Given to Tri: Ironman 70.3 Coeur d’Alene

Race Report: 2026 Ironman 70.3 Coeur d’Alene

2026-06-26T08:00:00-06:00

Coeur d’Alene has been one of my favorite races ever since I raced my first full-distance Ironman here in 2023; it has a lovely swim, a challenging bike course, and one of the best run courses in North America. While I DNF’d that first full-distance race, I’ve had good results at the 70.3 distance here—last year I was about five minutes away from qualifying for the World Championship. With St. George discontinued, this race immediately became my A race, my top priority for the year, and the one I would peak for.

I wanted to improve on that result, so my goal this year was simply to be faster than last year—anything under 5:30 would be a success. My stretch goal was qualifying for this year’s Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Nice, France; although the new qualification system had moved the goal posts significantly, with a good result and a little luck it was still possible one of the thirty-five slots available could roll down deep enough for me to snag it.

The weather would be a wildcard, as always. Last year had perfect weather, but not before a cold snap caused me some anxiety; in 2024, the gnarly wind forced the swim to be shortened; in 2023, I rode my bike through one of the wildest hailstorms I’ve ever seen; and 2021 is infamous for the heat wave that caused one of the highest DNF rates in Ironman history. Fortunately, it looked like the weather would be cooperating this time; with no inclement weather in the forecast, conditions seemed great for my PR attempt.

Arrival & Preparations

I drove to Coeur d’Alene the Thursday before the race, and after checking into my hotel room and unloading my gear, I changed into running clothes and went out for a run—it was pretty warm out, so I wanted to see how I felt running in the 28°C weather. I ran from my hotel to the Ironman Village, which was still being set up, and back, for a total of 12 km, and despite only being 31% heat adapted according to my core body temperature sensor, I felt great, which gave me confidence the heat wouldn’t be much of an issue on race day.

The Ironman Village at Coeur d’Alene City Park officially opened the next day, so I went there as soon as it opened to check in for the race, get my race packet, timing chip, and swag, as well as do my obligatory shopping at the race expo. I stayed for the athlete briefing afterward, which was essentially the same as in previous years, since the course hadn’t changed much—as far as I could tell, the only difference was that the finish line was now in City Park itself instead of on Sherman Avenue. The water temperature that day was 17.8°C, a little chillier than in previous years, which made me glad I had brought my new sleeved wetsuit. Afterward I went on another shakeout run; I probably should have rested instead, but I love running on the North Idaho Centennial Trail along the Spokane River and Lake Coeur d’Alene. It’s such a good route.

On Saturday I went downtown for breakfast and was surprised to find most of Sherman Avenue and the surrounding streets closed for Car d’Lane, an annual classic car festival I had never seen the previous times I’ve been here. Turns out that, due to a scheduling snafu, the race was inadvertently scheduled on the same weekend as the festival, which they usually try to avoid for obvious reasons—that explained why they had moved the finish line into City Park.

I shared a few more photos of Car d’Lane on Bluesky.

It was a cool festival and I spent a good part of the morning photographing the cars, but with the crowds, street closures, and limited parking, I realized racking my bike in the afternoon might prove to be more inconvenient than usual, so I left to go get my bike and take care of that. I racked my bike in my spot, made a note of the row where it was, and walked around transition to make sure there were no changes to the layout or to the path I would need to follow on race day, but everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be.

My bike, racked in transition the day before.

This race does a single transition at City Park, one of my favorite transition areas. It’s covered in grass so it’s easy to run on, and has lots of shade, so the bike and gear don’t sit out in the sun all day. As is typical for 70.3s with a single transition, the race doesn’t provide gear or morning clothes bags, so you have to bring everything in your own bag on race day (I also brought one of the plastic shopping bags from the expo to put my wet wetsuit in after the race).

I checked out the swim start and exit before leaving to see what the conditions were like on the lake. It was windy as hell and it looked even choppier than two years ago, when the swim was shortened; the buoys were being battered by the wind and the waves so much they were already out of whack, and the windsock at the seaplane base next to the park was fully extended, so the wind was at least 15 knots (28 km/h). I hoped the wind calmed down before the race, but I assumed the organizers would just shorten the swim again if it didn’t, so I wasn’t too stressed about it. I went back to my hotel to organize the rest of my gear, watch the World Cup, and try to get a good night of sleep.

Race Day

I woke up at 1:30 AM and spent another hour tossing and turning before giving up on trying to fall back asleep. I didn’t feel quite right; I was more fatigued than I expected and my stomach was unsettled. For a moment I entertained the idea of skipping the race and going back to bed, but the weather forecast looked lovely, with clear skies, a high of 25°C, and barely any wind; a push notification from the Ironman app announced that the official water temperature was 18.4°C, and an Instagram story from Ironman showed Lake Coeur d’Alene looking like a mirror at the swim start. It looked like a great day for a race, and I knew if I DNS’d I would absolutely regret it, so I had breakfast, did some mobility work to try to wake myself up, and got ready to leave. Whatever was wrong with me, I’d just try to power through.

Transition at City Park is open from 4:30 to 5:45 AM, but there’s plenty of parking available in the area, so there’s usually no real reason to be there at the crack of dawn. This year was no exception; I left my hotel at 5:00 AM, found a sweet parking spot a block away from the park, and by 5:20 AM I was done setting up all my gear. I wriggled into my wetsuit and headed over to the swim staging area on the beach, lining up conservatively with the 43–46-minute wave.

Scenes from transition, 5:20 AM.

Shortly before the start of the race, I heard the announcer say that the wind was starting to pick up, and that we might see some “texture” in the water. It didn’t look as bad as the day before, but it definitely looked a little choppy. (I checked the weather data after the race and the wind at the time the swim started was 16–19 km/h from the south, so a direct headwind on the outbound leg of the swim.)

Well, too late to back out, I was already in the chutes. I started my race at 6:25 AM.

The Swim

I can’t believe what I’m about to say: The Escape from Alcatraz swim was easier than this one.

I started the race with a strong pace, but the chop and the swells made it hard to get in a good rhythm; I had trouble timing my breathing correctly and ended up swallowing a bunch of water. I’m not sure if it was due to the headwind, but I slowed down to a crawl, as if I was swimming against a current. Things got easier on the inbound leg, now that I was swimming with the swells instead of against them. I figured out how to time my sighting better, at the top of the swells, so I never had trouble seeing the buoys, and I also think I did better than usual swimming in a crowd, staying on people’s feet, and dealing with contact, even after a breaststroker kicked me square in the head at the first turn buoy.

Despite that, I wasn’t much faster on the way back, and I finished the swim in 48:27, with an abysmal pace of 2:31/100 m, my slowest swim to date in a 70.3. Unlike in Boise last year, I don’t even have the excuse that it was long: Per my GPS, it was exactly 1.9 km. It was just not a good swim.

