Nearly a decade after I did my
first super sprint triathlon, after 6 months of training, 140.6 miles and one
very long day, I finally did it. I’m an Ironman!
It took a long time—16:26:02, to
be exact, but coming into the day I had 2 goals, finishing and having fun, and
I did both, so it was a successful day.
I knew that becoming an Ironman
would require a lot of hard work and time. As it turned out, getting to the
start line, and then to the finish line, also required surviving an ill-timed
run of absurdly bad luck (Caveat: as I write this, there are still parts of my
state flooded by Harvey; the challenges I faced with this race, while
frustrating and stressful, were the very definition of 1st-world problems
and in no way comparable to the true misfortune others are experiencing).
It
turned out there were logistical elements to this race that almost made the
actual swimming, biking, and running seem easy by comparison. If you want to
read about those, keep reading. If not, scroll down to get to the pre-race and
actual race recaps.
As I post this, it's now 4 weeks post-race; I'm sure I'll go back and edit more as I remember new things or my perspective changes, but, in an apt metaphor for the race itself, done is better than perfect, so here it is. And, like the race itself, it's long and took longer than I expected.
As I post this, it's now 4 weeks post-race; I'm sure I'll go back and edit more as I remember new things or my perspective changes, but, in an apt metaphor for the race itself, done is better than perfect, so here it is. And, like the race itself, it's long and took longer than I expected.
The *%#&! I had to go
through before the race
Where to begin? Well, let’s go
back to the last weekend in July, 3 whole weeks before my race. I took my old
reliable tri bike, the bike I had always assumed I’d be riding for my IM, to
the nearby bike shop for one last tune-up/peace of mind check. But turned out that one
of the 2 bolts holding the front derailleur hanger to the frame was stripped so
the hanger was only being held to the frame by a single one. If—when—it failed,
it would be a major problem. I had been riding it without incident all summer with
no idea and had I not taken it in for that inspection, it may well have been
just fine in Mont-Tremblant. But now, knowing it was an issue, I wasn’t
comfortable riding it in that state.
Luckily the race was 3 weeks
away. I had time, right? Well, not so much. While the race was August 20, the
drop-off deadline to ship it out by Tri Bike Transport was August 9—a week and
a half away at that point. The bike shop that found the issue told me they
couldn’t fix it and I’d need to take it to a shop that sold that brand. Luckily
I was quite familiar with just such a shop, having bought the bike there in the
first place—Tri Shop in Plano. I felt very comfortable taking the bike there
for service; if Plano wasn’t a long drive from home I’d take my bike there for
everything. By coincidence and good timing I had a mediation scheduled in Plano
the next day anyway so I took it in. Every attorney goes to mediation with
their bike racked to the car, right?
The mechanic said they didn’t
have the needed bolts in stock but would reach out to Orbea, the manufacturer,
to see how quickly they could get them. Initially they were to come in that
week but by Friday afternoon they hadn’t and best case scenario was Monday,
with drop-off deadline looming Wednesday morning. And even once the parts
arrived the mechanic couldn’t promise they could fix the problem and warned that
the frame may need to be replaced, which of course would take longer and make
the bike unavailable for the race.
I have to give a shout-out here
to Tri Shop because, among other things they did to provide excellent service
through all this, 1) they found a store across the Metroplex that they thought
might have the right parts, and sent someone from Plano all the way there to
buy them if they were a match (they weren’t, alas), and 2) the mechanic called
after hours from his personal cell to check up on it and even offered that if
the parts came in over the weekend, even though he had those days off, he’d go
in after his kids’ soccer game (a wonderfully kind offer, but I told him as a
mom myself I didn’t want him giving up his weekend time with his kids on my
account). None of this showed up on an invoice. They didn’t create my problem
but they went well above and beyond to try to solve it for me.
Given all of this, I didn’t think
I could rely on the tri bike being ready by August 9. My options were to plan
to get the tri bike repaired and use another means of transportation that wasn’t
as time-sensitive, rent a tri bike here or in Canada, or ride something else I
owned. Given my horror show of an experience shipping my bike via Fedex last
year I quickly ruled out shipping by any means other than TBT, which meant
August 9th was my deadline. Renting felt like a big risk to me—I’m a
tricky fit and wouldn’t have any chance to test whatever I got. So that left
riding something else I owned or buying something new and turning around and
shipping it out.
I thought a road bike would work
well on this course but the one I had was old and didn’t fit me particularly
well so 112 miles on it did not sound appealing. I’d been intending for years
to replace it “someday” but with my focus on triathlon I hadn’t seen reason to
spend the money upgrading my road bike. But this seemed like a good time to
make someday today and went to Tri Shop the next morning for a computerized
bike fit.
Result: I bought a new road bike
on Saturday that was well-fitted to my body geometry, got clip-on aero bars put
on it, rode it all of 3 times for practice, and shipped it off on Wednesday
morning. You’d think having to race on a brand new bike would be nerve-wracking
but I actually felt good about it. This bike immediately felt like “my” bike
from the first ride since it was perfectly fitted and set up for me. I named it
Lemonade because when life gives you lemons...
