Ironman Wisconsin 2005 Race Report by Myles Gaulin

Cranbrook, B.C.

Six weeks to Race Day

To appreciate the top, sometimes you need a little detour to the bottom first. When I saw the Cranbrook Airport sign, my heart sank: I had literally detoured to the lowest point in my triathlon life, by going off course at the Prestige Half on July 31^st. Up until then, I had thought the low point had already been visited in the med tent at the Sylvan Lake Half the previous week, shivering uncontrollably because I had neglected to dress warm enough for the cold and rainy weather. My race ended in T2 with a DNF, so the Prestige Half was to be my ticket to redemption.

Some redemption! I had done everything possible to mess up the race, starting first thing on race morning: Forgot my nutrition back in Fernie, forgot the filler adapter for my disc wheel, forgot to put the spacer ring behind the cassette when forced to change wheels, and forgot to swap the computer magnet over. So there I was a couple of hours later, off course and alone with only 12 of 20 gears and no speed or distance feedback, faced with another reason to quit another race.

There was only one way back to the race site, and that was to ride. I estimated I’d lost about 20 minutes, so my pre-race goals were effectively blown. So what to do then, ride back to transition and call it a day? Finish the ride, follow it with an easy run, make it a long training day? I thought of what Coach Kevin said at Easter training camp, that quitting just a little bit is still quitting. So I decided that I was done quitting races. I was in a new race, starting right at that moment. I would race the rest of the bike leg, then run the half-marathon hard, and salvage something positive out of the day.

I felt the weight of my own expectations leave my shoulders, replaced by a long-lost enjoyment of the process of training and competing as a celebration of fitness. On that hot, sunny day in the mountains around Cranbrook, racing became fun again. And that’s how I ended up on center stage in Madison, Wisconsin six weeks later, holding an Ironman Age-Group winner’s plaque overhead.

Madison, Wisconsin

Three days to Race Day

“Lake. City. Lake.” That’s the motto of Madison, Wisconsin, home of the fourth annual Ironman Wisconsin. Madison is the state capitol, and the home of the University of Wisconsin. It’s an easy two-hour drive northwest from Chicago’s O’Hare Airport, after a three-hour direct flight from Calgary, minimizing “bike-separation stress” that accompanies stopover flights. Downtown Madison is situated on an isthmus between Lake Mendota to the northwest, and Lake Monona to the southeast.

My first impression of the city was from John Nolen Drive, with the Alliant Energy Center on the left, and vast parkland on the right. Bordering John Nolen was a busy bike path that stretched from the Beltline Parkway to downtown and well beyond. I could tell by the mix of bicycle types that this was not just Ironman-weekend training traffic: This is a city that embraces a fitness lifestyle. Indeed, I later learned that the mayor of Madison has declared Madison a “Fit City”. The parking lots full of bicycles seemed to confirm this.

As John Nolen Drive cuts across the northwest corner of Lake Monona, separating Monona Bay to the left, the center of Madison comes into view on the right. The distinctive features of the city’s downtown are the majestic white Capitol dome, a replica of the one in Washington, DC; and the Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Monona Terrace, perched on the shore of Lake Monona.

Monona Terrace would be the focal point of the Ironman world for the next few days, and the center of the universe for nearly 2100 athletes. Ironman Wisconsin (also known as Ironman Moo, due to the proximity to America’s dairyland) is the first qualifying race for the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii in 2006: Qualifiers here would have over 13 months to prepare for Kona, so very few spots get passed up.

My second impression of Madison was the heat and humidity. A system was pumping warm, moist air from the south into the American Midwest, and there was no change foreseen for several days. Thankfully, the arm warmers and rain jacket would be staying in the bottom of the suitcase!

Monona Terrace

Monona Terrace deserves extra mention, as it is a unique hub among Ironman North America races.  A lakefront convention centre, it corkscrews up four levels via two spiral driveways called the helixes, then spans all six lanes of John Nolen Drive, thus bridging downtown Madison to Lake Monona.

