WEDNESDAY, JUNE 13, 2001

The Day: Low 80s. Few clouds. Northwest breeze, not too strong. Beautiful weather for mid-summer half-Ironman triathlon, the 2000 Muncie Endurathon, in central Indiana.

The Day Before: Drive from Glen Ellyn (suburban Chicago) to Muncie. A little more than 5 hours, unlike the 6.5-hour drive from hell (construction!) last year. At registration, more people than ever said “Hi, Lee,” including Mike Randall and his wife. Mike said he is not doing Ironman Canada this year—he will be missed! Ran into Jude, his wife Susie and her sister Kathy from our running club (Jim Spivey’s group). Registered, got body marked, did the expo together, attended the course talk and then ate a pasta dinner together at the hotel across the street. Great food, elegant surroundings, at a price no more than what others certainly paid for a lot less service. Spent an hour pulling my gear together, called Sherry at our July Lake Michigan rental home, then to bed.

5:00 a.m. on The Day: Clock buzz, watch alarm beep. I’m up. Apply lube and sunscreen, dress, pack, eat, check out and away I go. Now how do I get to the reservoir? Ah yes, as usual, just follow the other cars (kind of like following the swim caps when racing) and hope they know where they are going. Yes, they do. I’m at the race site. But we sit for 15 precious minutes in a line of cars as the parking people sort things out. I had this timing fine-tuned and now I’ll be rushed! There’s a lesson here, Lee.

Pre-Race: No strap for my timing chip, so I dump my gear at my labeled (a great idea!) bike rack spot (I’m number 300—nice number!), and toddle over to the body marking area where a nice woman hands me a strap. Then I stand in the port-a-potty line for 10 minutes. Now it is only 15 minutes to start and I haven’t even set up my transition area yet. Rush, rush, rush. Luckily, my habit of sorting what I need with each event in a different bag serves me well. Just unload each bag, lay my stuff out, strip down to my Desoto suit (no wet suit with the water 80 degrees-plus), grab my cap and goggles, and run off down the long hill to the swim start.

SHAKE

Swim: Hey, the swim warm-up area is still open. I wade in. Like a bath tub. Swim a little. Feels good. I wade out and run into the ever supportive and happy trio of Jude, Susie and Kathy. Jude is 45 and a natural athlete. Susie and Kathy, both flight attendants, race around the world. (They did the Paris Marathon in April.) Runners at heart, they all claim that I had lured them into triathlon a few years ago with all my training and racing tales told during our running club workouts. Last year they all did IM USA at Lake Placid.

The race start has been delayed 15 minutes because of the parking problems, but now it’s time to form up into waves. Susie and I are in wave two, Jude and Kathy are in later waves. The elites go off, then it is our time. The usual elbows and hands on feet at first. A slight chop, but not bad. Still a slow swimmer, I’m feeling stronger than last year. And last year this race featured white caps, not intimidating to me (as it was to some others) because of all my open water Lake Michigan swimming, but definitely bad for navigating and fast swim times. This year I intentionally swim a little wide for the first half but keep much of my wave in sight for a long while—it’s only at the halfway point that other colored swim caps begin charging through. On the back half I swim tighter to the buoys—this is the part where I wandered around semi-lost and probably added a quarter mile last year. Swimming into the sun is always rough, but I can just make out the big yellow buoys. My swim stroke remains strong and steady, despite an increasing swell and confused water. And unlike many past race swims, no cramps! Some more hands, feet and elbows, but I get “prickly” in return and the faster swimmers move away. Now the cap colors are all mixed, but I’m not the only neon green cap in their midst. I finally spot the flashing lights of the ambulance parked at the swim exit. Hey, this seems to have been a really good half-Iron swim, for me. Soon I’m wading out, hit my watch, pull off my swim cap and goggles, and make the long run up the hill on the carpeted path to the transition area.

RATTLE

Bike: Muncie’s bike course is generally flat and fast. But this year things will be different. The authorities unexpectedly chip-sealed some of the roads to be used for the race, so at the last minute the course was changed to include a three-loop section, 11 miles to a loop. At the least I was concerned that this would turn into a draft-fest.

In transition things go smoothly, on with heart monitor, jersey, socks, shoes, sunglasses, eat a PR Bar and stuff Powergel into my jersey pocket, run my bike to the exit, hop on, clip in and go.

I feel strong, but not as all-out powerful as I sometimes feel on the bike. The lingering weakness in my left leg from my now nearly healed stress fracture is the reason. Even with it taped up, I’m not quite ready to go all-out. As a result—and because I was in such an early wave--I’m passed by a steady flow of competitors and only pass a few early on. This is not what I typically see on the bike, when the younger waves are often ahead of me and I’m picking off the fellow older people who exited the water before me.

