Ironman Wisconsin 2006 Race Report

I want to begin by saying - it was so worth it. All of the training, all of the family and work sacrifices, the aches and pains... all dribbled to nothing at about mile 20 of that marathon on September 10th, 2006. That's when I knew that I was going to make it, that I was going to be an Ironman before the end of the night, and that life is not just good; it rocks. Now on to my race report....

The Swim: A Contact Sport
Largest swim start in IM history and I believe it. Anyone out there that day felt it. I've been doing triathlons for 8 years and this was by far the most brutal swim. It wasn't even a swim race so much as a quest for survival. Now with that out of the way... I did survive it and even managed to do a bit of drafting. I have no idea how my sighting was because the waves made it hard to consistently see the buoys. Early on in the swim, I got behind a breast stroker whose very powerful kick caught me in the upper lip. I felt and heard my brain thud against my cranium and panicked, thinking, "Oh no! I can't continue if I have a concussion." Fortunately, within 30 seconds or so, I was able to evaluate that I was probably still in the race, but with a fat lip. (My husband later told me that he thought I had edema from over-exertion when he saw me.) At that point, I re-resolved to stay calm and as smooth as possible, no matter how many people crawled over me, side-swiped me, or that I inadvertently did the same too.

At one point I almost laughed because the guy next to me and I were doing synchronized swimming with our arms following each other's through the stroke. I'd say that I crawled about 90% of the time, breast-stroked or treaded water about 5% (logjams) and side-stroked the other 5% (pinched between other swimmers). When I think back on it, I am just amazed at how many of us made it out of that water at all.

T1: A Learning Experience
Out of the water to the peelers. I saw a guy just standing there and asked, "Are you a peeler?" He jumped and said yes, grabbed my wetsuit and yanked it down almost violently. Being an IM newbie, I was just standing there when he yelled, "On your butt!" Confused for a split second, I looked around at the competitors around me and thought, "Oh, he wants me to sit down and stick my legs in the air so he can pull my suit off." I had thought I would just step out of it. So I complied and had my wetsuit in my arms within split-seconds.

Up the helix I ran. It was exhilarating. The spectators were yelling, the other athletes were running, my heart rate zoomed up to 161, and I felt my face beaming. I tried to slow myself down a little bit, but man, it felt good to be doing this race finally!

Into the ballroom I went and grabbed my gearbag and then proceeded to the changing room. All of the volunteers were busy so I pulled on my clothes by myself and just asked a nearby volunteer if she'd repack my bag for me. On to the bike!

The Bike: Heat Comes from Within
I ran out to the bike racks and quickly spotted my very tall brother-in-law and Strong Sister. I waved madly and they spotted me, grabbed my bike, and thrust it into my hands. "You're beautiful!" screamed the Strong One. I pulled her to me and gave her a huge, wet, Lake Monona kiss right on the cheek and ran toward the mounting area. Sweet Sister and her husband were outside the bike area and screamed at me too. I waved and shouted "I love you guys!" Then I was at the mounting area. A volunteer held my bike while I flipped off my sandals and fumbled with my velcro bike shoe straps. "Ah, my hands are shaking," I said. She said, "Take time to breathe. Your heat comes from within. You'll warm up." Those words were to stick with me (as well as my sister telling me that I'm beautiful, of course.)

The ride out to the double loop was mostly about getting myself into a zone. My mesh bottle top plopped out about a mile into the bike and I had to turn around and get it. (I cursed that blasted thing and wondered how many times I would have to retrieve it that day!) I got out to the loop and there began the shivers. The whole first loop was, in a word, cold. Sometimes the rain misted onto us, and at other times, it showed less mercy and pelted us. For the record, I hadn't believed the weather report and optimistically had stuck to my planned apparel of a short-sleeved shirt and no gloves for the bike ride. Ouch. Or rather, brrrrr. One rider came up on me and said, "Look at those goosebumps." Ha, I wanted to say, don't you know that your heat comes from within??

Then I debated the logic of that comment for a long time, and convinced myself that if I just kept taking in calories I really would be getting warmer. I think I was kind of picturing a polar bear building up a layer of fat. With that thought, I plowed into my pretzels (absolute manna!), Clif bars and Chocolate Outrage GU. I stuck to my nutrition plan of:

On the 15s: GU and water
On the 30s: Gatorade and Endurolyte
On the 45s: A solid (Pretzels or 1/2 Clif bar) and water for the first 4 hours and then substituted GU for the solid after that.
On the 00s (top of the hour): Gatorade

UNTIL, my Endurolytes started falling apart. I had taped them to my frame and they just couldn't take the rain. I ended up taking about 4 of them when I had planned on taking 8.