Transition and change areas are in air-conditioned ballrooms, hence gear in our transition bags is kept clean and dry. This is a welcome change from transition areas that are open to weather, and musty tents set up on wet grass or mud. It would be quite a site to see a couple of thousand triathletes running through the carpeted hallways of a convention center.

The transition from swim to bike may be the longest in the Ironman world: upon exiting the water, after getting your wetsuit stripped, you must run up the east helix to the fourth level, through one ballroom to pick up your swim-to-bike bag, into another ballroom to change, then out to the top level of the parkade to pick up your bike. Then you run your bike to the other end of the parking lot, get on and ride down the helix at the opposite end. All with your heart rate nearly maxed out.

After the bike leg, you must ride up the same helix to the fourth level with 180km already in your legs, drop your bike off at the dismount area, run through one ballroom to pick up your bike-to-run bag, through another to change into your run gear, then through the top level of the parkade, which thankfully is already at downtown street level.

“Are You Crazy?”

19 days to Race Day

Nineteen days before, while surfing the Ironman Canada website, I noticed there were 13 Community Fund spots left for Ironman Wisconsin. An idea formed, and a few hours later it was a full-fledged plan: Race Ironman Wisconsin. I ran it by my wife Barb, and she surprised me by saying, “Go for it. You’re rested and you’ve been feeling strong during training, you’ll probably have a great race.”

A friend who was also doing the race, questioned whether it was wise to do an Ironman seemingly on an impulse, without the weeks of volume required for proper preparation. True, I had trained an average of only 10 hours a week all summer. Another triathlete friend simply asked, “Are you crazy?” Valid questions from rational people. My not-so-convincing answer: “I just feel I have a good race in me.”

Race Day - The Swim

1:10:55

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Race morning dawned hot and humid, with a warm breeze from the southwest. Warm enough for shorts and T-shirt at 5:00 AM, heat would be a big factor today, and goal times would be missed. The temperature of Lake Monona was barely wetsuit-legal, in fact many opted to go without. But I had no such desire, to swim without my buoyant cocoon!

I had the luxury of being ready 45 minutes before race start, so I went down to the swim arch to revel in the pre-race tension, and leisurely put on my wetsuit. I moved my timing chip to just below my knee, to keep it from being ripped off during the swim. I would like to have had my sleeveless Orca for this race, but at IMC 2004 and IM AZ 2005, I had calf and quad cramps during the last 1000m of the swim. I’ve had the same problem with it on other long swims, which I believe is because the legs are too tight. My Orca P-Flex, which is the same size but obviously a different cut, gave me no such issues on long swims. So despite the warm water, I was wearing the fullsuit. Underneath I was wearing my Impact tri-top, and wondered if its Green Bay Packers colors would earn me any points with the locals.

The swim area opened at 6:30 AM, so I made my way down to the arch and crossed the timing mat: The beep confirmed I was now officially in the race. Husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends were all getting good-luck kisses from their mates, but unfortunately no kiss for me: My wife was back home in Calgary, nursing her foot after having a bone spur removed. However, she was with me in spirit, and I wore her gold chain bearing three charms: the Colombian god of luck, an Ironman Canada logo, and a Chinese symbol for pig, her favorite animal.

The swim takes place in beautiful Lake Monona, on the south side of downtown Madison. The course consists of an open-water start, two long rectangular loops parallel to the shore of Lake Monona, then a final 200m swim to shore. I started to the right of a ski ramp, about ¼ of the way to the yellow buoy that marked the far side of the start area, and about 1/3 of the way back from the start line. Due to the large start area, there was not much contact at the start. I had seeded myself well, so I was able to get a good rhythm going on the first leg out.

On my final training swim on Friday, I sighted for landmarks well above the waterline in all four directions of the swim. The landmark for the first turn was easy, a new building and construction crane on shore about 800m from the start. All the turns were quite congested as swimmers tried to stay tight to the buoys, but I found that staying wide about 5m kept me out of the worst traffic, and I was able to maintain form.

