This is a post of paradoxes. Elation and disappointment. Hope and humility. Achievement and failure.
On April 18th, I returned to race Ironman 70.3 New Orleans. My goal was to improve on last year's 5:28 time. This after an injury-free base and build training season this Winter. All was good with strong prep races at the Naples Half, Disney Half and the Clermont International (Olympic) Race where I qualified for the National USAT Championships in Tuscaloosa, AL.
One major question heading in to New Orleans was whether my strategy of training for an Ironman would deliver strong results at a 70.3 distance. I figured with my weakness being the bike, I would pack in more cycling miles (specifically 4 century rides) into 7 weeks of my build phase - then I would taper and nail New Orleans. After that, I would rest for a week and then "have fun" at Ironman St. George.
The other question was how well I would run considering a clear focus on bike improvement this training season...
I got my answer in New Orleans.
Conditions were not perfect. I had bi-coastal flights, red eyes and serious work commitments 6 days before New Orleans. Weather was a factor with a heat wave moving through New Orleans.
Mel was with me the whole way. We did our annual party night on Friday which involved a few extra drinks in the Big Easy...We had great fellowship with McRay on Saturday night at an awesome Emeril Lagasse restaurant called Nola.
Race morning. The bus to T-1 is always a trip. Nervous energy. I snuck Mel on the bus which helped keep me calm...I always feel on the brink of panic attacks on those transport buses...Anticipatory anxiety. I walk in to T-1, set up my gear and initiate my warm up routine...The water was "cold" (more later on the DEFINITION of cold). The wind was picking up...I could feel the nerves building. I tried to remind myself...everyone has to deal with these conditions.
They changed the swim venue this year. It was much slower with 3 different turns vs. last year which was a straight shot to T-1. One final twist on the swim...they put the Women's 45-50 AG right in front of our wave so navigation would be a factor.
The gun goes and there goes Andy Potts the eventual winner. He is a All-American / World-class Swimmer and he was Flying! Our wave goes out early and I felt awesome. Nerves are gone. I was struck by 5 AG women who were hanging on to buoys half way through the swim calling out for boat rescues. They were done. The water was rough...which is perfect for me. Mentally, I feel as though I have an advantage in rough water.
I got out of the water in 34 minutes. Not great for me but I wasn't really breathing hard. Cardio-wise, I felt awesome. I think I may have taken 2 of the buoys too wide...but still a better time than last year...Decent transition and off I go on the bike...The wind was brutal...Mostly a head wind...The roads were bumpier this year vs. last year...and then, the dumbest mistake ever...My tires were not fully inflated...huge disadvantage. This effected me mentally.
I held 20 MPH for most of the bike. My ass hurt from the low tires and bad roads. I pressed all the way through and finished the bike in 2:42 or so...that was a let-down but I blamed the wind and the low tires...still a slight improvement over last year.
Now the run. This was a mental challenge. Last year in New Orleans, I had NOTHING on the run...absolutely nada. I did it in 2:01 last year. This year, I wanted to try to click as many 8:00 - 8:15 miles as possible...I wanted to improve my run off the bike...and I did.
First mile felt ok. It was HOT...mid-80s with humidity...I forced down some more food...Not easy in that heat. To my surprise, I did the first mile in 7:53. Next mile was 7:56 and then 8 on the button...I was happy with that but I was fading quickly...I did the whole run in 1:52 which is 8:33 miles. Good but not great. Final time was 5:16. So a PR and a 12 minute improvement in much harsher conditions. I was very satisfied.
It was also cool to see Cortney Haile at mile 6 or so when I was on mile 8...she was FLYING. I am absolutely amazed by how easy she makes the run look...She finished 2 seconds behind me and was announced right after me...very cool. I think she came in 6th in her AG and may have even broken 5 hours which is nuts considering the conditions. She is a STUD!
It was also awesome to meet big Jim L. He seemed fresh having finished in the pro field hours earlier...How can any human being do a 70.3 in less than 4:20???
Overall an awesome race...Strong improvement in worse conditions...46th in my AG out of 300...I will take it. Perfectly positioned for more improvement this summer...I plan to lay it down in Cancun on Sept. 19 and see if I can gut my way into a Clearwater slot...
Then - off to Ironman St. George.
I told my wife that me being in this race was like putting my 11-year old prodigy son in an elementary school in Compton, CA. Nothing about this race catered to my strengths. I love warm, rough water. This was 58 degree water with no chop. I love hot, humid air. This was 43 degrees, dry and windy...(snow was on the mountain tops within 1 mile of T-1). I love flat road surfaces with no wind...This was 10,000 feet of bike climbing and 30-40 mph gusts (head winds!!!)...I loathe hilly running surfaces...this was 11 degree inclines...up and down, up and down...
