Location: Racine, WI
Date: July 18, 2010
Placing: 15th Overall Amateur, 1st 45-49
Format: 1.2-mile swim/56-mile bike/13.1-mile run
My Race Photos
Commercial Race Photos
Results: Click Here
Check the bike portion of this race by clicking HERE
Check the run portion of this race by clicking HERE
2005...I run in the Fox Cities Marathon and eclipse my PR by 10 minutes qualifying myself for the first corral the following year in Boston. The place? Wisconsin.
2006...I compete in my 2nd Ironman and break 10 hours and the top 20 competitors overall. The place? Wisconsin.
2009...the High Cliff Half-Iron Triathlon produces a 4th overall and a PR for me. The place? Wisconsin.
2010...I enter an inaugural Ironman 70.3. In Racine. Which happens to be a town in a little place called Wisconsin.
Yeah, Ironman Corporation and I may have our differences but Wisconsin and me? We see eye to eye. No, I don't have a Wisconsin fettish (although warm cheese curds give me a special feeling...) but Janis' was born and raised there and her family is very cool so I try to make sure and fit a race in that allows her to visit the old homestead. Sure, that's why I keep going back. It has nothing to do with my seemingly super-human results in their state. No sir. Just what do they put in those cheese curds anyway?
Based on my comment above - and if you know me at all - you might be asking yourself, if I'm not a big fan of Ironman then why do their races? Well, that's an excellent question. Ironman still owns the day. They 'own' the sport. As a competitive athlete, I don't want to have to wonder if I can 'qualify' for this or that. Or if I'm going head to head with a complete array of athletes (many athletes won't do a half - or full - iron distance event UNLESS it's run by Ironman Corporation) Plus, I get a little bit of satisfaction back every time I deny my spot at 'their' world championships (3 times so far). I know a lot of people would kill for these spots - no offense to them - but unfortunately, a lot of people would also cheat for these spots. Plenty of offense to them...and to Ironman for simply allowing it. One more reason to do an Ironman event is to get the variety of promoters. I planned 4 half-iron events this year with the 3 largest triathlon promotion companies in the US. It's been a great way to support all 3 companies and at the same time, get a birdseye view of what they do right...and what they do wrong.
Preparation for this event did not start well at all. Right after coming off of a great race in Connecticut at the beginning of June, I dealt with a mild bout of my asthma...which lasted close to 4 weeks. During this time, my efforts were slower and it was difficult to get my HR where it needed to be. But then on July 5th (yes, it was that noticeable in my training), almost as quickly as flipping a light switch I was back to 'normal'. Unfortunately, a bigger problem was presenting itself. I had been experiencing dull pain in my right ankle and top of foot since just prior to Connecticut. X-rays and MRIs revealed no stress fracture, but the ache persisted such that I was now changing my run gait in order to alleviate the pressure on my ankle. My coach had dropped my run workouts to just 2 a week and concentrated on swimming and cycling. I would have to start each run with a limp that got less and less during the run, but was always there. It wasn't getting worse...but it wasn't getting better. I knew it was slowing me down some but as long as I could continue to run and there was no fracture...
In the week leading up to the race, I gave my race bike some much needed love. Not just a cleaning this time, but new cables, chain, handlebar tape...the works. I even went with classic white tape for the bars. A tradition from way, way back in my early bike racing days. Fresh, clean white tape before a big race. A huge shout out to my friends Brad Fraedrich and Katie Malone. Brad and Katie sherpa'd my bike and gear to Wisconsin in their car. My bike, who is usually short on words wrote this in her diary: "...and the driv to Wesconsin was a lot of fun. Chris was right! Brad and Katey are gud people. I got to ride inside the car with thair bikes. I think I will go xtra fast at the rase! And I love the white handlebar tape!". OK, so I added the last part about the white tape but the rest was word for word (which you can tell because my bike is not a great speller).
