A Different Kind of Race Report

Most of you who know me know I very rarely go to races just to watch them.  As much as I'd like to it just doesn't seem to work out for one reason or another.  Well for your information I did actually attend a race today and was not a part of it other than to observe the true joy of athletes and their races.
 
The Exceleration Try-It-Triathlon all started in Vancouver, July 21st, at the Templeton Pool.  The distances were daunting:
 
100m swim, 4.3km bike, 1km run. 
 
Intimidating to some, but for these athletes and especially first-timers, it appeared before them like their own personal Everest (remember that one Tracey?).  It did seem that way, of course, because these first-timers were only eight years old.
 
The nerves on some were apparent, others waited at the start of the pool with a cool aura around them.  The air of "done this before, liked it, and am doing it again".  Nervousness from the competitors was not the only place it was emanating.  The family members of these racers were almost coming unglued from the suspense of watching their little ones do something on their own that had never been attempted before.  Images of babies first time in water, riding a bike with no training wheels, and of course, those first steps ever attempted and accomplished!!  The old saying, "They grow up so fast", never rang more true.  
 
I focussed on a set of parents watching their twin boy and girl getting ready for their first triathlon.  The mother (we'll call her "Mom"), a dazzling beauty who, at first glance you may not recognize as being the best mother in the world, seemed at ease letting the little ones line up their own shoes and helmets.  The father (oh, let's call him "Dad"), an ordinary-looking sod who may appear to you as possibly, maybe, occasionally entering an event such as this, was a little bit frantic in making sure that things were placed exactly as they wanted and how the kids had practised. 
 
All was in place and Mom snapped pictures and Dad wrung his hands.  A friend of the parents (let's label her as "Tracey"), a truly amazing friend and mentor to the kids who rarely thinks of herself and gives and gives unconditionally, was there to help all the kids go smoothly through the transitions.  Final instructions were given as to the number of laps for each portion of the event.  The final, final instructions were then voiced and repeated back by all entrants which followed one final reaffirming repetition by the racers so that all understood what was expected of them.  "Fun" was also said many times.
Then the time had come where they slipped into the water and as every fifth second on the clock ticked by, a triathlete was born.  The parents' son (let's go with "The Boy") began in earnest with a strong show of freestyle but switching soon after with the strokeless backstroke in a move he told us was called, "The Pancake".
Their other child (just for something different, "Bean") began a few places later with a head of steam grinding out an impressive front crawl as well which soon after transformed into what was a backstroke minus the strokes with a powerful kick. (Bean is at the top of the picture.)

The look of pride and joy on the faces of Mom and Dad could have been bottled and sold at the fair in a small jar; maybe with that red kind of scottish-looking pattern cloth with an elastic around it and a homemade note that read "Parental Pride and Joy", but Dad's might have been tough to package as a prominent feature of his face may well indeed have inhibited getting the look actually into the jar, which in that case the face would have appeared to be one squished in horror. This would have required a whole new homemade label to go along with it.






The Boy exited slightly before Bean yet they both made it onto the bikes and to the road after a couple of almost wrong turns.  There was also a tiny glitch where The Boy skidded somewhat and Bean bumped his tire and nearly went down on the slippery road.  Not faltering one bit, Bean set off behind her brother, a look of determination boring into the backs of the competition.  Mom and Dad now had a breather to recall the amazing ability and will that their children just demonstrated.  Dad was most impressed by the desire to keep going even in the face of all the other kids swimming in their faces in a giant log-jam that was the swim leg.
 

The three laps were completed with The Boy smiling away after each one. He headed out strong from transition, forgoing the water station not wanting to waste a single second.

Bean came in not long after, Dad mentally filing away the need to work with her another day on the necessity of changing gears on the downhills to keep up a good speed.  Her transition, too, was impressive and she rocketed out on the run course with a little help from Tracey.
Again Dad awaited for what could be a life-altering accomplishment should they take everything from it and make themselves better by having done this. Mom believed the kids would just say they had fun doing a swim, a bike, and a run. 
 
