Going the Distance: 3/4 Ironman Training Weekend

I was going to wait a day or two to let things sink in from the weekend ~ but it's all so surreal that I need to start typing now to make sure I capture everything on paper. This is going to be a long one, so grab a glass of your favorite wine now. And maybe a snack.

Coach Dave said it would be an epic weekend, and in retrospect -- without any trace of doubt -- it was.

I've sat in an ice bath, dozed off for about two hours, eaten dinner, stretched and am now sitting at home in disbelief of what I just put my body & mind through. But the slight twinge in my neck and my rosy cheeks from the sun are quick to remind me that it was more than I would have ever imagined.



The weekend adventure started with a carpool. I met up with Haakon on Friday morning to head up north. We made a leisurely pitstop for lunch in the town of Winters, CA (which had THE best tri-tip sandwich I've ever had) and met up with Cori, Helen, Jen Jay, Patty & Carol. It was so pleasant to just sit, enjoy, load up on some more carbs and water, and anticipate and wonder what the rest of the weekend would hold for us. We eventually made our way up to the town of Clearlake to drop off our bikes and check into our hotel, The Anchorage Inn, in Lakeport. I think I was deprived of those token college spring break trips, because I enjoyed the HECK out of taking over an entire motel with our Team and having my friends just next door. One minute, I'm packing up my transition bag and trying to do "nutrition math", and the next, Coach Simon or Mentor Margaret are knocking on the door (or better yet, just walking right in) with some kind of distraction. Or Cori's shouting from across the parking lot. Chris throwing some eating utensils up and over the balcony to me so I can eat my pasta. And Phil asking me from the balcony across the way what I was eating and why. It was such a blast in a dysfunctional family sort of way and I loved it. The place wasn't an oasis (I think all the appliances in there were older than me), but it was a riot! Two nights (with early morning wake-up calls) were certainly not enough.







4:00 a.m. Saturday morning Sandy and I rise and shine -- nutrition bottles mixed; special needs bags packed; suited up and ready to go. Sandy snagged some temporary tattoos to channel some good energy for the long day. While she chose "Courage" and a dragon as symbols to put on her wrists, I put a character that symbolized "Soul" and stuck it on my left arm. I intended to put my entire heart and soul into the day and the mark on my arm acted as a good reminder to ensure that I would. Group caravan to Jeff & Janet Shaw's house, a.k.a. the Start/T1/Finish (wonderfully generous hospitality... and so much room for all of us!)





6:30 a.m. Early swim start for Group 1. We walked into the lake and I acclimated to the water fairly quickly. There was some kelp and weeds which kind of got in my way, but I figured as long as I was moving forward, I was moving away from it. I had decided from the very start that I was just going to take it one piece at a time. This was going to be a longer distance and the most time I had ever spent in open water. Clearlake is so vast, and to try and wrap your mind around swimming in this giant lake can be daunting. So my plan was to just follow and draft wherever possible, but keep an eye out for my general direction. The beginning of the swim felt smooth. I took whatever lessons I'd learned in previous weeks from our open water swims and thought this would be no different; I was only going to go a little further. I reached the first buoy and prepared to turn around. Sighting was working just fine; I had a general sense of direction. Goggles were fogging up a bit, swim cap was shimmying up my head, and I felt a little cough coming on. Smooth and steady, I thought to myself. Just relax and adjust the issue. It'll be just fine. I'm not going to feel perfect or flawless, but I can work with and do the best with what I have. A few minutes later after the turnaround (now with the sun shining on my right side - a.k.a. my breathing side), Coach Sedonia's head popped up from under the water and she asked me how I was doing. "Great!" I said. She told me I looked great, however reminded me to take it nice and easy -- that it would be a long day, so to take my time and watch my heart rate. Although I had anticipated a long day, it was such an important reminder so I heeded her advice and lengthened my stroke and kept it steady (in this photo: I'm in the center fixing my cap). The morning was crisp but refreshing.



