Race Report - American Zofingen Short Course, May 2014

This isn't exactly an easy race to describe.  The short story is that this is a duathlon offering 3 race distances, it's held just west of New Paltz, NY in Mid May, and it is a very hard course.  The specifics go like this.  

-- The run course is 5 mi long, through the Mohonk Preserve on mixed terrain.  Mixed being grass/dirt/rocks, crushed cinder, over a downed tree and also over planks of wood that act as mock bridges.  It is not entirely run-able, as some sections of this hiking trail are just so steep.  The elevation gain is ~825 ft (by my watch).

-- The bike course is 29 mi long with an elevation gain of 2885 ft.  

Bike Course

 

Run Course

The 3 event distances are:
-- Short Course/CWD (= Canadian Women's Division, a.k.a. "hard") - 5 mi run, 29 mi bike, 5 mi run = 4535 ft elevation gain.
-- Middle Course/F1/Chris Gleason Memorial (a.k.a. "extremely hard") - 5 mi run, 29 mi bike, 5 mi run, 29 mi bike, 5 mi run = 8245 feet elevation gain.
-- Long Course (a.k.a. "sadistic") - 5 mi run, 3 loops for 87 mi bike, 3 loops for 15 mi run = 11,955 feet elevation gain.

Those facts however, don't quite do this event full justice.  Some of the color commentary collected over my years of attendance go like this: this race is where open running speed goes to die; if it were easy, if everyone finished, it'd be called Ironman; this event is harder than Ironman Lake Placid; the AZ course is like stapling your sack to the floor and standing up!!.  The national anthem is played on a bagpipe; the piper sometimes wears a kilt; the flag is a US-flag-imprinted umbrella.  Packet pick up used to be held some 12 miles away in a shack tucked away up a steep and narrow road that put you in a place where you expected to hear banjos playing and to perhaps be surrounded by a pack of ill-cared-for dogs.  See also this blog for additional comparisons to other sporting events.

Some some scenes from the course.

Transition

Road in park to transition area

Along Butterville Rd

Along Rt 44/55

Along Rt 44/55

Along Rt 44/55

Somewhere along Granite/Lower Granite (I think)

Why this event?
Well it started with Heather.  She does the long course and in Oct 2011 (when registration opened) suggested I give it a try.  I read the distance description and knew I couldn't tackle such a thing so early in the year, as hockey is my main focus over the winter months.  I signed up for the middle distance and conned my friend Ashley into doing so as well.  That first year (race in May 2012) I had no goal and also no honest understanding of what I had gotten myself in to.  It was really warm out and I took the DNF after completing the 2nd run lap instead of destroying myself to go for the event finish.
-- R1, 1:08:28 (stopping for nearly 10 min to help a girl who was cramping and freaking out)
-- T1, 3:52
-- B1, 2:13:40
-- T2, 3:51
-- R2, 1:18:12 (wiping out after tripping over a rock)
-- This DNF totaled 4:48:03 and would have been a 3rd place finish in my age group had I signed up for the short course.

May 2013 was supposed to be retribution, but I was technically a DNS as I was never going to be able to participate after the time I'd taken off from training while trying to sort out what my hip issue was.  I still went up there to ride one lap of the bike course while my friends raced.  The weather was terrible.  Cold, rainy, low 50's at the race site but colder and super foggy out on the bike course, and a drastic change from what was predicted for the weekend.  Most participants were inappropriately dressed for this reason.  I actually stopped for a bit b/c I was shaking so hard I was afraid I'd crash.  Read this epic race report for a better understanding of conditions that day.
-- B, 2:27:00.

2014 was about a legitimate finish.  And to make sure it happened, I registered for the short course.  Goals included dialing in my transition times, keeping both run segments <1 h, beating my DNF time and hopefully posting a better bike time.

My race
For starters, I veered from my normal pre-race dinner (salmon) to have the special (pasta), and also slept poorly, in an uncomfortable bed possibly wrapped in plastic; at least that would explain why I was so damp-feeling all night.  At any rate, my first run lap was terrible.  My legs felt super heavy and also too unresponsive to run over the varied surface.  I walked all the up hills and even most of the down hills.  I was dropped right away and within the first few minutes knew my whole day was not going to go to plan.  

In this "run" I pondered how I could be so drastically under trained for this, decided I would not do Boulder, quit triathlon and training in general, and also decided to quit hockey and be a fat/lazy slob for the rest of my life.  Yes, I was that unhappy.  I also contemplated cutting through the woods to quit without even finishing out the first run leg.  I wonder what I would have done if I hadn't carpooled with Ashley, but at the time I realized waiting around for her would be boring, so I may as well keep plugging along.  Since I knew I was last, I squatted in the woods for a moment of relief, so I could try to keep other portions of my race on track.

