Ironman USA Lake Placid Race Report--Race Morning

This is my pink TY collection (so far). Third from the left is the Fucking FeFe poodle I spoke of in the Preamble...

Race Morning

I woke up to pee maybe 3 minutes before my alarm went off at 3:30AM. Actually, it was 3:20AM, but for some reason I had this alarm clock set 10 minutes fast. I was about to doze off after peeing when it sprang into action. I rarely need an alarm clock, so this was a bit of a shock to the system, but I had gotten plenty of sleep (about 7 hours), so I didn’t feel poorly. I didn’t want to wake Rich right away if at all possible, so I just turned on the bathroom light in our small hotel room.

First things first—I retrieved my pre-mixed Gag Juice (Ultrafuel) from the fridge and began drinking it. I just couldn’t shoot the entire thing at once, but I think I drank about ½ at once and then the remainder about 5 minutes later. I wanted to get that stuff down (400 calories worth) so that some of it could flush through my system.

Next, I began getting dressed. I had laid everything out the night before, so it was chip, tri shorts, bra top, singlet, t-shirt, Spongebob Squarepants pants and Paul Frank sweatshirt. I was debating whether or not to wear the bra top under the singlet, but then I had flash thoughts about nipple chafing, so I went with it.

Rich probably heard me scuttling around like a squirrel and woke up, and he went to locate coffee. I felt pretty relaxed and all, after all, the past 4 days had just been a waiting game, and it was time to get this show on the road. I pulled all my bags from their overnight position on the side of my bed onto the open floor space and started double-checking things.

While Rich was gone, I snapped a photo of myself in front of the mirror with the “GO” sign replacing my head, I guess as some sort of motivational tool.

Rich got back around 4:15 with the coffee. It seemed he had been gone forever, though! Sometimes it’s a good thing when time drags—other times not so much. Coffee was a welcome sight, meaning I could add my Power Bar Triple Threat (another 230 calories, which I can only eat with coffee in hand) to my stomach so that I’d be topped off with carbs save for part of a Gatorade.

Usually, I will eat a Succeed capsule or two the night before an Ironman, but I drank about 80 oz. of Gatorade on Saturday, so I figured I’d had plenty of sodium. Not only that, but my custom Infinit mix is loaded up with electrolytes, since I’ve learned over the years that I sweat rather concentrated (I DNF’ed with hyponatremia at Ironman Wisconsin 2003).

Somehow the next 25 minutes or so passed. Part of it was taken up by Rich bodymarking me. Since I had donned fake tattoos on both biceps and also my calves, he made some comment about how to fit my number (2488) on, and I said just do ½ above the band and ½ below. When he got to writing my age on my calf, he had to ask me again how old I am. Sometimes I hate saying it because I really don’t feel my age most of the time. In fact, because of how silly and giggly I can get and some of the pink decorative items I tend to accumulate, recently one of my girlfriends said to me, “What are you, twelve?” But, hey, age is what it is, and so I coughed up the big FIVE OH.

I don’t remember what else went on in that time slot, but I know I didn’t feel edgy. I suppose a big part of that was due to Rich more or less taking care of me, which is something I’ve never had the luxury of before. Well let me back up—I have had a non-racing friend with me a few times before, but not someone with the same experience level as Rich, so they would know what to do and how to react (or not) to my squirreliness. Before Ironman Hawaii in 2004, I was pretty stone-faced and nervous, and I didn’t want my friends to look at me, touch me, or touch anything that was going into transition with me.

Some of my pre-Ironman attitude depends upon what I’m going into the race with, goal-wise. I have had pipe dreams in the past of Kona slots, but this time, I wasn’t even thinking about that, so I guess some of the pressure was off and I could be my normal calm, joking self.

When it was time to go, we got in the car, and Rich knew where to park the car because while he’s not raced this Ironman before, he’s attended and knows some secret spots. We parked, got out and walked down a hill (I’m not saying where), and soon enough I’m at the entrance. He sort of looked at me like, “Are you going to be OK?” and I told him I was good to go and that I’d see him later.

