Ironman USA Lake Placid Race Report--The Swim and T1

Swim
Predicted Time: 1:15-1:20
Actual Time: 1:23:19

Well, holy fucking crap, Batman! This swim start was unlike any other Ironman I’ve ever done. It was immediate and total congestion, body contact and really not so much swimming but jockeying for position. I could feel myself wanting to hyperventilate, so I just kept telling myself that it would clear up and to just keep moving forward somehow. I don’t know how to train myself for this shit. It really isn’t swimming at all—most of us were nearly vertical in the water, and yet we were being sucked forward. I actually let some people go by me because I just wanted to find a 2-foot area of clear water, if that was possible.

I have no idea how long it took before I was actually able to swim, but even then it was constant body contact, and not always the nice variety. I just tried to keep my face out of other peoples’ feet and try and not get my arms ripped off. I was pulled, hit, kicked, punched, you name it. OK I can understand the ratio of men to women is quite high, but some of the super-aggro people were FEMALE. What the hell, ladies? When did we take to a cage match mentality?

I tried my best to stay off the buoy line (there’s a yellow rope underwater for kayak races that you can see in a radius of about 6 feet), but whenever I would get slightly away from it, the draft would just suck me back in. Note to self: next year wait about 30 or 45 seconds to let the fucking Ultimate Fighting crowd get on that line.

Once you get sucked into a particular pace group on the buoy line, it’s tough to get out, so my swim was going to be whatever these people were doing. It certainly felt like once we got going that we were moving pretty well, but again, unless you are extremely aggro (which I’m not in the swim), you get what you get.

It was particularly unnerving to reach the turn buoys (the course is laid out in a rectangle, and you do the loop twice), because this is where you typically encounter super heavy body contact. Well, I didn’t even need to point my body around the turn buoys because I just got sucked around, and actually here was an opportunity to claim a little bit of open water. I used this to my advantage as best I could, but then found out there were still many other swimmers around me that wanted to hit, punch and kick.

I tried valiantly to get away from the buoy line, and I don’t have difficulty swimming in a straight line, yet I still got sucked back in. Oh well, time to stop fighting it and move on.

I was never so happy to get to almost shore when I saw the weeds. I was hoping that starting loop 2 would be a better experience. I stood up and ran wherever it was I was supposed to run to get back to the start of the second loop. I saw a lot of people taking their time waltzing back into the water, and I wanted none of that, so I just dove in and now I deliberately tried to get on the buoy line so I could make some time (hopefully).

Lap 2 wasn’t as bad as Lap 1, but the same issues existed, only there was a bit less body contact, but not by much. I got kicked in the face on Lap 2, but my goggles didn’t come off completely, and even though they developed a slight leak, it was no big deal because I was on the final loop back.

I have never before swallowed water during an Ironman swim, but this time I took on a good amount—nothing I was worried about, but you always have these flash thoughts of whether the water will make you sick. But I didn’t feel bloated or badly when I got out of the water, so I figured I’d be OK. I actually negative-split the second lap by a little bit, but I was disappointed in my time, but it was a done deal, so it was time to move on.

T1: 7:08

First things first—find a wetsuit stripper. I tried to get a hottie, but in the interest of time, I pointed at the first available guy on my left. He did a great job, and I got up and started running. There’s a rather long run (maybe ¼ mile) to get to the transition tent, and since I wanted to keep making forward progress, I kept running.

There were athletes who were taking their sweet time, and I would try my best to be polite, saying, “Excuse me,” or, “On your left,” and I think I got a few nasty stares. Come on, people, it’s a race! The faster I get on my bike, the faster I can begin tackling the bike leg and getting on my nutrition.

