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Ironman Florida 2010

Quick overview of results:

• Swim: 1:28 Took it easy and got out feeling as if the swim was just a warm-up. I’d recommend that approach, unless you are trying to place. Saw a stingray and some jellyfish.
• Bike: 6:13 (18mph avg) PR by 20 minutes.
• Run: 4:43, PR by 33 minutes
• Overall: 12:50. Fifth Ironman finish. Best time yet. Go me.
  

The only redeeming on-course element was the swim. Open-water, in the gulf, with clear water, sugary sand, and marine life along the bottom was awesome. All other North American Ironman swims are in lakes, so I’ll give Florida this: That swim will be tough to beat. After the cannon goes off, the loud speakers cranked out 80s Van Halen, “Panama.” Nice touch. I wasn't the only 30-something doing Air Guitar as he strode into the water.

• However, Ironman Florida is the least scenic and least challenging course with the poorest race management of any of the eight Ironman-sponsored events in which I have participated. Where do I begin my diatribe about how lame Florida is? I recount this tale of ennui in hopes that someone who is considering other 140.6 events will heavily discount Florida and go with another option.

Florida is “The Easy Ironman.” Yes, I wrote that. There is such a thing as an easy Ironman. When the swim is wetsuit-legal at 76 – and you’re already in buoyant sea water – you feel like you’re hovering above the water. The bike course is flat. They’ve apparently re-routed some of the course (more on that later), but it still mostly flat with no significant climbs to cause concern. And the run is even flatter. That’s about the only good thing about Florida: it’s easy. It’s evident that each individual Ironman is run by different race organizers, not by WTC, because Florida sucks compared to others I’ve done. It’s sad that so many people do Florida as their first and probably stop at that. They’re frame of reference is so mundane.

Pre-race check in took two hours. The race requires your attendance three days prior to the race (Thursday, Friday, Saturday. That’s three days.) only to have you stand in line for two hours. Talk about "hurry up and wait." It took two hours to pick up my 1) bibs, 2) bags, and 3) a chip. And sign form after form. And then take those forms over to another table where you can wait in line again to have your form reviewed before you turn it in at another table. It’s not organ donation. Why are there so many “insurance” forms? Why the hell are we signing the same forms we signed when we entered? And if they aren’t the same forms, why are we not completing them when we signed up? Or why isn’t Ironman sending us the forms via e-mail in advance of the race? Lord knows they send us enough spam – why not send us something that can actually speed up the check-in process? But Dear God if you decline to enter your insurance provider name, policy number, how much you weigh, what hotel you are staying at, what their phone number is, who your emergency contact is, that stops down the whole process like you are some deviant. I’m here to race a race – not set up a living trust.

• It really chapped my ass when I finally got to the front of the line and the volunteer had the nerve to tell us, after we’ve been waiting for two hours, that we needed to get out our IDs and USAT cards so we “wouldn’t slow things down, fumbling for things.” Needless to say I was less than motivated to comply with a directive to “hurry up” when they lack all sense of urgency. I didn't pay a $600 entry fee to be berated to HTFU by Old Man River. You’ve got my money. I have my ID. Give me my bib and chip. That’s all we need to do here.

The race HQ sucks. With all apologies to the residents of Panama City Beach – I’m sure they’re fantastic people who are proud of their community – but the race venue is really a dump. The “resort”, and I use that term loosely, is very dated and small. In-season it is clearly a budget “resort.” It’s tiny, hasn’t been updated since the Reagan administration, and has terrible amenities (ie, no real dining, shopping, or entertainment options). If you have visions of palm trees and South Beach style architecture, get that out of your mind. The race finish is along a back-alley street, surrounded by parking lots. It’s a joke. I couldn’t stop thinking, “How the hell does this event get such a following? Ah yes, because it’s easy.” There are nicer, much larger hotels, but it is very apparent that Florida race organizers increase profit margins by negotiating services with a much cheaper option. The Boardwalk Beach Resort is a two-star former Howard Johnson, very much a budget-oriented tourist trap. The race HQ in Madison and Coeur d'Alene - both of which I've completed - were orchestrated at much higher-rated resorts.

