Ultra #4 - BPAC 6 hour Race Report

Ultra #4 - BPAC 6 Hour Endurance Challenge

So I completed my 4^th Ultramarathon yesterday at the BPAC 6 Hour Endurance Challenge.  Rather than run a fixed distance, this race was about seeing how much mileage you could complete in a fixed 6 hour time period.  It was located in Buffalo – 4 hours away from Cooperstown.  I signed up on a whim just a couple of weeks ago, thinking it would be a good way to get in a long (30+) supported run as part of my 100 mile training, and also just interested to see what I could do in 6 hours.  Of course, I signed up just off of my last Ultra – NJ Ultrafest trail 50K, where I did really well – so was still riding that high as I pressed the registration button.

So – on 4/2 I ran 50K of trails.  Did a 22 mile road run the following Saturday, followed by a 23 mile trail run the following Saturday with Pat McHenry and Luana Pesco-Koplowitz.  Normally I’d do 3 hard weeks, 1 easy in terms of long runs – but because of race timing, I was looking at 4 long weeks in a row, culminating with the 30+ run at BPAC. 

Somewhere in the middle of last week my daughter informed me she was coming home on Saturday – the day I was supposed to head out for Buffalo.  Because of my race, I’d miss her.  I also started feeling self conscious about how many weekend days I’ve been spending time away, running or racing – and so found myself really waffling heavily about whether or not to go through with this race.  Even as late as Friday night, the night before I was supposed to head out, I still had thoughts of cancelling – and not just cancelling the race, but scaling back to maybe a 10-miler – just because it felt like mentally I was a little bit burnt out on long runs. 

Saturday morning came.  Because of my race on Sunday, instead of a “back to back” (long run Saturday, shorter long-ish run on Sunday), I decided to just get in 6 easy miles before I headed out to Buffalo.  I think that run clinched it that I was going to proceed – everything felt good and strong and I just wanted to keep running.  So – despite the fact that I’d miss Patty’s visit, and despite the fact that I was feeling kind of bad about abandoning Matthew for an overnight and all day Sunday, I headed out mid-day on Saturday to Buffalo. 

Have actually decided to go, I was in a good mood driving out to Buffalo.  The sun was bright, and I made good time – enjoying travelling, once it was in progress.  I checked into my Red Roof Inn (Plus) and headed out for some solo sightseeing at Niagara Falls – always impressive.

Of bad food choices...

Following my brief stop at one of America’s most visited tourist spots, I set my sights on dinner.  Checking out Trip Advisor, I saw that there was a highly ranked German Restaurant near my hotel.  Hmmm.  My brain said no – but my stomach said yes yes yes.  Now – anyone who knows me well at all knows that I am VERY food motivated.  And, although I like pretty much any kind of food, I really like to take advantage of foods I can’t get in Cooperstown.  Which is really – well, anything that’s not American, Chinese or Italian.

I had made this type of bad-food decision before my 50 mile race as well – my lunch the day before consisted of nachos and fried pickles.  One could see where that could go very bad – and it did – but fortunately it went bad for an hour in the bathroom BEFORE I started my 50 miler – so caused me no issues on that particular race.

So German food.  And I have to say, it was pretty much the best schnitzel and spaetzel I’ve ever had in my life.  I ate with gusto and, alas, cleaned my plate, knowing as I did so that it was probably a bad idea.

The rest of the night was smooth sailing – my bed and room were comfortable, and though I had some minor heartburn, by and large I got a good night’s sleep without too much fretting about the next day’s race.

Race Day

Set my alarm for 5:30 a.m, in order to be at the start line by 7-ish.  I didn’t really HAVE to get up that early – but given my experience with the CanLakes pre-race digestion,  I wanted to allow enough time for lots of coffee drinking, breakfast, and, please oh please, some quality bathroom time so I could approach the race start comfortably.  I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of eating my cold mini bagels, so I went out in search of a McDonalds for an Eggamuffin breakfast special (hash browns and OJ included – of course).  Breakfast was yummy – but I was pretty dismayed with just how sloshy and bloated my abdomen still was after the previous night’s dinner and that morning’s breakfast.  Clearly I had overdone it a bit at dinner – and the Potty Gods were not being good to me. 

