And then it was about the bike...

I will preface this by saying that I don't believe that there would be a race, that I was doing, where I didn't have something odd to report from my bike... This is not an admission that I am a victim of fate, but I think that the story of my racing this year has been formed from the bike ride, and often due to something adverse.

In truth, I rather relish that, as I believe now that every previous event this year led to my ability to work through the issues that occurred on this ride...

I started out with a good pace, following my pre-determined plan to stay low in my heart rate until I hit McLean Creek Road (about 9 miles in) and just spin into form for the race. I was riding, admittedly, in a pack up Main Street towards Skaha Lake. Exiting the water in the middle of the race pack made this unavoidable. The race officials came up past us all a few times along the Skaha Lake road and, really, I think they just tried to get us all to back away from each other. To my credit, I kept the required draft legal distance from the bike in front of me, but I couldn't speak for the folks behind me or, in fact, whether the person in front of me was drafting. No matter, I felt this was just unavoidable, and I wasn't going to let it affect my race at all. I figured I would stay as legal as I possibly could, and ride safe and within myself.

I approached McLean Creek Road at about 35km/hr, and that was my pace during this early section. McLean Creek Road, though, is the first real hill of the bike course, and it is a little bit disheartening, because your legs are not quite warmed up so you feel a lot more tired than you really are.

And that's how I felt going up. I wasn't going any slower than anybody else, but the legs were a little green. Riding up, though, I was just so happy to be riding out of my aero position, and actually be able to stand out of the seat in the tougher sections. Six weeks and I felt like I was in a little withdrawal!

As I hit the top of the hill, the road started to level out, and I dropped into my aerobars for a little spin. Then... pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss......

My rear tire went flat.

This was an all-to-familiar sound, and I immediately put my hand back to signal that I was pulling over to the side of the road. Okay, flat tire. Simple problem to fix. I pulled off the rear tire, examined the tire for any holes or glass or anything that might have caused the flat. Seeing nothing, I pulled my tire levers out of my Bento box and started taking off the tire. As soon as it was off, I pulled off the tube. I couldn't find any holes as I looked around, so I couldn't figure out where the pop had come from. But I wasn't going to spend a lot of time trying to find out, so I took one of my three spares out and unwrapped it to start fresh. I set myself up early by having one tube and CO2 cartridge in my tri-top back pocket and two tubes and CO2 cartridges taped to my seat tube. In this case, I was going to use the one in my tri-top. It was a good advantage because I didn't have to spend time tearing off the tape on the seat post, and I could drop a little weight off my tri top (I figure now is the time to think positively!).

I put the tube in and made sure that I didn't have it pinched in between the tire. I'd made that mistake before. I put the valve through the rim and then went to the CO2 cartridge. I'm still a little nervous about my proficiency in using these, so I was extra careful. I made sure I got the valve connected properly before I twisted open the cartridge, for fear of blowing it out before I even had a chance to fill it up.

Fortunately, I did it right, and the CO2 immediately filled up the tired. I figure it was up to about 80-90 PSI. That was fine for now. I pulled the cartridge off and secured the valve. I took the tube and folded it up in my back pocket. I didn't want to leave a tube on the side of the road as litter, and instead wanted to drop the empty CO2 and the tube off at the next water station.

As I pulled into the road, I looked back to see if anybody was coming who was close to the shoulder. Since the shoulder of the road was gravel and rough, I figured most riders would be out near the middle of the road and that was, indeed, the case. I proceeded to turn up the road and mount my bike. Then CRASH>>>>>>

I was knocked forward, and realized that another cyclist had smashed right into my bike. And, to top it off, it was a member of the Cops for Cancer team. I didn't know the guy as I hadn't met him before (at least I couldn't recall), but he was wearing the same uniform. He toppled over and skinned his legs on the ground. I was fine. I got away from the accident without falling or anything, and felt quite fortunate. The guy then got about and was cursing. Not me... But himself. He said "I just wasn't looking..." I looked at his bike and the tires were okay, and the bike looked fine. He picked it up and dropped it on the side of the road and walked around a bit. I kept asking "are you okay?" and he kind of grudgingly responded. But I couldn't get a straight answer, although he was walking and just catching his breathe. Again I looked at his bike, to make sure it was okay. It looked okay. I told him to look and see, and he said he thought something was wrong with his derailer. But he hadn't really tested it though. I kept asking if he was okay and told him his bike looked okay, but he just wouldn't answer. Now I was getting a little impatient, as I just wanted to get going, but I didn't want to leave a guy on the side of the road if he was in need of some attention.

