I'm not really sure what possessed me to decide to sign up for IMMT back in August of 2012. I think I'd read some wonderful reviews on Slowtwitch, and the timing seemed ok (better than IMLou, at least). I mentally resolved that, at the very least, we would make it into a fun family vacation, even if I was physically or mentally too broken or underprepared to really do the race properly. My motto: "at least it will be a beautiful 26 mile walk" :-)
Training started out slowly as the first 8 months after I signed up saw ankle injuries for the girls, followed by PT, followed by 4 surgeries, plus several major court hearings (and all the accompanying drama), a dying/quadraplegic dog, and a self-inflicted running moratorium when I tripped over a root and mushed my sesamoid process(es?) yet again. Plus the week of awful cancer diagnoses in March.
Back in early June I almost backed out of the Raleigh 70.3, but decided at the last second to go, and had a bit of success in a hilly environment. That really helped refill the tank for the last few months of juggling and training left before IMMT... and it was a LOT of juggling. With the girls in full recovery-from-surgery mode and working very hard to carefully get back into some semblance of shape before the end of summer meets in July, plus some travel meets, the schedule go very complicated at times.
We spent four days in Orlando with 6 weeks to go. Five days in Gainesville with four weeks to go. And 6 days in Plantation...the last six days of real training before taper time. So my kids are very used to seeing me head out on a run at the start of warm ups and come squealing in dripping sweat everywhere just in time for their first event. Let's just say, smelling like I just ran 12 miles in the florida heat makes it VERY easy to get a spot on the fence to watch the swims. :-)
My bike training consisted entirely of powerbeam pro or spinning on a regular trainer (including a 3 hour trainer ride perched in the grass behind the team tent in plantation during the morning session one day, and a 5 hour ride on the IMMT "course" the afternoon we drove back from Plantation...when I put those two rides down I knew with complete certainty that I was mentally tough enough to do the upcoming race, lol...
Swimming could be very hit or miss, as, oddly enough, the most difficult training for me to fit into my kids' swimming schedule is... swimming. I have resorted to hopping in the warm down lanes at a meet, hoping no one notices the old lady flounder amongst the youngsters.
Running was consistent (for me), with my max week hitting 31 miles total. I logged maybe 4-6 (I'd have to check my garmin account) 13 mile runs, and a bunch more 10+ but never ran more than 3x/week. And I am ashamed to say, I did exactly one run off the bike, of a whopping 4 miles.
And people wonder why I don't use a coach, lol. S/he would quit in abject horror and frustration after a week.
So, I will try to write about the week before the race later, as it was a wonderful, almost magical family week of vacation. Suffice it to say in this post, Tremblant was an incredible venue and destination, and I want to not only go back, but live there.
I actually checked in soon after it opened, mostly to get my wrist band to do a practice swim in the permanently set up practice swim course. The water was...ahem... refreshing... but I definitely did NOT regret "only" having a sleeveless wet suit. I hate feeling constricted, and was plenty warm during the practice swims and the race itself. I did a swim while the fam was off climbing the face of a cliff, and couldn't stop myself from rolling over and floating and admiring the stunning view of the mountains and houses etc surrounding the lake. On Saturday we did a team swim, with everyone in a wet suit, and that was truly one of my favorite moments of the week... swimming side by side with Lexi and looking back to see Christi and Matthew, floating around taking pics, and just generally sharing a tiny bit of the ironman world with both girls.
Saturday I checked the 'bee in and dropped off bags... mine looked oddly empty, as this was going to be my first attempt at an Ironman without changing clothing for each leg.
While everyone else was sitting at our favorite ice cream shop, I saw the two girls (well, saw their bike numbers and knew it was them) who I actually knew by name from prior MT races walk by with their bikes... oddly enough, 20 yards apart, but clearly not together.
I had slept quite a bit friday night, but did get to bed early Saturday night. Matthew jokes that he's going to have some "splaining to do some day when the cops are investigating how I ended up smothered before a race... I usually put in ear plugs, and a shirt across my eyes, and a pillow over my head (it does the trick and lets me fall asleep)... anyway, I slept decently, and when the 3 something alarm went off I was up and relatively awake.
My pre-race breakfast is usually a hot chocolate and a toasted plain bagel with butter on it, and a vanilla ensure 20 minutes before the swim start or so. oh, and a handful of pepto chewables, just to be safe.
