2023 IRONMAN 70.3 North Carolina Race Report -- John Witmer

About Me

To provide some context for those looking to consume some content for reference. I'm 35 and work as a software consultant and Jim (coach) was able to tailor the training around my travel schedule which was a huge help.  NC 70.3 was my 5th 70.3 but my first using a dedicated tri-coach. I had completed a 70.3 each year the past 5 years minus the COVID year. In my previous races, I always ended up bonking out and needing to walk in during the run at some point which was really frustrating since I felt that I was training so hard (which with the knowledge I have now after coaching, was the reason I wasn't performing to my capabilities). During those races I was able to drop my times from 6:35 to 5:33 but still didn't feel great at the end of the 5:33 race at Indian Wells and had to take multiple walking breaks to keep my HR under 190bpm.

I was under The Endurance Drive directive for 6 months prior to the race and felt that I was quite consistent with two 1 week breaks during that span. One week to move to Boston from San Diego and the other week to indulge in Oktoberfest in Germany. The training wasn't overwhelming and at times I felt like it was almost too easy since I wasn't used to ever training in Z2. My HR loves to stay around 160-180 and higher and trying to keep it around 145 (Z2) was really tough at the beginning and I had to run around a 12:00 min pace to keep it there. By the time I reached the race, I was doing my Z2 runs around 10:00. I provide my final thoughts at the end!

Pre-race

I like to wake around 3 hours before the start of the race. On this day, I woke around 4:30 and my dad and I left the hotel around 5:10. During this time I showered and did some thoracic spine stretches and had a fair amount of coffee with a bagel and a banana. 

My dad and I drove over to the T1 transition zone so that I could put air in my tires, mix my nutrition and use the restroom. I like to give myself plenty of time where I can relax and listen to some music. The lines for the restrooms weren't terrible at T1 and my dad waited for me so I could put a lot of my gear I didn't need back in his car. Once he left, I walked over to the buses that would take us to the swim start. On the bus ride over at 6:20am, I sat beside a guy doing his 19 70.3 and we chatted about his favorites and it kept my mind off the morning. 

Swim

For the swim, the 35 - 37 minute swimmers were in the 2nd parking lot awaiting. The faster groups were awaiting in the first parking lot. During this time I listened to some relaxing music, did some stretches and just tried to keep my heart rate low. I was obviously stressed since my watched beeped at me stating to do some breathing exercises since my stress levels seemed high. Just standing there my HR was around 110bpm and it was cold as hell with everyone else standing around shivering. I took a SIS gel at 7:10 thinking this would be 15 minutes but the start but it was really about 35 minutes before I started. Once our group moved over to the other lot around 7:35am I was able to put my morning clothes bag into the group of large totes in the first parking lot. The atmosphere was great and we crossed the road to where we walked down to the start. 

At 7:42 I got into the water and immediately noticed how much warmer the water was than the air. Water was around 69 degrees and it was about 53 outside. This race didn't have nearly as many people climbing over each other and there was a lot more room to spread out since they were releasing 5 people every 5 seconds.  I got into a rhythm and felt great from the start. I was surprised on how many people were grabbing onto the life raft/platforms within the first 100 meters. I think for some, it’s the first time in open water and especially very salty water and it can be overwhelming. I was able to sight really well since the sun was on my right eastern side. I felt that I swam the route well and didn't meander too much. The parts that were the most cluttered were the 3 main turns but even this wasn't terrible. The current was pushing us along and people were getting pushed slightly off course so people were trying to swim back around the turn buoys. My heavier than usual load of swim training put me in a great spot and I could tell when I needed to back off my pace some but never once felt tired or overexerting. Once I saw the ladders where the race was finished about 200 yards out, I thought to myself that I could have easily have done that distance again. I typically swim around a 1:50 pace in the pool and swam around a 1:27 pace. The ladders were easy to get up and I didn't have to wait at all.

Swim Time: 32:09

T1

Once I got up the ladders, I ran about 30 yards to the wetsuit strippers and they pulled it off quickly. From there it was about .4 miles of running barefoot on concrete and grass to the first transition. I was lucky to have a great spot that was easy to find near the entrance. I got my swim gear tucked into the T1 bag, got my bike gear put on quickly and was headed off. I dropped my bike after about 10 yards since I wasn't used to pushing the new bike (aero bars were heavier) but luckily it was in soft mud and didn't cause any issue.

T1 Time: 5:22

Bike 

I hopped on the bike and within 4 minutes took another SIS gel. It was really slow going the first 5 miles due to how narrow the one lane was and going over the bridges where we couldn't pass. It was within the first 5 miles where I noticed we would be having the solid forecasted headwind. I wasn't really able to get comfortable In aero until mile 6 but then things started to spread out. Initially I felt great on the bike and was able to get the HR stabilized and get into my push/pull rhythm. Around mile 6 we got onto the highways and here I was able to get aero and get a real feel for the bike since my only other long ride on the new QR X-PR was when I was sick. It felt incredibly smooth and handled very well in aero and I could tell I was hitting the quads more with the geometry of the bike. For about 20 miles this one guy kept drafting off me and this lady and she got pissed and called him out on it but he didn't care and continued. He was being reckless and it scared several people we passed. It was really hard not to draft or be near others due to so many bikers but this guy was obviously trying to reduce his headwinds. Unfortunately the course marshal didn't penalize him the 3 times they passed. The headwinds for the first 32 miles were anywhere from 10-15 mph but luckily the highway asphalt was smooth. I recommend not riding on the highway shoulders cause saw several people were getting popped tires from the debris on the shoulders. I was able to keep about 19.5 - 20 mph with all the headwinds and my legs were tired and I was able to keep my HR around 165 - 168 the entire way.

Once we got to mile 32 -35 and start turning around, it was go time. Headwinds turn to tailwinds on out-and-backs. I did have to stop quickly since my front thru axel seemed to be slowly unscrewing for some reason (perhaps knocked loose when I dropped the bike?) but I found an aid station, tightened it, grabbed a water and was able to be get going only losing about 45 seconds. I felt amazing on the way back and I mentally kept telling myself everyone feels great till around mile 35-40 when the wheels fall off and one starts having leg cramps like I usually do, but this time I felt really strong and could tell I was nailing the nutrition. I was able to pick up the speed consistently around 22-24 mph while maintaining the same HR and RPE. The difference between a road bike and a tri-bike were becoming more and more apparent. My support team was even able to drive their car beside me a few times and chat while I was on the highway and they were in the lane beside me which was really encouraging. I did have one guy in front of me starting peeing and looking like a water sprinkler in front of me and that was amusing. Around mile 50 I still felt really good and kept pushing up a notch until we crossed over the big bridge back into the town center. Once we got to the top of the bridge and started hammering down it, I was really excited to get to the run. I came into Wilmington and down some of the smaller streets with crowds cheering along the side and saw the dismount line. My HR was only around 170 at this point which was the best out of any race and I was ready. One thing to note, I was really impressed with how many aid stations there were on the bike course and the volunteers did great. 

Bike Time: 2:42 (20.99mph)

T2

I got to the dismount line and expected my quads and hamstring to tense up once clipping me out and I was pumped when I didn't have any fatigued feelings. Even the first steps off the bike felt solid. It was a really short downhill run and again had a great spot where I put up the bike, took another SIS gel, got my shoes and bib on quickly and ran to the exit at the bottom of the hill.

T2 Time: 2:41

Run

The first .5 miles felt really easy at a 8:15 pace and my HR at this point was about 171 once I get into my step. Running through the city at first was really cool since the crowds were huge. The first 1-2 miles had a lot of rolling hills but I noticed my 8:20 pace felt really smooth. I kept telling myself that I needed to stay at the goal of 8:30 pace but with my HR so low at the beginning I figured I could keep up the pace for a little to see how my body would react. Mentally, I kept telling myself to pace easy to be able to have a strong finish but the knees, HR, hips, quads and all told me I had more in me early on. Even on the uphill's I was able to maintain my HR to not fluctuate too much. Around mile 3 I got to the lake area and it was a well shaded section and then the run became a mind game. "Let's get to mile 6 and then and see how I feel". At mile 6 my HR was around 174 and I felt great. It was around here I saw the support crew and it gave me a boost. Mile 6.5 I was at the out-and-back turn-around past the Red Bull blow up and that was even more motivation. "Lets get to mile 8". HR was still around 175 with a pace around 8:10, so it was around 9 where I told myself that I could up my effort and just rip it and hold on from there. I got to a sub 8:00 pace comfortably and knew I had the hilly downtown area coming up but I wanted to see if I could mentally push myself and embrace the suck.