At last The Boy appeared from behind the school down the final stretch, a look of steel determination on his face.  He crossed the line smiling and had to be grabbed by a volunteer to stop his momentum to let him know his race was done.  Congratulations were said over and over and there were hugs-a-plenty.
Then Bean came into view, one hand holding her side in a way Dad recognized immediately as a side stitch.  Knowing his daughter like he did, he knew this would in no way hinder her from finishing.  Although, more serious-looking than The Boy from dealing with some adversity, she finished fast as well and collapsed into Dad's arms with the emotions from the race flowing onto his shoulder.
The look on the Mom and Dad's faces needed no explanation - they were indeed happy. 
 
Congratulations Hannah and Elias!!
 
 
"Life is not in having and getting but in being and becoming"

The Peach

Sorry to all those who have been sitting on the edge of their computer chairs waiting for the write-up on the Peach last Sunday. Man, I ALMOST finished typing that with a straight face. As it turns out, I wrote it yesterday at work and when I went to send it to our other email address so Carrie could put it on the site, it bounced off into cyber-nowhere-land. I'm sure you know that feeling after writing for a half hour and then realize you have to do it all over again. Needless to say I didn't feel like starting over right then and there. I'll try and duplicate what was a guaranteed award-winning article but sometimes you cannot repeat perfection.

So it was a tough week of training after the Desert Half leading up to the Peach which would explain why my heart wasn't totally in it. Could be the beginnings of overtraining but I'm feeling a bit better now. If this hadn't been the race that it is - one that I love - I may have not even done it. I left with Pat from work on Saturday morning after the last night shift and set off to the land of the sun. We got up there in the heat and settled into Tracey's condo on the lake after picking up the race packages. I had planned on a quick bike/run but once again was stimied by lack of motivation. So I just cleaned the red rocket and put it to bed til the morning. We did go and hang out at the lake and enjoy the weather, close enough to a workout seeing as it was at least outside.

The day of the race dawned with clouds and only a hint of sun. It later developed into what appeared to be an imminent thunderstorm but it never occurred. For the swim I snuck in behind Tom Evans, Tom Rushton, and Darren Mealing at the start as I figured they knew the best and fastest line to the first buoy. At the Desert I felt like I could have had a faster swim and tried to go a little harder out for the first few minutes. I don't want to say it was a mistake, it just turned out to be my worst-feeling swim of the year. My arms were heavy and I never felt not out of breath. I think it will pay to take out the beginning of IM easier, find my rhythm and then pick my moment to pick it up. Not that it would be very dramatic or noticeable but to feel strong is to be going strong (doesn't really apply to me in the water however). It was nice on the return trip that the sun was behind the clouds because usually you can't sight on anything but the sun as it's right in your eyes. I got out and ran to T1 with Brent Cyr right at my side. That was good as we use each other on the bike to stay focussed, at least I do. I was ahead of him for probably twenty minutes until he passed me, then I passed him, then he passed me, then I DIDN'T pass him. He stayed out in the front the whole rest of the way but I kept him in sight. It was nice to see Pat come by after I did the turnaround as he was doing well. He's doing IM this year too. It will be his third (I think) triathlon. Almost back to T2 Brent just about caught a group of riders but I think they beat him in.

I managed to get out of T2 ahead of Brent even though he got there probably thirty seconds ahead of me. I asked him after and I guess he had problems with his shoes. I actually thought someone else was him running ahead of me but as I got closer I realized it was not. I knew he'd be hot on my heels though. The hill this year didn't feel as bad as other times I'd done this race. In fact this whole race seemed a bit of a blur, just kind of going hard and not seeing anything but the road in front of me. At the turnaround Brent was only about ten seconds behind so I picked it up slightly on the couple little rollers to the top of the downhill. As I made the turn I started going all out to get the ugliness that is the downhill out of the way. At the bottom in the past I've felt flat but today the legs were okay. The last two km's to the finish are mostly straight and you can see who's coming up behind you if you look. Always trying to avoid a sprint finish, I look behind in this race. I could see Brent behind me but I managed to cross slightly ahead of him five seconds under 2:10 but two and a half minutes slower than two years ago. I guess that's age talking (sniff). It was nice to see the guys from work after the turnaround - Pat, Brice, Dave, Peter, and Alex. Even Mike McGee in his last year as a 45-49 age-grouper was powering through the run course.

