Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Iron-virgin - Ironman Lake Placid



Last Sunday was my debut in an Ironman distance triathlon… arguably the pinnacle of a 4 year process which started with Wildflower 2001. In the past 4 years, I have learned to swim (debatable if you’ve seen my stroke), ride a road/tri bike and run for more than 5 miles.

The last 6 months have been spent following a self-devised training, nutrition and rest plan, destined to get me across the finish line at Ironman Lake Placid in a reasonable time. The *plan* is legendary among friends, training partners and coach-mentors for its minutiae and detail, recorded in meticulous fashion in an excel spreadsheet. I left San Francisco last Wednesday morning ready to execute the last phase of the plan: the Ironman.

I arrived in Lake Placid at 3am last Thursday morning after a 9 hour weather delay in the delightful Chicago airport. This was not part of the plan.

While I was on the slow track to Lake Placid my luggage was on the *express* and somehow traveled on the flight from which I was bumped. Isn’t that a security risk? Thankfully, my training and travel buddy, Sarah, spotted my wheelie on the carousel and took custody until my arrival much later that night. This was not part of the plan…but better for Sarah to have my luggage than United Airlines.

The *plan* had me waking up 7am on Thursday morning to swim a loop of the course so I could start the adjustment process to East Coast time and get a feel for the water. 4 hours sleep was not part of the plan. Oh well, my years as an investment banking analyst taught me that that sleep deprivation is not cumulative, otherwise I’d be in deficit until retirement, so I figured I would be fine.

I was sharing a sweet condo, half a mile from town, with four other triathletes; three first-timers, Sarah, Steve and Pete, and a two-time Ironman Lake Placid veteran, Katie. I spent the time leading up to race-day, trying to be as mellow as possible. This does not come easy to me but I previewed the course, did short workouts, watched the Tour de France, cooked, ate and tried to figure out what to put into the confusing myriad of plastic bags we’d been given at registration: swim-bike bag, bike-run bag, bike special needs, run special needs. Relaxing, as hard as it is for me, was part of the plan.

The alarm sounded as planned at 3:45am on Sunday morning. I have trained every Sunday for the past 6 months on a breakfast of oatmeal and banana and a bagel with almond butter – the race-day breakfast. For some reason, on Sunday 25th July I could not stomach it and managed to down only half the bagel. In my 33 years, eating has been the one thing I have relied on, at my sickest, I could always eat. Loss of appetite was not part of the plan.

We arrived in transition just after 5am and the next 90 minutes evaporated in a sea of activity, dropping off special needs bags, going to the bathroom, pumping up tires, going to the bathroom, checking my tires, going to the bathroom, slathering myself in Body Glide and squeezing into my wetsuit, going to the bathroom AGAIN. Next thing I know, I hear the strains of the *Star Spangled Banner* while I’m swimming towards the start line. Yikes. How un-American? What about my warm-up swim? I was cutting the start a little close. That was not part of the plan.

The gun sounded at 7am and the throng of 2,000 triathletes all bee-lined for the first yellow buoy. I learned to swim 3 years ago and 2.4 miles was still daunting to me but 4 prior races in 2004 served as great comfort with open water swimming and mass starts. In spite of starting wide back of the 1:10 minute mark, it was at least 1,000m before I could swim with any sort of rhythm. In the scrum of swimmers, a kick to the head scored me a sweet scar above my right eye but it was not a race-ending injury. A mass swim start was an unavoidable but manageable part of the plan. My *sandbagged* swim time was 1:20 with a secret hope of swimming 1:15 and the notion that I had a chance of swimming 1:10 if I pushed it. I swam easy and exited in 1:13, feeling remarkably fresh. My plan was off to a good start.

