Ironman Boulder 2015 Race Recap

Warning: this is the long version!

Wendy, Kaitlynn and I arrived in Denver on Wednesday night to have time to acclimate, even though altitude has never negatively affected me before. We stayed in Littleton with my Aunt Maureen for a few days, and she was a great host. She even took Kaitlynn for a day of fun which allowed Wendy to help me recon the few parts of the bike course I wasn't familiar with, as well as scout best spectator options. On Saturday morning we headed up for Kaitlynn to participate in the IronKids run. She did great! She also got to do warm-ups with Rinny Carfree (current women's Ironman World Champion) and have her pic taken with her afterwards. The lack of breakfast and altitude got to her soon after, though, and she got sick before we went up to the Reservoir to check in my bike and bags. I was agonizing and worrying if I had packed all that I needed. A fellow participant gave me some calming words: "You've got your bike shoes, helmet, bike, and running shoes, right? You've got all you need." Wendy was great too, being patient while I went through my minor freak-out. Ah, the joys of Ironbrain. We checked in to our hotel that afternoon, just 6 blocks away from Boulder High School, where Transition 2 and the Ironman Village were. After Subway for dinner, we all went to bed a little after 8pm. Race day would come quickly no matter how much or little sleep I got.
  
I slept fairly well, unusual for most on race-day eve, but luckily I've never had that problem. I was up at 3:45am for breakfast, a combination of liquids and a few solids (2 Nakeds, 2 bananas, 1 yogurt 1 Cliff bar, coffee, and my morning supplement). We were out the door at 4:30 and hadn't walked one block before I realized I had left my Special Needs bags in our room. After I got them, we walked the 6 blocks to SN bag drop-off, then got on one of the free shuttles up to The Reservoir. It's a bit of a walk from where they drop you off to Transition 1, but it was a beautiful morning with a gorgeous sunrise. I got to my bike and loaded up my nutrition, then went up to body marking. They announced a water temperature of 78.1, making it wetsuit-optional (76.1 is the cut-off, so those who raced in wetsuits would forfeit any awards). I had already decided to go without it due to the pinched nerve I had in my left arm, plus I was looking forward to testing myself in a 2.4-mile swim with no assistance (wetsuits make almost everyone faster because you're more buoyant). Maybe if my shoulder was better i would have gone with it, since there were easily several hundred others who decided still wear theirs. I seeded myself in the 1:00-1:15 group, which I thought was honest since my last pool practice was 1:12. As I approached the water, I saw the "Jeff-Heads" waving to my left - there was Wendy and Kaitlynn, and even Maureen and Kelly had made it up too! They started playing "Beautiful Day" by U2, one of my favorite songs, and I was feeling great. Despite my shoulder, I thought I with a steady swim I could be between 1:10 and 1:20.

It was a rolling start - once they fire the cannon, everyone starts wading in, wave by wave, and when your feet hit the water, you dive and go. I got off to a solid start, but there was a lot more contact than I was expecting. It started to clear about the third buoy though, and I was into my rhythm. Then out of nowhere, someone cut in front of me and kicked my Garmin watch loose from my wrist (it's on a quick-connect, twist-and-release band). I felt it go, stopped, and grabbed blindly at it, but down it went to the bottom.

I froze, not knowing what to do. I screamed a profanity at the nameless swimmer who obviously didn't do it on purpose. I had no choice but to resum swimming. For the next half-hour my mind was in a dark place. All I could do was obsess over it, feeling both angry at and sorry for myself, wondering how could I possibly finish the race without it? I'd have no reference for power, heart rate, speed... hell, I wouldn't even know that time of day it was! "This is going to be the worst day ever" was a thought that kept coming to mind. I was second-guessing myself and just generally miserable.

Then, after making the last big turn back toward the beach, another part of my brain told the negative part to shut the hell up. Instead of being the worst day, this could actually be my best day ever. I reminded myself that my power meter didn't calibrate properly at Boulder 70.3 in June and I still did just fine. I also reminded myself that I've ridden 70% of the bike course 4 times before. A PR (personal record) was probably not in the cards anyway - not with a bad left arm - so I got back to focusing on finishing this swim, getting out on the bike, then just relax and enjoy the rest of the day.

