What can I say? I made it to the start line of IM Canada and I made it to the finish. I am happy and proud. I’ve haven’t written a race report because I wasn’t sure I had the words to adequately describe the race. This is somewhat puzzling because my strategy was to treat the race as a long training day. Everything went well, so it should be easy to sum up. I guess what is difficult to describe is the journey between signing up and crossing the finish line - the endless string of long training days. It was an amazing journey from start to finish. Here’s a very long synopsis of race day.
Race Morning
Woke up at 3:00 am according to plan. Actually woke up many times before 3:00 am – fitful sleep. Hopped out of bed, looked at my food (Rusty had prepared everything) and started eating.
We headed to the start, found a pretty good parking place so Rusty could walk with me. There were all sorts of barricades so we ended up walking through a convoluted maze, but eventually we reached an entry point where I got to go in and Rusty had to stay out. We said our goodbyes, and Rusty followed me on the other side of the fence. Shortly afterwards I ran into Karen, Sara and Bill, Melinda, Barb, Jeff, Steve, Rebecca and Jason. Teresa and Bridget were on the other side of the fence. I was so happy to see everyone. Got body marked, dropped off my special needs bags and walked to transition. Put my bottles on my bike, added stuff to my transition bags, and got in the porta-potty line.
My stomach had not been particularly happy race day morning. From my experience at Victoria I knew it was better to get into the porta-potty line earlier than later. The line was moving slowly and this guy behind me said, “We’ll never make it.” I said, “We have plenty of time,” and he said, “But your watch says…” I’d forgotten that I’d set my watch 15 minutes fast. I was convinced that I would finish just before the 17 hour cut-off, and I wanted to give myself a little bit of a cushion.
I made it through the porta-potty lines, and my next task was to find Karen, Sara and Bill. We had planned to start together, but I was afraid we might not find each other. I started getting into my wetsuit, talked to Lee and her friend and then spotted Karen and Sara. As we headed out of transition there was a woman next to me who was crying. I gave her a hug and started tearing up myself.
Swim, 1:30
We started on the far left side of the beach. It seemed like we spent an eternity milling around, but finally the countdown started and we were off. The water is really shallow, so I started walking, but it seemed like a waste of energy so I jumped in and began swimming. Another athlete suggested sighting off the satellite towers which were easy to see. I’d been worried about getting hit in the swim, but it was totally uneventful. There was only one guy who acted aggressively towards me – he hit me when we were swimming alone with lots and lots of space around us – so I stopped, hit him back, pushed him away and went on my merry way. I was surprisingly comfortable swimming close to people. For the longest time I swam in between two other people. Our strokes must have been somewhat synchronized because we never hit each other - we just moved together like a little pod. Unfortunately our little pod was not swimming straight so I had to stop and let them go by (note to self: must learn how to accelerate when I want break away or hit someone).
I enjoyed seeing the divers below us, and was surprised at how shallow the water was by the houseboat. I noticed that the buoys were numbered and wished I knew how many there were, but it didn’t really matter; I kept following them until there were no more. As we got closer to shore I tried to spot the swim exit, but for some reason I couldn’t see it. However, I could see lots and lots of people walking in the same direction. Mark had told us that people would stand up and walk into shore but that we should keep swimming. I swam until I decided it was too shallow, stood up, took a few steps and realized it was much easier to swim than walk. Got back down and swam the rest of the way in. All done! Fun!
T1, 4:39
I ran out of the water, stopped at the wetsuit strippers, grabbed my T1 bag and headed into the changing tent. I was happy to see Melinda (we had predicted identical swim times) and then Karen. We sat down next to each other and got ready for the bike. Melinda was out in a flash so I ran after her.
Bike, 7:35
My plan for the bike was to spin, spin, spin. I was surprised by the number of people with flats, but was happy to see the Bike Barn vehicles helping them out. There were lots and lots of people out there - a steady line of bikers. Once we went up and down McLean I got grumpy. There were too many people, I was getting negative vibes from all of them, and my legs felt stale. I couldn’t imagine climbing Richter let alone Yellow Lake. I was sure the taper had done me in. It seemed like it had been ages since we’d done any climbing.
I called upon my mantras (well, Lauren’s mantras which I had claimed as my own): Trust the training, have fun…what was the third one? I couldn’t remember. Many miles later, the third mantra popped into my head, “Don’t give up.” YES!
I finally got to Richter, and my legs and lungs worked fine. I also started to feel better mentally.