Everything else was in order, though, and the temperature was warmer than expected.  I headed over to the race start and got settled.  Was happy to see Katherine, a runner acquaintance I had met at Winter BOB, and one whom I had connected with a little bit on Facebook.  And the race began…

The starting pack was relatively large – and, I was relieved to see, mostly starting out at what I felt was a comfortable pace.  I wasn’t feeling like I had to bolt like a rabbit in order to not be at the back of the pack.  My goal pace for the race itself was about 10:30 – but if I could exceed that, I would.  My first couple of miles I was pretty much in the 10 minute mile range.  It felt good and comfortable, so I tried to push the pace a bit on mile 4.  Bumped it up to a 9:25 minute mile for that one mile – and paid for it.  My next mile after that pushed out to 10:15 – as did the next couple.  Which just goes to show I really should NEVER push the pace early on. 

I was still pretty happy with 10:15’s, though, and was absolutely amazed at how the first 8 or so miles just flew by.  It really felt like I had just started.  I’d say this fresh feeling continued pretty much until almost hour 3.  Which was really a gift.

The course was a 3.25 mile paved loop in a park.  It was really easy running, and pretty scenic – the sun was shining, and the air felt like spring.  Things were just starting to green up a bit – and there was just nothing to complain about with regard to this venue. 

So – probably about 11 miles in, when I was just about as far away from the aid station as you could be on the 3.25 mile loop, my gut suddenly complained.  Sharply and insistently.  “Now”, it said.  “Find a bathroom RIGHT NOW.” 

Damn it.  So the next 1.5 miles were going to be THOSE kind of miles.

Although for most of my running life I could run for hours without needing a restroom, this had changed suddenly and, I expect, forever, after a bout of travel induced IBS after a trip to Belize a year and a half ago.  Since that time, I have, on more occasions than I’d prefer to report, had some pretty uncomfortable moments on my runs – until I stagger into the nearest bathroom.   I’m a firm believer that there out to be a whole lot more porto-potties out there regularly spaced out on country roads, just for me.  But I digress…

So.  1.5 miles.  There was a thread on the Trail and Ultra Running facebook page about this very issue, which spoke of finding your perfect pace at moments like these – which is, fast enough to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible without going so fast that your gut just completely rebels on you.  I slowed down.  And prayed.  And found myself in the altogether too familiar position of checking out the scrubby trees on either side, wondering just how much cover they would grant in the case of a true emergency. 

The most excellent news is that I made it to the aid station without embarrassing myself, although it was an incredibly uncomfortable 15 minutes.  Jogged over the timing mat and right into the blessed blue box.  Where I only lost about 2 ½ minutes.  This time. 

Had one more emergency trip to the blue phone booth a bit later in the race – although I’m happy to report that there was considerably less distress involved.  Lost another 2 minutes. 

So, I figure that had I made better food choices and not gorged the night before, there is a good chance I would have gotten in close to another .5 miles in my total distance.  But, if that’s the worst thing that came out of my bad food choices, I suppose I got off lucky.  It could have been a LOT worse.  As we all know, from that horrible race picture that keeps floating around Facebook.

OK – well that was probably TMI for most non-runners.  Most runners, I think, will understand. 

So the thing that was pretty cool for me about this race was – I kept running.  And running.  And running.  With the exception of my two bathroom breaks, and my brief stops to swill down some Coca Cola and refill my water bottles, I really didn’t do any walking at all on the course.  And my pace stayed pretty consistent almost the whole way. 

