Ironman Canada 2013 – Pain is temporary, Quitting is forever

Ironman Canada 2013 Whistler

This year I  turned 50  and decide to celebrate by signing up for my 3rd Ironman.

Of the 3 Ironman distance triathlons I have competed in this was definitely the toughest and most humbling of all.  After months of training and preparing it all comes down to this one day and anything can happen and does.

After a long night of short naps I am up  at 3:15 a.m.  I start my day with a good strong coffee and pack up my breakfast to eat later in the morning – the only real food I will consume until I cross the finish line.

I arrive at the Village at 4:30 a.m. in darkness, confident that the next time I am here, at the finish line, the sun will still be shining.

Bleary eyed athletes are wandering around carrying  bags full of gear, bike pumps, and a stomach full of nerves. We line up for the obligatory body marking and then are loaded on big yellow  buses that  transport us to Alta Lake.

As we approach the lake my heart is racing and the previously noisy bus goes silent as  50 of the 2600 nervous souls make their way to transition.

The weather is perfect – slightly overcast and not too warm.  It’s is going to be a good day to race.

My day just keeps getting better – I am the first person to walk through the arch at  transition and a sense of calm comes over me.  I set up my bike and head out of transition.

6:15 – Time to get my wet suit on. I took refuge in the heated change room  away from the madness and when I open the door an hour later my sense of calm disappears as I am greeted by 2600 anxious athletes scrambling around like ants.

I squeeze into my wet suit and marched down to the beach packed with athletes and spectators, Yet I feel quite alone as I anticipate the day ahead of me.

Moments before the swim start as I look out at the lake, I am flooded by every emotion possible. A hazy mist floats above the glassy lake as the sun rises over the horizon. I can hear O Canada in the background, but it doesn’t feel real.

SWIM – 3.8 KM

The pros go out and 2600 age groupers wait for the countdown 3 -2-1,

the gun sounds and we are off like a whirling dervish.

The start of the swim is the typical washing machine of  flaying arms and legs, clad in black rubber. As I make my way out to the first buoy I am caught up in the draft of swimmers and it feels effortless until the end of the first loop.

The swim is pretty event-less until mid way through the 2nd loop when I get a good kick in the quad  and have to stop to shake out a mean cramp.  With about  200 meters to go,  there is quite a large pod of us swimming into the beach.  I get into a wrestling match with a  women – who kicks me, knocks off my goggles and grabs my arm and will not let go!  I end up having to elbow her in the ribs to get rid of her and I make a mad dash to the shore.

T1 

Out of the water and into the longest transition ever. The peelers are eager to strip off my wet suit  and I am corralled into the sausage like change tent. I fumble around and get geared up for the bike surrounded by dozens of soaking wet wanna be iron women.

BIKE – 180 KM

I feel good getting on the bike, my legs are fresh and I am ready to roll.

The first 4 km is a  Climb up from the lake to the highway.  I start out easy to warm my legs up and get my head wrapped around the next 180 km of my journey.

At about 10 km I tuck into aero position and try to get  a good rhythm going. the temperature is perfect, the wind is calm and I feel amazing.

And then out of the blue,  30 minutes into the bike I am overcome by a sudden flash of heat surging through my body, my heart racing,  sweat pouring from head to toe.  You’ve got to be kidding – I’m having a f#$&*@ing hot flash.  I had escaped them for the past two months and now on race day they were back. Every race brings unexpected things you have to deal with and being prepared to adapt is very important. Hot flashes are more of an inconvenience than anything to worry about, but they  mess with your heart rate, and hydration,  I would have to come up with a plan as they usually come in waves!

I slow my pace to  bring  my heart rate down and assess the situation.    the hot flashes continue and I am in trouble.

Things start to go bad when I start the ride back to Whistler from Callaghan Valley. I have been following my nutrition plan to this point and decide to continue fueling every 15 minutes, but still cannot get my heart rate down and  feel my stomach protesting as everything I am taking in just sits there.  At about 50 km’s into the ride I start to feel awful – nauseous, and my focus is falling away.

Over the next couple of  hours I try a number of things to resolve the situation – get off my bike, eat ginger, stop eating, pour cold water over my head, have a pep talk with myself.

