Ironman Switzerland - A Race Report

It is officially the end of the road.  All the hours, all the sweat, all the miles, the soreness, the fun, the pain and the work has come to fruition.  Greg and I are Ironmen!  Ironman Switzerland will live in my memory as one of the best experiences of my life.  I'm so glad we took on the challenge.

And now, the race report.

The Prelude

Greg and I arrived in Zurich on Thursday morning, July 24th.  The idea was to have a few days to get oriented and get over the jet lag but not burn up too many precious vacation days.  This plan was just about perfect.

Endurance Sports Travel (EST), our hosts, picked us and some other guests up at the airport and took us back to our hotel, the Crowne Plaza.  If you are traveling to an unfamiliar city for an Ironman, EST is a no-brainer.  They work out all race logistics for you, namely getting to-and-from the race site, which you must do repeatedly with your bike, gear, etc.  Having to do this on your own would be a major P.I.T.A.  EST's communication and scheduling could have been a little more professional, but they were all great people and ultimately got the job done.  The hotel was extremely average and the location was poor.  I would never recommend this hotel to a vacationer in Zurich, but for race purposes it was adequate.  We were getting rides everywhere and our room was such a mess with all of our gear that luxury would have been silly.  Zurich is an extraordinarily expensive city, so for a 5 night stay centered around the race, this hotel was the right call.  We took a little nap and then made our way to the race site to register.

Registration was fairly predictable.  We got nice new Ironman backpacks full of all our necessary gear and some goodies.  We sat in some shade and pulled out our race numbers.  It was all becoming real, and the butterflies in my stomach were starting to take flight.

Thursday afternoon EST got our bikes from TriBike Transport, the company we entrusted to bring our bikes to Zurich.  This company is another home run.  You drop your bike off at a local shop the week before the race.  They don't even disassemble it...they wrap it up and the next thing you know, your bike is before you at your destination.  The cost, compared with shipping companies and airline fees, considering the convenience, is WELL worth it.  Their coordination with EST made things particularly easy.  EST's mechanic confirmed that our bikes were in great shape.  One less thing to be concerned about!

Friday morning EST led a little group ride which was a perfect opportunity to shake the legs out and test out our bikes before race day.  The ride was a little sketchy as we had to get through quite a bit of traffic to get to the race site, but we survived.  We did one loop around one of the steepest climbs in the race, Heartbreak Hill, and back to the hotel.  A little over an hour.  Bikes were fine, we were feeling good.  Time to rest until Sunday morning.

Friday afternoon was the race brief back at the race site.  The race brief was a one-hour comedic version of the athlete guide in a tent so hot I almost passed out.  I did learn two pieces of information for which I was unprepared.  (1) No special needs.  Ummm... what the wha?  Our coach and our teammates had been telling us all about special needs bags you can drop on the bike and the run -- bags of extra supplies you might need mid-race.  These bags are provided by Ironman in US races.  We had packed and planned accordingly.  Now what?  (2) In T1, I could not carry my bike shoes to the mount line.  I either had to put them on in the tent or put them on my pedals.  This was a problem.  It was supposed to rain both the night before the race and race day, and there would be a looong walk out to the start of the bike course on muddy grass.  My Speedplay pedals are NOT, to say the least, mud friendly.  Mud in my cleats would render my bike unrideable and ruin my day.  However, I had never practiced putting my feet in my shoes while riding.  Nothing new on race day?!?!  More on these topics later.

Friday evening we joined some of our fellow EST customers for pizza near the hotel.  The waiter went around the table taking everyone's mineral water order.  Greg and I were last and did not hesitate ordering beers.  I think everyone else at the table thought we were nuts and I was beginning to feel like I needed to attend an AA meeting.  We spent most of dinner listening to the tales of these experienced Ironmen...their training regimens, power meter commentaries, and race tips.  One comment that stood out in my mind was from a 17-Ironman finisher and Kona qualifier who said that the competition in European Ironmans is a whole other level from the US.  He said that in the US he is typically top 10 in his AG coming off the bike and this has never been the case in Europe.  Noted.  Anyway, I sat there wide eyed, simply day dreaming of the finish line.  But there would be no dreaming in bed Friday night - my first sleepless night of the trip.  My mind was racing...running through race logistics, plans, execution, performance.  I had the jitters bad.

