Turns Out, Triathlon is a Team Sport

Someone once asked me what I liked about team sports and the answer was easy: I enjoyed contributing to something where the outcome was greater than what I could achieve on my own, and I enjoyed feeling like I belonged to something; team sports offered me a tribe.  Through team sports I spent years finding my voice, if you will, initially struggling with the pressure of screwing up and negatively impacting our results but eventually welcoming and wanting to be put into the game in critical moments.

Individual sports gave me a place to participate for fun, with no such pressures, and also a place to seek improvement in myself through achieving nominally better times which were not even remotely competitive with the larger field.  I was content to improve by small minutes and for years I sought challenge through choosing formidable events, be they longer in distance (marathon, ironman) or challenging in terrain (hilly).

It wasn't until the days following Ironman Wisconsin (2012) that I set a significant and specific goal time: breaking 13 h in an ironman event, and I entered a new and uncomfortable territory of working for something I did not seem to be able to attain.  Was I not working hard enough or was I simply not good enough?  I was repeatedly told by my coach to believe in the work was doing while simultaneously questioned by my Dad as to why I thought I could achieve some time (in a running race) which to him seemed unlikely based on x, y, or z prior results.  I am both too logical to blindly trust in my coach's enthusiasm or to tune out my Dad's questions, and too optimistic to believe I was simply wasting my time.  

My overarching goal for this season has been to really enjoy the process of training and to believe that I can successfully execute any individual workout exactly as intended.  This was an important first step because even I, with my doggedly rational approach to things, could see how I was undermining myself by looking at workouts and immediately exclaiming: good grief, is he crazy?! My thinking was this shift in focus would allow me many opportunities to enjoy success and my hope was that I could establish the trust in my coach and myself that was going to be required to attain any very specific time goal.  Come the end of summer what I think I learned was that I only trusted half as much as I needed to which still left too much on the table for full distance events (marathon, ironman).

This is not meant to say I didn't have pleasing results; on the contrary, despite not correctly executing most of my race plans, I found myself collecting Age Group awards in many of my events, which had very small fields.

Event		AG		Gen
AmZof		1/2		5/10
Deadwood		3/17		39/169
CAC		1/4		9/22
Penticton		3/10		20/53

Coming in to my last scheduled race of the season (Savageman) I wondered what it would be like to enter an iron distance race simply for the fun of it, without the heavy burden of several-months of preparation and expectations.  Many from my training group were gearing up for Beach to Battleship and I wanted another crack at correctly executing an iron-race run plan.  My coach thought I could physically do it, that we'd add one hard week of big hours to prepare for it following Savageman plus its few days of recovery, presuming I could mentally hang on.  I signed up part-way through that big week of work, 18 days before the event.

This was wild and I had literally no idea what to expect.  Would we recycle my race plans, maybe CAC's for the bike and Penticton's for the run?  Could I be faster because this was a flat bike course, or not because I didn't fully peak-train for this specific event?  When the email arrived and I read through my guidance I couldn't hide the disappointment I felt from my friends.  What had I done to reduce the coaches' belief in me that my run plan had been written so?  Instead of the usual very specific pace ranges, 10 sec wide and cutting down at specific mileage points, this one started out with a never-before-seen 30 sec wide pace window for the first 10 mi and then loose guidance to bring it down to just under the lower number from there, and I found myself wrestling with the fact that I was now upset for getting a plan I actually believed I could accomplish.  

Race day.  I experienced my first ever fun 2.4 mi swim and was happy with my current-aided time.  The bike wasn't easy; the winds made maintaining a consistent power output challenging and I spent the ride literally berating myself to keep pushing for the intended ranges.  That said, race day conditions were quite frankly very much easier than those found this year in Penticton and I think CAC as well.  I disregarded my run plan without doing the math to see what time it predicted.  In my head, I thought I needed to maintain <10:01 min/mi to PR against my open marathon time, which is what I wanted to accomplish, and I didn't think what had been written could get me there.  In the end I crossed the finish line with a cumulative time of 11:23:15 and a whole bunch of confusion.

Yes, confusion.  How the hell did I just cut 34 min off my prior best 112 mi bike split and come in >1 h ahead of any time I could ever have imagined?  How had I run what amounted to my most comfortable marathon ever while successfully logging a new PR?  How the hell did I manage to come within 2 minutes of the masters' podium, finishing 6th of a group of 68?  All of a sudden I've not only achieved this hard sought after goal of 13 h but I went screaming by it so far it's taken me completely by surprise.  Just what am I supposed to do with myself now?     