But he wasn't saying either way, and so I finally just said, "okay, I'm going". I left him behind. I felt bad, but I really couldn't get a good enough read on how he was. I just think he was really pissed off and didn't want to say anything. Well, that's fine, but I gotta run. I started riding, and about 400-500 meters later, psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss....

Again! And the rear tire! AGAIN!!!!!!

I signalled I was going to the side of the road again. This time, I went and looked at the tire and saw nothing. I was frustrated. I pulled out the tube and put the next one on. Same routine. Arletta, from the Cops for Cancer team, rode by and stopped. I didn't want her to have to, but I was kind of happy she had. I used the CO2 and this time it filled up, but then it went soft again. So I borrowed her pump and tried to pump it up manually. No, I didn't bring a pump this time! I know, I know, I made that error in Victoria. But this time I knew there would be support and I felt I had taken enough CO2 to get me through the rest of the race... Someday I will learn...

The tire just wouldn't inflate, without then deflating. I got it to a point that seemed to be working, and sent Arletta on her way. Thanks to her, because it was so nice of her to stop. I started riding again, and 100 feet away it just deflated... No pop, it just slowly lost all its pressure.

Alright... 1 unused tube left and 1 CO2 cartridge... I pulled over to the side, and then, when the road was clear, I moved over to the far side of the road, so that nobody would hit me at all.
This time another Cops for Cancer guy stopped, and offered to hold my bike while I changed the tire for the third time... I put the new tube in, looked at the tire for damage, and used my last CO2 cartridge. It inflated, and then within seconds it was deflated...

I'm outta CO2, and this C4C team member didn't have a pump either. But I didn't think it would make a difference at this time since every tube was going flat...

I sent the C4C guy on his way, and figured I would wait for the Bike Barn tech vehicle, which I knew couldn't be far behind, since I was only really at the start of the race. I was 10 miles in at this moment of a 112 mile race.

About 15 minutes later, the Bike Barn van pulled up, and four folks got out like the pit crew at Nascar. I explained that I couldn't figure it out, but I had no way of keeping air in the tire. One of the bike crew took my bike and took off the tire on my back wheel. She did it with no levers... THAT'S talent!

After scanning the wheel, she explained to me that the rim tape was coming off, and that the valve hole, where the tube valve goes, was exposed and sharp.... This was probably the cause of the flats...

She retaped the rim and gave me a little stern "you needed to check this out before" speech. She also covered up the hole with tape and filed it down. I appreciated the speech. To be honest I had never thought of looking at my wheel, and I got a bit of a phantom flat a few weeks ago that I hadn't really considered. So, you learn something new! Wish I could have found out this information, say, on SATURDAY!!! But, still, a little "take-home" moment.

She put the wheel back with a new tube and they pumped up the tire. It was inflating the whole way now and no leaks. Unfortunately though, they couldn't give me any new tubes and had no CO2 cartridges...So, I was stuck with my old tubes, which had holes in them, and no way of blowing them up. They offered to take the tubes, as they were useless without any ability to inflate them. They said, though, that they'd be out on the course all day. Comforting! I just had to get another 70 miles to my special needs bag to grab my two spare tubes and CO2 cartridges without another flat, in order to be self-sufficient. Otherwise, I'd be waiting for them again somewhere!

"Hey, you won't get any more flats. You've had yours for the day" said one of the bike crew. Strangely enough, I believed that. There is no basis for why I'd be lucky enough to get another 70 miles incident free, but that was still a comfort, almost like a big leap of faith. Just have faith there will be no more flats... Lisa Bentley would be pleased and dismayed... pleased because of thinking positively, but dismayed at not being prepared...

I started off again... Everybody had passed by, for the most part. And by everybody, I mean EVERYBODY. I was 10 miles into the ride, and my clock read 1:35 on the bike. 1:35 for 10 miles is average if you're RUNNING it.

One thing I would realize later, but didn't at this moment, was that during this entire hour of bike tire fixing, I had not sipped any water, nor taken any gels or nutrition in. I was so focused on the flats I hadn't even thought of that. In future, I will make sure that, the first time I flat (IF I flat), I drink at least a half a water bottle of water and/or sports drink, and take at least a gel or a Clif Bar, before I go any further. It takes 2-3 minutes to do but had I done that I would have been within my plan, instead of being in a deficit.

