Unfortunately, I cannot continue to ignore three very recent discussions about doping in endurance athletes.
The first, and probably the most disturbing, encounter was during a conversation with a very close friend of mine days after Ironman. We were reflecting on my race and my potential for next season. After throwing out some smaller races where I could still qualify for Nationals, he said something like, "That's a good idea to go for the low hanging fruit. Everyone else competing at the bigger races are doping anyway. You can't compete with that."
In Age Group Triathlon. Doping.
And, within the last 48 hours, both Alberto Contador and Lance Armstrong were the topic of the doping conversation on two separate occasions. Contador, for being found to have a positive test for Clenbuterol, a synthetic and documented illegal bronchodilator, during the 2010 Tour de France and Lance because I just started reading, "It Not About The Bike."
When a friend learned I was reading the book, he responded, "At one point in my life- I would have argued that Lance Armstrong was the greatest athlete of our generation. Unfortunately- now as additional evidence continues to be uncovered- I'm afraid that he was heavily involved in doping. I guess times will tell."
At the time of this conversation, I happened to be on the second chapter only. Lance was writing about his days as a 12-year-old who would ride his bike 10 miles in the pre-dawn darkness to swim practice at 5:30am to swim 4000 meters. Let me tell you, 4000 meters is a lot. It is actually over 2 1/2 miles of swimming. Then, he'd ride to school and ride BACK to practice after school for another 6,000 meters. SIX MILES of swimming EVERY DAY. And, over 20 miles of riding. At 15, he finished 32nd overall in a field of experienced triathletes at the President's Triathlon in Lake Lavon. The following year he finished 5th. At 16.
At 16 years old, Lance was also training with Cat 1 cyclists- the most competitive cyclists in their late 20s.
At 16 years old, he was already making $20,000 a year from racing purses.
Also, when he was 16, Lance underwent his first VO2 max test, which is an aerobic threshold test. How much exertion can you tolerate and still keep going? Supposedly, it is a direct reflecion of your breathing capacity, or your lung's ability to efficiently process oxygen.
V= Volume
O2= Oxygen
Max= Maximium amount of oxygen one's lungs can process and still tolerate exertion
The more oxygen you exchange, the faster your muscles can contract. The faster your muscles contract and turnover.... you win. This concept and formula was derived at the prestigious Cooper Clinic in Dallas and to this day, no athlete produced a greater VO2 max than Lance Armstrong. At 16 years old.
NO ONE can argue that Lance Armstrong didn't have the natural formula to dominate an endurance sport like triathlon or cycling. Literally, it was in his blood. Although he is most recognized natural talent, he is not alone. Floyd Landis. Marion Jones. Barry Bonds. These athletes were undeniably some of the strongest and fastest in their fields- naturally- before doping.
Somewhere along the way, though, a talent become an obsession and reality so quickly must become distorted. I see it in triathletes every day. I see it in myself. The inability to stop or draw the line.
In elite athletes, and professional athletes, it must be exaccerbated. If I can allow my mind to wander and fantasize about the good times to come, I can only imagine what they dream up. Suddenly, a 1:05 100m free is not enough. It must be under 1:00. It must be under :59, :58, :57. It must be a recond this time.
It must be a record every time.
I empathize with this mindset because there is this part of you that you can't change and you don't want to change because you live off of this high of being the best. Luciano Pavarotti was born to sing Opera and he was the best, no one was better. In cycling, Lance Armstrong was the best but he wanted to be better. I hesitate in using him as an example since there are only allegations, but the same can be said for the others, like Floyd Landis. You must get so utterly caught up in being better that you completely lose touch with reality. I would imagine it is analogous to a defendent pleading insanity.
Blood doping is the newest form of performance-enhancing techniques and this is the type of doping that is in question lately. There is the use of EPO, or erythropoietin, a naturally occuring hormone that boosts red blood cell production in the blood. Again, the more red blood cells, the more oxygen. The more oxygen, the greater the muscle contraction turnover...the faster you are...the more you win.
Even though this is an outside source that is injected into the bloodstream, it is still considered "natural." Is this why coaches and athletes initially justify its use? I say this because I can't imagine that you would agree to it otherwise. These athletes are not dumb. If they were, they'd be injecting steroids. But, they'd never do that anymore because clearly that is illegal. Injecting synthetic steroids is illegal.
However, is injecting a naturally occuring hormone illegal? "Hmmm. Perhaps the natural occuring properties of EPO present a loophole in the understanding of what is acceptable and what is not. It isn't synthetic after all, it's natural."
How about autologous transfusions? "That's even MORE NATURAL. It's my own blood! There's no argument there that would allege the transfusion of my own blood is illegal! It's impossible!"
Is this what they really think?
I have to hope that it is. I have to believe that these role models- who were at one time, or still could arguably be, considered the strongest, fastest, most talented athletes of all time- made these decisions innocently. Out of a natural desire that we all battle- to be the best.
I disagree that many of these coaches and athletes made decisions to use EPO or transfusions knowing that is would be considered illegal. My complaint, though, is that they have a responsibility to ensure that it is not illegal. If you are afraid to ask or afraid to make it public, then that should tell you something.
Similarly, if allegations are made, it is your responsibility to answer them honestly. If you approached your racing with honesty up front, then you should have nothing to hide. Each one of these athletes were given the opportunity to preserve their integrity as a role model. Few stepped forward and accepted responsibility beforehand.
I hope what comes of these ongoing developments is a candid discussion with young people, our future elite athletes. Floyd Landis, Marion Jones, Roger Clemens, Alberto Contador- they need to put their egos aside and reflect on why the said yes. Did they want to? Were they scared? Could they see clearly? Were they obsessed?
They were number one without it.
This insight will be more valuable to our future generation of athletes and olympians than world records to break or apologies made. Be honest about what happened and good will come of this.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
2011
No Kidding. It's tiiiime! I finished my 2010 racing season with a bang at Ironman Wisconsin just 2 weeks ago today and already owe my coach the 2011 Race Schedule. I have 2 weeks of recovery down and only 4 to go before PreSeason. I am not kidding.
I realize my intentions for triathlon are evolving- from surviving to having fun to racing to competing. The first year (one OLY race) was for surviving. The second year (2 OLY races) was for fun. The third year, this year (3 races- OLY, HALF IRONMAN AND IRONMAN) was for racing against myself and next year will be to compete.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again for those of you who dream as I do... I never thought in my wildest dreams that I'd be actually competing in triathlon. I have a long way to go before I could even be considered for an Elite team but next year my goal is to be strong enough to place in the top 3 in my age group and go to Nationals.
After Madison, it was time to reflect honestly on the season. Where did I start? How far have I come? Where will I realistically go? A fatal error I made in my race plan for Madison was that I never disclosed "my real goal" to Liz. I didn't want to disappoint and I didn't want to BE disappointed. So, I erred on the side of safety and set up my entire "estimated race plan" for Liz and my family based on much slower, insincere split times that I knew I was actually going to go out on the course and try to blow away. This effort of trying to "protect my ego" very much backfired when I spent the entire 14 hours and 44 minutes of the race having to calculate and recall not one set of times but TWO sets of times the entire day...the "estimated race plan times" and then "my secret real goal times."
Let me tell you- under the pressure of a race, let alone a 14+ hour race, it's a miracle when you can actually recall half of your goal times along the course. When I say I had an "etimated race plan time" and then a secret "my real goal" time, I don't mean there was a difference of only minutes.
There was nearly a difference of an hour.
How could Liz even have an opportunity to set me straight beforehand if she never even knew? I went into that race on a high from the best season of my life and was blinded by the adrenaline of averaging 8:45s for 15+ mile runs the entire season. What I failed to consider was that the Ironman Marathon is after over 2.4 miles of swimming and 112 miles of biking. It turns out most athletes add an hour on to their best open marathon time when finalizing their Ironman race plan. If I was honest with Liz, I would have known better.
I say this, because it was the most important lesson I took from this season. In order to build on the success of this year, I would need to be honest with Liz about my goals for next year, which meant I would have to expose my ego to her personal opinion of me as an athlete. If you've read older posts, you know that Liz doesn't bullshit around. She is a Pro and basically appreciates the fact that there's no time for it, period.
So, a little over one week ago, just days after fudging my Ironman marathon and race plan, it was time to bare it all and ask Liz about 2011. I presented it something like this:
"I'm dying to review my race with you and pick your brain for next season. I want your honest opinion of what you think I can achieve. I will commit to a new bike and whatever training is necessary. This year was a great base, but let's pull this train out of the station."
That was my best attempt at saying, "I want to qualify for Nationals."
Her response was,
"I read your race report. It seems like some off nutrition on the bike got to you on the run. Not a big deal - it WAS your first Ironman, many lessons learned. Bottom line, you finished, you loved it! Done - on to the next thing! If you have any questions about the race, send to me and let's talk about them.
For 2011, here is where I see you growing/going:
1 - Get a new bike. EASY for me to say but this is a HUGE limiter to you getting to that next level (in my opinion).
2 - Stick with short stuff. I actually don't see your strength as "long" races right now, let's put some zip back in the legs and reteach your body how to go hard.
3 - Pick THREE races that you want to go to, show up and ROCK them. We can build the rest of the season around those races.