	Prior Best		B2B		Event		AG		Gen
S	1:25:53		1:01:55		Savageman		1/5		12/27
	CP 2015		[1:36/100m]*		Mills		1/3		5/13
B	6:25:07		5:50:55		B2B		1/16		20/142
	CAC 2015		[19.1 mph]
R	4:24:28		4:17:40		* current aided
	Deadwood		[9:50 min/mi]
O'all	13:51:28		11:23:15
	IMBO 2014

What should my new goals be?  Should I target larger events with deeper age group pools?  Should I stick with flat courses?  Should I only do races loaded with friends who provide encouraging support throughout the race?  To this last point, the answer could very well be yes.  I started triathlon in 2001 and after the '03 season took a couple-year break because it was a lonely pursuit.  Even after returning to it, it remained a summer activity - to enjoy a change of pace from ice hockey - and was not something I worked for year-round, as I looked each fall to return to my hockey family and the sense of belonging they provided.  And then, thanks to Ashley, I found the group at Cadence and now I have the best of situations with a supportive group of like-minded and driven athletes.  I've put more out in the Cadence cycling classes than I sometimes do on my own, in the Cadence (and certainly Upper Merion USMS) group swims than I sometimes do on my own, and maybe I'm more willing to leave it all out on the race course when it feels like I'm part of a team all working toward our own highest goals.  I'm thankful to be a part of this group and, what-ever my next goal may be, I hope I can be as supportive to them as they have been to me.

The Build to IM #5

I still owe a couple of race reports (marathon and iron aquabike) but haven't found the time to write them yet.  This is a bummer to me since I both don't want to forget details and don't want to post things out of order.  But a friend asked innocently enough if I felt ok heading toward my big race (Challenge Penticton, Aug 30) and I got diarrhea of the keyboard as I listed all the things racing through my mind over the last couple of weeks.  Now, finally through my big hours, it occurred to me that I could share those thoughts here too.  In no particular order:

1-      The prior IM Canada, which is nearly the same course as Challenge Penticton, has a CompuTrainer course, and both the shop I train at regularly (Cadence), and the tri club of which I've been a member but due to location I am not at all a part of (Endurance Multisport, in Emmaus) have it.  It has been my long-held plan to ride the entire course at least once prior to traveling, to be as well-prepared as I was for Zofingen.  But, this didn’t happen.  Not only did this not happen, but as I looked back at my training I hadn’t done any hill climbing at all since Zofingen and, looking up and finding a course elevation gain of 8000 ft for Penticton, I got a tad panicky.  After freaking out about this, further digging returned more probable gains of upper 4000-mid 6000 ft, putting it in the same range as all my other IM's.

2-      The bike in general.  With an oh-f’-it mentality for Challenge Atlantic City this year, I took risks you aren’t supposed to take: wearing a brand new helmet (that turned out to be too small); wearing new shorts for the first time (they matched my tri club top and though ordered well-ahead of time, they were delivered with no time to test them); and… taking it upon myself to lower my handle bars by 1 carbon spacer ring (1 cm?), to steal a bit more speed through a lower bike position.  Outcome?  >20 min PR for 112 mi, and some f-ing incredible soreness from my neck and saddle. 

Now, given the flat and windy nature of CAC, I endeavored to ride in aero for every mile I possibly could, save sitting up to stop my neck and crotch from screaming.  This lower position undoubtedly contributed to my pronounced saddle discomfort.  The neck discomfort is more like par for the 112 mi course.  However, despite my continued physical discomfort, I’m pretty resistant to put the handle bars back; I mean, twenty minute personal record (!) -  what if that was all due to the lower position?  

Moving forward my belief is, given the hillier nature of Penticton, I should really be able to get away with keeping this set-up for that race with improved comfort, b/c I won’t be in aero as much; I will be sitting upright spinning up inclines, because I don’t believe that while climbing at 6 mph there is any aero advantage by staying on the pads (unless it's super windy) - despite what other iron competitors may do.  However I really do feel this saddle (Koobi) is too wide and needs to go, and I’ve developed a hair-trigger of discomfort for it.

An acquaintance is looking to sell a barely-used saddle that some triathletes I'm tight with love, so I asked to try it and he said he'd drop it in the mail.  After enough weeks that I've lost track, it hasn't shown up.  Checking back with him, he said he sent it to someone else.  So my situation has gone from 'it's really too late to be messing with changing saddles before my race' to an absolute panic to find a different saddle, now 3 weeks before my race (and less than that with travel time). 