I set out on the road, and figured I could lean on the pace a little. I kept within myself, though, and stayed at 140-145 on my heart rate, which is where I had planned to be. I was definitely focused, though.

The best thing about starting in the back of the pack is that you get to catch people. And I did. I think my favourite line, over the whole day, was "on your left". I passed people for the entire ride to Richter's Pass, even having the privilege of passing Sister Madonna Buder, the famous Iron "nun". I passed Karen Frank, our BC Team Leader for Ironcops. I kept a good 23-25 mph pace all the way to Richters. But my heart rate was not going up...

As per the race plan, I emptied a bottle of water before each aid station. I wanted to make sure I started fresh and drank at least 2/3 to 3/4 of the bottle at each aid station. As I approached Richter's, the plan was to dump all water bottles but one to lighten up for the climb. I did, and climbed with one water bottle.

I was, indeed, hopping. I had a fire going that felt good. I got into my climbing position, the first time up Richter's without a cast in 2 months almost, and spun the wheels up the hill. I was never passed, and I just kept passing others. I had great cadence and just felt strong. Almost like there was no hill. I have to say, my bike training this year helped out HUGE. I have never felt so strong.

I hit the top of Richter's and dumped the rest of the water on my head to cool down. I saw Dean Stanton, my coach, taking pictures. He saw me and I think he had a little relief! He knew there must have been some problems. He just yelled out "go", although I think he wanted to make a joke and say "get your ass moving...." I'd have appreciated the joke.

Then I grabbed a new water bottle and a Gatorade, and proceeded to the decent. Here I recovered, letting my momentum and the speed of the bike carry me down. I was hitting 40-45 mph all the way down. FAST. I loved it. I was flying and I had lost that tentative feeling I had throughout the last month. I was in aero and loving it. There was little wind coming off Richter's Pass, so the ride was so smooth.

Then we hit the rollers. I had done these in Osoyoos for the 1/2 Ironman, and also in training, so I knew what to expect. The first roller would be tough, but the next few were just about carrying momentum. I ate a clif bar (my second of the day) and planned to eat as I hit the easier sections of the rollers. I hit the half-way mark (90km) at around 3 hours and 40 minutes. I had done 74km in about 2 hours 5 minutes. Not bad with Richters. I got to the second downhill, and then my bike computer started registering "0's" on the speed... The sensor had stopped working. Now I was riding with no idea of my speed...

No matter... My heart rate monitor was still working. I made the decision to keep my heart rate under 150 as much as possible, rising only to climb a hill, but never raising it about 170.

Then we got onto the flats towards the out-and-back. I was still passing by people and I was riding in my target zones, so I felt I could continue. I stuck to my plan of finishing a water bottle by every aid station, and had my third Clif bar. I had gotten a little lax on my salt pills, so I started doubling up, as I could feel the heat a little more.

I hit the out-and-back, quite a demoralizer for most. But I was having the ride of my life, literally. I saw Dominique, Steve, Murray, and a bunch of others on their way back from the out and back, and just kept going along. I knew I needed to stop at the 130km mark, which is where the Special Needs bags were, in order to pick up my spare tubes. I stopped, and realized this was a good time to hit the porta-potties. I handed my bike to one of the volunteers, a cute little 6 or 7 year old girl, and went to the bathroom. The rule of thumb is that if you haven't pee'd by now, you're not drinking enough. Well, I hadn't pee'd because I was too focused to think about it, and stopping at the Special Needs area gave me a chance to think... And I definitely had to go. Good sign!!!

I got out of the porta-potty, and went to grab my bike. I looked at the little girl, and realized that she had a cast on her left hand... It was positioned exactly as mine had been. Exactly.... Although hers was a baby blue, probably because she's a girl and would have asked for something that was coloured properly...

I asked her, "what did you do to your arm?"

She replied, "I broke my thumb."



My jaw just dropped. I couldn't believe what I was experiencing. I continued my questions (of course, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I still had another 50km to ride or so):
"SO did I!!! How did you break it?"

She replied "I fell off a swing."

"Well, I fell off my bike! I just got my cast off, though, and look, I'm out here riding again."

She kind of gave me a weird look like I was out to lunch. Or she was just shy.

"You're going to be fine, " I said, "thanks for being out here today."

"You're welcome, " she replied.

"We're both going to be okay, okay?" I said, as I got on my bike and started to ride away...


