Ironman Lake Placid Report

 It looks like the rain will clear out for this evening.  I hope to see everyone there at 5:30 as usual.  There will likely be a group doing intervals again this week.  Make sure to get out there and challenge yourself if you are able!

We might go to Village Burger (or another location) this evening after running, so feel free to join in :)

Since everyone has heard a ton about Ironman Lake Placid for the last six months from us, here is a race report from Aaron:

Terry asked if I'd put together a race/experience report from Ironman Lake Placid so I figured I'd share some of my thoughts from the experience.  Warning... this thing is "Terry long".

First of all, Ironman is hard.  Those of you that know me have certainly heard me joke about "faking" various distances whether it be a 5k or a 70.3.  It's all a matter of perspective but I cannot imagine ever seriously uttering the words "You can fake an Ironman."  Not only does it takes months of preparation but you also need to be a little bit lucky on race day.  With the majority of the athletes on the course for well over 10 hours, you can almost guarantee something will not go according to plan and you'll need to adjust on the fly.

Pre-race:

We rented a condo a few miles outside of town.
Ironman does their best to ensure that the local economy gets stimulated so for us that meant athlete check in on Friday, bike drop off on Saturday and then a race on Sunday.  Most hotels and condos increase their rates and number of nights to meet the demand of 2500 athletes plus spectators coming to town.  While not being in the middle of town had some drawbacks, having our own kitchen and being able to unplug from the insanity in the days leading up to the race was well worth it.  While other triathletes were getting last minute rides and runs in through the overrun village, we had some quiet mountain roads to prepare on.

Runner registration was typical of most big events.  Signage left something to be desired if you came from the wrong direction but people were super helpful when asked for assistance.  At check-in, we signed our waivers, had our weight taken (in case of any race day medical issues, weight is a key indicator towards evaluating dehydration), picked up bibs and goodie bags.  Every year, they have a different event poster.  Unfortunately, 2015's was pretty lame.

Post registration we headed to the finish line for pre-race briefing. 

This is where they warn you about drafting, passing on the right, peeing on the side of the road, etc...  It never ceases to amaze me how much of the mundane they cover and how little race specific detail they discuss.  For example, two weeks prior to the race there was major construction on the bike course.  Seems like this would be a good opportunity to let us know that the construction we likely saw during training was resolved.  You'd also think they'd highlight some common sense items like "2400 of you won't be winning anything.  Descending into Keene in your aerobars in excess of 50mph is not only putting your safety in danger but you are endangering the other athlete's on the course.  It isn't worth it."  After the safety briefing, we checked out some of the vendor tents.  We tasted the bacon flavored energy bars, got the schpiel on a salty electrolyte replacement and took a pair of Hokas for a test run.

Saturday we took our bike's into town to drop off at transition. 

I was having some rear tire issues and mistakenly walked right past the bike tech tent and delivered my bike to transition.  In Syracuse, the bike tech's were setup in transition.  At IMLP 2015 they had them setup a quarter mile up the road.  Not a big deal until you get your bike into transition, discover a problem and then learn that they really won't let you take your bike out.  In a panic, I ended up trying to fix my bike myself, made it worse and then proceeded to empty my karma bank begging to get my bike out to the mechanics.  I wouldn't be surprised to learn that nobody else was successful in breaking their bike out of transition.  The mechanics were able to sort of fix the damage that I'd done and it was going to have to be good enough for Sunday.

Aside from the event specific stuff, we took the opportunity to be tourists in Lake Placid. 

We've been through town a bunch but usually on the way to hike or ski.  The Olympic museum is actually pretty nice and we enjoyed watching some CanAm hockey practices on the 1980 rink.

Race day:

Up at 3AM for some oatmeal and then the ride into town. Unlike other triathlons where you setup all your gear in a single place in transition, Ironman gives you a bag for run gear and a bag for bike gear (along with some other special needs bags).

Sunday morning, while adding nutrition to the gear bags, another athlete struck up a conversation implying that we wouldn't be swimming.  Huh?  He explained that there had been a fire in town Saturday night and there was concern that the debris that ended up in Mirror Lake would pose a hazard.  Needless to say, it didn't and we swam.

