Run
Predicted time: 4:45
Actual time: 5:06:40 (an Ironman marathon PR)
Total Predicted Time, including Transitions: 12:55-13:05
Actual Time, including Transitions: 13:39:51
Placement: 7/24 in AG (including the DNF’s)—does that make me a FOP???
I’ve been running a lot in the past few years, but I am by no means a “runner.” Actually, I’m not a swimmer or biker, either. I started all this crap in the year 2000, after spending 1 year “running.”
I’ve done Goofy’s Challenge twice, now, where you run a ½ marathon on Saturday and a full marathon on Sunday. Both times, my marathon time was right about 4:30, although I think I could run faster if the weather conditions were right. When I have begun the marathon there, my legs feel similar to the way they feel when I get off the bike in an Ironman. I have now revised my interpretation to they actually feel much better in Goofy’s Challenge at the start of the marathon than they do in an Ironman! The cumulative fatigue of a 112-mile bike ride (plus that silly swim) is greater than a ½ marathon run at jogging to cruising pace.
Even still, I figured I should be good for a 4:45 Ironman marathon, and I now still think I can if I can learn to dig deeper into my suitcase of courage (I did see a sign out on the marathon course that said “Here’s your Suitcase of Courage,” and it made me laugh).
People talk about suffering during an Ironman, but the only time I have really suffered was last year during Ironman Brazil because I was so deeply sad about the death of my mother. I have never felt like I was truly physically suffering. How can I say this? Because I have experienced far worse physical and mental pain personally outside of triathlon than I think I could ever inflict upon myself. I’m sorry, but there ain’t nothing that compares to being held at gun and knifepoint for 3 hours while being raped and accused of being a scourge on an entire group of people and focusing on one thing: convincing these people to not kill me. So my perspective on pain and suffering is a bit different than for many people. Also, I have never (touch wood) had a seriously debilitating disease. I have 2 good arms, 2 good legs, 2 good lungs, a functioning brain, and hey, there’s a lot you can do with that. I also come from a very intellectual (ok, geeky) background, and I am very accustomed to doing the work to achieve certain objectives and having a lot of confidence in myself, so I feel like as long as I’m doing the work, I will get a good result.
Sure, I got beat to shit in the swim, and while I was on the bike, my feet hurt eventually like sons of bitches, and my crotch was none too happy from the sheer amount of mileage and climbing and then the sun beating down and all the nasty sweat, but was any of that suffering? Hell no. See, I expect those things to happen, and when I get discomfort that I expect, it’s not suffering to me. My coach told me he’s concerned that I may be using up my “suffering chits” because of all the crazy shit I do. I told him that so far, I hadn’t really suffered, and that as long as I keep things fun (which I believe I do), I’m good to go. I think that’s why he told me a few weeks ago that maybe I shouldn’t do an Ironman in 2008. What the hell—to me, an Ironman is not the big deal—it’s all the fucking training you have to do! Now, maybe I have the wrong attitude and need to find a way to dig really deep in the race to suffer in order to go faster. We shall see!
So I get out of the transition tent in a good time, and I begin doing what I’m supposed to do for the first 6 miles—jog. Not run, not shuffle, but jog. I’m taking it easy and not looking at my watch—my time will be what it is based on what I am able to do at this point. I actually don’t feel bad in starting the run. I know that will change, but for now, life is good.
The first few miles out of town are just lined with spectators, so it’s hard not to feel good! Since my bib prominently said SHEILA, and my bib is about as big as my hips, it was tough for people to not see my name and shout it out. I sported the same streamers I wore at Triple T for good luck. I always carry this tiny piece of lava from Hawaii and a gold cross with a small pearl in my running shorts during every Ironman that I do. The lava is to remind me of the most beautiful place that I know of in the world, and the cross is from my First Communion, and while I don’t consider myself a practicing Catholic, it does remind me of my spirituality and how blessed I am to be so healthy and able to do an Ironman. I also wear my lucky, red Race Ready long distance shorts. They have seen me through 6 Ironman races so far.
So at the start of the run, I’m smiling broadly, just doing my thing, and nothing feels bad physically except that it is noticeably hot. I didn’t know what the actual temperature was, but while on the bike I could feel the sun beating down. At least it wasn’t humid—I’m fine in dry heat. I heard reports that it hit 90 that day. Good thing all the aid stations had cold, wet sponges, which I took to putting on my shoulders to keep me cool. I didn’t realize until after the race when I took a shower that I was sunburned. See, some things just escape me while I’m racing, which is a good thing, because if you dwell on the negatives, you put yourself in a bad place.
I can never remember a marathon mile-by-mile (same as the bike course, sadly), so where/when exactly things happened for the most part will be a big blur. Hey—I just thought of a new way to bill an Ironman race—“140.6 Miles of Blur.”
