My training
I followed a slightly modified plan from what was on
Training Peaks – same overall distribution of swim/bike/run per week, but on
slightly different days to better fit my work schedule. (For example, my plan had long runs on
Thursdays and long bikes on Saturdays, rather than long bikes on Saturdays and
long runs on Sunday…). But – I did do
all of the work – I did not skimp on workouts.
For the heaviest build period, I did the 18 mile run/90 (100) mile ride
combo, then next week the 19 mile run/100 mile ride, then the next week the 20
mile run/112 mile ride. I have to tell
you, during the heaviest training period, I got to the point where I knew I
could do this thing. The time period
felt surreal – but standing back watching myself, I was just amazed at 1) what
I was able to accomplish physically, 2) how quickly I could recover. The week of the 112 mile ride I knew I was
ready.
Then… taper. So you think you WANT to taper – you think
you’ll be glad to have a little bit more time on your hands. I guess getting some of the time back was
pretty cool – but taper was tough for me because I got to where I NEEDED those
workouts like a drug. During taper I was
a bit jittery and anxious. Jumpy and
unfocused. Too much energy and didn’t
know what to do with it. Also, mentally,
it is tough to drop back so much on your workouts – because by the time race
day came, I’m wondering – “can I still do this?” I didn’t FEEL as ready as I had felt right
after the 112.
Race anticipation
So watching the race approach was kind of like standing on
the tracks watching an oncoming train. I
was terrified and couldn’t move out of the way.
Interestingly, I was MOST terrified during the first week of taper – as
the race approached, I developed this sort of calm, detached mode of “bring it on – what will be will be”.
Race Weekend
I had originally planned on arriving in Mont-Tremblant on
Friday (it is a minimum 7 hour drive from Cooperstown). I changed my mind about 2 weeks before and
decided to go up Thursday instead, and I was REALLY glad I did. I just needed to be up there – besides of
which, the check-in process was pretty lengthy.
All athletes had to be checked in by 4:00 on Friday (which would have
been tight if I had driven up there that day
Mont-Tremblant was beautiful – the primary race events
(check-in, banquet, race start) took place in the “pedestrian village” – a
cobblestoned downtown area filled with restaurants and stores catering to skiers. (The area is a ski resort). There was a little gondola running nonstop
that brought you from the bottom of the hill to the top, where there was more
shopping and a gondola to ride to the top of the mountain (for a fee).
 |
| Mont Tremblant pedestrian village |
The finish line was set
up already, as was a big stage. You got
a sense of just how big and exciting this was in that downtown area – you kind
of felt like a rock star.
Driving into town was a
bit intimidating. There were what
appeared to be hard core IM athletes everywhere – particularly practicing on
the bike course with their spiffy tri kits and aero helmets. Through town, I tried very hard to ignore
this tall slender runner with a washboard stomach (I could tell because she had
it bared), leaping through town like a gazelle, out for a practice run. I hated her.
When she came leaping back down
the hill I clenched my teeth and said “NOT intimidated” to myself.
On Thursday night we met
up with Angela Dumadag – our CTF coordinator, at a pizza place for dinner. I got to meet Bob McConnell, one of our
teammates, and a friend of his who was competing also. Greg Mathe, another teammate, stopped by, as
did Carolyn Renkin. If you check out
their times, you will see that both of them are rock starts, by the way. Dinner was fun, although I think my husband
(not a triathlete) was beginning to get a little antsy by the end because it
was all triathlon talk. Afterwards we
walked through town to get “beaver tails” – these Canadian fried dough
confections that you can get loaded with lots of different confections. Most yum!
After that, Matthew and I left and went back to our hotel. Got a good night’s sleep.
Day 2…Friday
Headed into town early to check in. I
showed up at 10:00 and got in a line that was vaguely reminiscent of being at
Disney World – mostly in the number of times it wrapped around outside and
inside of buildings before you actually GOT to check-in. I think I was in line for an hour.
Be prepared – there are a lot of serious IM hard-asses
there. It is VERY EASY to feel like you don’t
belong. I was standing behind this guy
who informed me that he was doing 3 IMs in the next 4 weeks, and that usually
during race season he does 4 marathons a month.