When I finally exited my swim, my family was at the end of the bag collection chute going crazy. I smiled wryly, and showed my wrist to them. The look on Wendy's face was one of shock: she instantly knew that this was a major setback. I got into the changing area and having nothing to 'race' for, I took my time while others rushed. When I reached my bike, Wendy and the others were there, and she offered me her watch (a ForeRunner 220). I told her to keep it but I may take it on the run later. I gave a thumbs up and smile to my cheering section, got on the bike and headed out for the 112-mile ride.

My new strategy now was just to take it easy, enjoy myself, and cross the finish line. The new number I was chasing was two - as in two Ironman finishes. So I went out with an easy pace, and I was shocked at how many people I was passing. I had no idea what my swim time was, so I didn't know if I was passing strong, average, or really slow swimmers. I knew my swim time was slow - it felt like it had to have been at least 1:20 (I would find out later it was 1:24). I definitely felt in control, calm, and the weather was as perfect as the views along the front range. I was taking Gatorade and water at every station at a 2-to-1 ratio. I also kept eating my protein bars and turkey jerky. 

As if losing my watch wasn't bad enough, I was about to 'donate' some more gear to the course. Immediately after leaving Hygeine around Mile 30, there's a set of railroad tracks at the bottom of a hill. Even though they had carpet on them, I knew I should protect the water in my rear right cage. Of course, once I hit them, the bottle in the LEFT cage - which had my spare tube and cartridge regulator - is the one that launched. It had NEVER even come close to launching on any other ride the past 2 years. I just couldn't stop donating my stuff to this course, apparently. This now meant if I had a flat, I would have to wait and hope that a support crew would come and assist me.

The good news was, it wasn't needed. The road conditions were outstanding. The temperature was rising but the cloud cover was increasing also. Shortly after losing the spare tube, I saw Wendy and the crew, now joined by Devin and Sara. They were exactly where we had planned, but they weren't paying any attention and weren't even looking in my direction. I yelled out to them, and THEN they got loud! It was great to see them. They would later tell me that they had JUST parked the car not even a 3 minutes before I came up on them. Talk about good timing! I asked what time it was, and I thought I heard Devin say 10:26. I was really disappointed when I heard that. I started doing the math in my head, trying to figure out how slow I must have been. Was my swim slower than I thought? Was I going TOO easy on the bike? It just didn't make sense. There was nothing to do but to keep on pedaling. Halfway through the course I stopped at Special Needs to get my additional protein bars, but that was all - a very quick stop-and-go. Others were getting off their bikes completely, with a line forming for the porta-potties. At the aid station I heard someone yell "Hey, there's OutKast!" I turned and looked, and saw Tiffany and yelled HI at her but went by too quickly to see or recognize who gave me the shout-out. 

I didn't want to stop, because I honestly didn't feel like I needed to. Luckily there was no headwind to speak of until Mile 90, when the route was out on the plains headed east. This is also where the two toughest climbs of the day were. I was still passing people, and for me, to be passing people on the bike this late on the course is rare. It was also at this point my right foot started feeling weird, an odd tightness I'd never felt before. I didn't know if I should tighten the shoes or loosen them, so I went tight first. Didn't seem to have an effect, but then I saw a guy riding with his foot on top of his shoe, and I decided to give that a try. It worked - the pain went away almost immediately. 

Coming back into town, the final 10 miles are an absolute blast. I asked someone what time it was around Mile 100, and when they told me it was 1:30 I nearly shit myself. I still had a chance to finish in less than 12 hours! I ate more food coming back in to fuel up for the run. I flew into Transition 2, had a Tums as I got off the bike, then had a long walk with my bike to where our bags were. I jogged up into the changing tent, and when I came in I yelled "Did you guys all know we have to RUN now? What a bunch of bullshit!" I got quite a few laughs. My change was quick, and I was on the course in short order. Only 26.2 miles to go!