I do remember that when I reached the turn onto River Road on the first loop, there was Rich right at the corner. He flashed his always welcome smile, and asked me how I was doing. I remember my response being something like this: “Feet on fire—gone. Crotch on fire—gone. Stomach feels great, so I feel pretty good!” I’m pretty sure I was making some wild hand gestures while having this short conversation, because, well, it’s hard for me to talk without my hands!
Later on on River Road, and I don’t remember if it was the first or second loop, I saw Rich again, and I said something like, “Ice fixes ANYTHING.” I am all about the ice in races. Ice in hat, ice in bra, and if I’m wearing bike shorts or a swimsuit bottom, ice in shorts! Since I was carrying my supply of Ultra Violence, I would also go through aid stations, grab a cup of ice, and pour that heavenly liquid over the ice, and presto—ice cold pop!
The first time back into town, Shelley’s husband and kids were camped out, including lawn chairs (the nerve of them being comfortable). Shelley’s youngest, Eric, and I developed a particular affinity for one another. It seems we have the same silly sense of humor. Eric spotted me, and he shouted (he made sure to shout really loudly so I wouldn’t miss it), “I CAN’T HEAR YOU, CRACKHEAD!!!” I turned, spotted him, and shouted back, “I MUST BE WAY TOO FAT!!!” That got me going for quite awhile. On the second loop, when I was nearing the finish, Eric yelled, “I CAN HEAR YOU NOW--YOU'RE NOT FAT ANYMORE!” Believe it or not, the statements both times carried deep meaning—on loop 1, there was no point in me getting too happy with so many miles to go, but I lost weight so that he could hear me finally!
The rest of my description is in no particular order, as I can’t really remember whether the memories are from the first or second loop. I do remember that my feet felt fine for the first loop, but by the second, I was back to feet on fire. Not just that, but it was MY FEET ARE FUCKING KILLING ME. It was nothing I didn’t expect, and I knew I had a few blisters going, and I knew the camber of the road was messing up my left foot a little more (and also my right quads), but there was nothing to do about it but acknowledge it and keep doing the best I could.
There was an aid station in the area out of town before you reach River Road where they had a Mr. Potato Head smack on the yellow line of the road. He was about 12” tall, and I think he may have been holding a flag or something? I would kill for a picture of that. Anyway, I think it was coming back on my second loop and there was this car (some regular idiot trying to drive while we are all over the road) that was trying to get through that aid station. The car was going really slowly, and everyone (including me) is shouting, “DON’T HIT MR. POTATO HEAD!” People were swinging and flailing their arms wildly to make sure the guy in the car (I think it was an old, light yellow Chevy Impala) didn’t run over him! That was fucking hilarious!
There were lots of Janus signs out on the run course, in fact, they were so thick, you couldn’t read every single one. Those signs were a fucking brilliant idea of Janus, whenever they started them, which I think was 2002? If you need to be taken out of your (not mine, I don’t have any!) misery, all you need to do is read the signs. In addition to “Here’s Your Suitcase of Courage,” I remember one that said “You’re not here to make friends.” I sure wasn’t. While I was perfectly happy chatting away during the bike ride, on the run, I am saving all the energy I can, and while I say Hi and Thank You profusely to the volunteers, I am not much for talking to the other athletes, as this is MY time—it’s when I need to focus on staying in my happy place and getting it done. So I understood that sign very well. Besides, I already have lots of friends!
Have I said yet how wonderful all my friends are? Not just the people who were physically present in Lake Placid, but all the people who watched me online and sent me good vibes. You were all right there with me, and believe it or not, I can feel that spirit while I’m out there running. It’s like this extra bit of lift in my step, and while I don’t actually scroll through the names of everyone I know, I can sense there’s this energy that is outside of myself that is carrying me along. I do spend time thinking about people that I know who are on the course while I’m running. I hadn’t seen Shelley all day, so when I finally saw her running with a great lead on me, I just got this really nice feeling, you know? And each time I saw Cindy, I was so happy she was doing so well. See—I think I know how to do these things—maybe I’m not fast, but I execute pretty well, and so I don’t think I have much to worry about. As I’ve already said, I more or less know what to expect, and I don’t have nutrition issues or cramping or anything like that, so I get a chance to just enjoy myself and celebrate my health and fitness. Yet I know it’s not like that for everyone, so I do sort of worry about my other friends out there.
A man I know from back home, Joel Zucco, has been at several races and events I’ve done this season. He was racing, and at some point during the run, I saw him and he flashed me our private gang sign. The first time he did it to me a few months ago, I thought I recognized him, but I wasn’t sure, and then I realized it was him. This time, though, I knew exactly who it was. Joel had a great race, and just like for Shelley and Cindy, I was so happy to see him doing so well!
