In a year when 99% of races have been cancelled or postponed due to coronavirus, it was a great privilege to take part in the Atomic Man Half Iron.  The race, as the name indicates, is a half iron distance triathlon that takes place in Lenoir City, TN, just west of Knoxville.  The race is put on by Endurance Sports Management, who did a great job taking precautions to minimize risks related to COVID-19, including limiting the field to 150 athletes, mandating social distancing and masks when not racing, and eliminating the awards ceremony and post-race mingling.

OTHER WT ATHLETES RACING

I coach a few athletes who participated in the weekend’s races (there were sprint and Olympic distance races the day before), though only one other Working Triathlete athlete (Anthony Didion) was targeting the half iron distance race.  Anthony was in exceptional shape and was poised to potentially win the whole thing, although bad luck struck at the beginning of the bike leg when he experienced two flat tires which ended his race.    He kept a positive attitude through it all and and ended up running the half marathon at the end of the race to salvage some benefit from the event. The day before, WT athlete Brian Suh crushed the Olympic race, finishing 3rd in his AG despite ripping off the zipper on his tri suit in T1, thereby making it a wind-grabbing parachute on the bike.

TRAVEL

The race took place on Sunday, October 4th, and my wife and I drove to Lenoir City, TN from Nashville (about a 2.5 hour drive) the day before with our year old golden retriever, Kona.  It was Kona’s first triathlon and his first time staying in a hotel (shout out to the Hampton Inn in Lenoir City for allowing dogs). Fortunately, there was much less drama than I expected in bringing our normally overly exuberant dog with us.  He had a great time and kept my wife, Alex, company (along with other friends and spectators) and was shockingly angelic in the hotel.

BACKGROUND FITNESS

Although it is rare to get to the starting line with perfect fitness, 2020 was a particularly tough year for me.  I battled a hip injury and ended up missing 10 weeks of running in May, June, and a good chunk of July.  I started running in mid-July, but only a few easy miles at a time.  In the prior six months leading to the race, I only did four or five high intensity run sessions total, with all of them being ~3 mile tempo runs (with the exception of a sprint tri in August wherein I maintained a run pace similar to what I held during Atomic Man).  I did not run a single mile faster than threshold since mid-February. Nearly all my mileage was extremely easy Z1/Z2 running (I built up to 30-35 mpw prior to race day).  Point being, I felt somewhat underprepared for the run and had no idea how my body would respond to a hard 13.1 mile effort.  However, I was confident that the volume and frequency I was able to achieve  over an 8-week period, although composed mostly of “slow” running (on a relative basis), would lead to a respectable performance. 

Apart from a lack of run training, I was fairly confident in my general cardiorespiratory fitness. Of course, like many in 2020, I did not get to swim much due to pool closures—though the low-volume swim approach was not new for me.  Due to a demanding life schedule, I generally get by on alarmingly little swim training. However, in 2020, the swim volume was exceptionally low and I strategically spent a lot of time on the Vasa SwimErg.  This approach worked quite well and I dare say I improved my swim fitness throughout quarantine.  My cycling fitness going into the race was reliably strong due to a steady diet of structured indoor riding. Although I wasn’t in peak form, I thought I had a decent shot of putting together a solid race.

RACE DAY

After a race-day breakfast of a cinnamon raisin bagel with peanut butter and jelly and some Tailwind, my wife, Kona and I drove to the race site.  We arrived around 6 AM and and I set up transition.  The bikes were spaced out well and everyone was wearing masks, so there was a low risk of catching Covid.  The temperature was in the low 40s (around 45 F at the start of the swim), so it was a crisp day.  Having raced in similar conditions many times, I knew I’d be fine (albeit a bit chilly) by wearing arm warmers and gloves for the bike.  As I always stress to the athletes I coach, I laid everything out and rehearsed the sequence of events composing T1 and T2 many times in my head.

SWIM

The first swimmer jumped into the 67 degree water at 7:30 AM.  Anthony and I lined up near two other Nashville athletes—Drew Magid and Jordan Peters, both of whom performed well—as we tried to stay reasonably warm in our wetsuits.  It was a socially distanced time trial start, and we ended up jumping in around 10 min after the first athlete entered the water.

Because the water was cold and it takes me quite a while to warm up when swimming (I usually swim 1,000 yards as a warm-up for swim training sessions when I have the time), I eased into the swim.  Anthony passed me about 400 yards in and was looking strong.  The swim was largely uneventful.  It is a two-lap lake swim.  Since there were only ~100-150 athletes racing, everyone had a lot of room.  I exited the water feeling good.

