Ironman Canada – a day like no other

calm lake – Sat. night

As many of you who were following along, quickly found out, our day was not how we had expected it to be.  It was a great morning, very relaxed getting into transition.  Our motel is directly across the street from the lake which adds so much convenience to what can be a rushed start.

Body marking before race

in transition

The lake was quite calm.  With the largest starting field ever, even my ‘favourite’ starting place seemed more congested this year.  I ended up having clear water for most of the first leg.  I had to stop twice around the 800m mark as I was having problems catching my breath (breathing problems have continued, although had seemed a bit better since we had arrived in Penticton), but the rest of the race was pretty relaxed.

The crowds on Main Street were amazing.  Lined up several deep as they cheered on their friends.  I was feeling pretty good and while I had been a bit worried in the swim that the day might not be so good, I found that riding relaxed and easy was going to be the best way to finish – albeit slower.

At 60km, I was shocked to see a cyclist wearing a Speed Theory tri jersey at the side of the road.  It was Mark!  He was carrying his bike and walking.  I quickly pulled over and found out that he had crashed earlier.  Going through an aid station, the cyclist in front of him missed the bottle exchange and the bottle dropped on the road.  Mark had one hand on his bars and the other hand reaching out to grab his bottle from the volunteer and couldn’t maneuver around the bottle quickly enough.  He went down…hard! 

He was a bit banged up with some scrapes, bruises, and sore hip, but his bike suffered some damage as well.  The rear derailleur was broken.  This is what moves the chain to different gear rings on the rear wheel.  He saw a bike support vehicle helping someone out with their flat tire and asked if they could take a look at his bike when they were done.  But when he realized it might take awhile, he decided to try to ride it.  All was fine until he tried to shift to another gear when he reached a climb heading into Osoyoos and the derailleur went right into the spokes and stopped the wheel.  He came to a skidding halt and realized the derailleur had broken off completely.  There weren’t a lot of options – his race was basically over.

Since I knew this wasn’t going to be ‘my’ day, I suggested he just take my bike and finish.  I knew during the swim that breathing might be an issue and I would rather see him finish the day.  Two potential problems – my bike is one size smaller than his and I have different pedals than he does…his bike shoe cleats don’t fit into my pedals.  But, if we could get the bike support vehicle, they could quickly put his pedals onto my bike and then all he would have to deal with is a slightly smaller bike.  Mark wasn’t crazy about this idea as he also wanted me to have the best shot possible of finishing the day. 

The bike support vehicle came by and he said, there are two options.  Switch bikes…or…remove the rear derailleur completely, adjust the chain length, and turn his bike into a single speed.  Basically that means rather than having 20 different gear options to choose from, he would have one only.  The downside was, the toughest part of the bike course was to about the begin.  Richter Pass, the first mountain pass was only 3km away.

Now, that he had an ‘option’, he was excited to take on that challenge.  So, off I went and the bike mechanic got him set up.  I think the mechanic was as excited about Mark giving this a shot, as Mark was about continuing the race.

What I didn’t mention is that while Mark was waiting for some kind of bike support, before I arrived on the scene, he saw another cyclist standing at the side of the road and found out that this guy had the wrong tubular tire for his bike and couldn’t repair the flat tire that he had.  Since Mark thought his day was over anyway, he just gave the guy his own spare tire. 

I only tell you this, because once the mechanic finally got Mark back on the road, it was only a few kilometers later that Mark got a flat tire.  The problem?  He no longer had a spare tire since he had given his away.  As it turns out, the same bike mechanic came by again and said…’now what?’  They just chuckled and put an old spare wheel on his bike and he was on his way again.

With only one gear, the up-hills were a bit of a grind and the descents meant that he would spin out and would have to rely on coasting - not great to keep the legs fresh, nor to offer up a fast bike time…but he was feeling good and still passing a lot of people.

After getting through the remaining 120km of the bike course, he took whatever time he needed in transition and was off on the run. 

He wouldn’t have known that I pulled out of the race at 150km of the bike course and I was actually happy he wouldn’t be worried about me and my race day.  The smoke from the forest fires in the north had settled into the valley and my breathing had become worse.  Pulling out was the right decision.  Of course, I am disappointed.  I had put in a lot of hours of training and working towards one day, but I definitely didn’t want to make things worse.

