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Alison's IMC 2005 Race Report
Posted September 18, 2005 11:42 PM
The following race report was written by Alison Keighan.
I AM AN IRONMAN!
Aug 28, 2005 - Midnight
IMC turned out to be everything I'd envisioned over the last 8 months of single-minded training. At 11:25 pm tonight and with a huge grin on my face I crossed the finish line, holding the hands of my daughters Rachael and Heather, to the sound of Steve King's commentary and the cheering crowds.
Twenty years ago, I remember watching the epic battles and dramatic finishes of the Hawaii Ironman and thinking, "Wow, completing an Ironman would be the ultimate athletic accomplishment". In the back of my mind I pictured that some day, I too would conquer that challenge. But life went on - school, career, marriage, kids and somehow that dream was pushed deep into the subconscious for many years. Fast forward to 4 years ago, when I joined the YTri Clinic. Ironman had still not quite re-entered the conscious mind, but sprint and Olympic distance triathlons seemed relatively achievable. But the more I hung out with "the club" the more stories I heard of club members who were training for, or had even completed an Ironman. And they were relatively "normal" people. So just maybe, that 20 year-old dream was not completely dead.
So in January of this year, with Carolyn Gebbie's guidance, we mapped out a plan for success. I kept my goals simple and realistic: Finish...sub 17 hours...with a smile on my face.
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Race Day:
At the start of the swim I was excited, but not nearly as nervous as I had expected. I had lined up to the far left and to the back of the crowd, along with my older sister Jan, also competing in her first Ironman race. Five minutes prior to the start an older man with a long beard pushed by us rather frantically, urging everyone out of the way. We later found out that his zipper had just split and that volunteers had to duct tape him into his suit! I sang out to O Canada with a lump in my throat and then cheered wildly as the cannon went off.
Positioned as I was near the back and wide of the buoys, the waters were relatively calm. On the way to the first turn I was even in open water much of the time. I couldn't find anyone to draft off of, but at least I was able to get into my groove. At the first turn, as everyone converged, I waved at the scuba divers below. Once I rounded the turn I was blinded, as was everyone else, by the rising sun. When sighting, I would just try to pick a line roughly in the middle of the frothing water in front of me. My line didn't end up being too bad, as I seemed to pass quite near to most of the buoys. At one point I was punched in the goggles by a breast-stroker, whose arms and legs flung out in all directions. I had the hardest time trying to shake him after that, but was eventually successful. I managed to draft for short periods of time, and had someone tapping my toes for the entire second leg. Normally, in the pool, that would drive my crazy, but in this case I actually enjoyed the knowledge that I was helping someone else out. Rounding the second houseboat, I caught a draft that I managed to keep until the shore. I finished at a slowish 1:35, about 5 minutes slower than my estimated time, but within the range that I had decided I'd be happy with.
After a fairly smooth transition, and a brief film interview while I was being slathered with sunscreen by one of the wonderful volunteers, I set off on the bike. The early part of the ride was uneventful for me. I felt energized and in good spirits and succeeded in keeping control of my pace. I could not believe the number of competitors with flats during the first 60 km. For a stretch along McLean Creek Road, you were never out of sight of someone changing a flat. I later learned that there had been tacks on the road. I guess one of the advantages of being toward the back of the pack is that many of the pointy things on the road have already been picked up by the faster cyclists' tires. It was a sobering sight just before OK Falls to see the ambulance at the bottom of a downhill curve and someone washing blood off the road.
It was getting hot as I passed Osoyoos and made my way up Richter Pass. Thanks to the experience gained on our July training trip, I was mentally prepared for the climb. Although climbing has never been my strength, and I was definitely not pushing it too hard, I was surprised to find myself passing a significant number of riders. The downhill, which I always enjoy, was far too short. They don't call me Big Mo (short for Big Momentum) for nothing. We had a bit of a tailwind through the rollers, which made them much less of a challenge than we had experienced in July when we faced horrible headwinds along that stretch. The Cawston out and back was long and boring, with a headwind in the "out" direction, but it was a good opportunity to look for friends who were also racing. I was also rewarded by the heavenly ice-cold drinks waiting in my special needs bag. The Pringles and Kit Kat bar got tossed to the side of the road though. It's so hard to predict what type of food will appeal to you so late in the ride. After the out and back I knew that although the climb to Yellow Lake was still ahead, the number of difficult cycling miles left was actually quite small. When climbing up to Yellow Lake I used a strategy I had stumbled upon in July. I used two brief plateaus during the climb to stop, stretch my back and let my heart rate normalize a bit. During the 30 - 60 second rest breaks, invariably a few riders would pass me, but once I got back on the bike I was completely revitalized and quickly re-passed them as well as a few more riders. I finished the climb with relatively fresh legs, having gained a several positions. I flew down the hills into Penticton, reaching over 73 kph and never touching my brake levers once! I probably pushed it a bit hard during the final stretch through town; I was feeling strong and was anxious to finish off the ride. My bike time was 7:53, which was right on my estimate of 8 hours + or - 30 minutes.