I was really impressed with how my body was continuing to pull from energy stores I hadn't experienced in previous races and I knew then that this training method was paying off. It was around mile 9 I looked at my overall race timer and my first thought was that the watch was off or it wasn't including my transition times cause it was far ahead of my goal. For a moment I thought, "Could I really make it in the sub 5:20 time?!".  I found this lady around mile 8 and ended up chasing her to maintain the sub 8 pace. I had my fastest mile as my last mile and not one time in the race did I have to take a walking break for the first time. Coming down the chute was such a great feeling and it was at that point I allowed myself to know that I executed that race as well as I could. I looked up and saw my name and then saw the finish time and couldn't believe it. I finished the run with an 8:08 pace (only 3-4 minutes slower than my fastest ever half marathon) and a final time of 5:08. This was 25 minutes better than my PR and 20 minutes faster than my goal. Train slower to race faster works.

"Don't stop when you're tired, stop when you're finished". 

Run Time: 1:45 (8:08 pace)

Nutrition

This made a HUGE difference. Some few small tweaks but I feel like I hit this spot on. I didn't have any stomach issues the issues the entire race and the Maurten's are perfect for my body. I walked each water station and would have 1-2 cups of water and then pour one over my head. Also, this was my first race not consuming solid foods.

John’s nutrition plan for IM 70.3 North Carolina.

Needed Tweaks

• Pre-Race

• Try to get around 1.5 bagels with a banana closer to race time

• Get to 1L of water w/ electrolytes

• Swim:

• Take a gel around 15 minutes before and not 40 minutes before

• I felt hungry coming out the water

• Bike

• Get to 1L per hour on the bike. 

• Get to 100g of carbs per hour

• Salt tabs worked perfect

• Run

• I can do a Maurten 100 around every 2 miles

• I got noticeably hungry around mile 5 so the extra carbs on the bike are needed

Final Thoughts

Admittedly, I was hesitant the week leading up to the race. It was my first time using a tri-coach (Jim!) and the first time with 80/20 method of training. I knew I was quite consistent with the workouts and was executing them well but I didn't feel like I was pushing myself hard enough. This is probably because with my previous 4 70.3s, I pushed myself around Zone 4 for every workout for months which looking back was just bad training and not allowing my body to recover. When people asked how I felt before the race, I didn't have much to compare to since this was my first time with the method and the 2 warm up tri's were Olympic distances where you push yourself hard the entire race. Once I got to mile 30 of the bike, I noticed that my quads and hamstrings weren't showing fatigue and it was starting to feeling promising. On the run, I couldn't believe I was able to maintain that fast pace and still regulate my HR. I felt like I was really pulling energy from sources I hadn't had before. I kept thinking the wheels would fall off at some point and they never did. Even coming across the line, I didn't feel that I had to kill myself to get to it. It was one of the first times I fully enjoyed the race and didn't have to completely suffer the entire final 2 hours. The training works. 

I'm looking forward to training for my first full distance Ironman with the Endurance Drive for August 2024 in Copenhagen!

2023 IRONMAN 70.3 Florida Race Report -- Izzy Wilson

Congratulations to U25 athlete Izzy on a 2nd-place AG finish and 70.3 World Champs qualification at IM 70.3 Florida! We’re so proud of you, Izzy!!

I think the biggest lesson from this race was how to navigate the uncontrollables. I consider myself a bit of a control freak and it makes me really anxious when things don't go as planned. The night before every race I often ruminate over everything that could go wrong that's completely outside of my control. Until this race, I was lucky enough to avoid those circumstances but the Florida 70.3 was a new challenge.

Going into the race, I had been feeling under the weather all week with a headache and congestion. Nothing serious but I was so worried that my body wasn't ready for what I was going to put it through. I was nervous about that to begin with and then the moment I jumped into the water the left side of my goggles filled with water. I quickly suctioned it and no more water leaked but it resulted in a half-blind swim with my left eye shut the entire time while I navigated the complex M-shaped course with my right eye. A minute later, someone clocked me in the head and I started seeing stars. I had a momentary panic attack that I wasn't going to be able to complete the swim at all and the whole race would be a failure. I talked myself out of it though and was able to recover into a rhythmic stroke. However, these three misfortunes just added to my initial anxiety and made the start of my race extremely stressful.

From the swim to the bike I was feeling really strong. My bike felt so speedy compared to the last race and I was gaining confidence watching my pace climb steadily. I got to 20 mph and felt like I could sustain it forever. It was also such a beautiful course and I found myself smiling the whole time as I whizzed past beautiful orange trees and beaches. 20 miles in I got a notification on my watch that it had 10% battery remaining and started freaking out again. How did it not charge all night?? I was so mad at myself for such a careless mistake and worried that my entire race strategy would be thrown off as a result. I wasn't going to know how often to fuel or what my pace and heart rate were. So I decided that this was an opportunity to make friends with everyone I encountered on the course and rely on their Garmins to gauge how I was doing. It ended up kind of being a blessing in disguise because I got to talk to so many people on the course and learn about their backgrounds. I was amazed by how fast the bike went by because instead of fixating on my pace and miles I was just chatting with people and enjoying the ride.

At mile 50 we hit a rough pavement section and it knocked my water bottle cage off and I dropped a chain. I had to pull over to the side of the road and frantically fix my chain praying that it was only a chain and nothing more serious. Luckily it was fixed in a matter of minutes and I spent those last 6 miles praying that I would just make it to the end without any more issues. 

Moving into the run, I could immediately feel how unsustainably high my heart rate was. Since I didn’t have a watch, I had nothing to gauge my pace or HR off but I knew it was probably way too high (turned out I was at 185 which makes sense...) Again, I decided this was my chance to pick a new friend to pace off of and I found a friendly triathlete from Florida who ran by my side the entire way. I was aiming for a 7'15'' to 7'30'' pace but once we hit the first hill at mile 2 and the temperature climbed to 85 degrees I knew this was not going to happen. It was SO HOT I felt like I was going to pass out every time I picked up the pace. So I gave up on pace entirely and just put my head down trying to survive one minute at a time. I had to stop at every single aid station to put ice in my jersey and dump water on my head. This was the hardest mental battle I've experienced in any race. The entire time by mind was telling me to stop as my HR and body temp kept climbing. Usually the run hurts physically but I've never struggled this much with my internal dialogue before. Having my new friend by my side was a saving grace because I kept telling myself that as long as he kept running I would stick with him. We were in it together. Every 3 miles we would fist bump and force a gel down our throats with a gag but it really helped having someone to get me out of my head and hold me accountable with my fueling strategy.

By the second half of the run, everyone was suffering. Most people were walking or slowing down a ton but it was pretty amazing seeing how high the energy on that course stayed throughout the physical pain. Everyone was cheering each other on and it was the most positive community of racers I've seen. It felt like trauma bonding in a way as we all laughed about our long lost PR goals and just put one foot in front of the other to get to the finish line. The last mile I emptied the tank and got my pace down to 6'10'' as I sprinted through the finish with my mom waiting for me in the distance. The whole run I had been picturing that moment of crossing the finish line and collapsing into a ball and I have to say it really did feel amazing. I fell to the ground right at the finish line and didn't get back up for a while as I tried to slow down my breathing.

I honestly still had no idea how the race went because I wasn't tracking my pace or overall time at all but the second I saw my mom she cheered "YOU GOT SECOND MY GIRL!" and gave me a huge hug. This was the best surprise ever and finding out that I beat my goal was the best reward that any athlete could ask for. I went into this race aiming for 5.5 hrs and 5th place and beat that goal by quite a bit. I stuck around for the awards ceremony and slot roll downs and was given the only spot in my age group to compete at the Ironman World Championships in New Zealand in 2024! Despite everything that happened along the way, I am really happy with how the race turned out and SO EXCITED to compete in New Zealand.

Putting this race into perspective, I think it was really good for me that it didn't go exactly as I hoped. I learned how to work around obstacles and not stress out when there are bumps in my ultra precise strategy. I am confident that I will go into my next race so much less anxious because this race proved to me that I CAN handle anything that comes my way. And I firmly believe that there are truly no bad things, just good content and good plot. All my (relatively minor) misfortunes weren't bad things, they were good content that gave me some laughs afterwards, new friends, and a good story to tell. I will carry this lesson into my life outside of triathlon and tackle life challenges or seemingly bad luck with the same perspective.

2023 IRONMAN California Race Report -- Liselle Pires

Race report by athlete Liselle Pires — congrats on an amazing race Liselle!!!

