2005 IM Canada

My two cents about IM Canada

Joanie, Greg, Janine, and I arrived on Wednesday prior to the race on Sunday. Ethan and Debbie flew up on Thursday. That gave all of us at least two full days to develop a full case of the pre-race jitters and fret over what seemed endless details. Greg and I went down to the lake on Thursday morning to scope out the course and test the shrinkage factor of the water. To our surprise, the water was the perfect temperature for wetsuit assisted swimming. I think it was about 68-69 degrees. Janine swam with us without her wetsuit, but was a bit on the cold side after about 20 minutes of swimming. Joanie took the smart approach and volunteered to watch our stuff and work on her tan while catching up on the latest gossip in People. I remember Greg remarking "this is an awfully big lake" and I responded, "yeah, and I we get to swim at least 2.4 miles of it (or more like 2.7 miles if you fail to navigate correctly).

We went to pick up our registration packets that afternoon along with a few hundred other nervous, jittery competitors. Who needs caffeine when you can have a nice dose of pre-race anxiety! Our packets included about 50 different "gear" bags. Ironman gives you a bag for practically everything. You get a bag to put your Swim to Bike gear in. You get a bag to put your Bike to Run gear in. You get bags to put your Bike and Run Special Needs in. I was surprised there were no bags for your pre-race bathroom needs and your post-race vomitathlon. We got a bag for dry clothes after the race, but this seemed so far in the future and slightly out of the realm of possibility, that I had a hard time deciding what to put in it.

On Friday, we all took a rest day and decided as a group to drive the bike course in Greg & Joanie's rented soccer Mom Super Mini-Van. This van had it all, the keyless remote not only opened both side sliding doors, but opened the power rear hatch. I think only Greg, with his years of engineering experience, was able to properly use the remote, the rest of us spent the trip pushing buttons until something happened (I kept opening the rear hatch every time I wanted to change the radio station). Our journey on the bike course took us through some beautiful countryside. We were sure to soak it all in knowing the next time we passed that way, we would probably be focused on the 6 inches on either side of the white line. Ethan attempted to purchase some organic fruit from one of the local growers who had a large sign out front reading "Danny's Organic Fruit Sold Here" with a big arrow pointing down this dirt lane. We turned down the lane and wound our way to this barn and farmhouse. There was what appeared to be another customer in front of us purchasing fruit, so Ethan politely waited his turn. He then approached a lady who we assumed was Danny's wife or mother or sister or cousin or maybe a combination. He asked what fruit was for sale. She said she did not have any fruit for sale. Now, while she was stating this, Ethan was standing in the barn surrounded by crates of fresh apples, peaches, and other assorted fruit. We were a bit confused, but decided to proceed on our way. My only thought is that Ethan was speaking "American" and the lady was obviously "Canadian", so maybe there was a language barrier. Ethan eventually found his fruit and all was well with the world. The drive of the course took us about 2.5 hours with a few stops along the way (consider that it took us 5.5 hours to ride it). We were able to get a good sense of the route including the infamous Richter Pass and Yellow Lake climbs. I was feeling good that all the training we had done riding Diablo, the Bears, Palomares, Mines Road, and Del Puerto Canyon had prepared us for these climbs. My anxiety meter was reading a bit lower, although still pretty high, after our little drive.

Saturday before the race was a flurry of activity including, but not limited to, a pre-race mini triathlon of 15 minutes of swimming, biking, and running, attending a pre-race meeting, dropping off our bikes and assorted gear bags, concocting our various drinks, gels, and foodstuffs, and eating a huge pasta/chicken meal prepared by our wonderful support crew of Janine, Joanie, and Debbie. At one point in the afternoon, Greg, Ethan, and I had something like 20 bottles and gel flasks in the kitchen surrounded by white powders, yellow powders, green powders, brown gels, red gels, and blue gels. It sort of looked like a crack house that was dabbling in the jelly/syrup business. Remarkably all of us seemed to be pretty calm Saturday evening once all the preparation was completed and we were stuffing in the last few mouthfuls of carbs consisting of apple and cherry pie. I guess we had resigned ourselves to the fact that there was nothing we could do at that point other than race the damn thing.