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| A decal I added to embrace the situation |
Well, having to buy a brand new
bike and ship it out to do the longest bike ride you’ve ever done on it would
be stressful enough but alas, the universe wasn’t done with me yet. That
Thursday, a week before we were to fly out, the air conditioner went out at
home and couldn’t get fixed for several days. It was hot, muggy, miserable at
home (it was August in Texas, of course, so temps in the triple digits), so bad
that we went to a nearby hotel one night to get a break from feeling constantly
sticky with sweat. It was fixed by Saturday so wasn’t actually a problem very
long and wasn’t directly race-related, but it was another stressful obstacle to
deal with. But not the last one, as it turned out.
Thursday, August 17, we were set
to fly from Dallas to Montreal around noon. Our flight ended up being delayed
about 3 hours. I took that in stride—it was frustrating having to cancel plans
we had for that night, but we’d still get there, and I took advantage of wifi
and charger outlets to knock out some work as we waited at the airport. Being
late was annoying but not a huge problem.
No, the real problem revealed
itself once we had finally arrived in Montreal when Air Canada informed us that
somehow they had misrouted our entire flight’s luggage to Toronto,
including my and husband’s bag (kids’ bags were carry-on, thankfully). It would
never have even occurred to me to worry that this could happen because how do
you not notice you’re sending a whole flight’s worth of stuff to the wrong
city? How is this even a thing that can happen? Well thanks Air Canada, now I
have something new to worry about when I fly.
They offered assurance that
they’d get out luggage out to us “as soon as we can.” This wouldn’t cut it in
normal situations when my suitcase merely contained my clothes and toiletries,
but mine also included things I needed for my race including my Garmin, Power
Pod, and the nutrition I’d meticulously organized and sorted out earlier that
week. Luckily my bike and gear bag were with TBT so I knew they were safe, but
I had a lot I’d have to replace if my bag didn’t arrive in time. Just remembering
it now makes my blood pressure go up!
Somehow even though Air Canada
knew exactly which airport they’d sent all the bags to they “couldn’t find them
in the system” for almost 24 hours. They kept saying they couldn’t guarantee
delivery Saturday but would “do their best” which is exactly as reassuring as
you’d imagine it to be when so much rides on timely delivery. Thankfully the
bags arrived Saturday afternoon, but not before we had to waste much of our
trip time either trying to get through to Air Canada (every call took at least
20 minutes on hold) or frantically going from shop to shop trying to replace
what we were missing. Fun fact: a surprisingly hard and pretty awkward thing to
find in a ski village? Underwear. Mission accomplished but not without a fair
bit of searching.
I had made a list of things I’d need to replace, both for the race and just for general traveling, and had my brother on standby as he and my parents drove in from Quebec City ready to pick up whatever I still need. By the time the luggage arrived, I pretty much just had time to get my suitcase and dump everything out to get my bike and run bags ready for drop off by the 4pm Saturday deadline.
I had made a list of things I’d need to replace, both for the race and just for general traveling, and had my brother on standby as he and my parents drove in from Quebec City ready to pick up whatever I still need. By the time the luggage arrived, I pretty much just had time to get my suitcase and dump everything out to get my bike and run bags ready for drop off by the 4pm Saturday deadline.
Any one of those issues would
have been stressful. All of them within 3 weeks of my first full IM, with one
not resolving until less than 24 hours before race start? Definitely not ideal.
But after all of that, not only was I more determined than ever to finish what
I started, but it was a relief to get to race day and just have to focus on the
race itself. I hadn’t come this far and overcome all of this to only come this
far.
Pre-race
After a very long travel day we
finally got to Mont-Tremblant late Thursday night. Given how our luck was
running I half-worried our hotel would have given away our room (and it did
make me nervous when the clerk couldn’t find our reservation at first!) but we
got checked in and called it a night. From the front steps of the hotel I could
see the finish line about a hundred yards away. Even with the lost
luggage drama occupying my thoughts it was exciting to finally be there and
look down the hill to the spot where I would finally become an Ironman in 3 days.
Friday, when we weren’t dealing
with luggage issues, we took the kids to the luge and bungee jump trampolines,
which they loved. The Ironkids race the kids were looking forward to got
cancelled due to rain but they were excited to get
their shirts and finisher medals anyway. Daniel though, proving he is my son, doesn't want to hang up the Ironkids medal because he didn't earn it (I've promised him a make-up course near the house when he wants to earn it though.)
I went to packet pickup and got my
bike and gear bag from Tri Bike Transport. At packet pickup I was given 2 wristbands: the blue
mandatory Ironman band every athlete wears showing our bib number and the
“virgin band,” an orange band that identified me as a first-timer and said in
English and French “I will become one.” These were optional but intended to
identify first-timers to volunteers and staff as well as to fellow athletes who
could offer extra encourage. Figuring I wasn’t going to turn away any help or
encouragement I could get, and not the least bit embarrassed to be a
first-timer, I kept mine on until after the race. I kept the blue one on for
another few weeks until…well, keep reading.
Friday night was the athlete
banquet. I’d been told by many people that for your first IM the athlete
banquet is not to be missed. It was cool to see the inspirational videos,
especially one about a blind woman who would be racing the course with a guide,
and to hear Mike Reilly, the Voice of the Ironman, speak. Later, after an
athlete briefing, I rejoined the family and we enjoyed watching a fireworks
display. Mont-Tremblant takes hosting seriously and goes all out.
