So, so many times over the past 3 months I have thought to myself "why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to sign up for IMLP again?"
The bike course is insane. The run course isn't much better. The weather is unpredictable. I was training in a season of life where nothing seemed to be playing to my advantage, whether it was the weather, my schedule, work draining all of my energy, or committing to more dance teaching than I maybe should have. When I signed up for the race I was out for redemption, but there were a bunch of times throughout training (almost weekly in fact) when I really wondered if I was giving enough to be deserving of that redemption. Quite frankly, a PR was NEVER on my mind at literally any point during the training cycle; in fact I kept thinking that if I could just get through this race I was done with the full distance, because all of this was just too much. All of the things I felt like I was doing well (getting stronger on the bike, fixing my fueling) were counteracted by the things I felt like I wasn't (running like...the most ridiculously low mileage of my life, bike volume not being super high) and really my overwhelming feeling throughout the entire training cycle was that of just not doing *enough*. In the age of social media that we live it, it feels like you're constantly being fed the narrative of people who are doing so much MORE, sacrificing EVERYTHING, doing NOTHING besides whatever is going to get them success in triathlon. That narrative, I realize, is completely warped not to mention unrealistic and unhealthy for 99% of us, but no one is immune to the message it dictates: if you aren't doing it like *this*, you're doing it wrong.
And maybe that's a whole other topic of conversation, but to skip to the good part: turns out you *can* PR an Ironman without giving up everything else. And so, our IMLP story begins.
This year I decided to let Andrew off the hook on coming to the race; he genuinely deserves a large chunk of the credit for holding me together during this entire training cycle (the day he calmly macgyvered a solution to my back bottle cage falling apart while I sobbed about how I hated everything to do with biking before needing to go ride for 5 hours at 1 pm on a Sunday afternoon was a real low point) and we had discussed the fact that coming to Placid to essentially sit around and watch me be a head case wasn't really a fun way to spend a weekend. So I decided to call in for backup, and invited my mom to come and join the weekend. She loved Lake Placid when she joined me for my training trip back in 2023 and was thrilled at the idea of getting out of Wisconsin for the weekend! She arrived on Wednesday and we had a really nice relaxing evening. The evening was challenged by the fact that Andrew was watching Joy's two dogs as she was also racing elsewhere during this weekend, and while they are absolute sweethearts an 8 month old, 80 lb dog with separation anxiety doesn't exactly lend itself to a restful sleeping experience. I ended up locking Andrew and the dogs in the bedroom and sleeping in my sleeping bag on top of a bed made out of couch cushions on the living room floor (hey, who says I'm not resourceful!) hoping that this wasn't an omen for the weekend to come.
After a leisurely morning on Thursday, my mom and I made the 4 hour drive to Schroon Lake, about an hour outside of Placid, which I had planned to save on driving time as well as another $$$ night of lodging before the race. I worked on my carb loading (sugary drinks were the champion of that this time around) and enjoyed the feeling that comes in that blissful window before the race where it's coming, but it's not close enough to really feel the nerves and so you just kind of feel like you're on a lovely but exciting vacation. On my shakeout run in Schroon Lake, I got caught in an absolute DOWNPOUR, which became the first of many good vibes signs I'd experience over the next several days. And it was so lovely to only need to run 4 miles! Our evening in Schroon Lake was lovely, with a delicious dinner outdoors of the most incredible fried eggplant and pizza followed by beers with live music at the fancy Adirondak resort nearby...totally relaxing, totally blocking out any stress about the race to come.
On Friday we grabbed breakfast (a nutella croissant for me - once again taking advantage of the carb load by eating something I normally never would have for breakfast) at the cute coffee shop in town and drove the rest of the way to Placid. I wanted to check out the new Jay loop on the course and my mom obliged me with a driving tour - it helped that it was an absolutely gorgeous day. I scoped out the new hills in Jay, which seemed long but nothing overly crazy, and we drove back up through Wilmington Notch to town. My mom hadn't seen this side of the course before and I'm sure she enjoyed my guided tour of all of the landmarks from last time. We parked in town and the Ironman hustle began - I swear, maybe someday I'll go to one of these races and not feel like a TOTAL imposter when I get out of the car but I haven't made it there yet. People are whizzing by on $15000 bikes, everyone looks incredibly fit and everyone is repping clothes from their most recent Ironman. For my part, I decided to rep local and wear my Sea to Summit shirt, which got a few shoutouts throughout the day! I headed in and got my wristband and bib number, which they are apparently now printing out right on the spot. The bibs were ENORMOUS, which kind of made me laugh, but the process was super efficient and I was in and out with my new black Ironman wristband on in what felt like no time. I always get a little thrill finding out what my bib number is (eternally hoping for a 14; I was close this year with 1351!) and the woman at check in said something nice like "oh, I think people with 3's in their number are going to have a good day!" which was cute. I still was feeling really calm on Friday - I don't know if it was just that the experience felt surreal or if it was the fact that I knew the ins and outs of this particular race venue, but it was nice not to feel like my heart wasn't going to explode out of my chest the entire time. We went to the merch tent (obviously) and I drank and Athletic radler while walking around and getting some free stuff, including a really nice poster! And more importantly, some puppy love from an absolutely ADORABLE corgi at the sparkling pickle juice tent.
We wandered up the main street and got lunch at an excellent sandwich place with a sandwich for each of the 46 4000 footers in the Adirondaks (I got a turkey sandwich, natch), which we ate overlooking the lake. We couldn't check into our hotel until 4, which was a little annoying, but it worked out fine as I ended up deciding that I wanted to drive back down to Wilmington to do my bike shakeout on the old Haselton out and back, which is a lovely spot to ride and is no longer a part of the course. This turned out to be a GREAT decision - I was out of the hubbub which really let me calm down on the ride, and in the next good vibes moment of the weekend I saw the most adorable RED FOX while riding! Now it's no moose, but I really love foxes and you don't see them very often, so I once again felt like this was the universe giving me a little nudge. Plus, my ride ended up being 14.14 miles...again, perfect. We drove back up to town and had a beer at the Raquette River taproom, which was again a nice quiet spot away from it all, and then finally made it to our hotel/cabin at Cobble Hill Cabins which was LITERALLY perfect - 1 mile away from the oval, and positioned on both the bike and run courses, but also far enough out of town as to feel totally peaceful. I can't recommend it highly enough! Once we got into the cabin, I jokingly (but actually not) told my mom that "this is the time when I'm not going to talk to you for awhile" and I set about the task of organizing the bags. I find this to be one of the most stressful parts about a full Ironman - you have to drop off your bike and run bags on Saturday, and while you can add stuff to them on race morning I just feel like I get in my head about somehow having forgotten something. Naturally, my type A brain decided to cope with this by organizing everything on top of the bags, then writing down a list of everything I was putting in each bag, THEN writing a list of things that would needed to be added to each bag on race morning, and then double checking each of those again. Does it sound insane? Yes. Did I have absolutely EVERYTHING I needed? Also yes. Eventually I felt like everything had been sorted, and I collected my mom from the lovely picnic area outside the cabin and we headed to Big Slide Brewery for dinner - pretzel bites, a BLT and fries, and of course a full flight of beer...because carbs but also, 2 days before the race so it's still fair game, baby! Everything was grand, we had several lovely hours of conversation, and I went to bed feeling good and hyped for all that was to come.
And then Saturday arrived! And the day before a big race, as we all know, is the freaking WORST. The day began with my mom getting mad at me because I didn't want to see pictures of the inside of a childhood acquaintance's floating sauna (don't even ask). I tried to watch the live stream of the Tour de France but quickly realized I didn't even have a brain cell to devote to that cause. However, what I have learned is when the nerves threaten to take over the best thing to do is DO something, so I abruptly decided that we were heading down to the practice swim and bike check in NOW. As always, once the decision was made to do something, the day turned for the better. At the practice swim, I had seen on the facebook group that a tri club was hosting a flamingo coffee barge, a la Kona, and since swimming to the coffee boat at Kona is basically the only thing that has ever excited me about Kona, a coffee flamingo at Lake Placid sounded like a DREAM. So I started my practice swim by swimming out and sitting on a flamingo floatie and drinking a little cup of coffee and it was everything I ever dreamed!! I kind of just wanted to hang out there all morning but alas I figured I should finish my swim. They had a little 500 yd loop which I did twice; on the second loop I ended up seeing my mom hanging out on the beach so we were able to reconvene. I changed in the public bathrooms at the parking lot (actually remembering to bring other clothes, lesson #238 from last time I did this race) and we went to get breakfast at Soulshine Bagel as bike check in still wasn't open. It was actually really pleasant enjoying my ham egg and cheese on a bench and watching the athletes come and go in front of me. Finally the time came to get Bheithir out of the car and make the final adjustments before heading to bike check in. I pumped my tires just over my preferred psi of 82 (I literally do not know where I came up with that number but it hasn't failed me yet) and added my little "FLY" dragon drawing over the screen of my defunct bike computer. Just like regular check in, bike check in proceeded very quickly and I was delighted to find myself on a short rack and in an end slot - an ideal place to be! With Bheithir bedded down for the night, I grabbed another Athletic and headed over to the athlete briefing, which didn't really include any new information but I am a rule follower so I will always go to these things. It *did* include some really dumb questions ("can we wear headphones during the swim?") and speculation about the water temperature, which was *just* over the wetsuit legal threshold at 76.2 that day. That particularly problem had been placed in the "things I can't control" bucket all week - I'm a strong enough swimmer that it's really not the end of the world if I can't wear a wetsuit, although I'm certainly going to be faster with one, it was going to be what it would be.
