IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships - September 4, 2016 - Katie's Race Report
TRAVEL
Heeding Brett Sutton's advice, and opting to travel to Australia as close to the race as possible, I was grateful that jet lag was not a struggle for me. I was tired - as anyone who traveled 24 consecutive hours while currently tapering would be - but not much more than I normally was from doing two-a-days.
Zach was working in the Philippines, so I made the trans-Pacific flight alone, and he flew to Australia 2 days before I raced.
PRE-RACE
There are few other races where I've felt this relaxed before the start. I arrived with zero expectations, did not "stalk" my AG competition (hello, this is WORLDS....everyone is phenomenal!), and had the sole goal of trying to PR some of the legs of my 70.3 distances.
I was mostly just "here for the party." :-)
While putting air in my tires on race morning, I took a few moments to really appreciate the spectacular sunrise over Mooloolaba Beach. Rather than nerves, I felt a positive 'buzz' from fellow athletes. And, we all shared a collective sigh of relief when we saw the ocean that morning. Waves were tame, unlike the rough seas I swam in on Saturday (of which other athletes informed me Friday was even worse!).
Calm seas and a locked & loaded Tomahawk!
Zach was a super supporter and sherpa in the days and hours leading up to my start. He
After situating my bike, Zach and I headed to the beachfront to secure the highest vantage point for watching the pro men and women start. Zach filmed some of the race, and we agreed I'd run ahead to see the first pro men exit the water, and he would join as soon as he was done.
Long story short, we miscommunicated, which resulted in being separated for over an hour searching for each other, and me walking the full length of the promenade stressing-out....not a good pre-race activity. Also, 3,000 athletes + just as many supporters = challenging to find anyone.
Zach was carrying my backpack containing everything I needed: wetsuit, pre-race nutrition, hydration, and sunscreen. With less than an hour before my swim start (maybe the only reason I ended up being grateful to start in the very last wave...?) I really started to get nervous, because I was now off my scheduled nutrition plan.
With 50 minutes before the start of my World Championship race, we finally found each other, and I kicked everything into high gear: chugged some Beet Elite, ate another bar, drank some water, did a gel, sunscreened-up, wiggled into my wetsuit, and splashed around a little to get some water in the wetsuit, and ensure my goggles didn't leak.
SWIM
A
deep water start, we were given 3.5 minutes to swim 100 meters out and position ourselves between the two yellow start buoys. Unlike any race I've done, we
were only given a 1-minute warning, rather than the normal 10...9...8... I much
prefer this method, because the countdown just makes my heart rate skyrocket.
The transitions were set up very similar to a full Ironman.
I found my bag, dumped out my stuff on a chair near a changing tent, put on my bike gear, shoved in my swim stuff in the bag, then threw it in a pile near the volunteers, and went off to find my ride.
Per usual, I like to sprint through transitions (maybe not the greatest thing for my HR during long course races), and I heard a guy say behind me in his Aussie accent, "She's like a gazelle!" I laughed because Zach frequently compares my running to that of wild animals.
BIKE
The pro men were finishing right as I was leaving. I wish there was some way I could have watched the professionals race. I wanted to know who was winning!
I turned onto the Sunshine Motorway and saw the beautiful Australian scenery - mountains in the distance, beautiful sunshine, and the smell of eucalyptus trees permeating through the air. I spent those first 10-15 minutes thinking to myself "I'm racing the freaking World Championships...in AUSTRALIA!"
The first ~10 miles on the Sunshine Motorway were flat and fast with a nice tailwind. And where there's a tailwind, there's always a headwind. I made the U-turn and the winds were comparable - if not stronger - than what I experienced in Puerto Rico this year. I even had a crosswind nearly blow me off my bike.
An ambulance was pulled over assisting a girl in my AG who had crashed, and my only guess is that perhaps she DID get blown off her bike.
My hamstrings were tight, sore, and going the way of what I experienced in Puerto Rico. There must be something about flat & windy courses that my body despises. Good thing there were hills in my very near future!
I was happy to make the turn off the Sunshine Motorway and head out into the eucalyptus groves and hills of the hinterland.
There was one killer hill around mile 30. It's roughly a 20% grade, and I actually feared it (which was not helped by the nightmare I had about it 2 days before the race). I didn't ride it during training because why would I subject my quads to that demon-hill days before a race? I drove it, and it was steep; I didn't need to ride it to know that.