Within minutes I found a guy named Mikael and started chatting with him. I asked what pace he was shooting for. He said he wanted a 4-hour run and I asked if we could work together. He was really nice and said absolutely - this was his first full Ironman. It also helped that HE still had his watch, and could pace us accordingly.

I saw Wendy and my cheering section again, now joined by Len, Heather and Bree. The Jeff-Heads were waving like crazy! It was so great to see them all throughout the day. Wendy offered me her watch one more time, and I said no again. I had come this far without it, now it was almost a point of pride to do the whole race without it. 

Mikael and I did really well and hung together nicely the entire first loop. I got a bit ahead of him, then he would pass me, and so it went on the second half. I saw Dave Rodda and Ben, and I wondered how long it would be until Dave chased me down like he did in Wisconsin last year. I figured he'd catch me for sure when I started getting major GI issues around Mile 16. It was almost the same mile as Ironman Wisconsin last year (dammit!) but these were different and worse - the pain was so severe I had to stop several times, and I hate it when I have to stop running! I also couldn't trust farts anymore, so I had to visit the restrooms at nearly every opportunity to be on the safe side. Unfortunately half of them turned out to be false alarms. I was upset with my stomach because I wasn't physically or mentally tired. I very much wanted to finish the run in under 4 hours, but this was my "B" race, and I didn't want to wear myself out or get hurt with my second appointment with Ironman Wisconsin only 6 weeks away.

I had lost Mikael for a while, and asked a spectator what time it was around Mile 20. They said it was a little after 6pm, and I knew  finishing under 12 hours wasn't happening. Reminding myself that Madison was coming up soon and that I had nothing to prove or gain by going all-out, I relaxed. In the final three miles I saw people I know who were just starting their run or struggling, and I would walk with them and do what I do best - talk! Try to get their minds off of the run, or give them a pep talk - whatever it is I felt they needed. Susan, Leib, and even a stranger named Steven from North Carolina. Mikael had caught up with me, and he went up ahead to give a pep talk to one of his fellow teammates who looked like they were having a rough day. That's what I love about this sport - it's never a "me-against-you" mentality (at least it's not supposed to be). It's supportive to everyone of all ages and abilities, and it come from everyone and everywhere. 

With only mile to go, I wanted to finish strong as always. The crowd support the final mile is amazing. They were playing Run DMC "It's Tricky" and me and some spectators were lip-syncing and dancing/running together. I was doing what I promised myself - having fun. I found my finishing kick and worked up the crowd coming down the final 4 blocks into the chute. I got teary-eyed seeing the arch, knowing that I had done it - I had survived this race going 100% on perceived effort and nothing else. 12 hours earlier I was furious, lost, angry, and wallowing in self-pity. Now I was elated, smiling, feeling as good as I ever have been. I saw and heard Wendy, Kaitlynn, and the rest of my cheering section again about 2 blocks from the finish. I dropped off my water bottle, gave some hugs and high-fives, and ran backwards towards the finish for a few yards. The crowd was loving it, and I was loving them, slapping every out-reached had I could coming down the final stretch. I head those magic words once again: "Jeff Wamser - YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!"  I held up two fingers as I crossed the line, not even bothering to look at the clock because I was too busy celebrating being a 2-time Ironman finisher.

I spent quite a bit of time with my family afterwards, recapping not just my day racing, but their day spectating - they all had an excellent time! That meant a lot to me - I know spectating makes for a long day, and to hear that they all enjoyed themselves made the day that much better. We went back to our hotel (close enough to walk!), had a few beers, then went back to get some food and watch the midnight finishers. 

Given how the day had started, I was pleased with the final result. Madison will be here before I know it, and I'm glad I didn't do anything stupid to put that race in jeopardy. There will be a few days of celebrating being a two-time Ironman, but then it's back to work. This was a great race venue, and I will definitely be back to have the race I know I'm capable of.