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Espero que todo el mundo esta haciendo bien hoy. (Hope everyone is doing well.) That's about it for my espanol, but man down in Miami, Spanish is spoken more than English. It's really cool, as many of the residents are from Cuba, Argentina, Columbia and I am sure many other Latin American countries. It's one of my favorite things in the world: To be in the United States, immersed in the culture of another part or parts of the world--that's what America is! I loved Miami!
The race--- well that's another story, at least from registration to exiting the water from the swim. First, just a little about our trip down. Mom and I headed down Thursday at 7am on a Southwest Airline flight--direct. My advice to all is this: If you have the option, always fly Southwest--they truly rock! Most of you probably are not aware of the excessive charge most of the commercial airlines put on for transporting a bike; it ranges from 100-250 dollars. Southwest is 50 bucks; and more importantly they are courteous and friendly, unlike other airlines. That's all, just a shout out to Southwest--nice work!
Check-in was at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Miami, but at first I thought it was at the Intercontinental Hotel--HOLY CARS! Mom and I pulled up in our Nissan Versa rental (great car, by the way), admist the mostly black Rolls Royces, Ferraris, Maseratis, Porsches, Mercedes and--oh yeah--BMW's. The reason I almost forgot them was because a Beamer down there is like well--a Chevy or Ford up here. No kidding, it was unreal; and the lobby of that place was insane. I learned from our Hampton Inn front desk girls that the Intercontinental is where all of the foreign presidents, diplomats, ambassadors and celebrities (whoever they are) stay when in Miami. Cool in a way and, well...umm, gr...in another!
Check-in was terribly disorganized. That concerned me instantly, as this race was to shake down in the heart of Miami. It's one thing to be disorganized/clueless with athlete check in; but road closures, swims in the port of Miami, organizing a race in the heart of a large downtown--hmmm, that made me wonder about race day safety, etc.
We stayed at the Hampton Inn-Coconut Grove, just a few miles from downtown Miami. It was perfect: very clean, a great staff and very friendly. Mom and I enjoy Hampton Inns, as we always find consistency with cleanliness, guest services and the greatest part --- a FAT continental breakfast. All at a very good price! We met another proffessional athlete who was staying at the Hampton Inn--Kelly Williamson. Kelly had just competed out on the Big Island--Kona, Hawaii at the Ironman World Championships on October 9th. Yup, just three weeks ago and what a day she had out there--15th Overall Female at the World Championship--that's serious. Nice work!
Coconut Grove is very cool. It's mostly residental, but has this little shopping district with cafes, restaurants, art galleries and some hip shops. Apparently, it has undergone several transformations over the years with the most recent attracting a sort of bohemiam clientele in their mid twenties/thirties--we enjoyed it. Mom was happy at the pool-side Thursday afternoon in the sun, with some nice mid-eighties temps. I absolutely loved the warm temps but had some dealing to do before I could settle in, as the bike needed to be assembled for a short 30 min ZR ride and then a short ZR run. After consulting the girls at the front desk, I headed for Key Biscayne, only 10 minutes down the road to the causeway bridge, and I was out over the Port of Miami--incredible! I felt great that afternoon and could only hope I would feel the same Saturday for the race.
Friday: Mom and I headed out by car to Bill Baggs State Park on the point of Key Biscayne. There is an old lighthouse out there, a beuatiful beach and a really nice little cafe. The lighthouse is the oldest standing structure in all of Miami-Dade County. It was built in 1825, destroyed during the Second Seminole War and rebuilt several years later. My mother loves the beach; every summer, we spend a little time on Cape Cod and, no joke, she will log in consectutive days where she is down there from 10 am-5pm. Oh yeah, we walk--it's like 200 yds from the front door of the cottage. Seroiusly, my father calls her the "sun goddess." Anyway, we spent about 30 mins chillin' in the waters off of Key Biscayne, and that was it. As I know and she knows, the day before a race on the beach is not smart. Mom's great--really great, so understanding. Amazing! And I ain't just sayin' it--ask anyone who knows her! She happily headed for the pool.
Okay here it is: race day.