If nothing else, I think I did a decent job swimming straight and staying on course.

I’ve been reflecting on this, trying to understand what went wrong. In hindsight, I don’t think the conditions in the water were that bad, just choppy enough to degrade my technique, which slowed me down, which tired me out, which degraded my technique some more, and so on—a downward spiral from which I never recovered. In any case, I’m deeply frustrated by this. I thought I had made good progress on my swim this year—I’ve been getting faster in the pool, I had one of my best, most consistent swim training blocks ever heading into Escape from Alcatraz, and that swim went as well as I could have hoped, so it’s demoralizing to end this one feeling like I’ve actually made no progress at all. I know I can do better than this, and I’m annoyed at myself for failing so badly.

T1

I was tired and frustrated after the swim and I needed to get my head straight, so after getting my wetsuit removed by one of the volunteers, I walked to my bike and took my time getting my bike gear on. I spent 10:05 in T1.

The Bike

The bike course was unchanged from previous years: a single lap consisting of two out-and-backs, with a short section through downtown Coeur d’Alene in between. The first one is about 30 km on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive with a turnaround at Higgens Point and a couple of short climbs, and the second is approximately 60 km on US-95. It’s a hilly, challenging course, with twelve categorized climbs, 940 m of elevation gain—and long, steep descents, so you do need good descending skills. That said, it’s a great bike course, with smooth pavement, lovely scenery, and good separation from traffic; the section in downtown Coeur d’Alene and the two northbound lanes on US-95 are closed to traffic, so for most of the course, you’re not sharing the road with any cars.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

I left T1 and rode easy through the streets of downtown Coeur d’Alene, using the time to spin up my legs and shake off the cold before the first climb on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. When I got in aero I felt a familiar pain in my abdomen, which usually means I ingested air and water during the swim, but beyond that, I still felt off—I felt flat and depleted, as if I had somehow lost half my FTP overnight. I didn’t know exactly where this malaise was coming from—perhaps I was simply getting sick—but I knew the race I had planned to race was effectively over, and my only goal now was to just finish.

My slow swim had put me behind a ton of people so the first out-and-back was very congested, but that gave me time to assess how I felt and come up with a new game plan. The abdominal pain made it uncomfortable to put down power in aero position but I felt alright sitting up, so I decided to push on the climbs, recover on the descents, and do the best I could in aero on the flats. To avoid upsetting my stomach any further, I halved my planned fuel intake of two 24-ounce bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320, which, over the course of the roughly two and a half hours I originally expected to take to finish the bike leg, amounted to about 80 g/h of carbs. The last thing I wanted was to have my stomach shut down, like it did at Ironman Coeur d’Alene, which made it impossible to get any fuel in during the run and ultimately caused me to bonk. I had set up a reminder in my Garmin to drink every 15 minutes, so my solution was simply to skip every other reminder.

That plan worked out alright, I suppose. I pushed hard on the climbs, not as hard as my power plan prescribed, but a decent enough effort that I even got PRs in a couple of Strava segments along the way. I hoped my abdominal pain would resolve eventually, but it never did, so I mostly stayed in zone 2 on the flats. I kept passing people throughout the entire bike leg, which felt pretty good—I was going surprisingly fast despite not putting in my best effort. The only changes I made to my setup were tweaking the position of my aerobars and arm scoops to give me a little extra reach, and swapping my usual Giro Aerohead for a new Rudy Project Wingdream, all of which perhaps resulted in some additional aero gains (at the expense of making me look like Dark Helmet).

Ludicrous speed, go! Credit: FinisherPix

The rest of the bike leg was uneventful and unremarkable, and I finished in 2:50:20, with a final intensity of 68%, far below the 80% I had originally planned. Despite that, I was surprised to finish 15th in my age group, my best result of the day. I can’t help but wonder how I could have done if I had been at my best.

T2

I was pretty spent when I got off the bike, so I took my time to walk my bike to my rack, catch my breath, get my running gear on, apply a good layer of sunscreen, and leave. I spent 9:20 in T2.

The Run

The last two times I’ve done this race I’ve started the run feeling so strong I’ve had to consciously slow myself down to avoid blowing up. That’s not how I felt this time; within a few seconds of starting I knew I would have to gut this one out. I wasn’t about to quit, though—I had already DNF’d once here, and I wasn’t going to let this course defeat me again. If I had to walk it in, so be it. I was going to finish this damn race.

The run course was essentially the same as in previous years, two laps around McEuen Park and the neighborhoods in downtown Coeur d’Alene, before an out-and-back on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive, with 114 m of elevation gain. The only minor change this year was the move of the finish line to Coeur d’Alene City Park instead of the traditional finish on Sherman Avenue.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This is my favorite run course out of all the races I’ve done. It’s spectator-friendly, there’s a decent amount of shade, and the variety of streets you run through keeps you engaged the entire time. The whole course has a cool block-party vibe that I love, with music, supporters at every turn, and neighbors bringing out their sprinklers and garden hoses to help keep athletes cool.

It’s a really great, enjoyable course, but on this race I was suffering right from the start. The idea of running a half marathon when I was already not feeling well and after under-fueling the bike leg was daunting, so I mentally broke up the course: Each lap is almost exactly 10 km long, which makes the distance from McEuen Park to the turnaround point on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive almost exactly 5 km. I didn’t have to run a half marathon; I just needed to run a 5K… four times. No big deal.

That helped for the first lap. I knew I wasn’t going to set any PRs, so I didn’t target a specific pace and instead paced by RPE, at what felt “comfortably uncomfortable.” I only slowed down at the aid stations to drink water and electrolytes, and had a few bites of Maurten bars, hoping that solid food instead of gels would help settle my stomach. It still hurt, but at least it wasn’t sloshing, which meant it hadn’t shut down yet.

Pain. Credit: FinisherPix

If the first lap was comfortably uncomfortable, the second one was straight-up uncomfortable. I had two more 5Ks to go, but I was suffering more than I expected in the heat—in the midday sun, with the heat radiating off the pavement, it felt much hotter than the 25°C the forecast promised me, especially on the Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive segment, which is uphill and completely exposed to the sun. I had been trying to stay hydrated and fueled, but by now I was so nauseous I didn’t think I could get anything else in without it coming back out. I really wanted to stop, but I was sure that if I did, I’d end up walking the rest of the way. I only gave myself permission to walk the aid stations to pour water on my head and chest, and took advantage of every spectator with a garden hose and every bit of shade I could find to try to stay cool. I felt like complete and utter shit.