Team Kattouf is in the House! (Look I found me a chick with a tat)
Aside from my foot, everything seemed to be coming together well. There was a chance of thunderstorms listed for race day but why should I assume the Wisconsin meteoroligists are any better than ours in Greenville? I took that as a 99% cahnce of NO thunderstorms. My attitude was great!...until...my coach hooked me up with one of his other athletes from the Chicago area who had done the event the prior year (Ironman 'bought' the event after last year thus making it an 'inaugural' 70.3 race. 70.3 is the the trademark that Ironman uses for its half-iron distance races). This athlete basically confirmed fears I had in the back of my head that drafting (cheating) ran rampant last year. It's an all-too-common trend in the flatter, bigger events. Couple that with Ironman's 'blind eye' policy of allowing drafting and my attitude turned sour very fast. I digested this the day before the event during my easy ride. I resolved to not let it get to me and to run my own race. I might not be happy about it, but I could not change it. I convinced myself that I would prevail even amongst those that chose the path of 'unfairness'.
The venue was a nice setup, right off the beach on the shore of Lake Michigan. Unlike most of the competitors who surrounded me as we set up our transition area, I looked calm, cool and collective. I'm sure I fooled a lot of people because in actuality, shutting down is how my body prepares for competition. I am just short of comatose right up until the gun goes off. There were no pre-race problems; plenty of room to set my stuff up. The trasition area looked to be nearly the exact shape and size of a football field. It had to be considering 2,000 participants. The problem was that the place where you biked in and out was on the 1 yard line and my bike was racked on the 99 yard line. I believe my bike was racked in Wisconsin...and the bike exit was in Michigan. For this reason, I changed things up a bit and planned a minimalist approach to my run trasition - foregoing everthing except a shoe change. That meant that I carried my run nutrition (3 GUs) in my pockets from the start. I would skip wearing a hat or sunglasses and I even planned to grab my Ensure and drink it on the run as opposed to pouring it down my throat in transition.
Outside I'm smiling...inside, I'm a caged animal.
By the way, if you have a telescope, you can see the Bike In/Bike Out spot from here...
Unlike a full ironman race, this race started in waves (amen!). The pros left at 7am sharp; I left at 7:43 (along with half of the 45-49 year olds) and the final wave started around 8:15. At least I shouldn't have to pull out any of my karate chop moves to fight through the crowd. It was a relaxing walk a mile along the beach to the start. The walking path was raised above the beach a bit which gave a view of the entire swim course. It was actually quite beautiful and calming. Janis, myself and Janis' sister (Luann) stopped at some benches and watched the first 8 or so waves take off before I began my wetsuit ritual - which includes the greasing of the body and the always comical 'wetsuit hop'. We made our way down to the beach where I stepped into the water to get the wetsuit 'acclimated'. SON OF A B---! Maybe I should have worn 2 wetsuits. I wondered if they had a contingency plan set in case the lake froze over. That might not have been cold to a cheesehead, but to this Southern boy it was frrrriiiiggggiiidd.
Awesome view here. Oh yeah, and you can see the lake.
Even at this point you can see me 'babying' my right ankle
I said goodbye to Janis and as she walked away, I said "See you in 4 hours and 18 minutes". I started my stopwatch when the wave ahead of us left so that I wouldn't forget. I figured I could just subtract 3 minutes as I went along throughout the day. As we readied for the gun, I thought of something that I'm not sure I'd ever thought on the start line of a triathlon...I gotta pee. BANG! Off we ran into the water. Some of us kept running. I maintained my tradition of being the 'last man standing' as I watched those around me taking swim strokes. Are they crazy? the water is only up to my waist. When it gets up to my arms - then I'll start swimming. And the moment I finally dove in, the cold water hit my face like a cement brick. The temperature made my wetsuit feel like I was trying on some old clothes from the 6th grade. I really had to consciously slow down my stroke and take longer breaths. I was good as long as I didn't decide to try and pick up the pace. I had a funny "Ah ha!" moment when we got further out into the open water and I started sighting for the yellow and orange buoys. There was a bit of chop to the water so it was hard enough to see the bouys as you went up and down the shallow swells. But then to realize that your wave is wearing orange caps and the wave ahead of you is wearing yellow caps!!! Everytime I glanced up, I saw what looked like 30 bouys strewn across the lake in front of me. Nice. I hoped I was picking the right one.