4 - Would like to see you do some "stand alone" run races (just a few, SHORT ones, NO half marathons).
5 - Masters swim...?
6 - If you want to do a half IM, pick a late season one so you can build up speed to that point and not just lock in more slow blah blah pace training."
Here's what I got out of that...
"Pick THREE races that you want to go to, show up and ROCK them."
SERIOUSLY??!!!
"ROCK THEM??!!!!!!"
YES!
And, so it goes that I did it. I took the first major step in pursuing what will be my first season actually COMPETING in triathlon. I had to bare it all to Liz in order to create a foundation for success. There's no more "race plan time" versus "my secret goal time." In order to make this happen, you must be open and honest and willing to accept defeat. Defeat, in this case, would be the possibility of Liz telling me, "No way. That's not realistic." However, you also take the risk to possibly hear your coach say, "Great. Go there and ROCK IT." The risk of defeat may crush you but it may also reward you in ways you could only imagine.
As Liz told us before Ironman, "There's nothing magical about race day. If you approached your season with honesty and vigor, you will put forth your best training day on a race course."
The last 10 days have been spent researching races, USAT qualifying rules, and results for my division. I can tell you what these courses are like, what names are actually showing up and I know that my competition will now include some of the Elite team. These girls are some of the fastest in the Midwest. Mandy McCarthy. Stacey Izard. Heather O'Brien. Karin Langer. Believe me, I have a LOT of work to do.
I also know that just 3 weeks ago I was throwing out to our Ironman team that we should do some fun races in 2011 like HyVee. Bigfoot. Bangs Lake. After researching these and 12 other races, I realize it's game time, not play time.
Galena 5/21
Elkhart Lake 6/11
Evergreen 7/16
Steelhead Ironman 70.3 7/30
Erika will be joining me on this journey to Nationals and Akemi agreed to share the schedule to keep us all together as well. No matter where this 2011 Race Schedule takes us, I know that we are in it to win it.
I realize my intentions for triathlon are evolving- from surviving to having fun to racing to competing. The first year (one OLY race) was for surviving. The second year (2 OLY races) was for fun. The third year, this year (3 races- OLY, HALF IRONMAN AND IRONMAN) was for racing against myself and next year will be to compete.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again for those of you who dream as I do... I never thought in my wildest dreams that I'd be actually competing in triathlon. I have a long way to go before I could even be considered for an Elite team but next year my goal is to be strong enough to place in the top 3 in my age group and go to Nationals.
After Madison, it was time to reflect honestly on the season. Where did I start? How far have I come? Where will I realistically go? A fatal error I made in my race plan for Madison was that I never disclosed "my real goal" to Liz. I didn't want to disappoint and I didn't want to BE disappointed. So, I erred on the side of safety and set up my entire "estimated race plan" for Liz and my family based on much slower, insincere split times that I knew I was actually going to go out on the course and try to blow away. This effort of trying to "protect my ego" very much backfired when I spent the entire 14 hours and 44 minutes of the race having to calculate and recall not one set of times but TWO sets of times the entire day...the "estimated race plan times" and then "my secret real goal times."
Let me tell you- under the pressure of a race, let alone a 14+ hour race, it's a miracle when you can actually recall half of your goal times along the course. When I say I had an "etimated race plan time" and then a secret "my real goal" time, I don't mean there was a difference of only minutes.
There was nearly a difference of an hour.
How could Liz even have an opportunity to set me straight beforehand if she never even knew? I went into that race on a high from the best season of my life and was blinded by the adrenaline of averaging 8:45s for 15+ mile runs the entire season. What I failed to consider was that the Ironman Marathon is after over 2.4 miles of swimming and 112 miles of biking. It turns out most athletes add an hour on to their best open marathon time when finalizing their Ironman race plan. If I was honest with Liz, I would have known better.
I say this, because it was the most important lesson I took from this season. In order to build on the success of this year, I would need to be honest with Liz about my goals for next year, which meant I would have to expose my ego to her personal opinion of me as an athlete. If you've read older posts, you know that Liz doesn't bullshit around. She is a Pro and basically appreciates the fact that there's no time for it, period.
So, a little over one week ago, just days after fudging my Ironman marathon and race plan, it was time to bare it all and ask Liz about 2011. I presented it something like this:
"I'm dying to review my race with you and pick your brain for next season. I want your honest opinion of what you think I can achieve. I will commit to a new bike and whatever training is necessary. This year was a great base, but let's pull this train out of the station."
That was my best attempt at saying, "I want to qualify for Nationals."
Her response was,
"I read your race report. It seems like some off nutrition on the bike got to you on the run. Not a big deal - it WAS your first Ironman, many lessons learned. Bottom line, you finished, you loved it! Done - on to the next thing! If you have any questions about the race, send to me and let's talk about them.
For 2011, here is where I see you growing/going:
1 - Get a new bike. EASY for me to say but this is a HUGE limiter to you getting to that next level (in my opinion).
2 - Stick with short stuff. I actually don't see your strength as "long" races right now, let's put some zip back in the legs and reteach your body how to go hard.
3 - Pick THREE races that you want to go to, show up and ROCK them. We can build the rest of the season around those races.
4 - Would like to see you do some "stand alone" run races (just a few, SHORT ones, NO half marathons).
5 - Masters swim...?
6 - If you want to do a half IM, pick a late season one so you can build up speed to that point and not just lock in more slow blah blah pace training."
Here's what I got out of that...
"Pick THREE races that you want to go to, show up and ROCK them."
SERIOUSLY??!!!
"ROCK THEM??!!!!!!"
YES!
And, so it goes that I did it. I took the first major step in pursuing what will be my first season actually COMPETING in triathlon. I had to bare it all to Liz in order to create a foundation for success. There's no more "race plan time" versus "my secret goal time." In order to make this happen, you must be open and honest and willing to accept defeat. Defeat, in this case, would be the possibility of Liz telling me, "No way. That's not realistic." However, you also take the risk to possibly hear your coach say, "Great. Go there and ROCK IT." The risk of defeat may crush you but it may also reward you in ways you could only imagine.
As Liz told us before Ironman, "There's nothing magical about race day. If you approached your season with honesty and vigor, you will put forth your best training day on a race course."
The last 10 days have been spent researching races, USAT qualifying rules, and results for my division. I can tell you what these courses are like, what names are actually showing up and I know that my competition will now include some of the Elite team. These girls are some of the fastest in the Midwest. Mandy McCarthy. Stacey Izard. Heather O'Brien. Karin Langer. Believe me, I have a LOT of work to do.
I also know that just 3 weeks ago I was throwing out to our Ironman team that we should do some fun races in 2011 like HyVee. Bigfoot. Bangs Lake. After researching these and 12 other races, I realize it's game time, not play time.
Galena 5/21
Elkhart Lake 6/11
Evergreen 7/16
Steelhead Ironman 70.3 7/30
Erika will be joining me on this journey to Nationals and Akemi agreed to share the schedule to keep us all together as well. No matter where this 2011 Race Schedule takes us, I know that we are in it to win it.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
IRONMAN WISCONSIN RACE REPORT
Ironman humbles you, regardless of how well you trained. Especially your first one. I went into this race prepared and controlled. And, as every experienced athlete will tell you, it all comes down to the run.
I started the day feeling great. Other than the expected nerves, mostly from just wanting to get this started already, I knew I was ready to take it on. My alarm was set to go off at 3:45am; however, my body naturally woke up at 2:30. I laid in bed for 30 minutes checking the weather from my phone and spent time reviewing in my head what I put in my special needs bag. Luckily, it was then that I remembered that I never put my spare tire in my bike special needs bag. I would need to save time to go down to the garage and get it out of the car where I left it. I also was thinking about how I still needed to call the Hampton Inn, where the rest of my family was staying, to make sure the hotel didn't charge them a second night. In the frenzy of arriving in Madison, I forget to change that detail for them. Since I had a few extra things to do now, I decided to get up and get going around 3am.
Time went by faster than you'd think. I ate my Banana Nut Crunch cereal, made coffee just for one sip and then into the shower. Before I knew it, it was 4:10 and I still hadn't been down to the car and still needed to add water to 8 water bottles to mix my nutrition. By 4:25, I was working on the bottles and was 15 minutes away from meeting Akemi to go downtstairs.
By 4:45, we were off to the start. Even as we were walking over, I don't think it hit us yet. We got to transition by 5, dropped off our special needs bags, added items to our swim to bike and bike to run bags, hit the bathrooms and then brought our nutrition to our bikes in transition. We pumped air in our tires, checked our computers, and got our bodies marked. Before we knew it, it was 5:55 and time to meet my mom by the Run Out. There she was already, smiles from ear to ear and more comforting than I could ever put into words. I got a big hug and kiss from her and you could tell she was just as nervous for us and we were for ourselves suddenly. The sun was just about to rise and there was a reddish orange hue to the horizon over Lake Monona. We still hadn't seen the buoys but were about to in just moments. Akemi and I looked at each other 5 minutes later after some pictures and said, "Let's do this." I got my final hug and kiss from my dearest and most supportive fan. It was time.