The next thing I was supposed to sight was a gazebo in the distance. This landmark seemed so far away. But I kept reminding myself -- small pieces. There was essentially no one around me at this point. I didn't know who was ahead or who was behind me. It just felt like me in the middle of this massive lake. But for whatever reason, I didn't let my mind go to a dark place of worry or fear. I was just focused on getting to that gazebo. And soon after, I got there. Here was another turnaround. I stayed to the left to avoid oncoming traffic, but was unaware there was a current. I went to take a stroke at one point and felt more of the weeds underneath me. As I looked down underwater, I saw what appeared to be an entire forest of trees, plants, weeds, and kelp. This was my *oh SH*T I'm in open water* moment. I realized it, and with each stroke, I'd comb more of the weeds, get it stuck between my fingers, and bob my head up, covered in plants. I felt like the swamp thing and it was freaking me out. Even my zipper pull on the back of my wetsuit (which is normally looped and velcro-ed to the top) came undone so I had this lanyard dragging with my right arm. I'd go to shake it off, thinking it was the creepy seaweed but realized it was attached to me! Thankfully, I saw Sedonia again... Come on out of the reeds, Maria -- I had completely drifted to this section of the lake that no wonder, took me to that "forest". Of course, now that I am home, alive, and was NOT attacked by the plants, I can laugh about it. But there was something about SEEING what exactly was down under the lake (and what I imagined COULD have been living in there) that took me to a place that I had no choice BUT to talk myself out of. So I actually swam the rest of the way with my eyes closed, except to sight my next landmark. I still would feel more stringy plants catching my fingers, but I pushed through, convinced myself I would be fine and kept moving forward. And then, I saw the dock. It was in sight, and although I knew I was headed for more forest country down below, I was coming up on the end of my first 2-mile open water swim. I swam through the weeds, but this time, without hesitation, and I emerged out of Clearlake in about 1:37.



T1: I had to "quickly" get out of my wetsuit and booties, which proves tricky right after you come out of the water. You're a little disoriented, and maybe a little dizzy. So the last thing you are really prepared to do is take off and cinch down a neoprene/rubber stocking off of your wet body. I recited to myself, "slow is smooth, smooth is fast". Something I had remembered from our first Olympic-distance training tri back in January. I definitely wanted to get into dry clothes so I had to do a full change. I moved as fast as I could, but stayed patient with myself, so as not to panic or forget anything. This next segment was going to be long, and I didn't want to be without something super important. The essentials I always triple-check before a bike ride are helmet, shades, arm warmers, Garmin/Heart Rate Monitor, a spare tube/CO2/tire iron, and of course, NUTRITION. Everything seemed to check out, I did a final spray of sunblock, and hopped on the bike. I was off!

The big, bad, bike ride. I thought I had seen a good overview on Friday of the neighboring towns of Lucerne, Nice, Lower Lake, Lakeport, and others. But I was sure in for a whole lot more on Saturday.



The first hour of the ride felt good. Despite a lingering headache (still debatable as to whether it was from swimming with a tight swim cap, followed by clamping the helmet on my head immediately after ~ or slight dehydration, or a combination of the two)... I rode efficiently quick for the first hour and was really happy with my speed and time (of course, without going out too fast). The only thing I really ever watched was my heart rate for the majority of the ride. My lactate threshold is 169 beats per minute, so I ideally wanted to keep my heart rate at a 150 for the first half of the ride and 160 for the second half, with the hope of negative splitting. Unfortunately, I was in for an unexpected "surprise" after the first hour and a half or so.

As you can see on the above course map, the grade got super hilly -- some sections were gradual climbs. Others were really steep. At first, I didn't mind the climbing much. In a phrase, the hills were manageable. At first. But as I'd turn a corner after a steady climb, it would go on and get steeper. And then again. And again. These hills were the true definition of relentless. One thing I regretted was not taking a minute longer to really take in the gorgeous view of the lake from atop the mountains. I caught glimpses ~ which were amazing, but sweat would be dripping down my face and I would immediately have to keep my eye on the road and keep on climbing. Nutrition-wise, I was golden. Because it was an extra hot day, with definitely higher humidity than expected, I stayed on top of my hydration, electrolyte-intake (via Endurolytes), and my planned & marked four-hour bottle (of Gatorade & Carbo-Pro) worked like a charm + a pack of 1/2 dose caffeine Shot Bloks (my refill bottle was waiting for me in my special needs bag). What also helped promote regular and frequent hydration was installing an aero bottle (thanks, Jason!). Having the straw pretty much in front of my face reminded me to drink gulps often. However, we'll get to the "water bottle excitement" from the aero bottle a little later. (in this photo: Tony and I riding out some of the tougher hills)