The glamorous Howard Johnson, race HQ for your Ironman Florida!

Cheating is rampant. We've all have seen the drafting videos on youtube, so I’ll just confirm that yes, drafting is common. But triathletes don't know how to draft so it's not as bad as you think. But if you look at the course, how could you not? I somewhat put this on the race organizers. Yes, it is the racer’s responsibility to adhere to the rules, but if you’ve got a course that is this flat, has no turns and nearly 2,500 people, what do you expect to happen? It’s like the legal concept of entrapment: Leave a wallet on the lunch counter with cash falling out of it and see how many people steal it. So with the drafting videos and Fin Man previoulsy at Florida, there's something about Florida that attracts the person who wants to take short cuts. But what was more surprising was the cheating on the swim. First time I’ve seen that. Swimmers really weren’t too interested in actually going around the corner turn buoys. I’m not talking about the intermittent sight buoys. I mean the big ol’ red buoys that mark the turns. We’ve all seen the salmon trying to swim upstream (ie, make a right-angle turn), but at Florida, many swimmers said, “Yeah, that’s alright. I don’t want any part of that. I’ll stay inside the buoys and feign an attempt at a legal turn and just get close to it.” I’ll call it a “half-assed, good enough for government work” turn. They’d get maybe 10m away from the inside of the buoy and then make a bee line for the next turn. Swim marshals were right on top, but they didn’t do anything.

Runners had their own little rabbits on the course. Personal pacers at Ironman Florida must be really popular. I’m not talking about Mother Dearest running alongside her spawn for 50meters while wearing Mom Jeans. I mean some little tri tart with her BFF all decked-out in full-on marathon gear, running alongside, chatting away about how her friends Facebook page is blowing up with people commenting on how awesome she’s doing at her first Ironman. “Your finish photo is going to make a great profile pic.” Gag. Newsflash to those who use pacers: It’s obvious who is not actually in the race. Your little assistant is recently quaffed; is not piss-, snot-, and sweat-caked; and has no body markings, bib, or chip. You stand-out like a Kenyan at a Turkey Trot.

• How and/or why does this happen? Race announcements made such a big deal about how many first-timers participated. I suspect that race officials don’t enforce rules that would make Ironman Florida too hard (ie, like a “real” Ironman). They want to keep their reputation as being “The Easy Ironman”, so they’re not too concerned about drafting, actually swimming the course as laid out, or having personal pacers help you along. They’ve cultivated the reputation of being a race where everyone can finish, and if you need to take some shortcuts, that’s fine too.

T1 and T2 are cramped. Race organizers took an already small convention center hall and cut it in half – one side for men, one for women. Which doesn’t make sense when 75% of your participants are men. I’m all for gender equity, but equity doesn’t mean 50/50. Equity means fair - be fair in how you distribute space. They do not have to devote 50% of T1 to women when only 25% of the entrants are women. Exactly why would a smaller field need as much room as the much larger contingent? If three-quarters of entrants are of a particular gender, then three-quarters of the square footage should be devoted to that gender. Wouldn’t it be odd if at one of the Nike women’s marathon if they segregated the (few) men and women, but gave them equally small corrals? For those of y’all who have seen T1 and T2 at Wisconsin, that’s how you do transitions in a ballroom. Madison had caverns. Florida had truck stop bathrooms.

• So in the men’s side of T1 what you get it is inches from sweaty asses and poorly manscaped chamois regions, with no chairs and tumped-over T1 bags ("tumped" is Texan for "tip" and "dump"). Everyone sprawled out on the floor and fighting for space. This lack of consideration was evident all weekend. Ironman Florida offers very poor services because they can. In other words, they don’t have to pay attention to detail because they know come Sunday morning, people will be lining up and throwing money at them to race it the next year.