I saw Nick, aka Colossal Quads, when I was going back into town on my first loop. He was going out on his second, and he looked strong. He spotted me and shouted at the top of his lungs, “HARDEN THE FUCK UP” while pointing at me. Man, did I need to hear that! I was having a brief moment of wanting to slow down, and that just got me going and made me realize that I wasn’t really in any pain here and to keep running.
I had applied several temporary tattoos, which you can sort of see in some of my race photos. Armbands around each biceps, an Energizer Bunny on the back of my left calf, an Endurance Nation on the back of my right calf, and a Canadian Maple Leaf on the front of my left shin. The Maple Leaf was good for a few extra spectator cheers, as many of them thought I was Canadian. One guy actually asked me if I was Canadian (what, I don’t look Canadian?), and I told him I was just a “Canadian sympathizer.” He said he is Canadian, but that he’s not a Canadian sympathizer! It’s interchanges like this that really keep me going and help me keep perspective during an Ironman run.
Rich was all over, riding a bike, while I was out there. I was always happy to see him. He was always smiling, and I was except for once—when I was almost back to the Oval and I was taking a short walking break, and he made some comment about how he had caught me walking, and I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes and hoped he couldn’t tell because I had my sunglasses on. But it got me back running, so it was all good. One time he was on the opposite side of River Road on his phone and telling me that one of his dogs, Sonny, said hello. For some reason, I didn’t really care about it at the time, and I shouted to him that he needed to be telling me to harden the fuck up! I do like all the happy encouragement shit, but I also really like being told to suck it up, so here’s words to the wise for any of you who plan to be in Lake Placid in 2008: Smile at me, but then tell me to harden the fuck up if I’m running! I will still probably smile broadly back at you and thank you either verbally or in my head.
I think it was on loop 1 when I was nearing town and there’s a hill where lots of spectators stand, that I later found out is called the IGA Hill (there must be an IGA there, eh?). There was some guy with a megaphone who acted as the spotter, and would get the crowd all riled up to cheer for whoever was running up the hill. They also had music blaring. I don’t remember what was playing, but I love music, and I love to dance, so I spontaneously did a little razzle-dazzle footwork for the crowd, and they cheered madly, and then just as I was about to turn the corner, I decided, what the hell, let’s flash a moon, so I bent over and more or less gave myself a wedgie—enough so, that you could see my butt, and the crowd went wild! I heard later from a guy I know that was up there that Megaphone Guy went temporarily speechless. I totally had fun doing it, and I didn’t even break stride, and I didn’t notice I was climbing a hill!
On loop 2 on River Road, at one point there was some sort of bird emitting this high-pitched scream, almost like it was looking for dead meat on the road. So I yelled out, a la Monty Python in a forced, fake British accent, “I’m not dead yet!” That got a few other athletes to crack a smile, and I had fun doing it. I ran past where the bird was and when I hit the turnaround and circled back, it was still there, so I gave another round of “I’m not dead yet” and got some more athletes smiling.
Around Mile 16, Rich came by and told me there were a lot of folks “going backwards” ahead of me and that if I just kept pace I would probably pass a lot of them. Talk about something to get me motivated! Now everyone became a target. I didn’t start counting until I saw the Mile 17 marker, and then I remember counting to 65 somewhere by Mile 20 and then I just quit counting, but kept plugging along. I didn’t feel like saying anything to those I passed, not even a “good job,” because I was doing my own job and now I didn’t have much extra to spare.
Turning off of River Road, I got some comments like I made a cute cheerleader (that wasn’t the point of the streamers at all), someone commented on how pretty I looked especially since I took the time to put lip gloss on (what the hell, man, I’m sunburned!), and how tan I am! I just didn’t have the energy to correct anybody, and besides it would be rude, since the spectators are just trying to take you out of your alleged misery, which I truly wasn’t experiencing. At this point, it’s all about get it done.
With about 2 miles to go, Rich rides up and tells me he’s going to go change and then there will be many beers to drink! I was all over that plan, but I needed to keep running, so I did. In the little out and back section before you are home, one humungous spectator dude stuck his hand out for some reason and ended up hitting me in the gut, like what happened to Lori Bowden a few years ago at Ironman Hawaii. It hurt a bit, and then the guy is trying to hug me and I’m trying to get him off. I told him, “Let me go I have to keep running!” I know he meant well, but I didn’t need to be stopped dead in my tracks with less than a mile to go!
