Satisfaction

In the tent, I was focused, deftly putting on socks, compression calf sleeves, running shoes, and then I grabbed a volunteer to help me with sunscreen....... And immediately realized how much skin had been missed when I applied SPF the first time around. I felt two rings of fire on my back, between my shoulders blades and my tri suit. I told the volunteer to apply as much sunblock as possible, while I put my visor and sunglasses on to head out the door.

To give you all some perspective, when I was leaving the change tent to head out on my run, the Voice of Ironman was announcing the arrival of the Female winner, Heather Wurtele. That is how fast these pro women are, able to swim-bike-run the whole race faster than I could swim-bike-apply sunscreen. It gave me goose bumps to hear the crowd cheer her on, and I harnessed that energy to start my run.

The run, my first marathon, in my first Ironman, how does that work? Let me tell you. Having been unable to complete some of my run training due to injury, I knew that I would have to have a plan for this run, and I did. Walk through the aid stations and bigger hills, otherwise, run, and keep running. I left the oval running, ready for the immediate downhill, which ends just before the first aid station. No walking break here. Although I can't recall whether I saw them at the beginning of the first or second loop of the run, it was great to see the cheering section from the club in Ottawa as I made my way past!

I took the first 3k of the marathon to find my running legs, and get into a rhythm that I thought I could sustain for the hours to come. About 2k in to the run I approached our cottage, where I could see our neighbours, out on their lawn chairs waiting for their athlete to run by. I stopped for a second to ask where my husband was, and they snapped a picture of me starting my run. I told them to tell my hubby that he was fired, and he'd better be in his spot for when I passed by again. Next, I came across the hotel where my parents were staying. I could hear my Mom cheering from about half a kilometre away! She's been practicing this cheering method for years, I was so happy to see her smiling face.

Just after my Mom I saw my cycling partner, who gave me a huge smile and a cheer, “Nicole! You look great, just keep that pace! You have lots of time!” She was rocking her marathon as I knew she would, I gave her a quick cheer and kept on going.

From there it was all downhill….. No, literally, it was basically a huge downhill as we made our way toward the Olympic Ski Jumps, past the Lake Placid Horseshow Grounds, ultimately turning left onto River Road.

At this point in the race it was remarkable to me to see so many people of different ages, shapes and sizes. Each one of them was making forward progress, some looking strong, others looking green. By some miracle, I was feeling good, and relatively happy with my pace when I came upon a young ginger haired guy, at the peak of fitness, walking. He said to me “are you feeling anywhere near as bad as I do right now?”, I couldn’t lie, so I said, “actually, I’m feeling pretty good right now, happy to be running”,  I’m pretty sure I didn’t make his afternoon, so I continued on my way.

Now, the aid stations on the run were really something to behold, first, the portable facilities, hydration options and ice, then the food, everything from PowerBars, to Gels, to pretzels and fruit, and finally, sponges soaked in cool water. At around the 3 km mark, I took water and a sponge – fabulous! I kept that up for every second aid station from then on.

Hitting the River Road, I was thinking about my race plan, and exactly what constituted a large hill, and for some reason, I decided to take a walking break. No aid station or hill in sight. About 20 seconds into the walk I heard a voice behind me, “come on Nicole, any kind of run is better than a walk, let’s go!”… uh oh, caught walking, I thought.  It was Glen, I started running again and we stayed together for a bit talking about our days, and then he was off in his streak of black, red and white.

I kept his voice in my mind as I made my way down the road, which undulates through a lovely neighbourhood.  It was great to see the community out, many sitting at the end of their driveways – partly because they had no way to leave with the road closed to traffic!  They cheered us on as we made our way to the turnaround and headed back into town. Just before I hit the turn I saw Glen again and he said “That’s it Nicole, you look great! Keep it up like that and you’re going to be an Ironman!” and I knew that he was right!