Saturday morning I headed to Lac
Tremblant for a practice swim and to finally experience the famous
coffee boat I’d heard so much about. A local coffee shop goes out in a pontoon
boat about a 10-15 minute swim from the shore and athletes who swim over can
enjoy a free cup of coffee while hanging on the side of the boat. The server
even added milk or sugar if you asked! It was the most unique coffee-drinking
experience I’ve ever had and one of many special touches Mont-Tremblant
provides to make the IM experience memorable. Since I didn’t have my Garmin I
couldn’t track my pace or distance but figured my old water-resistant sports watch
was up to the job so I could at least tell time out there. (Alas, it turned out
that it isn’t as water-resistant as it once was so water got in it and it
wasn’t working anymore afterward. I mention this because foreshadowing.)
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| I'm not in this picture, but one another athlete took of the coffee boat |
After that I took my bike out for
a short test ride just to make sure the gears were all shifting properly and there
were no issues that needed to be addressed. Later that afternoon I took my bike
and my bike and run bags to transition. The bikes were racked in a parking lot
and the transition areas were in the big tent where we’d had the athlete
banquet the night before. Bike bags were located in rows by number near the
entrance we’d come in from the swim and after grabbing your bag you’d head to
the men’s or women’s tented changing area where you could sit down and get
dressed for the bike if you were changing. I chose to change for each leg of
the race; I wasn’t going to be fast anyway so a few extra minutes for comfort
seemed worthwhile. Then later when we finished the bike course we’d dismount,
give our bike to a bike catcher, run in the other entrance to grab our run bag
then go back to the changing area.
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| The changing area and transition bags, the day before |
I had long planned where I wanted
to eat dinner on the night before the race: the Pizzateria pizza restaurant
where I’d eaten the night before the 70.3 race the year before. I wanted a meal
I knew would taste good and sit well without being too rich. My parents and
brother got in just in time to join us. We went back to the hotel afterward. I
gave my family the “Sherpa care package” I’d prepared for them with maps,
cowbells, hand sanitizer, wipes, and Kleenex and gave my brother the Ironman
Support Crew shirt I’d gotten him as a thank you for his efforts trying to help me
track down replacements for the gear in my luggage.
Then I prepped my special needs
bags and water bottles, laid out my clothes, applied my race number and run
pacing tattoos, and tried to get some sleep. Key word being “tried.” I felt
like I laid there forever trying to will myself to sleep but I was wide awake. I don’t know when I
finally fell asleep or how many times I woke during the night but I finally woke up for good
a little ahead of my 4:30 alarm.
I got up, dressed, and headed to
the breakfast area with my English muffins and almond butter packets. I put 3
pairs of muffins in the toasters to make almond butter and jelly sandwiches. 1
was going to be breakfast, the other 2 were going on the bike with me. Besides
my sandwich I ate some yogurt and Red Bull. Then it was back to my hotel room
to get my bags. I put a banana and a cheddar cheese cube in my morning clothes bag for right
before race start, grabbed my bags, and headed down to transition. I topped off
the air on my bike tires, put my water bottles and nutrition on the bike, added
food to my run and bike bags, dropped off my special needs bags, and headed for
swim start.
On the walk over I overheard a
funny conversation between two older spectator women behind me.
First: I don’t know how people
can run a marathon after the swim and bike. Just walking 26.2 miles with a cup
of coffee sounds hard.
Second: I’m already exhausted!
Yes, a long day was beginning for
all of us!
Swim
When I got down to the swim start
I put on my wetsuit, ate the banana and cheese, finished the Red Bull, and
decided that though it was still cloudy out, I’d trust the forecast and go with
my tinted, polarized goggles. I tossed my morning clothes bag into the
collection truck and headed to the beach for a warm-up swim.
Before long, it was time for the
Canadian national anthem and the Royal Canadian Air Force flyover, then the pro
start, then the age groupers. It was a self-seeded rolling start by expected
finish time. I actually meant to get in the 1:30-1:35 group but ended up with
the 1:35-1:40s. Each step toward the corrals felt like another click higher on
a roller coaster climbing to its drop-off. Finally I was in the corral. I
wished the athletes around me good luck and a safe race, then the air horn went
off (you know, actually thinking now I’m not actually sure what the start noise
was, but air horn sounds right), and I ran into the lake, starting my Garmin.
My Ironman race had begun!
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| I'm probably not in this picture but here's the swim on race day. |
The swim course is pretty
straightforward: swim out with buoys to our right, swim past 13 buoys, turn
right at buoy 14, a short leg across, and then another right turn to head back
to shore past another 13 buoys on my right. For the first 100 yards or so I
just tried to find a lane and settle into a routine. As expected there was a
bit of traffic early on but it sorted itself out pretty quickly and I was able
to “just swim” after that. I tried to just focus on efficient form and
perceived effort level but was pleased to see when I’d look at my watch that I
was keeping a good pace. The sun came out from behind the clouds around buoy #5
making me glad I chose the tinted goggles. I had also opted for sleeveless
wetsuit instead of sleeved and felt comfortable in that choice as well. So far,
so good.