Waiting for that above saddle to arrive, I continued to alter the position of my current one to see if some better position could be found.  Well one of the two bolts that lock in my saddle height snapped in half.  This is actually the better result because the broken screw could be drilled out and a new one put in.  When the bolt first broke free I was hugely concerned that I'd sheared out the threads inside the carbon frame (even though I was using a correctly-set torque wrench), which I think would be a major problem.  I rode the bike for 3 one hour rides on a trainer with just the one bolt, but was advised by the shop that if the seat post slipped it could occur faster than I could take my weight off it.  This happened to another customer and when the seat post hit bottom, it cracked the carbon frame.  There's no fix for that; that's a broken frame and a very expensive problem.  My bike was out of commission for a couple of weeks, during which no saddle testing could occur.

3-      Technology, specifically Garmin + Stages + phone issues (+ home internet).  This has been an absurd saga.  The new Garmin (Forerunner 920XT, a GPS watch commonly used by multi-sport athletes) was a bitch to get data off of unless I plugged it in with a wire, because the Bluetooth version on my phone and tablet was incompatible, and it is not possible to set up the wifi access without using GarminExpress, which won't run on either of those devices.  This seemed like an annoying step backwards from the 910 which transferred wirelessly with a USB stick receiver.  And either the extra battery life for the 920 or the slimmer design comes at the expense of antenna size/position/strength in the watch.  Ergo, the 920 pairs miserably with the Stages (which is the power meter that is built into the crank arm of my bicycle).  

And the Stages battery compartment has some darn connectivity issue, that once I changed my battery it seemed the thing no longer worked unless I was physically pressing on the battery door at the time.  Trouble shooting, everyone says "be sure you have the most recent firmware", which I couldn’t download because I didn’t have a new enough cell phone/tablet and Bluetooth connectivity is the only way to update the Stages.  

After extensive trial, error, and internet sleuthing, I found that if I shoved a food wrapper in with the Stages battery that it keep a snug contact.  Additionally, it is necessary to wear the watch in a specific orientation on my wrist, with the watch band pretty loose, else my wrist actually blocks the 920's ability to find and hold the signal from the Stages, which is capable of spanning 10-15 meters according to the Stages website though we are only talking about a distance on my set up of 1-1.5 m. I also came to understand that I need to buy another new thing or I’ll have no power data for my race because I can't see the watch face in the orientation required to maintain pairing with the power meter.  

After some research, I settled on the Garmin 510 (a bicycle specific device).  I called Garmin to order it (they’ll give a returning customer credit of 20% off), to learn the item has been discontinued, because they are releasing a new model.  So the world waits for the 520, which was available last week if you were lucky enough to have been at Age Group Nationals before they sold out of them.  It is uncertain whether devices ordered now will ship prior to the end of the month, which is too late for me.  I also could use a new heart rate monitor because my optical one (worn on the upper arm or wrist) died and the stupid Garmin chest strap, which is highly uncomfortable by the way, cuts the crap out of my chest.  Oh, and I bought a new cell phone, so there's that.  Thank goodness too, b/c my home internet provider are criminals and the service is highly unreliable.

4-      Swimming.  I was super bummed to be 3 min slower in Boulder, after having spent maybe 6 months training with others in my swim group (where I push myself much harder than I ever did swimming alone), than I was at IMMT, for which I was late to start training due to injury (only 15 weeks prep, beginning from not-awesome base fitness).  Yeah yeah, altitude, blah blah blah - I wanted a better time.  I was doing so well the first part of this year, then I wasn’t so sure anymore.  The Steelman (1.5 mi swim) official time/pace has me swimming only slightly better for an IM length swim, and my recent river and pool swims are also not showing as strong a performance as I had earlier this year.  So I’m somewhere between wanting to believe it’ll all be ok, I’m just tired etc from training (which Jack also said), and thinking that I want an honest and realistic expectation and to meet it.  Never mind the feedback from my 2nd swim group that makes me feel like everything I do in the water is wrong.  This week Matt helped me to understand that his and Jack's feedback is designed to help me in open water, and that maybe the other feedback I get would help me in a pool, so it might make sense that the feedback appears conflicting.