Akemi and I headed over to the helix and got our first glimpse of the buoys and swim course. Akemi had actually been able to see the course and swim it 3 weeks earlier during the one special training morning set up for the athletes. I couldn't go because it was the same day as my sister's wedding. I am all about preparing so there are no surprises and it bothered me the most to not be able to see the actual course size ahead of time. Once I saw it, I was really ready. It was massive, but I knew it would be. I trained in this lake at least 5 times this summer, let alone Lake Michigan nearly 2-3 times/week since May. I have to say, though, it always looks bigger than you think it would!!!
We were still holding our wetsuits at this point, so after getting down the helix to the ground level, it was time to keep moving along. We went into the porto-potty lines right away, got into our wetsuits, ran into Cliff (a fellow teammate), dropped off our morning clothes bag and that was literally it. It REALLY WAS time now.
It was around 6:25 at this point and we spent the next 10 minutes standing on the right side of the swim chute, waiting for the moment we felt ready to get in. The cannon wasn't going off for another 35 minutes so it was too early to start treading water. However, in that 10 minutes of waiting, it went from 1-2 people walking past us to get in at a time to hoards of people getting in. It literally started happening before we could even realize it. It was 6:35 now, and we dediced that 6:42 would be the right time to get in for some reason. We settled on our strategy to enter on the right and swim the diagonal line into the swim course in an effort to stay out of the rush of top swimmers. We were in the water by 6:42 and made our way over toward the signature "ski jump" area. This was about 50 yards away from shore and about half way to the official start line. If you are an athlete worried about every second, then it is to your advantage to get as close as possible to that red start buoy because whether you're at the red buoy or not even in the water yet, when that cannon goes off, everyone's clock starts. Period. Akemi and I decided to go half way to the start and treaded water for 15 minutes. I have to say, I did a great job staying calm! At first, there was enought room comfortably to tread water here or there, 10 feet this way or 15 feet that way. Within minutes, though, it started to get really really packed. You could no longer get enough space to even lay on your stomach because there were feet, legs, arms, torsos hitting you every second. I had to really focus to stay in control, but I did. The pros just were just about to go off at 6:50 but there were 10 minutes still before we would be able to start. I realized that Akemi wasn't next to me anymore but she waved out and was only about 10 athletes away. I still felt her strength with me. The cannon for the pros went off and the announcer was informing athletes in the water to move closer to the red start buoy and pushing along the athletes still on land that there was no more time to wait. GET IN. Another 5 minutes pass, I still haven't looked back, and then they announce the national anthem will now be sung. I am still OK because I'm on the right outside edge, in the front row, thinking that I will be in the safe zone. However, as I turn back toward the shore for the anthem, my worst fear is confirmed. I am in front of what is literally hundreds of only RED swim caps bobbing up and down. THE GUYS. ONYL GUYS. YOUNG GUYS who are out to WIN. There was nowhere to go even if I tried. All I could think about was the movie JAWS and the background music to go along with it. One of the guys must have seen the fear of death in my eyes and he said almost in an irritated voice,
"How fast are you swimming this."
"Not as fast as you guys." (Keep in mind that I'm hoping for a 1:40 swim split)
"Well, we're swimming under :55."
HO-LY-SHIT.
I just reminded myself of what Coach K kept telling us about the swim start. The first 10-15 minutes will be nuts. Just remember that it will pass and just keep thinking in 10-15 minutes it will be better.
As soon as the anthem finished and the crowd roared, the announcer yelled,
"THEY CAN HEEEAAARRR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And the crowd roared louder. The sun was rising and then we heard the the first beats of U2's "Beautiful Day." The announcer yelled,
"LESS THAN ONE MINUTE!"
"You WILL be an IRONMAN today!!"
And as soon as it got to the part,
"It's a BEAUTIFUL DAY! DON'T LET IT SLIP AWAY!" The cannon went off!
You just swim, one stroke after another, one breath as you can get it. The first 15 minutes really were insane. Guys were literally swimming over me. But, I held my own and just kept it going. It was really exciting and I felt confident despite being in a sea of total madness! My plan to enter on the right and aim for the first buoy from a diagonal was working, but I have to admit I must have added on a half mile throughout the 2.4 mile course by doing so because my perimeter stayed wide, about 25 meters from the buoy line. In retrospect, I would do it again, because after the first 15 minutes, it was no worse than Steelhead in terms of fighting for space. Throughout the swim, I felt fast and not tired. The biggest problem was other athlete's not sighting well and swimming away from the buoys into me. That's expected, though. the other problem was that my right goggle filled with water almost immediately and I couldn't fix it. Oh well, I thought. When I came to the first red turn buoy, it was an exciting milestone and I knew the second one was only minutes away before heading around the back length. Again, the third turn buoy came faster than I thought and it only made me feel stronger. Before I knew it, I was on the back side of the rectangle again and was about to head home around the last buoy. I remember some girl swam into ME and then she yelled, "HEY!" I looked at her when I took a breath and all I could think of was, "NO! Hey YOU!" Nice one, huh!!
The other thought that occupied my mind during the swim was how it would be so great for my FAMILY the sooner they could see me come out of the water because there's no way for them to know how you're doing during the swim. If I were a family member, I would be freaking out! When I exited the water, I remembered to lap my Garmin correctly and that's when I noticed it said, "1:36!" WOOT! I actually thought it would've been faster based on how fast I felt, but I could care less at that point. I knew I added a ton of distance on by swimming 25 yards outside the buoys and I was happy with that decision.
As I got to the top of the helix and saw my family, I was ecstatic! I ran over and gave my mom a huge kiss and hug, got my energizing high five from her, gave my dad a kiss and hug and was off to transition. I also saw Joe coming up the helix and he jumped in front of me screaming, "HERE SHE IS! HERE SHE IS!!!!" He picked me up and gave me a huge hug and kiss as well. Everyone is always worried about the swim :)
Transition was crazy but the volunteers were absolutely wonderful. I had to completely change out of of my swim suit and into my uniform. My sports bra was completely twised up from my wet skin and my leg was shaking from adrenaline, but I felt awesome. As I ran out of the transition changing area and outside, I saw my best friend in the whole world screaming for me, it was unreal. She made it here and I just couldn't believe it! It was amazing. I ran over to my bike and got going.
The bike started great and stayed great the entire ride. On the stick out, I really had to hit the port-o-potty because I couldn't go in the water! After I took care of that, I was down to business. I was looking at my computer and the time and was right where I wanted to be. I saved 7 minutes in the swim and was hoping to save 5 minutes on the stick out, which I did. I was not 12 minutes ahead. The whole time, I was faced with adjusting my documented race plan times that my coach and family had compared to what I really wanted. Somewhere along this bike course, I would have to shave off 50 minutes in order to hit the marathon before 4pm instead of the planned 5:10. I knew my 4:20 run estimate might very well be way off so I needed to compensate for that as well. I knew I could hit 7:15 on the bike since that was within reach to what I had been doing out here all summer if you subtract out red ligths, construction and goofing off in between loops.
I was eating as planned and made an effort to time my bars with aid stations so I could get water from there, per Liz's recommendation to avoid a sloshy stomach like Epic Monday. I felt bad drinking only a 1/4 of a bottle and then tossing it, but hey, this is IRONMAN and I'm doing what I need to do. By the time I got to Mineral Point and Garfoot Road, I was almost 30 minutes ahead of schedule. SWEETNESS. This is exaclty what I needed because at this point I was also remembering that even though I would hope to ride the second loop just as fast, I actually have never been close to that in training. I was always 15 minutes off. When I saw everyone with Mom's awesome yellow signs, it was the BEST feeling EVER! It also made me happy because I knew they'd be pumped to see me ahead as schedule and looking strong as well.
The next part of the course would be Cross Plains and I knew I'd see some of the WellFit team and my friend, Nick. It was great! They saw me right away and were cheering like crazy. Next up was Birch. The "Tour D'France climb." I was supposed to see Joe there so I was really looking forward to that. Instead, I saw my friend, Nga, who is the cutest ever! She was running after me with her camera, it was super awesome.
The next area would be just a mile ahead at Old Sauk Pass and that's when I was cheered on by Coach K, Keith, my swim coach. He was PUMPED! IT was awesome! I also saw my friend Erik there as well. The funniest spectator out there was this guy who was only wearing the shortest red velvet santa shorts ever with a huge chain of jingle bells! He jumped in front of me with those bells and said, "What do YOU want for Christmas little lady?! IRONMAN!" It kept me laughing for miles. I also saw two ladies holding signs...the first one said, "Ironmen are SEXY!" and then the second one said, "But IRONWOMEN ARE SEXIER!" I thought that was the best and then I realized it was my friend, Clare, holding the sign! AWESOME!
At this point, I was at least 35 minutes ahead schedule, maybe even 40 minutes. The next turn after Timber is Midtown Hill. This is the last significant climb of each loop and I was about to see the mastermind behind my success...Coach Liz. As I started climbing the hill, I noticed Chris, her husband, first and then screamed her name as soon as I saw her turn around with little Max, her 7 week old son. She grabbed the megaphone and yelled, "GO LORI!!!" It was great. It was about 25 meters later than Joe finally jumped in front of me. I had been waiting to see him since the swim. He was so excited, it was great.