Not a strong swimmer, I tend to mentally drift and then lapse into sloppy form. I also didn’t have a lot of recent swim volume in the bank, so I would have to compensate by maintaining focus on technique. I had committed myself to some physical queues to overcome my worst habits: Brief pause before the catch on the breathing side, to maximize glide, and feel the triceps work, to finish strong out the back.

After the first lap, which is not quite the halfway point, I got a look at the time on my HRM, 34:50. That projected to a 1:10-1:12 swim, decent for me, and still in the game. Most importantly, I was swimming relaxed and in control. I got kicked in the goggles on the long stretch before the last turn, but was able to clear and re-seal them quickly and continue. I had another look at my time just as I passed the last turn buoy to shore, 1:08 and change. There was still 200m to shore, so I had made up some time on the second lap. And I hadn’t overheated in my fullsuit. As I crossed the timing mat, my time was 1:10:55, not a PB, but my second-best Ironman swim.

I entered the strip area, making absolutely sure my suit was down past my butt, not wanting a repeat of the neoprene nut wedgie incident at IM AZ. I lowered myself very carefully to the ground for the strip. Next thing I knew, I was running up the helix, wetsuit in hand, all parts intact. (Yes, I checked.) The cheering crowds lining the helix probably had no idea why, among this group of intense-looking triathletes, I was grinning from ear to ear.

Race Day - Transition 1

6:23

All I had to do was put on my race belt, helmet and sunglasses, and go. Unfortunately I took extra time to fold my wetsuit and put it in my T1 bag. Since we can no longer leave shoes clipped on our bikes (at recent IM races, some less-ethical athletes have been known to “move” them), I chose to carry mine and put them on at my bike, rather than run a few hundred awkward metres in them. I thought I had done a fast transition, but a check of the results later revealed that most athletes in the top 50 completed it in 4 to 5 minutes. I guess I was just too conservative on the run up the helix!

Banff, Alberta

17 Days to Race Day

My wife Barb was in Banff working on a golf tournament for the week, and I had joined her for the final four days. I had planned to do some big rides in the mountains anyway, now my weekend would become a final big-volume boost before the race. With my race registration paperwork on its way to IMNA, I found myself riding up the Bow Valley Parkway under sunny mountain skies.

It was Ironman Canada weekend, so I sent Coach Kev an email: “I realize you’re really busy this weekend, sorry for the short notice, I’m doing Ironman Wisconsin. I’m in Banff doing a similar weekend to Easter training camp, can you help me with the taper afterwards?” I could just imagine him rolling his eyes; this summer he had already prepped me for the Calgary Marathon and the Sylvan Lake Half, both on short notice. Again, my argument: “I feel I’ve got a good IM race in me.”

The weather in Banff was perfect; cloudless, mountain-cool mornings warming to 70 degrees F by mid-day. I rode 185km on Thursday, ran 15 miles on the Spray Trail and swam 4000m in the 32m pool (yes, 32m) at the Banff Springs Hotel on Friday, and rode another 160km on Saturday. We were home in Calgary by mid-afternoon Sunday, where I finished off the weekend with a 60km ride, accumulating just over 400km of riding in four days. Normally I would feel drained after a weekend like that, but training in the majestic solitude of the Rocky Mountains energized me both physically and mentally.

Race Day - Bike

5:30:18

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The bike course consists of a 15-mile rolling section out of Madison, two 41-mile loops on Dane County roads through corn-and-cows country, then a return trip on the 15-mile section. The loops are quite hilly and exposed to the wind in places, with plenty of 90-degree turns, making it technical and demanding. No long stretches where you can really settle into a rhythm. It would be hard for an out-of-towner to preview the course, with names such as Sugar River Road, County Route S, and Shady Oak Lane, that can’t be found on any map. Most of the roads were well-paved but had no lane markings. 

Crowd-wise, IM Moo is outstanding. The town of Verona holds an Ironman-related festival on race day, with busloads of spectators from Madison coming in to cheer athletes on. In addition, the longer climbs draw hundreds of cheering spectators to encourage riders up the hills.

