We had been looking forward to our first backcountry hiking trip with Charlotte and Bear for weeks. Della Falls is located in Strathcona Provincial Park and is Canada’s highest waterfall with a vertical drop of 440m. We opted to take the Della Falls Water Taxi, which cost $165/person and $40 for our dog, rather than paddle the 35 km across Grand Central Lake to the trailhead. After booking the water taxi in early April, I had made endless to-do lists and researched how to camp with a baby.
In mid-May, Rod and I spent a weekend car camping at Nanaimo Lakes to test out some of our gear and “practice” sleeping in a tent with our baby and dog. Charlotte slept relatively well in her Kangapouch down sleep sack, however she woke up every couple of hours and ended up sleeping between Rod and I on our air mattresses, rather than in her playpen. Bear frequently moved around the tent and woke us all up at the crack of dawn both mornings. As our Della Falls trip approached, we had realistically low expectations about the sleeping situation.
I sought advice from our family physician, who recommended that we pack the following items as part of a baby first aid kit: thermometer, children’s Gravol suppository, baby Tylenol, hydrocortisone cream 1% and antibiotic ointment.
We purchased a Garmin InReach Mini so that we could communicate with family and friends, as well as send out an SOS if we were in an emergency situation. I left a detailed trip plan with my mom and some close friends with the following information: our approximate hiking times (including start/stop times), possible locations where we were planning on camping and daily check-in times when I planned to send a message. Having access to a satellite phone and knowing how to use it provided us with a bit more comfort to bring a baby into the wilderness.
All of our backpacking gear
Day 1
Time of Day: 9:10-16:35 Elapsed Time: 7h 25m Moving Time: 6h 29m Distance: 19.1 km Elevation Gain: 679 m Temperature: 25-38 degrees C
It was hottest day of the year during a major heat wave in BC, with temperatures forecasted up to 40°C with a humidex of 47°C in Port Alberni, the closest town. After a groggy 5 am wake-up, we arrived at Grand Central Lake just in time to catch our 8 am Della Falls Water Taxi. Rod’s 75 L pack weighed 52.5 lbs and mine was probably 35-40 lbs (7.5 lb pack, 18 lb Charlotte and 10-15 lbs of water, food and gear). The water was flat calm and it was 22°C but felt much hotter with the high humidity. Our boat captain, Zack, drove us, along with a friendly couple from Cowichan Lake, across the lake, which took about 50 minutes. On the way, Zack gave us a trail report; he warned us that the bugs were pretty bad for the first 6 km and that Love Lake, our objective for Day 2, was still mostly frozen and snow covered.
Rod, Charlotte & I on the Della Falls water taxiCalm, hot morning at the drop-off location on Grand Central Lake
After we docked and unloaded at the Della Falls trailhead, we generously applied our baby-friendly bug spray, donned our bug nets and draped a large net over the Osprey baby backpack to protect Charlotte. Rod used our trekking poles to keep himself upright and I held Bear’s leash as we began our long walk in the woods. The first few kilometers were easygoing, except for the constant buzzing of mosquitoes and black flies around our heads. Thankfully, most of the trail was in the shade so it was not nearly as hot as we had expected.
Leaping across a creek with Charlotte protected in the bug net
The first 6.5 km followed an old miner’s track up the Drinkwater Creek valley and was very straightforward to follow, with a couple of shallow creek crossings where Bear happily drank water. At the Margaret Creek bridge (6.5 km), we briefly paused to enjoy the cool air emanating from the raging rapids and removed our bug nets. We stopped for our first break around 8 km (2 hours) when Charlotte woke up from her first nap. One of the key things I have learned when hiking with a baby is that when the baby is sleeping, do not stop hiking unless absolutely necessary as the baby will wake up. We filtered some water, ate our morning snack and did a quick diaper change.
Happy mom & baby during our first rest break
The trail steadily began to climb away from the creek and it became slightly more rugged, with various sized boulders, roots and the occasional blown down tree to navigate. It was noticeably warmer as the day went on and we began to sweat heavily. A few groups of people heading out to the trailhead kindly gave us campsite recommendations and shared approximate hiking times to the cable car and campsites. At 11.5 km, we arrived at the cable car. This was our first time on a cable car and I was nervous how Charlotte and Bear would do being swung over a rushing river in a small metal container. Although the maximum weight was supposedly 600 lbs, we decided to make 3 trips across to be safe. On the first trip, Rod transported his heavy backpack across to the other side. He returned to our side, then I transported Charlotte in the backpack across. The most challenging part was hoisting her from the cable car up onto the platform. Finally, Rod lifted a rather hesitant Bear into the cable car and transported him over to our side.
Charlotte & I before climbing into the cable carCable car above the raging Margaret Creek
At this point, we were hungry but there was no decent place to stop for lunch until an hour after the cable crossing. On the way, we enjoyed the occasional blast of cool air walking by caves, large rocks and close to the creek. There was a pair of narrow metal bridges we had to cross and my heart stopped when Bear slipped and nearly fell off the bridge into the rapids below. He somehow managed to cling on for dear life and made it across to safety. We were starving by the time we stopped for a late lunch just before the Drinkwater Creek Gravel unofficial campsite. We considered camping there but decided against it due to the abundance of littered toilet paper and obvious signs of inconsiderate human waste everywhere. Bear has a certain affinity for human excrement and we didn’t want to share a tent with him if he indulged.
Narrow metal bridge where Bear nearly fell
Leaving the campsite, we carefully skirted around the edge of the river on large boulders. We began our final steep climb up to the Saw Camp and Bear was ecstatic to discover small patches of snow that were protected in the shade, where he could roll around to cool himself. We dropped Rod’s pack at an idyllic campsite next to the raging river and continued hiking for another 20 minutes to the base of Della Falls. The sun had just set over the mountains, but the falls were in full flow, roaring so lively that we had to shout to hear one another.
Our first view of the magnificent Della Falls, Canada’s highest waterfall
After taking several photos and videos, we returned to set up our camp, which was challenging with a crawling, energetic baby. Thankfully, the tent functioned as a large playpen once it was set up and Charlotte was very entertained playing with our hiking gear. Rod and I took turns refreshing ourselves in the freezing water of the raging river. When we were getting set up to prep dinner, we discovered that our MSR Whisperlite stove was not working. Thankfully, one of the other hikers from our water taxi kindly lent us her stove so we could boil water for dinner and she helped Rod replace every part from our stove repair kit. Thankfully, they finally managed to get it working.
I fed Charlotte a Baby Gourmet pouch for dinner, brushed her teeth and put her down to sleep in the tent. To keep her bedtime routine consistent with what we do at home, I used a portable white noise machine but it was unnecessary due to the soothing sounds of Drinkwater Creek. Rod and I ate dehydrated meals for dinner then packed all our food, toiletries, dirty diapers and soiled laundry into the nearby bear cache and fell asleep next to Charlotte and Bear well before it was dark outside.
Day 2
Time of Day: 9:53-16:11 Elapsed Time: 6h 18m Moving Time: 4h 12m Distance: 10.3 km Elevation Gain: 763 m Temperature: 29-40 degrees C
Surprisingly, we all slept in until after 7 am. I think we were all exhausted from the first day. Charlotte was not a fan of being spoon-fed baby oatmeal, which made breakfast quite frustrating. However, the alternative to let her feed herself would be too messy and I was convinced that it would attract bears if she was covered in food.
Attempting to feed Charlotte breakfast
We didn’t manage to start hiking up to Love Lake until nearly 10 am. Charlotte was fussy for the first few minutes, but she fell asleep within 15 minutes. Rod and I underestimated the length and strenuous nature of this day hike, but we had thankfully we packed plenty of water and food. I realized that I was dehydrated the previous day as I only peed twice on the trail, so I tried to consciously drink more frequently, especially because I was still nursing Charlotte several times a day.
Full view of Della Falls
The trail headed up steep switchbacks on a narrow track, riddled with unstable rocks and blowdown from past windstorms. Eventually, we came to the Henderson Lookout, which gifted us with breathtaking views of Big Interior Mountain, Nine Peaks and Della Falls. Soon after, the trail leveled out a bit and we suddenly hit the snowpack that we had been warned about. Bear was ecstatic to see snow; he rolled around in it to cool off and sprinted back and forth between us and the other couple that was hiking close to us.
Charlotte practicing her standing at Love Lake
It was nearly impossible to follow the trail when it was covered in 10 feet of snow! We eventually found some rock cairns and slowly made our way down to a snow-covered meadow where we decide to stop for lunch. Rod wandered down to a small opening in the frozen lake to filter water and I tried to feed Charlotte lunch, but she did not want anything to eat – she was definitely overtired by this point, possibly overheated and probably irritated by the bright sunlight reflecting off the snow. We moved to a spot with a small amount of shade and managed to get a bit of food and water in her before starting our descent back down to our camp. Thankfully, she quickly fell asleep.
Rod, Charlotte & I on the way back down from Love Lake
On our way back down, Bear became increasingly fatigued. He was panting heavily and frequently sitting or lying down on the trail, which is unusual for a herding dog like him. We got worried when he refused to drink water from his bowl and decided to let him have a bit of a rest in the shade. We didn’t pack any dog food for our day hike so I gave him the rest of Charlotte’s baby food pouch, which he happily ate. Rod would not have been able to carry him down the rest of the way back to our campsite; the terrain was steep and dangerous and Bear was too heavy. In that moment, I vowed to research emergency dog harnesses and what to pack in a dog first aid kit, so that we would be more prepared next time. As we continued to descend, we found some little streams trickling across the trail and Bear finally drank some water. Back at our campsite, Bear gobbled up his dinner and promptly fell asleep, barely lifting his head for the rest of the evening. Rod and I took turns bathing in the water again, which felt incredible after such a hot day. After an early dinner, we crawled into the tent well before dark, completely exhausted but relieved that we all made it back to camp safely.
Day 3
Time of Day: 8:19-13:20 Elapsed Time: 5h 1m Moving Time: 4h 15m Distance: 15.2 km Elevation Gain: 320 m Temperature: 25-33 degrees C
The next morning, it took us 2 hours to eat breakfast, pack up and leave camp, which was an improvement from the previous day. Rod’s backpack was considerably lighter but mine felt just as heavy, likely due to the fatigue from the previous 2 days. Our water taxi pick-up was scheduled for 2 pm, so we left just after 8 am to allow for plenty of time to navigate the cable car, the narrow bridge obstacle and budget some extra rest for Bear on our way back to the trailhead.
Charlotte loving her first backcountry camping experience
After practicing her whistle blowing skills, Charlotte contently fell asleep around 9:30 am. At the pair of narrow bridges, Bear successfully crossed the first bridge, but refused to set foot on the second one where he had nearly plunged to his death 2 days earlier. Rod removed his backpack and carried Bear across the bridge to safety in his arms.
Rod & Bear navigating the cable car with confidenceCharlotte & I climbing down from the cable car platform
Hiking the trail in reverse was so much faster because it was all downhill and we were not exerting ourselves nearly as much as on the way in. We were pleased to realize that it only took us an hour and a half of easy hiking to reach the cable car. As Charlotte had woken up from her nap, we took a 30-minute break at the cable car and let her practice her walking on a wooden bench. It took 3 hours to reach Margaret Creek, where we sat opposite our fellow hiking couple and ate lunch, filtered water and loaded up on bug spray and bug nets before beginning the final descent back to the trailhead.
Charlotte practicing her walking after the cable carBug net time!
We speed hiked the last 6.5 km in an hour and 20 minutes, refusing to stop at all in the buggy section of the trail. Finally, we arrived back at the trailhead and took off our backpacks and hiking boots. The very best part of the day was jumping in the refreshing Grand Central Lake at the end. We had a quick boat ride back to the east end of the lake and headed back to Nanaimo for chips, burgers, beer and ice cream (and a 35°C house without air conditioning!).
Rod & Bear speed hiking on the 6.5 kmReady to hop back on the Della Falls water taxi after a refreshing swim
Lessons Learned
Be realistic. We knew that we were going to be hiking in a record-breaking heat wave and had agreed that we would cut our hike short or even turn around and head back to the trailhead if we felt that we, our dog or baby were in danger. The Della Falls boat captain even gave me his personal cell number in case we needed an earlier pick-up.
Be prepared. We were very grateful to have packed a repair kit for our stove, otherwise we would have completely relied on our fellow hikers in order to cook our meals.
Consider every emergency. We were ill-equipped to manage Bear’s heat exhaustion and we were not prepared to carry him down the mountain. In the future, we need to carry a dog carrying harness and a dog first aid kit.
Pack lightly or as the saying goes, “every ounce counts”. It is way more exhausting to carry a heavy pack, especially in the heat and when there is a large elevation gain. We could have decreased weight by using a 2-person tent instead of a 4-person tent, streamlining our snacks and leaving some non-essential baby gear (e.g. white noise machine) at home.
Enjoy every imperfect moment. Nothing is ever going to go exactly according to plan when there is a baby (and dog) involved. We tried not to stress about Charlotte’s naptimes and bedtime and figured that no matter how fussy she became, she would eventually fall asleep. There is something very special about sharing your love of the outdoors with your children, without any other distractions around. It makes you appreciate realize how little we actually need to be happy.
Swimming in the Mediterranean, racing in Nice & sprinting to the finish in Lausanne (left to right)
With those big races behind me, I took a much-needed break from structured training from September to December 2019. My weekly training volume dropped to 6-10 hours/week and included a mix of swimming, cycling, trail running, hiking and strength training. I participated in a couple of running races with my MelRad teammates, including the Thetis Lake 20k Relay and the Bear Mountain 10k (Canada’s hardest 10k!).
Taking a step back from heavy training to hang out with friends & do some fun races
Ever since I can remember, I have always wanted to be a mother. I knew that pregnancy and motherhood would bring new challenges in terms of my triathlon training and racing, but I realized that I wanted to shift my focus from racing to starting a family in late 2019.
Playing with my dolls & pretending to be a “mommy”
Before we started trying to get pregnant, I saw my family doctor and had bloodwork done to check my iron, thyroid and CBC levels. Not surprisingly as a female endurance athlete, my iron was low and I started taking a daily iron supplement.
First Trimester
In January 2020, I found out that I was early into my pregnancy and experienced a whirlwind of emotions. I was ecstatic about having a baby, paranoid that something was going to go wrong and anxious about the years of parenting responsibilities that lay ahead. From 6 to 12 weeks pregnant, I constantly felt nauseous, fatigued and short of breath when exerting myself. This was my least favourite time during the whole pregnancy. I remember thinking that it would be nice to have morning sickness, as my nausea was worse in the morning but lasted all day long. Regarding the nausea, my family doctor advised me to stop taking my prenatal vitamin and iron supplement and to take vitamin B6 and folic acid instead, which immediately helped. I ate frequent, small snacks during the day and indulged my salty, high-carbohydrate cravings and pickled foods: pickles, tomato juice and sauerkraut. My only food aversions were coffee, vegetables and the scent of red wine, all of which I normally love.
Feeling awful during the 1st trimester
During this time, my motivation for exercising shifted from an athlete’s competitive mindset to maintaining my physical and mental health. I had no idea what to expect or how this pregnancy would affect my training and athletic goals, but looked to my family doctor and coach for training advice. My family doctor labelled me as an “elite athlete” and encouraged me to continue with my training, without any specific guidelines or restrictions.
I shared with my coach, Melanie McQuaid, early on that I was pregnant and she adjusted my training program according to how I was feeling each week. My biggest fear was that I was going to lose all my fitness that I had worked so hard to achieve over the past year. Mel reassured me that pregnancy would be a temporary phase in my life and that many pro athletes returned to sport even stronger and more fit after pregnancy. She likened being pregnant to training with a weight vest on at all times; this analogy comforted me when I felt slow, tired and heavy during many workouts throughout my pregnancy.
