IM CDA – The Biggest journey yet

To sum it up, Ironman Coeur D’Alene (CDA), my first Ironman (IM) was one of the hardest, most grueling experiences I have ever faced.  Training for it was my life for the past nine months and I do not regret a single moment of it.   I was not racing for time, but to experience an IM race, to honor my father and to raise money for Challenged Athletes everywhere.  At the end of the day, I finished and am now officially an Ironman!    Remembering this got me through the darkest moments of the race.  This is my race report from IM CDA 2013.

Before going any further, there are many people that need to be thanked (feel like the Oscars here). 

• I would not have been able to get through the training or the race day without their endless support  Earl Walton.  Coach extraordinaire and founder of Tailwind Endurance (TW) -- where I spent more hours on a CompuTrainer than want to count -- for putting up with the endless emails full of questions and the hours of face/face meeting.  He equipped me with the tools to be an IM finisher. 
• Rob Gibbons who I suckered into doing this race with me and was the constant counsel along the way. 
• My family and family who, despite protests of going to Idaho, went and were the best support crew who got us through the darkest moments on the course (Alyne Model, Alexa Model and Ruth Randall, Maclean Guthrie, Cathy Caldararo, Christine Freda and Alexander Stephens).  You cannot get through an IM if your family and support network is not behind you.  No question about it.
• The many training partners (Randi Gordon, AnneRonzoni, Ken Szekretar, Kristine Entwistle, Roy Perkins, John Ratzan, to name a few) who kept me company during long workouts
• Those IM sages for providing tips and advice along the way (you know who you are), my work colleagues and teammates who put up with the IM countdown clocks and the endless conversations about races and nutrition. 
• QT2 Systems (and Jaime Window) for the race nutrition plan and MikeSherry for several the bike adjustments. 
• Finally, the donors who contributed to my fundraising.  Collectively, we raised over $11k which will go a long way to helping others in need. 

Pre-Race

The same protocol employed for other races came into play (fly in, situated, register, prep and then race) for IM CDA.  Rob and I flew in to CDA on Wednesday and settled into a condo we rented located near the finish line (a key for later on) and after a quick bite in downtown CDA decided to drive the bike course making notes of hills and changes in the road.  We both sent our bikes via TriBike Transport (TBT) which and were not scheduled to fetch them until Thursday afternoon.

Side note…the weather. 

Idaho weather is unpredictable.  Forecasts called for nice weather in the days leading up to the race.  However, when we arrived, it rained…for two days straight.  Race weather (I checked often) kept changing from thunder, to overcast, to rain, to sun.  At least tracking the weather helped to keep my mind off of the race itself. 

The days leading up to an Ironman are somewhat similar to any other race, but with a lot more moving parts.   In an IM (for those who don’t know this), there is no actual transition area.  Instead of having your own spot where you prepare for the various legs of the race, you have bike and run clothing bags, special needs bags, and morning clothing bags.  You actually change outfits during each segment and change clothing in a changing tent (more on that later).   We spent most of Thursday assembling the stuff we needed for our race. 

Lake Coeur D’ Alane is cold.  No way to state it otherwise (on a “warm race day” it’s low 60s).  The only way to acclimate for it was to keep getting into the water.  So on Thursday morning we got up, and went for a swim.  While the swim is one of my strongest legs, two weeks prior to heading out, Rob suggested I buy a neoprene hat to wear. In case the water was frigid.  Perhaps it was the colder air, but when we got it, the water wasn’t as bad as I remembered from last year when we came out to watch the race.  After a quick 25-min swim (all that Coach Earl allowed us), we officially registered (at least we got nice new backpack out of all of this), did a quick run on the course (at least the first two miles), picked up the bikes from TBT and started to assembly all that we need for the race (we had another chance to swim on Friday morning too).  