The Swim:

Typically, this is my strength.  My bike crash in May had me out of the water for all of May and June.  A better than expected finish in Syracuse had me thinking I'd do OK but I knew I wouldn't be anywhere close to an hour.  A few years ago, IMLP transitioned to a rolling swim start.  From what I've heard, it is less impressive than 2500 people starting simultaneously for the spectators but better for the athletes.  At the start line, they basically had signs indicating less than 60 minutes, 60-70 minutes, 70-80, etc.... I worked my way up to the middle of the 60-70 pack.  The gun sounded and we started working our way forward.  It took about 3.5 minutes to hit the water.

I'd heard there's an underwater chain that you can follow so that you don't have to sight.  I'd also heard that it can get a little rough following the chain because of the volume of swimmers.  I never saw it and with my elbow a hair under 100% never bothered to fight in to get it.  The first 300 meters felt like it took forever, surrounded by swimmers who seemed intent on bumping into me or swimming in front of me and then slowing down.  By the first turn, I'd worked myself to the outside and found my happy place.  I spent most of the rest of the swim on the outside.  Not the shortest distance and less of a draft effect but I feel faster when I can just swim.  At the halfway point it was up onto the beach a 90 degree turn and then back into the water.  Once again, I found myself in a crowd and ended up working my way out of it.  I do recall picking up a swimmer moving a little faster than me about 45 minutes into the swim.  I made a game out of trying to keep up and it worked well for me.

Overall, I didn't drown, kept my goggles on my face without any fogging and finished about where I hoped. 

Coming up out of the water I started working my wetsuit off until an idle wetsuit stripper through me to the ground and finished me off.  This magical moment was actually captured on the Ironman video stream.

Transition 1:

Post stripping, it's about a half mile run from the beach to the ice skating oval where transition takes place.  The footpath from the beach all the way to transition was packed with cheering spectators.  I watched the crowd for familiar faces and before I knew it, I was trotting into transition where I grabbed my bike bag and headed to the transition tent.

In most triathlons, you wear your tri shorts and singlet under your wetsuit.  For Ironman's 112 mile bike ride, I decided I wanted to the extra padding of my normal bike shorts.  This is where the transition tents come into play.  Basically there are two gender specific tents setup.  You run in and there are rows of chairs and volunteers to help you with whatever.

I found an empty spot, tore open my bag and had a complete brain freeze.  OK, reboot.  Grab the towel and dry off.  But the floor is all wet and covered with sand.  Don't want to drop the bike shorts on the floor.  Enter extra careful mode.  Get pants on.  Get the shirt on.  Towel on the floor, dry the feet, bike socks and shoes.  Helmet, gloves, glasses, nutrition.  Oh crap, where's my PB&J sandwich?  Left it in my bike special needs bag.  Won't see that for 56 miles.  No worries... spare gels, gummies, salt tabs?  Crap, those are in my special needs bag also.  Oh well.  Wet swim stuff goes into the bag and off we go!

Exiting transition volunteers are yelling out our race numbers so that other volunteers can fetch our bikes.  I don't here my number.  Maybe if I point and shout one of these people will yell my number.  Nope.  No time to worry... I'll get it myself.  I spotted Lena and Nha (well they spotted me) before I grabbed my bike.  Since I'd already spent an eternity in transition, I burned a few more moments to stop for a photo.  Then off to grab my bike and get rolling.

The Bike:

The primary goal going into the bike ride was to not go too hard on the first lap.  Lake Placid is hilly and you have to do it twice.  To make things more interesting, the worst of the hills are on the back half of the loop.  Due to my bike accident, I didn't get as much intense hill training on my legs as I would have liked.  I figured I'd target a cadence of 80-85 rpm and a heart rate in the 140s when not killing myself on the uphills.

You start on a pretty good downhill surrounded by other cyclists still working to get their balance after over an hour in the water.  The crowds are nice in town so I took it easy and absorbed what I could. before the climbing started.  After the first major climb I settled in offering relatively encouraging words to the cycle monsters as the passed me like I wasn't moving.  Maybe 7 miles in, I saw one of those guys go over his handlebars and tumbling across the road.  My guess is he got clipped while passing too closely to another rider.  Rumor is they patched him up and he finished.

Special thanks to Bob, Erin, Malinda and Drew for putting in a solid cheering performance at the top of the pass.  It was good to hear people cheering specifically for us.

