Flashback: 2017 Ironman Mont Tremblant Part II

  

While I wait to get cleared by my doctor to start working out again post-surgery, I thought it would be a good time to take another trip down memory lane with a follow-on post to the one I wrote a few months ago: Flashback: 2017 Ironman Mont Tremblant Part I. If I can't be out there training and competing, I might as well write about it. I can't wait to do another Ironman someday!

Checking In

Checked in and registered with my new Ironman swag!

The event was on Sunday, August 20, but we arrived on the Thursday before in order to enjoy a few days at Tremblant Village, register, and explore the area. The drive from Boston took about 6 hours and was uneventful. As we drove near the village the image of quaint European-looking buildings, the mountains in the background, and the Ironman signs, all combined to get me incredibly psyched up for the big day just a few short days away!

Looks like a European Village

Tremblant-Village might be thought of more as a ski venue with some people referring to it as the Whistler of Quebec, but it is actually quite beautiful in the summer. A gondola connects the upper village to the lower village, which was temporarily transformed into Ironman Village for this particular weekend. 

I remember being struck by the sheer number of competitors walking around, each with their own story for being there, but all with the common goal of completing the 140.6-mile event. 

The Swim

Ahhh, terra firma at last

The alarm clock rang at some ungodly hour like 3:30 am, necessary to allow sufficient time to grab a quick bite, and head down to the village with wetsuit and labeled transition bags in hand. This may have come back to bite me later, but I guzzled some instant coffee along with some mystery, powdered creamer I found in the cabinet by the coffee maker. I was looking for that quick caffeine boost to begin my big day. I quietly let myself out of the hotel room so as not to wake my support crew - my wife and daughter who would come down later to watch the start and cheer me on.

After handing over my transition bags to the officials and doing one last bike check (tire pressure, brakes, wheels, etc.), it was time to take the long walk from the transition area over to Lake Tremblant in my wetsuit, along with all the wetsuit adorned human penguins. 

After a couple of days of showers, the water temperature at Tremblant lake was on the chilly side, about 68 degrees I recall. I was glad to have my wetsuit, which, in addition to insulating me from the cold, also provided some much-needed buoyancy. 

The event was kicked off with a flyby of a couple of CF-188 Hornets by the Royal Canadian Air Force followed by the first few swim waves of elite athletes. 

For some reason. I chose not to do a warm-up swim on that day which, in hindsight, was a big mistake. I had learned earlier that warm-up swims helped to shake off the jitters and get me acclimated to the water. Instead, I self-seeded myself at about the midway point of athletes and prepared myself mentally for the start. After a short wade-in, I was swimming. The first few strokes went fine despite the swarms of legs, feet, and arms everywhere. 

At about 200 yards in, I had an ominous feeling of an impending panic attack begin to settle in. I honestly thought these swimming-induced panic attacks were a thing of the past. Though I struggled with them a lot during my first season the year prior, this year was different. I had trained all spring and summer in the icy surf in Rye NH without a single incident. I had completed a half-ironman in June without any issues in the water. But on this day, I found myself in the early stages of a full-blown panic attack. Gasping to breathe, I had to completely stop swimming and try not to make eye contact with any of the officials in kayaks and standup paddleboards who surely would have had hauled my ass out of the water if they knew what was going on with me. As panic attacks go, this one was a doozy. It would take a full 5 minutes or so of just treading water before I could get my composure back and slowly rejoin the procession of swimmers. 

The line of large, yellow buoys appeared to be endless as far as I could see. I would eventually settle in behind a pretty decent group of swimmers and draft in their wake until the turn-around point. The rest of the swim actually went quite well. Despite the 5+ minute pause, I still managed to complete the swim in an hour and 22 minutes or right around 2 min pace, not great, but not terrible. It was great to finally feel the sandy beach beneath me. I felt ok, except for a nagging stomach cramp, another first, and something I would have to deal with during the next leg.

The Bike

Enjoying riding by the river - it wasn't all a grind!