Friday was basically the same, but we entered into the meal preparation phase of our IM planning.  Both Rob and I were following the race nutrition plan from QT2 Systems which called for, basically a lot of eating.   Each meal was timed and is focused on preparing our bodies for whatever we needed on race day.   After the swim and a quick ride of the run course (mostly to test out the bikes) we ate our big lunch and waited for Christine, Alexa and Cathy to arrive (Mom and Ruth came in on Thursday and Maclean and Alexander came in on Saturday).  In the afternoon, we (Rob, Christine and I) did another quick run (the big lunch gnawed at my stomach so only ran a bit) pointing out possible spots to watch the race.   

The day before an IM, is basically waiting and resting which is exactly what we did.  A big Denny’s breakfast, followed by sitting on the couch and packing and re-packing our race bags consumed most of the day.  As mentioned before, there is no transition spot in an IM.  Instead, we have to pack everything we may need for both the bike and the run and put them into marked bags.  For this race, like other Half Ironman races, we needed to rack our bikes on Saturday.  In addition to the bikes, we had to also hand in both our bike and run bags on Saturday (we’d arrive on race morning with our special needs bags for both bike and run on race morning).   

We heard from a lot of people providing some last minute advice for race day.  Ones that I kept with me during the day (no disrespect to others) were from Sari and Gil Schorr (separately) telling me to take one mile at a time and to savior the moments, RevekaWallace making sure that I control what could and let everything else happen, Anne Ronzoni telling me to stay in the moment at all times and not focus on what lies ahead, Julie Golden telling me to smile at the finish line and of course Earl making sure that I knew that“we got this” and to trust our training.” 

The big day

I am known for my crazy pre-race routines.  I know and embrace this.   So in usual fashion, two alarms were set for 3:00am on Sunday.  At the appointed time, I stumbled from bed, and prepared my Race Day breakfast of three cups of apple sauce (Rob had to eat 4 ½ cups), whey protein, a sports drink and a banana.   After “breakfast”, a quick nap, and some last minute preparation and head out to the race start. 

After handing in our special needs bags (which has anything we may need to get us through the second half of each segment), we checked on our bikes as well as our bike and run clothing bags (which we dropped the day before) and waited (and waited) on the porta-potty line.  The time flew…all of the sudden it’s 6:00am and the professionals were in the water. 

The emotions of the day caught up with me as the national anthem played.  I had no idea what this day would bring, but knew I was racing for a greater purpose. 

Side note:  I was able, through the folks at Ironman, to get our entire crew VIP passes for the race.   This allowed them beach access for the swim and great viewing for the finish line.  

The Swim

For the first time in IM history, the race would not be a mass start, but rather a self-seeded coral based on projected swim finish times.  Partially for safety reason, IM CDA was indeed the test case for future IMs.   Earl and I thought I would be between 1:10-1:20 so opted to started in the 1:15-1:30 wave.  I am a faster swimmer than Rob (something both he and Earl know), but we decided that Rob would start the swim with me.    I opted not to wear a watch for the swim and to just go by feel.  I was confident in my abilities and knew the swim was one of my strengths.  The wave start, in my view, helped a bit, but the start of the swim was congested.   I was very happy to see Mom, Maclean, Alexa, Cathy, Christine and Alexander before jumping into the water.  Having the support crew by my side was emotional as I closed my eyes to focus some more.

Mike Reilly (the voice of Ironman) shouted “who is ready to be an Ironman today?”  We all waved our hands as we were ushered us to the start line to begin our race.  I dove into the lake and was aggressive to start (like Earl suggested), and quickly settled into a rhythm (stroke, stroke, sight).  I was a little off course at first, but kept focused and shut off my brain (I tend to drift when the brain starts to think).  I collided with many people and tried to catch a draft when I could.  However, I quickly realized that those who I drafted off of were slower than I was going so tried to move to the next group. 

Each buoy was marked  (yellow on the way out, red at the turn-around and orange on the way to shore).  Every stroke was another inch closer to the shore.  I kept Sari’s mantra of one mile at a time in my head as I passed each marker.  As I rounded the second turn around and headed to shore, my swim drifted to the right a tad (didn’t help that I breathe to the right which is where the sun was rising), blinding me at times (note to self, swim more to the left on the second loop).  Sighting the swim turn around (and the second 1.2 mile loop), I focused on getting to shore.  I pop out and see Christine and hear call my name.  A quick wave and jump back into the lake for the second loop. 

