Long travel day. Timo and I left from SFO at
The cabin was pretty basic, but we felt a little deceived based on what we were told over the phone. We didn’t know that the available bathroom was an outdoor communal bathroom – and that it also operated on quarters for the running water in the showers. We didn’t get the 3rd bunk bed that we requested, there was no heater, and no linens were provided, so we were essentially sleeping on mattresses without pillows. It was late when we arrived, and we were tired, so we decided to suck it up for the night and see what could be done in the morning.
We woke up around
The water was clear and warm (71 degrees). The buoys for the race are lined up in a really skinny rectangle to form a 1.2 mile loop, and because the rectangle was so skinny, the length seemed unusually long. We would need to swim 2 loops during the race for a total of 2.4 miles.
After the swim we went to register for the race at the
We returned to the campground and talked with the lady in the office. We were offered a larger cabin, with a heater, a queen size bed and 2 bunk beds – it was also much closer to the bathrooms which is always a plus.
Once we had moved into the new cabin we decided to scope out the bike course, so we drove the whole loop first, and then went for a short ride. We didn’t want to do the full 56-mile loop since we didn’t want to burn ourselves out 3 days before the race, so instead we focused on the difficult miles. We rode the 6 miles to
We were comfortably settled in our cabin now, so today would be relatively easy. We went for a quick run on an out-and-back part of the course. We only ran for 30 minutes, but it felt great to loosen up the legs.
After our run, we wanted to do a little sightseeing. Above the top of the trees in
We had taken a chair lift up to the bottom of the jumps, and we started learning about the unusual
At
The food was “okay,” but you can’t expect fine dining when 5000 mouths need to be fed. The dinner was fun, as we met folks from all over the world here to race – one guy who had come from
Being around so many athletes and watching this gave me goosebumps, and I could tell that everyone around had the same pumped up feeling as I had.
Today is chill day – the day before the big race. Once again, it had rained in the morning with lightning in the distance. At around
Timo and I went back to the ski jump area today because they held a jumping competition for teenagers. It was really impressive to see young folks pretty much fly through the air and stick those landings. We also made our way to the Olympic bobsled course. We wanted to ride the bobsled course but they were asking $56 each for a half-mile ride – forget it. So we simulated what it would be like instead:
All of the sightseeing that we did was great because it distracted me from worrying all day about the impending challenge that lay ahead of us.
My dad drove up five hours from
We went to sleep early, to try to get some sleep before the race.
Nope, didn’t happen, I didn’t sleep a wink. My dad and Timo had a snore-fest, and I tossed and turned all night worrying about the race. We got up at
It was now
(Timo's wearing shoes and I'm barefoot... he's not that much taller than me)
The nerves had now really hit me, and I was a mess. I couldn’t believe that I was going to attempt to swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles, and then run 26.2 miles – all in a row. I needed to simplify things, so I stopped thinking of the race as a whole and only focused on the swim – this seemed to help a little. The pros went off at
As opposed to the mad dash of the first few moments of smaller races, I became locked in between thrashing bodies – what a crazy feeling. I was literally being pulled backwards by the folks behind me, so I started to let the elbows fly and to defend myself. The first minute was pretty rough, but I finally started getting into a rhythm and was swimming pretty comfortably.
Once we all arrived at the turnaround buoy, everyone had come to a stop and was treading water. I had swum close to the inside of the turn and was stuck there, just like the majority of the swimmers. The congestion quickly cleared up and we were off swimming again back to shore for the finish of our first lap. At one point during this stretch I noticed that it began raining, and I hoped that there wasn’t any lightning, as we were told they had a plan in place to quickly remove the swimmers from the water if there was any lightning in the area. I felt great at the half-way point and started the second lap. The 2500 swimmers had thinned out a bit so I was able to find my own space for the second lap. I was in a zone, breathing easily, and swimming with long strokes. The second lap was pretty eventless and I came out of the water with a 1hr and 14minute 2.4 mile swim. I had been averaging 36-37 minutes for the half-ironman swims, so I was pretty happy with my
As I came out of the water, the wetsuit-stripper volunteers ripped my wetsuit off in record time – I wish they were at all of my races :-)
The run to the transition area from the lake is about a ¼ mile carpet-covered run, and kind of fun. I grabbed my swim-to-bike gear bag and jumped into the changing tent. I put on my bike gear and a volunteer had already gotten my bike for me from the racks – man, with all this help from the volunteers I felt like a VIP.
As I hopped on my bike, the “1st loop superstars” (those that go out too fast on the 1st loop and blow up on the second loop forgetting that they still have to run a marathon afterwards) quickly passed me riding in their big front ring. The first 6 miles of the bike course are all uphill, which actually isn’t a bad warm-up if one spins and takes it easy. I saw Timo on this section and we kidded around for a minute about how he had prayed for rain on race day – Timo, there is a God, because the rain had come, and now started coming down HARD.