The run back into town is a challenge, because the steep downhills that I’ve already described become steep uphills. At this point, the miles begin to wear, and you see other competitors walking, in various states of discomfort. I set my sights on the next spot I would see my family and kept moving. Coming up on our cottage again, I realized my watch was dead, so I awkwardly removed my heart rate strap – which had become a chafing nightmare –  and my watch, preparing to hand it off to my husband. It was great to see him, in shutterbug mode at first, and then hear his words of encouragement. I quickly passed him the dead watch, and made my way back into town.

The energy from the spectators coming up the hill was crazy, their cheers, taunts and general madness pulls you up, and revs your engine for the turn onto Lake Placid Club Drive where you turn around and do the loop all over again. Right in the thick of the crowd was my Mom, walking with me up the hill, willing me onward and upward.

Just after the turnaround I saw my riding partner again, she was coming to the end of her race, and I was blessed to run with her for what was almost the last 500 metres of her first Ironman. “You’re doing great, Nicole!” she said, there were tears in my eyes knowing what she’d put in to get there. I cheered like crazy, finally saying, “Go get it Ironman, I’ll see you in a few hours”. She rocked it, with a 12:09 finishing time. So proud of her!

That energy was all I needed to keep me moving, what an exhilarating feeling! Once I’d choked down the tears, it was time to hit the downhill on Sentinel Road and start my second loop. As I approached our cottage for the penultimate time that afternoon I heard my name, it was Grant, our neighbour for Ironman week, who was just coming to the end of his second loop on the run. We stopped for a minute for a check-in, he knew it was my first IM, and asked how I was doing. It’s amazing to think that he took time out of his race to ask about mine, these people are really quite incredible.

Seeing my family on this pass was amazing. My husband keeps saying that I smiled the whole race, but if I hadn’t been wearing sunglasses, he’d know that every time I saw him out there, my eyes filled with tears. Your feelings are heightened when you’re out there alone for so many hours, at least mine are, so seeing this amazing guy who has supported me unwaveringly through this process hit me really hard every time. He’s kind of a ninja spectator too, his words of encouragement come through as a quiet calm, but underneath I can always tell he’s pushing for me to do my best.

The second time on the downhills I knew what to expect, and some of the sites were familiar from the first pass. As we made our way toward River Road, I came upon a walker, the woman who had asked me for a GU at the start of the swim! She started running again and we chatted for a bit, “I’ve been watching you, and I can’t believe you’re still running”, she said. I told her about the game plan and how I was determined to run as much of the race as I could. Unfortunately, she’d been experiencing some stomach issues, and had been slowed to a walk for a while at that point. The funny thing was, I had pulled into the bike special needs station at the same time as she had that afternoon, and I noticed that she’d been eating dried fruit and stuff on the ride. I made a mental note NEVER to try that, given the resulting marathon walk.

Shortly after that, I found myself thinking, I can’t believe it’s almost over, what am I going to do now? Just then I passed a lady who said “I can’t believe it’s almost over! What are we supposed to do after this?” It was hilarious, I laughed with her, telling her I’d just thought the same thing. She ended up finishing just before me, and we’ve got veritable flip book photos of her finishing dance, she was clearly stoked!

Darkness eventually took over, and I found myself running toward the light. The light brings aid stations, and ultimately the finish line. Every light you hit brings you closer to the announcement you’ve been waiting to hear all day long. Something happens at the aid stations at night, I’m not sure whether the volunteers succumb to being out in the sun all day, or being on their feet for so long, but the party definitely ramps up. They were dancing and singing, and…..GIVING ATHLETES M&Ms!!!! I cannot tell you how amazing that was; I think they were the best M&Ms I’ve ever had in my entire life. Throw in a few pretzels and I was set.

