No home turf advantage at Ironman Cozumel - but who really cares when you get to see pyramids?

Man, what a trip!
I was really looking forward to my trip to Mexico (see the pre race blog entry here). And it proved to be everything I expected… and more. Regrettably though the racing on Cozumel did not work out the way I had planned it.

And as this blog focuses on the triathlon part of my life that’s in the end what I have to write about here. To make a long story short: The race ended in my second DNF at an Ironman. And it was the right decision. But let’s start from the beginning:

The days leading up to the race went suspiciously well: The trip down to Mexico was long but smooth as every piece of luggage made it onto all my three connecting flights as well as the ferry to the island. During race week as well everything seemed going well. The swiss bunch consisting of Monique, Ursula, Dani and Tonino and I had a lot of fun and Monique made for a great roommate for race week.

Tonino, Dany, Monique and se German!

The legs on the bike as well as on the run felt good, the swim shape was also decent. I had looked at the profile of the bike course critically before I came to the island as it is pancake flat and on a calm day would see many, many drafting groups I was sure. The situation in the week leading up to the race though looked a bit more promising: The winds were quite string and blowing either from the sharp left or right, almost never directly from the front. Thus if conditions stayed this way drafting would prove difficult and the race a little more fair than I expected. I was so wrong! But more on that later.

I even enjoyed it in the water when the wind picked up a bit three days before the race. Immediately rumors began to spread regarding a cancellation of the swim should the current remain flowing against the athletes on their 600m home stretch on race day. That to me seemed a overly cautious. In the end there’s a certain level of proficiency that you should posses if you show up for an Ironman. So when we went to the race briefing two days before the race we expected the announcers to at least hint at a “Plan B” for bad weather. To our very surprise not one word was said on the matter. Nothing. Even when we checked in our bikes the day before the race: Nothing! Not one word. OK I thought, then we’ll have fun in the water! And my swim shape got better by the day – I swam in the ocean every single day on Cozumel – I was looking forward to tough conditions. We waited until dinner on Saturday and still nothing. Then – we were among the lucky guys – Hannes Blaschke relayed the (bad) news to us at about 7pm: The swim course would be shortened to 3,1k instead of 3,8k. Not only this, we’d be taken “up river” so to speak against the predominant current for that distance and then head off with a strong current in our back. My immediate reaction was the following post on Facebook:

“The greatest draft fest in the history of our sport starts tomorrow, at about 7:40am on the island of Cozumel, Mexico. 2600 athletes go in a point to point swim course with the current in their back. And I am in the middle of it all and have only myself to blame... The only solution: HAMMER THE BIKE! - like never before..”
 

And – sad but true - I would be all too right with this prediction. Nonetheless there was nothing I could do about it and so went to bed a little angry already. Nonetheless I slept quite well and went through the usual morning routine smoothly. Again everything that I myself could control worked out fine. I made it to the starting line on one of the first buses taking athletes there and was at the beach where we were supposed to start from 40min before the start. From then on a few things went wrong. Even though the age groupers were to start from the beach, the first rows of us followed the pros into the water after they had gone off and were waiting about 100m off shore at a rather virtual starting line. One such a stampede is moving, nothing short of a tsunami will stop it and so when the gun finally went off, the first age groupers had already covered about 200m of the already shortened swim course. I was at about 150m in and fought well during the first 10min not to drown. Successfully I might add. Looking down to the sea shore it was easy to see that we had a quite strong current in our backs for the first 2k. They flew by like nothing. The third kilometer saw us with not much of a current to speak of and so the times were not as fast as I had predicted. Still I was out of the water after 39:15min already and everyone else followed closely behind.

When I ran from the swim exit to my transition bag I overheard the announcer fail epically at his job: this guy was really saying that all athletes exiting the water right now can  be very proud of their swim time as all of them will “probably” have posted personal best times for the swim in an Ironman. Pathetic, that guy!