I didn’t mind the rain too much, except for the fact that the next 10 miles were all downhill and fast - this section was actually pretty dangerous. I tried to slow down and check my speed but my brakes hardly worked in this heavy rain. I decided to just focus on keeping the bike upright and let it loose – I must have been going 40+mph in a torrential downpour! I arrived at the bottom of the mountain safely with a sigh of relief. The rest of the loop consisted of rolling hills followed by a 10 mile climb back up to the Olympic Oval. I kept my perceived exertion low as part of my plan and didn’t mind that folks were passing me. I got to the last part of the climb called Papa Bear and it was really tough to keep my speed low. Hundreds of spectators had gathered at the top of the climb and were crowding the road like the mountain stages of the Tour de France. It was so hard to resist pushing up the hill but I put my ego in check and just spun easily. My time for the first 56 miles was 2 hours and 59 minutes. My plan was to push a little harder on the second lap and hopefully have the same lap split. As I descended the major downhill for the second time safely I knew that crashing on the bike was no longer a possibility – what a relief. During the second lap, the rain began coming down even harder and I was completely soaked. It was so bad that I had to take off my bike glasses because I couldn’t see a thing with them on, I was now riding at a decent speed while squinting my eyes. I noticed around miles 80-90 that I started passing athletes that had passed me very early on the course. I also noticed that my stomach wasn’t too happy. My nutritional drink started giving me mild heartburn – most likely because it’s so concentrated and I wasn’t diluting it with enough water. I tried to forget about that because my legs felt great. As I reached mile 100, I put a little more oomph into the climb, but as soon as I got near the end of it I heard “ppppshhhhhh,” which is the sound that a cyclist never wants to hear. I did a little quick math… I was 3 miles from the finish of the bike course, and I knew that it would take me at least 5 minutes to fix the flat. I said forget it and decided to ride the rest of the bike leg on the rim. I was going SLOW, and the spectators thought that I had bonked because I was riding so slowly. I was hearing “come on! You’re almost there, push a little harder," and “don’t quit now!” I thought it was pretty funny because I actually felt rather good. The last 2 miles were flat so I was able to ride a little faster on my flat tire, but far slower than others. My time for second loop was 3 hours and 12 minutes for a total bike time of 6 hours and 11 minutes.
I arrived back into the transition, grabbed my bike-to-run gear bag and once again headed into the changing tent. As I exited the tent, the reality of Ironman really hit me – I saw the race clock showing a time of roughly 7 hours and 40 minutes. I had been racing for almost 8 hours and I was about to begin running a marathon.
The first 3 miles of the run were downhill which felt great. I was able to get my legs used to running without having to put out too much effort.
The rain was still coming down hard and I was drenched – my sneakers felt like a swamp and they weighed a ton. At mile 4, according to my race plan, I took a shot of my concentrated caloric drink and chased it with water – the heartburn feeling was getting worse. At mile 8, I took another shot of the drink and I knew that I was going to be in big trouble. I didn’t want to change my nutritional plan on the fly and start experimenting on the course, but if I kept this up I knew that I may not finish. I threw out the rest of the drink and just drank water at the next few aid stations. I wasn’t feeling great, but I had a decent first 13.1 miles of 2 hours and 4 minutes – far from spectacular for a standalone half-marathon but decent for an Ironman. It was then that I noticed that my stomach was completely distended. I looked as if I was trying to push out my belly, but I wasn’t. I was really concerned that all the fluids that I had been drinking were not being absorbed, but I kept trekking. At mile 15, Timo and I crossed paths and I felt like death – I even gave him a thumbs down sign. I decided to give coke a try at the next station. I had heard that coke can settle one’s stomach, and believe it or not it worked! I unleashed the biggest burp of my life and immediately felt better. I religiously drank coke at all of the remaining aid stations, and finally started feeling like I was running to my potential.
At mile 21, Timo and I crossed paths again and we high-fived each other – I was on my way to the finish. I never hit “the wall” at mile 18 or 19 of the run and actually felt stronger than ever. Our first names were printed on our race number bibs and at mile 23 a spectator yelled out to me “Rafael, you rock!” Those words of encouragement really pushed me, although I had been hearing great things for hundreds of people all day. I was able to pick up my pace even more, and passed another bunch of people in the last 3 miles. I had always pictured the last few miles to be immensely painful, but I finished strong. I entered the Olympic Oval and ran half of a lap under the Ironman arch to hear “Rafael Donnay, you are an Ironman!” I couldn’t believe that it was over.
(I lost my balance and almost did a face-plant at the finish line haha)
I was overcome with feelings of immense joy and sadness. We had all worked so hard, for so long, and the fact that the race was over was a very emotional moment – I’ve never felt like that before. My marathon time ended up being
I had set an aggressive goal (for me) of breaking 12 hours. I was able to do so in part because my friend Mike H. pounded into my skull over and over and over to save energy during the bike course for the run. Timo needs a big congrats as he was able to break 13 hours while training for this in
Lastly, there was a third Ironman that was crowned today, my dad. He braved the horrible weather for 13 hours without an umbrella or waterproof jacket, and still enjoyed the day.
We had decided to do Ironman Lake Placid because it is regarded as one of the most difficult courses on the Ironman circuit, and also because there was a good possibility that our first would be the only one we would ever attempt. The course is difficult, even on a good day, and the rainstorm didn’t make it kind on the athletes. Everyone was describing the conditions as “epic” and “one for the ages,” which made me feel glad that I was a part of it, and that I conquered it. Immediately following the Ironman, I swore that I would never do another one again, but as I sit here writing this, there’s a part of me that thinks that I could be talked into doing another one. :-)
