Ironman Lake Placid Report From a Spectator's Perspective

This past weekend was yet another Ironman Lake Placid.  The big difference this time was it was the first time I headed up there not to race.  In 2004 I went up, scared to death with no clue if I'd finished based on my own training plan, and I finished my first Ironman.  In 2005 I thought maybe I could qualify for Kona and I did.  In 2006 all I really wanted to do was break 11 hours.  Which I did... by a little over 48 minutes with a 57-minute PR.  In 2007 I returned as some pseudo reigning champ and actually got recognized.  Then I went and flipped over the handlebars before turning for the second loop, causing amazingly minimal damage, and I just kind of phoned in the rest of the race since I already had my Kona slot.  In 2008 I went in as a shell of my former self thanks to a series of injuries that kept me from doing lots of my training.  I limped to a new personal worst.  In 2009 I was in a new age group with a new coach and I saw some semblance of my old self and a finish I was finally proud of again, if a tiny bit disappointed that it still was nowhere near where it was.  After a dismal race in Utah last year, I sneaked into the race at the last minute and managed somehow to once again go much slower than I ever had there before. 

So, due to recent history, you can see why maybe I wasn't all that upset that I would not be racing there.  That, and the fact that the swim start gets more and more dangerous every year as they try and stuff more and more people on the course.  Once again, for the love of God, just because you can accommodate 3000 bikes in the transition area does not mean that it is safe for all of them to be in the water and out on the bike course!  This continues to drive me insane and I have a horrible feeling that at one of these races someone is going to die because of it.  I hope that's not what it takes for them to finally cap registration at a much more reasonable number. 

But anyway, that's not the point of this post...  So this year I headed up with my friend and athlete I coach, Kris.  My good friend, and Kris's boyfriend, Trent would be racing his second Ironman and his first Lake Placid after completing St. George last year.  We all knew that Trent was going to have a good race, and he did well as being the only one in our little group who was racing.  His parents also came to watch.  We did not arrive until late Friday afternoon, which was very strange for me having always arrived earlier, although of course when not racing, there wasn't much point in arriving sooner.  It was literally 97 degrees most of the drive up, but got much cooler as we approached Lake Placid.  By much cooler I mean like mid 80's, but still.  I swear that happens every year though, it's really, really hot and humid when I drive up, then a front moves through and race day is quite pleasant. 

Almost immediately upon our arrival we went out to dinner at Jimmy's on Main Street which overlooks Mirror Lake.  I have eaten there on every one of my trips to Lake Placid and always enjoy it.  It's just that this time I didn't have to go out of my way to stuff my face full of carbs in preparation for the race.  The following morning was the QT2 breakfast, but not before Kris and I headed down to the water for a swim.  We'd heard it might be too warm for wetsuits this year, and it certainly felt toasty in there, but nice. 

Breakfast was nice considering once again, I did not have to eat until I felt sick.  I also got to sit and talk with my athlete MaryBeth who was racing.  She lives far enough away that I hardly ever get to see her, so it was nice to get to have a face-to-face chat before the race.  I played coach some more while I went back to another hotel after that to give another one of my athletes, Shaun - who was there supporting his wife - a threshold test.  I'm sure he quite enjoyed that... or at least is glad that it's now over. 

After a quick trip to grab lunch I headed back to the Crowne Plaza to meet with MaryBeth and go over her race plan.  It was good because she didn't seem nervous at all, so we were able to just focus on what needed to be done throughout the race.  I finally made it back to my hotel at 4 and thought to myself, wow that was a long day.  Then I realized that tomorrow I'd be up earlier and certainly would not be back to the room by 4 and I felt a bit silly.  But at least I got to lie down and rest a bit before dinner. 

It was nice on Saturday night to not have to worry about what I was eating and how it would feel in my stomach in the morning and to not have to get up at 3:30 in the morning to shove ungodly amounts of applesauce down my throat.  I'll admit that after seven races in a row there, I really didn't feel as though I wished I was racing that day. 

As is almost always the case on race morning in Lake Placid, it was overcast.  It felt humid when we started walking down to the water, but while we waited a cool, dry breeze blew in and took the humidity away.  We heard that wetsuits were optional but required for anyone who wanted to qualify for Kona or get any age group awards.  If the numbers I saw were correct, roughly 20% of people actually skipped the wetsuits while 80% went ahead and wore them instead of shooting for awards.  Now, to me, if it's going to be a non-wetsuit swim, shouldn't it look like one? 

Aside from the fact that each and every year I did this race the swim got scarier and scarier, I hadn't really considered that anyone without a wetsuit in the middle of all of these buoyant people was likely to get shoved under with no life-preserver effect to bounce them back up.  Honestly, I get short of breath just thinking about it as I can certainly recall that feeling from prior years.  There is not enough room in that lake for that many swimmers.  Sure, the super fast people are going to get off the front no problem and the lousy swimmers or those who simply don't want to get caught up in the craziness are going to wait off the back, but for your average-ish swimmers who need to be aggressive enough to be in a good spot for awards but maybe aren't top age group swimmers, it's downright dangerous in there.  This was another reason I really didn't wish I was in the water with them.  It was nice to be able to breathe whenever I wanted. 