The bike course is unholy boring. After riding along a flat, turnless course with unchanging scenery of straight roads and pines trees, I wanted to scream: “Please, someone lobotomize me!” Look at the queue sheet: It has 13 turns - 13 turns for a 112 mile ride! That’s it. 112 miles, one loop. 13 turns. Terrible. Some of the sections were probably 20 miles per section with zero distinguishing features. If you can sit in an aero position for 5hrs, then you’ll do great. But really, you’ll be pedaling in the same gear, in the same position the entire time. So if the course is windy or you get sore, you are in trouble because there’s really no reason or opportunity to change positions. Also, given that it is 112 miles long, there might be eight people along the course watching. Once you leave T1, you’re all alone out there. It’s sad.

"OMG! He's riding a road bike! What a moron! Doesn't he know if he had a sperm-shaped helmet and plastic aero down tubes he'd totally get to Kona?! What a noob."

They don’t close the bike course to traffic - anywhere. It’s all two- and four-lane highways and you’re expected to either ride on the shoulder or take a lane of 55mph traffic. I’m not putting in the training and incurring the expense to ride on the shoulder and flat. Sorry, I’m taking a lane I paid for and am entitled to by law. So what you’re left with is to cruise along, dodge cars, and compete for space.

Screen grab of a video of the bike course. Note the traffic - Speed limit 55 - one lane over. Sweet.

The run course is really shabby. After we left the, ahem, “resort,” we headed through a construction site. Race organizers added a classy touch of laying down sheets of plywood over the chewed-up roads. You couldn’t help but notice you were running alongside excavation pics and next to earth moving equipment. At least the smell of diesel distracted you from sweet mixture of pee and sweat. Did I mention that if you thought this would be like South Beach, you’d be way off? Race organizers knew in advance that the city (or whomever authorizes major construction) would be working on the roads used by the course. This is not a surprise. It’s not like front-end loaders showed up Saturday morning and said, “I see you have a race here. We need to dig. Won’t be long. Don’t mind us.” Florida either knew that the finish area would be consumed by a construction site and chose not to find an alternate hotel, or they knew about it and didn’t care. Neither is excusable.

After the little jaunt through a hard-hat area weaving through constructions barrels, you wind through a residential neighborhood of rather mundane summer rental properties. I have no intention of deriding someone’s residence, so the lackluster lodging is not a reflection of the residents. Rather, Ironman’s only option was to choose a less-than-glamorous route because it is adjacent to a run-down “resort.” And again, the road is open to traffic, both auto and bike. You’ll be running along and car will come up and pass you on the left, or another car will be coming toward you and you’ll move out of the way. The volunteers would actually instruct, “Watch out for the car. Move to the side of the road.” Or someone will ride along the course with their race. Nice. I paid how much to do this and you won’t close the course.

• My point is not that Ironman should close all roads so I can run on them. I’m not that self-absorbed. My point is that if they can’t close certain roads, they shouldn’t route the course through it. And they should keep non-participant bikes off it. Not hard. See that guy riding a beach cruiser on the run course, wearing khakis? Good chance he’s not in the race. Ask him nicely to get off the course so I don’t have to navigate around him when stops with his Honey Bunny at an aid station. The on-course patrols by volunteers was very revealing too. The official volunteers in their snazzy Ironman t-shirts patrolled the run course on bicycles. With no helmets. That kind of double-standard really gets irritating. I realize in the whole scheme of things that it doesn’t impact me if the “pointer” rides out to his or her spot on the course without a helmet, but after 10hrs of racing, hypocrisy like that is more irritating than bloody nipples. Freak out if I don’t buckley my chin strap, but helmet rules doesn’t apply to Ironman race staff.

The finish area was acceptable at best but it pales in comparison to the other finish spectacles I’ve seen. The last 100m are basically in a parking lot, lined with those large, orange, reflective-striped construction barrels. A few hundred people, the typical Ford schwag all over the place, but that’s it. Add in some rock music and some sodium lights and you’ve got inspiriation! It’s OK, I guess, which is sad: You shouldn’t have to describe your Ironman finish as “OK.”

Day before the race, walking along the finish chute. Nothing but traffic, construction cones, and temp buildings. So scenic, so idylic.