I got into the bag area and it was easy to make my way to my bags (being in the end zone ON THE GROUND and all), and I was shouting out my number just to be sure someone would grab my bag for me, which I got and ran with into the changing tent. I picked a spot in the corner on my right and sat down. Well, I must have swallowed quite a bit of water, because my body decided it needed to pee, and RIGHT NOW, and I mean I couldn’t even get up and run to a porta-potty. It was all water anyway, so I just had to let it go and move on with my day. I know that sounds disgusting, but once the floodgates were opened, there wasn't much I could do.

I had put a towel into my T1 bag so I could at least dry my feet (which is all that needed drying) before putting my socks on. I already had on my top and bottom and arm warmers, so all that was left to put on was my number belt, shoes, sunglasses and helmet, and after directing my volunteer what to do with the wetsuit and sunglasses case (she wanted me to take the case for some reason), I stood up and ran the hell out of there. There were a lot of women in there in various states of disorientation, so I got out as quickly as possible and began the run to my bike.

I got lucky even though I didn’t need someone to unrack my bike for me, a man did it, and I was pretty happy to get it and now I could run from the end zone back to the other side of the field and get onto it.

The mount line was fucking crowded, so I watched carefully, because I’ve seen people crash or tip over at this point in a race many times, so I jockeyed for a safe position and got on Bitchie. Boy, I was never so glad to get on my bike!

Weekly Workout Totals 07/16/2007-07/22/2007 and Growing a Poodle

It's TWOFER THURSDAY!!! Aren't you excited? You thought I'd forget to post my workout totals just because I'm in the midst of writing my massively huge and entertaining race report.

But first, I need to report on my Poodle-Growing progress...Shelley gave me this poodle-growing kit in Lake Placid. She made me a bracelet with poodles on it, too, so I guess her MO is giving me panties and poodle paraphernalia. BRILLIANT!

Since I got home on Tuesday morning, I have been progressively getting my house organized, as unpacking set off a bomb of clothing and general tri shit in just about every room. Then I ran into a quandary because I needed a large, clear item in which to grow the poodle. I don't own a punch bowl, although I own some crystal vases, but they are to etched to see through. I remembered that I had this set of canisters that I had in college and had saved for some reason. Now I know why! In case I needed to grow a POODLE!!!

OK now everything will be in pink bold because Blogger sucks donkey balls, but I guess it could be worse...

I started on the poodle yesterday after I put away not just clothes I didn't wear in Lake Placid (really not too many of those--I did wear all the whore clothing, though), but clothes I did wear and washed and other clean laundry from before I left town last week. And then there was the tri shit and a dishwasher full of...BOTTLES! I am nearly organized, so it's poodle time.

The poodle is growing nicely, and for my next photo I will hang the damn poodle by its neck so you can see it in the upright and locked position.

Here's what happened last week:

Weekly Workout Totals 07/16/2007-07/22/2007
Swim: 12905 yards (7.32 miles) in 4.32 hours; 20% of weekly workout time; approx. 1511 calories burned
Bike: Approx. 164.5 miles in 9.98 hours; 46% of weekly workout time; approx. 4574 calories burned
Run: Approx. 38.6 miles in 6.99 hours; 32% of weekly workout time; approx. 3164 calories burned
Strength: 0.52 hours; 2% of weekly workout time; approx. 130 calories burned
All Sports: Approx. 210.42 miles in 21.81 hours; approx. 9379 calories burned
Sleep: 6.86 hours avg./night
Stretching: 1.18 hours. Massage: 1.5 hours

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.

Ironman USA Lake Placid Race Report--Preamble

The rest will come out in a separate installment--there may be separate installments for swim, bike & run--not sure yet.

Please be sure and visit my Flickr page if you haven't already seen the photos that go along.

Wednesday, 7/18

My flight was scheduled to leave at 6:05PM. Got to the airport, and things looked good—called-for rain was holding off. We boarded on time, and then got out on the runway, only to find it had started raining, rather hard, and that there would be delays. We were queued about 30 deep, and so I listened to the tower chatter to get a handle on when we would leave. We ended up leaving about 2 hours late, and I found out when I got to Albany that we were one of the last planes to get out of O’Hare, as the weather got so bad they couldn’t get anyone out. Now, all I had to be concerned with was whether my bike had made it on the plane or not.