Though I had only done a handful of shorter events, I found the transition areas at this Ironman™ event to be extremely efficient and well-run. Peeling off my wetsuit and transforming myself from a mediocre swimmer to mediocre biker, went well. What was not going well was this gnawing crampy/sick feeling in my stomach coming out of the water. In all my prior events and training, I had never had any stomach issues. Maybe it was the coffee and powdered creamer coming back at me, but I would have to deal with this.

The stomach pain only got worse during the first few miles of the anticipated 6+ hour bike ride. At one point, I felt so sick that I considered dropping out early during the ride. I had a carefully planned and tested nutrition strategy involving a cycle of nutritionally dense Clif Bars, followed by slightly less filling Kind Bars, and finally, my "desert" of Shot Blocks which were essentially cube-shaped gummy candies. For liquids, I would alternate between water and Gatorade Endurance Formula. On this day, all of that went out the window. I couldn't even manage to drink small sips of water without feeling like I was going to be sick. This went on for about the first hour of the ride after which I was able to slowly start sipping water and popping a Shot Block or two, a far cry from the liquid and calorie replacement I should have been doing as the late morning sun finally emerged from behind the clouds.

The cramps and nausea finally abated toward the end of the first of two 56-mile loops which was just in time. The two-loop course consisted of many rolling hills and flats, but the last 10 miles was very challenging, involving a steep 12% climb and fast descent on Chemin Duplessis.

In the Saturday night pre-race brief, the athletes were warned that there was one section on the high-speed descent of Chemin Duplessis which would be labeled as a red-flag caution area with no passing allowed due to a recent tragic bike crash that had claimed a rider's life. I was just trying to survive this section and was clearly not trying to move up in the standings when a rider came up from behind me and started screaming at me claiming that I had illegally passed him. My brain wasn't quite working at full strength as I tried to process why I was being scolded by a completely unhinged fellow rider. As he rode past me (wait, I thought this was a no pass section?) he claimed that he was going to report me and have me disqualified. He was practically foaming at the mouth. The only thing I could figure was that somehow, the conditions were affecting his mental state. But his ardent reprimand left me questioning myself for the rest of the ride. Was I going to complete this effort, only to be DQ'd at the end? Fortunately, his empty threats never materialized, or maybe he found someone else to bully who was a better target than me. As much as you prepare for all contingencies, there are just some things that you can't possibly anticipate.

The second loop began much better than the first loop. Hey, at least I was eating and drinking again, trying to catch up from my deficit from earlier. And this time I knew what to expect at the end. But it didn't make it any easier. One of my goals for both the bike and the run was to keep my heart rate in the semi-comfortable zone 2. But the hilly sections of the bike ride had me up and out of the saddle grinding the pedals at times, just to keep some semblance of forward momentum. This would later take a toll on me during the run, but at least I survived the 112-mile ride.

Officer, arrest this man

The Run

Somehow I went from "this isn't too bad" to feeling like I was on a death march - all within the first 4 miles. Good thing there were only 22 miles left.

With the bike part behind me, I would now attempt my first marathon - ever. Probably not the smartest decision, but in the end, the goal of completing an Ironman Triathlon surpassed the challenge of running a measly little marathon by itself. 

Of the 3 disciplines, running was my strongest event. I was comfortably training in the 8-9 minute per mile pace leading up to the event. In fact, the first few miles of the run actually felt pretty good after I shook off the stiff, bicycle-induced, little-old-man legs. I was popping out sub 9-minute miles and had delusions of possibly even having a shot at the top spot in my 55-59 age group which would earn me a spot at the Kona world championships. This, despite a pretty crappy swim and a bike ride that was only decent at best. Still, I was going to crush the run and make up for all of that. That was right until I got to the 4-mile mark and the wheels came off the bus. 