Anyway, after some waiting and watching a whole lot of bobbing heads, the cannon fired and the race was off.  It was crazy to see from a spectator's perspective.  It looked scary even from 200 yards away.  Except for the two or three people who zoomed off the front, vastly far in front of everyone.  I wonder what that feels like?  Oh, and they were wearing wetsuits.  It took several minutes for everyone to really "start" the race and cross the line, and a few people were off the back so far I swear it was like they weren't even trying to swim forward.  And literally 400 yards into the swim someone bailed and got hauled out in a boat.  I have no idea why, but that seems awfully early to quit the race.  At least try one loop. 

After watching some of the faster swimmers continue on to their second loop we decided to head over to transition to watch people come through.  I got separated from everyone as I made my way down to the fence surrounding transition so I could really see people and get some good pictures.  There was nobody there, so it was great. 

That would be QT2 teammate and coach extraordinaire, Tim Snow heading out to get on his bike in his tenth race in Lake Placid.  After that I moved to watch people come out of the tent in droves.  Everyone I expected to see earlier came out much later due to the whole wetsuit vs. non wetsuit thing.  I have heard some pretty rough stories about the whole ordeal and hopefully it is not something that will happen again.  Anyway, I kept my eyes open for all of the QT2 people and was still pretty much by myself except for this one other woman.  After literally about 45 minutes of spectating there some security guy told us we had to leave.  I have no idea why it mattered at that point, but I went out onto the street and ran into my friends Kevin and Leslie, AKA the rest of Trent's supportive fan club. 

We did some sitting and some more sitting and I started to see how this whole spectating thing might be a better deal than racing.  I was sporting my awesome boot over my broken-foot-that-will-not-heal and got to stumble around lopsided all day long, but it was far less uncomfortable than I expected.  The sun was out and eventually we abandoned our lovely couches inside the Golden Arrow and went up the hill to where the bikers would come through to turn for the second loop.  Eventually we got in touch with Trent's parents and Kris and had to describe where we were.  Our easiest frame of reference is, "Okay, do you know where Molly crashed her bike?  Yeah, we're up the hill from there." 

 Here are Leslie and I spectating at the top of the hill.  Kevin was nice enough to leave the boot out of the picture. 

Here is Trent looking all serious and focus before he hit the second loop.  Apparently he didn't even notice us even though there were six of us and we were all screaming for him, but whatever. 

We got to watch everyone come through, looking good.  Trent was right on pace.  After watching the throngs come through, we decided to go and get some lunch.  Again, why did I not think of this spectating thing before?  Instead of Powerbars and gels on the go while riding and running I could sit down and eat a sandwich?  Yes, please.  After that it was hard to believe that runners would already be coming out.  Me and the boot started walking back to the run start.  That was my nickname all weekend - Boot.  Did I mention I'm tired of having a broken foot?

The lead runners were far and away ahead of everyone, due to both the fact that of course they're pros and faster than most, and that they had a 10-minute head start. 

We snagged a nice spot on the run course that was both where the run started and where they came back around mile eleven, and above is TJ Tollakson in the lead and on his way to his first Ironman win.  It was fun to get to see the different ways people run out of T2.  It's very apparent who is going to have a good run.... and who probably isn't. 

This is Trent smiling and waving as he begins the run... way too fast.  If not for the uniforms, a QT2 athlete can always be spotted by the banana in their hands out of T2.  He was pretty much on even pace for the second half of the bike from what we could tell and looked to be in a good spot.  Actually, any and all QT2 athletes we saw coming down that road looked good and not at all like any of those people who had obviously biked too hard. 

This is my athlete MaryBeth, running her way to a Kona slot in her second Ironman. 

We stayed in that spot for a while before we decided to move on to somewhere a bit less crowded where we might be able to sit down for a bit.  Trent's parents and Kris stayed there and Kevin, Leslie and I wandered over to where the QT2 tent was on the short out-and-back by the lake.  Or to where we thought it was.  After a very convoluted route and lots of crossings, we discovered that the tent was on the other side of the road from where we thought it was.  There were serious fences preventing us from getting over there so we had to walk way down to cross and then come back by going up and over this hill.  It seems silly to be irritated by that sort of stuff while these people were doing an Ironman, but come on, I was in a boot and Leslie is recovering from brain surgery, so give us a break! 

We had the tent to ourselves as apparently most of the rest of the QT2 crew was down at another spot.  We got a lot of good cheering in there, along with a lot of good sitting in the shade.  Mary Eggers stopped by briefly to say hi and introduced us to a friend of hers.  He asked me again what my name was and I told him, and then he said, "This is going to sound really weird, but do you kind of kick your heel out when you pedal your bike?  I think I went back and forth with you a bunch of times here two years ago."  Yes, recognized for my funky pedal stroke.  I really need to fix that.  I've probably been remembered for much worse.  Although I used to get remembered for having "won" there.  I swear, walking around town now in the state I'm in I feel so far removed from that it's as though it wasn't even me or it happened in another lifetime or something. 

