.  It was mile fifteen and I looked over my right shoulder, "ahhhhhh shiiiit" was all I had.  Ricardo had caught me and I knew that was it.  He was running a lot faster than me, so I knew that matching his pace was almost impossible.  

"What happened on the swim, babe?"  I asked.

Now I would find out why he will never ask me to zip him up again.

"My wetsuit opened, and I couldn't zip it back up."

"Did you swim he whole race with it open?"

"Ya.  And I was so cold that when I got out of the water, I couldn't feel my legs.  So I sat in transition to warm up."

Oops.  First the upside-down E and then this. 

After looking at the times, I would see that Ricardo did in fact beat me on the swim, but then had a 12 minute transition.  I got on the bike 1 minute before him.  

So after our brief chat, he gave me an "I love you Babe!" and sped ahead.  

As I set out on the third lap I started to feel a little bit better. A girl with green socks who I had passed on the bike passed me and drifted by with a fast pace.  Coming up to mile nineteen, I decided to unleash the beast.  I had been carrying a Gu Espresso Love Gel with me the whole race.  Now, for those of you who know me, I am like a kid on speed when I have caffeine, so to be honest, I was afraid to take it. What the heck, I am going to see what this is all about.

Bottom left corner.  That's my back!

 At mile 20, I sped up.  Faster, and faster.  And then even faster.  A while back I read a race tip that said you go slow, slow, slow ... until there are five kilometers left.  Then you let it rip.  This worked well for me in Brasil, and with 6 miles left, i thought I might be jumping the gun.  I was going for it.  I am going to catch him. 

Without letting up, I let my pace continue and when I arrived at the last turn around, I saw him.  I was literally 300 meters behind him.  And there was about one kilometer to go. He gave me a thumbs up and yelled, "good job babe!" and then he did the unthinkable.  He sped up.  For a moment I wondered if he might wait for me, but I didn't get my hopes up. Between him and I, was Heidi gliding in her green socks.  

Although I didn't catch him .. I gave him a good scare.  That's his finishing photo. Afraid of what, or who might be lurking behind him. 

 

I sprinted into the race chute and saw the clock 12:46 and some change.  There was Ricardo smiling big and holding out my medal.  I jumped up and gave someone a high five and then cheered my way through the finish line. 

Ricardo would beet me by 2 minutes and 40 seconds ... this time.  

He put the medal around my neck, we hugged and kissed.  

And then we ate pizza.

We sat down and started to talk about the race, Ricardo was saying, "I love you babe, you are such a Rockstar."  I gave him my hand (like hand to the face) and said, "Sorry Babe, I think I am going to pass out and I don't know what to do." He picked me up and walked me to a medical bed where I layed down.  

This was the first time I have felt such an after race sensation.  I was freezing cold so they stripped my clothes off and gave me a pair of boxers, and Ricardo gave me his finisher shirt that was dry.  My race clothes were soaking wet and the temperature had dropped.  2 hours.  That's how long we stayed in the medical station, well, between it and the port-o-let.  I will spare you those details (but if you are interested in reading about such material, visit IM Cozumel: The Bike).  My brothers might appreciate that one. 

Knowing that we had to walk our bikes back to the hotel, I had a familiar flash back. I remembered being young and foolish, and drinking too much.  That feeling that you have to get up off the toilet, but you can't, but you have to, but you cant, came flooding back.  I had to get up.  "OK!"  I said.  "Let's go." 

The medical staff checked my blood pressure that had dropped really low and it was on the up.  It's now or never.

We got up, Ricardo in his race gear and me in my boxers, and arm in arm, we walked out of the race area.  

Run time: 4:38

Race time: 12:46:27

It took 24 hours (the typical amount of time it take to feel normal again), until I was ready to talk about which Ironman we will do next.  And so it has been written, Nice, France June, 2014.

Raynelle and Larry Thompson.  Ricardo and I want to be like them when we grow up. #Konabound

Thank you

Thank you to Bekah List for kicking my swim up a notch, to Vail and Sarah for making a great pre-race motivational video and to everyone who send messages along on it.  Thank you to Ellie who made my my first ever golden carrot (that was orange). Thank you to everyone who wished me well and sent messages of encouragement.  And to everyone who gave a shout out at the end.  Thanks to all who followed the live tracker and who dispatched details.  Thank you to Sergio Godinez for always taking the time to check out our aching knees, ankles, and shoulders.  Thanks to Asdeporte for another great race, and thanks to my Sweet Ricky P.  who really is the wind beneath my wings.  