Overall, I would say Ironman Florida is The Easy Ironman. The bike course is boring and relentlessly unchallenging. The run is ugly and the finish area of enemic. It fills-up so quickly because Ironman Florida is low-hanging fruit. People want to call themselves Ironman so badly - but with little effort - they want the path of least resistance. St. George? Wisconsin? Too hard. Just go to Florida. You’ll be underwhelmed but you’ll finish and you can call yourself an Ironman. Congratulations? I guess.

Me, underwhelmed, even though it's nearly an hour PR:

"Meh."

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Ironman Coeur d'Alene (2010) Race Report

I can’t speak highly enough about Ironman Coeur d’Alene – the race, the city, and competing in the Northwest/Idaho panhandle in June. The 2010 edition was my second time to compete at CdA and my fourth Ironman overall. It’s not what I would call a PR course (even though I did PR there this year). If you want to blast through an Ironman, go to Florida or Frankfurt, both of which are fast and flat. CdA is a tough bike course, but the weather is usually very accommodating (typically the start is in the 50s, with highs in the 70s), and the run is very manageable.

SWIM - I was somewhat concerned about 50*-something degree water. There were plenty of people wearing squid lids and neoprene booties. Not a single person did not have a wetsuit, and 99% of them were wearing fulls. IMHO, the squid lids and booties were overkill, but if you don’t want to be cold, that’s fine. Race in what you’re comfortable, but upper-50 degree water isn’t bad at all. What is bad is 2,500+ starting the damn swim from the shore (see below). Really, Ironman needs to cap these events at about 2,000 starters tops.

• Lesson learned: My plan was to hold 2:00 per 100m pace, do each 1900m lap in :38 and get out of the water in 1:16. I’ve gone 1:12 in that exact swim in 2006, so I know it was possible. Well, as Tyson said, “Everyone has a plan 'till they get punched in the mouth.” Or in my case, I hit the water and for the entire first 500 meters, I couldn’t get in more than four or five consecutive strokes without being stood up. I’m not talking about swimming by and brushing someone. I mean a solid blob of neoprene and boney elbows. It’s wall of people just inching along in a very awkward crawl. Everyone was nice, no one got pissy about being bunched up, but when I got to the first buoy that I guestimated was 200m out – and it took me 6:00 minutes to get there – I realized my pace and plan was shot. I said, “Meh. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.” So I took a 90degree turn away from line of buoys and went as far outside as I could get (see below). I threw my time plan out the window and enjoyed the swim, reminding myself that it was the only time of the day I would be cool. Then on each turn back to shore I swam on the inside of the buoys which is highly recommended (and legal). Time: 1:29, slowest IM swim yet, but at that pace, also the easiest. I got out feeling like I’d done nothing at all. The alternative was to literally fight through and around hundreds of people, thus exerting way too much energy.

BIKE - It’s a tough bike course. More than 6,000’ climbing, all bunched together around miles 20-40, then 80-100. So what happens if you tear a$$ for the first 20 miles? *WHAM*! You run into several small-chainring, long, extended seated climbs. My first hour I covered 20miles, then quickly rediscovered my mortality and spent the rest of the day fighting to hold a 17ish average. My speed got down to 4mph on some climbs. I just wasn’t going to hammer Lap 1. Fortunately mile 100 back into town is flat.

The other challenge is in all the dang technical turns (note all the little blue circles in the image below). You may think that with that many climbs you can pick up some speed on the downhill. Not really. There were so many right-angle turns at the bottom of the hills and U-turns (six, to be exact), that you spent a disappointing amount of time bleeding-off speed downhill, or coming to the end of a really nice flat stretch to only hit a U-turn timing mat. As such, a road bike - light on the climbs, easier to handle in the drops - may be a good choice. Overall it’s a great bike course: challenging enough to reward strong climbers, with enough variety to not get boring. It could easily become punishing if you get all sassy with the first loop. The vistas around Hayden Lake are awesome and the road surface is about 95% crack-free. Really smooth riding surface. Time: 6:33, 17.1mph average. I was hoping for low-6hrs, but I’ll take 6 ½ .