Anyway, the spectating continued and we had a great view of the athletes from there.

This is Trent about to start the second loop.  He ran the first one a tad too fast but fortunately still held it together for a great marathon.  This was just before Leslie asked him if he peed on the bike and he had to admit that he pulled over twice.

There's Brian Hughes, owner of Fast Splits in Newton and another member of the QT2 team.  I didn't really want to leave our lovely little spot, but eventually it was time to make our way back toward the finish line.  At least this time we knew the more direct route.  We had seen the winners come through, TJ and then Heather Wurtele for another win.  You know, the last time she was an age grouper she finished 20 seconds in front of me in Kona.  We seem to have followed different improvement paths since then. 

We caught Trent coming up the hill just past mile 24, definitely looking like someone at mile 24 of a marathon, and then we headed over to the finish line to watch him come through.  This is where the boot got tricky, when trying to walk on slopes.  Trent finished in 10:19 which was pretty much dead on his goal time.  Tim Snow of course had been the first QT2 athlete to come across.  A whole bunch of others followed soon after, pretty much everyone having great races.  I waited and saw MaryBeth come through, also pretty much right on goal time.  Her run was questionable going in because she's had some issues but she toughed out a 3:55 marathon after running like four times in eight weeks and getting 6th in her age group and that Kona slot. 

We made it back to the hotel and went down the road to the Dancing Bears lounge to sit outside and enjoy a celebratory meal.  Trent was still getting around pretty well.  Then I got to actually enjoy some sleep after an Ironman race.  If I race I can never sleep because I'm so pumped full of caffeine and sugar from the day.  Not much to do the next morning except head over to rolldown which seemed almost more chaotic than usual.  All of the slot allocations were changed because of the wetsuit wearers and non-wetsuit wearers.  Your slots would be determined by the number of eligible athletes in your age group.  Far more 40+ people wore wetsuit than those younger, and even though those age groups had the most participants they lost a bunch of slots.  In the end I think my age group had something like six slots, which is crazy.  I don't think any women's age group ever gets that many anymore.  Anyway, Trent did not get his slot, but a slot in the women's 35-39 age group rolled way down since they told everyone rolldown was over and then came back ninety seconds later and said they had one more.  Someone is very happy they stuck around because a whole lot of names were called before it was claimed. 

Anyway, then it was time to leave Lake Placid behind for another year.  I did not sign up for next year.  It was strange to be there under such different circumstances.  I had lots of fun and just enjoyed the moment, but looking back it's interesting to think about all of those other times going up with my parents and finding them in their little spot before the race, seeing my mom when I went to get my bike in transition - and last year making sure I did not continue down the wrong row.  The two of them at the top of the hill by the lake as I came around to finish the first loop, my dad always right there when I got off my bike and headed into T2.  Then of course seeing them on the run course and at the finish line.  Of course I can especially remember seeing them in 2006 and their reactions then.  Even though I've enjoyed being a spectator and gotten used to it at this point, I do hope someday to get out and race to my potential again.  Unfortunately another x-ray on Tuesday showed that my foot is healing incredibly slowly.  So you can imagine the frustration.  So if anyone has any secret special ways to make bones grow back together (isn't there some Harry Potter spell or something?) that would be great.  I've been bad enough at running the past two years even when I was training.  It's been two months without running now.  I may be 45 before I get it back again.  I don't think I have the patience for that.

Nana is 90

7-11-21.  Some lucky numbers, right?  Also that would be Nana's birthday.  She turned 90, although whenever we'd tell her that her birthday was coming up she'd ask us what year it was and then try and do the math and figure out how old she was going to be.  She was so shocked one of the times I reminded her that she said, "I guess I can no longer deny being an old lady."  Nana is not a fan of being thought of as an old lady.  When she was in her early 80's she had cataract surgery that left her with perfectly clear vision for the first time in years.  One she got her first good look in the mirror, she immediately went out and bought wrinkle cream.  I'm sure those things work great as a preventative, but I'm not sure they can turn back time thirty years.

My Nana is the greatest grandmother ever.  Don't even try to compare.  She never knitted or sewed us anything, she really doesn't cook anymore, (although she did make the best mashed potatoes in the history of the world, as well as the best potato salad) and she doesn't shower us with money or gifts.  Much better than that, she's just a great person to be around.  She almost always can be found sitting at the head of the table at the breakfast room in her kitchen, overlooking that peaceful, serene intersection of Wallace Road and Route 101.  I suppose when they moved into that house in 1957 it was peaceful and serene, though now it is anything but.

My grandmother grew up in South Boston near the beach, although she will tell you that she doesn't know how to swim.  I think I've heard the story dozens of times about the mean woman who used to throw her in the water, and this must've happened in the 20's. 

