Victory!

So if you haven't heard by now, I successfully met my goal and finished Ironman Lake Placid!  But for those of you who want the details, here is how it went down.

I had gone to bed Saturday night on a stomach full of pancakes, the pre-race meal of champions (thank you to Tom, my friend Greta's boyfriend, for making amazing pancakes; I attribute them to my race-day performance).  I slept okay.  I woke up at 3:00 am, an hour before my alarm was set to go off, and then was able to drift back to sleep for another 45 minutes.

At 4:00 am on Sunday morning, I had some coffee and my every-single-day breakfast of an Ezekiel English muffin with peanut butter.  At 4:30 am, we were out the door.  I asked my friend Greta to take me to the start line.  In addition to our close friendship, she and I have a shared Ironman bond. We both competed last year with the intention of both of us finishing.  She finished and had an amazing race, and we all know what happened to me...

Me at the start, contemplating what is about to go down...

Anyway, I felt bad asking her to get up so early to drive me to the start line, but she was happy to do it and I was so appreciative.  The car ride there was relatively quiet.  I was stuck in my own head space, trying to get my pre-race checklist and affairs in order.

At the start, I headed to transition with my last-minute gear and nutrition to put on my bike.  I put on my wetsuit and made my way to the start of the race.


The Swim (2.4 miles)
The swim was a rolling start, which means all the swimmers (all 3000+ of us) got in a line and moved like lemmings into the water.  It also meant that the swim was very aggressive.  With a swim this big, it is often just as much a struggle for survival as it is about completing the distance, especially since the swim is two loops around Mirror Lake, and by the time you think you have space to yourself, the faster people lap on top of you again. 

I had decided during a warm-up swim on Saturday to try to avoid the crowds by swimming further away from the buoys.  Since Mirror Lake is so clear, you can see the cable that runs along the bottom of the lake to hold the buoys in place.  If you follow the cable, you don't have to look up periodically to make sure you're on track.  However, EVERYONE wants to follow the cable, so it is a competitive spot to hold.  I decided to avoid this nonsense altogether and swim away from the cable.

As soon as I started the swim, I realized that that idea was good in theory, not practice.  There was no safe place to swim.  Even far away from the cable, I was being grabbed, elbowed, pulled, pushed, and used as a flotation device by other swimmers.  I remember thinking, "Forget this sh**" and made my way right for the cable.  I went into Krav Maga mode, a.k.a. Super Bitch Swimmer.  Grab my leg?  I kick you.  Whack me in the head with your arm?  I swear audibly and whack you back.  Swim on top of me?  I shove you in the ribs off-course.  It was on and I was pissed.  I had flashbacks to the classic James Bond movie, "Thunderball," with the underwater scuba fight scene.  Yeah, it was like that.

On the way back to shore during the first lap, I felt something sharp against my foot and then a sudden pain that remained.  I had had the top of my foot sliced open on someone's swimming goggles.  Just a little extra fun added to my swim!  But other than that, the swim was uneventful.  Just long!

Me after the swim, running to T1

I exited the water feeling good about my swim.  I even used a wetsuit peeler for the first time in my triathlon career.  You get your wetsuit down to your waist, lay down, and a race volunteer peels your wetsuit right off you -- very efficient!  With the swim over, I ran back to the transition area (called T1 at this point, or Transition 1 - swim to bike).

The transition tent was much like last year -- it had been raining in the morning, so it was wet on the inside and a frenzy of naked people and chairs I refused to sit on because people pee on them.

Off to find my bike

I had decided this year, learning from last year, to take the time to change my entire outfit, so that I would start the bike ride with dry clothes.  I remember freezing my nuggies off from last year in wet clothes and didn't want a repeat.  I changed into my bike gear.  My foot was still bleeding (disturbingly profusely, actually), but I put my sock on and said I'd take care of it later if it got worse.  I was not letting a boo-boo mess up my race.

With my bike gear on, I ran out of the changing tent and went to claim my bike.


The Bike (112 miles)
This was the challenge for me -- for two reasons.  First, flashbacks from last year's injury kept on popping in my head.  And secondly, the bike has always been my weakest part of the triathlon and I really focused on working on it this season.  I biked wherever I could, whenever I could, and I did hill training like a fiend (Potter Road, I might hate you less because riding on you paid off...but I still hate you overall).

The bike went very well.  During the first 56-mile loop, we were blessed with overcast weather, so it was cool and comfortable.  The death drop out of town seemed less scary and I took it full speed (while covering the brakes of course).  My strategy was to leverage the downhills to make up for the painful uphills to come later.