You got it--4am breakfast. I woke up Saturday morning pretty bummed out and not feeling well. It's hard. So much is missing from my life, and there are just times, days and more days where it's almost unbearable. The days leading up to Miami have been rough, and I guess today wasn't going to be much better. It's hard to explain the pain, but we lost so much in February. And it's so painful when your best friend isn't there anymore; there's no good luck phone calls--that hurts bad. Mike would call from Belize, he would email and Skype from his classroom. When I was in Hawaii last year, Mike called three times a day from Belize--that's gone and it sucks. Although, I do believe all four of their spirits are with me, each stroke, pedal and for every step out there, they are my strength. So, I pulled myself from the rack and downed my Powerbar Ironman Perform http://www.powerbar.com/--man I love the orange /mango--and then the remainder of my race-morning breakfast.
As I approached transition, the race announcer was giving us the water temp update and it was a no-wetsuit day. I sort of planned for that, so I had my Blue Sevenety Speedsuit ready to go, only to have it stripped from me about a minute before leaping into the dark abyss. Yes, apparently when the no-wetsuit policy is in effect--when water temps exceed 76.1 degrees--the policy includes speedsuits that contain neoprene or rubber. I guess the rule states that the suit must be lycra or nylon. Not that she will ever read my blog, but a very special thank you to the kind volunteer who offered to bring my useless speedsuit to transition. Not sure what I'll do with it--I mean it's sort of obsolete, isn't it?????? Bang!
Into the darkness we go. I mean, I know it was Halloween Eve, but swimming in the dark-spooky water-- yes, dangerous you know it! Oh well! Dropped. Real quick and on my own, wandering in the waters where Crockett and Tubbs chased down the bad guys in their cigarette boats: the Port of Miami! Well, I tried to focus on good form, but that's tough when you don't have a clue where the hell you're going. After the boys pulled away and I could no longer see splashing feet and arms, I knew I was on my own, with just the light of the moon. Seriously, this is no exaggeration--it was dark when they started this race --not smart! I was forced to sight every few strokes, but was unable to follow the course and ended up straying off course a few times, until the gals began to catch me. I was able to hang with one of the female pros and we did our best to find our way. We reached this buoy, and I was sure it was the turn for shore. I focused in on a red light coming from a boat or something near shore. Nice! Oh man, wait: Suddenly swimming became more difficult--darkness okay, but unfair. Now opposing current--really unfair and with no wetsuit--really, really unfair. Plain wrong! What the hell is this? It felt like I wasn't moving forward! As we approached the boat, one of the sparse swim volunteers was yelling "hey, hey this way, follow me!" I stopped completely and said "where the...do we go?" My partner spoke nearly the same words. We rounded another buoy. I couldn't believe it, but we still had another 300-400 to go. At that point, I sort of began to lose it, knowing this would be my worst swim ever--that's discouraging! Confusion, cramps and rough current--this was my swim. The only good thing was the moon over me; I could see it each time I went for a breath. It was comforting, in a not so comfortable place. I enjoy the adventure of it all--really, I do. I am never in fear out there, it's just that this is a race and because of a few variables beyond my control--but variables that are controlled by people you entrust to do a safe and complete job--I found myself exiting the water terribly defeated.
As I climbed up the stairs from the dark waters, I was deflated, uninspired and unsure if I would go on. We're athletes, competitiors, we go out there and we race. When things like this happen, whether it's something you control or something out of your control, it sets you back. But, we all have expectations. And yes it's part of racing, we know that, I know that; but for me, Miami 70.3 was the day I would hope to cross the line--happy. As some of you know, this season was salvaged about mid-July when I started to ride. I stopped drowning my pain in beer and eating and began losing the extra 25 lbs I put on following the accident. I released my sorrow, pain and suffering out on the roads, riding and running. I had to do it for my survival and for Mike, Jill and the kids --they were my inspiration to fight on. But, coming out of the water in 44 minutes was terribly disappointing. As I knew like Timberman 70.3 and Syracuse 70.3, this day would be sub-par for the athlete in me. As I jogged up through the cheering crowds, I could only think about my disappointment.