5-      Running.  At the end of May my coach projected an ‘’upper three forties” marathon time.  My target race paces calculated out to 3:47-3:50.  Clearly that is not what I ran in South Dakota (4:24:28).  But I’ve been working hard at not declaring “jeez, is he crazy?” when I read his workout/race advice, and I was somewhere between ‘work as hard as possible to make it true’ (which I did for the first 4-or-so miles), and ‘uhm I don’t think this is the course or conditions for this outcome’.  So I have a good bit of uncertainty here with what I should expect for an IM run.  And if I ask him point blank what he thinks I should be able to do, will it even be believable/realistic?  Compared to his instructions, I under ran at Zofingen; I under ran in Boulder.  So maybe I am just not as good a runner as my shorter efforts suggest I should be./?

6-      Overall preparation.  Yeah, I’m undoubtedly stronger this year vs prior ones.  But I can honestly tell you I have not been working as hard since Zofingen as I was before it.  I dropped the ‘every shift like it’s the last one’ focus and really did not work as hard.  Legitimately so, I’d say, since Ed moved out.  But still, what was in May a race I thought I could podium at turned in to something of an albatross for awhile there.  I thought I’d do some smaller tri’s this summer, build up my confidence, but in the end that didn’t happen.

7-      Mental state.  This has been tough.  Being walked-out on; questioning why.  Trying to take care of everything I didn’t use to have to while fitting in workouts.  Working to fix things (he's moving back in, by the way).  Increased hormonal swings due, I think, to the dwindling release of them from my aging IUD.  Re-organization at work, with the concern of being put into a pool for reduction.  Being put back into a department with uncertain opportunities; being advised to get my resume in order to apply for alternate positions.  Honestly, all told, I think I’m in a fantastic frame of mind.  I actually do feel optimistic about this race, about Ed moving back in.  But it has not been an easy road.

8-      Execution.  Not only do I want to break the 13 h barrier, the goal I had in the first place following IMWI and when first considering to hire a coach 3 years ago, but I really don’t think I want to do the full iron distance any more.  It’s an obvious hardship on my personal life.  It will be a hardship on my employment as I do anything new, and going back to being primarily a bench chemist would make this nearly impossible.  I didn’t feel good coming off my marathon, or the 3-day/4-game Vermont hockey tournament played in mid-July, and I really do think I need to prioritize seriously improving the muscle imbalance I have that leads to my disproportionately stressing my right side muscles, or I may not get to enjoy many activities at all for much longer.  So I have this one last shot to get it all right, and 52 min is a lot to shave, or more like carve, off a race time.  

All these things, these concerns, said, my goal this year was to learn to enjoy the process, and to look forward to every workout, and to proving I could do them as written or even better than as written.  If I did that, I’d win no matter the outcome of some particular race.  And if I did that, chances are that the race results would handle themselves.  So while I’ve put a ton of time into getting physically prepared to cover the distance (TP shows 22.5 h this week, admittedly this includes 1.5 h yard work), what I need to remember is to execute to my most basic goal -> to enjoy every minute of it, including the uncomfortable ones.

Prep'ing for a swim race in the Schulykill River. with Ashley.
(Photo credit to French Creek Racing.)

After a swim - run brick at Lake Ockanickon, with Jennie, Ashley, Mark, Jill.

Race Report - Naples Daily News Half Marathon, Jan 2015

Flat and shady course through a neighborhood of cul-de-sacs which gives multiple opportunities to check up on runners ahead and behind you.  Nice crowd support, seemingly ample water stations.  63 °F and humid at race start the day I ran it (Jan 18).

First some (a lot of) running background

1987-1989

Field Hockey 1988.  
(Can't find any track pics.)

I’ve never been a good runner nor believed I would be.  I ran track in high school because it gave me something to do (that required no skill) and I was satisfied with seeing improvements over my own times even though I couldn’t keep up with the kids who won points for our team.  I ran the 1600 and 3200 back then and though on a team, pretty much trained by myself b/c I couldn’t keep up with the other girls and would quickly get dropped.  In my best race I either hit or just broke 14:00 for the 3200, which was a 2 min improvement over the season.

I remember having odd sensations back then, fierce itching of my legs while running, minutes-long sneezing fits upon stopping, and intense stomach cramping after my races.  I asked my track coach about some of this and felt a bit brushed off, like I wasn’t one of the cool kids and not really worthy of her time or concern.  It’s funny how such a thing can stick with you.  Looking back, I wonder why I kept doing it instead of just quitting.