During my first trimester, I managed to train 9-12 hours/week. Swimming felt the best, followed by strength training, biking and running. Our local pool is relatively cool, so swimming felt refreshing and woke me up. From the middle to the end of my first trimester, I experienced urinary urgency. Luckily, I do most of my running in a local trail system and could “pop a squat” without risk of indecent exposure. I could only run at an easy pace, and occasionally felt dizzy or short of breath when pushing the pace or running uphill. I enjoyed overgear intervals on the bike, because it was too uncomfortable to get my heart rate up for high cadence work. For a few weeks, the only time I didn’t feel nauseous was when I was exercising! I often needed to nap after work, which is very abnormal for me. I felt physically and mentally exhausted by 8:30-9pm every night, as though someone had given me a NyQuil. In mid-February, my husband and I spent a week skiing in Whistler with my best friend from Ontario and her husband. It felt awesome to be outside all day, to be constantly moving with fresh air blowing in my face.
Ski holiday in Whistler, BC at 2 months pregnant
Second Trimester
At 13 weeks, we breathed a small sigh of relief to have made it through the first trimester. We shared our pregnancy news with our families and closest friends first, then with our colleagues a few weeks later. Everyone was so excited to hear our great news!
Hiking up Mt Benson at 3 months pregnant
During my second trimester, I trained 10-20 hours/week. I was uncomfortable cycling above a heart rate of 130 bpm for long periods of time due to feeling short of breath. I had a lot of urgency and often had to pee after running for 20 minutes. I spoke with my friend (a pelvic floor physiotherapist) during a bike ride and she advised me to relax my deep core muscles and focus on diaphragmatic breathing while exercising. She said that most pregnant athletes tend to have an overactive, tight transversus abdominis that increases pressure on the bladder. This strategy immediately helped my urge to pee! She also advised me to focus less on core strengthening and more on gluteal strengthening, due to the pelvic changes that occur throughout pregnancy and difficulty activating those muscles postpartum.
Maternity photography by Cecile Vittoria at 5 months pregnant
As the weeks went by, my energy levels slowly increased and I experienced little to no nausea. Due to the spring 2020 COVID-19 lockdown in BC (mid-March to mid-May), I was only working a few half-days per week from home offering physiotherapy via telehealth. Rod and I had time to do a ton of cycling and explored around Vancouver Island. When my bump grew too large for my own cycling jerseys, I rotated between two of Rod’s jerseys and seriously stretched out two of my own pairs of cycling shorts.
Since I was unable to race in 2020 (both due to COVID-19 restrictions and being pregnant), I told my coach that I wanted a physical challenge to reassure myself that I was still strong and to mentally prepare myself for my upcoming endurance event: labour and childbirth. In early May (21 ½ weeks), Rod and I did a 3-hour bike ride from Courtenay up Mount Washington, our local ski hill. When we finally started riding at 11:30am, it was already 25°C. Even before getting pregnant, I preferred exercising in cooler temperatures and this was only amplified during pregnancy. I worried that I would overheat or get dehydrated, and I promised myself that I would stop or slow down if I felt unwell or too exhausted.
After a 30-minute warm-up, we began steadily climbing up the paved road leading to Mount Washington. My plan was to ride around 170-180W, depending on how I felt. With my 10-12 lb weight gain, I had to push 200-220W just to get up the 13-15% grade section at the bottom of the climb! I was sweating profusely after 15 minutes of climbing and was worried I would overheat, but I felt a bit better once the grade eased and we felt the odd breeze. It actually felt great to physically suffer again and push myself after not having raced since September 2019! I didn’t take any rest breaks at all, just kept riding steady and tried to keep a steady output the whole climb. It took me just over 90 minutes to ride up the 18 km main segment with 1100m of elevation gain, with an average power output of 190W and average heart rate of 147 bpm (check out my detailed ride here!). After a quick snack, pee break and photo op at the top, we carefully descended back down. I had to remind myself that I was carrying a baby in front of my body, so I slowed down a bit, but still felt comfortable descending up to 65 km/h as long as the road was smooth and clear. I was convinced that I was prepared for labour.
Mt Washington bike challenge with Rod at 5 months pregnant
On May 10th, I met a couple of my MelRad teammates at nearby Fuller Lake for our first open water swim of the season. The water had warmed up enough to brave the cold with my snug-fitting wetsuit and I returned to swimming after an 8-week hiatus due to the COVID-19 pool closures. I felt like a fish out of water for the first couple hundred meters and had to adapt to a new body position in the water. Nevertheless, I had a newfound appreciation for the water and it felt amazing to be swimming again.
First open water swim of 2020 with MelRad teammates at 5 months pregnant
Around 20 weeks, I started experiencing some reflux when exercising too soon after eating and was forced to exercise after fasting for a few hours. At 25 weeks, Rod and I brought home Bear, an adorable 13-week-old Australian Shepherd puppy. Thankfully, he slept through the night from day one! He was a perfect addition to our growing family and a distraction from pregnancy-related discomfort.
Bear, our adorable Australian shepherd
Third Trimester
During my third trimester, I trained 9-13 hours/week of a combination of hiking, swimming, strength training, road cycling and running. I loved swimming while pregnant and frequently swam laps around Westwood Lake, a gorgeous nearby lake. I continued to ride my bike during the third trimester. I swapped out the stem on my bike for one on a 30° angle to keep me more upright, which made room for my growing belly and made it easier to breathe. I also enjoyed lifting weights twice per week, as I wanted to maintain as much muscle mass as possible; my favourite circuit was 3-4 rounds of: Romanian deadlifts, goblet squats, lateral step-ups, bicep curls to overhead presses and suitcase carry.
Wearing the Upsie Bellly Bandit for running at 32 weeks
At 28 ½ weeks, I completed the BRAVA virtual triathlon challenge: an Olympic distance triathlon race over a 3-day weekend. I was selected as a BRAVA ambassador for 2020 (and 2021!) and wanted to complete it for fun. I had agreed to take it easy if I wasn’t feeling great during each activity. I was particularly happy with my 40 km ride, where I managed to maintain 190 W and an average heart rate of 143 bpm for an hour and 20 minutes on rolling terrain (there is nothing flat in Nanaimo!). I was pleasantly surprised that my power output was similar to that during a half Ironman; maybe I wasn’t losing as much fitness as I thought I was. I started wearing the Upsie Belly Bandit for running that weekend and it made a huge difference in relieving pressure off my bladder and helped compress my pelvis to give me a bit more support. My only regret is not starting to wear it earlier!
Continuing to swim, bike & run into my 3rd trimester
My reflux continued to worsen throughout my third trimester and I regularly took TUMS before exercising, which helped a great deal. I reluctantly made dietary changes, and avoided irritants such as ketchup, hot sauce, tomato sauce, excessive cheese, onions, garlic and sparkling water (my beverage of choice).
At 31 weeks, I started to feel mild pressure and heaviness inside my pelvis and my bladder felt super full when running downhill, but still felt good enough to continue running for a couple more weeks. At 33 weeks, I suddenly started to feel discomfort in my tailbone, glutes, hamstrings and calves when standing upright. It felt like the baby’s head was starting to put more pressure on my pelvic area and possibly impinging on my lower lumbar nerve roots. It was an easy decision to stop running and shift my focus to other activities. Unfortunately, hiking also became uncomfortable, as my lower back would hyperextend while hiking downhill and simultaneously holding Bear’s leash as he was pulling. Nonetheless, Bear needed at least an hour of walking every day so I endured to make sure he got a workout every day.
At 36 weeks, I started occasionally experiencing mild cramps or Braxton-Hicks contractions while swimming. They weren’t painful, but slightly uncomfortable as my entire belly would feel rigid for a few seconds. When swimming alone, I made sure to attach the My Float bag to my waist so I could rest and hang onto it if I needed a break. Much to Rod’s dismay, I continued to ride my bike outdoors up until 38 weeks, when I officially started my maternity leave. We don’t have air conditioning and I found myself easily overheating all throughout pregnancy, so I enjoyed the breeze and changing scenery of riding outdoors as opposed to riding on the trainer. I rode much more cautiously as the weeks progressed.
Bear & I were SAG crew for the MelRad Mt Washington challenge at 39 weeks pregnant
I managed to swim my usual 1600m loop in Westwood Lake up until 3 days before giving birth and did a moderately strenuous 90-minute hike and lifted weights while I was unknowingly in early labour the day before going to the hospital.
Staying active until the very end of my pregnancy kept me focused, happy & healthy
Being pregnant was an amazing, life-changing experience for me. It was the first time I have ever felt that I was not truly in control of my own body. As an athlete, you get accustomed to the direct impact of training on how your body feels and performs. During pregnancy, there were so many other factors (hormones, physiology, anatomy) that would affect how I felt on any given day. Training during pregnancy provided me with structure and routine (this was crucial for me during a pandemic!), a sense of purpose and an appreciation for what my body could do. I learned what it meant to truly listen to your body and not only respect, but admire the incredible changes that occur when you are growing a tiny human inside of you!
It has been a goal of mine to compete at
the Ironman 70.3 World Championship for the past year. I finished 4th
in my age group at Lake Placid 70.3 in September 2018 and would have qualified at
that point but I left the award ceremony early and missed the slot rolldown. At
Ironman 70.3 Victoria this past June, I had another chance and didn’t miss out
this time. I finished 9th place in my age group and, thanks to
additional slots provided by the Women for Tri initiative, I was offered a slot
and accepted without hesitation!
Accepting my roll down slot for 70.3 Worlds
I had already planned to race in the ITU World Triathlon Grand Final in Lausanne, a 7-hour drive from Nice, a week prior. So now, I would be competing in 2 world championships in 1 week!
Different
than any other race I have competed in, the IM 70.3 World Championship would be
held on 2 separate days: the women’s race on Saturday, September 7th
and the men’s race on Sunday, September 8th.
Rod & I in Chamonix, France, the week before the IM 70.3 WC
Hiking along the Grand Balcon Nord trail with the boys
Emily & I posing in front of the Arve River on our last night together in Chamonix
Thursday, Sept 5th
On the Wednesday morning 3 days after the
ITU race and 3 days before IM 70.3 WC, I woke up in Chamonix with a sore throat.
I felt worried that I wouldn’t be able to perform my best, but remained
optimistic that I could recover before race day. I think that the physical
stress of traveling halfway across the world mixed with the excitement of international
competition affected my immune system. Rod and I had a gorgeous 5-hour drive
through the Alps from Chamonix to Nice, then down towards the Mediterranean Sea.
The Italians had constructed a 12 km tunnel through Mont Blanc in the 1960s which
made it super convenient for us to drive straight through from one valley into
the next.
Obligatory tourist photo in front of #ILoveNice sign
Upon arriving in Nice, we checked into our
Airbnb in old town (Vieux Nice) and walked to athlete check-in, where there was
super tight security with bag checks and metal detectors everywhere. This
heightened security was likely a response to the devastating terrorist attack
that occurred in Nice in July 2016.
Vieux Nice
After picking up my race package, I did a short swim in the Mediterranean without my wetsuit; the water was even warmer than Lac Léman and very salty. I have never seen water so blue in my life and I now understand the name Côte d’Azur (“blue coast”). Rod and I whipped up a quick, easy dinner before walking up to the English pre-race briefing at the massive Palais des Expositions. After leaving the briefing, we grabbed gelato with one of my fellow Team Canada teammates and two of his friends before heading home to bed.
Moments before my first swim in the Mediterranean
Friday, Sept 6th
I woke up at 7 am so I could preview the hilly, technical bike course, as suggested by my coach. (Check out this incredible aerial footage of Col de Vence.) I sat in the passenger seat while Rod drove the uphill portion of the bike course. The first 10k were fast and flat, followed by a few short and steep climbs for the next 15k. Following this, we got into the final gradual 9k steady climb to the mountain pass, Col de Vence, which has been part of the Tour de France in the past.
Previewing the bike course before race day
I hopped on my bike at Col de Vence and caught up to a group of triathletes who were also descending the course. Rod followed me down as I cautiously descended the most technical portion of the bike course behind an American athlete, without destroying my legs for the race the next day. There were a few sharp hairpin turns and blind corners, but the road was in excellent condition and the scenery was spectacular. Between the 4 of us triathletes, we had 3 chase vehicles that were following 100m behind the last cyclist – I felt like a pro cyclist with a support car. From Col de Vence, I descended for nearly an hour and had still not reached the bottom of the descent. I hopped back in the car and Rod drove the rest of the way back to Nice.
Descending Col de Vence with other triathletes
After lunch at our Airbnb, I realized I was missing my swim cap from my race package and hurried over to athlete check-in to grab a green one. Rod joined me for my obligatory pre-race 20-minute run along the Promenade des Anglais next to the Mediterranean Sea. Unlike Ironman Canada, we would not have access to our bike and run gear bags on race morning, so I was forced to pack everything I would need in T1 and T2 in advance. A thunderstorm rolled in right as Rod and I were dropping off my bike and run gear bags. We grabbed an early dinner, went for ice cream and were in bed by 10:30 pm.
Dark clouds rolling in as I waited to rack my bike
Saturday, Sept 7th
In usual pre-race fashion, I woke up with a mild case of pre-race jitters at 4:30 am before my alarm went off. The one benefit of racing twice in the same week is that I was considerably more calm than usual. Breakfast consisted of coffee, scrambled eggs, toast with nut butter and a banana. On Friday, the water temperature was around 24.5o Celsius, the highest allowable temperature for a wetsuit legal swim. Thankfully, the air temperature had dropped by a few degrees overnight and as soon as I arrived in transition, the announcer informed us that it would be wetsuit legal for age group athletes. Similar to my competitors, I felt relieved that I would have the added buoyancy of my wetsuit. (For the pros it was not a wetsuit legal day; they race in their swim skins if it’s above 22o Celsius.)
I set up my bike nutrition and double
checked my gears, brakes and aerobars. I noticed that my right elbow pad was
slightly loose and after my failed attempt to secure the bolts myself, I had
the bike mechanic tighten the lower bolts and inflate my tires. I ran into
Katie, a fellow Canadian in my age group, whom I had met at the Toronto
Triathlon Festival last July. It was comforting to see a familiar face in a sea
of unfamiliar ones. We left transition together, then I spent 20 minutes pacing
along the transition zone fence looking for Rod, but I couldn’t find him and
tried not to panic. I’m a strong, independent woman, but I was really hoping to
kiss my husband one last time before I embarked on my first ocean swim in a
race and definitely the most dangerous bike course I have ever ridden. I
eventually gave up and was struggling to put my wetsuit on near the drop-off for
morning clothes when he called out my name. I immediately felt at ease. He
wished me a good race and took one last photo of me before I entered the
athletes only area.
Finally found Rod for my pre-race photo (& good luck kiss!)
It was incredible to see helicopters and
drones overhead, providing live race coverage across the world. It hit me at
that moment that I was about to race at a world championship event, with the
best triathletes in the world. Although I felt a bit anxious, I maintained a calm
outward demeanor. After the French national anthem played, the pro women
started their swim start promptly at 7 am, which was led by Lucy Charles for
the entire swim. I spent 20 minutes waiting in line for a last-minute porta
potty stop – the one downside to an all-female race field is that us women
always take longer in the washrooms than men. About 15 minutes before our age
group start time, I joined the green swim cap group and seeded myself in the
middle of the pack, close to Katie and 2 other athletes from Ontario.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t as nervous as I had been in Lausanne, likely because I
had just raced 6 days earlier. I was almost looking forward to entering the
water!