If you've never ridden the descent into Keene it's an experience.  It's about 5 miles of descending and if you don't touch your brakes, you'll exceed 40 mph without pedaling.  Nice time to rest the legs but by the time you reach Keene, your sphincter is feeling the burn. :)  The roads were damp and it was crowded so brakes were needed although I tried to keep it to a minimum.

From Keene you head north to Ausable Forks where you pull a u-turn and ride 6 miles back to the pass that takes you up to Wilmington.  There was a nice tailwind on the first lap and 20+ mph was effortless.  I assumed that I'd see Kelly going in the other direction in this area and she did not disappoint. 

Turning up towards Wilmington you get your first real shot of pain.  As I came on around the corner, you could see people suffering to the horizon.  I passed a woman free spinning and commented that I was jealous of her "granny gear."  She told me she'd specifically requested it just for Lake Placid.  The climb to Wilmington is long.  At times, you'd swear you are going downhill but really the grade has simply dropped to 2-3 percent instead of 6-10.  At the top of the climb you get a nice view of Whiteface as you descend to Willmington for a short out and back.  The race plan had been to eat my sandwich here.  My poor packing meant that I just grabbed a cliff bar from the aid station and suffered through that.

The next portion of the bike drops out of Wilmington and then begins the 10 mile climb back to Lake Placid.  There were some decent flats and nothing terrible aside from the grade right outside the entrance to Whiteface Mountain.  You follow the stream and the views are pretty nice.  Believe it or not, spectators actually found there way out to this stretch of road.  At the end of the 10 miles there is an area called the 3 bears.  You hit the mamma bear first and really it felt just like a continuation of the previous 10 miles.  Carrying speed off of mamma, you can basically cruise over baby bear before you hit the papa bear.  It isn't the worst climb on the course but you need to work for it.  On the first lap, it was packed with cheering spectators.

After the bears you get a nice downhill through town to the special needs pit stop.  I thought this was pretty neat.  They radio your race number ahead and a volunteer is standing there NASCAR style with your bag.  You pull up, they hold your bike and you grab what you need.  I grabbed my sandwiches and salt tabs along with replacement gels.  I completely missed the anti-chafe and my rear would later regret this. 

After restocking, you hit one of my favorite parts of the course as you zip down a spectator packed main street, up around the oval and then drop over a series of steps.  I was energized.  I wanted to do bunny hops.  I may have actually done one before my brain said "flat tires are bad."

Going into lap two I felt like aside from missing my sandwiches and salts, I was on target.  The course was much less crowded and I was able to fly down the Keene descent.  There was a short distance where a slower rider held me up and I wasn't comfortable looking far enough over my shoulder to make sure it was clear to pass at those speeds.

The second journey to Ausable Forks definitely lacked the tail wind and the sun was working it's evil magic.  I focused on heartbeat and cadence.  I watched cheaters go by working in drafting teams.  I wondered where race officials were?  I told myself not to worry.  It's my race and I'm going to finish. 

Around mile 80 I had my first real problem.  My left quad momentarily locked up.  Crud - drink water.  Slurp.  Out of water.  Just some warm Gatorade left on the bike and a good 3 miles to go including a serious climb to the next aid station.  I downshifted, ignored my speed and tried to give my quad a break.  This was the moment when I first realized how hard an Ironman can be.  Surprisingly, I spotted Kelly in almost the same spot on the out and back which encouraged me.  I knew she was having a good bike and hadn't had any glitches in the first 75 miles.

Eventually I reached the aid station, took on a bunch of water and resumed the sufferfest.  At some point, my left aerobar got knocked out of whack so I had to jump off the bike, pull out my tools and readjust that.  The trip back into Placid was a bit slower but uneventful.  It was the middle of the afternoon and you could see that people were really starting to suffer.

Crowd support on the three bears on the second lap was almost non-existent.  I let a few of the quieter spectators know that I was trying to concentrate so they should keep their voices down.  They caught the irony and urged me on.  The bike ride finishes along the run course so I caught glimpses of some of the insane athletes on their run as the bike came to an end.  It was hard not to push through this section but there was still a marathon to run.  One last pass through the crowd lined streets of Lake Placid and then I was rolling into...

Transition 2:

I honestly don't remember much other than handing my bike to a volunteer, running into our friend Eric who was volunteering, grabbing my gear bag and heading to the change tent to get nekkid again. 

