Ironman Florida: The Bike

This was the first one-loop Ironman bike I’d ever raced, and the first time I’d didn't recon the course, so I really didn’t know what to expect. The wind was blowing out of the northeast and was strongest on the coast. Both of these things would end up being beneficial, but both ensured I’d face the toughest situations early on. The course actually reminded me quite a bit of the course at Madison; you snake along on a two-lane road (by that, I mean you return on the same roads you leave on) until you reach a looped section where you lose contact with returning cyclists. The most glaring difference is that in Florida, you only do the loop once.

The route heads northwest along the coast for a few miles before heading north. Perhaps I could feel a little bit of a push in the early sections, but it was mostly a ferocious crosswind from the left. The only reprieve was when you passed the larger buildings, but the wind seemed to pick up doubly when you were back in its path. Either way, there was no mistaking which way the wind was going over the next 50 miles; into the wind. Straight into the wind. I took the liberty of lapping my Garmin every turn to get a gauge of how much the wind would affect my pace. We’ll play with the numbers as we go along.

It was a pretty significant goal of mine to pee 3 times on the bike; I made it a point to tell several people about it. All 3 Ironmans that have gone poorly had left me pretty dehydrated at the end of the bike. In pondering my conundrum, I rationalized that one likely reason I always end up with GI distress is because I can never get the osmolality right in my drinks. Said another way, I don’t take enough water with my gels and sport drinks. Certainly my gut has a handicapped ability to digest the calories I’m shoving into it, so maybe I won’t get as sick as quickly if I make sure I drink enough. It was just crazy enough to work.

Unfortunately, I tend to follow my own advice a little too well. I managed to pee 3 times alright; I stopped at all of the first 4 porto potties I saw. I’m not going to say I was really flying in the early, windy sections but I will say that I was not going as slowly as the time clock would have you believe. According to my post-race Powertap file, I accumulated 16:32 of total time on the bike course not actually moving. I wasn’t heartbroken by this; a chance to stretch, to relax, to enjoy being off the bike. I just won’t say it was the fastest way to T2.

And so, it was at the first aid station, the first bathroom stop, when I let temptation get the better of me. I’m really a purist when it comes to the sport; I don’t endorse cheating and tend to think people who get caught doing it deserve the penalties they get tagged with. But in triathlon, as in life, there are certain rules I simply don’t agree with. The anarchist in me, and seemingly every one of my upper division professors in college, urged me to stand up against such rules. I don’t endorse cheating and I don’t like cheaters, but as of the first aid station I became a hypocrite.

I’m not going to put my offense in print. Most people who would read this will end up asking me, and I’ll probably tell them. But I’m not going to write it, because I will probably do it again. I will say, however, what I did NOT do. I did not draft, nor block, nor litter. I did nothing to make my bike faster, more aerodynamic, more comfortable or more advantageous in any way. I did nothing to disgrace the city, the race, or my fellow racers. I did nothing that gave me any physical advantage over my competitors. It was merely something that made the ride mentally easier for me to get through. And for that I offer no apologies.

It took me 1:30 to make it across Hwy 79 to the second turn onto 20, for an average of 15 mph. After 16 miles into a headwind, you turn right, headed east, into another headwind. It was pretty frustrating holding such a high wattage, such an aerodynamic tuck, and seemingly not getting anywhere. I was glad it wasn’t the opposite; that we’d get the tailwind on the back half; but it still made the ride seem much, much longer. Turning “out of the wind” and fighting more of the same for the next 11.5 of straight, flat road as far as you could see. I have no idea how long the road stretched having not researched the course, but lap my Garmin at the turn 43:39 later; an average speed of 15.75 mph.

For a very short 7 miles, the course turned right again and took us south onto Hwy 77. It was the first tailwind of the day, and the first sampling of what the final drag back to beach would feel like. Having taken so many bathroom breaks and stretch breaks, I had no problem staying low and staying fast, I held 18.7 on less wattage. A left hand turn onto 388 took us into the wind again. I knew enough about the course to at least know the shape of it. This stretch took us east to an out-and-back, then we headed north before turning west. Once we turned west, it was a very long stretch west and a very long stretch south, both of which were with the wind. Something to look forward to.

I kept pretty distracted during the ride, continuing to eat, drink and clip the miles away. I stopped trying to keep track of my bathroom stops; it was too much of a headache. I’m taking not as many now, but still seems like I spent a lot of time on the side of the road. The final trip east was at 14 mph, but included a pretty long stop at Special Needs. I took this opportunity to drop off my extra clothes (gloves, base layer, arm warmers), pee again and drink down my energy drink. Remounting my bike, I’m off towards the right hand turn onto Blue Springs Rd. The last little bit clips away at not much faster than 16.5 mph, but at least didn’t involve any more bathroom breaks.

The much-awaited mile 60 and the left turn back onto Hwy 20 allowed me to cruise at or above 20 mph pretty easily. Even with a couple stops, including several minutes checking my bike for something rubbing (never did find out what it was, but something was squeaking), I averaged 18 mph. Ignoring the 5 mile out and back, I held 19.88 mph over the rest of the course. My right IT band really suffered through the last hour and a half of the ride, but I kept aero as much as I could stand and held on for dear life. My reward, of course, was a very windy 6 miles into T2. I hoped to hold low power and spin it out over the last stretch, but the wind was too strong; I wasn’t going anywhere. With patience, I finally saw the Waffle House over the horizon and turned off of Front Beach onto Beach Rd.

I wasn’t sure what to expect on this bike from a time perspective, but clocking a 6:45 was a solid goal set about 60 miles from home. I wasn’t sure how that would compare against what I might have done with a proper training regime, nor how it would stack up against my age group compatriots, but I knew enough to immediately recognize it as the first sub 7 hr Ironman bike. That’s about all I was thinking when I dismounted and handed my bike off. So, despite the fact that I was already nauseated and pretty tired, I managed a smile when I stopped my Garmin at just under the mark.

Bike time: 6:45:23

Per the Garmin: 6:44:40; 111.73 mi; 1319ft total climbing; 147 bpm

Per the Powertap: 126 AP; 131 NP; 2,966 kJ (which is amazingly close to the 2,964 kJ IM CdA took)

Making that tight turn to pick up my T2 bag was asking a lot, but I soon found my way once more to the “get naked room.” As I did on the bike, I elected to put on a full runner’s kit in lieu of a triathlon suit; I donned a tech shirt and running shorts, along with my typical visor, compression sleeves and race shoes. It took every bit as long as last time, peeling layers off of a sweaty, salty body and putting on all new ones, but I got all dressed in good time. Had a chance to chat up some of the other riders while I changed, which is always pleasant. Eventually, I was primped and prepped and ready for a night on the town. I try my best to quickly find marathon pace as I hit my Garmin, ready to take this one step at a time.

T2: 8:47