So my brain says “clearly I’m not good enough” (when really it should
have been saying “clearly this guy is a mutant”). MESSAGE TO REMEMBER: YOU TOTALLY BELONG AND YOU ARE TOTALLY GOOD
ENOUGH. You’ve done the work, and paid
your dues to be here. Don’t compare
yourselves to any of the people who will be crippled before they are 40 because
they are maniacs. Just enjoy the ride.
So – check-in. You
have to, of course, fill out the waiver saying you won’t sue anyone if you
die. You give them emergency phone
numbers, and then you get in line to be weighed. I didn’t like that part because I don’t weigh
myself. Ever.
The rest of check-in is pretty standard race stuff – if
you’ve raced before it will feel familiar.
You get your goodie bag (in this case it is stuffed in a nice Ironman
backpack), your timing chip, etc…
The rest of day 2 we spent sight-seeing around town. Took the gondola ride to the top of the
mountain ($20 per person)… did some
shopping; did some eating. The weather
was cold and a bit drizzly – I was spending a bit of time worried that it might
be bad for race day. At the very least I
was worried about the water temp for the swim.
Mid afternoon I brought Matthew back to the hotel and I came back to
town for the athlete banquet.
The Banquet
So I’m assuming
they have banquets at all IMs – check your race site. At least at IMMT, there was a banquet on
Friday night before the race – athletes got in for free, and it cost $30 for
friends and family to get tickets. Best
to buy tickets ahead of time because they were sold out by that Friday. There was food (not gourmet, but I’m not
picky) and entertainment. This was
followed by a mandatory athlete briefing at 7:00. IT IS
CRITICAL TO GO TO THE BRIEFING – YOU WILL RECEIVE IMPORTANT RACE DAY
INFORMATION THERE.
Day 3 – day before race
The first thing on my agenda for Day 3 was to get my bike
checked in. Not only my bike, but my run
bag and bike bag had to be checked in on Saturday. I learned this at the briefing on Friday
night, which meant I had to figure out everything I’d need for transitions and
have them packed when I went to drop off my bike. Once I had my bike and my gear dropped off,
there really wasn’t much more to do from a race perspective, except to be
terrified.
After bike check-in we tried to do some sightseeing. The weather was TRULY abysmal – it went from
cold and drizzly to cold and pouring.
Still, there were some hard core IM’ers out checking out the bike
course. I decided I would wait until
race day to get on my bike again – I did not want to chance getting wacked by a
car or slipping in the rain. I also
decided I wanted nothing to do with getting in the water before race day. The swim is NOT generally my favorite part –
I am used to swimming in open water, so I really didn’t see much benefit in
suiting up and paddling around just ‘cuz.
I figured it wasn’t going to change anything on race day. Eventually we gave up on trying to sightsee
and just holed up in our hotel with a Duraflame in the cute little fireplace in
our hotel room, and waited for the rest of my family to arrive. My family
showed up shortly before dinner – had a great pasta meal and went back to the
hotel to try to get some sleep…
The night before
So – I went to be early the night before – tried to be in
bed at 10. More than any other race, I
tossed and turned – I don’t think I fell asleep until 1. This was tough because I had to be out the
door at 4 – because I was staying at a hotel a ways away from the race, so I
needed to get to the race by 4:30. I did
this primarily for financial reasons – it was less expensive – but there was
definitely a drawback to not being right on site – both for the convenience of
getting there that morning, but also because I would have liked to have gone
back down to watch the finishers at midnight
Race Day
Alarm went off at 3:45.
I had all of my stuff including the coffeemaker in the bathroom so I
wouldn’t wake up my husband and daughter.
I huddled in the bathroom drinking my coffee and putting on race day
(RACE DAY!!!) clothes. Almost forgot to
put on my Garmin GPS – gulp! Because the
weekend had been so damn cold, I had made the relatively last minute decision
to wear a bathing suit under my wetsuit, and make a full change into my
tri-kit, rather than swimming in my tri-kit.
I didn’t like having to do this, but I knew it was important to be warm
enough on the bike. This also meant I
was going to need to go to my bike bag and adjust things a little bit, by
putting my tri kit into it so I’d have it to change into after the swim. I also had to put my good pair of glasses in
my bike bag –( I’m a glasses wearer, so that always involves logistics at
races. I wear a cheap pair to the race
and keep my good pair at the bike….)
