Ironman USA Lake Placid Race Report--The Bike and T2

Bike
Predicted Time: 6:45
Actual Time: 6:59:05

In some respects, the bike ride is one big blur. Biking is where I’m pretty focused on watching my power, not running into stuff, and not getting hit by stuff or other athletes. I did see a couple I know, Bill and Cathy Taylor, right at the bike exit, which was really cool.

My predicted bike time is based on a race rehearsal ride that I did on the Ironman Wisconsin course, which took me about 7 hours. I thought I’d be about 15 minutes faster at IMLP, but then again, I rode the Wisconsin course a little too hard, and so what I ended up with was just fine. As a side note, when I did Ironman USA in 2001 as my first Ironman, my bike split was 7:44:12, so I definitely have become stronger on the bike!

I was sort of excited to ride this course again, because back in 2001, I sucked so bad in general (and should not have been doing Ironman at the time), and now I enjoy riding hills, and think I’m a pretty decent cyclist. Riding in an Ironman, though, you aren’t riding anywhere near what you can do when you don’t have to run a marathon afterwards.

I didn’t really like putting 6:45 down on paper as my predicted bike split, but I knew that was reality, and so that was my going in assumption. While I was riding, however, I never paid attention to how long I was on the bike; rather, I paid attention to my nutrition, watts and stuff and people around me, which is what you are supposed to do. Bike splits can vary dramatically based on weather and other things.

One of the things I rarely have trouble with in any race is my nutrition. Why? Because I’ve had my RMR (resting metabolic rate) measured, which then enabled good estimates of my burn rates, which bore out back when I used to use a heart rate monitor. Given this data, I’m able to manage my intake to match my output. I take in about 50% of calories burned while biking, and about 30% when running (I don’t remember the source where I read that you only need to replace 30% when running). But do these numbers work for everyone? No. They work great for me because I have made it a point to become and stay very lean, and I also monitor my nutrition in training so that I am always taking in carbs to keep my brain happy and blood sugar elevated, which can help to spare glycogen and encourage fat burning.

This year, I finally got a custom blend of Infinit made for myself, and surprise, surprise—the calories per hour delivered are right about at 50% of my bike burn rate. Actually I wasn’t surprised when I read the nutritional content—I was quite happy it matched what I knew to be my personal truth.

I loaded 2 bike feed bottles each with enough for about 3.5 hours of concentrated nutrition. I carried one on my seat tube (my Griffen’s down tube is too bladed for a cage, so it lives on the seat tube) and put one into special needs bike bag. I had a water bottle in one of my XLAB cages (short enough so it wouldn’t create any aerodynamic drag), and so my nutrition plan was to sip from the feed bottle and chase it with water. I ended up replenishing my water at just about every aid station on the course just so I could have cold water. I think this is an important fact. Cold liquids are absorbed better by the gut, and so even if I was only halfway done with a bottle, I chucked it at the aid station and got some cold stuff.

OK, so now you know my general nutrition and pacing plans. All that’s left to talk about is actually riding! The way I’d describe the bike course is that the first third of the loop sucks, and then the rest is nice, even the major climbs. The reason I don’t like the first third is that there are a lot of false flats. On the first loop, I dropped my chain twice because I should have just stayed in the small ring, but I was a dumbass and went big ring and then I’d start climbing and I was screwed. But I know that when you drop your chain this way you just shift into the big ring and it goes right back on, and then you are stuck in the big chainring, but at least you don’t have to stop.

After the false flat crap you get the nice descent into Keene. On the first loop, I hit 42MPH (I didn’t look at the speedometer), and on the second, only 28, because there was a headwind and I had to pedal! That descent is really fun! When I did the race in 2001, I was so afraid of descending and I remember I was braking a lot. Not this time! I have learned to become more comfortable, I have to say, from riding La Gazza Ladra (my Pinarello road bike). That thing descends like a champ, and it’s very stable while doing so. Even though a tri bike is not quite as nimble as a road bike, riding a road bike can teach you to stretch your definition of comfortable speed on a descent. So I was really happy that I didn’t chicken out. Don’t get me wrong—that descent can be a bit white-knuckling—but on the whole, it’s tons of fun, as long as you don’t have too many people to get around. I look forward to doing it again next year!