As my mind starts to wander, thoughts of  quitting creep in, I remember the announcer at the swim start talking about the adversity some of the athletes have faced – a woman whose mother died two days earlier, a man who had cycled 7500 km from Newfoundland to race, another with pancreatic cancer with two rounds of chemo to go. Is quitting an option – hell no!  As much As I want  to curl up in a ball on the side of the road I know I have to keep going. I put a smile on my face, get back on the bike, thank a volunteer and head to Pemberton.

I cannot eat anything solid after about 80 km without gagging, so I just take in liquids for a while and get ready to head out on the 50 km out and back portion of the ride. it’s a lonely stretch of road with a few scattered spectators keeping up our spirits.  I am passed by dozens of cyclists drafting on the back stretch of the 50 km and yet not a bike to be seen in the penalty boxes.

I plod along and try to stay positive.  My Legs cramp up pretty bad on the way back to Whistler, likely due to dehydration.   It seems to be a common occurrence as I watch athletes fall off their bikes in agony. I take salt pills to stave off the cramps, but the salt just makes me feel worse.  I am in a war with my mind and body, both in full battle mode.  But they would not win.

Back to Whistler – Not my anticipated time on the bike, but if I could get my nutrition sorted out perhaps  I could salvage the race on the run.

T2

Into my shoes and off and running.  Forget my watch, Run back to T2.   Get lost in transition and can’t figure out how to get on the run course.   Finally a spectator points me in the right direction,

RUN – 42.2 KM

Start out walking for a bit and hope I will feel better.  I sound like a broken record, but I still feel awful.

I know – you are not supposed to feel good – it’s Ironman…not  wimpyman!

I try to get a gel down, but everything just tastes like tar.  Resort to coke and water, but have major stomach cramps at this point.

I first  throw up at about 8 km into the run and feel better for a bit.  Attempt to get some fuel in , but  cannot keep anything down.  By the end of the first 21 km I start to see a light at the end of the tunnel,  so I just keep  sipping coke at each aid station and end up running the entire marathon on one can of coke.

My legs feel pretty good, all things considered,  and when I run I  get a good pace going, but as my heart rate goes too high, I  throw up.  Eventually there is nothing left in my stomach and I am able to run more. I pass at least 100 other athletes who are walking, and look so defeated and beat up.

The sun would set at around 8:15 and most of the run is in the trails around Whistler Village.  At the pre-race meeting the director recommended we have a head lamp for the run.  I usually err on the side of caution and come prepared for every situation – except for today.  I was determined to finish before sunset and refused to pack a head lamp.  As the day played out I was just starting my 2nd loop of the the run at sunset – time to start eating that humble pie Deb,

The last 10 km of the run is actually quite enjoyable, most of which is in the pitch black of the forest. There have been some bear sightings as well, but I don’t care because I feel so much better and will finish.

The run finishes in the village, and as I round the final corner I get a huge rush of adrenaline and sprint to the finish line.

15 hours 32 minutes 51 seconds – Deborah Nielsen “You are an Ironman”

I can’t say that I am not disappointed that I did not finish a couple of hours earlier, but that’s Ironman and I am very happy I stuck it out and made it to the finish line.  I feel very fortunate to be able to participate in such an epic event  as a healthy, happy, 50 year old woman – hot flashes and all.

Thank you so much to Beverli for your love, support and picking up the slack while I was out on my epic training days, and to all of my friends and family who followed me on this journey.  Special thanks to Stephanie and Bjorn for your amazing coaching and selfless dedication to all of us on Team Ossenbrink. When the going got tough I thought of all of you and I could not imagine ever quitting.

When All You Want To Do Is QUIT!

The odds of having two spectacular race years in a row are slim. This year was no exception. Leading up my “A” race at the Kelowna Apple I was feeling fitter than ever, so what happened on race day?

Let’s get my excuses out of the way first.

1. Last September we rescued a puppy and the 2-3 hours of walking every day made my legs tired so I might have missed a few workouts.

2. I’m pretty sure I peaked 2 weeks before my big race.

3. I became a master at making excuses to not swim because it was so boring and the water was cold.

The thing about competing in triathlon is that you actually have to train your body and mind simultaneously in order to handle physical and mental adversity. The odds of everything coming together on race day are about 1000 to 1, so it’s best to be prepared. Anything can go wrong.

