So LOSTie, Mike Marshall, did the 2nd annual Ironman Cozumel… and had a great race! Given that many of us don’t know anything about IM Cozumel and want to know how Mike did, I posted his race report below… it’s a bit long, but tells you everything you want to know about the race… and looks like a great race!
Swim: 1:01, Bike: 5:35, Run: 5:07… 11:55!!! Not bad for his first Ironman!!!
Congrats Mike!
PS. If anyone has any interesting news stories, comments, race reports, etc that the group might be interested in… send them to me and I’m happy to post them! (pics are worth a 1000 words too!)
Cheers,
Rob
Cozumel 2010 – Race Day
Up at 4:00, dressed and final packing of gear. Breakfast at 4:30 – buffet open early –yahoo!
4:50…in total darkness, join about 30 other athletes at gates of resort. Nervous energy. No one talking. Just a few little chuckles. 5:00 – First taxi shows up. A few get on. I do the math and realize quickly that with this many athletes standing around, getting a taxi ride to the start might be a challenge. I decide that as a single I will get on the next taxi that shows up. 5 long minutes later the first couple of vans show up it is hard to tell if they are private buses or ‘public’ taxis. Either way, I sidle up to a group of people getting on the bus and see an empty wheel well with my name on it. No one questions me so I get on. Judging from the conversation on the bus, I think I am with the German tour group (Hannes tours). It’s true, Germans really aren’t that funny a bunch. 10 minutes later when we arrive, I sidle back out and get going. No one says a thing. Lots of people, lots of trucks, buses…a bit chaotic really. Some additional traffic management might be an idea here.
I move past the athlete check-in and immediately feel relaxed. I am inside the ‘wire’ and the crowds thin out immediately. The walk into the transition area takes you down a blue carpet right passed all of the pro bikes. It looks like a high-end bike showroom. I am struck by how light, fast and minimalist each of the pro bikes looks. The most common setup seems to be one or two bottles caged behind the seat and one bottle lying flat between the aerobars. That’s it. Not even a Bento Box. I am assuming that the bottles on the bike are for high carb drinks and that the rest of the hydration and nutrition would come from on course supply. Also of interest is that almost all of the pros have their shoes clipped into their bikes and their helmets are not on their bikes. Their helmets must be in their bike bags, located a few hundred meters away at the change tent entrance.
Some of the pros are still completing their final preparation activities. I think it is really cool how accessible these men and women are. No handlers, security, or posses surrounding the pros. It’s just them and their bikes. Very cool. As a stroke of luck, my bike transition spot is located at the end of the line of pro spots at the end of a curve. Lots of space and really easy to locate. As it turns out, I am a stones throw from Andy Potts’s spot. Wicked. Walking around the transition area I am struck by how cool it looks. The organizers have rolled a wide strip of blue carpet down each ‘arm’ of the transition area for the athletes to run on. It looks really awesome with what seems to be miles and miles of bikes all prepped and ready to go.
After making sure my bike is still the same as I left it the day before. I seek out a pump. Hey, what do you know, Andy Potts is right there and he is using one right now. Why not ask him? I stroll over but before I get there someone has already got it from him. I decide to chat with him anyways and remind him of the Escape From Alcatraz race that we did ‘together’ years ago (He won). I know he doesn’t know me from Adam, but it was funny never the less. I tell him he should win because he won the last time that we raced together (He did win btw). We share a laugh and some words of encouragement.
Still needing air in my tires, I line up to get my tires pumped by the volunteers in the bike mechanical tent, which also happens to be right beside my awesome transition location. There are several guys working the tent and the guy I wind up with happens to be using a pump that doesn’t appear to have a very accurate gauge on it. Mexican Tire special I was thinking. When I ask him to pump my tubulars to 150, he nods and smiles but doesn’t respond with overwhelming confidence. While he’s pumping I take a close look at the needle and it’s jumping around like a Mexican jumping bean. I thank him and move on and decide to go find my own pump…a good one. It doesn’t take long. I locate one from a guy about 10 bikes away from me. When I check the PSI of my recently pumped tires I realize that they are low…about 125. Good thing I checked. I complete my bike prep by filling up my bike bottles with water and Gatorade. I am thankful that I brought my own. Looking at the long lineup of people be re-bodymarked I am also glad that I brought my own marker with me (Good advice from coach Greg Pace). After a few last minute checks and rechecks of my bike bag and final review of the run route into and out of the men’s change area, it’s time to go. Bring it!
