Austin Tri-Cyclist Blog

Showing posts with label Ironman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ironman. Show all posts

Sunday, April 15, 2012

2012 Galveston 70.3 Race Report


by Marla Briley, Snapple-ATC Racing

April 2, 2005, was the first year that I drove to Galveston for their annual triathlon. I don’t even remember what they called it back then, but it was a tiny race of no more than maybe 300 people spread over a 70.3 and Olympic distance race. In the coming years, EndorFUN Sports took over and turned Galveston into LoneStar and into a first-class racing experience that drew participants from all over Texas. It still had the small-town feel to it, though, and I enjoyed racing with my friends, knowing over half the participants. The pro field was small and the race was more about the age groupers and their 70.3 experience. In 2011 that all changed. Ironman took over and LoneStar became the Memorial Hermann Ironman 70.3 Texas and a qualifier for 70.3 Worlds. The feel became more corporate, and the competition got tougher. Pros started showing up to toe the line, and before you knew it, Galveston became a destination race, with participants traveling from all over the U.S. and from other countries, as well. 2011 was the second year that Galveston was to be an Ironman event. This year, the pro field was stacked, and with the announcement that Lance Armstrong would be racing, the race filled as did hotels all over Galveston.

If you decide to sign up and race Galveston, let me suggest getting there the Friday before the race to pick up your packet. This year, due to work obligations, I arrived on Saturday and went straight to Moody Gardens, the fun, family center where the race is held. I had to park over half a mile away and waited almost 30 minutes in the sun to pick up my packet and fill out my waivers. Mandatory bike check-in is on Saturday, so after waiting in packet pickup line, I wandered over to the bike drop-off line. I had to laugh at the number of women, myself included, taking pictures of their bikes hanging lonely from their place on the rack. My business done for the day, it was now time to find my friends and head to an early dinner.

Race day dawned windy and humid, which is typical of Galveston. My friends and I made our way to Moody Gardens, arriving at 5:30 a.m. to a line of cars that stretched around the block. By 5:50 am we were parked and walking the one-mile trek to transition. By the time transition closed at 6:45am, I had everything ready, was at my spot, and was relaxing in the grass waiting for the pros to start at 7 a.m. My wave wouldn’t go off until 8:05 a.m. That would give me plenty of time to watch the pros exit the water and then to meander my way roughly a mile to the swim start. Around 24 minutes after they started, a group of guys erupted from the water and there were some polite claps and “good jobs.” Then Lance Armstrong came out, and the crowds went wild. There were cameras following along as he made his way towards his bike and people rushing along beside him. I kind of felt sorry for him. I’d hate to have that much attention on me while trying to smoothly make my way through T1.

Back to my race... The swim begins with a deepwater start. My wave hopped in and we treaded water, taking our places as well as taking care of last-minute business. Don’t open your mouth in the first 100 meters of the swim. I yelled out a “Have Fun,” and all the women erupted in cheers. Then the horn went off and we forgot our goodwill and started hacking at each other while we fought for our bit of water. The swim starts straight into the sun for 400 meters, so bring your tinted goggles. You then make a very sharp left-hand turn and head west for about 1,000 meters, making another sharp left to head in towards shore. I exited the water and was excited to see wet suit strippers! They got my suit off on the second try, and I was up and running towards my bike.

On went the sunglasses, helmet, race number, then shoes, in that order. I grabbed my bike and un-racked it right into my neighbors transition items. She had set up her transition under my back wheel. Big no-no on her part and a big problem for me as my tire valve hooked her bag. I pulled and when I did it pulled my valve, letting all the air out of my back tubular. With some effort, I unhooked the bag from my wheel, not realizing what had happened. I ran to the mount line, executed my clumsy mount and immediately knew something was wrong. I hopped off again, and the whole time volunteers are yelling at me to get going. This is when I wish triathlon were like road racing. I’d really like a neutral wheel, and someone to help me put it on, about now. I'm desperately hunting for a bike mechanic. One volunteer pointed me back into transition where the mechanic tent was set up, on the complete opposite side from where I am now standing. I start hobbling back that way, as fast as my bike shoes will let me go. Halfway there I realize there is no one in the mechanic tent so I turn around and hobble back out, again. Note to Ironman - I was not the only one having issues at this point. I believe it would be a good idea to have more than one bike mechanic in bike transition. A volunteer tells me there is a SAG vehicle about 100 meters around the first turn. Side note - I do have the Fix-A-Flat can on my bike, but I run tubulars and I only have the one can. I’m saving it for a possible flat out on the course. As I’m heading to the SAG vehicle, which I’m just hoping is there, I see a spectator on the side with a pump. I ask to borrow the pump (yes, I know this is illegal) and pump my tire up. I send up a quick prayer to the tire gods and off I go.