 Fun fact: Bekah, my coworker and swim teacher extraordinaire says to me on Thursday, "You know what? My friend finished in between you and Ricardo."

My reply, "HEIDI in the green socks."

 

IM Los Cabos: The Bike

If you missed IM Los Cabos: Pre Race/H2O click here.

As I left transition, I kept thinking, what happened? Did I have a really good swim? Is his transition bag gone? Where is he? With the lead in my hand, I clipped my new shoe plates into my pedals and I rode.  We trained the bike Friday and Saturday and I was feeling pretty good about a sub-six hour ride despite the hills.  I am a hill-lover.  I love the climb.  I love the burn in my quads; the sound of a powerful exhale.  The thumping in my chest.  I love cresting a hill and dropping back into my seat.  I climb on my feet.

Practice Ride Friday.

 I love hills. Did I mention that already?

This picture is fully and completely stolen from finisherpix.com. The best pictures on the circuit.

As I set out, I found myself riding the familiar road to Cabo San Lucas.  There were some bumpy patches, and some aluminium speed bumps, but I didn’t mind either.  At the first turn around, I started to count.  How many minutes will it be until I see Ricardo.  I figured that I would take that time and double it since we now would be riding in opposite directions of the turn around. 

Boom.

I had counted about 2 minutes, which meant that he was 4 minutes behind me.  On the flats, Ricardo has been consistently faster than me, but on the hills, I am generally stronger than him.  But he has MUCH improved. I didn’t know how this was going to pan out.  The next turn around would be about 45km away.  As my mind raced I was passed by a woman in a green bathing suit.  There was a “V” on her right leg, indicating she was in the 55-59 age group. WOW. Admiration. Wow.

I raced my plan, taking water and Gatorade at every hydration station.  The water, I used to dump over my hear and arms, the Gatorade I drank.  I kept a steady flow of gel going as well.  One gel every 45 minutes to an hour.  We decided against Powerbars this time as we though our regular PB and jelly would do.  When I reached into my bento box for my sandwich bag, out popped my salt pills.  Hasta Luego sodium! I hope I didn’t really need those. And I bit the bag holding my sandwich open.   

I love peanut butter almost as much as I love hills.  The ¼ sandwich was goooooood.  And I put the bag back.  When I arrived at the hill, (see below marked “Big Ass Hill”) I grinned as I started taking hill points.  “Hill points” are the amount of people I pass on hills.  I don’t know how many I took until I saw a familiar green bathing suit standing on the side of the road. “Do you have what you need?” I yelled. 

“You haven’t got an extra CO2 cartridge do you?” She asked.

“In fact, I do.” 

This has been the first time in an Ironman I have been able to help a fellow athlete.  I stopped my bike and fished out my extra cartridge.  “Now, do you know how to change a tire?” She asked.

“That, I can’t help you with.” I responded.  I have changed one road tire in my life and it was not really me who changed it.  Knowing that this would be a time-consuming endeavor with no guarantee, I left her in the hands of the race-mechanics that ride the course on scooters trouble-shooting.  Ricardo would tell me later that she passed him.  

I got back on my bike and continued riding the 5.5km climb. 

Only one song came to mind. And only 5 words, repeated themselves over, and over, and over, and over, and over until I started singing it myself. 

The Long and Winding Road … da, da …. da, da …

 “Isn’t this fun.”  I yelled as I was taking another hill point. “We pay good money for this. Enjoy it.”  And I rode on.  When I got to the turn around, I started counting again.  If it’s more than 2 minutes, I have gained some time. 

4 minutes.  I was now 8 minutes ahead. If I could keep this pace, and Ricardo keep his, I might have a chance of “winning him” as my students would say.  And I rode back to start my second loop.

SMACK. POW. BOOM.  Like a Batman cartoon, the wind slapped me in the face.  The ride to Los Cabos would be just that.  An assault.  A wind assault.  A slap in the face, and a sound that hollers, “Ha ha ha ha haa, you are pedaling and not moving very fast …. Sucker!”