I made like Dory and just kept
swimming, marking off buoys. Before I knew it, I was at the turn, then a few
short minutes later, I was headed back to shore. The swim was already half
over!
Unlike the bike and run, I swam
the full IM distance or longer several times in training so I knew how long it
felt in the pool but out here in the open water it seemed to be going by more
quickly. I was a little ahead of my goal pace of 1:30 finish and feeling good. The
only thing that bothered me was that the Velcro on the back of my wetsuit kept
scratching my neck. I’d readjust it every few minutes but it wasn’t till about
halfway through that I got it fixed to where it wouldn’t bother me.
As I approached the final buoy
the water was so shallow in some places I could have easily stood up and
walked. It felt sort of silly to swim in 2 feet of water but the lake bottom
was covered with rocks so I was determined to swim as long as possible to avoid
cutting up my feet or slipping. Once I was at the shore I stood up and ran,
taking off my goggles, swim cap, and earplugs and unzipping my wetsuit as I
ran. I looked at my time—1:27:45, several minutes ahead of my goal! One event
down, two to go, and my Ironman was off to as good a start as I could have
hoped for.
Some people dread the triathlon
swim and just try to survive it. While I’ll never be a fast swimmer I’m
increasingly coming to enjoy the swim. Maybe it’s because race swimming is so
much more enjoyable and less monotonous than swimming laps in a pool while
fending off the old folks trying to commandeer the pool before their water
aerobics class starts. Maybe it’s because it’s so short compared to the other
events. Maybe it’s because there’s nothing to do in that event but just swim,
no gear to think about or worrying about taking in nutrition other than trying
not to drink the lake. In any event, I enjoyed my swim but now it was time to
shift focus to the bike.
T1
After assistance from a wetsuit
stripper I ran the red carpet to T1, deliberately minding my pace so as not to
waste energy here. When I got to T1 I was ready to change into bike shorts, my
A&M bike jersey, and a sports bra but I couldn’t find my bra in my bike bag
and realized I must have put it in my run bag instead amid all the rush of the
afternoon before. A wonderful volunteer ran to my run bag to retrieve my bra
for me. I also couldn’t find my chamois butter I was sure I had packed but
figured some Bodyglide would probably do the trick. And I had packed my digital
watch but it wasn’t reading the time correctly after the water damage from the
day before so I left it in my bag. But that’s okay, I had my Garmin, right?
I dressed, sprayed on a good coat
of sunscreen, and headed out. Remembering how cold I was in Victoria when I
skipped leg warmers I opted to wear leg warmers and sun sleeves. I was one of
the few with leg warmers but was glad to have them; it was at least an hour
before I started to get warm enough to want to take them off. I ate a gel,
downed a 5 Hour Energy, some sport legs pills and endurolytes, and off I went.
I was disappointed to miss seeing the rest of the family but it was a nice
surprise to have Kevin out cheering me on as I headed out with my bike.
Bike
The bike course was the same
course I had done the year before for the 70.3 but 2 loops instead of just 1.
Knowing I was on familiar ground was reassuring. As I rode off from the mount
line I turned on my Power Pod power meter, or tried to. It wasn’t reading
properly on my Garmin. I messed with it a few times and then decided to forget
it and just focus on cadence, and largely put it out of mind. Within the first
mile I also managed to launch a 6-pack of Perpetuem tabs from my aerodrink
holder despite it being stuck in with sticky tack. Again, made like Taylor
Swift, shook it off, and focused on my race.
I had gone in with a plan to take
it easy for the first few hours on the bike and hold a pace that felt easier
than necessary and I did. Part of that was embracing my lazy bike motto: Coast
the Most. This course is hilly but every foot you earn climbing you get back on
a descent and I took full advantage of that.
First it was out on Montee Ryan
with its rolling hills, then onto 117 which was as close to a flat section as
this course had (which is to say, not very flat). A few long climbs but nothing
too steep and a nice descent to bomb down where I hit my top speed of the day
at almost 40mph. Then a turnaround, back on 117 where the ups were now the
downs and downs now the ups, and then a quick loop into downtown
Mont-Tremblant.
The downtown loop was my favorite
part of the course. Loud, enthusiastic locals were out cheering us on and
waving. You hear about races where the locals resent the imposition on their
space but Mont-Tremblant relishes hosting and seems to take great pride in
doing so well. One local sat out on 117 all day on a recliner ringing a
cowbell. 4 times I passed him that day-2 outs, 2 backs, and his bell was
ringing every time. Not an official race volunteer, just a guy who wanted to do
his part to support the athletes.
From downtown it was back on 117
till the next exit to Montee Ryan—again, the reverse of what had come before.
Every hill that had been a climb on the way out was a descent now and every
descent I flew down before, I got to see more closely on the way up. After
getting back almost to the village it was time to turn off for the final
portion of the bike course, the infamous Chemin Duplessis section.
The Chemin Duplessis leg is
short—maybe 6 miles total, an out and back—but it’s the hardest part of the
course and the part that bike gearing choices are targeted around. On the way
out, the hardest part, you have about 8 climbs, depending how you measure. A
few are fairly short, some are longer and windier. No individual one is super
long or super steep but what makes it hard is the relentless nature of it with
few plateaus and fewer descents. And this hard stretch comes right at the end,
when your legs already have around 50 or 100ish miles in them already.