Specifically, T1.  Stopping for the bathroom during transition would have killed my time goal.  As it was, I did a great job here even though I split my focus to tell Mindy what had happened to me.  (I was sooo late she was worried about me, and I appreciate that someone was).  I exited transition with a celebratory fist pump in the air which motivated the crowd to cheer me on.
 
I found the 2nd to last person on the first climb of the loop, weaving dangerously all over our lane of travel, but it took me until most of the way down the first decent to catch up with her (mi ~2.5).  By this point she was riding just about in the middle of the road, and the car and I had to move into the on-coming lane to get around her.  I wasn't feeling as good on the bike as I did my first year here, as my finger splint affected my breaking a bit which led to reduced confidence in bike handling.  My max speed on a course like this is usually about 40 mph but it was only 35 mph this time around.  I was also cold and grumpy that I had ripped off my long sleeved shirt out of defiance after finishing the first run lap.  There may have been some head winds along the southern edge of the course that also contributed to my slower-than-desired pace.  

Emotions on the bike ranged from "yay, at least I'm biking now and in my element", to "damn, wish I didn't take off my extra shirt b/c now I'm freezing," to "I hate this and why the F do I keep signing up - I'm never doing this again," to the total boost of FINALLY passing someone round about mile 27.  I was not going to be last!  But I sure didn't hit my desired average bike pace.  

I hit my T2 goal time and felt really good coming off the bike.  Seriously good.  Legs felt strong, feet felt light.  I decided to cast aside all things that had not gone as planned today and shoot for the new goal to negative split the run.  I power marched all the serious up grades and ran down them confidently.  I pushed hard for the finish, completing this run 10 min faster than the first one and feeling really proud that despite the bad start and missed goals, I came very close to hitting my desired overall race time (which was 4:29).

Results
R1, 1:10:23, pace 14:05 min/mi, (last place)
T1, 1:22
B, 2:18:05, 12.6 mph, (60th place)
T2, 1:06
Run, 59:56, 11:59 min/mi, (50th place)
Finish, 4:30:55, 3rd to last place.

This event is small enough (67 short course participants, 65 finishers) that I managed to get a mug for being 3rd in my age group.  Never mind there were only 3 of us, total.

Lessons for next time
Next time?  I'm sure you wonder why I would ever come back here.  This question gets asked whenever I talk about this course, and also by myself while I'm doing it.  I suppose I have to start with "why do anything?"  Why do any race a first time?  For the beautiful venue?  For the race organization?  For the personal challenge?  Yes, those things, but also because merely attempting this one makes me stronger both physically and mentally.  I also get a kick out of this small event where I recognize some faces from the few years I've been a repeat customer.  And let's not forget this reason - the middle distance course and I have unfinished business.

To that end, I've got the following take away lessons.  First off, doing well at this event requires sincere off-season focus.  This isn't a "nice little event to throw in the beginning of the season, to start things off".  Sure, it can be one hell of a work out.  But doing my best here means this event will get A-race status next time around.  Secondly, what ever kind of winter we may have, I think I can look forward to plenty of off-season squats.  Or maybe I can find a 20-story building that will let me run up its fire stairwell.  Third, I should stick to what works for my pre-race meal, even if the special on the menu sounds yummy.  Finally, I guess I'm now at an age where hitting the ground running requires a pre-race warm-up, so I'll bring my bike trainer and spin for some minutes before moving my bike to transition.  I used to think only the people hoping to win races did this, but now see it might also be for people who need to start out a crazy trail run with a good amount of agility so they don't break an ankle.

Pre-amble to 2015 race
Hey Zofingen,
I want you to know I hear you over there, whispering and giggling in your little group with my other inner demons. I see you smugly swinging your satchel of crushed souls without a care in the world. It only seems fair to warn you, I'll be taking mine back tomorrow. No, I don't expect it to be easy. In fact I'm pretty sure it's going to hurt. A lot. It's still gunna happen though. Until then...,
-Sue.

Race Report - Treasure Island Sprint Triathlon, Oct 2013

Taking place in Point Pleasant, NJ, on Oct 6, this was the 6th running of this event (or so I think I heard the RD say at the morning pre-race meeting, though I only find 2 prior years of results).