I would suffer until the turn around, scooping my peanut butter and jelly out with my fingers because the bread had been soaked with water as I doused myself.  I would wear a grimace instead of a grin, and remember, This is temporary.

But it wasn’t.

They were cross winds and when I turned around, it felt just the same.  Smack.  Time. Count.

6 minutes.  6 minutes = 12 minutes.  Indeed I was increasing my lead.

Now.  This is an important detail.  Ricardo and I went to a wedding on February 23.  This was supposed to have been a big training weekend, but, well, it was a wedding.  The only training we did was wine and dancing.  The night before the wedding, two friends of Ricardo’s made a bet on who would win between the two of us. 

Sidenote: Ricardo and I met at the finish line of Ironman Cozumel in 2011.  We have a similar pace.

So Jeroen bet on Ricardo, and Reuben bet on me.  We took a picture just in case there was ever a reason to not remember having made the bet. 

Yep.  That's a $1000 bet alright.

When I made my way back to the “Big Ass Hill” I was feeling spent.  My sub-6 hour dream was over and I was once again singing,

The LONG and WINDING road. 

And again, I began to giggle.That's when I turned to poetry.  Inspired by the butterflies and bees along the way, I began.

Bees and Butterflies,

Are two different things,

One flutters it's wings,

And one really stings.

That's as far as I got, but like The Long and Winding Road, I repeated it over, and over, and over, unable to come up with a second verse without fear that I might forget the first.  This is called Ironbrain.

Out and back and that was that – done deal. I had opened up the lead to about 15 minutes.  

Ricardo is a much better runner than I, but is he that much better?  His marathon was 10 minutes faster than mine back in May, but now … his run had improved, as mine seemed to have worsened.

IM Los Cabos: The Run: Coming as soon as my big ass pile of grading and report cards are done. 

If you'd like something to tie you over, do visit IM Brasil: The run. 

Fun fact:  The IM Los Cabos swim was actually 4.1km rather than 3.8km.  For real. 

Bike time: 6:31:33

T2:  2:05

I left the tent screaming, "I feel like a million bucks."

Want to be THERE?

It was kilometer 14 and we were making our way up Calle Zaragoza.  Up, up … up.  As he doubled back to offer me some motivation, Ricardo bounced, (I swear he wasn’t even sweating) “We’re almost there.”   

The comment hit a nerve and I instantly time-traveled back to a similar time the phrase was used.  It was nine years ago in Medellin, Colombia and I was out on a ride with two colleagues Zeb and Mark.  After a rigorous serious of ups, downs, arounds, overs and throughs, Zeb uttered “We’re almost there."  I lifted my eyes to the long mountainous climb in front of me. We are not!

If you know me, you know, I love the climb. Perhaps its just semantics. 

I spent the entire end of the run (up, up, up) analyzing why I was so pissed.  Almost there.  My heart is going to explode out of my chest and he has the nerve to assure me that we are almost there? Epiphany struck.   In August of 2011 I attended my level one Yoga Training.  My teacher reminded us often, “You are either here, or you are nowhere.”  Here or Nowhere? Here or nowhere.

I continued to drag my body up that hill and it occurred to me.  We are never there.  I giggled to myself while maintaining a grimace on my face for the sake of it. Suddenly that Cake song entered my head “You’re Never There” only in my version they sang, “We’re never there, We're never there.  We're never, ever, ever, really there.”  

I needed more than this to complete my 180 of crusty-rubber legged derailment.  He was trying to motivate me.  What else could he have said? 

  

Each step acted as a micro-chisel into what it really was that was bugging me. Instead of assuring people, “You're almost there” (which is the equivalent of saying, “you are almost nowhere and you can keep going for as long and hard as you want, and you still won’t be anywhere…”) you can offer this:

“Enjoy this moment. It’s going to be over soon.”

Use often. 

 

Ironman Brasil Part III: The Run "Gotta pump my arms, to keep up the fast pace."

Before Ironman Cozumel my sister collected and compiled messages from friends and family.  She printed the messages on blue-morpho butterfly cards and I carried them with me for the whole race.  Several of them are now weathered from the rain, and some are caked with pepto bismol while others are terracotta stained from being in a bag with Advil.  I love these cards.  I didn’t bring the cards with me this time but I read them all days before the race, and then again the night before.  I also happened to Skype my friend Meghan the day before.