And then I finally near the oval where you see the 2 signs—Loop 2 to your left and Finish to your right, and this is where I think every athlete just lights up and all the pains disappear and you know you’re about to be home free. Even though it was still relatively light outside, everything outside of my direct field of vision appeared dark. I knew there were people there cheering, but I had to finish, so I just kept running. There was some stupid Ford vehicle on a platform—what the hell??? There was a RAMP that we had to run over, and I bet some people tripped and fell on the stupid thing. But up and over I went and then it was the final home stretch, and again, I didn’t look anywhere but straight ahead, and I haven’t seen my finish video, but I’m pretty sure I was all smiles, and some volunteers held a tape for me to run through, and it was over!
I was grabbed by a gracious volunteer and wrapped in Jiffy Pop (what I call the mylar blankets used at Ironmans and marathons) and asked how I felt and what did I need? All I needed was a bit of water, my medal, finisher hat and T-shirt! I was given these things, and I told my nice man that I was fine and would be good to go on my own. As I walked through the finish area, there was Rich, all smiling and changed up, and we immediately set to getting all my crap out of there. He told me to go grab some pizza, and I did get in line but they ran out at the guy in front of me! Well, they weren’t out for good, but they finished one pizza up and there was going to be a wait for more, and I must say it wasn’t a very efficient operation. So I walked out of that line, found Rich again and we decided on how to manage getting stuff out. He went and got my bike and I went and grabbed my bags after taking some of the crap off my body like the Fuel Belt, number belt, and stashing my medal and shirt, and getting out of my running shoes and into flip flops.
When Rich came back with my bike, he told me that now they were getting volunteers to go retrieve the bikes and bring them to you. What the hell? He just waltzed into there like he knew what he was doing and thankfully didn’t have to wait in line to get my bike! I tried to carry some stuff, but he said he’d manage everything and I felt so useless. We walked out of the oval across the street basically to Patrick’s (Rich’s business partner) place, where we could shower. There were several bikes in there from various athletes and whoever was there chatted with us about how things went and stuff. I was pretty anxious to shower, so I headed upstairs for the BEST SHOWER EVER! I thought I was going to scream more in the shower, because usually I find some chafing that I didn’t know about, but actually things weren’t too bad. I put on my brand new T-shirt, my Spongebob pants that I had worn about 14 hours earlier, and I was ready for some beer.
Rich and I headed to a sports bar that he knew had the Tour de France on, which it was great to watch. My bike was in the bar and after 2 beers some guy tells me my bike can’t stay there, but it went outside and a bouncer was watching it. I really didn’t care by that point and was more interested in the beer!
4 beers and one burger later, I’m feeling much better and pretty giddy. I’d remember something that happened in the race that I found funny and would tell Rich and I think he was laughing more AT me than WITH me, but it didn’t matter.
Rich went and got the car and we loaded my crap in and went back to the hotel where I thought I wanted one more beer, but I passed out in about 30 seconds once I laid down in the bed, and I slept really well and woke about 7AM hungry as hell (expected). I told Rich I was going to McDonald’s and what did he want? I got the biggest breakfasts they make and brought everything back. There were a number of other finishers in there getting a fix. Rich then had to leave to drive to JFK to catch his plane home.
After breakfast, I got my bike mostly put away and my clothes organized, and I had lunch with Cindy, Jovan and Matthew, again at Tail of the Pup. Beer went down great and I think I had some combination of BBQ stuff to eat. Cindy et al then began their drive home, and I went back to finish packing everything. I went to McDonald’s one last time to get a large cup of coffee for the morning, and I managed to get to sleep early since I needed to get up at 2:15AM.
Ironman doesn’t stop with the race—it’s not truly over until you are back home in your own bed. I awoke just before the alarm went off and chugged the cold coffee and loaded the car (I had put the bike box in there the night before to avoid waking anyone), and began my 140-mile drive to Albany. The drive was uneventful except for a few pairs of eyes on the sides of the road. I went to McDonald’s one more time because I was starving.
My plane left on time, I had a Bloody Mary in flight and began working on this race report, and the rest is history. I’m already plotting my revenge on the course in 2008!
Thanks for being my friends, fans, and personal cheering section, everyone. A special thanks goes out to Rich, who helped me train well even with the bizarre stuff I choose to do, and who was my biggest supporter on the day.
Monday, July 30, 2007
UPDATE: Tiny Bike Fit Clinic at the Barbie Tiki Hut
There have been some attacks at the Tiki Hut this morning...http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157601084965211/
More Pics of me Running in Ironman USA
My coach, Rich, took these. I tell ya, I have too good of a time out there! But I am actually running, so that's a good thing!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Weekly Workout Totals 07/23/2007-07/29/2007 and Dweeb Triathlete of the Week
First, the dweebage.
So I'm on my way to an organized ride to do 100 miles (yah, I know--shouldn't I be recovering??), and I always enjoy driving up on someone with bike on car, so I near this one, and I can't believe the shoes are clipped into the pedals! I tried taking a photo while driving, but couldn't get a good one, so since I knew the person was probably heading to the same place as I was, I just waited...