Saturday morning we packed our transition bags, marking them carefully with duct tape so as to be able to readily identify them on the racks -- a tip we stole from a previous race report.  EST offered to have special needs bags for us at the mid-point of the bike.  Yay, EST!  So we packed that too.  Checked and re-checked our items.  We also wrote notes to each other to put in our transition bags...little surprise messages we could look forward to as we ticked off the miles.

We went down to the garage of our hotel to prep our bikes with our stickers.  I also decided to try putting my already-clipped-in shoes on while riding around the parking lot.  I simply could not risk muddy cleats.  Fortunately one of our Friday dinner companions, the 17-time Ironman, was also in the garage to give me some tips on how its done.  Those tips were enough to get me comfortable in the parking lot.  Even if it took me a couple extra minutes on race day, it was better than the alternative.  I decided to go for it and attach my shoes to my bike.

Saturday evening was bike/transition bag check-in.  They organized check-in by bib number and told everyone they MUST go at their assigned time.  Of course, Greg and I were separated by several hours, so we split up.  I was in the 4-5pm group.  EST got us there about 4:15.  I walked over to the line which seemed a legitimate mile long.  There were hundreds of athletes standing in line in the rain waiting to check in.  Ugh.  As I head towards the back of the line I see most of the athletes are supposed to be in later check-in times.  GRRRR.  Clearly, they were not enforcing their policy.  It was a free-for-all.  I am told that this race's check in is much later and much slower than US races.  Anywho, I finally got to the front of the line and got my photo taken with my bike for security.  I went to rack it, cover it with a big bag for the rain, hang my transition bags on the racks, pick up my timing chip, and head back to the hotel.  I got back just as Greg was leaving for his check-in.  Had a nice big pasta dinner and settled in for another sleepless night.

Race Day

Ironman Switzerland had finally arrived.  The alarm wasn't even close to necessary.  Greg set his phone to play the "Happy" song as our alarm.  This song reminds us of our pup Islay, the happiest dog on earth.  As jittery as I felt, however, I was more anxious than nervous.  I just wanted to get the show on the road!  We quickly dressed, grabbed our wetsuits and post-race gear bag, ate some breakfast, and jumped in the van for our big day.  We got to the race site in the dark.  Oh yeah, forgot a headlamp!  I stumbled around my transition area.  Took off the rain cover, found a pump and put air in my tires, put my shoes on my pedals.  Greg and I reunited, put on our wet suits, and headed for the beach to do a little warm up swim.  The water was very comfortable and the buoys looked reasonably straight forward.  We got out, kissed goodbye, and went to our respective start pens.  Of course now that I have my wetsuit on and it is 10 minutes until race start, like a 5 year old in my snow suit, I realize that I now have to go to the bathroom.  I sprint to a nearby restroom and use 9 of my 10 minutes getting out and back into my wetsuit.  Sprint back to the start and there is the whistle.  140.6 miles to go.

The Swim

Like other Ironman races recently, Ironman Switzerland did a wave start for the first time.  They had 2 waves of amateurs after the pros.  They told you if you expect to swim a 1:10 or faster, go in wave 1.  Slower, wave 2.  My time trial 2.4 mile open water swim a few weeks prior was a 1:12.  Hmmm.  What to do?  When I thought the swim would be a mass start, I just planned to sit at the back and wait for things to clear out.  I simply couldn't bear getting beat up by bodies and exerting too much stress and energy that early on.  But with the wave start, this gets tricky.  I decided to swim in the back of Wave 1.  I knew that faster swimmers that go out hard in Wave 2 would catch me, but that was a chance I was willing to take to avoid being stuck with the true slowpokes in the back of Wave 2.