2007-2012

2010 Philly 1/2 Marathon
(PS, I purchased this print 
but don't have it scanned.)

2007 Atlanta 1/2 Marathon

I’m unsure of what preparation plan I used for my first half marathon (Atlanta, 2007, 2:36:18, [11:55 min/mi]) but know the next two used carried-over fitness from other races.  Following Ironman Lake Placid in 2010 (a July race), for which my training focused on time-based volume over effort, I ran the ING Rock ‘n’ Roll Philly ½ in Sept in 2:23:17, [10:56 min/mi]; and following the Chicago Marathon in October 2010 I repeated the Atlanta ½ on Thanksgiving in 2:19:43, [10:39].  I focused on getting faster over the winter lead-up to my Ironman Wisconsin 2012 training by doing some speed intervals that I pulled out of my hat; following that September race I moved on to the Bucks County Marathon in Nov where I had a first half split of 2:03:14, [9:22 min/mi].  I think the moral of this recap is that tangible improvement comes from understanding and embracing that there really is no such thing as off-season.

2012-2014

If you’ve been following this blog you know the Bucks County Marathon did not end happily for me and that I earned an over-use injury of some kind training for it.  That was why I deferred my Shamrock ½ Marathon entry for March 2013 to 2014, but it turned out I couldn’t run it in 2014 either since I had a conflict with playoffs for one of my ice hockey teams.  Using my Broad Street 10-mile Run times for 2012 and 2014 for comparison (1:29:38, [8:57 min/mi] and 1:29:07, [8:54 min/mi], respectively) it looked like I was back to my pre-injury running pace.  And so in September I signed up for TriCamp and the Naples Half Marathon, wondering if I could break 2 h.

I had high hopes for this fall/early-winter's off season that I didn’t meet in large part due to a most unpleasant, never-ending and ever stressful remodeling job.  I can even quantitate the disruption: of the ~180 h of training planned for me between Sept 1 and Jan 11 I completed only 42%.  In fact, I asked to back out of the training camp, concerned I couldn’t run 13 miles and that I’d spend the entire camp’s workouts being dropped.  My coach convinced me this was not the case and I could not deny how badly I needed a vacation and wanted to put in some quality swim/bike/run time.  I figured that starting the run at a 10 min pace and finishing at an 11 min pace would be a reasonable success, given the circumstances.

2015

Alligator spotting after 
our recovery run

Friday evening of TriCamp was the first time since I was 17 that I’d done track workouts as part of a team.  We were put into pace groups and I was tickled pink to be paired with another runner.  For one thing, it gave me someone to follow without having to stare at my watch.  But it was also a boost that the coaches thought I could hang with this teammate.  Our first few intervals were comfortably uncomfortable, meaning I could do it but I’d rather slow down.  Then I felt the shift I sometimes do, where inexplicably running just seems easier.  By the end I was sprinting my butt off and felt fantastic in that satisfying I’m-going-to-puke-but-am-stoked-I-did-it sort of way.  This is when I thought I understood the point wasn’t to do well in the half marathon, but to eek it out on tired legs.

Race Day

With that thinking in mind I busted out in a full-gut laugh when I read my individualized racing plan on Sunday morning.  “Is this serious?!”, I asked my coach, who looked to be on his way to being irritated.  And I remembered the pre-camp pep-talk-email where I was supposed to embrace challenges and be positive and followed up with, “sorry, I’ll be able to do this in 20 min, it just took me by surprise.”  That sentence had a surprising effect on me – by golly, I was going to try to hit those paces, just like everyone else was going to try to hit theirs on equally tired legs.

I’m going to credit Emily just as much as Jack and Matt for my run.  I enjoy my coaching 100% but don’t know what to do with statements that seem ridiculous to me.  “We’re going to swim as a group for this” invaribly means ‘I will get dropped within 3 strokes and swim the whole thing alone and frustrated’.  I hoped I was going to be running with her again since we worked well together at the track and a quick comparison of starting pace ranges made me feel better.  She also confessed just enough skepticisim for her race to help me feel like less of a jerk for literally LOL’ing at my race plan.  For the first few miles, working to keep up with her or even keep her in sight helped to keep me from dropping off when I wasn’t sure I could achieve the prescribed paces.

