Ariel's Ironman New Zealand Report

Ironman New Zealand, March 6, 2004.
This was my 14th triathlon and my first Ironman. I raced in my very first triathlon in June 2001. While I trained specifically for IMNZ for about four months, I feel like every workout since 2001 has been leading up to this race.

I woke up at 4:30am race day having slept surprisingly well. As soon as I got out of bed I coated my body with SPF 45 sunblock -- twice -- and got dressed. After breakfast I headed to the motel next door to meet up with my friends Shannon and Amy. It was still pitch-dark and starry and Lake Taupo was perfectly calm. The moon was halfway set over the hills and it looked like a huge slice of lemon hanging over the lake.

All we had left to do was show up and race. Earlier in the week we had already registered and gotten our official race ID wristbands, attended a race briefing, gotten our bikes inspected, turned in our bikes and transition bags, and shopped at the expo. The goody bag we got at registration was enormous. It contained, among other things, the following items:

• IMNZ towel
• two race number bibs
• numbered swim cap
• an orange and a banana
• IMNZ poster rolled in a tube
• official program listing all competitors
• can of Watties Baked Beans
• can of Watties Creamed Rice
• Snickers bar
• bag of sour cream and chives potato chips
• can of Coke

The expo was pretty small, but I did manage to spend some money. I traded in my old, beaten-up Orca wetsuit for a sweet new Ironman Stealth and paid about 30 percent less than I would have paid in the States. I also dropped some cash at the official merchandise tent, although the prices on the mostly Nike gear were outrageous. It was all really nice stuff, but a basic black warmup-type jacket with the race logo was NZ$180 (about US$122). I didn't get the jacket.

Anyway, at 5:30am we carpooled over to the start where we checked in, got bodymarked, and went to visit our bikes. I've watched the Hawaii Ironman on TV several times and they always start out the coverage with the athletes in the huge bike rack area in the still-dark morning, groggily milling about. And there we were, just like on TV: milling about, checking tire pressure, wiping the dew off our bikes, generally feeling nervous.

My bike was fine. I put my bottles of sports drink onto the bike and loaded my food into my Bento Box and I was ready to go. I ran into my friend and training partner Sarah, and we headed over to the swim start together.

At the swim start we pulled on our wetsuits, said our final goodbyes to our loved ones, and headed out into the water. FINALLY! After six months of training 15-20 hours per week, obsessing about what I ate, and convincing myself that I could do this thing, here I was, getting into the water ten minutes from the start of Ironman New Zealand. Woo hoo!

The Swim
We swam out toward the start line as mist rose from the water and helicopters buzzed about overhead. The pre-dawn sky was streaked with pink. It was a beautiful scene. I will never forget it. Before we were ready, the cannon went off and we all started swimming! I had no idea where I was going; I just followed the closest pair of feet.

The swim was easy. It was wonderful. I am not a swimmer, but in the last four months I have forced myself to swim three or four times per week instead of once or twice. It paid off! My swim time of 1:18, while not exactly fast, was less than twice my fastest half-ironman time, and I stayed relaxed the whole time. The water was so clean we could see the bottom, oh, ten to twenty feet down, and use the lines of rippling sand on the bottom for sighting.

The race organizers had to change the swim course at the last minute due to unusually high water levels in the lake. This meant that instead of swimming 500 meters into the river that empties the lake, they added 500 meters to the middle of the swim and we then had to run those 500 or so meters to the transition area. It was annoying and added several minutes to everyone's transition time.

After running to the transition area, I got my wetsuit stripped off by professional wetsuit strippers (imagine two people quickly peeling a gigantic black banana), grabbed my transition bag, and ran into the women's changing tent. I applied more sunblock and changed into bike shorts, a jersey, and arm warmers -- all very hard to put on when you're wet. After spending way too long in there, I headed out to my bike and started the long ride.

The Bike
The bike course is an out-and-back that you ride twice. It's mostly flat, with one gradual downhill on the outbound which turns into a gradual climb on the return leg. When I got to the bike turnaround in Reporoa, things were going well and my average speed was above 19mph. But when I turned around I realized that I had been riding with a tailwind, and now I faced 28 miles into a headwind, and then I had to do the whole thing again.

This was about where I started to feel queasy. I've read that the toughest thing about Ironman racing is getting the nutrition straight, but I thought mile 30 of the bike was way too early for things to go awry. I felt almost bad enough to throw up. I tried drinking more, but that made it worse, and I was practically gagging on my super-sweet Cytomax sports drink. At an aid station I tossed an empty bottle and took a bottle of water. I ate some salty pretzels. I gradually started to feel better. Or maybe the slight uphill into the growing headwind took my mind off my nausea. Looking back, I think the Cytomax was just too sweet, because my problems went away when I stopped drinking it.