This year at the Apple almost EVERYTHING went wrong!

1500M SWIM:

If you want to improve, or in my case maintain whatever skill you may have mustered over the years, practicing swimming and racing are important. I found every excuse possible for avoiding the pool the past year so my lack of training paid off on race day.

I’m one of the weird people who prefer a non-wetsuit swim so was looking forward to this race in warm water and sun.
As we rushed into the lake, I seeded myself up front like last year but very quickly realized I was way out of my league. The pace rapidly elevated my heart rate to the point where I couldn’t breathe. I panicked, which made things worse and self doubt filled my head.

An aggressive swimmer kept scrambling up my legs and the irritation exasperated my already stressed out body and mind. Knowing that if I didn’t get my breathing under control in the next minute or so, my race would be over. I was preparing myself to quit.

Rounding the second buoy at about 500M I was calming down and had settled into a slow but consistent rhythm.

By the second lap my alien hand was in full force, skimming the surface of the lake like a water bug not catching any water whatsoever. It must have infected my legs which I had completely forgotten were attached to my body! I realized I had been trying to swim by pulling with my right arm and hand, blissfully ignoring I had a left arm and two legs.

Once I started kicking, it was amazing how I started passing people even though most of my competitors had exited the lake over 5 minutes earlier and were probably at the top of Knox Hill by now.

Apparently I was the only one smiling when I exited the swim…
…because I hadn’t drowned!

It’s a good thing I didn’t wear a watch because if I’d known how painfully slow my swim actually was, I may have cried a lake. I was a full 8 minutes slower than last year. That’s what I get for all my hard work slacking off.
36:46

40K BIKE:

I’ve been working hard on the bike this past year so was really looking forward to a speedy ride. My partner Deb loaned me her Zipps and now that I was comfy in the aero bars, was ready to kick some serious butt out there.

The sun was bright and the temperature was a balmy 28c.

500M into the bike, my aero bottle with my nutrition and electrolytes bounced off the front of my bike and I barely escaped riding over it and crashing.

For a split second every emotion flooded over me. “Should I stop and pick it up? Should I keep going? I have no fuel. Wait, I have a gel in my race belt for the run and one in my bag at transition. I can use this one now and just drink water from my other bottle. OMG I’m at Knox Hill. Don’t think, shift gears and pedal. Get up the hill…..”

Now I hear creaking coming from my front wheel or bottom bracket.

WTF?!

I had ridden a loop of the course yesterday and everything was fine. “Sweat is already pouring off my face and I’ve only been out here for 5 minutes. The sun is so intense. “

As I crested the hill, I shifted my focus to my average speed and started building momentum. The creaking is now clanking and my sleek green racing machine sounds more like a rust bucket that I’ve dragged out of the junkyard!

Fear of not knowing if my wheel was going to fall off was terrifying but I knew if I wanted to finish the race, I had 35K to go on this thing.

I shifted my focus to maintaining 30KPH.

As I passed Deb on the first lap, I yelled” I lost my aero bottle”. That was the third time it happened to me in races this year and you’d think I’d have figured out how to put the thing on right.

It was becoming more of an adventure race. I was now rationing 1/3 of the gel per lap with 2 sips of water. The temp must be close to 30c by now. I’m drenched.

Deb could hear my battle- axe of a bike creaking as I pedal past her on the second lap. “I have a mechanical”! I almost want to laugh at this point. Someone is playing a nasty joke on me.

The truth is I’m terrified of going fast on the bike, so one might wonder why I race. When speeds get over 40KPH, I brake. LOL Keeping my watch setting at average speed keeps me sane and ignorance is bliss. It’s only when I download the data later in a safe stationary position at my computer, can I bear to look at my max speed. My fear of crashing is overwhelming.

The creak machine helped me with my fastest 40K and I was pleased to see I had the 5th fastest bike in my AG which was my goal for the race.
1:19:07

Bike and body intact, it was back to transition for the 10K run; my favourite event.

RUN:

Considering I hadn’t done much running this year due to and Achilles injury, my legs felt surprisingly good! Yay!

The heat however was crushing me and I needed water and shade.

After the leg cramping last year, there was no way I would let history repeat itself. I took a salt pill before the swim but decided I should take another one at the 2K mark since I’d dropped my electrolytes off the bike.