My stomach continued to bug me, so when I saw an aid station in the distance I decided to stop. The aid station appeared to be on an incline. I thought I was hallucinating because I was sure all of the aid stations were on flats. The porta-potties were at the beginning of the aid station followed by tables with water, Gatorade, gels, food and then more water and Gatorade. I pulled off at the porta-potties but there was a long line and I didn’t want to wait, so I turned around to pull back out. However, I couldn’t figure out how to start riding on an incline with a steady stream of cyclists pulling into the aid station. I finally decided to walk to the end of the aid station and start riding there instead of risking running into or toppling over other cyclists. I was walking my bike up the hill when Sara rode by. I was so happy to see her, but she was gone before I could mount my bike (another note to self: must learn to mount my bike better, particularly on inclines).
After Richter there are a series of rollers which I really enjoyed. The only downside was this guy who was wearing white bike shorts that exposed just a little too much. Otherwise, nothing exciting. I was really good about fueling and hydrating, and stayed exactly on schedule for the very first time!
After the rollers is the Cawston out and back. This had been the beginning of my undoing at training camp, and I was not excited. But, I got to see lots of TNMers which was great. And, as I was riding down the little out and back off of the big out and back I saw Karen and Sara riding together!!! I was so excited. They weren’t that far ahead, and I thought I might be able to catch them. I took off and was hit by a huge gust of wind, and decided I should just concentrate on staying upright. Made it to Special Needs, grabbed two bottles of Endurance and headed back out. It was really windy, which I kind of like. It distracts me from myself.
Rode along for awhile when suddenly, in the distance, I spied a turquoise kit - SARA!!! She was on the side of the road after dropping her chain for the third time. We rode together for awhile, and I was very happy to be with her. It felt just like yet another long training day. I told Sara I was dreading Yellow Lake, and she replied, “But it’s so short!” I thought about this for awhile, and realized that she was right. It’s a gradual climb, and the hard part is short. The wind had died down, but it was raining and cool. We were approaching Yellow Lake and I kept repeating to myself, “But, it’s so short!” Sara headed up first, I followed, and before I knew it she was out of sight and I was at the top. WooHoo. After that there’s a long descent into Penticton. I am a reluctant descender, but thanks to my very patient training partners (who waited for me at both the top and bottom of every hill on our training rides) I’ve become much better. I noted how relaxed I felt and how my hands were not totally sore from riding the brakes all day. Took a deep breath and headed down. The descent was fun and fast Before I knew it I was riding by the TNM tent waving at screaming teammates and having a good ol’ time.
T2, 5:03
I had my own volunteer in the change tent which was nice, but I think I would have been faster if she hadn’t presented me with so many choices. I changed my shoes, grabbed my fuel belt and headed out.
Run, 6:16
I anticipated having the most trouble during the run. I had no idea how I’d feel doing a marathon after a 2.4 mile swim and a 112 mile bike. Plus, the one marathon I completed was horribly painful. Prior to the race I worked on visualizing each leg, and I had never been able to envision anything about the run. Bridget told me I needed to find my running happy place. I don’t know if I have one!
I started running out of T2 and felt fine. It was the best transition run I’d had all year. Since I’d been in denial about the run I hadn’t paid any attention to the course, but I remembered a little from spectating last year. The first part winds around – nice and flat but WINDY and cold. Before I knew it I was at the first aid station. I grabbed some Gatorade and took a gel. Ran past Rusty, Sara’s girls, the team (Yay, Team!), Karoline, Lauren and Alley. It was great to see everyone.
Crazed!
Soon, my stomach started to rebel. It had been vaguely unhappy for awhile, but I started to get cramps and sharp stomach pains. When I walked the pain went away, so I decided to walk for awhile. Worked on picking up my walking pace and lo and behold I found a happy pace. While I don’t have a happy running place I definitely have a happy walking place. There is nothing I love more than a good brisk walk. Walking made me feel better physically and mentally. After about 10 minutes I tried to run and I got hiccups, but the hiccups stopped when I walked. I walked some more, and occasionally tried to run but each time I’d run the stomach pain, cramps and hiccups would start up again. Finally I decided I would just walk. After making that decision I became very, very happy. I was focused, determined and relaxed. I kept doing the math in my head and it seemed pretty clear that I’d finish. However, since I’m somewhat of a pessimist, I kept running through alternate scenarios: Will I be able to finish if I develop some sort of horrible pain? Will I be able to finish if I fall in a hole and sprain my ankle? Normally my mind gets carried away with these scenarios. Instead of a reasonable thought like “What if I fall in a hole and sprain my ankle” I think “What if I fall in a hole, sprain my ankle and have to hop on one leg on my bad foot with a gigantic blister for 13 miles. Can I hop that far and make the cut-off”? Or, “What if a Gu loving bear lumbers down from the mountains, knocks me over and steps on my foot. Will I be able to make the cutoff?” All of these scenarios occur to me now, but when I was out on the course I was strangely focused. Walk fast, move forward, don’t stop.