All of the race tasks completed, I forced my mom to drive down to Wilmington AGAIN so we could go to Up A Creek, Andrew and my favorite spot from our last time here, for lunch. This again turned out to be a great decision as getting away from the chaos was exactly what I needed. I had chicken tenders, fries, and a Coke because I am possibly 4 years old and it was just really enjoyable to sit outside on a pleasant day and relax. We then drove back to the hotel, where I think I just dissociated for awhile. Some bizarre part of my brain thought I was going to get all kinds of reading done on this trip but I think I read the same page of my book 4x before giving up. I tried to watch the Tour, but couldn't really pay attention to that either and kept defaulting back to organizing stuff for the next day, filling my bottles, doing my nails, etc. I did my little 14 minute shakeout run while listening to my playlist from the cycle, as is tradition and I almost cried coming back up the hill while listening to "My Days" from The Notebook musical, and basically when you cry on a shakeout run you know you're ready, right? I even found a golf ball to add to my little collection of treasures that I found during this training cycle (a little rubber giraffe from a swim at Walden and a little squeaky dinosaur from one of my last bike commutes were the others - I now had the full trifecta! LOL). My mom went off to the grocery store to attempt to find a camp chair to sit on while cheering and came back with mission accomplished as well as a variety of juices for the morning per my request. We got pizza from Bazzi's and ate that out in the picnic area while I had my customary pre-race beer. There were a few other racers around and I couldn't help but glance at all of them, knowing they were all probably feeling just like I did. We finally retired back to the cabin, where I watched How To Train Your Dragon and CRIED at every single flying scene because all of my bikes are named after dragons and when I ride I picture that's the closest I can get to flying on a dragon soooo this 2010 children's movie that I had somehow never actually seen before really hit for me. The gravity of what I had to do the next day was really sinking in but all day I kept reminding myself that soon I would just get to to do the thing and that being nervous wasn't helping. Telling myself shit like this did not, in fact, help my nerves, but hey, we made the effort!
And partially due to nerves, partially due to other factors (weird temperature in our cabin, an AMBER ALERT at 1:40 am) I got an absolutely HORRID night of sleep! I probably got more than I realized, but it just felt super disrupted and when I finally woke up for the umpteenth time just before 4 am I decided there was no point in waiting any longer, I should just get up and get going. Once race morning hits, the task list is so long that I feel like the nerves dissipate, because there are just so many Things To Do. Microwave potatoes. Put bottles in bags. Put trisuit on. Look at message from race about water temp (75.7! Wetsuit legal!) Braid hair. Take stupid mirror fistbump selfie for Joy and Brittany. Drink iced coffee (shoutout to the Stewart's bottles of coldbrew, genius!). Eat banana. Bathroom. Drink juice. Start shoving graham crackers in my face. Make sure I have all of my bags. Before I knew it, it was 4:45, my time that I had designated to leave. My mom drove me down to where the road was closed so I only had about a quarter mile walk to transition and I said my farewells, and then it was out into the dark and into another Iron Day.
I had forgotten to buy a seltzer for my run special needs bag, so I popped into the Stewart's which helpfully was open, but as it turned out they didn't even have seltzer! Oh well. Sussudio by Phil Collins was playing, the second or third time I had heard it during the weekend, and I laughed to myself thinking that that would probably end up in my head later. I made my way to transition and the task list began again: Put bottles in bike bag. Put potatoes in bike. Put bottles in bike. Realize the bottles you put in the bike bag actually belong in the bike special needs bag! Go back and get bottles and then go to drop off bike special needs with a longer line than expected to do so. Walk back to bike because, idk, you just need to check if it's still there or something. Find a porta potty with a line that isn't 15 miles long. Drop off run special needs bag. The time goes QUICK!
After dropping off my run special needs bag the only things I still needed to do were drop my morning clothes bag and do a warmup swim, which I felt like I had plenty of time to do. In a spur of the moment decision, I stopped at a grassy spot overlooking the lake and sat down, putting this inspirational spoken word song "Today Is Yours", that I really only listen to before Ironmans, on my headphones. It just felt like the right thing to do - looking out over the calm lake as dawn began to break, centering myself in these words that have always put me in the right head space before a big event, gently stretching out the nerves and the tension. One of the phrases that always hits me hit even harder in this moment: "gone are the insecurities, the doubt, the disbelief. This day is YOURS." It really hit me in that moment that I was DOING this - through all the training, all the months it had sort of felt this day was just a mirage on the horizon, and yet this was all real: the lake, the sky, the course awaiting me. I took a few deep breaths as the song ended, righting myself, and then put on Rumble Slow one last time as I walked over to the beach area.
The beach was CHAOS, full to the brim of athletes and spectators alike, and I suddenly found myself stressed out about the timing of getting up to drop my bag, getting in the water, and getting a decent spot in the swim start line. I practically sprinted up the hill to the bag drop and was so chaotic when I got there that the kind volunteers had to remind me to put both my tshirt and my flip flops in the bag. As I made my way back down towards the beach, I heard an announcement that there were 2 minutes left in the swim warmup, which apparently ended at 6:15! I once again basically hurled myself into the warmup area, doing a quick couple of rounds of 15 strokes before they announced that it was time to clear the water. Down to the wire, or what? Luckily, because I was already in the water, I got to stay there as the national anthem played. I have felt less, shall we say, patriotic in recent months, but the hush that falls during the national anthem at a big race, everyone collectively honoring this beginning of a day that they've worked so hard for with no knowledge of how it will end, is always really special. The cannon sounded for the pro men, and I hurried my way back onto the shore, taking a Gu and drinking the rest of my Skratch as I made my way into the swim start lineup. This, again, was chaos. It was difficult to move forward in the crowd but I knew I NEEDED to at least be up in the 1:15 area or I was going to be swimming over people the entire time (foreshadowing...) I eventually got to what appeared to be the front of the 1:11-1:20 area, which seemed to be a reasonable spot. In hindsight I know my swim training was so much better this time and I swam 1:10 last time at Placid so I should have been bolder, but I was sick of fighting my way up and I had somehow convinced myself that I actually wasn't going to have a very good swim. The announcer woman was talking a mile a minute, some of it just yammering but some of it more meaningful, like talking about how Lake Placid was where the miracle on ice occurred and how if we had one word in our minds today it needed to be "believe". I laughed as a girl next to me passed a banana through the crowd towards the trash ("it was my emotional support banana", lol) and tried to dance a little bit and shake out the nerves as the line began to move.
By this point, I think I'd moved beyond nerves. The moment was here. As I approached the starting chute I thought to myself, you know, stop blowing this up in your head. It's just a triathlon. You fucking love triathlon. Don't worry about how long it is, remember it's just a triathlon. Like Zoe Saldana says in Center Stage "it's just one more day I get to dance". For some reason that thought pattern really worked, and I found myself just feeling so so ready to dive in the water as I approached the end of the starting corral. "Come With Me Now" was playing as I approached the line, and I was so happy to have kind of an aggressive song playing as I started (LOL). The countdown beeped, the volunteer in front of me raised her arms, and I ran into the water. It had begun.
The swim - 1:09:01 (13th AG, 94th F, 341st OA)
If I could sum up this swim in one word, it would be chaos. If I could sum it up in a few words, it would be HOLY SHIT men need to learn to seed themselves appropriately on the swim!!!
This swim passed incredibly quickly, and I think the reason for that is that I was constantly fighting through what seemed like endless packs and packs and packs of people swimming slower than me. That was literally this entire hour + of my life: swimming clear for a few minutes, and then coming up against a pack of 10 people swimming shoulder to shoulder, all going slower than me, and having to try to find my way around them. It's funny, because I think some people get stressed out in a swim that feels like a boxing match. Me? Just straight up ANNOYED with everyone around me the entire time. The first out leg was an absolute mess - it became so quickly apparent that so many people (mostly men) in front of me had seeded themselves inappropriately and as a result I was having to throttle my way through packs of slower men the ENTIRE time. I didn't even bother trying to find the cable - sometimes I was on top of it, sometimes I could see it in my periphery, but mostly I was just trying to find a goddamn spot of water where I could actually SWIM and not be ramming into some man flailing his arms or kicking like he was actually already on the run leg of the race. People always say you should try to find some feet to follow and draft off of, but every single person I found myself behind I would almost immediately find myself passing. I don't say this to crow about what a good swimmer I am (although, OK, this is a pretty legit swim time especially for someone who swam at most 2x/week, has never done a drill in her life, and doesn't come from a swim background) but more to drive home the point that I would love to see a little infographic of the times some of these people actually swam, because I'm gonna hazard a guess that it was not sub 1:10.