Desert Half Ironman Report

This report may be a bit shorter than usual and you'll have to be the judge if it's sweeter as I'm at work where it's 12:30am Saturday morning. Just back from a call and probably the first time I've had since the Desert Half Ironman last Sunday to sit and write anything. Therefore, it may be a bit abridged.
I'm not sure if the heat from being at Shuswap and Penticton in the days leading up to Osoyoos helped a whole lot but it couldn't have hurt. I still felt sluggish on the run during the race. Of course it may have been due to a two hour hard, hot, hilly run Tuesday before the race followed by a similar bike on Wednesday plus an hour lake swim thrown in. I took it easy on Wednesday and the morning we left Shuswap Carrie, Karen, and I did a 45 minute run at 10am where it was already around 30 degrees.
In Penticton it was hot but there was always a breeze. Tracey, Barb, Sandy, Shannon, Michaelie, and myself swam on Thursday morning at OK lake with a fair chop in the water. A different experience and one I hoped wouldn't be repeated at Osoyoos or even Ironman for that matter. Every Ironman I've watched or done in Penticton has had great water conditions at the start. A few short rides before the race and it was time to go.
It was predicted to be hot on the day but it turned out very pleasant for the swim and bike. I felt like I was going harder in the water than in Victoria but as we exited the water after the first loop my time was 15 minutes, right on pace with my other race. We jumped back in where I saw nothing but one guy's feet for the whole next lap. I caught a glimpse of the lead group ahead and wish now I had tried to go harder to maybe catch them (dreaming?). Tracey says I swim straighter when I'm going harder so I'll try that at the Peach tomorrow. My swim turned out to be 32 minutes but I'm not sure if that was with transition. Like I said, it felt faster. A few people after the race were commenting on the distance and how they thought it was a bit long. I whipped through T1 I'd say twice as fast as New Balance so it paid off having done a few races already.
I felt awesome heading onto the bike and began passing a few riders before Richter. True to her word, there was Trish from Peninsula Runners at the first pull out going up the pass with her tiny boom box blaring out the tunes and cheering on riders. As a total opposite of riding the course the other week, we had headwinds all the way out to Cawston. I spoke with other riders before and after the race and I guess the headwinds were standard all week going in that direction. All I could hope for was a solid tail- or at least non-headwind on the way back. Maybe a nice diagonal cross to change things up a bit. It was lonely on the rollers after the big climbs as not many riders were in sight. Those I did see I couldn't catch. One rider, 63, came past me but I returned the favour five minutes later. It took me seven minutes longer to reach the turnaround point in the race than in the training day.
On the return trip the gods of wind were treating us to some tail which was well received. The rollers and 8 percenters didn't seem so bad without the wind. I was amazed at how happy and evergetic the athletes going the other way still heading out to the turnaround were. Most were looking in my direction, maybe for recognition attempts, maybe for a change in scenery, maybe to say, "you #@$%!, already done with these headwinds!" A few even gave the head nod in greeting. There was a guy ahead of me that I could barely start to catch on the flatter parts and then more on the hills, but on the down he just took off. It took until the final long stretches up to the top of the pass for me to overtake him and even then I thought he'd be right there the rest of the way. I saw him on the run later. To my surprise (I don't know why, though, because I never look back anyways) after I passed that guy, good old 63 went past me and man, was he flying up the hill. I felt demoralized. Then we started on the down and he kept putting more time into me. I lost sight of him before T2.
I have this transition down to an art as it's simply running hat, running shoes, running belt with bottle and I'm off. I heard Steve King announce that Brent Cyr was just heading out of transition and then it all came together - Brent and I are pretty much equals when it comes to racing over the years. He's in an age group below me so it's more of a fun rivalry. We raced the Peach two years ago and came out of T2 exactly the same way, with me slightly ahead. Like that race, he eventually passed me on this day. It did take about 10kms to do it this time.
I felt great the first loop on the run. I went by Tracey who was, as always, helping out with the race instead of just watching it. Generous as can be. She announced I was sixteenth but I wasn't too interested in the stats. The temperature went from 24 at the begiinning of the bike to 30 at T2. It was now mid-thirties but still with a breeze blowing on most parts of the run. Brent passed me and we ran for a few minutes chatting until he dropped me. My pace remained slow and steady until the 18km mark where, like New Balance, I thought about going a bit faster and still remaining below the hurt zone. I passed two guys who turned out to be in my age group, with one of them saying, "Look out, he's making his move". I had to laugh and said back, "Don't blink". I felt slow at that point and I think they had just slowed more due to the heat. Anyways, I eventually ended up catching one last guy in front of me and we had a sprint finish to the end, both tied with the same time. Turns out the guy, Rob, was the one who had beaten me by 10 seconds to take second in our age group in Victoria three weeks earlier. At the awards Joe Dixon the race director generously gave us both second place. Rob and his wife are expecting in a few weeks so we won't be racing against each other at Ironman, thankfully. There at the finish line were of course Carrie and the kids, happy as ever for me to be done so they could grab some post-race goodies, mainly water and Gatorade as it was smokin' hot at this point. Also at the line was my Uncle Joe who lives ten minutes from the race finish. That was a nice surprise as we visited them the day before and he said he'd try to make it. Apparently he was at the swim start too but as we all look the same, who can blame him for not seeing me and me not seeing him.
I took away a lot from this race. I know that with a few more long rides I'll be able to push hard on the IM bike. I know the heat will be a mental thing, something to push aside and focus on the task. I also know that should I choose to speed up at the end of the run I'll be able to in order to get my time goal. The legs are still a bit tired from this week's workouts so the Peach this weekend is a crapshoot. I love the race, though, and can't think for a minute why I won't love it (when I'm done).