Why this event?
After Mt. Tremblant, I was looking for something to do with myself and had considered the ChesapeakeMan Aquabike event (2.4 mi swim, 112 mi run) on Sept 22.  I thought this race would be a nice opportunity to push the swim pace which I never do, and also to demonstrate better nutrition on a long bike segment.  But the problem was I was pretty darn slow to recover following this year's ironman.  I felt better the few days following the race (as I have I the past), but then I started feeling worse.  My efforts at very short runs and longer bike rides were uncomfortable and, still not understanding what the heck is going on with my "hip", I backed out of doing this event.  I titled the email to my coach containing this decision "empty calendar" and unexpectedly he came back with this sprint race and "I think it would be a nice race to close out Tri season with and take a run at a podium spot!".  

Podium spot?  Is he delusional?  I typically finish after 75% of the field no matter the race distance.  But I figured, what the heck, and conned 1 friend (different age group!) into signing up with me.  

The Course
- The 0.25 mi swim was a very acute triangle, essentially an out and back along the shore line of the Manasquan River, and was salty.  Beach access, in water start.  I'm guessing low 70's for water temp.
- The 10.5 mi bike was 4 loops of a popsicle design (6 x 90 degree turns), actually looking more like a lower case letter d with transition near the bottom of the straight edge, with minor surface undulation that can't be called hills but prevents the word flat from being appropriate either.
- The 3 mi run was 1 loop of the bike course.  If you're confused about how this math adds up (1 loop = 3 mi, 4 loops = 10.5 mi?), you're not alone.  

Race Management
The event was very small, with a limit of 300 participants (I believe) among the duathletes, triathletes, aquabikers, and kayak triathetes, so packet pick-up was a snap.  Course markings and volunteers were ample for such a short course, and the 2 aid stations were more than I could figure out how to use.  The race venue is a river front park with the finish next to a covered picnic area, which had enough goodies to meet my immediate needs.

My race
All the women were in the last wave with the aquabikers.  I lined up at the front of the swim and had no contact issues as the fast swimmers left quickly and the water was mostly clear for me.  My swim time probably reflects the benefit of my not having to swim around anyone else.  I got out of the water and quickly got the top half of my wetsuit off, and then discovered how awkward it is to run with the long arms flapping around me.  So I grabbed those in one hand and continued on, across sand, a small bit of dock, and then across grass to transition.

I got my wetsuit off easily enough but had a slow transition anyway.  My pony tail was up a bit high and interfered a little with getting my helmet on.  And I fumbled with getting my race belt on.  I'm not used to messing with it during T1, but this race wanted us to wear the number on the bike.

The road was just wide enough for the number of participants and was shared concurrently by cyclists and runners.  I shifted gears frequently since the road wasn't completely flat, and most of the time my chain was rubbing (seems I need a derailleur adjustment).  I wanted to try to push 20 mph, believing I needed to in order to stand a chance of placing, but I couldn't hit it.  I seemed to be between 16.8 and 18.8 when ever I looked and was wondering if I could even keep that up.  Usually I put a lot of fluids away on the bike but I was so focused on maintaining my pace that I nearly forgot to drink anything.  Luckily it wasn't hot. 

T2 was pretty simple.  I lost a couple of seconds debating whether or not to grab my gu (Honey Stinger brand, actually).  I didn't feel like I needed it before the swim (which is what I brought it for) and couldn't think clearly whether or not I wanted it now.

I tore into the gu upon leaving transition, then fumbled with getting the wrapper into my back pocket.  But I stuck with it rather than being one of those inconsiderate types who just dumps their trash where ever along their paths to greatness.  At this point it was clear I was running at an unsustainable pace (watch said just over 8 min/mi) so I slowed a bit.  But I made sure to press hard enough that I was continuously uncomfortable, which was a completely different strategy for me vs the ultra distance races.  On the out and back section I counted that I was at least the 7th woman back, but I hadn't seen a single calf from my age group all race long.  Reading the participant list ahead of time had me thinking there'd be 6 of us competing today and I had no idea where they were.  A couple of younger women passed me shortly before I was going to let myself pick up the pace again (at least 9 places back now), and the 2nd one invited me to keep up.  I thought it was too soon when she asked but I did damn near catch her at the finish line after all, crossing just 2 sec behind.

At that moment I was pretty pleased with how I did, whatever it turned out to be, and I was grinning from ear to ear as I sprawled out on the grass to catch my breath.  The girl I nearly caught came over to say great job and added something about it being particularly cool I nearly caught her b/c she was "like 10 years younger."  As per the results, she was actually 18 years younger (gah!).  I spotted Katie's turn in to the final stretch and she looked pretty happy too, giving the finish line photographer 2 big "thumbs up". 