So we arrive, and it's a woman, and she parks and I park, and I let her go off to register while I snap this photo. This was AFTER I hear her talking to someone else about how she only takes the shoes off for races??? WTF??? Dweeb. I bet she leaves the numbers on her helmet and bike for days after a race, too...
So yeah, I rode 100 miles today and I did 60 yesterday. How'd that happen? I had only scheduled 2 hours of riding for the weekend, but I was out with a friend on Friday who told me of some ride starting in Crystal Lake and did I want to go? I thought, why not, let's just give it a shot, and since I was drinking (well, more than him), and I know I ride pretty well with a hangover (I am celebrating, he he), I show up Saturday morning, and there are some serious riders. I figure I'll be dropped faster than the disco ball in Times Square on New Year's Eve, but hey, may as well give it a try. So we take off, and while I thought there was a 50-mile group, turns out they are all doing 78, and I just don't think that's a good idea for me, but what the hell. So me and Harold ride with them for a bit, and there was a turn where some of us had to stop and then the rolling hills started and it was all over, after I think about 25 minutes. So at least we made it that far! Here I thought Harold was being nice and waiting for me, but this ride was over his current fitness, too. So we made up a ride, and we found some really nice roads and ended up at about 58.5 miles. I actually pulled most of the ride, and were it not for the lostness and navigational issues (thank God Harold had a GPS), we would have average about 18MPH, not bad for fairly hilly, hungover and recovering from an Ironman. When we were about halfway, there was a group of girls who passed us while I was stopped taking a piss, and then we got back going and there was this 3-mile hill, and we could see them up ahead, and I decided I wanted to catch them. It was a long grind up that hill, but at a corner, we lost them, and then I decided we needed to go right, and there they were at a gas station! So we closed well, and I saw a guy with an Ironman Lake Placid jersey so I flashed my new pink IMUSA water bottles at him and they were pretty incredulous that I was riding after just racing last Sunday. Oh well, that's me! We finished riding and ended up having a great time, having found some nice roads to ride on.
So I do that yesterday and figure, hey, I must be recovering pretty well, let's see how the rest of the day feels and maybe I'll ride Sunday. First, though, I swam to loosen up after the riding. The swim felt great, and I went back home and decided I'd check if there was an organized ride I could do, and sure enough, the Metro Metric was going, and I just figured I'd try and do 100 miles since I have that 300K ride in 2 weeks. If I felt badly, I would sag off the course.
So I go to ride this morning after the dweeb sighting, and I was riding pretty well considering. I was a little slow, taking 5:58 to ride 100 miles when I usually can go about 5:40 or even less depending on conditions. It was windy, and it got pretty hot, but I persevered, thinking that this will help set me up for the ride in 2 weeks. At the next to last rest stop, I was coming out and a group was going in and I heard someone yell, "Sheila? What are you doing out here?" And I thought it was this girl, MJ, and she was in the group, but it was actually Lori who shouted at me. I knew they'd catch me, seeing as how I was underpowered, and when they did, we had a great time talking. They congratulated me on my race, which was cool, as they had followed me online, and it's always nice to see them. MJ is doing IMFL, and Lori is doing IMKY. They then went ahead of me, and at the next rest stop when I pulled in, they were leaving and I yelled at them, "Hey, you FREAKS!" And they yelled back at me, "It takes one to know one."
I'm glad I did the 100 miles today and this sets me up nicely for a rather big week coming up. I feel pretty recovered, especially since I didn't run at all this week. Next week, I get back on that train. There's a little voice in my head that says since I'm recovering so well I must not have gone hard enough in the race, but then the other little voice tells me that it's just because I'm so fit and have done so many IM's that I am able to recover and I didn't do anything stupid in the race.
Here's my happy totals. I'd like to be sleeping more, and I will get back on my stretching.
Weekly Workout Totals 07/23/2007-07/29/2007
Swim: 10300 yards (5.85 miles) in 3.57 hours; 26% of weekly workout time; approx. 1249 calories burned
Bike: Approx. 165.38 miles in 9.45 hours; 70% of weekly workout time; approx. 4698 calories burned
Run: Approx. 0 miles in 0 hours; 0% of weekly workout time; approx. 0 calories burned
Strength: 0.5 hours; 4% of weekly workout time; approx. 125 calories burned
All Sports: Approx. 171.23 miles in 13.52 hours; approx. 6072 calories burned
Sleep: 7.04 hours avg./night
Stretching: 0.5 hours. Massage: 1.5 hours
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!
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!