Still, I never stopped. Shortly after the turnaround point, with one more 5K to go, I looked at my watch, did some quick mental math, and realized I had a chance to at least eke out a sub-2 finish on the run if I kept my current pace. I made that my impromptu goal to feel like I could still salvage the day, and that gave me some motivation to press on.

Almost there. Credit: FinisherPix

I eventually made it back to McEuen Park for the last stretch to the finish line. I rallied to the end and finished reasonably strong, only slowing down at the very end to high-five volunteers and spectators, and avoid ruining the finish-line photo of the person in front of me. My final time for the run was 1:53:36, with a total time of 5:51:45. To my surprise, I finished 21st in the M40–44 age group, out of 84, so while this wasn’t my best race ever, it also wasn’t the worst.

You know what? I’ll take it.

I’m not sure exactly what went wrong. I suspect it wasn’t just one big thing, but a handful of things compounding on each other: a stomach bug, the poor sleep, the bad swim, the under-fueled bike, the heat on the run, even the residual fatigue from Escape from Alcatraz—it all likely added up to a not-so-great day. It’s hard not to be a little disappointed, but I still got to enjoy a beautiful day swimming in a pristine lake, riding my bike through the Idaho countryside, and going for a run while getting cheered on by hundreds of strangers. At the end of the day, there is nothing else I’d rather be doing.

Now it’s time to regroup, get back in the saddle, and try again next month in Boise.

Onwards.

Race Report: 2025 Ironman 70.3 Coeur d’Alene

2025-06-25T08:00:00-06:00

There’s always something going on with the weather in Coeur d’Alene. Last year, high winds on race day forced the swim to be shortened and made for a nerve-wracking bike leg; the year before, I got hit by a gnarly surprise hailstorm on the bike; and although I wasn’t there, 2021 was the infamous “Coeur de Flame,” with a high of 38.3°C and one of the highest DNF rates on record for a full Ironman. It’s enough of a recurring theme that at the end of my race report for last year’s race, I jokingly wondered what the weather would hold for this year.

The answer: Despite a threat of cold temperatures and rain in the days leading up to the race, it turned out to be an almost perfect day for racing.

After last month’s race in St. George, where I suffered miserably in the heat, I’ve spent the past few weeks working to improve my heat acclimation in case there was a repeat of the “Coeur de Flame” situation. Even if that didn’t happen, I wanted to be prepared for, you know, normal late June temperatures, so imagine my surprise when I looked at the weather forecast for Coeur d’Alene a week out and saw a low of 7.2°C, a high of 15.6°C, and a 50% chance of rain on race day.

I didn’t have specific time goals for this race other than “go hard, leave nothing on the table, be faster than last year,” but that still threw a wrench in my planning. Instead of preparing for the heat, I had to figure out what to do with the opposite situation: At 32 km/h on the bike, 7.2°C feels like 2.8°C; add starting the bike wet from the swim, and the risk of hypothermia is real—in 2012, rain and a low of 4.4°C forced the bike leg of Ironman 70.3 Boise to be shortened to just 24.1 km; it was so cold, some athletes rode their bikes still in their wetsuits. In 2017, one triathlete was hospitalized and about thirty others showed symptoms of hypothermia at the Napa Valley Triathlon, a particularly cold race with 2.8°C air and 13.9°C water.

The forecast wasn’t quite as cold as at those races, but still cold enough to be at risk for hypothermia, especially if it rained. That could be particularly dangerous considering how technical this course is—mental confusion and loss of reflexes are two of the symptoms of hypothermia, and that could prove disastrous on one of the many steep descents at this course. A comment on Reddit from someone who participated in that triathlon in Napa Valley described exactly what I wanted to avoid:

Comment
byu/ryuns from discussion
intriathlon

After researching cold-weather races, asking for advice on Slowtwitch and TrainerRoad, and consulting with my friend Kristin, I narrowed down my options to:

Wear my normal kit, tough it out, and hope hammering the bike would warm me up. This was a gamble—if it turned out to be colder than the forecast said, I might DNF, or worse, I could crash on the bike. Even simply fumbling a bottle because my hands are numb could ruin my day (and I’m particularly prone to that after a bad case of frostbite on my hands a couple of years ago).
Wear warm clothing during the bike leg, such as a winter cycling jersey or a rain jacket. This would slow me down quite a bit and potentially turn my race into a “just finish” kind of day, but if that’s what it took to make it back safely, then so be it.

In either case I’d do my best to dry myself as thoroughly as possible before getting on the bike, and wear full-finger gloves and toe covers to keep my extremities warm. Otherwise I’d monitor the weather, keep both options on the table, and make a final decision before hopping on the bike. I hoped the weather would shift, but I also made up my mind not to stress about it and, no matter what, just go out and enjoy myself out there. I’ve found that my mindset going into a race is one of the most important factors—if I get stuck in the mindset that I’m going to have a bad day, I’ll somehow find a way to make it happen.

Pre-race preparations

I arrived in Coeur d’Alene the Thursday before the race, and after checking into my hotel and unloading my car, I went out for a race pace run on the North Idaho Centennial Trail. It’s a lovely place to run, through fancy neighborhoods along the Spokane River and the shores of Lake Coeur d’Alene. The weather was perfect; overcast, but not too cold or too warm, although Garmin Connect kicked my heat adaptation score up a few points. Shame I wouldn’t need it.

The next day, I went to the Ironman Village as soon as it opened to check in for the race and attend the pre-race briefing, where I was curious to hear what they had to say about the weather. The briefing validated my race day strategy—the announcer warned about the cold temperatures after the swim and suggested having dry layers in transition, bringing a towel to dry off as much as possible, and wearing a jacket and gloves out on the bike course, all things I was already considering. The water temperature that morning was 20.1°C, so there was no mention of shortening or canceling the swim, but after last year’s Ironman Canada, where a rainy day before the race caused Okanagan Lake to turn over and the water temperature plummeted overnight, I didn’t think either of those things was out of the question. I mentally made plans for that, too.