Results
Swim, 7:45, pace 1:50, 65th place
T1, 2:54, 60th place
Bike, 31:24, 20.1 mph, 36th place
T2, 1:08, 72nd place
Run, 23:41, 7:54 min/mmi, 85th place
Finish, 1:06:49.

This put me at 58th out of 141 finishers, 11th female out of 46 non-relay team women, and 1st in my age group.  Boo ya.  The only 3 women to beat me in the bike split were the top 3 finishers and I'm pretty pleased by that.  Some fast ladies showed up this year b/c my time would have put me only 33 sec behind the 3rd place overall for women last year and would have earned me 2nd place in 2011.  Although there is something amiss with the reported race distance (as *I* do not run 7:54 for 3 miles, particularly not this year!), this was a nice little event that I'd recommend to anyone looking for a low-stress fun end-of-the-season race.

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.

Race Report - Wildwood, NJ (Sprint), Aug 2011

The point of the original post below was to make fun of all the things I did wrong.  But to actually be a race report, I'd have to tell you something about the race.  Generally, I don't care for sprint triathlons.  I think they are more trouble in preparation, early arrival, set up/take down than they are worth for the fun they provide.  And I'm never going to win, so I prefer the longer events where I get some good solid fun for my efforts.  This beach tri is an exception though.  The ocean swim and beach run make this a challenge, enough so to make up for the unfortunate 4 loop bike course up and down the main street area of town.  Plus the post race breakfast spread is the best.

How not to do a race - 20 Aug 2011

by Sue (Notes) on Saturday, August 20, 2011 at 10:27pm

You know those things you're not supposed to do for a race?  Today I did all of them.  The event was a sprint triathlon in Wildwood, NJ: 0.25 mi ocean swim, 10 mi bike, 3.1 mi beach run.

In almost chronological order, it started when my new pedals/cleats arrived on Wednesday.  I excitedly put them on my new triathlon bike shoes, and then went for my first spin with them Thursday morning.  What I discovered is that Egg Beater cleats on a road shoe sole are rather unstable.  Sure, the cleat locks into the pedal just fine, but the sole of the shoe doesn't itself touch the pedals, so my foot felt kinda sloppy and loose rather than securely snug.  Crank Brothers makes a road shoe cleat that adds tread around the periphery of the forefoot, which would contact the pedal spindles and add stability, but I'd have to mail order it.  However, I found a different product (Shimano pontoon) that I thought would add the stability I was looking for, and was able to pick a pair up at a bike shop Friday on my way to packet pick-up.  I installed them on my shoes and went to bed.  Mistake #1 - last minute gear changes.

Neither my friend Kate nor I are morning people, and we decided to forgo early arrival so we could sleep in.  Breakfast at the house was a bust (pre-race food was mis-cooked and inedible), so we had to make a stop on the way to get something else.  This left very little time to settle into transition before the pre-race meeting, and I still needed to try out the cleats.  Wouldn't you know it, they would not go in.  The tread on the Shimano pontoons was just a bit too big for the Egg Beater set up.  I tried a last minute adjustment and hoped it would make things better, cause I was late and had to head to the beach.  Mistakes #2,3 - not leaving/arriving early enough and adding an un-planned pit stop.

Running late, I missed my opportunity for the pre-race swim warm up, but I did go ankle deep and lie down to get wet, so I could get that part out of the way.  This was when I realized I was still wearing a shirt I didn't actually mean to swim in.  Oh well, out of time and already wet, I joined the Yellow caps in the swim coral. This was when I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses in the car.  Slight bummer since it was very sunny out and I always bike with eye protection.

The ocean was calmer this year than last, facilitating entry, exit, and breathing all the way.  But I was a stronger swimmer last year so had a slower time today by 31 sec.  Running was going to be my major hurdle, since my calf was still goofed up after pulling it in a run a week ago.  This made for a very uncomfortable hobble up the soft sand of the beach, to transition.

Sure enough I still had trouble w/ the cleats.  I couldn't clip in at the start and after several tries thought I'd just ride un-clipped on my super tiny pedals.  While riding away I finally got the cleats to engage, so I settled in and started cranking away. A glance at my bike computer to check my cadence revealed... that I forgot to put my bike computer on after replacing the battery last night.  Doh!  So I just rode as hard as I could, saving nothing for the run that I thought I'd have to bail on anyway.  I am pleased to report that 1- I beat last years bike time by 27 seconds, and 2- these pontoon things make the shoes very stable on the pedals and also very stable to walk in - double win for me once I shave down some of the offending rubber so they engage more easily.  (Did this just awhile ago and now the shoe/cleat set up is great!).