After twirling down the west helix, I pulled onto the John Nolen Parkway, and crossed Lake Monona. The warm breeze was from the southwest, and was already fairly brisk, so for the first 30 miles we would be fighting headwinds. No problem: wind and hills? Just like riding back home, in the shadow of the Rockies!  During the next several hours, a typical late summer day in the American Midwest rolled through my peripheral vision, accompanied by the soundtrack of my disc wheel. When my speed didn’t tell me which way the wind was blowing, the tilt of the cornstalks certainly did. Occasionally a strong scent in the wind reminded me that I was also in cow country.

With the heat, wind and humidity, I knew dehydration would be a threat, so I doused myself with water at every aid station, and doubled up on the Gatorade. I spun easy up the hills, and rode strong over the crests and down the back, to keep my heart rate steady. I stayed in the saddle and aerobars as much as possible, to minimize leg fatigue. The course was very similar to riding the rollers at Ironman Canada, although there were several long climbs where the 39x23 got a workout. Fortunately the toughest climbs were shaded, and the enthusiastic spectators urged us upwards.  

At the end of the first loop, I checked my split: 2:48 for the first half. Not bad for the conditions, and other than a major case of hotfoot, I felt good. I knew that after the second loop, I would have a tailwind on the return leg back to town, which would set up well for the marathon. I pulled my feet out of my shoes and rode on the tops for about 10 miles. When I slipped them back in, it felt like I had just put them on. I would have to repeat this later on as well. Mental note: Time to reconsider choice of pedals.

During the second loop, the wind had increased to 25 mph, so I hunkered down and spun the small ring through a tough stretch directly into it. Once the course turned north, I had a great tailwind, and the going was very fast for most of the remainder of the loop. I knew the course now from the first lap, so I was able to corner and descend more aggressively. On the last of the tough climbs,  I felt my sartorius muscles start to cramp up. This is roughly the same distance in as Yellow Lake at IMC, where the same thing happens to me every year, so I knew what to do: Get out of the saddle. Stretching out the legs eventually loosened the grip, but my quads were not thanking me.

After the last exhilarating pass through the huge crowds in Verona, I spun south through the final stretch of headwind before the turn back to town. Then, bliss: The fairly flat, 15 mile home stretch, complete with a strong tailwind. I hooked up the 53x11 and enjoyed the big push home, flying along at 50 km/h in zone 2, bent cornstalks pointing the way.

Back in May, I changed the cranks on my tri bike from 172.5mm to 175mm. It took a couple of rides to get used to spinning bigger circles, but being tall, it made sense to try to get more out of my legs. In June I switched from a 53-39 to a big 55-42 chainring combo, which I mashed all summer. I switched back to the 53-39 for Wisconsin, and on race day it felt like my legs had more power. Perception? Maybe, but for the conditions, it sure didn’t feel like a difficult ride.

Before the race I wondered if a lack of volume would betray me on the bike, but I felt strong, and now it was all down the marathon. And I knew a very tough few hours lay ahead.

Race Day – Transition 2

3:27

After spinning up the west helix, I passed off my bike to a volunteer, and re-entered Monona Terrace. Off with my helmet, sunglasses and gloves, on with the running shoes, visor and bottle belt. Oh yeah, number to the front. The sudden drop in temperature was quite refreshing, and I suggested to my helper in the change room that it might be hard to get people to go back outside and continue the marathon.

Calgary, Alberta

8 Days to Race Day

Just over a week to race day and I had the travel arrangements and days off booked, and my last long workouts were in the bank. I checked the conditions and results from last year to see what to expect. IM Moo 2004 weather was calm, but really warmed up during the marathon. That would mean some fast bike times, followed by a few death marches on the marathon.

In 2004, the ageless Joe Bonness had won the M45-49 in 9:41, with a blistering 5:02 bike split. (Five weeks later, he also won in Kona.) Joe wasn’t registered for IM Moo this year, and lucky for me had aged up anyway. There were nearly 20-minute gaps between first, second and third place, then eight more finshers between 10:40 and 11 hours. Five Kona spots, none rolled down.