After checking out the road closure times, we decided to have Matthew drive me the mile or so to transition so I didn't have to hoof it up and down the hills there any more than I was already going to have to, lol. It worked perfectly... he dropped me off, I check on the 'bee, put together my hydration and food stores (squirrels have nothing on me... I had one baggie in a zip aero bag on my top tube and one stuffed in the gap between my bottles off the back of my seat), checked on my transition bags, tried not to hyperventilate, and hopped back in the truck to head back to the townhouse for an hour.
We eventually rousted the girls and walked the couple of hundred yards to the swim start area in time to see the pre-race fun (double jet flyover, Mike Reilly announcing, fireworks, a real live military cannon...just, wow). The girls helped me gear up and I wandered off to the corrals to find my wave... the last wave of the morning, of course. Standing in the water helped keep my feet from going numb, and the wait did seem to go by quickly.
I had no idea what the faster girls in my age group looked like, so I just lined up a tiny bit to the outside of the first buoy, so probably about 1/3 in from the right edge of the group. It was a beach start, so I wanted to get out fast to get out of the scrum. I remember being more numb than nervous. This is the first IM i've gone into with actual goals (other than: don't die and finish) and I think that actually dampened some of the amazed wonder I'd felt the first two times I experienced the distance.
When the (whatever it was, I don't remember... gun? horn? cannon? someone yelling "go"?) happened, I took several sprint strides into the water, started dolphin diving, and settled into swimming as soon as possible. I saw two girls to my far left and one to my far right, and when the two to my left started dropping back I knew the one to my right was the girl who had to be, by far, the favorite to win the AG... I also knew she'd probably beat me by a lot out of the water, so I didn't try and catch her feet...
which was a good choice, because no sooner did we hit the first of 13 buoys out (followed by 1 across and 13 back I think) when the first straggler of the wave in front of me (3 min time gaps) came swimming ACROSS my line, heading towards a kayak. This was not a good sign. The rest of the swim was just...chaos. If I said I had 50 yards, total, of open water during the rest of the race I would consider that a high estimate... I like to swim a line either inside or in line with the buoys, but there was no "line"... it was a continuous game of frogger as I swam through, around, under, and occasionally unintentionally over people for 2.4 miles. My biggest concerns were getting my teeth knocked out or my nose broken by an errant kick (seriously, people who randomly stop and do a breaststroke kick scare the hell out of me...) or having my shoulder wrenched by getting swum on by a zig zagging guy as I passed him... and there are always a handful of guys who intentionally make contact or drape and arm on you or grab a foot or leg as you go by them....
Going around the turn buoys was ugly, and I took a strong kick to the right eye, which caused me to have to actually roll over and break the eye popping suction of my goggles... and I wish I had had a chance to actually look around a bit, as the scenery was stunning and the mist on the mountains must have been beautiful.
Swim split: 59:40 -- IM PR.
Swim exit was a wobble fest for me, as I was still dizzy from the drop kick to the eye and struggling to pull my wet suit down before I hit the stripper area... a quick flop and off came the wet suit, and I staggered into the chute for the 1/4 mile run into transition... on a red carpet with cheering spectators lining the entire way. It was awesome.
Into the bag tent and a quick grab of my bag and into the fairly empty change tent, where I pulled on my tri top, socks, and bike shoes, tossed on my helmet and sunglasses, and clopped my way out to the bike rack to grab the 'Bee.
For the life of me, I cannot remember where I saw the fam... but I know they yelled I was in 2nd. The bike out was surrounded by people, and at various points we went through round abouts set up not unlike the tour de france... and, while there were some lonely spots on the course, the ride through St. Jovite and through the area near the pedestrian village both heading out to Duplessis and back in to complete the laps was amazing.
The bike had something like 6000' of climbing in it. It was WAY harder than louisville, in my opinion. It also had a wicked wind on the "flat" section on the second loop (flat being a relative term... meaning I didn't have to go in granny gear much or stand up. much.) that literally almost knocked me off my aero bars and bike, twice.
I had decided to be uber conservative on the first loop. I didn't want to use my quads for anything more than spinning as much as possible. For some reason I can downhill reasonably well in an aero glide, so I tried to use the downhills for recovery as much as possible. There were several where I had to come out of aero and use the drops instead (like, when I hit 45mph with a crosswind) but in general I tried to bomb them safely with minimal effort. The uphills I tried to spin out without standing as much as I could, and was actually carrying on a conversation with people on one of the nastier one's in the "flat" section on the first loop (oddly enough, no one talked much at all on the second loop, lol).