• Lesson learned: Take the first lap easy (which I did). Eat until you can’t stand to eat any more. Get the right gearing combination – 12x27, maybe a compact crank, maybe even a triple if you’re worried about the cumulative ascent. Also, know how to handle your bike on technical descents. If you insist on riding in your aero bars on all downhills, you may Sonny Bono yourself on a tree. I saw the aftermath of a crash or two, and saw many inside-pedal-down on the U-turns. Triathletes, even at this level, still need to learn how to ride a bike.

RUN - Compared to the over-crowded swim and hard (for me) bike, the run is easy. Mostly flat, out-and-back along the lake, so you get to see everyone who hasn’t already finished. Only one climb (done twice) and most MOPers walk it anyways. If you don’t hammer the bike you can have a good run. Run: 5:15. Goal was sub-5, which I haven’t done yet, but 5:15 was still a PR and I’ll take it. 6,000' climbing took alot out of the first 13.1. The second 13.1 I felt a lot better.

Total finish time: 13:34, a PR by :12 minutes
Overall I was really pleased with all elements of the race: pacing, nutrition, weather, transitions, aid stations, finish area. I wouldn’t change anything, unless maybe a spot to Kona, but I’m several hours off, and I’m cool with that. My 13:34 put me MOP overall as I suspected (45th percentile OA, 39th percentile in AG). I realize that being a MOPer Ironman finisher is like being the 501st richest person in the world and thus, being left off the Forbes list ain’t really a big deal. I'm actually looking forward to Florida in November 2010. I wasn't sure how I'd feel about doing another IM four+ months after CdA.

COST - Ah, the sordid topic of coin. I include this remuneration only as an indication of the direct costs associated with competing in an Ironman, which is an element mostly neglected in race reports. Costs vary widely depending on level of accommodations, mode of travel, how many people in your crew, where you eat, etc. Mind you that my travels were budget-oriented (5am flights, economy hotels, no rental car) and it still cost upward of $2,000.

• Entry fee: $588
• Flight: $385 (DFW to Spokane, round trip)
• Bike shipping: $400. I got screwed on this one. $200 each way on Delta. Yes, it cost more to get my bike up there than it cost to get me up there. My 17.5lb bike + 20lb box weighed less than the 50lb checked bag limit, but cost eight times as much to check. So, no more flying with bikes. It’s obvious the airline industry does not want bike on their planes. That’s good news for FedEx/UPS/DHS and bike transport outfitters.
• Shuttle from Spokane airport to CdA (round trip): $100
• Hotel: $300 (four nights)
• Wheel rental: $170 from http://www.racedaywheels.com/. So, for a 6hr race, it comes out to $30 and hour, or about $1 per mile.
• Race pics: $100

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Ironman Coeur d'Alene pre-race report

There are plenty of post-race reports. I thought maybe some of y’all would be interested in a pre-race report that provides quantitative insight into a year’s training leading up to a full Ironman (in this case, Ironman Coeur d’Alene 2010). This data may be helpful in answering the question, “How much training do people really do?” Or it may be incredibly narcissistic of me. For reference, I’m a M35-39 MOPin AGer, probably finishing in the 12hr-14hr range . . . again. I'm sure some may train more, others may train less, so a sample size of 1 person shouldn't be used to make recommendations. I was partly motivated to post this because I keep reading - and over-hearing the obnoxious trinoob's - references and insistences on repeated 20+ training weeks. I never hit 20 hrs. Not once. Never have.

Races and Training Programs (July 2009-June 2010)

• August ’09 – December ‘09: 20-week full marathon training program with Dallas Running Club
• October: Half Ironman (PR)
• November ’09: Half marathon
• December: Full marathon
• January ’10 – April ’10: 16-week full marathon training program with Dallas Running Club
• January ’10: Half marathon (PR)
• March: Full marathon
• May: 2.4 mile open water race