TLDR;

The race went really well! I had a comfortable swim of 56 min (woo, current!), and had to push past people casually walking around. I felt great, though, and excited knowing I would see Carl, my partner, soon. I fumbled through transition, dealing with a toe issue, but once I was on the bike I was happy. I had a great first 56 miles, with mild winds and lots of energy. My fueling plan went perfectly on the bike. Unfortunately, it poured about 65% in for me, which did affect my mental and physical state a lot. I powered through an hour of heavy rain, and raced back to transition. My legs were feeling awesome, and despite another slow transition, I started running, saw my friends cheering for me, and had a solid run. The run started to get slower and harder halfway through when the downpour started again and it got really dark. Those miles were the real test of the day. Ultimately, thanks to a deep desire to go home and my amazing crew spotting me so many times - I finished!

Before Race Day

I signed up for the Victoria 70.3 in 2019 on a bizarre whim with a friend who, like me, didn’t swim or bike, but foolishly thought “well, I’ve run marathons”. When COVID hit, we deferred our 2020 race to 2021, and I personally forgot all about it. In May of 2021, I remembered my plan and bought a bike, started riding, and learned how to swim (poorly) shortly after. I comfortably finished the WA 70.3 that fall and loved how I felt. It was just a fun experiment, but as an infinitely unsatisfied and antsy creature, I always feel compelled to explore my limits. A full ironman seemed as ridiculous as it gets. Knowing I was moving to SF, I signed up for IMCA 2022, but unfortunately, I struggled that summer with several months of heart issues after getting covid, and with a lot of frustration, deferred to 2023.

2023 came. My goal was to simply finish what I’d mentally begun.

While I’m lucky to have an athletic partner who joined me on a majority of the rides, and a handful of close cycling friends, I didn’t have a triathlon community to workout with, whine to, or learn from, so the training block got immensely lonely and mundane quickly. Training to ride in zone 2 made me feel out of place at my favorite group rides, where everyone showed up to work much harder than zone 2. It made me feel out of place with my own friends, who were often too chill or too fast for my goals. My simple goal felt detached from my daily chosen experiences. I became addicted to self comparison: metrics were often the thief of any joy in a workout and I found myself crippled with negative self-talk. So, when I did discover the vibrant local tri club, I unfortunately hesitated to join for almost 3 months - months lost to imposter syndrome and a fear of being inadequate among a group of super triathletes.

8 weeks before the race I joined and went on one of the group’s rides where a woman who had recently qualified for Kona (world champs) was riding up a hill beside me and asked if I was trying to qualify. I laughed incredulously and said something brutally self deprecating - and meant it. 4 weeks before the race, I had a great race simulation, and wondered why I was so hesitant to dream big and why her question had seemed so ludicrous to me 4 weeks prior.

Training for an ironman was never physically exhausting for me - it was, however, endlessly mentally taxing and lonely. I had a mental breakthrough that 17th week, realizing I tended to set ‘safe’ goals because of a fear of personal and social failure, and decided that I would rather fail dreaming big. I knew that realistically, I hadn’t trained for a ‘dream big’ race, but instead for a ‘safe race’, but whatever shape I was in or skill I had didn’t stop me from feeling more inspired again, and more like my wildly audacious self for the first time in a long time. I didn’t have to have any checkboxes checked to feel capable of striving for greatness.

Over those next 4 weeks, I struggled with a hip impingement flare up that wouldn’t go away with rest, a wonky bike fit, endless back and forth about last minute buying an aerodynamic tri bike so I’d have a chance at a faster bike time, and the next thing I knew it was race weekend in Sacramento.

Race Day

I woke up at 4:15am. They say it’s really about the rest two nights before, and I had spent the past week on a regimented sleep schedule, correctly predicting a horrible night of sleep before the race.

I swallowed ~550 cals of the breakfast I had consumed before every long ride for the last 20 weeks - oatmeal, protein powder, chia seeds, banana, and coffee - and waited for my driver (my boyfriend) to wake up.

I peed on the side of the road before he dropped me off so I could avoid porta potty lines - this would become a shameful, but authentic ironman theme of the day. I probably walked more than a mile to drop all the various bags that needed to be dropped off (to reclaim between sports and on the course), opened all my energy bars and broke them into pieces in my bento box (snack box on my bike top tube) for easier consumption, and got on the shuttle to the swim start. At the swim start, I made my first big mistake. I knew the river had a strong current and my practice swim a few weeks ago on the course had been 52 minutes, but, the race director was asking people to seed themselves at their predicted time without a current to avoid incorrect seeding. Not only did a lot of people likely not follow this direction, but I seeded myself so far back that I entered the water a full hour after the first group. There probably would have been some swim-bumper-cars in earlier groups given my slower pace, but it also would have been fine, and I would have avoided dealing with the weather that came later on the bike…

The swim was largely uneventful, (besides a woman grabbing me around the waist when she panicked) and I stayed calm knowing it was just an hour in a very long day ahead. It’s wild to think that in 2021, the swim was the biggest, most stressful unknown for me.

As I got out of the water, I was pushing past people casually walking the ramp chatting with each other, and I was the only one running into transition. My second mistake of the day was not having much of a plan for the transitions, which by default results in having very slow transitions. I fumbled with soggy athletic tape for the blister on my toe, couldn’t find a glove, and felt chaotic as I ran out with my bike. Before mounting, I saw Carl and got an instant boost of calming energy.

Miles 1-5 were packed with nervous energy as I found the groove of pace and space for myself among hundreds of cyclists. Miles 6-30 I felt smooth and great - my legs were light, fluid and fast, though I was already looking around at expansive farmland thinking “wow, this is going to be extremely boring”. I entertained myself by making up stories about passersby, taking in the dudes on $30k setups, and refocusing my mental energy on enjoying what I knew was a fleeting experience. I started repeating the mantra I would take through the day that I stole-borrowed from Coach Katie - “I’m Liselle Pires. I can do anything. All I have to do is show up”.

I noticed around this time that my heart rate was pretty low, and that my body was feeling exceptionally good. I made a plan to increase my speed on each of the 4 laps, which I executed smoothly on the second lap. Going into lap 3, I was ready to level up again and my feet still felt ‘light on the pedals’, which was a cue I had ingrained from Katie. I peed on the bike for the first time ever, which immediately led to an uncomfortable rash-like feeling, but also a strange sense of accomplishment that I didn’t need to waste 5 minutes with a bathroom stop. I also found myself getting small boosts whenever I interacted with other women - women hollered for other women and complimented each other often. Beautiful. Not the dudes!

I got ready to tackle the headwind on lap 3, and then…the downpour came. The sky cracked and the light mist, which had been delightful to ride in, turned to pounding rain. Everyone slowed down, myself included. I reminded myself that I’d ridden in the rain before (at my half ironman because duh) and that nothing bad was going to happen; but, the intensity of the rain mentally and physically slowed me down a lot on lap 3. I started counting the miles to the turnaround for lap 4 where I’d get a tailwind, as having mini milestones during an endurance event (and in life) is the only way through for me. All of my energy bars, which were pre-opened and portioned, sitting in my open bento box on my top tube, got soaked – mmm…soggy Skratch rice krispies.

Once I got to the turnaround, something inside me broke free and wild as I became desperate to get off the bike - I got out of my aero position and onto my hoods, because I was increasingly worried about agitating my hip, and started riding hard, passing everyone I could over the last 28 miles. I felt great when I saw Carl, Fred, and Cate 10 miles out, and even better as I rolled into transition. My nutrition on the bike was perfect - a bottle with Skratch every hour, and a high carb bar every hour, alternating between Maurten bars and Skratch rice krispies. I’d inherited this from Katie’s own nutrition plan, very intentionally trained this way, and prioritized bars despite the effort to chew, knowing the run would rely on gels and that my body would absolutely reject 10+ hours of gels. I also had Katie’s description locked in - “an ironman is a marathon with a bike and swim beforehand to distract you”. So, I was glad to feel so good at that stage, but also knew the real work was about to come.

I popped 1000 mg of Advil (insert grimacing emoji), a spring energy gel, applied biofreeze to my hip flexor, and then wasted a lot of time in transition by over prioritizing blister care. I ran to the medical tent, where they very nonchalantly offered me a chair as I frantically exclaimed “no no no I just need a bandaid!!!” Those poor volunteers.

I was nervous for the run. When I did my 70.3, I told everyone that if I made it to the run, I would do great. I had been right. For the full, I felt the opposite. I hadn’t run a marathon in 5 years, and was incredibly nervous that the hip pain from last week would suddenly show up in full force while running. So, I took it easy. I saw my friends again, and kept a comfortable pace. I had my first Maurten gel ever at mile 4 and laughed at myself for trying new nutrition at a race. Fortunately, my intuition that Maurten would be easy on the stomach was right and I had a couple more (4 total, probably not enough) during the race.