I was passed by a few women in my age group, one of whom went by me like I was standing still. I came into the first climb up Duplessis in 5th, and ended the first loop in 6th, and was just fine with that.
One very frustrating part of the first loop was the congestion on the course, which I blame the wave swim start for, rightly or not ;-) It was hard not to be inside a draft zone on the climbs, and at times people were scattered 3 and 4 across and 6 deep in staggered formation, although most of us were trying to ride our own race. It did spread out a bit more for the second loop.
As we came through the "rollers" (haha) back to the resort area at the end of the "easy" part of loop one, we came through mobs of people along the road and at the roundabout and spur heading to the turn for Duplessis (french for "where your race goes to die"). We had driven that dogleg, and it looked tough from a truck. Let me just say, it looks a lot tougher from a bike seat. I was still trying to conserve quads on the first trip up and back, but there were plenty of spots where I was looking in vain for another gear to shift down to, and I did stand on numerous occasions. The turn around is cruelly at the bottom of a hill, meaning, yep, you have to slow down, do a sharp 180', and then head back up a blasted hill. (Twice)
Thankfully the end of Duplessis is primarily downhill, so the last bit into the resort area and through the turn around is fast. As I came through to start the second loop I saw the fam, they yelled my place (6th) and I yelled back "NOW the race starts". Considering I was 56 miles into a challenging bike, I liked the way my legs felt. (thank YOU powerbeam pro...)
The second loop had different challenges. The wind was ugly on the 18+ mile stretch. I had to, of course, pee. And I knew what was coming. My hydration plan was working well, though, and I was doing ok with nutrition. I had a "super charged" bottle of accelerade off my seat, and had started with a regular mix in my front loader water bottle, my smaller aero bottle on my down tube, and the other behind my seat bottle. My plan was to drink the front loader, refill if necessary from one of the regular mixes, and then grab a water bottle at every aid station and mix that with a squirt from the super charged bottle. That actually worked really really well, and I felt like I stayed hydrated throughout.
Nutritionally I was carrying some salt tabs, and broken up blueberry oatmeal bonk breaker bars and fig newtons. I wish I had been able to eat a bit more towards the end of the bike, as I think it affected me at the end of the run. But, I wasn't, lol.
I think I may have pushed a little harder than I should have between mile 70 and 90. I moved into 5th and stayed there for the duration, and was riding very strong... but felt it a bit more than I'd hoped on the second round with Duplessis. As I came through that awesome section with the round about and stretch to the turn to the hills, I saw the fam and Matthew snapped my favorite picture, with the girls yelling in the background as I ride by...
Duplessis, the sequel, was hard. As in, head down, sweat dripping off the end of your nose, quads burning, trying not to puke hard. Which was probably why I didn't eat enough, because I was just trying not to barf stomach lining for most of it. There were not a lot of smiling people and I didn't get blown by by boys pushing huge watts like on the first lap. In fact, I was doing most of the passing at that point.
As an aside, I got pee'd on twice by boys, and actually yelled to one "come on, at least write your name" as he drew a line on the ground next to him (an impressively straight line, I might add). And, once again, I failed to be able to pee on MY bike, so had to stop and stagger waddle into a porta let around mile 60.
As another aside, the hook to the songs "wake me up" and "counting stars" kept playing in my head, which was helpful and those two songs will forever bring me back to that day.
As I bombed down the final stretch of Duplessis into town and T2, I really could not believe I had survived that course. In fact, I'm very proud of how prepared I was for it and for being disciplined on most of it. I came off the bike at Louisville in awful shape, physically and mentally, and this was a 180' difference. Other than some brutally sore and angry muscles in my back and shoulders, and one tight hamstring that had been giving me issues for months, I was feeling pretty good (and my 2xu compression tri kit was awesome... for such a tiny bit of padding it was shockingly comfortable) RIGHT up until the dismount from the bike, when I almost pitched face first into the ground trying to convince my legs to change motion and run now.
Bike: 5:57:00 -- 6 mins faster than IMLou
A quick grab of my t2 bag and stagger into the tent, and I switched socks, pulled on my sneakers, traded the helmet for my hat, grabbed my race belt and watch and teetered out the door. A quick stop at the sunscreen station (um, we all missed a few spots, fyi) and another longer stop at the porta let to pee again (see, I WAS hydrated!) and off I went through the chutes and people and out onto the first hill of the course.
