Ironman Oceanside 70.3 – April 6, 2024

This was my first race where I had to bring my bike on a plane. 

I chose this race because it fit my schedule and to visit my college roommate Dzu Do, who had moved from New Jersey to San Diego in 2023.  I then realized I had other friends to visit in the area, starting with Larry Binderow who shared his beautiful home in Rancho Santa Fe on Thursday and Friday before the race.  Great to see him in his native habitat!  

Racked bikes at the Transition Area on Friday — the coldest day on record for San Diego (41 degrees F).  And it poured.

But that just meant the next day would have nothing left in the sponge and, by definition, warmer!  

Getting to the race Saturday morning was a logistical nightmare, but good practice for adapting to changes. Rolling with the punches.  Annoying, but nothing more.  First, the GPS took me to the Oceanside Transit Center parking lot, but no one was there — until I found the parking lot building.  Then, I joined around 75 people waiting for the shuttle bus to get to Transition. It took 30 minutes for 2 buses to arrive; we squeezed in, standing in the aisles, and got to Transition only 15 minutes before transition closed! 

Still, glad I didn’t join the handful who had decided to walk the 2 miles… Dumped out everything I had brought, set it up and ran out. Not enough time to worry!

I had been concerned (actually, terrified) about swimming in the ocean, and yes, the water was 60 degrees on race day.  Still, waiting to get started, I met all kinds of people — two quiet, weather-beaten brothers from Utah in their 50s; a guy from New York, and two from Connecticut — and the excitement was palable. Lined up with others behind the pacer’s sign for those expecting to swim at a 1:40 min/100 yd pace. Everyone shuffling towards the four-at-a-time chute onto a sloping dock and suddenly we’ve crossed the starting line and we are IN THE PACIFIC OCEAN!   

GOOOOOD MORNING!  Actually, with my full-length wetsuit and neoprene swim cap, it really wasn’t bad.  In fact, it felt great.  They initially planned to have us run into the surf and swim around the jetty in a clockwise “U”, but the surf was so rough we were re-routed to stay inside the bay, swimming the 1.2 miles in a counterclockwise route, leaving buoys to our left, turning at the red buoys, then back to the same starting place. The water was quite calm, and felt like a favorable current going out.  Dug into my new, improved stroke — reach reach reach for the catch, elbows high on the return, breathing 3-2-3 and sighting frequently, nudging up next to and then past the folks in my way (gently, didn’t kick anyone, I promise!).  It felt strong, it was delightful, I was choosing my route rather than depending on drafting for more than a few minutes.  The only trouble was seeing the orange buoys on the way back (rather than the outward-bound yellow buoys) as we swam into the rising sun.  Finished and stumbled out in 42:18 minutes – slower than planned, but it felt solid.

THEN I felt the cold.  I decided to run run run to T1 to get warm again— rather than stopping to slip off the wetsuit.  Didn’t work so well:  I sat on the ground, struggled out of the suit, tried to dry off, put on a long-sleeve biking shirt (Hastings Velo!) because the air temp was only 50 degrees, tried to put on gloves but couldn’t so put them in back pockets, heard the announcer say “must wear your race bib on the bike” so put on my running belt with holsters for water flasks to which I had oh so cleverly attached the race bib (whoops, that’s not so aerodynamic), helmet with magnetic visor (a little cracked because it hadn’t travelled as well as I’d hoped in my carry-on) and started to ride.  

I didn’t shiver.  But I couldn’t unclench my jaw for 45 minutes.  

I also couldn’t feel my feet, so pushing hard felt great, and the power meter indicated I was cruising along at 190-200 watts, my sustainable goal, for the first hour or so.  And I realized:  this is simply a gorgeous place to ride.  We hit the first of  the four big hills at around Mile 20, and at some point we entered Camp Pendleton, a Marine base (complete with three armed Marines who responded to my “Thank you” with grunt-shouting “Hoo-hah! Hoo-hah!” Seriously.).  The rolling hills and valleys were covered with different shades of green and brown, the shadows were sharp and crisp, the day was sunny.  It felt amazing to be there.  And eventually I warmed up (especially on those longer, steeper hills), but still glad to have the extra layer on the downhills (when we unfairly faced headwinds!).

At around 2 hours, I started slowing down — enough for a lot of people to pass me — including those that didn’t look like great riders on fancy bikes.  Marveled at a heavy woman who was a powerful rider (“Yeah, this is my favorite part” she said); chatted with two other guys from Utah, one in a bright yellow shirt (“yeah, those brothers are Randy and John, they train with us”); a young woman with blond ponytail left me in the dust; leap-frogged with a young guy in blue/purple/green tri-suit (“nice to see you again!”); was dropped by no. 1370, a guy in an olive-green shirt.  And rather than dwell on falling behind, I just did what felt sustainable.  Oh, well, it’s a 3-part race, I was NOT going to blow up on the bike.  I kept on enjoying the scenery and enjoying the race. Took my nutrition, had a caffeine gel at 3:00 hours (boom!  Optimism!).  

At one point a dreaded referee rode up next to me, sitting backwards on a motorcycle while someone else drove.  I got out from behind the rider ahead of me – we’re supposed to be 12 meters behind to avoid a drafting penalty! – and the referee said, “Why don’t you just finish passing this rider?”  Did it, she smiled, and I dodged a penalty!  Finished in 3:22 (17 mph) –  a mediocre result, but I had fun the whole ride.  

Ah, the run.  I decided not to look at my watch, and just do what felt like a strong pace.  And… I passed dozens of people, including yellow-shirt from Utah, woman with pony tail, blue/purple/green suit, olive shirt.  THAT was satisfying. 

First loop of the 13.1 miles was solid, with some uphills and that wonderful turnaround; second loop was harder, but didn’t kill me, just sticking with what felt strong and sustainable.  And at Mile 11 I realized my watch hadn’t been ringing at me every mile because  — wait for it — I hadn’t even started the watch on the run. 

I laughed and realized I had been  truly immersed in the race, picked up the pace the last two miles (at least, it felt like I got faster, and a guy I passed said “now, that’s a nice pace”), and finished the way I started, with a smile.  Ran the half marathon in 1:52:59, an 8:37 min/mile average.  I had expected to do 8:20, but so it goes.

This was my best race ever as far as attitude:  I had never before enjoyed the entire thing.  Results were mediocre:  6:10:30 total, maybe my worst for this distance, but for the first time that feels less important than being delighted with the experience.  And did okay among my peers:  22/75 for age group, (32nd in the swim, 39th in the bike, 22nd on the run); 1,015/2,711 OA.

Leaving the race was another logistical nightmare:  walked almost 2 miles to transition to get the bike (no shuttles arrived), miraculously packed all of my stuff into the net bag I had brought to avoid blocking up transition, wedging the bicycle pump between my handlebars and aero bars; and slowly riding back two miles in traffic to the parking lot building.  Exhausting.  Oh, well, racing is an exercise in patience, resilience and adapting. Getting to the rental car was the real Finish Line.  (Note to other triathletes:  if you’re going to do this otherwise wonderful race, stay in a hotel near the starting area.  Driving in and parking and depending on shuttles was… overly challenging.)

Afterwards, visited the other fine folks who inspired me to travel to sunny San Diego: stayed Saturday night after the race with Rachel’s cousins, Jeff and Debbie Margolis, in Corona Del Mar,

visited Dzu and Han Do in Carmel Valley on Sunday,

and had breakfast with Mark Laska on Monday. 

So wonderful to spend time with each of them, and to see why they’ve chosen to move to and live in such a beautiful place.  A great trip, a great race, and quite the journey!