Well, it’s done. The Canadian Iron Distance Triathlon (soon to be the Canadian 226) went off on Saturday, Sept 1st at 6:30 AM.

Before I go any further, I want to thank Somersault Promotions and their staff/volunteers for their hard work in taking on such a monumental task. From the new transition zone set up on the infield at Terry Fox to the participant fleece jackets, to the Sunday Awards Brunch, everything was very well done.

I would also be remiss, not to mention insensitive, if I did not thank Nancy for her support. I’ve dragged her to , or she’s been at, mostly every race so far this summer and has been very positive towards my efforts to do what I do. The short races are easy to watch, but these 7-9 hour ones are every bit as hard on the spectators as the athletes.

So, back to the race.

3:00 AM, couldn’t sleep, but layed there anyway.

3:30, couldn’t sleep, but layed there anyway.

4:00, couldn’t sleep, but layed there anyway.

4:30, couldn’t sleep, but layed there anyway.

4:32, I got up and made my coffee, had my toasted pita bread, a banana, started my bottles of E-load and Hammer Ultra Endurance fluid and headed out the door to the Terry Fox Athletic Facility.

At 5 AM, a hardy crew of keeners were waiting to get in to Terry Fox to set up their transition areas. Jean Lacroix, uber biker and Kona qualifier, was first to the rack. I think I was third. Thankfully, this was to be my worst performance of the day.

Thanks to Mark Sutcliffe’s article in the Ottawa Citizen, a lot of people knew I was doing the race and Terry was hoping for me to produce a sub-9 hour clocking. Considering I’ve done 14 Ironman races and only broken 9hrs once, I was not counting on it. I have always believed I had the ability and the tools, but one of those tools seemed to be missing from the tool box on race day.

Mike Giles said it very succinctly “to break 9 hours, you need a one hour swim, 5 hour ride and a 3hr run, transitions included. Simple.” Yeah, just like golf. Simple

All morning up to the start, people kept asking if I would break the record and maybe even 9 hours. “We’ll see” was my standard reply. “How are you feeling today, Rick?” “Good” was and always will be my standard reply.

At 6:30, we were off for our two loop swim in the murky waters of Moonies Bay (okay, not murky, but algae laden to the point it was hard to see the feet just in front of you). I tagged along with Eric Roy who seems to be my swimming buddy lately, and one other swimmer on the front. This other swimmer lead to the first turnaround buoy, then peeled off like his lead was done in a pace line on the bike. Eric took over and I stayed on his toes. Eventually, I pulled over a bit and swam up beside him, then half a body in front, and then we hit the next turnaround buoy. I accelerated a wee bit out of that turn and eventually I was on my own, following the lead kayak. At the next turnaround buoy, I saw had a good gap, so I wound it up a bit more for a few minutes. I flipped over on my back for a few strokes to get an idea of where the other guys were, then shut it down and cruised the rest of the swim. I exited the water in 54:13, right about where I wanted to be, and very comfortable.

T-1 was fairly uneventful. Even though I had to go to the washroom, I figured I could stop out on the course when it got really bad. I was off on the bike in a total of 58 minutes, so under the hour Mike had calculated.

I had pre-determined that the run would be my focus for the race, so I would try my hardest to keep a heart rate below a certain level. I got carried away a few times on the first few laps, but for the most part, was successful. I think the few times I was overly exuberant on the first few laps came back to haunt me later, as my laps began to get slower, and slower, and slower. The wind seemed almost gael force on the way out and I saw a few numbers I did not want to see, speedwise. I tried to wind it up, but the legs just said no. In the back of my mind, I kept reminding myself that I had a planned heart rate, that the run was the focus of the day, and that I was already riding above my expectations, so it was okay to slow down (it just hurt more than I wanted). It might have been going too fast on the first few laps or it might have been a hard 7 hour race at Soloman the week before, or 20 hours of driving to Niagaga on the Lake and back for a mini-vacation between the two races, but the legs were not responding quite the way I had envisioned.

Along the route, the crowds were sparse, but vocal. The Zone3sports aid station was getting set up and so I had a built in cheering section. Possibly an unfair advantage, but not against the rules. I was passed by 6-7 guys competing in the Half Iron. I had to remind myself that my race was not their race and to let them go. To do my own thing. I was passed and Eric Roy who was entered in the Iron Aquabike. He’d been steadily gaining on me since lap 7, and put the boots to me on the last lap. In a short race, I want to crush everyone I can, every chance I can. In a long race like this, that could be suicidal. The phrase “discretion is the better part of valor” came to mind, so I did not even try to match his pace, though I doubt I could have if I wanted to.