Hitting the turnaround, I was so excited, I yelled “I’m going to be an Ironman!” to a guy running a light-up message board displaying words of encouragement to the athletes – I’m sure he thought I was nuts. I feel like I flew from there to our cottage, where my family started to walk on the sidewalk next to me. My dad was walking a bit ahead, which I’m fairly sure was to appear stoic/hide the tears in his eyes. As I mentioned, he’s the strong, silent type. My husband walked beside me on the sidewalk, with my mom on the other side of the road, both invisibly pushing me along. I kept running, and was stoked to see Nat and Brent from Ottawa volunteering at the aid station just before the last big climb. I got a huge cheer from their entire group and made my way up the hill. At the top of the hill, three guys from Quebec joined me, declaring that I looked beautiful tonight, and that I was really glowing. Thanks boys, I’m married, but this really helped! And then came the last turn onto Lake Placid Club Drive.

Just past the swim start, at the end of Matt Long’s driveway – see post # 1 –  there were a group of spectators making margaritas with a blender attached to the back of a bike. They’d been at it all day, both making and imbibing. “Have one!” they declared, and I said “won’t be long now!” running past them toward the turnaround. Hitting that turnaround was another Tour de France moment. What seemed like all the residents of the surrounding houses were packed around a solitary pylon, cheering at the top of their lungs. High fives were given all the way around. Back at Matt Long’s house, one of his buddy’s spotted a guy in front of me and said “Girl, you stay with him! You got this!”, and I did! Coming down onto Main Street I felt like I was flying, “Right Turn Here!” said the volunteer, and I choked back tears to thank him.

As I hit the track I could hear Mike Reilly saying, “Here she comes, this is Nicole Delaney from Ottawa, Canada! Come on Nicole! Nicole Delaney, from Ottawa, Canada, You Are an Ironman!!”

If the video doesn’t lie, and the photos are telling the truth, this finish was one of the most exhilarating and fabulous experiences of my life. I celebrated from the moment I hit the track, arms in the air, high fiving with the crowd and finally crossing that finish line as an Ironman. Time: 15:26:12.

Almost immediately, I was whisked to a medal, a t-shirt and a finishing photo by a volunteer. After that, I finally got to see my husband and parents. Hugging him for the first time after the race was even better than finishing – true story, we’d been in this together for so long, it was such a team effort. I never could have done it without his support. We make the best team. I can’t wait for the adventures to come!

You Can't Always Get What You Want.

Coming out of the water, it was time to see hit the strippers, wetsuit strippers that is! Basically, I ran over to a line of about 50+ volunteers, and then one of them grabs the arms of your wetsuit, says "lie down" and they yank your suit off in about half a second! Hilarious experience, basically having some strange dude tear your wet clothes off. With my suit off, I threw it over my shoulder and ran across the LONG carpet back to the transition area.

Once into transition I grabbed my bike bag and headed into the change tent. The sun was out, so it took a while for my eyes to focus in the shade of the tent. I grabbed a spot and started getting changed. In hindsight, I’d have worn my trisuit to swim, but this time around I was set on having dry clothes at least to start out with on the bike. I did my best to wriggle into my clothes (dry clothes/wet body equals slow going, thankfully a volunteer grabbed me and helped me get sorted) and slapped on my sunscreen, praying that I’d gotten it on every part of my skin. I threw on some Chamois Butt'r (do not leave home without it), grabbed sunglasses, emergency pharmaceutical ziploc (i.e., Zantac, Advil, Imodium) and a couple of extra Gu Gels. Finally, helmet on; I headed out to get my bike, yelling "226, 226!" so that a volunteer could grab it for me.

The bike mount line felt like the beginning of a rodeo bull ride, you literally get your leg over your bike, clip in and catapult yourself down a ramp, where you make a quick right hand turn and torpedo into the first downhill on the race course. After the race, my family was telling me about all the riders who had run into the hay bales at the bottom of this hill, which I apparently had been totally unaware of, in fact at breakfast the next morning I remember saying “what hay bales”? From there it was all about getting comfortable on the bike and settling into a rhythm as I made my way out of town toward the long descent into the village of Keene. During this first pass by the cottage we’d rented for the week I looked but couldn’t find my fans, it turns out that my family had taken up a roost near the aforementioned hay bails and they had cheered me on in silence as I came down the hill.