In the bathroom I put on my bathing suit, put on sweats and
a fleece, pulled all my bags together (you bring down your special needs bags
and your “morning clothes” bag on the day of the race, so I had 3 bags plus a
plastic bag with 2 bottles of water and my breakfast), and went to wake up my
dad to bring me to the bus. I got to the
bus stop about 3 seconds before it came, and found myself on a bus that was
pretty much mostly full of volunteers.
There were no racers on the bus.
Also, I was in Quebec and so pretty much everyone was speaking French.
People were just starting to show up at 4:30. I got to talking to one of the volunteers –
his name was Luke. As soon as he found
out I was competing he took great care of me.
When we got off the bus he insisted on carrying all of my gear for me
until I got to where I had to check it in.
I was one of the first folks to get body-marked, and I headed off to do
some last minute adjustments to my bike bag (deposit tri kit and glasses), and
drop my “special needs” bags off. This
took me through to about 5:30 or so, at which point I figured I should eat my
breakfast. The place was starting to get
packet with athletes – just milling around in sort of a useless way. I found a relatively available picnic table
and ate my bagel with chunky peanut butter and drank my bottle of OJ. It was a bit tough to choke down the bagel –
the butterflies in my stomach were making it hard to eat. At that point I figured I’d head up to the
swim start so at least I’d be where I needed to be.
The swim start area saw athletes beginning to don wet
suits. Damn, this was getting REAL! It was only 6:00 at this point, and I wasn’t
starting until 7 (last wave in) so I really had nothing to do except to wait in
the potty lines to pee before the race.
(This is generally a multi-step process – wait in line, pee, go to the
back of the line and do it again… I did it 3 times before the Utica
Boilermaker).
Around 6:30 I decided I should get ready. I pulled my wetsuit out of my morning clothes
bag and saw to my dumbfounded horror that the bra that goes with my tri kit was
sitting in the bottom of my morning clothes bag instead of in my bike bag with
my tri kit where it belonged. This was
bad. I could probably bike without it –
but I definitely didn’t want to be running without it. Damn.
Shit! What to do? I figured I had 2 choices – I could either
just pull it on OVER my swim suit, (which would look REALLY dumb) so I I at least had it with me (there was no
way to get it into my bike bag at this point), or I could wait in the potty
line AGAIN and put it on under my swimsuit – where it would at least be in the
correct position to wear for the bike (if a little damp). I opted for the potty line solution – which
meant that I didn’t actually get myself out to the beach until 8 minutes before
my wave started. Cutting it pretty close
– but at least it kept me from just waiting around being nervous.
The Swim
I had been really worried about the water temperature – I
had dropped a bunch of weight with training, with the result that I had started
to get cold even in warmer pools. The
last water temp I’d heard was 65 – which seemed pretty cold to be swimming in
for 90-100 minutes… even with a wet suit.
Before I knew it, they’d called the last wave, and there I
was, waiting in the water with the rest of the green bathing caps, waiting for
the gun to go off. Boom – there it was,
and off we went.
I was thrilled to discover that the temperature of the water
wasn’t that bad. I managed to avoid
getting kicked or otherwise creamed during the mass start, and within a
relatively short time had a bit of space to myself to start getting
comfortable. And get comfortable I
did. Once I was in the water, within a
very short period of time, the terror of the unknown went away, and the comfort
of the familiar took its place. I was
swimming. I could do this. And you know what? It was even beautiful. The lake was lovely, and the sun was just
peeking over the clouds on the horizon.
I not only tolerated the swim – I actually managed to enjoy most of it.
There were 13 yellow buoys until the turnaround, 2 red ones
at the end, and 13 orange ones coming back.
I counted the buoys while I swam and was amazed at how quickly they
seemed to go by. I was happy to see I
was doing just fine – I managed to pass folks who started before me (as
evidenced by the different color swim starts).
It didn’t seem like 93 minutes when I reached the end of the swim –
although about 15 minutes before the end I did start to get a bit chilly. I also realized to my dismay that I had forgotten
(in the bra debacle) to use my Glide on my neck for my wetsuit, so I was
starting to get some serious chafing going on.
