This is an article I wrote for our local county newspaper shortly after completing my first Ironman triathlon:
I did not grow up much of a healthy person, much less an athlete. After-school snacks consisted of Oreos and milk followed by Doritos and Coca-cola. Weekly fried seafood buffets were the norm. Routine exercise was never a thought until leaving home for school, mostly anaerobic activity but some short running. I never started running more than a few miles until the last 10 years or so, a common story among adult runners.
Shortly after we married, my wife Jessica did a triathlon and had great fun in the process, thus introducing me to the sport. We lived in rural Washington for two and a half years prior to coming back to North Carolina. A lot of our free time was spent running in the costal mountains, some cycling on the reservation where we lived, and less swimming (swimming with sea lions seemed too much an insurance liability). The soothing rhythmic meter of running or spinning for minutes to hours got me hooked to those activities.
Upon moving back to North Carolina, we had regular access to a lap swimming pool again which allowed us to reenter training for triathlon. After participating in shorter-distance triathlons, I had the chance to compete in a full-distance Ironman at a ski resort in Quebec, Mont Tremblant. Training began in earnest on the first of April, three sessions per discipline per week, gradually building in length over five months. Starting at about eight hours a week, by the time I was a month away from the event, training was at 16 hours a week. I grew intimately familiar with the Glade Valley section of the parkway on the bike and on foot. There really is no better way to see the countryside than without the barriers of car windows. One notices so much more about the nuances of the roads, streams, fallen trees, road kill, and scurrying critters in the forest.
Upon arrival at the race site a couple of days ahead of the date, I proceeded to check in which was a 2-day process involving both participant registration and checking of gear. This gave us the chance to explore the area just beforehand. Mont Tremblant is similar to the Alleghany County landscape except smaller mountains at 1000 feet above sea level. It is really a tourist destination for all seasons, providing downhill and cross country skiing in the winter; lake boating, canoeing, hiking, golfing in the summer, with a European-themed shopping village and casino. Since the Ironman arrived about ten years ago, it has become a destination for professional endurance training with a world-class aquatic center and permanently marked cycling lanes used in the Ironman race.
Race morning began at 3AM with breakfast about four hours before the starting time. For the most part my diet was and continues to be plant-based, having given up dairy, eggs, and meat other than fish in the past year, except on occasion. Afterwards, we drove to the airfield that acted as the massive parking lot from which participants were transported to the race site starting at 4AM. Everyone arriving so early allowed plenty of time for nervous energy to permeate everyone’s gait and mannerisms, not that people were rude but one could tell folks walked around briskly in the transition area where the gear changes between exercise disciplines occurred, and with other things on their minds. The transition area was dominated by a couple hundred or so rows of racing bikes on long racks, with people pumping air into tires and applying Vaseline to their necks to prevent chaffing from the wetsuits which they were putting on. Many people there had the physiques of seasoned triathletes, as expected, but also several people competing looked more like novices or simply less athletic. I thought this was really encouraging for all of us who think something like this is out of reach for anyone who hasn’t been a lifelong athlete, or even exercising regularly for years on end.
The start at the lakeside beach was delayed an hour, from 7AM to 8AM, due to fog, which helped to fuel the building anxiety among the crowd. A fellow in our starting area was giving first timers like me advice about taking time to enjoy the process, not concerned with speed but soaking in the surroundings of hundreds of people cheering you on, mostly at the end when trotting over the finish line. That did turn out to be good advice, probably the best of the day.
The swim 1.2 miles out into an open lake, followed by the return of the same length, was the least lonely part of the race, which was helpful as looking toward the bottom of a bottomless lake between breaths is a lonely proposition. Initially it was hard to find space to swim without kicking or hitting someone, especially as my underestimation of my pace resulted in me starting among slower swimmers and trying to pass people for at least the first half of the swim. A buoyant wetsuit making sinking almost impossible was also reassuring. As the shore came into view at the end, the loud music, which would be present at all transitions and aid stations, became audible. As did a few hundred cheering spectators and volunteers ready to help rip off swimmers’ wetsuits and lead them to the transition area to prep for biking. The seven hours on the bike riding 112 miles was easily the longest activity of the day, longer for me than most as tons of people got a morale boost blowing past me, in part due to training, in part due to inferior equipment; during the bike a French fellow I passed told me he didn’t think there was another “regular bike” in the race before he saw me! The bike was the best time for replacing fluids, calories, and salts. By the time the ride was over, I was ready to loosen up on foot. I made up some time here simply by trotting as maybe half the participants were walking. I learned that this was a common strategy for many people: get through the swim and bike fast, and briskly walk the marathon to finish under seventeen hours. I thought it showed how focused people were on finishing the race rather than going as hard as they can, risking injury or muscle failure. As the finish in the Mont Tremblant village came into view around 9PM, with the last half mile lined on either side with cheering people, and bright lights at the finish line, I made a note to slow down and look around, high-fiving people just before crossing the finish, with blaring music, bright flashing lights, and an MC calling out every finisher’s name and knighting them as an “Ironman.” Eating immediately afterward was pretty uncomfortable as all my blood was still in the limbs. A couple of people even passed out while sitting and eating and needed mild medical attention. It took about two days to feel as though the nutritional deficit had been filled.
In the couple of weeks following, I kept reflecting on what a great day and overall journey starting in April culminated there! The race provided a great reason to swim regularly in the pool, which I grew to like, and a great reason to get out to the parkway to enjoy what we have around here. The memories that will stay with me are the vibrance of the village during the week of the Ironman, and the different types of people who competed, age 20s to 70s, women and men, ultra-fit and weekend warrior physiques. What a gift to know you don’t have to be a seasoned athlete in the prime physical moment of your life to participate in such a special event. It has given me hope and motivation for the upcoming years of life as it already has for others and will continue to do so for some unsuspecting people who have thought activities like that were beyond their reach.