As soon as I got back to the motel, I quickly showered and started checking the time splits to see how he was doing on the run.  I was thrilled to see the first half of the run was great.  I was so pumped and excited and hung out with some friends as we cheered on the many finishers. 

The back half of the run was a little tougher for Mark as the discomfort in the hip from the crash made running difficult.  Jonathan was out on another part of the run course and called me when he 3.5 miles out.  I couldn’t wait!  Seeing him come down the home stretch with the biggest smile…well, my eyes welled up quickly.  I got a quick hug from him at the side of the road and he was off into the finish line chute.  With that smile, you would have thought he had won the race…and he did!

Overcoming adversity and unexpected challenges can make even the toughest races, one of the best races ever.

So, how did we celebrate the achievement the day after?  Lunch on the patio of a nice winery (See Ya Later – Hawthorne)…the second place overall female finisher in the race was having lunch there with her family visiting from Australia.  It has beautiful views, although still a little hazy today.

and then…a stop at Tickleberry’s

for some of their famous ice cream cones!!

A perfect way to end our stay in Penticton!  Can’t wait to come back!

Forest fire haze

This didn't help my breathing issues...view of Lake Okanagan this afternoon. Compare it to earlier photo posted. Made the right decision to withdraw from the race at about 150km into the bike.

Feelin' hot hot hot

It's going to very hot on race day. It might make for some slower finish times (and a tough day for spectators as well).

Everyone is racing in the same heat - it will be, what it will be! Just a heads up - don't stay up past your bed time!!

Jon’s here…

Jonathan has come out to cheer us on…how cool!  Of course, we miss Marnie, Jared, and Nadine.  Hope they had fun in London!! 

Remembering Janice

As many of you know, Janice Plewes was planning on racing this weekend at Ironman Canada, along with her husband Cam.  A tragic accident in June has left an empty place in all our hearts…and a very noticeable empty spot on the bike rack in transition this year.  

We left a little something at rack position #2372.  It isn’t empty any longer…we’ll always remember.  May each of us take time to stop and smell the flowers in our journey through life.

More IMC photos

Underpants run

Lake Okanagan

Parasailing

Mark in Transition setting up – day before race

Tammy in transition

Buoys inflated and ready to go (swim course markers)

 

View of bike racks in transition

Underpants fashionistas

Underpants Run

Each year at Ironman Canada, they hold an Underpants fun run on the Friday morning. Roch Frey and Paul Huddle are the official leaders. Always worth a few laughs...and this year was no different.
Crazy triathletes!

Photo taken with BB, so excuse the photo quality.

You can ‘wine’ as much as you like here…

Okanagan region is known for some really great wines.  Last year, we made sure that we visited the winery of one of our favourites (Burrowing Owl) to not only to pick up a few bottles, but also to have dinner amongst the vineyards.

This year, we returned to one that we’ve visited before - Hillside Estate Winery.  It is situated between Penticton and Naramata and has the most amazing views of Okanagan Lake.  We keep coming back because the food is good, the wine is nice, but the views…ahhh, the views.  Of course, as luck would have it, I never even thought to take a photo of the ‘view’. 

 

From here on in, it will be Gatorade, water…and pasta!

Local motels motivating athletes

“What?! How many days left?!!”

Following along on Aug 30th

Ironman Canada is on August 30th this year.  The race takes place each year in the beautiful Okanagan region of British Columbia. 

As such, for those in Ontario, note that there is a 3 hour time difference.  The race starts at 7am PST…so that’s 10am for friends and family in Ontario.  The official race ends at midnight – 17 hours later.

On race day, if you want to follow the live results, you can go to :

    www.ironman.com

“Athlete Tracker” is the link where you can search for us by last name or by bib/race number.

Mark – # 1221             Tammy – # 2633

There will be two Ironman races that day…one in Louisville, Kentucky and the other in Penticton, BC.  Both will likely have live results offered, so make sure you click on the appropriate link for Ironman Canada on August 30th.

If for some reason you don’t see a time noted at any point throughout the day, don’t worry about it.  It could be something as simple as the computer chip that we’re wearing around our ankle has not been detected at one of the check-points (timing mats).