Training Log (July 2009-June 2010)
I follow absolutely no triathlon training plan. I know how I should be performing and feeling at any given point in a season, and I know the general distances I should be hitting dependant on how far from the race I am. I set a 1-year goal of 4,000 miles cycling, 1,000 miles running, 100k swimming. Based on my pace(s), this would come out to 425-450 hours of annual training with about 50% of the time cycling, 40% running, and 10% swimming. Each week I tried to balance my sessions to keep that ratio. That's about as complicated as it got. I’m lucky that I have numerous running clubs to train with and cycling clubs to ride with, so I spend a lot of time in marathon programs and cycling with Cat IV and III roadies. As such, I just go the pace and distance the group dictates. I don't fixate on HR zones or intervals; I just ride the damn bike as hard as I can. The cycling avg mph is less than impressive, I know, but it includes thousands of stops and starts, with 1,000 miles of slow and dark winter cycling. Oh, and I didn’t do a single brick. I hate bricks.


Training Results (3 months prior to the race)
Longest week was "only" 16 hours or so. Some may need (or want) that mythical 20hr week. It builds confidence if it is your first Ironman. For subsequent Ironmans, you don't really need a 20hr killer. In the three months prior to the race, I spent nearly 60% of my time on the bike, only swam 1-2hrs a week, and my run totals were consistently 4-5hrs per week with half of that time coming in one long weekend run. The last three months (one-quarter of the year) of training comprised 28% of my annual training volume. This is noteworthy because it means I didn't cram all the training into the race prep phase. I think that's when/where injuries occur.

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Bataan Memorial Death March Race Report (2010)

It's Considered One of the Toughest Marathons:

• "It is at a high altitude. It has a lot of hilly desert terrain. There are winds to contend with and you have to look out for snakes and spiders. And there is a sand pit at mile 21. It's physically tough and intense. It is not a marathon for a personal best."

This race has been on my race “bucket list” for years, but something has always come up. I finally committed to doing it and it was easily the most unique marathon I’ve ever done (4:52 finish, but it put in the 85th percentile in my category). It’s a trail marathon in the foothills of the Sacramento Mountains in Chihuahuan Desert of southern New Mexico. Description from the race website:

• "The Bataan Memorial Death March is a challenging march through the high desert terrain of White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico, conducted in honor of the heroic service members who defended the Philippine Islands during World War II, sacrificing their freedom, health and, in many cases, their very lives."

There are several unique features of this event: All of the race activities are held on the 3,200 square mile military installation. The closest towns are at least an hour drive away, so the base allows people to sleep on cots in the gym or camp outside. The guests of honor are survivors of Bataan, and considering the real death march took place in 1942, these men are getting old and fewer can attend. There are no age group or gender divisions; only categories of “Civilian Light” or “Heavy” (35lb pack) and “Military Light” or “Heavy” wearing service uniforms and military-recognized boots . . . and a 35lb pack. The median finish time for the 26.2 – across all categories – is in the 8hr range. There are no finisher medals, but you do get a sweet dog tag with your packet.

The race was was hard to get to. The nearest airport is in El Paso, 100 miles away. So for y'all flying in, it will take a connecting flight (or two), renting a car and a few night's hotel. I drove and it was a 1,400 mile drive. Granted, I took detours to a couple of National Parks. The race was well-organized, but then I would expect the military to be able to handle the logistics of a large group and it was voted Runner Up for "Most Organized" in Runner's World Magazine. The schwag was typical: timing chip, race bib, and t-shirt. At dawn, there is a sunrise mountain range ceremony to start the marathon. There is a roll call of all the veterans who were alive and at the marathon the year before. From that roll call you can see how many of those veterans have passed away. There were over 5,000 participants in both the 26.2 and 15 mile distances. The course was really, really hard: as noted in the image below, there is a ton of climbing and the ascents go on for miles. Not meters. Miles. 4, 5 and 6 miles straight with a grinding 3%-5% grade. "Am I ever getting to the top?"

What made the climbs harder was you were always making a turn around a hill or mountain so you couldn't really tell how much more you had to go. Because of the remoteness of the course, there are very few spectators, so you're alone much of the time. The weather was fantastic. It won't rain. It's the desert. It will be cold in the AM and warm up nicely by mid-day. They fed you well, too, with a pre-race pasta dinner and post-race burgers and brats with a tub of beer. I'd totally do it again . . . if it wasn't a three-day minimum committment.