The 2 h pace group [9:09 min/mi] was huge and crowded up the run path and I lost Emily and another teammate while working out how to get around them.  (Though I lined up in front of them, the 2 h group took off at faster than 8:50.  It took me ~6.5 miles to catch them and I used some micro-intervals of running in the gutter to pick them off one-by-one.)  After losing sight of my teammates I chose various strangers to serve as focal points and stuck to the planned paces pretty well, until mile 10 when I couldn’t seem to hit the end game pace.  I fought to not slow down, particularly after the girl I was following turned around, asked “where’s my friend?” and then sped off.  (I offered to be her friend, but I guess she wasn’t looking for a new one.)  I struggled past the well-meaning spectators saying, “you’re almost there” and the super enthusiastic daughter (?) who kept on screaming, “come on mama” at her running companion, and kicked it up a notch when I actually saw the finish arch.  Maybe I should apologize to the two runners I nearly mowed down in the final few feet, but after all that work I really did want to post my best possible time.  The participant in front of me changed her trajectory to step away from the man in front of her, and I chose to ruin their finishing photos rather than take out the camera man.

Cadence Cylcling and Multisport 
Epic Fort Meyers Tri Camp attendees

I’d been so focused on aiming for my target pace that I didn’t even see my overall time until I was lying on the ground after crossing the finish line: 1:57:06 [8:50 min/mi] - I had no idea I had it in me.  This was the first time I  (mostly) correctly executed a race plan, and if not for Emily, I’m unsure the defeatist in me would even have tried. Apparently, just as Jack has told me in the past, I’m capable of more than I give myself credit for.  

Race Report - Ironman Mont Tremblant 2013

This is broken down into aspects of the course, how my training went vs the other two races, and the outcome. 

Part 1 - Course / Location

-- Mont Tremblant is in Quebec ~1.5-2 hours between and north of both Montreal and Ottawa and ~550 mi north of Philadelphia, PA.  It is a ski resort in the winter, so the area is hilly.  When I sought information on the course elevation, I was confused by vastly different reports of altitude gain and have finally concluded this has someting to do with reports sometimes provided in meters and other times provided in feet.  A popular question is, "how does this race compare to such and such", and the following is my point of view on that.  The data tabulated below was collected via Garmin 910XT(IMMT and IMWI), Garmin 305 (IMLP bike) and Garmin 405 (IMLP run) with elevations corrections disabled. 

For starters, the area is absolutely beautiful.  The low humidity made all the vibrant colors in the area really pop.  Plus this destination has several activities right in the village (luge - pictured below, zip line, miniature golf, some fountains to run through), for keeping children occupied while a parent was off racing.  There appeared to be plenty of accommodations here as well, which was very convenient.  (Contrast - I didn't see as much in the way of close accommodations in Lake Placid.  And I think we simply waited to long to book our hotel for Wisconsin so we ended up staying some 10-15 from transition area.) 

-- Activities leading up to race day: The town seemed to have several special events scheduled, such as live music and fireworks.  It made for a very festive environment, particularly if you were staying in the village.  Not to mention the items above and the hiking and casino as additional entertainment options. 