I headed back into town for the end of lap one. I got to see Dave and Kathe briefly as I zoomed by them. The part of the course that goes through town is flat, so I could get into my aerobars and look like I was going strong and fast. But I was dreading heading back into that wind for the second return trip from Reporoa.

My second lap started out well. The competitors had spread out much more so it was less crowded, and I didn't have to worry so much about getting penalized for drafting. Drafting is against the rules in most triathlons, and you have to stay three bike lengths behind the bike in front of you (or drop back if someone passes you) or risk getting handed a penalty by an official on a motorbike. Avoiding drafting can slow you down. If there's a string of ten bikes in front of you, you pretty much have to pass them all at once, or slow down, to avoid drafting altogether. At one point on the first lap an official told me to drop back a bit. I was relieved to get a warning and not a four-minute penalty.

The wind had gotten stronger, which meant a faster first leg but a much tougher return leg. After the turnaround I cursed as I pedaled into the 20mph winds, working hard to go 10-12 mph. I had planned to go easy on the bike, and moving forward into this wind was too difficult. It felt like a 25-mile climb. My lower back was starting to feel the strain of pushing so hard while down in my aerobars, but when I sat up to use the tops of my handlebars and ease the stress on my back, I felt like a sail in the headwind. I trained in the hilly Bay Area, and I have never spent more than about 30 minutes at a time in my aero position because there's always another hill coming up. But this flat course just about requires it. I should have found some flat training routes so I could spend more time working on getting used to the position.

I thought the bike leg would never end, but finally I came to the turn into town and out of the wind. What a relief. As I rolled into town with its crowds of spectators lining the streets, I realized that I had just ridden 112 miles without stopping or unclipping from my pedals once. I still can hardly believe it. My bike time was about 6:46, or about 16.5 miles per hour, which was just a little disappointing. I had hoped to do closer to 6:30, but the headwind really slowed me down.

I got off my bike in a bit of a daze. A volunteer took my bike from me and I was directed to my transition bag and then into the changing tent. Another volunteer took my bag from my hands, pointed at a chair and dumped the bag on the grass. "What do you need? How can I help you?" she asked. I changed slowly, applied Body Glide between my toes, stuffed my gels and my little baggie of electrolyte capsules into my pockets, and asked for sunblock, which the volunteer applied with gloved hands. I was sad to leave the shade of the tent. On my way out I stopped by the aid station, which offered water, sports drink, energy bars, Coke, cookies, potato chips, candy bars, and ice. I took some water and headed out onto the road.

The Run
Glancing at my watch, I realized that I could break 13 hours if I could run a 4:40 marathon. My best marathon time is under four hours, but I wasn't sure how long I would last so I didn't get my heart set on it. I knew that anything could happen in the next four hours, and I also knew that triathlon running is completely different from road racing. My job today was to survive the run, not to race it.

Once I hit the road I saw Dave right away. He asked me how I was feeling, and I said "pretty good." He hooted and cheered. The streets in town were lined with thousands of spectators. Cameron Brown, the returning men's champion and a New Zealander himself, was about to win the race, so the crowds were revved up and the announcers were going wild.

The run course is another double out-and-back, but before heading out of town, it heads in toward the finish a half a mile away. It circles the finish area -- torture! -- and then heads back through the crowds in town and out to a turnaround point. At the finish chute volunteers held out soft, stretchy armbands and racers stuck their arms through them. A yellow armband meant you had gone through once, and a white armband meant you'd been through twice and were headed out for a second lap. So you didn't actually get to run into the finish chute until you reached it for the third time!

I ran around the finish area and got some more water at the first aid station. I took an electrolyte capsule and an Imodium here, too. Then I ran back through town, smiling for the spectators, telling myself to relax and keep the pace easy because I still had many hours ahead of me. My legs felt pretty good, but I was generally pretty tired, and my lower back was still whimpering from the bike ride. Being able to run at this point of an Ironman is hugely dependent on having good bike fitness and staying relaxed on the ride. It was obvious to me here that my bike fitness was not what it should have been. I wish I had ridden a LOT more in training, but I did what I could with the winter weather and darkness.

It was hot out there. I'd say the temperature was in the mid 70s, and the wind that had plagued the bike ride had no effect on the run course. It was a great day to be a spectator, but it was hot for running on an unshaded course along a highway.

The Walk
I ran the first half of the marathon only stopping to walk through aid stations, and eating only my Clif Shot gels, water, and electrolyte capsules. I kept telling myself to keep going through the halfway point, and then I could negotiate some walking. And I did just that. After getting my second armband I told myself to keep running until I got out of town, where the spectators thinned out. Then around the 25km mark I finally let myself walk up one of the many gradual hills on the course. Then I ran down the other side. I alternated walking and running for the rest of the race, with the walking parts getting longer and the running parts getting shorter. My lower back was really hurting and every step I ran sent waves of pain up it. I also started spending a lot more time at the aid stations, taking in warm Coke and nice salty potato chips.

