IMMT Race Report: Race Day

After a half-decent night of sleep, I woke up at 4:30am, filled with the notion that it was going to be a great day.  My husband was nice enough to walk to transition with me where my first order of business was to get air in my tires.  After borrowing a pump and doing it myself, I became worried that I hadn't done a good job.  I walked the bike over to the bike mechanics who when I asked if it was okay, said in a thick French-Canadian accent, "Close, but not quite."  So to those guys, thank you.

With the bike racked and ready to go, it was off to walk to the swim start.  The weather was much better than the day before in that there was no fog and the visibility was great.  The atmosphere that IMMT created was everything I wanted it to be and so much more.  The amazing singing of the Canadian Anthem, the fire flares and cannon blast to start the pros, the fact that the female pros got the same treatment as the males (there is nothing more disappointing than fanfare for the male pros only for the women to be sent off with an air horn), the military fly over, all of it, perfect.  I had gotten my wetsuit on with my friend Jill, walked to give my husband a big kiss and then tried desperately to find two people that I needed to before the gun went off.  I found Dianne first, exactly where I knew she would be, near the front, cell phone in hand, recording video of the day.  Dianne is the person that gets up with me (even when neither of us wants to) at 5am to hit the pool.  I was thrilled to ask her to zip up my wetsuit and send me off to my corral.  Cue the second bout of uncontrollable waterworks.  Then it was off to find Sue.  Shortly after meeting Sue playing ice hockey, I happened to finish a marathon right next to her dad, mistakenly thinking she was taking my photo.  I learned shortly thereafter that she was training for IMLP 2010.  I remember tracking her all day on my phone that year and being so impressed that someone could do this.  After that we began riding together and she has been an invaluable source of information for biking, triathlon, hockey and more.  As I was lining up for my wave's swim start, Sue and I found each other.  We shared the biggest hug that you could imagine, waterworks bout #3, and for the first time all morning, I felt ready.

Photo courtesy of Dianne San Luis

Swim: While many people were excited about the wave start for the swim, myself included, I am now no longer a fan.  As a medium to strong swimmer in the 30-34 AG, I was engaged in a 2.4 mile dog fight.  First with my age group, then with the best 35+ women who were swimming through us and then, worst of all, the poor swimmers in the men's division.  In my mind, as a good swimmer, you can seed yourself in a mass start and find like-paced people.  Having to swim through frantic, grasping, gasping, and now tired, large men at the end of a race segment was terrifying.  Normally you can shake that sort of nonsense quickly, but not in the wave start format.  Being mistaken for a buoy, and dragged under with .4 miles to go was not exactly how I wanted my day to start.  Nonetheless, I came out of the water filled with energy, running the entire red carpet to T1.

T1: I grabbed my bag and started to change when I realized how badly I had to use a bathroom.  I was told that there were a "few" port-o-johns in transition, but that I should change clothes first.  After doing so I took off sprinting out of the tent and then waited for 5 minutes...yes 5 minutes...to use one of the two 'johns that were intended for the pros.  Though I still had a ton of energy, it was a big momentum killer.

Bike Loop 1: For a number of reasons, including that I had never biked more than 96 miles in my life, I was a little worried about the 8 hour bike cut-off.  I had done that math that if I could keep my pace above 15 mph I would be okay.  My coach had suggested a slightly more aggressive pace so I figured as long as I stayed between those two, I would make it.  The first bike loop was great, I was keeping a super pace and taking in the beauty.  I kept thinking of what Sue had said the day before, which was to look around, take it all in and then be happy you get to see it one more time.  The Montee Ryan seemed to fly by, the out and back on 117 was challenging but fun, after the turnaround I was able to see my friends Heather, Sue, and Jill.  They all started in the wave behind me.  Admittedly I'm a better swimmer, but they are all better bikers, so I just held on waiting for them to catch me.  The small town of Saint-Jovite brought waterworks #4 as people lined the streets cheering in French and English, "Allez!  You can do it! Bravo!"  The Chemin Duplessis was exactly what I figured it would be...hard.  My goal was to keep it under control for round one and stay safe.  Those who bike with me know that I have walked my bike down far more hills than I have up.  As we started the final descent, some spectators (pretty much the only ones on that section) started screaming to slow-down.  Terrified that there had been a crash, I did as instructed.  As I made the bend, I realized that one of the spectators had a handful of pebbles and was throwing them at the butt of a deer who had managed to get stuck in the middle of the road.  Luckily his plan worked, the deer darted off and from what I could tell, no one lost any time or too much momentum.

Bike Loop 2: I had mentally prepared for the "dark" places in this race.  I had strategies lined up for how to deal with them.  Every so often I would check-in with myself and see if I needed those yet and each time, I realized that I was still in a happy space.  I started off on the second loop of the bike race and realized that while I was still happy, it was getting to be a little uncomfortable.  It was hot, windy (in all directions), and the pack had become spread out.  I was so thankful for the rest areas along the bike course.  I was able to refill my water bottle, get slathered in sunscreen, grab a banana and with volunteers moving at the speed of a NASCAR pit-crew.  One issue though was that the drop zones were too close to the end of the water station and at one point, I ended up with an extra bottle that I didn't need, but couldn't throw out for nearly 10 miles.  I made the turn around on 117 and got past the next aid station.  At that point, on the flats at the top of the hill, I witnessed one of the scariest things you could see.  A female rider just ahead of the biker directly in front of me, inexplicably fell over her back left hip and face-first on to the pavement.  The rider in front of me stopped as did two in the opposite direction.  Realizing that no one had phones, I took off at record-breaking speed to find a volunteer.  By this point I was sobbing at what I had witnessed (she was not moving when I passed).  I flagged down a volunteer and he sprinted to his car.  The rider who had been behind me caught up to me a few feet later, asked if I was okay and confirmed what I had believed to be the case, that this rider had passed out before hitting the ground.