I had prepared for Chemin
Duplessis by doing a lot of trainer rides with videos focusing on climbing and
by swapping out my old 11-25 cassette for an 11-28 to give me an easier bail-out
gear. On the first loop through I focused on keeping a high cadence and slow
and steady. I handled all of the climbs in the saddle and turned around feeling
good. The return is a net downhill so much of it is a nice easy (and fun!)
coast but there are 2 or 3 climbs that are as steep as anything we faced on the
way up (and we had had those as rare descents to break up the climbs going up).
I came down the hill feeling great—I was halfway through the bike and felt
confident heading into the second half.
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| Hullaballoo, Quebec, Quebec! |
I had eaten my planned almond
butter and jelly sandwich and 6-pack of Oreos on the first loop and it was
sitting well. Now time to stop at special needs, fill up my bottles with fresh
Skratch solution and pack the next sandwich and Oreos. I also made use of the
chamois butter I had included in my special needs bag. One thing that bugged me
was that I couldn’t seem to find my salt tabs and wondered why I’d packed all
these race cap pills instead, eventually realizing that the Endurolytes were a
darker color than the salt tabs I usually used and had been with me the whole
time. Oops.
One cool thing about my special
needs stop was that the blind athlete and her guide appeared on their tandem
bike while I was there. I got to tell them hi and how impressed I was that she
was racing. They couldn’t have been nicer or more gracious and I want to follow
her future athletic career.
After the fill-up at special
needs it was back out on Montee Ryan again and then the turn-off onto 117. This
was where I got my first unpleasant surprise of the day. Where had this strong
wind come from? It wasn’t there before and the weather forecast said the winds
would be “light and variable.” This sure wasn’t light and it was variable only
in that we never seemed to catch a tailwind. 117 had been fine that morning but
now without much wind protection it was a different beast altogether.
That nice descent I got to bomb
down in the morning, now I had to pedal through to avoid losing control of the
bike. The ups didn’t get any easier and the downs weren’t breaks like they had been
in the morning. People with deep dish wheels were really struggling and I was
thankful that I had opted against race wheels. I was also thankful that back in
April I had made myself go outside to ride on several cold and gusty days to
get some practice riding in wind.
I didn’t enjoy the wind on 117
but just adjusted my strategy to deal with it and kept after it. Thinking back,
and after comparing notes with other athletes, I’m proud now to think back at
how I didn’t let this get me down even as it made the bike course harder and
added to my time. I tried not to dwell on it. Another thing I tried not to
dwell on but definitely noticed was that my saddle area definitely had some
opinions about the insufficient chamois butter application and it felt about as
good as you’d think it would.
I noticed at one point that I was
sweating a lot and feeling a bit jittery which I recognized as a sign my blood
sugar was getting low so I started grabbing a gel at every aid station. This
solved the blood sugar issue, which was good as I didn’t want to risk getting
lightheaded on the bike, but my stomach didn’t feel good again till much later
in the day.
I exited off 117 and got to do
the loop through town again, with the same cheering crowds, then back onto
Montee Ryan where the wind wasn’t as much of an issue. Now all that stood
between me and the run was the Chemin Duplessis section.
I had handled those hills pretty
well the first time but several more hours of riding and all the wind had my
legs pretty tired so I rode several of the hills but opted to dismount and walk
others. After seeing several riders around me run out of steam, not get a foot
down in time, and then fall over, I figured the extra minute spent walking was
helping my legs for the run and avoiding a fall. It was a happy moment when I
turned around at the top of the hill and headed back down, and happier yet when
I rode back to the village, hit the dismount line, and handed my bike to a
catcher for re-racking.
2.4 miles swam, 112 miles biked,
and now all that stood between me and the finish line was a marathon. At this
point a gear malfunction was no longer a risk and I knew I had enough time that
if I had to, I could walk the whole thing and still finish. The universe of
things that could go wrong and keep me from finishing had now gotten much
smaller. I was going to finish an Ironman before midnight.
I had been looking forward to
seeing my family for hours and was rewarded by the sight of all of them
cheering me on and ringing cowbells. I gave kisses and high fives and ran into
T2 to change.
T2
Off came the bike gear and
clothes, on went compression run shorts, fresh socks, running shoes, and the
kit I’d chosen just for this occasion—Wonder Woman, complete with wristbands (I
opted to skip the headband and wear my Aggie visor instead though). I ate some
potato chips to get some salt and grabbed my Fuel Belt with pickle juice. One
last pit stop and wave to the family and I was off to the run course.
Run (Um, walk?)
The training plan I had bought
included a phone call with the coach who prepared it, and when we spoke a few
weeks before the race he recommended I plan to walk the first 4 minutes of the
run course to avoid going out too fast and then settle into a run/walk from
there.
One cool thing early in the run
course was running into a local from an IMMT Facebook group who was cheering on
the side of the run course. She had asked in advance for people to tell her
what we’d be wearing and a song she could cue up for us on her iPhone with
speakers. When she saw me she said “hey, are you Wonder Woman from Texas?” and
upon hearing that I was (I mean, I assume there probably weren’t two of us…),
played the Wonder Woman theme song for me. I definitely sped up for that.