After the descent into Keene, you make your way into Jay, and that’s actually a really nice part of the ride. Not too hilly, and actually quite a good bit of flatness. At some point, you start heading to Hazelton and the out and back. Right before Hazelton on the first loop I saw Rich riding the opposite direction. I shouted, but I wasn’t sure he heard me, but later he said he saw me.

The out and back is pretty fun. Why? Because there are no draft marshals. I’m not saying I was blatantly drafting, but since the road is congested, the athletes are pretty much in there like sardines, so you almost have no choice but to get on someone’s wheel if they are in front of you. I used this to my advantage to save watts here and there. I also saw some idiot crash right before the aid station upon entry to this part of the course. One thing you must do in this section is pay attention. You can ride like the dickens, but you still need to be very aware of athletes all over the place. The aid stations in the out and back are OUTSTANDING! They had music blaring and all the volunteers were great. Now, remember, I’m only taking water, but I have the whole docking sequence down like clockwork: Identify my person, point at them, shout, make sure they know THEY ARE MY PERSON, hand out with strong fingers, dock that water bottle, and keep riding. Some people just don’t know how to do this. So you need to be careful when rolling through the aid stations, too, so you don’t have a collision with some spaz.

After the out and back, you begin the major climbing of the loop. First, there’s “Heartbreak Hill,” which is just a warmup for Whiteface Mountain. Heartbreak Hill really separated the climbers from the rest. In most Ironman races, drafting will not be called on these climbs. I know this having been a draft marshal last year at Ironman Wisconsin. We don’t want to penalize people for doing what needs to be done, and you shouldn’t be forced into a pass on a major climb just because the person in front of you is a slow climber.

After Heartbreak Hill, you are wondering when you will hit the Whiteface Mountain climb. You don’t climb the entire mountain, but there’s a good, long climb where you are definitely going up, up, up! And that means you are nearing the end of the loop, except for the group of 5 hills at the end—Little and Big Cherry, Baby, Mama and Papa Bear.

When I finished the Whiteface climb, there were 2 guy spectators on the side congratulating us for making it up, and I yelled at the one guy, “Where are the fucking Care Bears?” I just thought to call them that, and the guy just burst out laughing and told me they were just a few miles up the road.

Truthfully, when I got to Little Cherry, I didn’t even know I was on it, it just wasn’t that bad, in contrast to 2001 when any little thing felt like a major climb! And then I didn’t even notice the Big Cherry, and the fucking Care Bears really weren’t that bad, either. They were just short and a bit steep. Nothing major, though, but I knew they might feel differently on Loop 2.

At the end of the first loop, I was just happy I was done with 56 miles, and I wanted to get busy on the second loop.

The beginning part of the second loop sucked as much as the first time, only this time I didn’t drop my chain. The descent into Keene sucked because we now had a headwind, and I had to pedal my way down! The leg into Jay was still nice.

On loop 1, there were 2 guys, named Bill (first name) and Rench (last name). The first time I saw Rench, I said, “You’re missing a ‘W’.” I figured he got that all the time, and he laughed. I told him the correct response would be, “I’m not a tool.” We had a good chuckle about that, and it seemed we played cat and mouse for a long time. I saw him stop to pee near Whiteface Mountain on loop 1, and then I just didn’t see him for a long time. At some point, he passed me, and then I caught back up to him on loop 2. When I did, he said, “I was wondering when you’d be back.” I took that as a compliment, and we stayed in the general vicinity of one another for the rest of the way. I check the results, and I beat him by 20 minutes. I guess he was riding too fast for a decent run!