My food intake for the entire race was:

• Two large bottles of Cytomax
• Four bananas
• three pb&j sandwiches
• three Clif Bars
• three Clif Shots
• about six cups of warm Coke
• three handfuls of potato chips
• four to six bottles of water on the bike, many cups on the run
• about 20 Endurolytes capsules (each has 100mg of sodium and 25 mg of potassium)

That's about 3000 to 3500 calories, or about 250 per hour, which isn't enough, but I don't think that hurt me too much. My greatest limiter during the run was the physical pain in my back and hips, not the inability or lack of desire to run.

About a mile from the turnaround there was a big group of spectators in front of someone's house. They had a PA system set up and a giant cooler of beer. They were a riot. I heard them calling out to another competitor, "Hey number 1234! This is a no-walking zone! You may incur a fine!"

I have to say that the volunteers and the spectators were fantastic. Every volunteer I encountered made me feel like a superstar, and the spectators kept my energy up through those long, boring stretches of the run course.

After the turnaround I stepped into a porta-loo. I probably drank too much during the race but I wasn't in a terrible hurry so I used the porta-loos twice during the run. The porta-loos in New Zealand flush! Some of them also have little sinks for washing hands. I was washing my hands when I realized, wait a minute, this is a race, so I could probably skip the hand-washing. Sorry, Mom.

Around 5k from the finish my left hip flexor completely rebelled. Running became very painful, and even walking was uncomfortable. I tried to walk as fast as I could, and I ran a few steps every few minutes, but it was pretty slow going. There were still some spectators left in town, and they cheered like lunatics as I hobbled past, grimacing in pain. One of them said, "There's a huuuuuge crowd waiting at the finish line to bring you home!" and it brought tears to my eyes.

The Finish
When I got within 1k of the finish I was able to start running again. Right away I saw Dave and Kathe, who went crazy. They had gotten plastic megaphones from one of the sponsors, and Dave called out, "Ariel Parrish, from San Francisco, California, first-time Ironwoman!" I could hear the announcers and the finish line music. More than anything, I was relieved to be done.

As I neared the finishing chute I picked up speed. There were two men entering the chute alongside me and I wanted to get past them so I could have my own finisher photo. The sun was just setting and the sky was once again a beautiful pink shade, but the finishing chute was lit up like a football stadium and lined with people waving thunder sticks and throwing streamers. I put enough distance on the two other finishers that the announcers took their time announcing my age and occupation, etc. I zeroed in on the finish-line tape and barely remembered to lift up my arms as I crossed the line. I was finally finished. I cried tears of relief. Thirteen hours, five minutes, and about 30 seconds, sunrise to sunset. What a long day!

A woman immediately put my medal around my neck and grabbed me by the arm. A man took my other arm, but when he realized I wasn't going to fall over, he went to attend to someone else. The lady took me to the weigh-in, where they determined that I had lost less than a pound of weight since being weighed on Thursday. The medical crew seemed pleased. My escort asked me if I was feeling fine, and I said yes, so she released me to get my massage.

The Aftermath
I collected my warm clothes bag and my finisher's T-shirt. I headed over to the massage area and waited about two minutes for my rubdown. After thirteen hours of moving non-stop, it was so nice to sit down, and it was just heavenly to be lying on that table. It was only a ten-minute massage, but it seemed an hour of bliss. After that I put on some warm clothes and went to the food area, where they had ham and cheese sandwiches, egg sandwiches, pasta carbonara, rice pilaf, vegetable soup, and rolls. It all looked pretty gross to me so I just had a little bit of rice. I finally exited the tent to meet Dave and Kathe.

I have to admit that the race itself wasn't much fun. I think racing triathlons in general is fun, and I love the half-ironman distance. But on this day, after the swim ended, I pretty much stopped enjoying myself. I think the stress of it being my very first Ironman kept me from enjoying the day. I spent the whole day thinking that I'd never do another Ironman (of course now, four days later, I'm already trying to decide which one I'll do next -- don't tell Dave). The entire experience was more stressful than anything. The training, the travel, packing up my bike, worrying about getting sick. I invested huge amounts of time and quite a bit of money in getting to the start and I'm sorry I wasn't able to enjoy the day more.

I am, of course, extremely proud that I was able to train for this event, make it to the start in one piece, and finish with a decent time. I finished 123/241 women, and 21/40 in my age group. Not bad for a first-timer!

Evidence
My official results are here and here.
Watch me cross the finish line!

Unsolicited training advice to ironman triathletes-to-be
Ride your bike. A lot. Then ride some more. Yes, you have to swim and run, but being a great runner won't make a bit of difference if you're unprepared for the ride and end up walking the whole marathon. Ride, ride, ride.

Email me
ariel [dot] nz [at] malvina [dot] com