Ironman Chattanooga: what a ride! This training season was more challenging for me than the past three years when training for a full ironman. I experienced some minor injuries and GI-related challenges this year that had to be addressed and that directly affected my training. Looking back, I probably should not have registered for Ironman Chattanooga; after three back-to-back years of full distance ironman races with a season of ultramarathoning thrown in there, my body needed a break. But I did register and was planning to race. I made it through the training for it, hitting most of the long workouts and enough of the short ones to feel mostly prepared for this big race.
As my 3-week taper phase for the race started, I began to notice intermittent heart palpatations. Sometimes they were frequent and persistent, other times less so. I have no history of any heart difficulties, so I chalked these up to training fatigue and hoped they would go away by the time the race rolled around. With as much rest as I could get and overall clean eating and good hydration during taper, they basically did go away.
In preparation for the race, I made my boyfriend Matt a race t-shirt to wear and had a pink streak put into my hair. I packed up all my gear the day before we left for Chattanooga. It was a lot of gear.
Matt and I drove from Durham to Chattanooga the Thursday before the race (Sunday, September 28). We made a long drive longer by stopping frequently at rest stops and generally enjoying ourselves along the way. As we drove west into Tennessee, the view became prettier and prettier.
We arrived to our hotel, The Chattanoogan, Thursday evening just before sunset. It was great to finally be there and try to relax a little. We had a fabulous dinner and didn't give two more seconds' thought to the race that night.
Friday morning Matt and I went for an easy run along the riverfront. We saw some friends along the way, and I was finally able to do a bit of marathon course recon. We finished our run and made our way back to the hotel. During breakfast the heart palpitations started up again and persisted throughout the day.
Early that afternoon we went to Athlete Check-In where I picked up my race packet and swag. By this point, the heart palpitations were basically non-stop; to say I was starting to feel a little concerned would be an understatement. There was no medic or any medical personnel on site yet. I didn't know if I would be able to race if the arrhythmic beats continued and was considering ditching the race.
The heart arrythmia continued well into that night, making it difficult to fall asleep and waking me after I fell asleep. I'd spoken earlier in the day to a friend who is an MD, and he suggested a trip to the ER.
I awoke the next morning with no palpitations. I got all of my race gear sorted into the various bags, double and then triple checked that it was all right, and then took my bicycle and my bike and run gear bags to transition where they would all be left over night.
We hung around transition for a while to kill time before the race meeting at 3pm and then attended the meeting. I realized that the run from the swim back up to transition included a nice little hill that we would also run down at the beginning of the marathon.
After the race meeting ended, Matt drove me to the ER at Erlanger Hospital in Chattanooga. I spent 3 hours there, and after multiple tests was cleared to race the next day, with a strong recommendation to stop the race if the palpitations started up again and I was feeling bad.
The night before the race I got about 6 good hours of sleep and woke feeling pretty good. I ate, got dressed, and we walked the mile or so to the transition area where I dropped off nutrition and water bottles for my bike. I briefly saw my pals Rod and Angie in transition and snapped a quick picture. Then Matt and I took the shuttle to the swim start.
The swim start line seemed long, but it was hard to know how many people were already in it. We arrived pretty early, so I was hopeful that I would be able to jump into the water not long after the 7:30a start. We ended up hanging out for around 2 hours before it was go time. During those two hours I ate twice (and took a gel right before I jumped into the river), peed many times, and made friends with the people around me.
As the day began to break, we all started to get excited. I made up my mind that this was going to be a good day, regardless of how it turned out. I was going to make a concerted effort to look around, take in the sights, and really enjoy the day. Knowing that this would be my last full ironman, at least for a few years, I really wanted to soak it all in.
As it turned out, I jumped off the dock around 7:34a, which was great. I quickly realized I was swimming faster than I should/normally would as evidenced by the fire in my arms. I reminded myself to be calm and take it easy. As we passed the first sight buoy I realized that we had a great current. I initially thought the buoy had become untethered and was floating in the opposite direction until I put it together that we had a nice current carrying us along. The river felt great; it was warm enough to feel comfortable without a wetsuit as soon as I jumped in, and the clarity of the water was remarkable (see photo below that was taken from a bridge we swam under). After 35 minutes I rolled onto my back and took a gel that I'd tucked into my shorts and then continued on my way. I ended up having a great swim time of 1:03 for 2.4 miles.