Back to the probelm at hand...I still had to pee. I thought to myself 'you gotta do what you gotta do'. I know you didn't want to hear that but this is racing my friends. The problem was that my bladder didn't want to come out and play. Finally, about 2/3 of the way through the swim - when I was seemingly all alone - my bladder complied. Now I'm not telling you this to be gross; there is a purpose. The minute I relieved myself, my body was suddenly loose. I found myself more comfortable and easily picked up my pace all the way to the finish. That was a bit of an eye opener about how something small like that can affect your ability to go hard.
As I stood to get out of the water, I was surprisingly all alone except for one competitor right next to me. He turned to me and said with a smile "that was fun". My response was, "for me, the fun is just beginning". I struggled to grab my wetsuit leash and he was nice enough to help me get it. Last year's results showed that the swim course was obviously either short or there was a hurricane providing a tailwind. I had included that into my "4:18" estimate for Janis. Was the course short again this year? Mmmm...not so much. After subtracting the 3 minutes from the start, my watch read 37 minutes. Of course the timing mat that marked the end of the swim was about halfway up the 40-mile path from the water to the transition. I got dizzy trying to find the cheese at the end of the maze but still managed to accidentally find the transition area. I stopped at the end of the racks where there was plenty of room and performed one of my most efficient wetsuit striptease acts ever (of course nobody got THAT one on film). Helmet, race number, shoes, slam an Ensure, take a jog to the bike exit...and after what would be a 3-minute and 4-second 'vacation' in transition, away I went...for the "fun" part.
On my planet we run around wearing goggles and rubber caps. Take me to your leader.
I started my Garmin after I crested the hill out of transition. I got up to speed, sat down, saw 150 on the heartrate monitor and immediately backed down. I was aiming to keep it right at 140 today - come hell or high water. So, the roads up North. Is anybody familiar with the roads up North? Because of Winter weather, many of the roads are either made of concrete sections or they have splits in them (from freezing and unfreezing). Picture jogging along on your morning run and every 3 seconds, your buddy punches you in the arm. Thbump, thbump, thbump, thbump...as your wheels run over the evenly-spaced cracks. Thank goodness it was mostly isolated to the first and last 8 miles. I settled into a most comfortable pace and had no problem keeping to my prescribed HR. I felt like I was not in fact going very fast but I intentionally did not have my moving speed or average speed visible on my Garmin for just that reason. I was not going to be tempted to change my pace. As I got out into the country, the strangest thing happened...
...there were no 'packs' of riders. No groups of people pacing off each other. There was not one instance that I would have called drafting in 56 miles. Everyone was pretty well spaced apart. It reminded me that even though some people have no problem breaking the rules, that most people would rather not cheat themselves out of satisfaction of the accomplishment. I thank all these people for restoring a little bit of faith in me; something I needed to see.
For the first time ever, I don't even think I was prepared for what I was about to do. In terms from my old bike racing days...I was about to "punch a lot of tickets"
My first 'marker' that gave me an idea of my pace was when I hit mile 20. I do a 20-mile time trial a lot in training so I know exactly what a good time is...46:25. That's a good time. Next came the 1-hour mark. This one is easy; 25.9 miles in an hour. Maybe I had more of a tailwind than I thought because that is not just fast, but it is fast for 140 beats per minute. I was passing people every few seconds and had never felt so comfortable in the aero postion. They had intermixed the waves so well that I was passing a variety of ages and genders. It had been quite a while since I had passed anyone in my age group until about mile 34. At that point, I approached a 45-year-old moving at a decent pace. I rode by him without breaking my rhythm. 30 seconds later, he came by me and asked "is anybody with you?" I felt bad about my reaction after the fact but I was still so pre-programmed by Ironman to expect cheating that I immediately assumed he thought I must have been trading pace with another rider. I snapped back, "I'm riding 27 miles per hour - what do YOU think?" and pulled ahead of him. I glanced back after a few seconds and out of the corner fo my eye, I could see he was staying with me (not drafting, but letting me set his pace). I had been staying so true to my heartrate but I just didn't want to have to deal with this guy in my head so in a mummble, I apologized to my coach and took the HR up to 145-150. I held here for about 3 miles to the next turn and never looked back until I got there. When I did, he was nowhere in sight. I let the HR settle back down.