Tiny Bike Fit Clinic at the Barbie Tiki Hut
Yeah, I know I'm nuts...I bought the Tiki Hut 2 years ago, and left it unassembled. Rather, I didn't think it needed further assembly, but when I opened the box yesterday, I found that there were more parts than I could see and that it turned into something pretty neat. I have no idea why I decided to hold a bike fit clinic there, but it seemed like a good idea at the time, and so it's a done deal: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157601084965211/
Please note that the poodle that I have been growing is featured.
Please note that the poodle that I have been growing is featured.
Friday, July 27, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
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.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
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.
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 :)
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
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!
Monday, July 23, 2007
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!
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!
Friday, July 20, 2007
Ironman USA Day 2
Photos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157600927567899/
Pretty good day here. My pimp arrived late last night, and so with all my gear, him and everything all set up, today I was cued up for some workouts. It was pissing this morning, but hey, no big deal if you are going to swim.
Headed down there with Shelley, and met up with Cliff and Darren, and then all but Shelley went for a swim. I did 1.2 miles in a pretty good time for me, considering I was fucking around out there and swam by myself.
After I got out of the swim, it turned into a Crackhead spotting festival. Guys were coming up to me and either saying, "Sheila?" or "Crackhead?" and we'd chat and get some photos. Nice to put faces with names!
I hung around for Rich and Patrick's talk (didn't listen, though), only because I wanted to meet Patrick. I'm like the cobbler's kid--my coach is always talking to everyone but me, it seems. But I got my brief turn, and wow, I got some fake tattoos for my trouble (I already have some really nice ones queued up for race day). Do you detect the sarcasm? It's OK--I'm a little jaded about some of this stuff.
I went back to the ranch finally to get on my bike. I suited up in my brand-spanking-new Ironcamp kit, which I don't believe anyone else has worn yet, and man, it looks great with Bitchie, I think. I may wear it race day--not sure yet. Anyway, it sucks getting the hell out of town here on a bike with all the car traffic, but Shelley and I managed to get away and ride the run course, and that brought back some memories.
Next, I ran while Shelley picked up her sons from some play time. Then we all tried to get lunch. WTF is it with this town??? Places closed for lunch or they only have like 5 tables. We ended up at Tale of the Pup again, which was fine, because we know the menu and it's good. While there, we made up some really classic signs for Shelley's family to make to be put out on the course. I won't say what they are, only that I am pretty sure at least one will make the race video.
Then I downloaded all the pics to hard drive and put them up on Flickr (I'm at McDonald's again, but only drinking Powerade this time), and now I'm ready to go and fix some transition bags back at the ranch.
Dinner with some other trigeeks who may or may not like me--don't really care--people either groove on my personality or not. I could use some more sleep tonight as well--I did pretty well last night, but 2:15 of workouts and I'm a bit tired (and underfed).
More tomorrow...stay tuned!
Pretty good day here. My pimp arrived late last night, and so with all my gear, him and everything all set up, today I was cued up for some workouts. It was pissing this morning, but hey, no big deal if you are going to swim.
Headed down there with Shelley, and met up with Cliff and Darren, and then all but Shelley went for a swim. I did 1.2 miles in a pretty good time for me, considering I was fucking around out there and swam by myself.
After I got out of the swim, it turned into a Crackhead spotting festival. Guys were coming up to me and either saying, "Sheila?" or "Crackhead?" and we'd chat and get some photos. Nice to put faces with names!
I hung around for Rich and Patrick's talk (didn't listen, though), only because I wanted to meet Patrick. I'm like the cobbler's kid--my coach is always talking to everyone but me, it seems. But I got my brief turn, and wow, I got some fake tattoos for my trouble (I already have some really nice ones queued up for race day). Do you detect the sarcasm? It's OK--I'm a little jaded about some of this stuff.
I went back to the ranch finally to get on my bike. I suited up in my brand-spanking-new Ironcamp kit, which I don't believe anyone else has worn yet, and man, it looks great with Bitchie, I think. I may wear it race day--not sure yet. Anyway, it sucks getting the hell out of town here on a bike with all the car traffic, but Shelley and I managed to get away and ride the run course, and that brought back some memories.
Next, I ran while Shelley picked up her sons from some play time. Then we all tried to get lunch. WTF is it with this town??? Places closed for lunch or they only have like 5 tables. We ended up at Tale of the Pup again, which was fine, because we know the menu and it's good. While there, we made up some really classic signs for Shelley's family to make to be put out on the course. I won't say what they are, only that I am pretty sure at least one will make the race video.
Then I downloaded all the pics to hard drive and put them up on Flickr (I'm at McDonald's again, but only drinking Powerade this time), and now I'm ready to go and fix some transition bags back at the ranch.
Dinner with some other trigeeks who may or may not like me--don't really care--people either groove on my personality or not. I could use some more sleep tonight as well--I did pretty well last night, but 2:15 of workouts and I'm a bit tired (and underfed).