-- Athlete dinner: I think there is some "ho-hum" that comes with having been to more than one of these.  The entertainment was better in Mont Tremblant vs LP or WI, but the inspirational stories were seriously lacking.  Also, perhaps b/c I'm not used to being in this situation, I thought the time required to repeat things in both English and French was cumbersome.  The food quality was certainly better than found at the banquets of the two American races I've done. 
-- Race day: The race began with a fly-over by a couple of fighter jets and the usual booms from a cannon.  The swim was gorgeous.  The lake was very clean and a bit cool.  The official water temp was reported as 66 °F on race day, but I do not think it was that low and thought it felt just perfect for such a long swim in a wetsuit.  This race utilized a wave start, about which I have mixed emotions.  I was in the last wave which went off at 7 am.  The swim start was more crowded to me than the mass start in Lake Placid where it was easy to stay wide for the first loop and avoid contact.  Here the swim start is fairly narrow as it is more of a marina than a beach, and I had contact with others for the first 3-5 of 13 buoys on the outbound leg of this single loop swim.  I loved the numbered buoys that made it very simple to guage how far along I was.  (Contrast - I had no idea where I was in Wisconsin as the buoys didn't appear to be numbered and that race was my first 2.4 mi single loop swim; so I was a bit disoriented during it and particularly so due to the absolutely non-stop thick contact with other participants for the entire WI swim course.) 
-- Transition is a long hike from swim out.  But the wide red carpet was well placed and made this fairly comfortable on my feet.  (Contrast with LP where there was poor crowd control and the spectators had tracked rocks all over the narrower astro-turf carpet and pulled up the seams leaving several places to possibly trip.  Also contrast with WI where the run was up a cold concrete spiral ramp.) 
-- The bike course, as described by others in race reports, has the hills situated in such a way that confident riders won't need to use their brakes except at the 7 U-turns.  That is except for the circumstances where, 1) there are a couple of narrower no-pass zones and I found myself coming up on athletes but had to slow down since I couldn't pass them, and 2) where there are athletes who fail to stay to the right of the lane (as mandated in absolutely every triathlon people!), so I had to slow down as the only real option vs riding into the wrong side of traffic.  Here I'm speaking about the super fun down hills along Chemin Duplessis.  Boy how it hurt to use my brakes there...  I would be very remiss if I failed to mention the absolutely perfect road conditions found in Mont Tremblant.  (Contrast with Lake Placid, where the wide shoulder that many use to train is absolutely dangerous due to the terrible pavement quality.  I recall most of Wisconsin's roads were fine in a chip-and-seal kind of way, while the roads in Tremblant were smoother than a baby's bottom.) 
     The second loop of the course brought head winds that varied in direction, which was a bit demoralizing.  And of course the challenging hill section of Chemin Duplessis was more difficult on the second loop, now coming at miles 101-106.  I have no idea what kind of gearing set-up it would take to be able to spin up this, but I found it easily managable by standing on the pedals and mashing.  I am always amazed to see competitors walking hills in Ironman races, and there were many doing so here (lap 2) as well as in Wisconsin (both laps!), and I saw none of it in Lake Placid. 
-- It was T2 when I realized there were no port-a-john's in transition(?).  How could that be?  I also only saw a few already-open bottles of water.  No water station for those coming in off the bike and it was just so very hot on this day. 
-- The run begins with some tough hills in direct sunlight before transitioning to a very nice (flat-seeming) rail-to-trail path comprised of crushed cinder and covered by a canopy of lush trees.  This area was just beautiful with lake and mountain views as well.  Most aid stations had 2 (I think) port-a-potties that must have been HEAVILY utilized b/c the stench from simply running by them while they were closed was gut wrenching.  For the second loop there were several sections that were a bit dark, which made footing a little uncertain on part of the course where paver stones are used for the cross walks, but had fallen under a bit of disrepair.  Small lights were strung up for the cinder path but they didn't cast much light.  (Similar - Riverside Drive in LP which was darker than dark except for the place where they brought in a generator-powered flood lamp.  Contrast with Madison which is a fairly well-lit state capital city.)  

-- Finishing shoot experience: Mont Tremblant was extremely fun with spectators eating at outdoor restaurants, standing on the balconies of their hotel rooms and lining the walkway as the path snaked down the Pedestrian Village (above) toward the finish line, which boomed with music and people cheering.  This was kinda magical and similar to the covered Fourth St Live where IM Louisville finishes.  (Compare - LP has good crowd support in stands at the finish line but it is a bit thin and dark (!) leading up to and entering the skating oval if you are a late finisher.  Contrast with Madison, where the crowds were somewhat thin at the finish line for the later finishers.)  

-- Spectators: They were pleasant but tame.  There were many fewer spectators here in costumes than in LP or WI.  The course setup is perhaps not very ammenable to getting around. LP, WI, and KY all had busses to move people to a remote viewing area (remote with respect to transition anyway), but I'm unsure this course did.  There was some festivity at the turn around in Saint-Jovite with people sitting outside at restaurants and shops blaring music, but I'm unsure there was a means provided to transfer spectators to/from this location.  And the run spectating was sparse on the cinder trail, which honestly wasn't wide enough anyway to have the additional people.  (Compare LP, which also had lonely remote sections on the bike and run.  Contrast WI, which had multiple viewing places on the bike course as well as home owners in lawn chairs playing music AND a run through the busy areas of State St and the Univ campus which were loaded with people.  WI gets the best course spectating award in my limited experience; too bad they aren't at the finish line though.) 
-- Volunteers and race staff: Fantastic.  If you asked for something and they didn't have it, they knew where to get it (such as 2 tables down or aid station #4).  I passed one station that was out of fruit and I ran on sad only to have a volunteer sprint after me and ask if I'd like some apple sauce (which hit the spot!).  I had medical personelle inquire how I was feeling while on the bike course (medic on the back of a motorcycle), while in the transition tent, and multiple times in the finish area.  They were very attentive.  I can't count the number of times I saw a motorcycle pass with extra bike wheels on it.  I saw such things pass a couple of times in LP and in WI, but litterally countless times in Mont Tremblant.  If I happened upon a volunteer that didn't understand me well, they were always quick to find someone who spoke my kind of English.  And they brought a bunch of energy to the run course where it was getting late and people were feeling kinda awful.  (Contrast examples in LP 2010 - the bike course director who could not be bothered to answer my question during the question and answer time at the athlete pre-race meeting, and who instead actually replied with a snippy response.  And the timing guy who told me to calm down and not yell when the music was pumping so loudly I couldn't even hear myself think.) 