As I passed additional 'markers', the math in my head was exploding. With 20 miles to go, I realized that I would break 2:20 even if I rode at 20mph. With 10 miles to go, breaking 2:15 was a sure thing. With about 8 miles to go, I told myself that with my protected bike split it would make more sense to back off a bit and go into the run a little more rested. So that's what I did. I was all good - except for the mental duress of the final few miles...Thbump, thbump, thbump, thbump...AAAARRRGGGHHH! As I flew down the hill to the bike finish I slammed on the brakes at the last possible moment (sending the volunteer into a tizzy). The bike skid, the rear wheel popped off the ground, I stopped my Garmin, threw my foot down and the bike stopped precicesly 1 inch in front of the dismount line. The judges gave me a 9.8 for my acrobatic prowess and precision (except of course for the Russian judge who gave me a 5.5).
You've really got to see this close up. I think the volunteer thought I was going to ride right through and into the lake. Instead, I stopped on a dime.
As I ran to my rack position, I grabbed my Garmin off the bike. I threw my bike on the rack, jumped into my running shoes, grabbed my Ensure and was gone in a wink...oops, took my helmet off and THEN I was gone is a wink (that could have been awkward). My first few steps were an instant reminder that my foot is not healed. The adrenaline - mixed with a 3-hour warmup - kept it from being painful but the dull ache still had me changing my stride and compensating. At that moment I was concerned more about doing more damage to my foot than how fast I was running. That changed pretty quickly. I wrapped my Garmin onto my wrist while carrying my Ensure under my arm as I ran out of T2. I planned to carry the Ensure to the first aid station so that I could legally throw the empty bottle but a trash can that popped up 50 feet in front of me changed my plan. I opened it, guzzled it and tossed the bottle all in about 6 seconds.
I put my Garmin in, I take my Garmin out, I put my Ensure in and I shake it all about...
There were people all over the course; most were moving slower than me but what caught my eye after about a quarter-mile was a woman who was consistently staying about 40 feet in front of me. I identified her as a pro woman pretty quickly and since they started 40 minutes before my wave it was obvious that she was on her 2nd (and final) lap of the run. I kept my HR where it was supposed to be and after more than a mile, I finally drew next to her. The name on her shorts revealed that it was Samantha Warriner from New Zealand. Sam finished behind Kate Major a week ago at the Rhode Island 70.3 race but without there being much fanfare around her today, I assumed she was 'somewhere in the pack'. For about a mile after passing her, I could hear her forced breathing behind me - and she was not that close which meant she was huffing and puffing really hard. With about 2.5 miles left in the lap, she pulled beside me again. I didn't want her to feel like I was one of those people that challenges her so I dropped off to her side and egged her on the last 2 miles. She was a great pacer and good distraction for me...I wish she had another lap to run.
As Samantha gave a bit of a final burst the last quarter-mile I watched her pull away. Almost immediately, another woman's voice came out of nowhere and said "on your left". I took a step to the right as Kate Major ran by me. At the same time, the roar of the crowd at the finish line raised to a frenzy. It was only at that moment that I realized that I had a front-row seat watching the pro women's race. It was odd that Samantha didn't have an escort of any kind; there was no indication at all that she was leading the women's field. It was amazing watching and following Kate Major as she gave it everything to catch Samantha all the way up to the finish line. But she could not close the deal and Samantha exacted her revenge on the prior week's results. When I was 50 feet from the finish line seconds behind them both...I abruptly turned left and started my second lap.