I could tell a ton of stories I've heard over the years, but I'll try and give you the condensed version even though we all know that's not my strong suit.  My grandparents were married in November of (I'm fairly certain) 1944.  Katherine Pucci was now Mrs. Leo McLaughlin and I sincerely doubt that they had any idea of the legacy they were going to create.  My mother was only the beginning.  They lived in a house on Sunset Hill Road in West Roxbury until my grandfather bought an old farmhouse in Bedford, New Hampshire without Nana even getting a look at it. 

Nana goes in cycles of stories she tells me.  Sometimes she tells me a bunch of times about the mean woman who threw her in the water, sometimes she tells me about her brief attempt at smoking cigarettes at the insistence of her friends that left her so horribly sick she decided that maybe it wasn't the best idea.  But recently she's started telling me about when they moved up to Bedford.  A big, white house with enough room for all of the kids, a huge field in the back and twenty acres of land all for $28,000 in 1957.  She likes to tell me how she thought she was moving to the edge of the world because there was hardly anything around.  There's a lot more there now, but that was where she raised her ten kids. 

I have no idea how she managed to raise such a household with her five daughters, five sons, dogs that came and went, and other kids surely coming and going.  I'm not sure I even want to imagine what that must've been like.  By the time she had her tenth kid she wasn't even forty.  I'm sure it helped that the back yard was a vast field with woods beyond, so everyone could just go outside.  The field got a backstop and a mound and turned into a baseball field, and eventually they put in an in-ground pool, which at the time was something not a whole lot of people had.

She raised those kids and eventually those kids had some kids, and some of those kids have kids.  All in all, if my math is right there are currently thirty-four people whose lives she is directly responsible for.  And literally in days that number is going to reach thirty-five.  That's a heck of a lot of people.  We are down one because my aunt Rosie died in 1994, on Nana's 73rd birthday.  I can't imagine what it must be like to look around and see all of these people that wouldn't be here without you.  I'll let others be the judge as to whether or not our family's existence is a good thing or a bad thing...

I've spent every Christmas at her house and most of my Thanksgivings.  Most of my childhood summers were spent meeting up with my cousins at her pool.  You see, of all of Nana's kids, most of them didn't go very far.  In fact, several of them built houses right on that land that they bought in the fifties.  We refer to it as the compound, which I thought was a new name until I recently discovered an old family newsletter my grandfather had written that included that title, and in it was mention of how my mother was going to have another baby - my twenty-nine-year old brother. 




So many of my memories are from her kitchen, whether they be holidays or just a random Saturday for lunch or a Sunday night dinner.  My parents had their wedding reception in that back yard, and so did a few of my other aunts and uncles.  My sister had hers there and next summer my cousin is going to have his. 

She almost always has a smile on her face and has no shortage of visitors.  But she's also really good at reading people and she can tell if someone probably shouldn't be bothered with.  She may not be able to tell you what day of the week it is most of the time but she's still one of my favorite people to just sit down and talk to. 

Here's a picture of her at her 90th birthday with her "little" sister, Peggy.  (who is 88)

Nana is the one on the right in pink.  Her party was a great success, good times had by all and I think she was more amazed than anyone at how many people were there for her.  I loved the look on her face as we all sang Happy Birthday to her.  And in spite of her typical memory not being able to tell you what she had for lunch, like, five minutes after she finished it, a few days later she was still talking about what a great party it was.  So I'd say it was a winner. 

So happy birthday, Nana.  We all love you!

Fourth of July Weekend

This was the first fourth of July weekend since 2003 in which I was not roughly three weeks away from racing in Lake Placid.  It's been two weeks and I'm tired of my stress fracture and, in a bizarre twist of events, actually want to go for a run, but this weekend at least I was able to look on the bright side of not having to do a whole bunch of crazy workouts, getting up at the crack of dawn to get things done and avoiding tempting treats at parties.  That's not to say I'm eating like a pig, either, but I don't feel intense guilt if I eat a brownie for fear that I just added 3 minutes to my Ironman time. 

The weekend was spent mostly up at Squam Lake with my mom, my sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephew and brother.  Friday night was especially exciting for me because I finally got a new car.  I had debated whether or not to get a new car recently and finally it seemed like a good time.  I finally had to say goodbye to this:

 This is my 2001 Nissan Sentra.  I bought it on July 2nd, 2001, not long after I graduated college.  That was my parents' graduation "Let's learn responsibility" thing.  They helped with the down payment, and I was responsible for the rest.  This car has been through many cold, New Hampshire winters but it has also spent some time transporting me around when I lived in Los Angeles and Arizona.  I got into one car accident in it, involving an incredibly busy intersection and bright morning sun that just sears into your retinas.  Amazingly, I finished up after almost exactly ten years with just a little over 90,000 miles on it.  Based on the fact that I never had a long commute and I'm sure I probably rode my bike more miles in the past ten years than I drove.  (that's unlikely, but I bet it's kind of close) 

I bought the car originally after lots of internet research and knowing that I wanted something that was reliable, would last forever, and would get good gas mileage.  At the time gas prices had soared... to about $1.49 a gallon.  I think at first it cost me like $15 to fill the tank.  I had a few cars in mind and I remember I first test drove I think some small Suzuki that felt a lot more like driving in a really small tin can than a car, and a steering wheel that didn't adjust and did not accommodate my extra-long legs. 