The swim start is at the end of a huge rectangular ‘dock’, which is actually a series of massive holding pens for an array of aquatic wildlife. The docks were closed off until the start of the pro race, so all of the approximately 2400 athletes are crowded around, anxiously waiting to get going. The pros are already in the water and with a blast from the air horn their race begins. After a few cheers, the race director wastes no time to get us moving. We have about 5 minutes to get all of the 2400 athletes, through the run out area, down the docks and into the water for the start of our race. We are told…”run, don’t walk”. I do some quick mental arithmetic…we need to get 8 athletes in the water every second. This should be fun. The DJ cranks up U2 “It’s a beautiful day” on the loudspeakers. As a first time Ironman athlete, I can’t believe how fortunate I feel to be here and much fun this is. I wonder if all of the IM races are this much fun. I am totally hooked and we haven’t even started.
After passing the dolphins, manatees and rays in their holding pens I hit the end of the dock on the run, look for an opening in the water below and pick my landing spot in mid-air. After training all summer in Lake O, the Caribbean Sea is a welcome change. This is a non-wetsuit swim and I am thankful that the water is about 78 degrees and clearer than a swimming pool. It is a pretty awesome sight to be 15 feet underwater and looking up at the dozens and dozens of athletes jumping in, treading water and moving into position for the start. I am reminded that the mass start swim will be total chaos, so I decide to swim around the side of the dock, back towards the beach and cling one-handed to the chain-link fence, which holds the dolphins in. With this start position, I will have no one in front of me and no one behind me. I only have to worry about the swimmers beside me. Sounds like a good plan to me.
I really can’t hear the loudspeakers anymore over the ambient noises of the swimmers and the water. I check my watch and it’s 6:59. Race start is at 7:00. Remembering Rob Kent’s advice from years ago, I don’t wait to start my stopwatch at the precise moment that the race starts. I am thankful for this advice because when the horn goes about 15 seconds later, the guys on both sides of me are busy hitting ‘start’ on their watches when I dive forward. This delay is enough for me to gain a few meters on them and give me clean open water to swim in. It occurs to me that these types of small decisions in IM competitions can yield big results, both positive and negative.
As mentioned before, the water is warmer and clearer than a swimming pool and I realize as I approach the first water buoy that I can do my spotting without looking up out of the water. From a hundred feet away I can see the entire rope holding the floating marking buoy. All I need to do is keep pointed at the top of the rope and focus on the swimmers around me. The swim course is a long, skinny rectangle and as I approach the 800 meter first left-hand turn, I am practically smiling underwater because I am having so much fun. My smile is quickly wiped away as I feel the water temperature cool down and feel the water rush past me. Uh-oh, this is the ocean current that I was waiting for.
Glancing at the bottom I notice the water is becoming shallower, which means that the current is being squeezed into a smaller area as I move forward, increasing its speed. Looking to my left, I realize that I should have been aiming to the left of the last turn buoy because in the last section of swim course I am being pushed wide of the turn. I now have at least an extra 25 meters (and counting) to make up (another small decision…big result) to get back in the race. I pick up my cadence and really start to pounding it. I have to laugh because when I look closely at the ocean floor below me I am stunned to see that it is barely moving. After what seemed like a hard 100 meter sprint, I look below me and notice a scuba diver halfway down the marking buoy rope holding on with both hands and being blown completely sideways by the current. He smiles and gives me a thumbs up as I fight my way past him. I wish I could signal back, but I am afraid that if I do I will lose ground, so I keep swimming.
I finally make the turn and the water starts getting deeper and I no longer have a sensation of water flowing past me. Although I don’t know for sure, I must be swimming with the current and immediately feel relaxed again. After a nice steady 200 or 300 meters of swimming I wanted to get a sense of where I was and decide to take a quick look around. This turns out to be a bad decision. The calmness of the underwater was replaced with total chaos. All I see is splashing and swim caps in all directions and my brief pause in the water is like hitting the brakes in the fast lane on the highway. I now have swimmers going over me and around me and I am quickly reminded that there are over two thousand athletes behind me. It’s the last time I will do that. I decide that for the remainder of the race, I will keep my head down, focus on smooth swimming and effective course management.