As I approached the water station, I shouted “WATER, WATER”, like a nomad lost in the Sahara. It’s a good thing I wasn’t wearing my HR monitor. I would have been horrified. I knew I close to the “red zone” and the heat wasn’t helping.

The aid station attendants remembered me from last year, so helped me get another salt tablet from my race belt and doused me in water. I think I must have thanked every volunteer 10 times Sunday except the one who told me I was “almost there”, at 3K! Really????

For those of you that think it’s encouraging to hear that, until you actually SEE the finish line, you are NOT almost there. And on this course, you have to run past the finish line as you start your second 5K loop.

I knew my nemesis was closing in on the finish as I started my second 5K loop and that I felt closer to death than finishing.

The adventure race that I was participating in was now a battle between mind and body. My legs were ready for speed but my mind was injecting my heart with adrenaline which was causing my HR to do back-flips that I couldn’t keep up with.

It was now a run/walk/breathe/focus/quit/don’tquit/run/walk/breathe/quit/can’t quit/never quit kind of race that seemed to go on and on for eternity.
Water, walk, run, max HR, walk, run, focus and keep moving forward.

I was too hot to feel pain and my head was at war with my body. The last thing I was going to do was quit. It was so frustrating to know I had the ability to run fast but the heat was like a blanket suffocating every breath I took.

Like a rat, I clung to every curb in seek of shade until at long last the finish line was in sight. Reaching with every stride I crossed the finish line knowing that as defeated as I felt, quitting would have been far worse.

56:02

I missed my goal time of 2:45 by 11 minutes but after licking my wounds, will get back on the training wagon, be grateful for the body I have and be back next year.

TIME 2:55:52 7/15

Why would anyone want to do an Ironman?

August 28, 2011 – 3:21 a.m. I can finally get up after a night of 10 minute naps.

Today’s the day, the day I dive into the lake with 2800 other crazy people to swim 3.8 km, jump on a bike for a 180 km  ride and run 26.2 km from Penticton to OK Falls and back.

I start my day with a good strong coffee and banana pancakes – the only real food I will consume until the famous chicken broth and pretzels on the run.

My nerves are beginning to build and I have to practice my deep breathing and mantra ‘Strong and Fit –  You can do it’. Kinda corny, but whatever works.

We head out at 4:30 a.m. into Penticton. It is still completely dark. The stars are sparkling, and the full moon is beaming. The highway is unusually busy with other wanna-be Iron people and a lone coyote.

When we arrive in Penticton it may as well be mid day – the streets are filled with athletes carrying plastic bags full of gear, bike pumps, and a stomache full of nerves. I score a great parking spot near the finish line.

Off to body marking.

The walk down main street is a frightening,strange and wonderful experience. We are lead down a fenced in corridor, cut off from family and friends and any chance of escape. Security is tight and there is no way out except into the lake.
I can feel the freaky energy of 2800 athletes getting ready to suffer for anywhere from 9 to 17 hours.

Next it is off to the transition. A temporary fenced in city of gear, porta potties, change tents, and a few million dollars worth of bikes!

Into my wetsuit and in the water for a test drive before the gun goes off. 5 minutes to go and I am ready to start the adventure.

Me and my coach – Mark Shorter hamming it up before the madness.

3,2,1 go…

I start off the swim by pulling myself along the bottom of the lake – rock by rock until I can no longer touch the bottom. There are hundreds of bodies flayling around me, on top of me, under me.
I make an attempt to get in a good draft position and manage to stay with it for about 750 meters until I am faced with the hoards of swimmers trying draft into my arm pit. It’s going to be a long swim!

I spent the next hour and a half fighting off the drafters and bullies in the water, finally making it shore in 1:32 – a couple of minutes off my goal, but no worries, I made it out in one piece. Fighting off the wetsuit strippers was more of a struggle than the swim. I had a strapping, young lad grab me by the scruff and tear my suit off as if I was on fire.

Off to the change tent and into my bike gear – 7 minutes, not bad. Off on the bike and it’s already piping hot.

The winds are in my favour – tailing me all the way to Osoyoss. average speed 31.0 km/hour – yeeha! I have trained hard for this day and my goal is sub 13 hours. It looks like a good day to PR.