Sunday morning started at 4AM. I actually slept all through the night which is a unique pre-race experience for me (ask Fred for details). We stuffed various bagels, cereals, protein shakes, fruit, and other assorted foods in our mouths with a healthy splash of coffee to wash it all down. Debbie then drove us down to the start line at 5AM so we could do our final bike and gear bag preps. Since you do not have a traditional transition spot next to your bike, you have to make sure that all your gear is in the proper bag. Around 6:15AM, they began moving us down the road to the swim start, this huge mass of bodies in wetsuits and swim caps meandering down Main street Penticton. We arrived at the beach to bag pipe music which made me think we were marching off to battle. I noticed quite a few people staring out at the first buoy which seemed at least 3 miles away. Many were just lost in thought of what the day would hold for them. We watched the 30 or so Pros start at 6:45AM, then dove in for a few warm up strokes. As Ethan commented, when we turned around to swim back into the beach, all we could see was this wall of humanity stretching across the beach going back 20 to 30 deep.

I lined up to the left of the buoy line thinking I could steer right and avoid the crush of the start. Unfortunately, many had the same thought, so I was caught in this wedge from swimmers on my left pushing me towards the buoy line and swimmers on my right not swimming very straight and pushing me into the swimmers on my left. I felt like a centrist politician trying to push through legislation while liberal and conservative sharks tried to nudge me towards their political side of the spectrum. In what could only be described as the most extreme washing machine of a swim, I finally rounded the first buoy and found some open water. I settled into a nice pace and considered the task ahead of me. I quickly thought of something else since the task ahead of me was too hard to comprehend. The swim finish arrived sooner than expected and I was happy to be back on solid land again. I ran up the beach and was confronted by one of the renowned "wetsuit strippers". He ordered me on my back then proceeded to yank my wetsuit off. I was glad I had remembered to tie by shorts otherwise I may have revealed to the world exactly how cold the lake had been. I was pulled to my feet, handed my wetsuit, and then pushed towards the changing tent. On the way, I was handed my gear bag. I stumbled into the tent and found a chair, trying at the same time to collect my thoughts. The tent was a mad-house with socks, shoes, helmets, arms, legs, and feet flying everywhere. I was surprised to come out the other end with my own shoes on my own feet and my own helmet actually buckled to my head, even my socks matched. As I ran to my bike, I was assaulted by the sun tan lotion ladies who smeared large glops of lotion on any exposed body part. I had so much of the stuff on me that I almost slid off my bike when I went to get on it.

The bike leg was quite enjoyable. The pre-race jitters were gone, I had survived the washing machine, and I was peddling along at a good cadence and speed. Some local moron decided to show their intelligence level and throw out tacks to welcome the first athletes to ride past. I counted about 35 flats in the first 20 miles of the bike course. My thanks and condolences to those faster swimmers and riders than me who graciously cleared the course of the tacks beforeI came through. I spent the time on the bike making sure I did not violate any drafting rules and maintaining my hydration and nutrition strategy. The climb up Yellow Lake was monumental with fans lining both sides of the course screaming for all of us. I picked off at least 20 riders on the climb and then put my head down for a fast 15 downhill miles back into town. Once into town, I saw Janine, Joanie, and Debbie cheering us on around mile 4 of the run/bike course.

T2 was much like T1 with shoes flying and more glops of sun tan lotion. I ran out of transition and started to click off the miles. I saw our support team at mile 4, then focused on the turn-around at 13 miles. I caught up to Ethan around mile 10 and we traded places for awhile. Around mile 14, I started to cramp up in my stomach and sides, so took a bathroom break. Ethan passed me and I never saw him again until the finish. I continued to have cramping for the second half of the marathon, so I resorted to walking and running when I could. The cramps felt like somebody was sticking a knife in my sides every time I took a step. I know now that it was probably dueto a lack of electrolytes. Someone told me that I should have had the chicken broth; the salt would have helped with the cramps. Hindsight is always 20/20. Trust me, chicken broth at mile 16 of the run DID NOT sound like a good idea. Greg passed me somewhere around this point with words of encouragement. I commented that I wanted to be like him when I grew up, then waved him on to a stellar finish. I did a bit of urking at mile 22 in a nice plant in front of McDonalds. I think the patrons in the front dining room watching me probably thought it was in response to McD's food. They all made faces and left quickly.

I managed to fight my way to the finish and forced myself to run the last mile (where all the spectators were). I was "caught" by two of the IM catchers who are obligated to stay with you for 10 minutes after finishing. They tended to my needs and even walked out into the lake with me so I could soak my legs. I found Janine and the gang, but then decided to visit the med tent for an IV. I was having trouble keeping anything down after the race which was a good sign I was dehydrated. Janine commented that I was looking pretty pale and drawn. I did not weigh myself, but I imagine I was down 6 or 7 pounds from the start of the race.

Would I do it again? Yes. Will it be soon? No. Thanks to my wonderful wife. Thanks to Greg and Ethan and Joanie and Debbie for all your support.