I cannot explain that moment. I still can't give the feeling or sensation I had at that moment the justice it deserves. Call that serendipity, call that fate, call that whatever you will. I call that a sign...

Had I not had 3 flats I would not have needed to stop for my tubes.
Had I not had 3 flats I would have stopped sooner for a bathroom break instead of at this particular point.
Had I not broken my thumb, that would not have been something I would have noticed.
Had I not broken my thumb, I would not have learned to focus enough to focus so that I didn't feel the need to pee until that point.
Had I not had bike issues before and learned to deal with them, I might not have been so calm and ready to continue.
Had I not stopped at this bathroom at this time and with these circumstances, she would not have been there.

Some of this is coincidence, I will concede. But there are just too many variables in play, and I can't deny that I was involved in a moment where intention and inspiration came together to show me something. I was awake to this moment.

I think I believe in something...

I started to cry, while riding... Yes, I did. I haven't said that yet. It didn't last for too long, but I had it. I feel like a big weight was lifted off my life. That there was purpose to everything, that all things are unfolding as they should. That I am a significant enough piece of all of this for someone to send to me a little girl to show me her broken thumb.

Yes, before I hypothetically believed in something... Now I firmly believe in all of our connection to the universe around us.

Too many things leading to that one moment to ignore all of them and blow it off to pure randomness.

Anyway, back to the bike ride! I still had 50km to go. I set a small goal to make sure I broke 6:45, which would mean I had done a 5:35 bike ride, all told, if I didn't get the flats.

I had new vitality and life after the pee-break-life-affirming-serendipitious-moment. I sped through to Keremeos and started looking for friends at the Bear Fruit stand. On the left I saw a very hot girl in a black bikini top, with medium length dark hair. Then she spoke and said "Go Tony, you're the Star!"

It was Lenka...

Better speed through that one. Gotta look like I am going strong!

I sped up and found Murray Frank, from Ironcops, and smiled and asked how things were going. We both were grinning. I like Murray's playful attitude towards Ironman. It's a lifestyle for him but it is also something he has a great sense of humour about and a really laid back attitude. I've learned a lot about Ironman from how Murray and Karen (his wife) have built their Ironman success. Both are huge inspirations for me.

I rode past Murray, feeling good, and hit the road to Yellow Lake. I should say the HILL... The dreaded final climb. I focused in... "Okay, Anthony, one climb, make it strong." I spun up, and never let my cadence falter. Even when I was tired. The crowds were HUGE. It was like the Tour de France in that you had to battle through people just to keep moving. I made a solemn promise not to slow my cadence down at all. I would be strong all the way. I would prove myself on this hill.

And boy I conquered that hill. I won't deny how great I felt at the top. So good I almost forgot to grab more water and Gatorade at the aid station, as I had dumped all my bottles to climb the hill.

Grabbing my hydration, I emptied half of the water bottle over my head to cool off. Then I settled back into the aerobars and sped off. No speedometer meant I was riding on feel for the rest of the race, and I just got the cadence going and let my heart rate dictate my pace. All was fine. I was having the ride of my life. I hit the 160 km marker.. 20 kilometres to go and sitting at 6 hours. 20 k in 45 minutes. I was well ahead of the pace.

At this point in the race, 4 years ago, I was completely wasted. I was so looking forward to the downhill that I couldn't pedal. And my back was stiff. Not this year. No stiff back and little leg fatigue.

I sped into the final small climb and got out of the seat. I was going to power this final small climb, turn around, and look down on the hill with a little "GOTCHA!"

The bike had not gotten me down. In fact, I had the ride of my life. Aside from the flat tires, I had gone 90 miles in about 4 1/2 hours. Blistering by my standards.

I took the downhill like a victory ride... Just letting the bike go as fast as it would... No speedometer meant no idea of my speed, but I was still passing people. I hit the final left turn towards town and a slight uphill, and just spun my way up to the final descent.

Then I was back in Penticton, speeding along Main Street towards the transition area. My right 2nd toe was hurting, and I couldn't tell if it was asleep or if it had a blister. No matter. I'd figure that out when I got into transition, because now I knew I WOULD make it to transition. No thumb issues, no arm issues...

I hit the end of the bike. Official time: 6:34:25... The 1558th fastest ride on the day. Average speed, 17 mph.

But I know what that ride was really about, and I was 10 minutes faster than I had set my goal at after my flats. And I don't think I would trade that time in if it meant losing out on the ride that I had and the moments I experienced...

But what had I left for the run?

(tomorrow, the run)