Ironman Lake Placid

Before I begin, I feel like I need to explain something... I say I signed up for IMLP due to peer pressure, but it was really because I HATED hills.

Oh, sure. Take me to the hospital.
But first, lemmetakeaselfie.

Climbing them, cruising down them... after crashing down a hill on a group ride a few years ago (June 27th marked the three year anniversary) that resulted in an unexpected two week staycation, stitches in every appendage, a cracked helmet, damaged bike, and so much road rash that finding a comfortable position to sleep became impossible, hills had become my nightmare. Going down them filled me with anxiety, and since I hated flying down them, I had been avoiding going up them. What better way to conquer my fear than sign up for a race with a 6 mile descent and over 6000 feet of climbing on the bike course alone? 

Peer pressure was my excuse, but internal pressure was driving me. I would learn to love hills or die trying.

Our Accommodations

Race Week:

In my prep for this race, I learned that I had unknowingly been battling some pretty horrendous hypoglycemia. I was grateful to finally know what was causing the horrible symptoms after every long race (brain fog, confusion, severe headache, nausea, fatigue, loss of appetite), so at the suggestion of Ray Campeau and Michele Faul, I hired Monique Ryan, a nutritionist who is very experienced with endurance fueling. Monique customized a three day, gluten-free carb-loading plan for me to follow leading up to this race. However, next time, I will measure

So much STUFF!

my pasta and oatmeal COOKED. (omgsofulliwantedtodie) #rookiemistake It was great, however, to go into the race with my glycogen stores on max and to know exactly what I would be eating every step of the way. I had everything ready to go and it surprisingly took a lot of stress out of my pre-race prep. I did some hypnosis with Corene Noack and some gentle yoga with Heather at Yoga Loka. I also hired Brooke Policastro (recommended by Gwen Stanton) to deep clean my apartment the Monday before the race. Jenna had agreed to watch Dylan McKay, and Aunt Louise was keeping Sophie company. It really does take a village to complete an Ironman. Coach Thea drove us up to Lake Placid Thursday with my cooler full and what seemed like half of everything I own.

I had had my chain replaced at High Gear a few weeks earlier and had been dropping chains since. I got it adjusted, but the gearing still felt sticky, so I stopped by to visit the Bike Mechanic in the Ironman Village to get it checked. $20 later, Andy claimed there was nothing wrong. Hmph.  But I used my waiting time wisely and not only went to the Athlete Briefing but finally test-drove the Normatech boots. (Hello, new legs! Where'd you come from!?)

Race Morning:

I woke up at 3:30 and had my breakfast: 1 large sweet potato, seasoned with rosemary and sea salt, 3 hard boiled eggs, 4 tablespoons of honey which I split between my two slices of Essential Baking Company Cinnamon Raisin bread (with butter!) and a cup of blueberries. Then Thea and I walked down to Body Marking... where I realized I had forgotten my Garmin in the charger back at the house. I needed to be able to track my timing on the bike to make sure I made the cut-off, and the tears started to well up in my eyes... but Thea came to the rescue and loaned me hers. I wouldn't have the Strava data (BOOO! HISS!) but at least I would be ok. Hers was only half-charged, so I made an executive decision not to start it until I got on the bike. It also occurred to me at this time that in a pre-race jitter oversight, I had frozen all of my Infinit for the bike and it was somewhat chilly. I hoped that it would thaw by the time I finished the swim.

Special Needs bags were dropped (It was nice to see some friendly TMB faces in Run Special Needs!) and I got in line for the port-o-johns... I took my first Gu a little late... There was so much going on, I forgot. Instead of an hour and a half before, I took it 45 minutes before. Then another 30 minutes before, and the last 15 minutes before the swim start.  I may have been slightly over-caffeinated.  The potty line took over 45 minutes so I was a little nervous about not getting my practice swim in. I missed the official race start but seated myself in the 1:30-1:45 crowd, all the way to the left. Water temp was a heavenly 75-ish degrees which my sleeveless xterra vortex wetsuit was perfectly suited for. I had my race anthem, Katy Perry's Rise (click above for a listen!) on repeat in my head and my amazing Tyr Mirrored Nest Pro goggles (LOVE!). Let's do this!

The Swim:

As the fog rolled out, I entered the water. The weather was expected to be perfect, the only day the whole time was in town that rain was not in the forecast. The expected high was 77. As I started the swim, my timing chip felt loose on my ankle and I made a mental note to fix it before the second loop. I stayed so far to the left that one of the lifeguards encouraged me to move closer to the right and the famous Mirror Lake Line (an underwater rope that runs the entire length of the swim course). I shouted with a laugh, "They told me I could swim as far to the left as I want and that's exactly what I'm going to do!" It was extremely crowded in the water and difficult to avoid the other swimmers. He shouted back that he was trying to keep me from swimming further than necessary, but I would happily swim an extra half mile to avoid some of the chaos. 

And then this song entered my head:

I entered my mental bubble and focused on my stroke. I noticed that the water was very choppy in the center of the lake so I took on the most water (and got a good sinus flush!) whenever I was swimming there. I had to really focus on my breathing and not inhaling the wake at that part of the out and back. I had been warned about the crowded turn buoys but the entire turn was a complete cluster f***. It felt like you had just been tossed into a swimming pool with 500 drowning football players. But I reminded myself that it was only 200 yards of chaos or so before the herd thinned out again and simply did my best to get through it. I have heard reports that the swim was really rough this year, and though I have nothing to compare it to since I have never done this course before, I can say that

Just a walk in the park!

everyone who kicked or punched or got in my way actually stopped and apologized. That is a first for any race I have done. So though it may have been rough, it was by far, the most... polite? I found myself getting irritated by so many swimmers on top of me and had to take a moment to remind myself that everyone was just doing their best to get through it unscathed. Then I went back into my bubble.

When I hit the timing mat on my first loop, I stopped before reentering the water to tighten my timing chip and tuck it under the leg of my wetsuit... and I was off again! The second loop was far less crowded so I followed the line. I suspect I had a negative split on the swim but without Garmin data, and stopping to fix my timing chip, it is hard to tell. It felt great and I came out of the water excited to proceed with my day.

Final Swim Time: 1:34:03

T1:

The swim exit to the changing tents seemed interminably long, but I was THRILLED to spot my oldest brother and his son (my nephew for those who are easily confused) cheering with my parents and my coach. I had never had such a large personal cheering section full of people who loved me present at a race and I couldn't believe how much it lifted me up and carried me through. Any fatigue or anxiety was instantly erased as I felt a surge of new life come over me. It seemed like there was a lack of volunteers in the changing tent... I'll assume that was because I was somewhat the middle of the pack? Thank the Lord for a tri miracle, my first hour of Infinit was mostly thawed. I threw my bike shorts on over my tri shorts, ate a gluten free Cinnamon Stinger waffle and another gu and some water and was on my way after a brief stop at the sunscreen station. Another wave to the family and I was on the bike.

Transition time: 15:05

The Bike:

First loop:

I was very conscious to take it easy on the way out of town and very happy to acknowledge that my bike fear was gone. I had been calculating how to pace myself on the bike during the swim and was quite optimistic. I felt good. I felt strong. I felt happy to be there. I had my anthems and my mantras rolling through my head. I was passing people without even trying and I was excited to see that I seemed to be staying with the pack. I maxed out my speed on the Keene descent at 44.5mph and wanted to go faster! My stomach seemed a little off and felt unexpectedly full, but I chalked it up to the excitement (and perhaps the carb-loading?) and plowed ahead. 

It was a beautiful day! I stopped just about every other aid station to top off with water and my Infinit Concentrate since temps were mild and I was working with a 20 oz aero bottle. I was surprised to pass Devon in Jay and tried to slow down a bit... I expected her to be going faster so perhaps I was pushing too hard? But I felt great so I just kept going. Two hours in, around mile 40, I had promised myself another Stinger waffle to make up the missing calories in my Infinit, but the moment I took it down, I felt my body start to protest. It was as if I had hit my limit on carbohydrates. I instantly became nauseous and decided I would ditch the waffles unless absolutely necessary from that point forward.  With some quick calculations, I determined that I was slightly ahead of schedule on my nutrition and decided to only drink water for a bit. This was also around the time that I realized I was still covered in sand from the beach. It was everywhere and followed me all the way to my post-race shower.

I was still in pretty good spirits and when I started the climb back to Wilmington from Jay, I was making my fellow competitors' ears bleed by serenading them with Miley Cyrus's The Climb. There were spectators around every turn. One guy even had his chickens out, clucking us along. Homeowners and businesses were blasting music for us... And my amazement continued as I progressed along the course, and never was out of sight of another rider or 20. In the past I have been alone for so long, I have often wondered if I took a wrong turn! This was a nice change of pace. (See what I did there?*wink, wink* *nudge, nudge*) 

And then, I dropped my chain. And I dropped it again. I hoped this wasn't going to continue all day...

My first trip through the Bears, I was once again amazed at the crowd support. There were so many people cheering us on! I never expected to see them, but there they were! I wasn't hungry and was still slightly nauseous, so I was contemplating what I would do at Special Needs. I was pleasantly surprised to spot Paulo with his camera at the end of Grandpa Bear. Hi, Paulo!

Special Needs:

I had packed my boiled, salted Peewee potatoes (and a frozen wet washcloth... that was the BEST to get some of the salt off!!) I also had Banana Boat Cool Zone Sunblock which felt AMAZING. Highly recommend for racing on hot days. I ate one potato and gave up. I had no interest in food. I tucked them in my back pocket in case I changed my mind and got back on the bike. I also reloaded my Infinit.

