Two weeks ago, I had mentally planned to baptize myself on the Ironman bike course. I only needed the weather to cooperate. After yesterday's morning rain and high of 73°F, today started swimmingly with a brisk 50°F morning. The only wild card was the 1 AM bedtime & drinks from last night. I awoke to the alarm in good spirits and eager to get going. I made it to Cross Plains by 9:40 AM, right on time. By the time I got the bike unloaded and myself geared up, I was on my way at 9:50. I followed the course clockwise, heading out Bourbon Road and County P.
I felt good. The bike, as always, was riding smooth. I would soon come to a hill dubbed the "highest 'Degree' of difficulty" on the official Ironman map. It was definitely tough, but I had no idea what I was in for. You see, I started at what is really Miles 40 & 80 (because of the loop). I was hitting the hardest hill only 5 miles into my ride with fresh legs. Most climb it at Miles 45 & 85, where it is probably mind & leg numbing. I've read stories of athletes walking their bikes up it during the race. There were black marks covering the controversial motivational paint, which triggered my imagination of all the supporters lining the road, cheering the bikers up the hill. The thoughts got me up the hill and sent chills down my arms. I can't wait until next September.
The crisp morning grew into a glorious fall day, with spectacular red and orange leaves lining the country roads and bluffs. I realized why the message boards refer to the Ironman Wisconsin as IMOO, as in the bovine sound, "Mooo." All the roads wind through the fertile Wisconsin farmlands, many of them dairy farms. One of the ride's highlights featured such a cow. I noticed one on the side of the road ahead, but couldn't tell if it was behind a fence or not. When it darted out into the road, I figured out the answer real quick. Instead of staying on the opposite side and letting me pass, it skirted out into the middle and immediately began to trot down the middle of the road. I slowed my pace to follow it, waiting for it to move out of the way. The narrow road didn't really leave enough room to comfortably pass. As it trotted, it kept looking back at me. She kept glaring back at me with a look of "Why are you making me run? Can't you see I'm a cow? I don't run. I chew grass." After those glances, I slowed considerably and allowed her to quickly amble along. She finally found a driveway to pull into, just as a slow vehicle would, and quickly turned the her eyes on me to make sure I wouldn't make her run anymore.
Another great moment came in Mount Horeb, nearing the completion of the ride. My legs and back were growing considerably sore, and the noon-high sun was warming me beyond my layered clothes. I stopped at a Kwik Trip to take off some layers, rest, and eat my last granola bar. I noticed a guy drive by, totally checking out my bike. He parked and said hello as he went into the store, mentioning that he had been out already this morning. I was still there when he came out, and he asked how I like my bike. What followed was an impromptu friendly conversation that is only possible because I started exercising. He said that he didn't really get into the triathlon thing, but was a big gear head, logging 4,000 miles on his bike each year. (4,000! Some people don't even put that on their cars!) We chatted about the Ironman and bike gear and he left to take his gallon of milk home. He finished by letting me know there were only a few hills left and most of it was downhill. I was excited to be done.
I arrived back at my car two and a half hours I left it, 40.5 miles and way too many hills later. I was drained. This course is way harder than I thought. I stretched out my legs, and felt the burn as I sat down. On my way out of town, I decided to treat myself to a Culver's custard. As I placed and waited for my order, my legs decided to cramp up. I could barely stand, leaning against the counter and danced around to keep moving. The custard could not be served fast enough. I got my dish and found the nearest seat to stretch and massage out my legs. I must have looked really ugly, dancing and wincing in pain while waiting for the custard. My legs have stayed sore throughout the day, and will most likely be sore for the rest of the week. It's that bad. No wonder why Lance has a personal masseuse.
As I alluded to earlier, I've been hiding in the wings of some message boards amassing tips, and reading the trials, tribulations, and successes of others. The community is supportive, friendly, and open to all ideas with great enthusiasm for triathlons. A neat feature is that several people post diaries of their events and often offer advice and tips for those of us that aren't quite there yet. I use each as a source of competition tips, like what should go in transition bags, what, when and where to eat. But mostly I use them as a source of inspiration. One such report is John's Blue Devil Ironman race in North Carolina. Just awesome.
Although I'm down 26 pounds on the diet, there's still plenty left to train for, as today was a huge eye-opener. It was good to get it out in the open now, rather than next summer. I know where I stand and how much I need to go. I've got a tentative list of events to compete in over the next year, including the Alumni Meet in December, Crazylegs in April, MadCity Half marathon in Memorial Day, and a half-ironman in late July. I'll be programming those into my training schedule and use them as indicators as the training progresses. It's going to be a great year.