Thankfully there are few turn buoys at Placid because they are always a mess and this was no exception; at one point I think I actually yelled "WHY ARE YOU STOPPING" at a man who thought that coming to a dead stop at that point was a normal thing to do. The leg back to the beach felt a little less chaotic as I guess I'd finally made my way past the initial failboats of the "sub 1:10" group and I found myself having longer periods where I could actually just swim without making evasive maneuvers, although it was at some point during this leg when I got absolutely SLAMMED in the jaw - like, it literally felt like I'd been punched in the face. Somehow my goggles stayed on (new goggles FTW, they didn't fog at all) and I just continued on, internally cursing everyone around me.
We got to the little Aussie exit section and I looked at my watch which was at like 33 minutes; I had started my watch probably 45-60 seconds late after I went into the water but I still felt like this was good news that I was somehow swimming so fast despite the fact that I had felt like I was in some kind of aquatic battleground during the first lap. I had hoped that the second lap would be better but much to my dismay, I now encountered the group of people who had gone out fast, but were now slowing down, creating a whole new pack of people for me to fight with. Men, can we talk about your kicking? You are wearing a wetsuit, there is simply NO NEED to be creating tidal waves with your kicking! I drank a ton of water due to being near a man who seemed to have no control over any of his limbs and while I can laugh about this now in the moment it was just so irritating not to be able to swim my own swim! I genuinely wonder if I ended up swimming faster fueled by my own irritation and desire to get away from these people. The second turn buoy situation wasn't quite as bad as the first, and I actually FINALLY managed to pick up some feet for a little while which felt like a miracle underwater, if not a miracle on ice. The final straight was decent for the first half; I managed to pick up the cable and was feeling pretty fly about myself...and then I ran into the back of the pack who I was lapping, which presented a new (although significantly less annoying - I'm not judging people who are slow swimmers, I'm judging men who clearly overseeded themselves) challenge. According to my Garmin splits that seems to have slowed me down quite a lot, as my 3000-3500 split was my slowest of the day, but I picked it back up and made my way to the beach, happy to have gotten my sub 1:10 and not feeling particularly worse for the wear!
T1: 8:46
I hustled over to the wetsuit strippers, which I had only used for the first time at Patriot and clearly still don't have a great grasp on how to use, because I practically kicked one of them in the face (and then apologized profusely lol) and then didn't even realize that they were going to help me up off the ground. It was way easier to run the long road up to transition without my wetsuit on and I enjoyed smiling at the crowds and, of course, going around several men (my desire to pass men is really a theme of my racing this year lol).
I do not think this was the most efficient transition of my life; I get lost in the sauce in T1 no matter what and all the bags and chairs and things in Ironman just make me feel like I've landed on an alien planet lol. I sat down and a volunteer attempted to help me but I'm so not *used* to having help so I didn't really know what to have her do; I started talking out loud about how I was covered in sand, not really expecting there to be a solution, and this angel goes over and finds cups of water to dump on me to get the sand off! What a GEM! I forgot to bring my red bracelet that you're supposed to give to a volunteer who you really like but she would have gotten mine for sure. I drank some water and used the rest to wash off my feet and started eating my rice krispie treat. I got my socks and shoes on and tried to figure out how to shove all of my Gu into my suit and my bra - I decided to have all of my gels for the bike with me from the start and only take more potatoes and my bottles at special needs. I felt like it would save time although you could argue the time just ended up being spent in T1 lol...whatever. I actually kind of forgot about this until I'm writing this, but they yelled out my number when I came out to get my bike but when I got there there was no volunteer to help me, so I ended up having to do the annoying dance of taking my bottles out to get my bike out from under the rack by myself so we will blame that for another 15-20 seconds of this slow ass transition. Oh well! I trotted off towards the mount line honestly SO excited to get on Bheithir and go ride - there were no time goals attached to this bike, I was simply ready to get out there, fly, and have some fun.
The bike - 6:18:21 (21st AG, 105th F, 589th OA)
OK, on paper, this bike time is killing me a little bit, because for all the work I put in this year and how much faster I know I am, only riding ONE MINUTE faster?! Actually placing worse than I did in 2023? So annoying. Yes, the course was a mile longer, and yes, it has 1000 ft more elevation gain, and yes as we will see the weather conditions didn't lend themselves to maximum speed but stillll even when I say I have no time goals I think deep down I thought I could hit 18 mph, which I think would be closer to 6:10. BUT. At the end of the day, I think this is a great example of a situation where the goal of triathlon is ALL 3 SPORTS, not just one, no one actually cares where you came out of the water or whether you PR'd the bike, and that being smart on the bike ends with a better race than being a hero. I would also argue that while the times are similar, the amount of energy it took to ride this ride was SO much less than in 2023 (aka I was actually in shape to race this time), which will pay dividends as this race report goes on. And on that note, back to the race report!
I feel like there is such an advantage to doing a race where you know the course and have ridden it before, and I really enjoyed that aspect of doing this race for the second time. I felt SO confident and comfortable with the ins and outs of the bike course, and because of how much I've worked on confidence and handling on my tri bike over the past couple of years I was actually EXCITED for the descents, which was a really nice feeling. There are some turns and steep descents heading right out of transition and I was keeping it super cool on those - naturally there were men whipping by me here (my head discussion: maybe you should have swam faster bitch...) but I told myself there was no reason to be a hero at this moment. In fact, I saw a guy lose his front bottle cage because he was taking the rough roads out of transition too quickly, so you know what, sometimes you just gotta be cool!
I feel that people talk a lot about many aspects of the Lake Placid course but I feel like people simply do not talk enough about the first 7ish miles out of town. In my opinion, it's the worst part of the course by far! A bunch of long climbs that are just steep enough to be annoying, the feeling that you should be going faster because you just started the race, some not-particularly-great roads...honestly, ugh! Particularly for the first loop I believe in taking this section SUPER chill and that's exactly what I did - gear down and spin it up. I let the hardo men do their hardo men things while still finding myself passing some people but managed to find what I felt like was an appropriate spot in the pack pretty quickly. The concept of burning matches is such a great analogy and I was pretty insistent within myself that I would not be burning ANY matches on this first section during loop 1, so I just poodled along, talking to myself and occasionally the riders around me. I haven't mentioned the weather yet but so far the day had been an absolute blessing from the weather gods - it was probably in the high 60s and with cloud cover, I was super comfortable and happy and hoped that the day could remain this way.
We hit the little Van Hoevenberg out and back and I took the opportunity to actually get in aero and try to apply some power for a second and see how that felt; the answer was good! My legs felt great and I felt synced up with my bike in a way that really pleased me - it's been a long road to getting truly comfortable on my tri bike but I think we've finally made it there. I passed the fabulous German aid station and thanked all the volunteers - I didn't use the bike aid stations at all as I don't like any of the products Ironman currently partners with, but I made a point to yell and whoop and thank all the volunteers as I rode by on the outside, which I really got a kick out of and I think they did too! I headed back out to get ready for my first ride down the Keene descent, a ride which I was finally EXCITED to take! And boy, was it every bit as much fun as I remembered. I still couldn't quite bring myself to stay in aero on the super steep parts, but I got there as often as I could and there was no braking to be found. Sure, there were men zipping by me at 50+ mph, but who even cares - for me, 40 mph is more than enough. It truly is about the closest I think I'll ever come to flying, and I've learned that I will have a little carthartic cry at the bottom of Keene every single time I ride it lol.
The next section of the loop is the "flat" section which was REALLY fun to ride this year - I think this was the part of the course where the gains I've made this year were most obvious, as I was riding pretty quickly for me and it just felt like a piece of cake. It was about this time I realized that I probably needed to at least start thinking about my nutrition - the fact that it was cooler than expected actually sort of threw me for a loop as pretty much all of my long rides/my nutrition schema was for HOT conditions - but I still stuck with my initial plan of a bottle an hour and adding potatoes and gels in the 2nd/3rd hours of each loop. I had made sort of a last second decision to use 4/6 bottles of high carb instead of only 2 because I've found that my stomach handles it really well and I actually get less flavor fatigue from it because despite having way more carbs it somehow tastes less sweet. This worked GREAT, and I will definitely be continuing with the strategy - it made the regular Skratch in the middle taste like a sweet treat, and also served to get me more carbs than I otherwise could have! Win all the way around!