Because of the clear visibility, I was able to see at least four swimmers to the sides and in front of me and pick my line accordingly. It was quite easy to find the ‘fast feet’ and tag along for the ride. The benefits of drafting were very obvious as the group I was swimming with seemed to cruise past individual swimmers. Now we’re cooking with Crisco. I was feeling so good that I barely flinched when we swam into the jellyfish. I didn’t see any of them but I certainly felt the little stings and pricks all over my face, arms and legs. It was a bit of an annoyance and I certainly wanted to stop and rub the stinging a bit, but there was no way I was breaking my stroke so I just kept going and focused on the feet in front of me. If he isn’t stopping, then neither will I. It was about this point that a woman in a red and white team Canada suit cruised up beside me and the stinging seemed to just fade away. She was really moving and I decided that I wouldn’t lose her draft so I picked up the cadence and tagged along her slipstream for the last 600 meters.
Approaching the swim exit, there was a bit of congestion because the exit from the swim is a little tricky. The water is about 10 feet deep and the lowest exit stair is at water level. It’s kind of like getting out of the deep end of the pool without the ladder. If you’re tired, it isn’t easy. Fortunately I had picked a good line and with my best two-handed, all one motion lift I was able to get out of the water cleanly. A few swimmers were stuck trying to swing their legs up and hook their heels on to leverage themselves out. I remembered the big guy that heaved me out of the water at Muskoka. He would have had a lot of friends here.
After a quick sprint down the front of the dock, passed the dolphins I put my biking shoes on in the change tent and ran over to get a little Vaseline and some sunscreen. The guy handing out the supplies tells me that he just ran out of sunscreen and is waiting for more to arrive. Crap. I decide not to wait, knowing that this was likely another one of those small decisions, with big consequences.
The bike course is a 3 lap loop of the island. It is flat and the pavement is in very good shape for the vast majority of the course. To me, the loop seemed to have four very distinct sections, which I called:
1) Resort stretch: 25 km long stretch starting at the swim exit, which is somewhat tree-lined and takes you around to the south side of the island. There is a slight head wind this whole section.
2) Southside: the 20 km stretch along the south of the island. Beautiful seaside road takes you right beside sandy beaches, protected turtle egg-laying grounds and rocky shorelines. In some stretches you are actually hit with the ocean spray from the waves smashing on the rocky shoreline beside you. There is a major crosswind blowing at you through this whole section. It is so strong that one handed riding is a little tricky.
3) Homeward bound: A hard left from ‘South side’ takes you to the dead straight road resembling an airport runway. This 10 km long stretch leads you back to town. There is a slight tailwind and you can easily cruise in high 30s, low 40s down this road.
4) In Town: A short 5 km stretch through town with several turns, round-abouts, speed bumps and other small hazards. In the heart of the town the streets were lined with people cheering us on, playing music, waving signs and flags. Even though it was still early in the afternoon, there were still tons of people giving us the brown bottle salute.
The first lap of the bike course was rather exciting. Even though we had been briefed on this ahead of time, it was still a surprise to me that we were on a closed course. Aside from the athletes, the only other vehicles that were on the course with us were race officials, race support crews and camera crews. Because of this, there was no risk of a centre line violation and there was lots of room to spread out on the course. When I passed the first Penalty Box about ¾ of the way through the Resort stretch it was full of riders. I counted at least seven. The message was clear….you have plenty of room to spread out on the roads and if you don’t, you will be ‘carded’ for drafting. I don’t know what the stats were on this, but every Penalty Box I passed over the entire bike course had at least one rider in it. I spoke to one guy afterwards who served one of those penalties. He confessed, “Yeah, I knew I was close to rider in front of me, but it was so tempting to draft and get out of the wind, so I thought..only for a minute, what’s the big deal? Next thing I knew there was a moped beside me with a guy on the back holding a yellow card in one hand and taking a picture of me with the other. Burned.”
I was extremely impressed with the efficiency of the water stops as well. The water stops were long enough and there were enough volunteers for me to dump my empty bottles, gels, etc. and pick up 2 waters (one to drink and one to cool off with) and a Gatorade at each station, while barely slowing down. As this was my first IM race, I am not sure if this is typical. Either way I was impressed.