Saturday was my usual pre-race routine: Rest, carb up, and watch shitty hotel TV while I check, double-check, triple-check, and quadruple-check all my gear, which consisted of:

Roka Gen II Elite trisuit. I briefly thought about wearing tri shorts for the swim and then putting on a winter jersey in T1 and a running top in T2, but my jersey fits just fine over my one-piece trisuit, and I wanted the option to leave the jersey behind if it turned out to be warmer than forecast.
The water temperature wasn’t a concern, so I brought my Roka Maverick Pro II sleeveless wetsuit, which I’ve worn without issues in colder temperatures. I brought a neoprene hat just in case the water temperature dropped, though, one of the lessons I learned from Ironman Canada last year.
For the bike leg, I brought my usual setup: My Trek Speed Concept, Shimano S-Phyre SH-TR903 shoes, and Giro Aerohead helmet. I also brought my Rapha winter toe covers and winter jersey, plus a pair of running gloves I grabbed from REI before leaving Jackson. I normally wear lightweight non-cushioned Darn Tough running socks for the bike and run, but this time I wore cushioned ones, thinking the extra thickness might provide a little more comfort.
I dusted off my Core body temperature sensor and set up its data field on my bike computer, mostly out of curiosity to see if it could give me an early warning of hypothermia if the weather got particularly bad.
The forecast showed the temperature would be at least 15.5°C during the run, so I didn’t make changes to my running gear: Hoka Cielo X1 2.0 shoes, Roka Matador Air sunglasses, and a regular hat. (Uh, and the trisuit, of course.)

Some of my gear, laid out before the race.

In the afternoon I headed over to Coeur d’Alene City Park to check in my bike in transition. It’s a single transition, so no gear bags are provided, but I bought a bunch of crap at the expo just so I could use the plastic bag to keep my shoes and socks dry if it rained (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it).

Shadowfax, ready for race day.

After racking my bike, I scoped out the transition layout, making a note of the entrances and exits and the position of my bike relative to nearby landmarks, walking back and forth a few times to memorize the path I’d need to take. While I was doing that, it started drizzling and the wind picked up. I was shivering, even though I was wearing a puffy jacket and a hat; the lake looked just as choppy as it did last year. I hoped for better weather during the race, but either way, I had a good plan and felt ready for whatever Coeur d’Alene threw at me, so I went back to my hotel and settled in for a good night of sleep.

Race day

The good night’s sleep didn’t materialize; I woke up at 3:00 AM, after getting barely two hours of sleep. I spent some time going over my gear and transition checklists to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything while I had my usual breakfast of a plain bagel with jam and coffee. I checked the weather one last time shortly before leaving, and it seemed like cold and rain would be on the menu after all.

Transition at Coeur d’Alene City Park on race day is open from 4:30 AM to 5:45 AM. One of the best things about this race is that it’s pretty easy to find street parking close to transition, so I’ve never had to rush or leave at the crack of dawn; I left my hotel at 5:00, and by 5:20 I was done setting up my gear. While setting up my bike computer, I noticed that its thermometer said it was 13.9°C, much warmer than the forecast—that bode well for the rest of the day. I set up a data page on my bike computer with the temperature as a data field, and left it so it’d be the first thing I’d see once I got back to transition after the swim. I made 10°C my completely arbitrary decision point: If it was colder than that when I got to T1, I’d wear the jersey; otherwise, I’d take my chances without it.

With the rain and wind the day before, the water had cooled down to 18.6°C, thankfully not nearly enough for the swim to be shortened or canceled. Once transition closed, I staged myself in the 40–43 minute group for the 6:00 AM swim start. The lake looked like glass, without so much as a ripple, and I heard the announcer say, “Look at that blue sky! Isn’t that beautiful?” I looked up, and indeed, I could see a little bit of blue sky for the first time since I got there. So far it looked like we’d gotten lucky—the weather was better than forecast, and it was shaping up to be a great day for racing. I could see dark storm clouds across the lake, though, and I willed them to stay away.

The swim

My race started at 6:34 AM. After diving in, it took me a few seconds to get my breathing under control in the cold water, but after that it felt great, since it was actually warmer than the air.

The field seemed rather small this year and officials were spacing people out, with only two people starting at a time, and lots of space between waves; I was at the front of my wave, so I had no one in front of me. It was great to be able to focus on my form without dealing with the washing machine. I just kept swimming, one buoy at a time. It was overcast, and I wasn’t sure if my goggles would be too dark for the conditions, but I had no trouble at all sighting the buoys; without the sun glinting off the surface, they stood out like beacons.

It wasn’t an issue this year, but I love that the course is oriented north-to-south so you’re not sighting into the sun.

I caught up with the previous wave shortly before the first turn buoy, so the swim got busier from there on, but nowhere near as chaotic as in other races. I just moved towards the outside and stayed out of the way.

I finished in 41:47, not quite as fast as last month in St. George, but not a terrible result for me. I still have lots of work to do on my swim, though.

T1

After getting my wetsuit ripped off by the wetsuit peelers and running through transition, it was the moment of truth. I woke up my bike computer and saw the temperature in giant numbers: 11.4°C.

Game on. The winter jersey was staying behind.

It was still pretty cold, mind you. I could see steam coming off my body, which I thought was amusing. I figured the gloves and toe covers wouldn’t hurt (and worst case, I could ditch the gloves at an aid station if my hands got too warm), so I took them with me anyway.

I spent too long futilely trying to dry myself with a towel and left T1 after 11:54.

The bike

The bike course is a single lap, starting with an about 30 km out-and-back through Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive before turning around at Higgens Point and heading out on a roughly 60 km out-and-back section on US-95, with a short section through downtown Coeur d’Alene in between. It’s a hilly course, with twelve categorized climbs according to Best Bike Split, and a total elevation gain of 939 m. It’s a fun, challenging bike course if you enjoy climbing, with smooth pavement and great separation from traffic; the two southbound lanes on US-95 and the streets in downtown Coeur d’Alene are all closed to traffic, so for most of the race you’re not sharing space with cars. There is one no-passing, no-aerobars zone at about the 80 km mark, in the last, steepest descent before coming back to Coeur d’Alene. There, you’re riding in the shoulder, with only a couple meters of space between the rumble strip and the barriers. That particular descent is a little sketchy, but in general you do need to be comfortable with bike handling on fast, steep descents—both times I’ve done this race I’ve seen the aftermath of bad crashes during the descents. They’re no joke.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

I set up a power guide in my Garmin targeting an intensity of 80%, which according to Best Bike Split would give me a finish time of 2:41:18 and put me in the green zone of my TSS table. I thought about trying to go a little harder since I expected it to be cold, but I didn’t want to risk overbiking and then falling apart on the run. 80% seemed like a good balance; I could hammer the climbs, recover on the descents, and hopefully that’d keep me warm while leaving enough in the tank for the run.

Bike pacing table for Ironman 70.3 races. Credit: TriStar Athletes

To fuel that effort, I brought two 24-ounce bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320, for about 80 g/h of carbs, which has worked well for me in previous races. I carried them both between my aerobars; even though the new World Triathlon hydration rules aren’t being enforced yet by Ironman in age groups, I managed to get my setup within spec. I haven’t tested if this is actually aerodynamically faster than having one bottle between the aerobars and one behind the saddle, but at least it’s practical: Since I have side-loading cages, I can grab a bottle, take a sip, and put it back without ever coming out of aero, which is nice.