For most of the race I was pretty sure I’d have a choice to make at the end.  The course was advertised as “as much mileage as you can do in 6 hours” – (person with the most miles wins).  The kicker is this.  It is a 3.25 mile loop – and in order to get any credit for partial mileage, you have to complete the WHOLE loop.  That is, I was predicting I’d finish 32.5 miles (10 loops) in less than 6 hours – and I was equally sure there was no way I’d finish 11 loops in less than 6 hours.  So – did I go out for that last loop, knowing I’d be coming in a bit after the 6 hour mark? 

The answer is…  yes I did.  I hit 32.5 at the 5:44 mark.  My goal mileage was 34 miles in 6 hours, so the only way to achieve that was to go out and do that last loop.  Which amazingly, still felt just fine. 

According to my Garmin, I hit the 34 mark at just prior to 6 hours, earning me the 2nd place female and the 10th runner in the race.   And I came heading down the home stretch with my Garmin reading 36 miles, at 6 hours and 20 minutes.  The advantage of being one of the only runners left on the course is that there were a bunch of runners who had already ended their races who cheered me in.  It felt really great. 

Onward...

So – 4 ultras under my belt.  And I’m doing some reflecting.  My “training plan” (those that know me know I’m a plan gal…) has me continuing to build my mileage from 25/13, to 28/15, to 30/15, to a couple of 30/20’s.  Do-able – but daunting.  More from the overall mental perspective – it’s just a lot of long mileage to look forward to.  And the thing is, I did this 36 miles – and I have a sneaking suspicion that in fact, if I aimed for 100 now, I’m pretty much there in terms of base and long runs.  Which means…  maybe I can get away with only doing a bunch of 20-22 mile long runs with a just a couple of 28-30 thrown in maybe once a month?  Must give this some thought.

 

Ultra running and the Power of Slow

So – I’ve been doing some reflecting on lessons learned since I started ultra training almost a year ago.  Prior to starting to train for my first ultra-marathon, I’d say that I probably ran anywhere from 18-30 hours a week, and that includes times when I was training for either a marathon or an Ironman.  Generally I was doing about 3 runs a week.   I almost NEVER ran 2 days in a row, and I certainly never ran the day after a “long run”.  Long runs were generally not more than 1 every 2 weeks, and they maxed out at 18 miles, with the exception of Ironman training year, where I had 3 weeks in a row with runs going from 18 to 19 to 20.  Most importantly in terms of where I was mentally, I had this idea in my head that every run I did really had to be as fast as I could do it.  Not necessarily race fast, but zippy nonetheless.  I judged the quality of my runs based on how fast I was able to do them.  Even the long runs, I tried to maintain an aggressive pace that was certainly slower than my 10K pace, but was something like I’d hope to achieve in a marathon. 

Enter ultra training and “back to backs”. 

For my first 50-miler ultra, I followed a plan I found in Runner’s World online which essentially called for back to back long runs pretty much every weekend.  There would be usually a 3 week build period, and then a weekend where I would back off on the distance but still go longer than the weekday runs.  My first back to back of any significance (mentally) was the one where I was slated to run 20 miles on Saturday followed by 12 on Sunday.  The thought of this was pretty mind boggling to me.

At that point in time, 20 was a LONG run.  And long runs required (in my mind) a subsequent day of rest.  I really couldn’t fathom of how I was going to do 12 miles the day after 20. 

I woke up that Sunday morning feeling apprehensive, and still a bit stiff and achy from the run the day before.  Perhaps the only thing that made this run possible in my head was that I was going to be doing half of it with company.  I’m used to almost all of my runs being solo, so company is a huge motivator.  I was scheduled to meet my cousin Rebecca at the halfway point of my 12-miler – so pick her up after 6.

