There will always be Spain

Wow.  Trip number two is in the books.  I hardly know where to begin.  I guess I will start with the bike fiasco.

Prior to leaving for Mallorca, I was informed that Lufthansa could not confirm that there would be room on the plane for my bike for the flight from Mallorca to Frankfurt.  I was offered several options to deal with this issue.  Two of my friends opted to rent bikes for the race.  I decided that the only luggage I would check would be my bike.  Ken and I shared a suitcase and that was his checked bag. To make a long story short, this worked like a charm.  I paid $50 to Air Canada to get my bike to Mallorca.  I paid NOTHING to Lufthansa to get it home.  They took my bike as my one allowed piece of checked luggage at no fee!!  And to boot, Ken and I got the Emergency Exit seats on the flight to Frankfurt!!  I had done some research prior to the trip and had read that Lufthansa does have an excellent policy for bikes if it is your only piece of checked luggage.  This I can confirm!!  Friends we were travelling with were nailed $150 Euros each to get their bikes home, so I consider myself lucky.

Upon arrival in Spain, all went smoothly.  I had no major issues with the bike rebuild.  Myself and Scott Dickieson decided to ride the course on Monday.  Upon opening the gate to leave the house, Scott's tire blew.  Easy repair.  We headed down the road and found that his rear derailleur wasn't shifting properly.  A quick stop at one of the many bike shops and we were off again.  Shortly thereafter, Scott realized his Cateye bike computer wasn't functioning.  We tried to fix it but to no avail.  We kept going.  A couple km's later, my left aero bar went loose.  We stopped again for a quick repair.  I was a bit baffled as I could find nothing loose.  Off we went again, and minutes later my left aero bar snapped.  BIG PROBLEM.

Back to the bike shop we went.  The Specialized bike mechanic tried to order the part but to no avail.  We hit a second bike shop.  The mechanic at this shop told me that it could be fixed.  However, I would have to buy a set of aero bars to get the required parts.  Sugar Daddy Scott pulled out his credit card, and about 120 Euros later, we were off again.  This may seem like a rip off to many.  However, the mechanic closed his shop for lunch but remained to work on my bike.  Lunch in Spain (1pm-4pm) is sacred.  It was quite a big deal for him to stay and make all required adjustments to get me back up and running.  Desperate times call for desperate measures and I was happy to kiss my Euros good-bye.

By this time it was about 2pm, but we had made up our minds.  We were riding the course.

The climb was 15km's at an average grade of approximately 6 percent.  3 times I thought we were done, but it seemed to go on forever.  I worried a little, wondering how I was going to race up the mountain and end up with a respectable bike split on race day.  Thank God, I thought, for a quick descent.

We stopped at the top of the climb for lunch at an amazing restaurant frequented by, what appeared to be, every cyclist in Mallorca.  Just fabulous.  

                                                                                            

And then we started the descent.  Now I don't claim to be a skilled bike handler.  I like flat and fast.  Or straight down and fast.  Switchbacks and 180 degree hair pin turns are NOT my thing.  By the time I got to the bottom of the mountain, I was certain that a fast bike split was going to be a challenge SUPREME.  It was switchback after switchback, and I could take none of them at any kind of speed.  Some had little to no guard rails, and a mistake on the mountain could be life altering to say the least.

We got lost about 50 times, but eventually made it back to our hacienda.  All in all, a great day with scenery that left me breathless.

On the descent:

Sugar daddy and I:

Prior to race day, we swam in the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea and we did some sightseeing:

RACE DAY:

Bike drop off was Friday afternoon.  I have a routine that MUST be followed.  (I don't care if it is unnecessary).  I rack my bike and let air out of the tires as I inflate them on race morning.  I racked my bike and attempted to release air from my rear tire.  When I pressed the valve, sealant from the tube sprayed out, then nothing.  I wasn't sure if the sealant had blocked the Presta valve or if the valve 

was broken.  There wasn't a pump in sight and it was about 32 degrees out.  I was tired, sweating, and becoming very cranky.  I decided to deal with it in the morning.

Ken and I walked down to transition Saturday morning and arrived at about 6:15am.  Lots of time to stare at my bike and get nervous:

I got air into the valve with no issue and decided to leave it at that.  If air could go in but not out, I figured that was a good thing.  About 4 porta loo stops later and I was into my wetsuit and ready to go.

To my surprise, Mallorca 70.3 is the largest half Ironman in the world.  There were approximately 3500 athletes, with only 19 percent being women.  Fortunately, the swim was a wave start.  With only about 300 in our wave, I couldn't have asked for a better swim start.  Not once was I kicked, punched, or swam over.  I quickly got on the feet of a group of swimmers and held on for about 5 minutes.  At some point, however, they started to pull away, and in the blink of an eye they were gone.  I was unable to find anyone for the rest of the swim to draft off of.  Although this was a big disappointment, I was able to get a PB in the swim.  I credit this to Ken Fitzpatrick's coaching and to the wonderful buoyancy of salt water.  SWIM TIME:  31:08.  Division Rank #3.  It was nice to hear the surprise in Ken's voice when I ran out of the water.