I was one of the lucky ones that did not get a flat due to carpet tacks that were thrown on the course by a disgruntled local. 500 flats.

The 12km climb up Richter looms. The sun is high in the sky and the temperature soars to 38 celcius. Perfect conditions for a day of Ironman.

Climb # 1 done – feeling good.

Next, the 8 ladies – it’s getting hotter, but I am hydrating and taking my salt pills. 1 lady, 2 ladies , 3 ladies, 4 not so lady like, 5 mean lady, 6 no ladies here, 7 don’t call me a lady, 8 you ain’t no lady #$%^& – done! Downhill to Keremeos – still no wind to speak of. The out and back is beckoning me.

For those of you unfamiliar with the bike course – the Out and Back is an evil joke on the athletes designed by someone with a twisted sense of humour.

At about 107 km into the bike course we turn a corner into a lonely country road and ride 14km to the end of a dead end road and back out. Half way we get to stop and pick up supplies from our special needs bag – I decide on the hot red bull and a bottle of surupy Carbo pro. To my surprise Bev is there to cheer me on.
This is the 3rd support station to run out of water.

Let the race begin. I beg a volunteer for the dregs of a water bottle sitting on the side of the road.

Washroom breaks are part of my race plan – however, the line ups are 10 minutes long and the clock is ticking.

Next stop – Yellow Lake.

It’s about a 25km gradual climb with a few short nasty bits at the end. I can feel the heat starting to wear down my body and brain. I have spent the last 6 months perfecting my fueling and hydration plan for this day – but my mind is starting play tricks on me. I spend the next 1/2 hour trying to figure out how many gels I have consumed and the confusion is setting in.

Yellow lake is here and my tummy is feeling a bit queezy. The climb to the top seems to go on for an eternity. In the last few meters my right quad cramps so badly that I make a noise like an animal in a leg trap. I have enough sense to pop a salt pill and the cramp subsides.

In the next moment I feel the sensation of extreme heat starting at the inside of my toes. It travels up my calves, quads, into my core, through my chest, into my shoulders, neck and explodes up through the top of my head!Holy Mackeral, what was that!

By the way – those lumps on my hips are not attached to my body – they are gels,clif bars, bagels, and arm warmers…

Top of Yellow Lake – water, sponges, salt, friendly faces.

It’s back to the barn now. 25km of mostly down hill – oh but wait, the wind has decide to pick up and I am peddling down hill. I have a little over 1/2 an hour left on the bike and this is my last chance to take in some fuel before getting ready to start the run. I decide I should down a Clif Bar, as gels and goos, and carbopro are all starting to taste like glue.

My legs are feeling good, but for the love of life, get me off this bike!

Back in town and into transition – a quick shoe change, bathroom break and I’m off My bike time is about 25 minutes off my goal.  WC breaks have added up. But it’s all part of the plan and I am ready to run.

Gulped down some Carbopro, because I don’t want to bonk from lack of fueling. Who are you kidding Deb – everything is just sitting pretty in my stomach not doing it’s job.

I walk a bit to get my bearings and then start a slow jog – legs feel awesome. Oh, but what’s this, my stomach feels like I have a gooey brick of stones sitting in it. I just want to throw up and be done with it. Apparently that is not going to happen.
As I make my way up Main st. I spot my friend Ann Hayes. She and everyone else on the course are looking the way I feel – I am not alone.

We decide to run/walk together for a while and hope for the best. At about 8km into the run I realize I may have to give up my goal of 13 hours. It is going to be about survival and finishing without visiting the medical tent.

The road out to OK Falls is littered with people who look like soldiers coming home from war. Walking, limping, barfing. We try to fight the heat by putting ice in our hats, cold, wet,sponges in our shorts and running through sprinklers that the locals have turned on for us.

2.5 hours later I make it to the half way point at OK Falls. Once again I see Bev’s smiling face and it gives me some hope. I still feel nauscious as I rummage through my special needs bag looking for something to make it go away. I find a small flask of ginger beer and down it, along with a gulp of Red Bull.

Bev suggest I stick my fingers down my throat and throw up. Apparentley I told her where to put that suggestion and ran off.

2km later I took her advice, but it was not to be. I would spend the next 2.5 hours fighting off the dry heaves and sipping pepsi and chicken broth.