I thought that would be it for my fan club at Midtown Hill because I told my family to skip it due to traffic backups with crossing Timber on Mineral Point. But, THERE THEY WERE!!!!! It was so great! I saw my Mom's bright yellow signs and all of their tshirts from about 100 yards away and I started waving like crazy. The best part of Ironman is showing your family you're alive and loving it. This is exactly how I felt the entire swim and ride. It was heaven on earth. I'd later realize that everytime I saw them on the course, they'd be waving my yellow signs, Ryan would be first waiting with the camera, Jeff would be next with the videocamera and Mom, Melissa, Nana, and Dad would usually be my grand finale for the smiles I couldn't wait to see. Leave it up to my Mom to make sure they all got to Timber to surprise me. She told me a few days after the race that they barely made it to that spot in time, but she wanted to take a chance. It works every time!
I carried on with the race down Shady Oak and back into Verona for Loop 2. It was definitely getting hot out now and it was about 12:15 by now. I decided that all I'd need out of my Bike Special Needs Bag would be my nutrition refills and one power bar. By this point, I ate 1/2 power bar before the race, 1 bar after the swim in transition and first few miles of the bike, and 1 bar on the first loop. That was good for the amount of time I had been out so far on the bike (roughly 3:15 by now). I was drinking my Infinit (2 full aerobottles by mile 56 at special needs) and I supplemented 4-5 oz water at every aid station with my power bar bites to prevent the sloshy stomach.
Loop 2 was surprisingly fast. I got through Valley Road, G, and 92 faster than I thought I would. Barely added 5 minutes onto my total split by that point. When I got to Mount Horeb, I was hurting. It was really hot out, all sun, and that's when I think I started to feel dehydrated. It is a very long stretch of false flats, so basically you are climbing for 20 miles straight- it's not fun, especially the second time around in hot sun. At this point, I think I started to get really thirsty and I made the mistake of thinking that my Infinit was making me thirstier. I continued to take water at the aid stations but you can only drop the bottles during the actual aid station unless you want a penalty. In retrospect, I definitely should have taken 2 minutes to pull over, dump out a bottle of Infinit and pour in plain water. But during the race, you don't always think clearly. You think about time. I saw my friend, Krisa, on the top of Mount Horeb, which was a HUGE surprise and very much needed.
I rode through Mount Horeb and onto "S" to my favorite, Witte Road, for a final time. This was turning out to be the ride of a lifetime and I don't want to ever forget it. The same sign, "Do what's right. Return the saw" that I saw on the fierce descent of Witte Road right before the mirrored climb was right there waiting for me like it was all summer. Over to Garfoot, up to Mineral Point, screaming cheers from my family again and my final descent into the Cross Plains valley- it was all like Heaven On Earth. I was doing the math and I was on track- 30 minutes to Birch, 5 up the climb, 20 to Midtown, 15 to Main, 10 to Whalen and 50 home. I had it and I knew it. I was going to get up the helix back at transition by 4pm and that was going to be a moment to remember.
And, that's just how it happened, too. I saw my family for another surprise at Midtown Hill, which was more needed than I thought because Liz AND Joe had already left the area to hit the marathon course back in Madison. After I saw them, I got my final wind and that was it.
I worked hard to set up that swim and ride, and two transitions, with enough time to run a 4:50 marathon. I didn't over-exert myself though because I was hitting the sames times I'd be hitting all summer, maybe 10 minutes ahead. The only problem I would later calculate was that I stopped drinking. I only consumed one aerobottle (1.5 water bottles) of Infinit, and about 16 oz of water on the second loop of 2 1/2 hours. That was not enough in the end.
Once I rode up the helix, it was a few minutes before 4 if I remember correctly. I was only in transition 7 minutes and that included a stop in the port-o-potty! AWESOME! I decided to change into running shorts and changed my socks before the marathon. It's funny, because when I write "marathon" it seems unbearable to me. I think that's where I went right and where I went wrong during the final weeks of training.
I can be a head case sometimes, that's no secret of most serious triathletes. And so, I almost never referred to the run part of Ironman as a MARATHON. It would have sent me over the edge I think. Instead, I always called it "the run." You know, like a little run. A 6 mile run. 4 times. That's not so bad. Plus a couple finish line miles up State St and around the Capitol. You'd never even feel it. That's what I actually thought.
When I left transition, I dumped out my infinit powder and filled my little 6 oz hand bottle with water because I was so thirsty. DUH. PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO MY BODY. I also took 2 bites of my MOJO bar, a pretzel and chocolate mix. It was making me thirstier. As soon as I crossed under the RUN OUT exit from transition, you run up a big hill right away. It's not fun, but I knew I would see my family at the stop sign one block away. There they were! It was great. They couldn't believe I was starting the marathon 1 hour and 10 minutes earlier than planned. I think they thought I was invincible just as I had once believed.
Almost immediately, I started to get little stomach pains, like I had to burp. It was definitely gas related, but nothing would come out. 2-3 miles into the run, it got worse. Every step was like a sharp pain, but I was still trying to run. I stopped and walked the second major aid station at mile 3.5 to have some grapes, orange slices, powerade and water. I also grabbed some potato chips! Suddenly I realized how dangerous walking can be. Try running again. It sucks.
I did start running again and this was uncomfortable, but I kept it going. I knew most of the course but not the next couple of miles so I used it as motivation to keep running. It was fun for a while. I saw Marc Robertson heading to the finsih ath this point, he must have been at mile 24 and I knew he was just about on target for a Kona qualifying time. I also saw Kimber who looked very strong as well, another one headed for Kona. Before I knew it, I was through Camp Randall, under the bridge where I volunteered last year, down the path by Mendota Lake, and back onto State Street to Mile 6 or so and to my family! YAY!!! That was very much needed but I have to say I think I felt OK still overall.
Once I passed them, we turned around again to head back over to the lake and then all the way back around. I saw Brian on his second loop but he was walking and that was weird. He must be hurting, too. I would see my family again around mile 12 and then again at 14 or so. By the time I got to Mile 12, I was hurting really bad. I couldn't find any coke except one sip because the aid stations were out, which was CRAZY, because it was actually early still. I had walked a few of the aid stations but also balanced that with jogging some of the smaller hills. The shooting pains didn't stop though. I made it to 12 where I saw my family again and got a picture with Diana, which was great. I also saw a lot of WellFit friends on State street at this point like Christine, Henry, Erik. I was hurting, though, and didn't want to even think about the half marathon turnaround point up by the Capitol. They have you run literally 20 feet from the finish chute so you see it all but it's not your time.
There are still 13.1 miles to be run, and in my case and most cases, it is 13.1 miles to survive, not run. I kept putting one foot in front of the other and at the turn around I saw Ross. He called out my name but I was in rare form and was not in a position to support anyone but myself. It made me sad and I thought about that for miles but I couldn't worry about it at the time. I was just thinking "at least I'm still running."
When I came back to State Street for mile 14, I saw my family again and I let them know I was not feeling good. Ryan ran with me for a block and that helped, but I wanted to stop. In fact, I stopped right after I saw him at the next aid station. I walked it, ate more fruit and drank water and powerade and then I started jogging again. I think it was now that I finally saw Akemi. I was so worried about her because I never saw her. She looked really strong. I kept running, and I saw Steve Altman just before Camp Randall. He was walking. I wanted to walk, but I couldn't yet. I was around mile 16 by now. Soon after, I started the walking more than running. I would try to pick it up but it was getting dark and I was getting tired and dizzy actually. I made it to mile 19 to see my family one last time but I knew this was about to take a turn. When Ryan jogged with me, I started crying and I said, "I don't want to do this anymore. It's not fun anymore."
And, it's at that point that you become Iron. You can call it getting your shovel out or bonking or hitting rock bottom. Joe told me I'd make deals with the devil and Coach K told us we'd make withdrawls from the bank. Whatever you call it, it's humbling. I was so sick, I feared someone would pull me from the race. Anyone who does Ironman does it because they think they can. They know they're good enough to do it. I did it for the challenge and my awesome coach trained me so well that I went it to it blinded by the season of a lifetime. I never thought this moment would come when I would watch my times go out the window and have to start walking because I would have fallen over if I didn't stop running. It's an hour of desparation where you start wavering, literally, in your steps but you can't take your eyes off your watch.
What is my pace?
How much further am I ahead?
Or am I so far behind?
What the hell is going on?
I remember having the weirdest thoughts about trying to figure out how I could get a ride to another part of the course. It was crazy. I actually contemplated what would happen if one of my friends came over on a bike and offered it to me. What would I do. It was absolutely crazy.
It was during these miles that I realized it was time to just survive the race and finish. I knew I had about 7 miles left and I would have to walk them. Every time I looked down to the ground, my vision would get blurry and my head would literally spin. I couldn't even look down anymore. It was dark out now and I was along Lake Mendota for the final time. It is a long pitch black stretch that double-backs. It's 1.5 miles in length for a total of 3 miles like this. I started yawning uncontrollably and couldn't stop. I was freezing now because my clothes were were wet from the earlier sponges. I kept thinking to myself, I am walking in Chicago from OSB (Ohio Street Beach, where we swim) to Belmont, or Wilson. That is the same distance. Just picture the landmarks and you will be fine. I even started speed walking because it occured to me that it might actually warm me up when another girl was speed walking past me.