And oh, did they come.  The bad hills really don't surface until the last 16 miles or so of each loop.  The hill into Wilmington is horrible.  But I did it, and it didn't seem as bad as I remembered.  At this point, the sun began to come out and scorch everything with blazing heat, myself included.

Josh hanging a sign that got me through the bike

The next bad hill was just after the turn onto the highway back to Lake Placid.  That hill was the worst one in the race.  It goes up, and up, and up, and just when you think you're at the top, it goes up more.  This is all around mile 44 (first lap)/100 (second lap).  Just as I was getting disheartened by this hill, I saw an interesting sign.  For me!  My friend Allison and her family Josh, Pacy, and Libby had posted a sign for me at this strategic location.  It was perfect.

After this horrible hill, there were more hills, but they were generally rolling and offered a downhill recovery.  I eagerly anticipated the last three hills of the course, nicknamed the Three Bears (Mama Bear, Baby Bear, and Papa Bear, in that order).  After Papa Bear, the course takes you back through town, where literally hundreds of people are cheering for you.  You feel like a superhero.  I saw all my friends who had come to cheer me on -- even some surprise ones (Joanne!).  

On the bike

Using my motivational energy rush after passing through town, I started my second loop of the bike course.  The second loop was harder, partly because my glutes and hips were locking up and hurting, and partly because the sun was hot and I could feel myself progressively developing symptoms of heat exhaustion.  My head was getting foggy with a dull headache forming, my skin was overheated, and my stomach started to get nauseous.  These symptoms reminded me of the way I felt during the Musselman Half-Ironman a couple years ago, where I know for a fact I had heat exhaustion badly and probably should have had an IV drip in the aid tent post-race to rehydrate me.

I continued to bike until I realized if I didn't do something, my ability to continue in the race would be jeopardized.  I did some troubleshooting and narrowed my issue down to electrolyte imbalance.  So I took a risk -- at the next aid station, I took in Gatorade.  I had not trained on Gatorade, so this had a large possibility of backfiring on me.  But I was desperate and decided it was worth the risk.  And that was exactly what the doctor ordered!  As soon as I started drinking it, it tasted like the most delicious thing in the world (a good sign that your body needs it).  And my headache went away, my nausea subsided, and I felt better. 

I used my memory about my sign at mile 100 to push me up that bastard hill a second time.  I saw the sign at the top and smiled, and continued on towards town.  The whole time, I was so emotional because I had not suffered an injury on the bike like last year.  When I passed the spot where the "sad van" picked me up last year, I realized I was now moving on to uncharted territory.  Shortly after, I was tearing through town again, waving at my friends and getting ready to dismount and move on to the run portion of the race.

Me getting the hell away from the sunblock gropers

I did another wardrobe change in the changing tent to prepare for the run.  My foot had finally stopped bleeding, so all was well.  As I exited, I was asked if I wanted sunscreen.  Now, I said yes for two reasons.  Number one, after the bike in the heat, I was already sunburned and didn't want it to get worse in the still-baking sun.  And number two, when I did Ironman Syracuse (a half-Ironman) last year, the volunteers used spray sunblock to cover you.  So as I held out my arms, awaiting the cold spray of sunscreen, two race volunteers forcibly grabbed me and slathered goopy sunblock all over me.  I felt both shocked and violated.  After a minute of being manhandled, I sprinted away from them as quickly as possible and started my run.


The Run (26.2 miles)
I felt strong on the run.  Luckily I did not feel my sore hips and glutes from the bike ride.  My legs felt fresh and I was ready to go.  I bolted out of town (a little too fast, actually), motivated by the cheering crowds and my friends. 

It became very clear early in the run that I was not going to be able to run the whole marathon continuously.  The sun was just too hot and I could feel my nausea returning.  I literally thought I was going to throw up, which can be problematic for hydration and nutrition reasons. 

I changed my strategy and borrowed one from my friend Greta.  I walked every uphill and through every aid station, and then ran the flats and downhills.  I also had to change my nutrition.  Taking my Gu energy gels as planned wasn't helping.  They were warm from sitting in the sun all day, and I had to just chug them down like a duck swallowing a fish to get the calories in.  So, I adapted my original plan and took some coke at the running course aid stations.  Coke has sugar in it for energy and the carbonation can help settle your stomach.  Again, it tasted like the best thing ever.  So I developed my procedure for every aid station:  two waters, one to dump on my head, the other to drink; one cup of ice to pour into my sports bra; and one cup of coke to drink.