Saw so many teammates on the out and back which made me happy. I saw Sara around mile 6 and we walked together for awhile. She had a temporary lull in energy, so I eventually walked ahead. Got to run Special Needs, grabbed my long sleeve shirt and slapped some moleskin on my foot. I’d developed a big blister on the bottom of my left foot which was probably because I was walking instead of running. Since I anticipated getting a blister on my big toe I had pre-cut pieces of moleskin for my Special Needs bag. I put the biggest one on my foot and headed out. Although I’d been warned not to sit down, it seemed like the easiest way to apply the moleskin. As soon as I sat down my legs froze up, so I got up fast and kept moving. Unfortunately the moleskin was not the right size for the blister and ended up hurting more than helping so a couple of miles down the road I had to stop and sit down again to rip it off. If you ever do an Ironman, do NOT sit down.
I kept walking and fueling until my body started rejecting gels. I was sucking one down, gagged and the whole thing came right back up. Interesting. I remarked to the woman next to me, “That didn’t go down very well,” and she said, “I don’t think anything goes down very well at this point.” Gels were out. What to do for fuel? I liked the Pepsi, Gatorade was okay but I didn’t like the broth. I think I may have taken in too much sodium because I noticed that my fingers were incredibly swollen. They looked like sausages. I know they weren’t swollen on the bike because I was wearing gloves and the gloves would have cut off all circulation if my fingers were that big. Although it was somewhat alarming, my fingers didn’t hurt and my legs were still working so I ignored my fingers and kept on walking.
Somewhere around mile 18 I turned around and there was Sara! WooHoo, she caught me. She said she had discovered Pepsi and had started running again. I was about to take off with her when I suddenly threw up. Well, it actually took quite a bit of time. A very nice volunteer kept saying, “You can still finish the race.” Yes, I am going to finish the race, but I am a little busy right now. I had some anxiety about throwing up because I haven’t thrown up in about 30 years. But, it was fairly painless, and I felt a little better afterwards. However, I was worried about fueling for the rest of the race. I couldn’t take in gels, and I was throwing up. What to do?
I remembered that I had consumed only one Cliff block and a tiny bit of Gatorade during the Victoria HIM and still finished (my performance during that race disappointed me, but it was a good lesson in persevering in spite of stomach pain). I also remembered that Rusty always tells me, “You have reserves.” I never really knew what he meant, but I chose to believe that he meant that I could happily finish without any more fuel. I sipped a little water and kept moving forward. I should also mention there were two great supporters who were riding their bikes along the run course. They must have ridden by me half a dozen times. As I was throwing up on the side of the road the guy (I can’t remember his name) came riding up and said, “Laura, are you puking?” “Yep.” He then launched into this funny story about college life that I cannot remember. In fact I could not actually comprehend what he was saying, but I got the subtext – You are going to be fine. Yes, I am going to be fine and I am going to finish.
However, I continued to have some doubt so I started asking people I passed if we were going to make it to the finish in time. I walked by one guy, asked him if we’d make the cut-off, and he said, “We’ll finish at 11:00.” I thought, “You’re on crack, I’m going to finish at 10:30,” and walked on by.
It was really dark along Skaha Lake, but there were people sitting on the side of the road cheering for racers they didn't even know. Some of them were really enthusiastic, but some were quieter which was kind of nice too. I'd be walking along, not realizing anyone was there and out of the darkness would come encouraging words. It was sweet. So many great spectators and amazing volunteers. How can you not be filled with joy and love?
I continued along the course, walking puking, walking puking. It was all fine. I continued to calculate whether I’d make the cut-off maintaining my current pace, at a reduced pace or at a severely reduced pace. I do this during most of my races and normally I cannot do the math. For some reason the math was really easy this time, probably because I stuck to simple numbers: a 10 minute mile, a 15 minute mile, a 20 minute mile a 30 minute mile. During races I usually find myself trying to figure out how long it will take me to cover 9.2 miles if I do an 11.27 mile or something ridiculous like that.
I kept waiting for something horrible to happen on the run, but it was all okay. My right foot hurt a lot – I have a bone spur on the top of my foot which has caused me a lot of grief in the past, but that foot had not bothered me much this year. It was quite unexpected for it to flare up during the race, but on the other hand it was familiar.
