



Swim out to a buoy, turn right, swim north, turn right, and then swim back to shore. Swimming to the first buoy was no problem: I was in a groove and feeling great. However, when I turned there things got ugly. First, I saw dozens of people had turned before the buoy, cutting the course. And I'm not talking about cutting it by a few feet: they were shaving off about 50 feet from it.





Secondly, there was a current. A strong one. The river flows north-to-south at this part, so we were going directly upstream. After a few minutes of swimming against it I turned around and had hardly put any distance between myself and the first turn buoy. It was tough for everyone, even the professionals





It's during a swim like this that you ask yourself the question: "At what point do you give up?" I literally felt as though I was making no progress forward in the water. The second turn buoy never seemed to get any closer for quite a period of time. How long should you be willing to swim in and endless pool with an edge that never gets any closer? Luckily, I didn't have to answer that as the turn buoy finally made some perceptible towards-me movement. I reached the second buoy and made the last right hand turn.

Bottleneck coming out of T1

Cruising into T2 with a smile

Not pictured: pain.

Mile 4: 13:21

Mile 5: 12:25

Mile 6: 11:43

Mile 7: 12:18

Mile 8: 12:14

Mile 9: 11:46

Mile 10: 11:49

Mile 11: 11:57

Mile 12: 12:43

Mile 13: 11:56





I started off fine, but after the first two miles I had to start walking. When my heart rate gets too high (typically when I'm doing sprints at the track) my throat starts closing up, making it hard to breathe. The ice helped keep me cool, but the throat issue started happening during Mile 3. This was frustrating because my legs felt great and fully of energy, and the heat wasn't bothering me. So I settled into a routine: run 4 minutes, walk 1 minute.





I kept this pattern going for most of the run. I stopped at water stops and used everything: I drank gatorade and coke, dumped water down my head, put frozen sponges down my back, and clenched ice in my hands. The volunteers were fantastic, cheering us on and giving us everything we need. I was staying hydrated easily, and took a quick pee-stop around Mile 4.





The course was boring, though spectator friendly: there were two out-and-backs, so the course was like a figure-eight track that you had to do twice. This meant I got to pass my wife (and the finish line, ugh) four times before finishing. Part of the route was along Jamestown Road, which--like the rest of Williamsburg--was filled with people stuck in cars angrily yelling at the police and volunteers. The run course had plenty of cheering spectators to balance this out though: there was one woman waving a giant American flag on the course during the hottest part of the day, and many other small crowds of people cheering on those of us who were suffering.





Passing the finish line, and starting the second half of the run, was mentally difficult. I started focusing on how many miles I had left. I compared it to my normal running route: "5 miles to go, that's from the start of the Battlefield trail in Yorktown to the French encampment. 4 miles to go, that's one big loop in Kiln Creek. 3 miles to go...". Eventually the heat started getting to me and I walked more and ran less. I cheered on the other triathletes and asked the spectators and volunteers "Am I winning?". After nearly 7 hours I reached the finisher's chute, which I happily sprinted down.





















Hurting





The volunteers gave me my medal, finisher's shirt (long-sleeved and brown? Eww.) and an ice-cold towel. The towel felt like HEAVEN. I grabbed a chair and sat down for the first time since 5:30 that morning and stared at my feet, letting my body relax. Bre came up and congratulated me and we moved to a shady tree, where I tried to eat a tiny bit of food and drank my first mountain dew in about 8 months.





We didn't stick around very long, and loaded up the car with my gear and headed home. I ate a piece of pizza and some chocolate milk when we got home. I tried to nap, but couldn't get my body to relax. I took a cold bath and then a hot shower. My only muscles that were sore were my shoulders; my legs still felt fine. I put the 70.3 sticker on my car.





Some takeaways from the race:

A month ago I did a test day to zone in on my nutrition: 1500m swimming, 50 miles biking, then a 10 mile run. I was great on that day, and my only problem was that I ran out of water halfway through the run. It's frustrating finishing that day strong and struggling through the entire run today.

I think I came out of the water with a high heart rate, and never gave it a chance to come back down. The swim was grueling, and I didn't adjust my race plan accordingly. Lesson learned.

I have a tough time pacing myself slowly on the bike. My legs want to hammer out the miles, even when I'm trying to go slower. I do fine when someone slow is in front of me, but when there's open road I want to go fast. I need to work on this on a flat course. Four months until Ironman Florida!