The trip up Keene was an interesting one, I’d come out of the water after a strong swim, but so did everone else it seems, and had one male competitor literally say to me “you must have had a good swim”, which immediately had me thinking, "skinny roadie, what the hell does he mean by that??"  Which led me right into a mantra of “beat ten men, beat ten men”.

As we approached the crest of the descent into Keene I heard “Hey, Nicole!”, it was Glen, another coach who I’d worked with in the spin studio over the winter. I yelled “Hey, have a great race!” and he was gone in a red-white-black Sugoi streak, on his way to a stellar finishing time in his first IM.

Now, I love the descent down into Keene, and the first one was just as great as I remember, I took advantage of the free speed, pedaling to the extent possible on the downhills, and moving through the semi-flat sections really comfortably. Arriving in Keene we all made a left and started moving through the flatter part of the course that takes us out the out-and-back section running into Ausable Falls, a sort of "blink and you miss it" hamlet that allows Ironman to take its main road over on a summer Saturday.

En route to Ausable Falls I made a quick stop at what became my favourite aid station to use the, ahem, facilities. I slowed to a stop and a volunteer immediately grabbed me and my bike saying "what do you need, can I fill anything up for you while you're in there?", talk about service! I asked for some water, and went about my business. Afterward she helped me get back on my bike and on my way. I can't say enough about the volunteers at this race, they truly make the athletes feel like superstars, and take care of pretty much every need - they even pick up our trash!

Through this section I ate, drank and stayed in an aero position as much as I could. I remember looked at the competitors as they passed me in the other direction as they returned from Ausable Falls, it was nice to see a lot of familiar faces in that group. This was also where I managed to start to make some gains, passing some people, and really starting to enjoy the ride. It wasn’t all fun and games though, this was about the point in the ride where I began having issues switching into the big ring on my front gears, which I typically use to gain speed on the downhills and carry speed over flatter bits, so I carried on, occasionally trying it out, but having less and less success each time I tried it. I have to cop to using my bike shop's name in vain a few times too I guess.

Once we made the right turn to head to Wilmington, the climbing legs were tested, and testing continued until we all got back to Placid just in time to do it all over again. Coming back into town there are 5 so-called rollers, named Little Cherry, Big Cherry, Mama Bear, Baby Bear and Papa Bear - if not the exact order, that is pretty close. And can I just say, there is nothing little, or familial about any of them!

There was a silver lining,  at the top of Papa Bear, athletes were greeted like it was the Alps in the Tour de France, people right on the road cheering, running alongside riders with noise makers, flashing lights and crazy costumes, it was an amazing rush! Arriving back in town I heard the announcer say my name as I came around the corner to start my second loop - which brought me to tears and covered my arms in goosebumps, it was a great feeling to hear people cheer me on as I rode by.

I wish I could say that the second loop of the ride was uneventful –  that it was as smooth or smoother than loop one – but I can't, although I did finally see my family, first Mom at the bottom of a hill, madly cheering and filming video, and then my husband who mouthed “Love you”, while my Dad waved and silently cheered (he's the strong silent type), with our two pups standing on their hind legs to look out the open rear window of our truck, patiently waiting for me to zoom by.

I think part of me was worried about the marathon to come, and my ride overall may have been more conservative than it should have been, but it being my first race of this magnitude, I didn't want to blow it all on the bike. I was also frustrated with my lack of big ring, and too worried about losing time to flag down one of the technical support vehicles to have a look, so the second loop was frustrating. To add to the fun, a headwind had developed through the day, which made it a bit more difficult to maintain the pace I’d hoped for. In fact, my second descent down into Keene was an entire 10k per hour slower than it had been in the morning, talk about wind.