2 lap swim.  I let all the Wave 1 swimmers go, then slowly inched my way into the water.  For the first few hundred yards I was practically dog paddling.  The traffic was heavy.  For self proclaimed "strong swimmers" there were a lot of bad swimmers out there.  I may not be fast, but folks around me were zig zagging all over the place.  The traffic remained bad until the first turn buoy, where I got completely beat up.  People on my feet were grabbing at my legs so much I thought they'd rip my timing chip off. I just kicked like crazy.  Oops!  My bad!  The next couple of legs were fine until the funnel to the Australian exit, a little island that you run over to begin the next lap.  When you hit the funnel the traffic got very bad again and I got beat up again.  Limbs and bodies hitting hard.  I was very happy to get out of the water and create a little distance on the second lap.

I'm the one in the green cap.  And the sleeveless wetsuit.  :)

I look at my watch.  :37 minutes.  I'm behind because the first lap is shorter than the second.  Who cares.  Back in the water I go.  The second lap was definitely easier in terms of traffic but the chop had picked up.  Net/net about the same.  I climb out of the water and look at my watch again.  1:20+.  Yikes!  Much slower than anticipated.  Oh well, I'm done and feeling good.

SWIM:  1:21:05, 19/45 starters in AG

The Bike

The great thing about triathlon is that you are so exhausted by each leg that you are actually excited for the next leg to start!  I get my wetsuit half off and run to get my transition bag.  The bags were in perfect order so the duct tape wasn't really necessary.  I grabbed my bag and run into the ladies changing tent.  I see why they are coed...naked women everywhere.  I laugh since I am wearing the same outfit the whole race.  Why are they changing?  So in addition to no special needs, Ironman Switzerland doesn't have wetsuit strippers!!!  Our Ironman friends in the States had told us about the incredible volunteer service in these races...the wetsuit strippers, the volunteers in transition that help you with sunscreen, getting your transition bag, your bike, etc.  None of that.  We picked the low budget race, apparently.  No time to worry about that.  I sit down, read my note from Greg which puts a smile on my face.  I eat 2 fig newtons, apply a handful of chamois cream (yes, after I eat!), drink some water, put on my socks, helmet, sunglasses.  I drop off my bag and run off to find my bike.  I get to my bike and am so happy I'm not wearing my shoes.  The ground is a MESS.  I then have to run with my bike several hundred yards to get to the bike mount line.  I hop on, and as instructed the day before, pedal for a bit with my feet on top of my shoes.  Carefully, with some momentum, I reach down and strap one foot in at a time.  Easy!  I'm off.

Strapping in.

The first 30K (yep, learned how to calculate k's to miles in my head with all of my "free" bike time) were basically pancake flat around the lake.  I am tempted to fly but Coach T was sitting on my shoulder the whole time, in her red visor, yelling at me to slow down!  People were passing me left and right.  I HATE that.  I kept telling myself, patience, patience.  At 30k came the first climb.  Average length, average steep.  I'm in my easy gear, just spinning it up.  At 45K came my first planned stop.  I hopped off my saddle, stretched quickly, and refilled my aero bottle between my handlebars with one of my spares.  Back on the bike.  The next 10K were some easy rollers.  At about 55K comes "The Beast," the hardest climb of the race.  It is very steep, winding, and long.  I am passing a bunch of Clydesdale racers, but that's about it.  Passing on this grade takes a lot of effort.  The drafting rules on these climbs go completely out the window...people are in packs.  I am spinning easy, sitting up nice and straight to stretch my lower back, desperately trying not to work my quads too hard.  I get to the top and breathe a sigh of relief.  Little did I know I was only half way done.  After a brief and gradual downhill, we're climbing again.  Another long climb, this one not as steep but it seems to go on forever.  Finally at the top, about 63K into the first lap, there is an aid station with an announcer who butchers my name.  Nice try though.  This time there is a steep descent back to the lake.  The roads are still quite wet from the previous night's rain and I get visions of crashing.  This always happens to me on steep downhills.  I have to work so hard to stay focused and calm.  I make it down to the flat section and make my way back around the lake towards Heartbreak Hill, the steepest climb of the race that we had done in Friday's warm up.  This was a hard but exciting section.  The street is lined with spectators on both sides, creating a singletrack of riders.  They are all screaming and cheering and ringing their cowbells.  "Hopp, hopp hopp!" "Allez!  Allez!"  It is fun and makes you feel like you are a Tour rider.