Bring on the Heat!

Last week and this week I did a couple long runs but with three layers on top including my arms. Although it was warm out (about 20 degrees) I needed to start teaching my body how to deal with the heat that will be the Desert Half Ironman on July 8th. Train for the worst is how I’ve always done workouts - hills, tempos, and now heat.
Back last Friday I drove to Osoyoos and rode the bike course of the race and ran one loop of the run. FIrst of all, anyone who’s done it knows that Richter Pass is no picnic. I parked at the Visitor’s Centre, gave them my name and next of kin and told them if my car was still in the parking lot in the morning then something’s gone tragically wrong.
I started up the hills with an absolute tailwind which meant in 30 degree weather, sweat was soon blocking out any ability to see. Cars were speeding up behind me and I could hear them for a kilometer because the wind carried the sound way ahead of them. There were moments when I’d crest a hill and get a slight crosswind to dry the eyes and then I was climbing again. Made it to the top and looked forward to the long descent on the other side but any semblance of an easy ride I wasn’t having this day. There were headwinds on the down and crosswinds on the flat. Of course it was easier than normal as through the rollers and the flats towards Keremeos is usually fraught with winds bearing right down on me. These weren’t just any winds, these had obviously travelled over the Pacific straight and unobstructed from the Queen K near Kona. Now any traffic behind me was startling me every time because the wind was blocking out the sound from reaching me. Giving it all I had and not looking at the computer was all I could do to keep my ego in check while realising that my bike strength is not where I’d like it to be. At the halfway I was at 1:20 time-wise and thought I was on a good pace. Of course now the turn was made and back to Osoyoos I suffered. Having never rode the opposite way back up Richter, I was expecting similar rollers and finally a fairly long climb back to the top. I lost count how many rollers there were but it felt like ten. There was at least three eight percent hills that went on and on while getting battered by the hurricane force winds. At least I could see. Now began the long four percent hill to the top of the Pass where I thought there would be a break from the wind. There was. Due to the change in direction, or shelter in the hills, or just some kind of weird jet stream pattern there were winds looking to defeat me. This once again brought on searing heat and sweat-drenched vision. I could also feel the spots on my back that were missed by the sunscreen. There has to be an easier way to apply that stuff by yourself in hard to reach areas. Of course, most of my body fell into the category of “where the sun don’t shine” as everyone on the coast has been bundled up for months on end. Then the sun comes out and so do the tri shorts and tanks and that separates the fake-and-bakers from the arctic-tanners. Pretty easy to spot those who thought they could get away with little or no lotion on the first real sunny days. So I got to the top looking so forward to some kind of relaxing decent but the wind Gods were still angry. They threw at me horrendous cross wind that kept me gripping the bars tightly, too afraid to stay in the aerobars for fear of being blown over. At the bottom the wind was fully in my face and I passed two guys loaded down with panniers heading to, get this, Newfoundland!! Ha, suddenly I felt worlds better with my ride over in ten short minutes. I finished in around 2:50, somewhat slower than the out part of the course.
I packed up the bike and headed to the run start. Of course there was wind at almost every turn but luckily the course is mostly flat. My legs felt really heavy, probably from the heat, and after a few missed turns I was done a lap and went to cool off in the lake.
So I don’t know how the body will hold up for Osoyoos but I’m hoping a few days at the Shuswap and then some time in Penticton will build up the heat endurance. We’ll see.

