Bravo! Ironman San Juan

Transition area the day before the race

Bang! The gun went off. It was 6:50am on Saturday 19th March and the pros were on their way in the inaugural San Juan 70.3 Ironman. Denise, sporting a light pink swim cap and me with my purple cap, were only set to go off in later waves at 7.25am and and 7.45am respectively.  Earlier that morning, it was a still pitch dark when the alarm clock had gone off at 4.45am in our surprisingly noisy Caribe Hilton Hotel room. We had managed to get what was probably the last room in the hotel and I could not help but wonder whether we might have been better off elsewhere.

In any case there was not much time to think about that with Denise already having switched into her now all familiar “race mode” (the term I give to her relentless focus on a race she tends to exhibit the morning of a big race). Bike transition, a 5 minute walk from the hotel, closed at 6am so we headed off with all transition gear before heading back to the hotel to grab some breakfast. The start of the swim was another 15 minute walk in the opposite direction from the hotel. We both felt that the organization of this 70.3 was not as professional as the one in East London. For one, in the transition area we had to lay out all our gear in a very cramped area compared to having a separate swim, bike and run bag at East London.

Before we knew it we were on our way swimming in the warm Caribbean waters (at 26 degrees it was a non legal wetsuit swim). The swim was pretty uneventful. The water was warm and the crowd support was great, especially as we swam under a bridge. The swim finish was up a temporary wooden ramp they had constructed specifically for the event. I remember getting yanked up the ramp by a few of the 1,000 + volunteers, who were shouting something to me in Spanish. It was then a few minutes bare footed run to get to the transition area.

With no wetsuit to take off the change over was quick and soon I was on my rental bike heading up towards the eastern beaches of San Juan. The sides of the roads were lined with what seemed like the whole San Juan police force each one looking like they had just come off the set of the old TV series “Chips”. From the way police in San Juan proudly present themselves it appears to be a highly sought after position. It was about now that I realized all the distance markings were in miles and with no speedometer I didn’t know how long the cycle was going to be. I was too embarrassed to ask some one how far this race is (after all, who enters a race like this and does not know how far it is)? So for a while I was distracted trying to divide 1.6 in 90km. 16 x 5 is 80. 10 divided by 1.6 is …..  well divided by 2 is 5 so it must be something just over 55 miles. This is why we need basic maths at school.

The cycle route as described by the race co-ordinator was a lolly pop route. It was on the second loop that I managed to catch Denise. And it was shortly thereafter that for some reason a solution to a long standing business problem I have been trying to solve popped into my head. I have no idea why this happened precisely at that moment. The last part of the cycle seemed to drag on and on. As I found out afterwards, it was actually 56 miles. The day had started off cloudy and coolish but by now it had warmed up considerably. As usual I felt strong after the bike and set off on the run.

With the Caribbean sun now in full force, the memories of previous ultra triathlons kicked in. Sapped of energy, I wondered how on earth am I going to finish this race. It was not long into the run that the hills started to make themselves known as I thought back to what Rob had said (a South African from Cape Town we had met who has done 22 half ironmans around the world, who commented he can’t see there being any hills on this run). Trust me there were hills. Beautiful hills and beautiful scenery as we made our way through the town of old San Juan and up past the fort and down along the wall of fort on the waters edge. At times running on cobble stones, the run was a two lap course covering a distance of 13.1 miles but at the time I thought it was more like 14 point something miles as I subtracted the swim and cycle distances from 70.3 (I knew the swim was 1.2 miles).

The run, as always, is a psychological challenge. A personal battle with one self to keep going. Mind over matter. Repeatedly asking one self: how do you run a half marathon? Answer: one step at a time. On my first loop shortly after high fiving Denise going in the opposite direction I found Rob walking on a steep uphill. I muttered, “I think we found those hills”. He responded, “where did they pull these hills out of?”. The temptation was too great and I ended up walking alongside Rob for a bit (yes, Bryan, my secret is out – I did walk!)

Fortunately I started feeling a lot better on the second lap of the run and picked up my pace considerably. This was no doubt helped by the very enthusiastic local crowd lining the run route chanting all sorts of encouragement in Spanish. “Bravo, Bravo, Bravo” they would shout interspersed with a few Americans shouting “Good job, Good job!” I was also helped along by the temporary reprieve at the support stations every mile with an unlimited supply of water, gatorade, pepsi, power bars, gels, bananas, oranges and even pretzels but best of all were the ice cold water sponges. I also looked forward to the local man on route with a hose pipe about mid way who would spray me down as I passed. Doing so he would shout “Bravo Zuid Afrika” (noticing my nationality from the South African peak and temporary tattoo I was wearing). Most of all, however, I was helped along by the thought of the reward waiting for us when we finished the race – a 7 night Caribbean cruise on the luxurious SeaDream II yacht.

Deep into the race I often wonder why on earth we put ourselves through this, especially considering the lack of training for this race. Fortunately the end appeared much sooner than I expected as it seemed I had only just passed the 12 mile mark and due to my miscalculations was expecting a distance of over 14 miles. As I entered the last few hundred meters of the race, my run turned into a sprint buoyed by the phenomenal crowd support, which now lined both sides of the track a few deep. All of these people were complete strangers to me but I felt like an absolute champion (something like I imagine Bruce Fordyce must have felt winning a comrades marathon) as I was cheered to the finish line with much vigor. The announcer announcing and we have Andrew Higgins from .. I think it is … Zimbabwe. No, no … he corrected himself after I mouthed South Africa to him. At that moment as I owned that finish line (for all of about 3 seconds) all the pain and suffering quickly became a distant memory and everything I had just put myself through all seemed worthwhile again.

Preparing the finish the day before the race

My time: 5 hours 47 minutes. Not as good as my East London time but not too bad all considered. Denise came in at 6 hours 29 minutes bettering her East London time. There was not too much time to reflect on the race as we still had some logistics to deal with. We had to return our rental bikes, get a package with our tri gear shipped back to Denver and get ourselves to our yacht all before 5:50pm (a process complicated by the traffic jam the event had created in San Juan). Needless to say, we made it. Bravo!