Several months ago I signed up for the Kerrville Half Iron Distance (70.3) Triathlon. Pre-Covid (remember life before Covid? [sigh]) there were so many races in the Central Texas area that I could, and often would, race every other week. Fun sprint with friends, Olympic distance if offered, then every 6-8 weeks a half iron distance because, why the hell not? Then Covid shut everything down; not just races, but training and group workouts. By the time “everything” was up and running again a lot of races and trainers just didn’t come back. Some of us had new challenging jobs, and new challenging dogs who do not run, and it was hard to get back into the old groove. Thing is, when you are racing every other weekend and have a set workout schedule, you don’t need to train, because you are always training and trained. Not so much after two years with few races, and I sure found out on Sunday.
So yeah, I signed up for my 9th Kerrville Half Iron (which consists of a 1.2mi swim/56 mile bike/13.1 mile run) and went about my usual training which no longer includes an organized run training group, or race specific bike workout, bike to run workouts, or swimming (ok, I never really ever swam that much, but I could make up for it in the other sports), so actually not my usual training at all. I signed up for two races, the Marble Falls Tri which is half way between a sprint distance and an olympic and the Olympic Pflugerville Tri. I did both races and did ok. Neither my bike nor run were where they were in 2019, and my swim has always been pretty terrible, but I did alright.
I still ran every other day before work about 6-7 miles and would do spin non-class on the gym spin bikes because spinning on a bike at home actually sucks more than spinning on a bike at the gym by yourself (since the morning spin classes are another thing that didn’t come back). I even joined another gym since my old gym never reopened its pools, so I could swim once a week. I knew this race would not be my fastest, and decided to treat it like a training race. What more would I need to be prepared for a Half Iron (as every coach I know collectively winces)?
I drove out to Kerrville on Friday night after work so I could cheer on the folks doing the super-sprint (300m/14 mi/3 mi) and sprint (500m/14 mi/ 2 mi) races early Saturday morning. I decided to check out the run course for my race (which is two x a 6.55 mile route on a very nice paved hike and bike trail) to get some landmarks and a lay of the land, but in order to be back to cheer on the racers I ran 7 miles at 6:00am. It was dark and I couldn’t see anything so I didn’t get any landmarks or a lay of the land, but there were a lot of deer (who look a lot like wolves when all you can see is their eyes in the dark) and it was cool outside,so it was a nice run.
Got back to my rented cabin, made a pot of coffee, then sat on the tailgate of my truck in the driveway and cheered on the cyclists as they rode past (my cabin is right on the run course). My friend Annette had come over to cheer with me and, Barb, the gal who owns the cabin, was cheering, as well. Afterwards, Annette and I walked down to the finish line which is surprisingly close to my cabin — less than a mile away (the trail that the run is on is right behind my cabin). We cheered our friends and other strangers as they completed the run, while socializing, and occasionally drinking some water. I could not help but notice that it was pretty hot in the afternoon. This meant my run would be pretty hot and probably not very fast. But that was ok since I would not be racing this race, so I would just have to slow my run pace appropriately.
At about noon I walked back to the cabin and made some lunch, then headed over to the race Expo to pick up my race packet (containing race numbers for the bike, a number bib for the run, swim cap, transition bags and various swag). Then it was time to rack my bike in the transition area so it would be ready for me in the morning.
This race has two transition areas. Transition is where you leave your stuff while you are out racing. Since a triathlon always starts with the swim the first transition area – T1- is near the water. That’s where you leave the stuff you will need for the bike ride while you are swimming. So, your bike, bike shoes, water bottles, helmet, sunglasses etc. When you are done swimming you go to your bike and put on all your gear. You take your swim stuff — goggles, swim cap wetsuit, — and put it in a transition bag with your race number on it and leave it there. Elves will pick up those bags and bring them to the end of the race for you. Not to get too far ahead of my self, but T2 is where you leave your run stuff, so when you finish the bike course, you are able to leave your bike in a designated area and get your running shoes, hat, bib then go run. T2 is also where the race ends, so all your stuff is magically in one place when you are sweaty and exhausted and just want to go home. In races with only one transition area, all of your stuff is in one place that you keep coming back to after each sport and is also close to the finish line.
I put my race number stickers on my bike and helmet, racked my bike, then got in my car to head back to the cabin to set up my T2 transition bag (put everything I will need for run in the bag so I put it in my T2 bike rack area). Just as I started on the road, I heard a loud pop that sounded like maybe a car going on the other direction hit my door with a rock. I instinctively started to roll down my driver’s side window to assess the damage when the whole window just fell into the door, never to be seen again (at least never to be seen again that weekend). Well, crap. OK, nothing I can do about that right now but all I could think of was how many mosquitos would be in the truck in the morning and driving home 2 1/2 hours with the driver’s window wide open in the heat with the road noise Good times!