The Galveston bike has and always will be windy. There is no real headwind or tailwind, just a constant side wind. I think it must be a little bit like Chinese Water Torture except instead of a constant drop of water, it’s the constant blowing of the wind. The course is as flat as a pancake so be ready to be aero the entire 56 miles. With around 10 miles till the turn around, I started noticing the bumps were a little more pronounced and realized my tire was going flat again. I figured I’d make it to the halfway point, find a volunteer with a pump, and pump it back up. No such luck, though. There was no pump or SAG and I decided it was time to pull out the Fix-A-Flat. The Fix-A-Flat shoots air along with some sort of miracle foam into your tube. It helps to plug up leaks, which I obviously still had, and air up your tire, all in one. It didn’t get me back up to my 120 psi, but good enough, and like the Willie song says, I was “on the road again.” The tire held and I made my way back to T2 and the 13.2 miles of hell to come.

Back into Moody Gardens, off the bike and onto the run course. I want to make a comment here. I really wish that they would let us run along the sea wall. Not only is it cooler out there but to have the chance to run along the Gulf would be spectacular. Instead, they force us to run three loops around buildings, through parking lots making a funny “L” shape turn, out in the middle of the air field. It is hot, with not a breath of air in parts, boring, and fairly unimaginative. The volunteers are great, though, and there are areas where the crowds are thick and their cheering spurs you on. By the third loop, I was cooked. The salt water having removed my sunscreen, I was sunburned and could feel the multiple blisters on my feet. I shuffled my way towards the finish line, crossed it to the incorrect pronunciation of my name, and got my finishers cap and medal. At the end of the day, what mattered most was that I traversed the obstacles before me and finished. Actually, what mattered more was that there were margaritas and great seafood ready to be eaten in celebration of another race done!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

2011 World Championship 70.3 Race Report
Vegas Baby!

by Marla Briley

Sept 11, 2011 was the inaugural year for the 70.3 World Championships to be held right outside of Las Vegas, in Henderson, NV. In past years, this event took place in Clearwater, Florida, where the course was known for being flat and fast. According to race organizers, 70.3 Worlds was moved to Henderson, "for it's beautiful weather (if you enjoy desert heat) and for its long-standing reputation as the best place to host a triathlon, as well as the top location for triathletes to compete on the most challenging race course in North America." This new venue offered multiple climbs that added up to over 9,700 feet, throughout Lake Mead National Recreation Area and a 13.1-mile run, which added an additional 2,000-foot elevation gain, through the streets of Henderson. Being my first time on this course and my first time to participate in 70.3 Worlds, I was planning for the worst (wind, hills, heat) but hoping for the best (finishing).

There are a few things you should know if you get the chance to participate in this event. I highly suggest you attend the Friday night "mandatory" pre-race meeting, to learn all the details of bag and bike drop-off. I didn't go and ended up feeling like the kid who neglected to study for the big test. I'm calling my friends asking "what do I do with my run bag and bike bag"? What I found out is that, there are two separate transition areas, post swim/pre-bike and post bike/pre-run. You are given a "bike bag" and a "run gear bag" just like you would at a full Ironman. You drop both bags off, along with your bike, the Saturday before the race at T1, which is located at Lake Las Vegas. They take your Run gear bag to T2, located in Henderson, where on race day it will be handed to you (God willing that it makes it) by a volunteer. Another important fact to know about this race is that the bike setup area is at the bottom of a hill. You will literally be running up a 200-meter switchback to reach the mount line. This may help you decide whether you put your shoes on the bike, climb barefooted and put shoes on at the top of the hill, or run up in your shoes. I don't recommend the last option. I saw a couple of people attempting it and it didn't look to be going well for them.