Meg had written me the following message:

Mutha f&%kin rain,

Rainin on my face,

Gotta pump my arms,

To keep up the fast pace,

Beating up the street,

Trying to create heat,

Almost done this run,

That was so much fun.

-Rap song made up by Meghan on 20 mile run in pouring rain and 60km winds

Skyping with her the day before allowed me to get the actual tune and tempo of the rap, and sure enough, I ran out of the tent singing “mutha f&%kin rain …rainin on my face …”  (It wasn’t even raining).  The little Advil pill was rested gently in my hand as my arms pumped me along while my legs just did whatever my brain told them to.  I entered the streets and wondered how this run was really going to go down.  I had done some math on the bike (this calculation took me almost the entire 6 hours).  If I started the race at 7:00, and the swim was about 1:25 based on what the lady told me … and if I biked at an average speed of 31km/h, then I would have to do a 4:30 marathon.  Be present Diane.  remember how powerful the present is.  Enjoy the moment.  

How many countries start with the letter I? Hint: there are 9 and none obscure ~ Sally

I asked someone what time it was. “2:30.”  This was just as I had calculated (over a 6-hour bike ride); I would need a 4:30 marathon to break 12 hours.  I ran a 4:36 marathon in Cozumel, and in training for Brazil I only ran up to 21km (before getting plantar-fasciitis).  I ran that distance only once.  A 4:30 marathon would be tough, but not impossible. 

Playing like a girl doesn’t mean what it used to.  ~Danah

As I left the town and head for the hills (literally) I ran up on a water station with a port-o-let.  Chrissie Wellington mentions in her book A Life Without Limits (which I recommend to you all) that stopping a squatting is more than appropriate in Ironman.  I only pull this move in the dark and when under the influence, so it wasn’t going to happen today.  I actually stopped to use the port-o-let.  (This is the last you will hear of peeing – I promise).  I grabbed water on my way back to the road and popped my Advil. 

One can never consent to creep when one feels the impulse to soar. ~Helen Keller  via Sharon

The run in Brazil is one 21.1km loop and then two 10.5km loops.  That first loop has some bad-ass hills and the hydration stations offered water, Gatorade, Pepsi, crackers, salt and bananas.  There was no gel.  No Gel! Luckily I had stuffed a few in my tri-suit just in case.  I timed my nutrition and used my body to measure what I needed.  Water.  Pepsi. Water and salt. Pepsi and a bun. Water and a gel.  I started out with a decent pace, but then at about 5km my knees and ankles started to kill.  I think it was my ankles that hurt more.  The insides of my ankles.  Anyone? 

Every worthwhile accomplishment big or little, has its stages of drudgery and triumph; a beginning, a struggle, and a victory. ~Ghandi   via Leah

I only had 3 Advil left, so I attempted to ration.  I decided I would take one at 10km, another at 20km, and the last at 30km.  When I came in after the first loop of 21.1 I knew that I would be cutting the 12-hour mark close.  I couldn’t however, pick up my pace without feeling a lot of physical joint pain, so I didn’t.  I was so happy coming around that loop. Rather than Pepsi, Gatorade and water, the hydration station had chicken soup broth.  And it was hot.  I have heard great things about this during a race, so I took a cup and downed it.  It felt great in the stomach and was salty to taste.    

Today is your day, your mountain (big ass swim, marathon, effin long bike) is waiting so get on your way! ~Dr. Seuss  via Sara

I remember reading Ironman advice once.  It went something like this:

During the swim: hold back

For the first ½ of the bike: hold back

For the second ½ of the bike: still hold back

For the first half of the run: hold back

Between km 21-37: hold back

When there is 5km left: DON’T hold back

I held back.   I passed some familiar faces along the way and was sure to give high 5s to passing runners if I knew them.  There were several turn around points on the run so you had runners passing in both directions. When I reached the loop turn-around once again I looked at the race clock.  It said 10:57.  By the time I looped out it would be 11:00 (race time).  My current pace was about 8.5-9km/h.  If I wanted to finish the race in under 12 hours I would have to finish the last loop 10.5km, in an hour; 10.5km/h.  I have run this pace before, in five or 10km race, but now, no way.  I set off for the last loop and the sun had already set.  The weather was cooling off and the moon lit the Ironman sky (I don’t actually know if the moon was even out).  I started to pick up my pace at about 2km and following that there was a long hill.  The grade wasn't huge, but a hill is a hill is a hill, and I was 215km in.  I picked up my pace.