I got back to my cabin and set up my transition bags. Annette came back by and was walked the ~1 mile to T2 to tie our bags at our numbered rack (the rack is a bike rack where you put your bike when you are done riding and your run bag is there waiting for you – like so).
Then we walked back to my cabin where I would relax for the rest of the evening. I decided to drive to HEB and get one of those fresh single-serve dinners, then I decided to stop by Walmart just to see if they had anything I could “fix” my truck window with to get me around town and home after the race. I found a large cheap poster frame with flimsy plastic “glass,” duct tape and a scissor. When I got back to the cabin I was able to fashion a temporary window and duct tape it in place. Truth be total, some 30 years ago I had to “fix” the window of my ’73 Duster (which had been stolen and recovered but damaged – long story) for the drive from Boston, MA to Long Island, NY in January with only random stuff in my dorm room so I had an idea of what would work.
Now I could eat some dinner, sit back, relax and prepare for my big race. Finally. Now you might be thinking, “Wow seven mile run and walking to the finish area and back at about ~2 miles twice? That seems like a lot of running around the day before a big race. Is that wise?” Perhaps not.
I went to bed at 9:00pm and since I did not sleep well on Friday night I thought I would surely sleep like a rock. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Not only could I not sleep, but I was nauseated- like not sure if I was gonna throw up or not – and I had no idea why. As I watched 9:00 to 10:00 to 11:45 and 1:00, I determined that if I started throwing up or simply overslept my alarm in the morning that would be ok, because at this point I really felt like poo and suspected that I wouldn’t be able to race anyway. But eventually I fell asleep and when my alarm went off at 5:30am I felt pretty alright.
I got dressed, grabbed my bike bag, made a PB & J sandwich and cup of tea, and managed to eat half the sandwich before heading to T1. Having determined this would be treated as a training race, I was in a pretty good mindset, I checked my bike (air in tires, in a good starting gear, everything where it should be), socialized with all my Tri peeps, ate another 1/4 of the sandwich, and went to the port-o-john three times – just to be sure.
Logan, the race emcee for Big Mouth Announcing, let us know that he water was over 80 degrees so it would not be “wet-suit legal” (“legal” meaning that if you wear a wet-suit you are not eligible for age group awards, or USAT sanctioned credit (to qualify for other races), but I think you will still get an unofficial time). A lot of mediocre swimmers – like me – swim much better in a buoyant wet-suit so I always hope for a wet-suit legal water temperature, but wet-suits are actually designed not to make you a better swimmer, but to keep you warm when the water is cold. Who knew? And at a certain point you really can overheat in a wet-suit if the water is warm. USAT has determined that 78 degrees is the cut off for wearing a wet-suit in a triathlon. This news was not great for my swim, but that’s ok. I knew I could do the 1.2 mile distance, it would just be slower.
At 7:30am my race started. I jumped in the water and it was surprisingly not nearly as warm as I thought it would be. It was kinda refreshing, in fact. I dialed a good song into my head (Dua Lipa it is) so I could get into my swim rhythm, and off I went. It wasn’t horrible, the water was cloudy (not stinky, not a weird color, no hydrilla or grass), but … what the hell is in my mouth? Ya know, it’s probably a piece of crunchy peanut butter peanut that got caught in a molar. I spit it into the water and continued on… Wait, what the hell is in my mouth now? How much peanut butter is still stuck in my teeth? Spit again. Periodically, I would spit out the never ending supply of peanut pieces that apparently were caught in allmy teeth (???). Later, I found out that there were some sort of bugs in the water by a friend who asked “Did you get any of those black bugs in your mouth during the swim.” Eww, eww, eww! 🤢
The Kerrville swim always feel so long to me because it is a big rectangle with one side that is a 1/2 mile long, and half of the swim is against the current, but eventually I was out of the water. I didn’t even look at my watch, but headed up the big hill to T1 where my bike awaited.
1.2 mile swim = 51:35 (eh, not good)
I got my socks, bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses on, and jumped on my bike. I got into comfortable rhythm. I love being on the bike and I knew that there were challenging hills on the course but I happen to love hills on the bike. I was very familiar with the course as I had done the Kerrville Half 8x before and the Quarter Iron once (which is the same bike course but you only do it once for the Quarter, twice for the Half). I felt good heading out, but did notice I was getting passed by several other cyclists. When I am trained this does not happen, and if someone does pass me it pissed me off and I step up my game. But not this time. Knowing my training was lacking I was not going to get into a race with someone faster than me and blow myself up – this is a training race. Also, I refused to look at my watch because all that would do is stress me out.