I exited the river, ran up that hill, grabbed my bike gear bag, and dashed into the women's changing tent. I tend to transition slowly, so my goal was to keep T1 time to under 15 minutes. I stripped off all my clothes, dried off quickly, and then put on my cycling gear. My T1 time was 11:49.
As I began the bike leg, I felt really good. Ten miles into the bike course, we crossed the state line from Tennessee into north Georgia. We would spend the next 96 miles over two loops in GA before returning to TN. I knew I should take it easy on the first of two loops, saving energy for the rest of the race, but I didn't. The rolling hills were just right, and I was powering through them. According to my Garmin, I was averaging 17-18mph, which really was too fast for me; I doubted I would be able to sustain that pace for the entire 116 miles. I would later be forced to slow down, but in the meantime I had a blast, enjoying the gorgeous scenery and really appreciating the ability to put my body through such a physical test.
During the first loop, we encountered a number of man-made obstacles on the course, including tacks and oil slicks. I was first clued into the tacks when I noticed an unusually high number of cyclists with flats in a very short span of road. Given that I was riding on a brand new pair of tubeless wheels, I became very, very nervous, slowed down a bit, and watched the road for anything shiny or sharp. Gratefully I rode through that section unscathed. The oil slicks had been tended to by Ironman staff by the time I reached them; they'd been covered with dirt and then brushed, leaving a relatively harmless surface to ride.
As I neared the bike special needs bag hand-off area near the end of the first loop, where lots of spectators would be cheering as the athletes came through, I suddenly felt extremely fatigued. Simultaneously I noticed that my heart was starting to beat arrhythmically for the first time during the race. Hmmm. Fatigue wasn't a symptom I'd noticed with the heart thing previously. Historically I become very fatigued around mile 40 on an ironman bike course; it could just be a coincidence. It was enough to make me nervous, though, so I slowed down; I didn't have much of a choice, since I felt like I had no gas left in the tank. That faster pace was starting to catch up.
As I came upon the volunteers handing out the bags, I was given my bag and briefly pulled over. There were a couple of nutrition bars and snacks that I wanted; I gave the rest back to the volunteers. Very shortly after starting on my way again, I saw Matt on the side of the road cheering for me as I passed. It was so great to see him, and in the blink of an eye he was gone (or rather I was gone). I knew I wouldn't see him again until I got back to the transition area at the end of the bike course, so I settled into what would be a slog of a second loop. Suddenly the rollers that had been so much fun the first time around were now a lot of work. I reminded myself to keep at it and that I had plenty of time to get through this race.
The second loop was uneventful. My heart eventually settled back down, although it would take the rest of the bike leg to do so. I made it to the long, flat road that would take us back into Tennessee. I started to rally and felt myself picking up the pace. My bike finish was nearly as strong as its start, although my average pace over the entire 116 miles would be 15mph. I was happy to have seen three friends (Dave Campbell, Rod Jenkins, and John Garrity) along the way, bolstering my spirits. Of course they all passed me! My official bike time was 7:28:44.
I happily got off my bike and gave it to a volunteer as I entered the transition area. I changed into my run gear and got on my way. I'd hoped to keep this transition time to no more than 10 minutes and ended up with a 10:43 T2 time. Close enough.
We began the marathon after leaving the transition area by running down that big hill we'd run up when we exited the swim. As I ran down this hill, I heard a familiar voice (that wasn't Matt's) calling my name from above. It was my friend Reid, whose 20-something year old son was also participating in the race. It was good to see another familiar face from home.
I followed the run path along the riverfront and soon saw Matt, holding up my 'Don't Quit' sign, which made me smile. I had a cushion of about 7:30 to complete the marathon. I quickly did the math and calculated I could walk the entire 26.2 miles in that time. I had no plans of quitting. Matt snapped a couple quick pictures of me as I approached; I was all smiles.
Not long after I saw Matt, it began to rain. It was a gentle, steady rain, and IT. FELT. FANTASTIC. My only concern with the rain was that my shoes would get wet enough to soak my socks, which could lead to blisters. The misting rain lasted only about an hour or so, and blisters never happened.