The triangular swim course was 850m
straight out from the beach, 200m across to the right and another 850m back to
shore. The swim start was a self-seeded rolling start within each age group, with
10 athletes setting off every 10 seconds. After a brief sprint on the black
carpet laid atop the uneven pebbly beach, I dashed into the water as one of the
first athletes in my small group. I swam hard with a quick turnover for the
first few hundred metres, feeling confident and powerful in my wetsuit. Although
the water temperature was very pleasant, I worried that I would be quite warm
by the end of the swim. The waves were gently rolling and the course was
well-marked with large, coloured buoys every 100m, which made it easy to sight.
Glancing down into the blue abyss below me, I spotted an orange octopus
swimming around 8 feet below the surface. I had a moment of awe before I
shifted my attention back to swimming.
The first 800m felt fast and I didn’t
realize the current was actually assisting us away from shore until I made the
first right turn and felt waves pushing into me from my right side. It became
more challenging to sight with the increased waves and athlete congestion on
this 200m section of the course, but I followed the bubbles ahead of me and
sighted more frequently. Occasionally, I nearly swam into one of the many
kayaks positioned on the inland side and definitely ingested too much saltwater.
As I made a sharp turn around the final turn buoy, I managed to swim on another
woman’s hip for a couple hundred metres before accidentally veering off
slightly to the right. I almost swam on the wrong side of the final buoy before
correcting my course and keeping it on my right. In Nice, the water drops off
quickly past the shore and is pretty deep until you are within a few meters of shore,
where the pebbly bottom abruptly comes up to meet you.
Multi-tasking in T1: unzipping my wetsuit & checking my swim split
As I exited the water and grabbed onto a
rope that was set up to assist us, an older athlete in front me struggled to
regain her balance and required assistance from the volunteers. I think a lot
of athletes felt dizzy from the waves and drinking saltwater. I ran up the
black mat, unzipped the top half of my wetsuit (much more efficiently than
Ironman Canada) and lay down on my back so the wetsuit strippers could peel my
wetsuit off my legs. After grabbing my bike gear bag from the rack, I ran into
a change tent and quickly changed out of my tri shorts and into my MelRad
trisuit. Since Ironman follows the local triathlon organization rules, all
athletes were required to wear race bibs on our backside for the bike. The day
before, I had made the decision to do a full outfit change after the swim to
minimize chafing on the bike, regardless of whether I would be wearing a
wetsuit. I know my T1 time suffered because of this decision, but my priority
was to be comfortable and be able to enjoy cycling in Provence with my husband
a couple days after the race.
Time: 3:10:43 Average Speed: 28.95 km/h Average HR: 153 bpm Division Rank: 67/246 Overall Rank: 312/1778
Despite competing in triathlons for a
decade, I have still not learned how to perform a flying mount. Although I’ve
mastered running in my bike cleats without falling on my face or butt, it’s
frustrating to get passed by athletes who are running much faster because
they’re barefoot. As mentioned in my ITU race report (https://lisapurzner.com/itu-world-triathlon-grand-final-lausanne-2019/), one of my goals for 2020 is to learn how to mount my bike with my
shoes already clipped in.
Heading out on Promenade des Anglais
I mounted my bike immediately after the
mount line and accelerated quickly to pass a few athletes along Promenade de
Anglais, a straight 6k section of road heading west out of Nice, marked with
pylons and lined with spectators for the first 2-3 km. Leading up to the race, there
was a long discussion on the IM 70.3 WC Facebook page as to whether a triathlon
or road bike was optimal for this race. General consensus was that whichever
you were more comfortable climbing and descending on was the best option and this
was definitely the case! After we turned and headed northbound along the
industrial road (Chemin des Berges du Var), there was a strong headwind and I
was thankful to be on a tri bike as I was overtaking athletes on road bikes.
Pushing hard on the only flat section of the bike course
At 10k, the climbing began with a few
short, steep climbs up to 20% grade that forced me out of my saddle and woke up
my quads. Thankfully, there were flat or downhill sections after most of the
steep climbs, which enabled me to catch my breath, let my legs recover and
ingest some fuel. The main climb up Col de Vence went from 26.4k to 36.2k, with
an average grade of 7%, with no flat or downhill sections until the top. Around
kilometer 25, I was passed by 2 male cyclists who were out for a leisurely
Saturday bike ride; I was pissed off, as this was a women’s only race (male
triathletes competing on Sunday were forbidden to ride the bike course until
after 2:30 pm) and it was demoralizing to be passed by a male cyclist who
wasn’t even racing, on our closed race course.
Climbing up Col de Vence
I refocused and recalled all the Saturday
morning hill repeats up Observatory Hill in Victoria with my MelRad triathlon
group and realized that I was well-prepared to ride up 1200m over 34k. We rode
through 10 to 20 small French villages, perched on rocky outcroppings along the
mountainside. Locals welcomed us to each village, cheering us on, “Allez,
allez!”. The spectators’ energy and enthusiasm were contagious and much
appreciated.
As we continued to climb higher, we
entered into a more arid environment with smaller trees and more sun exposure. I
distracted myself from the heat and non-stop exertion by counting down the
kilometer markings to Col de Vence, which started around 9k from the top and
included the average hill grade for the subsequent kilometer. I felt strong for
the duration of the climb and kept my heart rate between 155-160 bpm, rising
slightly higher only when I was accelerating past other athletes quickly enough
to avoid a drafting penalty.
In the last km or two before Col de Vence
I rode hard past the aid station and
tucked into my aerobars for the first part of the descent. It had been helpful to
have ridden this next part of the course the day before. The last 5k section of
gradual uphill felt easier than I anticipated and I continued to ingest more
Clif bloks, water and Gatorade before the long descent. I was surprised how
cautiously many of the women ahead of me were descending and I was equally
surprised that I felt so confident on the descent.
A few kilometers into the descent, a
couple of volunteers were standing towards the middle of the road motioning us
to slow down. About 50m later, we rode passed a female athlete who had crashed
and was wrapped in an emergency blanket on the median of the road. Another athlete
had stopped to attend to her, along with a couple of volunteers, presumably
waiting for an ambulance. The injured woman was conscious but in shock. Seeing
this was a sobering experience for all of us, and I took the descents more
carefully after passing her.
I felt strong and continued to pass
several athletes on the descent. There were limited opportunities to drink and
eat, but I forced some Clif bloks in my mouth whenever I had the chance to
ensure I would have enough energy for the run. At the last aid station, an
athlete ahead of me dropped a water bottle onto the road, rolling directly into
my path. I somehow avoided it at the last second, causing me to become agitated
for a moment. Shortly after, I nearly crashed into a rocky brick wall while
navigating around a tight corner.
As I finished the descent, I was on my
own, guided by the course markers and helpful volunteers. The last technical
part of the bike course was returning onto the Promenade des Anglais around a
wide curve, that ended with a super tight hairpin turn around a bunch of pylons.
I later found out that several other women had to unclip from their pedals at
this point because it was such a sharp turn. As I headed towards T2 on the Promenade
with less than 7k to go, I reached a comfortable 38-40 km/h in my aerobars with
my head mostly tucked down and was able to sip on a bit more water and Gatorade.
Although the bike course progressively narrowed as we approached town, I continued
to shout out, “On your left!” and passed a few more athletes before turning
left and riding up the spectator-lined, cobblestone path leading to T2.
I dismounted my bike a metre before the
dismount line and ran in my bike shoes, until the woman in front of me got stopped
by an official for undoing her helmet strap before racking her bike. I quickly
racked my bike, grabbed my Garmin bike computer (apparently several athletes
reported that their bike computers had gone missing from either their bikes or
their T2 bags the following day) and ran to the run gear bag rack area. I
dumped the contents on the ground and switched shoes, removed my helmet, put on
my hat, grabbed my First Endurance Canada EFS Liquid Shot flask (same as what I
used for IM Canada), and removed my bike gloves at the last second before
handing my bag off to a volunteer. Needless to say, my T2 was definitely more
efficient than T1 in this race.
I had no idea when I crossed the timing
mat exiting T2, but suddenly I was out on the run course. Spectators were
pressed up on both sides of the barricades and were cheering us on by the names
on our race bibs. I smiled in response and tried to enjoy the moment, before I
realizing that I still had to run 21 km. The run course took several sharp
turns and a dip through an underground tunnel (presumably to avoid interfering
with the bike course) before entering onto the Promenade. As the run course was
two out-and-back loops, I could hear the spectators close to the finish line
cheering loudly.
I glanced down at my watch every so often
and was pleasantly surprised to see a sub 5:00/km pace. My heart rate was
higher (160-165 bpm) than usual for the pace, but I attributed that to the heat.
It was close to 30o Celsius. Aid stations were located every 1.6 km
and I could not have been happier to see each one of them. I drank sips of
water and splashed the rest on my face and grabbed ice at every aid station
where it was available. Between kilometers 2.5 and 16, I took a sip of my EFS
Liquid Shot every 15-20 minutes.
Grateful for the spectators’ contagious energy
As I ran further away from the finish
line and towards the airport, the number of spectators sharply declined, making
it harder to remain focused. My thoughts alternated between trying to enjoy the
moment, thinking about my running posture and mechanics, calculating how much
longer I had to keep running if I maintained the current pace, looking forward
to eventually crossing the finish line and wondering what delicious French food
I would get to eat. A few hundred metres after the turnaround near the airport,
I spotted a fellow Canadian in my age group running towards the turnaround on
the other side of the course and I tried to use that as motivation to keep or
improve my current pace so that she couldn’t catch up to me.
Trying to hide my suffering on lap 1
About 1 km from the start of my second
lap, I spotted Rod off to the right side and forced a smile for his iPhone,
even though all I wanted to do was complain about how much I was suffering. My
left hamstring started grumbling around 15k, but it wasn’t severe enough to
slow me down. My coach had warned me that the hardest part of the run would be
from kilometers 13 to 17, and I vowed to myself that I would try as hard as I
could to maintain my current pace. During my second lap, the course was flooded
with runners and the aid stations were not prepared. I was only able to grab
ice at a couple of the aid stations on my second lap and had to grab my own
cups of water a few times.
My heart rate continued to climb and I
could feel the heat, but there was a bit of relief after the final turnaround
point near the airport, as I was able to get a bit of shade next to a fence. My
legs felt heavy running back towards the finish line, but seeing Rod around 19 km
gave me an extra boost to pass as many people as I could on my way to the
finish line. The last 2k felt the longest, despite the number of spectators
cheering on the sidelines. There was a big blue Ville de Nice archway that
wrapped over top of the run course that I initially thought was the finish line
on my first lap, which was actually 1 km from the finish line; as I passed
under the archway, I told myself that I had less than 5 minutes of suffering to
go.
Similar to the ITU race, my legs were
lacking an extra gear but I pushed the pace as hard as I could approaching the
finish chute and Ironman carpet. I passed a few more athletes as I sprinted my
way down the finish chute and threw my hands up in the air in celebration of
completing my first ever Ironman 70.3 World Championship. My finish time was
5:33:53; I finished 73rd out of 246 in my age group and 320th out of 1778
women.
So thrilled to running down the finish chute
I felt accomplished to have finished such
a legendary race and relieved that my race season was finally over. My legs
felt like jelly; I had trouble walking in a straight line as my finisher’s
medal was placed around my neck and a volunteer wrapped me in a big beach towel.
I was given a finisher’s hat and t-shirt, then directed towards the morning
clothes bag area. I waited for Katie and another Canadian athlete, who were
close behind me. The 3 of us wobbled over to the post-race food area in the
outdoor amphitheatre and enjoyed a post-race meal of Nutella crepes, soufflé,
pizza, pretzels, beer and water – not a bad way to satisfy my hard-earned
appetite! It was enjoyable to sit down with a couple of fellow Canadians and bond
over new blisters, technology mishaps and food sensitivities. Once we were
adequately refueled and somewhat rehydrated, we made our way back out to find
our family and loved ones.
All smiles at the end of a long race season
Post-Race Thoughts
This was not my fastest swim, which I
attribute to a couple of key factors. In the 2 weeks leading up to the race, I
only completed one structured swim workout and had limited access to a pool
while in Europe. This was my first open water swim in saltwater; living in
Nanaimo next to the ocean, I should have forced myself to practice swimming in
the Georgia Strait throughout the summer to get comfortable in a large, salty
body of water. Perhaps I would have been more at ease swimming in ocean swells
and would have a better understanding of how saltwater makes you even more
buoyant. Although I wonder if I could have pushed harder climbing Col de Vence,
I am happy with my bike performance and was surprised how comfortable I felt
descending down the technical switchbacks and around blind corners. My run was slightly
better than I expected and was my best-ever half marathon time! I’m astonished
that I was able to run with my heart rate that high, but I think that the
insanely energetic environment kept me going. Not surprisingly, I need to
simplify my transitions and should have prioritized speed over comfort.
Nevertheless, I experienced minimal chafing and was able to ride my triathlon
bike up Mont Ventoux 4 days later with Rod!
2h climb up Mont Ventoux from Bedoin meant navigating around the local animals
Following Rod up Mont Ventoux
Summit of Mont Ventoux
Epic cycling in Gorges du la Nesque in Provence after climbing up Mt Ventoux
The IM 70.3 WC race was the most exhilarating 70.3 race I have ever done and it was the best possible way to end my 2019 race season – in a place where there is an abundance of wine, cheese and carbs.
Artfully crafted desserts at every corner
My favourite meal: pizza & wine
Romantic celebratory dinner in Nice
Gordes, the most beautiful hilltop village in Provence
In July 2018, I qualified for the ITU
World Triathlon Grand Final standard distance triathlon at the Toronto
Triathlon Festival. It was going to be my first race in Europe, my first world
championship race and I would be representing Age Group Team Canada, under
Triathlon Canada. My best friend, Emily, qualified for the same race about six
weeks later and we were ecstatic to travel to Lausanne, Switzerland, to compete
in a race together.
According to the ITU, more than 4000 professional and amateur athletes from all around the world were expected to arrive in Lausanne to compete in the world championship. The junior and under 23 elites would race on Friday, August 30th. On Saturday, August 31st, the elite men’s and women’s races would take place, along with the age group sprint distance athletes. Emily and I would race the age group standard distance race on Sunday, September 1st, followed by the paratriathletes and the under 23/junior mixed relays, a relatively new format of triathlon that will debut in the 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games.
4 generations of Herterich’s
Best friends from high school
My very understanding boss granted me 3½
weeks off work, which allowed me to spend an extended weekend visiting family
and friends in Toronto. Emily and I left for Switzerland 5 days before the race
to give ourselves a few days to adjust to the 6-hour time difference. We flew
into Geneva, took the train to Lausanne with our massive bike bags and arrived
at our hotel, sweaty and exhausted from awkwardly hauling our luggage a
kilometer uphill.
Jet lagged but so excited to be reunited
Our first dinner together in Lausanne
As members of Team Canada, we participated in all the pre-race social events, including a field trip to the Olympic Museum, the parade of nations, welcome ceremony and “pasta party”. It was incredible to meet so many friendly, inspiring Canadian triathletes from across the country, many of whom I will keep in touch with long after the race. We also took part in the standard distance bike familiarization, where a large group of us, led by Team Canada managers/coaches Christian Milette and Christine Cogger, leisurely rode most of the bike course where we would race on Sunday.
Stunning 180 degree view from the Olympic Museum
Emily, Mel & I
Wayne & Erick
Parade of Nations – Team Canada
Emily and I swam twice in Lac Léman (called Lake Geneva by tourists), which was the most pristine water I have ever swam in and perfectly comfortable without a wetsuit. The ITU warned all athletes that it would be a morning-of decision whether each race would be wetsuit legal. (Note: ITU regulations state that wetsuits will not be permitted if the water temperature is above 22o Celsius for age group athletes and 20o Celcius for elites, whereas Ironman regulations permit the use of wetsuits up to and including 24.5o Celcius.) Our husbands arrived on Saturday, August 31st, just in time to cheer us on for the race.