Now, I wear a pace watch, which helpfully beeps every mile (which was confusing on a course marked by km) but I never look at it in a race like that. I mean, really, what am I going to do about whatever my pace is anyway... like the bike, I run by feel. I don't use a power meter or heart rate monitor on the bike, and I don't have a goal pace on the run. I just run. So, I ran. And I ran strong. The first and last part of each loop was hilly. The center part was mostly on a crushed gravel trail that some people found desolate but I found perfect. A 1-2% downhill on the out and the reverse on the back (and believe me, you notice) and plenty of water stops. Alas, no bears like IMC the next week...
Somewhere in there I moved up to 4th. And I passed the girl who I thought would win. She was walking, with a limp. A limp I didn't notice the next morning when I saw her at the finishers tent. I was hurting, and fighting growing nausea... and it was, of course, hot, because when do I ever race when it isn't hot? I settled into a "walk through part of the water stop" routine, and took in flat coke and water... tried to eat some pretzels, but that didn't work. Choked down a couple of gel drops, because my stomach was both nauseated and growling (figure that one out). And kept slugging along.
The run course was beautiful, but I only really know that from running the last part earlier in the week on an easy run. I vaguely remember seeing the lake and boats etc. during the race. Vaguely.
I came by the fam sitting on the bank below our rental as I headed into the last bit of the first loop. The hills were really starting to take their toll on my outer hip flexors, but my hamstring and inner hip were hanging in there (and those were the two spots I was worried about) and I thankfully did NOT have a repeat of the numb foot experience at Raleigh.
The turn around was really neat... you run up (of course) a hill into the ski village and wind through very narrow, heavily spectated chutes until you get to the split, where the losers just heading out on their second lap go right, and the pros and other speedy people go left. I shot a pouty lower lip look at the guys waving us in the proper direction (and got a laugh) and headed back out and into the hills to start loop two.
I broke protocol and stole a quick look at my watch, which read 1:51 (my official half split might be a bit slower, as I started my watch on leaving the porta let, which may have been after I crossed the mat out of T2), and thought, and I quote "oh you're so f***ed" lol. At that point there was really nothing left to do but just keep running as long and as strong as I could. I entertained a remote hope of being able to hold on for the entire second loop, but knew it was a long shot.
As I passed the fam again during an intermission of running hill hell, they yelled that I was in 4th but that a girl 7 mins back looked really good. I found out exactly how good a few miles later when she blew by me like I was wearing cement shoes. She was on her way to a 3:21 marathon and winning the AG. She beat me by 20 mins, after starting 20 mins behind me. Think about that.
So. I knew I was closing on 3 and 2. I also knew I was starting to struggle. The hip flexors were cramping so badly with each stride that I actually worried one would give out and flop me on my face at some point. And I still had 10+ miles to go.
At this point, as anyone who has done an endurance event can understand, you start visiting the dark places in your brain. The places that tell you you can't keep doing this. That you should walk. Or stop. That you're getting caught. That you aren't strong enough. Etc. And it basically becomes you vs you inside your head, with your body just along for the painful ride.
I briefly won that battle, and rallied for a strong end of the first half of the last loop (got that) and early part of the last half. But somewhere as I approached the last 4 miles or so, I cracked... I'll say mentally, because I do believe that mental strength is the key to how long you can torture your body successfully. I was so nauseated, and could barely drink anything, and the hip flexors were just in agony. My pace, as I later found out, dropped to just over 11 min miles, and a couple of girls in my age group passed me (I assumed they were on my lap, and calculated I was maybe in 8th at that point) and it was everything I could do not to just stop. I was initially devastated to think I'd come within 3 miles of the podium only to get passed, and of course I blamed my own weakness for it happening. So, the last three miles became a kind of "just finish this damn thing" death march with me arguing for leniency on myself and to try and enjoy the experience as I passed the lake and hit the last stretch of hills.
I did a mixture of shuffle run up the hills. The downhills sucked almost worse than the last uphills. I was slogging along at just over 11 minute miles, but it felt like 15. And finally I was running past the special needs bag section at the top of the village and into the long chute to the finish. And this time I got to smile and go LEFT at the split.
I ran smiling past the fam, who was oddly excited to see someone who had broken and was staggering in an embarrassed 8th, or so I thought.
The atmosphere and crowd was simply amazing. And I came in with a clear road to hear an unhurried Mike Reilly say the immortal words "Sara DiPaolo, from Jacksonville, FL, You. Are. An. Ironman!"