Reminder: I had no watch on.

I came to what I thought was about ½ way and was feeling pretty good. This is that last 5km Diane. You are allowed to give it.  Should I?  No, not should Diane, could I?  Yes.

I have met my hero and she is me ~Georgette Sheehan  via Meghan

I don’t know where these bursts come from. Out of nowhere, I started to go faster and faster.  By the time I reached the town again, I realized there was only 3km left.  I was passing people left and right (literally – again).  The girl who had passed me 10km back was now in my view.  Go Diane.  Fly.  You have this.  Don’t slow down.  Fly. I did.  When there was one kilometer left, I gunned it.  Having no idea of the time, but feeling light in my legs and determined to finish strong, I all out sprinted.  At the end, you enter a pathway of people.  Many have their hands out to high five and others are stretched into the space taking pictures.  I was flying.  As I rounded the corner into the race chute I looked up at the clock.  11:59:20.  I can’t describe this feeling; but I have felt it twice in the last month, once after Magic Carpet, and now.  I jumped up and down, and screamed “Yeahhhhhhh”  flailing my arms and laughing with pure spastic joy, I crossed the line.

Sidney, the race announcer gave me a special shout out and this time I heard it, “Diane from Canada, but living in Mexico, you …  are …  an Ironman!” 

Run time: 4:28:45

Race time: 11:59:24

Making my way out of the chute I carried my giddy little self into the massage tent. One advantage of being alone was that I could now indulge without worrying about anyone waiting.  Smiling through the entire massage, I left the tent and head on over to the medical tent to take care of a huge blood-blister.  One good look and I realized my blister could wait.  There were at least 50 people hooked up to IV. 

I collected my belongings and made my way home.  It took about 30 minutes working a dread lock out of my hair in the shower, but I got cleaned up, and then left in mad search of a burger and fries.

The side of the road look as good a place as any to eat my hard-earned meal while cheering the rest of the athletes in.  I got to see the para-athletes, 68-year-old American woman Theo (the oldest participant of the race), Mike (who raced with his wife Vanessa until km 21 when her body said “no more lady”), and Alicia, one of the last warriors to cross the finish line.  These athletes that are on the course for 16+ hours are true-blue heroes of mine.  Perseverance, determination and courage define who they are.  These are the people that demonstrate what it really means to not give up, and they live the Ironman motto: “Impossible is nothing.” 

Whether it be a sporting endeavour, raising a family, writing a book, or working on any other project that inspires you, I leave you with this:  We were born to achieve extraordinary measures.  Settling for mediocrity while comfortable, limits us from achieving our real potential.  We all have gifts to give and talents to share.  There is nothing wrong with highlighting your amazingness; in fact, it's a crime to keep it hidden.  So, get on out here.  That's right, OUT HERE!  Make magic happen.

I am extremely thankful to all of YOU.  Thank you for following, for the shout outs, for sharing your stories, and for encouraging me to keep moving forward. I was recently reminded of Aristotle's, "The total is greater than the sum of the parts."  How true this is.

And a special thank you to the Baptiste Power Yoga Institute (totally out of the box, incredible yoga/personal journey)  and Trimundo (an evolution in triathlon for Mexico) for allowing me to race with their logos on my legs.  A true marriage of two passions, yoga and triathlon.  Yogathlon if you will. 


Finally, the hugest THANK YOU and acknowledgment to Ricardo.  I met Ricardo at the finish line of Ironman Cozumel. (And proceeded to move there 2 1/2 weeks later)  Thank you Ricky P. for dragging me out of bed at 4:45 daily, for encouraging me after my goggles filled up with tears after crappy swims, and for taking me on amazing weekly adventures in the hills of Mexico.  Thank you for being the best guy a gal could ask for.  

  

Ironman Brasil Part I: The swim        Ironman Brasil Part II: The bike