Part 2 - How my training went 
-- Training certainly did not go as planned.  That I got to participate in this race at all was a fortuitous outcome, let alone that I was able to finish it considering in February I was told I needed surgery to debride a torn hip labrum.  So while I hired a coach for this, I was only able to train for 15 weeks beginning from a place of almost no base fitness vs the prior efforts over 20 weeks that began from a solid base of swim/bike/run.  Interestingly though, divided by the number of weeks, my training shows a larger time commitment at ~13 hours per week.  Mileage is not far below that for WI even though I did almost no run training.  "Other" consisted of a mix of ice hockey, which I played weekly, occasional yoga, and a couple of vigorous weekends of re-sodding my property, leaving my friend Pete to opine that I was "gardening toward Ironman".

Part 3 - How my race went 
-- I took the swim easy hoping to draft off the pack of possibly faster swimmers vs killing myself to get by them only to be passed again.  But I think I'm no good at establishing who is worth drafting.  Ultimately this swim was a non-taxing PR, though I was still ready for it to be over at buoy 10 of 13 on the return side.
-- The bike segment started off well enough, but something didn't go right with my nutrition and I was feeling terribly bloated only 2 h into the ride. Despite this, and perhaps because I may possibly be crazy, the only 2 cyclists to pass me my first trip down the Chemin Duplessis were pro's finishing their 2nd lap.  What can I say, descents are fun!  The second lap, however, was anything but.  I felt increasingly ill and was barely eating anything.  Not to mention the headwinds that shifted to face us in every direction.  Nope, not my imagination; other racers felt it too.  I finished the bike segment feeling completely demoralized by my +30 min split difference and really wasn't sure I ingested enough to make it through the run.  I was hot, thirsty, ready to explode, and there seemed to be no needed services in transition. Interestingly, my hip didn't seem to be a problem at all.     
-- I started the run feeling unable to take a deep breath because I was so bloated.  But I remembered something I told a participant at the 1-off Ironman "New York" when she came in off the bike visibly upset and crying lightly.  "Soon the sun is going to go down, it's going to get a bunch cooler out, and you are going to feel better."  Turns out to have been pretty good advice.  I managed to negative split a marathon (by 7 min) that I didn't really think I was prepared for.  Before this, my longest run this year was 10 miles.  Yeah, seriously.  I walked all the aid stations and ate an untold number of orange slices and finished feeling like I had pulled that run straight out of a magic hat. 

Part 4 - Reflections

-- After Wisconsin, I had hoped to continue to move steadily away from being a BOPer (Back of Pack) toward being a MOPer (Middle of Pack) in Mt. Tremblant.  And I'd like to say, "Oh well, maybe next time..." except that next time is in Boulder, Colorado and, as I have difficulties adjusting to altitude, I predict that will be a very difficult event for me and not a new PR.  This is not meant, however, to express disappointment in the outcome of my IMMT race which, in all honesty, I'm lucky to have been able to start and even luckier to have been able to finish given the shorter training schedule and on-going uncertainties with my hip.  For this I must thank my coach, Jack Braconnier (Cadence Cycling & Multisport), who was willing to help me (Uhm, hi? Yeah, I have this big triathlon coming up, but can't do any running b/c I'm injured. Can you whip up a training plan for me? Oh yeah, it also has to include yoga and playing ice hockey. Thanks!) and not only believed early on that I could complete this race, but guided me to a finish without further injuring myself.

-- Finally, some additional shout outs.  To my friends Heather, Ashley, Jill and Matt who were also racing this course.  The out and back layout made it possible to see them several times which added some great motivation whether I was getting dropped on the bike or slowly gaining on the run.  This was extra special as I got to share high-5's with Ashley a few times as she closed in on her first full Ironman race finish.  And for a fun new experience I was able to cross the finish line with Heather, who is the one who "dragged" me in to ultra distance racing in the first place 4 years ago.  To Pete, for taking 8000 photos and talking me down from more than one anxiety attack about this race.  And to Ed, who filed an expedited passport application and drove 1100 mi in a 4-day weekend, to spend a 22 h day running around along side a 140.6 mi race course just to cheer me on.