With a “this is impossible” clanging around in my head, I set out from my house.  I started shuffling along at what felt like a snail’s pace.  I got about a half mile in and realized that 1) I wasn’t (really) hurting, and 2) I was running.  Slow – but I was running.  Kept shuffling along and hit a hill.  Slowed down.  Got to a mile.  Looked at my Garmin and realized that at least for this first post-20 miler mile, my “slow” pace was less than a minute per mile slower than my aggressive pace.  And it sure as hell felt a whole lot more do-able.  Attacked mile 2.  And actually sped up a little.  And mile 3.  And, well, it felt fine.  I couldn’t go fast – I knew that wasn’t in me.  But I didn’t have to.  I just had to go.  And I did.

I met Rebecca at the halfway point where it had started to rain.  I didn’t care – I was having an epiphany.  The key to back-to-back day 2 was to go slow. 

Rebecca and I ran 3 miles out from town, and 3 miles back in what turned into pouring rain.  When we hit mile 11, I said “let’s try to do the last mile just a little bit faster”.  So we picked it up probably by about 30 seconds per mile, and pulled off a 10 minute mile for the last one.  We met the rest of our family at Stagecoach Coffee in town to get on with our family weekend and enjoy a post run breakfast.   My overall pace for that run was about 45 seconds slower per mile than my aggressive pace – which essentially meant a 12 mile run completed in 2 hours and 6 minutes rather than 1 hour and 57 minutes.  And – after the 12 mile slow run, my body felt BETTER than it had before the run.  And continued to feel better for the rest of the day. 

During the remainder of my 50-miler training, I saw my pace get what seemed to be slower and slower.  In retrospect I guess it didn’t slow down THAT much more as my slowest pace I believe was only ever 10:45, but it felt like it.  And the lesson for me was, getting to be ok with that mentally.  Because that 12 mile run wasn’t my only epiphany.  The back to backs got longer and longer – from 20/12 to 20/18 to 23/20 to (OMG!)  23/28.  And on so many weeks, I’d find myself hitting mile 18, 19, 20 of the second day – and still feeling OK – as long as I hadn’t tried to push the pace.  On the other hand, any runs where I started feeling bad about “going slow” where I tried to get more aggressive about my pace early into the run ended up with me feeling more tired and burned out by the end.  There’s a lesson in here somewhere.

So – I did the training, did my 50.  Had accepted the fact that I was slower.

And then, discovered something.

I was getting faster again. 

???

So after my 50 miler, I started throwing back in a little bit of speed work.  I only did it once a week and generally only on my short run.  And the rest of the runs I just ran to build my base.  And I discovered that with a really solid base of about 50 miles a week behind me, when I WANTED to go fast, I could push the pace stronger than I could before my 50.  I pulled off a marathon 6 weeks after CanLakes 50 that was not a PR, but was my second best time ever.  And that was coming off of an injury 2 weeks after my 50.

So now – out of my 5 runs a week, 4 of them I try to do at whatever pace my body is comfortable with that day.  1 day a week I push it.  Sometimes I just push a little bit – sometimes I push a lot.   And the end result?  I did a 22 miler last Saturday and for the rest of the day pretty much felt like I used to feel after running 6.  I’m a stronger, steadier runner with fewer  issues than I used to have with plantar fasciitis, IT Band issue, hip imbalances and other problems I used to experience when every run had to be as fast as I could do it.  And, I think I’m a bit faster too…

 

NJ Ultrafest Race Report

So I ran my first 50K trail race on Saturday.  This was pretty new territory for me.  I have been a road runner for most of my running career, and even my first 50 miler last October was run on roads.  Counting the training runs I did for NJ Ultrafest plus my mini-trail-ultra at Mendon Ponds last November, I had run trails a total of 8 times prior to last Saturday, with the longest mileage run being 13 miles. 


I know there are loads of trail runners out there who are in love with trails and just don't understand why anyone would run on roads.  But for me, making the transition from road to trail has been rough.  My first trail run I spent just aghast looking at my Garmin and focusing on JUST HOW SLOW I was running, combined with dodging roots and rocks.  After a bit, I found a little bit of stride, however, and there was just a little bit of amazement in this entirely new kind of slow running, where I was focused on the terrain rather than my speed.  And there was something pretty cool about being in the middle of the woods, with no people, cars, or bikes.  (Well, eventually there were people and dogs, but that's another story). 


