We expected a frigid swim in the Lucky Peak Reservoir and perhaps mild to warm temperatures for the bike and run segments winding through Boise’s rural to urban district. For heavens sake, the cold weather is all we’ve been hearing about from the Northwestern and Pacific Northwest Regions. Where’s summer? It’s been so cool this year! When will knee warmers become a distance memory? I suppose there is always a chance that racing in June can be cooler and rainy but it’s more fun to hold out for a scorching aired day wearing the bare minimum to stay covered. Such was the case at the Boise race on June 12th – intense winds, blistering sunshine and dry heat.
It wasn’t until I finished Ironman Boise 70.3 with a unique start time of 2:00 p.m. that a local gal (my post race massage volunteer) shared some insider trivia with me, “five o’clock is the hottest hour of the day in Boise!” That explained the afternoon start time (race in heat of day) and why I was caked with salt and felt a little sun stroked. Despite finishing with low-grade nauseous and severe electrolyte depletion, I hung on to the 4th place professional female spot behind World Champion Julie Dibens, Lindsay Corbin and Heather Jackson. I was honored to be on the podium with this stellar field of women and more than content with my race.
My race consisted of a million little breakthroughs that predominantly came together as a result of planning for them. Boise’s unexpected heat, wind and dry conditions got the better of me during the bike and caught up more on the run but never negated the more important breakthroughs. All my tricks of mental mantras and form focusing got me steadily through to the finish line in a respectable 4:42 time. I was only able to jaunt (aka: jog) the half marathon leg and know full well my legs are capable of moving faster than a 1:35 split. The major breakthrough moment came at the swim start when I seeded myself between the key players in the field. My only job was to kick and stroke as fast and as hard as my little legs and shoulders would let me. If necessary I ordered myself to dig deeper to stay with Kate Major and Lindsay Corbin. For whatever the reason, it was executed to perfection and I was deservedly in the mix and stayed there until the finish line.
With two transition’s staged, the athletes were treated to a rural start (T1) overlooking the Lucky Peak Dam gushing with the late spring water run off, navigated through ranches, sprawling roads and along the Boise Greenbelt trail to a very urban T2 & finish in the heart of Boise’s BoDo District. Finishing a race at 7p.m. was somewhat gratifying since only a good meal and the ceremonies stood between you and bed.
With a start time of 2:00 p.m., I am still curious to know what all the athletes were up to for the morning hours. Most triathletes wake at 5:00 a.m. for their first workout of the day so I would imagine most were awake at the crack of dawn to fuss, pack and re-pack their race gear. If anyone has the secret to passing the morning, I’d like to hear it. Fortunately I was devouring my new book, The Help, in gulps and lost myself in the story. Paula Newby Fraser once said in an interview that she would read fiction novels during the week before Ironman Hawaii. She had a good formula to prepare herself for a big race so maybe there is something to reading a great novel. By 11:00 a.m., however, I was antsy to get the show going. And going it did. Once the gun went off, time was completely irrelevant.
With this great race on the books, the rest of the season looks promising. A few half marathons and sprint distance triathlons slotted in around the higher priority events:
July 4th – Vancouver Half Ironman
August 16th – Ironman Lake Stevens 70.3
September 12th - Ironman Muskoka 70.3
October 17th - Ironman Austin 70.3
Word on the street is they are all start at 7:00 a.m. … the coolest hour of the day! Phew.
I’ll close with the prolific poem from the movie Invictus:
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
William Ernest Henley