About 10 miles in, I went to a mentally chaotic place. This run course is incredibly redundant and I was doing laps of random out and backs, which was great for seeing your support crew, but Sacramento is not a spectator heavy race or a scenic race. And, by not scenic, I mean I may as well have been on a treadmill. The miles were getting dark and boring. I noticed my heart rate was somehow in low Z1, meaning my heart had more to give, but I couldn’t muster up the mental fortitude to push that much harder. It started pouring again, and my shoes were totally waterlogged, squishing and sloshing on every step as I approached mile 14. I jogged the entire course, following the best tip I got from Katie, to shuffle through every single aid station, where I sipped 1 cup of water and poured a second all over myself to stay cool. I never got hot on race day.

At mile 18, I wanted to be in a hot bath tub at home so badly. I was frustrated at the incorrect course markers (everyone seemed to have .4-1 mile extra on their watches by halfway through the run), antsy, bored, and my quads were seizing with lactic acid. I knew I had to turn on tunnel vision if I was going to finish this. I was so lucky to see my friends so many times during the marathon, a unique possibility with a repetitive course. It made such a difference to know my loving people were waiting for me to finish, including Cate, who has an early bedtime, so I better not walk!

I sprinted the last ½ mile. A spectating man leaned into the path and high fived me, yelling out Allez Allez! I couldn’t believe the random Frenchman I had spoken broken French to before the swim recognized me, now covered in my own urine and rain a sea of darkness. I believe I said “Oui!” back.

After

While my race nutrition was literally perfect - zero gastric issues and no moments of lost energy - I spent the 14 hours after the race with horrible gastric issues. I was lucky my body held out til I finished, but those 14 hours were traumatic. All I could consume was a half cup of broth and water. I also chafed horribly for the first time ever, probably in part because of the downpour. The area where my sports bra and heart rate monitor were on my torso was dark pink and raw all over, making a shower unbearable.

I slept for 3 or 4 uncomfortable hours, and woke up with my stomach in agony and my head spinning from fatigue. I couldn’t believe I had to start work in an hour.

I spent the day after struggling through the work day and eating as much as I could, finally getting my appetite back. I also spent the day feeling…gloomy. Why did I start the swim so late? Why were my transitions so unintentional? Why didn’t I run harder - I knew I could have. Why didn’t I get a tri bike, knowing I could have ridden faster? It took me 48 hours to transition from feelings of regret and what could have been, disappointed in my performance, to reality - I had done something that seemed out of human reach to me just 2 years ago, something I barely understood, and I had done so pretty comfortably. Within the niche of 1% of people who do things like this, I could question myself, but to the rest of the world I had done something amazing. I may as well absorb the latter attitude. I feel so grateful to have had a great first race, a supportive coach, a partner who truly made it possible for 20 weeks, and friends and family supporting me from near and far the entire time. Now, I am totally over the whys and on to the now what?

2021 IRONMAN 70.3 Timberman Race Report -- Ben Levesque

Timberman 70.3 Half-Ironman in Laconia, NH was my first triathlon experience. With about 13 weeks of training I knew I would be able to cross the finish line if I relied on lessons learned throughout the summer. In late May, I set a goal of a sub-7 hour half-ironman under three broad assumptions—a bad swim, an average 15 mph bike, and an average 10’ 30” per mile run. On race day, I predicted a 7:30:00 overall time, and I aimed for a 3:30:00 on the bike. Here’s a recap:

Swim: The swim course on Opechee Lake had three red turning buoys, with four yellow “outbound” buoys and four orange “return” buoys for athletes to follow. On the morning of the race, the water temp. was 75.4° F, meaning that the race was swimsuit legal according to the athlete guide. This meant that athletes could wear a wetsuit and maintain their eligibility for age-group awards and/or world championship slots. I decided to wear a wetsuit and lined up with the 50-55 minute projected swim finish group.

The swim was my greatest concern because I lacked a metric for my race swim pace. Though I’d been exclusively training in open water all summer, the Garmin Forerunner 35 never produced usable data. I settled my nerves by talking with a few competitors as we waited for the waves of athletes ahead of us to start. For many athletes I spoke to it was their first half-ironman, and for a few their first triathlon. At 7:18 am, I entered the water. I spent the first 20 mins. finding my rhythm. At some point between the first and second turning buoy, I took a second to look at the other athletes and I decided that I was raising my head too much when I went to breathe. I adjusted my form and the benefit was instant; I felt faster and more relaxed. I exited the swim with a smile, and was surprised to see Dartmouth Triathlon coach Jeff Reed cheering (alongside Coach Jim) as I headed to T1.

Bike: I felt most prepared for the bike. I’d spent the summer adding miles on the bike and I’d completed several long-rides beyond 56 miles, so I had no doubt I could complete the distance from a training standpoint. I hadn’t been able to preview the course, but a quick review of the athlete guide (and a few conversations with teammates) informed me that the first 35 miles were relatively flat and the next 21 miles had challenging ascents.

I saw several teammates along the course, including Coach Katie Clayton and London (on their way back from the turnaround), Vaishnavi, and Evelyn. Throughout the first 2.5 hrs. I fuelled well (water/Gatorade every 30 mins., gel/bloks/Clif bar every 60 mins.) and felt strong. The ascents in the latter half of the course felt familiar having cycled similar ascents in New Hampshire and back home in Maine. Three-quarters of the way up the final ascent (about 3:04:00 in the bike), I dropped chain. I hopped off the saddle for a quick fix and proceeded to power through the descents. Checking my watch, I knew I would be close to 3:30:00 if I pushed myself through to T2. I completed the segment with an official time of 3:30:11.

Run: The run course consisted of two ~6 mi. loops around Opechee Lake, followed by a straight downhill to the finish. I used the first loop to orient myself to the run, and simply focused on reaching “the next aid station” (mentally, every aid station became “the next aid station”) for water or Gatorade. 

Rather than my regimented nutrition on the bike, I lost a sense of fuelling during the run. Other than the banana I strategically picked up around mile 6, I was unfocused with my nutrition—this is something I plan to improve for the next race. Nevertheless, the miles passed without much trouble. By 6.5 miles I was bolstered by the knowledge that I would complete a half-ironman (because I couldn’t just run half the distance). Around mile 12, my right calf cramped (for the first time in a racing or training environment) as I descended into Laconia, though the pain was manageable; I smiled as I heard athletes being announced at the line less than a mile away.

My teammates were there cheering me on and it felt like the perfect finish. In the end, I completed the event in 6:58:48 (49:04 swim, 3:30:11 bike, 2:24:41 run).

Final Thoughts: Adventurer Mark Beaumont said that in his first circumnavigation of the world (by bike) in 2008, he came within eight hours of his planned duration (with a total time of 194 days and 7 hours). He learned how closely his goals were related to his actual performance. I was shocked by how close my performance came to my goals and estimates—after seven hours, I hit my target half-ironman within 1’ 12” and my target bike within 11.” Given the connection between goals and race performance, I plan to set informed targets for the swim and run in future races.

- Ben Levesque
(Ben is a member of the Dartmouth Triathlon Club and class of 2024)

Dartmouth Triathlon Club IRONMAN Timberman 70.3 finishers.

Ben crosses the finish line at Timberman 70.3, his first triathlon!

2021 IRONMAN Lake Placid Race Report -- E. Thomas

Ironman Lake Placid 2021 -- Race Report by E. Thomas

Race information

• What? Ironman Lake Placid

• When? July 25, 2021

• How far? 140.6 Miles

• Where? Lake Placid, NY

• Finish time: ~13:30

Goals

• Goal A: Finish (✔)

• Goal B: Finish (✔)

• Goal C: Finish (✔)

Brief Preamble

I’m writing this selfishly to crystalize the experience for myself, but I’ve gotten a lot of value from reading other folks’ race reports, so I decided to share publicly. I’ll start out by saying that I don't have a ton endurance experience, and this isn’t a heroic tale of a Kona-qualifying race, but of the average joe trying to complete a full Ironman so he can brag to his friends and family.

I started running two years ago when a couple of buddies and I decided to do a “couch to marathon”. I quickly caught the endurance bug and wanted to try out triathlon, so I signed up for a half Ironman in 2020, which was cancelled. I ultimately decided to just full send a full Ironman to short circuit the process, since I knew I’d eventually want to tick that off the list. I did complete a half Ironman a few months before Lake Placid, but mostly just to orient myself with how to do a triathlon.

Pre-race

They say the sleep two nights before the race is the most important, so if you don’t get a wink the night before, it won’t blow up your day. Well, this notion was top of mind for me and I’d say about three to four nights out, my brain started whispering to me at night, “hey buddy, wouldn’t it suck if you not only couldn’t sleep two out, but three nights out as well!!”. I’d eventually get some shut eye, but often with the assistance of some over-the-counter aid, which I try to reserve for emergencies. Funny enough, I was able to sleep decently the night before.

