IM Louisville 2013: Fate Catches Up

Everyone who races knows that, eventually, they will have a day when the body refuses to play along. It is inevitable. If we are lucky, it happens at a smaller, less significant event. If we are not, it happens at our "A" race, the one we've been training for all year.

Such was my fate at Ironman Louisville 2013.

After a very easy (and slow) swim, I got out of the water feeling fabulous and full of energy for the bike ride and run ahead. I was actually looking forward to getting out there on the bike, and eager to start the run. The helpful volunteer in the changing tent helped me get all my stuff sorted out, opened my lube for me, and handed me things as I needed them. I drank my Shakeology, which topped off a filling breakfast of two Core Powers and a protein drink made with almond milk and a peach, and I was out of there in a quick 10:45. While five minutes faster than the last time I did this race, it felt very relaxed and calm, and I was looking forward to the rest of my day.

Got deluxe service with two more volunteers slathering me from head to toe in sunscreen, found my bike, waved goodbye to Paula and Shirley, and took off. It was a beautiful day, just starting to heat up into the low 70's.

Things went well. As I expected, the first 22 miles were the fastest. This was the flattest part of the course, with only two big hills. The next 25 or so miles I slowed down about as much as I had expected, knowing it was going to be non-stop hills for another 40 miles or so. It was getting warmer, but I wasn't feeling particularly uncomfortable, and I was on schedule with my fluids and fuel. I made sure to sip on my carb/protein mix on a regular basis, and had stopped a couple of times to take water and some electrolyte drink, and stand up to stretch the legs a bit. Was passing lots of people on the hills without killing myself. So far so good. Gonna be a great day!

At mile 50 or so, the freight train hit. I felt like I wanted to puke. My legs lost all strength. I was consumed with an overwhelming fatigue. I started fantasizing about stopping, laying down in the grass by the road, and taking a 3-hour nap. What is going on? I sure hope this passes. I've NEVER felt that bad during any kind of physical event. I've felt mildly nauseas for maybe five minutes at a time when it's been particularly hot, but nothing that compares to this fatigue. I definitely wasn't bonking; I'd been taking in good calories all day. I wasn't trying anything new. All my nutrition was stuff I'd been using all summer. Did I start out too fast and flame out? No, I had kept a very reasonable and comfortable-feeling pace up to this point. Am I getting sick with something and it's just now hitting me? All I could do was keep going and hope it passed. But I had a dark feeling it wouldn't.

Around mile 56 (or maybe 58?), I pulled into an aid station and knew I had to sit down before I fell down. A wonderful volunteer brought me a baggie of ice, and I put that on my neck. Drank a full bottle of water and felt a little better. Got up and realized I probably should lay down for a few minutes. Laying in the grass, I put the ice on my side, and that helped quite a bit. Was finally feeling good enough to get up, go to the bathroom (well I guess that rules out dehydration, no?), and get moving again. By now, my focus was on making it to my food at special needs, which was mile 65.

I struggled more than normal to get up the hills, and tried to go as fast as I could going down. By now I was starting to get a little woozy, which was frightening when coasting down a hill at something like 35mph (I haven't checked my Garmin yet to verify). Going down one hill, I realized that the walls were indeed closing in, and it was all I could do to focus on the pavement immediately in front of me and holding a stable form, so as not to crash. I was very aware of making a conscious effort not to let the attention stray and do something stupid that would cause me to lose control of the bike.

Finally got to special needs. Called out my number, and yet another outstanding volunteer found me a chair and brought my bag of goodies. I drank another Shakeology, hoping the protein would at least alleviate this agony enough to get the brain back in gear. The volunteer was a man about my age, and he was feeling my pain. That poor guy tried his best to buck me up and get me pumped about doing the remaining 47 miles. If I had been feeling normally, I would have been thrilled to only have 47 miles left. In my current condition, I could only groan and thank him for trying. After I-don't-know-how-long, I got back on the bike and left, very slowly. Walking wasn't the problem, pedaling was. If I could just get myself back to transition, I could WALK the marathon if need be. If I can just get back on the bike.

But the legs continued to get weaker and weaker. It got to the point where I could barely pedal even on the flat sections. Since when is it hard to get 13mph on my bike?? What is going on here?

The nausea never really went away; instead it proceeded to get worse and worse, as did the struggle to focus. Finally, around mile 72 or 73, I stopped, laid the bike down, and sat down next to it, hoping to wait out the nausea. Some other cyclists came by (also going fairly slowly but obviously not feeling as awful as I was) and asked if I needed anything. I told them I was done and asked if they could please mention me at the next aid station. They promised they would and continued on.

I laid down in the grass by the road and promptly lost everything I had just put in my stomach. Several times. Damn. Is this ever going to stop? It finally did, and I sat up. Realized that I actually felt a lot better after puking. Maybe I can get a few more miles in and see how it goes?

At 75 miles, the legs totally gave out and refused to move the pedals any more. Well, crap. Whatever this is, it's bad. And it's not letting up. In fact, it's getting worse. There's no possible way I can do another 37 miles, even if it's flat, and it isn't. Found some shade, leaned the bike up against someone's mailbox out in the middle of nowhere, and sat down. Pretty soon a Sheriff's vehicle came by, and I let him know I wasn't needing EMS, I just needed a ride back to Louisville. Waited maybe ten minutes, and a race SAG van showed up.

[Side note: Another rider came up while I was getting into the van. She was going to hitch a ride because she didn't think she was going to make the bike cutoff. I told her she had plenty of time if she kept going, and it came out that she thought the cutoff was 5:30pm. She was very happy when I told her no, it was either 6:20 or 6:30, so she could definitely make the 37 miles by then. It was probably 3pm or so by this time, so she still had around three hours to play with. She left, smiling. I really hope she made it. I was too out of it to look at her number, much less remember it, so I can't look her up in the results.]