The flat section passed quickly; I made my way through my first bottle, just hung out in aero and focused on a nice smooth pedal stroke without pushing anything too hard. Some song always seems to pop in my head as soon as I make the turn out of Keene and this time was no exception; this year's selection was "We Built This City" and I always have to laugh as someone passes me just as I'm breaking into a singalong. I got to the first covered bridge turn and actually yelled "covered bridge, lose your shit!" in honor of Andrew and my inside joke about covered bridges. It was really not the greatest though - kind of a steep downhill heading into this bumpy ass bridge; there was already a huge graveyard of bottles and other things that had flown off people's bikes by the time I arrived. Thankfully my macgyvered/zip tied bottle cage pulled through (thank you zip ties!) and it was onward through a weird little bike path moment with 5 mph speed limit signs, followed by the turn into the first Jay loop.
I had been so stressed out about the addition of this loop because on paper it added so much elevation gain, but it actually turned out to be one of my favorite parts of the course! I don't know how to explain it, but the climbs were just...normal? Like they reminded me of any old random hill I'd encounter in Concord and something about that was super comforting as the rest of the hills on this course just don't come in that flavor. Again, it being loop 1 I made a concerted effort to keep my effort veeeeery relaxed on the uphills and as a result they did not feel that difficult at all. It always amazes me how many people I can pass when I'm essentially just chilling in my baby gear and not really feeling like I'm working that hard....a stupid phrase that kept running through my head was "in this thread: men who can't climb". Have I mentioned I'm really mean to men in my head when I'm riding my bike? Sorry NOT SORRY lol. Now, again, maybe we could argue that I could have been working even *harder*, passing *more* people, and winding up with a faster time, but I still think I stand by how I chose to approach the course. On one of the hills there were a few spectators with a bunch of yard signs set up with various motivational sayings, but one stood out "Where can you find a legless cow?". I pondered that one for a second and then questioned out loud, "Where CAN you find a legless cow?" (Remember, I'm climbing a large hill and actively passing people while this is happening. I like to believe my fellow competitors are amused and maybe a little confused by me lol). The spectator heard me and yells back "RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT IT!" and I had a good chuckle over that; I then immediately started brainstorming a joke I could yell back at that group if they were still there on the second loop.
The Jay section was also really beautiful with major highlights including a super idyllic farm and HIGHLAND COWS! It also included an absolute blast of a rip roaring downhill, which I enjoyed immensely - descending seems like such a dumb thing to have made so much progress on but it feels SO good to not be scared to go downhill anymore. I was giggling to myself as I flew down the hill IN AERO - going 30 mph in aero? Who IS she! We crossed another bridge and made the left hand turn onto the final leg of the loop, where it somehow seemed like a massive group had gotten bunched up. I had honestly felt like I'd been riding mostly by myself for a few miles and all of a sudden there were just people everywhere, going all different paces, and making it very hard to make passes, avoid drafting, and stay in any sort of rhythm myself. I was doing a bit of leapfrogging with another woman around this time and I made a comment to her like "where the heck did all these people come from?!" I don't know if it was us just catching a pack of people who'd gone out harder and been slowed down more by the hills or what, but it was the only moment of the race where I ever felt crowded.
And then all of a sudden, it started POURING. Not like a little random pee, not like a steady sprinkle, but a full on DOWNPOUR. And I, naturally, felt myself break into joyful laughter. I love the rain - if I had to pick one inclement weather condition I'd pick rain, hands down, any day of the week. Rain means you aren't hot, rain feels like magic, rain is being alive. It was utterly ridiculous as visibility dropped to nearly zero. I wasn't totally sure what to do with my sunglasses but felt like taking them off would only lead to me getting shit in my eyes, so I ended up leaving them on and moving through life like someone with really terrible vision might, occasionally pushing them down on my nose to look over them if I really felt like I couldn't see. I think at one point a guy asked me if I could see, and I was like not really, but he was also wearing sunglasses so I assume he couldn't see either? Seeing is overrated? It was wild, but more importantly it was FUN, and at the end of the day the #1 thing I want out of my triathlon career is fun. I think you could view it as a problem or a strength that I never really thought about racing on the bike, just riding strong, getting my fuel in, and enjoying every moment, and somehow riding through some of the hardest rain I've experienced was just so, so enjoyable.
With the rain still pouring we turned onto the "Jay to Wilmington Is Rude" section, a very very long hill that I just can't think of another adjective to describe besides rude. It's steep enough to be annoying and it simply feels like it goes on FOREVER. Once again I advised myself to burn no matches, but once again I still found myself frequently having to make passes, annnnd once again I was just so happy that I like to climb. At some point on this hill there was a life sized moose sculpture which I had seen on our drive through which made me smile, and I got up the hill with no matches burned, as was my goal.
Now during the miles preceding this I had become aware of the fact that I actually needed to pee, which seemed nuts after not even 40 miles of riding but I tried to take as a positive indicator that I was hydrating appropriately. In hindsight I think mixing my bottles as if it would be hot (aka adding salt to all of them) caused me to need to pee more than might have been strictly necessary although it's so hard to calibrate how much you're actually sweating when it's raining and cooler. But regardless, I needed to pee, and flying down the downhill that comes after the rude uphill, while it's absolutely downpouring, seemed like as good of a place as any to attempt to pee on my bike. I apologized to Bheithir and then I DID ITTTTT! I immediately felt so much more comfortable AND I basically felt like a pro cyclist, so win win all the way around.
I dipped into the little baby Haselton loop and there was either a volunteer or spectator, honestly not sure, but he was banging on a barrel like a drum and I was INTO it, so I waved my arms and hyped him up and then started singing "I just came for the TECHNO BASS" in my head and that got me through the annoying uphill and back to the road. It was a good feeling to know I just had to do the Wilmington Notch, which I truly don't think is that bad, and then just 1 more lap to go! But interestingly, the next 10ish miles were really the only part of the bike where I actually didn't feel very good. It was a very odd and quite sudden shift - I abruptly felt like my stomach was off, my legs felt tired as I started the climb, and I just very abruptly was like hmm OK this doesn't feel great. And here we have one of the absolute best examples of how all of my work and thinking and practicing over the past 2 years has paid off.
I admittedly was a little freaked out especially about the abrupt turn of my stomach, since this was around the spot where things started to go south for me in 2023, and obviously no one is happy to have a valley show up at only mile 45 of a 112 mile bike ride. But what I didn't do was hit the panic button. What I also didn't do was ignore the problem. What I DID do (which I don't think I actually had the knowledge to do 2 years ago) was look at the situation objectively and problem solve. In combination with already having had to pee, the sudden sloshy stomach made me realize that I almost definitely was drinking more than I needed to under the conditions, and I needed to divert from my 1 bottle per hour plan. Solution? Take a break from drinking! I'd been eating my potatoes but in the current moment I wasn't sure they'd go down well, however I also figured that the leg fatigue could just be due to needing more fuel. Solution? I took a Huma gel and then had a little pep talk with myself like, hey, I think you've solved this problem, so just give it a little bit and see what happens OK? In hindsight this is really one of the parts of the race I'm most proud of, and I think it speaks to sort of my whole philosophy on what drives me in triathlon. I mean we know I like the sport because I think it's fun, but I also really enjoy the learning and problem solving and the cognitive aspect of it - this is also one of many reasons why I don't have a coach, don't use a power meter, don't follow a training plan, etc - because I really want to learn for myself and be the driver of my own success. This was SUCH a cool moment of putting that into practice, because while the first lap up Wilmington didn't maybe feel quite as strong as I would have hoped, by the time I got to the bears my stomach was back in gear, my legs were back under me, and I felt totally ready for the second loop. So freaking cool.
Someone had actually labeled the bears this year, which made me happy, and also made them finally make sense to me because baby bear is in the MIDDLE! Mama bear actually was the biggest bitch this time around; I think I really started wanting to try to push the hills at this point and my legs were like, excuse me but why would you do that NOW?! But I always freaking love Papa Bear, and while the crowds weren't quite as aggressive as those that were there in 2023, the people who were out were NUTS and there is just something about cresting that hill with people screaming in your face that makes you feel like you're in the Tour (made all the more powerful by the fact that I actually watched the Tour this year!). I then saw my mom for the first time! She was yelling with her Rumble Slow sign that I made her make even though she had no clue what it meant, lol, and it was really fun to see her at a moment when I was feeling good and strong. I hoped the trend would continue!
I turned the corner onto Northwood Road knowing that there was just one minor hill here and then a cruise back to town to start my next loop. There was a tent absolutely blasting music and Baba O Reilly was playing at full volume and I was hit with a wave of joy so strong that I almost started crying as I head banged along with the dun....DUN DUN.... of the beat. So much of this training cycle has involved just putting my head down and doing it, don't think don't pass go just do it, put your feelings about it away and just do it and so much of racing is like that too - you can't attach too much emotion to any one moment in a day that long. But coming through the first loop feeling strong and hearing this song, a song that always takes me back to college and cross country meets and running around University Bay fields daydreaming about what I might accomplish athletically someday, let's do an Ironman in 2020, back when all of this was a dream that I didn't have the slightest idea could come true, there was just so much power in it. When a song has meaning to me I find meaning in it wherever I hear it, so it was just the perfect place and time for this particular one to make an appearance. It was awesome, and I rode that high up and over the northwoods hill and through the lovely push down Mirror Lake Drive, lined with spectators, back into down. I rounded the hot corner and started making waving motions at the crowd to turn up the volume - yes you better believe I want you to get loud! - and then headed back around to Cummings Dr. and the special needs area, where CELSIUS awaited!!