At one point, I was walking with my eyes closed and I wandered onto the grass. Some guy grabbed my arm and asked if I was OK. I told him in a matter of fact way, "I keep falling asleep while I'm walking." He informed me that this was "dangerous" but I could do was laugh because what did he think I was going to do? Stop the race?! Not now.
And, so that's how it went all the way to mile 23. That's when another guy walked up next to me and started chatting. I went along with it for once and started telling him how I wasn't doing well and that I know I should be excited that we're at mile 23. He walked with me for a mile and by the end of that mile, I was actually alert again. My stomach cramps were getting worse and I found a port-o-potty literally right in time. After that, I decided I would try to jog again. I mean, I only had 2 more miles!
Just before mile 25, on Henry Street, I noticed that a girl passed me who looked like one of my teammates. She was jogging so I thought it's time to start running! And so I did. One foot in front of the other, I realized that either it really didn't hurt as bad anymore or I couldn't feel the pain anymore. It didn't matter.
I turned onto State Street and saw the Capitol. It was like Heaven. The crowds were still going and out of nowhere my friend, Erik, jumped in front of me. He was screaming, "YOU DID IT! YOU'RE HERE!!!" I almost started crying. I couldn't put into words at that moment what I had just been through physically and emotionally so I just looked into his eyes and said, "You have no idea! I just walked 8 miles, Erik! It was crazy!" Except, he definitely had an idea because he did Ironman last year. He just kept smiling and cheering me on and ran with me all the way to the stop of State Street. He let me go and just screamed for at me, "YOU'RE AN IRONMAN! GET IT!"
The last half mile of this race is in bright lights, crowds everywhere, as you round the beautiful lit Capital Building. This is where I finally saw Joe on the marathon course. He jumped in front of me and screamed the same things Erik did.
THERE SHE IS! YOU DID IT!
He wanted me to stop and give him a hug but I just wanted to finish. He told me my time doesn't matter anymore but getting a hug does but little did he know I had another agenda :)
I got my hug and started sprinted. It occured to me in these final 400 yards, why the hell couldn't I do this 6 miles ago! What the hell!
It goes by so fast. The crowds are everywhere and they're just screaming. The lights are bright and then you turn the corner. You see 20 feet ahead the sign that that you dreaded before and it says with corresponding arrows, "This Way to TurnAround" and then "THIS WAY TO FINISH."
And, this time you get to choose FINISH. I don't remember it at all, but I remember feeling like it was the moment of a lifetime. I saw my family on the right side, they were ecstatic to see I was actually alive, and then I hear Gil's voice in the crowd of thousands screaming "GO BRAVI!!!" on the left! I turn to find him and out of thousands of faces, I find him. He is jumping up and down and pointing to the finish!!
LORI BRAVI, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!!!!!!!!!!
14:44.09 was my time. In the end, it was an amazing time.
Overall DIV
1876 86/139
SWIM 1:36.54 (2:33 pace) 2211 112/139
T1 12.04
BIKE 7:11.17 (15.6 mph) 1990 83/139
T2 7.00
RUN 5:36.56 (12.52 min/mile) 1665 84/139
Ironman is not something you take for granted or disprespect. You train for thousands of miles in the pool and in the open water, on the bike and in your shoes. You laugh, you cry, you feel pain and you feel strength. It is a gift to have a body that cooperates and it is a gift to have the time. It requires concentration and control, discipline and desire. Ironman is not about the finish line but about the journey there and having the ability to calculate actions to accomplish an endurance goal.
This year was the best year of my life because of this sport and what it's taught me. So here's to my family who supported me along the way and my friends who took time from their busy lives to understand what I was trying to accomplish. Here's to my coaches Liz and Keith, who showed me what I am capable of achieving with hard work and time.
And, finally, here's to my team that stuck together through wind, hail, sun, rain, tears of joy and tears of pain. We went into this as individuals but we came across the finish as one. Akemi, Brian, Erika, Ross, Jeff, Dave, Chris, Criss, Ryan, Tory, Gina, Cliff, Deb, Jenny, and Meghan....
This is only the beginning :)
I started the day feeling great. Other than the expected nerves, mostly from just wanting to get this started already, I knew I was ready to take it on. My alarm was set to go off at 3:45am; however, my body naturally woke up at 2:30. I laid in bed for 30 minutes checking the weather from my phone and spent time reviewing in my head what I put in my special needs bag. Luckily, it was then that I remembered that I never put my spare tire in my bike special needs bag. I would need to save time to go down to the garage and get it out of the car where I left it. I also was thinking about how I still needed to call the Hampton Inn, where the rest of my family was staying, to make sure the hotel didn't charge them a second night. In the frenzy of arriving in Madison, I forget to change that detail for them. Since I had a few extra things to do now, I decided to get up and get going around 3am.
Time went by faster than you'd think. I ate my Banana Nut Crunch cereal, made coffee just for one sip and then into the shower. Before I knew it, it was 4:10 and I still hadn't been down to the car and still needed to add water to 8 water bottles to mix my nutrition. By 4:25, I was working on the bottles and was 15 minutes away from meeting Akemi to go downtstairs.
By 4:45, we were off to the start. Even as we were walking over, I don't think it hit us yet. We got to transition by 5, dropped off our special needs bags, added items to our swim to bike and bike to run bags, hit the bathrooms and then brought our nutrition to our bikes in transition. We pumped air in our tires, checked our computers, and got our bodies marked. Before we knew it, it was 5:55 and time to meet my mom by the Run Out. There she was already, smiles from ear to ear and more comforting than I could ever put into words. I got a big hug and kiss from her and you could tell she was just as nervous for us and we were for ourselves suddenly. The sun was just about to rise and there was a reddish orange hue to the horizon over Lake Monona. We still hadn't seen the buoys but were about to in just moments. Akemi and I looked at each other 5 minutes later after some pictures and said, "Let's do this." I got my final hug and kiss from my dearest and most supportive fan. It was time.
Akemi and I headed over to the helix and got our first glimpse of the buoys and swim course. Akemi had actually been able to see the course and swim it 3 weeks earlier during the one special training morning set up for the athletes. I couldn't go because it was the same day as my sister's wedding. I am all about preparing so there are no surprises and it bothered me the most to not be able to see the actual course size ahead of time. Once I saw it, I was really ready. It was massive, but I knew it would be. I trained in this lake at least 5 times this summer, let alone Lake Michigan nearly 2-3 times/week since May. I have to say, though, it always looks bigger than you think it would!!!
We were still holding our wetsuits at this point, so after getting down the helix to the ground level, it was time to keep moving along. We went into the porto-potty lines right away, got into our wetsuits, ran into Cliff (a fellow teammate), dropped off our morning clothes bag and that was literally it. It REALLY WAS time now.
It was around 6:25 at this point and we spent the next 10 minutes standing on the right side of the swim chute, waiting for the moment we felt ready to get in. The cannon wasn't going off for another 35 minutes so it was too early to start treading water. However, in that 10 minutes of waiting, it went from 1-2 people walking past us to get in at a time to hoards of people getting in. It literally started happening before we could even realize it. It was 6:35 now, and we dediced that 6:42 would be the right time to get in for some reason. We settled on our strategy to enter on the right and swim the diagonal line into the swim course in an effort to stay out of the rush of top swimmers. We were in the water by 6:42 and made our way over toward the signature "ski jump" area. This was about 50 yards away from shore and about half way to the official start line. If you are an athlete worried about every second, then it is to your advantage to get as close as possible to that red start buoy because whether you're at the red buoy or not even in the water yet, when that cannon goes off, everyone's clock starts. Period. Akemi and I decided to go half way to the start and treaded water for 15 minutes. I have to say, I did a great job staying calm! At first, there was enought room comfortably to tread water here or there, 10 feet this way or 15 feet that way. Within minutes, though, it started to get really really packed. You could no longer get enough space to even lay on your stomach because there were feet, legs, arms, torsos hitting you every second. I had to really focus to stay in control, but I did. The pros just were just about to go off at 6:50 but there were 10 minutes still before we would be able to start. I realized that Akemi wasn't next to me anymore but she waved out and was only about 10 athletes away. I still felt her strength with me. The cannon for the pros went off and the announcer was informing athletes in the water to move closer to the red start buoy and pushing along the athletes still on land that there was no more time to wait. GET IN. Another 5 minutes pass, I still haven't looked back, and then they announce the national anthem will now be sung. I am still OK because I'm on the right outside edge, in the front row, thinking that I will be in the safe zone. However, as I turn back toward the shore for the anthem, my worst fear is confirmed. I am in front of what is literally hundreds of only RED swim caps bobbing up and down. THE GUYS. ONYL GUYS. YOUNG GUYS who are out to WIN. There was nowhere to go even if I tried. All I could think about was the movie JAWS and the background music to go along with it. One of the guys must have seen the fear of death in my eyes and he said almost in an irritated voice,
"How fast are you swimming this."
"Not as fast as you guys." (Keep in mind that I'm hoping for a 1:40 swim split)
"Well, we're swimming under :55."
HO-LY-SHIT.
I just reminded myself of what Coach K kept telling us about the swim start. The first 10-15 minutes will be nuts. Just remember that it will pass and just keep thinking in 10-15 minutes it will be better.
As soon as the anthem finished and the crowd roared, the announcer yelled,
"THEY CAN HEEEAAARRR YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!"