T1

The first transition took a bit longer than normal due to the necessity of putting on arm warmers and gloves.  I pre-roll the arm warmers to make them easier to put on, and then put on my tight “race” gloves.  I have a lucky pair of North Face gloves (they were (or perhaps theoretically ARE) my wife’s, however she let me borrow them for Ironman Arizona last year since they fit tighter (i.e. are more aerodynamic) than any of my other cycling gloves.  That race went well (I biked 4:38 at IM AZ), so they became my go-to race gloves.  Since I’m not the lightest sweater, she said that she does not want them back.  After pulling them on, I grabbed my Dimond and took off.

BIKE – A MINOR CRASH

An inalienable truth of cycling, especially in non-draft racing, is the importance of being aerodynamic.  Apart from honing ones position and checking the other boxes (aero helmet, clean drive train, deep wheels, optimized tires/tubes, careful water bottle placement, etc.), tight fitting clothing is essential.  Unfortunately for when racing in cold weather, a jacket—even a tightish fitting cycling jacket—is not going to be slippery (i.e. aerodynamic).  This is why I’m a fan of arm warmers  (they’re tight and potentially more aerodynamic than skin) and simply dealing with being slightly chilly during cold-weather triathlons.  It was approximately 46 degrees when I started the bike leg, and the wind against my soaking wet skin, tri suit and churning legs (which were covered by wet aero calf sleeves), was anything but comfortable.  In fact, the cold air burned a bit, however I knew that once I dried off  and the temps crept into the 50s I’d be fine.

Just a couple of miles into the bike leg, I was bummed to see Anthony pulled over on the side of the road with an apparent flat tire.  Although  he had what he needed to change a flat, he did not have two tubes to change a DOUBLE FLAT.  It was an unfortunate disaster as he had a great swim and was poised to truly obliterate the race.  However, races don’t always go as planned and the disappointment will just make him hungrier for dominating next year.

The ride continued fairly smoothly, though the course was anything but easy.  Map My Ride showed it as having over 4,000 feet of elevation gain (which would be brutal – similar to Nice or Lake Placid), although at the end of the race my Garmin had it at around 3,000 feet.  In any case, it was a tough, punchy ride with four substantial climbs.  Much of it was through low-traffic, forested roads.  Overall, I’d rate the course as one of the more scenic/beautiful ones I’ve done. 

My plan for the bike was to ride intelligently, but press the climbs.  I typically run well off the bike with an IF around .80, and didn’t want to push it here due to the big question mark on run fitness.  For this race, I was aiming for a normalized power of ~270 watts, which I more or less achieved in spite of the crash (TP showed an NP of 265 watts and VI of 1.05).

The course is essentially two loops in the shape of a lollipop with a short out-and-back at the top of the loop.  Because of this, you had the opportunity to gauge how far ahead other competitors were a few times during the race.  At the first turnaround (around 12-13 miles into the race), I counted six or seven athletes in front of me and calculated that the leader was ~12 minutes ahead (due to the rolling start) and looking strong.  I was feeling good, however, and felt like I could potentially reel people in if I kept pressure on the pedals.

At the end of one lap, you essentially ride to transition and turn around to repeat the loop.  At this point, I was excited to see my wife, Kona, and friends (Derek, a fellow coach and winner of the olympic tri the day before, and Anthony, who was making the best of his flat tire situation, and others).  I also calculated that the leader was only eight or so minutes ahead, so I knew I was closing.  

The ride continued to go decently well until around the 35-40 mile mark.  The long climbs felt smooth and the 45+ MPH descents were exhilarating.  As I was approaching the out-and-back at the top of the loop, I calculated that the leader was only about four or so minutes ahead.  I approached the turnaround cone in good spirits, thinking that if I maintained my pace, I could perhaps be first into transition.  However, halfway through the 180-degree turn around the cone, both of my tires slid out at the same time on some gravel and I hit the road hard.  I wasn’t moving that fast, but when I stood up and checked my bike to make sure it was OK (it was fine except for a brake cover that broke off), I felt a surprising amount of pain on my left side, especially around my hip and ankle.  I looked down and saw some gnarly road rash and a bloody ankle.  At the time, I was concerned that I fractured my ankle as it hurt to put weight on it and swelled quickly.  A nice volunteer ran up and asked if I was OK and if I needed medical assistance.  I said no, and that I was probably fine.  In reality, I had no idea if the ankle would hold up.  Having crashed my bike a few times in the last decade (including a broken collar bone that required surgery), this spill hurt more than the others.  However, the pain was largely due to road rash in sensitive areas, including on the knuckles, bony part of my ankle, and around the hip joint.  When I got back on my bike and started pedaling, my foot/ankle area felt numb and continued to swell. Over the first few miles, I figured my ankle would have a 60-40 chance of being able to support my weight on the run.  Fortunately, after about 15-20 minutes of pedaling, I forgot about my crash and entered T2 in second place.  My bike time was 2:20, including the spill, which was the fastest split of the day by a fairly wide margin and a decent ride considering the elevation gain.

