Nice Ironman 2014 Mauricio's race report: "The opposite of Nice"

Short report

 Swim 02h07m; T1 08m11s; Bike 07h15m; T2 06m03s; Run 04h50m; Overall 14h26m52s

So happy it's over.

  

Long report

So this was my second Nice IM. Last year, still high on adrenaline after crossing my first IM finish line in 15h09m, I signed-up for it again, and during the months that followed, slowly developed mixed feelings for it: Last year’s race was a leap into the unknown for me, but I had done the training and felt ready. This time around, the training was there, I felt ready, but the big concern was the fact that this time I knew what I was up against.

Swim

That's me, 1830th from the left.

So on race day I find myself on the pebble beach with another 2499 determined men and women, and here-we-go. My navigation was terrible. I was not a carpenter. I was drawing bunting lines between buoys. Shame.

Last year my goggles leaked. This time I got myself a better fitting model, but because reasons, I didn’t manage to get a brand new pair for race-day, so they were not at their best. And they fogged. Big time. I could see the sun on one side, water to the other side, diddly squat to the front.

Where's my towel?

The swim this year was two loops of 1.9 km, with the turn-around point on the shore. As I finished the first loop I checked my watch: 57mins. “Dang! That is 10 mins slower than last year! Never mind Mauricio, the real race is the marathon. You are now stronger on the bike and the run, it’s only a few minutes and the plan is to shave off 1 hour. Keep it up, come on”. I said to myself.

Halfway through the second loop I felt a bit of a sting around my wrist on my left hand. “Is that a jelly fish sting in my left hand? Should I check it with my right hand? And then what? Get stung in two hands? And then in the face when I take off my goggles? Forget it. Keep swimming Mauricio”. I said to myself.

I finally made it to the beach. No fresh water showers this year. Hard times.

I collected my transition bag, took the wetsuit off and applied sunscreen. And splattered SPF 30  all over the place! My wetsuit on the floor looked like a reverse dalmatian. Never mind. I got the rest of my kit on, and off I go.

Bike

Happy Mauricio.

On the bike and after a few kms I started overtaking. 115 “better swimmers” in total!

Then my trusty old Suunto heart rate monitor stopped working and I found myself flying without instruments. Old school it is then: I focused on keeping the breathing rate aerobic. I was doing fine.

The feeding went well, one gel every 30mins, 1- 1 ½ bottles of fluids between stations.

I made it to the summit in force, and had lunch (granola bars) in the gentle straight downhill.

In the second uphill the rain started, and it got slippery very quick. Then the temperature dropped. Then the fog set-in!

In one wet downhill hairpin bend I slowed down to a halt and tipped over.

Car stops behind me:

-“Are vous OK?”

(Pretends he’s OK)

-“Oui, I’m OK, thanks!”

I jump back on the bike and carry on. None of the riders behind overtook me. Good.

Some kms further down I faced my old nemesis: one particularly slippery section of the road (even when dry), where last year I crashed sideways into a 1 meter tall safety rock wall and almost went over into the cliff and game-over. This time I rode past slow, very slow. I noticed they replaced the bad-surface bit with asphalt. I carried on.

The officials later said that at this point it was 10 Celcius in the mountains. Add to that the rain, the wind, and flimsy lycras, and the chill factor was barely above zero. Some parts got hail. I believe I might have rode through some.

My hands were shivering. Teeth chattering in the straights, clenching in the bends. No joke.

I was having a bad time. All I wanted was to get back to Nice, go to my hotel, get a hot shower and go to bed. “Forget the medal. This is not on”. I said to myself.

At the next station I stopped and asked if anyone had a hot drink, “s’il vous plait”.

A man says “with pleasure if there’s any left in my thermos... nope, none left, désolé”.

There’s one plastic cup full of coffee on the table. I look at it as cats look at butcher shops. A lady says, “You can have this one, I’m afraid it’s not too hot though”. I drank it in one and it felt like a warm kiss. I stopped shivering at once. Mauricio is back. They offered me a cut of thermal styrofoam to put on my chest to keep me warm, but I declined politely.  I noticed two riders getting into an ambulance, one with a big bandage around his forehead, the other in a space blanket. The marshalls surrounded me and started briefing me in the conditions of the rest of the course. I acknowledged, said thanks again and off I go.

Past the halfway point there is a flat two-way section where you go a few kms into a side road, turn around and then back on your tracks to the main road back to Nice. This bit allows you to have a look at who’s ahead and who’s behind you. I was impressed by the numbers of people riding in rain ponchos. Rain Ponchos!!!

As I was slowly negotiating the bendy slopes, a guy passed flying by me, with one leg!! I believe he had a mate shadowing him, but I could hardly believe this man having done all those uphills with only one left leg, and now blazzing down the downhill! Hats off!!

I believe it was in the final downhills where I took the rest of the tumbles. What was last year’s most exhilarating part of the race was now a nerve-wracking slow-paced tumble and slide.

In one bend I lost balance, skidded and hit the floor. Got the chain back on, back on the saddle and here we go. A few seconds later I noticed that my left shoe didn’t clip-in properly. I try and clip it gentl... Bam! On the floor again!

Tired Mauricio.

I put the chain back on, get on the saddle and carry on. Slowly. A brit overtakes me riding fast. I thought “the grip is better here, I’ll follow him”, and as I do, in the first gentle bend, off the bike again. This time while I was falling in anger I said “noooooo!!!!”, and landed on my right hand side ribcage and knocked the wind out of me. As my skid came to a stop by the side of the road, I sat and remembered my yoga lessons and hugged my knees over my chest in the “I want my mum” position. Got the breathing thing going again, got up, fixed the chain again, got back on the bike and carried on. This one tumble the derailer took a bad hit. I found myself with only three gears working and some 20 kms to go. So I had a one-to-one with my bike:

“Dear Kila (her maiden name is Quintana Roo Kilo, but I call her Kila) we’ve been together for nearly two years now and it’s been good. We’ve done great rides, we have taken care of each other, and I’ve never asked you anything that you wouldn’t give yourself freely. But now I have a request and it’s a biggie: please take me back to Nice”.

On my part I was now determined to finish this race nomatterwhat. I did not get back on the saddle 4 times (maybe 5, I stopped counting after the 3rd fall) to not finish this race.

 Run

It looks easy, right?

I did not start the run in the best shape, to say the least. After 30 mins I knew I was not going to be able to run the whole thing as I had planned, so I took it to the old “run 5 mins, walk 1”. With the few neurones left on-duty I managed to set both alarms in my watch so all I needed to do is “walk at the sound of the beep, and resume running when you hear two beeps”. “Yeah, but what do I do at the Aid Stations Mauricio?”, “You can stop the watch at the stations as a bonus”, “Really?”, “Really. Now stick to your end of the deal and start running dammit”.

I must say, those 5 minutes running were very long minutes, and the short minute walking, very short indeed. But I kept to it. Kept eating and drinking regularly. And most importantly overtook another 179 “better swimmers and riders” in total!

  

So after a long day in the office I made it to the finish line with a sprint, threw my fists in the air and cursed, and decided not to race an IM distance again in the next 12 months at least, and Nice in particular, not again in a very long time.

In the end I have road rash on my left shoulder, right hip, right ribcage and left hip. They tell me that if I had cracked a rib I would know, but it still hurts a bit. And I will need a new trisuit, because this one looks like the cat’s been at it.

Can I go home now?