The bike special needs volunteers are another group that I just think deserve all of the flowers; they are so helpful and were so quick with getting me in and out quickly. I grabbed my new bottles, shoved my new potatoes into my bento, and grabbed my flask of CELSIUS which I quickly realized I was gonna need to drink fast as it wasn't as easy to hold along with my handlebars as I thought it would be. It was probably less than 30 seconds and I was off again into loop #2 feeling great and honestly excited to do the whole thing again. I don't actually remember it raining at this point in the day but the photos say otherwise, and I had a cheesy grin on my face (mostly with delight at my Celsius I think, lol) as I rolled down the steep downhill. I also was laughing to myself because "Jessie's Girl" was playing from somewhere and I was just like, ugh, I HATE that song, I swear to god if that song is stuck in my head the rest of the day I'm gonna be upset! Because of the aforementioned issues holding the flask, I ended up downing the ~8 oz of Celsius VERY quickly - it was a lot of caffeine straight to the brain and in hindsight might have been *too* much all at once because about halfway through the climbing out of town I realized I was feeling a little shaky and wonky. I was able to solve the problem by eating a few extra potatoes; I remembered I'd had this problem when taking 100 mg caffeinated gels as well...normally I'll sip on a Celsius over like a 2 hour timeframe, so taking down most of one over 5 minutes was a lot, lol. That being said, I would ABSOLUTELY put it in my special needs bag again - by this point in the day the 4 am wakeup call was starting to be noticeable, and I hadn't actually had much caffeine so far (by design as I knew this huge bolus was coming lol) so once I got over the crazy buzz it actually put a good pep in my pedals!
The climb out of town wasn't particularly notable on the second go round except for what appeared to be a summer camp group, which I remembered from Placid in 2023, was there again! It was this huge group of kids and they were so cute - I joked to my mom before the race that I actually kind of hate hearing people yell my name when I race. I love people to yell things generally at me, but for some reason I hate hearing my name! But apparently it's better when coming from strangers, because when the kids shouted through a megaphone asking me what my name was I HAD to tell them, and they subsequently all went crazy screaming my name, which I surprisingly loved!
I hit the Van Hoevenburg out and back and kept getting my ducks in a row nutrition-wise as I knew Keene was basically a no eating or drinking zone. I sort of lost track of the timeline of my fueling plan in the second loop and went with more of a vibes based situation of "I want to eat all the food I have by the end of this loop, but I can eat it whenever I want". It continued to be apparent that my hydration strategy actually wasn't optimal for the cooler temperatures - in the end I think I only ended up drinking 4.5 bottles (out of 6) and by this point in loop 2 I was starting to realize that I needed to pee, AGAIN! This was slightly problematic since I've shifted more to liquid calories but I think I made it work by simply prioritizing the high carb bottles and leaving the more standard drink as the holdout.
Back to the Keene descent! Thankfully, it wasn't actively raining during my second pass (many people did not get so lucky) but the roads were wet and while I'd been feeling like I was riding kind of alone through the hilly section a bunch of people seemed to start to show up as I got near the steep section at the bottom, which is always a little nervewracking and I think caused me to be a little more cautious than I was on the first loop. But still, as I dropped in to the descent past those glorious mountain lakes, I started singing "Test Drive" from How To Train Your Dragon in my head and UGH IT WAS MAGICAL. I remain convinced that flying down Keene is probably the closest I'll ever get to flying on a dragon and I felt that in every single moment of that downhill. I secretly love this race and I suspect I'll be back someday but I'm not sure when that will be, and so I really tried to just savor every moment of what well and truly felt like my own personal flight on my dragon that I've trained to the point that we've finally become a team. Naturally, I had yet another little happy cry at the bottom and then set about attacking the next 40 miles!
The flat section felt good once again; my legs were still feeling strong and I just couldn't believe how smooth I felt throughout the entire ride. A memorable moment from this particular section was passing a guy who had the same bike as me! But naturally, it had quite a few upgrades...disc wheel, disc brakes, etc. I said "nice bike" to him as I passed and he looked at me like I had 9 heads so I felt the need to clarify, "you know...because it's the same! But you've got the upgrades!" And then I rode away giggling my face off because his bike may have had all the upgrades, but who was the one riding faster? Oh, right...it was me. :)
I was becoming increasingly aware through this entire section of just how badly I needed to pee again...a great indicator that I was well hydrated, but man I wish we could develop a system where we just could tell our kidneys to go to sleep for a few hours, because I really wasn't in the mood to stop. Having successfully peed on the bike during lap 1 I figured that I would be able to again, but alas it turns out that a downpour just gives a different ease to doing that than riding when it isn't raining. I remember actively laughing at some point at the fact that I'd basically spent the last 45 minutes contemplating my own need to urinate...truly, Ironmans are ridiculous. It came to a point where I realized I was probably going to need to stop at a porta potty, but then the problem became that I was NOT going to wait in line for one...that's where I draw the line. So I passed probably 4 different porta potties along the longer flat stretch, always with someone in them! It was so irritating! I kept telling myself that if I really needed to go bad enough I'd find a a way to pee on my bike, but thankfully just before the covered bridge a lone porta potty came into view with a man just popping out of it. I made a BEELINE over and the guy actually kind of laughed as we exchanged places - he said something to the effect of "now THAT'S thinking smart!" and I was like yes indeed good sir! I wasn't about to waste time taking off my trisuit (I am sure this choice was a contributor to the absolutely HEINOUS chafing I ended up with after the race) but I emerged from the porta potty literally feeling like a new woman.
Back to the covered bridge, where the only goal was don't lose anything and don't get a flat. That mission accomplished, I set about the task of the Jay loop. While I still generally enjoy this loop, I have to say the first long hill at the beginning of it did NOT feel quite as easy or pleasant on the second go round! In general I was still feeling OK, but I could tell that I was starting to carry a bit of fatigue in my legs. I was also super bummed that the spectators that I had been planning to share my stupid joke with for the past 3 hours were no longer there! This was understandable, as I should also mention that by this point in the proceedings it was once again raining steadily. There was a small group of spectators under a tent at what appeared to be the end of their driveway, and I hyped them up because I was just so impressed that people were still out cheering, even in the rain! Lake Placid and the surrounding towns really show up for this race in such an incredible way - it's really cool how the locals make you feel like a total rockstar.
I SCREAMED hi to the highland cows, who were standing close to the road even in the downpour, and had to laugh at how silly they looked soaking wet and just kind of standing there stoically, as if they were spectators too. The rain continued to pick up until it became a deluge, and by the time we hit the screaming downhill I could barely see the next rider in front of me. It is WILD thinking back on the confidence with which I rode this course in the rain - I think it is a massive testament to my growth as a cyclist and makes me a little less annoyed about the time, because if I had had to ride the types of downhills I rode this year in these conditions back in 2023, I would have been TERRIFIED. In the year 2025? I wasn't being stupid, (remember, rule #1 is always don't be an idiot), but I wasn't scared and I wasn't really riding super cautiously - I was PASSING people in this downpour and that's a totally different type of riding. And I LOVED it. I just love, love, love the rain. Which was great news for me, because it literally did not stop raining for the next several hours!
The last stretch before the turn towards Wilmington was less annoyingly crowded this time, even if I did feel like I was working a little harder given the road conditions, trying to peek over my sunglasses to see, and the effects of the past several hours. Naturally with the rain things were getting wet, which made this the appropriate time for my brain to begin singing WAP...because we were indeed a bunch of wet ass people. Right before the turn onto the big hill, I passed someone wearing a jersey that said "Don't Stop Believin'" on it. That song was my anthem for SO many years, and it was just another perfect little sign that the universe was aligning for me on this day. The hill from Jay to Wilmington is so rude and mostly just so LONG, especially on the second loop, but climbing has never scared me and it never will. It was the perfect time to start singing, out loud, the Journey song of my heart. Just a small town girl....living in a lonely world...she took the midnight train going anywhere... I'd pedal a few strokes, maybe pass someone, and then sing another phrase, keeping my breathing and my effort in check. Again, comically, I was still passing people despite keeping myself calm enough to be singing! I always wonder what people think of me out there on the bike - I'm fast enough that I tend to be riding with people who seem to be pretty serious, so I always wonder what sort of drugs they think I'm taking when I'm screaming at farm animals or singing little songs out loud. What can I say? When I ride happy, I ride better, and there's nothing like riding happy on a climb. Paying anything to roll the dice, just one more time...my favorite line from that song really resonated in that moment. There had been a price to pay for this moment, but what was it worth to be here, climbing this hill in the rain in these beautiful mountains, riding confidently and with joy? Everything.