Next on the list was the typical stuff:  Civic, Corolla, Sentra.  We went to the Nissan dealer first and I thought it was a good car and certainly a huge step up from the first car I test drove.  My mom came with me and she is not known for her patience.  "You like it?  Okay, let's get it."  Wait, what?  Shouldn't I try... nah, okay, let's just get it.  I'm more of a person who likes to weigh my options and make sure I'm making the absolute right decision.  My mom is more like, let's just go ahead and pick the first thing we like.  In the end, I don't think it would've made much of a difference.  Both of my parents are also terrible negotiators, and I have certainly inherited that.  They tell us the price, we just say okay.  It scared the crap out of me to be responsible for an entire car and to actually owe what seemed like a huge amount of money, but fortunately I did not have a problem paying it off.  In fact, I usually paid more than was due each month just so it would take me less time to pay it off.  I repaid a 60 month loan in 30. 

Anyway, it did just what I needed it to do.  I never had to make what I considered to be major repairs.  It never broke down.  It didn't have any strange quirks.  For some strange reason though, once the car got up there in years my mother hated me driving it.  She was convinced it was just going to die on the side of the road even though it had never done that.  But then that check engine light got pretty persistent.  And accelerating to get on the highway started to become a lot tougher than it used to be.  I'm sure that these things could've been fixed, but it had gotten to the point where the money to fix it very well could've been more than the car was even worth anymore.  Plus, I was in a unique position of having two cars to trade in, thanks to that ugly, yellow Xterra.  No offense to anyone who has one of those, but anyone who knows me can probably tell that driving around in a bright yellow, attention-grabbing car is totally not my style. 

I did some research again on small cars and a new Sentra seemed kind of expensive for what it is.  I thought about the Civic but that was sort of the same thing as a Sentra.  Then I came across this:

Anyway, Saturday we went over to Winnipesaukee for a party at a family friends' house.  They have this party every year but this was my first time going.  Usually I'm on my bike, or like last year, running a 10K race.  So it was kind of nice to just get to go and not worry about workouts or anything.  On Sunday we had some family up to the lake for a cookout and set off some fireworks and watched fireworks being set off all around the lake.  There were no "official" fireworks, but I swear, the stuff people buy now to set off themselves can be almost just as good.  One of the founders of Comcast has a place across the lake and the show they had rivaled that of many small towns.  And for once I didn't have to go to bed before the sun went down so I could be up at dawn to run or ride my bike for six hours. 

Yesterday was gorgeous weather and a little bit of teaching my brother how to navigate the lake in the boat and how to dock it (which took a few tries)  and eventually came back for yet another cookout at a friend's house.  I think I'm all partied out for now.  The good thing is that being busy all weekend didn't give us, or at least me, much of a chance to think about who wasn't here for the first time. 

So now we get a bit of a break before a huge party this weekend to celebrate Nana's 90th birthday.  Since her short term memory isn't so good, she gets amazed anytime she realizes her birthday is coming up and can't believe how old she's going to be.  Last time I was with her and she realized it she said, "I guess I can't deny I'm an old lady now, can I?"  Her birthday is 7/11/21.  Lots of lucky numbers.  Yes, this is definitely a good year to not be doing Lake Placid.  Too much going on.  And of course the fact that my foot is definitely still broken.

No Ironman For Me This Year

I'm guessing anyone who reads here noticed that I have not posted much in terms of training or racing recently.  Training has been driving me nuts lately and I couldn't figure out why.  I've had this persistent pain in my left foot that started out as a small bruise and then just became an annoyance on every run I went on.  But I altered my stride so I was running off the inside part of my foot and it didn't really hurt that much, it was just irritating.  It was bad, then kind of better, and then I went and raced in Florida.  Once again it hurt some, but I got through it.  I'm guessing because that course has a whole lot of grass and I was losing it for different reasons on that course, so I finished with a run split barely faster than my bike split.

I came home and things continued as they were.  I had Mooseman only three weeks later and I had more training to do.  One day I went out on a routine run and right in the middle I just felt like something went in my foot, right where it had been bothering me but recently had become much more tolerable.  Well, this time it stopped me in my tracks.  I tried to run a few steps again and immediately stopped.  I stood still for a little bit longer, walked it off a bit and then decided to start running again.  Well, it certainly hurt more than it had before, but I was able to finish the run and decided that was just how it was going to be for a while.

Fast forward after a few more awful runs and some normal biking and swimming and suddenly it was time for Mooseman again.  It was a beautiful day for a race and unfortunately I was not in a place to take advantage of it.  The swim was chilly but not too bad, the bike was atrocious because the course is a monster and mentally I just wasn't into it.  When I got to T2 I honestly wasn't sure even before I put my shoes on if I was going to continue.  But I slowly changed into my run gear and decided I didn't feel that bad and I might as well go out and run.