The Wonder Woman kit in general
seemed to be quite the crowd-pleaser (perhaps unsurprisingly, it got greater
response from the locals than my A&M visor or jersey, Quebec not being
known as a Texas A&M hotbed) and I got lots of cheers because of that. And
on a long day, a little extra crowd support goes a long way.
The walking was fine but as I
started running (well, jogging) at the easy pace I had planned, I realized
after several miles that the pace was feeling increasingly difficult and I
wasn’t going to be able to maintain it. I had battled through piriformis strain
the whole time I’d been training but was definitely feeling it with the slight
incline of the course and my stomach was still feeling “off.” I had come off my second hip injury in a little over a year just before starting my IM training so I had deliberately undertrained the run to avoid risk of re-injuring myself before the race. It was the right choice but I was paying for it now.
Remembering the good advice I’d
heard many times to walk before you’re forced to, I decided it was better to
move to a power walk now and run as I could here and there than to keep trying
to hold the run pace and eventually be forced to a slower walk. Yes, it would
take a long time to power walk a marathon but I wasn’t frustrated or worried.
No one said becoming an Ironman would be easy and I wasn’t worried about style
points. I was going to finish the race and if I had to walk 20-something miles
to do it, so be it.
The power walk strategy was
working and my stomach and piriformis were tolerating it pretty well but around
mile 10 or so I realized I was going to have another problem. My Garmin watch
was flashing the low battery warning and at this rate, no way would it last me
for the duration.
The run course was 2 loops and
the end of the first loop took us to special needs and then into the village
before sending us for one more out and back on the P’tit Train du Nord path. At
special needs I put on a fresh pair of socks, refilled my pickle juice, and
grabbed my headlamp. Funny story: even when I pack clothes specifically
intending for them to be discarded in or ahead of a race, I become irrationally
attached and can’t bear to let them go. So it was with the old long-sleeve
shirt I had packed. It didn’t feel cool enough to need it, I couldn’t abandon
it in special needs but figured I’d take it and hand it off to family in the
village. I resisted the urge to bring my sweaty Balega socks I’d just changed
out of (although now 2 weeks later …). No shirt left behind. When I saw Kevin
jus after special needs I gave him the long-sleeved shirt and took his digital
sports watch so at least I could know the time once my Garmin died.
I would have expected that long
day to have a low point or two but it really didn’t. There were no times when I
felt discouraged or like I couldn’t do it. The closest thing though was the run
through the village after that first loop. The crowds assumed anyone coming
through was finishing the race so I got lots of “you’re so close, you’re almost
there!” They meant well but I wanted to say “NO I’M NOT, I’M NOT CLOSE, I HAVE
ANOTHER LAP TO GO!”
Then, I reached the turnoff point
at the base of the hill. To the left, the finisher chute. To the right, lap 2.
A little before 8pm, I took the right fork and headed out for the final 13.1
miles of my 140.6 mile journey. It was getting dark and every step carried me
further from the finish line. I was still close enough to hear Mike Reilly
calling out other people’s finishes though, knowing my own was another 3+ hours
away.
It was shortly after this that a
few developments occurred, one bad but two good. First, the aid stations began
offering chicken broth. It’s hard now to explain how good a cup of hot salty
chicken broth can taste at such a moment but it may as well have been the
nectar of the gods that night. I took a cup every chance I got and craved it
for at least a week post-race.
Second, shortly after it got dark
enough for me to turn on my headlamp, around 9pm, my Garmin died right around
mile 16. From this point on, I was flying blind as to pace and had only 2
things to go on: the time of day on Kevin’s watch and the kilometer markers
along the course. I don’t think in kilometers so was doing a lot of rough math
out there; 5k=3.1 miles so for km markers that weren’t multiples of 5 I tried
to approximate. It gave me something to occupy my mind, which isn’t all bad on
a long walk in the dark without headphones.
The whole walking in the dark and
not knowing my pace thing sounds like it would be pretty bad but luckily that’s
when the next development occurred that turned the trajectory of this whole
adventure in a positive direction. As I was walking along another athlete came alongside
me and asked if he could walk with me to share my headlamp. I was glad to share
and happy for the company so we started talking.
His name was Bill and he was from
Washington, DC and doing this as his 4th Ironman, with plans to try
out for the senior Olympics in the future (what an awesome goal!). He said
compared to the past ones he had done this one was the hardest thanks to the
wind on the bike. Knowing experienced athletes had found the course hard made
me feel better about taking longer than expected on the bike myself.
The time passed pleasantly in
conversation and we held a pretty purposeful power walk pace. The km markers
clicked by. Checks of the watch showed that we were well on pace to finish
before midnight. It was getting colder and I noticed that I could see my breath
in the air but I tried not to focus on that (maybe I was a bit hasty in opting
against the long sleeves).
I had determined before the race
that I’d make every interaction with a fellow athlete positive on race day and
that was especially true in these late hours as there was a definite kinship
among those of us still out there. We were pretty much all walking at this
point, cheering each other on, asking anyone stopped if they needed help. We
weren’t competing with each other. We were just determined to finish. I also
made sure all day to thank the volunteers and especially now, the late shift.