I saw the funniest thing on that descent though, there was a guy riding in front of me for a while, who had decided to do his bike leg in running shorts, like the short kind that the Kenyans sport at marathons. And, he'd obviously gotten sort of cramp in his leg, because just as we were about to start the big descent, he had one of his legs out of his pedals and extended backward in a stretch. I guess he was having a hard time getting comfortable. It was entertaining to watch, I was cracking up. Ultimately, I made a move to pass him right before the hill got steeper, just in case he took a fall as a result of his acrobatics.

To conclude, the second bike loop did not go as planned and was much slower than the first, but through it my body felt good, my nutrition and hydration were really bang on, and despite some struggles in the winds and hills through the High Peaks Gorge, I came off the bike smiling.

Ok, I was dying to give Stan away to the first available volunteer, and happy to get started on my run, I'd eaten and hydrated well, so I was ready. I actually think I heard Stan yell “Go Engine Go!” as I ran away from him toward the change tent, 183.8 kilometres down, 42.2 to go!

Start Me Up

At just before 10:30pm on July 24, I became an Ironman. And, if the pictures are any indication, hearing the Mike Reilly, the Voice of Ironman calling my name as I arrived on the finishing track was one of the most exciting experiences in my life so far. It really was, but as you all know, it’s all in the getting there, so, here is how that went. I'll be posting in three parts this week.

The week leading up to race day was eventful, short workouts to ensure that my body remembered how to swim-bike-run, and the requisite preparation that comes before a week long roadtrip/holiday. And then, two nights before our departure, our car was broken into. Laptop gone, camera gone, and window smashed. T-minus 36 hours before departure for Lake Placid. Resulting in insurance calls, a new window, and rapid replacement of technological items the day before we left. This was more than a little bit inconvenient.

We arrived in Lake Placid on Thursday afternoon, and took the time to settle in. We rented a (very) small cottage for the week, and it literally had just (barely) enough room for luggage, two bikes, two dogs, one athlete and one amazing husband. Some of you probably know that it was sweltering in the week leading up to the race, and being in the Adirondacks, very few places were blessed with air conditioning, remarkably though, the ceiling fan and the shade of the surrounding trees made our little spot very comfortable, particularly in the evenings, when restful sleep was so important.

Friday morning brought (Iron)golf for my hubby, and a quick trip to the grocery store for me. Post-golf, we headed to Lake Placid High School to check in and pick up my race kit. Standing in line surrounded by hundreds of fit people all tapered to a fine point, and as many green shirted Iron Crew volunteers, it hit me, this is Ironman, the big moment had almost arrived. Even the lady who affixed my athlete bracelet to my wrist said “I’ll be praying for you on Sunday”. Just for me? Who am I? I think I freaked out just a little, but then I blushed, said thank you, and quietly made my way around the gym collecting my stuff. Friday night, the athletes and family support were entertained and inspired at the Welcome Dinner. If you’ve never heard of firefighter Matt Long, look him up, it will remind you that anything is possible.

Saturday in Lake Placid brought the arrival of my parents, two of the best fans I could ever hope for, and the tale of a dinner ruined. Wanting to eat something relatively plain on Ironman Eve, I had purchased some chicken during my quick grocery run on Friday, but come Saturday evening, after a visit with my parents at their hotel, we found out that the chicken was frozen. It was just about dinner time, and we had no dinner. My ever resourceful husband then made a mad dash to Chair 6, the restaurant right at the end of our cottage’s driveway, to beg for a table. We were lucky, they had just had a cancellation for the next sitting. So, although the rice and chicken wasn't made by me, it was the exact meal that I’d planned to eat the night before the race. Thank You Charlie! We had a lovely meal, made our way back to the cottage to relax and take the dogs for a short walk. Before bed I took a bath to visualize the race one more time.

At 4am on Ironman Day, I got up to have breakfast (one and a half bagels with peanut butter, one banana, a cup of coffee and water), hit the shower and transfer my water bottles into a bag. I was actually amazed that I was able to eat, it felt like a relatively normal day. I opted to wear a swimsuit under my wetsuit, rather than wearing my tri suit in the water, so I threw my sweats on over that to wear for the walk over to transition at the Olympic Oval.