I got into transition by 5:15, and first I dropped off my Ultra Violence that was lovingly loaded into my Big Bertha Fuel Belt into my T2 bag. Then I headed for my bike. When I had checked in Bitchie, I forgot to deflate the tires a bit and almost went back to do that, but Rich assured me not to worry about it (I have never over-inflated a tire), so I left things alone. I put my bottles on Bitchie, the SRM meter, and then I checked the tires. I have Tufo tubulars on my Cane Creek Chronos (with Titanium spokes, thank you very much, I’m such a fucking poser), and those tires don’t deflate much at all. In fact, when I loaded Bitchie into the box before leaving for Albany, the tires were super hard after not being ridden for 2 weeks!

So in the space of maybe 5 minutes, I’m done. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? I have my own pump, and there are lots of people in line waiting to get their tires pumped, so I decided to play Good Samaritan, since I’ve got loads of time on my hands, and randomly selected athletes to pump up. For some reason, each one I selected was an Iron Virgin, and I had my calm on, and knew to speak softly and calmly to them as I asked them what pressure (although I always guessed 120PSI). I got a little nostalgic looking into the eyes of some of these guys, thinking how exciting it is to be doing your first one. I tried not to act all jaded when they would ask me how many Ironman races I’ve done. Crap—it’s making me cry just writing about this. I felt like some saint ministering to the needy. For one poor guy, the valve stem broke off on his front tube, and I could tell it was old. It was only 5:30AM, so I calmly told him he had plenty of time to get that tube changed, and I pointed him to where Tech Support was located.

As I was walking back to begin suiting up, I spotted Chad and Steve, two guys I had ridden with back in June (they are the genesis of my Hottie Brigade on Flickr). Chad was pretty relaxed, but Steve looked pretty nervous. Still, we shared hugs, and I offered up my pump. Chad was also running Tufo tubulars, so I noted to him that they don’t lose much pressure, which was why the pump head kept popping off. We went by feel on his tires, and everything was all set.

Next, I got in line for the porta-potty to hopefully take a good dump (sorry, but we all do it, you know?). While in line, I heard a guy talking about how he had 3,600 of calories loaded into his bike bottles! I was unsure of whether to bite my tongue or not, and I decided to have a little heart to heart with the man. I told him that that’s probably about what he’d burn, but to plan on only replacing ½ of that. He said he’d done this in training, but I cautioned him that the stomach often does interesting things when the heart rate is jacked up due to racing and all, and that he should be prepared to modify his plan if needed. He was OK with this, and I got my turn and was successful in my mission.

I went over back to my bags, which were also in the end zone of the bag area. I am so old (Studio Audience: HOW OLD ARE YOU???)…I am so old that I don’t even rate a rack to put my bags on. In a way, though, that was a good thing, because my bag position, just like my bike rack, was easy to find. Just go all the way to the fucking end of all the bags!

I started stripping my dry clothes and everything right at my bag spot. I saw Shelley putting on her wetsuit and we had a hug before the big day began. I finished up getting my suit on, and then began milling around, figuring I should head down to the lake. On my way out, Rich flagged me down. I hadn’t expected to see him until much later in the day, so it was nice to see him again. I think I did a little bouncy dance in front of him—not sure why. Guess I wasn’t feeling too stressed, although I had a moment right then where I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. We jabbered for a few minutes until someone else he knew spotted him, and I took this as a cue to get my butt out of there.

I began the walk down to the lake, and the sidewalk was now carpeted with something resembling Astroturf. There were spectators walking on there with shoes, which got me upset, so I began telling people with shoes to get off the carpet so it wouldn’t get too full of rocks and assorted other shit. Some of them were clueless, so I’d tap them lightly and ask again. Some of the other athletes looked at me like I must be pretty gutsy to do something like that, but I am not a person of inaction. Sometimes people are just stupid and don’t realize what they are doing, and I didn’t know what non-athletes were doing in the chute, anyway.

As soon as I got down to the lake, Mike spotted me. How the hell he recognized me all neoprened up I don’t know, but I guess it’s my short, blond hair or something. It was nice to see a familiar face, and at this point, I began emitting an almost continuous string of F-bombs, which made Mike laugh. I told him that once I am about to go off, this is what happens, and I think I had motor mouth. But we kept smiling and laughing and we went into the water together and generally trying to keep one another as loose as you can be before you are about to start an Ironman.

I ended up lining up with the 1:10-1:15 crowd, or so they said. I am definitely capable of a 1:10-1:15 swim, so I thought this would be good. I had read about the 2006 race and how congested the swim was, and that there was lots of flailing and body contact, so I wasn’t looking forward to the melee, but what are you going to do?

In no time, the National Anthem was playing, and we were going to start.