**I have had the good fortune, thanks to social media, to be in touch with this rider.  She is doing okay after three days in the hospital.  This was her 23rd Ironman and she is past retirement age!  We spoke on the phone the day after she was released, not only about the accident and questions she had, but about Ironman.  She is already registered for IMMT 70.3 and will hopefully be given a clean bill of health to continue participating! **

As we made the turn into Saint-Jovite, I started to hurt.  My lungs and mental state were okay, but my left knee was not.  I think all of the climbing had made it really sore in addition to having taken a tumble on a city sidewalk the Monday before the race.  Whatever the case, I started to slow down...big time.  Having had to train mostly alone for this event due to my school/work schedule, I was always able to go at a pace I wanted to, without fear of being dropped.  I think that had I trained at a faster pace over long distances, I could have held it together a little better.  That said, the hills of Montee Ryan and Chemin Duplessis just about did me in.  I was so happy to hand over my bike to the volunteers and get busy running.


T2: Quest for a bathroom continues, luckily I found a few just outside of transition!

Run:  I hadn't yet reached a dark place in the race so I figured it was coming on the run.  I had a goal to run a 10:30 pace.  As the first mile clicked by at 11:45, I was worried that I was in real trouble.  Then at about Mile 2, I took a bee sting to the neck.  I hadn't been stung in 15 years until this earlier this summer, when I was stung twice in one day.  I'm glad it happened so that I didn't have to worry about being allergic in the middle of a race (thankfully I am not).  The volunteers were literally prepared for EVERYTHING.  I came running in towards the aid station saying, "bee sting" and holding my neck.  In less than 30 seconds a volunteer had some cream and a iced cloth on my neck and I barely even slowed down.  There were two aid stations with music blaring, I made sure to run-dance (shout out to my friend Natalie) through all of them.  It was a great chance to smile, shake out the arms and further enjoy the whole experience.  The first loop seemed to come and go quickly.  I had settled into a 10:56 pace.

The out and back format of this run course was wonderful for seeing friends along the way.  Each hug from Vinny, high-five from Heather, Sue, and Matt, and Jill screaming, "You're gonna do it!" made me feel more and more energized and also brought on more waterworks.  I caught up to my friends Dan and Shawn around mile 23 and remembered why I got into this sport, to help people and fight cancer.  Dan, Shawn, Jill and I all met through the American Cancer Society's DetermiNation program and vowed to do an IM together.  Though we didn't get to train together, we had all signed up on the same day a year ago and by that point in the race we knew we were all going to finish!  Amazingly at that point I had still not reached that dark place and never would.

At mile 24.5 I was becoming anxious however and I wanted to be DONE.  Almost right on cue as I came down the final hill before the finish a small young girl with bleach blond curly hair and French-Canadian accent came running along side me.  It was now dark and she asked if she could run with me for a bit.  I replied yes.  She told me I looked really good for doing an Ironman and I was moving quickly.  As we approached the water station she asked if she could get me some water.  I said no, I just wanted to be done.  She took off ahead of me to tell everyone (in French) at the water station that I didn't want water and to just cheer for me (as best I can translate from what I heard.)  She then dropped back to me and as we ran through the aid station, no one offered water, just cheered wildly.  We approached the final hill and she told me to look for the police lights, turn left and then go be an Ironman.  Yep, more waterworks.  If anyone reading this knows that young girl, please pass along my huge thank you, she made the last mile before the finish go by in a flash and was so incredibly sweet.  With that final bit of inspiration, I took off like a mad-woman towards the finish.  I slowed down only to grab a Terrible Towel from my mom to wave as I crossed the line, smiling the whole way.  I was so excited that I'm pretty sure I committed an IM faux-pas as I passed a competitor between the last timing mat and the finish line.  This lead to Mike Reilly having to re-read both  names as her name had been read when I crossed since she had hit the other mat first...oops.  I'm so sorry to that athlete, I was just so excited to be an Ironman.


Finish: Official time: 13:53.  I had hoped for under 14 hours, with 15 being my max.  I had secretly wanted to go 13:30 and I think I could have if I had held the second loop of the bike together and not lost time in T1.  But hell, it's my first one and I'm done my 24 hours of being upset over it.  The two giant servings of poutine at the finish were worth every ounce of soreness I've felt since.  After I gathered my stuff, my family and I sat on our balcony, overlooking the finish and cheered crazily for every competitor that came in, all the way until Eve, the last one.  We would see them pass, then get very quiet so we could hear Mike Reilly announce that they had made it!  A perfect end to a near perfect day.

Afterthoughts:  After getting back on my bike I'm even more hungry for the next race! Not sure I'll do a full IM next year, but plan to do one again for sure.  Huge thank you to my family for being part of this.  And there are not enough thank yous in the world to give my coach Jack Braconnier of Cadence Cycling and Multisport in Manayunk, PA.  It is something special to be coached by someone who not only helps you train physically, but mentally. Being prepared for that dark space, but keeping the experience positive, is not something I could do a few years ago.  Letting go of my defeatist attitude and taking each minute as a positive light not only made this the most enjoyable experience I could ever imagine, but helped get me through the race feeling great.

I cannot recommend this race enough.  For my first IM experience it was everything I'd hoped it would be.  I'm spending the rest of this week recovering and thinking about the next race!  At some point, I'll take off the shirt, bracelets and tatoos...I swear.