The second loop was like a scene from American Gladiators.  I was kicked in the face, pushed against, kicked some more.  Yet, I tried to find open water.  Each buoy seemed to come slightly faster on this loop and I was soon heading to shore.   Focused I kept stroking and being present and swimming my race not anyone else’s (something that would carry me through the ride).   The swim exit was in sight and I knew 2.4 miles of 140.6 was in the bag.  One mile at a time.   I approached the shore line and again heard Christine shout my name.  No need to look down at my time, I trot into the transition area to get stripped of my wetsuit, grab my bike clothing bag and head into the changing tent. 

Swim to Bike

I have often said there is no modesty in triathlon.  We are used to people speaking about bodily functions and being naked.  I get to a chair, and basically strip, towel off (putting powder anywhere I could to help dry myself off) and start to dress for the bike. Bib shorts and race jersey on, lube everywhere (and then some), oops, I out the wrong sock on the wrong foot.  T1 may have taken me forever, but I am not winning this race.   I trot out of transition, have the amazing volunteers put sunscreen everywhere not covered and head to my bike.  I grab Malibu (if you don’t get the reference, look back at prior race reports) and head out on the 112-mile leisurely ride. 

Side note:  The volunteers on the IM, were in a word, amazing.  Not only were they there wherever we needed them, but they were incredibly helpful, friendly and thankful of us being there. 

The Bike

The bike is not my best leg.  I am a conservative rider and while more confident than in the past, know my abilities.  The first part of the ride mirrors the run in that we ride in town.  As we drove the course a few times in the days leading up to Sunday, we broke the course down into segments; 14-miles in town, 40 on the highway (a few hills here and there) and repeat.  

The first few miles were really uneventful (a good thing).  Being focused on keeping a low heart rate (to make it through 112 miles and then a marathon, I would need to keep a maximum HR of 156 on the steepest sections), high cadence and make sure to drink a lot of fluid.  Mile 4 I felt strange…something didn’t seem right.  I looked down only to realize I didn’t put my bib shorts on correctly and had the straps hanging down.  Knowing this would bother me, I pulled over to the side and basically got undressed to fix it. The first few miles went by pretty quickly and while I am passed often (guess my swim was good if all of these folks are now passing me) my focus remains on my race and not anyone else’s). 

In and out of town we go and onto the 95 Highway for the next 40-miles.  As I approached the highway, I saw some of the professional men heading back to their second loop (lucky bastards).  Driving the course helped to understand when we’d face the various climbs during the day (the first one (a 3+ mile one) would come at about mile 18).  I also knew that the course was harder on the front with more downhill sections on the way back into town (again, this was going to be repeated on the second loop). 

Looking up, I saw the first hill quickly approaching and prepared to settle in for a climb.   The course said it was a 6% grade, but it felt steeper and longer as we kept going up and up.  Keeping a max 156 max HR required me to know when to push my pace while keeping nutrition in check.   Up with hill we went…HR under control, good cadence, check…I told myself to keep pressing as I passed a few fellow competitors who were not so cautious and blew up early.  Each pedal stroke took me closer to the top and the opportunity to recover.

One crucial aspect of any IM is nutrition.  The QT2 plan I followed called for at least 10 24-oz bottles during the bike as well as 7 PowerBar gels, two PowerBars, and lots of salt tablets.  My friend Brad Strater a QT2 coach (and a bad ass, Kona qualifier) preached drinking early and often which is exactly what I did.  At the first aid station (around mile 10), and everyone thereafter, I replenished some of the supply and made my way onto the course.  Figuring out how to go to the bathroom on the bike is an art.  It is something that I learned how to do and then forgot.  This meant hitting the porta potty’s at the various aid stations and avoiding any discomfort on the bike.  Hey, I am not winning this thing, so might as well be comfortable! 

As we continued on the highway, each mile ticked by one by one.  One reason we drove the course prior to the race was to make note of certain “landmarks” to help identify where we were.  One I picked out was a neon casino sign (think slot machines) signaling 4-miles until the turn-around (those who know my love for Vegas and gambling would appreciate this).  After passing the first turn around, I saw Rob approaching in the opposite direction.  Knowing he would soon catch up to me was nice as that would allow us to ride together for about 10 miles when I told him to take off and ride his race. 