What do Darin's kids read at bedtime?

Memories of Ironman Coeur D'Alene 2004

Since it's been three years since I raced at Ironman Coeur D'Alene, this is my race report from 2004:

Well, it's been four weeks since the big day on June 27th and I've had time to reflect on the last seven months. It was December first last year when I started training for my second Ironman. I had just gotten over a bad chest cold that had me laying low for two weeks. I think it may have been a sign from my body for a "forced rest" as I had been training for the Haney to Harrison relay race which I did just before I got sick. As anyone who has done it knows, it's difficult to get up on a dark December morning to train for an event that is months away. The alarm goes off at 4:30 or 5am and you try to think of any reason not to do the scheduled workout. It's definitely a mind over body moment when you have to drag yourself from your warm bed. Knowing you're going out in the cold to jump into a cold pool is not inviting. Or dressing up for a run that takes longer to do than the run itself. Or, my favorite, getting bike shorts on, heading to the cold garage to bike on the wind trainer while staring at the walls. Once you're out of bed the hard part is over. You just need to train yourself to get up as soon as the alarm goes off before you can convince yourself to hit the snooze.
I had some goals for my race in Coeur d'Alene this year: finish in a faster time than Penticton in 2002, finish under ten hours, finish in the top 100, and, with the dream that is only a distant speck on the horizon on a chilly winter morning, qualify for Ironman Hawaii. There weren't a lot of memorable workouts this year like there were for Canada two years ago, just the scheduled sessions I tired to stay motivated for. The highlights on the bike were the Cypress mountain repeats and of course the solo ascent up Mt. Baker in May. That was the longest ride of the year just under eight hours and 230km.
Then of course there was the lowlight: About three weeks before my race I had my first truck vs. bike incident and I did not come out ahead. I was on a road when a truck came to a stop sign intersecting my road and the lady pulled out in front of me basically running me off the road onto the gravel shoulder. I didn't come out ahead on this one. I got up off the ground and took a second to take stock of all my parts. The bike looked okay at first glance, the road rash on the shin, hip and shoulder was not the end of the world, but the elbow was another story. It was quite surprising how little blood there was for a gash like that. I thought "this is not good" and a secondary thought was if I'd be swimming any time soon. I went into a school across the street with the lady as she stopped to see how I was. I cleaned up as best I could but there was a fair amount of dirt and gravel in the elbow so I got the woman to drive me to the hospital. It took a couple of hours but I came away with seven stitches in the elbow, a tetanus shot, some drugs and a prescription for more drugs. Also no swimming for ten days. I thought I'd go to ICBC just in case anything got worse with the injury. Becuause the frame of the bike was bent a bit, I managed to get a new frame and other components that were scratched. It was quite a stressful two weeks while I healed not knowing how the injury and bike damage would affect my race. I couldn't get a new bike in time for the race so I had to ride the damaged one.
Went down to Idaho about five days before the race to get ready and to finish the taper. Did a couple easy bikes and runs and swam in the chilly lake a few times. The weather was pretty hot at the beginning of the week but closer to the race it was cooling down some. My Mom, Dad, Steve, and Bonnie showed up the night before the race to lend their support. I didn't have much time to visit as we were doing the dinner thing and getting our stuff together for the big race. I gave them my predicted times, said good night and told them I would see them in the morning.
For some reason I was not nervous as I woke at 4am. The weather looked gloomy with dark clouds everywhere. There was even a bit of thunder thrown in for effect. I ate breakfast and headed to the transition area. Once there it was almost like I was doing a short course race. I only did a quick run warm up and basically got my bike ready. I must have delayed too long however because before I even had my wetsuit on they were announcing only ten munutes left to warm up for the swim. A little panicked I tried to get to the beach. "Tried" being the optimum word because I never made it to the warm up. The set up was rather poor because all the competitors had to funnel through a small opening in a short brick wall to go down some steps to the sand. It was quite the traffic jam with athletes and spectators alike trying to move around in that area. As this was the exit path from the swim as well, I was a little concerned there may be another jam up as I finished the swim (due to my turtle pace there's usually lots of people getting out at the same time as me). As I made my way down to the beach I saw Dad and Steve behind a fence for the spectators. They were wearing shirts that said "Darin Bentley #202 Our Hearts Are With You". What a great way to start the day. We high-fived and I got down to business.