Anticipating the pending climb, I clicked into my lowest possible gear, got out of the saddle (there was no other way!), and started to push-pull-push-pull with all my weight. Midway up this monster, there was a timing mat. I said to the volunteer standing there, "Really? You had to put a timing mat here?! That's cruel!" He laughed and replied, "We have to make sure no one cheats." "Fair enough," I said, and kept chugging up the hill.
The Aussie spectators were really great - they lined the road towards the top of the hill, cheering on the athletes at the place we needed it most. At a World Championship event, I was surprised to see numerous athletes off their bikes walking up the hill. There was only one other athlete riding the climb at the same time I was. When I rounded the last turn - still chugging up the hill - I smiled from loud cheers and encouraging words the spectators yelled to me when they saw me still giving that hill my best effort on two wheels.
Nearing the finish of my first hinterland loop, I started to hear some clicking down near my wheels. I tried to ignore it, hoping it was another athlete's bike, or my cadence sensor slightly out of whack. It didn't go away, and I worried it might be a flat, despite my bike still handling well. I glanced at my front tire - it was fine. I couldn't see my back, and chose to keep riding. No sense in taking time to stop if I wasn't 100% sure it was flat. I didn't feel I was losing speed, although all of a sudden I was starting to get passed by a lot of people.
When I made the 90-degree turn to start my second loop, 38 miles in, I nearly fish-tailed off my bike. Something surely wasn't right.
I pulled over. The rear tire was dead flat. I rode that thing empty. Nothing to do but bust out the levers and get to work. I got as far as getting the entire lip of the tire off, but I couldn't for the life of me remove the tube. I didn't know what I was doing wrong, but I continued fussing with it.
New rear wheel thanks to Shimano mechanics.
I started to think about course cut-off times (which I never pay attention to, and thus didn't know), and how disappointing it would be if I had to DNF if I couldn't get the tube out, despite knowing how to change a flat.
A guy ran toward me saying "I'm so sorry I didn't see you here! [he was stationed just before the turn and I was just out of sight] What speed is your bike?"
"I don't know!"
He ran over, took a look, ran back to his station and quickly returned with a new wheel. He took control of the situation while I put away my tools, and asked questions about how I would get my wheel back, if he needed my bib number, etc. This nice Shimano employee, originally from Wisconsin (now living in Oz), saved my butt.
Stupid me stopped my Garmin when I pulled over - out of habit - so I spent the remainder of the race unsure of my total race time, because, not only was my watch stopped during the incident, but I no longer had the rear wheel with the cadence/speed sensor.
Additionally, the guy forgot to hook my rear brakes back up, which I discovered on a steep descent. I chose not to take extra time to pull over again, rather, I braked carefully through the balance of the 56 miles.
I tried to push and make up for lost time, but there's really no way you can make up for being at a complete standstill for 8+ minutes.
T2
I wanted to tell Zach that I had my first-ever mechanical, and lucky for me, he was waiting just on the other side of my rack in transition.
Whenever Zach is spectating and not racing, I am known for yelling as many details at him as I can while moving as fast as possible. This time was no different.
While running in to re-rack, I yelled to him "I had a rear flat! Mile 38! Shimano gave me a new wheel!" His appropriate response was "Time to make it up on the run!"
Long, long run to my T2 run bag. Same deal as T1 - dump everything out, and refill with bike stuff. Officials were very specific saying that helmets left with your bike would result in a penalty.
Quick port-a-loo stop, and when running out, I saw Zach videotaping me - exiting the toilet (uhhh....really?!), and then yelling for me as I set out on my 13.1 mile run.
RUN
I ran out of liquids early on the bike, and got completely thrown off my nutrition plan when I flatted. I also was without any fluid for the last 8 miles, since I hadn't paid attention to where the last aid station was to refill.
Thus, I did not set myself up in an ideal position to put in a good run.
My first mile was on-target, but I started to get a sharp cramp under my left rib cage. If I was a rookie, I would have tried to push through, and probably ruin the rest of my race.
Instead, I eased off my pace - to a 9:00/mile - in hopes my body would respond kindly and stop cramping, and allow me to kill the rest of the run.