Well, at least the first mile was good.  In fact, it was probably the fastest mile I'd run in months.  But the further I went, the more I just didn't think my foot felt right.  And it didn't seem to me to be the smartest idea in the world to keep going.  So after three miles, I stopped at a med tent and hitched a ride on a golf cart back to the start.  Was I disappointed?  Kind of, sort of, but not really.  As I said, I wasn't mentally there at the time so not finishing, especially when I felt like I might do further damage, seemed better than walking my way to a 3+ hour run split.

Instead I enjoyed watching my teammates have good races and then of course made an appointment pretty quick to get my foot checked out.  First on the agenda was... not an x-ray.  But I was recommended to go visit a podiatrist, who I couldn't get an appointment with for a week and a half.  So I continued on, wondering how in the world I was going to do an Ironman in a couple of weeks.  I had never felt less enthusiastic about an Ironman.

Finally, June 20th, I got my podiatrist appointment.  He checked out my foot, pushed and prodded and then said he was going to do an x-ray just to rule some things out.  Well, the technician put the x-ray up on the wall before the doctor came back and even I could tell that it was definitely broken.  Was it upsetting?  I guess it's annoying, but it sure does explain a whole lot.  It's been at least six weeks since this has been bothering me.  But I didn't think it was a stress fracture because it didn't seem to hurt as much as the last one I had.  See, the last one was the third metatarsal on my right foot and there was just no way I could even try to run on it.  This one was the fourth metatarsal on my left foot so I could sort of just run off the inside of my foot and not put pressure on it.  At least it's nice to know that my problem isn't all in my head and I don't have to feel so bad about not finishing Mooseman.  As well as having an injury with a definite healing point.

So my trip to Coeur D'Alene was canceled and I was out an entry fee.  And sometime before February I'm going to have to take some flights on Southwest to use the money I have there.  Did you know that aside from their consistent $50 bike fee, which is the cheapest you'll find except for the few random times they might not charge you at all, but you can cancel or change a flight with no penalty?  I can use all of the money spent on that flight to go towards another one.  Also, unlike Lake Placid, there was no crazy cancellation fee on the hotel room, so I could just cancel that no problem.  It sucks, but it could've been worse.

So for now I'll be doing a lot of open water swimming, getting some bike rides in, hopefully spending a good amount of time at the lake driving people around on the boat because I'm the next-most-competent one.  (I think I was the only one who Dad wouldn't get nervous when the boat was taken out by someone other than him.)  I'm also really, really looking forward to going to Lake Placid and not racing.  I love that town.  I've said before that I could probably live there.  And while going there to race is great, as I'd done it for seven years in a row, I'm even more looking forward to going there and just enjoying the town and not having to worry about not walking around too much or staying up too late.  And of course watching my friends have great races.

So, there it is.  My first year without an Ironman since 2003.  Thinking about it that way, maybe that's not such a bad thing.  Maybe this is what I needed.  Just a forced rest and a complete do-over.  I'll just have to keep my bones intact from now on so I can find my running stride again.

Oh, and one last thing.  I think that was the first time in my life my left foot had ever been x-rayed.  Well, this x-ray not only confirmed my stress fracture, but it confirmed my long-believed suspicion that I broke my foot my freshman year of college playing basketball.  He mentioned he could see that it looked like there was a fracture at some point on the outside of my foot that never really healed quite right.  I'd always thought that little protrusion on the outside of my foot didn't look right.  But, well, my freshman year there were only five of us on the team.  I'd recently severely sprained my right ankle and was playing with that all taped up.  Then I felt something definitely wrong with my left foot, but we wound up just taping that foot up, too and letting me play every minute of every game.  It's hard when you really don't know which foot you're supposed to be limping on.

Father's Day

I asked a couple of friends recently who had lost their mothers a few years ago when it is that it stops being tear-inducing every time you think of it.  Apparently there is no definite answer to that question.  But I guess the first year is most definitely the hardest.  The first Christmas, their first birthday that they don't get any older, Mom's first birthday, and now the first Father's Day.  We never tended to make a huge deal out of Father's Day, just your usual cards and sometimes a present (Mom and Dad had recently decided to tell us to no longer get them presents since they already had everything they needed.)  But of course it's hard not to think about him a little more today.  And it's not just thinking about him in general that is sad to me, like fun things we did or anything like that.  It's thinking about the fact that he's never coming back.

My father was just about everything you'd want in a dad when we were growing up.  He and Mom fell into the traditional gender roles in the household, so Mom did all of the cooking and house work stuff while Dad worked full time and dealt with taking out the trash, mowing the lawn, etc.  I never once witnessed either of them getting on the other's case about not doing their "job."  It all just worked out quite easily.  And while my father worked very hard at his job, I never heard him complain about it and I never remember him working late or being gone a lot.  We all ate dinner together almost every night, with my younger brother and older sister. 

He coached my teams, went to my games, started taking bike rides around town with me when I was around eight years old.  He took us skiing, out on the boat, played basketball with us in the driveway, took us to McDonalds, Disney World, made us waffles on Sundays and did countless other dad stuff and he never seemed like it was a chore.  He actually seemed to like it.  And let me tell you, one thing my father was not good at was pretending to like anything.