I also have the option of swapping that top cage for a torpedo bottle, but this setup works quite nicely.

With my trisuit still wet, I was freezing after leaving T1. I used the first segment through downtown Coeur d’Alene to spin up the legs, shake off the cold, and hopefully warm up enough before I hit the first short climb on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. That didn’t quite work; when I started that climb, I felt… off. My legs just didn’t seem to have any strength. My quads ached, and I was feeling a disconcerting amount of muscle burn for the middling power I was putting out. I hoped it was just the cold, or else I was about to have a very long day in front of me, especially once I hit the bigger climbs.

Somewhere on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive—I was still freezing my ass off here. Credit: FinisherPix

However, by the time I crossed the bridge over the Spokane River and got on US-95, the clouds had parted, the sky was blue, I was warm, I was dry—I felt revived. I don’t think I’ve ever been more glad to see the sun. The weather was gorgeous, and I could feel my strength coming back. I put that to the test on the first big climb after leaving Coeur d’Alene, the Cougar Gulch climb, a 2.4 km segment at an average grade of 5.6%. I finished it in 8:13, about thirty seconds faster than last year. That felt pretty good, I did have the legs for this after all.

I enjoyed the hell out of the outbound leg after that—it was just a great day for a bike ride. I think I did a decent job of pacing; with only about a thousand people on the course and an entire lane of highway to maneuver, I had no problem following my power cues closely. I simply stayed in aero, held my power, and passed people with ease. I saw plenty of referees on motorcycles, but blocking and drafting weren’t an issue at this race as far as I could tell. In hindsight, I probably could have left the gloves and toe covers behind, but I don’t think it would have made much of a difference.

Here comes the sun, doo-doo-doo-doo. Credit: FinisherPix

The clouds came back shortly after the turnaround. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped noticeably, although not enough to be a problem; I was still quite comfortable. I started getting that unpleasant feeling of getting buffeted by the gusts, though—I hate it. I was riding in what felt like a strong crosswind, but admittedly spent more time than I would have liked sitting up to get a little more stability, which slowed me down quite a bit. In any case, it didn’t last very long and the rain in the forecast never materialized.

After clenching all the way back down the last descent through the no-passing zone, I was relieved to be safely back in Coeur d’Alene. I finished the bike leg in 2:46:03, with a final intensity of 77%, only five minutes slower than predicted by Best Bike Split. The initial misfire after leaving T1, the wind after the turnaround, and coasting through the no-passing zone probably explain the lower intensity, but overall I’m pretty happy with my performance. More importantly, I’m happy with how I handled the weather uncertainty; I’m glad the cold turned out not to be an issue, but I was prepared for it. I had a plan, I executed it, and it worked out. There’s very little I would have done differently—I’d call that a win.

T2

When I got back to Coeur d’Alene the sun was out again and it had warmed up to what felt like the upper tens—perfect weather for racing. I didn’t waste time; I racked my bike, swapped my bike gear for running gear, used the porta-potty, and left in 6:03.

The run

I came out of T2 hot, despite my legs feeling like jelly after the bike leg. I had to consciously slow myself down and not let the race adrenaline get the best of me; my pace for the first few minutes was 4:18/km and I didn’t even notice until I looked at my watch. My goal of “go hard, leave nothing on the table, be faster than last year” meant holding a pace faster than last year’s 4:58/km, but I didn’t want to go so hard that I blew up partway through.

The run course consists of two laps around McEuen Park and neighborhoods in downtown Coeur d’Alene, before heading out on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive and back, with 114 m of elevation gain. This is my favorite run course in all the races I’ve done so far: there are supporters everywhere, there’s tons of shade, and the variety of the neighborhoods you run through breaks up the course nicely so it never feels like a slog. The segment through Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive is the only one that’s really exposed to the sun and it’s slightly uphill, but it’s not very long and there’s an aid station at the end. It’s just a great course, and time seems to fly by.

(One of my favorite moments at this race was towards the end, when a group of girls asked me, “Is this your second lap?” I didn’t have the presence of mind to do much more than nod, but when I did, they cheered me on with such sincere intensity, as if they were personally invested in me, a complete stranger, finishing the race. I thought that was heartwarming and cool, and that’s the vibe I’ve gotten from the spectators every time I’ve come here.)

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

By now the weather was pleasant and sunny, and I thought I probably wouldn’t need a ton of water or electrolytes, so my plan was to skip most of the aid stations except to grab gels. About halfway through the first lap I realized that was probably a bad idea; I was going at a pretty hard pace and the aching and burn in my quads I felt at the beginning of the bike started coming back. I wasn’t sure if that meant I was going too hard, or had gone too hard on the bike, or perhaps needed water and electrolytes, so I reverted to my usual strategy: Walk through every aid station to hydrate and recover.

Action shot! Credit: FinisherPix

That seemed to do the trick, for the most part. I kept a hard pace that sometimes felt like I could barely make it to the next aid station, recovered while I grabbed water or a gel, and did it all over again. My nutrition consisted of two Maurten 100 gels (the last one caffeinated) and a couple of bites of Maurten bars for some variety. I had water at every aid station I stopped at, and a couple cups of Mortal.

The first lap was hard; the second lap was punishing, despite the pleasant weather and cool block party vibe of the run course. It was one of those runs where I get that voice in my head telling me to just slow down, just walk, just stop, just give up, and then I have to tell it shut up, shut up, shut up. After the last turnaround I tried to push the pace, but it really felt like I was redlining it. I was going as hard as I could, my legs were in absolute agony. Shortly before arriving back in McEuen Park for the last stretch before the finish line I ran past three wild turkeys, and I did a double take; I swear to god, I thought I was hallucinating. I asked a race volunteer nearby and he confirmed they were very real (although it’s possible he was a hallucination too). I’m not kidding when I say this was an all-out effort.

I reached the last stretch on Sherman Avenue and I could see the finish line a few hundred meters away, at last. I planned to sprint to the end with everything I had left, but I had two people in front of me and I didn’t want to ruin their finish line photos, so I hung back and slowed down to high-five the spectators on the sidelines, which made crossing the finish line feel extra joyful.

And that’s a wrap for this race. Credit: FinisherPix

I finished the run in 1:44:35, for a final pace of 4:52/km and a total time of 5:30:22. I was 16th in the M40–44 age group, out of 95, and 209th overall, out of 1,021 finishers. I am blown away by this result—16th place is my best ever in an Ironman-branded race. My finish time is also my personal best for a 70.3 (not counting Tri-Cities last year, which had a current-assisted swim).

After all the stress over the weather, this turned out to be a nearly perfect race for me. I can’t believe it.