I give Janis the thumbs up, which translates to: "I have 6 miles to go and I don't think I'm going to die"
My HR had been slowly and steadily rising as it was supposed to but my mile splits seemed to be 20-30 seconds off of what I would expect. Sure it was warm, but I felt good; not tired like in Chrleston and yet I was running nearly the same pace as Charleston...and an even slower pace than I did in the hilly terrain of Connecticut. It had to be the foot. A glance at the watch and some more quick math as I approached mile 7 told me that if I could avearage exactly 7:00/mile, I could finish in 4:25. That became the goal. I trudged on like a robot. At the wierdest times I would suddenly feel good...or bad, but I could count on it to change a half-mile later. At mile 9, when I was about 2 miles from the start/finish, a huge clap of thunder sounded. Everyone around me glanced back over their shoulders to see a dark grey cloud out of the corner of their eyes. When I hit the final turnaround a mile later and headed back towards the finish, the sky was blue without a rain cloud in sight. Janis and her sister told me that a 5-minute 'monsoon' had blasted through the start finish. I never even got a drop.
I didn't truly start to struggle until around mile 10. This is perfect. The tank should be completely empty at the finish and that's where I was headed. My first mile had been a 6:53 and usually my first mile is a pretty good determinant of my final pace (because I will speed up a bit and then slow down a bit). My final pace was 6:55. My pace from mile 7 to the finish? Exactly 7:00/mile. I had stopped my watch as I crossed under the finish banner: 4:28:00 even. Minus the 3 minutes from the start left me at 4:25:00. Janis ran over and yelled "4:24!". It took us both a minute to sort out the fact that my wave had started 4 minutes behind the prior wave and not 3. 4:24:00 it was!
Nice timing lady. Oh well, it looks the same as all my finish photos: not pleasing to the eye but pleasing to the soul
It was a roller coaster of satisfaction for me the rest of the day as more information became available. My 37-minute swim that I regarded as slow (even for me) was not so bad after all once you saw what everyone else had done. As a matter of fact, this may be the first time I've ever written a triathlon race report without self-deprecating my swim! And my bike? I even managed to amaze myself a bit. My 2:11:21 was the second fastest amateur time and less than 6 minutes from the fastest pro. Unfortunately, I am convinced that my foot cost me a sub-4:20 time and a top-10 amatuer placing. My 1:30:39 run was slower than it could've and should've been. But doing these things is all about seeing what you're made of. Today, I was made of Ensure, Erin Bakers Breakfast Cookies, Oatmeal, Spicy Peanut Noodles, and a touch of TNT...
My final placing out of 2000 contenders was:
29th overall
15th amateur
3rd master
1st 45-49 age group
I'm saying these words a little more often these days, but "not bad for an old man". I took 4.5 minutes out of 2nd place in my age group and over 15 minutes out of 3rd place. Although this race qualified me for the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Clearwater, Florida later this year, I once again 'passed' on the honor. Although I will say that Ironman made a small jump forward in my book because of this event. They did a lot of things right today...and I returned the favor ;-)
Race Notes:
* As always, Janis somehow managed to cheer, take all the right photos, get the right food in me and get me to the start line; both literally and figuratively. Couldn't do it without her.
* Aside from Kattouf Coaching, Rudy Project and Fleet Feet...an extra thanks to Matt Eiken at Mauldin Chiropractic and Bob Mancuso at Blue Ridge Sports Massage for keeping my foot 'runnable'
* Another great venue...the beach, places to get coffee and food for my family before, during and after the race. Now if we could just turn down the freakin' thermostat.
* It got up to the mid-90's. Ho-hum, just another day in South Carolina.
* They touted the run as "going through the Racine Zoo". I was totally stoked by this. We literally ran through 30 feet of the very far back corner of the zoo behind a shed. I never even so much as heard a monkey.
* Katie and Brad had successful races (considering that Katie spent more time managing the Mount Mitchell event this Spring than training). Brad's sister completed her first half-iron (and only her 2nd tri) in under 7 hours.
* My Garmin had both the bike and run course within a few hundreths of a mile of their precribed distances. No short courses here.
* Besides slowing me a bit, compensating for my right foot left me with a blood blister on my left foot and some torn up toes on my right foot. I also had to deal with the most annoying cut on my wrist as my plastic 'Ironman' participant wristband kept slicing into it thanks to my Garmin.
Next Up: Possibly the Greenville Sprint Tri (depending on my foot prognosis) and my 4th and final half-iron event: the South Carolina Half. However, the South Carolina Half will not be a focus race for me because I will be concentrating on preparing for the Masters National Marathon Championships in October.