Ironman 70.3 Eagleman — seven weeks after a bike crash and one of the worst concussions my neurologist had ever seen. A prep race for Roth, and proof the swim fear hadn't won.
It's been an interesting tri year. Eagleman wasn't on my list at all — I prefer to travel to fun locations, and Cambridge, MD isn't on anyone's "fun" list. But after recent events (more on that later) I dropped out of both 70.3 St. George and Honu and needed a prep race before July. Eagleman turned out to be a team race, so I joined my teammates and coaches.
I'd heard the worst thing about Eagleman is that it's usually not wetsuit-legal — which terrified me given my open-water fear, and given that my last open-water swim was 70.3 Worlds, where I freaked out three times and forgot how to swim. That race took me to dark places and left me demoralized and unmotivated. So, against all my usual habits, I checked the NOAA buoy website multiple times a day for a month.
The day before, a few of us rode the run course (flat, zero shade) and Greg and I went for a short run — him at sub-6:00 pace, me plodding at 7:40. My legs felt great and I started to believe I might actually have a good day. I even did a practice swim in the Choptank River (which I didn't know was its name until basically race day) with Abby kayaking and Greg swimming circles around me, talking me through it and keeping me calm. My new ROKA gear felt great. Cody Beals — who'd won the year before and would win again — was staying two houses down and stopped by to wish me luck.
Swim
The swim is an in-water start off Great Marsh Point, an approximate rectangle with numbered buoys every hundred meters. Very well marked, tons of kayaks, SUPs, and jet skis — a very safe course, perfect for me. I kept veering right the whole way (I usually veer left), so I ended up swimming most outbound buoys on the wrong side and over-swam ~200 yards. But besides stopping to lower my heart rate a few times in the first three buoys, I had no issues. I haven't felt this good about a swim since 70.3 Mont-Tremblant the year before. Huge credit to the ROKA Maverick X wetsuit — comfortable, buoyant, confidence-inducing.
Swim: 49:30 (AG 141/152 — NOT LAST!)
T1
2:08 (Greg's T1: 1:55 — lost by 13 seconds, curses!)
Bike
The bike course is incredibly flat — my Garmin measured 30 feet of gain over 56 miles — but very windy. My power meter wasn't registering, so I just rode hard and passed people. I'd told Abby I'd be the happiest person on Earth the moment I got out of the water, and I rode like it: even effort, 700 calories from the Ventum bottle, just enjoying it. I passed 912 people (65 in my age group); only two passed me, one a 40-something woman who was an absolute badass — future goals.
The real challenge was the wind: 15–20 mph from the WNW, fierce enough that my bike rode at a visible angle and I sometimes went nowhere fast. The worst stretches were miles 10–25 and the final 16. Otherwise the roads were smooth and the Ventum was a beast — the best bike I've ridden.
Bike: 2:45:52 (a 12-minute PR)
T2
1:59 (Greg's T2: 1:06 — I shouldn't have put socks on.)
Run
About 15 steps in, my legs said: "Nope." Out of transition I saw a woman in red I thought might be Abby, and my brain went: Is that Abby? I thought she wore pink. Is she photographing me or this tall old dude? Is he in my age group? Oh who cares, just RUN. It was Abby. Our conversation, as I recall it:
Me: Man, that bike was SUPER windy. Abby: RUN! Me: I'm hurting. Abby: RUN!! Me: Can I take a nap? Abby: RUN!!! Me: Do you have a donut?
She also told me Greg came in 4th — an incredible result on a hot, windy day — which buoyed me the rest of the way. I made a deal with myself: run to every aid station, walk through it, and get Dairy Queen afterward (I'd never had it and really wanted ice cream). At each stop: two waters, an ice cup in the hat, sponges down the shirt. It kept my heart rate low, and somehow, no matter how slowly I ran, I kept passing people. The lesson, again: no matter what, keep running.
In the last mile I found another gear. As our house came into view, Greg — the 4th-place finisher — came running out, onesie down to his waist, to cheer me on: "And you thought the swim was the hardest part! Great job!" I responded with something like "BLERGHAdf'aoudjf." Then my teammates at the final turn, a high five for Tyler, and the finish.
Run: 2:13:42
Total: 5:53:11
Closing
Crossing the line felt amazing. The past two months were rough: the bike crash seven weeks earlier caused a series of injuries, most notably a severe concussion — bad enough that my neurologist (the NY Giants' neurologist) called it one of the worst she'd seen. I missed five weeks of training, still got headaches, and had two or three during the race. I didn't PR overall, but I gave it everything and crossed knowing I couldn't have done more. I PR'd the bike by 12 minutes and — most importantly — didn't panic in the swim. Both huge.
As my coach Darbi (11th female overall that day) put it: no matter what happened these past few weeks, I finished, and this sets me up for Roth.
Next stop: Germany.