My nausea got better (although it never fully went away) and I was strong while I ran the flats and downhills.  I got lots of compliments from others about how strong and fresh I looked, which again I took as a good sign.  And I felt good!  Don't get me wrong, this run was HARD!  But I felt relatively good while doing it, despite my legs burning with fatigue.  I was able to push all that away and have a good run anyway.

First lap done, one more to go!

In fact, when I returned to town after the first lap of the course, I found myself hamming it up a bit, pumping my fist and even doing the cabbage patch in a little happy dance.  Then I was back out on the course to finish the last half of the marathon. 

This time things were much harder, and I had to push just to keep moving.  My hips started to lock up painfully.  I stuck to my strategy and it worked.  I used anything I could to distract myself -- and found the funniest sign I've ever seen at a long distance event.  It said, "After mile 20, don't trust a fart."  I laughed out loud, it was so funny.

After 10 more miles of drudgery, following my strategy to a tee and maintaining a consistent running pace, I looked at my watch and realized I could finish this mother around 8 pm if I really wanted to.  And so that became my goal.

Rounding the bend in the oval

I ran through town once more for a short out-and-back before I entered the finisher's oval.  I kicked it up a notch and really pushed, knowing I was definitely going to finish.  I took in the cheering crowds and smiled from ear to ear.  The run back to the finish line was the easiest run of my life.  It was almost surreal -- I was floating on the energy of the crowds and the reality that I was going to finish this race.

As I entered the finisher's oval, the ham in me came out again.  I pointed, I fist pumped, and I initiated my signature finish kick to the finish line.  I burst through that line and took in the moment.  The announcer came on as I had dreamed.  "Amanda Barone -- YOU are an Ironman!"

The finish!

And so, after a total of two years preparing for this moment, I finally achieved victory.  I can proudly put myself among the ranks of others who have braved 140.6 miles and triumphed!  Through trusting my training and adapting as needed, I sprinted through the finish and felt strong the whole race.  My training and preparation were solid.  I would not change one thing!

Showing off my bling

Right out of the finish chute

Thank You!
I want to take some time to thank people who really helped me along this journey.  Your support and encouragement kept me motivated and made this possible.

The Crazies

To those of you at the race course: My crazies Sara, Julie, Kim, and Ashlye; my training partner in crime Greta and her pancake chef boyfriend Tom; the person who started this whole running thing, my dear friend Allison and her family Josh, Pacy, and Libby; and my new friends who came to cheer me on this year, Holly and Kristen.  Thank you all for sharing this day with me.  Your support means more than you will ever know.  Every cheer puffed life into my tired self and helped push me to finish.

To those of you following me from home: Thank you for tracking my progress and being so supportive on Facebook.  It was a blast to read all your comments both before and after the race.  You all rock and I love you!

To Mom: You have made this possible.  Between talking me off of ledges, to putting up with my mood swings, to helping me juggle work with training, your support has meant so much.  Thank you, I love you.

And now, it's pizza time...

Post-race pizza and beer

Off to Ironman

This will be my last update before Ironman Lake Placid on Sunday.  I am currently packing the car and getting ready to drive to the race site for Athlete Check-In (which could technically be done Saturday, but they seem to design the schedule of events to keep you trapped in town and spending money locally all weekend).

I have all my gear and food ready.  Itineraries are printed.  Details are listed.  Checklists are made.  Everything is a "go."  Now it's just a matter of getting up there and getting it done.

I feel physically prepared.  Mentally, I am both excited and nervous.  This will be the most challenging race I have tackled in my life, and this time I want to cross the finish line.  I know that I am in the best position possible to do it this year, with an additional year of focused training under my belt.

Most importantly, I am reminding myself to have fun and enjoy the experience.  I am not a fast athlete and am nowhere near winning the thing; the reason I do these sports is out of love.  I love the preparation, the physical challenge, the mental battles, and the self-discovery involved in finding out whether or not you can complete the task.  Training keeps me grounded and in touch with myself.

I will also remind myself of how grateful I am to have so many supportive friends and family members who have done nothing but cheer me on and help me get through the tough training hurdles.  Especially those of you who did nothing but put up with my grouchy crap during the month of June.   I will be thinking of you on Sunday.  Please know that all your encouragement helps more than you can know.