Some folks started walking as early as they could get solid
footing in the water; I kept swimming as long as I could, figuring I’d make
better time that way. With only about 18
inches of water below me, I finally stood up and peeled down my suit, waded to
the beach and got my wetsuit yanked off of me from a waiting volunteer. I threw it over my shoulder and started
jogging along the concrete path to the transition tent… along the way, my whole family was there in
their CTF T-shirts to cheer me on.
T1
T1 went faster than expected, given I had to strip off
everything I was wearing and pull on new clothes. There were volunteers (female) everywhere – 1
for each athlete. It was amazing.
The Bike
Started
out strong on the bike. Took me a couple
of minutes into the race to remember that I had to abide by all of the drafting
rules, etc… - so all of a sudden I became very aware of where I was in relation
to other people. I was expected the bike
to be my best leg, and it was. I was
afraid the course would be really hilly – but in fact the hills by and large
were less steep than what I had trained for – the road was also nicely paved
too, and the course was beautiful. I had
heard from someone who had done the race before that there was a “big hill”
around mile 50 and then again 56 miles later.
Looking at the elevation map, I assumed he meant the hill that was
actually at mile 30 – a couple hundred foot climb. When I conquered that with no problem, I was
elated and figured I had this thing nailed.
In fact, though, after we came through town around mile 48, we did start
to climb. That’s where we hit a bunch of
steep “steps” – 20% grades or so where I generally did a bit of standing, and
then it levelled off. Since I hadn’t
practiced the bike route (and I’m still glad I didn’t, so don’t make me feel
guilty about it…), I didn’t know quite how many of them there were. I’m thinking about 6 steep climbs. The whole time, all that was going through my
head was “holy F@#K! – this is going to SUCK at mile 106!”. The good news is, there was a great down,
which got me to my halfway point where my husband Matthew was there in his CTF
shirt yelling for me like a maniac. I
breezed through the special needs station without stopping, and went on for my
second loop. Nothing remarkable about
loop 2 – was just dreading the hills at the end. Have to mention this one great section
through a more populated area where the street was lined with cheering
spectators (more on loop 1 than 2, no surprise). That part was really fun – folks were yelling
in English and French.
Turns out the steep steps at the end were really no worse
for me on round 2 than round 1 – got to the top and it was all downhill from
there… And then… the downpour started at
mile 110, going straight downhill. It
was a stinging, raging downpour – (remember I wear glasses) that also meant I
was NOT going to go all out down the hill and risk crashing.
The downpour lasted only enough to ruin the downhill and to
drench me and all of the spectators, getting me good and wet for the run. I finished the bike in 6:55 – which was a
good 20-30 minutes than my best expectations.
The Run
I had told all of my friends, as I headed into this race,
that my finish time would all depend on 1) when in the run I hit the wall, and
2) how hard I hit it. The short answer
to that is, mile 10, and hard.
The run started out great – I was thrilled to find I was
running about 10 minute miles (a couple at 9:40 or so). I religiously took my GU and salt early on,
and kept running. At about mile 6 it was
time for another GU. This time it just
wasn’t happening. Bad things were happening
in my gut and there was no way it was going to accept a GU. Or, really, anything except water at that
point. OK – so much for the nutrition
plan I practiced.
A friend of mine had told me she walked through all of the
water stops. This was sounding like a
good plan to me, so I started doing that early on. The further I got into the run, the longer my
water stop walk breaks got. I’d start to
walk when I saw a water stop up ahead, instead of when I hit it. Somewhere around mile 10 – well, it just got
harder and harder to start running again.
At this point Coach Brendan’s e-mail voice started going
through my head. He had sent out an
inspirational e-mail which said “as your race day continues, you will
eventually hit the Line. It’s at this
point that your body begins to debate, very loudly, with the mind. Unless you have a very clearly defined goal
or compelling reason why you must continue, your body wins and your day will
start… to get… very… long. Success at
this point is defined as not slowing down.
Keep this goal or motivation in mind and use it as a lifeline that will
bring you to the finish.”
As I saw myself slowing down, I heard Coach Brendan’s e-mail
saying over and over “success at this point is defined as NOT SLOWING
DOWN”. My mind was snarling at coach
Brendan.