It was into transition and off on the bike.  Due to the long transition area, I kept my shoes on the bike.  I have had great success and, also,  great failures with this in the past.  Saturday went perfectly.

I take one bottle of Ironman perform on the bike and one bottle of water.  I count on the aid stations to refill, and pretty much have my liquid, gel, and salt consumption down to a science.  I got to the first aid station before the climb and attempted to grab about 3 bottles of the race supplied beverages - FAIL.  I have NEVER missed bottles in the past.  I rode out of aid station with about 3 "FUCK" s coming out of my mouth.  But I quickly regrouped and went into management mode.  This was a great experience for me and I was pleased with how I adapted to this small disaster.

The climb was uneventful.  There was suffering and sweating, but I was pleased with my time when I reached the top of the mountain about 35km's into the race.  And then I started the descent.

I was feeling good and was pumped to make up some time.  I passed a few people and I remember having a big smile on my face going into an S-bend.  Then all hell broke loose.  I had too much speed going into a switchback.  I knew it was wrong, but I hit my brake going into the turn.  I simply misjudged my speed and the sharpness of the turn and my back wheel started to slide.  I heard people yelling all around me.  I believed I had seriously shit the bed at this point.  I let off the brake and wobbled into control, but it was too late.  I could not make the turn.  I was headed for the edge of the cliff and had two options.  I could hit the dirt patch (with no ledge) and hope I stopped in time, or catch the front of the van that was parked on the shoulder.  I opted for the van and hit it with my front right aero bar.  The van owners were gasping.  I landed on the hood and figured my day was over.  I thought there was no way my bike could have handled the impact.  I jumped off the van and climbed over my bike.  The van owners were yelling at me asking me to wait as they tried to ensure that I was not injured.  I told them I was fine and that I had to go.  I looked down at my gear shifter and my heart broke.  I thought it had snapped off.  I reached down for it and found that it had just bent all the way down.  Still attached.  My front wheel wasn't flat and everything seemed properly aligned.  I re-clipped and headed down the mountain.

I have to say that at this point I was completely terrified.  I was worried about the integrity of my bike and I rode with absolute fear for the remainder of the day.  In hindsight, I know I rode too aggressively into the turn.  But that's how I love to race.  I love to push my limits and leave everything on the course.  However, I have thought about this "incident" about 1000 times since Saturday.  I am thankful that I was able to finish the race with bike and body intact.  While I believe it is important to race to the edge of my physical limitations, it is equally important to race within my capabilities.  I learned a valuable lesson and will not repeat my mistakes in Austria.

(Please don't discuss this with my mother if you are reading my blog.  She stopped reading my blogs after my review of injuries sustained throughout my years in sport.  She doesn't much care to hear about my near death experiences.  Thanks in advance).

Aid station number two.  Another fail.  I grabbed a bottle of the race beverage to find that the bottle was half full.  I was able to grab a bottle of water and decided that I would get my nutrition through gels and salt pills.  Frustrating ... but again .... a valuable experience.

With approximately 30kms to go in the race, I heard a crash on the pavement.  I looked behind me to see my repair kit rolling down the road.  I believe I knocked it loose when I hit the van as I failed to check it.  At that point, I decided to keep going and to pray for no mechanicals. I hope that today, there is a nice Spanish fellow enjoying my favourite Ironman tool, tire levers, CO2 cartridges, tubes, etc etc.

With a final bike split of 3:01:19, my ride was over.  Division Rank #3.  I wanted to break 3 hours on the bike, but under the best conditions I did not know if that would be attainable.  I probably lost a minute or two being tentative after hitting the van, but that course was just superbly challenging.  It is a course for gifted cyclists or for the people who live and train in that environment.  I have a new found respect for Europeans and their cycling abilities.  It is a different world over there.

The run course was 3 loops.  I felt great for the first 15kms, then things got nasty.  But it's a race.  It's supposed to suck.  My goal was to have a sub 1:50 half marathon for the first time in a half Ironman distance.  Final run split:  1:48:37.  Division Rank # 4.  I believe that with better pacing, I could have run a 1:45.  However, I am extremely pleased to have set another PB.

My final race time was 5:28:45.  After riding the course, I set my goal at sub 5:30.  It wasn't an easy day, but it was an experience of a lifetime.  I missed the podium by one, but was pleased to hear that 3rd place was 9 minutes ahead of me.  Even with a flawless race I could not have made that time up on Saturday.  I am disappointed.  The trophies were beautiful and I always want to be on the podium. However, finishing fourth has fuelled my fire and I am hungry to race and keep improving.  I absolutely loved my Hincapie tri suit and I look forward to taking Hincapie to stop #3:  Zell Am See, Austria.

Thank-you to everyone for your well wishes and support.  And in the words of my new favourite t-shirt: