Below is my original race report for my first iron distance triathlon. I thought it would be nicer to have these stored here vs on Facebook. So apologies if the use of recycled content offends.
Ironman Lake Placid
by Sue (Notes) on Tuesday, July 27, 2010 at 8:08pm
OK, here’s the triathlon trip report. It’s nice to write for your intended audience, but that’s tough to do w/ a wide variety of readers; some of whom are very detail oriented, and some who have done other triathlons before and may wonder how this one really differed (other than the distances). So here you go. It’s long-winded, so consider your selves warned!
Friday. At ~7 am we got moving to go do a swim, checking the water out at what would be race time in a couple of days. Other athletes were already in the water. This event aside, Lake Placid seems to be a destination for swimmers, cyclists, and runners, who could be found everywhere. Event check-in was fairly uninteresting, but we all got weighed in, which is different from other triathlons. I also took the opportunity to buy my yet-to-be-taken race photos while the line was short; reportedly, the lines would be horrible after the race, and the price would go up if ordered after the event. So I’ll get all my photo files emailed to me in ~7 days, and I got a plaque and could pick up my finishing photo on Monday. We also went through the expo, which was actually surprisingly not very exciting. I really thought the Buffalo Springs half iron I did in 2002 had the best expo of any triathlon I’ve done. But if the race went well, I was certain to be back to buy some finishers stuff.
Welcome dinner Friday evening. This included your standard speeches from various people, the race director, the town mayor, someone singing the national anthem, a group prayer, and then the event’s main MC took over, The Voice of Ironman (Mike Reilly). The youngest participants were called to come up on stage; some kid whose 18th birthday was on Saturday, making him just old enough to meet the minimum age requirement for Sunday’s race; the two youngest girls were also 18. Then the oldest participant was called up, a 79 year old guy who had done at least one Ironman before. They were all asked what motivated them to sign up. Various categories of people were invited to stand when called. Stand if you’ve done one Lake Placid Ironman before (many rose); then keep standing if you’ve done 2, then 3, etc., until three people were standing that had done all eleven events held at that location (wow!). The first timers (Iron Virgins) were also asked to stand up; I think there were supposed to be 900 of us out of the field of 3000 registered participants. Then the MC asked everyone to stand up that had lost weight as part of their motivation to do Ironman, then to keep standing if they had lost 30 lbs, 40 lbs, 50 lbs, etc. Once they crossed 100 lbs of weight loss, the people still standing were called on stage. One lady lost 140 lbs, and the male winning the biggest loser contest lost 180 lbs, down from his top weight of 380. Unbelievable! Another recognized group of people were the ones called everyday heroes, who had overcome tragedy to be there. They were the 3 survivors of 6 friends who were hit by a truck in May while out on a training ride. Overall a very inspirational presentation.
Then the family cut out and the participants stayed for the pre-race meeting. Honestly, I found this segment to be rather unhelpful. There was a video with generic wording to cover all Ironman events, so actually didn’t provide any info at all for our specific event. People got up to describe each course segment individually: the swim course director explained the colorations of the buoys, the course cut-off time, and how they’d pull you out of the water early if you looked reasonably unable to complete the swim on time; the bike course director described the route and the course change that was necessary because there is a bridge still undergoing construction along the original course, the locations of the aid stations and the amenities/nutrition that we’d find, the first lap and bike course cut-off times; the run director did the same; then the rules guy got up to go over his schpeal: anti-drafting rules, penalties for cheating, penalty tent procedures, indecent exposure and littering violations. Then they invited people to come up to ask their individual questions. I think some diagrams covering details of where the special needs tables were going to be would have been helpful, since the verbal descriptions using names of roads I was completely unfamiliar with was not so useful. Also, the two individuals I tried to deal with to get my question answered were not very nice.
Saturday. Short little am swim, then bike, and was supposed to run too, but ran out of time. Had to get all race gear ready and take it to transition. We got 5 bags at check-in: morning clothes, swim-to-bike, bike-special-needs, bike-to-run, run-special-needs, and had to figure out what we wanted in all of them. Had dinner with a party of 16 people: me, Lori and Lynette, Mary, Marianne, her parents and brother, Pete, Heather, her parents and aunt, Melissa, Curt and Kim. Turned in at 8:30 pm.
Race morning. Woke up at 4:15 am. Ate cereal, put on bathing suit bottoms, sports bra, timing chip, sweats and long sleeve t-shirt, braided my hair, grabbed wetsuit, body glide, swim cap, goggles, nose plug, and headed out the door. Down to transition (our hotel was ~0.5 mi away), I pumped up my bike tires, got body marked, then headed over to the swim start. Somewhere over there was supposed to be the table for the special needs bags. This turned out to be a fairly long walk away (~.5 mi), and the swim start was already ~0.25 mi feet from transition. Went back to swim start to put on body glide and wetsuit, heart rate monitor, and put my morning outer clothes and shoes into the morning clothes bag. We were told Friday those would be dropped off at the swim start, but someone got their wires crossed, b/c I had to run back to transition to hang the bag on my bag rack spot, then run back to the swim start.
Swim start. Lots of people! Heather, Marianne and I got into the water together, and found Heathers mom who took a photo from her position on the shore. I started on the far side away from the buoys marking the route, and toward the back of the pack of participants. Therefore, I didn’t get jostled much at all by the thrashing swimmers when the cannon went off. Pretty quickly I felt some terrible pain in my right arm and couldn’t use it to apply any force at all to my stroke. So I had to do all my breathing one sided (to the right), making sighting the buoys (to my left) a bit difficult. Also, my chip strap slipped out from under my wetsuit and felt loose enough that I was concerned I’d lose it; while I could get a new one after the swim, no one would be able to follow my progress all day long! Toward the end of the first lap I’m pretty sure I was passed by some of the pro’s who’d lapped me. I got out, crossed the timing mats to mark lap 1, re-affixed my timing chip, crossed another timing mat, and got back into the water for lap 2. Now the crowds were so thinned out that I could swim right along the buoy line, conveniently marked under water by a gold wire – a real rarity for open water swimming. This lap went smoothly and I got out of the water with an acceptable time of 1h 45m and my right arm feeling like I couldn’t lift it up to shoulder level to save my life.
T1. After exiting the water I was met w/ a pair of wetsuit strippers, whose job it was to remove my wetsuit for me (quite handy since I find this tough to do). Then I carried all my stuff as I ran down to transition, passing Pete and Melissa shooting photos and shouting encouragement as I went. Here I picked up my swim-to-run bag and headed for the women’s changing tent. A race volunteer took my bag and dumped and laid the contents out for me as I grabbed the small towel to wrap my hair in, and the large towel to dry off. Then she shoved all my wet things into the bag for me while I swapped out my bathing suit bottoms for my biking shorts, socks, shoes, race jersey, helmet, glasses and Garmin 305. Finally I slathered on some sun screen and ran out of the tent to meet another volunteer who had gotten my bike off the rack for me so I could just take it from him and go. I met my goal here too by getting onto the bike within 2 hrs of race start.
Bike. Roads were wet from the short rainfall that occurred on the first lap of my swim, which meant I went a little slow down the hills out of transition. This was probably a good thing given the number of sharp turns that finally took you out to the main road (and the dog that was given way too much leash and used it to run onto the course as I was going by!). I was very pleased with the previously dubbed “scary screaming-downhill segment” now that I got to ride it in the car lane (closed to traffic) instead of the rather dodgy shoulder. I used my brakes only a little, hitting 41 mph and relying mainly on sitting up on the bike to use my torso as drag to slow down. The roads were nearly dry by the time I got here, which was nice too. I saw Marianne on the out-and-back segment of the course to Ausable Forks, and gauged I was 6-8 miles behind her at that point. I finished the first lap to throngs of screaming spectators, seeing Curt, Pete, Melissa, Lori and Lynette. The second lap went pretty well too, but I’d lost distance on Marianne (both a stronger swimmer and cyclist than I), now maybe 10-12 miles ahead of me. I never saw Heather, who was waaaay ahead of me on the bike. The final climbs along route 86 from Whiteface to Lake Placid were not made easier w/ the constant head wind, and I finished that segment quite glad a 3rd lap was not required. I was really pleased w/ my bike time (just under my goal of 8 hrs), but not so happy w/ the saddle discomfort or the tight muscles in my lower back.
T2. My bike was taken by a volunteer, leaving me to run around to the gear rack to grab my bike-to-run bag and head for the changing tent. The route and entry point to the tent was changed while I was on the bike, but there were plenty of volunteers to keep me going the right way. This was a much simpler transition since I wasn’t wet. I changed out my cycling shorts and top for ones more comfy to run in, added my running shoes, hat, race belt w/ number, and Garmin 405 GPS watch. (In case you don’t know, these things do not have a very long battery life, which is why I used 2 different ones.)
Run. It was really tough to pick up my feet. Always is after time spent bent over bicycle handle bars, not to mention the immediate decent down a fairly steep hill. Great crowd support still, I saw Lori, Lynette, Heather's parents and aunt, and Heather too on my way out of town (she was heading back into town already), and also a few motivational posters people made for me. Actually, lap 1 was fairly uneventful. It was lap 2 that really sets my experience off as unique.
There are two out and back segments on the run course, the second of which (Lake Placid Club Drive) is kinda right in town, taking you from the center of town (Main Street) and transition area out past the swim start (and past the special needs tables), then back. On the way back toward transition I was looking for the sign or volunteer that would point me toward the turn for the second lap. A similar sign and volunteer was easily spotted on the bike portion. Pete and Melissa screamed their encouragement as I went by, then immediately afterward a motorcycle with video-camera man comes by filming one of the finishers with a special story. So when this puppy airs on TV, there’s a great chance I’ll be in that shot. Anyway, I never see any diversion point for heading out on my second lap. And ALL these people are screaming “Congratulations, you are an Ironman. You did it!” And I’m still wondering where the darn turn off is as I get funneled into the finishers shoot. OOPS!!!!! Now I’m worried about being disqualified because I’m crossing the finish mat early, while The Voice of Ironman booms over the mic, “Susan Downing, YOU ARE an IRONMAN!” And the photographer is taking my “finishing” photo, and volunteers are rushing me to put a medal around my neck, and I’m saying, “NO, no, you don’t understand; I need to do a 2nd lap.” Imagine the confusion on their faces. It was very loud, booming amplified voice and thumping music, and I’m raising my voice to be heard. “How do I get out of here? I need to finish my 2nd lap!!!” So a volunteer points me to talk to the timer (like I know who that is by looking at him), and I start telling my issue to a guy who was apparently the camera man. Then the timing dude comes forward and tells me, “Ma’am, you need to calm down.” At this point I’m irritated, concerned, and WTF does he mean calm down?!?! I’m actually NOT un-calm (which, by the way, would have been a PERFECTLY reasonable emotion at the time); I was trying to get help in a loud and chaotic scene. So I’m directed to finish the loop around the speed skating oval, go back out where I came in, and they’ll take care of the timing mistake.
Then I ran deeper through the finishing shoot, past finishers celebrating and others checking their gear out of transition to leave. And people are asking me why the hell am I still running! (ha ha ha). I had to jump some barriers to go out the wrong way, cause that was not how the course was set up to funnel people and I wanted to be sure I didn’t *miss* any timing mats. Finally, I get back out on the course a tad freaked out and trying to remember, “It’s ok, I only lost 5 min and ran maybe an extra quarter mile.” Aye Chihuahua.
Next the sun disappears and there was a gorgeous moon rise. Soon I was running in the dark, the temp dropped, and I started to feel a bit relaxed. I had picked up my stride just a little when someone comes up to me and says, “It’s 9:15; is it really possible to finish the 9 miles in just 2 hrs and 45 min?” Then I started to panic. “What do you mean it’s 9:15? Are you sure your watch isn’t an hour off? Did you come from a different time zone?” We checked w/ a volunteer and learned he had the correct time. Now I’m freaked out, because my confidence for running a 6 hr marathon was shot. So I really picked it up; I think I may have been running a 10 min pace where I was previously 13-15. No way was I going to get a DNF on this event!
I was cruising along in the dark and lonely flat section, and loosing my ability to think clearly. And when I passed the aid stations and the volunteers asked what I wanted/needed, I just said, “I don’t know….” But I saw Lynette and Lori as I trudged up (pathetically slowly now) the hill into town. And people are telling me I can do it (including a participant dressed as Elvis), keep going, I looked strong... And the short mile out-and-back from transition past the lake seemed to take forever. Then I ran one more time down the finish shoot w/ the crowd going wild and all my friends along the final feet, screaming and giving me high 5’s. And I was, after all, finally and legitimately declared an iron man.
I can’t sing enough praises or thanks for the friends that traveled up to Lake Placid to support us. How incredible it was to be hand held as we collected my things and made our way back to the hotel, me walking like an 80-year old and taking a few breaks to sit down along the way. You can’t imagine how everything hurt. My feet felt like someone had taken a mallet to them. Even the surface of my skin hurt. A gentle touch on the arm to offer congratulations was actually painful. It hurt to breathe because that required more expansion of my ribs than I could do w/o flexing some muscles. Neck so stiff I could barely turn my head. Shooting pains down my legs. But the odd thing was how wired I was. Every shorter event I’ve ever completed has had me absolutely gassed afterward, unable to keep my eyes open for even a second after sitting down. Not this one. We were all wired. I can only think the weather was to thank for that. Had this been a full-sun, all-day-long situation, I think I would have crashed and burned. But the cloud cover and cool temps are probably part of why we all finished.
Monday. Woke up rather early and rather pain free! Holy moley!! All that training must have had some benefit after all. Went to the expo and bought a lot of finishers goodies, having to wait in line for, uhm, 45 min (?) just to get in. There was a brunch for the athletes, during which the MC shared some statistics of how many started the event, how many finished, and who the top 5 finishers were in each age category plus the pro’s. The luncheon ended after a recap of our race was shown on the jumbotron. Believe it or not, yours truly is shown as one of the last finishers to cross the line (finisher 2436/2475). Yep, I made the highlight video, which apparently is not available anywhere. Gotta look into that some more… (found it - see below).
The training was daunting, and at times, all consuming. But overall, this event was a blast. Yeah, I actually can imagine doing it again some day.
Post Scrip, 04Aug2010: Here's the link to the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w11xNXci7cY&playnext=1&list=PL18E819293EC82B8C&feature=results_video
No comments:
Post a Comment