I made it to the water's edge and my warm up consisted of splashing the water on my arms and face and a bit of stretching. After the anthem it was a matter of waiting from a signal from the tv helicopter to indicate we were live and ready to go. The gun sounded and seven months of long hours away from home, the sacrifice of social events, and constantly being tired and grumpy and stressed finally came down to this: I was racing. I hadn't done an open water race since July of last year and though it never usually bothers me, I was somewhat anxious in the washing machine this morning. After a few hundred meters the only thought was "even if I qualify for Hawaii, do I really want to do another one of these swims?". It took a good fifteen minutes until I settled down and got into my own slow rhythm. I've never been hit in the head and face more in any open water swim. My goggles were fogging up so I found it hard to see the place on the beach where we were to exit, run over the timing mat, and jump back into the lake for one more lap. I followed a pack of people and managed to clear the lens as I started on the second lap. It was uneventful and I finished the swim in 1:05, 326th overall and slower than 2002.
I went through the transition tent quickly and jumped on the bike. As usual, the first forty-five minutes of the bike felt like nothing and I was flying. Everything I read always says to not go hard at the beginning of the bike and how it should feel very easy. I always fear that I start out too fast but it's hard not to when it's so effortless. As I came back through town the first time I saw about two blocks ahead these two huge heads bobbing up and down in the crowd. They looked familiar and as I got closer I realized they were blown up pictures of the kids with some Hawaiian sayings on the posters. Hannah's said "Oe Kupianaha! (You're amazing!) We love you!" and Elias' was "Oia, oia, oia! (Go, go, go!) #202 We love you! ". That little section hit me pretty hard as they and Carrie were not at the race. In a way they were with me all day. I got pretty choked up, let off a huge cheer, and felt like I could ride forever.
After that I knew I had work to do. The first real hill I passed a lot of people and again felt I was going a bit too quick There were a lot of technical descents and you couldn't really get a lot of speed up. The second big hill involved me passing Lori Bowden (Hawaiian Ironman Champion last year) and thought that for sure I am going too hard. There were some more downhills and then we headed out onto some flats in an industrial area.
After a big loop we turned and came back the other way and it was here the wind was really strong. The next forty-five minutes was spent in a huge headwind. After leading a bunch of guys who were following me three bike lengths behind (that's the closest they could legally come), some of them began to pass me. I realized that even being as far as three bike lengths behind, you still get a bit of a draft effect that cuts down on the wind in front of you. I was going to try this on the second lap more. Going through town again was great as I anticipated my support crowd to be there and they didn't disappoint. I saw the posters from far away and got that choked up feeling in my throat again as I went passed.
The second loop was definitely harder and got worried I may start to fade. It wasn't bad and on the second time on the flats I stayed more behind guys and did find it an advantage. I raced into transition, handed off my bike, and tried to get my legs to move properly as I headed to the change tent. Total bike time 5:16, a couple minutes faster than Canada in 2002, but slower than I wanted to do. I think I was in about 70th place now.
I whipped through the transition like it was a sprint tri and headed out on the run. It starts with a short out and back around the first mile marker. As usual I felt all awkward and wobbly as I started but the only thing on my mind was to get my running legs back. I wanted to run around 7:30 miles but after the second marker my watch said I was sub-7:00 for both. Time to slow down a little. It was amazing how I was catching people who looked really strong on the bike only moments before.
After the turnaround we come back through transition and saw the support crew cheering me on. I tried to ignore the hot spots on my feet and hoped they wouldn't turn into blisters. The course heads out along the lake front and before heading back to finish the first loop you have to climb a three hundred foot hill. I didn't think that would be very fun on the second loop. The crowds along the route were great. People on their front lawns had sprinklers and hoses going so you could run through them. There were also little trigger-happy kids with squirt guns bigger than they were ready to soak you at the slightest hint of your permission.