Judging from how I absorbed the long rides in Banff, I felt I would be fine on the bike, but on race day the marathon would be the wild card. With less than optimal preparation, I would have to rely less on fitness, and more on experience and mental toughness, than at any previous Ironman. Kevin had me well-prepared, my focus in the last two weeks was on hard swim workouts to boost swim fitness, and some Z3 interval work on the bike. I wasn’t the fittest I had ever been for an Ironman, so I set my goals accordingly: Race well, and have fun.

Race Day – The Run

3:46:46

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The run course consists of two loops, starting in downtown Madison in the shadow of the Capitol Dome, and through residential areas to the University of Wisconsin campus. Once on campus, athletes do a lap around the football field in Camp Randall Stadium, home of the U of W Badgers, then continue on roads and paved trails that wander through campus.

One major hill called Observatory Road would force many to a walk. Past this the road joins State Street, a main thoroughfare of the campus that is lined with shops and outdoor cafes, full of cheering spectators. After the rowdy out-and-back on State, the run course continues in shade along Lake Mendota on a gravel path. Then the course returns to downtown, and a repeat of the first loop. At the halfway turnaround point, runners head straight for the finish line, but are turned away for loop two by the least-popular volunteer on the course. Another cruel feature of the run course is a pedestrian overpass between downtown and campus, which runners cross four times. Many would be reduced to a shuffle here.

I emerged onto the merciless 94 degree F heat of the shimmering concrete rooftop parking lot, stopped for the eight-handed sunblock application, and began the marathon with a little mantra going in my head: “Hold pace, stay wet”. In preparation for race day, the forecast being what it was, race organizers ordered six times more ice than normal. I was not planning on any of it going to waste. About this time, ambulances were beginning to take people off the bike course, and the wail of sirens could be heard well into the evening.

As I ran through the heart of downtown Madison, the course was lined with hundreds of spectators at every turn. Most cheered me by name; putting names on the race bib was one of IMNA’s better ideas, especially for us out-of-towners. The adrenaline was pumping and my pace on the first couple of miles was 7:30. As much as I would love to hold that pace, today was not the day for it, so I backed off and was able to hold a more realistic 8 minutes plus as I passed into quieter streets.

As the heat became more oppressive, the aid stations were a welcome sight, and I got into a pattern at each: Slow down, chug Gatorade, pour ice down the back of my shirt, squeeze two wet sponges onto my head. Between stations I would take a slug of Cytomax from the bottle in my belt. Later in the first loop, I added ice to it, then started filling it with Gatorade at some of the aid stations. My stomach was cooperating well, I was able to process everything I was taking in, and I was taking in a lot.

Having not checked out the run course beforehand, the first loop was a “getting to know you” loop. There were plenty of direction changes, so I was never running into or with the wind for long stretches, and there were two very long, mercifully shaded stretches down by the lake. On State Street, friendly traffic cops directed runners (“You’re the first bearded guy through so far”, one said to me. “Only because Joe Bonness isn’t here”, I thought) and the boisterous crowds showed their support. A live band played alt-rock at the end of the street. The crowds and shade were a welcome respite, but in between the heat and leg fatigue were taking over.

At the halfway point, I picked up my can of Red Bull from special needs, then I passed through the turnaround, refusing to look at the finish line. I felt the way I have felt at the end of previous Ironman marathons, but I still had 13 miles to go. I didn’t feel that I couldn’t continue, I just knew that I was in for some deep suffering until the end.

One trick I use to deal mentally with the enormity of running a fatigued marathon, and to break it into manageable parts, is to count up to 13 on the first half, then count down from 13 on the second half. I was counting down now, I had some stretches of shade and crowd energy to look forward to, after that it would be down to a 10K run.