The climb complete, I bombed down the downhill, rain still pelting me, taking a moment to hype up the guy who had been playing the barrel drums at the turn and get him to start pounding on them again. I headed down the little triangle towards Haselton, and HERE is where the worst Men Menning moment of the day occurred. There was this SUPER short section, maybe 50 yd with a huge sign saying "single file only"; only half the lane was open I think due to the road or something. On the first loop there had actually been a guy right behind me going into this part but he was lovely and was like "no worries I'm dropping in behind you" and we just went on our merry way. THIS time, this grade A asshole man decided he needed to PASS me inside the single file only section. Now, that's a big enough what the fuck in and of itself, but the kicker is that about 30 seconds later we made the turn into the Haselton uphill and shock of shocks, what had been happening all day happened once again, and I went BLOWING by him! Now, most of the time I keep my bitchy thoughts to myself but in this instance I couldn't help but say aloud as I passed "man, good thing you passed me on that single file section!" (in my head: you fucking douchenozzle). It was quite validating but I also was seething; it's loop 2, you already know this section exists, you clearly suck at climbing, and you HAD to make a dangerous pass? Seriously, what a dick.
I grumbled about this in my head for awhile but I figured now was the time to prove my climbing chops as I headed back for the final climb up Wilmington Notch. I must admit, while I actually think I climbed better and faster the second time around, I very much found myself wishing that whatever asshole had decided to make the Ironman bike 112 miles could have just stopped at 100. Don't get me wrong, I was was still feeling OK, but I had just reached the point in time where I was just kind of over it. I think the moral of the story is that I need to keep getting faster at riding so that I can be basically DONE riding at the 5.5 hour mark, lol, because that's about the time that I was sort of like, but what if we *weren't* riding our bike anymore? Ohhh well, I was, and it was time to tackle the notch one more time.
And it was raining, still raining, and that made the whole thing utterly glorious, despite the fatigue. The drunk group of people in hot dog costumes were STILL out in the downpour and we had a real moment because I tell ya, people who spectate like that are my people! They can join Hype Train A-Z ANY day! I kept on grinding up the Whiteface climb, rain pelting, and it was just so fitting because one of my theme songs for this cycle was called I Am The Storm. I found it one day while doing an interval workout on the trainer, some crazy 6 x 7 minute threshold workout I NEVER thought I'd finish, but I did, listening to this song during each and every interval, and it really became one of my anthems. I am the storm, the thunder that rumbles at night, I am the lightning that blinds you when I strike...I am the storm, the pressure gives me life. Yet another song to sing in my mind as I kept pedaling, giving it just a little more this time because I knew I was almost home. I also tried to remember to look around, because this climb is BEAUTIFUL and the rushing river was even more magical in the mist and the rain. For the most part during this stretch I was kind of going back and forth with the same few people - a couple of men, a couple of women - and not having to worry about drafting or competing for space suited me just fine. As a side note, I saw the official motorcycles WAY more times than I ever recall seeing them in a race before - at least 6x during the bike - and each time I would sort of freak out and be like OMG I'm not drafting am I?! (I was not but I have always had such a fear of that, dating all the way back to my very first sprint tri lol).
Finally I made it to the bears; I was absolutely amazed at how the ride had flown by. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Once A Runner about how time passes differently out on the trail. Mama bear didn't seem like such a bitch this time around, although maybe that's because I randomly started singing Bear Necessities when I got there, lol. And then it was time for one more pass up Papa Bear, which was the absolute BEST pass up Papa Bear, because there was this group of guys at the top in hot pink shirts with one of them wearing a polka dot shirt, JUST like a big hill on the Tour De France, and they were going apeshit, screaming "Allez allez allez!!" at me, and I got in close and high fived one of them and it was freaking AWESOME! I really really love having aggressive hype when I climb hills, not because I'm not enjoying the hill but because it makes crushing the hill even more fun, and this was absolutely one of those moments.
I passed my mom again who was still out even in the rain, now with her "allez allez allez" sign (yes, I made her make a different sign for each time she saw me) and headed once more onto Northwood. Some spectator commented in amazement that I was still smiling and I was like YES I AM, because I fucking love this. I love it, I love it, I love it. I turned onto the lake where I saw a sign that was perfectly on brand for my Tour moment and made me laugh ("Ride faster, Pogecar is behind you!") and powered down the lake, around the hot corner and back around the oval. Holy shit, the bike was over, and I felt GREAT!
T2: 5:06
It always feels like such a relief to get off the bike - not because I don't love it, but just because it's the part of the race where there's the greatest possibility of shit going wrong. I had seen it today - people with mechanicals, people having crashed, people losing nutrition that they needed - and it's just a good feeling to be now relying on yourself alone for the remainder of the race. I handed Bheithir off to the volunteer and began trotting through the oval towards my bag; I remember at this point last year my legs could barely move but this time the only thing holding me back was the fact that my cleats were slipping and sliding around on the wet speed skating track. Bag obtained (my little neon pieces of posterboard worked wonders once again, shoutout to whatever blog I read that trick on a thousand years ago!) I realized that I needed to pee, AGAIN (that's #3 for those keeping score at home), so I beelined into the first free porta potty I saw. I once again didn't bother with minor details like "actually removing my shorts" and just let it fly...again, I'm not sure why I was so surprised when I was chafed to within an inch of my life after this race lol. It wasn't the trisuit's fault, I'll tell ya that much.
I headed into the tent and once again sort of have a moment where I was like WTF am I supposed to do here. The damn bags, they confuse me every time! I decided to commit to changing socks because my current pair were SOAKED (correct choice), loaded up with Gus, got my shoes and my hat on, contemplated whether I needed my handheld bottle before eventually deciding I did not, and then at the last second remembered that I had put some face glitter in my bag because I am *that* type of girl now and it was worth the extra 15 seconds to put it on. There are many forms of armor when you're going into the battle that is the Ironman marathon, and glitter was mine. Out of the tent I ran, back into the rain, and into the part of the day that scared me the most. If redemption was going to be mine, this was going to be when it would happen...it was time for the run.
The run: 3:55:14 (16th AG, 83rd F, 347th OA)
Why yes, I am delighted that my marathon time on this magic day involved a 14!
Whenever I start the run leg of a triathlon I always think the same thing, and I think it in the dumbest way possible. I always think "running is my domain", but that's not how I say it in my mind...instead I say it the way they do in the last scene of the movie The Boondock Saints: "...cross over into true corruption, into our domain". Don't ask me why, but that's how it goes EVERY time. But lately, I haven't been so sure that the run was my domain anymore, and I was never less sure of that than I was heading in into the Lake Placid run course, the site of my total destruction the last time around. Not to mention, I was heading into that same run course with a run training volume that, shall we say, did not look like one that was conducive to an excellent marathon. I knew this. I had made my bed when I decided to spend the hours of training available to me with more balance between the 3 sports. But still. I knew the numbers, and I knew the numbers of my past, and I knew that based on the numbers, 26.2 miles sounded like a looong way to go.
I looked at my watch as I left transition and saw that it was 2:20 pm. Somehow I had actually looked at my watch as I started the swim and so I knew I had gone into the water at 6:38 am. Easy mental math - a 4:18 marathon, and you've got yourself a PR. But I wouldn't let myself get excited - I'd been here before, I'd done this exact same mental math with a time that seemed unbelievably doable, and I'd seen in all blow the fuck up in my face. Yes, I felt good - much, much better than I had in 2023. In fact, I felt suspiciously good. The logical conclusion is that I didn't override the bike, so I actually had set myself up for a good run, but I couldn't let myself believe that yet. Take it 1 mile at a time, Hatas, 1 mile at a time. And so, that's what I did. "New York, New York" was playing; the song they play at the start of the NYC marathon. I was laughing because all I could think was how we were about as far from NYC vibes as you could get, but it was a fitting omen to start off the marathon, and I took that to heart.
The start of the LP run course is a bombing downhill which you're always aware that you're going to have to run back up later, but later just seems so far away when you're feeling good and running down a big hill. I had set my watch to the mile by mile setting and I kept looking at my pace, which was floating in the high 7s/low 8s, and trying to send my body the message that if we were running an OPEN marathon, by itself, no 8 hours of exercise prior, would we be running this pace off our current training?! No?? Then WHAT are we doing? But I couldn't seem to rein it in and so I kind of just let my legs throw me down the hill, figuring that in this circumstance banking a couple of minutes when the effort felt right was probably OK. As I was bopping along a random man started talking to me and asking the typical random man questions ("Have you done a full before?" UGH). He was very nice, but "Get Low" was also blasting from a group of spectators and I sort of wanted to be like, sir, can you please shut up so that I can groove to TO THE WINDOWS, TO THE WALLS? And for real, I'm always fine with a short conversation during a race when you're trying to keep your effort in check, but I simply do not want to hear your life story or about all the other Ironmans that you've done (I'm sure Austria is lovely though!) I lost him after about half a mile and returned to cruising along.