I was passed on the bike by one rider in the Iron Distance race. On the 7th or 8th lap, I rounded the u-turn at the south end of the course, and then it happened: Steve McCready, Past President of the MWKMAATTC and Zone3sports athlete, zipped by me, sitting up and smiling as I was struggling to stay in the game. He made it look so easy. For the rest of the ride, I tried to emulate his silky smooth pedal stroke and his ultra aero position on the bike.

I plugged along as triathletes do, knowing that eventually, I would either start to feel better, or fall off my bike. Fortunately, after losing 3 minutes between my fastest and slowest lap, the ride ended. My ride time was 5:02, 10-12 minutes faster than I had planned on, but much more draining that I had wanted. And only a marathon to run. Yippee!

T-2 went by smoothly and, seeing as I had not stopped to pee on the bike, and still had to go, I ran around looking for the port-o-potties in the t-zone. They were at the entrance to the t-zone, not the exit where I was, so I skipped the stop again, thinking I would stop on the course.

If you’re counting, my 58min swim transition and on the bike pedaling time plus the 5:02 ride put me at 6hrs pretty much on the button starting the run. All I needed was a sub-3hr marathon and time was ticking away—time waits for no one.

I was, to say the least, a bit stiff getting going, but by the time I hit the first kilometer, the legs felt pretty much “on”. I started checking splits and was quite happy to be running as fast as I was, but, as most people know, the first 10k are pretty easy. It’s the last 10k that are hard, and that would be the true test. I continued along with my effort, able to grunt and cheer people on, sort of. I knew I could hold the effort for 2hrs and the goal was to get as far as I could in that time, then hang on. I ran through some stations, walked a bit through others, but always got back on pace, and was even able to pick it up to make up for walk time. I was quite pleased with how things were going so I pressed on, a wee bit harder.

It turns out, I was almost exactly right as to when the wheels would fall off on the run. At 2hrs, I lost about 15sec/km on my pace.

At 31k, I looked at my watch and saw I had 53min to the magical 9hr mark.

I asked the crowd at the turnaround if they thought I could run 11k in 53min.

They answered with a resounding “yes!!”. “

Easy for you to say’” I muttered to myself.

To them I I said “we’ll see.”

I tried so hard to wind it up, but the kilos were not slipping by quite as smoothly as they were previously. I was really starting to hurt but was still able to do the mental math well enough. I was able to tell myself that if I continued to run as close to 4:30’s as possible, it was a done deal and for every one close to that, I could slow down that much more somewhere else and still be good. I tried and tried to knock the pace back down and every now and then, was able to take advantage of the ebbs and flows of my enegy. Likewise, after a good patch, there seemed the be a bad patch and I would lose the time I’d banked.

At the final turnaround, I looked at my watch. It read 8:30. I had 30min to run 6km. 5min kilos was all I needed. I told myself I could do that. And even if I missed sub-9, I’d be 9:01 or 9:02. That was still acceptable to me.

I ran through the Zone3sports aid station, got a huge burst of energy from the gang there, and picked up my pace a bit. By Bank St, though, that burst came back on me and I was reduced to a fast shuffle up the little incline that, on any other day, would not even be an incline. I was humbled by this mini-mountain, and again by the one at Carleton University. I continued to run, remembering that my slowest run was faster than a walk, and something Dev says that Lance Armstrong says, “you only have so many matches to burn. Try not to use them up too early”. With that, I made a deal with myself to avoid trying any harder. To just go steadily forward. No stopping.

With 2k to go, my watch said 8:48. At 1k to go, it read 8:53:10 (I saved the splits—I’m not that smart).

When I hit the gravel, I could hear Lynn Bermel on the PA system talking about sub-9hrs and could I do it. Then I think I heard Geordie as well. I turned the corner onto the track and I finally saw the clock. It read 8:57:20. I figured, unless I fall completely on my face and cannot get up, I can make 100m in 2 min and 40 sec, so I finally began to relax, and walked the last 10m to savour the moment.

All in all, a very successful race for me, but more importantly, for Somersault Promotions and their crew. I think they did a great job with set up, volunteers, crowd control, and goodie bags.

If you are indeed interested in doing an Ironman or Iron Distance event, this one is well worthwhile. They may not have the multi-million dollar image and marketing of Ironman, but they do a great job and make you feel very special for your accomplishment.

As far as the course goes, Lynn asked me if the 12 laps on the bike were boring, and I answered yes. More accurately, that’s probably a function of being on the bike for that long, not the course itself. With all the other races going on, there is plenty to keep your mind occupied. Truth be told, I found the ride and run in Kona much less exciting or interesting than the scenery along the Canal.

At the Award Ceremony, Terry mentioned that the perserverance it takes to get one of these things done is amazing.

No truer words have ever been spoken.

Peace out.