Within 1.5 miles, I was no longer cramping, and started keeping pace with some other girls. I was averaging around 8:05-8:15/mile for the middle 6 miles before cramping/severe fatigue/sore feet set in again. (Note: those are the fastest consecutive 6 miles I have done during a 13.1 of a 70.3. Small victory!)
The BEST part of my race was high-fiving a guy dressed in a T-Rex blow-up suit at mile 6.5 of the run course. This should be mandatory of every long course triathlon! I wish I had a photo of him, but I don't.
The crappy part about starting in a late wave is by the time you get to the run, there are few people left on the course, and the crowd support has started to die down.
The last 3 miles were really rough. Cramping and fatigue set in again, thus my pace faded, and I just hung on for dear life.
FINISH
This is the most I have ever appreciated a finish line, perhaps even more so than IMMT. It's pretty apparent in the photos of me acting like an airplane. I just wanted to have fun and really enjoy it after a somewhat disappointing race.
I felt really awful at the finish. I didn't want to leave anything on the course...and that was apparent by the way I felt when I crossed the line. I think this is the worst I've felt after a race. Zach said he's never seen me look so bad after a 70.3. I came down with a nasty cold about 4-5 days later, and now believe I may have raced Worlds at the very beginning of ailment.
Heeding Brett Sutton's advice, and opting to travel to Australia as close to the race as possible, I was grateful that jet lag was not a struggle for me. I was tired - as anyone who traveled 24 consecutive hours while currently tapering would be - but not much more than I normally was from doing two-a-days.
Zach was working in the Philippines, so I made the trans-Pacific flight alone, and he flew to Australia 2 days before I raced.
PRE-RACE
There are few other races where I've felt this relaxed before the start. I arrived with zero expectations, did not "stalk" my AG competition (hello, this is WORLDS....everyone is phenomenal!), and had the sole goal of trying to PR some of the legs of my 70.3 distances.
I was mostly just "here for the party." :-)
While putting air in my tires on race morning, I took a few moments to really appreciate the spectacular sunrise over Mooloolaba Beach. Rather than nerves, I felt a positive 'buzz' from fellow athletes. And, we all shared a collective sigh of relief when we saw the ocean that morning. Waves were tame, unlike the rough seas I swam in on Saturday (of which other athletes informed me Friday was even worse!).
Calm seas and a locked & loaded Tomahawk!
Millions of dollars worth of insanely nice bikes.
helped me with everything from carrying bags, to thoroughly applying sunscreen on my back, to making me smile when I saw him waiting on the other side of the wall next to my bike in T2.
After situating my bike, Zach and I headed to the beachfront to secure the highest vantage point for watching the pro men and women start. Zach filmed some of the race, and we agreed I'd run ahead to see the first pro men exit the water, and he would join as soon as he was done.
Long story short, we miscommunicated, which resulted in being separated for over an hour searching for each other, and me walking the full length of the promenade stressing-out....not a good pre-race activity. Also, 3,000 athletes + just as many supporters = challenging to find anyone.
Zach was carrying my backpack containing everything I needed: wetsuit, pre-race nutrition, hydration, and sunscreen. With less than an hour before my swim start (maybe the only reason I ended up being grateful to start in the very last wave...?) I really started to get nervous, because I was now off my scheduled nutrition plan.
With 50 minutes before the start of my World Championship race, we finally found each other, and I kicked everything into high gear: chugged some Beet Elite, ate another bar, drank some water, did a gel, sunscreened-up, wiggled into my wetsuit, and splashed around a little to get some water in the wetsuit, and ensure my goggles didn't leak.
I've never seen a more beautiful swim start!
Practicing safe sun protection. :-)
SWIM
I think the volunteer was amused by my desire to be photographed with the swim wave board, but I was so excited to be there and ready to get going!
We
only had to clear the turn buoys, so I swam the most direct line possible,
which happened to be slightly left of the sighting buoys. The majority of
people were swimming outside the buoys, which meant I had few options for
drafting, and thus swam without the aid of someone else’s feet.
I
felt I was traveling fast, but when you're in the ocean without a black line at
the bottom, it's hard to gauge. I just kept killing it as best I could.
Exiting
the water at a World Championship event, I have to say I was shocked to see
people walking out of the water, but they were!