I turned onto River Road, site of so much destruction in 2023, in a much more optimistic mood compared to how I'd felt then. It was still raining, and god I just love running in the rain. One of the race cameras was at the top of a little rise just after turning onto the road where you can see the ski jumps in the background, and in the pictures it's pretty clear that I'm laughing, because I'm just having so much fun. By now the road was flat to rolling and I had settled into what felt like a more reasonable pace around 8:25/8:30, basically easy run effort on a normal day. I could definitely sense some fatigue in my legs but all in all the pace felt appropriately comfortable for the mile that it was, and much more importantly, my stomach felt ROCK SOLID. I knew that this could be an impermanent state, a la Wisconsin in 2021, but I tried to put my confidence in the fact that I had trained nutrition REALLY hard this year and had trained my gut to take exactly the things that I wanted to put into it, and tried to believe that I was finally going to achieve my #1 goal for the year of figuring out my goddamn nutrition.
Somewhere along this road I picked up yet ANOTHER man friend, this time for a longer stretch, and I never caught his name or bib number but I know ALL about him now. He's from Georgia, he went to Boston on vacation with his family and loved the history, he dropped out of Ironman Florida because he got seasick on the swim, he didn't get to do very many runs off the bike because it's too hot in Georgia to not get heat stroke by that time of day...on and on and on. In my mind I was giving him almost nothing back besides "hmmm" and "oh wow" but I must have been engaging more than I thought, either that or he simply would have talked to the air, because he just kept on going. Meanwhile, I was internally being a judgy asshole wondering how this guy who looked to be in his 50s who claimed he'd barely run was keeping up with me! I don't really remember how, but I did eventually extricate myself from the conversation and pull ahead sometime after we made the 5.5 mile turnaround - again, perfectly nice guy, but I'll save my energy for the rest of this marathon I have to run, thank you very much!
The stretch back to the main hill to town was pretty unmemorable - I had found the right effort to lock into, and I found myself just kind of flowing through the moments, focusing on the task at hand. I had taken my first gel at 4 or 5 and it had gone down well, which is always promising, and I decided that things were feeling good enough to put myself in my usual marathon gel mode of taking one every 4 miles or so. I took my first walk break on the big hill by the ski jumps - it was a short one, but the grade of that hill just sucks, and I knew I was playing a long game. The knowledge I had in the back of my mind about just how limited my run training had been was guiding a good amount of my decision making - I knew that I had to mete out my effort correctly or I was lost, and I knew I had to do the things that were *not* related to my training volume (nutrition, hydration, the mental game) well because I couldn't afford to screw up something that wasn't even physical. I also knew that at SOME point shit was going to get really hard - it was just a question of when.
The spectators coming back into town were SO good - even more rowdy and fun than I remembered for 2023 with all the energy in the world to give. I was working hard, and I was running uphill, and I still had quite a ways to go, but I have to say in this stretch of race all I remember is that I was *vibing*. Throughout the day, so many people said something to me about how I was smiling, or how I looked like I was having fun, and I mean yes obviously I was not beaming throughout the entire marathon, but when someone is screaming and hyping you up from the sidelines like they're your best friend, how can you NOT smile? There were so many houses and groups of people BLASTING music, the snippets of random songs creating my own personal playlist. I ran past a blasting speaker playing the instrumental version of "Run Boy Run" and I swear, the driving bass and drumline sent power rushing into me. Emotion rushed through me; it was this electricity, this feeling. It was the first moment that I really, genuinely believed: I feel really strong. Maybe this could actually be my day.
In the midst of these positive feelings, I was starting to notice some questionable sensations coming from my lower GI area. It definitely wasn't the nausea/pain/death of my past 2 Ironmans, but it was...something. I thought maybe I just had to pee again, so I popped into a porta potty just before the big hill and tried just letting it fly again, but to no avail. Well, that was a waste of time, I grumbled as I emerged back into the sunlight. Whatever the issue was, it clearly wasn't anything dire, so I figured I would just wait it out and problem solve as needed over the next few hours. It's this problem solving, this cognitive aspect of things, that I think is one of the things about long course triathlon that really appeals to me. The physical part is huge, sure, but if you can't work with what's in front of you and make decisions and figure shit out in real time, you're screwed. There's no way everything is ever going to go exactly as you planned and being able to work with whatever you get by using your brain, not just your body, is essential (and pretty cool) in my opinion.
I hit the big horrid Lisa G's hill feeling pretty strong, a far cry from 2023's misery, and headed into the new out and back that would take me towards our hotel. I had commented to my mom as we drove back and forth throughout the weekend that this hill was going to suck at mile 22 of a marathon - luckily, we were only at mile 10.5 at the moment, and while it was a bit of a grind the grade was chill enough that even though the hill was long, it actually didn't feel too bad! My mom was up at the top with the sign I had found from Boston a couple of years ago with Topper on it, cheering as she does, and I think I said something like "this is gonna suck the second time around!", lol. However, what goes up must come down, and the gentle downhill stretch back to town was LOVELY. Back into town, up the stupid little hill, and off into the WORST out and back along Mirror Lake Drive.
I know cognitively that this out and back is only a mile each way, but it FEELS like an eternity. I kept telling myself that I was almost to my special needs bag and my CELSIUS, and that I only had to hold it together for one more half marathon before my redemption arc was complete. At some point in here I had a couple of lovely girl power moments: Olivia with the flame socks, who had passed me somewhere along the way, came by on the other side and we hyped each other up (in my head I was like of course a girl who wears flame socks is going to be cool! lol) and I ran side by side for a bit with another woman in a lavender tri kit and commented on how much I hated this out and back. She was like "yeah, this sucks! But we're strong! We can do this!" and I was like fuck YES we can! I made my stop off at special needs and grabbed my Celsius flask, which I drank a lot slower this time having learned my lesson from the bike, lol. I stood for a second considering whether I needed any of the other items from my bag (pepto, random candy, chips) and decided that I did not and carried on my merry way! The back stretch of Mirror Lake is much more enjoyable than the out since it's slightly downhill, my Celsius tasted GOOD (I think I got the apple cherry flavor in this bag), and I started psyching myself up for the 13.1 miles ahead.
At the deviation between the run to the finish and the second loop I looked at my watch once again. It was 4:11, which I at first calculated to mean that I needed to run a 2:08 half to go under 12 and PR (brain function was starting to decrease by this point, lol). It was only a few minutes later that I realized that I actually only needed to run a 2:28 HALF - which I thought, in some deep dark portion of my brain, was even slower than the second half I'd run in 2023. I could definitely tell that my legs were starting their downward spiral, but I told myself you can do it, you'll find a way. That phrase, you'll find a way, delved up some long forgotten song that my sister did a dance to in college, a song I haven't heard or thought about in YEARS (You'll Find A Way (Switch and Siden remix) by Santigold), and suddenly it was playing on repeat in my mind. vague lyrics that I don't know...just melody...you'll find a way. Over and over and over. Those mental connections are absolutely fascinating, I tell ya. And so with "you'll find a way" on repeat, I proceeded into my second loop of the run and the last 13.1 miles of this Ironman.
I continued to feel good about my fueling situation, although I did have one amusing moment when I was trying to find a gel around mile 15, just after I'd finished my Celsius, and every time I pulled one out of my pocked it was one with a ton of caffeine in it even though I KNEW I'd packed non-caffeinated ones for this exact reason; I wasn't trying to die of caffeine overdose here! In the end I took in a fairly wild amount of caffeine on the second half of the bike and the run between the Celsius, gels, and Coke (of which I partook heavily during the second loop of the run...Coke in a triathlon is literally a gift from heaven lol). But then again, they say caffeine is a performance enhancer and once you start using it in a race you shouldn't stop, so I'm happy to report I kept that caffeine high riding the whole way through! And well into the night, lol, but that's another story. Anyway, the downhill didn't feel quite as *magical* as it had on lap 1, but I still enjoyed the fact that gravity could do some of the work for me, as well as the fact that I was past the point in the race where random men might feel the need to latch on and chat, lol. As I ran past the house on River Road that was blasting music, "Taking Care of Business" was playing and it was the perfect song for the moment. Things were getting harder, but all there was left to do was put my head down and take care of business.