(Editor's note: Damn straight I am. Our whole family earned that. Three years of concussions, C-Diff, cancer, my exhusband's disappearing and reappearing act, endless court, four (count 'em) FOUR surgeries (plus one for Matthew, so five), losing Miss Mia, thousands of dollars in lost entry fees and missed races, and who knows what else... but we did it, together, as a family. The girls and Matthew (and some special friends who were there every step of the way and without whose support I'd be lost...) shared this personal victory just as much as I did. This was OUR triumph over the darkness that could easily have consumed us all these past few years.
I'd throw in a F*** You Captain Ahab, but you know what? That anger got me through some of the training, but our week in Tremblant and that insanely difficult day was about positives... strength, power, hope, courage, FAMILY, and living life. As I thought of people throughout the day and took inspiration from their courage and strength (Pat... Justine... Bret... my husband and kids...), I did NOT think about the other stuff, or the one who has tried to destroy our family.
We have room for anyone who wants to live, love, laugh...and compete. We are Team DiPaolo. Join it, or get the hell out of our way.
End of Rant)
Run: 4:02:42 -- 30+ mins faster than IMLou, a min or two slower than FL, but I consider it a PR given the course profile, lol.
Final: 11:07:59, 4th Age Group
So... after crossing the finish line and convincing the wonderful volunteers and a medical guy that I only LOOKED like I was in imminent danger of collapse, I wandered out to look for the fam.
It took quite a while for them to find their way down from where they had been along the finishers' chute. I just kind of stood there, wobbly, although I did chug down a chocolate milk, which stayed down, and ate a couple of small cookies. I stayed as far away from the poutine as I could get, but unfortunately could still smell it. BLEAH.
The amazing thing about the slow walk to transition to get my stuff and the walk back to the town house was, every single non athlete I saw said congratulations. Every one.
The rest of the night is kind of a blur. I think we spent it packing and cleaning. The fam had eaten pizza while I was on loop two (thanks, guys) and I wasn't super hungry, so I think I had a piece of cheese and some yogurt. I'd had great intentions of going back to the finish line for midnight, but knowing Matthew had a loooooong drive and the girls and I had a flight arriving close to midnight the next day was a serious deterrent. That, and I just couldn't face the concept of walking back up those g*dd*mn hills again. Twice.
So I spent a few fitful hours trying, and failing, to sleep, then got up and watched the fireworks at midnight, and sprawled in the recliner in the family room to surf and kill time. A few more fitful hours of sort of sleep, and I got dressed and walked up the (same set) of hills to get in line at the finisher's tent. I was supposed to wake up Matthew and Christi to go with me. I did not. When I got there at 6 I was about 30th in line, and ended up right next to a guy I had enjoyed a lengthy convo with over the course of an hour or so on the first bike loop. Small world.
Matthew wandered up just before 7, and in we went to navigate the feeding frenzy that is the finisher's tent. I got what I wanted and we headed back (over the same hills) to the rental, and started loading the truck.
As we sadly said goodbye to the wonderful place we had rented, and started the process of heading home, we stopped at the village to see about getting my award early. I sent the girls to look at the Kona list for fun, to see if any slots had been claimed yet. Imagine my shock when they came barreling back into the crowd exclaiming that there were four slots in my AG, which meant I had one.
We immediately ran (well.... yeah...not so much) to retrieve Matthew to tell him the hilarious news, and the lobbying for me to go started. And ended when I said "not even a hint of a chance" lol.
That decision, of course, caused some angst and gnashing of teeth amongst friends and the girls, but it is one I am 100% at peace with having made, and one I would make again. I know it is very hard for some people to understand, and I know it is not the choice a lot of people think they would have made, but it was and is the right one for ME, because it was and is the right one for our family. I would not want to go without my family. I would not want to go if it meant the family having to miss a bunch of school. I would rather use that money to go on a spring break trip during one or both of the spring breaks we have remaining with Christi before she is in COLLEGE. I've never dreamed of racing Kona, although I'm sure it would be a really awesome experience. But, to me, I weigh how important something is to me personally against how much hassle and disruption it would be to the entire team. And the scale tipped completely to one side. So, to me, it was never an option, and I had long ago decided that I would not take a slot if I was lucky enough to earn one (which was my ultimate goal... to podium and to earn a slot).
And when I saw the sheer joy that getting a slot gave to the 6th place gal when it rolled to her, the decision was clearly the correct one. THAT was the face and reaction of someone who dreamed of a kona slot :-)
It is what it is.
...that's my why, what's yours?