Scoping out the finish line
Racking our bikes
Our jet lagged husbands!
Race Morning
I tossed and turned all night long because
our hotel room was so hot and I was hesitant to sleep with the window open due
to the noise of young people partying outside. In typical pre-race fashion, I
woke up at 4:30 am before my alarm went off. I ate in the hotel room, as our
hotel didn’t offer breakfast until 8 am: whole wheat bun with nut butter,
banana and espresso.
At 5:45 am, Emily and I departed on foot for the Metro station. There were people still partying, drinking and smoking in the streets from Saturday night. We probably looked crazy to them, outfitted in our Triathlon Canada uniforms with our last names written on the front and back. We walked from the Ouchy-Olympique Metro station to the transition zone. It was still quite dark out and I wished that I had packed a headlamp. Indeed, everyone in transition was buzzing that it was declared a non-wetsuit swim with a water temperature of 23o Celcius, as had been the case for the sprint distance race the day before. Emily and I inflated our tires, set up our nutrition and transition area and walked over to the swim start.At 7:15 am, we watched the first swim wave set off from the Bellerivé Beach, then we did a short, 5-minute swim warm-up adjacent to the swim start area. The water was a refreshing but pleasant temperature and it was a bit choppy with rolling waves. Following my swim warm-up, I ate 3 Clif blocks and made a final porta potty stop next to the swim start before we lined up in our age group corral. The sun began to rise slowly over the Alps in the distance and I finally spotted our husbands spectating from behind the barrier about hundred metres away. As planned, I made my way to the front left of our age group pack and awaited our signal to start.
Minutes before our swim wave started – try to find me jumping & waving my arms in the air
The 1500m swim course was a misshaped rectangular loop in Lac Léman, starting at Bellerivé Beach and finishing at the pier a few hundred metres away. Our age group’s official start time was 7:52 am and precisely one minute before, we were let out from the grassy holding area onto the pebbly, sandy beach and into the water. We stood in about 4 feet of water while waiting for our air horn start, with Euro dance music blasting in the background. All of a sudden, the horn blew and chaos ensued. The water was really choppy and I could only get a breath in on my right side. I felt like I was hyperventilating and needed to breathe every other stroke, rather than my usual every third. I also felt dizzy from getting hit sideways by the waves, but I was happy that at least I was wearing earplugs to minimize the dizziness. I tried to focus on maintaining a high turnover and low profile in the water but I wasn’t sure if I was swimming efficiently given that the swim was a non-wetsuit swim, which was a race-day first for me. As my coach had warned, there was a fair amount of body contact within the first few hundred metres, which was way more anxiety-provoking without a wetsuit on.
Women 30-34 swimming towards the first red buoy
Around 260m, I made a sharp left turn
around the first red buoy, then turned almost directly into the wind and the
waves. Now, I was forced to breathe on my left side. I attempted to swim on
other people’s feet as often as I could, but our pack spread out fairly quickly
and the lead pack pulled too far ahead to draft. It was a long, seemingly never-ending
stretch toward the second red buoy. Despite feeling like a sailor who had been
capsized at sea and was fighting for her life, I felt slightly more confident
in my swim performance as I passed a few orange coloured swim caps, who had
probably started in an earlier swim wave. More so in this race than any other
one this season, I definitely looked forward to getting out of the water.
After rounding the second buoy at 900m, I caught up to an American woman’s feet and tried to hang on as long as I could. Heading back towards shore, I could feel the assist of the waves pushing me towards the swim exit. I was thankful for the extra speed, as it almost felt like I was surfing the waves rather than fighting against them. I was finally able to breathe normally on both sides and tried to accelerate to catch the swimmers ahead of me after passing the final red buoy. I kept swimming until my fingers grazed the sandy bottom at the swim exit. I glanced down at my watch and was satisfied with my sub 30-minute swim. I ran down the long blue mat into transition and felt chills every time a spectator yelled, “Go, Canada!” as I ran past them.
Relieved to be done with the swim & heading into transition
This was my first non-wetsuit race. I
definitely lacked confidence during the first half of the swim and I definitely
noticed the change in buoyancy. I had to kick harder to stay up in the water
and found that it wore me down and definitely noticed it coming out of the
water. The one upside was that I didn’t need to spend time getting rid of the wetsuit
in T1!
I found my bike in the third last row towards the far end of transition. A fellow Canadian woman in my age group who had racked her bike near me apologized – in typical Canadian fashion – for swimming on my feet and accidentally touching them during the swim; I responded, “No worries!” and wished her a good race. After I quickly dried off my feet, I put on my socks, bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses and ran out along the perimeter of transition with my bike. (Note: In order to exit transition, all athletes were required to run down to the far end of our row, then run along the fence along the perimeter of transition. I assume this was to prevent any collisions between athletes and to ensure fairness because all athletes had to travel the exact same distance in transition.)
Time: 1:11:59 Average Speed: 33.34 km/h Average HR: 158 bpm Elevation Gain: 401m Division Rank: 20/91
The bike course was two 20k loops that
were closed to traffic. It included 3 climbs and one technical descent with a
sharp turn at the bottom, where bright orange crash pads were set up along the
barricade for athlete safety. Emily and I had ridden sections of the bike
course prior to race day but we were unable to ride the course in its entirety
due to traffic and ongoing races on Friday and Saturday.
It took me a couple extra seconds to
properly clip into my pedals after the mount line, then I focused on slowing my
breathing rate and getting my heart rate down for the first kilometer before
the first climb up Avenue d’Ouchy, a 600m long climb with a gradient of up to
11%. I passed a few athletes on the straightaway before reaching the bottom of Avenue
d’Ouchy, where I climbed at a moderately hard intensity and remained in my
saddle for the whole climb. At the top of the climb, I ate 2 Clif bloks,
followed by sips of water. I had fun descending down the road to the right, but
I rode a bit conservatively, up to a maximum of 52 km/h, and got out of my aerobars
heading into the downhills. I made a few sharp turns including the turnaround at
the waterfront on Quai d’Ouchy, and then climbed back up to the top of Avenue d’Ouchy,
a kilometer-long climb with a maximum gradient of 15%. I rode westbound through
the picturesque city streets and descended down the steep Avenue des Bains, a
600m descent with an average gradient of 12%. It is difficult to ride
aggressively when you have bright orange crash pads warning you at the bottom
of the hill, so I braked early, stayed wide and cut close to the corner, then accelerated
out of my saddle immediately after the turn.
Focusing on getting my head & heart rate down before attacking the first hill
Next was a 1.5k steady climb with a gradient
of 3 to 7% along Route de Vidy and Vallée-de-la-Jeunesse near the IOC headquarters, followed by a 2k gradual
descent towards the highway on-ramp and gentle rolling hills towards the
industrial area. It was difficult making decisions about whether or not to pass
other athletes, as there were several race officials on motorcycles enforcing
the penalties for drafting (riding within 10m of another athlete for more than
20 seconds) and blocking (riding alongside another athlete and blocking others
from passing). I played a bit of cat-and-mouse with a female athlete from Great
Britain, and then eventually accelerated past and remained ahead of her for the
rest of the ride. At the end of the first 20k loop, approximately 35 minutes
had elapsed and I decided I would try to maintain or slightly increase my
effort for the second loop. I accelerated along the straightaway on the main
street, Avenue de Rhodanie, as triathletes starting their first lap merged onto
the roadway. I climbed Avenue d’Ouchy more aggressively the second time around
and was out of my saddle for the first half of it. I felt more comfortable with
the sharp turns and the technical descent down Avenue des Bains on the second
loop. The presence of more bikes on the course made it more challenging to
avoid drafting, but I felt strong enough to accelerate past several athletes
without overreaching.
Practicing my cornering skills
I alternated sips of Gatorade and water
throughout the bike, but limited my fluid intake a bit as it was a very
pleasant temperature of about 22o Celcius with lower humidity than
it had been since we arrived. About a meter before the dismount line, I
unclipped and dismounted my bike and sprinted through transition in my bike
shoes. Similar to T1, upon entering we were allowed to run down our rows
towards our bike racks, then had to head out running the same direction until
we reached the far end of transition zone, then ran around the perimeter before
exiting a second time. I heard the race official blow his whistle at another
athlete who had probably unclipped his or her helmet strap before racking their
bike. As I re-racked my bike, I was pleased to see our age group rack was
closer to empty than it was full. I unclipped my helmet, removed my sunglasses,
swapped my bike shoes for running shoes, clipped on my race belt, shoved an emergency
3-pack of Clif bloks in my sports bra, threw my hat on and dashed out of
transition.
The run course was 2 loops along the
waterfront past the Olympic Museum, including 3 short hills – the first was the
steepest and the subsequent two were not as steep. I wondered what the run
course would be like and how awful the hills would be. One of my goals for this
race was to run the entire race and not walk, no matter how grueling the hills.
I started my run, I spotted Rod off to
the right side and appreciated his supportive cheers. Again, it felt incredible
to have complete strangers cheer for me, “Go, Canada!” and I was reminded once
again, that I was not only representing myself but my country.
Trying to find my rhythm a few hundred metres into the run
The first 2k or so were completely flat,
then the course made a sharp left turn up a short, 25% grade hill towards the
Olympic Museum, followed by a couple long switchbacks descending back down. Almost
immediately after returning to the promenade, we turned sharply to the left
again and climbed up a slightly less steep, but longer slope. I recalled
Christine Cogger advising us to take the shortest line up the hill during our
pre-race Team Canada briefing and I stuck to the fall line while trying to
remember my coach’s advice for uphill running form: lean forward and drive the
knees up. At the end of the third hill, my heart rate was pretty high as I
hadn’t recovered from the previous two, and I tried to do some pursed lip
breathing as I ran downhill.
I welcomed every aid station, which were positioned every 1.5 to 2k on the run course, and followed my coach’s advice to splash water on myself to keep my core temperature down. At the end of lap 1, I would have been happy to call it a day, but I sped past the finish line and started my second lap. About 500m after the start of the second lap, I spotted Emily heading towards the turnaround point of the first lap near the finish chute and cheered her on. Every so often I glanced down at my watch to check my pace and heart rate, but I felt that my 4:45/km pace was as fast as I could manage for 10k at that moment in time. I felt like the 3 hills were slightly less awful the second time around, perhaps because I knew what to expect. At the top of the first and steepest hill, Christine and Christian were cheering every Canadian athlete and I gave Christine a solid high five, which was unbeknownst to me, captured on video and part of the Triathlon Canada video! Check out how much I was trying to hide my suffering at 1:23.
Not excited for hills round #2
Around 8k, I slightly increased my pace
to 4:25 to 4:40/km and hoped that the energy and excitement of the spectators
would push me to maintain or increase my speed. I continued to throw water on
my face at every aid station, including the final one I passed about 800m from
the finish line. A few hundred metres from the finish line, I ran around the
final turnaround before entering the finish chute and I realized there was a
woman from Mexico who was potentially in my age group about 10m behind me. I
accelerated past an older male athlete who was still on his first lap and made
a sharp left turn into the finish chute and started “turning on the jets!”, as
Emily’s husband was apparently cheering at me at that exact moment. She caught
up to me and we sprinted head-to-head for the finish line. She took off ahead
of me, crossing the finish line 0.6 seconds ahead of me. I just didn’t have
that extra gear to turn it over the finish line. Nevertheless, I celebrated as
I crossed the big blue ITU archway and threw my arms up in the air. My competitor
immediately bent over in exhaustion; I patted her on the back and we shared a
congratulatory hug.
Givin’ er all I had left in the tank on the way to the finish line
Celebrating across the finish line
I remained in the post-finish area and
within a few short minutes, I cheered on my best friend as she approached the
finish chute and gave her a sweaty, happy hug as we congratulated each other on
an incredible race.
I was overjoyed to have competed in a world championship race with my best friend halfway across the world
Of course Emily found a dog to pet
Post race commute
Canadian paratriathletes Jessica Tuomela & guide Marianne Hogan, Jon Dunkerley & guide James Cook
Final Thoughts
Traveling overseas to a destination race requires
so much planning, preparation and adaptation to a new environment. Traveling
with your own bike is stressful but definitely the most economical way of cycling
for multiple days in Europe. In the weeks leading up to the race, I had
compulsively laid out all my clothing and equipment to ensure I didn’t forget
anything. I also packed my regular race day nutrition, including nut butter, nuun
tablets, Gatorade and Clif bloks. Upon arrival in Switzerland, it took a few
days to adjust to the 6-hour time difference from Toronto and I was happy to
have arrived there 4 days before the race. To ease jet lag, I completed short,
easy training sessions every day, avoided alcohol and ate healthy whenever I
could – this included convincing Emily to join me on a 45-minute hunt for a bag
of salad at a grocery store.
I finished 29th out of 91 athletes in my age group, and was the top Canadian out of 7 in my age group. Overall, I was happy with my performance at this race, particularly remaining calm in a choppy, non-wetsuit swim amongst strong swimmers and my bike handling and estimated power output on a technical, challenging course. My coach and I were primarily focused on my performance at Ironman Canada in late July, which meant that I had done little to no speed work on the bike or run since mid-July. I feel that my 10k run speed has a lot of room for improvement and I hope to build run strength, power and speed throughout the upcoming off-season. As previously mentioned, I need to work on reducing my transition times and I would like to learn how to safely perform a flying mount onto my bike in 2020.
This was the final and seventh year of Ironman Canada being held
in the beautiful resort town of Whistler, BC, before it returns to Penticton in
2020. According to the Ironman website, Ironman Canada was the first Ironman
race established outside of Hawaii in 1983 and was hosted by Penticton every
year until it moved to Whistler in 2013. Rod and I have only been to Whistler –
twice – during the winter and it’s a special place for us because it was our
first ski trip as a couple. Now that we have officially moved from Ontario to
Nanaimo, it is a welcome change to be able to drive there in only a few hours, including
a short ferry ride. It’s also a noteworthy event because it’s my first full
Ironman race. Last August, I registered Rod and I for the full Ironman after a
brief conversation; he was unpleasantly surprised after receiving an email that
said, “Congratulations! You are now registered for the Subaru 2019 IRONMAN
Canada!”, as he thought that I was signing him up for the half Ironman distance
(Ironman Canada offers a 70.3 race on the same day as the full). My best friend
and long-distance training partner, Emily, along with her husband, were also competing
in their first full Ironman in Lake Placid on the exact same day as our race.
Although I was sad that we weren’t doing the race together, we would be
swimming, biking and running the exact same distances, only three time zones
apart and in different countries.
Ferry ride from Nanaimo to Horseshoe BaySea-to-Sky Highway
Friday, July 26th
Rod and I woke up just after 5 am to finish packing before catching the ferry. After a high-calorie breakfast, we left shortly before 8 am to ensure we made it on the 8:45 am ferry. (Side note: If you are traveling with a vehicle via BC Ferries in the summer, always make a reservation, even if you’re not traveling on a weekend or holiday. It only costs $10/trip if you make your reservation at least 7 days before you travel and can save you a boatload of time and headache.) It was a gorgeous, warm summer day and a few degrees hotter on mainland compared to Vancouver Island, where there is always a pleasant breeze.