It's not that I don't enjoy the outdoors - I do, very much.  It's just that as a former triathlete and marathoner, my focus has often been on how fast I can do whatever I'm doing.  It has only been in my ultra journey, which started last June, where I started to learn the power of slow.


The trail I've been practicing on is about 3 miles from my house and is a relatively small loop - I figured out a way to do this figure 8 that gets me about 3 miles, some of which I am running on the same terrain.  In each loop, there is kind of a nasty hill at the beginning that leaves me huffing and puffing, a moderate one in the middle, and 2 iterations of the same really short steep section that is pretty much like going up stairs.  Although I know the trail ultra mantra is "walk the hills", in my training runs I've been trying to run them all, when possible, just to see if I can. 


The first long training trail was rough - both mentally and physically.  The day after the run, my left ankle was so stiff I could barely go down my stairs.  I still managed to get out for a recovery run, which to my great surprise and relief eased up the ankle issue.  Each week in March got easier until I found all of the hill training really improving my road speed and endurance. 


The week before NJ Ultrafest I started receiving e-mails from the race directors that were getting me nervous.  I learned that 1/3 of the course had been cut off due to the property not being available - this was going to result in more, shorter loops - but the loops were the ones with all of the major elevation, so overall the race elevation was going to increase.  I also learned that there were 5 stream crossings per 5.75 mile loop, and so because I was going to have to cover about 5.5 loops, this meant over 25 stream crossings.  The race director indicated it was "possible" to try to keep your feet dry, but noted that it would probably be easier to just plow through the streams.  This thought did not make me happy.  I reached out to my running friends desperate for advice - and got it.  Wool socks.  Phew.  OK - ready.



The race was scheduled to start at 9:45 and was in Hardwick NJ.  One of the decisions I needed to make was whether to go down the night ahead of time and stay overnight in a cabin, or head down morning of.  I ultimately decided that heading down that morning would serve me best by allowing me to sleep in my own bed and get the best night's sleep, and only have to get up about 30 minutes earlier than I'm used to getting up anyway.  I was in my car and on my way by 4:45 and drove through hours of pouring rain to arrive with plenty of time to spare. 



Met some great people even before the race began starting with Mike, who drove the shuttle from the assigned parking lot to the race start, Jeff - first time 50K trail, Andrew and Kevin who all shared my ride over.   Big deliberations about how much to wear...  it was cool (mid 40's) and rainy, and I HATE to be cold - so opted for running pants over my shorts, along with long compression wool socks, short sleeve tech top, arm warmers, and windbreaker.

And the race began...

Not sure if this really happened or if it's just my perception, but it seemed to me that pretty early on I was pretty much toward the rear of the pack.  Eager runners went bounding off ahead of me while I set out at a pace that felt comfortable and that allowed me to not trip over obstacles.   Of which there were many.  There were a couple of other runners in my pack space - I spent a bit of time chatting with Andrew who seemed to have a pretty similar pace as mine, and I'm afraid I don't remember the other runners at that point.  Finding my comfortable pace on a trail is new to me and it took a while to get in a groove where I wasn't out of breath.  I tried to follow other runners' lead in terms of what hills to walk - I knew I should do that regularly and early in order to ensure I had enough gas in the tank for the rest of the race.



Modified course loops

The 5.75 mile loop was really made up of 2 mini-loops:  the first (Woods Loop) was about 3+ miles and was where the lions share of the elevation lay.  On paper it looked significantly more difficult than the second mini-loop (Lake Loop).  And, from an elevation perspective, it was.  Right before the end of the Woods loop there was an incredibly rooty, rocky, streamy section that only the most fleet footed were making any attempt to run.  I was just attempting not to fall down.  We were to hit that section 11 times in the whole race.  At the end of the root mass was the steepest elevation of that loop - essentially a set of steep stairs built into the hillside, with a rope handrail with which you could help pull yourself up.  The handrail was key.  That loop ended in a very short runnable section culminating in another short steep climb before getting to the Aid station right before hitting mini-loop 2 (Lake loop). 