The caffeine in the Red Bull perked me up, so I added a sequence at the aid stations: Gatorade, ice, Coke, sponges. I topped up my bottle with Gatorade and ice at every fourth aid station, which I continued to drink in between. I was still processing everything I could swallow, so I continued to take advantage of it. I noticed there were more and more people walking than running, even on the flat stretches.

I enjoyed the shade during the second pass along Lake Mendota, knowing it was nearly the last I would see until the finish line. At about mile 21 I passed female pro Yoko Hori, which made me wonder if I was having a good day, or she was having a bad one. My pace suggested a 10:35-10:40 finish, provided I didn’t melt down in the next 40 minutes. Another female pro was being put in an ambulance at mile 22. Most of the people coming from downtown were walking. I looked in that direction, and saw the Capitol Dome, and it looked very far away.

My calves were starting to cramp up, so I began eating bananas to boost my potassium intake at the last few aid stations. It wasn’t helping, so I thought, get sodium fast. When I stopped to take chicken soup at mile 24, my right calf cramped solid. I had to keep moving, so I continued stick-legged, and luckily the cramp released its grip just enough. I was now counting down in minutes, not miles.

On the last mile, adrenaline took over and I was able to pick up the pace a bit. I was running straight toward the Capitol Dome, but I knew I had to get around to the south side of it and put it behind me. Then it would be downhill all the way to the sweet relief of the finish line. I was inside the last half-mile, and my elapsed time was 10:35: Was I in the Kona hunt?

As I rounded the last corner, I pointed to the volunteer at the turnaround, then straight through the small gap. I wanted there to be no mistake in his mind which direction I was going, because I couldn’t stop if he got in the way. Just past the gap, I sensed another runner on my right shoulder, so I surged ahead. I wasn’t trying to show him up, I just didn’t want to lose a possible Kona spot in the last 100 meters. The crowd reacted, thinking there would be a sprint to the line, but he let me go. As I crossed the line, I looked up: 10 hours, 37 minutes, 46 seconds; my third-best Ironman time.

It didn’t seem like a fast time; I had gone 10:15 at Ironman Canada last year, and 10:22 the year before. But it’s a mistake to compare one race to another, or even the same race from year-to-year, without accounting for conditions. The technical nature of the Wisconsin bike course, combined with the wind, made it much tougher than the previous two years of calm weather on the fast Ironman Canada bike course. So I was guessing a top-five age-group finish, but it didn’t really matter. I had fun, and raced well. The only thing missing was a finish line hug from Barb.

A couple of minutes before I finished, announcer Mike Reilly told the crowd that at the end of the finish chute, the food tent was on the right, the med tent on the left, and three of every four finishers so far had turned left. After a brief cool-down walk with my catchers, I went right: The finish line cured me of the cramps and fatigue, and besides, I had seen enough of med tents this year. Being Wisconsin, they were serving bratwurst instead of pizza in the food tent, and after a liquid diet all day, I was hungry.

After refueling, I went back into Monona Terrace to collect my gear, and go for a post-race massage. While waiting for an empty table, I pulled out my Blackberry to call Barb. There was a message from my friend Mike Gorman, who had been following Ironmanlive.com and saw me finish: “Great sprint. Congratulations on winning your age group, and being 37^th overall.” He followed with another email detailing my splits; I had the fastest age-group bike and run splits as well. Second place was 7 minutes back.

I always imagined that an age-group win would be the result of a perfect day: No mechanical issues, great weather conditions, a 5:15 bike split, and 3:20 marathon. That day, I had issues, but with the benefit of experience none became show-stoppers. The weather? Less than ideal, the wind and heat made for a challenging ride. But I fuelled well and rode conservatively, saving energy for the run. I suffered deeply on the last half of the marathon, but mental toughness kept me running, when many around me were walking.

250 athletes failed to make the 5:30 bike cutoff, and a total of 400 DNFed on the day, one of the highest attrition rates at an Ironman event. It was far from being the perfect day I imagined for a win, but a perfect day wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying. After all, it’s Ironman, it’s supposed to be hard!

Race well, and have fun. Myles.