| As I wheeled my bike out I saw Lisa and Byron again � it was amazing how fast these two moved around the course to cheer. I didn�t have long to reflect on how great they were � the bike course began with a short steep climb. As I climbed the blood flow to my legs hadn�t quite resumed normal levels in the short time I�d been out of the water, and I initially worried I�d fall over on the first climb because I was going so slow. �This is going to be a long 112 miles,� I thought. But I made it up without crashing, and then enjoyed a slight downhill for about half a mile. The first fifteen or twenty minutes on the bike is spent going through a mental checklist � how does each part of me feel, do I remember my nutrition strategy, is the bike working okay, is my heart rate monitor working, etc. Here were my results � legs feel strange, still not back to normal after the swim; back is sore; head still pounding from tightness of goggle strap; don�t remember all the details of nutrition strategy, bike seems okay, heart rate a little high. I decided it would be best to just relax and pedal for awhile, and then revisit my checklist. After about ten minutes things were much better. Thankfully, the goggle headache was gone. My heart rate was below 150, right on target. My back and legs were feeling much looser. And I remembered my nutrition strategy: one Powerbar or gel and one bottle of sports drink every 45 mintues. This is about 500 calories per hour. Fueling is a key element of this race, and the first 60 miles of the bike is the most critical part. Beyond this point it is often difficult to digest solid food. So my plan called for a shift to mostly gels at the halfway point of the bike. The first forty miles of the bike were very hilly and involved many ninety degree turns. This was good and bad: good because it varied the tempo which helped prevent stiffness, and bad because hills and sharp turns took more energy. Overall the early part of the course was more bad then good - I was beat after the first 40 miles! In addition to the hills it was pretty windy. On the bright side, the clouds were sticking around, so the temp was staying in the high 70s/low 80s. I was used to training in the 90s and up in Texas, so this seemed very cool. At around 40-45 miles came the infamous "Sugarloaf Mountain." The course came down a rural road, made a sharp right turn, and there in front of me was a wall of asphalt, seemingly going straight up. I was in my lowest gear well before the steepest part of the grade. At a quarter of the way up I was standing, putting every ounce of my Clydesdale heft into each pedal stroke. At this point I was burning up the road at abour 6 miles per hour. Of the six cyclists I saw on Sugarloaf three were walking their bikes. I thought I may have to join them, but about then the slope mercifully lessend, and soon I was at the top. My heart rate was over 180 - very bad. One good thing about the climb was the view on top, and with my heart rate so high I rode slowly and savored every second of the view. The ride down Sugarloaf was fun - I hit 47mph. After the mountain it was a 15 mile ride back to the start of the bike, and then out to the backside of the figure eight course for the last 52 miles. Those 15 miles repeated the same mixture of hills and sharp turns. About here the arches of my feet started to hurt. I loosened each shoe, which would relieve the pain for awhile, then they started aching again. Strangely, when I tightened them back up it felt better. Thus begun a cycle of loosning-tightening that lasted for the next three and a half hours. I was really looking forward to the transition area. I had a "special needs" bag with some food and Gatorade, and I would get to see Lisa, Byron, and Joseph. As I pulled in, a volunteer handed my bag to me, and I pulled over to see the three of them. We chatted for a bit, I filled up my bottles with Gatorade and my pockets with the food, and I was off. Shortly after this point I experienced a little depression. I'd been on this bike for over three hours, and had over three hours to go. And at the end of that I had a marathon to look forward to. My feet and back hurt. I was far enough into the race to feel pain, yet still far from finishing. Typically in a race I would urge myself through pain with positive thoughts - "Keep it up, you're almost there" "The finish will be here soon." In this case it didn't quite work - "Keep it up, only eight more hours" wasn't the inspiration I needed. These low points are legendary among Ironmen, and the conventional wisdom is to push on, and you'll feel better in half an hour. So I pushed on, but didn�t feel much better after half an hour had passed. But I took a little comfort in the fact that I was a little closer to finishing. At around 65 miles I felt a developing urge to pee, which presented a problem. The only porta-potties were at aid stations, spaced about 10 miles, or about 30 minutes, apart. But at the next aid station there was a line of people. I didn�t have to go that badly, and didn�t want to waste time standing in line. By the next aid station this little problem was growing, and once again I was greeted by a line of people. I decided to hold out for one more. Alas, it was not to be, as the aid station at mile 90 also sported a line. By this time over an hour had passed, and nature wouldn�t wait. Next I did something no athlete should resort to except under extreme circumstances. Communities that host races are nice enough to tolerate major traffic disruptions, the last thing they need to see is athletes relieving themselves on the roadside. So I waited until the route passed through a remote stretch of wooded public land, dismounted, walked about 10 feet into the woods, and took care of business. I immediately felt much better, and also enjoyed the chance to stretch a bit, as I�d been on the bike for about four and a half hours. In the first mile after I started riding again, four of the five riders who passed me while I was in the woods had pulled over to pee. I felt a little bad about starting this trend, but better here then when the course made its way back to predominantly residential areas. Five hours into the bike brought another low. The loosening/tightening routine with my shoes was losing its effectiveness. My whole body ached, especially my back and butt. The wind was picking up, and the course, which had been relatively flat since mile 60, became rolling hills once again. I had never ridden my bike longer than five hours and fifteen minutes, so beyond this point I was in uncharted territory. Those last twenty miles are really tough. It was hot and sunny by this point, which was just one more thing to deal with. |