Rooty section.  You don't really see the full depth of the roots and rocks here.

The deceptive elevation map (Woods Loop left, Lake Loop right)

On my first go-round I was relieved at getting to the Lake Loop knowing the elevation was significantly less.  My relief was short lived.  The early part of the lake loop was relatively flat - yes, but just chock full of ground obstacles just waiting to kill me.  Rocks and roots, mostly, and downed trees you had to hop over or climb under.  It was pretty highly technical terrain - with which I have pretty much zero experience.  I experimented with tentative jog hopping around the rocks and roots until I got to sections that were more runnable.  Which, it turned out, were uphill.  On that first loop I was still with Andrew who rejoiced over how runnable that section was and he just dodged forward while I huffed and puffed thinking that I was now going a bit faster than my comfortable pace.

Somehow I lost Andrew at the aid station and started on my own around loop 2.  I had to keep a closer eye on the trail because during loop 1 I had relied on my companions to keep me on the trail.  I almost made a wrong turn once but quickly found my way back to the trail.  I followed advice I've heard from other ultra runners - run when you can - walk when you have to.  And, I'd say, on each loop I'd try to experiment a little bit more with what I "could" run. 



Killer rocks

The Dreaded Stream Crossings. 


So anyone who was following my Facebook posts knew I was pretty nervous about how to handle the stream crossings.  Lots of suggestions for Wool socks, Drymax, etc... - and my online buddy Joseph commented "enjoy it - it will be just like an ice bath".  Have to say Joseph was right.  On the first stream crossing I made I very minor attempt to keep my feet dry by using rocks - realized pretty much immediately that it would be WAY easier to just wade right through, and voila - my feet and shoes were soaked.  Got onto dry ground moments later, shoes sloshed for about a minute, and then feet were just mildly damp and not at all uncomfortable.  One of the stream crossings that was described as ankle deep really wasn't - it was up to my knees at least.  I discovered on later loops that in order to get the ankle deep crossing, you had to aim further over to the right.  But my buddy Joseph was right - there was at least one loop where I actually aimed for the deep part to get all of the benefit of the cool water on my legs that, by that time, were a little bit achey!  End result of stream crossings?  Socks that were pretty awful from a scent perspective (had to wash them twice and still not quite right), but no blisters and no discomfort. 




Shin deep water.  I did see someone trying to use the rope ladder...

 My new friend Amy and some other friends

So - one thing I am learning about ultras, and this is now my third, is that the best part of them are the people you meet on the journey - either online while training, or at the race itself.  Somewhere between mile 10 and mile 13 or so, I met Amy.  Amy is a runner from Staten Island - unlike me, she was signed up for the 50 miler - (her first).  Just like me, she was finding the terrain tougher than anything she had trained on - and she was at the same point in the race in terms of total loops completed as I was.  Amy and I stuck together for close to 10 miles, I think.  It was wonderful.  We ran together, walked together, slogged through streams together, and compared running stories and history.  I briefly got to meet Amy's husband and son who had accompanied her to the race, and thanks to them got the only pictures that actually exist of me out on the course.  I also got to run a bit with Scott, and ran into the finish line with Rudy, who I also shared a ride with back to the car. 




Hiking up the hill right before the aid station

Trails in the woods



Pretty much the only flat runnable section of the course

The End

So - somewhere around mile 22, I left Amy sipping her chicken soup at the aid station while I headed out for my last loop and a half.  I felt strong - and I felt like I was getting a bit more of a handle on how to tackle the different sections of the course.  I became a bit more aggressive in terms of attempt to run on sections I might have been more tentative about earlier with the end result being that I think my fastest Lake Loop was actually the last one.  I climbed up that last hill knowing I was close to the end and still was feeling just find. 