Despite my gastrointestinal issues I was having the time of my life. I know that may sound dillusional, but it’s true. I felt like an Ironwoman and I was going to finish. My legs still felt awesome, so I could run for about 1km and then walk to settle down my stomache. I continued this until I rounded the corner into the last 2km stretch to the finish line.

A wave of euphoria washed over me as I saw the cheering crowds and among them was Bev cheering me on.

I ran over to her and she gave me the biggest hug and sent me on my way. As I approached the finish line I slowed down a bit to take in the moment and raised my arms in victory as I crossed the line.
‘Deborah Nielsen- you are Ironman’

Mission accomplished!  Thank you so  much to all my friends and family who supported me throughout the year and on race day.  See you at the races!

The aftermath – that’s another post

Kelowna Apple ( National Championships) 2011

Kelowna Apple Triathlon (National Championships)

(1500M Swim 28:25 8/20 PB) (40K Bike 1:19:51 9/20 PB)
(10K Run 54:58 9/20)
2:47:05 8/20 PB Female 50 – 54

A year ago at this same race, my nemisis decided she was going to qualify for World’s in Aukland, NZ in 2012. I needed a new carrot and so my chase after Bronwyn began. I too, decided I would attempt to place in the top ten at Nationals in Kelowna and set out after it. Up until this year, I had always landed in the middle to bottom of the pack.

I asked myself what I had control over to reach those goals and what I had no control over. I could lose weight, get a carbon bike, learn to get in the aero bars and get a coach that had proven results with AG triathletes. I did everything I could to improve my swim, bike and run for the past ten months and now it was time to put the hammer down!

However…..I had no control over my age.

Hot flashes should be disqualified and not allowed before or during a race! Unfortunately, when you’re a woman in the 50 -59 AG, you’re at the mercy of your hormones and have little to no control when they decide to attack you.

They came in the night before the race, during the race and even at the finish…although it was hard at that point to tell if it was the external heat or me. My biggest challenge was trying to stay hydrated leading up to the race between the flashes and 34c weather.

I decided not to wear a watch for the race but to trust in my training to push as hard as possible without hitting the wall.

Seeding myself in the top 20% of swimmers in my heat; I was able to keep focused and stick with the top 5 women for the first 750M loop. I dropped back to 8th place on the second loop but had a smooth swim and was 8/20 out of the water.

There was quite a bit of traffic on the bike course which always freaks me out. The sun was beating down hard and Knox Hill was excruciating as usual.

Bronwyn was in my sights and I was able to pass her once on the first loop uphill. It was short lived however, as she gained 1 minute on me every loop. She is a powerhouse on the bike! Deb would call my splits as I came through town and by the 3rd loop Bronwyn had a 4 minute lead on me.

I was determined to catch her on the run since that has always been my strongest discipline in the event.

The first 1K was fantastic! My legs were motoring and I fell into a fast and easy rhythm with every stride. I felt a slap on my butt and it was my coach Mark coasting past me on his second loop of the 10K course.

I thought it was amazing that I was cruising along at his pace of about 4:30 KM when…BOOM!

Both quads seized like an engine out of gas and I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe and was instantly engulfed in overwhelming pain as my quads cramped into agony. Looking down, which is all I could manage, I could see strange and unfamiliar muscular balls protruding like aliens just above my knees. I just stood there stunned and wincing in pain…terrified I was going to collapse and not finish my most important race of the year.

An official on a bike came to my rescue and suggested I pull myself out of the race. NO WAY!

Option 2 was to drink 2 glasses of Gatorade (which I can’t stomach)and stretch until the cramping subsided. I did and it helped for about another 2K. Then it happened again!!

There was no way I was going to quit so, actually started doing running drills to keep the cramps at bay. I must have looked ridiculous but didn’t care. At the very least I had to catch up with my nemesis.

The second run loop was a battle of mind and body. I knew I was seriously dehydrated and had probably started the race in a moisture deficit thanks to those friendly hot flashes draining my body of electrolytes.

Every time I tried to pick up the pace, the pain would fill my legs and I’d have to slow down.

At long last the finish line was in sight and I sucked in as much air as I could to finish strong. The cheering from Deb and my mom, stepdad, coach and fellow athletes was overwhelming. They truly made me feel like a champ and I knew I had left everything out there. Even though I had lost between 4-6 minutes during the run by stopping, I had finished almost 7 minutes faster than last year so all the hard work had definately paid off!