Whew!  Made it to the top.

Just before the tip of the climb I feel a tap on my back and it is Ken Glah, the owner of Endurance Sports Tavel and 30-time Kona qualifier, with my special needs bag.  All I can think of is how absurd I must seem to this incredible professional triathlete, as he is handing me Fig Newtons and Combos at about the same time he would have been starting his run.  But he couldn't have been nicer or more supportive.  I lollygagged a bit at this pit stop.  It took me a while to find a clearing, then I grabbed my spare Accelerade powder and refilled my empty bottle.  I get back on the bike and stuff my two fig newtons in my mouth.  Dumb!  The descent starts immediately and I find myself unable to chew so down I go looking like a big chipmunk.   I think I finally swallowed them about five minutes later.  The course loops back to the start and this is right about the time I see Greg.  He is headed for Heartbreak Hill.  I yell out to him but he doesn't hear me.  He was looking strong, which makes me happy.  Off for my second lap.

Back out for lap #2

Mentally I was doing well.  I wasn't tired or bored and felt ready for the second lap.  I finished the first lap in about 3:15, including stops, and this scared me a bit.  Coach T was back on my shoulder.  SLOW DOWN!  6:30 would have been ahead of my "A" goal split in order to preserve my run. I'm back on the flat section and am keeping my pace in check.  There are a bazillion riders in front of me but I stay patient.   I get to the 135K mark and hit my 3rd and final stop.  This time, I need a rest room, stat.  I run in, drop my suit, and forget that my bib is still attached.  I think I peed all over it.  To boot, I zip my suit back up but my bib is all tangled up.  I run back out and the volunteers try to help me but the situation is hopeless. I must go back in, undress again, and get my bib straightened out.  GRR...#wasteoftime!  I fill my aero bottle one more time and off I go to get this thing done.  The climbs the second time around are of course tougher, but there is only so slow you can go - any slower and I would have tipped over!  I'm spinning, spinning, spinning, and scared that I am burning my legs up, so I'm even more conservative on the flats. 

(Note: For those of you considering this race...don't be fooled by the seemingly low elevation gain.  The total elevation gain is less than some other Ironmans, but the unique challenge of this race is that all of the gain comes in 3-4 very steep, energy-depleting climbs.  No rollers here.)

The second time I hit that steep downhill, I see an ambulance at the bottom.  Yikes.  This will not be good.  Sure enough there is a guy in a stretcher at the bottom covered in blood.  Greg is still behind me so I can breath a sigh of relief that it isn't him, but I get chills as I ride past this man.  I know that when Greg sees this he'll think it is me.  I am pretty accident prone.  I'm back on the flats around the lake and I notice there are no bikes.  I'm alone.  It is weird.  The second time up Heartbreak hill isn't as fun.  The crowd has thinned a bit and my quads are starting to burn.  Someone starts yelling "hopp hopp hopp!" and I want to punch him.  "I'm hopping!!!!"  The last few kilometers seem endless but I finally arrive.  I didn't see Greg this time so he must already be up Heartbreak and has gained on me.  There are runners EVERYWHERE.  Most of them multiple laps in.  Gosh, am I that slow????  Apparently so.  That dude wasn't kidding about the European competition.  I rack my bike and it seems I'm the last bike to arrive, but I'm feeling good.  Many Ironmen have told me they never want to see their bike again after that ride, but I didn't experience this.  I suppose I didn't work hard enough.