On race day, transition opens before the sun has even considered rising. We are pretty sure we saw some drunk drivers on our way to the Lake Las Vegas start (or maybe just sleepy triathletes who can't drive). We ended up being one of the first there and got a good parking spot. It helps that coming from Texas, their 4:30 am is our 6:30 am. On race day you are allowed into T1 so you can check your tires, mess with your nutrition, put your shoes on your bike...all the normal prep activities. I actually decided to rubber band my shoes to my bike and it ended up being a good decision. Because the event took place on Sept 11th this year, we all paused for 60 secs at the exact moment when 10 years ago the first plane struck the World Trade Center. Everyone, including those from around the world, quietly shared in that moment of remembrance. It was very moving.

At 6:15 am the pros lined up while the rest of us stood on the bridge and hung out windows, trying to get a glimpse of the best in the world as they prepared to begin their day and our day of racing. After the cannon sounded and the pros were off, we all began to make our way to the swim start. We lined up by cap color in the order of our waves. The first of the pros were coming out as we waited. We got to watch as Andy Potts, first out of the water, raced the 300 meters around the end of the lake to the bike transition. He missed his row on the first try and we all went "ehhhhhh" and vowed not to make the same mistake. I noticed the pros were running with their helmets and putting them on as they ran. I figured I'd learn by example and give that a try.

We got into the water with 5 minutes to go. The water wasn't as warm as I feared, being around 82 degrees, but it was very cloudy. For those who live and train in Austin, think the Quarry Lake. We all lined up under the bridge, many moving to the ledge on the right so they could stand up while waiting. We heard "one minute" to go and we all moved out to find our position. Without a "10 seconds to go" warning, the horn sounded and we were off, trying to fight for our tiny bit of water real estate and hoping to catch some feet. The course is about 900 meters out, into the sun, then you turn to your left, another 40 meters and another turn to your left, then back under the bridge and across the lake from where you got in, to the exit. From there you run the 300 meters to T1, grab your gear bag, into the changing tent, out to your bike, and up the 200-meter switchback to the mount line. After successfully managing the rubber-banded shoes and getting my feet strapped in, I am off!

We all were told that the bike course was going to be pretty tough. To prepare for this one, I'd suggest you ride up and down 360 for 56 miles. It seemed to be either a constant climb or descent. The last 10 miles into town are on a false flat and when you get back into town, you have some twists and turns through neighborhoods to get you to T2. One thing I found funny was the elevation map in our book was upside down and backwards, so the course's long slow climb at the end might have caught some by surprise.

The roads are really smooth, which is a nice change from the Texas chip seal we are accustomed to, but black as night. If it had been the week before, when the temps had soared to 107, we would have been frying like bacon in a nonstick pan. Luckily, a cold front had come through and we enjoyed a balmy 92 degrees, which felt almost cool after the Texas summer and our multiple days of 100+ temps.

Coming into T2, the volunteers were lined up, ready to grab our bikes. I handed off my bike and was directed towards the run gear bags. I was moving slowly enough that the volunteers had time to find my bag and hand it to me. Then, into the run tent where I eased on the running shoes and prepared myself for the last and most dreaded of the day's legs, the run.

On to the run (or for me the hobble). The run starts out going downhill (think Expedition heading towards Lake Austin Blvd). The street is shaded and the crowds are thicker here. You run along for about 1.5 miles, then you take a right, head about 200 meters uphill, turn around, and head back down. Then you are back on the street you started on. However, this time you are going uphill (think Expedition heading towards 35th). All my friends asked me why mile 2 looked like I decided to sit down and enjoy a beer. There is your answer.

So, you climb for a mile on this still nicely shaded street, you take a left and pass the finish chute and the majority of the family and friends out cheering for their athletes, take another left, and you are on the "highway to hell." It's not actually a highway, but you really do feel you are in hell. It's a blacktop road that goes uphill for close to 1.5 miles (think Expedition to 35th,again), and there is no shade so few people want to stand along it to cheer. After the climb I should have been grateful when I turned around to head back down the hill but all I could think of was that I had to do it two more times. The volunteers were great, though, and the aid stations well stocked. At every aid station you had sponges, Powerade, water, ice and cola (Unfortunately they didn't have any Tums, which I needed about halfway through the race). The three loop out-and-back course allowed me to see my friends and fellow athletes and to cheer them on (and get cheered on by them) and to see my friends and family who came out to share in my 70.3 World experience.