That afternoon, I attended the awards and roll-down ceremony at the Ironman Village. With my 16th-place finish, I thought I had a slim shot at a World Championship slot. Here’s how it works: Each race gets a number of qualification slots for the Ironman 70.3 World Championship, which this year is in Marbella, Spain. This race had fifty slots, allocated proportionally to each age group. Mine had four, offered to the top four finishers. If any of them declines, the slot “rolls down” to the next person in line, and so on until all the slots are claimed.

In my age group, the last slot was claimed by the person in 13th place—just five minutes ahead of me. Five minutes. That’s all that kept me from qualifying for the World Championship.

In the past, I’ve joked that my plan to get to Worlds is to outlive everyone and qualify in the 90–94 age group. But this made me realize this goal I thought was out of reach might be closer than I imagined. If I put a lot of work into my swim, make my transitions a little quicker, get a little stronger on the bike, a little faster on the run, and get a little lucky with the right conditions at the right race… qualifying might not actually be out of reach. And that feels really, really good.

Next up: Ironman 70.3 Boise. After this result, I’m raring to go. Let’s do this.

Race Report: 2024 Ironman 70.3 Coeur d’Alene

2024-06-27T08:00:00-06:00

After my disappointing result in St. George last month, I realized that the goals I had set for that race were a little too ambitious. That race is too early in the season for me to treat it as an A race, and I lost sight of my actual goal for this year, which is finishing Ironman Canada in August. That made me reassess what I wanted to get out of my next two races, in Boulder and Coeur d’Alene. Instead of treating them as races with specific results or ambitious times in mind, I decided to treat them as dress rehearsals to test my gear, pacing, nutrition and overall racing strategy before going to Penticton.

Unfortunately, a week before Boulder, Kate got COVID, so I canceled that race out of an abundance of caution. She’s fine now, and I never caught it, but that left me with Coeur d’Alene as my only shakedown race before Canada. As a consolation, that same week I took delivery of my new triathlon bike, a Trek Speed Concept SLR 7, so at least I’d have a chance to practice racing with it in Coeur d’Alene. With that, my goals for the race were simple:

Practice my nutrition, both before and during the race, and see if I continued to have the same stomach issues I had in St. George and at last year’s full distance race.
Practice racing on the new bike, in particular climbing and descending, and spending time in aero position, and make sure that my bike fit is good.
Check out some of my new gear, including my new helmet and shoes, in a race setting.
Forget about targeting a specific finish time, just have fun and finish the race (if nothing else to get a little closure on my DNF last year.)

As an aside, the Active.com refund insurance I purchase every time I sign up for a race really saved my bacon when I had to cancel Boulder. I was able to recover most of the entry fee, and between that and the refundable hotel room I had booked, making the decision to pull out of the race was a no-brainer. I was disappointed when I signed up for next year’s Ironman 70.3 St. George and saw that the refund insurance is not offered anymore. I asked Ironman about it, and this is the response I received:

Thank you for reaching out. We currently are not offering registration insurance, but we are looking to finalize a new insurance partner agreement at this time. We do not have a date that this will be offered, however, we are working through the details as quickly as we can. We appreciate your patience and we apologize for the inconvenience.

I really hope they offer a replacement soon; it’s nice to have the peace of mind that I can cancel a race if something unexpected happens and not lose hundreds of dollars.

With my new bike and gear, and fresh legs from an unplanned recovery week while I waited to see if I got COVID, I packed everything in my car and drove to Coeur d’Alene.

Pre-race prep

I arrived in Coeur d’Alene the Thursday before the race, and after checking into my hotel room, I changed into running clothes and went out for a run in the heat, since it was quite warm out and I figured every little bit of heat acclimation could only help on race day. The next day, I went on a quick bike ride to make sure my bike was working properly and do some recon on the part of the course through Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive.

Later that day, I went to the Ironman Village in Coeur d’Alene City Park to check in and attend the race briefing, where they shared the usual race information plus a couple changes from previous years: first, they’d have wetsuit peelers (“we’re not allowed to call them ‘wetsuit strippers’ anymore”) after the swim; and second, body marking (i.e. getting your race number written on your arms and legs with a marker) would be available again for the first time since the pandemic, which people seemed very excited about. With that out of the way, I went back to the hotel, changed into running clothes, and went for one last run in the heat before the race, which brought my heat acclimation up to a whopping 24% according to Garmin Connect.

(By the way, I strongly recommend staying somewhere with easy access to the North Idaho Centennial Trail, what a pleasant route to run on.)

On Saturday, I did pretty much nothing but rest, read, carb up, and wait until the afternoon to check in my bike. This race does a single transition, at Coeur d’Alene City Park, and it’s really one of the best transition areas I’ve seen. It’s covered in grass so it’s easy to run on, and has extensive tree cover providing lots of shade, so the bikes and gear don’t sit out in the hot sun all day. After racking my bike in my spot and noting the row where it was and nearby landmarks, I walked transition back and forth a few times to memorize where I’d need to go during the race.

My bike, racked in transition the day before.

Finally, I picked up my timing chip before returning to the hotel to get the rest of my gear ready. As is common for 70.3 races, there were no gear or morning clothes bags, and the bikes were packed pretty tightly, so I was careful to bring only what I needed on race day. My gear list included:

Trisuit (Roka Gen II Elite)
Wetsuit (Roka Maverick Pro II sleeveless)
Swim cap
Two pairs of goggles (Roka R1)
TriSlide
Bike computer (Garmin Edge 1040 Solar)
Bike shoes (Shimano S-Phyre SH-TR903)
Bike gloves (Rapha Pro Team Mitts)
Bike helmet (Giro Aerohead)
Travel-size SPF 50 sunscreen spray
Two bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320
Bottle of water
Sports towel
Running shoes (Hoka Rocket X 2)
Running hat
Running belt with bib
Two pairs of socks (Darn Tough No-Show Ultralightweight)
Sunglasses (Roka Oslo)
Pelican G40 case to store my phone, car keys, and hotel key
Maurten 100 Caf 100 gel
Two Maurten 160 gels

Some of my race gear, organized and ready to be packed the night before.

I placed most of these things, except the trisuit, wetsuit and helmet, in a Roka mesh bag, which has the advantage of being thin and flat when empty, so I can simply set all my gear on top of it, next to my bike, without taking up a lot of space.

With my gear organized and packed, I had dinner and turned in for the night.

On race morning, I woke up at 3:00 AM after getting a full night of sleep for once, took a quick COVID test, had my usual breakfast of a plain bagel with jam and a cup of coffee while I waited for the results, and then checked all my gear one last time. Transition opened at 4:30 AM, but parking around Coeur d’Alene City Park is plentiful and it was only a ten-minute drive from my hotel, so I wasn’t in much of a rush, and left at around 4:45 AM.

