After sixteen Ironman, I’ve finally figured out the best way to cope with a performance that was not what you had hoped for as mine was at Ironman Canada on August 24th. The magic formula: a weekend get-away to New York City with your closest friends and family.
Five days after crossing the finish line in Penticton as 11th female professional, 45 minutes behind my time goal and a long shuffle with a slushy gut, I boarded a plane from Montreal with Steve Lafave (a lifelong friend), my brother, Mark, and his wife, Caroline. Having grown up in Montreal, it seemed unfathomable that I had never been to New York with neither my school nor my parents. I had seen images in movies, books, photographs and newscasts during the aftermath of 9/11 but to actually go to a Broadway show, run through Central Park or shop in the endless retail districts of Soho, 5th avenue or Tribeca is an entirely different experience. Was I ever excited to take a chunk out of the Big shiny red Apple!
Regardless of the excitement in heading to New York, the days following Ironman Canada were still filled with familiar thoughts playing through my mind. My thoughts would replay the build up to race day and its unfolding details. As a result, it has taken a long while to write my report since I am still not sure what happened. What I do know for sure is that I was very confident to have an all time best performance. I had a solid depth of fitness, felt rested, mentally fresh, and excited to have the day come together as I had envisioned.
My parents and a few special friends were sharing the experience with me each of whom made huge efforts in traveling to Penticton for race day. Over the past year, my father has been exceptionally busy managing two separate companies located at opposite ends of the Continent, one north of the border and the other south. Him being there was no small feat especially since traveling to Penticton is more cumbersome than a direct flight into Chicago or LA. He was quite disillusioned when I told him my cell phone would not be with me during the race. I had to explain that we would need to last a solid 12 hours without electronic communication.
My parents were chaperoned around the course with Britni and Warren Bakk, seasoned Ironman event people as participant and spectator. They also know the Ironman Canada course like the back of their hand so they were the perfect leaders for my parents. Britni, being someone I have shared many long training days, emotional highs and lows and with whom I share a mutual passion for the sport, is preparing for her Ironman performance in Hawaii in early October. Having her on the sidelines seemed so strange; I wanted to yell, “let’s go for a ride!” Instead, I carried the memories of our training days with me as a reminder to all the great days we spent preparing for our respective Ironman races. Having missed a spot to Kona this year, I will not be sharing in Britni’s experience in a few weeks time but I know much of the work we did together this past year will carry her to a very solid race.
My day began with an enlightening chat with Belinda Granger (the eventual winner of the race). We discussed her season (Ironman China and Roth) as well as her plans prior to Kona. Since she knew she would never win in Kona (so says her coach Brett Sutton), she may as well come to Ironman Canada to win some money before going on to a few more races prior to Hawaii. I was so impressed with her enthusiasm and energy, I promised myself to stay in touch with her after IMC.
With lots of time to spare, the last few minutes was spent with my parents, Britni and Warren. I started right behind Desiree Ficker. Next time I will start next to or in front of others since it is all too easy to lose quick feet if positioned slightly behind the pack once the gun goes off and arms are flailing.
My promise to myself was to ease into the bike and hold back until I saw the 90-mile marker. This is usually where I feel so strong and ready to open things up a bit. Using my power meter as a constant reference, I stayed in my zone, fuelled, and drank all the while keeping my focus having a strong marathon leg. Come 70 miles, I sensed things were not going in the direction that I liked. It could have been sodium, it could have been calories or it could have been pacing but even two weeks later, I am still unsure why these unpleasant signals were popping up. I started to feel like I had to dig for energy whereas I yearned to feel the flow in strength and power that I had felt so many times before. I experimented with a few options, more water, 2 gels, a few salt tabs but nothing helped me strip down to my Super Woman outfit. Nonetheless, I was constantly suspending judgment and staying focused on the marathon leg.
Come T2, my mind was always hopeful things would turn around. Like a training day, the first few minutes of a jog are never comfortable. My stride usually opens up after seven to thirteen minutes; my body slowly forgets about the bike muscles and gets serious about turning my runners over and over. My fuelling menu consisted of Gatorade and Water and I did this same meal every mile. My vision of a galloping horse with rhythm and grace turned quickly to a shuffle – my body gave me no other option.
When I finished, I felt my throat choke up in relief, pain, and gratitude. Gratitude overwhelmed me since finishing was my main goal and by crossing the line, I had in fact done just that with the strength and encouragement of the people there and many more that were sharing this experience through different ways. And even though it was not the performance I prepared for, it is still part of the journey and one that I welcome, love and choose to not live without. It humbles me, strengthens me, and teaches me that I am only scratching the surface of my potential.
I have dealt with the post Ironman phase in many different ways. One thing is certain; I do not train and always try to find something to do that is equally fulfilling yet low stress, non taxing and totally unrelated to triathlon. A spontaneous trip to New York was just the ticket. For 3 days straight, I wore real clothes, carried a real purse, drank copious amounts of wine, and ate dinner after 10:00 p.m. every night. This vibrant city carried any thoughts I was having about my race to a far away place. The locals oozed with pride and energy. Times Square was lit up like a day-time neon dreamland; the cabbies seemingly blended into the architecture, Central Park felt like a sanctuary of clean air and green space, and the structural landmarks were every bit as splendid as portrayed on NBC. Three days of the Big Apple was just enough time to remind me that a beat goes on all over the world regardless of when things feel like the be-all-end-all on the race start line. My weekend get-away was a wonderful dose of perspective. It reminded me how much fun “not caring” about sleep, nutrition, and a schedule can be. It reminded me of my love for the arts, curiosity of new places and appetite for culture.
In fact, the distraction, and intense sensory stimulation generously offered by a city like New York was so refreshing that my enthusiasm to continue my endless pursuit of excellence journey in sport was stronger than ever. Even with two Ironman in me for this year, my mind and body feel like we are just getting going. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be jumping into a few more races and potentially plan for a late fall Ironman in Florida or Arizona.
If only Ironman New York existed I could race then refresh all in one trip. Maybe Ironman Lake Placid is in my future for 2009…
c