I continued to be determined, focused, happy, mathematically competent and filled with joy and love. All of a sudden, a screaming woman emerged from the darkness. It was my teammate Kim. Another teammate, Tom, popped out on the other side of me. It was completely unexpected and wonderful. Kim said, “We are here to run you in.” I asked about our other teammates, knowing I was the last one to finish, and they filled me in. They told me that other spectating teammates were a little ways down the road. I asked them to describe the rest of the course to me. I knew that we had to pass the finish, but I was totally okay with that. I just wanted to know what I had to do. We passed Rusty and Sara’s daughters. I was sooooo happy. I’d been thanking every single volunteer for miles and miles and miles, and I kept that up. The end was in sight. Eventually they released me to the course and I headed out. All of a sudden there were more screams – Teresa and Bridget and the team. Crazy. Out along the out and back (which took forever) but there were so many lovely people saying so many lovely things. I started congratulating other athletes as we made the turn-around, one more pass by the team and then down the chute. I watched the 2009 finish, from the bleachers, and the finisher chute looked so long from my spectating perspective. As an athlete, it is really, really short! I remembered Lauren’s advice to slow down at the end and enjoy the finish. I high fived as many people as I could but probably could have savored the moment a little more. As I was about to cross the finish line an official was yelling at me because I didn’t have my race number. I started the run with my race number on my fuel belt but one side fell off and was flapping in the wind so I ripped the whole thing off and threw it in a porta-potty . Since I wasn’t wearing a number, they didn’t announce my name as I finished, but do I look like I care? I made it to the finish – I am an Ironman!
Two very perky volunteers caught me and walked me around. After consuming caffeinated gels, sugary drinks and Pepsi for hours, I was probably very perky too. I got my medal, shirt and finisher photo and then ran into Karen and Sara. Sara was a little dizzy so she went to the Medical tent. Rusty was just outside the finish area, and I was anxious to see him so I grabbed a diet Pepsi (?!) and headed out. I sat down on the sidewalk with Sara’s daughters, although sitting wasn’t the best idea - I immediately got stiff and cold. Bill hobbled by – first time I’d seen him since the finish. I said, “I can’t stand up.” He said, “I can’t bend down,” so we gave each other a spastic little hug. Eventually I decided I was too cold and needed to go back to the hotel. I got up very slowly and then walked 4 long blocks to the car. As soon as we got to our room I took a hot epsom salt bath. Everything was surreal, and I was too wound up to sleep.
Finish Time, 15:31:41
My only goal was to finish before the midnight cut-off. No matter how I envisioned the race I always imagined finishing at 16:59:59 (along with Sister Madonna). As it became clearer that I was going to finish and that I was going to finish earlier than I expected, I got happier and happier and happier. Of course, now I think that I could have done much better, but I am pleased with my result.
Post Race
I felt pretty good Monday morning – moving slowly, but not too sore. However, after the 7 hour drive home I could barely walk. My legs were killing me, and my knee hurt. From Tuesday on, I felt okay although I did have odd intermittent episodes of muscle pain and fatigue. By Tuesday I was already considering a second IM. Sadly, I didn’t have much of an appetite for about a week. Post-race I asked Rusty the same question about 100 times – “Can you believe we did it?”
For over a week I woke up thinking “Ironman is coming up, and I’m not ready.” It took some time to realize that the race was over and that I was an Ironman.
There are so many people to thank on this IM journey.
Thanks to Rusty for holding everything together and for always believing in me.
Thanks to Karen, Sara and Bill for putting up with me, for waiting for me while I climbed and waiting for me while I descended. Thanks for not laughing when I tried to pull. I figure you kept me around because of my sparkling personality and cheerful disposition - or maybe it was for comic relief.
Thanks to coaches Bridget, Teresa and Mark for your guidance and support. I heard each of your voices in my head during the race, and I was lucky enough to hear each of your voices out loud on the course. Special thanks to Bridget for being ever optimistic, enthusiastic and patient. I’m sure I’ll learn how to run one of these days.
Thanks to all of my teammates who raced. I loved seeing TNM’ers out on the course. It really bolstered my spirits to see everyone out there doing well. I have nothing but respect and admiration for each of you.
Last, but certainly not least, thanks to family, friends and TNMers who were out there cheering. Those of you who were on the course were AMAZING. I got so much energy from each one of you. Those of you who were cheering from afar were incredible as well. It meant the world. And, of course, my heartfelt thanks to every single one of the volunteers.