More tomorrow...stay tuned!
Ironman USA Day 1 (cont'd) and Beginning of Day 2
The FLICKR folder has been updated: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157600902724760/
I'm at McD's, unbelievably, for the second time this trip--today I'm just here because I woke up at my customary 3:30AM (4:30AM here in Lake Placid) and wanted coffee, and saw McD's has WIFI and they open at 5:00AM.
Yesterday I came to McD's because I was so fucking starved from my travel adventure Wednesday night that I got a Sausage McMuffin w/Egg. I needed that!
My pimp arrived about midnight last night and guess what the first thing out of his mouth was? "Does this hotel have wireless?" I about popped him one, but just laughed. He's zonked out snoozing while I'm contributing valuable content to the Internet!
This morning I'm going swimming, and rumor has it I will be hottie spotting. After swimming, I'm going to hopefully get on my bike (it pissed all day yesterday so no workouts) and then run, and then this afternoon is bag day (pack the transition bags). Hopefully, "someone" will be buying me maybe lunch and dinner--I don't really want to go to the carbo thing or athlete meeting.
Whereas yesterday I felt like complete and total crap from hours of travel and lack of sleep, today I feel rarin' to go--although if you ask Shelley, I was pretty wired yesterday from my most excellent caffeine adventure care of Green Mountain Coffee Roasters (a fine customer of the company that I work for).
OK, I am recovered and ready to wreak havoc on this place, at least for today!
Crackhead over and out...watch this space for daily or even more frequent updates!
I'm at McD's, unbelievably, for the second time this trip--today I'm just here because I woke up at my customary 3:30AM (4:30AM here in Lake Placid) and wanted coffee, and saw McD's has WIFI and they open at 5:00AM.
Yesterday I came to McD's because I was so fucking starved from my travel adventure Wednesday night that I got a Sausage McMuffin w/Egg. I needed that!
My pimp arrived about midnight last night and guess what the first thing out of his mouth was? "Does this hotel have wireless?" I about popped him one, but just laughed. He's zonked out snoozing while I'm contributing valuable content to the Internet!
This morning I'm going swimming, and rumor has it I will be hottie spotting. After swimming, I'm going to hopefully get on my bike (it pissed all day yesterday so no workouts) and then run, and then this afternoon is bag day (pack the transition bags). Hopefully, "someone" will be buying me maybe lunch and dinner--I don't really want to go to the carbo thing or athlete meeting.
Whereas yesterday I felt like complete and total crap from hours of travel and lack of sleep, today I feel rarin' to go--although if you ask Shelley, I was pretty wired yesterday from my most excellent caffeine adventure care of Green Mountain Coffee Roasters (a fine customer of the company that I work for).
OK, I am recovered and ready to wreak havoc on this place, at least for today!
Crackhead over and out...watch this space for daily or even more frequent updates!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Show this Crackhead some Love
Because this place doesn't. Although I submitted a definition of myself there :) It should be published at #29.
Seriously, people, and I know there are a lot of you out there reading this blog. I need some love for my A-race on Sunday, 7/22/2007--Ironman USA Lake Placid. Final list of peeps I know in some capacity also posted above. Love them all on race day!
If you have a blogger account, please comment and show me some love--I've disabled comments moderation, so your love will show up immediately.
If you DO NOT have a blogger account, you can set yourself up so you can comment without really setting up a blog. Head here and then begin the blog creation process, through the point where you have a profile set up. And then just don't create the blog. It's that simple. Then you can comment away.
I still am not allowing Anonymous to comment. He's a dickhead, from what I hear :)
Oh--and please tell me what country you are from.
I need some Blogger love and mojo.
Seriously, people, and I know there are a lot of you out there reading this blog. I need some love for my A-race on Sunday, 7/22/2007--Ironman USA Lake Placid. Final list of peeps I know in some capacity also posted above. Love them all on race day!
If you have a blogger account, please comment and show me some love--I've disabled comments moderation, so your love will show up immediately.
If you DO NOT have a blogger account, you can set yourself up so you can comment without really setting up a blog. Head here and then begin the blog creation process, through the point where you have a profile set up. And then just don't create the blog. It's that simple. Then you can comment away.
I still am not allowing Anonymous to comment. He's a dickhead, from what I hear :)
Oh--and please tell me what country you are from.
I need some Blogger love and mojo.
Edit: If you are racing IMLP, read this:
Ironman USA Pre-Race Talk, Friday 7/20 @ 9am next to Tennis Courts by Swim Start
Ironman coaches Patrick McCrann and Rich Strauss of Endurance Nation (http://www.endurancenation.us/) will host a pre-race talk for all Ironman USA athletes at 9am on Friday next to the Tennis Courts by the swim start. Patrick and Rich will discuss the pacing, nutritional, and mental strategies they’ve used to bring over 400 coached athletes across Ironman finish lines. This talk is open to all athletes and will last approximately 45 minutes. Look for two guys in Endurance Nation gear talking to a bunch of athletes.