Unlike other triathlons where I've always tried to move as fast through transition as possible, I lacked any sense of urgency.  It probably didn't help that the tent was quite warm.  Getting out of bike clothes and into running clothes was no small feat.  Shoved the cycling gear into a bag and handed it off to a volunteer before trotting out.  Quick stop to reapply gobs of suntan lotion then off to the run.

The Marathon:

I stole my marathon goal from a coworker.  I've run marathons before.  I even ran one fast.  I've never run one coming off a 7 hour bike ride before.  Having little expectation for a time, I decided I wanted to run the entire marathon if my body would let me.

I think it was around here that Bob and Erin made the mistake of getting my intention.  As Bob describes it, he received the wettest hug of his life.  Apparently, Erin has been hugged by many sweaty men so I didn't register a superlative there.  Lena and Nha were also on the run course cheering and sending photo updates back home.

The run course takes you down a couple of really steep hills at the outset.  Again, I tried to ignore pace and focus on keeping my heartrate in the 140s aside from the uphills where I had no chance.  The course goes out almost 6 miles before turning around and looping back.  On the run out, I felt like the entire thing was downhill and could only imagine the pain at the turnaround. 

In the mid afternoon/early evening there is very little shade and I was extremely grateful to have my desoto skin cooler. 



Not only does it provide some extra skin protection with the long sleeves, it gets downright chilly when dowsed with water and includes pockets along the spine to shove ice into.  My aid station routine became eat a gummy on the way in, was it down with water, ask a volunteer to fill pockets with ice, eat some banana, drink a little more water and then throw the rest on my arms for cooling.

Overall, the run went about as well as I could have expected with the limited brick and speed training that we did.  After 8 hours of nothing but gels, my stomach decided that it required some download action but other than that and the aid stations, I was able to run the first half without problem.

On reaching the special needs area, I let the volunteer know that I wanted to change out into dry socks and shoes and she found me a nice rock to sit on.  While I did that she dug out some fresh gummies for me and had me on my way in no time.

The rest of the run went about the same.  With the out and backs, I was able to keep tabs on Kelly and she was able to let me know that something wasn't right and it was going to take her a while.  The suffering on the course was evident.  There were at least as many walkers as runners at any given point.

I ended up chatting with a few guys who were run walking at my pace.  We sort of did the tortoise and the hare thing for a while, me being the turtle.  At the 20 mile mark, the one guy said something about only 6 miles to go to which I replied, 6.2.  He gave me grief about being "that guy" but then got his snarky revenge a couple miles later when he ran by and let me know there were only 4.2 miles to go.  I ended up losing the rabbits on the steep uphills into town with almost everybody walking them.  I got the last word in on the final out and back when I spotted him going the other direction and I knew I only had half a mile to go. :)

I will say that spectator support on the hills was less than what I expected based on reputation.

The Finish:
As I approached the finish line I looked over my shoulder and there were 5-6 runner within 10-15 seconds of me.  I'd read too many stories about people rushing the finish line or having their finisher photo ruined by some goomba sprinting the finish.  I waved them by and then entered the speed skating track.  This area definitely had good crowd support and I did my best to get them riled up.



High fives to everybody looking for them, verified the finish line was clear and then just focused on keeping my arms up across the finish line where a pair of volunteers seemed sure that I was ready to hit the dirt.

Somewhere in there, an announcer said "Aaron Gerega, You Are An Ironman." 


I'd be lying if I told you that I remember it.  I was glad to be across the line in one piece and was itching to go find out how Kelly was doing.  I grabbed an appropriately themed finisher's medal and did a quick photo before hooking up with Lena and Nha to do some spectating.

The Aftermath:

We spent the next few hours cheering people coming up the hill and monitoring Kelly's progress with the internet.  It was amazing to see people pushing through the pain to get to the finish line.  As the evening wore on, the crowds moved away from the race course to the finish line.  If you look at the finisher videos, the crowds are non-existent when the winners cross the finish line, substantial by 7-9PM and absolutely insane from 10 to midnight.

People ask if I'll ever do another.  I hate to say never but right now I think I am good with one.  As time passes, I'm stating to  look back at things I could have done a little differently.  Having a finish under your belt allows you to maybe push the envelope a little bit further.  I really did enjoy all of the training that went into it.  I think it's hilarious that I can go out and run 16 miles in August for the heck of it.  Would I recommend an Ironman to somebody else?  If you like triathlon and truly have the desire to get across the finish line, I say, go for it.  Just don't try to fake it.