Although I don't have a physical photo to share with you, I have the most VIVID picture in my mind of one particular climb. It had to be somewhere between miles 30 and 35. There was a big descend (so I was in my hardest gear to pedal down it) but literally SHOT straight back up. When I looked ahead, it was like a wall of concrete. So if you're not quick enough to downshift back to your lowest gear, you're in trouble. I tried to pedal through it, but there was actually a moment where if I had stalled or stopped pedaling for even half a second, I would have tipped right over. It was scary. It was one of those commit, commit, commit moments where you push through and hope for the best. I made it through and was back to climbing some more. Whenever possible, I would celebrate the small victories of reaching the top of each hill. Particularly for the steeper grades, I would keep repeating to myself: I can do it, I can do it; I'm doing it, I'm doing it! I'd reach the top, and would get a little teary-eyed by how freaking hard it was, but that I did it, and had to brace myself for more.



Ok, so by mile 35, I was angry. I won't beat around the bush. Tourette's zone had definitely come down upon me and I wasn't shy about uttering expletives under my breath. All I could think about were the facts: 1- The farthest distance I had ridden to date was 60 miles; 2- I'm tired and pissed off by mile 35; 3- How can I or will I ever ride 100 today? Thankfully, Coach Mike found me at a SAG stop and rode with me, telling me that the special needs bags and the giant IronTeam water stop was close by. I looked down at my watch, and wanted to be at the halfway point -- mile 50, in four hours (from the time I had started). Alas, this was not going to happen, especially because of all the climbing slowing me down. My emotions hit another peak and went from angry to discouraged to frustrated. I was mentally torn up inside and all I could think about was... "If this were my Ironman, I'd be pulled off the bike course. I'm not going to make it."

We rolled into the park in Lakeport at about mile 52 and I was utterly distraught. I couldn't even hold a conversation with anyone. My focus was lost and I did all I could to fight back the tears or fall apart in front of our volunteers who were generously topping off my water bottles, preparing cold towels to place on my neck, and cater to absolutely anything I needed or wanted upon arriving to the stop. I didn't know what to eat or drink or do. I used the restroom and took a moment to re-group. It was then that I reconciled the fact that timing, though not perfect or on par with my goal for the day, was really irrelevant. I came to Clearlake to go the distance, and damn it, I was going to finish it. How I picked up my state of mind and attitude, however -- would be the next thing to work on. (in this photo: our special needs bags / and what was in mine)





My friend, Joan, multi IM-finisher and the first person to ever tell me about IronTeam in the first place, happened to be at the water stop and asked me if I wanted her to ride with me. I still couldn't speak or respond; but she understood what I needed without me even needing to say anything. She suited up and got her bike ready, as I reached into my special needs for a chocolate chip cookie, a few Pringles, some more water and Endurolytes. I blew my nose and wiped the tears. It was time to break up the ride into smaller pieces, just as I had with the swim earlier in the day. And the only way I could finish was if I started back up again. So Joan and I ventured out, looking at it as a 30-mile out and back, returning back to special needs, then going from there. I had probably been told by at least three people that the rest of the course wasn't nearly as bad as the first half and that most of it was flat. Which was untrue. Sorry -- but it just wasn't accurate!

Just going back out onto the course, the first thing we were greeted with was a bumpy road. And we're not talking about little cracks and loose gravel. We're talking potholes, gouges in the road and just about anything that you can think of that would make a surface as rocky and rough as you can imagine. The best way I can describe what this did to me mentally, is to compare it to trying to walk and someone keeps pushing you. It thwarts your focus, messes with your head, frustrates you, and makes you want to get off your bike and throw a tantrum. I was literally taking the bumpy roads as a personal attack against me, and it wasn't pretty. To add insult to injury, we had to climb UP these roads and descend DOWN them. JOAN!! I would yell. This is not flat!!! She happily commiserated with me and I was so thankful to have her company (hah whether she or Mike, earlier in the day, had shared my sentiments... is probably a whole 'nother story. What can I say? Ironman training truly brings out ALL sides of you. The good, bad, and verrrry ugly). But you have to come to terms with each of these sides, really get to know yourself and get comfortable. Because as we know, Ironman day is a long one.