We drove directly to picturesque Rainbow Park for an easy, 20-minute swim in Alta Lake. The water was noticeably colder (probably 20 degrees Celcius) and choppier than Westwood Lake, where we have done 90% of our open water swimming and I appreciated having a wetsuit. After our swim, we drove to Whistler Village and ran into our coach, Melanie McQuaid, on the main street. Rod and I attended the pre-race briefing at 2 pm, then met up with our MelRad Racing team for a group photo in front of the Whistler Olympic rings. Mel encouraged us to walk around with a water bottle glued to our hands and to spend as much time with our legs up, lying around in our Airbnb’s before the race. After we completed athlete check-in in the Village, I stopped by the Brava tent to chat with one of the co-founders, Stephanie, who I met at Victoria 70.3 and was surprised to realize that she remembered me! I purchased a pair of rad Oakley sunglasses and stocked up on more First Endurance Canada EFS Liquid Shots. As I had already “packed the fridge” in Rod’s truck, we only needed to buy ice cream and apple pie before checking into our Airbnb in Creekside. For dinner, we ate leftover salmon and steak (surf ‘n turf!), roasted potatoes, salad and dessert.
Transition 1 next to Alta LakeMelRad squad in Whistler Village
Saturday, July 27th
Rod and I woke up around 7 am and enjoyed a lazy, relaxing morning as it had rained overnight and the roads were too wet to go out and ride first thing. Our coach had advised us to eat simple, easy-to-digest, white carbohydrates and avoid high-fibre foods and vegetables for two days leading up to the race. For those who know me, this was a huge shift from my whole grain, high-veggie diet, but I trusted that Mel knows best. We finally got rolling around noon and did an easy 30-minute ride up Highway 99 to Alpine Road and back, which would be the northern turnaround point of the bike course, followed by a 15-minute run with a few strides from our place in Creekside.
Pre-race bike ride along Sea-to-Sky Highway
Post bike ride
Bike racked & ready to rock
One of many bears in Whistler
Rod & I in front of Alta LakeRace gear & nutrition
We devoured tuna sandwiches and watermelon for lunch, then headed over to Whistler Village. Ironman Canada had two transition zones – Transition 1 was located in a grassy area of Rainbow Park by Alta Lake and Transition 2 was in a parking lot in Whistler Village. This was the first race I’ve done where we had two different transition zones, which made it crucial to plan out exactly what clothing, shoes and nutrition to put in each gear bag. I took photos of what I had placed in my bike gear and run gear bags on Saturday to ease my anxiety about forgetting something later on that day. Around 2:30 pm, Rod and I leisurely cycled over to Rainbow Park with a huge group of triathletes; I racked my bike in T1, let a bit of air out of my tires and dropped off my bike gear bags. We hopped on the shuttle (school) bus back to Whistler, dropped our run gear bags off in T2 and wandered around the Village. We returned to our Airbnb to relax and organize our race gear. I laid out my nutrition, opened the Gatorade bottles (froze 2 of them for Bike Special Needs bag), cut up my Snickers bar into 5 small equal pieces and put it in the fridge. As per Mel, we ate dinner at 5 pm: white pasta with homemade turkey meatballs and a small portion of dessert. I FaceTimed with Emily to wish her good luck and shared some nervous laughs before she went to bed three time zones away. To ease our nerves, I convinced Rod to watch the Bachelorette: The Men Tell All episode; I read for a bit and dry needled my lower legs before going to bed at 9:30 pm.
Sunday, July 28th
Race Morning
Pre-race breakfast at 3:30 am
I fell asleep surprisingly quickly and woke up at 2:50 am, 10 minutes
before my alarm went off. I had butterflies in my stomach and I thought
immediately of Emily and my MelRad teammate, Jason P., who would be starting
their 3.8k swim in Mirror Lake in Lake Placid any minute. Rod and I each ate 3
pieces of French toast, topped with maple syrup, sunflower seed butter for me,
strawberries and bananas for breakfast. At 4:10 am, we left the Airbnb and
managed to snag a perfect parking spot in Whistler Village, where it was
thankfully too early to pay for parking. We dropped off our Bike and Run
Special Needs bags, added nutrition to the run gear bag (we weren’t allowed to
put any food in it the night before due to the risk of attracting bears), made
a porta potty stop and hopped on the shuttle bus to Rainbow Park just after
4:30 am. The bus took the long way around, as Alpine Road was probably already
closed for the race. We arrived at Rainbow Park around 5 am; Rod and I took
advantage of using the park washrooms with luxurious flush toilets before the short
walk down to T1. The sun was just starting to rise and it was only 10 degrees
Celcius but at least there was no wind. There was a stunning mist on the calm
lake surface with dramatic snow-capped mountains in every direction. I felt
very fortunate to live so close to such an incredible place and to call British
Columbia my new home.
Arriving at Rainbow ParkSunrise on Alta Lake
Rod and I usually lose each other before the start of every
triathlon, but we set a meeting spot before we went off to set up our bike
nutrition. I pumped up my tires to 100 psi, toweled off my bike seat,
handlebars and frame and set up my nutrition – water in torpedo bottle, 2
Gatorade bottles with extra Gu Roctane electrolytes, Clif Bloks x 6½ sleeves
(39 bloks total) and portioned Snickers bar. I met Rod at the bike gear bag
area around 5:30 am, put on my wetsuit, ate 3 Clif bloks and realized that I
didn’t have time for a run or swim warm-up as suggested by my coach. We dropped
off our Morning Clothes bag and walked over to the “60-70 Minutes” time sign at
the swim start area. I gave one of our MelRad teammates, Sonja, a hug and
wished her a good race as she made her way through the crowd towards the “50-60
Minutes” swim group. (Side note: It seems like most Ironman races these days
are shifting to a rolling swim start, which means that athlete seed themselves
based on their predicted swim time and 4-5 athletes are sent off every 5
seconds. In my experience, this makes for a much safer and less congested swim
start compared to a mass start.) Ironman staff closed the transition zone,
which unfortunately meant I lost the opportunity to empty my bladder one last
time in a porta potty.
At 5:50 am, the gun went off and the female pros started their race. Shortly after, someone sang O Canada and the self-seeded sub 50minute age groupers started around 6 am, loud pump-up music playing over the speakers. Rod and I remained side by side, our feet freezing on the cold, dewy grass, until it was our turn to wait for the dreaded beep that indicated the official start of what would be a very long day. I sprinted into the water from the beach and dove in when it was just above my knees and started swimming. I tried to swim at what felt like 90% effort for the first 100m or so, keeping my turnover as high as I could. I eased into a comfortable but steady, deliberate pace with high turnover (for me), somewhere between 68 and 76 rpm. I was surprised at how relaxed I felt in the water and I attributed this to doing at least one open water swim per week since late May. It was relatively easy to sight for the first lap; I tried to stay on other swimmers’ feet or hips until I felt 100% confident that I could pass them. I was pleased to notice that I was passing more people than I was getting passed, which surprised me as I hoped that I would swim close to 1h10m.
In a daze coming out of the water
After rounding the last turn buoy that marked the end of the first lap (thankfully we didn’t have to exit and re-enter the water between laps), I checked in with myself and realized that I felt strong and could push the pace during the second lap. I definitely swam more off-course during the second loop. The course became more congested and choppier with added swimmers who had just started their first lap. As soon as I noticed that I had swam off-course, I accelerated to “make up” for lost time then settled back into a good rhythm once I was back on course. The sun started to rise over the mountains and blinded my right field of vision during the long straightaway on the second lap. It was difficult to sight the exit point out of the water; I was unsure when we had to change course and whether to swim off towards shore at the 3rd or 4th buoy. I tried to swim on some guy’s feet for the last 500 to 600m, rounded the last turn buoy, passed him and tried to accelerate for the last few hundred metres.
Out of the water, I glanced down at my watch and was shocked to
see I was just under 1h5m. In my daze, I stupidly forgot to unzip the top half
of my wetsuit and stumbled over the timing mat towards the wetsuit strippers.
Thankfully, the volunteers helped me remove my wetsuit quickly and I lay down
on the ground so they could pull it off my legs. I grabbed my Bike Gear bag and
ran into the women’s change tent, where a very helpful volunteer emptied my
bike gear bag for me. I towel dried my feet, put on socks, bike shoes, helmet,
cycling gloves and my new sunglasses; the volunteer helped me put my Brava
jersey on. I opted not to put sunscreen on because I was soaking wet – sorry
Mom! I ran out of the change tent and almost wiped out into the porta potty,
where I made a quick stop before grabbing my bike off the rack and exiting T1.
T1 Time: 4:32
180 km Bike Time: 5:49:22 Avg Speed: 30.9 km/h Division Rank: 4/38 Gender Rank: 23/272
This year’s revamped bike course consisted of two challenging,
scenic loops. The route went from Alta Lake to the top of Whistler Olympic Park
in the Callaghan Valley, then south down Highway 99, with gorgeous views of Black
Tusk and nearby mountain ranges, before returning to Whistler to mark the
beginning of the second loop. The southbound lane on the Highway 99 was closed
to traffic and northbound vehicles were restricted to driving 60 km/h on one
northbound lane only, which meant that athletes were given an entire traffic
lane in both directions.
Somewhere along the Sea-to-Sky Highway
During the ride, I focused on three main things: 1) maintaining a
steady, deliberate effort; 2) sticking to my nutrition plan, which meant eating
and drinking more than I felt like I needed at the time, and 3) trying to
remain as aerodynamic as possible by tucking my chin, looking down between my
aerobars and periodically glancing back up at the road to ensure I wasn’t going
to hit anything. Psychologically, I broke the bike down into 2 x 90 km rides to
make the distance less daunting.
According to my Garmin bike computer, it was a chilly 6 to 8
degrees Celcius for the first part of the ride. It was still pretty early in
the morning and most of the route early on was in the shade, but compared to
Lake Placid 70.3 in 2018, you could tell it was going to warm up and it was too
warm for me to wear sleeves or a vest. I rode cautiously from Rainbow Park out
to Highway 99 while focusing on getting my heart rate down from 155 bpm and
ingesting plenty of fluids and food from the start. After turning right onto
Highway 99, I settled into a good rhythm and focused on maintaining a
deliberate pace, but not pushing too hard and not spinning too quickly. I
didn’t have my cadence reading in front of me, but I felt like I was pedalling
around 80 rpm. I had so much energy riding past Lorimer Road and Whistler
Village – I felt like I was given bonus cheering (especially from fellow women)
as I guessed that I was probably one of the first 50 women out on the course.
After 22 km (~37 min), I arrived at the bottom of Callahan Valley
and began the dreaded 12.4 km climb; I vaguely remembered driving up to
Whistler Olympic Park with Rod back in March, but there were high snowbanks on
both sides of the road and I was more amazed at the beautiful vistas, rather
than trying to memorize the undulations of the road. My legs were excited to
rise to the challenge of ascending Callaghan Valley and I definitely prefer
hilly bike courses over flat and fast courses. I maintained what felt like a
moderately hard intensity the entire way up and kept my heart rate below 155
bpm. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that the road was rolling, not an
unrelenting, steep uphill climb the entire way; it felt easier than doing hill
repeats up Observatory Hill in Saanich. As I was climbing, I noticed that
athletes who were descending had to use their brakes for short sections, and I
reminded myself to get out of my aerobars as I was descending if I wasn’t sure
about a particular turn in the road.
After the turnaround at the Biathlon Range, I popped my second
small piece of Snickers in my mouth and chased it down with water as I began
the exhilarating descent down Callaghan Valley. I was definitely cautious the
first time descending, but I figured it was better to sacrifice a few seconds
than to end my race with a devastating crash from being too brazen. There was
an unexpected, dangerous dip in the road just before the bridge on the bottom
half where I rode over and my whole bike kind of jolted but I luckily didn’t
lose anything. There were several water bottles on the right side of the road
and on the shoulder as if numerous athletes had also hit the treacherous dip.
(Side note: I later found out that one of my teammates lost a water bottle at
this exact same spot.)
The next section back on Highway 99 was quite fun, as it continued
to descend south until reaching 58k at the turnaround at 1h49m. Within 2 to 3
km after the turnaround, Rod rode past me heading southbound and I used this as
motivation to try to maintain my lead on him. It was steady but manageable
climbing heading northbound back to Whistler; the first lap of the course was
relatively lonely compared to the second lap because the 70.3 race hadn’t
started until at least 7 am. One of my MelRad Racing teammates, Alison, was our
team’s self-proclaimed, non-racing cheerleader. She cheered for me as I rode
past her near the Village; it was awesome to see her and I felt a surge of
energy after she cheered my name. At 88k, I stopped at the Bike Special Needs
station to swap Gatorade bottles for my half-defrosted ones and for a quick
porta potty break. Rod had caught up to me and we rode together (with a minimum
of 6 bike lengths apart) for another 20 to 25k up Callaghan Valley, where I
overtook him about 75% of the way to the top and remained ahead of him for the
rest of the ride. At the aid station right before the top of Callaghan, I
grabbed a water bottle and squeezed as much of it into my front torpedo bottle
as I could – this was the one and only aid station I used during the ride. I
reached the top of the Callaghan Valley section at 3h59m and grabbed another
piece of Snickers to digest while I descended more aggressively than my first
lap. I think I only got out of my aerobars a couple of times while descending
and I was grateful for the bright orange tape marking the dangerous dip in the
road and the volunteer that was directing us to ride close to the median.
Rod about to pass me after the Special Needs station
Back on Highway 99, I found myself getting irritated by: 1) my new
Garmin Vector 3 power meter pedals (borrowed from Rod) not reading my power
output accurately and 2) other athletes around me not abiding by the legal
draft zone. I reminded myself that I was probably hungry and/or dehydrated so I
continued to eat Clif Bloks and alternate water and Gatorade. By that time, the
air temperature had risen into the low to mid 20s and I could feel the sun
beating down on me. Thankfully, there were several 70.3 athletes still out on
the bike course and I gained confidence with each one that I passed; I was
happy to see them because it gave me something to focus on other than the
painful chafing that was occurring on the lower half of my body. I was also
grateful for the tailwind that assisted me back up to Whistler. I finished the
last section of the ride on a strong note heading back into Whistler and made
sure to conserve a bit of energy for the pending marathon I wasn’t thinking
about but still had to run. Spectators welcomed us back into Creekside, then
Whistler Village and it was a somewhat brief out-and-back to the same
turnaround point at Alpine Road. I rode through the Special Needs area at the
Meadow Park Sports Centre parking lot, headed back down Highway 99, made a
sharp right turn towards the Whistler Golf Club, rode under the bridge and then
zig-zagged multiple times before reaching the dismount line, where volunteers
were waiting to grab our bikes. I had no idea how I would feel running off the
bike, but I was definitely happy to be upright and off my saddle.
I ran in my bike shoes over to the Run Gear bag area, found my bag
and dashed into the women’s change tent. I did a full outfit change into my
MelRad Racing onesie, clipped on my race belt, threw on my hat, grabbed my EFS
Liquid Shot nutrition, chugged a cup of water, made another porta potty stop
and sacrificed 30 seconds to let three volunteers apply sunscreen to my exposed
skin before running out of T2.
T2 Time = 7:15
Bike Nutrition:
250 kcal Snickers bar (cut in 5 small bites – 1 bite per hour from 0:00 to 5:00)
Clif bloks x 2 every 20 min with sips of water
4 x Gatorade bottles (591mL each) with added GU Roctane electrolytes
42.2 km Run Time: 4:02:51 Pace: 9:16/mile or 5:48/km Division Rank: 3/38 Gender Rank: 30/272
The full marathon distance run course was two laps entirely on the
Valley Trail system, which was mostly pavement with a small out-and-back
dirt/gravel section adjacent to Lost Lake, where Rod and I cross-country skied
in the winter.