BIKE: 6:49:40, 28/45 AG

The Run

Another volunteer-free transition.  What does my $800 go to, again?  More naked ladies in transition.  Still confused by this.  I read my final note, strap on my shoes and my fuel belt that, sans special needs, contains everything I could ever use.  I'm off, expecting to be sluggish....but, what's this??  I'm feeling great.  For two laps and over 13 miles, I'm practically whistling zippity do-da.  I'm soaking in the sights, enjoying the fellow competitors, the spectators, and the aid stations.  I walk the aid stations, but don't feel desperate to do so.  Even passed two of our Friday night dinner companions that didn't drink beer...suckers!  Was it worth it?!?!

Two laps in.  This is easy!

The run is a four-lap course.  Greg poo-poo'd this format at first, but I maintained that this is a good thing.  It breaks the run down in to manageable chunks (huge, mentally) and with all the little out-and-backs of the loop, we'd get to see each other a bunch...which we did!  It was great. Always put a spring in my step.  A couple of miles into each lap you get a colored arm band.  Once you collect all four you are home free.  The hardest part of the laps was that you have to run past the finish line each time.  After the second and third lap I started tearing up as I heard them announcing finishers...I knew my time was coming soon.  After I got my 3rd arm band, a couple of miles into the 3rd lap, the miles started to catch up with me.  My legs started to feel pain.  I found myself walking more and hobbling a bit.  At the start of the 4th lap, I'm hurting.  Bad.  My legs aren't working.  This is right when Greg catches up to me.  He starts walking with me, and I am urging him to keep going.  I'm thinking he can break 13 hours and he needs to hustle and not wait for me.  But he insists that he is running out of gas too and wants to share the last lap together.  Greg gives me a 400mg Ibuprofen tablet.  Ahhhh.  We walk a lot the first half of the lap, but are happy and chatty.  My energy level is high, I am breathing easy, I just have no legs.  The second half of the lap I get my legs back.  Must have been the Ibuprofen.  Or all the broth I drank on the 3rd lap.  All of a sudden I'm feeling great again.  We pick the pace back up.  Then Greg starts fading.  It's my turn to coax.  Before too long, we can hear the finish line.  We run into the chute we'd run through three times before but this time we've got all our arm bands.  The spectators can see this and are cheering us on, giving us high fives.  FINALLY, we make that left turn to the finish.  We have the runway to ourselves.  

So happy! Pain? What pain?

It is the high everyone says it is.  Bright lights, red carpet, cheerleaders, the announcer shouting our names.."Jennifer, YOU are an Ironman!!"  "Greg, YOU are an Ironman!!!"  It was glorious.  We celebrated and danced across the finish line, got our medals, and gave each other a big congratulatory hug.  Even the non-alcoholic beer stand and most horrible post-race food I've ever seen couldn't bring me down.

Yahoo!!!!!

RUN: 4:51:23, 27/45 AG

TOTAL: 13:14:50, 27/45 AG Starters and 38 AG Finishers

In Closing

When I look back to my goals, it is hard to be disappointed in the results.  I met my base goal by 110%.  I finished strong and loved every minute of the experience.  That is enough.  I absolutely met my "B" goal which was breaking 14 hours.  I remember running the numbers in figuring out my goals and I just couldn't see taking more than 14 hours, but I didn't really know what to expect.  I didn't quite hit my "A" goal of breaking 13 hours, but c'est la vie.  I walked away from the race thinking that it wasn't that hard, so I know I have a faster time in me.

In response to what I've learned is the age old question,"are you going to do another one?" I can honestly say, I don't know.  I have to admit, it is tempting.  Yes, I did this for the experience of it and got exactly what I wanted, but let's face it, I wouldn't even attempt such a feat if I wasn't competitive.  Looking back on my performance, I see TONS of room for improvement and I must admit I would love to get that time down.  However, training for an Ironman requires putting most everything else in your life on a shelf, and I'm not sure I'm willing to do that in the foreseeable future.  2015 will likely have other excitement in store.

I have no regrets about doing Ironman Switzerland.  It was an incredible experience, we had a ball, and got a great vacation out of it.  BUT, if you are considering your first Ironman, I'd encourage Americans to stick to the home front for the first one.  I know if I attempt another one, it will be in the US.  Time will tell.