More of a lurker than poster, but I’ve learned a lot on this Board, so I thought I’d share my experience and random thoughts on my training for and doing my first ironman.
Background:
I’ve been doing triathlons for five years now. I didn’t get into the sport with the intention of ever doing an ironman, but after a while of training and racing it just became the logical next step, and somehow the question of ‘why Ironman?’ morphed into ‘why not?’. I chose Louisville primarily due to its timing, but also because I like the idea of a time trial swim start, and because the combination of hilly bike (but not too hilly) and flat-ish run seemed perfect to me.
Training:
Since I’m not smart enough to devise my own training plan I decided to hire a coach to devise a plan that was right for me and my goals, and more importantly to provide feedback/reassurances along the way. I stuck to my plan pretty well, barely missing a workout, but life gets in the way sometimes, and I occasionally found myself getting up at ridiculous hours in order to get workouts in before work/travel/family obligations. The training volume didn’t bother me, but what got to me after a few months was the constant fatigue and drag of long training days that just seemed like déjà-vu all over again. I did about 3-4 races over the course of the year, but was never really fully tapered for any of them, so really, they were just catered, long training days. Friends of mine who’ve done IMs consoled me that it would all pay off on raceday, and I remember thinking to myself, ‘hmmm, that’s putting a lot of eggs in one basket, what if something happens?’ Well, 2 ½ months before the race, something did happen: I was walking down the street, took a weird step and suffered a bad ankle sprain. I’m almost ashamed/bewildered to admit it, but my first thought (after the shock of the searing pain subsided somewhat) was, ‘Good, this IM thing finally over and I can move on with my life’. I was just so physically and mentally drained. But after a few days of rest, and realizing that I could still swim, bike and aquajog, I realized how much I still wanted it, and how much it would mean to me to be able to come out of T2 instead of having to limit myself to an aquavelo. So, in addition to training, I was now doing PT three times a week. Ankle gradually got better, and a week before the race, my PT cleared me to race. It brought tears of joy to my eyes.
Race week:
I got to Louisville on the Thursday before the race. Took care of everything without getting too stressed out and was overwhelmed by the wave of friendliness from the locals and volunteers. Like I was doing something special. It was awesome crazy and quite frankly a bit overwhelming.
Swim:
As most people know, it’s a time trial swim start, which I enjoyed. I was pretty far back in the line, but that didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I was surrounded by loud talkers. I’ve noticed that there are two types of triathletes pre-swim: the quiet, reserved ones (me) and the loud talkers. I prefer to keep to myself before race start, but that was hard to do under the circumstances. Oh well, the line started moving, stopped and started again, and I was in the water by 7:34. I noticed that after sitting in line for 1 ½ hours, once it starts moving, it goes pretty quickly, and on the last 150 meters my heart rate went from 68 to 144. The swim was a bit combative at first, but opened up rather quickly, and the current as well as the fact that the buoys were placed so closely together that it was impossible to swim in anything but a straight line meant that I beat my expected time by 10 mins.
Bike:
Cruised through T1 and on to the bike. I tend to struggle with the swim to bike transition in triathlons. Regardless of whether I eat or not, eat solid or liquid, it just takes me a while to find my bike legs. This time, no problem, I found my rhythm right away. I guess it helps that the first 10 miles are pancake flat. I told myself to hold back and to pace myself and to not stress about all the speed demons flying by me (or about the fact that I was the only one riding a road bike without aero bars). I was a bit surprised at how crowded the bike course was in the first 30-40 miles, and there were definitely a lot of people who don’t quite get the concept of riding on the right, which was a bit freaky on the out and back. But it was all manageable. I’d characterize the bike course as tough but fair. Yeah, it’s got hills, but nothing insurmountable, just lots of rollers and back to back climbs. I knew that when I signed up and had trained accordingly. I paced myself pretty well, took on water at all aid stations. I saw riders go down at the first three aid stations, so I was extra cautious there, and started pushing the pace a bit more on the second loop. That’s when I caught a lot of people, and I must admit, it gave me some satisfaction.
Run:
Cruised through T2, and off I was running. I’d only started running again about 6 weeks ago, and never more than 4-5 miles with walk breaks thrown in. So, my coach and I adopted a run/walk strategy. This was tough to swallow since when I signed up for the race, my second goal (after finishing) was to finish running, not walking or doing the IM-shuffle, but this was the price I’d have to pay for doing this on a not yet fully recovered ankle. The walk/run strategy worked pretty well through mile 12. My legs and engine were feeling strong. Then, my knees started to give. I’d feared this would happen, they were just not happy with all this sudden pounding, and so the running became less and the walking more. This was pretty bitter, especially since I was surrounded by athletes who (from what I gathered from overhearing conversations) were walking because a) they’d overcooked the bike; or b) were having GI issues. I had neither of those, my pacing had been really good all day and I been smart with my nutrition, so I was frustrated to be walking anyway, when I knew that ordinarily now was the time that I’d be pulling away from folks. One thing I think worth mentioning is the turn-off to the second loop. A lot of people comment on how mentally tough it is since you see the finish line before you turn off for loop #2. What they don’t say is that the spectators line up at the turn-off and GO ABSOLUTELY NUTS! They know how tough that turn is and support you like you’re a rockstar. It was unbelievable and brought tears to my eyes, it was so cool. I mean here I am doing something just for myself, that required me to be pretty selfish over the course of the year, and all these strangers are celebrating and supporting me! And then, when you get to the finish line, you get to experience it again. Totally awesome.
Post-race Thoughts:
So, I’m an ironman now. I finished about 45-55 minutes slower than I would have liked, entirely due to my knee issues on the second loop on the run, but I’m happy nonetheless, because I executed my race and nutrition strategy the way I wanted to, and most importantly, I had so much fun. I remember being told that after all the hard training, race day is the easy part (at least for us MOP AG’ ers), and I agree with that. Some lessons I learned:
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A year is a long time to train for a race. You can devise a plan that paces you physically, but beware of the mental drain. Since most IMs force you to sign up a year in advance, it’s hard to not view every work-out in the context of ‘how is this making me stronger for race day?’, but thinking like that for one year is a long, long time. I’ve always enjoyed s,b,r, but doing more s,b,r is physically and mentally taxing, especially when you’re doing this for the first time and don’t really know yet how it’ll come together for raceday.
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Ironman training forces you to put all your eggs in one basket. What if instead of spraining my ankle, I’d have broken it two months before the race and would have had to pull out? What if Irene had hit more inland they’d have cancelled the swim or race? Would I have been able to stomach that? I really want to do LOU again, but I need to figure out if I can handle putting a year into training for an IM that might not materialize for whatever reason.
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I think IM LOU is a great first-time IM race. Low key, non-stressful environment, non-corporate feeling, great volunteers and locals’ support. Swim-friendly, fair bike, and fairly flat run. There’s another thread debunking some of the negative myths surrounding IM LOU, and I think it’s spot-on. I highly recommend this race.