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