Like us, they’d had a long day, but unlike us, theirs wouldn’t end with a
finisher medal. The support for this race was really impressive.
At one aid station on the run a
local high school orchestra played for hours to give us some added
encouragement. Yes, an orchestra. Because this is what Mont-Tremblant does.
Apparently the kids had been practicing for months and were so excited to play
that some kids who had graduated in the spring had come to play that night just
to be part of it.
Finally Bill and I were off the
trail and on the approach back to the village. On our way in we passed the lake
where so many hours earlier, our day had begun with a swim. The lake was
beautiful with the mountains behind it and lights from the buildings dotting
the landscape. If I had had a camera it would have been a beautiful picture but
alas, the memory will have to do.
Around this point our twosome
became a threesome as “Trevor from Ontario,” another first-timer like me,
joined us. He was wearing a cowboy hat so I had wondered if he might be from
Texas but no, apparently cowboy hats are a thing in Canada too ;)
Now we were just over a mile
away. Now, the sounds from the finish line were inspiring, not frustrating.
Every step was bringing us closer.
As we reached the backside of the
village I met Kevin, my brother, and my dad and handed off my sun sleeves,
headlamp, and Fuel Belt to them so I could travel light for the finish photo. I
was disappointed that the kids weren’t there after I’d been looking forward to
seeing them all day. Kevin said they were in bed but he called my mom to see if they were still awake. They were
so she got them out of bed, had them throw on shoes, and they ran out to the
front steps of the hotel in their pajamas.
By now our merry band was on our
way down the cobblestone street of the village; the athletes on the course,
supporting family running alongside on the other side of the rope. Like before,
the street was lined with cheering crowds. This time though, the people yelling
“you’re almost there!” were right.
It was nearly 11:30pm. My race
had begun at 7am that morning as I ran out into the lake. Now I was just minutes
away from finishing. I had always imagined that these final minutes of a first
Ironman must have the conflicting emotions of wanting to savor every last
moment, knowing there was no more first time finish of a new distance, and
wanting to be done. But by now I was pretty heavy on the “wanting to be done”
side!
When I reached the hotel I saw my
mom and the kids, who had made it out with time to spare. I gave everyone
kisses, and off we all headed down the hill toward the finisher chute.
Two roads diverged at the bottom
of a hill and this time, I took the road less traveled. There are 7 billion
people in the world and only a very small percent will ever know the feeling of
an Ironman finish. It was time to become one of them.
Finally, the moment I’d
visualized a million times and spent the whole day working toward was here. Not
10 minutes earlier just jogging down a slight descent had felt hard, but now,
with the finish line so close, suddenly I felt like I could fly.
 |
| Who's tired now? Not me! |
I ran through
the finisher chute high-fiving every outstretched hand I could. Mike Reilly
called out “Ellen Williamson of Irving, Texas,” then, “You did it Ellen,
YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!” He shook my hand as I crossed the finish line. It was
official.
I had done it. I had become an
Ironman. Me, the person who never played varsity sports, who before about 6
years ago had never run more than 5 miles at a time, had just completed the
premier endurance event. And I had done it despite setbacks and throughout the
long day I hadn’t given in to discouragement. Yes, I was one of the last
finishers, but I was a finisher!
 |
| With my pajama-clad Ironfans |
Post-race
After getting my medal, finisher
shirt and hat, I got some pulled pork poutine (this was Canada after all),
beer, and a jug of chocolate milk. After finishing the beer I left the finisher
area to join my family and ate the rest of my poutine at a picnic table while
watching later finishers come through. I’m not generally a poutine fan but it
hit the spot then and I finished every bite. After the last finisher crossed,
Don’t Stop Believin’ played and the clock reached midnight. We stayed to watch
the fireworks signifying the end of the race. Then it was back to the hotel for
a much-needed hot bath.
You’d think after a long hard day
on little sleep I’d sleep soundly but my stomach was still feeling off and adrenaline
was still flowing. The next morning I was stiff and sore but feeling good, all
things considered. I shuffled to breakfast to join the sea of limping athletes
in our finisher shirts, dropped my bike and gear bag off with Tri Bike
Transport for their journey home, and went by the merchandise tent to buy a
finisher jacket. Then, it was time to head back to Montreal for our flight
home. My Ironman journey was over. For now, at least.
Post-race thoughts
My goals going into this race
were just to finish, regardless of time, and to have a good time. I did both of
those things, so I’m satisfied with my day. No, more than satisfied. I’m damn
proud of my day.
That said, I’ve got some things I
want to improve on before I tackle a full Ironman again. And I will, someday.
Not right away, but someday.
I promised my family that for at
least the next year I won’t do any tris longer than Olympic distance or any
running event longer than a half marathon. I deliberately planned my training
this year, as always, to minimize how much time it took me away from family or
made Kevin a solo parent, but next year my long training days will only be 2-3
hours, not 6. After focusing the last 5 years on going longer distances it’ll
be a nice change to focus on trying to get faster over shorter distances.
But when I do get back to long
distances? If all I could do between now and my next IM is maintain my swimming
ability level I’d be fine with that. 1:27 isn’t a blazing fast swim but it’s
fine, and improvement on my swim pace would yield only marginal gain. It’s not
the low-hanging fruit.