I would love to say that my mind won the battle and I
conquered those voices that were telling me I just had to walk for a little bit
longer, but that would be lying. What I
WAS able to do is to continue, for the next 16 miles, running – well, whenever
I could. I’d pick a point and run until
I got there. I’d say “Ok – I’m counting
to 20 slowly and will run until I get to 20…”.
And then I’d walk. And then I’d
do it again. And again. (Did I mention that from mile 12 to 18 or so,
every time I ran I’d get nauseous? Oh
yeah – well, that too. )
At some point it started to get dark. This was, in a way, peaceful. It was amazing how quickly the whole day had
gone by. It did not feel nearly as long
as it was.
For nutrition – well, all I could choke down were some sips
of chicken broth, some orange slices, and a couple of pretzels. For 20 miles.
So much for my nutrition plan.
So this might sound horrible – but in fact I was still
having a pretty great time. I was seeing
my teammates in various locations, meeting people along the way, the scenery
was beautiful, and I was still moving – generally faster than 15 minute
miles. The only bad part was the little
voice in my head that said “success at this point is defined as NOT SLOWING
DOWN.”
Oh well.
Mile 25… had gone
about 139 miles at this point, the last 20 with very very few calories. There was a point here where I was starting
to feel pretty sick. Although I had been
confident since mile 10 that I WOULD finish, I was now a little concerned that
I might need a medical tent before I hit the finish line. I kept walking fast, saving the last of my
energy to try to run through the packed finish line area.
I hit the town, I hit
the lights – I saw my daughter right on the edge of town yelling for me. I grinned in a tired way and started to
run. I saw my parents screaming for me
and I kept running. Maybe 100 yards from
the finish, I slowed to a walk again.
The crowd did not allow it – they yelled and screamed “keep going you’re
almost there!”. They carried me along –
I picked it up and ran – and heard Mike Reilly say “Amy Van Kampen, from
Cooperstown, NY. You are an Ironman!”
I am an Ironman. How
freakin’ amazing is that?
So why is this amazing?
As my friend Maryann (who has done 4 IMs) reminded me
several days before the race, she and I were the ones who got picked LAST for
games in gym. I was never an athlete
growing up. I battled with my
weight. I battled with substances. I’ve
battled with demons. For years I was a 2
pack a day smoker. And then one day I
quit smoking and started exercising. And
it has saved my life. And it has come to define me.
I am an Ironman.
Post Game Analysis - Some thoughts about my run bonk
I’d be curious to get the coaches thoughts on my run
slowdown, because of course I’ve been doing a lot of post game analysis. I have a couple of thoughts on this. After I sent this document out to a bunch of
the IM Florida team, I started to worry – “Oh no – now they’re going to think
they’re going to have a hard time on the run! “ – so I want to share these
things. First of all, remember that this
was MY race report, completely dependent upon my fitness, my race day, my
nutrition plan. There were plenty of
other athletes who had stronger runs – so clearly everyone has their own
experience. Why did I slow down?
1) Nutrition – read my nutrition section below. I think that taking in solids on the bike
lead to some GI distress on the run. Not
being able to take in enough on the run definitely contributed to the slow
down.
2) Conflicting goals.
So this is I think I big one for me.
I had 2 different goals in my head.
My PRIMARY goal was to finish an ironman. My secondary goal was to do it in under 15
hours as in “wouldn’t it be nice to do it under 15.” My stretch goal was 14
hours – which I figured I could hit if everything went completely right. So – at mile 10 in the run, when my body
started talking (loudly) and when the stomach distress was getting worse, in my
head, Goal number 2 was replaced by Goal number 1. That is, my primary goal of finishing the
race pretty much replaced my “wouldn’t it be nice” goal of finishing it really
strong. So – as coach Brendan said,
“Unless you have a very clearly defined goal or compelling reason why you must
continue, your body wins…”. At that point,
my clearly defined goal became finishing the race – which I knew I could do –
so my body “allowed” me to do more walking- because I still knew I’d be
accomplishing my primary goal.
Also, re: the run bonk, it essentially probably slowed me
down by a total of 30-45 minutes – no more.