After the opening section I’m now coming into the loop. Bad roads! Potholes (well marked with red paint, at least), rough sections and an older chip sealed section that nearly vibrates the fillings out of your teeth. This must be something like what the Paris-Roubaix “Road to Hell” road race feels like on the cobbles. No wonder some of the riders in that race put suspension on their road bikes. One competitor I encounter says, “I should have brought my mountain bike!” I have ridden plenty of bad roads like this while touring, but not as bad in a race. I find it hard to maintain speed, bouncing around so much. Another feature of the loop is a bridge with a lip coming on to it. I take it fast the second time through and one of my water bottles (full) launches itself off from the back of my seat. Damn, I really like that bottle!

By this time on the second loop some of the faster riders (including a few draft packs) have peeled off and finally I’m passing more people. I’ve managed to crank it up to the 20+ mph range and am hunting the guys with “50” on their calf, my age group. By the time I bounce through the third loop (and pause momentarily to grab my bottle from the several dozen that litter the side of the bridge) I put at least two of my age groupers behind me.

The closing section is flatter and faster and I continue to build. Does this have to end? The smoother roads are fun! But we swing around the back of the reservoir and the transition area suddenly looms ahead. Off the bike and run it to my rack spot.

ROLL

I quickly pull off helmet and shoes, pull on my ASICS 2050s, grab some more Powergel packets and stuff them into my jersey pocket, briefly hit the porta-potty, grab some Powerade at the transition area exit, run over the chip timing mat and take off.

I check my watch. Damn, I seem to be a couple on minutes slower than I was last year at this point in the race. I’m trying to go under six hours or at least beat last year’s time—6:16. This means I need to run under a 2:02 half-marathon. No sweat for just running, but it would be my fastest time as part of a triathlon. You can do it, Lee! Just average under 9:20 miles and you are there!

I try to think “build” but am obviously cranked by the challenge, the cheering spectators and the shady, rolling start to the course. The first mile is very fast given my bike-leaden legs: 8.39. By mile three I clock an 8:15. I’m at my marathon pace. My running club buddies call me “The Rabbit” but I’m learning: Too fast for a half-Ironman, so I back it off to 9:04 to 9:20 for the next eight miles. This is beautiful running weather!

By the back half of the out-and-back course I’m reeling in more “50” runners. And then I encounter Susie, Kathy and Jude, still on the out when I’m coming back. Wow, Susie is really cranking. Even though I was more than 11 miles ahead of her on the bike (I passed her exiting the third loop when she was beginning the second), she might catch me at this rate!

On the way back I play cat and mouse with a female racer who seems to like to surge and then relax. We pass one another enough times that it becomes a joke—“Here I am again. You’ll catch me again soon!” It adds to the enjoyment and helps keep my pace up.

I’m trying to keep track of my mile pace, but in the closing miles find the road markings very confusing, with both bike and run miles marked—and maybe even some spurious markings due to the last minute change in the bike course. As a result, I compute I’m three minutes or so ahead of last year’s time and mentally relax my focus. I punch the lap counter on my watch for mile 12 and see even in my more relaxed state I ran that mile in 9:37. Hey, this is getting easier. Then, thinking about the finish coming up, I see mile 12 again. Huh? This really looks official! The previous mark must have been wrong. I just lost my three-minute edge. Damn. I turn on the gas and suddenly really push it, startling the runners around me. Can I make this? It will be soooo close. By now I’m nearly sprinting (or at least what an old guy like me at the end of a half-Ironman would call sprinting). All those Jim Spivey Running Club track workouts are paying off now—run through the lactic acid! Up the hill, over the top and there’s the finish line. The clock is hitting 6:16. Can I beat last year? I give it one last push and hurtle across the line. So much for my plan to do a Greg Welch leaping finish!

Post-race: The watch says 6:16.36, a scant 9 seconds faster than last year. My swim was more than 7 minutes faster, my bike was 10 minutes slower, and my run was a little more than 3 minutes faster. Whew! In Penticton I can’t take anything for granted. I hope I’m up to full leg strength then so I can power the course more!

I grab several cups of Powerade and amble over to the finishing section to cheer on my friends. The “cat and mouse” woman joins me, and I learn she is an Ohioan here with husband and children. I cheer in two of my three friends and eventually find Susie, who closed much of the gap behind me. We pick up our plaques (yes, each competitor gets a plaque at this classy event!), eat a hearty meal, tell our tales and chat with the second-place woman finisher, a friend of a friend. Truly a great day ended in a fine way!

Later I learn my actual finish time was 6:16.33 and I finished in the top half, 11th of 24 competitors. Hooray! I’m continuing my many-year climb to the top of my age group (starting from last in my first race in 1991). Now if I can just out-live the competition…