Coming back into town I saw my crew and told them I'd see them at the finish line soon. At this point there were so many people coming off the bike and starting the run I couldn't tell which lap anyone was on anymore. I didn't know who it was I should be trying to chase down. The weather was getting hotter every minute. It was an extreme test of mental perseverance that enabled me to go on at the speed that I did. Not that it was a blistering pace, but for me it was fast. I had tunnel vision on the last loop and didn't acknowledge the volunteers or enjoy the experience as much as I have in past races.
After that ugly hill again, I passed the third place woman. She had a cyclist escort designating her position. We approached an aid station and the guy on the bike asked her what she wanted. She said, "gatorade and banana". I wondered if he was going to peel it for her as well!!! Must be nice.
A few blocks from transition the road has two lanes drawn on it. One will lead you straight to go to your second loop, the other leads you to turn left a block earlier to go towards the finish line. As soon as I went into the finishing lane, people started to notice. They realised that I was nearing the finish and because there was no one around me, I felt like I was leading the race with all the clapping and cheering for me. As I turned to go down the street to the finish, it was still blocks away and all I could see was a bunch of people in the distance. I thought about enjoying the moment but as I got closer to the clock I could see it was getting close to 9:50. Wanting to break this time I booted it and just snuck under in 9:49:55 and nearly collapsed into the arms of the volunteers. The finish area was great at this race because you could reunite with your family and friends about twenty feet from the finish line. At Penticton you had to get herded into the recovery area and it was hard to see your loved ones for awhile because of all the crowds. Final run time 3:22 (coincidentally the same time I ran my very first marathon in 2000 in Vancouver), final place 29th, 8th in age group!!!
They posted some preliminary results while I was still recovering with the folks. The numbers said I was 10th in my age group. As there were only nine spots in my age group to go to Hawaii, I was disappointed but could always hope for a roll down the next day.
I got back to the motel and phoned Carrie who told me she and the kids watched me finish on Ironmanlive. That made me happier than when I finished. I bawled. Then she looked at the results and it showed me in 8th place. No, I told her, I was 10th, I saw it at the finish. No, she said, you're 8th. I bawled. I'm off to the big Island for the legendary Ironman World Championships - basically the birthplace of the Ironman!!!
The next day at the sign-up for Kona, I saw the results on paper. There were two guys who got drafting penalties on the bike and when the penalty times were added to there finish times, I was ahead of them.
I'm looking forward to Hawaii on October 16th but I really want to cherish the experience as it may be a once in a lifetime occurance. You never know what's waiting around the corner so you might as well go for it.
I need to thank, again, everyone who made this day possible. Carrie, Hannah, and Elias, of course, for without their understanding and shoulders to lean on when I was at my worst during training I would not even have been able to put my toes in the water at the start; my Mom and Dad who gave me encouragement (and lots of babysitting on some of those really long training rides); Steve and Bonnie who have followed me to both my Ironmans for support; Evelyn who did the race as well and somehow managed to misplace 5 litres of body fluid along the course and required the same amount of IV's in the medical tent afterwards; Steve for all the bike maintenace; and all the boys on the Sunday rides. Thanks also to all who took this time to read my race report.
There will hopefully be another in a few short months detailing the big one. I'm undecided yet as to what kind of race I want to have on that day. It'll be a busy summer and one reason I did this race instead of Penticton is that it saved me from training all summer and missing out on family things. I owe this to Carrie to be around more. However, now that Hawaii is looming....
If you're not busy on October 16th at around, say, 4am BC time, tune in to IronmanLive and see me jump into the lovely blue waters at Kailua-Kona to start the race of a lifetime. Love to all. Darin.

Good Wishes to Ian

My good English mate, Ian (of Ultraman's Canada and Hawaii '05 fame), is embarking on an epic ride of massive proportions. On June 22nd he and about 40 other riders will attempt to cover 540km and 13,650m (yes, that's metres or roughly 45,000 feet) of elevation in the 32 allowable hours. The Race Across The Alps covers ground through Italy, Switzerland, and Austria over some mountains that are used in the Giro d'Italia and the Tour de Suisse.
It's amazing to even attempt such feat but with Ian he has been working extremely hard at school and has had very little time to train. A month ago he attempted the Raid Provence Extreme (needs to be translated). It involved a distance of 666km with 9000m of elevation. This one he couldn't achieve a checkpoint time due to a crash which resulted in a probable broken rib.
All I can say is that this guy has guts and to try this race elevates him to celebrity status in my book. Good Luck Ian!!