After some more time riding the bumps (which, after each one, would loosen a section of my aero bottle - causing it to "separate" from its two comparments; as well as misalign it, thereby taking away some of its aerodynamic benefits), we had some flats and rollers, which gave me a reprieve. I pumped it and geared up for the flats, and could finally concentrate on getting my heart rate at a consistent level. Another fill-up at a water stop, and we were warned we had "a pretty good hill" coming up ahead. "Good." Not the word I would have used. I had another battle of the Marias going on in my head, and tried to keep on a good face for Joan, who was enduring a sufficient amount of her own... and we were greeted with another sick hill. On bumpy terrain, and a really narrow road. I focused as much as possible on forward motion and didn't even want to give myself the opportunity to analyze. Just keep moving forward, I thought. And keep hydrating. Don't forget to fuel and drink. After all, we didn't want things to get any worse :)

Joan rode up ahead of me and it was good that she did. My brain power was dwindling on the "thinking" end and was on auto-pilot mode. So having someone to follow and lead the way was exactly what I needed. The rest of me was a machine by this point, pedaling, shifting, drinking. Repeating each one. We were now on our way back to the park, which rejuvinated my spirits a bit, so I capitalized on it and sped up whenever possible, especially on the flats. Somewhere after those bumpy hills (i.e. the "good hill" or two), I had hit a new milestone. Mile 61! I celebrated and Joan cheered with me. Everything after that would be a new milestone for me and I wanted to try and keep things as positive as possible. Because as you'll find with training at these distances, those emotions (all the highs, lows, the agony & the joy) come and go at unexpected moments. You literally just have to ride them out.

We caught Nick & Kathryn at a SAG stop and Nick (bless his heart) actually caught a photo of me with a genuine smile, as I was riding up in front of Joan for a brief stint, on the way back to the park.



And then Joan and I got wind of the fact that the final stretch of the bike ride (back to the Shaw house / Bike Finish) went BACK in the same direction as those monstrous hills and bumpy roads. Oh no, I am not doing those again!!! I shrieked. That can't be!, Joan said. We were confused and I went from feeling good and focused, to pissed off again. It was the true epitome of a roller coaster. So once again, I came into the park with all kinds of emotions boiling inside of me.

And then a small miracle occurred. Mike was there to tell us that we would NOT be riding up or down those hills again. The amount of relief that came over me is hard to describe. By now, I had ridden about 85 miles, was surely the last one on the Team out on the road, but determined more than ever to complete this ride. The Honorees were there to remind me of what I'm doing and why. And the final volunteers stuck around to make sure I had all the water and anything else I needed for the final push. Again, I was touched by their kindness and accepted their support humbly.

So I popped one last Gu (and actually the only one I took all day, with 2x the caffeine) and Joan, Mike & I set out for the last stretch. Yes -- there were more climbs [you didn't think they stopped after mile 80, did you?], and more bumpy roads [yes, those too]. And by now, my aero bottle had been jostling around so much that I felt like a traveling circus on my bike. The removable compartment would gradually pop up, and when I'd go to slam it down, water from the other compartment would shoot out like a geyser and hit me straight in the face. I'm just thankful I put water in there and not an electrolyte replacement drink, otherwise we would have had a much stickier situation on our hands. But I took the water splashing as a good thing since it was so humid and I was now on my bike for a consecutive 9 hours by this point. But since my hands were getting wet from all the water splashing around, combined with the bumpy roads and having to grip the handlebars, I now had blisters forming on the palms of my hands.

With something like 7-8 miles left (which still seemed very far at the time), I heard a snap! It was one of the rubber bands keeping the aero bottle attached to my aero bars. Now, despite the major issues with that thing, it was doing a GREAT job of keeping me hydrated, but my safety net was now dangling by the thread of one measley rubber band. Can you imagine all this?! It was shaking, rattling, jostling and splashing. I was over it, and tossed it over to Nick and Kathryn at the final SAG stop. Their energy and enthusiasm was a big help. They had been blasting the Rocky Theme Song from the car, alongside us (and many of my other teammates) which was absolutely awesome.