The day before the race, I went out with T-Bart and Josh Eckhaus to "test" the water. I have a tradition (superstition actually) of swimming in the water the day before a race WITHOUT a wet suit...If I can swim comfortably without a wet suit...race day will be that much more comfortable...After doing the "count" 7 or 8 times...1-2-3, go. 1-2-3, go. 1-2-3, go...I finally got the courage and dove into the reservoir. I have never had that feeling in my life...My whole body seized up and I felt like I was gonna drown. I could not breath...I was hyperventilating from the cold...
This was terrible mentally for me...I had already heard about the bike climbs and the horror stories from the run course...but this was the swim...my strength...I panicked...T-Bart says, "cmon man...that was warm...no worries...you will be fine" I was a mess..."how the F____ am I gonna swim 2.4 miles in this???"
I get out and immediately head back to the hotel (15 miles away) to get my wet suit and try again. An hour later, I was back in the water with my SLEEVE-less wet suit...I swam for 10 minutes. It was FREEEEZING...but I survived.
I tried to convince myself I was okay. If I can do that for 10 minutes...I will warm up and my adrenaline will take over...But wait...maybe not...maybe the adrenaline will be too much for my heart...aren't there stories of heart attacks in cold water because your heart over-works and you don't even realize it? OMG. I am going to have a heart attack and die at 39.
I tried to eat and sleep. No dice. It's like "fake sleep" the night before these races. I lie there...tossing and turning...saying to myself..."oh my god...I need to sleep...I can't do an Ironman with no sleep...why do I put myself through this???" Hours go by. T-bart is snoring. I am lying there...waiting, 12 AM, 1:30 AM...2:30 AM...3:30 AM...Torture. Wake up call? No need. I get outta bed. Coffee. Oatmeal. Duece (the only thing that went right on race morning). Special Needs bag...so many details and logistics in an Ironman race...I am out of my mind. T-Bart is as calm as can be...I hate him. Ya gotta love him.
The bus to the reservoir. Panic attack. "Sip your Pedialyte." Oh God...am I really going to puke on this transport bus? Another panic attack. I get out of the bus. T-1. It's pitch dark. 5:00 AM. Windy. REALLY windy. And cold. Legendary announcer Mike Reilly is full of energy. I remember being in Scotland for a golf vacation and every morning it was 40 degrees, windy and raining...our host would wake up and say, "It's a beautiful morning out there...PERFECT conditions..." Mike Reilly announces that the conditions are a "perfect 44 degrees and 57 degree water." Jesus Christ. The sun starts to rise...I can see the snow cap mountains...Please sun. Come up. Please warm up.
I go into the changing tent. Warmth. Hundreds of dudes sitting silently in the dark. Nervous energy. Ipods. I piss six times. I am shitting my pants. "OK. You can do this"....Pray and meditate. Two hours til the gun goes off...Why does everyone seem so calm?
Canon blasts @ 6:45 AM. The pros go off. Nerves. Helicopters. Try to enjoy the festive atmosphere. I walk into the water with T-Bart. Freezing. I convince myself that I can do this. T-Bart takes me to the front of the line...its like a death march..."You can do this John. You are a good swimmer. You CAN do this..." He then says... "look around...there are plenty of people here with sleeveless wet suits." I look around. Huh? Not one person...I am in the front of an Ironman Swim in a sleeveless wet suit...treading water and praying the Hail Mary....2,000 other nut-jobs are treading water around me. The cannon blasts. I am off.
Get into a rhythm. Get to the first red buoy. I get smashed in the head, gut and balls... I get my goggles kicked off. Now I am pissed. My face and my toes go numb. I get to the red buoy. I think to myself..."that had to be 25-30 minutes..." I look at my watch. WTF...9 minutes...
Stay steady. I try to draft off T-Bart. He's gone within 25 minutes. At 32 minutes...I am in 60 feet deep water and at the furthest point from land...I can barely see land...I am tired. Breast stroke here and there..."get your bearings. Stay calm. Panic kills." I distinctly remember looking up at every 10th stroke to see where the boats and kayaks were...I was thinking about how fast they could get to me if my body locked up...43 minutes..."OK...way past half way"...You can do this...you can do bear anything for 20 minutes. Stay steady.
Oh know...what's that??? I start to feel both calves lock up uncontrollably...I have never cramped in any race...ever. Both calves start to lock. I can not feel my toes. My fingers are tingling...
GET TO LAND. You are in trouble. GET TO LAND. I start to extend my strokes and pull harder...55 minutes. 60 minutes. I am almost there. GET TO LAND. I can hear the announcements of people getting out of the water. I go faster. I actually start to relax and feel good. At 1:09, I am done...
I start to run up the ramp and suddenly, I go blank...whoa...I am outta the water...but I am overcome by cold. I start to remember...the water is 57 but the air is 43. So, there is a double shock to the body. My whole body starts to shake....I am fading...The crowd is screaming in slow motion...Someone asks "can I help with your wet suit..." I offer a blank stare. "Sir are you okay..1459...are you okay..." More slow motion...everyone was talking in slow motion but my body was shaking uncontrollably...I am freezing...I am fading...I somehow think, "GET TO THE WARM TENT...GET THERE NOW..." I get to the warm tent and someone comes over to me, "talk to me 1459...are you okay..." Chattering teeth, I say, yu, yu, yu---yeessss-...ju, ju, just need some t t t t time..." I can't even open my bag and put on my clothes...some dude starts to open the bag for me. He was a life saver. I feel the instant warmth of the tent. I convince myself I am okay. Honestly, the tent felt like 100 degrees. Heaven. Maybe I am dead and this is heaven.