Since I was supposed to take off at 6:05, I had only bought a sandwich to eat around 5PM, and of course while we were on the tarmac there was no food or beverage service, and now I was beginning to be pretty hungry, but what are you going to do?

At Albany International, I waited patiently for the baggage to get off the plane, and got my rental car while that was happening. Slow fucking line. Retrieved my bike and checked bag while waiting for the rental to process. On the plus side, I got $20 bucks off because they had my Hertz Gold Card information in the computer.

Get everything in the car, and left the airport at 11:30. Easily make it to I87 north, and it’s a really nice road except it’s fucking foggy. So I’m tired, hungry, thirsty, and driving on a road I’ve never been on in thick fog. BRILLIANT! It made me feel like I was on an adventure (which, of course, I was).

Drive, drive, drive, trying not to be paranoid or fall asleep, because it’s so fucking dark and foggy and staring at the white lines and reflectors has got me hypnotized. I stopped at a rest area to score some caffeine, but the fucking machine ate my money. So I just took off and kept driving. 101 miles on I87 north, so at least I didn’t have to keep looking at a map. Exited onto 9N which turned into 73, and 27 miles on that, and I’m almost there. I start recognizing the bike course. Isn’t that amazing? Here I was last here 6 years ago, and I’m recognizing the bike course!

Thursday, 7/19

Get to the hotel about 2AM, and find out my room is on the second floor, so I just left the bike case in the car (leave the gun—take the cannoli). Schlep my bags upstairs, take a few things out and pass out after several cups of water. Starving, figure that’s what will wake me in the morning.

Nope—the sunrise woke me up. But I still managed about 4 hours of sleep or something like that—I’m not really sure. I figure I can catch up tonight. Besides, I have things to do. I head out to score coffee at McDonald’s and get a breakfast sandwich, too. I shouldn’t be eating this crap until AFTER the race, but oh well, I needed food RIGHT NOW. That did the trick! Get back to hotel and run into Shelley. How nice to see her! She’s looking all buff and happy, and I think from that point on it was non-stop chatter between the two of us.

Shelley and I had agreed beforehand we would run in the UPR (UnderPants Run—originally staged in Kona because of all the guys running around in Speedos, this fun run features mostly guys in their tightie-whities running through town), so we suited up to find out when/where the hell it was and went into town. We went down by the swim start and ran into Graham Fraser (the head of Ironman North America or North American Sports or whatever the hell they call themselves today), who remembered me from my mooning incident at Ironman Wisconsin in 2005 (it didn’t take much reminding!). He called Paula Newby-Fraser, who consulted with Paul Huddle, who said there was not going to be a UPR. What the fuck, people?

So Shelley and I head to the expo. Went to Inside Out Sports to get bottles, CO2 cartridges and reflective dots (which we ended up not using or needing). Then, we score some coffee from Green Mountain Coffee Roasters. At first I lined up 4 shot cups, but then I realized I needed to carry it with me so I just filled one of my new water bottles with ½ Espresso and ½ Mountain Blueberry (a delicious combination, if I may say so myself). Got a nice photo with the guy representing. The coffee was excellent, and so I started getting my caffeine buzz on.

Next it was off to the TP Massage Ball booth to reconnect with Cassidy, a friend of Kurt Egli (I know Kurt from an online LISTSERV group called TRI-DRS). Cassidy was at Ironman Wisconsin 2005 and witnessed the infamous mooning incident, so of course he was all over Shelley and me taking some photos with hardly any clothing. As we were stripping, a crowd began to gather around the booth for some reason. Graham Fraser showed up (the guy stalks my butt, I swear). We get some frontal shots, and then I tell Shelley it’s time to hang a moon. She declines, but I happily drop trou and the audience was pleased, I think. We put our clothes back on and nonchalantly walked away to go register.