 

I went through transition taking the time to put on my long sleeve Skins jersey in order to have it cool me on the next 180k to come. Still everything was working out perfectly and it seemed I was quite well positioned. Even a look at the swim results would have turned up the same result: I was already in 11^th position in ma age group. With the motto for race day published on social media the night before I headed off at around 250 watts and the wind in my back quickly reeling in athlete after athlete on the first 20k stretch south. When we reached the southern tip of the island it seemed that I had already reached the front of the age group race. Uups. Already. Over those first 20k I had noticed that a few guys had tried to stay on my wheel and when we started heading up north and right into a head wind I put my head down and the pedal to the metal. I felt great and that stretch was over in no more than 32min. I reeled in two more lonely riders of that distance but then where I was, that was the front of the age grouper race. From there the course turns left across the island back to the western shore. It was there that I looked back for the first time and I was really shocked. The effort into the wind had been good for nothing. Nothing. At. All. Behind me there was a string of athletes was lined up like a beads on a chain no more than 5m apart. And that with a race marshal riding with us all the time. That guy though did nothing else than reminding athletes to “Stay right!” and did not hand out any penalties to anyone. Ever! Really frustrated but still feeling alright I eased back a bit and let one or two guys pass me. The problem was that as I tried to stay a legal distance behind the guys another one would come up from behind to quote: “Close the gap, idiot!”. Thank you! I was fed up with this after a few kilometers and so headed back to the front of the pack and tried to get rid of the peloton again. I thought that with a couple of 90 degree turns when we rode through San Miguel de Cozumel that would perhaps be enough to break up the drafters behind. I thus was the first age grouper to pass T2. And that’s where I really regret to not have finished the race: Everyone on the island was so very nice and supportive of us athletes it was unbelievable. People were lining the sides of the roads almost our entire was through town. It was simply amazing! 

I was all fine for the next 10k averaging about 240 watts for the first lap and covering the 63km comfortably in about 95 minutes, roughly an average speed of 40kph. Then,. right after I had overtaken Monique (as a pro she had headed off some 15min before me) though disaster struck in the form of sickness. I had already noticed before that it did not feel as easy as usual to stick to my nutrition schedule and now I got to know why: My stomach  for whatever reason did not want to keep anything down. Nothing. It all came up again. I threw up for the first time just after we passes out hotel at about 72k and over the course of the next 30k another 3-4 times. It was clear that with this thing going on I would not be able to push really hard as had been the plan. So I slowly dropped back and so was able to behold the giant draft fest that was the first big bunch of age groupers with my own eyes. It made me want to vomit one more time but there was nothing left to get rid of. My race was over right there and then. Damn! I took it easy north into the wind, picked up my special needs bag, tried to get some of the energy drink contained therein into my system but to no avail. I was cursing badly all the way up the eastern coast of the island and soon lost sight of the big pack heading for Kona. Grrrr…. I resorted to riding on the base instead the aerobars on the westward stretch back to town and was quite sure to call it quits after two of the three bike laps. Then though Monique repassed me, gave me a worried look and after I told her what the problem was encouraged me to continue. Just as in Kona that outside intervention made me think a little and continue to at least give finishing the bike a try. With no fuel intake for the last 90mins though my power output was ridiculously low and all I could do for some time was to stay a safe distance of some 50 meters behind Monique. After about another 20k my stomach calmed down a little and I was able to get down some of the Coke in one of my special needs water bottles. This would be the only stuff I would keep down for the last 110k on the bike. Still it made me feel a little better and I was in the end able to at least finish the bike just ahead of Monique and a few other female pros.

Even though this was not a smart decision in the end I ended up entering the change tent and put on my running shoes and give the marathon a try. Not feeling too well and still heading out onto the streets of San Miguel de Cozumel felt not bad at all at the beginning because there they were again: the crowds of spectators lining the course and cheering us on. All. The. Time. That was just great. On a positive note the shot at the marathon gave me the chance to try out my modified running shirt: And I can say it really works. After Kona I had vowed to have ice pockets sewn onto the front of my running jersey at the level of my collar bones. Hey, that’s cool I can tell you. I filled those pockets with ice at every aid station and never got even close to overheating. Still, the vomiting came back with force at around the 10k mark of the run. The course in Cozumel is an out and back thing you have to do three times. So it was about 4k from T2 when the going got tougher once again. When I reached the end of the lap at the 14k mark I was done. Really done. What followed was a quick visit to the medical tent (again) and the mandatory calls back home to ensure everyone that nothing had seriously gone wrong. My real Mexico trip was still to come after all. And that real trip is quite well described by the following picture:

 

Oh, by the way I nearly vomited another time when I saw that Michi Weiss won the race. Simply pathetic, that guy!