I climbed in the back, thinking I might lie down, and we headed for the next person to pick up. It was blissfully cool inside. Uh oh. I think I'm gonna puke again, and the windows back here don't open. Ack! Climbed up into the front seat and hung my head out the window. Is this misery ever going to end? The driver took my chip, wrote my number down, and called it in. Damn. I'm really going to DNF. I N-E-V-E-R DNF. Especially not at my one major race, especially not an Ironman! But I couldn't do a thing about it. This was not a matter of will power or mental strength. It simply wasn't happening today.

We picked up two more people who were having mechanical issues, and passed a third who was going back in an ambulance. I had to ask the driver to pull over once on the highway, but didn't get sick. I rode the rest of the way back with my head hanging out the window like a dog, wondering if I should have chosen the ambulance instead. Dear god, what is wrong with me?

Got back to transition, walked straight to the medical tent and laid down. Baggies of ice in the armpits and under the neck felt great. Answered a few questions (no not dehydrated, just peed an hour ago, yes BP is always that low, no a pulse of 60 when I'm not moving is not unusual, yes had plenty of fuel onboard until I puked). They watched me for a few minutes and as we chatted, it was obvious I was not in IV territory or worse. The nurse called Paula and told her where I was, and within a few minutes, she and Shirley rounded the corner. They had been waiting nearby, watching my splits get slower and slower, and they knew something was going on. Paula had even turned her phone up super-loud so she'd be sure to hear it, and was ready to answer any unknown phone numbers that called. We retrieved all my stuff from transition and walked back to the hotel. Stopped in the Starbucks in the lobby and got a vanilla frappacino, which was a little bit of bliss after feeling so awful for so long.

Showered, went to dinner, came back and napped until 10:30pm, then went back downstairs to watch the last hour of finishers. The last hour is the most exciting, as people push hard to get in under the 17-hour cutoff. I was happy to see a few people that had been in the back-forty with me on the bike successfully finish their race, and I'm sure I missed a few. It was good to see that they managed to get back in time, even though they were struggling for a while.

Felt fine after a decent night's sleep, and two days later feel completely normal. Looking back, I think I must have been on the verge of heat exhaustion or something like that. We've had a very mild summer in Indianapolis, and I've lost my hot-weather conditioning. (I was more prepared for heat in June.) One of the medics told me that the heat index had spiked right about the time I started tanking, and he wasn't surprised. I was caught completely off-guard, though. I did everything right: training, nutrition, fluids, pacing. I've done over 60 triathlons, almost 60 half-marathons, 15 marathons, and a slew of other distances, and have never felt anything like this. It took me totally by surprise. I'll be happy if I get another 10-year run of mishap-free racing, now that I've got this spectacular bonk (or whatever it was) out of the way.

Sadly, there are no more iron-distance opportunities this year that are not sold out, save one. It's $575 and in a state that I've already raced in...sigh. I'd love to do it, but hate to spend the money, again. However, I'm mapping out the rest of the tri/half-marathon/marathon season, figuring out which states to hit, and am grateful to be injury-free and able to plan more races.

And hey, no recovery time to speak of! All I did was an easy two-hour swim and five-hour bike -- didn't beat myself up on the run, so I'm ready to go work out tomorrow. Ha!

Ironman Muncie 70.3 2013: Successful Day

This past weekend was the Ironman Muncie 70.3, and I had a far better day than expected. I went into this one unconcerned about time. My race-day plan was not to really race, but to view it as a good, long training day, do what I felt like doing, let the day come to me, and see how that played out. No pressure. I fiddle-faddled through the transitions, stopped twice on the bike to stand up, and took plenty of walk breaks on the run. Yet I was completely surprised to see the clock when I finished, handily beating my projected 7:10-7:15 time.

For the first time in several years, the weather was perfect. It seems like the last few years have either brought crazy-wild thunderstorms (my attempt #1 at the distance), torrential downpours (my first successful attempt at the distance), or record heat that resulted in shortening the course. This year was a gift from the weather gods, and everyone was quite excited. The water temp was 76, just barely wetsuit legal, but legal all the same, so most of us decided to go ahead and wear the thing for its buoyancy benefits.

The swim was my usual pathetic pace, but felt better than any this season. Though slow, it was much more a swim than a flounder, so even though the time was a bit disappointing, my day got off to a good start. It was wonderful to get out of the water and hear my name being called by a friend who was there spectating with her boyfriend. (Why aren't you racing, Jen? You're waaaaay more than ready.) Nice to see their smiling faces!

Swim: 52:46

T1 was a long walk from the beach to the transition area, and I took my time. Stopped in a porta-potty to take care of business and wipe sand off myself. After exiting the water, I had flopped to let the wetsuit strippers do their work, and came up covered with sand/dirt. That would drive me crazy all day if I didn't wipe it off. So I took some extra time to clean up before getting ready to bike for 3+ hours. Thought about getting a massage while I was there, but decided that could wait.

T1: 7:27

The bike was on a (mostly) nice course with good roads. However, there had been a course change to alleviate some permitting issues, and it resulted in some oddness. Around mile 20 was a section of road that was a no-passing zone, about 3/4-mile long. In addition to a not-so-great surface, it was narrow, so race officials made it a no-passing zone, but relaxed the drafting rules a bit. I was lucky enough not to get behind anyone going painfully slow, so I didn't mind the break, but apparently some people were not so lucky and got frustrated. It was only 3/4 of a mile, so most took advantage of the time to drink something and relax for a few minutes. The bad part was coming up.

We took a left and headed for the turnaround point at mile 28. Unfortunately, this stretch of road was exceedingly crappy, full of very sloppy chip-seal and some good rollers. The hills were very manageable, but it's amazing how exhausting it is to constantly be bumpity-bumping over lousy road on a bike for 16 or so miles. Ugh. This stretch was also narrow, so even though passing was legal, if someone was passing from each direction at the same time, it got a bit tight. The bumping was also hard on the crotch, and got old quite quickly. I stopped once to stand up and give the nether regions a break.