It was hard not to feel like that walk was more of a death march, I knew what I had ahead of me that day, and was struggling to harness the butterflies in my stomach and keep them from ejecting my breakfast. Once we got into town though, I started to feel much better and methodically moved through dropping off my special needs bags, and headed into transition to check on Stan, my trusty steed, who was waiting patiently for me. Got a good luck hug on the way in from Brenda from Ottawa, a coach who I'd trained with at the spin studio over the winter, which was just what I needed at that moment!

Walking into transition, race organizers were informing athletes that due to the high water temperature, the race would a non-wetsuit swim for those competing for Ironman World Championship spots, and age group awards – the tension was palpable. Given that many of the girls in my age group would have had to trip and fall in front of me for me to win an award, I opted to wear my wetsuit, along with the majority of other racers.

Seeing Stan that morning, my eyes filled with tears, and I was stoked to find that I had no flat tires, despite my unfounded concern that they had exploded in the hot sun after bike check-in. I topped off my tires and headed out to get body marked.

Race numbers inked, it was time to get into my wetsuit, and eat a gel. I was standing next to another woman at this point, who longingly asked if I had an extra gel, alas I didn't have one to spare. Pulling on the wetsuit, I realized that shorts would have been a wiser warm up outfit than pants, as I struggled to get my suit up over my clammy skin! It took about twice as long as usual, but I was finally wetsuited and it was time to kiss my husband and head toward the start. The walk to the beach was a long one, between two barriers which were lined by a carpet to protect our feet on the run back. It was one of the weirdest walks of my life, I could still see my husband, I think I hugged him like six more times, but all the same, I felt very cut off from the spectators who were lining up for prime spots to see their athletes come out of the swim. Freaking out at little bit at this point, I spotted a friend from Ottawa and we hugged it out, wishing each other luck. From then on, it was like being in a funnel, hundreds of athletes making their way into the water to await the start. In the water, I did my customary dip, allowing the water into my wetsuit, and then I walked out toward the beach to let some of the excess water drain out the bottom, learned this trick from JMac, and it’s become a habit. Scanning the crowd, I was finally able to spot my cycling partner, and we gave each other huge good luck hugs and words of encouragement, drawing from the all the hours and kilometers we'd logged out on the road together – I am certain I cried. It was the perfect way to start the race.

At 7a.m., to the sound of Start Me Up by the legendary Rolling Stones, the gun was fired and Ironman Lake Placid 2011 began. The feeling of 2500 people moving from floating upright in the water to freestyle swim position was incredible, contact was inevitable and basically continuous. As expected, I was easily able to grab onto a draft and find a rhythm in the water, even making eye contact with my cycling buddy and saying “You’re good!” mid-stroke. About 500 metres into the swim I got kicked in the face, which pushed the left socket of my goggles up into my eye, lovely! But, the hard knocks were reciprocal and I’m certain that I kicked, punched and swamped my fair share of swimmers that morning. Not to that a lot of folks had opted to swim sans wetsuit that morning, which creates all kinds of contact you don’t want to know about!

In terms of the turns, and protocol around course markers, it doesn’t actually matter whether you’re racing 100 people or 2500, someone ALWAYS stops at the buoys to have a look around, honestly, you need to look when this much white water is basically propelling you around Mirror Lake? I literally yelled “Why are we stopping?” at the first buoy, as I turned my head to take a breath. It was the same at the second buoy, and at both turns on the second loop of the swim.

As I finished the first loop of the swim, I heard the announcer call my name as I ran up onto the beach to start the second loop, that energized me and pulled me all the way around Mirror Lake one more time.

Before I knew it, after about 1:15 (woohoo!), I was out of the water the second time and running across the beach in the direction of transition, to be reunited with Stan.