The Worst Possible Race Conditions - or - My Cancun 70.3 Race Report

I should have thought long and hard about this race when the website warns that due to high winds, race wheels are not advised. Now, I don't have race wheels. I'm just your average age grouper wanting to get out there and have a good time at a destination race. So, sadly, I didn't think twice about it. Of course the red flag warnings along the beach outside the Fiesta Americana in Cancun (the event host hotel where we stayed and where I also stayed 14 years ago) should have been cause for at least some concern. Stacey and I had gone to a practice swim at Punta Nizuc the day before, and there were definitely some waves being whipped up by the wind, but it was manageable. Later on Saturday, we did a quick bike ride to make sure our assembled bikes fit properly and for a leisurely spin, we were FLYING. I was thinking this whole wind thing might be in our best interest when it came to the bike.

We dropped our bikes off the day before the race at the Wet N Wild parking lot, which served as transition. Getting there was quite a spectacle. When they say free shuttles for you to take you bikes, this does not mean there will be a bus with some bike racks on the front or back. It means you will gingerly climb on the bus WITH your bike, trying to maneuver between the aisle and the seats while not colliding with any of the other 20-25 people doing the same thing. While there, we also got body marked, and instead of your age you are assigned a group that represents your age. Stacey and I were marked with our race numbers and group "P" on our arms & legs.

So, after a day full of race prep, none of the whole "wind" thing really dawned on me until the room service arrived on race morning at 4am. We could hear the wind whistling outside our balcony. A quick peek through the curtains and oh my Lord, the waves were sure kicking in high gear. Oh shit. What have we gotten ourselves into? A bus ride to Wet N Wild, and we get transition set up and head through Wet N Wild, to the beach and down about 1/4 mile for a warmup swim. And then it was go-time!

SWIM: 43:25
I'm not a big fan of racing in salt water. No matter what you do, you will get the salt water in your mouth. The course was a two-loop, counter-clockwise rectangular course.
Other than getting kicked in the face by some guy, it wasn't bad. Sure, it was choppy with some nice swells here & there, but it was definitely doable. Just a few challenges: breathing to the right, the swimmer next to you splashes your face as you take your breath. Breathe to the left and a wave hits you in the face. After awhile, you (mostly) get the water rhythm down, and can tell if it's safe to breathe or sight, or if you should wait and take another stroke. My first 1.2 swim race was the SOMA half-iron as a relay in Tempe in 2006 and Longhorn Aquabike in 2007. I PR'd this distance swim by over 3 minutes.

T1: 3:20
This included the quarter mile jog along the beach back to Wet N Wild transition, plus one bathroom stop to pee before hopping on the bike. Actual T1 was probably shorter, I just didn't hit my watch.

BIKE: 3:28
The 56-mile bike course started with a 6 mile leg away from Wet N Wild near the airport, and then a 24 mile out & back that we would do twice.
That first 6 miles and then the first leg of the out & back was super fast. I averaged just over 20mph for that entire 18 miles, and it was awesome! I saw the pros whiz past me, but quickly noted they were in a nice little paceline. Then I saw a peleton of about 35 others, and then about a mile or two later another paceline of 22 people. WTF?? Of course, what I didn't take into account with the whole wind thing was HEADWIND. This would explain the pacelines. I absolutely refused to do it, and even though that could have saved my bike leg, and some of the energy I would need for the run, I just couldn't do it. Triathlon is an individual sport, and it's just not right. The prerace meeting had drilled into our heads the penalty box procedures, and after everything it had taken me to get to Cancun in the first place, I was not going to lose time for a stupid penalty. At the turnaround point, there was a bottle hand-off, and then WHAM. 12mph. An occasional 14mph spurt, but it was horrible. I pushed and pushed to try to get some speed, but it was not happening. At the start of the second loop, I got some respite with the tailwind, but my legs were really starting to hurt. Luckily, I had some Ibuprofen in my bento box, because I sure needed it. I was really struggling, and starting to feel nauseous. I had choked down my vegan cookie, salt tabs, 2 gels, 2 bottles of Nuun, 4 bottles of water, and all I wanted to do was puke. "Keep it together" was my mantra over the next 36 miles. I passed a competitor at mile 40, who I had seen earlier. He had one arm, and as I passed him stopped at the side of the road, I realized: he has to stop every time he needs a drink from his bottle or needs to take a gel. And with this, I immediately stopped my mental whining.

T2: 3:30
Stacey and I were racked right near the swim in/run out but naturally this meant we were on the complete opposite side from the bike in/out. Nothing special to report here. Grabbed 2 extra gels to stash in my race belt & off I went.