I was surprisingly Zen the morning of. I woke up, stuffed a bunch of calories and electrolytes down my gullet, and patiently waited for my drivers (aka mom and girlfriend) to get up and take me down to the race start. It was 4:00am and they wouldn’t be up for another hour…

Fast forward a bit, I’m standing on the “sandy beach” of the lake swim start with what feels like thousands of other swimmers and spectators cheering us on. There’s a soft drizzle, music is blasting, and the Ironman announcer guy is walking around giving everyone high-fives. Zen turns to nerves, which turns to excitement, to nerves, to excitement, to Zen. The spin cycle repeats.

Swim

The swim was a big unknown for me as I had only completed a half Ironman distance OWS prior to doing the full. I live in NYC and was confined to mind-numbing laps in the pool as the area is not necessarily known for its pristine open water.

As a novice swimmer, I tried to appropriately seed myself with folks that would be going the same pace (although I’ve heard time and time again to bump yourself up to a faster time because everyone overestimates what they can do). I lined up with the 1:50 sign, which I thought meant that this group would be doing 1:50min/100yds. It turns out that this sign meant finish the full swim in an hour and 50 minutes, which is a much slower pace. I was one of the last people to get into the water.

At the start of the swim, I was in hand-to-hand combat trying to get around people that were doggy paddling, doing the breaststroke, etc. Eventually I got onto the cable, the crowd spread out, I unplugged my brain and was at the finish line before I knew it. There wasn’t much more to it than that. They say that the swim is the mandatory path you need to take to get to the real race start, which seemed to be the case.

Bike

The goal was to finish, not to go for gold, so I took my sweet time transitioning from the swim to the bike. Lake Placid has a gnarly bike and run course so I wanted to save every match that I had.

On the first hill out of town, I saw a bigger guy on a nice bike absolutely grinding at a low cadence. He told me that his electronic shifting had run out of battery and he was stuck in one of his hardest gears at mile 3 of 112 on a course with 7K feet of elevation gain. Poor guy. I wonder how he made out.

I consider the bike one of my “strong” suits, but the Lake Placid course has a special way of humbling all who test their luck on it. I was confident going in and I knew what to expect as I had pre-ridden the course with my coach and a few other people that I now consider good friends. My nutrition was dialed, I was planning to take in ~80 grams of carbs an hour through liquids and solids. However, about 30 miles into the race my legs started to feel pretty flat and my GI system was starting to show signs of distress. I’m not sure why this happened, maybe I was psyching myself out by constantly thinking about running an effing marathon after the bike. 150 watts felt hard when I knew I could hold 200+ watts for 6 hours.

But I had prepared for this. Testing your mettle is one of the beautiful things about endurance sports. I quickly shifted into a tunnel-vision headspace and focused on just getting to the next aid station, one pedal stroke at a time. This happened much sooner in the race than I would’ve liked, but it is what it is, and I was going to finish the damn race no matter what.

It’s a very challenging bike course and people were getting popped left and right. The 10-mile climb back into town (into what felt like a never-ending headwind) was a character builder, especially on the second loop after having biked 100 miles. But if you just keep pedaling, eventually you get to where you need to go. Special shout-out to the spectators that were lined up on basically the entire 56-mile loop, cheering everyone on.

Run

The run course. This is where the big bucks are made. I could not believe I was about to run a marathon after having just spent over an hour in the water and seven hours on the bike. But I paid to do this…

After over 15 minutes in transition, I laced up my sneakers and headed off into town. My legs felt surprisingly good and I had a little pep in my step. That little pep turned into a big pep when I saw my family and girlfriend right out of the gate cheering me on. As I got further into town, the electricity skyrocketed. Spectators were going nuts. Lake Placid really is a special race venue.

I continued to run well and was sticking to my plan of drinking a water and Gatorade at every aid station, along with taking in a gel every three. About 10 or so miles in, I started to really feel the culmination of the day’s activities (in both my legs and my gut), and I once again shifted to the tunnel vision survival mode of chipping away one mile at a time. But I have spent a lot of time in this pain cave and have learned to enjoy it. I knew what to do - one foot in front of the other, one mile at a time.

Eventually my legs were in searing pain and my gut simply could not take in anything more. I had reached circle seven of Dante’s Inferno, but still had 8 miles to go. It seemed like most people were walking at this point, and it was really tempting to do so myself, but the more I walked the longer I’d be out on the course – it wasn’t an option (except for going up hills). People were limping, people were cramping, some people were straight up laying on the road – but they all kept moving forward and it was incredibly inspiring. Pretty deep into the marathon, I was chatting with this older lady who said she was just starting her first loop and still had 20 miles to go, but she was determined to finish before the cutoff and there’s nothing that would stop her. It’s moments in time like this that stick with you for life.

In true Lake Placid style, at the very end of the run, they make you run up this big hill before hooking a left to get to the red-carpet finish line (thanks!). I was coming into the finish and it felt like thousands of people were cheering for me. I was getting misty eyed as I felt the culmination of many months of hard work and sacrifice finally come to an end. And then some random dude sprinted past me with 5ft to go before the finish, abruptly shaking me out of my self-indulgent moment…

Concluding Thoughts

This event will probably go down as a top life experience. There’s something special about testing the limits of your mind and body, as bonkers as it sounds. It’s fundamentally changed my outlook on what’s possible, which has permeated most aspects of my life. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to do something like this and to have had the world-class support from my loved ones and coach (shout-out to the Endurance Drive!).

I think I’d do another one, but maybe not for a while. It’s an all-consuming commitment, but it turned out to be well worth it.

From Swimmer to Triathlete -- Chris Klein

From Swimmer to Triathlete
By: Chris Klein aka Mr. Klein

I was a competitive swimmer for a decade before I started racing triathlons. Earlier in my triathlon career, the swim was my time to perform and the bike and runs legs were a relentless (and sometimes unsuccessful) battle to hold on to the lead. Since working with Jim and joining the Endurance Drive, I’ve learned how to better utilize my strength as a swimmer to give me a competitive advantage in triathlon. 

Time-wise, the swim in a triathlon is the least important leg. The difference between a good swim and a bad swim in an IRONMAN event is a matter of minutes, whereas a bad run could exceed an hour slower than your goal race pace. But that doesn’t mean the swim isn’t important. In fact, a solid swim can set you up for a successful race.

From a swimmer’s perspective, the goal of the swim is simple: establish control of the race from the starting line and exit T1 feeling fresh enough to execute a solid race strategy. However, swimmers’ advantages are not limited to their lead coming into T1; competitive swimmers understand how to race comfortably in what is arguably the most chaotic leg of the triathlon. Their mental fortitude developed after thousands-upon-thousands of laps transitions seamlessly into their training mentality. 

Below are some of the ways I’ve incorporated my swimming background into my training and racing:

1. We know how to pace! Recently, I posted one of my swim workouts on Strava which involved repeat 100-yard intervals holding a pace which decreased 2.5 seconds per set. One of my training partners asked if I could seriously pace my swims that precisely, to which I responded: yes! A benefit of the countless yards involved with competitive swim training is body awareness. In the same way that a trained marathoner correlates race paces to sheer seconds, or how a trained cyclist knows the difference between sweet spot and threshold efforts, competitive swimmers know how to use their pacing to effectively train and race for certain distances. From Olympic-distance to IRONMAN, triathlon swimming is distance swimming -- a sport where consistency is key. It’s crucial to figure out your race pace, train at those intervals, and learn how to balance speed and comfort. This is something I’ve been able to apply to not just swimming, but the other two legs of the triathlon as well.

2. A swimmer’s goal is to get out of the water prepared to race a duathlon. Jim jokes to me that “swimmers gonna swim,” and he’s right -- trained swimmers should exit the water in the front of the pack. Very rarely in a triathlon, however, will the swim be won by a single racer. Drafting strategies encourage pack swimming and larger swim finishes. The real difference between trained swimmers and the rest of the field comes down to energy. A weak or mid-level swimmer could use all of their energy to stay towards the front of an Olympic-distance swim, but then they run the risk of using all of their energy staying on the stronger swimmers’ feet. Conversely, swimmers can race an aggressive and controlled swim and exit the water in the lead or front of the pack, and still feel energized enough to execute a strong bike and run (hence, a duathlon). Runners and cyclists need to learn how to swim, and then they need to learn how to swim fast. Swimmers can focus on the bike and run, reserve their energy, and still swim faster than their opponents who prefer land. 

3. We are comfortable in our own heads. There are very few distractions in pool swimming. Music doesn’t carry well underwater, and a long black line is often the only visual stimulation. Swimmers are used to training within their own heads and using thoughts, songs, and counting to get them to the next interval. They don’t rely on external stimuli for pacing, encouragement, or distraction. Triathlon training, especially in the Northeast where cold weather encourages indoor training many months of the year, requires self-discipline. Secluded race courses (such as the River Road stretch of IRONMAN Lake Placid or the Queen K at the IRONMAN World Championships) leave athletes with hours of silence save labored breathing and shuffling footsteps. The static environment of a pool trains swimmers to survive the mental aspect of triathlon, which leads me to my final point...