The best I probably realistically could have hoped to accomplish, had I
kept running more consistently, was probably about a 5 to 5:15 marathon. (It ended up being 5:42). Which I guess in the great scheme of things,
is not too terribly bad for my first IM.
To put it in perspective – my best marathon ever was a 4:18. My worst marathon outside of an IM was
5:24. So – this marathon after a 112
mile road race was 18 minutes slower than my worst marathon. Not too shabby after all. Also, my run was pretty much exactly in the
middle of my age group (62 out of 120).
I think I’m fine with that too.
Some things that are different about an Ironman than shorter triathlons
Wetsuit Strippers
– what an amazing freakin’ concept! You
come out of the water, pulling your wetsuit down to your waist, and you just
have a crowd of volunteers ready to strip you.
You lie on your back with your legs in the air and they pull the damn
thing right off of you. You throw it
over your shoulder and run to the tent.
(I have HEARD they have these at all long IMs – you might check to make
sure).
Special Needs Bags
– These are cool too – had no idea what these were until the briefing before
the race, and then I had to figure out what I wanted to put in them. So – in a full ironman, you not only have
stuff for the swim and bike transition, but you get bags to put things in that
you think you will need halfway through the bike, and halfway through the
run. So, on the bike, as you’re riding
through special needs, a “spotter” will call out your number “303 coming!” –
then a volunteer will grab YOUR bag and have it all ready for you if you want
to grab something – extra nutrition, clothes, an inspiring note –
whatever. Same thing on the run – which
was handy – because there was a brief but heavy downpour at about mile 11 – so
I changed my socks when I hit mile 13.1.
Transition tents – So in a full IM, you don’t keep your transition gear at
your bike – you put your RUN bag in one portion of the changing tent, and your
BIKE bag in the other. So when you run
in from the swim, you grab your BIKE bag and go into a gender-specific changing
area set up with chairs and again all of those willing volunteers. They will help you get stuff out of your bag,
spray sunscreen on you, help you off with your clothes – naked bodies
everywhere! You then stuff all of your
swim stuff (wetsuit, goggles, bathing suit) into the now empty bike bag, to get
handed to you at the end of the race.
Same thing happens between bike and run.
Things I learned about nutrition
OK – so nutrition has been a big learning for me this
year. I’ve done 8 marathons. For the first 5 marathons, I would
SUBSTANTIALLY slow down around mile 18 – every single time. I finally had a friend tell me that I wasn’t
eating enough – that I should be eating AT LEAST 100 calories every 45 minutes
to an hour. So – I changed my strategy
for marathon 6 and got better. By
marathon 7 - I learned about salt tablets – this is great. Marathon 8 – I was religious – GU every 45
minutes, salt tabs every 45 minutes to an hour.
No wall at all – no slow down, no voices telling me I had to stop. I had this nailed. I was all prepared for the IM.
EXCEPT.
Turns out, for me, what works on JUST a long run didn’t work
so well on an Ironman. I started the run
just great – ate my GU and salt, just like I practiced on my transition
runs. But… stomach didn’t feel
great. Things just churning around. Mile 6 – time for the second GU. Took 1 bite – and, well, that was it. Couldn’t eat any more GU. I didn’t actually get sick – but I knew if I
finished the GU, I would. So – for the
next 20 miles – the only nutrition I was able to choke down was sips of chicken
broth (which they had at virtually every stop), a couple of orange slices, and
a couple of pretzels.
So what would I have done differently? Well, there was this really key workout – you might be hitting it
already, where you are supposed to do a long ride – 70 miles, followed by a 15
mile run. I didn’t ever actually do that
exact workout because it was a week before my June marathon, so I only ran 8
miles after the 70. Which meant that I
never really practiced nutrition for a long run following a long bike. I think it is critical you get that
particular workout in somehow. If I were
going to do it again, I think I’d do more practicing with liquid nutrition like
Hammer and Infinit, both on the bike (where I used mostly solid nutrition
because, well, I like to eat), and on the run.
You might also practice specifically with things you KNOW will be on the
course. I made a mistake with that one too
– I assumed, because they served “bonk breaker bars” on my IM 70.3 that bonk
breakers were served at EVERY IM race.
Not so. Turns out what they serve
on the course is race specific. So –
find out what’s on your course and I’d recommend you try all of it.
Happy training everyone.