Registration was no big deal—it was in the high school at the top of the oval. Found Colossal Quads (Nick), my first official hottie spotting of the day and got a nice photo of him. After registration (it was pissing rain), Shelley and I split up and I connected up with Cindy. We agreed to meet for lunch, and meanwhile I went to McDonald’s to partake of their fine, free WIFI (well it’s only supposed to be free the first time, but I’m going at different times of day so no big deal), and then I go to Cindy’s hotel for more WIFI and chuckles.

I bought these TY pink poodles with clips so you can hook them onto bags or whatever for both Cindy and Shelley (and one for me, too). The poodle is part of the “pinky” collection, and was named Pinky-Poo, but I crossed out that name on the label and wrote “Fucking FeFe.” FeFe is my Slowtwitch user name, and I happen to like the color pink and also poodle paraphernalia, although actual poodles are not my thing unless they are standard size—I’ve been bitten by two toy poodles. Shelley got me some panties (she is always buying me panties—people, it’s OK to send me panties if you have my address—size small, I like red, pink, Hello Kitty, Joe Boxer, Nick and Nora, anything unusual).

Anyway, Cindy, Jovan (Cindy's husband) and I head to lunch (their son, Matthew, is off at kid’s triathlon camp). We go to the Great Adironack Brewing Company in town. Jovan and I order beers that are in souvenir glasses, and each glass has a quote on it. Mine says “I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.” Said by Frank Sinatra. I ask the waitress if we can have the glasses and she says you have to pay for them. I wink at her like maybe I want it without paying, but I’m on the up and up. Jovan and I each have another beer, and the waitress flips my fork onto the floor when refilling my water glass, so I tell her I should get the beer glass for free due to my “incredible inconvenience.” She laughs and I know we will work something out. When the bill came (which I picked up since Jovan and/or Cindy are always buying me shit), I told the waitress I’d just tip her extra for the beer glass, and Jovan and I each kept ours.

After lunch, Cindy needed to do shit like register, so I went back to my hotel and then McDonald’s to download photos and upload to Flickr and do a blog post. I had dinner plans with the Canadians at Tale of the Pup, and hoped Kurt Egli and his wife, Shelley, would be there. The crowd assembled, and yep, Kurt and Shelley were there, and also somebody and his girlfriend who won't stop pestering me. Meeting Kurt was a buzz. Right out of the gate he’s calling me names, and I think I was right back at him. Damn smartass! Well, I guess I am, too. He kept calling me a weirdo. What the fuck, man? I may be many things—Crackhead, attention whore, etc., but I don’t consider myself a fucking weirdo. Oh well, I guess coming from Kurt that’s a compliment.

I spot a giant fake lobster, and of course, since I love all things crustacean, insist on Shelley taking photos of me with it. The lobster pictures were fun, the food was good, the company was great, and then I head back to the hotel, and my next “to do” is to wait for my pimp (AKA my coach), Rich, to arrive. Several calls about “where the hell are you on the road” and such resulted in my telling him how to get here from I87 and that I’m in room 16 and I’ll leave the door unlocked and he can just come on in. I was pretty tired from not sleeping again, and I was happy that I passed out around 9:30. When Rich walked in, I was a bit disoriented, but I didn’t think it was the midnight stalker. He just said, “Hi,” or something, and then I sat bolt upright in bed to get my bearings and then I realized it was him. This was a good thing, because now I had my bike, my coach, my friends, and everything was assembled in Lake Placid to do a race. Finally!

I never did work out on Thursday—it pissed rain most of the day, and then with getting the bike put together and the meeting up with old and new friends and waiting for Rich and no sleep, there was no point in working out.