If you would like to track me on Sunday, here is the information:

The tracking is ONLY available on race day. You can go to ironman.com and click on "Live Coverage" at the top of the page and select the correct race (Ironman Lake Placid).  Select "Athlete Tracker" and you can search by bib number or last name.

My Bib Number: 857

Wish me luck!  Off I go!

Seven Days

Much like in the movie, "The Ring," I am waiting for the phone to ring and a creepy voice to whisper, "Seven days..."  It's hard to believe that that's how short a time stands between me and Ironman Lake Placid.

I will not lie.  I am getting a little stir crazy.  My energy level is through the roof thanks to my taper, and I find myself with extra time on my hands.  Basically, I am like a cocker spaniel puppy on Pop Rocks.  I am trying to rely on my trainer brain to resist the temptation to do more work.  I know at this point that it's too late to do any training that will help me for the race.  Now, I need to focus on rest and recovery.

This week, my training will consist of mostly yoga, foam rolling, and just enough swimming, biking, and running to keep the gears in motion.  The rule is, "nothing that makes me sore."  Soreness means muscular damage, which is something I won't recover from in time for the race.  That means no weight lifting this week.  Which is going to be agonizing.  As much as I love endurance sports, weight training is my lifeblood and my favorite fitness activity.  It will be tough to take a break from it, but it must be done.

In addition, I need to be particularly careful with my nutrition heading into Ironman weekend.  My reduced activity level means that I will not need as many calories each day, and I do not want to put on extra weight right before the race.  Luckily, tracking everything in My Fitness Pal is making that very easy to manage.

I'll check in again later in the week and post my athlete tracking information (so you can track me on race day throughout the course if you want; they even have live video feed of the finish line).  I've already drafted out my packing lists.  Right now it's about getting mentally prepared to do my best and rock this race.

Putting On the Brakes

Ironman is less than two weeks away.  My taper is going very well.  Every day that passes, I am feeling stronger.  My workouts seem very minimal and almost relaxing.  This morning I did an easy 8-mile run, and I didn't even feel warmed up until mile 5 since I'm used to doing so much more work.  So physically, it's going very well and I seem to be exactly where I need to be.

Mentally, however, the nerves are starting to set in.  With additional energy and time, I have more time to get myself worked up anticipating the race.  The Ironman Athlete Guide (the schedule and rulebook for Ironman Lake Placid) came via email yesterday and reality hit me.  This race is happening.  It's easy to brush it off when you have months and months ahead to train.  Ironman got real very, very fast.

I'm starting to second-guess myself (which I know is normal), wondering if I should be doing more workouts, even though I KNOW I should not.  So it's been very difficult to sit on my hands and follow the careful taper plan that I have laid out for myself. 

I already have my equipment list prepared for next week -- things I need to gather and pack, last-minute gear checks, etc.  I've got my nutrition dialed in and am adjusting it according to my lower activity level so I don't gain additional weight during my taper.

Just gotta stay the course and not go stir-crazy in the meantime!

Enter the Taper

Today was my last long workout -- the long run.  I was so lucky to have a spontaneous support team along the way.  My friends Kim, Traci, and Sara followed me along my route and cheered me on with cowbells, clappers, bubbles, and silly string (yes, silly string).  It made the miles pass so quickly!

It made me realize how lucky I am to have so many supportive friends and family members.  Each of you who has given me encouragement throughout the course of my training has made a large impact on me, whether it's been to pick up my crappy attitude or to give me motivation to push through a very hard workout.  Thank you so much for your support.  I am a very lucky person.

I feel amazingly strong today.  I will not lie, this week was hell.  Yes.  It was.  Over the course of this week, I have traveled roughly 300 miles, either by biking, running, or swimming.  Just to put it into perspective, that is MORE than traveling to Lake Placid and back.  It was literally the hardest week of my life.  I was constantly exhausted, hungry, and emotionally drained.  I woke up, trained, worked, trained, caught up on work at home, WENT to work, and then went home to sleep however long I could before I repeated it the next day.  No time for TV, video games, or relaxing. 

I was caught in a downpour on my bike on Tuesday.  On Wednesday, it was all I could do to keep it together.  I was at the end of my rope mentally and emotionally.  On Thursday, I literally think I spent more time on my bicycle than I did on my feet, trying to make up for lost training mileage due to the crappy weather.  I got creative -- I woke up earlier than normal to get in a 20-mile bike ride, then rode my bike to work, then rode it to the Niskayuna Pool to swim (yes, and up the hill after the Rexford Bridge), rode home, had just enough time to eat and catch up on work messages/emails before riding another 10 miles to the bike shop to drop off my bike, and then walked to work for my evening shift.