Finally, around mile 36, we made a right turn back into the no-passing zone. Hurrah! The torture is almost over! There was a collective sigh of relief as riders got back on to nice, smooth road, and everyone sped up again. I decided I wanted to take another break when I got to the final aid station at mile 44, and pulled over. Got the left foot unclipped, and just then my right calf decided it was going to have The Mother Of All Charlie Horses. You can't coordinate the foot well enough to unclip when the calf is one seized-up spasming knot, so over I went. Damn. Didn't hurt myself, but had to lay there under the bike a minute with the right foot still clipped in, waiting for the calf to stop seizing. Finally it loosened up just enough to give me back control of my foot and ankle. I unclipped, climbed out from under the bike, stood up and stretched a minute, then got on my way. The rest of the ride was uneventful, and I was happy to pull back into transition after three hours and 17 minutes, with an average of 17.05 mph. Faster than it felt like, so a successful ride.

Bike: 3:17:03
First 28 miles: 1:38:56
Second 28 miles: 1:38:07. Negative split!

T2 was slightly more efficient than T1. I walked it, chatted with my rackmate while we both got changed for the run, sucked down another gel, stopped at the table by the exit to cover my arms/neck with sunscreen, and headed out. Felt good, just wasn't feeling the need to kill myself rushing.

T2: 4:20

The run was entirely uneventful. I did my usual walk/trudge/run thing, and was pleased at the prospect of hitting the turnaround pretty close to an hour and ten minutes. The volunteers at the aid stations were terrific, full of energy and quite helpful. There was cold water and electrolyte drink at every stop, and most had cups of ice as well. The first station was armed with garden hoses and water guns, and sprayed us down. Boy did that feel good at the beginning and end of the run! It really wasn't that hot, low 80's and not grossly humid, but the cold liquids made a big difference. The enthusiasm of the volunteers made it easy to keep moving, and the 13.1 miles passed rather painlessly.

With maybe 1/4-mile to go, I again heard my name being yelled, this time by some fellow tri-nuts that were there spectating. It was great to see them and they helped motivate me to finally put the hammer down and run it in. I was able to all-out sprint the last 1/10-mile down the finish chute, catching and passing a couple of guys who were ahead of me, and was pleasantly stunned to see the clock at the finish. It was under seven hours! Anything under seven hours is a gift, and the time on the clock didn't account for the fact that my swim wave started a few minutes later than the official race start time. Wow!

Run: 2:24:40
First half: 1:13:05
Second half: 1:11:35. Another negative split! AND my best time ever for the run in a 70.3 race! How did that happen?

Total time: 6:46:16

I have some thoughts about my unexpected success, but I'll save those for another blog post. This one is already long enough!

Keep moving

Someone posted this video on Facebook. It ends with the simple phrase, "You will do this." It's a short video, a little over two minutes. As a tri-geek, I never tire of watching it. However, it has a lot to offer non-tri-geeks.



Even though I completed my first Ironman almost three months ago, I still watch this with a sense of awe. I think, wow, those people are amazing. Then I stop short, realizing that I am now one of those people. Really? How is that possible? I'm just some 50-year-old woman with a desk job, learning about menopause, living in the middle of the cornfields. Not anybody special.

I watch the accounting of the distances: 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, full marathon. 140.6 miles, all human-powered, all in one day, under 17 hours. Damn. Did I really do that?

Not only did I do it, I had a fabulous day and, for the most part, enjoyed the experience. How can that be?

I guess this is what can happen when you embrace the Ironman motto, "Anything is Possible". It really is true. Anything IS possible.

What a wonderful way to look at life! For me, it's a physical/mental journey, testing the limits of my endurance. For others, it's singing, writing, starting a new business, losing weight, building a career. For all of us, it's (sometimes quite literally) putting one foot in front of the other, always moving forward.

Follow your dreams. You won't regret it.

My first Ironman

Oh my, where to begin...I wish everyone could have as much fun for their first Ironman as I did! It was truly an amazing day.

I may have to break this up into several posts, because there's just so much to cover! This one will only cover the race itself. A friend started calling me the Honey Badger. To understand the Honey Badger references, watch the youtube video here:



About a week and a half out from the race, I found myself entering a very calm, very relaxed state. Sure I was still a little nervous, but I felt very confident and ready. I felt like a kid the night before the final: if you don't know the material by now, you're not going to know it during the test, so no use stressing out about it. Either I was prepared or I wasn't, the day was going to go how it was going to go. Best to just control what you can, and let the rest happen.

The night before, I did manage to get a little sleep, even if it was fitful. Had no trouble waking up when the alarm went off at four, and went in search of a microwave for my instant oatmeal. The promised microwave in the lounge was locked up tight, so I had to go back into the hotel kitchen to nuke my breakfast. It worked out fine, so no stress there. Met up with two of the three "Honey Badger Crew" in the lobby, and walked over to the bike transition area, where I put my liquids on the bike. Then we headed down to body marking and the swim start, a 3/4-mile hike. Got there not too much after 5am, but it looked like the line for the swim start was already pretty long. Oh well, I know there's still lots of people behind me, so no worries.

[The swim start at Louisville is a unique Ironman start. Instead of the mass free-for-all start, you get in one long-ass line, and jump off a dock every second or so. The time cutoff for the swim doesn't start until the last person enters the water, so if you're a pitiful-slow swimmer like me, it behooves you to get as near the front of the line as possible.]