The second and third laps unfolded without event and fortunately I was able to eat and drink well and maintain a decent average speed. My nutrition plan of one powerbar, one gel, one salt tab, one Gatorade and one water every hour seemed to be working for me.
The only problem I was having during the bike race was a mild head ache that started near the end of the second lap. The consequences from my T1, no sunscreen decision were beginning to manifest themselves. I suspect that I was feeling the early signs of sunstroke. In the final few miles of the bike course I slid my watch down my wrist and admired the white/red contrast of my sunburned arms. I rode into T2 beside a fellow Canuck (Sean from Kelowna, B.C.) and he was telling me how crappy he felt because of the sun. This was his third IM and he felt the heat and wind made it the most difficult yet. He glanced over at my back and laughed. “Mike, you had better get some ice on that”. Uh oh.
After dismounting and handing my bike to a volunteer my first sensation was the heat. Without the cooling effect and convection action of the wind rushing over me, I felt like I had stepped into an oven. I don’t know what the temperature was but I know it was somewhere around 32and humid. I spent very little time in the T2 change tent because it felt even hotter. Exiting T2, I was caked in sunscreen but by now it was too late. The sun wasn’t going to set for another 4 hours, I had a marathon to run on a course with no shade and I was sunburned like Larry the Lobster.
The marathon course is a 3 loop out and back along the northern tip of the island. The running route, like the bike course was closed to traffic and is completely flat, it takes the athletes along the seaside street in front of downtown, passed a big lighthouse, the north-end beach resorts and then back again.
With the Caribbean heat still bearing down on me my main focus was not overheating during the run. At the first aid station I grabbed some water, some Gatorade, a banana and a bag of ice. I then held a piece of ice in each hand (Thanks to my coach Greg Pace for that piece of advice also) and put the rest in my shirt at the top of my back. This became my routine for the next 15 miles until the sun went down. The heat was taking its toll on a lot of runners. I personally saw four people on the side of the road in various forms of consciousness being attended to by the medics. After seeing this scene unfold in front of me a couple of times, I was glad that my icing technique seemed to be working. I was still hot but I was not lying unconscious on the side of the road and I didn’t seem to be getting any worse, so I figured that I was doing something right.
As for my running pace, well it went something like this. I started the marathon running a 5 min / km pace, after a while that changed to 10 minutes running and 1 minute walking and my pace certainly slowed. At some point around mile 20 my legs were done and I decided that I needed to walk. I had given up trying to calculate my pace and was simply happy to be moving in a forward direction, so I sort of ‘speed’ walked from mile 20 until mile 25. What I found amusing was that I was going the exact same speed as a number of other athletes who were ‘jogging’. I now understand the term ‘Ironman shuffle’.
One of the great features of IM Cozumel is the local crowds. The islanders have truly embraced the race and rather than get annoyed at the inconveniences associated with closing the roads for the race, the islanders get very involved and provide some of the best cheering and race support that I have ever seen. There were people lining the entire run course cheering us on, but over the last 2 miles the sides of the roads were absolutely packed.
At mile 25 I summoned my little remaining strength to start running again. There was no way that I would walk in passed all of these people yelling and cheering. Keep moving your legs, watch where you are stepping and don’t trip were my prevailing thoughts. Moving through the 26th mile, the crowds were getting progressively thicker, the lights getting brighter (the sun had gone down an hour ago), and the music getting louder. When I hit the end of mile 26 and entered the glare of the floodlights in the final finishing chute the noise of the music and the cheering seemed to erupt. This is why I wanted to do this and this is what all of the training was for. I don’t remember the song being played, I just remember it being loud and as I turned the final corner and saw the massive structure marking the finish line I heard the announcer yelling over the loudspeakers “Mike Marshall from Burlington, Canada…You Are An Ironman!”
Any Ironman athlete knows that it takes a ton of help and support just to get you to the start line, all I could think about while standing at the finish line was how grateful I felt to be there and how thankful I was for my family’s support and all of the fantastic training partners and friends that I have that were a part of this. What an awesome day and an incredible journey getting here. It was time for celebration, recovery and planning for the next one.