Phillip Coon, a Bataan survivor I met. He spent 4 and a half years as a POW.

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Ironman Longhorn (Austin) Race Report 2009

PR all the way around: 37min swim, 2:59 bike, 1:59 run, for 5:48 total. For perspective, that finish time in my AG places me solidly MOP (54th percentile), but 72nd percentile OA. M35-39 is a fast AG. I was most pleased with pacing the bike and run both perfectly to sneak in under 3- and 2- hours respectively (:10 seconds under the 3-hour mark on the bike and :19 seconds under the 2-hour mark on the run). Also, this was a 5-year-old previous PR. It was my fifth HIM overall and my first since 2005 and I just wanted to see if I got any faster in the past several years. In terms of the race itself, unfortunately, the venue is bottom-of-the-barrel for an Ironman-branded event.

When people think of racing in Austin, they think of the indoor Convention Center for packet pick-up, expos and transitions; swimming in Town Lake or Lake Travis; cycling through the hill country; and running through UT or down South Congress (look at their banner at the top of the page). Uhm, no. Not so much. Really misleading. The race HQ is way outside of town at an agricultural fair ground - aka, "a barn." That means it’s all parking lots and barns. The nearest hotel is probably five miles away which means you will be stuck in traffic on race morning trying to get to the fairgrounds with 2,000 other racers and their supporters. There are absolutely no public amenities – restaurants, shopping, anything – within miles for observers to frequent during down-time watching their racer.

Both participant and spectator have to bring coolers and grills and really tailgate to make this event even slightly fan-friendly. My friends reserved a spot (free, I think) under some made-up triathlon team name and they had a spot staked out for them. They brought beer, coolers, music, grills, dogs, anything goes. Lots of people set-up for the day like this:

Pre-race was really bad. You really need a degree in civil engineering to figure out where to go with what and when. Packet pick-up was in the main ag arena and the lines were horrid. You wait in line to pick up your bib and then wait in another line to pick up your schwag. Then you have a very small window of time to drop of both your run gear and bike – but T1 and T2 are about 1 mile apart. You have to drive over from T2 to T1 and T1 is just not made to handle that kind of traffic. As you can see from the images below, T is off of two-lane roads with no parking.

The swim is pretty mundane. It’s in a small hydroelectric plant cooling “pond”. Given the warmer water, there’s an abundance of algae and plant growth on the bottom which you will swim through. And they have a wave start, so if you’re in a later wave, you could easily get in the water 90:00 minutes after the pros start and you’ll be out there all day. And what’s strange is they started closing transition on race morning an hour before some of the waves started. So regardless of what wave you are in you need to get there in the 5 o’clock hour.

The bike is one large loop, which keeps the boredom down, but you are so far outside of town there are zero spectators out there and nothing to look at but fields. Given the wave starts you do however have the chance to pass slower people in waves which started ahead of you and also be passed by stronger cyclists from AGs which started after you. The course is moderate for Texas standards: a few climbs (maybe 100’ ascent in .25 mile), maybe a few rollers, but mostly flat with OK road surface. As you can see, there is an abundance of turning. Not very technical, but if you don't like the direction you are heading, maybe there's some wind of the road surface is bad, you're only on it for a mile or two before you change directions again. All the turns gave me ample opportunity to count how many cyclists wearing compression hose and silly aero helmets went into right-angle turns with their inside pedal down.

When you finish the bike, this is what awaits you: 2,500 bags of shoes. T1 and T2 are not in the same place so you show up to T2 and hope you remember where you left your shoes:

The run is promoted as three “loops”, but it’s more of an out-and-back. One nice thing is that spectators can set-up some good viewing since there’s really nothing out there but fields all along the run course. If you see open grass, take it. Overall, it’s an OK race. They could majorly improve it if they moved it downtown to Town Lake and the Convention Center. It would take a lot to pull this off, but Austin already has a 26.2 mile marathon course. Double that (plus a bit) and you have the bike; use the Austin marathon’s half course for the run; swim in Town Lake.