The last 2 miles of the run are wonderful. They are downhill and deliver you straight into the finisher's chute, where you are welcomed by smiling volunteers, a cold towel, a cold bottle of water, and the inevitable but always welcome, "Marla Briley, You Are A Finisher." All in all, though I didn't have my best day, because of a well-organized race, a challenging course, and my friends and family, I had a great experience. I would recommend, if you get the chance, to head out to Henderson/Vegas and take on the course yourself.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

The (Real) Life of the Pros, Part 2:
Team Marsh & the Five Year Mark

Copyright (C) 2011 Kathryn Hunter
In 2005, after Amy crossed the line as first amateur and third overall at the Buffalo Springs 70.3, she had two important decisions to make. Decision 1, she'd just unexpectedly qualified for Kona – was she going to take the slot? She had to give an answer no later than that evening, in literally a matter of hours. At the time, she hadn't planned to do an Ironman-distance race, and in fact had no desire to even attempt one, but friends urged her to accept, saying she would never get another chance at Hawaii. So after agonizing back and forth until the very last minute of the cutoff, with her heart in her throat, she called to say she was in.

Decision 2 was much easier. Brandon Marsh had something that had been burning a hole in his pocket for more than 48 hours, but it had just never felt like the right time. So when they got back home to Austin after the race, and Amy came over to his apartment, he asked her to help him unpack. Amy was reluctant at first, making it clear that she just wanted to lie on the couch and watch TV, but Brandon was adamant. So after Amy dumped his duffel bag out – "There, it's unpacked" – and Brandon had a minor heart attack – "Something else is in there...right?" – Amy found the ring, and Brandon presented the next big question. This time, the answer required no deliberation.

Married in January of 2006, the Marshes have just crossed the big five-year mark. They still live in Austin, but spend four to six months of the year racing and training out of the country. Brandon, 36 years old, has been a pro since 2004, and Amy, 33, since 2006. Brandon currently coaches with Team TBB, and they are working towards eventually being on deck coaches with a group of athletes. In terms of overall finishes, 2009 and 2010 were very successful years for them both. In 2009, Brandon placed fourth in the Buffalo Springs 70.3, ninth in Ironman Florida, and ninth in Ironman Wisconsin, and in 2010, he came in fifth at Ironman UK, and took ninth place at 70.3 New Orleans and Ironman China. Amy was first overall female at the 2009 Ironman Wisconsin and the Buffalo Springs 70.3, and followed up in 2010 with a first at Ironman China, Ironman Lake Placid, Triathlon Du Jura, and the Rev 3 Iron-distance in Cedar Point. Last October, she also returned to Kona for the first time since 2005, coming in at 11th overall.

The Marshes joined Team Bike Boutique, coached by Brett Sutton, about a year ago. Before then, Brandon and Amy had a unique relationship – they were not only husband and wife, but coach and trainee.

Brandon and Amy had met at masters swimming at the University of Texas in 2001, often exchanging a "hey how are ya" across the lane lines. Brandon was the first to tell Amy she should give triathlon a shot – Amy, a lifelong swimmer, was of course fairly opposed to the idea of running and cycling. But in 2002, she did her first triathlon, the Danksin, on a borrowed mountain bike. "I don't remember how I placed," she says, "but I remember going home and looking for the next race to do because I absolutely loved it."

After she signed up for the Gulf Coast Triathlon, she asked Brandon, who'd been competing since he was 13 and had gone to Kona as an age grouper the year before, if he coached anybody. He said, "Well, no. But would you like to be a guinea pig?" Amy and another friend from masters swimming became Brandon's first students. Alongside his full-time job in environmental consulting, Brandon started writing workouts for the two of them every few weeks.