Throughout the ride, I never let myself get into the dark (negative) place and just stayed focused.  This allowed me to temper my ride and pass a few other people as we made our way back into town and onto the second loop.  Past the swim start and up a small hill, I saw the posse waved and pressed on.   

About mile 63, we had the chance to get into our bike special needs bags.  When I pulled in (another pit stop), I asked one of the amazing volunteers for my special needs bag (which contained an extra water bottle, some nutrition and some extra tire tubes in case).  After a quick stop, I got back on the bike and pressed on.   Mile 70-77 were a little bit of a blur, but do remember seeing everyone again before heading to the highway for my last 40 miles.   But first the big hill….again.

I rode conservatively in the first loop and rode it in about four hours (to compare a professional finishes the bike in about 4:30, but hey this is their job!).  But for me to be able to get off the bike in less than 8 hours would mean that I needed to press a bit more on the second loop which is exactly what I did.  After the hill crested, I started to pick off more people (even playing cat and mouse with a small group of competitors; people who were not as conservative as I was on the first loop and were burning out).   

The one benefit of being in the back of a race is that people are nice and actually talk to you.  I had many, albeit, short conversations with folks on the bike ride (mostly complaining about the endless hills; why did it seem like there were more of them on this loop than the first one).  Those who have done an IM told me at some point you need to listen to your body and abandon your race nutrition plan.  I hit that point around mile 85 when I was sick of PowerBar Perform and just started to drink water whenever I needed to.  This helped…a lot.

Another rest room break (and a chance to stretch my legs), my lovely casino sign came into view which meant I was in the home stretch.  Miles 90-95 flew by as did miles 95-100.  12 miles to go…2 loops of Central Park and then I am off the bike…Each mile was a mile closer to home…Ah the lake…more people I could pass…more small conversations…the exit ramp from the highway…the transition area all came into view during the last 25 mins of the ride.   

Heading back to transition, I got my run clothing bag and did a quick calculation despite not knowing the time of my race still.  114.2 miles down…26.42 to go.  I got this.  Walking back to the changing tent, I shed my bike clothing, started to get dressed for the run and regrouped.  Making the conscious decision to keep my compression calf guards on (perhaps a tactical error), I headed out onto the last leg before I was able to be called an Ironman. 

The run…and the walk…

I would love to say the run was blissful.  Part of it was. But most of it wasn’t.  Like the bike, prior to the race, I broke the run down into sections.  Town, the area near the lake, the turn-around and back again.  I headed out onto the run still not knowing my swim time, but knowing the bike was about 7:45 with roughly 25 mins of transition times.  Guessing my swim was under 1:20 (the worst case of my range Earl and I laid out), I was going to be an Ironman today.  Up a small hill, I once again saw the clan.  Earl told me to stop and give high fives to my family as well as anyone who offered, I was taking in the energy from the crowd.  I was on my journey to the finish line.  I decided to soak up the experience of the IM.   

Earl and I discussed doing a 5:1 scenario (5 mins run, 1 min walk) for the first 30+ mins of the race and walking the back end of the aid stations.  Right before Mile 1, I saw Christine (filming our run) telling me how well I looked (sure!) and that those in Canada (racing) were cheering me on.  She told me how good my swim was (1:11) -- shit that was faster than even Earl and I planned.  Excellent.  That gave me motivation to run and run I did.  The first part of the run course is entirely in the neighborhood surround the lake.  So many people were out there supporting us, it was such a high.  Past mile 2 and onto the lonely section of an 8-mile out and back.  At mile 3, my left foot started to tingle – like it did at a race in May when I pulled out.  No way was I going to let this derail my IM experience…If I had to walk the marathon I was going to be an Ironman today. 