Dad taught me a lot of things without actually teaching me.  I mean, he taught me some stuff conventionally too, like how to shoot a basketball, swing a bat, cast a fishing lure, drive a boat, drive a car (Mom was the one in the car when I crashed into Nana's house...)  ski,and a whole bunch of other stuff.  But he also taught me a lot about conducting yourself with integrity, being honest with people, playing by the rules, being good to people, watching your language, being smart about money, showing up on time (or almost always early, as we call it "Zahr time") doing a job to the best of your ability, not raising your voice or getting angry and worked up about things and just being kind to people in general. 

My father never once sat me down and told me to do any of these things.  It was just how he conducted himself and made me realize that that was obviously how I should act.  I won't say I'm perfect, because of course I'm not, but I do know that I never would've wanted to disappoint my father with my behavior.  I doubt I succeeded one hundred percent, but I tried, at least. 

I guess I did sometimes wonder if this was all some childhood illusion, like this ideal you create based on what you saw when you were a kid and everyone idolizes their father.  Well, last week we had the opportunity to attend two events honoring my father.  First was a charity golf tournament for a cause that he was on the board of, and this tournament had been named for him.  Then an awards dinner for the Associated General Contractors of NH in which he was the recipient of this year's ethics award.  At both of these events I had the opportunity to hear some of his business associates, and not even from his own company, who spoke on his behalf and listed a lot of the traits I did.  That's just who he was. 

So this Father's Day it is very sad that I don't get to give him a hug and tell him to enjoy the day.  Each day that passes we just have to get more and more used to living without him.  At least I still get to be grateful for all of the wonderful times we did get to spend together.  And I don't really have to sit back and regret not having spent enough time with him.  I would've liked more of it since September and maybe into his 90's, but I got to spend a lot of time with him while he was here. 

Happy Father's Day, Dad.  We miss you.

The Seven-Hour Ride and an Awkward Trip to the Bike Shop

Yesterday was the infamous really, really big ride four (sometimes three) weeks before the Ironman.  Since joining QT2 Systems in 2008 I have not had to do this ride by myself because we usually had some organized training weekend.  Not this time.  So yesterday morning I decided to hit the road really early and do my nice loop up and over the Kanc.  This was the same route I rode last year in preparation for Ironman Utah except that time it was 40 degrees and raining and three of the six of us opted to go back and ride the trainers after about the first hour while Jesse, Cait and I continued on, though not without a stop at a ski shop for them to buy some extra clothes. 

Fortunately, for my solo ride the weather was a bit more cooperative, though still not quite as nice as I might have liked.  It seems like any time I choose to do this particular ride I never get a clear view from the top.  But it was nice to be in shorts and not spend a moment of that ride shivering.  Although once I approached the top there was an annoying and persistent drizzle that was just enough to put a damper on the ride.  As far as long rides go, while physically demanding, in all honesty, it was fairly painless.  And the fact that it was a loop and I didn't have to constantly check the run time and wonder when I had to turn around made it seem to go by quite fast.  No crazy wildlife encounters this time although towards the very end of my ride when I had the pleasure of going up a hill about 3/4 of a mile with a 13% grade I happened to come across someone coming down... on a skateboard.  I did not have the opportunity to see him reach the bottom but I swear I felt as though I was watching a 14 or 15-year old boy just moments before his death.  But from what I saw of him, he did remain upright..... 

This afternoon I decided it was finally time to bring Dad's bike into the bike shop.  First, considering how he turned out, you'd be surprised at how little damage there was to the bike.  The front wheel is a bit off and I don't know yet if it even needs to be replaced or if it can just be fixed as it is.  The left shifter was bent in but that fix is also apparently pretty simple.  As far as I could tell, that's it.  There's nothing else wrong with it.  A couple of weeks ago I also finally went and rode down the hill he crashed on, just to see if it made any more sense.  Well, I was going a little over 30mph, so that will do it.  But also at the peak of speed the road didn't really curve as much as I thought it did, so then it made a little less sense.  And then when I put the chain back on the bike today it was in the small ring, which also doesn't make sense if he was speeding down a hill, but I should probably just stop trying to figure it out because of course we'll never know. 

Anyway, the bike shop up here which is also the one he got his bikes from I also use sometimes and one of the mechanics knows us pretty well.  I honestly had no idea if he knew or not, though I suspected he did.  Unfortunately he was not the one who greeted me.  So I showed the guy the damage and I had been kind of dreading this part for, well, the nearly nine months it's been since it was apparent that I was now responsible for this bike.  "Did you crash?"  "Uh, no, my father did."  "Is he okay?"  "No."  Poor guy, it's not his fault he didn't know that.  Well, a few minutes later the other mechanic came out to assess the damage and he's not the kind of guy who would come out and offer condolences or anything, he just told me what would need to be fixed and then when I went to grab a new bottle cage that I needed for my own bike he told me to just take it. 