Amy was the one to ask Brandon out the first time. After a successful finish at Gulf Coast, she called him to say she'd like to take him to dinner as a thank you. When Brandon's coworkers got wind of it, they said, "Sounds like a date." Brandon told them, "It's not a date. She gives me money. I give her workouts." That night he and Amy met and talked for two hours at the restaurant. When he got to work the next day, his coworkers asked him how it went. "You know," Brandon said. "I think it was a date."

So after a few more dinners and Shrek 2 and traveling to races together, the coaching got a little more complicated. Amy's biggest block of training came before her first Kona race, while they were engaged. Brandon says he can remember the "breakdown" very clearly. "She was saying, 'I'm so tired, but I feel like I'm not doing enough training.' So I asked her if she wanted to do more, and she said 'No, I can't do any more. I'm so tired... But I'm not doing enough training.'" Fortunately, he says, it was only about three weeks out from the race.

In coaching, there's always a delicate balance between the coddling Dr. Jekyll and the tough guy Mr. Hyde. Take it too easy on an athlete, and she turns into a cream puff. Take it too hard, and you'll either get a raging case of Black Swan, or you'll push her out of the sport entirely. For the Marshes, add to this already complex and finely nuanced relationship the domestic day-to-day. You'd have to assume it would be impossible. Most married people would rather stab themselves in the foot with a cheese fork than take direct orders day in and day out from their spouse.

Amy and Brandon learned the hard way, early on, how to weather the storms. About four weeks into their marriage, they took a trip out to Fort Davis. The landscape in this part of West Texas is legendary, for its desolate beauty as well as the heat and rolling hills. The Marshes were doing a 75-mile loop, which started out with a grueling six-mile climb. Amy, not quite the cycling phenom we know now, had only been biking seriously for a few years. "You didn't tell me it was all uphill," Amy said, to which Brandon returned, "Well, I told you it was pretty hilly." And from there it was Brandon at the front, Amy falling off, Brandon slowing down to wait, Amy back on his wheel, Brandon speeding up, Amy falling off, and so on, with both parties beginning to imagine how nice it would be to toss the other in a patch of prickly pear.

"I'm pretty blunt sometimes," Brandon says, in way of prefacing his remembered comment. "I said something like, 'Look, this isn't a neighborhood ride. We can't be out for six hours – we're going to run out of water. There's nothing out here.'" Amy, of course, was less than pleased by his direct approach, and told him she'd rather he just rode on without her. So he did.

"We call this our divorce story," Amy adds to the telling.

But what better to save a freshly minted marriage than a sudden, redemptive calamity? Brandon was waiting for Amy at the outskirts of town. When she met up with him and as they were having it out once more, Brandon noticed that her seat was crooked. So he took out his multi-tool and straightened it...and the seat post clamp broke. With six miles to go – again, nothing but steady, steep climbing – and a 100-to-1 chance of finding a tarantula before a mechanic, Brandon swapped his bike out for hers and rode the rest of the route standing out of the saddle. Ah, chivalry. Amy, of course, felt a little more friendly toward him after that.

And now, after five years, they still train together nearly every day. Brandon continues to push the pace, and Amy has to work hard to keep up, but maybe that's the secret to some of their success. On the bike, Brandon says if Amy's barely hanging on he knows he's riding well, but if she's "chatty cathy," then he needs to pick it up. And Amy's competitiveness keeps her chasing Brandon through run and swim workouts, too, (especially the swim workouts – Amy's the born and bred swimmer in the family) even when she's dead tired. Now that they know each other better, they're a little more careful about pushing each other's buttons, though it does still happen now and again. Sometimes it's just too tempting… In spite of the challenges, Amy says, "It's just nice waking up knowing you have a training partner for the day, every day."

It sounds a little like a fairy tale – big names, big travels, big wins, and spending every day doing what you love alongside the person you love. But despite their success, even the Marshes have the same relentless demon as most pro triathletes: finances.