Second Loop:

It was amazing to come through town, to see Thea and my parents again, to see everyone cheering, to

see all the people who had come out to witness the show. Once again I felt like I had been given wings. The nausea was forgotten, I was ahead of schedule, the world was a magical place. 

But the second loop was no joke.

The heat seemed like someone had dialed it up 20 degrees. The thought of eating was repulsive, but I had to stay on top of my nutrition or risk the awful feelings I had after Eagleman and Quassy. Once again, I flew down the Keene descent, though I was disappointed to realize that I only maxed about 38mph the second time around. Still a huge improvement on the 20-30mph I was was maxing last year, but nothing like my first loop. I noticed that I was playing leapfrog with #1833 who I later learned was named Bert (we found each other on the run, too). The heckles called back and forth helped the time pass. But by mile 60, the nausea had intensified. And at mile 70, I was begging the medic for some sort of anti-nausea medication. A random volunteer handed me Pepto Bismol, and for those of you who know me, you know how awful I must have been feeling. The last time I took medication, I believe a quarter of my body was covered in road rash, and even then, I waited as long as I could between doses of pain killers. But during this race, I poured that Pepto into my face like a man in the desert for 3 days who had just found water. I don't think it helped. I slowed down, hoping it would calm my angry stomach. I found that if I kept a really easy pace and didn't drink anything, the nausea subsided a bit... but there is no easy pace for me with climbing, and I had a time limit. I just kept wondering how I was going to handle the run if I couldn't get any nutrition in... The ascent back to Wilmington started at mile 80. Shortly before this, I had warned the cyclists around me (especially my new friend Darren) that if I turned my head to the right, they better not be there, or they would be covered in my puke.

It's amazing to witness where your brain goes at tough moments like this... At mile 85, I prayed for a song in my heart to pull me through, and this flooded through my brain.

I started to cry. And I sang with gratitude through the tears. Time was running short, the nausea was unbearable and I was fighting back a tidal wave of vomit, but it occurred to me that even though I may be struggling, it was a beautiful day, and I truly was blessed to be capable of being out there in that moment when there are so many others who can't. I thought about quitting, and then I thought of my parents waiting for me, and I couldn't let them down. So I channeled some of Sophie's determination (the 45 pound dog that jumped an 8 foot fence because she wanted to play with the horses, among other acts of superdoggedness), sang to myself, and pushed ahead. As the blind athlete and his guide passed me, I'm pretty sure I saw him craning his neck to hear what I was singing... 

The miles ticked by slowly, and time was running out. But I rolled into town just before the cutoff, and I fought back the ugly cry as the crowd cheered and I shouted back words of thanks.

Final Bike Time: 8:17:48

T2: 

To the angel in the changing tent, I wish I could remember your name. You were incredible. I was so nauseous and emotional, I couldn't think straight. You put my socks and shoes on, you got me water, you even told me what I needed to bring with me and what I could leave behind. You encouraged me by telling me how together I seemed compared to some of the other athletes you had seen that day. I am so grateful you were there and you are the gold standard for me to strive for if I am ever in your shoes. I stripped off my bike shorts, put my visor on, and headed out on the run.

Transition Time: 11:07

The Run:

I took it easy down the hill out of transition to warm up. The cooling towel I had brought was amazing and I tucked it around my neck like a collar (I dropped it in my run special needs bag as the sun was setting.) My pace felt effortless but the nausea was still there and just the idea of taking in nutrition made my stomach feel like a boiling lava pit so I stuck with water. 

The folks at the Base Salt aid station were rather pushy in hocking their wares which was a little annoying. I didn't realize they were not a regular aid station the first time I ran by. I just wanted water. And they insisted they had what I needed... and handed me their concoction. Someone needs to explain the "Nothing New On Race Day" mantra to them. I threw it away and continued to the next aid station. You're supposed to be there to support the athletes, not bully them into trying your product. About seven miles in, the nausea had subsided and I started experimenting with taking in a little gatorade endurance. The heat coming off the pavement was intense, so I would drink some gatorade, some water, and occasionally pour the remaining water on my head. I walked the water stops and after two port o potty stops, and the prior unrelenting nausea, I took the immodium I had stashed away just as a precaution (once again, this is quite telling of how awful I really felt). I took some shot blocks at approximately miles 7, 10, 15, 19, and 22, but for the most part, I just ate anything that looked appealing. Once the sun went down, I switched from gatorade to chicken broth and water. Any time I took in solid food, however, the nausea started to return, so ate very minimally. 

