Prelude
I had volunteered at Ironman Lake Placid on two prior occasions without signing up, and told myself if I ever volunteer again, I will do so. 2013 was to be the year. Monday morning after the 2013 race, I awoke early and made my way to the sign-up line with Paul Huijing, unsure if I was making the right decision. Once they swiped my credit card, it became real and I knew I had my work cut out for me. Training began in earnest last December, and most of it was to be done alone. I’ll skip the training details as I have nothing new to say and get right to the race.
The Swim
I am a fairly slow swimmer and no matter what I do, read, imitate, experiment with – it makes no difference. A 42 minute 1.2m would be a success. Back-to-back 42s at Placid would be a dream. After some last minute confidence boosting from Lisa Totz, I entered the water near the rear of the 1:20 – 1:30 pack. The first loop went well and I exited the aqua pura in 45:00. Not too bad considering all the zig zagging I seemed to be doing. At one point on the way out, I found myself completely in open water thinking this is too good to be true. When I looked up, I saw that I was outside the line of boats and kayaks so I swam right back towards the pack. For 10 or so meters, I even had a view of the yellow chord running underneath the buoys. I noticed a pounding rain while swimming towards the beach and thought how tough it must be for the spectators, including my wife and three daughters. I felt great the second loop. My perimeter swims at Crystal were paying off. I rounded the first turn buoy, rounded the second turn buoy, and was cruising home. The swim being my biggest source of anxiety, I was ecstatic knowing that I was maybe 300 meters from the finish and that first victory lap to T1. That 42:00 loop was in the bag! Sure it was raining again, so what? I saw a couple guys swimming perpendicular to me and thought they were lost. Then I turned and saw many others swimming in the same direction. I stopped swimming, treaded water and discovered that the boats were directing everyone in my vicinity towards the shore. I briefly considered going for the beach but thought that may disqualify me, so, along with 700 others, I swam to the shore. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my triathlon and marathon career.
We swam to a house with a deck hanging over the water. Only two people could go up the deck stairs at a time so I waited my turn. Once up, I started helping other people get onto the deck, not knowing what else to do. Were we out of the race? Were we to stay on the shore until the lightning passed and resume the swim? How would that affect times? No one seemed to know. Then, officials on the boats started yelling for us to go to Mirror Lake Drive and get to the bike transition. It was very congested trying to get around the house and I was still on the deck when the homeowner said we could go through the house, which I did. I got to Mirror Lake Drive and began walking, not running, to the bikes. I still didn’t know if we were allowed to start riding. I grabbed my bike gear bag and entered the stinky, overcrowded changing tent. I changed slowly and asked my neighbor if we were allowed to start riding. He said yes, and it was game on. All in all, the swim detour cost me much more time that if I had simply finished the course as normal. Maybe my head was in the clouds, maybe the information was slow in dissemination, I don’t know. I do know the race officials made the best decision given the circumstances.
The Bike
Like many, I entered the race wondering if I had enough bike mileage in my legs to finish strong. I had often heard “it’s all about the bike” and wondered if I had given this discipline the necessary effort. I will take this opportunity to thank Paul Huijing for the many weekend training rides we did together – he made me a stronger rider. The hills did not bother me as most of my training rides incorporate hills. In fact, I seek them out. I left town not having seen my family. I found out later they saw me but it was a little disheartening. The rain was coming down in sheets now. For whatever reason, I am little affected by cold or rain. I’ve been through some hairy situations in my life and knew, short of a catastrophe, I would keep moving forward. During the long descents into Keene, I tapped my breaks two or three times on curves but otherwise flew past many, hitting speeds of 40 mph. I saw Tom Deluca, Russ LePage and Derek Bushey on the 11 mile out-and-back – I was going out and they were coming back. All looked strong. The skies began to clear but there was a headwind on the road back into town before the Bears. I hate headwinds, but gritted through them. The Cyclonaut contingent at the top of Papa Bear was a welcome sight.
The second loop was dry and beautiful and largely uneventful for me. I did see my family near the campground on the way out and that was memorable. I bombed down the previously-mentioned descents at speeds upward of 45 mph, never once touching my breaks. I saw the same Cyclonaut trio at the same out-and-back at about the same places, still looking good. I felt as strong this loop as I did the first, and my splits of 3:20 / 3:21 bear that out. Not earth shattering times but solid enough. I felt good and was looking forward to the run.