Alternate title: "Swimming is hard"This was my first Half-Ironman race, and it was quite the challenge. I made a few mistakes and learned some valuable lessons. In case you just want the results:57:216:233:09:353:372:36:576:53:5225 out of 29 (25-29 Age Group)279 out of 362 (Men)407 out of 573 (Overall)If you want the dirty details, read on.I woke up at 2:15 (yes, 2:15am) and had some breakfast: coffee and a two fried egg sandwiches. I like to give myself at least two hours before leaving in the morning to enjoy my food and slowly wake up. Bre woke up an hour later and helped put the race numbers on my shoulders and legs: unlike other races where they draw them on with magic marker, Rev3 provided stick-on tattoos!We left the house at 4:15 and arrived at the race site at 4:45, just in time to snag one of the last few spots in the closest parking lot. This race had two separate transitions: T2 was at the finish line (where we parked), and T1 was down at the beach. We had to drop our bike off at T1 the day before. It was drizzling at T2, enough that instead of laying out my running gear I left it in the bag to stay dry. We then took a shuttle down to Jamestown Beach. It had rained on my bike overnight, but thankfully my seat doesn't absorb moisture. I checked the gears on my bike to make sure they weren't squeaking and topped off the air.The race was wetsuit legal, though barely: the water temp has to be below 72 degrees to wear one, and it was 71.6 on race morning. I put mine on and headed down to the beach for our 6:45 wave. There was a delay due to people illegally parking on the course and blocking the swim exit, so they had to change the beginning of the bike course last-minute and delay the swim start. The pro men went off at 6:50 (instead of 6:30), then the pro women, then the amateur waves. My wave went off at about 7:05.57:21 (2:58/100m)The first 200 feet of the swim was in shallow water, so we had to high-step it for the first few minutes. Once we had room I dolphin-dove under the water and got into a rhythm. The water temperature felt good. There was a lot of chop, so I inhaled water on a few breaths at the beginning, but I settled into a nice routine pretty quickly.This is what the swim course looked like:After struggling for a few minutes and not going anywhere, I knew I needed to push out of my comfortable rhythm and swim harder. I put my head down and focused on steady, strong strokes, and slowly moved closer to the next turn buoy. It felt like an eternity, and I saw several swimmers call out for help from the medical crew, but I eventually made it to that buoy and turned right. I was now swimming with the current slightly at my back, but my watch said I had been swimming for 45:00 (5 minutes past my goal time!) and I wanted to make up some time, so instead of coasting I continued pushing hard. I popped out of the water with my arms burning and a little out of breath, but I was happy to have finished. We later found out that over 100 people (18% of the racers) didn't finish the swim.6:23This is the same transition as all the other races I've done at Jamestown beach, which includes running 1/4 mile from the beach. I got to my bike, dried off, and changed clothes. Before leaving I had to dump all of my gear into a bag with my race number on it (so they could transport it to the finish line), which added some extra time.3:09:35The first triathlon I ever participated in (Patriot Sprint in 2012) I wore my HR monitor, and it showed that my heart rate was waaaay too high (190) at the start of the bike. I didn't wear it in my next two triathlons, instead planning to bike easy for the first 15 minutes before picking up the pace, which worked well. I didn't wear it for this race either, and I would regret it.I felt good from the start, but stuck with the plan to spin easy for the first 15 minutes. I settled into my nutrition plan as well: a sip of gatorade every 5 minutes, a fig newton every 30, and caffeine every 90. The first half of bike ride went smoothly: I churned along at a comfortable (but notcomfortable) pace, enjoying the Williamsburg scenery that I grew up in. There were a few rolling hills but it was mostly flat, and the weather was cool and cloudy. I passed 16 people, and I averaged a 3:12/mile pace for the first 28 miles.I was disappointed with the Williamsburg crowds. Many intersections were blocked off for the course, and the people stopped in cars were. There was a lot of angry honking, and obscenities being yelled at the athletes ("Get off the fucking road!" was one directed at me by a man in a big SUV trying to get to church). Some men cat-called the female triathletes. Near the first transition (in the picture above) a man was cussing out the teenager volunteer for not letting him through. This is ridiculous, and does not bode well for the race returning next year.The second half of the bike course started off fine, but things starting falling apart around mile 40. The wind was picking up, and fig newtons stopped being appetizing. Eventually I started feeling nauseous, and felt that if I drank any more gatorade I would throw up. I manually took my pulse and realized it was between 170-180, much higher than the 140-150 I expected. I forced myself to slow down, even coasting at some parts, but I struggled to bring my pulse back down. My pace over the last 20 miles was 3:33/mile, and I several people passed me, but it was too late: I couldn't get my heart rate under control. For the last ~45 minutes on the bike I didn't eat or drink anything. The sun came outand I knew it was going to be a long run.3:37I took my time in T2 to try to let my heart rate drop some more. I changed shoes/socks, put on my race bib, put on my Rev3 visor, and started Runkeeper for GPS tracking. I also popped a caffeine pill and some ibuprofen.2:36:57There was a water stop right after leaving transition, and I grabbed some flat coke, which tasted amazing after 3 hours of only gatorade. It was 11:15 and I knew the newly-visible sun was going to be strong, so I grabbed a cup of ice and clenched ice in both hands. I saw this trick done by a professional triathlete at Kona, and hoped it would keep me cool.Here are my Runkeeper mile splits:Mile 1: 9:56Mile 2: 10:33Mile 3: 11:11