The moment I set foot outside the hotel my first thought was “huh, it’s really windy.” I wondered what the conditions would be like during the bike leg once we got out on the highway, but didn’t think too much about it and headed out.

I arrived at transition shortly after 5:00 AM and as soon as I finished setting up my gear, an announcement came through the speakers that the race start would be delayed by twenty minutes, to 6:20 AM, and the swim would be shortened to 500 m. According to my weather app, the wind was coming from the south at 16 km/h with gusts of up to 40 km/h. In other words, a direct headwind on the outbound leg of the swim, so it wasn’t terribly surprising that the swim was shortened; from my spot in transition I could see whitecaps out on the lake. I didn’t hear any official announcements about the swim cutoff, but some people said the cutoff didn’t change and others that it had been reduced to twenty-five minutes—I don’t know who was right, but I wasn’t too concerned either way. At my usual open water pace, I expected to finish the swim in less than fifteen minutes. It was only 500 m, how bad could it be?

Transition in Coeur d’Alene City Park at 6:00 AM.

Shortly before transition closed, I had a Maurten 100 Caf 100 gel and walked over to the swim staging area, where I placed myself in my usual 43–46 minute wave and chatted with the folks around me while we waited to start, not quite knowing what to expect. The race organizers led one wave at a time to the beach to line up for the chutes, so we couldn’t see the lake until we got there.

Once my group made it to the beach, what I saw was… messy. The swim course was set up so that the outbound leg had a single yellow buoy, followed by the first turn buoy, then the second, and finally a single orange buoy for the inbound leg. To space people out, the organizers started only two swimmers at a time. Despite that, what I could see from the beach was a large group of swimmers bunched up around the first buoy, which had people holding on to it, and volunteers doing their best to help others who were holding on to the kayaks and paddleboards. The person next to me asked “why are they all stopping there?” but some of the swimmers hadn’t actually stopped—they were simply swimming breaststroke in place, not making any progress against the waves. For a moment I wished they had canceled the swim altogether, but I pushed that thought aside—I was already in the chutes, the only way out was through.

Boop, boop, boop, boop, BEEP! Image: FinisherPix

The swim

I ran into the 18°C water at 7:24 AM. By that point, I had been shivering in the brisk, windy morning for over an hour, so I expected it would take me a minute or two to get over the cold, but the race adrenaline took care of that pretty quickly—I had never swum in that kind of chop before, and as soon as I got in the water I struggled to breathe and sight while repeatedly getting hit in the face by the waves. I just couldn’t get the timing right; I was flailing wildly and kicking like a madman, trying to keep my head above the waves, with not even a semblance of proper form. It was all I could do to muscle my way through the waves and the mass of people in front of me. Once I got to the first turn buoy, things got better; the crowd had thinned out and it was far easier to swim parallel to the waves instead of against them, so I was able to regain some composure. I had some trouble sighting the next buoy with the sun now in front of me, but I had to stop to let a volunteer in a WaveRunner go by to help another swimmer, which gave me a few seconds to get my bearings before continuing. After turning at the second buoy I pointed myself towards the swim exit and just let it rip, sprinting to the end as fast as I could.

I finished the swim in 10:28, with an official pace of 2:05/100 m, which surprised me, considering how much of a struggle it was—this is faster than my pace in the pool. However, looking at my watch data after the race, I didn’t actually swim the full 500 m; per my GPS, I swam 396 m, for a much more realistic pace of 2:39/100 m. I’m not sure why the distance came up short—I definitely did not cut any corners and passed all buoys, including both turn buoys, on my left side. Looking at the wonky GPS track, though, I suspect the wind and the waves simply pushed the buoys closer to shore.

I would have expected the middle segment to be parallel to shore. For some reason it wasn’t, which might account for the missing distance.

Short as it was, this swim was a very strange experience. The whole thing was a blur and I only remember bits and pieces of it; I think I just powered through entirely on adrenaline. That said, I’m glad the race organizers shortened it. I can’t imagine what it would have been like to swim the full 1.2 miles in those conditions.

T1

After leaving the water, I ran through transition, stopping to get my wetsuit ripped off by the wetsuit peelers before heading to my bike. I sprayed on some sunscreen, and donned my helmet, shoes and gloves before unracking my bike and heading out.

Fun fact: my run from the swim exit to the bike mount line was longer than the swim itself, at 430 m. I spent 9:16 in T1.

The bike

Given that this was my first race on my new bike, my main goal for the bike leg was to practice riding in aero position, so I planned to pace conservatively. The windy conditions reinforced that decision; with the 40 km/h gusts, I expected the segment of the bike leg out on US-95 to be challenging, so my priority was to make it back to transition safely and not take any unnecessary risks. I had set up a Power Guide on my Garmin, but I intended to only use it to pace myself on the climbs, stick to zone 2 on the flats, and take the descents with caution.

In addition to using my Trek Speed Concept SLR 7 instead of my Specialized Aethos road bike, I swapped my S-Works Evade 3 road helmet for a Giro Aerohead, so this was my first race in full triathlon gear. After experiencing a lot of discomfort with my shoes at St. George last month, I also got a new pair of Shimano S-Phyre SH-TR903 triathlon shoes, which I’m pleased to say are far more comfortable than my previous ones (and look way better too).

For nutrition, I carried two 24-ounce bottles of Maurten Drink Mix 320, one between the aerobars and one behind my saddle, with two Maurten 160 gels in my bike’s bento box as a backup in case I dropped one of the bottles. I timed my nutrition to consume roughly 80–85 grams of carbs per hour, and supplemented with water from the aid stations for some extra hydration. I didn’t bring any electrolytes; I didn’t think I’d need them, and I had loaded up on sodium in the days leading up to the race.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

The bike course is the same as the one for the full-distance race, except just one lap, starting with an about 30 km out-and-back through Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive before turning around at Higgens Point and heading out on a roughly 60 km out-and-back section on US-95, with a short section through downtown Coeur d’Alene in between. It’s a hilly course, with ten climbs long and steep enough to trigger the ClimbPro feature on my Garmin, and a total elevation gain of 939 m. It’s a good bike course, with great energy from the spectators downtown, smooth pavement most of the way, lots of room to pass, excellent separation from traffic, and gorgeous views of Lake Coeur d’Alene and the Idaho countryside. A piece of advice, though: the short segment on 23rd street, before turning on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive, has pretty ragged pavement. I strongly suggest double-checking that bottles are firmly in place before and after this segment to ensure they don’t go flying off.