Friday, 7/20

Despite my midnight guest arrival, I managed to sleep pretty well, but I still got up before 5:00AM, because I’d just been used to it for weeks, so why stop now? I tried to be as quiet as possible, and I snuck out and headed to McDonald’s (again) for some coffee and WIFI. I figured Rich needed to sleep later, and I already know he’s a pretty good sleeper (bonus: he does not snore and looks cute sleeping), and I figured I’d bring him some coffee back. I don’t remember if I got another breakfast sandwich—I shouldn’t have, but the call of the wild McD’s can be like a siren if you’ve got an impending Ironman.

I went back to base camp around 6:30, and delivered some coffee to Rich. When I was packing for the trip, I told him I was bringing Nutter Butters and he told me not to, because he was back on the good eating wagon, but I brought some because I thought *I* might actually eat them. Well, I never did eat any, but Rich hit them first thing Thursday morning, and when I asked him what’s up with that, I think he just grinned like a little imp and said, “I’m eating Nutter Butters for breakfast.” Whatever, dude, who am I to be critical? After all, I was the one eating Twinkies with whipped cream on them a few weeks earlier.

I suited up to swim. Shelley and I headed down to the swim start and met up with Cliff and Darren and assorted other hotties. I ended up swimming 1.2 miles in a pretty decent time. The water was very nice and cool and flat. Shelley headed back to do some stuff, and I stuck around to mostly just watch (I don’t need to listen anymore) Rich yak and take pictures. I waited until he and Patrick McCrann (his business partner) were done. Finally, Rich came up to say hi to me, and I told him I just wanted to meet Patrick in person, and we discussed our respective plans for the rest of the day, which didn’t include lunching together (no big deal), but Rich invited me to dinner with someone else he coaches, and I said I’d go. I didn’t know if it was an afterthought to invite me or what, but I suppose that’s a guy thing anyway, so again, I’m not getting worked up about much of anything.

A few peeps came up to me and either shouted “Sheila” or “Hey, Crackhead,” and either way I knew they were looking for me. I met Swordfish and Dan English and then Kurt showed up again and I asked him to take a picture of my new Hello Kitty panties but his eyes and hands were not on the same wavelength, so the picture came out weird.

I finally headed back to the hotel, calling Shelley on the way to see if she was still available for riding, and she was. I suited up in my brand-new Ironcamp kit, which nobody else owned let alone had worn yet. It looked really cool with my bike, and Shelley looked great on her bike, so us two Iron Beeyotches took off (Eh?) to ride a bit. With all the fucking traffic into downtown Lake Placid, and us not having a chase car, we decided to just bike the run course, which was fine. We had a grand time, but even before we got out of town we were spotted by some peeps we know (Mike and others) and I got a lot of comments about both my Bitch and my kit. I knew I was styling, what the hell? If I’ve learned one thing in this sport, is that you have to LOOK GOOD!

So we get the hell out of town and ride and have a great time observing others out doing the same and all that. The memories are coming back—I remember the run course—how fucked up is that? I guess Ironman memories are pretty strong.

When we are finished, I tell Shelley I need to run and she said she’d chill and we could go get lunch together. So I ran about :25, starting uphill from the hotel, which was excellent. I let myself have my emotional moments, since I needed to get that out before race day, and it pissed a little on me, but I didn’t care. The run felt good, and when I got back to base camp, I asked Shelley if I had time to shower and change quickly, and she said yes.

So then we all head out to try for some lunch, and place #1 is flat out closed. It’s 1:30PM, people, what the hell??? So then we ask for a recommendation for another place, and we go there, and it’s got like 3 tables which are full, so we are shut out, and I suggest why not just go back to Tale of the Pup, since they will be open and we know they have good food? That worked, and we went back to the scene of the Thursday night crime and we were happy.

We drank some beers (why stop now?) and were getting our buzz on (to wash away my caffeine buzz from earlier—ask Shelley how big of a motor mouth I had while I was workin’ the caffeine gig), and I started thinking about making signs to put out on the run course, and I just had an outpouring of ideas. Shelley needs to remind me of all of them, but here are a few:

• Your Dad Sucks
• You’re so Fat—I can’t hear you
• Titanium Bike: $5,000. Zipp Wheels: $1,500. Aero Helmet: $250. 25 pound beer gut? PRICELESS.