I’ll be back next year with salt pills in tow!

The Day After the Race

We thought Monday might be a lazy day. Perhaps a day to let the legs recover. We were mistaken.

I believe we walked for at least 6 hours, mostly in Bloomingdales’. The legs were definitely used up. Stairs, curbs, and anything with an elevation gain of more than 2 inches became problematic.

 

We were not alone however, there were 44,000 other people hobbling around the city in the same condition. Some adorning their finishing medal – did they sleep in it or were they just too exhausted from the race to take it off?

 

As a rule of thumb I give finishers of any race long or short, a one day grace period to wear their medal with pride and show it off. But the cut-off is midnight the day of the race in my books. (unless you are still racing after midnight – in that case, wear it as long as you like!)

 

So Monday, and the following five days we were in New York, the ‘medal wearers’ popped up everywhere we went: Bloomingdales’, Billy Elliot, Times Square, Tiffany’s, The Guggenheim,
Park Avenue, 5th avenue, Soho, and finally on the 6th of November, 7 days following the race, the airport.

 

I thought it might be just a little rude to ask any of these ‘medal wearers’ – why? So Bev and I just spent the week speculating about their motivation.

 

My conclusion – every ‘medal wearer’ we encountered had completed a gruelling 26.2 miles of running or walking, using every ounce of will power and motivation they had to keep their legs moving forward. They were people who had achieved an incredible goal. They had trained for 6 months or more and deserved to shout it from the highest mountain.( Or in the case of New York, the tallest building)

 

Maybe I will dust off my medal and take it for a walk…

 

Author + Photography: Deborah Nielsen

The New York Marathon

Thanks to everyone for inquiring about the NYC Marathon. Here is my race synopsis. If it looks like a novel, it’s because running a marathon, as anyone knows is like a novel. I won’t be offended if you skim to the finish…wish I could have.

PRE-RACE

The Cathay Pacific red-eye was just that! Deb & I arrived in NYC 7:00 AM Friday Oct 30 with tired puffy eyes and mal-functioning brains from fatigue. I think we may have slept 30 minutes on the plane; between the screaming child and turbulence, it was a restless flight.

After taking the air train around in circles at JFK for 30 min, we eventually asked for help and got the right train into the city.

Of course our hotel room wasn’t available until 3:00 PM, so we checked our empty tri bags and wandered the streets for 4 hours, got some breakfast and crashed on the sofas back in the hotel lobby until our room was ready.

Since we only had the clothing we wore on the plane and our running gear, we HAD to go shopping for new clothes. We had planned to rest on Saturday for the race. Friday was the only day we had to get something to wear to dinner after the race. It didn’t quite work out that way.

For anyone who has been to NYC, it’s virtually impossible to escape the pandemonium of the city. Locking yourself in your hotel room is like prison when there’s so much going on outside. You can hear and smell the excitement.

We were like children in a candy store.

Deb had never been to NYC, so I was eager to show her the sights. So much for resting. We walked for 6 hours Saturday!

We figured since we had both been doing triathlon for a few years, we were well conditioned to consisitent and long traininng sessions…still being able to survive whatever was thrown our way. In this case the triathlon was walking, shopping and then running a marathon. No problem.

We pretty much broke every rule leading up to the big race. We did however manage to eat lots of carbs as the Americans are known for their gigantic portions! I’m pretty sure our 3:00 AM salty snack of baked potato chips the night before the race kept us from dehydration on Sunday. The Criminal Minds episode ended at 4:00 AM, so we got 2 more hours of sleep before getting up for the race.

RACE

Our wave start wasn’t until a civilized 10:20 AM, so rather than take the “suggested” group shuttle at 5:30 AM (which would put us at the start line 3 1/2 hours BEFORE the race), we opted for the subway which took 20 min and got us to the Staten Island Ferry for the 8:00 AM sailing.

The scene at the ferry terminal was like cattle being herded to slaughter. It was a sea of multicultural runners, speaking a smorgasboard of languages… pushing and shoving their way through one sliding door onto the massive ferry. Once on Staten Island, we were again herded onto waiting shuttle buses that drove us past the famous Verrazzano Bridge to the “starting corrals”.