We all hung out in line for the next two hours or so, chatting and relaxing. I felt like I had entered a sort of Zen state: I was incredibly calm, felt an inner quiet that I normally don't feel before any race of any distance, and was in a very peaceful mood. I just looked around and people-watched, enjoyed watching Elizabeth and Shirley people-watch, and hoped maybe Paula would get there before I started. She had driven back to Indianapolis Saturday to perform in a chorus concert Saturday night, and got back very early Sunday morning. She grabbed a couple of hours of sleep at a friend's place, and was coming in to find me before the race. She finally found us, about ten minutes before the start.

THE SWIM
The gun went off for the pro start, and we all gawked at their amazingly fast swim past us. Then it was our turn. The line was starting to move. Guess I'm really going to do this thing, huh? Wow. Can't believe it's finally here, after two years of planning and training. Holy crap.

Exchanged hugs with everyone, then the swimmers started our traipse down to the dock. The swim start went very smoothly, with people getting in quickly. I hopped in and started swimming. The Zen-like peacefulness stayed with me, and I had (for me) a wonderful swim. It felt great, comfortable, and not a struggle at all. Got smacked a few times, did my own share of smacking and crawling up over people, and was at the turnaround before I knew it. Yippee! Now I get to swim with the current -- let's hope it helps me out!

It did, and eventually I saw the final red buoy up ahead, signaling the finish. Wow. Really? I still didn't feel tired, was just getting a little bored with swimming and ready to move on to something else. Ok, it's show time. The first of a day of amazing volunteers helped us out of the water, I took a few slower steps to make sure I wasn't lightheaded from being horizontal for so long, and trotted off to transition. Honey Badger is out of the water!

Projected swim time: 2:00. Actual swim time: 1:44:03. Fabulous!

THE BIKE
Another volunteer handed my bike bag to me and I headed to the changing tent, where yet another volunteer immediately asked if I needed water or anything else and began helping me sort out my stuff. While I was in there, a conversation was going on about someone having CPR on the dock at the swim start. Uh oh. Apparently this happened right after I had gotten in the water. No one knew anything, but something bad had obviously happened. Damn. Hate it when someone's day goes so terribly wrong.

The volunteers in the changing tent are wonderful! They pick up your bag, start pulling stuff out of it and handing it to you. A volunteer was walking around offering tampons, and two of us laughed and talked about how happy we were not to have to be fooling with that nonsense today! I had packed a little towel and dried my feet off, pulled on my socks and shoes, helmet, drank a Shakelology, and headed out of the tent. There, yet another wonderful volunteer slathered me thoroughly in sunscreen. What a treat!

Easily found my bike and headed out for a very long ride...still feeling strong and calm. Wow, is this for real? Gave a thumbs-up to everyone, and took off.

Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual T1 time: 12:35.

As promised, the bike started out easy and got harder fast. The serious hills began around mile 18(?) or so, and never let up. However, I still felt great, and was thrilled to reach the first timing mat at 23 miles in an hour and 23 minutes. I was embracing the Endurance Nation philosophy of saving it for later, and was very pleased with how I felt. I'm not a strong cyclist and have definitely not done nearly as much riding as I should have, so I knew the hills would challenge me. I fully expected to have to walk up one or two. Much to my pleasant surprise, even when I was cursing the hills between miles 70-80, I was able to not only stay on the bike, but stay seated all but once. The only time I had to walk was when a series of cars refused to pass us as several of us were going up a hill, and didn't leave me any room to safely get by.

A cyclist was down at mile 20 by the side of the road, but someone else was waiting with them and the aid wagon was arriving just as I went by, so I kept going. Passed a lot of people with some sort of issue, be it flats, unhappy stomach, tired, whatever. There were aid stations approximately every 10 miles, so I stopped and stood up at every one. Twice I got off to use the portajohns. Once again, the volunteers were amazing. If you pulled over, there was immediately someone there offering to bring you water, electrolyte drink, banana, gel, whatever. For the portajohns, someone would grab your bike and hold it while you took care of business, then offer to bring you stuff. Wow.

Pulled over at the special needs stop around mile 65 and drank another Shakeology, and asked what time it was (there were no clocks on the course). It was 2:00. The bike course cutoff was mile 61 by 2:30, so plenty of time there. The volunteer captain told me that they were discussing extending the total race cutoff by a few minutes, due to the delay at the swim start. I asked how the guy was doing, and the volunteer just said "not good." Oh crap. Not another race where someone dies because they didn't know they had a heart condition. Sobering.

Held it together on the bike really well, just staying in easy gears and grabbing all the downhill free speed I could muster. I hauled it down the hills and crept up in granny gear. Oh well, I wasn't killing my legs, either. The crotch held up pretty well until mile 80 or so, then it began getting pretty uncomfortable. Only 32 miles to go, I can deal. Everyone had talked about how the last 20 miles were downhill, so I was looking forward to that.

All those people lied. Sure, if you look at the elevation chart it's all downhill, but reality isn't quite that pleasant. There's also a stretch of concrete road where there's seams every so many yards, and when you go over those seams you get bumped in the...yeah. If anyone had been near me it would have been hilarious, I'm sure. Every time I hit one of those seams, I was grunting and yelping with pain. It hurt, but it was even funny to me. What really kept me cranking was the thought that I was NOT going to do this again, so I had better make all the cutoffs and finish this darned thing!

FINALLY I see the Louisville skyline, and eventually see the volunteer pointing me to the dismount line. Thank gawd. SO happy to get off the bike. You regular century riders can keep it. I have no interest in spending that much time on a bike again. Anything over 3-4 hours is for the birds. Bleah.

Very happily got off the bike (and handed it to a volunteer who racked it for me), then realized I couldn't take a step in my bike shoes. One of them apparently was hitting a nerve, and walking on it was impossible. Didn't bother me at all on the bike, but walking was out of the question. Once again, the amazing volunteer realized I was trying to take off my shoes, and he said, "Let me do that for you. You don't need to bend over just yet." My hero. Walked down to transition in my socks, anxious to get back out on the road...on my FEET.

Projected bike time: between 7-8 hours, hopefully closer to 7. Actual time: 8:04:21.