I headed out for the run hoping my sneakers would make the soft sand run easier to handle; no such luck.  But my calf wasn't hurting exactly, rather just so stiff that I couldn't run with my usual stride.  I started to feel a little better after nearly a mile on the firmer sand by the water's edge.  Felt even better around mile two, and was able to pick up the pace a bit.  Plus I was somewhat distracted from my calf stiffness by the uncomfortable chaffing that was occurring due to sand plus lack of sock in shoe.  By the end of the run my stride was approaching normal, and I finished with my calf feeling better than it has in days. 

This was the first triathlon I've done where I wasn't gassed at the end, because I just couldn't run fast enough for it to be tiring.  Run segment was about 3.5 min slower, and overall finish time (1:28:17) was just over 6 min slower than last year.   The additional time difference is due to slower transitions this year, again b/c I couldn't run through them well at all.  But I got no complaints, it was a beautiful day and I got to finish an event I was pretty sure I'd have to stop short in.

Moral of the story: when all else fails (proper planning, being injury free), lower your expectations (to do well) hope for the best (to have fun).

Race Report - Ironman Lake Placid 2010

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

Race Report - Ironman Wisconsin 2012

There are some nitty gritty details in here which I'm happy to see as I jump back into training and wonder what nutrition I am going to carry with me on my training ride today.  Jack says 300 calories per hour plus 12-16 fluid ounces, and I don't think I've ever consumed that much while biking.

Ironman Wisconsin Race Report

by Sue (Notes) on Friday, September 14, 2012 at 9:54pm

Very long.  A diarrhea-like dissertation, in fact.  Again, for me.

3:30 am – Alarm clock goes off but I was actually already awake.  I slept pretty well, as I did before Lake Placid.

3:35 am – Use bathroom, clean teeth, and begin hair management.  It’s no longer long enough to French braid – my tried and true race hair style – so I segment it with several rubber bands to achieve the same effect.  Several things to accomplish: tape hamstring and shoulder, put on race shorts, sports bra, hear rate monitor, compressive race top (I could barely breathe by this point), compression socks, IM timing chip, rented athlete tracker GPS tracking device, Garmin wrist GPS, contacts, pants/long sleeved shirt and sandals to wear to transition, checking all these items off a list I made ahead of time.  Fill water bottles.  Eat something – the hotel was very accommodating by opening the breakfast bar very much earlier than normal for all the racers.  This was hard; food just doesn’t go down well this early.  I had a bagel with peanut butter on it, and a cup of coffee, both prepared for me by Ed.  Use bathroom again.  Grab pre-packed Run and Bike Special Needs bags, and Morning Clothes Bag. 

4:45 am – Head to transition.  We parked in the Alliance center b/c we feared terrible crowding and lack of parking at the Terrace.  We were shuttled over by school bus, but still had to walk a couple of blocks.  It was freezing!  Air temp 50 deg.  WHY didn’t I even think to wear my darn jacket????

5-6 am – Deposit Special Needs Bags at drop off points.  Go to transition, find T1 bag and add cropped compression top/sleeves.  Squeeze through the crowds to get to my bicycle.  Fill tires with a strangers abandoned pump.  Put water bottles and athlete tracking GPS on bike (it can’t get wet).  Get body marked – long line and still freezing.  Run ahead to use bathroom and somehow miss rendezvous point with Marianne, Heather, Pete and Ed.  Put on wetsuit in a stairwell, which was far warmer than it was outside.  Applied BodyGlide, but not enough.  Realized I forgot to put my pre-swim nutrition (Gu) in my bag (damn, I was already hungry!).  Called Ed, who came to meet me.  We wait, but the others don’t show up. 

6:30 am – Deposit Morning Clothes Bag at drop point, except my shoes, which I forgot to add.  Find Marianne and Heather.  Thank goodness Marianne had an extra banana to give me.  Heather kindly takes my shoes in with her morning clothes bag.  Announcer telling us we have to get into the water, even though our race doesn’t start until 7 am, because it takes so long to get everyone (2500 athletes) in. 

6:50 am – Starting cannon for the pro’s.  National Anthem (very well sung).  Marianne and I continued in line to get in the water while Heather hung back.  I moved away from the entry point as instructed, so there was room for more people to file in.  I found a small rock to stand on, but had to work to stay on it, otherwise I’d have to tread water until the start, b/c it was too deep to stand on the ground.  I was back maybe 50 yards from the starting line, and closer to the shore than the buoy line.  I observed one participant with a snorkel.  Water temp was reportedly 71-73 deg, and I christened my new wetsuit.