I saw
Zach during my sandy run to T1. I glanced at my watch and discovered I had a
HUGE PR! I swam a 34:38. My previous best was 37:11, which I swam at Long
Course Nationals in Oklahoma last September. This drove the point home that
perhaps I should keep racing in long sleeve wetsuits, as much as I hate them.
:-P
Struggling to get my wetsuit off over my watch, but still hustling past people
walking to T1!
HUGE PR for my 1.2 mile swim! So happy with that, especially given the ocean swim!
T1
The transitions were set up very similar to a full Ironman.
I found my bag, dumped out my stuff on a chair near a changing tent, put on my bike gear, shoved in my swim stuff in the bag, then threw it in a pile near the volunteers, and went off to find my ride.
Per usual, I like to sprint through transitions (maybe not the greatest thing for my HR during long course races), and I heard a guy say behind me in his Aussie accent, "She's like a gazelle!" I laughed because Zach frequently compares my running to that of wild animals.
BIKE
The pro men were finishing right as I was leaving. I wish there was some way I could have watched the professionals race. I wanted to know who was winning!
I turned onto the Sunshine Motorway and saw the beautiful Australian scenery - mountains in the distance, beautiful sunshine, and the smell of eucalyptus trees permeating through the air. I spent those first 10-15 minutes thinking to myself "I'm racing the freaking World Championships...in AUSTRALIA!"
Putting in the work on the Sunshine Motorway.
The first ~10 miles on the Sunshine Motorway were flat and fast with a nice tailwind. And where there's a tailwind, there's always a headwind. I made the U-turn and the winds were comparable - if not stronger - than what I experienced in Puerto Rico this year. I even had a crosswind nearly blow me off my bike.
An ambulance was pulled over assisting a girl in my AG who had crashed, and my only guess is that perhaps she DID get blown off her bike.
My hamstrings were tight, sore, and going the way of what I experienced in Puerto Rico. There must be something about flat & windy courses that my body despises. Good thing there were hills in my very near future!
I was happy to make the turn off the Sunshine Motorway and head out into the eucalyptus groves and hills of the hinterland.
There was one killer hill around mile 30. It's roughly a 20% grade, and I actually feared it (which was not helped by the nightmare I had about it 2 days before the race). I didn't ride it during training because why would I subject my quads to that demon-hill days before a race? I drove it, and it was steep; I didn't need to ride it to know that.
Anticipating the pending climb, I clicked into my lowest possible gear, got out of the saddle (there was no other way!), and started to push-pull-push-pull with all my weight. Midway up this monster, there was a timing mat. I said to the volunteer standing there, "Really? You had to put a timing mat here?! That's cruel!" He laughed and replied, "We have to make sure no one cheats." "Fair enough," I said, and kept chugging up the hill.
The Aussie spectators were really great - they lined the road towards the top of the hill, cheering on the athletes at the place we needed it most. At a World Championship event, I was surprised to see numerous athletes off their bikes walking up the hill. There was only one other athlete riding the climb at the same time I was. When I rounded the last turn - still chugging up the hill - I smiled from loud cheers and encouraging words the spectators yelled to me when they saw me still giving that hill my best effort on two wheels.
Nearing the finish of my first hinterland loop, I started to hear some clicking down near my wheels. I tried to ignore it, hoping it was another athlete's bike, or my cadence sensor slightly out of whack. It didn't go away, and I worried it might be a flat, despite my bike still handling well. I glanced at my front tire - it was fine. I couldn't see my back, and chose to keep riding. No sense in taking time to stop if I wasn't 100% sure it was flat. I didn't feel I was losing speed, although all of a sudden I was starting to get passed by a lot of people.
When I made the 90-degree turn to start my second loop, 38 miles in, I nearly fish-tailed off my bike. Something surely wasn't right.
I pulled over. The rear tire was dead flat. I rode that thing empty. Nothing to do but bust out the levers and get to work. I got as far as getting the entire lip of the tire off, but I couldn't for the life of me remove the tube. I didn't know what I was doing wrong, but I continued fussing with it.
The beginning-of-the-end for my rear tire.
New rear wheel thanks to Shimano mechanics.
I started to think about course cut-off times (which I never pay attention to, and thus didn't know), and how disappointing it would be if I had to DNF if I couldn't get the tube out, despite knowing how to change a flat.