Ironman coaches Patrick McCrann and Rich Strauss of Endurance Nation (http://www.endurancenation.us/) will host a pre-race talk for all Ironman USA athletes at 9am on Friday next to the Tennis Courts by the swim start. Patrick and Rich will discuss the pacing, nutritional, and mental strategies they’ve used to bring over 400 coached athletes across Ironman finish lines. This talk is open to all athletes and will last approximately 45 minutes. Look for two guys in Endurance Nation gear talking to a bunch of athletes.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Weekly Workout Totals 07/09/2007-07/15/2007 and Packing the Bike
Ugh...ugh...oh, God...oh,God...you think that once you aren't training so much you have all this time, but NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.
Let's see--last weekend I did a Wisconsin festival, and the week before I did a Wisconsin festival and the week before was a lot of riding and the week before that was another Wisconsin festival...it's been rather non-stop.
Aaaaanyway, I made it through this week, and I think I'll make it to Lake Placid intact. Here's what I did last week:
Weekly Workout Totals 07/09/2007-07/15/2007
Swim: 16650 yards (9.45 miles) in 5.6 hours; 36% of weekly workout time; approx. 1961 calories burned
Bike: Approx. 97.13 miles in 5.55 hours; 36% of weekly workout time; approx. 2499 calories burned
Run: Approx. 24.14 miles in 3.63 hours; 23% of weekly workout time; approx. 1639 calories burned
Strength: 0.67 hours; 4% of weekly workout time; approx. 168 calories burned
All Sports: Approx. 130.72 miles in 15.45 hours; approx. 6267 calories burned
Sleep: 7.21 hours avg./night
Stretching: 0.5 hours. Massage: 1.5 hours
I know it looks like a lot, but a lot of it was swimming, which has been absolutely GREAT. Not to mention I now have a killer tan.
I got my bike all packed up, and I have a schedule for the coming week, and all I have left to do is pack my checked bag and carry-on and I'm all set. Here's how the bike packing went:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157600840088140/
Let's see--last weekend I did a Wisconsin festival, and the week before I did a Wisconsin festival and the week before was a lot of riding and the week before that was another Wisconsin festival...it's been rather non-stop.
Aaaaanyway, I made it through this week, and I think I'll make it to Lake Placid intact. Here's what I did last week:
Weekly Workout Totals 07/09/2007-07/15/2007
Swim: 16650 yards (9.45 miles) in 5.6 hours; 36% of weekly workout time; approx. 1961 calories burned
Bike: Approx. 97.13 miles in 5.55 hours; 36% of weekly workout time; approx. 2499 calories burned
Run: Approx. 24.14 miles in 3.63 hours; 23% of weekly workout time; approx. 1639 calories burned
Strength: 0.67 hours; 4% of weekly workout time; approx. 168 calories burned
All Sports: Approx. 130.72 miles in 15.45 hours; approx. 6267 calories burned
Sleep: 7.21 hours avg./night
Stretching: 0.5 hours. Massage: 1.5 hours
I know it looks like a lot, but a lot of it was swimming, which has been absolutely GREAT. Not to mention I now have a killer tan.
I got my bike all packed up, and I have a schedule for the coming week, and all I have left to do is pack my checked bag and carry-on and I'm all set. Here's how the bike packing went:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8737154@N04/sets/72157600840088140/
BCLC Ramble 6/10/2007 Hottie Shot
I just located this photo at the BCLC club site. It's me, hottie Chad (guy I met at IM Brazil last year) and his friggin' ultra hottie friend, Steve. The club dude taking pics pre-ride was enamored of my Bitch (or was it me...he he), and kindly asked if he could shoot us.
While I only rode behind Chad and Steve for a bit (they launched right into intervals), I ended up finishing 105 miles only about 5' after they were done, and I don't think I was quite as shelled.
Steve--if you are out there, get in touch...both of these guys will be racing IMLP, so I'm sure to see them somewhere, right? I tell ya, Steve gets me going...those legs...that smile...you should see the back view...that's all I'm saying.
I created a set on Flickr called "Hottie Brigade," and these guys made it in, and I threw in some others that I was easily able to locate. More hotties will be on the way, so check in there periodically. I am sure there will be lots of hotties located at IMLP next week. Rules for entry are that I think the person (male or female--hey I don't discriminate and can appreciate both sexes, even though I'm straight) is a hottie, and I was present while the photo was taken (whether or not I personally shot the photo). No, you can't submit photos to me. That would make you a loser. But feel free to suggest names of hotties I should meet so I can um...evaluate them!
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