7 am – And were off.  Despite my starting location, things were crowded.  I spent the entire swim like a pin ball bouncing back and forth between other swimmers, also swimming up onto people and having people swim up onto me.  I stayed toward the shoreline on the outbound leg, hoping to gain more open water, but that never panned out.  It was weird watching the Monona Terrace go by as I swam, and I wondered where my family was.  I enjoyed the so-far-so-good feeling of my wetsuit, versus past experiences where this was just about the point in time the choking-induced panic would set in.  And I tried continually to concentrate on my stroke, frequently interrupted as contact with another swimmer (or a dead fish) occurred.  With buoy turn #1 the sun was now straight into my eyes.  I felt glad for all that practice in the Schulykill river, swimming into the sun and almost never seeing the turn around flag until I was up on it.  I felt sure that I would either notice no one was around me, or swim into a kayak, so didn’t worry about not being able to see the buoy.  This was when I got kicked in the face, dislodging my goggles.  I turned around to fix them, so I wouldn’t be splashed in the face while I put them back in place, but this put me right in the way of another swimmer.  I rounded the 2nd buoy intentionally wide as well, and still not alone.  Unfortunately, each time I swam up on someone I made the choice to move to the left or right of them, eventually moving all the way over to the buoy line, then all the way wide, repeatedly.  You know that idiot who seems to swim across the direction everyone else is swimming?  I’m afraid that might be me :-\  I was kicked in the shoulder, and had a hand grab around my ankle.  The contact just didn’t stop.  Still surrounded, I wondered if this meant I was doing better than I did in Lake Placid.  I was feeling pretty good and debated pulling harder, but remembered my training plan which said DON’T PUSH.  This was my first time doing a single-lap 2.4 mi swim, which left me never really knowing how much farther I had to go on this long leg of the course.  Plus, it was very early in what was sure to be a long day, so I tried to refocus on my technique.  Each time we passed a buoy, swimmers farther out than me started swimming in to me.  It seemed many had trouble determining which buoy was for the 3rd turn.  After the 3rd buoy things finally did seem to open up.  It’s funny, what I used to think of horribly disgusting I now consider strategy, and I took the opportunity to avoid needing to make a potty stop and aimed to have enough course left to adequately flush out my suit.  I kicked harder from the 4th buoy to finish, hoping this would bring some liveliness back to my legs.  I swam almost far enough to touch the bottom, then stood up on uncomfortable rocks and ran out.  I didn’t know my finish time since I wanted to be sure I was looking up for any cameras, which apparently found me as I was fumbling with my wetsuit opening. 

> After the fact: 1:37, which is a P.R. for this distance, but still disappointing.  My Garmin 910XT said I covered 2.7 miles.

8:38 am - T1 – My first stripping from my new wetsuit.  Apparently the new one doesn’t come off as easily, especially across the Garmin strap (I had already removed the watch via the quick release).  While running toward the helix I heard the family yell, then I headed up the cold cement, cautious to pick my feet up enough to avoid stubbing my toe (post swim, this was not easy).  In the changing room my handler laid out all my items from my Swim-to-Run Bag for me.  I grabbed my small pack towel to dry my feet and shoulders, so I could put on funny socks (stripped and with skulls on the calves, so my family could pick me out more easily) and cropped long-sleeved top.  As expected, this was a challenge and I was happy the handler was there to help work the long sleeves up over my still damp skin.  She also helped hold my cycling shoes open so I could slide my feet in while I was buckling my helmet.  Cycling gloves on, glasses on, nutrition shoved into pockets, snot rag under leg elastic.  Ran outside to sunscreen application, where I pulled my white shirt up over my shoulders so some guy with blue (nitrile?) gloves could rub me (interesting…).  Long run continued across the top of the building – jeez is this as long as a football field?  The bike handler unracked my bike for me and brought it to the center isle, where I transferred my Garmin to the bike mount and put the GPS tracker back on my ankle.  Then I continued across the deck to the mount line, and looked at the race time clock.  I swear it said 1:58 and I thought crap – this is exactly as bad as Lake Placid. 

> After the fact: 11 min, Garmin says 0.46 mi, and the GPS people think my wearing the device on my ankle is the reason it didn’t work - something about signal interference from either the bike and/or the ground.