I found a few running buddies along the way: David, who had done IMMD last year as well and swore, as I did, that this was his last Ironman, and Bert, my leapfrog buddy from the bike, who works in Basking Ridge and lives in Rochester. I also spotted some friendly faces; Gail, Dennis, Shannon, Lauralyn, Devon, Craig, and so many more.  When I cruised by High Peaks, they were playing Can't Stop the Feeling on repeat, and I was reminded of my Sunshine in my Pocket. (Thanks, Bill, for getting that song in my head at Quassy! I felt your prayers the whole day!)

Around mile 14, I found Scott, who was running just about my pace, and after a few aid stations, we committed to finishing this race together. I think I might have been able to complete the run a tiny bit faster if I hadn't, but the company was well worth it. Especially when it got so dark that all you could see of your fellow runners was a floating halo of light (aka the glow necklaces they were handing out). Scott had wanted to walk the hills but I pushed him towards the end and in the style of the Matrix (There is no spoon!) I encouraged him with the mantra, "There is no hill!" I did allow us to walk the two big grades, though... I'm not a complete sadist! Scott had an amazing headlamp. Mine had broken the night before. I need to find one like his. I don't know how anyone could see where they were going out there without it. River road is DARK.

The run through town was incredible. Thousands of people, cheering your name... I loved hearing my CJTC friends and my TMB teammates (Diana! I didn't know you had it in you! Very impressive cheering! What a set of pipes!) along with my parents, coach, and so many friends I've met along my Ironman journey. It felt like a reunion of sorts! And something I noticed very quickly is that if I gave the crowd even the slightest inkling of encouragement, they cheered even louder! That must be how it feels to be a toddler and realize if you drop something, bigger people swoop in, pick it up, and magically return it to you. Such a fun game! Two loops of the run course meant I got to cross through this sea of screaming fans not once, not twice, but FOUR times during my run. It was magical.

In hindsight, I should not have stopped to change my socks in special needs. But then I might not have found my running buddy, Scott, so it all balances out in the long run. 

I felt strong on this run. I felt like I could keep going forever. I had fun. But the finish line was the most memorable... Running into the Olympic Oval, the torch burning, the crowd cheering, and I raised my arms to encourage them. They ROARED back at me. I couldn't even hear Mike Reilly, but I was filled with so much joy, it spilled over. I gave him a high five and leapt into the air, and I crossed the finish line feeling happier and more accomplished than I think I ever have. 

The hardest fought victory is the sweetest. I fought my demons, and I won.

Final Run Time: 5:58:40

Now THAT is a happy finisher!

Post Race and Recovery: 

When I was done I heard about everyone getting sick. I saw a lot of that on the course, but from my

Post-race recovery station

perspective, it didn't seem more than normal. The spectators got a different view, however. It was reported at the Athlete's banquet that I did not attend that there was a 9% DNF rate this year, higher than any previous Lake Placid Ironman. In the local paper the next morning, it was stated that the salt levels in Mirror Lake measured unusually high. They attributed this to ice and snow removing agents used on the road in the winter. I'm not sure if this is what caused my nausea, but it would make sense.

I am sure that the post race rubdown I received from a very skilled fellow ironman assisted in my impressive recovery from this race. And my Thursday afternoon and Saturday was spent reading and basking in the sun. It was so nice to be still and be able to enjoy the summer.

Acknowledgements:

I'm so afraid I will forget someone! It truly does take a village to do an Ironman... Thea, you truly are Coach of the year. Thank you for all the ways you were there for me. To my parents and brothers and their families, thank you for your support, enthusiasm, and understanding of this craziness! To my health maintenance team: Dr. Alan Foster, Monique Ryan, Gwen Stanton, Kitty Ghen, Dr. Nancy Erb, Dr. Lou Gregory, Dr. Todd, - Thanks for keeping me moving, (relatively) sane, and pain-free! To Jenna and Aunt Louise, thank you so much for stepping in at the 11th hour and taking such good care of my fur children! To Valerie, my right arm, the jelly to my pb, that surprise party was the bomb, but most of all, thank you for keeping things running smoothly even when training had left me ragged. To my patients, thank you for being so understanding of some of my odd office hours and so incredibly supportive! To my non-triathlete friends for enduring listening to me drone on about my endless workouts and being patient as I dropped off the face of the earth for 6 weeks. To my triathlete friends for getting it! To my training partners, mainly Jill, Michele, and Devon, for being the perfect companions to push me just enough to make me stronger but not enough to leave me discouraged. To my CJTC friends and TMB teammates for the 16 hours of cheering and photo-taking. To Ray and Eve Campeau for encouraging me to come to the TMB workouts... I *WILL* get stronger and faster! To Michele Faul for hanging with me during my first Lake Placid ride this year. And finally, thank YOU for taking the time and interest to read this report. I know not everyone will do an Ironman, but I will always do my best to bring you into the race experience with me and allow you to live vicariously.

Everyone keeps asking me what my next adventure will be... Time to buy a house and settle down!