A guy ran toward me saying "I'm so sorry I didn't see you here! [he was stationed just before the turn and I was just out of sight] What speed is your bike?"
"I don't know!"
He ran over, took a look, ran back to his station and quickly returned with a new wheel. He took control of the situation while I put away my tools, and asked questions about how I would get my wheel back, if he needed my bib number, etc. This nice Shimano employee, originally from Wisconsin (now living in Oz), saved my butt.
Stupid me stopped my Garmin when I pulled over - out of habit - so I spent the remainder of the race unsure of my total race time, because, not only was my watch stopped during the incident, but I no longer had the rear wheel with the cadence/speed sensor.
Additionally, the guy forgot to hook my rear brakes back up, which I discovered on a steep descent. I chose not to take extra time to pull over again, rather, I braked carefully through the balance of the 56 miles.
I tried to push and make up for lost time, but there's really no way you can make up for being at a complete standstill for 8+ minutes.
T2
I wanted to tell Zach that I had my first-ever mechanical, and lucky for me, he was waiting just on the other side of my rack in transition.
Whenever Zach is spectating and not racing, I am known for yelling as many details at him as I can while moving as fast as possible. This time was no different.
While running in to re-rack, I yelled to him "I had a rear flat! Mile 38! Shimano gave me a new wheel!" His appropriate response was "Time to make it up on the run!"
Long, long run to my T2 run bag. Same deal as T1 - dump everything out, and refill with bike stuff. Officials were very specific saying that helmets left with your bike would result in a penalty.
Quick port-a-loo stop, and when running out, I saw Zach videotaping me - exiting the toilet (uhhh....really?!), and then yelling for me as I set out on my 13.1 mile run.
RUN
I ran out of liquids early on the bike, and got completely thrown off my nutrition plan when I flatted. I also was without any fluid for the last 8 miles, since I hadn't paid attention to where the last aid station was to refill.
Thus, I did not set myself up in an ideal position to put in a good run.
My first mile was on-target, but I started to get a sharp cramp under my left rib cage. If I was a rookie, I would have tried to push through, and probably ruin the rest of my race.
Instead, I eased off my pace - to a 9:00/mile - in hopes my body would respond kindly and stop cramping, and allow me to kill the rest of the run.
Given the horrendous form I have here (including the ballerina turn-out), I am either cramping, or this is toward the end of the 13.1 and I am completely spent.
Within 1.5 miles, I was no longer cramping, and started keeping pace with some other girls. I was averaging around 8:05-8:15/mile for the middle 6 miles before cramping/severe fatigue/sore feet set in again. (Note: those are the fastest consecutive 6 miles I have done during a 13.1 of a 70.3. Small victory!)
The BEST part of my race was high-fiving a guy dressed in a T-Rex blow-up suit at mile 6.5 of the run course. This should be mandatory of every long course triathlon! I wish I had a photo of him, but I don't.
The crappy part about starting in a late wave is by the time you get to the run, there are few people left on the course, and the crowd support has started to die down.
The last 3 miles were really rough. Cramping and fatigue set in again, thus my pace faded, and I just hung on for dear life.
FINISH
This is the most I have ever appreciated a finish line, perhaps even more so than IMMT. It's pretty apparent in the photos of me acting like an airplane. I just wanted to have fun and really enjoy it after a somewhat disappointing race.
I highly suggest everyone try the airplane at least once on the red carpet. I had an absolute blast, and the crowd went CRAZY. Win-win!
To make sure my legs would be willing to do this at the WC finish line, I practiced the grand jeté at the end of a really, really hard, really hot track workout in August. Too bad the photographer missed the peak of the jump.
I felt really awful at the finish. I didn't want to leave anything on the course...and that was apparent by the way I felt when I crossed the line. I think this is the worst I've felt after a race. Zach said he's never seen me look so bad after a 70.3. I came down with a nasty cold about 4-5 days later, and now believe I may have raced Worlds at the very beginning of ailment.
Little did I know I was probably at the very beginning of a horrible head cold/cough, which I'm sure is why I felt like absolute crap at the finish.
Not a stellar race by any means, but truly thankful to have reached my season goal of qualifying for the IRONMAN 70.3 World Championships!
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