THE RUN
Back to the changing tent I go. The volunteer once again pulled all of my stuff out and handed it to me one by one, and grabbed stuff as I was removing it and put it in the bag. We chatted a bit while she hovered to make sure I was ok. Asked her the time, and it was around 5:30. Damn. I really wanted to be back by 4:30. There goes another hour of cushion for the run. Oh well, get moving. Drank another Shakeology (dinner!) and headed out for more sunscreen. Wow, I still feel really good. Tired, but good. What gives? I'll take it.

Projected transition time: 15:00. Actual transition time: 14:26.

Said hi to my Honey Badger Crew, made it clear that I hate the bike, and started a slow jog. I was too tired to properly run any distance, but wasn't too tired to run a minute, walk a minute. Oh my, this is gonna take forever. Will I make it? I only have 6.5 hours to cover 26.2 miles. Yikes. I was really angry with myself for putting myself in a potential bind to make the cutoff, so I shortened the walking breaks to maybe 30-45 seconds.

...and passed the "Mile 1" sign before I knew it. Really?? Already? Wow. Maybe this won't take as long as I thought! There are two loops to the course. You do one loop, come within a block of the finish line, make a right, and head out for 12 more miles. I was hoping to hit that corner by 8:00pm. Before I knew it, I was there. Found my crew again, asked what time it was. "23 after!" "After EIGHT??" "Yeah!" Are you serious? Well hot damn, how did that happen? I now had 3.5 hours to cover 12 miles. Piece o' cake.

Kept up the run/walk routine, kept passing people that I never saw again, and soon I was at the 25-mile mark. WOW. I'm really gonna do this thing, it's really not gonna be a suckfest, and I'm really enjoying the hell out of it. What's wrong with this picture? Can everything be falling into place this nicely? I mean, everything? Not one thing went wrong, really. Pinching myself the last mile, I decided I was going to thoroughly enjoy that finish chute.

THE FINISH
Rounded that last corner, was blinded by the bright lights, walked to the start of the finish chute. Hit the chute, then took off in a sprint. Enjoyed the crowd noise, heard the announcer say it was my 50th birthday, did some high-fives with people as I went by, and smiled like a fool when I heard "Carla Happel, you are an Ironman!" Holy. Shit. I did it. AND IT DIDN'T SUCK. Am I dreaming?

Got my medal, another volunteer was immediately at my side guiding me through the finish area, found my crew and hugged them, got my finish cap and shirt. Paula handed me the most obnoxiously large helium birthday balloon ever and a dozen roses, and I got the finisher pic with those. Awesome!

Oh, did I mention that Macca (Chris McDonald) put my medal on me? How cool. That man is amazing. He won this race in 8:27:36. Inhuman.

We wandered around looking for some milk or something not-solid to eat, I spoke with my parents, then we went and watched some more finishers for about another 45 minutes. That was the best. These were all the people I had passed on the run course, who had just been too tired to even try running, and it was great to see them perk up, run in, and smile.

After that, the first order of business was a hot shower...

Projected run time: 6:00. Actual run time: 5:33:04

My total race time was 15:48:29...about 45 minutes faster than I had hoped.

Guess I'm an Ironman now, huh? Sure does feel good.

Ironman's Sad Loss of Integrity (Part #3)

Sigh. Ironman, oh Ironman. What's happened to your logic? You withdraw a blatantly flawed program and bluntly state that you were wrong, but stick to the derailed logic that prompted the firestorm in the first place.

Thanks for at least paying enough attention to respond quickly and kill a tragically stupid idea.

http://ironman.com/mediacenter/pressreleases/ironman-access#axzz13gVMhFYm

Ironman's Sad Loss of Integrity (Part #2)

A few months ago, WTC (World Triathlon Corporation) bought the Muncie Endurathon, a half-iron distance race that has been around for over 30 years. They then proceeded to extort a 60-day blackout from the city. This effectively cancelled several local races (which were shorter and not a threat for business). It also raised the registration fee by a good $100 or so.

After reading the article below, I wrote a letter to the Ironman folks. One local event organizer fought the 60-day ban, but there were many other events that were affected as well, including some raising money for charity.

Delaware County Commissioners want to blackout dates around Ironman Triathlon
Star Press - Muncie, Ind.
Author: KEITH ROYSDON
Date: Sep 22, 2010

MUNCIE -- Weeks before it was publicly announced that the Muncie Endurathon had been purchased by an international Ironman triathlon group, the Delaware County commissioners promised they would implement a 60-day blackout of competing events on roads near Prairie Creek Reservoir, site of the race.

But word of the blackout surfaced only this week, and the news has left the man behind another local triathlon group, Muncie Multi-Sport, wondering what the blackout means to his annual slate of five races.

Steve Tomboni asked the Delaware County commissioners this week why they promised a blackout on other "road events in and around the Prairie Creek Reservoir area" for 30 days before and 30 days after upcoming Ironman 70.3 Muncie events staged by World Triathlon Corporation.

Since the 2011 Ironman Muncie 70.3 race is set for July 9, a 30-day, before-and-after blackout would overlap with one of Tomboni's events -- one set for June 1-- by a single day.

"Why 60 days?" Tomboni asked in Monday's commissioners meeting.

"It's not 60 days," Commissioners President Todd Donati said. "It's 30 days prior and 30 days after."

The blackout also came up during Tuesday evening's meeting of the Muncie parks board, which heard a request from Ironman attorney Jan Abbs that the park board enact a similar 60-day blackout on use of the city park at Prairie Creek Reservoir for events similar to the Ironman race.

The parks board ultimately tabled the blackout request until its next monthly meeting after board member Mary Beth Lambert asked Tomboni if the 60-day blackout would cause problems for his Muncie Multi-Sport events. Tomboni said the blackout was "problematic" in scheduling multi-sport events.