And the crowd roared louder. The sun was rising and then we heard the the first beats of U2's "Beautiful Day." The announcer yelled,
"LESS THAN ONE MINUTE!"
"You WILL be an IRONMAN today!!"
And as soon as it got to the part,
"It's a BEAUTIFUL DAY! DON'T LET IT SLIP AWAY!" The cannon went off!
You just swim, one stroke after another, one breath as you can get it. The first 15 minutes really were insane. Guys were literally swimming over me. But, I held my own and just kept it going. It was really exciting and I felt confident despite being in a sea of total madness! My plan to enter on the right and aim for the first buoy from a diagonal was working, but I have to admit I must have added on a half mile throughout the 2.4 mile course by doing so because my perimeter stayed wide, about 25 meters from the buoy line. In retrospect, I would do it again, because after the first 15 minutes, it was no worse than Steelhead in terms of fighting for space. Throughout the swim, I felt fast and not tired. The biggest problem was other athlete's not sighting well and swimming away from the buoys into me. That's expected, though. the other problem was that my right goggle filled with water almost immediately and I couldn't fix it. Oh well, I thought. When I came to the first red turn buoy, it was an exciting milestone and I knew the second one was only minutes away before heading around the back length. Again, the third turn buoy came faster than I thought and it only made me feel stronger. Before I knew it, I was on the back side of the rectangle again and was about to head home around the last buoy. I remember some girl swam into ME and then she yelled, "HEY!" I looked at her when I took a breath and all I could think of was, "NO! Hey YOU!" Nice one, huh!!
The other thought that occupied my mind during the swim was how it would be so great for my FAMILY the sooner they could see me come out of the water because there's no way for them to know how you're doing during the swim. If I were a family member, I would be freaking out! When I exited the water, I remembered to lap my Garmin correctly and that's when I noticed it said, "1:36!" WOOT! I actually thought it would've been faster based on how fast I felt, but I could care less at that point. I knew I added a ton of distance on by swimming 25 yards outside the buoys and I was happy with that decision.
As I got to the top of the helix and saw my family, I was ecstatic! I ran over and gave my mom a huge kiss and hug, got my energizing high five from her, gave my dad a kiss and hug and was off to transition. I also saw Joe coming up the helix and he jumped in front of me screaming, "HERE SHE IS! HERE SHE IS!!!!" He picked me up and gave me a huge hug and kiss as well. Everyone is always worried about the swim :)
Transition was crazy but the volunteers were absolutely wonderful. I had to completely change out of of my swim suit and into my uniform. My sports bra was completely twised up from my wet skin and my leg was shaking from adrenaline, but I felt awesome. As I ran out of the transition changing area and outside, I saw my best friend in the whole world screaming for me, it was unreal. She made it here and I just couldn't believe it! It was amazing. I ran over to my bike and got going.
The bike started great and stayed great the entire ride. On the stick out, I really had to hit the port-o-potty because I couldn't go in the water! After I took care of that, I was down to business. I was looking at my computer and the time and was right where I wanted to be. I saved 7 minutes in the swim and was hoping to save 5 minutes on the stick out, which I did. I was not 12 minutes ahead. The whole time, I was faced with adjusting my documented race plan times that my coach and family had compared to what I really wanted. Somewhere along this bike course, I would have to shave off 50 minutes in order to hit the marathon before 4pm instead of the planned 5:10. I knew my 4:20 run estimate might very well be way off so I needed to compensate for that as well. I knew I could hit 7:15 on the bike since that was within reach to what I had been doing out here all summer if you subtract out red ligths, construction and goofing off in between loops.
I was eating as planned and made an effort to time my bars with aid stations so I could get water from there, per Liz's recommendation to avoid a sloshy stomach like Epic Monday. I felt bad drinking only a 1/4 of a bottle and then tossing it, but hey, this is IRONMAN and I'm doing what I need to do. By the time I got to Mineral Point and Garfoot Road, I was almost 30 minutes ahead of schedule. SWEETNESS. This is exaclty what I needed because at this point I was also remembering that even though I would hope to ride the second loop just as fast, I actually have never been close to that in training. I was always 15 minutes off. When I saw everyone with Mom's awesome yellow signs, it was the BEST feeling EVER! It also made me happy because I knew they'd be pumped to see me ahead as schedule and looking strong as well.
The next part of the course would be Cross Plains and I knew I'd see some of the WellFit team and my friend, Nick. It was great! They saw me right away and were cheering like crazy. Next up was Birch. The "Tour D'France climb." I was supposed to see Joe there so I was really looking forward to that. Instead, I saw my friend, Nga, who is the cutest ever! She was running after me with her camera, it was super awesome.
The next area would be just a mile ahead at Old Sauk Pass and that's when I was cheered on by Coach K, Keith, my swim coach. He was PUMPED! IT was awesome! I also saw my friend Erik there as well. The funniest spectator out there was this guy who was only wearing the shortest red velvet santa shorts ever with a huge chain of jingle bells! He jumped in front of me with those bells and said, "What do YOU want for Christmas little lady?! IRONMAN!" It kept me laughing for miles. I also saw two ladies holding signs...the first one said, "Ironmen are SEXY!" and then the second one said, "But IRONWOMEN ARE SEXIER!" I thought that was the best and then I realized it was my friend, Clare, holding the sign! AWESOME!
At this point, I was at least 35 minutes ahead schedule, maybe even 40 minutes. The next turn after Timber is Midtown Hill. This is the last significant climb of each loop and I was about to see the mastermind behind my success...Coach Liz. As I started climbing the hill, I noticed Chris, her husband, first and then screamed her name as soon as I saw her turn around with little Max, her 7 week old son. She grabbed the megaphone and yelled, "GO LORI!!!" It was great. It was about 25 meters later than Joe finally jumped in front of me. I had been waiting to see him since the swim. He was so excited, it was great.
I thought that would be it for my fan club at Midtown Hill because I told my family to skip it due to traffic backups with crossing Timber on Mineral Point. But, THERE THEY WERE!!!!! It was so great! I saw my Mom's bright yellow signs and all of their tshirts from about 100 yards away and I started waving like crazy. The best part of Ironman is showing your family you're alive and loving it. This is exactly how I felt the entire swim and ride. It was heaven on earth. I'd later realize that everytime I saw them on the course, they'd be waving my yellow signs, Ryan would be first waiting with the camera, Jeff would be next with the videocamera and Mom, Melissa, Nana, and Dad would usually be my grand finale for the smiles I couldn't wait to see. Leave it up to my Mom to make sure they all got to Timber to surprise me. She told me a few days after the race that they barely made it to that spot in time, but she wanted to take a chance. It works every time!
I carried on with the race down Shady Oak and back into Verona for Loop 2. It was definitely getting hot out now and it was about 12:15 by now. I decided that all I'd need out of my Bike Special Needs Bag would be my nutrition refills and one power bar. By this point, I ate 1/2 power bar before the race, 1 bar after the swim in transition and first few miles of the bike, and 1 bar on the first loop. That was good for the amount of time I had been out so far on the bike (roughly 3:15 by now). I was drinking my Infinit (2 full aerobottles by mile 56 at special needs) and I supplemented 4-5 oz water at every aid station with my power bar bites to prevent the sloshy stomach.
Loop 2 was surprisingly fast. I got through Valley Road, G, and 92 faster than I thought I would. Barely added 5 minutes onto my total split by that point. When I got to Mount Horeb, I was hurting. It was really hot out, all sun, and that's when I think I started to feel dehydrated. It is a very long stretch of false flats, so basically you are climbing for 20 miles straight- it's not fun, especially the second time around in hot sun. At this point, I think I started to get really thirsty and I made the mistake of thinking that my Infinit was making me thirstier. I continued to take water at the aid stations but you can only drop the bottles during the actual aid station unless you want a penalty. In retrospect, I definitely should have taken 2 minutes to pull over, dump out a bottle of Infinit and pour in plain water. But during the race, you don't always think clearly. You think about time. I saw my friend, Krisa, on the top of Mount Horeb, which was a HUGE surprise and very much needed.
I rode through Mount Horeb and onto "S" to my favorite, Witte Road, for a final time. This was turning out to be the ride of a lifetime and I don't want to ever forget it. The same sign, "Do what's right. Return the saw" that I saw on the fierce descent of Witte Road right before the mirrored climb was right there waiting for me like it was all summer. Over to Garfoot, up to Mineral Point, screaming cheers from my family again and my final descent into the Cross Plains valley- it was all like Heaven On Earth. I was doing the math and I was on track- 30 minutes to Birch, 5 up the climb, 20 to Midtown, 15 to Main, 10 to Whalen and 50 home. I had it and I knew it. I was going to get up the helix back at transition by 4pm and that was going to be a moment to remember.
And, that's just how it happened, too. I saw my family for another surprise at Midtown Hill, which was more needed than I thought because Liz AND Joe had already left the area to hit the marathon course back in Madison. After I saw them, I got my final wind and that was it.
I worked hard to set up that swim and ride, and two transitions, with enough time to run a 4:50 marathon. I didn't over-exert myself though because I was hitting the sames times I'd be hitting all summer, maybe 10 minutes ahead. The only problem I would later calculate was that I stopped drinking. I only consumed one aerobottle (1.5 water bottles) of Infinit, and about 16 oz of water on the second loop of 2 1/2 hours. That was not enough in the end.
