Ironman USA Lake Placid - TriathlonFull Ironman

Remembering that all I needed to do was swim my swim and deal with the chip when I got out, I sunk my face in the water and breathed out. The crowd of people I expected was not there. Huddled masses were waiting on the shore, and plenty of others were well behind my 2nd row position. I was pretty far to the right and underwhelmed by the bodies ready to pummel me.

Then the strangest thing happened. I had a contact-minimal swim. Me. Who hates getting punched and kicked and scrummed with in the water. Who has had full-fledged panic attacks at other tri swim starts. Clearly, it was going to be a very fun day.

Mirror Lake was so clear that I could see where there was open water, and I just swam into that. It was awesome! Sure some people grabbed my legs, but whatever, then they went around. A couple of dudes groped my butt, but who am I to judge?

The second loop was just as good as I stayed a little closer to the buoy line and just enjoyed the feel of water on my arms, gliding along at a steady effort, never pushing it too hard.

When I got out it took around a minute to scream to people that I needed a chip and give them my name, so in fairness it should've been a 1:06 swim, which is right on for what I've been training. The easy part over, it was time to take it even easier on the bike.

Heads of spectators were packed in down the chute to T1, which admittedly was pretty sweet with all the cheering. The suburban-garage carpet they put down over the asphalt was pretty cush too. So that's where my $500 went... ;)

Change tent went as expected. Some people were changing everything but their religion in there.

My tri shorts are getting on in years with the pad going the way of the dodo, so I slathered on enough Chamois but'er to cover a healthy gorilla, which scared one volunteer who exclaimed, "Oh my GOD #298, what happened!?"


Is anyone opposed to using segways to get through long transitions?

I love this bike course. With amazing views of the mountains, ripping river gorges just off the road, smoother than whipped cream flat stretches, Christmas scented air, long climbs, and a TdF style crowd-lined chute at the end, this ride was more fun than I even imagined.

As planned, I sang songs to myself, smiled and giggled at people (and myself) for entertainment, chatted with everyone passing me by, and generally had a good laugh the entire time.

My LYC watt gadget that I'm hereby naming Ariel a la Little Mermaid showed me when I went over 200 watts, so I dialed it back and did some sightseeing. The chamois worked wonders, for I was incredibly comfortable, even after 80 miles.

I was so disciplined on this ride that I should've worn a habit and brought a rosary. I held back so much fearing a fitness bonk that I almost fell asleep riding the bike. I was so conservative that Glenn Beck is now riding my coattails.

Push it harder on the second loop.

Fewer pork and beans moments in the change tent this time. That's nice.

Bunk.
1. (adj.) characteristic of something that's messed up: Johnny got his diaper all bunked up after eating chorizo omelettes.
2. (v.) to mess something up: Ryan totally bunked this run up bad.
-etym. These dudes we stayed with from Alabama before the race.

Maybe it would've been better to hammer the bike a little, because then I wouldn't have all this hope for glory on the run. My legs felt like they had done absolutely nothing the whole day, so I bunked this marathon by making a mistake so classic, so overdone, so cliche that in a modern production of Faust, even the fair Doctor wouldn't fall for a ploy so ridiculous.

I went out too hard.

The run starts off going down a long hill, so it's just easy to let this part hammer at your legs, which I knew better than to do, but did it anyway. For the first 6 miles I was going at what seemed like an easy effort but was way too fast, for I was passing people left and right. The pics from this section are great, all cheshire cat, two thumbs up, high steppin' it up the hills. The Greek chorus must've been having a field day.

My family and Alaina's family were out in full force on the course. They even made these bright green shirts that had triathletes in wedding + tri attire on the back which got them big points all day. Best part of the day award goes to seeing them 2x on the run course.

Coming down the hills on the second loop, I hadn't even a sniff of the pile that was coming. And then around mile 16 my legs started getting a little stiff. No problem, down a few salt sticks, grab some powerbar/ade/ironmanwhatevah stuff, take a Gu, we'll be floatin in the gravy boat right to the finish. Didn't work. Mile 18 hurt a lot, and 20 was worse.

Here I dipped into that bag of HTFU looking for my "Badazz Mofo" wallet, but instead found a giftcard to Cramps Unlimited. The groin was first to go, gripping me deep where Jacob beat on the angel, then went the hamstrings and their guitar string twang. Finally, even the calves cramped up and Achilles let out a belly laugh. I saw Alaina looking awesome and we encouraged each other, but I think she knew my ship was sinking. I took somewhere around 12 salt stick tabs from miles 14-24 to fight off the cramps, but none on the bike, so probably too late.

After the race my family said they weren't sure I was going to make it when they saw me from the "hot corner" before my last out-n-back on Mirror Lake Drive. I wasn't so sure either. It was an awfully long 2 miles. As the idea of going sub-11 shuffled out to sea like Edna in The Awakening, some guy, maybe he was just in my head, but he said if I could hold 8 m/m I could still break 11. Time to dig deep like freckle face, and run with my heart like dick dime.

Saw the family one last time before the oval, and just as I turned the corner, cutting it sharp I saw 10:59:40 on the clock with 400m to go. I heard Mike Reilly say something about here comes the last person under 11 hours and I got this turbo jet under my feet. The crowd was thunderous as I sprinted the finish and I think I heard Reilly call my name as I did my best Cannibal Corpse impression, screaming at the finish with 5 seconds to spare before 11:00. Wahoo!

Go out easier on the first loop. Two days before the race I realized I didn't have a plan for the run. On race day, I still didn't have a plan. It showed.

Didn't feel so great, so I visited the med tent and they gave me cup after cup of chicken broth. I chatted with the nurse there who kept asking me puzzling questions that my moldy brain could just barely figure out.


Pacing the run and the bike. It's a long day, so I'm pretty happy. I agree with Springsteen. It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive.


IMLP is a great race. The volunteers are the very best that I've ever been around. The course is beautiful. The spectators cheer themselves hoarse. And I love love love the Adirondacks.

That said, I won't do this race again for a long time. There are so many other IM courses out there that I'd love to do, especially the local, non Ironman branded ones that I can't see myself doing this again. Being my first IM, the big show/spectacle was pretty cool. But I don't need it to enjoy my race. Fini.