I credit my mom with helping me not snap and go to the dark place (thanks Mom!).  And everyone who sent me a text, email, or Facebook message, or just told me in passing to keep it up -- thank you.  Every bit of it helped.

And now it is like a cloud has passed.  I have done everything I can possibly do to prepare for this race.  Although I will continue to train for the next three weeks, each week will get progressively easier, allowing my body to recover and get strong for race day.  

I will borrow the words of my fitness inspiration Tony Horton, who was the first stepping stone into this madness all those years ago, when I was overweight and decided to actually buy that crazy P90-whatever thing I saw on TV at 2:00 am. 

HEY, Lake Placid...yes, YOU.  I'm talking to you.

BRING IT!

Peak Week

This is it...the most miserable training week of my life.  I will do the most training miles this week than any other week, and then I get to enjoy my glorious taper to race day.  All I have to do is get through this week.

The weather is not going to be cooperative, with chances of rain scheduled for pretty much every day.  My plan is just get my butt outside whenever it's not raining, and use any rain as an opportunity to pool train.  I will bring trash bags with me at all times to wrap any gear I am toting on my bike.  And as for running, I will just have to get wet.

I will do my best not to snap at people this week.  I've been fairly good (in my opinion, at least) about either reining in the crab-itude, or apologizing to anyone I snapped at immediately after.  Keep in mind that I am like a toddler right now.  If I am cranky, it's because I either need food or a nap. 

Other than mentally and physically making it through the week, I am feeling pretty strong.  I am literally in the best shape of my life right now.  Along with that, I am hyper-focused on this race: I've already begun to plan what to bring, how to transition between events, and my strategies for each phase.  I am ready to kick Ironman's ass.  This year, I will get to that finish line.  I want to hear them shout on the loudspeaker, "Amanda Barone, YOU are an Ironman!"

And then I will spend $500 in the Ironman store buying anything that has an Ironman logo on it.  And I won't shut up about the race for 3-6 months.

But I get ahead of myself.  Seven more days of hell...I can do this.

Rehabbing My Knee

I will not lie, I was worried going into training for this year.  My injury from last year's attempted Ironman really did a number on my left knee.  I ended up taking all of December off from bike training because my knee just would not heal all the way.  It wasn't until late January that I started doing indoor bike training on my spin bike.

When I started, my knee was very tight and I could feel it pulling near the end of my workouts.  Again, I was worried.  So I decided that, instead of worrying, I would develop a cross-training program that would get my knee into top shape.  I created a leg-focused workout to alternate with my normal total-body conditioning workouts.  Here's what I've been doing for the past several months.

Perform 2 sets of the following exercises for 8-12 reps each:

• Single-Leg Bench Pistols
• Goblet Squats
• Single-Leg Lunges
• Sumo Squats
• Bulgarian Split Squats
• Single-Leg Deadlifts
• Step Ups

I track my progress each time I do this workout, and up my weights when the exercises get too easy.  I also incorporate regular foam rolling and stretching for my legs.

I've observed the results of incorporating this workout, and it has reinforced in my mind the importance of cross-training in any endurance training program.  In "traditional" endurance training programs, cross-training often becomes the croutons on the salad -- either sparingly added, or altogether neglected.  I've always been an advocate of a higher ratio of cross-training, but now I have the evidence to make me a convert for life.

Before doing my leg cross-training:

• My left knee was tight while spinning or biking.
• My left leg balance was extremely poor compared to where it was pre-injury.  I seriously thought I was permanently affected.
• I experienced mild knee pain during single-leg exercises (pistols, deadlifts, lunges, etc.).

After doing my leg cross-training for several months (yes, the progress was slow, but it was consistent):

• I have NO tightness or pain in my left knee while biking or doing any activities.
• I have noticed an enormous strength improvement in both legs.
• My left leg balance has been fully restored, and may even be better than before.

Just because you hurt yourself and have issues does not mean you can't try to find solutions.  Strength training is there for a reason -- it's not just to burn calories, it's there to make you strong and resilient.  Yes, the road is slow, and frustrating, and sometimes you feel like you're spinning your wheels, but it CAN be done.  I am entering this racing season feeling stronger than I ever have.  And I attribute it to having a solid plan, but also being flexible and adjusting as needed.