A few more blocks up ahead and we were finally heading back into Lucerne, right outside of the Shaw house. I was now delirious and hell-bent on finishing this thing. I was off the Gatorade/Carbo-Pro mix (stomach wasn't having it) and just stuck to water and salt (well, the last of the water anyway, until I scrapped that infernal bottle). Up ahead along Highway 29 we saw a live snake on the side of the road. We rode right by it and it recoiled so fast, it scared the crap out of me. I am now manic and in this new place of hysteria - pushing down, pulling up, pedaling, moving forward. Where is the house?! I kept asking myself. And just then, Mike told me to look up ahead. He and Joan moved aside and let me pass on the left. The whole Team and slew of volunteers had been waiting for me at the finish.



I said to Joan, that I didn't know whether I wanted to throw up or cry! I was approaching the finish of 102 miles and my Garmin had read about 9 hours of saddle time. And here was this overwhelming crowd of my teammates who had stood there, cheering me in. My eyes welled up with tears and I was overcome with so much emotion. Agony, joy, fullfillment, pain, pride, elation, accomplishment.



We ended our day with a soak back in the lake, a BBQ altogether as a Team, and some reflection time with our Honorees.





After dinner, I headed back to the hotel with Sandy; we rinsed out our wetsuits and cleaned off, before stretching and foam rolling and finally collapsing into our beds. I was dead to the world and slept harder than I think I ever have, but ironically enough had no problem waking up again at 5:15 a.m. to pack up, check-out, and prepare for Day 2.

Today (Sunday), we finished the training weekend with a long run. My legs of course felt heavy starting out, but I kept my pace easy and stayed consistent with a 4:1 run/walk. I hadn't even realized how humid it was until I reached a shady section of the road and felt my face already soaked with perspiration. This was mile 1.5 and about 7:20 a.m. I just keep thinking -- good training for Louisville. Tony met up with me early on and we ran the rest of the way together. He helped keep me honest with pacing and it made a world of difference. Coach Simon also met up with us on the back half and the two of them really kept me going, especially when I felt like there was nothing left in the tank. Completed 15.5 miles in about 3:20.



I went from riding 60 miles to over 100 in the span of about a month (and from 0 to 100 in seven months) -- something I never really thought was possible for me, let alone after hitting my swim milestone of 2 miles just minutes before starting the ride. And then I followed it up with almost 16 miles of running the following day when my body was tired. And yet it rose to the occasion, just like my mind did the day before -- because it needed to. I am beside myself just thinking about how powerful and capable the human body, mind and spirit are. I got a true taste of what the Ironman spirit is about this weekend ~ and to me, it's about the people. The individuals who push, encourage, challenge, promote and uplift you. When you're in the trenches of pain, emotional trials, heartache, or literally down on the ground (I did actually fall once! Thanks, Tony & Michelle for picking me back up!), it's the people and the support that come from some of the most unexpected places. And it's the belief that anything is possible. I am so, so proud of my teammates and everything we accomplished. This post has gotten significantly long and detailed; but that's exactly how it all came together for me personally this weekend, and in spite of allll the encounters with adversity I had, reaching the completion of two very important milestones was that much sweeter of a reward. And for that, I am so very grateful for the entire experience and those who helped me along the way to complete over 118 miles in one weekend! Thank you to all the coaches, staff and volunteers for pitching in your time, resources, efforts and enthusiasm over a long duration of time for so many of us. Your smiles and warm hearts along the course were absolutely invaluable.

A huge thanks to Belinda, Helen, Nick & Claudia as well ~ for capturing some of the most awesome, painful & irreplaceable memories from the weekend. It was by far an unforgettable experience that I will look back upon when the going gets tough. And as the saying goes, a picture really is worth a thousand words.









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Week #30 Workout Summary:

Swim: 1 hour and 45 minutes
Bike: 10 hours and 0 minutes
Run: 3 hours and 0 minutes
Core/Strength: 0 hours and 15 minutes
Total Workout: 15 hours and 0 minutes

IronTeam's Fundraising Progress to Date: $175,570
My Fundraising Progress to Date: $8,616