I packed the Powerbar http://www.powerbar.com/ products in my pockets, slid the Smith shades on, popped the Louis Garneau helmet on and off I rolled. My spirit was broken. I pedaled along for 5-10 miles at a very low heart rate and considered just going on a scenic bike ride, and then maybe I would run hard. "Vamos, vamos!" (Come on, come on!) "Vamos!" Vamos is we go, to go or let's go in Spanish. Mike would use it all of the time with his students. These were the words a passing athlete shouted at me as he cruised by. He would be a companion all day; he was riding for a relay team as he was preparing for Clearwater 70.3 (Half-Ironman World Championships, Nov.6). Thanks! I guess it was time for me to go. I dropped the chain down, lowered myself into the aerobars and started pedaling, quickly bringing the heart rate up as I pushed about 90 rpms. That is where I stayed as I made my way through the lush vegatation along the residental streets of Miami and the surrounding neighborhoods. I loved the ride, actually. There were a lot of turns, but it was warm, sunny and, unlike the swim, the bike course was incredibly well staffed and safe, as they must have used every orange cone in the state of Florida--thousands of them closed off an entire lane for 56 miles. And a huge thank-you to the hundreds of police officers who manged the intersections with a smile and even a cheer. Thanks. Remember, this race was in metropoliton Miami. I dialed into the numbers Jesse http://www.qt2systems.com/ gave me Friday night and found myself riding with relative ease. At times, there was a pretty stiff head wind, but it wasn't consistent. It was once again time to fight on, it's what Mike would expect, it's what he would want me to do--I had never quit before, never DNFed and today wasn't going to be any different. Mike was a fighter, he never gave up on anything or anyone. Vince Lombardi said "once you learn to quit, it becomes a habit." I managed to sustain 24 mph comfortably, and although the day would not be great--due to the Halloween swim--it would yield some positive feeback. I struggled at Timberman on the bike, Syracuse even worse; but today I rode well--that's progress, it's positive. And the run would be the same.
Quickly through T2 and running like an Antelope--run, run, run, run, run--RUN--like an antelope out of control. (Antelope--A Phish song my brothers and I enjoyed at many shows over the years). I cruised out of T2 at around a 5-5:15 pace, truly gliding, effortlessly, but knew the numbers Jesse gave me were different; so, I dialed it back. I had no idea what the course was like until Friday night when Jesse sent my pacing. I thought, what the heck is this? I can run faster than that tomorrow, but Jesse knew something I didn't until Saturday morning, when someone said we run over a bridge 8 times--I guess that deserves some respect. I focused in on the numbers and, with ease, cruised through the run. I used two Powerbar gels out on the run, but was concerned a bit as the aid stations lacked adequate amounts of Powerbar Ironman Perform http://www.powerbar.com/. I depend on a sports drink for hydration and fuel--it ended up not playing a role, but it's another issue that needs to be fixed for next year.
The run course and the bike were fine. The bike had no real issues, other than maybe a few too many turns. It seems to me the bike course could head out to Key Biscayne instead, because with that many turns on this course, it could be eliminated. For the pros, the turns are not a big issue as we are spread out; but, when the packs of age-groupers roll through, it's a bit different and most likely a bit dangerous. The run course was just fine and really good for spectators, as it passes by transition multiple times. The run-aid stations need work, more trained volunteers and more product. The major issue with Miami 70.3 was the swim. You can't start a swim in the DARK--BAD! What more do I need to say? Also, more buoys and more personnel--again, trained personnel who want to be out there. The other issues--like registration lines confusion, transition zone issues (many), along with other more trivial issues--are tolerable. They should be fixed, but do not present any real threats or dangers. I was very dissappointed with the race organizers, WTC and Ironman Corp, not only because their decision to start a race in the dark directly effected my performance, but more importantly because they created a very dangerous and unfair situation that could easily have been avoided.
For me, it started at check in, as I could not understand how a WTC/Ironman event could be so unorganized. And then the swim start came, and I was blown away. In my years racing Ironman events, many of them are near flawless, but here and there you get a wreck --and I ask myself how this happens. I understand that WTC/Ironman don't always manage/organize/direct all of the Ironman/Ironman 70.3 events, but wouldn't you think that they would have a training program for race managers, event mangament protocol and, basically, some sort of format to follow that ensures a safe and well managed race? Ater all, I think the athletes deserve that. Thanks.
For me, it started at check in, as I could not understand how a WTC/Ironman event could be so unorganized. And then the swim start came, and I was blown away. In my years racing Ironman events, many of them are near flawless, but here and there you get a wreck --and I ask myself how this happens. I understand that WTC/Ironman don't always manage/organize/direct all of the Ironman/Ironman 70.3 events, but wouldn't you think that they would have a training program for race managers, event mangament protocol and, basically, some sort of format to follow that ensures a safe and well managed race? Ater all, I think the athletes deserve that. Thanks.
Not sure what the compensation is for the pro athletes, as we pay a flat fee--maybe I'll receive an email addressing that issue! Well, thanks for reading and sorry about the length of this post, but it was some kind of day!
Adios-estar bien.