I can’t remember the rest of them, but I know I wrote down at least 15 ideas. Shelley’s son, Eric, was a hoot, because he was just encouraging me. The kid should hang out with cheap Ironman drunken women more often! Most of the ideas did not come to fruition, which was probably a good thing.

We head back and I don’t remember what I was doing—maybe I went back to McDonald’s for some WIFI—oh yeah, I did that, and I just got some (blech) Powerade to claim I was a first-timer and could I get the free WIFI, please? Of course, I got it and posted more crap to the Internet, because, well, you know I have obligations to fulfill. I decided I needed more beer, so I went out to get some, and I went to a Wine & Spirits place, but in New York State they don’t mix beer and wine (what the hell is up with that?), so I was admonished to visit another establishment for the beer, and I scored a 12-pack of local stuff.

When I get back to the ranch, Rich is laying in bed reading, and he sees the beer and he’s like, “You’re drinking?” And I say, “Yeah, what the hell.” So I offer him one and he takes it, and I open one for myself. I tell Rich that there are two things that I will not do without a beer in hand: 1) pack or unpack my bike in the box and 2) make up Ironman transition bags. Rich was well aware of the whistling ban while I’m making up the bags, but I think I let it go this time. Having already done 8 Ironman races, my bag packing is now like clockwork, and I just don’t put much in there, so I was done in a flash and could relax and partake of a second beer before dinner.

At some point Rich just sits bolt upright and says, “Ready?” Well, I am still a girl, and I want to look nice for the others, so I quickly change into my white Target whore pants (hereafter known as TWP’s) and a tank from Athleta. I was feeling all lean and mean and skinny and whore-ish. What the hell? I got the figure to pull this off, I may as well. I don’t remember whether I was wearing underwear or not. I may have gone commando!

So we drive there and it’s a really nice place and I meet the peeps and we sit down in this really nice restaurant called Kanu. As soon as we are all seated, the waitress brings us “complimentary sparkling wine” to toast. I guess she must have known some of us were doing the race. I can’t turn down a good sparkler, so I partake. And then we start jabbering, and wine is ordered, and I’m asked if I want a glass, and I’m like sure, why not, and I turn to Rich and say, “Good thing we started drinking earlier, huh?” And he smiles and we got some really great food and had some great conversation.

10:30PM and we’re back at the hotel, and boy did we need sleep! I passed out in about 10 seconds.

Saturday, 7/21

I don’t remember whether I had set an alarm clock or not—I doubt it, because at this point I could use some sleep. Wake up a bit groggy and hung over—oh well, it’s not race day so I can deal. Rich offers to drive me around the bike course, since he has to pick up a loaner bike to ride at a place that’s just off the bike course. I’m all over that, and we stop just at the end of town and I get coffee, water and Gatorade for the rest of the day.

The ride was beautiful. The rain had finally stopped altogether, and it was nice to be out just looking around. Rich was giving me pointers about this and that area, and I think I paid attention maybe 50% of the time. We talked about a bunch of stuff, and he’s convinced me to do a Wildflower double—1/2 Ironman on Saturday and Olympic on Sunday. Sounds right up my alley, right? And then we are both doing Triple T at the end of May (Rich has not done it before). Now I’m thinking maybe I should try and sneak in a visit to Colorado Springs in between those two events, so maybe I’ll return from California via Colorado.

I told Rich about my first triathlon coach and how he had been engaged to be married and his fiancé was in a car accident and when she came out of it, she never remembered her fiancé and how angst-ridden the man was. Rich made some comment about how he might try that tactic at some point. Um…I can forget if you can forget :). I think it was Friday he told me he bought himself pink socks that say HOTTIE on them, and I was like, at least I wouldn’t buy something like that for myself. Oh wait—yes, I would. Sorry, Rich, I lied to you.