"It seems a little overkill to ask for 60 days on the only lake in the county," Tomboni said.

The commissioners made the promise in a July 21 letter to Jon Moll, another DeFur Voran attorney representing Ironman Muncie 70.3. The announcement that Ironman had purchased Muncie Endurathon was made Sept. 9.

At Tuesday's parks board meeting, Mayor Sharon McShurley said the "end goal" was to enable successful events at Prairie Creek.

Donati argued on Monday that the blackout would actually benefit Tomboni's events since they wouldn't be in direct competition with the larger Ironman race for runners, volunteers and vendors.

"They're making a mountain out of a mole hill," Donati said about Tomboni's concerns. "He has five events, they have one. We all have to get along."

Tomboni is a former Muncie Endurathon race director who left the local race and this year founded his own group, Muncie Multi-Sport, and his own series of five races.

Tomboni's races are for the most part duathlons, which combine running and biking, as opposed to triathlons like the former Endurathon and the upcoming Ironman Muncie 70.3, which add swimming to the mix. The last scheduled Muncie Multi-Sport event this year is Oct. 2.

Response to the first year of Muncie Multi-Sport's events has been good, Tomboni said, with 400 participating in the most recent race and 2,700 T-shirts ordered for athletes and volunteers for the summer-long series.

Tomboni said he didn't know what was behind the commissioners' promise -- which was signed by Donati and fellow Commissioner Larry Bledsoe but not Commissioner Don Dunnuck -- but noted that the Muncie parks board, not the commissioners, controls the city park at Prairie Creek.

The commissioners' letter specifically conveys their promise to "not allow permits for road events," however.

In an interview after Tuesday's parks board meeting, Bledsoe told The Star Press he allowed his signature stamp to be used on the letter promising the blackout after being assured the blackout would not interfere with Tomboni's events.

I ignored Donati's flawed logic and stunning lack of math skills and wrote a letter to the Ironman folks.

-----Original Message-----
From: Carla Happel [mailto:cghappel@yahoo.com]
Sent: Thursday, September 23, 2010 12:56 PM
To: Jessica Weidensall; Catie Case
Cc: cghappel@yahoo.com
Subject: Ironman 70.3 Muncie

I'm writing you because I couldn't find any other appropriate contacts on the ironmanusa.com website. Please feel free to forward to the appropriate individuals.

I find the following very concerning:

http://www.thestarpress.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=20109220312

Does Ironman demand 60-days of inactivity at all of their other race sites? Why? How on earth is a local sprint tri a competitor? I am a triathlete, and have done a couple of IM 70.3s, and am registered for a full IM next year. In no way does the availability of other local events influence my decision to register for an IM race!

I am terribly disappointed in the Ironman organization over this, and appalled at the arrogance shown here by such a move. Why are you trying to put local organizers out of business by closing their venues for two months, in the middle of race season, no less????

I'm sad to say that if this proves to be typical Ironman behavior, I will look elsewhere for half and full-iron distance races in the future. Next year's IM Louisville will be my last Ironman event.

Please reconsider what you are doing to the local economies, particularly of Muncie.

Thank you.

Carla Happel
USAT #233308

I got two replies later that same day.

Reply #1:

RE: Ironman 70.3 Muncie
Thursday, September 23, 2010 6:55 PM
From: "Jessica Weidensall" <jessica@ironman.com>
Add sender to Contacts
To: "Carla Happel" <cghappel@yahoo.com>
Cc: "Catie Case" <catie@ironman.com>

Hi Carla,

Thank you for your interest in Ironman 70.3 Muncie and for your feedback. To address your question, Ironman has varying levels of restrictive clauses in regard to its host venues. Each race is handled differently based on the nature of the venue, history of the event, needs of the community, event location, historical events in the area, etc. These are in place for a number of reasons, which I have outlined below.

1. To ensure a successful event. We have made an investment in the event and the community and are ensuring our ability to acquire permits, recruit volunteers and secure local sponsors and media. In this case, there is an event organizer who would like to plan a Half-Ironman distance event (same distance) less than 30 days before Ironman 70.3 Muncie. In Muncie, anyone can put on anything at any time outside of 30 days before and 30 days after the event. Muncie has a great history with triathlon (largely based on the reputation of the event we acquired) and we take our efforts to protect that history and event very seriously.

2. To protect the interests of the community and the residents. One of our goals is to protect the residents who live and work along our event courses. Back-to-back events scheduled each weekend would inconvenience residents.

3. To ensure quality of the events. Often times residents do not demarcate between events and look at Ironman as representing all triathlons in a region. If, as often is the case, an event company comes in and puts on a poor event with negative repercussions in the community whether through traffic problems, issues with payment to suppliers, or worst case a serious injury, it impacts all events in that market. Also note that an Ironman event in a region generates millions of dollars in economic impact to a community, not to mention thousands of dollars for various non-profits in an area. Our goal is to ensure that there is a long-term benefit for the community.

In the end I hope you will reconsider competing in Ironman events in the future, as we appreciate your participation. Restrictive clauses and contracts are in place to protect all parties in the event communities and in the end to enhance the overall athlete experience.

I hope that helps clarify some items for you.

Best,

Jessica

Reply #2:

From: "Tom Ziebart" <tom@ironman.com>
Add sender to Contacts
To: "cghappel@yahoo.com" <cghappel@yahoo.com>, "brian@pacelinepromotions.com", "Jessica Weidensall" <jessica@ironman.com>, "Ryan Tolle"
Cc: "Shane Facteau" <shane@ironman.com>

Carla –

Thank you for your e-mail. My name is Tom Ziebart and I work for Ironman. My title is Operations Manager and I over see a number of Ironman races. We are very excited about the new Ironman 70.3 Muncie. The Muncie race has been around forever (I did the race back in 1984 when I lived in Michigan) and is one of the most respected long course triathlons in the United States. We hope to continue to improve the race and look forward to working with the local organizations that have supported this event for over 25 years. Please see below as I have answered your questions and concerns.