However, a LOT of folks were passing me.
I rode out the 15ish on Hwy 27, then made the turn onto the bumpy ship-sealed road to Center Point, down the low water crossing and up the first big hill. I made sure I was drinking enough water and periodically took in some Gatorade, but neither of my bottles was empty at the 17ish mile water stop so I rode passed it. I continued through Center Point and the little out and back dog leg onto a side street that they added to make the course exactly 56 miles.
I continued to ride, felt pretty good, drank a bit, maybe a little hungry. Actually, I was hungry. Like, not a little hungry, but “could eat a burger” hungry. Being that hungry this early in the race, while less than half-way through the bike, is not a good sign. I wasn’t as worried about the next hour and a half on the bike, so much as I was worried about the two hour run still ahead. I started eating gels and drank more Gatorade, but while all that sugar is good for quick energy but no one is getting full on energy gels. I kept an eye out for a fast food joint.
Two fellas passed me right before what I call the “hidden hill”. As they rode passed I said, “You know about the hill ahead?” “What?” One asked. “Yeah,” I said, “You’re gonna go a little right then to the left and BOOM big unexpected hill. Be in a good gear!” I clicked into my smaller crank ring gear, veered to the left when I heard one of the guys say, “OMG! What the heck! Thank goodness I’m in a good gear” I’m all “Yeah, this is why I warned you.” as I passed him on the hill.
The hills on this course are pretty much all preceded by a low water crossing. Just from living on this planet you know if you go over a low water crossing it is a low point between two inclines. But for some reason there is this random hill with a 7% graded on the course that is not preceding by any type of downhill, no low water crossing, it doesn’t have any structures or houses on it that you can see “on the hill” so there is no warning that you are going to need to be in your hamster-wheel-spinning-granny-gear until you are already committed. When you are standing on your pedals on a hill, it is too late to shift. I often see folks “locking out” (where they have to get off their bikes or they will lose all momentum, stop and fall over), then walking up this stupid hill in awkward cycling shoes. Because I am a good person, I will always warn the folks around me at the surprise hill (also, you don’t want folks falling over in front of you when you are going up the hill, so … self-preservation).
After the hidden hill, there is only 6 miles left of the route – a nice downhill, then a gradual uphill. I felt alright on the hills and didn’t try to think about how hungry I was. Once you ride through this little hilly section you approach the T2 area where the run starts and the finish line is, but I still had one more 28 mile loop on the bike before I could head to the run.
I turned left, and rode through a section that was lined with spectators on each side, over the bridge, through the downtown area, then back to the long 15 mile flat stretch on Hwy 27. This second loop can be fun because you get to see folks who are doing the shorter Quarter Iron distance race and the Quarter Aqua/Bike -a duathlon of just the swim/bike- which started much later than the Half Iron.
I rode past the water stop, but still didn’t need anything because I clearly wasn’t drinking enough. I tried to remember to drink some more water and Gatorade. I was holding a pretty steady pace, not particularly fast, but steady. Remember this is a training race (even though I was not, and had not been training for anything all season). I saw my friend Jane and got to say “hi!”right before the big hill after the low water crossing. Got over the hill, down the way, through the dog-leg… Rode up the hidden hill with a gal who was “paperboying” her way up (paperboying is where you zig-zag ride up a hill the way a paperboy delivers papers … a paperboy was a job that pre-teen boys would often have delivering newspapers in the morning in the neighborhood back when people would have the newspaper delivered… a newspaper used be a hard copy of CNN — anyway the hill ends up being twice as long but not nearly as steep. Of course this makes the guy behind them (me) have to either slow down or try to get around them without being run over.
This guy (red circle) is paperboying,
also getting his ass handed to him buy a guy on a unicycle
It was starting to get a bit warmer, but after the hidden hill it wasn’t far to the end of the bike. It was going to be a hot run.
I got off the bike in 3:06.33 at 18 miles per hour, which was, well, a good training pace.
As I changed out of my cycling gear and into my running gear, I came to the realization that this run was really going to suck- there was full sun, very little wind, and it was already pretty hot. Also, I never did find a fast food place to grab a burger.
I ran out onto the run course moving much, much slower than I had anticipated. I already felt hot and I still had 13.1 miles of running ahead of me. The run course is a 2.75 mile out, turn around then 2.75 miles back past the finish line, then another .5 miles in the other direction, turn around, come back .5 miles, pass the finish line again them repeat.