Walking to the side of the road, I took off my shoes trying to relieve the pain.  Nothing helped.  I pulled off the compression calf guards tucking them into my pockets and then my shoes.  With my shoes off, the pressure eased a bit, but started to throb again when they were back on.  Trying everything, I took the compression calf guards off, moved the timing chip from my ankle to my wrist and started to move forward again…one mile at a time.  Unfortunately the sensation would not wane.  I decided to try untying my shoes and running with untied laces.  Finally relief.  Ok, I am moving, Yes my sneakers are untied (and many fellow competitors said hey guy in CAF (I was wearing CAF clothing if you could not guess) your laces are united – like I did not know thatJ), but I was running and walking.   

Taking each mile one at a time, knowing that I am out here for CAF funded athletes and to honor my father, I started to enjoy the experience.  The first 8 miles took forever to pass, but then I started to approach town again and started to use the energy from the crowds.  Back into town, I got to the special needs run area and changed socks.  I was Rob walking with Christine.  Running again, I saw the clan again, ran down the hill, back up the hill and back to where Christine was standing.  She said Rob was only about 10 mins ahead of me at this point.  Ok, I got this. 

At this point if walking was the way to this finish line, I would power walk.   At times my walk was faster than some people running.  So I started to play a game with people.  Picking them off slowly.  Like the bike, the people at the back of the race are very friendly and very supportive of each other.  Hell, we were all going to the final place and knew we were all going to finish this thing in under 17 hours (the cut off).   

Speaking to a few people, they commented how fast my walk was – “I am from New York, that is what we do (walk fast)” was my constant retort. One guy and I (think he was from Alabama, or somewhere around there – all of those states are alike to me) kept traded places – he would run while I was walking and I would scoot past him.    

After being on the course for probably 13+ hour, the thought of any sweet like Ironman Perform, or a gel was more than my body could handle. Opting to try broth (salt) seemed to work and then cola (they can’t serve a brand name on the course as neither Pepsi nor Coke are sponsors) went down well.   Keeping moving forward one mile at a time was my mantra. 

Approaching mile 20…6.2 (or 10k to go).  Past the turn around, I was heading home…heading to the finish line and being called an Ironman.  Seeing mile 23 – knowing there was less than 5k to go, put a smile on my face.  That alone made me run more than walk…and pick up my walking pace.

Yes the sun was down (and I had not really mentally planned to be on the course in the dark), but as each mile past, I was getting closer to home.  Walking through the neighborhoods, and past the lake, the smell of the finish line crept into my psyche. 

As I approached the last small hill before the 8-block finish line. I took a moment to pause and reflect (yes this may have cost me more time, but I was only going to have one first IM finish and wanted to be present).  On the corner before Sherman Avenue, I asked a spectator to help put my timing chip back onto my ankle and then basically took off. 

The Finish Line

The finish of IM CDA was amazing.  Basically 8 blocks of downhill.  Suddenly there was no pain.  No tingling in my feet….just glory as I past a fee fellow athletes and counting down the blocks and seconds….Total thumbs up and a hug smile on my face…I was going to be an Ironman.  

There is nothing like a finish to an IM (especially our first one).  It is a party.  You start to hear the cheers of spectators from two-blocks away.  The feeling when you hit the blue carpet is unlike any other race finish I have done. The smile on my face as I entered the finish line shoot was as wide as the lake and  my hands flew straight up into the air as I flew by and heard Mike Riley – the voice of Ironman – call my name.  I did not know my time…I did not care!  I was an Ironman!  

Passing the chute,  two volunteers immediately "caught" me and helped me to get my bearings.  After handing my my medal, finisher’s tee shirt and hat, they helped me walk to the photo line.  Rob was waiting for me there and we gave each other a fist bump.  We both made it.  After the photos I saw the crew and gave mom and Alexa a huge hug… I did it.  And I did it as well as I could on that day.   

Reflection…

I am an Ironman.  10 months of dedicated training…to putting a lot of my life on hold…to focus on one single day that was finally here.   Six years after doing my first triathlon I am an Ironman.  I am one of less than 1% of the population who can claim that.  Wow.

I completed the journey I set out to do and along the way helped to raise money for CAF.  I think my father would be proud.  Not sure if there is another IM in me, but for now, despite the pain, I am beyond psyched.