My plan was to strive for a 4-hour marathon, which meant that I
would have to run 5:40/km for 42.2km. Similar to the bike, I decided to break
the run into 4 x 10.5 km segments to make it more manageable in my head, since
I had never run a full marathon before and I was about to attempt it after
cycling 180km. In my mind, all I had to do was run 10.5 km in 60 minutes or
less, and do that 4 times in a row. My plan was to walk all the aid stations
during the first half of the race to unload my legs and ensure I was taking in
adequate fluids; it would be a game time decision whether to walk the aid
stations in the latter half of the run.
Coming off the bike, I was shocked at how fresh my legs felt – which
was probably pure adrenaline – and I slowed myself down after realizing I was
running 4:50/km out of the gate. The first full aid station was at the start of
the Lost Lake trail, and I forced myself to walk the entire station from start
to finish; I grabbed ice to dump in my trisuit and water to sip on/splash on my
face – I continued this routine at every aid station thereafter. My legs felt
pretty good leaving Whistler Village around 6k, especially after another
refreshing walk break during the Red Bull/aid station, and hoped that my energy
levels would remain high and my legs fresh for the rest of the run.
Bridge next to Green Lake
The temperature fluctuated between 25 and 30 degrees Celcius with
minimal humidity; I needed to do whatever I could to keep my body temperature
cool, so I held ice cubes in my hands until they melted, occasionally brushing
one across my lips to keep them hydrated and cool. Around 8.5 km, all I wanted
to do was jump into Green Lake and lounge on the giant unicorn floaty that was
positioned within jumping distance from the bridge I was running over, with a
cold, non-Gatorade beverage in my hand and transform into an Ironman spectator.
Having only glanced at the run course map the night before the race, I had a
vague idea of how far we had to run out along Green Lake, but I didn’t expect
it to feel quite as far as it did. There was a slight but noticeable incline
heading back after the northernmost turnaround and I began to pass mostly 70.3
athletes who were walking up the small hill along Green Lake.
By 20k, I had made my way back to Whistler Village and Alison
cheered me on, telling me that I looked strong, even though my energy levels
were not as high anymore. I reached 21.1k at 1h59m and realized that I needed
to maintain the exact same pace (or faster) for the back half of the race in
order to achieve my sub 4h marathon goal. Despite the fact that Mel had told me
I could run the aid stations in the second half, I liked the brief walking
break every 3 to 4 km, so I decided to continue to walk the aid stations for
the rest of the race, unless I felt super strong in the last 5 km. After the Lost
Lake turnaround, I ran into Sonja and we cheered each other on. Around 24k, I
finished my first EFS Liquid Shot flask and grabbed my spare socks, Ventolin
puffer and a full EFS Liquid Shot from my Run Special Needs bag. The volunteers
were so efficient that I didn’t even have to stop running! My feet were
definitely sweaty and rubbing in my shoes, but not so sore that I considered
stopping to change my socks. I shoved the socks, along with my puffer and
flask, in my rear pocket and kept trucking along.
When I ran through Whistler Village at 25 to 26k before heading
out to Green Lake on the second lap, Alison caught up to me, ran alongside me
for a moment and said, “It’s going to get really hard, then it will get easy
again. Your body can do this, it’s all about your mind.” Those words were precisely
what I needed. I was told that the Ironman truly begins at the last 10k, so my
mantra became, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” I was not by
any means the most fit athlete out there on the course, but I felt that I had
done a large amount of psychologically hard training that prepared me for this
day.
I was surprised that I didn’t feel the need to pee at any point
during the run, as I felt like I was drinking a good amount of water. Around
30k, I felt my paraspinal muscles in my lower back threatening to spasm and I
focused on achieving a neutral spine and engaging my core – this magically
seemed to help (the benefits of being a physio?) and the threat quickly
disappeared. Beyond 32k, I found it increasingly difficult to pick up my legs
and drive my knee ahead of me and I yearned for the Village crowds to welcome
me to the finish line. I also started to feel mildly nauseous and had trouble
focusing on spectators’ faces, almost as if I was dizzy. I forced myself to
smile and focused on counting down the kilometres that were left for me to run,
rather than ruminating on how tired and heavy my legs were, and that they felt
like they were on the verge of cramping if I picked up the paced – I had gone
from steady running and frequent fuelling to survival mode. At the aid station
at 33 to 34k, I started asking for Coke at the aid stations in lieu of my EFS
Liquid Shot and drank 1 small cup at each station thereafter; I continued to
grab ice and hold onto ice cubes in my hands and I noticed that this was
effective at keeping my heart rate down. I skipped the final aid station at 40k
because whatever I ingested would not benefit me within the subsequent 10 to 12
minutes. I tried to pick up my pace to achieve my sub 4h marathon goal, but I
soon realized that it wasn’t going to happen this time around.
Feeling elated running down the finish chute
As I rounded the corner towards the finish line, I realized there
was yet another out-and-back segment that I had to run; as I accelerated around
several 90-degree turns, I felt my diaphragm threatening to give me a stitch
and I dug my hand under my ribcage and massaged the deep muscle. It was as if
my core was too fatigued to help stabilize my body for sharp turns at this
point. I was so excited and relieved to actually be running down the finish chute
that I no longer cared that it had taken me over 4 hours to run the marathon; I
felt exhausted but so happy to finally stop moving forward. My time was
11:08:48, much faster than my goal time of 12 hours. Alison had somehow managed
to sneak into the finish area and gave me a congratulatory hug, asked me how I
was feeling and told me that I was 3rd in my age group – I was shocked but so
happy! She encouraged me to walk around a bit (even though all I wanted to do
was lie down) and I felt like I no longer knew how to put one foot in front of
the other.
Crossed the finish line at 11:08:48
Run Nutrition:
2 x First Endurance Canada EFS Liquid Shot (Kona Mocha & Vanilla)
Water and ice at every aid station
Coke from 34k onwards (I stopped ingesting EFS Liquid Shots)
Post Race
I took Alison’s advice and walked around the finish area on my
wobbly legs. I managed to meet up with a childhood boating friend from Ontario
who I hadn’t seen in over 10 years, who had recently moved to Kelowna! After
finishing her first 70.3 distance race a few hours earlier, she returned to the
finish line to cheer athletes down the finish chute. I chatted with her and her
friend for a few minutes, then ventured over to the Village to grab some
post-race pizza, fries, pretzels and Coke to prevent myself from feeling
nauseous, as I often do when I don’t eat soon enough after exercise. Alison
figured that Rod would still be out on the course for at least another hour
after me, so I picked up my bike and gear bags from T2, loaded my bike into
Rod’s truck, changed out of my disgusting, salt-stained onesie and returned to
see Rod sprint across the finish line at 12:28:37.
Rod & I at the finish lineCelebratory meal at GLC
We celebrated with burgers and beer at the Garibaldi Lift Company at the base of Whistler Mountain, and we were joined by Alison, Jason S., Mel and Mike until after 10 pm. On our slow and painful walk back to the truck, Rod and I stopped to cheer a few final finishers down the finish chute and were amazed at the number of spectators and volunteers still cheering. By the time we returned to our Airbnb, it was after 10:30 pm and we were both exhausted. My heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest and my whole body was warm, probably from 11+ hours of physical exertion and a day’s worth of sun exposure. I don’t think I have ever been that exhausted but so relieved that we both successfully completed our first Ironman.
So many delicious baked treats
Perfect place to replenish glycogen stores
The next morning, our MelRad squad met at Purebread for delicious
baked goods and caffeinated beverages before the awards ceremony. I went up on
stage to accept my 3rd place award for women 30 to 34. Rod and I
stuck around with 2 of our teammates to see if I could snag a Kona slot at the
World Championship Slot Allocation and Rolldown; unfortunately, there was only
one spot for my age group and I wasn’t able to get ahold of it.
Top 5 women 30-34Ironman Canada finisher medal, 3rd place award & Majestic Challenge finisher medal
Reflection
I’m really pleased with my first full Ironman performance. In
terms of my swim, I’m happy with my time but I know that I could have swam even
faster had I sighted more frequently and remained on-course (my Garmin thinks I
swam an extra 130m). I want to work on increasing my turnover over the next
year. I need to figure out a routine where I can have a last-minute porta potty
stop and/or do a warm-up swim so I can start the race with an empty bladder!
I’m satisfied with my ride and I realize that I could have saved 2 to 3 minutes
if I hadn’t stopped at the Special Needs station. However, I’m not a huge fan
of BASE Hydro (I never used it in training) and I really needed to empty my
bladder at that perfectly situated porta potty. My legs definitely felt better
after riding with a cadence of 80 rpm as opposed to the 90 rpm that I raced
with at Victoria 70.3. I know I shouldn’t be too critical of my first marathon,
but I should have been able to run a sub 4h marathon and I think my running is
the discipline that I need to work on the most in the next year. My left
hamstring felt super tired and tight towards the last 8 to 10k, but I was
pleasantly surprised to not feel pain in my right lateral knee, as that was
really bothering me back in April and May. I think it was smart to stick to the
‘walk the aid station’ plan for the entire run because it helped me break down
the distance into smaller, more achievable segments and gave my body a bit of a
break.
I am so grateful for the physical and psychological preparation
and constant support from my coach, Mel McQuaid. I have learned so much since
we started working together in December 2018. Throughout the winter, she
essentially taught me how to swim with proper technique, which has been my
weakest discipline over the past decade in the sport. I am incredibly thankful
for my husband, Rod, who joined me for countless workouts (including our
high-volume training trip to Maui), endured my obsessive need to stick exactly
to the workouts and tolerated my occasional, hunger-induced post-workout
crankiness, regardless of how sleep-deprived he was. Lastly, thank you to my
fellow MelRad teammates who answered all my silly logistical questions, cheered
for me and high-fived me on the run course and put up with my whining during
tough group training sessions. Although triathlon is an individual sport, I
truly believe that we can each perform better with the support of a group!
Lake Placid, New York, is a rather special place. I was first introduced to the Adirondacks during a week-long combined NYC/hiking trip with my physio friends back in 2012. After spending three days hiking up and down the northeast Appalachian mountain range, we drove up Route 73 from Keene Valley into Lake Placid for well-earned pizza and beer. I was mesmerized by the winding road along the cascading rivers and picturesque lakes, and I vowed to return one day to further explore the area.
Fast forward 6 years… My husband and I have spent three out of our past four annual June training holidays in Lake Placid because we love the place so much. Apparently we’re not alone. Lake Placid is the only American town that has hosted the Winter Olympic Games twice – in 1932 and 1980. It is also the longest-running full Ironman in North America, aside from the Ironman World Championship. Once you’ve arrived in this warm, welcoming, all-American town, it’s hard to not fall in love. A stroll down Main Street tempts you with local craft brew pubs, hipster coffee shops and quaint shops selling bear-themed souvenirs. Mirror Lake is a notoriously calm, motorboat-free lake that has a 2 km loop of anchored steel cable that sits 3 to 4 feet below the water surface. The cable basically eliminates the need to sight, except to prevent collisions with your fellow swimmers – of which there are plenty on warm, summer days.
Mirror Lake
Local drivers are very considerate of giving cyclists plenty of space on the mostly wide shoulders along the heavily cycled Ironman bike loop that connects Lake Placid, Keene, Jay and Wilmington. Over the past couple of years, there have been notable road improvements along the bike course, including re-paving the steep 5-mile descent on Route 73 into Keene, where cyclists can easily reach speeds beyond 70 km/h and I personally no longer feel comfortable staying in my aerobars. The Ironman run course is basically an out-and-back run past the Olympic ski jumping complex, down Riverside Drive, with a one-mile out-and-back jaunt along Mirror Lake Drive before entering the historic Olympic speed skating oval and classic Ironman finish chute. I clearly love this town and when I found out Lake Placid was hosting the 70.3 a second time around (my best friend got married on the LP 70.3 inauguration weekend in 2017), I signed up without any hesitation.
Race Preparation
This was my first race since I had started working with a coach, Cindy Lewis-Caballero, in early August. Throughout August, I was training 13 to 15 hours per week, which included 3 open water swims, 3 rides, 4 runs (2 of which were off the bike) and one 30-minute strength session in a typical week. On August 25th, I misread my workout plan and accidentally rode the entire 3-hour bike ride at Half Ironman pace, rather than the prescribed 90 minutes of it. Over the next two weeks leading up to the race, I continued to experience a dull, achy discomfort in my left hamstring while running uphill or beyond zone 2. During taper week, Cindy drastically reduced my training volume and intensity, down to 5 hours with only one easy run, so that I could rest my hamstring. In spite of this poorly timed hammy injury, I remained optimistic. I was eager to compete at my first international race and perform my absolute best. My two goals were: 1) to finish in under 5½ hours and 2) to finish on the podium within my age group. As much as I would love to race a sub 5 hour half Ironman, I was all too familiar with the challenging bike course and the weather report was calling for unseasonably cold temperatures, similarly to the race in 2017.
On Friday, September 7th, Rod and I left Elliot Lake at 7:30 am and we shared the scenic 10-hour drive along the north border of Algonquin Park through Ottawa Valley to Lake Placid. I had plenty of time to process the race plan Cindy had emailed me, which was essentially a 10-minute swim warm-up, an evenly paced swim with increased kick towards the end, power output guidelines for the bike and a hold-on-as-long-as-you-can suggested pace for the run. After a few brief road stops and several snacks from my massive lunch bag, we checked into our Airbnb moments before our friends, Lauren, who was also racing, and her husband, Alex, arrived from Toronto.
Rod, myself & Lauren heading out for a shakeout ride
On Saturday morning, Lauren, Rod and I headed out for an easy 40-minute bike ride down River Road with a few short intervals at race pace intensity. We leisurely rode the one mile on our bikes to Athlete Check-In at the Conference Center and met a super friendly guy named Adam from Chattanooga, Tennessee, who was competing in his second-ever triathlon and his first Ironman 70.3. We breezed through the check-in process and racked our bikes in the Olympic Oval aka transition. Unlike Muskoka 70.3, there was no mad dash to arrive as early as possible in transition because our bikes were racked according to our bib numbers already labelled on the racks. Rod, Lauren and I lingered in transition to attend the pre-race briefing, which was essentially a stern cold weather warning. The announcer stressed that the forecast was calling for very cold temperatures for the morning, and that we should layer up with gloves, arm sleeves, jackets and knee warmers to prevent hypothermia. Ironman had also decided to set up warming tents at the swim start and in the transition zone, as well as large change tents for athletes to remove their wet clothing before the bike (typically only available for use during the full Ironman), and offer warm chicken broth on the bike course after the descent into Keene.
Lauren & I ready for our shakeout swim (before my goggle disaster)
Heading into the lake for one last pre-race workout
Ironman Village was insane. I have never seen so much Ironman paraphernalia, from baby onesies and taco cycling jerseys to aprons and cookie cut-outs. Lauren and I purchased the same pair of Roka goggles and made our way over the Mirror Lake for a shakeout swim. The cliché saying, nothing new on race day, really rang true, as my new goggles incessantly leaked so aggressively that my contact lenses started to shift. I swam back to shore and swapped for my new pair of Speedo Vanquisher goggles. The lake was a lovely temperature, a few degrees warmer than what I had been training in Elliot Lake all summer long, but I appreciated having a wetsuit as the air temperature was a brisk 16°C. I swam moderately easy for 15 minutes and managed to sneak in a few drills from previous swim workouts this summer. Upon Lauren and I exiting the water, Rod declared that he was getting pizza at Balzac’s. Lauren and I realized we were also hungry and grabbed a veggie slice before starting our mad dash to find Lauren a pair of arm warmers.
