Ironman Canada: The Bike (Part 3)

On firm ground, I made my way to my bike. Lucky for me, someone either tried to head out on my bike or use my gear. What I found was my things were not how I left them, which is in my obsessive order. They were sorted through and tossed on the ground. My transition was 3:29. My best guess is that it cost me about 1:30. It wasn't a big deal, but things weren't going my way and I was on a tight budget with my minutes and seconds.

Heading out on the bike, I felt pretty strong considering the long swim and my ordeal. With over 200 bikers in front of me, I had plenty of riders to pass and did just that. I needed to ride around 5:15 to 5:20. That would be tough, but something I knew I could do. As I rode, I kept doing time checks, calculating my needed pace with my 9:30 goal. Riding with only one water bottle, my plan was to alternate Gatorade and water every stop. As I rode into an early station, I asked for Gatorade, grabbed my bottle, secured it and accelerated away. A short while later, I pulled it from the cage at an opportune time and guzzled most of it down before I realized it was Pepsi! Some like it, but it made me terribly nauseated in previous exercise sessions. Canada was no different.

A few minutes later and I felt that nauseating pain in my gut. Getting to Hawaii wasn't going to be easy and I couldn't afford to go without fluids (forcing the fluids out ... if you know what I mean) until the next stop, so I pressed on. The race wasn't meant to be a pleasure cruise, so I told myself that this is the way it's supposed to be. I decided it would be best to ask for water only from that point and rely on my foods to fuel me. I didn't want them to confuse the beverages again.

As I continued to power my way past those in front of me, I went through somewhat of a residential area. The details aren't terribly clear since I wasn't familiar with the area, and still am not, but more bad luck came my way. Some lady out riding her bike turned onto the road we were racing down. She was clearly unaware of what was going on and simply drifted to the right to make a turn. I was tucked and aero after a short descent, so I didn't have enough time to react. She drifted across my path and clipped my front wheel with her rear wheel. I went down hard and skidded to a stop. Skin makes for a great breaking surface.

I didn't have time to check myself out or have a conversation with the appologetic lady. I hopped back on my bike and took off. While riding I was able to determine that I was rubbed terribly raw on my left hip. My left shoulder, arm, lats, quad and knee were covered in dirty road rash streaked with my blood. Miles later, my neck and back were aching from being bumped out of allignment. It was clear that I was going to have to earn this finish the hard way. My 9:30 looked harder and harder with every passing event, but I wouldn't allow myself to give up on my goal.

Richter Pass was tough, but I worked my way up it. I was able to stand and climb. I see pain as something separate from my effort, so I endured both just the same. The trip down the back side of the mountain proved to be more of a problem than going up. I had to stand to stretch out my back and neck. As I stood, riders were tucked and aero and flying past me. It was hard to give that time back, but it was necessary to make it through the race.

Once at the bottom, I started getting some more time back, but I was terribly uncomfortable. I was nauseated, banged up and out of allignment. I'm not sure it was the best decision, but I didn't have anything in the special needs section. It was all about time and I didn't think there was anything that I really needed at halfway. As I blazed through special needs I was able to get an idea of how many riders were catchable on the out and back. It didn't prove to be too useful other than motivating me to keep the pressure up.

Just past special needs on the way back I encountered my biggest problem of the ride. I saw a bug swirl around in a clockwise circle as we colided. It smacked me on the left carotid. I'm not sure if it stung me, bit me or if it was the impact, but it really stung. I continued to press on as I started to get somewhat breathless and dizzy. It got so bad that I eventually had to get off the bike and catch my breath. It took nearly passing out to get to that point.

My stop was at an aid station where I laid in the ditch face down. My forehead pressed against the sweat band in my helmet, drenching my eyes in my own sweat. As my eyes burned I reached for my bike and fumbled around for my water bottle. When I found it I rinsed out my eyes, not with water, but Gatorade. They gave me Gatorade instead of water! A nice volunteer got me a bottle of water and helped me get cleaned up as I forced my eyes open. My back was seizing up, so I actually got a massage right there to help loosen it up.

After that pit stop, I got back on and started making my way toward Yellow Lake. My neck had swollen up with a golf ball sized lump, making my breathing problems worse. It was bad enough that I had to stop six more times to catch my breath. I was losing time rapidly, but it was all I could do. The top of Yellow Lake was celebrated with another stop to catch my breath in the ditch. Traffic was one lane only and not moving.

As I laid there, I heard a vehicle come up the road and stop. That was odd given the traffic and race. I heard a couple doors open and close, then a couple more doors open. Something hit the ground and was being rolled toward me. I poked my head up out of the ditch like a gopher to see what was going on. It was an ambulance and the two paramedics were coming at me with a gurney. Nope! I wasn't going to let it end this way. Not after what I'd gone through and when I had a goal to keep me going. I jumped up, grabbed my bike and took off. As I ran away, I said "you won't take me alive!" The driver said "looks like we cured another one."

Going down the other side of the pass was painfull, but I was able to do a lot of coasting. My last few miles into Penticton were so unpleasant that I thought running would be better. This day was getting longer and longer, but I kept telling myself that I had to keep pressing to get that 9:30 and make my way to Hawaii. Sure, I was in denial, but it kept me going. In the end, my ride time was 7:01:12. That was good for 1,396th on that leg. I had lost a lot of places and a ton of time. I wasn't giving up though. I came blasting into T2, just like I would have if nothing had gone awry at all that day.

The worst of my pain was over, but my problems would continue and the day would grow longer.