Once I rode up the helix, it was a few minutes before 4 if I remember correctly. I was only in transition 7 minutes and that included a stop in the port-o-potty! AWESOME! I decided to change into running shorts and changed my socks before the marathon. It's funny, because when I write "marathon" it seems unbearable to me. I think that's where I went right and where I went wrong during the final weeks of training.
I can be a head case sometimes, that's no secret of most serious triathletes. And so, I almost never referred to the run part of Ironman as a MARATHON. It would have sent me over the edge I think. Instead, I always called it "the run." You know, like a little run. A 6 mile run. 4 times. That's not so bad. Plus a couple finish line miles up State St and around the Capitol. You'd never even feel it. That's what I actually thought.
When I left transition, I dumped out my infinit powder and filled my little 6 oz hand bottle with water because I was so thirsty. DUH. PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO MY BODY. I also took 2 bites of my MOJO bar, a pretzel and chocolate mix. It was making me thirstier. As soon as I crossed under the RUN OUT exit from transition, you run up a big hill right away. It's not fun, but I knew I would see my family at the stop sign one block away. There they were! It was great. They couldn't believe I was starting the marathon 1 hour and 10 minutes earlier than planned. I think they thought I was invincible just as I had once believed.
Almost immediately, I started to get little stomach pains, like I had to burp. It was definitely gas related, but nothing would come out. 2-3 miles into the run, it got worse. Every step was like a sharp pain, but I was still trying to run. I stopped and walked the second major aid station at mile 3.5 to have some grapes, orange slices, powerade and water. I also grabbed some potato chips! Suddenly I realized how dangerous walking can be. Try running again. It sucks.
I did start running again and this was uncomfortable, but I kept it going. I knew most of the course but not the next couple of miles so I used it as motivation to keep running. It was fun for a while. I saw Marc Robertson heading to the finsih ath this point, he must have been at mile 24 and I knew he was just about on target for a Kona qualifying time. I also saw Kimber who looked very strong as well, another one headed for Kona. Before I knew it, I was through Camp Randall, under the bridge where I volunteered last year, down the path by Mendota Lake, and back onto State Street to Mile 6 or so and to my family! YAY!!! That was very much needed but I have to say I think I felt OK still overall.
Once I passed them, we turned around again to head back over to the lake and then all the way back around. I saw Brian on his second loop but he was walking and that was weird. He must be hurting, too. I would see my family again around mile 12 and then again at 14 or so. By the time I got to Mile 12, I was hurting really bad. I couldn't find any coke except one sip because the aid stations were out, which was CRAZY, because it was actually early still. I had walked a few of the aid stations but also balanced that with jogging some of the smaller hills. The shooting pains didn't stop though. I made it to 12 where I saw my family again and got a picture with Diana, which was great. I also saw a lot of WellFit friends on State street at this point like Christine, Henry, Erik. I was hurting, though, and didn't want to even think about the half marathon turnaround point up by the Capitol. They have you run literally 20 feet from the finish chute so you see it all but it's not your time.
There are still 13.1 miles to be run, and in my case and most cases, it is 13.1 miles to survive, not run. I kept putting one foot in front of the other and at the turn around I saw Ross. He called out my name but I was in rare form and was not in a position to support anyone but myself. It made me sad and I thought about that for miles but I couldn't worry about it at the time. I was just thinking "at least I'm still running."
When I came back to State Street for mile 14, I saw my family again and I let them know I was not feeling good. Ryan ran with me for a block and that helped, but I wanted to stop. In fact, I stopped right after I saw him at the next aid station. I walked it, ate more fruit and drank water and powerade and then I started jogging again. I think it was now that I finally saw Akemi. I was so worried about her because I never saw her. She looked really strong. I kept running, and I saw Steve Altman just before Camp Randall. He was walking. I wanted to walk, but I couldn't yet. I was around mile 16 by now. Soon after, I started the walking more than running. I would try to pick it up but it was getting dark and I was getting tired and dizzy actually. I made it to mile 19 to see my family one last time but I knew this was about to take a turn. When Ryan jogged with me, I started crying and I said, "I don't want to do this anymore. It's not fun anymore."
And, it's at that point that you become Iron. You can call it getting your shovel out or bonking or hitting rock bottom. Joe told me I'd make deals with the devil and Coach K told us we'd make withdrawls from the bank. Whatever you call it, it's humbling. I was so sick, I feared someone would pull me from the race. Anyone who does Ironman does it because they think they can. They know they're good enough to do it. I did it for the challenge and my awesome coach trained me so well that I went it to it blinded by the season of a lifetime. I never thought this moment would come when I would watch my times go out the window and have to start walking because I would have fallen over if I didn't stop running. It's an hour of desparation where you start wavering, literally, in your steps but you can't take your eyes off your watch.
What is my pace?
How much further am I ahead?
Or am I so far behind?
What the hell is going on?
I remember having the weirdest thoughts about trying to figure out how I could get a ride to another part of the course. It was crazy. I actually contemplated what would happen if one of my friends came over on a bike and offered it to me. What would I do. It was absolutely crazy.
It was during these miles that I realized it was time to just survive the race and finish. I knew I had about 7 miles left and I would have to walk them. Every time I looked down to the ground, my vision would get blurry and my head would literally spin. I couldn't even look down anymore. It was dark out now and I was along Lake Mendota for the final time. It is a long pitch black stretch that double-backs. It's 1.5 miles in length for a total of 3 miles like this. I started yawning uncontrollably and couldn't stop. I was freezing now because my clothes were were wet from the earlier sponges. I kept thinking to myself, I am walking in Chicago from OSB (Ohio Street Beach, where we swim) to Belmont, or Wilson. That is the same distance. Just picture the landmarks and you will be fine. I even started speed walking because it occured to me that it might actually warm me up when another girl was speed walking past me.
At one point, I was walking with my eyes closed and I wandered onto the grass. Some guy grabbed my arm and asked if I was OK. I told him in a matter of fact way, "I keep falling asleep while I'm walking." He informed me that this was "dangerous" but I could do was laugh because what did he think I was going to do? Stop the race?! Not now.
And, so that's how it went all the way to mile 23. That's when another guy walked up next to me and started chatting. I went along with it for once and started telling him how I wasn't doing well and that I know I should be excited that we're at mile 23. He walked with me for a mile and by the end of that mile, I was actually alert again. My stomach cramps were getting worse and I found a port-o-potty literally right in time. After that, I decided I would try to jog again. I mean, I only had 2 more miles!
Just before mile 25, on Henry Street, I noticed that a girl passed me who looked like one of my teammates. She was jogging so I thought it's time to start running! And so I did. One foot in front of the other, I realized that either it really didn't hurt as bad anymore or I couldn't feel the pain anymore. It didn't matter.
I turned onto State Street and saw the Capitol. It was like Heaven. The crowds were still going and out of nowhere my friend, Erik, jumped in front of me. He was screaming, "YOU DID IT! YOU'RE HERE!!!" I almost started crying. I couldn't put into words at that moment what I had just been through physically and emotionally so I just looked into his eyes and said, "You have no idea! I just walked 8 miles, Erik! It was crazy!" Except, he definitely had an idea because he did Ironman last year. He just kept smiling and cheering me on and ran with me all the way to the stop of State Street. He let me go and just screamed for at me, "YOU'RE AN IRONMAN! GET IT!"
The last half mile of this race is in bright lights, crowds everywhere, as you round the beautiful lit Capital Building. This is where I finally saw Joe on the marathon course. He jumped in front of me and screamed the same things Erik did.
THERE SHE IS! YOU DID IT!
He wanted me to stop and give him a hug but I just wanted to finish. He told me my time doesn't matter anymore but getting a hug does but little did he know I had another agenda :)
I got my hug and started sprinted. It occured to me in these final 400 yards, why the hell couldn't I do this 6 miles ago! What the hell!
It goes by so fast. The crowds are everywhere and they're just screaming. The lights are bright and then you turn the corner. You see 20 feet ahead the sign that that you dreaded before and it says with corresponding arrows, "This Way to TurnAround" and then "THIS WAY TO FINISH."
And, this time you get to choose FINISH. I don't remember it at all, but I remember feeling like it was the moment of a lifetime. I saw my family on the right side, they were ecstatic to see I was actually alive, and then I hear Gil's voice in the crowd of thousands screaming "GO BRAVI!!!" on the left! I turn to find him and out of thousands of faces, I find him. He is jumping up and down and pointing to the finish!!
LORI BRAVI, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!!!!!!!!!!!
14:44.09 was my time. In the end, it was an amazing time.
Overall DIV
1876 86/139
SWIM 1:36.54 (2:33 pace) 2211 112/139
T1 12.04
BIKE 7:11.17 (15.6 mph) 1990 83/139
T2 7.00
RUN 5:36.56 (12.52 min/mile) 1665 84/139
Ironman is not something you take for granted or disprespect. You train for thousands of miles in the pool and in the open water, on the bike and in your shoes. You laugh, you cry, you feel pain and you feel strength. It is a gift to have a body that cooperates and it is a gift to have the time. It requires concentration and control, discipline and desire. Ironman is not about the finish line but about the journey there and having the ability to calculate actions to accomplish an endurance goal.