So at least that part is over and done with.  Aside from the picking it up, but that won't require any explanations on my part.  I think I'm going to keep the bike.  He'd only had it for a few weeks, anyway.  Maybe sell my old road bike that I haven't ridden in a very, very long time.  Two tri bikes and two road bikes might be pushing it in the stable for me.  I always felt like my LeMond was too big for me, anyway.  Anybody want it?  2004 Zurich, components are in great shape, you can have the clip-on aero bars if you want.  I only rode it as my main bike for 1 season and then as a back-up, though it has been in an Ironman.  It's a 59 so you have to be tall!  If you don't want it, you can at least suggest to me how much I should charge for it.  I spent about $3500 on it way back when and it's been sitting safely in the garage for a very long time with some very occasional rides...

First Open Water Swim.... Probably a Bit Premature

I am not a fan of swimming and I suspect it has more to do with not liking the pool and constantly turning around and swimming back and forth than it has to do with the actual act of swimming.  I can say this with some authority because when it finally comes time that I can do some open water swimming I don't mind it nearly as much or even not at all.  No lane sharing, no flip turns, no chlorine smell or post-swim sniffles, and when I'm up at the lake I don't even have to drive anywhere.  Just walk down to the dock, get in and get going.

So it goes without saying that I love to get in the open water swimming at the first available opportunity.  This doesn't work for all swims, though.  If I've got a workout of 20x100 (which I feel as though I've done 20 times by now) then I'm pretty much stuck in the pool.  But especially perfect for open water is the recovery swims, so I love doing those in open water.

When I'm not up at Squam there are a few groups of people locally who sometimes meet to swim.  And most of them are just as crazy if not crazier than I am when it comes to willingness to swim in cold water, so I can almost always count on at least a few of them to be by water's edge at 6am.  They'd been swimming there for a few weeks and only yesterday did I finally head over to meet them.  I had planned on it a couple of weeks ago, but that morning I woke up and saw it was 32 degrees and decided that maybe the pool was still the better choice.  It's the same lesser of two evils thing I have with the trainer and riding outside in the cold.  There just comes a point where the indoor, boring version is actually better if only because you're not risking hypothermia.

But yesterday I decided the time had come.  So when I woke up I donned my wetsuit (I'm weird like that and on cold mornings will drive in my wetsuit and drive home in it and wear it directly into the shower!) and headed for the lake in the rain.  I met three other brave souls to head into the water and we set up our little route and would stop about every 800 yards or so and regroup.  As I stepped into the water my first thought was, "Oh, this isn't so bad."  And my next thought, probably only about ten seconds later was, "Oh, maybe it is actually worse than I thought."  And after a couple of minutes of chatting and stalling, it was time to take the plunge and submerge more than just the wetsuit-clad lower half of my body.

Holy $&%^ that's cold!  My breath caught in my throat and my face burned from the icy water.  I instantly regretted my decision to drive to the lake instead of the pool, but I was already there and there was no turning back now.  Often times when I swim at say Oceanside or Mooseman I'll get that initial face-freeze, but eventually it subsides.  Oh, this was not going away.  Normally in an easy open water swim I will breathe every three strokes, but I needed to breathe every other just to get my face out of that freezing water and catch my breath as I tried to swim probably faster than ZR just so that I might warm up a bit.

I think I might have felt a bit warmer at times, but anytime we'd stop and regroup I'd have to almost immediately start swimming again so as not to let the cold set in.  This was tougher since I was the fastest and therefore stopped the longest!  Early on I decided that it was not quite the coldest water I'd ever swum in.  I still think that title belongs to our Ironman St. George practice swim.  I have decided that for a couple of reasons.  First, during the race, as I swam as fast as I could starting with about halfway through my entire body started to feel cold, not just the parts exposed to the water.  And I think it was actually warmer race day than on the day we did our practice swim.  Second, when we swam out to some rock and then stopped to regroup, after only having been in the water for maybe five minutes, when I came up and looked around the entire world was spinning.  I felt queasy and sick any time we stopped and for a few minutes after we got out of the water.  I had a bit of that feeling yesterday when we stopped, but definitely not to the degree that I had it in Utah.

I do, however, think it was colder than my first time in California only because I don't remember the face freeze lasting that long there.  If I had to guess, I'm thinking somewhere around 54 degrees.  Definitely not the kind of water you want to be swimming in by choice.  But again, already there, already in, gotta get the workout done!

We lost one of our swimmers on one pass to the exit and three of us continued on.  Of course, it was the three women.  As we continued on, the novelty was definitely wearing off and when we'd stop and regroup it seemed that everyone else's lips were starting to turn purple.  But all in all, we survived, if only to not be able to articulate words to each other when chatting before we raced to our cars to blast the heat.

This time last year I had been swimming open water for weeks and the water was even nice.  It doesn't work that way when the sun disappears for a week and the day before it topped out at 50 degrees and drizzled most of the day.  Come on, warmth!  I have to do some open water swimming this weekend at Squam which is likely even colder and I'd also like to not exit the swim at Mooseman without the ability to work my fingers!

Needless to say, either way, the pool is on tap until the weekend.