4. Swimmers embrace the pain cave. When done right, a swim workout can punish the body mentally, physically, and emotionally. At my peak, I was training somewhere between 30,000 – 40,000+ yards a week. Training trips and twice-a-day distance workouts taught me that our bodies have a breaking point, but I’ve found that we often back down before we reach that point. Swimmers, having reached that point and continued swimming for another 1,500 yards, understand how to balance pure, raw physical exhaustion with enough mental strength to push their bodies through a workout. This skill directly translates to the bike and the run. 10 sweet spot intervals on the bike? Let’s go! A long threshold run today? Bring it on! When their bodies are about to give up, swimmers are prepared to push their limits further, and they embrace the pain with smiles on their faces.

A race cannot be won in the swim, but it sure can be lost. Whether they deplete their energy too early or fall too far back in the pack, untrained swimmers are vulnerable opponents for athletes with a swimming background. When swimmers use their skill set correctly and incorporate their learned work ethic into their training, the competitive advantage gained might be enough to dolphin-kick right onto the podium.  

2019 IRONMAN Lake Placid Race Report -- Chris Klein

Expectations and Pre-Race Thoughts

Ironman Lake Placid (IMLP) had the distinction of being both my A-race and my first race of the season. After taking a year off from triathlon, I had been feeling anxious to get back into race mode. I was also excited to see the results of actually training for a triathlon. Coming off a collegiate swimming career, I had previously relied on endurance from distance training and natural fitness to get me through triathlons. This was my first time working with a coach, and I knew that my training over the last seven months was well thought out. I was ready.

The Plan 

• Swim. Approximately 1:00 – 1:05 on the swim. Be aggressive, but do not expend any energy. If possible, find someone at a similar or slightly faster pace and draft off them to conserve energy. Keep the cable in sight. Use the swim to get the pre-race jitters out of the way.

• Bike. Maintain a normalized power of 160-170 for the bike. Keep heart rate under 150 bpm, but ideally closer to 140 (or lower). Keep head position steady. Eat every 20 minutes, and drink at least every 10. 

• Run. Cap HR at 155, but try to stay between 140-150. Do not blow out the energy in the first few miles – it’s a long race. Maintain hydration. Hope that the leg cramps decide not to show up today. 

• Nutrition. I used Science in Sport (SiS) electrolyte powder, carbohydrate bars, and gels.

Swim

Although my goal swim was in the low 1:00 mark, I placed myself in the sub 1:00 group. IMLP’s swimmers have a reputation of seeding themselves faster than they will actually finish, and so I wanted to get ahead of any athletes who were a bit…overeager. Additionally, I wanted to get ahead of the mass pack which would no doubt involve a fair amount of aggression as swimmers would jockey for a spot on the cable. 

The first 1000 yards went off like any other open water swim. There was a fight for position during the first 500 yards as the lead bunch formed into a pace line. Rounding Turn 2 (~1000 yds), I made my only ‘mistake’ of the swim when I got too comfortable with the reduced need to spot and overshot the turn by about 20 yards. Not a big deal, but it was a fitting mistake considering that a sense of direction was never my strong suit. 

I was able to find a swimmer slightly faster than me to draft behind for the second 1000 yards. This was my strategy going into the swim, and I was able to stay on his feet for most of the straightaway. I was surprised by how many people were swimming off the cable – some by over 25 yards to the left. Yes, this would reduce the traffic they would encounter, but swimming away from the pack seemed unnecessary given that we were still on the first lap and had clear, open water in front of us. 

Lap 1: 29:14

The first half of the second loop went about as well as the second half of the first loop. Although I continued to draft off the guy ahead of me, we were caught by a chase pack which had engulfed the two of us by buoy 5 (~2900 yds). For context, the IMLP swim course is a rectangle with eight yellow buoys on the way away from the start, two red buoys to mark the turns at the other end of Mirror Lake, and eight orange buoys on the way back to shore.

By the time our group rounded Turn 2 and was on the homestretch, I encountered probably the hardest challenge of the swim: the slower age groupers. The open water quickly devolved from an organized pace line to an ‘every-man-for-yourself’ maelstrom. Sighting was required, but mainly to look out for other swimmers rather than check if we were on course. I had to figure out who was ahead of me, if there were gaps to shoot, and if it was easier to swim through or swim around the athletes ahead of me. As rushed as it may seem, that chaos is one of my favorite things about open water swimming – it requires more thinking and aggression than swimming in a pool. 

Before long, I saw an orange buoy with an “8” followed by a red buoy with a T3, meaning I had reached the end of the lap. I was feeling really strong, not out of breath, but strong. The race was on.

Lap 2: 30:14

Total Swim: 59:14. 1:00 goal complete.

Transition #1

The transition involves a long-ish run (at least a quarter mile) from Mirror Lake to transition. This was the first time I had ever used a wetsuit stripper (and the first time I had ever used a wetsuit), and so the process of being told to lie down on the ground as a volunteer yanked my wetsuit off my legs in one smooth motion was interesting, but efficient. I entered transition, grabbed my bike gear bag, and ran into the changing tent.

The volunteers were great, and I was fortunate to be in the changing tent with relatively few athletes (most were still in the water). While I was putting on my socks, shoes, and rubbing some chamois cream on my thighs, the volunteer was getting my glasses, helmet, and gloves ready to go. Transition times were significantly slower than every other triathlon I had previously done. What I thought was a really slow transition was actually 5th in my AG. Taking an extra minute or two in the changing tent doesn’t mean too much in a 10+ hour race.

Transition 1: 6:03

Bike

I read a sentence on a blog post somewhere which stuck with me throughout my longer training rides: “In Ironman, do the bike you should, not the bike you could.” I knew it was important to keep a consistent pedal stroke and monitor my power output, but I also wanted to ride a race I could be proud of. This meant that I would race to my plan: not an easy ride, but not an over-aggressive ride that would destroy my run.

The climbs out of Lake Placid are inconspicuously long, and I’m thankful that I came out in June to practice the course as I knew to take this section slow and smooth. I saw a few cyclists absolutely pounding the opening hills, and I remember thinking that they were insane – we still had 9 more hours of racing left!

The downhill screamer to Keene is one of my favorite parts of the course. I hit a new speed record for the year, and it was nice to have a section where I could bank some free miles. Then came the flats to Wilmington and soon, the severely underrated climb out of Wilmington. Again, some bikers were flying up the hill looking like they were cranking more watts than a professional cyclist on a hors catégorie mountain. Later, I saw several of them walking on the marathon…

Even on the long climb back to Lake Placid, I was feeling good – much better than I was expecting. My power was at my goal watts, my body was feeling fine, and I was hitting my nutrition. When I rode into Lake Placid, I looked down at my computer to mark the lap and saw a 2:54 – more than 20 minutes faster than my anticipated lap split (3:15). Rather than excitement, this actually caused a good deal of anxiety starting the next lap, and I worried I had killed the rest of my race by taking the first lap too aggressively. But I was still feeling strong, I was having fun, and the crowds were cheering me on through town. Riding down Mirror Lake Drive, I pounded my chest and yelled with the crowd, rejuvenated by the energy of the spectators lining the streets. I saw my parents, grandparents, and a friend from college who came up to watch me race, all recognizable by their matching blue shirts with a picture of me printed on the front. The anxiety quickly disappeared. 

Lap 1: 2:54

Chris Klein IRONMAN Lake Placid family t-shirt

But sure enough, the problems started on the second lap. Earlier than in my training runs, my body started to reject the carbohydrate bars I was eating, and my electrolyte drink seemed less and less appealing with every sip. I started missing scheduled eating and drinking periods. On what began as a cloudy day, the sun started to break through the clouds, and brought with it rising temperatures on the exposed roads. 

Finally, on the climb passed Whiteface, I cracked. My quads cramped up several times, requiring me to pull over to the side of the road and try to massage them out. But worse than the cramps, massive headwinds, absent on the first lap, hampered any forward progress I was making when I would resume my rides. My two training partners, Matt and Katie, both passed me as I was trying to massage out a cramp, and, truth be told, I took relief in seeing familiar faces. Although I appreciated the “are you ok?’s” from concerned cyclists as they rode passed me parked on the side of the road, it was a little demoralizing recognizing that I still had to make it to Lake Placid in order to even start the run. 