Pre-race dinner
Our 6:30 pm pre-race dinner consisted of roasted sweet potatoes, white rice with onions and mushrooms, grilled zucchini, peppers and chicken breasts, with a small brownie and ice cream for dessert. We spread all our gear and race fuel out on the living room floor and, probably like all other 2000 triathletes in Lake Placid, debated how many layers to wear on the bike and whether to fully change out of our wet clothes after the swim. We were in bed at 10 pm, slept for at least a few hours despite the inevitable pre-race tossing and turning, and I was up promptly at 4:15 am. Although I was still full from the previous night’s high-carb dinner, I made Rod and I our pre-race meal of French toast and fruit. Alex kindly dropped us off in town at 5:30 and we sauntered up Main Street in the dark with a bunch of other wide-eyed, bundled-up triathletes – I’m sure the scene was similar to a zombie apocalypse. After body marking, we entered transition and I organized all my gear, including thermal sleeves, my new pink & purple Alé bike jersey, pink cycling jacket and a Buff. I was still undecided as to what I was going to wear during the ride and agreed to make a game-time decision in T1.
Lauren and I sauntered down to Mirror Lake, shivering as we zipped our wetsuits up. I spotted Rod momentarily, then he abruptly disappeared and not to be seen until the run (he was apparently seeking shelter in the warming tent). I waded into the overly crowded warm-up area – it was so cold that athletes were congregating in the water to warm up! Although we had been warned during Saturday’s pre-race briefing that athletes who urinate in the lake risk a DQ, I have no doubt that the entire cordoned off lake area was full of caffeine-rich urine. After attempting my swim warm-up, I quit after 4 minutes because it was too congested. The swim was a rolling start, which meant athletes were able to self-seed themselves based on their expected finish time. I jogged on the spot next to a friendly man holding the “33-35 MINUTES” sign.
Steam coming off Mirror Lake at 6:45 am
The announcer enlightened us with the exciting news that today was a record-breaking day – it was the coldest start to an Ironman 70.3 in history, with an air temperature of 33°F (0.5°C). After a beautiful rendition of the American national anthem, the gun went off and the fastest swimmers sprinted off the beach into the lake. Before I knew it, it was my turn to run into the water and embark on this long day of exercise. As always, the first 50 to 100 metres were a bit chaotic but everyone spread out and I found my way to the underwater cable, reducing my need to sight. Although the lake had been perfectly calm before we started, the hundreds of swimmers created a chop in the water and caused the cable to oscillate underwater. It was the most relaxed yet strong I have ever felt during the swim portion of a race, which I attributed to an increased swimming volume since August. As Cindy had advised, I minimized my kicking and focused on maintaining a solid catch and pull with every stroke. After passing a few buoys, I could see the sun beginning to rise over the large trees and little did I know I was the warmest I would feel all day long. Throughout the entire swim, I maintained a consistent stroke rate and felt confident overtaking several swimmers. As the swim exit came into sight and I passed the large public dock, I gently increased my kick to prepare my legs for what lay ahead.
Upon exiting the water at the south end of Mirror Lake by the tennis courts, I checked my Garmin watch and was slightly disappointed that I hadn’t swam any faster. I ran right past the wetsuit strippers, eagerly awaiting those brave souls who valued miniscule gains on their T1 over the associated premature loss of body heat. As I sauntered up the blue carpet path towards transition, I finally unzipped my wetsuit and quickly removed it when I arrived at my bike. I paused in awe for a nanosecond when I realized there was literally steam evaporating from my wetsuit because the air temperature was still 0°C. Cindy had asked me to wear my heart rate monitor during the ride and run, so I awkwardly shoved it underneath my sports bra while wearing my one-piece tri suit. I realized I had to remove my watch to don my arm sleeves, which were next to impossible to pull on while wet (obviously I had never rehearsed this during training). The competitive part of me prioritized aerodynamics over comfort and I zipped up my tight-fitting bike jersey rather than cycling jacket, but I later thanked myself for grabbing the Buff to wear as a hat under my helmet. After shoving a granola bar in my mouth and after my longest-ever T1 of 5:59, I hopped on my bike.
56 Mile Bike – 2:52:49 (19.44 mph or 31.29 km/h) Division Rank: 5/88, Gender Rank: 13/615
Average HR: 152 (min 97, max 166) Absolute average power: 186 W Relative average power: 3.04 W/kg Elevation gain: 920 metres Temperature: 0 to 10°C
Will I stay warmer if I keep my head down?
Although I was a bit chilled as I descended the first 4 km down Route 73 and past the infamous Olympic ski jump, I reminded myself that it would only get warmer as the day went on. My quads warmed up quickly as I rode past a few athletes on the small climbs between kilometres 4 and 15, slightly exceeding my coach’s recommended upper power output of 205 W. I silently thanked Rod for suggesting that we scope out the 3-km Olympic Sports Complex out-and-back when we were in Lake Placid this past June, as I was prepared for the short climb leading up to the turnaround and the sharp 90-degree turn on Bob Run Road. It wasn’t until this turnaround at 12.3 km when I passed the first female I had encountered on the bike course, that I realized I was surrounded almost exclusively by male triathletes. I held myself back from riding too aggressively, as I was aware of the pending climb from Wilmington to Lake Placid near the back end of the course, as well as the subsequent half marathon that I had to run.
Descending from North Elba towards Keene, I was conscious of the northeast headwind that curtailed my speed – however, I still did reach 69.8 km/h according to Training Peaks. During the 10 km descent, riding into the headwind enabled me to feel more comfortable in my aerobars than I had on previous training rides because I couldn’t achieve the same maximum speed. I must have been going at a decent clip when I arrived in Keene at kilometre 26 and turned left onto Route 9N, because I don’t recall seeing the Ironman warming tent serving chicken broth on the side of the road.
My toes and fingers were numb as I hammered the 14 km gradual downhill segment between Keene and Jay and I constantly wiggled them to increase circulation. Rod later described that it felt like he had “rocks in his cleats” because his toes were so numb. As it was roughly 9 am, it was still quite cold (2 to 4°C) and the trees were casting shadows on the road, preventing the sun from reaching us. Strava later told me that I PR’d this segment: speed 36.4 km/h, power output 195 W, heart rate 148. A 90-degree left turn onto Route 86 at kilometre 41 marked the beginning of a 2.4 km steady climb at a 4% grade. Thanks to a now-tailwind and in an effort to warm up my extremities, I PR’d this segment as well. A hundred metres in, I spotted a male athlete crouched over on someone’s driveway desperately attempting to change his tube; a local man had kindly placed a blanket around the athlete’s shoulders to keep him warm. As I spun past a group of athletes, Adam from Chattanooga yelled out, “Go, Lisa!” and I replied with encouraging words for him.
At kilometre 46.5, the bike course turned right onto Bilhuber Road and then danced along the West Branch of the Ausable River on Hazelton Road. Memories of the hot, sweaty ride with Bob from Long Island flooded back to me. Bob was a super friendly man in his late 50s who was training for the full Ironman Lake Placid when Rod and I caught up to him on a ride in late June; we spontaneously rode together at a pretty good clip along the entire bike course and had very pleasant conversation for 3 hours. After the Hazelton turnaround (which was sooner than expected), I shook my head in disbelief as a 20-person peloton blew by on the opposite side of the road – so much for respecting the no-drafting policy! I exchanged my own Gatorade bottle for a Gatorade Endurance bottle at the 64-km mark and boy, that Endurance formula sure is tasty! Apparently it has twice the amount of sodium and potassium as the original Gatorade, but the same amount of carbohydrates.
The dreaded long ascent from Wilmington to Lake Placid didn’t feel quite as awful as I had anticipated, likely due to the wind giving us a gentle push from behind. At kilometre 71, I was horrified to realize that we had to complete a strenuous out-and-back section at Whiteface Mountain Ski Area, which concluded with a punishing 9% climb back onto Route 86. I forced myself to continue fueling during the remainder of the ride and finally began to feel tiny beads of perspiration on my face and chest as I raced up the Three Bears climb, spray painted on the road for those not familiar with the popular Strava segment. It was exhilarating to return back to Lake Placid, with people cheering loudly next to the barriers and having to negotiate a few hairpin turns before re-entering transition.
Bike Nutrition: 1.5 x 710 mL bottles of Gatorade 3.5 x Quaker chocolate chip granola bars 1 x GU Roctane blueberry pomegranate gel
My T2 (3:23) was much faster than T1, as I removed my Buff, bike jersey and arm sleeves, changed my socks/shoes and snatched my Garmin watch, race belt and Ziploc bag containing 6 shot blocks, a Tums and a gel. I made a quick porta-potty stop to empty my full bladder – stupid cold diuresis phenomenon – and was on my way.
13.1 Mile Run – 1:41:50 (7:46/mi or 4:47/km) Division Rank: 5/88, Gender Rank: 12/615
Average HR: 163 (min 144, max 176) Elevation gain: 156 metres
My legs felt surprisingly fresh as I dashed down Main Street and back onto Route 73, which resulted in a speedy first kilometre split of 4:24. My race plan was to run the first 4 km at 4:45/km and then hold onto that pace as long as I could, and if I wanted to accelerate, I would have to hold that faster pace for the entire race. Reality set in as the course gently ascended from kilometre 1 to 3.2 and my pace briefly slowed to 5:00/km. As I accelerated down the hill and turned left onto Riverside Drive just before 4 km, I spotted the male in first place rounding the corner towards me and heading back up towards Lake Placid. I thought to myself, yes! Lots of fast athletes to watch and help pass the time! The rolling hills and picturesque, winding road resulted in the mile markers going by faster than I expected. I distracted myself by counting down the number of women ahead of me – I was pleased to calculate that I was 12th or 13th from the front. I spotted Rod heading back towards town within 1 km of the Riverside turnaround and based on our current running fitness, I knew I would likely catch him. I must have been way too in the zone because he later told me that I pushed him aside at one of the aid stations, yelling, “Water! Water!” In my defense, I have absolutely no recollection of this incident and triathlon is a strictly non-contact sport (apart from accidental collisions during the swim). During the remainder of the race, I kept scanning my competitors ahead and was confused when I later saw him running towards the Mirror Lake turnaround when I was about 1 km from the finish line.
Running along Riverside Drive
I managed to maintain my goal 4:45/km pace for the majority of the run, slowing down considerably for the two sizable hills: the first one from 14.2 to 15.7 km from Riverside Drive towards the ski jump, and the final, seemingly never-ending mountain leading back into town from 17.6 to 19.6 km. As I finished the final 2 km climb onto Mirror Lake Drive, enthusiastic spectators wearing down jackets cheered me on by my name and I felt a surge of energy return to my legs. I was optimistic that the Mirror Lake out-and-back was short and sweet, but in actual fact it was 3 grueling kilometres. The number of spectators quickly diminished the further I ran from Main Street and I began to feel isolated, along with an alarming tightening of my right quads. It took a lot of effort to unwrap, but I managed to shove a chewy Tums in my mouth to ward off muscle cramping – and it worked! Eventually, the course looped back shortly before Northwood Road, and I was passed by many triathletes finishing up the bike portion of the race and heading back into transition. As I approached the Olympic oval, I subtly turned around to check my competition and was relieved that there was no one trailing close behind. I turned my legs over as fast as I could to finish strong down the red carpet and crossed the finish line with a run of 1:41:50 – my fastest ever half marathon time.
Final sprint down the finish chute
Run Nutrition: Sips of water 6 black cherry Clif Shot Blocks 1 chewy Tums
Post Race
A kind volunteer congratulated me and gently guided me through the finish area. I readily wrapped the thermal blanket around myself to conserve as much body heat as possible. While waiting for Rod, the endorphin-high social butterfly in me emerged. I recognized and approached the woman who had come in 1st place at Muskoka 70.3 and we chatted for a couple minutes – I later found out she had come in 2nd place in our age group! I spoke with a few guys who I had kept pace with on the bike and/or run, and congratulated them on their races. I only had to wait a few minutes for Rod to cross the finish line so we could get our requisite post-race photo together. We refuelled with mac & cheese, delicious pizza, pretzels and fruit for a solid 30 minutes, then hung around and waited by the finish line to cheer for Lauren!
Rod & I post race
Rod, myself & Lauren all bundled up post-race
I was thrilled to find out that I had finished 5th in my age group and 12th female overall, with an official time of 5:18:29! Rod kindly waited around with me for the awards ceremony and I received my M-dot plaque on stage.
Top 5 women 30-34 (4th place missing!)
Lauren and Alex stayed in Lake Placid for the next 2 days, and we hit the major tourist spots – driving up Whiteface Mountain (we had only ever biked up!), exploring the bear souvenir shops, the Olympic ice rink and the Olympic museum – all of which I highly recommend going to see. Rod and I spent the remainder of the week in town with low-volume recovery swimming and cycling, and I managed to convince him to join me for 3 scenic hikes – Connery & Owen Ponds, Indian Head/Fish Cliffs/Rainbow Falls and Cascade Mountain/Porter Mountain. We decided to save the Trap Dyke for another trip.
Lauren, Alex, Rod & I at the summit of Whiteface Mountain
Rod & I at Indian Head
Don’t lean back & don’t look down
Rainbow Falls
Reflection
I am my own toughest critic and often focus on where I can improve, rather than celebrate my successes. In a phone conversation with my coach a week after the race, she praised me for making some smart decisions on race morning. Namely, I stayed as warm as possible until the swim start and I took extra time in transition to dress appropriately for the ride. I think my performance is the result of a few important factors: improved work/life balance with more time available to train and recover (I’ve been working part-time hours since July), structured workouts and immediate feedback from a skilled coach, and increased training volume over the 6 weeks preceding the race.
As this was my final triathlon of 2018, I’m excited to continue working with my coach over the winter to prepare for my 2019 season, including at least one 70.3 distance race, Ironman Canada in July and the ITU World Triathlon Grand Final in Lausanne, Switzerland!
Thanks for reading and please follow me on Strava and Instagram!
Two weeks before Lake Placid 70.3, my Garmin Vector 3 power meter arrived! I must have been excited about New Gear Day because I misread my Training Peaks Saturday workout plan and accidentally rode the entire 3-hour bike ride at half Ironman pace (average power of 178), rather than only 90 minutes of it. I was focused on trying to maintain an even power output throughout the ride, whilst not letting my husband – a very powerful cyclist – get too far ahead of me. Immediately following the ride, my friend joined me for a one-hour, 12 km transition run with the first mile at zone 3 (4:44/km) and the rest at zone 2 (5:00-5:18/km). The next morning, she kindly paced me for a 1h 55min run with the first 95 minutes at zone 2 and the last 20 minutes at zone 3. My left hamstring was mildly aching for the first 20 minutes of the run, then the discomfort seemed to disappear as I became increasingly warmed up – thank goodness for 30°C weather and high humidity.
The left hamstring ache was all too familiar – I strained it years ago as a provincial level volleyball player in high school and more recently, two years ago during triathlon season when I stopped strength training and increased my running volume too quickly. When the ache returned the following day during low-weight single leg deadlifts, I spoke to my coach, Cindy Lewis-Caballero. Trying to remain positive, I proactively suggested that I do longer warm-ups for cycling/running and foam roll/stretch more frequently after my workouts. Cindy, who in addition to being a coach is also a chiropractor in Burlington, ON, encouraged me to see a physio, chiro or RMT as soon as I could to ensure it wouldn’t hinder my performance at Lake Placid. Luckily, I had preemptively booked a couple of chiro and massage therapy appointments in Elliot Lake within the following week. After a couple of chiro appointments that included dry needling and PNF stretching (gently resisted hold-relax stretches) and some deep tissue release from a skilled RMT, my hamstring eventually relaxed and felt somewhat normal.