Riding on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive. Image: FinisherPix

The first section through Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive went pretty smoothly, with the first climb serving as a good warmup and the trees along the road providing some shelter from the wind. As I expected, though, things got rough once we got out of town and on US-95; as soon as I got on the bridge over the Spokane River I started getting buffeted by the crosswinds. The climbs and the flats were enjoyable, but the descents were sketchy, to say the least—I found them far more stressful than during that hailstorm at last year’s race. On the very first descent, a gust of wind made someone veer directly into my line; if I hadn’t been riding on the base bars I probably would have crashed into her. The other descents were similarly nerve-wracking and I had trouble maintaining control at times with the gusts jerking me around; I have no idea how people with deeper rims and disc wheels managed. By the time I was riding back to Coeur d’Alene and after several close calls, I was pretty rattled; all I wanted was to make it back in one piece. I consider cycling my favorite discipline and the one I’m strongest at, but by that point I just couldn’t wait to get it over with.

Somewhere on US-95. Image: FinisherPix

The last descent was designated as a “no passing” and “no aerobars” zone, since it involved riding on a narrow shoulder with cones separating cyclists from the car traffic to one side and a rumble strip on the other, with not a lot of room to maneuver if the wind pushed me to one side or the other. I was very tense riding through it and the fact that some people ignored the posted signs and were still passing didn’t help at all. If I have one complaint about this race is that I wish this no-passing zone had been enforced; there’s just no need to make a risky section even more dangerous because someone wants to contest 40th place in their age group or whatever. If Kat Matthews can get a DSQ for overtaking in a no-passing zone, so should we age groupers.

In any case, after that last descent, I finally relaxed and it was smooth sailing back to T2, finishing in 2:51:59.

On a positive note, the bike is awesome—Shadowfax really lives up to its name. I knew there’d be a big aero advantage compared to my road bike, but didn’t expect it to be so dramatic. Even though I was sticking to zone 2 or at most low zone 3 during the flats, I was surprised by the ease with which I was accelerating and passing folks; I felt like I was flying, and got PRs on almost every Strava segment from last year. I liked the synchro shift feature of the Shimano Di2 system; what it does is take control of the front derailleur so that all I need to do is shift the rear derailleur. Once I shift past a certain gear of my choice in either direction, it shifts the chainring for me. This allowed me to set up both sets of shifters (on my aerobars and base bars) to control the rear derailleur and let the Di2 handle the front one, so I could do all my shifting without having to change positions—particularly useful given the windy conditions. Pairing the Di2 to my Garmin also gives me a warning that the next time I shift, the front derailleur will shift as well, so I was never caught off guard by the synchro shift kicking in. The Giro Aerohead is noticeably hotter than my S-Works Evade road helmet, though, and I had sweat dripping down my face at times despite the weather not being particularly hot. I’ll need to consider if it’s worth trading some aero benefits for some additional ventilation for Ironman Canada, which is likely to be a much hotter race than this.

On an even better note, my stomach felt great the entire time, with no sign of the cramps that plagued me in my last two races. I didn’t make any big changes to my nutrition for this race: I watched my diet the two days before the race a little closer than usual, only eating things I was certain wouldn’t upset my stomach, and reduced my caffeine intake on race day, in case that was exacerbating the problem. Otherwise, I kept my race day nutrition largely the same, still relying on Maurten Drink Mix 320 for my carbs on the bike. That said, there was one huge difference between this race and my two previous ones: the shortened swim. I’m almost certain that the root cause of my digestive issues is air and water ingestion during the swim, so addressing that will be my focus before my next race.

T2

Not much to report here: I rolled into T2, racked my bike, swapped my bike gear for running gear, sprayed on more sunscreen, used the porta-potty, and ran out in 7:59.

The run

After leaving T2, I felt… great. Really great. So great that I had to slow myself down; I was running at a pace of 4:30/km, which is faster than my standalone half marathon pace, possibly due to a combination of the lower altitude, shortened swim, and conservative bike pacing. I had to remind myself that my goal was just to finish, not destroy myself, so I aimed for something closer to 5:00/km and tried to hold it there.

The run course consisted of two laps around McEuen Park and neighborhoods in downtown Coeur d’Alene before heading out on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive and back, with a mere 114 m of elevation gain. I think this is my favorite run course I’ve done so far; the segment on Coeur d’Alene Lake Drive is pretty exposed to the sun and at a slight grade, but it’s only about a mile each way, and the rest of the course is on shady residential streets with neighbors cheering us on, playing music, and cooling us down with their garden hoses; the whole thing had a great block party vibe I really enjoyed.

View this course in Garmin Connect or Strava.

While the wind was problematic during the swim and bike leg, it was a blessing during the run. The high for the day was 26°C, but between the shade, the hoses, and the wind, it was quite pleasant. The run went by surprisingly quickly and I felt great the entire time, only slowing down at the aid stations as needed. I had no aches or discomfort anywhere, I just felt strong. My nutrition consisted of three Maurten 100 gels spaced about thirty minutes apart, water at every aid station, and a cup of Coke at the last one. I didn’t feel like I needed any sodium, but I had a cup of Mortal Hydration at the first aid station just in case. None of it bothered my stomach at all.

Halfway through the second lap, my pace had slowed down a little bit, to 5:02/km, but on the way back to the finish line I recognized the exact spot where I DNF’d last year. It felt so satisfying to leave it behind that I immediately picked up the pace again. I finished strong, sprinting through the finish line after 1:46:22, with a final pace of 4:58/km and a total time of 5:06:02.

[“Baba O’Riley” plays] Yup, that’s me. You may be wondering how I ended up in this situation… Image: FinisherPix

After collecting my medal and finisher’s hat, I stopped at the food tent to get some grub, and then packed my gear from transition and headed back to my hotel for a much needed shower and nap.

Wrap-up

Coeur d’Alene is tough, man. St. George is a pretty tough race, but maybe predictably so. You more or less know what to expect there: a cold swim, a hilly bike, and a hot run. Here, though, I’m starting to get the sense that conditions are unpredictable: a heat wave a couple years ago, a hailstorm last year, and now these winds? What will it be next year? I can’t wait to find out.

All that said, despite the shortened swim and the stressful bike leg, I’m very happy with this result: this is my fastest run to date in a 70.3, and my third best half marathon ever. It’s also a huge relief that I didn’t experience the same stomach issues I’ve had recently. After two bad races in a row and a canceled race, this is the kind of morale boost I needed to keep pushing towards Ironman Canada.

More importantly, this shakedown race served its purpose, which was testing my race strategy and giving me a list of things to work on over the next eight weeks: continue improving my swim technique, continue to build confidence in aero on the bike (particularly in windy conditions), and work on heat acclimation so it doesn’t obliterate me in August.

Time to get back to work. Onwards, to Penticton.