After finally getting back on my bike, Mile 100 is where I hit my low point. I was well aware that mental toughness was necessary to finish this race strong, but I was not expecting to have my attitude tested so early in the day. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally got to the top of the Northwood Road climb (the short, sneaky climb after the three bears) and enjoyed the coast to transition. Even with the pain, I still finished the lap ten minutes over my anticipated lap split. 

Despite all of the negative emotions mentioned in the previous three paragraphs, I was still having fun. In a sense, nothing was awry…yet. Ironman is a hard race, plain and simple. I knew I was going to struggle with the bike, and although it wasn’t perfect, I made it. Every problem I encountered, I anticipated and had a plan. Race day preparation is an undervalued benefit of having a coach, and as a result, panic mode never set in. Instead, I was ahead of schedule, I was faster than my training rides, and I was still feeling strong enough to run a marathon. Furthermore, I wasn’t hurting alone. Pictures may speak louder than words, but facial expressions in Ironman are an open book for describing how an athlete is feeling. Based on the emotionless faces and glassy, empty eyes, my pain was in good company.

Lap 2: 3:23

Total bike: 6:17. 6:30 goal complete

Transition #2

After crossing the dismount line and handing my bike off to a volunteer, I decided that the path to the changing tent was more deserving of a walk than a run. My legs were hurting, and all I could think about was getting out of my biking shoes. In the tent, I took off my helmet, swapped my socks and shoes, threw a bag of sodium gels in my pocket, quickly downed some fluids, and headed off on my run. Just like in Transition 1, I thought I was moving slowly in T2, but my time was actually above average for age groupers. 

Transition: 5:43

Run

Despite all of the pain I had felt during the last 20 miles of the bike and heading into transition, I actually felt great for the start of the run. I set my watch to focus solely on my heart rate. I used the opening downhills to lengthen my stride and stretch out my quads and calves. I was moving, and with my speed came energy – I was back to having fun! 

One aspect of the race I haven’t touched on too much yet is the crowds. I’ve never seen more support in a race than from the fans and volunteers in Lake Placid. Coming out of transition, I heard more cheers of “let’s go” and “come on, Chris” than in all of my previous races combined. It felt very personal, like they were cheering for me instead of the usual casual clap as spectators wait for their athlete(s) of focus. There were also the fans who tried to be more…unique. The spectator on the ski jump hill at Mile 2/9/15/22 who high-5’d everyone with Facebook foam fingers. The fraternity squad at Mile 1/10/14/23 who cheered for everyone while parading around in their underwear. The aisle of fans on Mirror Lake Drive who tried to motivate the nutrition-depleted runners as they “death marched” to the completion of their first lap. Their energy was contagious and set a new standard that I fear will never be matched by another race nor another crowd. 

But outside of Lake Placid and down Riverside Drive (Miles 3-9 and 16-22), spectators could not easily watch the race and the non-athletes were limited to the volunteers working at aid stations and the medical tent. The lack of cheering fans shouting encouragement diminished the environment to the sight of expressionless runners trying to get to the next aid station and the sounds of running shoes shuffling down the road. The course, on the other hand, was shaded and pretty with the road running adjacent to a small stream.

Early in the run, I was still feeling strong. I was holding around 8:45’s but my HR was starting to rise, still within the 150 range. Many athletes had started walking (my assumption being those who tried to overdo the bike), and truth be told, the number of runners I passed in those opening miles was encouraging. I linked up with another runner who was holding my pace and we chatted for the next 5 miles until the run turnaround when the exhaustion finally caught up to him and he resorted to the ‘death march.’ 

For me, the struggle began around Mile 8. My heart rate had started to creep into the 150s and low 160s, and even though I eased my pace to 9:30’s, I had a hard time getting my heart rate to come down. I spent the aid stations trying to get as many calories and fluids as I could into my system – water, Gatorade, bananas, chips and pretzels, more Gatorade, more water, ice to hold in my hands and mouth – but my irregular nutrition patterns on the bike had started to wear me down. Mile 9 was the ski jump hill climb, and after walking up the hill I found I couldn’t engage my feet to run again. I was stuck. Then came the cramps: calves, quads, hamstrings, even my groin. My state could best be described by my stop at special needs (Mile 12) when I had a seven-year old volunteer named Gio and his dad help me change my socks. The cramping in my legs was so bad that I couldn’t move/engage the small tendons and muscles without my body wrenching in agony. One of my favorite pictures taken at Lake Placid was on the run where it looks like I’m laughing and shrugging my shoulders. In reality, my dad had yelled to me, “You’re almost there!”, to which I responded, “Dad, what are you talking about? I’m shuffling like a tap dancer, and I still have a half marathon to go!”

Lap 1: 2:07

The only aspect of the race for which I did not prepare was the amount of GI distress that I would encounter, and I do not think I could have prepared for that type of pain. From the start of the second lap, I felt sick, and I knew that throwing up would only deplete me of the electrolytes my body had yet to process and desperately needed. At Mile 14, I found Coach Jim on the course and even asked him if I should throw up – he advised against it. After 9.5 hours of work, my body was fighting back, and I was about to head back out to the isolation of Riverside Drive. 

As it turns out, a bathroom break was really what I needed at the time, and when I came out of a porta potty at Mile 15, I saw Matt about 50 feet ahead of me looking like he was in a very similar condition as I was. We made a pact to finish the race together, and our pacing switched to three minutes of running/jogging/shuffling followed by one minute of walking. Between the GI distress and the ever-present leg cramps, the hurt was real. We both knew the key to finishing was to keep moving, even if it meant a slow walk. Looking around us, the ‘death march’ present on the first lap had evolved to a ‘death march of zombies,’ but the three minutes of running/consistent movement and the mental relief of running with a training partner gave me the strength to keep going. Around Mile 21, Matt and I were joined by Julie Smith, another Upper Valley triathlete, and the motivation and positive encouragement present in the Upper Valley progressed the time, both physically and mentally.

Chris Klein, Julie Smith & Matthew Goff - IRONMAN Lake Placid run

As we climbed back into Lake Placid, the crowds brought us to the finish line. Spectators lined Main Street and Mirror Lake Drive, and the high-5’s and screaming fans were moving. My legs were starting to give out from the cramping, and Matt waited for me to briefly massage them out while Julie finished her own race. From the final aid station, Matt and I decided to make one final, consistent run to the finish line. 

As we entered the Olympic speed skating oval, my emotions kicked in and I started tearing up. Every step brought back a memory from this year’s training, from my initial struggles with a six-mile treadmill run to my first bike over two hours. Unfortunately, I do not remember Mike Reilly saying my name as I approached the finish line – I was too busy taking in my surroundings. Matt and I put and arm around each other and crossed the line. We gave each other a hug. A volunteer put the medal around my neck. I bent down and allowed some tears to fall. The hardest race I had ever done was over. I found Katie, and she, Matt, and I took a group picture. My friend from college helped me out of the oval and up a hill to where some spectators had camped out, and I promptly fell into Jim’s arms in a half-hug/half-collapse. He kept repeating in my ear, “You are an Ironman, buddy.” After 45 minutes, I hobbled into the medical and massage tents to receive some much-needed care on my legs. 

Lap 2: 2:52

Total Run: 4:59

Final Time: 12:39:44

Closing Thoughts

I allowed myself a week before attempting any sort of workout. After seven months on the grind, my body deserved a break. 

Although I was hurting during the final part of the bike and most of the run, I do not regret many of my in-race decisions. Could I have eased off the power on the flats during lap one of the bike? Maybe. But then maybe I would have been hit with more of the headwinds. Should I have taken the opening miles of the runs easier? Probably. But my heart rate was in my target range. I finished in a competitive time, and I am proud of my accomplishment. I’m also proud to have finished the Lake Placid course for my first Ironman – those hills are no joke! 

Now we know how to adjust the training if I were to race IMLP again. The majority of the training this year was spent building a fitness base. Now, the base is there, and I will improve my stability and power on the bike, and to add in some appropriate IM pace work on the run.

My next race, SwimRun Casco Bay, is soon, only two weeks after Lake Placid. I’m excited to incorporate some speed in place of aerobic work, and race in an event which combines my two stronger legs of a triathlon. Plus, a 13-mile race is much shorter than an Ironman. After that, Lake George Olympic, so the distances only decrease from here!

I couldn’t have finished this race if it wasn’t for the Endurance Drive tribe, and so a massive thank you goes out to Coach Jim & Endurance Drive teammates Matt & Katie. 

Keep on driving  – Chris Klein

Chris finished SwimRun Casco Bay with an overall second place finish in the solo division. Great work, Chris! 

Chris Klein, Katie Clayton & Matthew Goff - post IRONMAN Lake Placid

2017 IRONMAN Mont-Tremblant Race Report -- Kevin Hartstein

Guest race report by Kevin Hartstein.