At 4 miles, I developed a severe hamstring strain on my left leg that had me hobbling especially on the hills. Around the same time, I noticed my heart rate start to climb out of the comfortable zone 2, or about 130 beats per minute, to 135, 140, and up. It was yet another first, and I knew this could be trouble. So, I slowed my pace down to 10-minute miles. My heart rate kept climbing, 143, 145. I figured it was time to walk for a bit to try and get this under control. As I walked and checked my trusty Garmin, I watched in horror as my heart rate continued to climb, 148, 150, 155. This was definitely not good. 

Despite the fact that I could barely remember my name at that point, I managed to self-diagnose my condition - dehydration. I hadn't taken any fluids on the bike during the first 20 miles, and, come to think of it, I only had to stop to use the porta-potty once during the entire 6+ hour ride. This was not like me at all. I decided to try to correct this by taking 2 drinks at every rest stop from that point on, one cup of water and one cup of Gatorade. The trick would be to drink as much as I could without getting sick to my stomach - again. This seemed to work. It would be a slow grind, but I would stop at each of the 22 remaining rest stops with a focus on hydration. The fluid seemed to help a little with the hamstring pull also, but I was definitely limping. I would eventually complete the run in 4 hours and 51 minutes with an 11:07 average pace, which is what you get when you average a few early sub 9-minute miles, with a lot of 10-13 minute miles😞

On a somber note, at one point in the middle of the run, I passed a crowd of EMTs loading a competitor into an emergency vehicle. I would later learn that this poor man suffered a heart attack and passed away during the run.  

Results and Final Thoughts

Here's a highlight reel of the day;) 

(Despite the 13:12:01 shown, my actual time was slightly under 13 hours. Not great, but not terrible. Kona would have to wait).

Official Results (click for gory details)

We were fortunate on this day to be greeted at the elaborate finish line by the one and only Mike Reilly, the legendary Ironman announcer. As I approached the finish line, I got a second wind and was able to finish fairly strong, despite being passed at the finish line by some guy who scored a big win by zooming past me at the line. Not sure what the point of that was, but hey, I was done and managed to complete the event despite stomach challenges, being threatened for speeding, and dealing with dehydration and leg cramps on the run. 

The post-event celebration was joyous and sweet. Despite barely being able to walk, it was time to start celebrating and putting back every one of those 8000+ calories I lost that day.

At dinner that night, I would confess that this was a "one-and-done" accomplishment - I would never do another Ironman as long as I lived. My wife was relieved to hear that. 

That sentiment lasted all of about 2 days, after which I privately vowed to myself that I would be back to do another full Ironman, this time correcting all my many mistakes.

Epilogue

After we got home, I would take a well-earned respite from swimming, biking, and running - really anything athletic whatsoever, for a few weeks. After a while, as my weight started to rebound, rather quickly, and I determined it was time to get my indoor exercise gear in order as we headed into the cool New Hampshire fall and winter. My trusty Cervelo P2 tri-bike (which had zero miles on it since Mont Tremblant) would transition from being an aerodynamic racing bicycle back to its winter role of being an indoor trainer bike parked in front of an old TV. In order to not soil the white Berber carpet in the spare bedroom where the bike would end up until spring, and to not incur the wrath of my wife, I decided it would be prudent to get it deep-cleaned and degreased by a pro at a local bike shop.

After a few days, I went to pick up the bike which looked brand new again. The technician explained that in addition to the degreasing and cleaning, he adjusted the rear derailleur since it was not shifting into the lowest gear. My jaw almost dropped. I said, "are you sure about that"? He confirmed that the derailleur was definitely not hitting the lowest gear. I flashed back to the stomping and grinding up the 12% grade at Chemin Duplessis, not once, but twice. Smart cyclists would have swapped out their entire rear gear cassette for one that had appropriate gearing in preparation for the notoriously hilly course. Not me. I had the stock rear gear cassette that came with the bike - gearing suited to flats and slight inclines, not mountain ascents. On top of that, I would learn that day, that my lowest gear wasn't even available to me. Oh well, another valuable lesson learned.

I'll conclude this story about my Ironman experience with 3 simple words from the world-famous sage Arnold Schwarzenegger: "I'll be back"!