-----Original Message-----

From: Carla Happel [mailto:cghappel@yahoo.com]
Sent: Thursday, September 23, 2010 12:56 PM
To: Jessica Weidensall; Catie Case
Cc: cghappel@yahoo.com
Subject: Ironman 70.3 Muncie

I'm writing you because I couldn't find any other appropriate contacts on the ironmanusa.com website. Please feel free to forward to the appropriate individuals.

I find the following very concerning:

http://www.thestarpress.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=20109220312

Does Ironman demand 60-days of inactivity at all of their other race sites?

In some cases when we purchase an event we do work with the local government to secure a date and site that cannot be used for 30 days before or after our events. This does not happen at every site, but it does take place for good reasons.

Why?

We do this for a number of reasons.

#1 - Use of the site and roads for a triathlon puts a burden on the park and roads around the park. Parks are used by everyone during the summer and if an event is held each weekend at that park, then the community is not able to use the park. Same with the roads around the park. If an event takes place each weekend and the roads are closed the people living on these roads are not able to travel on them during the weekend. We want to make sure that the community is not overburdened by events each weekend.

#2 - Events also put a burden on the Police, Fire Rescue, Lifeguards and EMS. Having an event each weekend would mean that each of these groups would be working each weekend.

#3 - Other Events - this might seem to hurt other events, but we have seen the opposite happen at other sites. Events that take place 6-8 weeks before our events have seen tremendous increases in their participation because of Ironman. A good example of this is the Tupper Lake Triathlon in New York. It takes place in June about 6 weeks before Ironman Lake Placid. Before IMLP took place, the Tupper Lake Triathlon had about 200 participants. Now the race has over 1,000 as athletes use the event to get ready for IMLP. The opposite is true when an event takes place less than 30 days before our events. Those events tend to get less participants as athletes choose to do the IM race and not the local event just before the IM race.

How on earth is a local sprint tri a competitor?

We do not consider any event a competitor. We know how difficult it is to produce an event and we try to work with all of the local groups to make sure everyone has safe and successful events.

I am a triathlete, and have done a couple of IM 70.3s, and am registered for a full IM next year. In no way does the availability of other local events influence my decision to register for an IM race!

Glad to hear that you have done some of our races. I hope that you have had a good experience at these events.

I am terribly disappointed in the Ironman organization over this, and appalled at the arrogance shown here by such a move. Why are you trying to put local organizers out of business by closing their venues for two months, in the middle of race season, no less????

I hope that my answers to your first questions have changed your feeling toward the IM organization. We are not trying to put local organizers out of business. We are working with local organizations to make sure that this site is not overused. We are also working with them to support many local charities and non-profit groups.

I'm sad to say that if this proves to be typical Ironman behavior, I will look elsewhere for half and full-iron distance races in the future. Next year's IM Louisville will be my last Ironman event.

Good Luck with your training for IM Louisville. It is a wonderful race and I'm sure that you will enjoy the event. Please feel free to contact me with any other questions or concerns.

Please reconsider what you are doing to the local economies, particularly of Muncie.

Carla Happel
USAT #233308

Thomas A. Ziebart
Ironman

tom@ironman.com
407-765-9608 -cell
352-324-3715 - fax
1006 Hamlin Ave
Howey in the Hills, Florida 34737

In all fairness to Ironman, I've heard that this situation was resolved somehow, but have no idea what that resolution might be. I have not been able to find any news articles about it.

Next: Ironman's Sad Loss of Integrity (Part #3)

Ironman's Sad Loss of Integrity (Part #1)

This is a summary of the last two days of foolishness over at Ironman. I'm not really commenting here, as it is so stunning that I need some time to pull myself together and write something coherent. Opinions to come.

To the uninitiated: "Ironman" is a trademark, a brand. WTC (World Triathlon Corporation) bought Ironman some time last year. Since then there has been a distinct trend to extort as much money as possible out of participants.

October 27, 2010, the marketing geniuses at World Triathlon Corporation announced the following program.

Ironman Access: New Athlete Membership Program

WTC Introduces New Athlete Membership Program

Published Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Today World Triathlon Corporation (WTC) launches an exclusive athlete membership program called Ironman Access. In addition to other member benefits, the program will offer advance registration for Ironman events worldwide before entries open to the general public. Membership into Ironman Access is on a first-come, first-served basis and will close once it reaches capacity.

Advance race registration for Ironman Access members will open one week prior to the event’s general entry registration date. Athletes are required to pay the general entry fee to the selected event.

Members may choose to register early for one or more of the following 2011 and 2012 Ironman races:

2011 Ironman Florida
2011 Ironman Arizona
2011 Ironman Cozumel
2011 Ironman Western Australia
2012 Ironman New Zealand
2012 Ironman South Africa
2012 Ironman Australi
2012 Ironman St. George
2012 Ironman Lanzarote
2012 Ironman Texas
2012 Ironman China
2012 Ironman Brazi
2012 Ironman France
2012 Ironman Coeur d’Alene
2012 Ironman Austria
2012 Ironman Switzerland
2012 Ironman European Championship
2012 Ironman Lake Placid
2012 Ironman UK
2012 Ironman Regensburg
2012 Ironman Canada
2012 Ironman Louisville
2012 Ironman Wisconsin
2012 Ironman Wales

In addition to exclusive, advance registration, Ironman Access will offer perks including an official membership ID card; a second chance in the Ironman Lottery Program*; two VIP passes per registered event; a one-year subscription to LAVA Magazine; discounts on Ironman partner products at shopironman.com and at Ironman’s on-site event retail stores; and a 2010 Ford Ironman World Championship NBC broadcast DVD. Membership benefits are valid for one year starting from activation date. In order to take advantage of early event registration, membership must be current. The annual membership fee is $1,000 USD.

