2009 Oceanside Half Ironman - Oceanside, CA - 7:37:31
Nearly 6 years ago to the day, I did the Oceanside 70.3 Ironman in California. Having done the full Wisconsin Ironman in 2008, I was pretty sure of myself. This was going to be a piece of cake...
I knew from the course packet that there were some a couple elevation gains, so I trained for the hills. The only problem was that I was training in Saint Louis while I was going to college, and it's an ordeal to get out of the city get any descent elevation. But I figured I was already an Ironman, how hard could a half be?
That morning, I cruised through the swim without a problem. The waves were actually an advantage for me. As they would crest, I would porpoise through them, riding the back side of the wave down, while the others would get caught and tumbled off course. Then came the bike. Although it was only 56 miles instead of 112, I struggled on the first two big hills, and crawled up the third. I was nearly half of the way in, and was now pushing as hard as I could to put a gap between myself and the racers behind me now that I was on a long straight away.
I would aim at the back of someone's jersey, and imagine I was reeling them in. One by one, I passed the other bikers, hoping to gain a buffer for the run which has always been my weakness. As I passed another biker, I heard him say something to me, "You ready?" he said. Confused, I turned and asked, "What do you mean?" He looked off into the distance, and I followed his gaze, "The first big hill." he said. I wasn't sure if I was looking at the same thing as him at first, and looked around briefly because all I saw was a mountain. Looking closer, I saw little specs following the road up the mountainside like ants, and that's when it hit me. What we call mountains in the midwest are referred to as hills out west, and those little ants climbing up the hill were bikers on the course. I pulled at about 6 miles an hour, standing out of my saddle in my lowest gear, trying not to tip over from standing still as I made my way to the top. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" was my mantra all the way to the top, and boy was it a glorious view.
What felt like nearly an hour of climbing gave a breezy ten minute descent at 45 miles an hour. I prayed there were no cracks in the road or loose gravel that might send me to the hospital. I brought my tongue inside my mouth, locking my jaw, lest I take a tumble. With the speed increasing, I could feel the weight of the bike lift, and I swore if I had wings on it, I would have been airborne. But soon the fun was over and I was on the flats again thinking, "One big hill done, two more to go..."