Eating was a challenge because numb hands don't work as well as warm ones do! Instead of being able to follow my little GU ritual...

Detour for GU ritual: To eat a GU, I squeeze it into my mouth little-by-little by folding it from bottom to top like you do a toothpaste tube. When it's gone, I unroll it and then re-roll it from the top so the sticky opening ends up rolled up inside the clean part. Then I tuck that neat little package into the rubber band that holds my aerobar bottle in place. Takes some practice, but then you don't end up with (as much) GU all over your hands, bike, clothing, etc.

Back to the main story: Instead of being able to follow my GU ritual, I found that my hands would not obey my "Open GU" command so I had to rip the package open with my teeth. Then my hands wouldn't do the fine motor skills folding, but they would do the caveman clutch... Me squeeze whole packet in fist. I also had a hard time shifting and found myself batting at my shift levers at one point. Eventually, I succeeded in both endeavors. Phwew.

I saw my husband and puppy twice out on the course: right before the Garfoot Road Hill, and then at a corner somewhere. Both times I yelled to him that I was feeling great and smiled so hard I thought my face would split.

And I peed on my bike. Yes, I tried something new on race day. It was so easy that day. I was already drenched and knew that any fluid I produced would be outnumbered 10 times over by the fluid being dumped on me. And, I hate to say it, but it was almost fun. I think I'm a closet incontinent-er. After the first few tenuous times, I let myself go. Every little bump and bluuurp, there went another squirt. I could say more about warmth coming from within, but I won't.

The second loop of the bike was a little bit warmer. At about mile 62, a fellow rider had a flat and hollered out for a spare. I dismounted for the third time (1 was the mesh bottle top, 2 was to check what had felt like a flat earlier but wasn't) and gave him my spare tube. As I rode away - farther from special needs and my only other spare, I wondered about the wisdom of that generosity.

The notorious hills were as good on the second loop as the first. Yep, good. The crowds were amazing. I was seriously looking forward to doing those hills again just because the spectators were so encouraging, inspiring, and into it. They were with us. Some of my favorite comments were:
"I see the determination in your face; you know you're an Ironwoman!"
"Way to stay aero!"
"You signed up for Ironman, you must love this!"
"This is what you trained for!"
"Keep up that smile!" (I didn't have the heart to tell them it was a grimace.)
Even now, my stomach does flip-flops as I remember people leaning into us from both sides, dragging us up those hills.

THANK YOU MIDDLETON, VERONA AND CROSS PLAINS SPECTATORS!

When I reached mile 80, I reminded myself that this was a race and I should go fast. My heart rate had been lower than I had planned. However, I was feeling good nutritionally, and my only concern was a bit of tightness in my quads. But I was cold or something. I just couldn't make myself consistently go faster. I'd go faster for little bursts, but then my quads would freeze up and I'd back off again. Finally, at mile 90, I felt warmed up and told myself to take it home. I passed quite a few people at that point - quite a few of them men - and thought of Papa Louie's demotivator.

At mile 100, I began to visualize my transition to the run AND to anticipate warm, dry clothing. I reached the top of the helix and who should be there to take my bike but my brother! My dad was there to take the next person's bike but grabbed me for a quick hug and "I love you." (My family rocks.) I wouldn't have said that I was out of it or anything, but I remember just standing there, with my brother holding my bike, and me saying, "So, am I off of it now?" He fired transition directions at me and I finally thawed enough to run into the T2 zone and grab my bag.


T2: Fluff
This time, there was a volunteer available and she lead me into the changing room. I ripped off my soaking wet shorts, top, helmet and race belt while she arranged my sw-eeeet dry stuff. In no time I had on dry shorts, socks, and shoes. I kissed myself for having put a long-sleeved shirt into that bag and put it on under my short-sleeved running top. The dry socks were the winner though. Warm, fluffy, dry...mmmm. I wished I could change my heart rate monitor bra and my bandanna, but had packed no extras. Dumb. Lesson learned: always pack extras.

I thanked my volunteer and saw myself out the door. (One advantage to having volunteered there last year.)

I felt my bladder aching for release and considered pulling a double-header, but thought better of it and hit the porta-potties right outside of T2. My family was yelling for me; I could hear my name amidst the din, but couldn't really distinguish voices. The spectators at this point were again outstanding.