You guys are amazing and believe me, I know, spectating (whether on-line or in person) can be exhausting!!  Make sure you fuel properly – my suggestion is cold beer on the patio with the laptop and a wireless connection!  Keep a cold one on ice for the finish…and don’t stay up past your bedtime, otherwise you may have to switch to mamosas as an early breakfast beverage.

“You are ready” – visualizing ‘the day’

The days are quickly winding down until we are off to Ironman Canada once again. This year it will be a little different as we are both dealing with injuries…and phantom pains. So, we will take the day for what it gives us.

During this taper stage, questions always arise as to whether we have done ‘enough’ to get ourselves to the start line. Workouts seem a little 'flat’ and second-guessing our ability and capabilities is the norm.

I’ve read the following piece many times in the past, and I find it very settling during this nerve-wracked time to visualize the day . The author gets it! It may not make total sense to those who aren’t familiar with the race course, but it does give you an idea of the ‘emotions’ surrounding the day. (written by Bob Mina, permission given to re-post)

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Right now you've all entered the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.

You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until November to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before you...and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you. It won't be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body already does. Your body knows the truth:
You are ready.

Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that
this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong.
You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.

It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it. You are ready.

You will walk into the lake on August 30th with 2500 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for, for so VERY long is finally here.

The bagpipers will walk across the beach. Steve King will ask you to sing along. You will.
O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.
The helicopters will roar overhead.
Maranatha will roar. The splashing will surround you.
You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.
The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the Penticton Lakeside Hotel grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what's happening, then you'll head for the bike.

In the shadows on Main Street you'll spin out of town - the voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's send off. You won't wipe the smile off your face for miles as you whisk along the lakeside, past fully stocked, silent aid stations for the run to come.

You'll spin up McLean Creak Road. You'll roll down towards Osoyoos, past the vineyards glowing in the morning sun. You'll settle down to your race.

The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.
Richter Pass will come. Everyone talks about it, but it's really nothing. You'll know this halfway up, as you're breathing easy and climbing smoothly. Look to your right. Look how high you're climbing. Look at all the bikes below, still making their way there. You're ahead of them. All of them.

You'll climb over Richter, and descend to the valley below. You'll ride the rollers, one at a time. You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving.

After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right? You'll put the rollers behind you. You'll head into the Cawston out and back. You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride the wrong way for what seems like hours. 10 miles in, you reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.

By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus.
Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today. You'll ride on leaving Cawston behind you and head for the final showdown at Yellow Lake.

You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for every inch of road. You'll make the turn towards the summit as the valley walls close in for the kill, and put your head down. The crowd will come back to you here - the cars are always waiting to cross the summit, and you'll soon be surrounded in the glorious noise that is the final climb of Ironman Canada. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.
Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
Summit.
Just like that, you'll be descending. 12 miles to go, and no climbing left. You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon!

You'll roll back into town - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back in Penticton, with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into
T2.

You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike.
You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts.

You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a Penticton summer Sunday.

High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've
worked for all year long. That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good. That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the
leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it won't last.

You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating. Maybe
you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it.

Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.

You'll make it to halfway at OK Falls. You'll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.
Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.
The miles will drag on. The brilliant Penticton sunshine will yawn, and head for the mountains behind the bike course...behind that last downhill you flew down all those hours ago. You'll be coming up to those aid stations you passed when you started the bike...fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.

You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that
you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches you...puts a medal over your head...
...all you have to do is get there.

You'll start to hear town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on the run, and now when you've come back.

You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over.
You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?" You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.

You'll hit mile 25. You'll turn onto Lakeside Drive. Your Ironman Canada will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.
You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but
you will run. You'll make the turn in front of the Sicamous in the dark, and head for home. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter.

Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps. You'll listen for Steve King. Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you.

You'll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the night sun made just for you.
They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.
The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.
You'll break the tape. The flash will go off.
You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and
suddenly...be capable of nothing more.
Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.
It will suddenly hit you.
You will be an Ironman.
You are ready

Birthdays never get old…

Today Mark’s mom turns 87 years of age and to be honest, she has more energy than some people half her age.

Some things never get old!  So, today we celebrate her special day, along with the whole family.

Elevation profile – IMC bike course

Funny how the elevation profile of the Ironman Canada bike course ends up looking more like my heart rate data!  What a crazy way to spend a day in the Okanagan – less than 3 weeks to go!