I love running. Since beginning to train for my first marathon in 2013 the feeling of slipping into a pair of running shoes, knotting the laces, and trotting out the door has brought me endless joy. I run to relieve stress, to improve my health, and to compete with others (especially my twin brother) and myself over how long and fast I can go. I’ve ticked most of the important boxes – completing a marathon, qualifying for and running Boston and New York, and upping the distance to 50K, 50 miles and even 100 miles at the VT100 Endurance Race last summer. I love the purity and freedom of running – all you need is a pair of shoes and some willpower to start putting the miles in. But I hate cross-training. I have a difficult time convincing myself to stretch or do core work, never mind swimming, cycling, or (god forbid) running on an elliptical… So why on earth did I sign up for an Ironman?

Like many important life decisions, it started in a bar. Club sweetheart Cara Baskin, my brother Taylor, and I had just run the Lake Wawayanda Trail Ragnar Relay in New Jersey. Although the 120-mile race was meant for teams of 4 or 8, we failed to fill the 4th slot on our roster. Despite this setback, we won the Ultra division and finished 3rd overall among the 8-person teams. Inebriated with victory (and perhaps a few too many IPAs) we planned our next move. We had all run ultra-distance events already – in fact, Cara had completed the VT50 the weekend before – so we wanted a new challenge. “Let’s do an Ironman!” It seemed so simple. Taylor had cycled in college and Cara had completed a Half Ironman the year before. I had only a vague notion of the swim and bike distances and almost no experience with either sport, but had run for 23 hours straight in the VT 100, so figured a race that took about half that time would be no problem. The drinks wore off sometime the next morning and the lactic acid ebbed a few days later, but the Ironman idea caught hold.

Triathlon training would be the most intense cross-training I had ever done. I signed up for a winter spin class at the Dartmouth gym to see what cycling was like and started swimming once a week during lunch. My friend Robert Gill joined for spinning and decided to get in on the action. Our friend and UVRC club-mate Taylor Black had raced at Ironman Mont-Tremblant the year before and gave it rave reviews, so we all pulled the trigger and registered. The months that followed that decision seems like a blur of wetsuits, carbon time-trial bikes, and Clif Shot Bloks. My goal shifted from completing the event to racing it. I learned how to fix a flat tire and keep my goggles from fogging up. UVRC member and triathlete Jeff Reed introduced me to the Dartmouth Triathlon Club coaches Jim Anderson and Eliot Scymanski, who taught me to bike and swim correctly and what a “brick” workout was. I met my girlfriend, Vanessa, at an Upper Valley Triathlon Club event and she decided to race with us at Mont-Tremblant. I borrowed time from my running to give swimming, cycling, and even core work a fair share.

Before we knew it race day had arrived. We pumped up our tires and deposited our bikes and running shoes in the transition area. The Canadian Air Force jets flew over the beach at Lac Tremblant and the cannons went off to start the race. We charged into the water for 2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles on the bike, and a full marathon. We all crossed the finish line. After drinking some water and shuffling to the hotel room for a shower, we met up at the bar to start planning our next adventure.

In the end, my season of cross-training comprised about 2500 miles of cycling and 100 miles of swimming in addition to 600 miles of running over the four months between the Boston Marathon in April and Ironman Mont-Tremblant on August 24th. I still find reasons to avoid core work and stretching, but I really enjoy swimming and cycling now and plan to continue cross-training to some extent through the winter in order to compete in another Ironman next year. With enough work, I think I have a chance of earning an age-group slot for the Ironman World Championships in Kona, Hawaii.

On the other hand, I’m thrilled to focus on running for the rest of the season. It is my first and true endurance love. I don’t have to worry about tire tubes or goggles or goofy one-piece suits with padding in the shorts. From now until the end of the year I’ll just be knotting my laces and hitting the road, first to prepare for the VT 50 miler in September, then for the NYC Marathon in November.

I would encourage anyone who’s considering a crazy athletic dream to go for it. The biggest obstacle is usually just committing to your goal. Once it’s in sight, everything else will fall into place. Especially here in the Upper Valley, there are a lot of friendly, helpful people who will point you in the right direction and give you training advice. Ask for help. Whether it’s a 5k, charity bike ride, triathlon, or ultramarathon, someone in the UVRC, Upper Valley Triathlon Club, or Upper Valley Velo has done something similar and would love to talk to you about it. I’m honored to be a board member for our club and my mission as Vice President is to bring these resources together for our members.

2017 USAT Age Group National Championships Race Report -- Emma Sklarin

It was 8:55am in Omaha, and we were sitting hip-to-hip with our competitors, our legs dangling over the edge of the dock. After months of anticipation and training, Katie, Sonia and I finally had our toes in the race. We were smiling and laughing with the girls around us, though they would soon become our fiercest competitors when our wave took off minutes later. That’s just the magic of this crazy sport: when you’ve traveled halfway across the country to push your body through a two-and-a-half-hour, three-sport sprint, you just can’t take it too seriously.

After five long minutes, the buzzer went off and the swim began. The water temperature was 80 degrees on race morning, so it was declared a non wetsuit race. This meant slightly slower swim times without the flotation power of a wetsuit, but it also meant we would shave time from our transitions since we wouldn’t need to rip off our wetsuits or change clothes at all. Besides the lack of lane lines, the lake swim almost felt like a pool.

While the swim looks peaceful to fans on the docks, in the water it’s a battlefield. Remember that pool game “sharks and minnows,” where the shark grabs as many legs as she can while the other kids scramble to cross the pool? The swim leg of a triathlon is just like that game, except everyone is a shark and it lasts for a mile. I fought my way to the first buoy, and Sonia got stuck between two swimmers, claiming that at one point she “rode on their backs” as she found herself in their line of motion. We circled the buoys to complete the mile, Sonia and I coming in at 27 minutes with Katie close behind.

Sonia and I ran to transition together and cheered each other on. Soon, we were running with our bikes to the bike mount line. Sonia started just ahead of me and Katie, quick as a whip, passed me within the first couple miles. The bike is my worst leg of the triathlon by far, so my goal was just to hang on to a 20 mph pace and try to hold my position for as long as possible. I was only successful until the turnaround – when my lack of speed work caught up to me –, but I still finished the bike leg in my goal of an hour twenty. Katie and Sonia finished the bike leg in 1:10 and 1:14, and I cheered them on the start of the run as I sprinted to transition.

By the time I got to T2, it was almost 11 and already 80 degrees. It was hot, and you could see it on the red faces of all of the runners. I followed Sonia’s advice and dumped a cup of water on my head at each aid station. At one, the volunteer handed me the paper cup and called out “wait, that’s a block of ice!” as I ran away, but I’d already poured it, the ice melting on my head. It felt great.

My run was a blurry mix of bliss and pain, and I couldn’t help but smile. There we were in the middle of Nebraska, running down country roads with some of the best amateur triathletes in the nation – and they were all just as excited to be there as we were. I crossed the finish line six minutes ahead of my goal time with Katie, Sonia, Jeff and my dad all waiting at the end. Katie had finished in 2:26:53, coming in an incredible 7th in our age group. Sonia finished in 2:32, coming in 16th. I came in at 2:39, finishing 25th.

That night at the awards ceremony, Katie took to the podium, standing with the top finishers in our age group. She also found out that all three of us had qualified for Worlds in 2018 in Australia. The next morning, Coach Jeff had an amazing race in the Sprint, coming in hot at 1:13:51 and finishing 7th in his age group. Talk about a coach that can do both! Jeff guided us through our race-day prep and cheered us on throughout the race, only to wake up and absolutely crush his own race the next day.

Two years ago, I raced Nationals in my Dartmouth kit, but I competed mostly for myself. I could’ve never imagined how far our team has come since then. At the finish line, we met an alum, Gabriel, who was racing, too. Maybe that’s why I never stopped hearing “Go Big Green” throughout the race, both from strangers and friends. It propelled us forward, pushed us to dig even deeper and put smiles on our faces in the toughest (and hottest) moments. I think it’s safe to say that Dartmouth made a splash at Nationals this year.

Now for a few huge thank yous: First, dad – you’re the best cheerleader in the game (thank you for flying to (the most exotic) midwestern cities with me)! Jeff – you are a saint for driving to Omaha by yourself with our bikes so that we could have the perfect race set up. I’m not sure how we will ever repay you! Jim – this summer, when the devil on my shoulder told me to stay out on a Friday night and skip a Saturday double-day, I’d remember the joy of the TrainingPeaks box turning green and knowing you’d see me kicking butt in my workout and the devil would pipe down. Thank you for thoughtfully writing training plans that made all three of us fit and confident for race day!   - Emma Sklarin, Dartmouth Triathlon Club & Endurance Drive U23 athlete