20 minutes later...I am dressed and out...But I think I was still in shock...T-Bart is waiting...He says, "Jesus Gamba, I was worried...are you okay???" I say, "let's roll"...On the bike...I explain the whole experience. He laughs. But in a good way...He convinces me that I am okay....I am shaking on my bike...
I say to T-Bart, "now that that is over...this is gonna be a great day..."
Think again.
I had it in my head that Louisville was hilly. Never did I expect what was about to come...At mile 22, we start the mountain climbs...a double loop with 5 climbs that were 8-11 degree inclines...I am going 5 mph on my small rail and red lining at 160-180 bpm..This is Zone 4 for me...
I finish one loop at an average speed of 15 mph...At mile 60, T-bart says, "the wind is kicking up...this is gonna be the hardest thing you will ever do in your life...after this, you may decide NOT to do the marathon...but you will finish this ride Gamba...You will do this" The winds were in the 25-30 mph range...Oh yeah...I have never been in altitude so @ 6,000 feet, my head was pounding and I was sucking wind...I stopped to pee 3 times.
I get done the 2nd loop...I almost walked the last climb. Four others around me walked it...they walked FASTER than I rode it. This was an evil course...Such a paradox...the most beauty scenery I have ever seen...but evil in every way - wind, climbs, cold.
There were two 17 mile stretches where you did not need to pedal...total down-hills...unfortunately, I can't handle 40 mph on the bike so I am clutching the brakes...I can't even enjoy the down-hills...I am petrified. One pro blows by me, hits a rut in the road and starts to teeter...I am convinced he is toast....his water bottles and CO2 fly off his bike and head toward me as projectiles...I am going 35 mph...I swerve...Oh My God...I barely kept it together...
"God if you get me through this, I promise to enjoy the run and never complain about anything ever again..."
One final climb at mile 110 (bastards!) and I am headed into T-2.
No such luck.
T-Bart heads into the tent looking fresh...Now ironically, he never intended to do the run...H ei s20 weeks out from Kona and knew the run would ruin his plan for Kona. I am sitting there naked and he says, "Gamba, there is no way I can allow you to go out on that run...it will destroy you...You are done..."
Nice. So much for confidence...
There was never a doubt. I head out and say to myself, "You are a runner. You can do this. don't walk until mile 10..." Of course, I am walking at mile 2.
This was a huge climb. I remind myself that the run course is a double loop...Anything I face now, I will have to do again after Mile 13. Strategy change...Walk the climbs...Run the descents. Hydrate at every aid station...At mile 10, I say, "don't switch to coke and chicken broth until mile 14..." I treated that like a reward. I see members of my Florida team in front me...uggghh...I am supposed to be faster than them... This is humbling...
Weird that I see older, heavier women in front of me...but I also see studly guys who seem more fit behind me??? Only in an Ironman.
The run ended up being "enjoyable..." Getting past mile 13 was a mental challenge but a huge cross-roads for me...I knew I could finish. I get to mile 20 and I start to reverse split the miles...I am okay...3 hours slower than Louisville but hey...I am okay...The coke and the broth were to die for - they were as heavenly as the T-1 tent after the swim...I mixed in some pretzels and potato chips. I must get better with nutrition. The Uncrustables worked for the bike...but I struggled to eat on the run...my stomach was toast.
I was humbled when a volunteer gave me a glow necklace...I never imagined that I would finish at night...Not only did I finish at night...It was LATE night. What a surreal feeling of running in the pitch dark in the mountains of Utah...very spiritual actually. I was humbled. I broke down and cried at Mile 22. I was Overcome. Totally broken. The last 2 miles were down-hill and I felt like I sprinted...The finish was not as festive as Louisville's 4th Street live...but it was awesome...the crowd and the spirt was very powerful.
The misery of this course and conditions were juxtaposed by the unbelievable beauty of southern Utah and the friendly St. Georgians. They were out in droves on the bike and run course - they were upbeat, cheerful and empathic. The volunteers responded to us as if we were studs, heroes and nuts all in one...I think they knew that this was a different kind of Ironman course...I think they knew that many people were dropping out and that only the strong survived. Many were dumbfounded by my speed and composure on Mile 24 and 25...So was I.
Many post-race reviews of the venue have concluded that this is the hardest Ironman course in the world. Harder than Placid. Harder than Wisconsin. Harder than the Canary Islands...What a confidence boost...If I could get through that...I could get through any challenge...athletically and non-athletically...
"John Gamba from Fort Myers, Florida...YOU ARE AN IRONMAN..."
Those words never get old...