However, much to my dismay, the lower abdominal sensation had not abated, and it was becoming clear that at *some* point I was going to need to make a porta potty stop, AGAIN. It should be noted that in all of my previous Ironmans put together, I have stopped in a porta potty ONCE (which is probably a testament to how much I fucked up my fueling/hydration in those races, lol) and we were now considering stop #4 or 5 of this race. Well, at least I was well hydrated? I grumpily encountered the same issue I'd been having on the bike, where every porta potty I passed was occupied, and I refused to wait in line, but I finally saw my opening around mile 17 and dove in. This time, due to the, er, uncertain nature of my needs, I decided to make the effort to fully drop trou, and while that didn't turn out to be necessary (surprise! I just had to pee, AGAIN!) I think it did help to move things along slightly and I felt SO much better upon leaving. That is, when it came to my general abdominal area. My legs were officially beginning the shutdown mode sequence...we had reached that moment: things were officially Getting Hard.
Much like when I ran Philly on incredibly minimal training back in November, I suspected that mile 17 or 18 was the point at which my legs would probably start to talk back to me no matter how good the race had been going up until that point, and once again my instinct was 100% correct! So in that sense, it was acceptable - I had known this point was coming and I had hoped that it could wait until right about now, which it had! But that thought was little comfort when I still had another 8 miles to go! The turnaround on River Road seemed like it was never going to appear - I grumbled to myself about how maybe I'm just going to live on this road for the rest of my LIFE, lol. It had stopped raining around the halfway mark and the sun annoyingly had started to poke it's head out, which I also rejected. Hilariously the little song from Monsters Inc that goes put that thing back where it came from or so help me...so help me! popped into my head with regard to the sun which kind of made me laugh. I started walking through the aid stations and taking more Coke; I had also started taking salt tab chews on occasion. I had gotten a free sample pack of them in a strava giveaway and grabbed them kind of randomly to throw in my fueling bag in case it was hot. Well, it wasn't hot, but that didn't stop me from noticing that my hands were cramping, which meant I needed more salt! They were honestly delicious (they kind of tasted like sweet tarts) and I feel like they must have made a difference because they stopped the cramping almost instantly!
Back to the the stupid ski jump uphill, and another planned walk break. I had my watch set on the screen where I could only see one mile at a time and was taking manual splits because I turned off my mile lap alerts when I got my new watch and it has done WONDERS for my mental health while running. But I digress; by this point I was noticing that while I had held on to high 8 minute pace for a long time, those paces within each mile were sinking into the 9s and it was getting harder and harder to convince myself that another walk break wasn't necessary. It's such a battle in the Ironman marathon; walking sounds SO appealing, and once you start it's really hard to convince yourself to get going again, so I really tried to keep it to a minimum. I knew deep down that I had this huge buffer on time but it was now getting far enough into the race that I was starting to want more than just a little PR...I wanted a big one. As I willed myself forward, another phrase popped into my head: bend, but don't break. Over and over and over for the next hour I would repeat that one phrase (occasionally mixed with the Dashboard Confessional song of the same name...I WILL NOT BEND I WILL NOT BREAK! lol emo kid for life). It was the perfect mantra, the perfect refrain: I could slow down, it was going to be hard, but I would not back down. I would refuse to break.
The road back towards town is a blur in my mind of sound and color and spectators; god the Lake Placid spectators are just spectacular. In opposition to my existence inside my sad little pain cave in 2023, today I was letting the energy of the crowd bolster me and make that pain cave just a little more fun. I high fived small children, I slapped "tap here for power" signs, I fist bumped random dudes, I had mini dance parties with groups of people drinking on lawns...in other words, it was exactly the type of race experience that I love down the the depths of my soul, and I was soaking it it. And in the background, that little voice urging my legs forward: bend but don't break.
Right before the giant Lisa G's hill there was a group with this huge liberty bell style bell with a big sign saying "MIRACLE BELL, ring on your second loop!" And naturally I had to - it actually required a surprising amount of effort but it was such a delightful and random tough. I swear the hill got steeper on the second round and I once again walked a good chunk of it as I'd planned, but there was a reason for it: once I crested the hill, my goal was to run it in the rest of the way.
Another aid station, more Coke, 4 miles to go and I know somewhere deep down that this is really happening but I cannot let myself believe it yet. I headed up the long golf course uphill (pretty sure that one got longer if not steeper), just grinding and grinding. It was just as unpleasant as I'd imagined it would be at mile 22, but I guess it wasn't any *worse* than I thought it would be, which was comforting in a sick sort of way. My mom appeared somewhere at the bottom of the hill with the ridiculous floating sauna sign that I made her make which was a fun surprise even if I didn't have the energy to laugh at the sign anymore by this point in time! I knew I was still moving well because I was still passing people even if the physical sensation was that of dragging my legs through cement. But I knew what I had left once I hit the top of the hill: Downhill, Hill into Town, Lake Out, Lake Back, FINISH. I tried my best to just let gravity take me on the downhill - I could tell my quads were absolutely dying to tie up on me, but somehow I was able to keep the spasms at bay.
My mom yelled at me again at the bottom of the hill (I wouldn't actually remember this if I hadn't seen the video she took, but she was yelling TOPPER! at me because I told her I actually hate hearing people yell my name, lol) and I flashed a peace sign for "2 to go". 2 more miles...it was becoming real now. The stupid Mirror Lake Drive out managed to feel even LONGER on the second go, even though I knew that once I got to the top I was basically home. It was so, so different from 2023 - it was really hard, my legs were fighting me with every step, and I sure wasn't running *fast*, but I was most definitely running. I was tired, but I wasn't defeated, and even I was surprised at the amount of fight I had left in me. I'd stopped looking at my watch once I went into the first hill out and back because 4 miles to go was close enough to know I wasn't going to implode, and all I was focused on was just moving forward, one step at a time, until I could turn around and head for home. At long last, I hit that final turnaround, 1 mile downhill to go, and I was ready for it. I dug down into the depths of my soul, finding 8:30 pace once more, and told myself it was time to fucking go. I didn't need to repeat it anymore: I had bent but I hadn't broken, and I was about to finish Ironman Lake Placid not just with a course PR, but with an all time Ironman best.
When I finished Ironman Wisconsin, it was a joy and a magic unlike anything I've ever experienced (it's true what they say; you never forget the moment you become one). When I finished Placid the last time, I was completely wrung out and barely upright, simply relieved that I no longer had to keep moving. This finish line I think my thought process was just: oh wow. This is happening. Holy shit. I did this. I DID this? I DID THIS. It was just surreal. I was SO happy while also being totally in disbelief (my sister sent me a video she took of my finish, and when I look back at the clock I do this ridiculous little clap of happiness because I'm totally shocked at the time, lol).
Still when I think about it now, it seems unbelievable to me. I never truly believed that a PR was even a remote possibility. What kind of craziness would that have been? Because that's what my mind, and social media, and the stupid performative nature of our society wanted me to believe throughout this entire training cycle: that unless I hired a coach, and had hours upon hours each day to get my workouts done, and definitely didn't have an extra part time job on top of my demanding full time one, and only did races that made sense in the context of this training cycle, and bought the best bike, and did all of the strength training and recovery, and took supplements and looked the part, that I didn't truly deserve to race well or even consider the idea of a personal best. As I crossed the line with a 23 minute personal best and a 40+ minute best for the course, I think I finally realized that everything that social media tried to make me believe was so, so wrong.
I don't have a coach. I ride a decent but entry level tri bike with ancient and half broken mountain bike shoes and pedals. I swim twice a week if I'm lucky. I work a 40 hour/week job with no flexibility in my hours, treating patients all day, and then I throw 4-6 hours of dance teaching per week on top of that. I go hiking with my husband and I sleep in when I want to. I don't eat any special supplements or diet; I fuel with plain old potatoes and uncomplicated Skratch. I haven't touched a weight since the winter and I've done every random race that I wanted to do, whether or not it made any logical sense in the gist of Ironman training. I sacrificed NOTHING this training cycle - not dance teaching, not trail running, not time with my husband, not beer, not vacations, not friendships, not sleep, not joy...none of it. To be able to do that, to do it all and know that I had done it MY way, was absolutely everything. I didn't have to be the cookie cutter image of social media perfection, because at the end of the day (even if I second guessed myself and my fitness constantly along the way) I knew how I train and race the best: with joy, with curiosity, with freedom, and with balance with all the other things that make up my life. I love triathlon and I want to perform well, but it will never be all of me. I was, and am, just so unbelievably proud of myself for everything - for the performance, for making the training work, for finding a way to trust myself and not letting my doubts win, all of it. And to do all of that on the course that nearly broke me 2 years ago, that made me think I might never want to do another full...well, as I said in my Instagram post about the race, when I put this race in my calendar almost a year ago, I labeled it "IMLP revenge tour". But in the end, it wasn't actually revenge I was after, it was redemption. And all I can say is mission. fucking. accomplished.
Ironman Lake Placid 2025
11:36:26
15/63 F35-39, 83/460 F, 381/1934 OA
(And naturally, once I walked my bike back to our on-course hotel and took the most painful chafage filled shower of my life, I spent the next several hours waving glow sticks and drinking beer with my mom while cheering for the runners on the out and back - 3 for 3 on going back out and cheering after my Ironman races, and I think one of my very favorite traditions...a magic end to a magic Iron day.)