This year was the best year of my life because of this sport and what it's taught me. So here's to my family who supported me along the way and my friends who took time from their busy lives to understand what I was trying to accomplish. Here's to my coaches Liz and Keith, who showed me what I am capable of achieving with hard work and time.
And, finally, here's to my team that stuck together through wind, hail, sun, rain, tears of joy and tears of pain. We went into this as individuals but we came across the finish as one. Akemi, Brian, Erika, Ross, Jeff, Dave, Chris, Criss, Ryan, Tory, Gina, Cliff, Deb, Jenny, and Meghan....
This is only the beginning :)
Saturday, September 11, 2010
IRONMAN WISCONSIN is here!!!
Wow, it is finally here. This has been a journey like no other, one that I couldn't have imagined completing, let alone loving, in a million years. Exactly one year ago, I came to Madison to cheer on my good friend, Joe Lotus, at Ironman Wisconsin. I had 3 olympic distance triathlons and a season of training, but not competing in, a Half Ironman as my entire triathlon repetoire. These races over the course of only 1 year were a far cry from considering doing an IRONMAN. I drove 3 hours to Madison last year on 2 hours of sleep after the U2 concert in Chicago and ended up spending the entire day wrapped up in all that was Ironman. I had planned on staying for a few hours, but I didn't leave until after he crossed the finish line.
There was something that drew me in, something that was bigger than I was capable of ever imagining. I had only one year of experience in this sport but this one day changed my perspective forever. As the day went on, fellow spectators would ask, "Have you ever done one?" or friends would ask me, "Are you going to sign up next year?" NO! was my first response. By the end of the day, when I was driving home over 12 hours later, it's all I could think about.
"WOULD I ever consider signing up?"
"How would I even fit this in!"
"Maybe I would love it."
"I know I need to do this. Now is the time."
The next day, I went to work having decided this was it. Everyone considering signing up knew that the only way to possibly get a spot for Madison is to start by volunteering. Only a few hundred spots would be left for those who were lucky enough to get through on the website at exactly 12 noon the day after race day. I had 4 computers going at work and 3 friends ready to help pull the trigger. After feverishly typing through various screens of USAT numbers, credit card numbers, addresses, medical form waivers, INSURANCE CARD INFO (! WHAT! They need my insurance card information even?! This is serious!)...
"CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE REGISTERED FOR THE 2010 FORD IRONMAN WISCONSIN."
By 12:01, the race was already closed.
I was IN.
Here I am, 12 months later, ready to conquer this course. I have been transformed as an athlete, 180 degrees from where I was a year ago. My coach extraordinaire, Elizabeth Waterstraat, is where it all started. She coached a Pre-Season group that I was in starting November 1st and after the first week, I knew I was in the best hands possible. I never looked back.
Liz prepared me better than I could have ever imagined. I knew that if I just trusted her and followed the plan day in and day out, I would do this. Somehow, along the way, I was running a 5K in 22 minutes at a 7:11 pace and a half marathon in 1:51. Somewhere else along the way, my long rides became weekends in Madison, 8 to be exact, training for 5-6-7-8 hours a day on the bike. Somewhere along the way, I realized after the fact, that the "marathon training" part of this would be taking place as an afterthought...on almost always what turned out to be Wednesday nights as opposed to the traditional saturday or sunday marathon training long run day. Our long runs were intentionally placed on the day after our 3-hour intense bike computrainer workouts in the middle of the week, on a work night. We needed to simulate fatigue on the run after riding like it would happen in Ironman. We weren't running 8 or 10 miles on these Wednesday nights, but 16, 17, 18 miles. We would have 4 more days of each training week after that before a rest day.
All year long, week after week, hill after hill after hill, I never looked back or questioned why I was doing this. I realized that I love doing this, especially in a world where so many cannot.
Tomorrow will be the biggest day of my life so far. I will be scared, nervous, excited, emotional, strong, and weak. I will manage it all like a skilled athlete who trusts the plan and doesn't waiver. I have prepared to succeed, and I will race as I've trained. Strong and steady, controlled.
I will think about my family, and especially my mom. She has been with me the whole way and these last 2 days have not been easy with me :) I will think of my family and my friends here with me from hundreds of miles away and I will also feel the push from friends and family across the country who are wearing the same tshirts my family is wearing in Madison. I will think about how lucky I am to be here. I work in a world where people cannot feed themselves or think for themselves. I will think of my patient, Mike, who told me on Wednesday in his soft african accent, "Lori, I will be thinking of you. You will feel me push you to the finish line." He is 52 years old, a father of 3 with his fourth on the way who is married for 30 years to love of his life. He had a severe stroke that left him with severe paralysis and much difficulty with the most basic problem solving and attention. I will hear his voice on G, and 92, when the wind is pushing me sideways around 2 pm and I get weak on another hill. His words will give me strength.
I will think of my young 19 year-old patient, Jessica, who has fought her own race this year. During a time when life seemed impossible for her, she managed to support ME in my racing and it will be her sassy smile that I think of when I want to walk instead of run.
I will think about how this is only the beginning and I will thank God for showing me a way to make the most of my body and mind for decades to come.
My time is estimated to come in, hopefully, under 14:30. I will be very proud of that accomplishment. Anything less will be icing on the cake.
For the final Facebook status update,
"MADTOWN."
There was something that drew me in, something that was bigger than I was capable of ever imagining. I had only one year of experience in this sport but this one day changed my perspective forever. As the day went on, fellow spectators would ask, "Have you ever done one?" or friends would ask me, "Are you going to sign up next year?" NO! was my first response. By the end of the day, when I was driving home over 12 hours later, it's all I could think about.
"WOULD I ever consider signing up?"
"How would I even fit this in!"
"Maybe I would love it."
"I know I need to do this. Now is the time."
The next day, I went to work having decided this was it. Everyone considering signing up knew that the only way to possibly get a spot for Madison is to start by volunteering. Only a few hundred spots would be left for those who were lucky enough to get through on the website at exactly 12 noon the day after race day. I had 4 computers going at work and 3 friends ready to help pull the trigger. After feverishly typing through various screens of USAT numbers, credit card numbers, addresses, medical form waivers, INSURANCE CARD INFO (! WHAT! They need my insurance card information even?! This is serious!)...
"CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE REGISTERED FOR THE 2010 FORD IRONMAN WISCONSIN."
By 12:01, the race was already closed.
I was IN.
Here I am, 12 months later, ready to conquer this course. I have been transformed as an athlete, 180 degrees from where I was a year ago. My coach extraordinaire, Elizabeth Waterstraat, is where it all started. She coached a Pre-Season group that I was in starting November 1st and after the first week, I knew I was in the best hands possible. I never looked back.
Liz prepared me better than I could have ever imagined. I knew that if I just trusted her and followed the plan day in and day out, I would do this. Somehow, along the way, I was running a 5K in 22 minutes at a 7:11 pace and a half marathon in 1:51. Somewhere else along the way, my long rides became weekends in Madison, 8 to be exact, training for 5-6-7-8 hours a day on the bike. Somewhere along the way, I realized after the fact, that the "marathon training" part of this would be taking place as an afterthought...on almost always what turned out to be Wednesday nights as opposed to the traditional saturday or sunday marathon training long run day. Our long runs were intentionally placed on the day after our 3-hour intense bike computrainer workouts in the middle of the week, on a work night. We needed to simulate fatigue on the run after riding like it would happen in Ironman. We weren't running 8 or 10 miles on these Wednesday nights, but 16, 17, 18 miles. We would have 4 more days of each training week after that before a rest day.
All year long, week after week, hill after hill after hill, I never looked back or questioned why I was doing this. I realized that I love doing this, especially in a world where so many cannot.
Tomorrow will be the biggest day of my life so far. I will be scared, nervous, excited, emotional, strong, and weak. I will manage it all like a skilled athlete who trusts the plan and doesn't waiver. I have prepared to succeed, and I will race as I've trained. Strong and steady, controlled.
I will think about my family, and especially my mom. She has been with me the whole way and these last 2 days have not been easy with me :) I will think of my family and my friends here with me from hundreds of miles away and I will also feel the push from friends and family across the country who are wearing the same tshirts my family is wearing in Madison. I will think about how lucky I am to be here. I work in a world where people cannot feed themselves or think for themselves. I will think of my patient, Mike, who told me on Wednesday in his soft african accent, "Lori, I will be thinking of you. You will feel me push you to the finish line." He is 52 years old, a father of 3 with his fourth on the way who is married for 30 years to love of his life. He had a severe stroke that left him with severe paralysis and much difficulty with the most basic problem solving and attention. I will hear his voice on G, and 92, when the wind is pushing me sideways around 2 pm and I get weak on another hill. His words will give me strength.
I will think of my young 19 year-old patient, Jessica, who has fought her own race this year. During a time when life seemed impossible for her, she managed to support ME in my racing and it will be her sassy smile that I think of when I want to walk instead of run.
I will think about how this is only the beginning and I will thank God for showing me a way to make the most of my body and mind for decades to come.
My time is estimated to come in, hopefully, under 14:30. I will be very proud of that accomplishment. Anything less will be icing on the cake.
For the final Facebook status update,
"MADTOWN."
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