8:48 am – Weather report says the temperature should peak at 70 deg at 4 pm.  But it was not there yet and as soon as I start rolling I was cold and thankful for my make shift shoulder covers.  Plan was to start out easy, all the way to mile 56.  I was particularly cautious on the beginning of the course: the helix down to street level, John Nolan due to all the ruts in the road, and the single file no pass zone across the bicycle trail.  As soon as I could get into aero position, I was passing people continuously and effortlessly.  My average was only ~17 mph; surely this couldn’t be pushing too hard?  I realized that I forgot to put sunscreen on my face, and that my feet were cold.   It was windy, coming from the North and peaking at 12 mph according to the forecast, and I was riding with a death grip on my aero extensions and watching cyclists in front of me get blown by the cross wind.  Somewhere in here I had my first Gu.  I reached the loop (mi ~14.5) still passing people and thought I should perhaps back off some.  I was also glad to not be among those already stopping for the bathroom or their special needs bags.  I like to eat during steady low grade climbs, and think I broke into my Hammer nutrition bar around mi 20-23.  By the time I got to the water stop in Cross Plains (mi ~39) my average was ~16 mph.  I filled my water bottle, added my Accelerade powder, and pick up more food (banana, Gu, Bonk Breaker), never stepping off the bike.  I was definitely consuming less fluid than in my training, but it was much cooler so I guessed that made sense.  The hill sections, Old Sauk Pass, Timberline Lane, and Midtown Rd were lined with people, making these - the hardest on the course - a bunch of fun.  I passed mashers and walkers while I concentrated on spinning up as much as I could.  (Walkers?  Hmm, never saw that in Placid).  I saw my family at the top of Old Sauk.  By the time I’d climbed Midtown (mi ~50) my average had ticked all the way down to 15.3, I was concerned I was pretty far from my goal finish, and I decided to pick it up a bit ahead of schedule.  My goals were to bank as much speed as I could on flats and descents and hopefully loose less on the next pass of hills.  I finished lap 1 enjoying the beautiful blue sky and feeling glad the ride wasn’t over yet.  Lap 2 was fine.  I debated the merits of removing my long sleeved top (I’d look better in photos!), but decided it wasn’t hot enough to waste the time doing it.  The course was a little thinned out now, but I continued to pass people regularly.  My knees began to hurt around mi 70-80, and eventually I joined the mashers (but not the walkers!) on the 3 major hills.  Heading back into town, I passed Marianne somewhere between mi 100-106, and still felt in good spirits.  That all changed around mi 108 or so, when I guess I’d had enough of the headwind and was completely ready for this to be over.  I didn't want to do any running, particularly not a marathon, and I wondered why on earth I had already signed up for another one of these races.  I felt like I needed a bathroom in a potentially explosive way.  I wondered what biking up the helix might do to my legs, but it actually was not bad at all.

Other notes: “Salt tabs” (2 Endurolytes) at bike time ~2.5 h and ~5 h.  Necessary?  No idea.  Also – many many flats/bike issues on this course (but I never saw any glass?), left me wondering what tire pressure people were using (mine was 100 psi).

> After the fact: 6:57, 16.1 mph average.  Garmin says even split for outbound/inbound and slight negative split for the loops, 6437 ft elevation gain (more than Lake Placid!), and only 2 min 15 sec of stationary time (2nd water/nutrition stop was Mt. Horeb, mi ~70).  This is also a P.R. for this distance.   

3:46 pm – T2 – I could not stand upright.  I moved my Garmin from the bike mount back to my wrist, swung my leg back over the bike and rear mounted water bottles, but could not stand upright.  It was kinda comical.  I walked bent over at the waist into the building.  Also, I don’t know why, but my ribs were hurting under my right arm.  I felt a bit out it when I picked up my Bike-to-Run bag; couldn't quite decide if I needed/wanted help or not when asked.  In the changing room, I tried to stretch out my cramping some while my handler laid my things out for me (love these people, by the way!!).  Let’s see, bike shoes, helmet, white top and cycling gloves off, running shoes and race belt on, exchanged used snot rag for fresh one, grabbed new packet of Endurolytes.  I walked outside (upright!) and accepted more sunscreen.  I stopped at the porta potties (stressed by a report of no TP) and found I was only gassy.  I continued my walking until I hit transition exit.  I was thinking a 5 hr marathon wasn't possible, that the info packet I put together for my family was going to be completely off, and that a 15 hr finish was more likely.

> After the fact: 7 min, Garmin says 0.2 mi.