T2 was a little on the slow side. I suffered from numb hands from my ride. This made my Port-a-Potty trip a little tricky and tying my shoelaces seemed to take all day. I left T2 feeling kind of beat. It was still hot and my efforts late on the ride had caught up to me.
My strategy on the run was: Run 9 min/Walk 1 min for as long as possible and to walk all hills. Running has always been my weakest discipline and I had not progressed as far as I would have liked in training due to a persistent respiratory bug in June and July. Early in the run, I realized it was going to be a very long day. My "run 9 min /walk 1 min" strategy quickly deteriorated into "run 10 traffic cones/walk 10 traffic cones". Even that wasn't sustainable for long. While still on Main Street I switched into a survival strategy of power walking. Luckily for me I met up with a woman named Sheila, a 60 year old physiotherapist from California. She was competing in her 2nd Ironman and had power walked the marathon in IM Florida in 6:15. As long as I kept pace with Sheila, I would make the midnight cut-off with a comfortable margin. Sounded good to me!
So "My new best friend Sheila" and I headed off at a good steady pace toward Okanagan Falls. My spirits and energy levels lifted and I managed to get my nutrition and hydration back on track. We helped each other through tougher moments and managed to pass a large number of walkers and other competitors who were valiantly attempting to run. At the 20 km mark we came across a fellow who had just collapsed against a concrete road barrier. He was conscious, but not responsive. I supported him against the barrier and waited with him until the medics arrived. He was soon whisked off in one of the many ambulances that passed us during the marathon. By the halfway mark, I had significant hot spots on the bottom of both feet, so I stopped to slap on a couple of blister pads I had in my special needs bag. Too bad they don't make pads that cover the entire foot!!! On the way back to Penticton my feet got progressively sorer, but my overall energy level was fine. My new best friend Sheila and I kept up our steady pace, passed even more people and slowly saw the mile markers creep toward 26. On the final stretch along Lakeshore Drive I convinced Sheila to go ahead. My feet were screaming and we wanted to cross separately anyway to get good finish line photos and so that my kids could cross with me. Heather and Rachael joined me about 100m from the finish and I sucked up the searing pain in my feet and managed to run the final stretch with my kids and cross the line with a huge grin. My twenty year dream fulfilled. I DID IT!
Post Race:
From the relative luxury of the massage tent, I listened to Steve King announcing the final finishers cross the line and enjoyed the sounds of the midnight fireworks. On my way out, I chatted for a few moments to my hero, 75 year old Sister Madonna Buder, who had just set another world record as the oldest woman to ever complete an Ironman race. She is such an incredible inspiration.
Later that night, lying awake with twitchy legs, I needed to use the washroom (my hydration must not have been too bad after all). Due to the blisters on my feet, I crawled my way to the bathroom, careful not to wake Dave or the girls. I managed to hoist myself onto the throne, where I promptly felt nauseous and passed out. Crack! My head hit the wall as I fell down in behind the toilet. My family awoke to the noise of my fall and Dave came to the rescue. I came to almost immediately and told him I was quite content lying on the cool tile floor with my head in the corner, providing he brought me a pillow for my head, a Power Gel and a glass of water. A few minutes later, when I was sure I was okay, I wiggled out of my corner and crawled back to bed. Other than a bruise, a small cut on my head and the loss of a chunk of hair, I was really no worse for wear!
In spite of (or maybe because of) the battle stories, the Ironman lifestyle is certainly contagious. I'll definitely be back! Who wants to join me in 2007?
