Ironman Lake Placid - Triathlon

Not bad. Minimal contact throughout. Wound up close to the inside and sighting off line for most of the swim.

Wetsuit strippers were amazing. Run up to transition was a little jarring, but carpet was nice. Transition tent was amazingly hot, but well-staffed.

Wear top under wetsuit. Consider wearing tri shorts for swim; will I be sufficiently comfortable riding 112 with tri shorts, or do I need bike shorts?

Incredible ride. Easier than Rev3 Quassy Half or Holiday Hell.

The initial climbing was just the right amount of work; I had to force myself to hold back, and wound up passing lots of people anyway while keeping HR at 140-145. The descent into Keene was awesome; maxed out at around 45 mph, minimal other riders, plenty of road surface. Hammering on the rollers felt great; averaged around 20 mph without pushing it. The climb back up the notch caught my attention, so I pulled back until hitting The Bears. (And really, somebody thought those were tough?) Same through loop 2, except I really felt it coming up the notch. I hit the 100 mile mark at around 5:48, and it took just over an hour to make the last 12 miles.

Somewhere during the last few miles, I downshifted my front derailleur and heard something snap. "Oh, shit" indeed. I gingerly turned the pedals a few revolutions. Everything felt okay, but the front was stuck in high. I peeked down, and saw that the cage on my front derailleur had snapped. I unclipped my right foot and tapped the side of the derailleur while pedaling, and it downshifted readily. And there it stayed. (A week after the race, I bought a spiffy new derailleur online. Yay! Only I didn't thoroughly check the listing and bought it from a place in the U.K. Boo! [for transit time, took about a month] So I "fixed" the derailleur with a pair of pliers and some elbow grease. Got me through the Charles Island Sprint, anyway.)

Consider adding 120-mile training rides. Get a new bike.

Did I say the tent was hot? Somebody turned up the thermostat since I'd been in earlier that day. Still, nice to sit for a few seconds.

The plan was to run until I needed to walk. I actually ran most of the first two miles before settling into a rough run:walk of 1:1 that gradually increased. No problems on the first loop. I ran into Greg near the turnaround; pretty cool to see someone after 20 years like that. I saw Nancy and Kellie just after special needs, and I heard Dawn and Peter (?) on the second loop out of town. And then I heard Laurie yelling my name, and I had to turn around and run back a few steps.

My feet started to hurt on the second loop; blisters on the front of my feet and toes. It got painful to run the last few miles, so I walked more and more.

Best part was hitting the last turnaround. I started to jog along the water, past special needs, past the screaming crowd, and when I hit the last downhill I started to run, running into the oval, into thunder and noise and chaos, and I realized my feet didn't hurt anymore, and I ran with my arms outstretched like I owned the venue, and the last 100 yards were a dream, and then I was at the line, and I raised my fists to the sky and screamed in triumph.

(I'm sure that the actual finish was more like an old-and-busted creaky version of me lifting his limp hands to about chest level and letting out a cry that sounded like "oh god let me die please", but I prefer the version in my head.)

Train for the run.

No idea. Clay was there and got my medal, an astronaut blankie and walked me around so as to make sure I wasn't going to die. Had some cold pizza and chocolate milk, then it was off to collect my stuff so I could get back to the hotel and sleep.


Lack of training.


It was an absolutely stellar race. The venue had a palpable excitement about it from the moment we got out of the car. The area is beautiful, the people were nice and polite, everywhere I went I felt welcomed and comfortable. The check-in was well organized, the welcome dinner was worth it (although the food was marginal at best), etc. Two days after the race I walked down to the beach and marveled at how 2500 people had been there without leaving any sign of their presence.

I was looking at this as a sort of reboot. ChesapeakeMan 2010 tore me up good, mentally and physically. I was so beat down that it took me about two months to be able to run more than two miles, and I gave up endurance training for several months in favor of strength training. Then I just couldn't force myself to keep going with either. Finally, July 2012, I saw registration for IMLP was opened, and I jumped on it. And even with that registration confirmed, I couldn't force myself to stay training.

Until January, when I started New Year's Day with a 5K (and dragged the wife and kids along), and did something every day that month. Dropped off a bit in February, picked up again in March.

By the time April hit, I was feeling the fatigue, so I changed my training to focus on the bike. Training for ChesMan, I had the thought, train for 80% of the bike and 80% of the run. Which worked great until I got to mile 90 on the bike and put myself into the hole to finish the ride, leaving me in horrible shape for the run. So this time I said I wanted to be as strong as I could be off the bike and I'd deal with the run when I had to. And I think it worked.

On race day, I appreciated the rolling swim start. Some people complained that since you were going out with people at the same pace, you wound up swimming with people the entire time. But how is that any different from a mass start, where you're getting jostled and nudged for 5 min before settling in with a group of people with whom you swim the entire time? This time I didn't feel any pressure to get in the water, and I wound up crossing the arch around 6:45, saw a patch of kind of clear water, and started swimming.

The bike course was incredible. Clint said that I'd use every single gear on the bike, and he wasn't kidding. If my derailleur had snapped on the first loop, I would have been bumming on the rollers out to Keene. It was a great demonstration of the bike fitness I'd developed this year.

And when I got to the run, I still had enough to be able to run for a few miles, and I had absolutely no foot problems on the first loop. Even on the second loop, I could feel blisters forming, but there wasn't that underlying hamburger feel. I wound up draining my blisters about a week after the race, and as soon as I had, it no longer hurt to walk. I went for a run 10 days after the race and made 3 miles in 33 min. Two weeks after the race, I started running 3-4 h/week and haven't had any issues yet.

So, reboot successful. Next stop: Kona. How to get there? Well, compared to the top finishers in my AG, my swim time is +0:38:17, bike is +1:53:18, and run is +3:45:08. Which suggests that I focus on running a bit. I'm looking at having to finish under 11 hr when I'm 45; that's cutting 4:30:00 off my time. But that also gives me a few years to get into real shape. Will I make it? Dunno. But it'll be a hell of a trip no matter what.