At the finish line I learned to my great delight that I was the 3rd woman in.  Felt pretty good for my first trail 50K.  The race swag is shown below - the jacket is just amazing, and has reflective piping in a couple of spots. 

I'm pretty sure this will not be my last NJ Trail series event.  Many thanks to Rick and Jennifer McNulty for making this happen, and for all of the amazing volunteers.

The amazing race swag - FABULOUS jacket

Can Lakes 50 - Oct 10 2015

It was about a year ago that the idea of completing an ultra was anything I even remotely considered as a possibility.  I had just come off of completion of an Ironman competition and was feeling the need to continue endurance training.  I started joining some friends on their long runs as they trained for their first marathon, and one of them mentioned a friend of hers who was training for an ultra – Can Lakes, it turns out.  I tossed the idea around in my head – “is that even remotely possible for me?”  I wondered.   I’d completed a number of marathons using the Jeff Galloway “run/walk” method, and just within the past year completed my first 3 marathons where I actually dropped the walk breaks and ran the whole way.  But 50 miles…  it just seemed inconceivable. 

In May I travelled to Texas to meet some Ironman friends of mine.  While there, they told me about a show they watched – “Desert Runners” – about ultra runners who were completing the “4 desert challenge” attempting to run all 4 ultra desert runs (about 250K) in 1 year.  They said it made them think of me.  The show captivated me – and the idea of actually trying for ultra distance started really taking hold.  On the plane home from Texas I bought and read Hal Koerner’s “Field Guide to Ultra Running”.  Hmmm.  Perhaps this was doable.  There was a field guide.  I came home and pre-registered for Can Lakes.
From my own previous successes using defined training plans, I’m a big believer in following a plan.  I downloaded a pretty aggressive Runner’s World plan that ranged from 50-75 miles per week.  This amount to 30-55 miles more than I was running already, although my endurance base was pretty solid with lots of swimming and biking and a spring marathon under my belt.  However, I was a little concerned about my ability to complete it.  I started my 16 week plan already suffering from plantar fasciitis and I wasn’t sure how it would do with that much mileage.  I figured I’d start the plan and if things were really hurting after a few weeks, I’d stop.

The training plan seemed daunting to me with back to backs every weekend, starting out with an 18/12, and quickly progressing to 20/18, then 23/20.   The highest weekend mileage was 3 weeks before the race, with a 4 hour (23 mile) run on Saturday, followed by a 5 hour (28 mile) run on Sunday.  The further I got into the plan, the more amazed I was at my body’s ability to adapt to the mileage.  I was a bit dismayed at how slow I’d gotten, but was astounded at how long I could run.  And, even better, as I completed the training, the plantar fasciitis actually improved.  It had originally worsened during the first couple of months of training, but I kept it in check with some vigorous strengthening and stretching exercises.  The tide started to turn after I was fitted for custom inserts and got new neutral running shoes – the problem almost completely resolved itself.   After completing that 51 mile weekend, I knew I was as ready as I could be for this race. 

Taper time was tough, as it always is.  That’s when the doubts set in as you start to go crazy and lose confidence because you are not running enough.  The week before the race I was edgy and sort of emotionally numb.  I just wanted to get this game on.

The weather for race day was as perfect as it could be.  Low 40’s to start, with a high in the high 50’s and sunny.  I was so very grateful for the sun – the day before the race was just miserable cold rain.  As I stood in FLCC that morning with the other runners, I continued to have moments of self doubt.  And then the run began, and instead of waiting for it, I was running it.  And it was wonderful.