THE RUN

As I entered T2, everyone was screaming that the leader was about two minutes ahead. I racked my bike and pulled on my Alphaflys.  I’m usually thrilled to get off the bike during long course races and have to consciously hold back during the first couple miles, but the steep hill that immediately greets athletes as they embark upon the two-lap run course was a wake-up call that the tough route, offering ~1,000 feet of elevation gain over 13.1 miles, was not going to be easy. 

After scaling the hill, I tried to find the smooth and steady tempo that defines a good 70.3 run pace.  The run course, however, was truly punchy and rolling, and it was impossible to settle into an effortless rhythm.  My goal going into the run was to see what 6:20/mile pace felt like and hold it there.  The first few minutes felt somewhat tough and my legs felt heavy, however with each passing minute my muscles began to loosen and I started to feel better. 

During long course runs I am a liberal user of aid stations.  I tend to overheat and always douse myself with water and ice.  Due to COVID precautions, the aid stations were no-contact and we were limited to two small cups (either water or Gatorade) at each aid station.   Fortunately, there was an aid station every mile and I made maximum use of the offerings.  At the beginning of the run I would gulp down two cups of Gatorade.  Later on as my core temperature began to rise, I would balance the need to cool myself off by dousing water on my head with the necessity of consuming calories. 

At the first turnaround, I noticed an athlete (Encrico C) hot on my tail who was looking VERY smooth.  He was probably 30 seconds back.  Due to the time trial start, it is impossible to tell exactly  where everyone is positioned, but I knew that he was coming in hot.  So I focused on maintaining my cadence and looking ahead. 

At around the four mile mark, I passed the athlete who was in first place (by position on the course).  I was feeling decent, but still working hard.  With each passing mile, maintaining 6:20s on the hills required more and more focus as the trademark 70.3 exhaustion (more metabolic/neurological than cardiovascular) started to creep in.  The sun was also blasting down at this point, and I began to prioritize cooling, carefully using every drop of water in each small Dixie cup to achieve an evaporative cooling effect on my neck and core. 

At the halfway turnaround, the Nashville cheer squad was in full force.  It was uplifting, however the excitement was short lived when I saw that Enrico had closed the gap to only a few seconds.  Any hope of cruising it in comfortably went out the window and I knew that the second half of the run was going to be fast. 

The next three miles passed uneventfully.  Since Enrico was closing, I tried to be a bit more efficient at aid stations, but I knew he was coming regardless.  I decided to continue at my current effort until he came up alongside me and to match his pace once he arrived.  Right at the 9.5 mile mark of the run, he blew by.  It was a solid pass and I was quickly 30 or so feet back.  I realized that his move was not a passive one and that he was (quite intelligently) looking to put some distance between us. We immediately ran a 5:50ish mile and there were no signs of letting up.  After racing for four hours, the thought of capping it all off with a 5K race to the finish was both exciting and exasperating at the same time.  Moments like these define races and are what we train for.

Over the closing miles, we maintained that 6 flat pace.  Without him there to push me there is no way I’d have closed that quickly over the last few miles.  It goes to show you how important good competition is for challenging ourselves and for inspiring better performances. 

As we approached the finish, my thoughts turned from the singular focus of running as hard as reasonable to “who is actually leading the race.”  As I mentioned, the time trial/rolling start makes it difficult to know where you are in relation to other athletes.  Because of this, the finish was anticlimactic.  We crossed the line and had to wait a few minutes for confirmation of who the actual winner was.  It turned out that I won by a couple of minutes, which really isn’t a lot of time over a 4 hour, 22 minute race. 

REFLECTION

Atomic Man was great way to shake off the rust and squeeze in a real race in 2020.  Lenoir City is a beautiful setting for a triathlon and it was refreshing to compete in a logistically easy, low-drama, albeit well-managed long course race.  I love racing local and I recommend Atomic Man without reservation.

Conrad Goeringer is an Ironman Certified Coach based out of Nashville, TN. He is the founder of Working Triathlete and author of the book The Working Triathlete. His passion is helping athletes of all levels and with all schedules achieve their endurance goals. Reach out to learn more about coaching packages and for a free consultation.