RUN: 2:31
This, by far, was the worst part of the entire race. Even though there had been a slight rainshower during the bike, it was now super sunny, steamy and HOT. 97 degrees hot. With 80% humidity. Oh, and not a single ounce of shade. Anywhere. The 13.1 mile run was a double out & back along the hotel zone.
Luckily, there were water stops every Km, which promised water, ice, Gatorade, PowerGels, bananas, oranges, Vaseline, Coke, sunscreen, and restrooms. I never saw the last 4 things in that list. The water was ingenious! It's in these 8oz. square-shaped, sealed plastic bags. And they were cold. I would grab two pouches of water, and break open one & suck it right up, then break open the other & pour it on my head/neck. The volunteers would all shout "Yellow" and I had no idea what they were saying. Their shirts were yellow, so I thought maybe they were announcing that they were volunteers or something. Then it dawned on me: they were saying "Heilo" (ice). Duh! So, the ice went straight in my jersey. In fact by mile 4, I had simply decided to lean over, open up my shirt & let the volunteer toss it right in. More people saw my boobs during that run than in my entire life. And I simply didn't care. I consumed over 80 oz. of water & Gatorade during that run & never had to pee once. I nibbled on bananas & sucked on oranges, only because the gel was making me gag. Again with the nausea. My right leg started really hurting, and I started wondering, "is this what a stress fracture feels like?" Every step with my right leg (not the left, which has given me problems over the last year) was painful. My hands were so swollen by mile 10 that I couldn't bend my fingers. I saw people being taken off the course, others willingly hopping on the back of officials' motorcycles. Some people would run 20 meters, then stand under a tree in the median, run again, then find shade. It was miserable. I saw Stacey a few times as we passed each other on first & second loops, she was about 3 miles ahead of me. She didn't think she was going to finish, and she is such a strong runner. I just wanted to finish & not puke. With the Km and the mile markers, it was really confusing. Plus, we both think the course was a bit long. I passed a challenged athlete on a prosthetic leg, and I told him he was such an inspiration. Of course, I immediately started to cry. Partly out of being inspired, partly from being embarrased by my own pain, and partly from just being exhausted. The finish was next to transition with bleachers full of people on either side of the finish line. Cheering, announcing, music, and I zeroed in on Stacey and pushed until the end. She hugged me, and we cried, so thankful we had somehow managed to finish.

I grabbed a piece of pizza and quickly gobbled it up then stood under the showers they had in the resting area. We grabbed our bikes, and then waited in line for the bus back to the hotel. We had originally thought we'd ride our bikes the 5 or so miles back to the hotel, but after that race, no way! As we were waiting in line for the bus, in the sun, I turned to Stacey and said, "Don't be surprised if I vomit on the bus." As luck would have it, as soon as we boarded the bus, it started to rain and cooled down quite a bit. I made it back to the hotel, and into the room before I barfed. I took a shower, and laid down wrapped in my towel. I kept thinking, "Meredith will want to know what I did for post-race recovery." So, I crawled over to my suitcase, grabbed some Late July organic cheese crackers I had packed, and laid down to nibble on them. After a few minutes, I mixed myself a Clif recovery drink and downed that. And within 15 minutes I was up and moving around, and starting to feel very hungry.

I iced my leg, but it feels worse today. It's actually bruised where it hurts and it's swollen. I'm limping around like a wounded bird, and before you suggest it, I have already made my appointment with the doc tomorrow. Hopefully, it's nothing serious. Stacey, despite her 50 spf sunscreen, has a sunburn outline on her arm where her race number was marked. My bottom lip is sunburned, blistered & swollen. Who needs collagen?

Overall, we had a good time. It was a nice hotel, and there were lots of nice people there from 38 countries. The race was mostly well-organized, and we were both prepared to do the distance. I am not disappointed in my performance, because I left it all out there. Sure, I can swim, bike & run faster, but given the conditions - which were unpredictable - I finished. I met my "B" goal, and after a few more days, the painful memories of this race will fade, and the joy will remain.

The biggest lesson learned during the past 5 days is to just be flexible. Flexible with plans, flexible with time, flexible with people, flexible with race conditions, flexible with race goals. If you set out determined to pull off a 6 hour 70.3 and refuse to be flexible when you're dealt a bad hand on race conditions, then you'll just be disappointed. Sure, it would be great if my times were more reflective of the effort I've put into my training over the last 6 months, and of the times I know I can deliver - and have delivered numerous times. Last year, the wind wasn't nearly as strong, and the temperatures were lower. And that nausea! Not once all summer have I experienced that sort of feeling on a bike ride or so severely during a run. Things change all the time that are simply out of our control. It just wasn't meant to be this time, and that's okay. I would recommend this race to anyone who trains during the heat of the day as preparation; however, the Cancun 70.3 is being replaced by the Cozumel Ironman in 2009. Or all you need to do is qualify for Kona. We were reading the race course description of Kona on the plane home and it sounds exactly like what we faced in Cancun, just half the distance.

I got a nice neck/shoulder and foot massage at the airport spa before we left Cancun. And I had so much fun with Stacey. She is such a cool person, and I'm so glad we've become friends.