Ironman Wisconsin Madison 2002
Immediately after the announcement of Ironman Wisconsin in the summer of 2001, I signed up to be part of the inaugural event, much as I had done three years earlier upon the announcement of the first Ironman USA in Lake Placid. I booked the race in my calendar, and went on my way trying to improve my Ironman performance at other races.
In November 2001, I finished Ironman Florida in 10:40, about 40 minutes from a Kona slot. Four months later in New Zealand, a 10:41 finish in wind and rain was about 20 minutes short of Kona. In July, it all came together in a 10:33 at Lake Placid, and my goal had been reached: Kona 2002.
I found myself at the Ironman Wisconsin start line at 7am on Sunday September 15 with an unexpected opportunity and challenge: qualify for Kona for the second time in seven weeks, this time for the 2003 race. I wasn’t sure I was up to it.
In my pre race notes, I wrote
" . . . frankly, after going all out in Lake Placid, and more recently at Mrs. T's, and just coming off an 8-day, very low training volume vacation, I wonder if my heart will be completely in it. The fire is returning, but will it be there September 15? Does it need to be?
"Worst case, it's a fun, long training day, close to home. Best case, though, it's a run at qualifying for Hawaii, 2003. This is the first qualifier for the 2003 race, which probably stacks the deck a bit against me. There are only 80 overall slots available, compared with 100 at Lake Placid, meaning that my age group might receive only 8 or 9 slots. Second, I assume I'll have to finish in the top 8 or 9 to get a slot; I anticipate no rolldown, since this is the first event of the year. Last, I will race hard, but, yes, I am mindful that Hawaii will be five weeks away, and will back off if and when necessary. "
Joe Foster, my Ironman training advisor, sensed my ambivalence, and let me have it two days before the race. To paraphrase, he said: 'if you're going to jeopardize a good performance five weeks later in Kona -- and you are by doing this race -- the pressure is on you to deliver; you've got a job to do; you need to qualify for Kona 2003, that must be your goal'.
It seemed a little harsh at the time. I tried to find ways to let myself off the hook, but I had to admit he was right: I had a job to do.
When I finished the race, the first question people asked me was: do you think you qualified? I didn’t know. Second question: how does this race compare with Ironman USA Lake Placid? That, I knew.
Both are great races, and I recommend each highly. I rate the courses as nearly equally challenging overall, but they are quite different in many obvious ways.
mtcc.jpg (30414 bytes)For starters, Ironman USA is set in the 1980 US Winter Olympic site of Lake Placid, a small town nestled in the Adirondack mountains, while Ironman Wisconsin is set in the heart of Wisconsin’s state capitol, Madison, home of University of Wisconsin and its 40,000 students, surrounded by farming communities.
Madison, Wisconsin opened its arms and embraced this inaugural race in impressive fashion. The people were overwhelmingly friendly and supportive. The course wound through scenic farmland, through the university and with the state capitol building as the backdrop to the finish line. A photo-op race, if I've ever been in one.
The similarities begin and end with the swim. Both are two loop, rectangular courses in fresh water (although that term is less applicable to zero visibility Lake Monona than to Lake Placid’s Mirror Lake).
Swim
At 7am in Madison, more than 1800 athletes took off to complete the two-rectangle loop swim in Lake Monona, in front of Monona Terrace convention hall, a unique structure inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright.
I expected a typical 1:10 swim, which I achieved in Lake Placid, but didn't get it in Madison.
theyreoff.jpg (35392 bytes)The swim seemed more unpleasant than usual. I've never had so much contact in an Ironman swim. My favorite goggles developed a streaming leak after 400 meters. Some sort of current and/or my lousy navigating pulled me off course a few times. I kept running into people and having to stop and start again.
Approaching the clock at the end, I had no idea what it would read. But seeing 1:15:29, my heart sank. My worst swim in two years. Not a complete surprise, given the struggles in the water, but very disappointing.
Swim times were slower by several minutes for many racers. Of course I didn't know that until *after* the race, so for a while I was beating myself up for being such a lousy swimmer (actual thought: either quit triathlon or learn how to swim much, much better!).
I was smack in the middle of the pack, 873rd, compared to 792nd out of the water in Lake Placid. I thought I was out of Kona contention from the start. But I tried to remember Joe Foster's advice after a similar experience in Hawaii: never let the swim time distract you from the job at hand.
So off I went, to the most convoluted transition area in Ironman history. In Lake Placid, transition is fairly typical: run out of the water to the Olympic Speed Skating oval, to change and grab your bike and go.
ridingdownramp.jpg (49085 bytes)In Madison, there was no such open area for a normal transition; instead the Monona Terrace building was the transition area. Picture this: run up four levels of a circular parking ramp (affectionately called 'the helix' by race officials) to the upper level parking garage, to the middle of the level, then inside (!) into a big Monona Terrace conference room to pick up your bag and to change. Then out the door, run fifty yards to bike entry, and scamper approximately a hundred yards to bike exit, which was a fun trip riding *down* the other side helix to ground level. It was amazing, and it took me and most people more than eight minutes to do it all.
After the transition area, in the first 1/4 mile of the bike on John Nolen Drive, there was a narrow path and a big bump I could not avoid. Bam! 4 PowerBars flew off my bike. No room to stop and fetch them, I kept going, with 920 fewer calories for the bike course than I needed.
All-in-all, not a good first 85 minutes in Madison. I wondered if it was my time for a 'bad day.' I had not fully recovered from Ironman USA, and I really didn't train for this race. I was so focused on Ironman USA, and had all training aimed at it, that when I was there, I wanted to explode. In Madison, it wasn’t happening . . . yet.
Bike
I saw the Ironman Wisconsin bike course for the first time only the day before the race, and finally understood what people had been telling me for weeks: the course is unending turns and climbs. Some people who had trained on both courses had described the Madison course as harder than Lake Placid.
wisbike3.gif (34451 bytes)This surprised me, until I rode it. The elevation chart showed that these climbs took place within a range or 840 and 1240 feet above sea level, so no climb exceeded 400 feet at one time. That seemed reasonable, compared with 1500 foot climbs at Lake Placid. At least on paper.
But the difference between the two courses is simple: Lake Placid's climbs are long and arduous; Wisconsin's climbs hit you again and again.
Wisconsin's bike course is two loops, but the 40-mile loops began 16 miles from town. Lake Placid is two 56 mile loops. Winds seemed fairly strong out of the northwest in Madison, and were a constant test all day. But the sun remained out all day, unlike the downpour we got in Lake Placid.
Lake Placid's first seven miles are mainly up at 12mph, the next seven miles are straight down at 40+mph. A fairly flat few miles follow to the town of Jay, then riders work their way uphill back to Lake Placid. The most challenging aspect of the Lake Placid course is the 10-mile climb past Whiteface Mountain that begins at mile approximately 45 and 101. (More detail can be found in my Ironman USA xtri.com report.)
By contrast, the first leg of IM WI gently rolls along the countryside, getting you warmed up, and thankfully, there were no long climbs. Nothing seemed to exceed half a mile in duration. But they came one after the other, all day.
The Madison course runs mostly through Wisconsin's farmland, with just a few miles through local communities. Highlights were the extreme rollercoaster hills on Witte Road and beyond, passing through a cow path on North Birch trail to approach the toughest hill of the day, getting Gatorade from SuperWoman at the superhero aid station after mile 50/90, and blasting through crowds of people lining the road Tour de France-style, in Verona.
Bike112.jpg (282274 bytes)Passing through Verona at mile 55 was awesome, then we headed back west to begin the next 40 miles of the second loop. Through that point, I my confidence was building. I was riding fast, passing strong riders, and feeling more and more certain I could offset the poor swim if I kept up the pace.
By mile 60, though, I was beginning to feel noticeably sore and slow. I'm prepared for at least one bad portion on the bike; this was it. Doubts began creeping in again -- had I not recovered enough from Lake Placid? Would I recover in time for the hills on Witte Road and beyond? But you keep going, drink Gatorade, eat, and try to keep the cadence up. At mile 75, I felt myself again. Thank goodness.
The second loop finished, we headed back towards Madison, but not before a final climb to mile 105. The winds had picked up with more intensity, and speeds began to sag. At this point, I looked at my watch for the first time in more than 5 hours, and it said 6:40 had elapsed. After the slow swim, long T1, and a hilly course, I had a chance to arrive near the 7 hour point, not far off what I had done in Lake Placid.