3:53 pm – I was determined to start the run by running no matter how uncomfortable it was.  I figured a terribly slow run was certainly better than a walk.  Saw the family right away, which was a boost to stop feeling so pathetic.  Was utterly confused at miles 1 and 2 when my watch reported a 10 min/mi average pace and thought, well that’ll never hold.  Game plan was to eat (Gu) roughly every 45-50 min (alarm set on watch), walk all the aid stations where I grab fluids (and fruit if the mood stuck), and walk up all the steep hills.  First walk was up to Randall Stadium (mi ~2.7).  The lap inside is just the small square around the football field (not a quarter mile track) on rubbery astro turf.  This was less cool than I imagined, and the small loose black rubber pieces were getting inside my shoes.  The photographer here aimed at me, shot, looked at his camera, and said oops.  I considered stopping for him to try again, but didn’t.  I started to think about a potty stop since running was leading to ~sensations~.  I stopped around mi 4 and happily realized this was still just a gas issue, which could be managed without further stops (toot!).  Now at Observatory Dr (the largest hills on the run course), my average had slipped to ~11:30 min/mi.  By the 6.5 mi turn around I was hurting generally everywhere, with definite blisters on my toes, my timing chip cutting into my ankle, and I thought my right hamstring was going to go.  I heard the family excitedly scream my name but could only feign enthusiasm in return.  Saw Heather’s Aunt and Uncle, and then Pete shortly thereafter, and then Marianne.  Another participant asked how I was doing, and I admitted concern that my hamstring would seize.  She offered me ibuprofin, which I gladly accepted.  WOW – that, and a caffeinated Gu (Roctane) - by mi 8 I was almost a new person.  Even my toe blisters stopped bothering me.  Other uncomfy rubbings however, were starting to develop.  I haven’t done enough of these events yet to feel comfortable with the public application of Vaseline on my nether regions, and it’s not easy to be discrete when you have a stream of runners with you and coming at you.  Anyway, THIS kids, is why you don’t really want to be high-fiving all those athletes (:-O  It was just about mile 11 that I saw Heather, and I was done with the first lap soon thereafter.  I thought I might have heard my name, but didn’t see any familiar faces.  Taking inventory, I was feeling pretty ok, and wondered whether I'd have enough left in the tank to kick up the pace w/ 3k left to go, as my training plan allowed.  I was pretty sure I'd have to use the bathroom before the finish line but did not want to do it in the dark (porta potties, potentially no TP, and pitch black conditions should be avoided if at all possible).  I had been consuming more fluids than usual and it was adding up.  Everyone was handed a glow necklace, which I protested since I put LEDs on my running shoes.  But since I had to take it, I shoved it down the back of my shirt.  One nice thing about dusk is that’s when the chicken broth is offered, and I worked this into my rotation of fluids.  After my second trip through the stadium I stopped to clean the crud out my shoes (ahhhh), saw Marianne again, then made my planned potty stop.  I cruised the rest of the run (still walking the major hills) with lots of people telling me I looked good or strong, and hey - cool socks or cool shoe lights!  It was now dark and I hadn’t looked at my watch in awhile, so I had no idea what my pace was.  But I switched the view over to total race elapsed time at the 22 mile turn around and saw for the first time that I could probably break 14 h.  I tried to pick it up in the final 3 mi and skipped a couple of aid stations b/c I knew there was more fluids and food at the finish line.  In the finish chute, I backed off a bit so I could give plenty of room for the girl in front of me to get a nice finishing shot.  Ultimately though, she was going too slowly so I zipped around her and finished feeling fabulous.

> After the fact: 5:02, average pace 11:31 min/mi.  And no, I did not break the iron tracker; it’s been long regarded as sucky even without my involvement!  Garmin says 1138 ft elevation gain.  Splits (painfully calculated by hand) are all over the place, but fairly close for 1st and 2nd laps.

8:55 pm – Overall time 13:55:40.  This was 2 h 41 min better than Lake Placid, not too shabby!!  And holy cow – I set a marathon P.R. too!  My catcher asked how I was feeling, and she seemed a bit taken back by my enthusiastic, “I feel great!”, so I confessed that I was glad to be done and wouldn’t mind getting off my feet.  I got a medal, a finishing T that fits (!), a hat, a finishers photo, and a chocolate milk (Ironman's shiny new recovery drink).  Finally noticed some stinging in my lower back – another place where some kind of chaffing occurred (likely from the corners of Gu packets scraping/poking me) that I didn’t catch in time.  Got congratulations from the family and ate real food (well, something other than fruit and Gu’s at any rate).  Ed nicely collected Marianne's and my gear bags, so I got to put on sweats, and then he took them to the car and moved the car closer (all of this is code for *don’t do these races without support*!!!).

~9:30 pm – Secured location to watch/cheer for remaining finishers.  Really noticed how empty the finishing area was compared to both Lake Placid and Louisville.  This race may have better/more bike course spectating (it's great, actually), but the finishing approach was really pretty thin.

~12:05 am – Ed and I collect Marianne's and my bike from transition and the three of us made our way to the car.  We met up with Heather at the hotel, who kindly returned my shoes and swapped some race stories with us.

1:30 am - Hit the sack.  It sure has been a long day!