The Run
In my sporting life, I do not consider myself a triathlete, a swimmer or a cyclist. I am a runner. It began when I was 15 years old and has never stopped. On May 24, I was on a run and at the two-mile mark, my left calf exploded. I could not continue and limped home. This is a recurring injury and being the cheap, stubborn bastard that I am, I have never sought treatment. I cursed myself the whole walk home, asking myself what the hell was I doing training for this foolish race anyway? Was it only about my ego? Did I have to spend so much time away from my family and the needs of the household so I could be a big shot? Get a tattoo? Stick an m-dot on my car? Join “the club?” Who the hell pays $750 for a race? I was pissed. My wife was hearing none of it. She simply said if you can’t run, then you’ll walk. So get your ass out there and start walking, and I’ll walk with you. I am constantly reminded why I married my best friend.
We started walking several times a week at a brisk pace. Not exactly Ironman training but what choice did I have? Eventually, I peppered in some one- and two-minute run breaks into my walks. “Run” may be too strong a term here, but it was faster than straight walking, if only barely. Gradually, those “run” breaks became longer, until I was running more than walking. Still fairly slow, but it felt good. I entered the marathon portion of the race with a plan of running 8 minutes and walking 2 minutes for as long as I could. As it turns out, I was able to keep this pace up for the duration (though I walked through the aid stations even if I was on my scheduled run segment). I finally began actually seeing those who came out in support of the athletes. My family was thrilled each time I passed, and Camp Cyclonaut was rousing. I developed leg cramps within two miles of the run start, and hoped they were merely bike cramps finally making their presence felt. I was able to walk these cramps out every time with no great effort. I kept waiting for the moment when I had to dig real deep to continue but that moment never came. Each cramp I had I was able to walk out fairly quickly. I haven’t dwelt on nutrition in this report because I had no real nutrition plan save eat a gel or Clif bar every now and then and drink my Gatorade and water. There were many, many aid stations on the run. In addition to my cold tolerance I also seem to have a cast iron stomach. I drank Perform, water, cola – sometimes all in the same aid station. I sipped chicken broth with ice and munched pretzels. I avoided Shot Bloks or whatever they’re called because they looked gross lying on the road. I could better dial in my nutrition in the future but whatever I did seemed to work, and I finished in a time of 4:31. Not exceptional but better than I had expected.
I entered the oval thinking that I was on the same course that my Olympic idol Eric Heiden won five gold medals in speed skating. The music and cheering was enormous and I crossed the line in a fog – oblivious to my own family and friends screaming my name. I chalked it up to sensory overload and promised I would stop and find them before the finish line the next go-round.
My Time
This is a strange question for me. The clock read 13:35 when I crossed the line and Mike Reilly uttered those immortal words. Deduct the 20 minutes after the pro men started and before I entered the water and that would make it roughly 13:15. My official time is 12:11, but I can’t buy into that because they only counted one swim loop. Had I been allowed to finish the swim and taken a 10 minute T1, my time would have been 13:00 or slightly under. This is my and many others’ dilemma. What is my actual time?
Epilogue
This was my first Ironman and I don’t think my last. My wife and kids were fantastic during my training period and allowed me to do what I had to do without complaint. Paul Huijing is a great friend and training partner and he made me a better athlete with his example and encouragement. Ben Fish is an Ironman sage who doesn’t say much but what he does say is well worth listening to. Brian Person inspired me with his never-say-die attitude and mental toughness. Ben and Brian were tremendous at the race conclusion by getting my youngest daughter into the finish area and helping with my and Paul’s bikes and gear. Dan and Kim Spellacy and kids making the last-minute trek to Placid to cheer us on – and cheer us on they did – will not be forgotten. The beers we drank, and the comradery we shared after the race in front of the hotel watching the race stragglers pass by hoping to finish on time, may have been the highlight of my weekend. Thank you, Lisa Totz, for having me at your Friday night pasta party, Bill Lodi for your genuine encouragement, Jeremy Winn for being there at the bikes, Jill and George Herrick for being everywhere and for your good wishes, Jim and Kelly Sullivan for your HITS Half run/walk advise, Kevin Moloney for those Crystal swims, Donna Weeks for being so nice, Bruce H. for your calming influence, Martha B. for your quiet, kick-ass approach to racing, and I apologize to those I missed. Finally, a thank you to all Cyclonauts everywhere. I’m unable to participate in most group events but reading your training posts and seeing how you all do in various races is inspirational. Maryland 2016 anyone?