Bill was wearing a bright blue 2XU race suit. There were a number of men wearing these. Bill and I enjoyed Heartbreak Hill together on the first loop, and we were together heading to Jay on the second loop, and finally, I decided I needed to stop and pee. I hadn’t peed since the T1 incident, and I wasn’t worried about it, but now I needed to go, and I didn’t want to pee in my new (this year) shoes, so I started hunting for a place to stop. I am not one to need porta-potties, so when I saw a sign for a little park, I decided this was it. Well, it turns out this was the choice of at least 5 guys, so I found a spot that wasn’t even secluded, pulled down my shorts, announced loudly that, “I’m a girl and I’m peeing don’t make a big deal about it,” and I peed I think like 2 gallons, which felt really good. I got back on my bike, and not too long later, I caught back up to Bill. I rolled up next to him and said, “Hey, Bill—I stopped to pee, read a magazine and took a shower.” I knew this would make him laugh, and I was happy to get his spirits up. Not that we were feeling badly, but I don’t care how you cut it—112 miles is a looooong way to ride, especially when you know you still have a marathon to go.

There was another Dutch guy whose name I don’t remember that I also played cat and mouse with. The first thing he said to me was, “Somebody wrote the wrong age on your calf.” I was so tickled he would say that, and we shared a bit of conversation every now and then. I know I passed the guy in the marathon for good, so I hope he finished okay.

On loop 2, when I got to the out and back, I found myself with this guy named O’Byrne (last name). We were riding about the same pace, and I knew the tricks of the out and back, so when we got in, I yelled at him, “Hey, O’Byrne, let’s make some time here.” I led it out and we just slingshotted past a bunch of riders, and throughout this time I kept thinking to myself, “We’re ROCKING the out and back.”

On both loops there, I saw Cindy a few miles behind me, and each time, we recognized one another and she’d yell something like, “I need some CRACK.” She told me later that athletes around her looked at her all funny, because why would they understand? One time I told her I’d give her some, but I couldn’t get across the road.

On loop 2 on the way out of the out and back, some guy’s chain broke, and he was WALKING down the center of the road because a spare link had rolled backwards! I told him to get the hell off the road that it was dangerous (which it was), and that I’d send tech support back, which I did when I saw them. What a dufus!

The second time up Whiteface wasn’t bad. There was a girl (Newsome, last name) that I heard complaining of her IT band hurting, and as I rolled past her I told her to raise her saddle a hair. I think she thought I must be some kind of idiot or something by the look on her face, and I told her that I know for a fact that it will work to alleviate the pain. Well, about 10 minutes later she is back right behind me thanking me, telling me that it worked!

Once again at the end of the Whiteface climb, I encountered the spectator guy I had seen on loop 1, and once again, I asked him, “Where are the fucking Care Bears?” By this time, I knew where they were, but I figured he could use a good laugh, and he just about fell over.

So you see that even though I am focusing on my riding and watts and such, that I manage to have a good time out there. I suppose if I was way faster that I wouldn’t be able to do it, but for now, this is what works for me, and I really enjoy helping lift the spirits of other athletes and talking to the spectators when I can.

At the end of the Care Bears, I was definitely ready to get off my bike. By this point, I had crotch on fire, feet on fire, and I was sunburned. I expect my feet to start hurting by about mile 80, but on this day it didn’t happen until about mile 90, so that was good, but when they began to hurt, they really hurt. I acknowledged that they hurt, and that if I wanted to I could stop and take a rest, but I didn’t want to, so I just said, “Fuck you, feet!” to myself and kept pedaling. For the crotch on fire, again, not much I could do, so what I did was just tell myself it would be OK once I started running. Aside from those two problems, everything else felt fine! My nutrition was spot on, and I didn’t feel too bad for the wear.

T2: 3:39

I dismounted my bike without incident and began running to the bags again. This was a much shorter run than the one from the lake to T1. I got my bag, got in the tent and began doing my thing. I had a fresh pair of socks in the bag, which I wavered on putting on, but my awesome volunteer told me I’d appreciate it, and I had pre-lubed them with Body Glide and there was talcum powder in them, so I knew my feet would like it. My volunteer was absolutely wonderful—she caught on to everything I asked her to do, and I was in and out relatively quickly.

Time to run!