The first 18 miles flew by in a blur.  I was so very grateful to have my 21 year old daughter Patty up there supporting me for the race.  We had ridden the course the night before and mapped out all of the aid station.  Starting at aid station 2, she was there ahead of me for every stop, posting updates to Facebook for my friends and family.  What a difference it made knowing I had someone waiting for me at every station.  I handed her my sweatpants and gloves at aid station 2.  Somewhere in the teens, my right knee and hip really started to get aggravated from some of the downhills.  I asked Patty to scope me out some Tylenol, and there she was at the next aid station, Tylenol and a cup in hand.

I was actually happy when I got to Bopple Hill, and actually doing it rather than having it ahead of me.  Again, running the down AFTER Bopple Hill was harder on the joints than actually walking up it.  Lots of folks were walking all of the hills, but I felt that for me, I was able to keep running better by running the hills that I could easily run, and only walking the super steep ones.  Part of that for me is because it is sometimes harder to go back to running after walking, than to just keep running in the first place – both physically and mentally.
For me, the big unknown about this race was, what was going to happen after mile 28 – which was my longest single run to date before the race.  In my Ironman, I was pretty well spent for the last 16 miles of the run, and I ended up walking a significant portion of that last 16 miles.  I knew that there was every possibility I’d feel the same way at Can Lakes.  I was hopeful, however, that I would not.  Through my many back to backs runs, I had learned the magic of slowing down – and just figuring out what pace my body needed to run at in order to continue running.  My whole goal for the race was to run as much of that last 20 miles as I could.

I hit the “out and back” where we crossed over the 25 mile halfway point feeling strong and happy.  The miles started to tick up – 26, 27, 28…  29.  The longest run I’ve ever had.  30.  Even longer.  31…  I’d done a 50K and was still running!  Mid 30’s – holy crow.  Bare Hill.  Not much to say about that – was happy to to meet Heather Ruger and chat with her up the hill – and snag another Tylenol.  Mile 41 was sort of magical for me because my 2 of my regular mid-week training runs were 9 miles.  So at that point I knew I just had the distance of my mid-week run to go.   At 42 I passed another runner and shouted a cheery hello.  He asked me “do you feel as good as you sound?”  And I said “I feel amazing!”  This isn’t to say it didn’t hurt.  By that point there was a decent amount of hurting going on.  But I was STILL RUNNING!  And, what was more amazing to me, I was still running at a pace which really wasn’t all that much below my long slow run training pace.

Even though I said my goal was to finish in less than 12 hours, my secret goal for the race was to come in under 10:04 and earn a silver medal.  By the last aid station around mile 47, I told my daughter that I knew I could earn that silver medal even if I walked for the last 3 miles.  She said “so aren’t you going to walk?”  I said “No – I’m going to run as much as I can.”  And that’s what I did. 

I did more walking that last mile than I’d done for the rest of the race, alternating between .2 miles of running, .2 of walking, but still maintaining a pace less than 13 minute miles.  And there I was, at the finish line, exceeding my wildest expectations by coming in at 9:35 – 29 minutes faster than my goal time, with my daughter there to greet me at the end.

I am so very grateful to have had this experience.  The training was transformational.  The race was well organized, with wonderful, wonderful volunteers.  Oreos!  Pringles!  Coke!  Nice, wonderful people who filled my water bottles for me.  Stunning venue with rolling hills and gorgeous scenery.   A cool supportive Facebook group where I’d met some new friends – Heather, Patrick, Fredna, Allison,  Jeremiah, Russell, Ellen, Kevin, Joseph, Dave, Jennifer, many of whom I got to meet in person on race day.   A group of fabulous, friendly and motivated people who have discovered and embraced the magic of long distance running.  Of pushing yourself to your limits.  Past them.  Throwing them out the window, and saying “limits?  What are limits?”
This was my first ultra.  It will not be my last.

Ironman Mont Tremblant

Note to readers:  This was originally written for my friends who were training for Ironman Florida which was scheduled to occur 2 months after my race, just to give them an idea of what to expect.  I did not post it to my Blog until 2 years later.

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.