I ran about 3/4 mile when I determined that this would be a good place to start walking. I tried to start running again and realized that I was not going to be able to run the run. Walking 13.1 miles even at decent pace would take over three hours. I determined that I did not want to be on that run course for over three hours. During the first 2.75 miles, I would run to a landmark up ahead, – maybe a tree, a sign or a park bench – then walk until I was no longer having a heart attack, pick another landmark and try to run to it, walk again, while in my head I was trying to figure out the best place to quit. You can’t really quit out in the middle of the course (although the idea of faking an injury so I could be driven back in no a golf cart did cross my mind), but I could quit when I got back to the finish area or I could do the 1/2 mile out and back on the other side of the finish line and then quit. Thinking about the most efficient way of quitting was a nice distraction.
I got to the 2.75 mile turn around and they had bananas and oranges — food! I mean, not a burger, but still. I had a banana and a few pieces of orange with some ice water. Surprisingly, I did not feel any better. 😒
The sun was out, there was no breeze, my run with walk breaks turned into a walk with run breaks. I made my way back to the finish area trying to figure out if I could have one of my friends who was spectating to maybe get me a taco when I passed through the area. As I got back to the finish area I ran into my friend Karen. She asked how I was doing and I told her “not good.” That I did not think I was going to finish. She recommended that I do the short 1/2 mile out and back turn around and when I got back to her we could re-evaluate the situation. OK, I could do that.
I passed the finish shoot. I could easily have turned and turned in my timing chip and gone and had a beer and a taco, but one of my friends was taking pictures so I ran past the finish shoot because I could walk this whole dang race, but I didn’t want any pictures of me walking. I headed out to the “short-side turn around” – I would just like to note that had I not turned-around, I was only .3 miles from the cabin where I was staying and could have just “gone home.” Tempting.
I walked most of the way but ran passed every race photographer because again, those pictures. Finally got back by the finish shoot to see Karen, but I ran into Christine first. She asked how I was doing and I told her that I was thinking of quitting.
“You can’t quit!!”
“Yeah, I probably could.”
“You would never forgive yourself!!”
“No, I think I would.”
Christine says, “Just get back out to the turn-around and see how you feel.”
The last turn-around is 2.75 miles from the finish. And “see how I feel?” Like maybe I’ll feel like calling an Uber, since once you get that far into the course you are kind of committed to finishing since, well, all your stuff is at the finish area. Christine gave me a shove in the right direction and I remember thinking. Wow, I guess I am really gonna do this.
At this point there was very little running going on and not just for me. So many racers were walking. I knew from my first loop that there was no timing mat at the turn-around. Ya know, I could just cut the course… but then there is Karen on her rainbow bike wearing her helmet with the 3″ orange Mohawk (I kid you not), shouting encouragement. The just a few minutes later Alan runs past me (yes, he was actually running). I continued on.
Because folks were periodically walking then running and stopping at rest stops for a few seconds or a few minutes, I kept passing/being passed by the same people. They would pass me I would pass them. We would exchange pleasantries, encouragement or sarcastic comments. At one point it started raining. I mean, the sun was still beating down but I started running to try to hit more raindrops (I think there were only about 7 of them), then a minute later it stopped raining. New strategy, when a cloud would move in front of the sun I would run until it moved on and the sun was blasting down again.
There was a fella with his three young sons cheering the racers on out where there were no other spectators. They were out there all afternoon and so spirited. I thanked them for staying out there and being so great each time I passed them (and I passed them four times- out and back and out and back).
Eventually, I made my way back to the finish area where all the spectators were. I only had to go out 1/2 mile, then come back. I ran through the finish area, then walked towards the turn-around. I caught up with a gal with whom I had been leapfrogging for most of the run. I told her, “Ok, when I get to the turn-around there is exactly 1/2 mile to the finish- I clocked it the day before. I’m going to run it in because I can do anything for 5 minutes.” She was nursing an injury and told me to have a great time but she would not be running in.
I did run the last 1/2 mile to the finish line. DONE!
Run ♾️.
Actually, 3:08.37.
Total time 7:14:23 (so only an hour and 15 minutes over my average Half Iron pace- eek!).
After the race, I did finally get a taco. I was eating near a woman and her husband. I recognized her from the run course and asked her how she was feeling. As we were talking her three young sons came running over. Her family was the spectators that spent so much time on the run course 💗💗! I thanked them again.
This event has really opened my eyes to the fact that I need to get back to triathlon specific training. Just going out for rides and runs for however long when I feel like it is not working for me. I’ll take a week to recover, but I need to find a trainer and get serious.
jredtripp 