The finish area is inside the arena, so that's nice. But no A/C and losts of stairs to navigate after the race:

Race Day Wheels
http://www.racedaywheels.com/

I touted the concept of renting wheels well before I actually rented any. For Ironman Longhorn I rented a Zipp disk and 1080 and received them more than a week before the race so I had time to “try them out” and get the shifting lined-up. They come with high-quality tires, tubes, and valve extenders. They do NOT come with a cassette or skewers or a disc wheel inflator adaptor thingy. So, if you don’t have a chain whip and cassette lock ring removal tool, you’ll need those too.

Overall, I couldn’t be happier. I rented $3,000 wheels for about $200. Returning them was simple too. They came in a custom-fabricated corrugated plastic box (environmentally-friendly, re-usable) with a wheel bag for the disc. The owner e-mailed me a pre-addressed FedEx return shipping label for $25, which was $6 cheaper than what my local FedEx/Kinko's Office was going to charge me. For all future long course tris, I know where I’m going for wheels. I can’t see why anyone would buy super high-end carbon wheels. Let someone else absorb the high costs of ownership. You’d have to race on them at least a dozen times to make it worth it (I race once per year, so it would be a bone-head move to buy). Plus, you’re stuck with that year’s technology.

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My bike

No, I don't ride a tri bike. ("WTF?!")

• Newsflash: Not everyone buys the hype. Especially those - me - who are 6'4". When I go into an LBS, how many size 61 tri bikes do you think they have sitting around? None. And exactly how aero can I get at that height? I'm sure a low-stacked fork would be nice, with a cutesy little 80mm stem, and a darling little compact crank, and those "fast" 650 wheels. Right, like that will fit. And it will feel great too, after three or four hours. I went through so many tri bikes and many "fittings" and I never felt comfortable, all cramped in an "aero" position. And since I only do 70.3 and 140.6 events, I'm not contorting myself for three to six hours. What's more efficient? Riding comfortably in drops, or riding aero for maybe a few miles then sitting up on the bullhorns for the rest? Who will train more? Someone who feels nice on the bike, or someone who hates it because he or she gets all beat up?

So, to finally get something that fit, I went custom. Seven titanium frame, carbon fork, Shimano DuraAce group, FSA carbon crank, Chris King headest, Mavic Ksyrium SL wheelset, Easton carbon seatpost, stem, road bar.

• Bar Ends: Plastic plugs (8g)
• Bar Tape: Cinelli cork ribbon (45g)
• Bottle Cage: Bike Diet titanium (40g for two)
• Bottle Cage Bolts: Wheels MFG Titanium (6g)
• Bottom Bracket: FSA MegaExo (140g)
• Brakes Rear: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (155g)
• Brakes Front: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (162g)
• Cables / Housing: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (175g)
• Cassette/Lockring: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (161g)
• Chain: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (256g)
• Crankset: FSA Team Issue Carbon (565g)
• Derailleur Front: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (74g)
• Derailleur Rear: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 (180g)
• Fork: Seven 5E Carbon (440g)
• Frame: Seven Axiom Ti (1440g)
• Handlebar: Easton Equipe EC90 (200g)
• Headset: Chris King (incl. top cap, star nut and bolt) (126g)
• Headset Spacers: Titanium (6g)
• Pedals: Speedplay X5 (220g)
• Quick Releases: Salsa Ti (85g)
• Seat: Selle Italia Flite Gel Flow (220g)
• Seat Post: Easton EC70 Zero-Offset (215g)
• Shifters: Shimano Dura-Ace 7800 STI (415g)
• Stem: Ritchey Comp Stem (160g)
• Tire Front: Michelin Pro Race 3 (200g)
• Tire Rear: Michelin Pro Race 3 (200g)
• Tubes: Michelin AirComp A1 (pair) (120g)
• Wheel Set: Mavic Ksyrium SSC SL 2004 (1530g)
• Total grams: 7544 (16.63lbs) For a size 61, that's damn light.

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