Mountain Man Olympic Race Report

This was my third time for this race. It was a tune up for Ironman Canada. Since racing in Phoenix in the summer is impossible and possibly suicidal when it is ninety degrees before dawn, I am forced to go elsewhere in the summer to race. Flagstaff, which is a two hour drive from home is cool in the summer, if a person doesn't mind not having enough air to breath due to the seven thousand plus altitude. Lack of oxygen means I go slower at the same amount of effort at normal elevation. Higher elevation also means pine trees instead of cactus, which is a nice change.

It also makes the swim tricky.  I had a panic attack last year, so I had to hang onto a kayak gasping for air. The key is to keep the tight band around my chest from feeling like it's suffocating me. This means I have to start slow and maybe go faster if I don’t get into oxygen debt.


I stepped into the water to get warmed up. It felt a little chilly to me and dread crept into me. The water was a murky brown. The wind seemed to be picking up as I felt it on my face. The sunlight was soft and didn’t provide much warmth as yet.

My wave started last and everyone took off. Being relaxed staved off the panic. Most of the people got ahead of me, but I actually passed people who couldn’t handle the thin air. Getting to the first buoy is always the most difficult because it takes that long to get into a rhythm and feel at ease. The next buoy, which is far away, is the same green color as the swim caps ahead of me. Who was the genius who thought of that? The only way to distinguish it was by its lack of motion.

I felt chilled and the water was choppy, but the tight band constricting my chest was manageable. After swimming for two hours straight in training, swimming 15 kilometers was not a big deal. It wasn’t all that much fun, but it was bearable. I got out in about forty five minutes, which was slower than ninety percent of the swimmers, but I was not last. It’s actually better than the fifty three minutes I spent in the water last year, thrashing around and hanging onto kayaks.

I walked, not ran into transition to get my bike gear. Sometimes I can actually speed through transition, but today, I just didn’t feel like it. Walking up the ramp barefoot hurt my feet. The bike racks are of course empty, because everyone else finished swimming before me. I struggle out of my wetsuit, and put my shoes and helmet on and take off feeling a intense need to pee. The toilets are inconveniently located outside of transition, so I press on.

The blue sky had puffy clouds. The bike route followed the lakes, so I glimpsed the sparkling expanse of water as I passed by. Masses of yellow wildflowers line the road. The road went downhill, then started to climb. With all of the hill training I have been doing, the terrain seemed easier than it had in the past. Lack of oxygen is less problematic on the bike. After nine miles, a giant hill looms to crush anyone attempting to ride it. It’s fun to descend at thirty five miles per hour or more, but I had to pay for it.

I get near the turn off for the half iron people. I feel sorry for anyone fool hardy enough to attempt that distance at this altitude. There isn’t much in the way of aid stations for them on the bike. A person is basically on their own to stew in their own suffering.

I found my pre-mixed nutrition drink too diluted and not helping my energy. I had nothing else to eat and I started getting really tired. After the fun of screaming down the hill, the way back seem longer and longer. On the way back, I was delighted to see a turkey near the road. I contemplated how I am going to handle the pit stop and decided to crawl under the fence when I got into transition. I don’t want to wait until I was a mile on the run because it sucks to run with a full bladder. I finished in about an hour and a half, which was decent for me.

I rolled into transition, changed shoes and dove under the fence and ran into a porta potty. What a relief. I dove back under the fence and started on the run. I found a gel in my fanny pack and sucked the vile tasting thing down, that has the consistency of mucus. I felt pretty bad. After a mile the run goes up an eight percent grade. I started a run/walk...run until I felt terrible, then walk until I could run again. Then I found a chocolate gel in my pack. It was nirvana. My energy came back again. I reached the top of the hill and finally it was time to run down the hill. It turned out it took me as much time to run/walk up the hill as it did to run it in a previous race. Plus I had energy to pick up speed at the end. With one mile to go, I got my feet to move just a little faster. That mile seemed really long. The finish line was a relief. I felt like I had been hit by a bus when I stopped running.

I can’t say that this is the worse or the best that I have done in this race. Two weeks out from an ironman, I wasn’t going to go all out, but I didn’t slack off either. It’s a tough, unpredictable event. I put aside my expectations on results and just did it. I didn’t place in my age group and I was back of the pack. It was fun, scenic and it hurt. Me versus the terrain and altitude. That’s all that mattered.