My bike and run, on the other hand, have significant
room for improvement. For the bike, I want to do more trainer work to increase
my cadence and get stronger on hills. I also want to work more with my power
meter. I used it somewhat sporadically in my training this year and had some
issues with it. Maybe it’s the device itself but I think I need to throw more
time at figuring it out to get more benefit from it. Also I’ve only ever used my
Kurt Kinetic fluid trainer. It has served me well, but might be time to look
into smart trainer options if a deal can be found.
I will say that riding my new road bike turned out to be a great decision. I felt very comfortable on that bike knowing it wouldn't leave me stranded by the side of the road and as the day wore on I appreciated having more hand positions and my neck appreciated the more upright posture. I love that bike and look forward to putting a lot more miles on it.
For the run, I want to first rest
to get this piriformis issue healed and then get to work on fine-tuning my
form. I don’t want to do a lot of training volume until I’ve improved that.
With my stress fracture history I don’t want to just keep doing what I was and
hope for the best. I’ve got a Lumo Run device now and am looking forward to
using its feedback to help improve my form but also open to working with a
coach. Running form is like anything else, time spent deliberately improving is
time well spent. I don’t even care if it makes me any faster, I just want to
stay strong and avoid injury. Running is the only one of the 3 tri disciplines
I do apart from triathlon so I’d like to dedicate the time and effort to doing
it right.
My transitions were slow too so
there’s definite room for improvement there as I pack my bags more thoughtfully
and plan my moves more deliberately. I could almost certainly shave 10 minutes
off my total time with more purposeful transitions. This was my first full IM
and thus the first race where I’ve changed between disciplines so I think
practicing my changes in advance and figuring out how to arrange things in the
bag and order to take off/put on could help.
The other big thing I want to do
is test out some liquid nutrition systems and try to find one that might work.
I can handle solid food well through the half iron distance and shorter but for
the full, I think a more steady all-day fuel source would serve me well. Or
maybe not, but I haven’t really given one a good try yet to see. I feel like I
could have been faster on the run and the last hour of the bike if my stomach
hadn’t been feeling unsettled.
And in the travel logistics
department, obviously pack everything possible in the gear bag that ships with
Tri Bike Transport, and put any race items I fly with (and any other
essentials) in carry-ons. That was a lot of extra stress in the days leading up
to the race that with different planning I could have avoided. I’ll certainly
remember that next time. And also fly an airline that knows the difference
between Montreal and Toronto.
So while I’m proud of my finish
and looking forward to shifting focus to shorter events, I know my next full
Ironman will find me better prepared because I’ll have learned from this race.
Speaking of races, the only race
on the family calendar at the moment is the kids’ triathlon Daniel and Rebecca
are doing next month. I’m excited to cheer them on and support their race like
they did mine. Since we got home from Canada they’ve been extra motivated to
practice their bike riding and on a recent day they were taking turns calling
out each other’s “finish lines” saying “You are an Ironman!” Someday, maybe ;)
Been there, done that, got the
tee-shirt tattoo
Even before I signed up for this
race I knew after I finished I’d want to get my first and probably only tattoo
of my life in order to commemorate it. And I already had a pretty good idea in
my mind of what I wanted but decided not to do anything right away. First, I
wanted to wait till after Labor Day so I could take the kids to the swimming
pools on the last weekends before they closed for the summer; a tattoo is an
open wound so can’t go in pools. Second, I wanted to allow time for the initial
post-race euphoria to fade and get back to real life. But, the other day I
decided I was ready so I did it!
The design includes the fleur de
lis from the Quebecoise province flag, which features prominently in the
finisher medal. I’m really pleased with how it came out.
Not going to lie, yes
it hurt, but the first line was the worst, it was all downhill from there. When
I got home I cut off my blue Ironman race wristband, as planned.
It’s not really for other people, or not in the sense of impressing
other people anyway. It’s mainly for me so every time I see it I’m reminded
that I did this, and whatever hard thing
I’m doing now, I can do it too. If I’m blessed to live a long life the day
will no doubt come when my body will no longer be able to swim 2.4 miles, bike
112 miles, and run 26.2 miles (though there were 70+ year old finishers out
there, so that day may be farther off than you’d think!), but I’ll be reminded
that I once could. Crossing that finish line was one of the mountaintop moments in life and one I'll relish reliving as the years go by.
As for other people, I hope some
will notice and be inspired to go chase their own goal, athletic or otherwise. I got into endurance
sports not because I watched some professional athlete on TV do it but because
friends and acquaintances—“real people” with real lives, families, jobs,
commitments—did it and if they could, I thought, then maybe I could too. I'm reminded of my favorite line from a poem I love: "
It was humbling to read my
Facebook page after the race and see how many people had been following my day.
I loved knowing they were sending me well wishes all day and a few have also
reached out to ask how they can get started in triathlon themselves. I love
that I may have helped someone else find a passion and can’t wait to support
them and cheer them on as every question mark of “can I do this distance?”
becomes the exclamation point of “yes I did!” Those of you reading this (and
congrats on making it to the end, if you’re still here!) know who you are, and I can’t wait to read your Ironman race report someday!
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