"Some pros think that if you raise up the bottom end of the prize money, then you elevate the field across the board and make it less of a fringe sport," Brandon says, mentioning that the Slowtwitch interviews with Mark Allen and Chris McCormack particularly resonated with him. In his interview, Mark Allen had compared the French Open and the Masters golf tournament's credibility to that of triathlon. "Until race directors and sponsors raise the bar and compensate the pros financially for something close to what the athlete is worth, triathlon will never be perceived on par with those types of events," Allen said. ["Mark Allen on prize money – and a Chilean surprise," by Timothy Carlson; Jan 31, 2011]

Kona's first place purse is $110k, compared to $1.35 million to the winner of the US Open. Not to mention that the top 100 golfers in 2010 made at least $1 million in prize money alone, and the top 10, around $5 million. Also, of the WTC races, Kona is the biggest payout by far. All others range from between $3k and $18.5k. And although it's clear that the winners are underpaid, since they're often able to take advantage of sponsorships and appearance fees, the athletes who suffer the most from the skimpy payouts are the ones just starting out. Often a fourth or fifth place finish is barely enough to pay for your travel.

There could be some positive aspects to scraping by. Maybe poverty keeps you pure, but then again, maybe not. Maybe it just keeps you thin.

There's no trust fund or mystery donor keeping the Marshes in the caviar and fine champagnes – they make it work with a combination of accumulated savings, coaching income, and winnings. And they don't stock their pantry with fish eggs and swanky booze. Their favorite dinner the night before an Ironman? A pint of ice cream. "We're fortunate to be on the end of things where we are able to make it, where we're able to save a little bit," Brandon says. But they're also realistic. "We like to say that we're retired now, and we'll work later," Amy says.

There are other luxuries that pros don't have, too, little freedoms that any ordinary soul would take for granted. Going through a different, arbitrary athletic "phase" or "focus" ("I'll try parasailing this year!"), deciding to have a baby, skipping a few weeks of working out, resting an injury completely, or whatever it might be... You can't alternate triathlon training with another all-consuming obsession or responsibility and still hope to be the best. Your life is always pointed toward the next big race on the horizon, or you're falling behind.

You're also forced to take the risks with the rewards. Last year when they were training with TBB in Switzerland, Brandon was riding with James Cunnama, and Amy with some of the other women on the team. It was cold and wet, and Brandon and James came up on a group of cyclists stopped on the other side of some rail road tracks. At first they thought nothing of it, but when they realized the cyclists were members of their team, Brandon started counting heads...and realized that Amy was missing. "It's something that everyone worries about if your significant other trains, or if you don't train together," he says. He rode up on the scene to see Amy lying on the ground, surrounded by blood. She was badly cut up and bruised on her right side, and had a concussion. "She literally looked like she'd been in a boxing match. Black eye, stitches," Brandon says.

Then, a week later, still in Switzerland, when Amy was out riding again she was hit by a car. This time, she fell on her left side. The man stopped, and was clearly shocked to see the extent of her injuries – she quickly explained that no, he was not responsible for all of that. Amy did some water running in the following weeks. "But four or five weeks later, she won Lake Placid," Brandon says.

And always for Brandon there were minor injuries – shin splints, IT band syndrome, plantar fasciitis, and on and on. For Amy, there'd been a string of long-term set-backs – two years of relentless plantar fasciitis (one year in the right foot, the next in the left), a stress fracture and six weeks in a boot, tendonitis in her ankle, the crashes. "This is the first winter probably since I started triathlon that I've actually been running consistently," she says.

And the running is going well. That's why the Marshes are hoping for big things this year – for Amy, no less than a podium finish at Kona.

Plenty of people would say that building a life around triathlon is impossible – that Ironman training is, in fact, the fast-track to divorce. But you never know quite where life will take you – sometimes the woman swimming in the lane next to you becomes your lifetime training partner; sometimes the race starts off badly and you end up first cross the line; sometimes all the most important decisions of your life come up within 24 hours; and sometimes, rarest of all, you get to do what you love, and it works out.

I asked the Marshes what they plan to do in the long-term, when they're done with competition. Brandon hopes to continue coaching – he says he wants to always stay involved in triathlon in some capacity. He and Amy exchange a smile. They're in no hurry, they say, but they've got other plans, too.

Brandon says, "I'm waiting for her to cross the finish line in Kona one year and say, 'Ok, let's have kids now. Start tomorrow!'"

Amy's next race is Abu Dhabi on March 12, and Brandon's is Singapore 70.3 on March 20. Cheer them on!