Aaaaaaaanyway, when we finished driving the course, we stopped to have breakfast (about 11:00AM) in town, and despite some slow service, we had a good meal. The day appears to be going in slow motion—I am as calm and relaxed as can be, no cares in the world. I think part of that was due to having a hangover, but the other part was, hey I’ve done this many times before and also knowing that the weather was predicted to be fucking excellent.

After driving the bike course, Rich doesn’t exactly feel like riding the bike that day, and I don’t really need to do anything, but I do want to go for a short run, which I manage to do despite having eaten so close to it. I figure this is another opportunity to be tough—running while full of eggs and trout and toast and potatoes. The run sucked a bit, but I still got it done. I needed to do something!

Rich said he’d drive me to bike check-in, but I wanted to ride down there and then have him pick me up. Turns out I picked a good time to go (around 1PM), and car traffic wasn’t too bad going into town. I sported my Ironcamp kit, because I need to look good at all times when I’m representing! I had arranged to meet Steve (the guy who got me to sign up for my first Ironman) at transition. He said he was at my bike spot, which I playfully referred to as the “end zone,” as I was in the very last rack.

I see Steve and we have a hug. Some other women are fixing up their bikes. Me? I just rack it and cover the saddle and bars with plastic grocery bags. DONE. I’m looking at all these other bikes that have tons of crap on them, and my Bitch weighs NOTHING. So I playfully say to Steve, “See? I don’t use an aerobottle anymore.” So this chic then asks me what do I do if I don’t use an aerobottle? I walk over to my bike, and point at (video here would be priceless) the cage on the seat tube, then each one on the XLAB, saying, “BOTTLE…BOTTLE…BOTTLE.” I think Steve was just about losing it at this point. So the chic then asks me, “How do you drink?” I make the universal hoisting a beer sign, saying, “Like this.” OK, people, yes I know I sometimes make fun of newbies, but this was all in good fun, because I was laughing the entire time, and I did answer all questions asked, and come on, the woman was just setting me up!

Rich had forgotten the battery charger for his laptop so he asked if he could use mine. At first, I wanted to get it back so I could do my daily religion of downloading photos and writing a blog post, but then I reconsidered and told him to go have at it and come back whenever. I spent the next hour or so fixing my bottles (I love my fucking bottles—and no comments from the peanut gallery about them, you understand me???) and taking photos of my bottle shrine. I decide I want to eat dinner early, even though I should still be full from lunch, so I head out to try a place Rich had recommended, only it’s just closed at 3:30 (what the hell), so I try another place, and it’s also closed, and finally I try this small pasta place called Villa Vespa. I guess that means “house of little Italian scooters.”

Anyway, this restaurant is one that was recommended to me by my very first triathlon coach 7 years ago, but I didn’t go there in 2001. Today was the day. I got a dinner for me and one for Rich to go. I headed back to the hotel and chowed down on spaghetti with sausage and meatball, some bread, a little salad, and some water. Then I gathered up my CD player (no, I still do NOT have an iPod, sure call me dumbass—I don’t care) and a beer and went outside to gaze at some clouds and get into my happy place, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I’m still out there laying on the grass when Rich waltzes up and tries to flag me down like I’m way off in the distance. I see him and just wave. I need to keep a bit more of this up, and I stretch and I’m feeling all great.

Finally about 7:00PM I go back into the hotel and now it’s business time. Rich asks me when I need to get to sleep and at first I say 8:00 but then I back off until 8:30. He’s watching some Transformer/Vampire movie thing, which I’m not really interested in and I did doze off a bit around 8:00, but then got up and watched a bit more before actual bedtime. Then I get asked what time am I getting up and I say 3:30 and he says, no really waking up and I say THREE THIRTY. That’s how I do this. So the alarm is set and it’s all over but the race.