Some poor buggars had been in their “corrals”, in the dark and cold since 6:00 AM and weren’t running until 10:20!

Since Deb’s estimated time was 4 hours and mine 4:20, we both had to go in the 4:30+ wave group. What we didn’t know is that this group was plagued with first time marathoners.

Helicopters with cameras circled loudly over us as we queued up to the start line.

The weather was a perfect sunny 15c with moderate humidity except for the Verrazzano Bridge, which was freezing with a sideways, Arctic headwind.

If you can’t imagine what 44,000 runners looks like, see the attached photo of us on the Verazzano Bridge during the first 3K. The congestion pretty much stayed that way throughout the race. The volume actually increased when we came off the Verazzano and merged with the runners on the level below us.

I won’t bore you with every KM/mile breakdown but I’m proud to say that we ran a very sensible marathon with an even pace throughout. The event was more like an obstacle course as we approached each mile marker/water station. Pretty much everyone walked through the water stations.There were thousands of extra large paper cups strewn all over the street like a block long slippery mine field. We all picked our way through the maze afraid of falling or twisting an ankle.

This was not going to be a fast race.

We didn’t care. There were thousands of screaming and singing spectators along the 16K stretch in Brooklyn. The Black Eyed Peas came blasting from one storefront and Deb started dancing like a Mexican jumping bean. It felt more like a celebration than a race. New Yorkers are so enthusiastic.

We cruised along until the half-way point at the Roosevelt Bridge which was really f****ing steep! Thank God for all that hill training (thanks Carey). My IT band started acting up. The devil was grinding at my right knee. Luckily Deb had drugs and the Advil kicked in by the time we hit 1st Ave in Manhattan.

You could see all the way from 57th St to 125th St. The streets were jam packed with runners. It was unbelievable! I’ve never experienced or seen anything like it. It was the Tour de NYC! The sidewalks were 30 people deep from the street to the storefronts…all cheering and screaming!

The crowds drove us on as we ran to their cheers but there were just too many runners to navigate through. We had been passing people from the start and by 30K, most people were walking RIGHT DOWN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD where the faster runners usually go! Experienced runners know to move to the side but it wasn’t happening today my friend. I’m pretty sure we passed several thousand runners/walkers and probably ended up running 50K by the time we finished. Several times we darted in opposite directions to avoid mowing down the people in front of us and almost lost each other. It was that crowded.

Heading into the Bronx, we still felt great but as we turned and started coming down 5th Ave toward Central Park, Deb got a side stitch. I became her Lamaze coach encouraging her to breath deeper to stave off the stitch. I seriously thought she was going to hurt me but later she said it helped.

We only had 2 miles to go but I’m pretty sure the sign was lie. Then came some good downhill. The quads love that after 40K of running! The finish was uphill and had a corner that wouldn’t end. How can a turn go more than 360 degrees?

Then it said 1 mile to go. Fibbers! Then it said 400 yards to go. What is a yard anyway? I’m pretty sure it’s the same as a mile. Running into the finishing chute was exhilarating with bleachers upon bleachers of ecstatic spectators screaming and cheering like we were Olympic athletes. We had done it!!!!

It wasn’t over yet.

The officials had us “corralled” yet again. We were handed a bag of food, a space blanket and instructions to walk up to 72nd St (from 59th), in order to exit the park on the West Side. Of course…since we were staying on the East Side, 30 blocks SE. It took another hour to get out of the park.

The post-race runners were moving like beached sea turtles and some were sitting on the ground in a daze. But we were really happy. We’d had a great race.

Unfortunately Deb didn’t beat her previous time of 4:19 but we ran and finished together which was an amazing experience. We finished in 4:40:26. I took 20 min off my previous marathon time and considering the crowd challenges, I am one happy camper.

POST RACE

That night, I finally got my pasta dinner and a fabulous bottle of Barolo at Elaine’s on the upper East Side. I had always wanted to eat there but I was poor student back in the late 70’s when I lived in NYC and could never afford it. I actually got to meet Ealine and she bought a round of drinks for my table. Only in NY. What a way to celebrate my 50th!

Stay tuned for more NYC and…..

Author:  Beverli Barnes   Photography:  Deborah Nielsen + Vivienne Stewart