I hammered back into town, and back up the helix to transition 2, as the clock read 7:02. I had finished the ride in 5:37:58, passing 607 riders, more than 1/3 of the field, to have the 157th best ride on the day. This was my best cycling rank ever, ahead of 244th in Lake Placid. Maybe I could salvage this race after all.
Run
The run course was filled with climbs, just like the bike course. I wasn't excited about it, but I knew it was more likely to tear down others, and I could use it to my advantage. As I exited transition 2 uphill towards the state Capitol, I knew if I were to have any chance at Kona, I'd have to make the run count.
runprofile.gif (6122 bytes)The course elevation map shows 13 climbs of about 100 feet each, making this the most challenging Ironman run course I'd experienced. The Lake Placid course features two sharp hills at one and three miles into each run loop, the second of which was a long, half mile monster. But the rest of the Lake Placid course seemed flat.
In Madison, the run out of T2 goes directly uphill to the Capitol. After the capitol, the course heads out west through (nice touch!) Camp Randall, the Badger's football stadium, to an out-and-back on Observatory Drive through campus, and State Street, another out-and-back loop on the bike trail, then back to the capitol via the football stadium. I really liked this layout; always something different.
I had planned to check my watch to keep on pace, but I couldn't read it. I was too foggy. So I just ran as fast as I felt I could. My Kona hopes seemed diminished as I saw several in my age group returning to town as I was headed out, clearly far ahead.
RunCapitol.jpg (347305 bytes)I knew I needed to be top 10 to have any chance at a slot, and assumed there were many between me and the front runners. But the beauty of the course is that you get four chances each look to scan who's ahead of you, at the turnarounds. Surprisingly, I didn't see that many in my age group. Was there a chance?
I reached the 13.1 mile turnaround at the Capitol, and looked closely at my watch for the first time since the run began. Not bad: 1:45 for 13.1 miles, and I felt fine.
I never had a bad moment on the run, perhaps because I kept eating. Having lost the Powerbars on the bike several hours earlier, I was concerned I'd run out of energy, so I took GU every 4 miles. I do this automatically in stand-alone marathons, but had never tried it in Ironman. It seemed to work.
I started recognizing people in my age group getting closer to me at the turnarounds, and passing the occasional one. Two things kept me on my toes: neighbor, training partner, and Iron rookie Barry Schliesmann was nearly exactly on my pace, about 4 minutes back, and #1338 also seemed to be eyeing me, trying to narrow the gap. They gave me a new motivation -- stay ahead. Each turnaround I checked, and each time they were still there.
I saw fewer and fewer male 40-44 runners on the last turnaround at mile 23, and started thinking -- without any real basis to do so -- that maybe I could go top 10. I had finished 13th in M40-44 at Lake Placid; maybe this could be a personal best ranking.
The key moment for me occurred on University Street, during mile 24. I spotted two M40-44 runners ahead of me, guys I knew were contenders. I knew they would not let me pass easily, being this close to the finish, and possibly close to a Kona slot.
I learned a lesson in Lake Placid, when I unsuccessfully tried to pass a final strong M40-44 runner near the end. I passed, he remained on my shoulder, and I couldn’t shake him. When we were 50 yards from the finish, he pulled outside and outsprinted me to the finish. I couldn’t answer.
Finish.jpg (48315 bytes)In Madison, I didn’t want to repeat this scenario. I needed to drop these two decisively, and waited until another runner passed them, hopefully distracting them, to make my move. I passed with as much sustained speed as possible, looked for shadows -- the sun was from the rear, and would outline anyone nearby -- and saw none. For the remaining two miles, I ran from the shadows (ultimately, I got three minutes ahead of them).
Running confidently, but on fumes -- I had no feeling in my hands or feet -- I passed the Capitol one final time, and headed for the finish. The clock showed 10:42:49 and 139th place and for the first time all day, I knew I had done well. I had passed 126 runners on the marathon.
I emerged from medical more than two hours later, in the dark, and returned to the finish line to see friend and training partner John Mueting finish his second Ironman with a smile. Then I looked on the results pages posted there, and saw what I had sensed: 10th place in my age group. My best Ironman age group rank ever.
The next day, I collected my Kona 2003 slot.