*With purchase of a general lottery entry.

Needless to say, this has set off a major sh*tstorm on Facebook and tri discussion boards. WTC has taken a real beating since the announcement, yet didn't feel compelled to respond until the next day.

What follows is the series of FB postings by Ironman. The arrogance is truly impressive.

UPDATE #1: After reading your comments on FB, we realize there is confusion regarding the Ironman Access program. Ironman strives to improve the entry process for our events, many selling out a year in advance with on-site registration. This program resolves two prevalent issues. (Stand by for additional posts)

UPDATE #2: 1) Currently, to guarantee entry to a number of our events, athletes travel to the event location one year in advance and wait in line to register for the following year. For athletes who are taking a weekend of their time, paying for their travel, hotel, airfare, etc., this program is an alternative. (More to follow)

UPDATE #3: 2) Most importantly, Ironman has a significant number of athletes who register for multiple events with the intention of racing only one of them. Once they successfully register for their "first choice" event, these athletes do not attend the other events in which they have registered, thereby reducing opportunities for other athletes. (Next post to follow)

UPDATE #4: Ironman Access enables athletes to compete in the event they want + eliminates their need to register for multiple events. As a result, more slots will be available for general registration across the entire series. (Final update to follow)

In closing, Ironman Access is a limited program, which will increase the overall number of general registration slots and provide an alternative to those who do not want to stand in line and take two trips to an event location to race once.

Oh I see. We're all confused.

Coming soon: Ironman's Sad Loss of Integrity (Part #2)

Volunteering at Ironman Louisville 2010

This past weekend two of us volunteered to help out at Ironman Louisville. As expected, it was an inspiring experience. Athletes ranged from superhuman professionals to mere mortals. All were fun to watch.

We worked a five-hour shift in the transition area, outside of the changing tents, and saw people returning from the bike. As each athlete returned, they went into one of the two changing tents, did their thing, and took off for the run. Our job was to offer sunscreen as they exited the tents. Sheets of plastic were spread out on tables, lots of sunscreen was poured out onto the plastic, and we covered our gloved palms in the stuff. As athletes exited, they were offered a generous slather of sunscreen, usually with 2 or 3 volunteers per athlete.

The professionals were on a mission and didn't have time for such nonsense, but we got much more busy as the age-groupers came in. As most of the slatherers were female, the men had a good time with it. Some just stood there moaning and asking if they had to go do the run. One guy came staggering out of the tent, stretching, blinking, and yawning like he had just awakened. He was hilarious.

Watching the professionals come in filled all of us with awe. These people  were running into transition as if they had just begun their morning jog; you never would have guessed they had just climbed off 112 miles' worth of bike. Transition took them all of a minute, and they left for the run as easily as they came in. The man that won, Paul Ambrose, did the entire 140.6 miles in 8:20. Damn. It takes me 7 hours to do half that distance!

By the time our shift was over, the heat was in full force. It peaked in the mid-nineties, with relatively high humidity. There was a steady stream of people coming in from the bike and calling it a day. They just couldn't handle the heat. The medical tent was also quite busy, with occasional trips to the hospital and constantly full cots.

Around 14 hours into the race (9pm), we wandered over to the finish line and watched for a while. Folks coming in looked pretty darned good, all looked happy to finish, and most didn't seem to be suffering too terribly. We hung out for a while, left for dinner, and came back at 11 to watch the last "official" hour of the race. (Participants have 17 hours to finish; after that, no medal, no official time.) That hour went by FAST. The crowd was fantastic, making all kinds of noise and cheering everyone who came along. The announcer did a great job of acknowledging everyone by name, and saying, "John Doe, you are an Ironman!" as they crossed the finish.

Again, the vast majority of people looked pretty darned good! It was impressive how many were able to sprint it in. There were a few "Ironman shuffles", which is just sad. All stooped over, unable to move their feet at more than a shuffle, but finishing the race anyway. It got very stressful as 17:00:00 edged nearer and nearer, and people were coming in but moving slower and slower. Some, sadly, didn't make the cutoff. It was heartbreaking to see people working SO hard to cover that last 50 yards, and just unable to do it fast enough. One poor guy had a leg/butt cheek that was totally cramped up on him, and he was stiff-legging it as fast as he could, but he didn't make it. We concluded it might just be less heartbreaking to be pulled off the course early, like after the bike cutoff, than to get that close and watch the clock ticking away your deadline. Aaaargh.

The run course has a very cruel twist: around the halfway mark, it comes within a block of the finish. The first time through you have to watch people finishing, then make a hard right away from it, out for another 12-13 miles. Here is where we found a guy hugging a mailbox, trying to get his body under control. I walked up to him and said, "You've got this," and he said, "No, I still have 13 to go. I'm pulling out." This was with 2.5 hours left. Apparently he was so seized up that he didn't think he could even shuffle that last half-marathon. Poor bastard was near tears, he was so frustrated.

By 17:05:00, the timing mats had been taken up and the finish line was being dismantled. We roamed the area a bit, helped pick up some trash, then headed back to the hotel, one block before the finish area. By now it was around 20-25 minutes after the cutoff. In front of the hotel, we noticed a woman standing in the road who looked like she was still waiting for someone. We had just stepped into the lobby when a commotion started outside, so we went back out to see. An older woman (over 60), was shuffling by, finishing the race no matter what. She was bent over and couldn't pick up her feet, but by God she was doing the distance. Damn. Those of us who were still outside cheered her on, but this was not who the spectator was waiting for. By now, the finish arch/timer was gone, the area was dark and quiet, medical people were gone, and street crews were dismantling the chute. We don't know how long people continued to straggle in. They didn't get medals or official times, but they're still Ironmen.

Some finish line pics are posted here...at the back of the album.
http://indyhappel.myphotoalbum.com/view_album.php?set_albumName=album10