T1 went smoothly and I rode out of town on the bike with two thoughts front and center in my mind: please let my heart rate settle down as soon as possible… and please don’t let me have a flat tire for the next 112 miles. I was in control of the former, reminding myself of Brent and Franky’s last email words of wisdom: “take the first loop easier than you think”. The first loop was crowded, mainly with guys, and it was hard to ride my pace without having to consider the drafting rules. I’m not used to having people riding the same pace as me in a race…I guess it’s a fast biker-chick thing. I completed the first loop in 2hrs 50mins. I was on track for the planned 5hrs 45min split.

Most notable was how I dropped fellow athletes on the climbs. I spun easily by a lot of guys. Favorable power-to-weight ratio? Were they under-geared? The second loop was uneventful, except for the sight of a New York State trooper holding an athlete’s bike while he relieved himself at the side of the road. Isn’t public urination illegal in New York State? I needed to pee but I didn’t want to stop and I couldn’t bring myself to pee on the bike. At least I was hydrating well - the fluid and nutrition plan was working well.

I arrived in T2 in 407th place after 7 hrs and 4 minutes. I promptly collided into Pete. Yikes, I had almost caught him on the bike! Did he have a bad swim? Had I biked too hard? Had he biked too easy? Had I biked too easy? Who knows except that I felt great and was ready to run…feeling fresh for the run was part of the plan.

After 3 miles I was in a *running no-man’s land*. A combination of a torn hamstring and IT-band syndrome had reduced my run training to 3x 3 miles/week for the past two months. This was an adaptation of the initial 30+miles/week training plan ;). You will not find this plan in any marathon or ironman training schedule but sometimes you just have to work with what you have. I consoled myself with my bike strength and pathetically clung to the ambition of running a 4 hour marathon. Ambitious? Yes, but it was part of the remainder math for the 11 hour plan. Did I mention that plan?

All seemed to be on track during the first loop which I ran very comfortably in 1hr 57mins. However, mile 17 marked the unraveling of the plan. IT band pain in both knees and trocanter bursitis in my right hip kicked in and I was reduced to a shuffle-like run for the last 9 miles. This was unplanned but probably inevitable. I was lucky to have made it 17 miles without debilitating pain. I gritted my teeth, sucked down a Clifshot and chased it with a cup of chicken broth and slowly made it to the finish line, watching helplessly as one 30something after another ran me down. I heard the words “Jordan from San Francisco, you are an Ironman” as the clock showed 11 hours 28 minutes 19 seconds. Fairly respectable for a first time Ironman but 28 minutes short of my 11 hour stretch-finish goal and 4 places short of a Kona slot. There's only so much you can plan for.
Most people would be truly psyched and proud to have conceived and executed such an aggressive plan, and I am… but… that’s what makes me, me… bring on the next race.

Monday, July 12, 2004

What does Ironman mean to you?


my weekend homework... instead of training was to answer the question "what ironman means to you?" i did my *nemesis* ride today so i had plenty of time to think while climbing up pantoll...

10. Self-reflection - there's a lot of time to get to *know* yourself on long rides and runs
9. $9,862 and change - money spent on triathlon since I signed up for Lake Placid last July.
8. Watching the N'Sync E! True Hollywood Story because I'm too brain-dead after a long session to handle anything more cerebral
7. Multi-sheet excel spreadsheet - to record the minutiae of my training swims, rides, runs...as well as *social* obligations so I can claim some balance in my life
6. Thinking that a 6:30am swim at Aquatic Park is a good idea.
5. Bovine Bakery chocolate peanut butter blondies (I've been known to fight Hauth over the last one)
4. Self-absorption - never before have I been so obsessed about what I eat, how I train, how much I sleep...
3. Yelling out "on your left" - I have yet to be passed on the bike this year...slow swimming is the major contributor to this statistic.
2. Friends, friends, friends...most of whom let me *suck their wheel* :)
1. Raising money for spinal cord injury research in honor of my friend David Carmel - you'll hear a lot more on this soon!

i could go on...a calendar of sunrises over the golden gate bridge...a deteriorating career...enough swim caps to make a *plastic quilt*... but i'm more intrigued by how people who've done tons of races answer the question...