The Run: When a Marathon Isn't Long Enough
I head down State Street for loop 1 and another woman pulled in next to me and began to chat. I talked for a little bit, but then just couldn't anymore. I felt bad but realized that my mental energy was at a low point. I just focused on running, checking my heart rate every few minutes. It hovered right around 135, which I was happy with at that point. The next thing I remember is seeing my sister-in-law and she validated my thinking, telling me to keep it slow and steady, I'd worked hard for this. Then, a while later, I saw my husband and our puppy. He asked me if this was my first or second loop and I honestly, replied, "I have no idea." I started paying attention to mile markers after that and soon saw that I was at mile 8. I saw my sis-in-law and her family as well as my mother-in-law shortly after that and told them where I was mile-wise and asked them to tell Chris.

Somewhere along the way, a volunteer shouted that every step was one step closer to the end. In my blurry yet running-centered mind, I kept thinking of this, and forward I did move. Strong Sister & her 3 kids, my MOM, Sweet Sister & husband were volunteering at the aid station near the turn around. Happiness.

After I saw them, it was another game of every step is a step closer, and think how much closer I am than I was the last time I thought of that. I also (sort of) stuck to my nutrition plan for the run which was:
Each quarter of the marathon: 20 oz Gatorade, 8 oz water, GU, Endurolyte.

This "quarter" idea made it easier for me because I knew that I just had to empty my palm-holder, take 1 Gu, and 1 Endurolyte by each turn-around. I didn't even really watch my time. Only flaw: the Endurolytes were undone by the rain. I had taped 1 to each gel packet and salvaged what I could by pouring bits of them into my bottle, but to this moment, can't tell you how many of the 6 I managed to consume.

Shortly before mile 12, I saw TriAl v 2006 in the oncoming runners, but his number was hanging off sideways and I only realized it was him for sure when he was too far past me to shout. He looked strong and I daresay, the legs are as good in person as in photos. ;)

At mile 12, I got a bloody nose and stopped to sit on a curb, head between my knees, and made myself count to 30 before getting up to trudge again. I stopped numerous times (5 or so) to go to the bathroom and although I thought I was going to have diarrhea, I never did.

Mile 13 presented a tough decision. You run right up to within sight of the finish line and there are two signs. One says "To finish" while the other says "To 2nd Loop." I surprised myself though by thinking, "I'm not quite ready to be done with this thing yet. I want to do the 2nd loop." Then I fell in with another runner who was revving up the crowd - it was awesome to be next to somebody with spare energy and I told him so. We carried on a conversation for a long time and I realized that I was starting to feel better rather than worse! I dropped him when he stopped to walk through an aid station. I stuck to my resolution to run the whole marathon - even that awful hill through the university where only 3 people around me walked the first loop, and all but 3 walked the second time.

My thoughts of my family being at the turn-around kept me going. I wanted to see those guys so bad, but their shift had ended and they were gone. I consoled myself with thoughts of seeing them in a little bit, and clutched my water bottle tighter in my palm. By this time, Gatorade was a thing of the past for me, as was GU. Yep, I left 2 of my 6 packets high and dry on my fuel belt. I had had to force the 16th one...

Self-talk: You're making a deposit, you only feel good so far because you've re-fueled. You're going to want to make more withdrawals at miles 16-26. Keep eating.

However, I did make a deal with myself after that sixteenth GU; no more GUs provided I stopped for chicken broth or cola at the aid stations. Consider it done.

Finally, I reached mile 20 and I started to think, hey, I'm going to do this. I am going to finish this race and I'm not going to bonk or die. By midnight, I will be an Ironman. My pace may have even picked up.

I finally saw my husband again at mile 23 and by this time, euphoria was setting in. I told him I loved him and this was fun and I might have more of these in my future and that it was so good to see him and the others out on the course. I hadn't said that many words total all day! He cut across a parking lot to listen to the end of my discourse and then told me where to see his mom (mile 24) and that he'd see me at the end.

Those last miles were long, yet not long enough. I wish I could relive them, but you only get one chance. I wish I would have soaked up more but I was anticipating the crowds and then the finish line. Soon, they were there. My family picked me up at about 1/4 mile out and Strong Sister came out to check on me and said some more really embarrassing stuff. It must have also been motivating because I began to sprint it in.

Right before I rounded the corner to the finish, I heard my brother yell, "Laney, you rock! Laney, you rock!" The crowd picked up my name and started yelling it too. I poured on everything I had left and it felt beautiful. I slowed to let the man in front of me finish and then I had my moment - or rather capped all of the other moments of the racing, training, and planning of this last year - with this final moment of elation.