Within the first mile of the marathon my stomach started to cramp. I took some Gas-X and decided to switch to a fast walk until the pain subsided. I knew that if I could maintain a 15-minute mile I would finish by the cutoff time, and I can easily walk a 15-minute mile. Thus went the rest of my marathon. In order to manage some on-again-off-again stomach pain along with my fears that my heartbeat might start to go haywire again, I proceeded to walk very quickly for a little while and then jog slowly for a bit. When I was feeling really good I would run more, and sometimes faster. When I noticed the stomach cramping creeping back in, I would walk, usually for no more than a half mile. As the marathon progressed, I realized I was averaging more like 14 minute miles with this strategy. Right on! I saw my friend, Cash Coyne, around mile 6 on the first loop of the marathon. He was looking strong and steady in his first ironman race. I ran with him for a little while and then wished him well as he kept running and I walked. In the latter part of the first loop I saw John Garrity again and would see him again at around the same spot during the second loop. Athletes' names were printed on the race bibs, so throughout the marathon I had spectators and volunteers constantly calling out my name as they cheered for me.
All in all, the marathon was fairly uneventful. I kept up a good pace and didn't feel a lot of real fatigue until well into the second loop, which is to be expected. The walk/run strategy was good on my gut as well as my legs. Relative to the cramping and pain I'd experienced at the end of my training and expected during this race, what I actually experienced in terms of GI distress was not so bad. I made a few pit stops but pretty much felt better after I did and could keep on trucking through.
As the night wore on, the volunteers became more and more awesome. Some were dressed up, some were playing music, and they were ALL extremely helpful and encouraging. For an inaugural race, these volunteers REALLY went all out to make the experience as incredible as possible for the athletes. I made sure to thank as many of them as I could throughout the day and especially as darkness fell and fatigue set it.
Finally the last few miles were upon me. In previous ironman races, the last 6 miles of the marathon had felt like an eternity, but this race was different. My head was in a different place, and I was really soaking up the scenery, enjoyment, pain, suffering -- all of it -- of those last 2 or 3 miles. Knowing that this would be my last full distance ironman for at least a little while compelled me to look at the whole experience a little differently.
As I crossed the final bridge to head back toward the finish line, I could hear Mike Reilly's voice in the distance, announcing finishers ahead of me. There were spectators sprinkled along the bridge, looking for their beloved athletes. I knew Matt was waiting for me at the finish line, and my stomach pain was nowhere to be found. I started to run faster, crossed the bridge, and the music became louder. The party at the finish line of an ironman race is always something to behold, and Chattanooga's inaugural ironman race was no different.
Approaching the finish chute, there were more spectators lining the road, all cheering for me. "Go, Rebecca!" "You're an ironman, Rebecca!" was what I kept hearing. I was unstoppable. I hit the chute, which seemed really long, and the crowd was enormous. The music was LOUD. There were people 3 and 4 deep at the entrance to the chute. The extremely bright floodlights lining the chute made it a little difficult to see individual faces after exiting hours of darkness. I was searching left and right for Matt until finally I saw him, holding the "Don't Quit" sign (which made him really easy to find). Just as I began my final steps down the long finish chute of my 4th full ironman race, Kool and The Gang's "Celebration" started blaring from the speakers all around me. Celebration. DAMN RIGHT. I heard Mike Reilly say, "Rebecca Kizlinski, you are an ironman!" and I knew I was home. My marathon time was 6:15:53 - slow by any standard, but I didn't care.
There is no way I could've been happier than I was to cross that finish line. After the long and difficult training season, peppered with lots of GI issues, an intermittently palpitating heart, and a very cranky knee (patella femoral syndrome) that required PT, and a mind that was tired of it all, I was done. I crossed the finish line of a full ironman race for the fourth time in four years, and for the first time I was announced as Rebecca Kizlinski. No, there is no way I could've been any happier than I was that day. My official IM Chattanooga race time was 15:10:27.
I know that 2015 will hold some important changes for me, and one of them is giving myself much needed rest. My body and my ironman spirit need a break from the long and grueling training (and racing) that is necessary for a full ironman race. I'm learning to slow down, go shorter (as opposed to longer), and savor the moment instead of thinking ahead to my next training session. I am currently registered for NO races. I have no races on my calendar as of January, 2015, and this is a big change from the past several years. Perhaps I will add some as the months pass, and perhaps I will not. Only time will tell. And right now, I'm not keeping time with my garmin.