To Keep You Entertained until the Race Report is Ready...

These three photos were taken by a friend, Cathy Taylor, who was present in 2001 when IMLP was my first Ironman. I don't quite remember her pointing the camera at me, but I really like these pictures. I look like I mean business, don't I? But hey, the one with the sponges is clearly during the second loop, and I'm all smiles. What the hell is up with that? I think I have way too much fun doing this and I need to learn to dig deeper to go faster...but somehow I think I will always manage a ton of smiles :)

Workin' on the Race Report

So this morning I woke up at 2:15AM so I could put remaining crap in the car and drive to Albany International Airport to make a 7:00AM flight back to Chicago.

I had wisely bought a large coffee yesterday at McDonald's to drink this morning (down the hatch, as they say) so that I'd be semi-awake for the 140-mile drive.

The drive was uneventful except for numerous pairs of eyes on the sides of the road--there wasn't much fog to drive through this time.

I had pretty much decided what the hell, I'm drinking on the plane, so when it was time for drinkie-poos, I ordered up a Bloody Mary. I was already hard at work on my race report, as you can see from the above documentation. The Bloody went down real sweet, and the plane landed early and I was home by 8:30AM. NICE!!!

I've got a ton of writing to do--you know me--the race report will be an opus. My bike box is empty save for the bike, and I already did laundry, had a nice 2-hour nap, bought some more beer (Mmmmmmm.......beer) and I'm ready to type away before I pass out blissfully. Then I get to try and work tomorrow!

Stay tuned peeps...this one's gonna be good!

Ironman USA Days 2 and 3

Since I know you all are most interested in the pics:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157600969457981/

The race report will take a few days. Suffice it to say, I had a great time. Not a bad finish--my 2nd fastest Ironman, and I took 7th in my age group, which I guess is not too shabby. I stood in line this morning to register for next year, and when I called my pimp, who was already on the road back to JFK Airport to fly home to California, he didn't even say hello, all he said was, "So did you sign up for next year?" Yeah, he's got me figured out all right.

Highlights of my race day: I mooned the crowd at the IGA Hill (no shit, I am not kidding) after performing a little razzle-dazzle footwork to some tuneage; I totally enjoyed riding my Bitch; Cindy and Shelley both had PR races out there, I saw Kurt running the last Penalty Tent on the bike course, and my coach harrassed...er...encouraged me throughout the marathon. How cool was it to have my coach out there? I can't even tell you. I reeled in over 60 people from Mile 17 to the finish--I stopped counting at Mile 20, so that tells you how many there had to be. The best thing was when Rich started telling me with about 2 miles to go that there would be many beers to be had when I was done. I managed to drink 4, and I gotta say, that's one of the best beer buzzes I've ever had.

I got some nice schwag (my bill was just under $500), and I've got my bike packed and in the car since I have to leave around 2:00AM to drive to the Albany airport to catch my plane home. All I have left to do is pack my clothes, score some personal time with Kurt and his wife, and it's all over. But I already have a ton of great stuff to look forward to, cuz you know, I LOVE riding my bikes, so I gotta get back in the saddle ASAP! I'm thinking I'll get a new tri bike next year--I have my eye on the Pinarello Montello. But Bitchie is just fine for now.

I suppose I'm pretty happy--I really can't complain--I didn't have the race I thought I wanted, but truthfully, there was nothing bad about it. I swam as best I could considering the cage match mentality, I biked according to plan, and I had a PR marathon for an Ironman. All good!

In the end, I absolutely fucking LOVE training, and a good race or two are nice, and I guess I've actually had several in 2007, and I'm sure 2008 will be good, too. It was great to reconnect with people I haven't seen in awhile, make new friends, and I'm excited about the new crop of Ironmen that are coming into the sport, as well as my impending coaching operation (if you're interested, let me know).

Thanks to everyone who watched me--you ROCK!