In terms of training, Cindy gave me 3 days off running and avoided giving me any speed/interval run work over the next week. During a 16 km run primarily on hilly, gravel roads 8 days before the race, I felt some slight discomfort in the left hamstring and decided to hold an easy pace, rather than risk hurting myself by pushing it. During taper week, I only ran once for 35 minutes, which made me a bit anxious but I reminded myself that training intensely at this point would only hurt my performance, not help it.
As you can read in my Lake Placid 70.3 Race Report, I recovered from my hamstring issue just in time and I managed to finish feeling strong and pain-free!
Lessons learned:
1. Carefully read & follow your training plan – coach knows best! 2. Seek professional advice immediately when your body feels off, no matter how minor it might seem 3. Prioritize supplementary strength/resistance training to correct muscle imbalances & prevent future injuries 4. Practice a regular foam rolling/stretching routine 5. Stay positive in the face of adversity!
9 days out from LP: All smiles after 3 rounds of 15′ bike + 15′ run in Z1
Also 9 days out from LP: Before an easy recovery open water swim
My best friend, Emily, and I decided to sign up for the Guelph Lake One Olympic triathlon as a season opener and what would be our very first open water swim of 2018. I had raced Guelph Lake twice before, the first time in June 2014 on the same day that I would meet my future husband, Rod, for our first date.
On Friday night, Rod celebrated passing his board exams in Toronto while Emily and I drove out to our friends’ beautiful home in Guelph. Caity and Nick welcomed us with a huge charcuterie board and we caught up on the past few months. Our 10:30 pm bedtime was slightly later than planned, but I quickly fell asleep next to my best friend, with the help of my “slumber pack”: ear plugs, not one but 2 oral retainers and a face mask (new addition to the party).
I awoke at 5:10 am before our multiple alarms, feeling those all-too-familiar butterflies of nervous excitement. I demolished my pre-race breakfast of 3 pieces of French toast with almond butter and sliced banana, soda water and 2 cups of coffee, while watching a playful bunny prance around Caity’s backyard. It was a cool overcast morning; we wore long pants and long sleeves over our tri suits. As Emily drove us to the race site, I called Rod to ensure he was enroute – he half-joked that he saw a sign for African Lion Safari and considered exiting the highway. I later found out that he got home at 2 am, and was up at 5:30 am to get on the road – what a trooper!
Emily and I arrived at Guelph Lake Conservation Area at 6:50 am, which gave us plenty of time to perform a quick gear check on the bike and organize our spot in the transition zone before the 8 am official start time. I must say, the Subaru Triathlon Series run very well-organized and fun-filled events. Staff are super helpful, volunteers are friendly and numerous, and the non-stop top 40s music really pumps you up at 7 in the morning! I chatted with a few women in transition, including one superstar who was racing the sprint triathlon the following day and competing in a couple of Xterra races this summer. The Xterra series apparently first began in 1996 and is a form of cross/off-road triathlon that consists of an open water swim, mountain bike ride and trail run – something I definitely want to try in the future. Emily and I ran into a girl who I had played soccer with in high school and who was also a year below us in physio school. She was about to race her first triathlon and probably begin a lifelong addiction to this awesome sport and welcoming community.
I walked down the grassy slope to the crowded beach at Guelph Lake, waded into the water and did a few easy strokes to warm up. The lake was calm, somewhat clear and very pleasant at 21°C, especially in a full wetsuit. Before I knew it, the announcer was asking everyone to exit the water so that the first wave of triathletes could get ready to start momentarily. I had attempted to preheat my wetsuit in the water but was too nervous to pee. I had somehow lost Emily between transition and the beach, but we reunited at the start line to one of my favourite songs, Bad Blood by Taylor Swift. Our age group was scheduled for the third wave and we self-seeded ourselves next to one another in the second row of triathletes. I nervously rinsed my constantly-fogging goggles at the 90-second warning and made a mental note to invest in a new pair before my next race.
The horn sounded and all men 40 to 44 and women 30 to 39 sprinted into the shallow water and dove into the lake as soon as the water level dropped off. I used to get really anxious at the swim start and hyperventilate, but I find that if I focus on my breathing and continue exhaling underwater, I am able to start the swim at a decent speed without burning myself out. During the first 100 to 200m, I periodically collided with Emily – maybe we shouldn’t have positioned ourselves side by side after all. I contemplated why I continue to sign myself up for these grueling races, until I finally eased into a more relaxed mindset after the first 500m.
The triangular clockwise swim course was easy to navigate, thanks to the ideal conditions and frequent bright-coloured buoy markings. I trailed behind other swimmers who were at a similar speed and did my own sighting every so often to ensure I wasn’t drifting off to my right. As I approached the end of the swim course, I continued to pull and kick as long as possible, until my fingers grazed the sandy bottom. I was out of breath as I ran up the grassy hill, removing my goggles, swim cap and silicone ear plugs – yes, I know I am obsessive with my nighttime and swim ear plugs but I swear by them – and pulling the top half of my wetsuit down. I had no idea what my swim time was as I neglected to wear my Garmin watch, but the F30-34 bike rack looked pretty full, so I figured I must have swam relatively well. My T1 was not the most photogenic, as I ran out and mounted my bike while carrying a gel and a half-pack of shot blocks in my mouth, much like a dog carrying his prized stick.
Exiting Guelph Lake Conservation Area, I rode over several large speed bumps that threatened to knock off my one bottle of Gatorade. After a sharp left and subsequent quick right turn, I was on Watson Road and was able to start accelerating. The bike felt slow at first, as my legs were gassed from the uphill sprint into transition and I was not accustomed to getting on the bike right after swimming. Unbeknownst to me at the time, that section of the bike course had a slight uphill grade and we had a headwind for the first 5 km. Similar to the swim, I focused on relaxing my breathing and eventually settled into a comfortable rhythm, assertively climbing up and down the gently rolling hills between Guelph and Fergus. I was passed by a few men on the descents, but I also overtook a couple athletes going uphill. At the 20k turnaround (it was an out-and-back course, ideal for assessing competition behind me), I enjoyed the extra speed from a nice tailwind – according to Strava, I rode at 36.6 km/h from 20k to 30k. On the bike course, I ate a shot block at 1k, demolished a Quaker chocolate chip granola bar at 22k, ate another shot block at 35k and sipped on a total of 600 mL Gatorade throughout the ride.
As I returned my bike onto our age group rack, I realized that I was in 2nd place and channeled that as my motivation to run, despite wanting to quit after the bike ride. As long as no one catches me, I’m second, I thought to myself. My T2 was more graceful than T1 – my laces were pre-tied but I still had a bit of trouble jamming my right foot into my shoe; I grabbed my puffer (in case of an exercise-induced asthma attack), a couple of shot blocks and an emergency Tums (in case I felt I was on the verge of cramping). As per usual, my legs felt like bricks for the first 5 minutes and I regretted not including more brick workouts early on in the season. Around the 2k mark, there were two guys sitting on camp chairs drinking beer and cheering athletes on and again, I questioned why I continue to register for these agonizing races when I could be spending my Saturday morning in a much more leisurely fashion.
Although I always despise the run portion of these races, it was more enjoyable to run on mixed road and trail through Guelph Lake Conservation Area than the congested, concrete jungle of downtown Toronto. The run course included two short out-and-backs between kilometers 3.7 and 6.0, which was strategic for me in terms of assessing my competition – little did I know, but my main threat was Emily! As I passed Rod around 4k, I acknowledged our shared struggle of the current situation and offered him a few words of encouragement. In an effort to motivate myself to finish the run ASAP, I splashed water into my face at every aid station. After the final turnaround point, I realized I probably had a safe distance to maintain my second place position. It took everything I had in me to maintain a sub 5:00/km pace through the remainder of the run and I eventually sprinted down the finish chute with little left in my tank.
After I crossed the finish line, I stood next to the finish chute, eagerly awaiting the arrival of Emily and Rod. I cheered them on as they each sprinted towards the massive Subaru archway and a few minutes later, we checked the results billboard. I had earned my second place position and came 9th female overall. Emily had achieved her first podium finish in a triathlon – third place! Dressed in matching pink Muskoka Ironman 70.3 t-shirts, we proudly stood on the grassy “podium” and accepted our respective silver and bronze medals.
Post-race, Rod spent the remainder of the afternoon napping on the couch while Emily and I lounged in Caity’s backyard. We celebrated with beer, burgers and fries at Baker Street Station (https://bakerstreetstation.ca/ ), a local pub in downtown Guelph, and went to bed with full bellies, happy hearts and tired legs.
This is my go-to hummus recipe that I make at least every other week, depending on when my current supply gets depleted! Hummus is one of my all-time pre or post workout snacks served with freshly chopped vegetables. I recommend using dried chickpeas and soaking them in water overnight, as they are easier to digest and less expensive.
1 heaping cup dried chickpeas, soaked in water overnight (makes 3 cups cooked; you can also substitute with 600 g or 21 oz canned chickpeas)
1/3 cup tahini
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil (I prefer light tasting)
1/3 cup lemon juice
Extra 1/3 cup 50:50 lemon juice to water (optional – I prefer for smoother hummus)
Hot sauce of your choice (optional)
1/4 tsp sea salt
Ground pepper, to taste
1/2 tsp regular paprika
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
Directions:
Soak chickpeas overnight if cooking from raw. Bring chickpeas to a boil in a pot with 1.5 to 2 L water. Boil uncovered for 45 to 60 minutes, until tender. Drain and rinse with cold water.
Place all ingredients into a food processor and process until smooth.
Lasts for 7 to 10 days in the fridge in a sealed container.
These are hands down my husband’s favourite muffins. They are incredibly moist due to the combination of flax eggs and coconut oil. Naturally sweetened with ripe bananas, honey and a small amount of brown sugar, these muffins are surprisingly healthy. If you use maple syrup and dairy-free chocolate chips, they are 100% vegan. Perfect for a mid-morning snack at work or quick bite halfway through your bike ride! Kid tested and approved (by my friend’s 12-month-old).
4 medium to large ripe bananas (the darker they are, the sweeter your muffins)
2 tsp baking soda
1/8 cup brown sugar
¼ cup honey or maple syrup
½ tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp sea salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
¼ cup melted coconut oil (can substitute with another oil or melted butter)
1 cup whole wheat flour (can substitute with gluten-free flour)
½ cup almond flour
½ cup rolled oats
½ cup chopped raw walnuts
½ cup chocolate chips
1 tsp-1 tbsp apple cider vinegar (optional)
Directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C). Lightly grease a standard size muffin tin or add paper or silicone liners.
Prepare the flax eggs in a large mixing bowl. Allow them to sit for 3 to 5 minutes.
Mix in the bananas and baking soda.
Mix the brown sugar, honey, cinnamon and salt.
Add the vanilla and melted coconut oil. Gently mix again.
Add the flour, almond flour and oats. Mix until just combined.
Fold in the chopped walnuts and chocolate chips.
If your muffin batter is quite thick and takes a lot of effort to spoon, add a small amount of apple cider vinegar to thin it out.
Divide the batter evenly among muffin tins, filling ¾ full.
Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown and a toothpick comes out clean.
Let cool for 5 to 10 minutes in the muffin tins, then gently remove and let cool completely on a cooling rack.
Once cooled, store in a covered container or plastic bag in the fridge for up to 7 days, or in the freezer for up to 3 months.
Note: I routinely double this recipe when I have a large number of ripe bananas lying around and freeze or give away at least half of the muffins. You can remove individual muffins from the freezer first thing in the morning and they will defrost for a tasty mid-morning snack!
This was my third consecutive year racing the Muskoka Ironman 70.3 in Huntsville, Ontario. It was not a race I had initially planned on doing, but my best friend Emily was sadly unable to race the Lake Placid Ironman 70.3 (check out that race report here!) this September, so we decided to do it together.
In 2016, Deerhurst Resort hosted the race and many athletes (myself included) were displeased with the grueling out-and-back run course along the sweltering, exposed Highway 60. In 2017, the race venue changed to the Canada Summit Centre, which in my opinion, is a better venue with ample parking, an easier swim exit into transition and steps away from crowds of spectators in downtown Huntsville. Due to road construction this year, they were unable to offer the picturesque one-loop bike course (Brunel Rd – South Portage Rd – Dwight Beach Rd – Highway 35 – Highway 117 – Brunel Rd), and instead sent us on an out-and-back course along Brunel Rd and Highway 117. The run course (2 out-and-back loops) was slightly different than last year, in that athletes would spend less time in the unsightly industrial area just west of downtown.
In late June, Rod and I travelled to Lake Placid and spent 25 hours training in 8 days to celebrate the end of his five-year residency – a week full of type 2 fun. We explored hilly, hidden backroads on two wheels and rode a grueling 160 km one day, the longest ride I have ever done. Upon returning to Toronto on July 3rd, my legs and body were exhausted.
Scoping out the Lake Placid Ironman course in June 2018
Not a bad view climbing up Whiteface Mountain
Summit of Whiteface Mountain, a training camp tradition
Since my taper week was non-existent, I was going into Muskoka 70.3 with low expectations of my performance and a mindset of just having a grand old time with my BFF. The July 7/8 race weekend also coincided with our move from downtown Toronto to Elliot Lake, a small retirement community in northern Ontario, about 6 hours away. The Friday morning before the race, we loaded Rod’s truck and a U-haul with all of our belongings, except for my bike and triathlon gear, of course. We went our separate ways – him to Elliot Lake, I to Emily’s cottage in Haliburton.
Soon after I arrived at the cottage, I convinced Emily to join me for an easy 4 km run to nearby Sir Sam’s ski hill and back so we could loosen up our legs and sleep more soundly that night. Emily’s parents were hosting their friends from Prince Edward Island, and we enjoyed a lovely dinner with them and fell asleep promptly.
On Saturday morning, I was anxious about leaving early enough so we could secure an advantageous spot for our bikes in transition. Emily and I packed everything up and left around 9:30 am, drove to Huntsville and picked up our race kits. We hopped on our bikes and rode for 20 easy minutes to check our gears, then racked our bikes in transition close to the aisle end of the rack. To our disadvantage, our age group rack was the furthest rack away from the transition entrances/exits, which would undoubtedly add to our transition times. We chatted with a few women from the US (one named America from Hawaii) and Emily kindly offered to bring and share her bike pump on Sunday morning. I noted that very few male athletes had racked their bikes compared to our rack – no surprise that us women are more organized.
After we attended the athletes’ briefing, we hopped in the water via the swim exit for a 10-minute, 400m easy swim. The water temperature was pleasant without a wetsuit and we happily observed that the current in the river was noticeably weaker than it had been in 2017.
Carb loading time!
First dinner: shrimp pesto pasta
After grocery shopping in Huntsville, we drove to Emily’s other best friend’s house in Port Sydney, 20 minutes away. After unpacking, we cooked up a massive 4:30 pm late lunch of whole wheat pasta with pesto, shrimp and veggies. We mobilized to the public beach down the road for a couple hours and randomly ran into Mark, a middle aged man we had stayed with the previous year in an Airbnb house we rented in Huntsville and have continued to follow on Strava. Upon returning to the house, we prepared and I subsequently gorged myself on nachos with chicken while watching the Lindsay Lohan version of The Parent Trap. Bedtime was at 10 pm, but I found it challenging to sleep due to indigestion – I attribute this to overeating nachos! Lesson learned.
Hanging out at the local beach in Port Sydney
Race Morning
Our 4:15 am wake-up arrived too soon, and we sleepily made our pre-race breakfasts before departing at 5:20 am. After parking on a side street, we ran into Mark yet again while walking towards the race site – what a coincidence to see him twice within a 12-hour period! Emily and I set up our equipment in transition while chatting with other women and met up with Emily’s cottage neighbour and his girlfriend, who had been Emily’s roommate in university. While waiting in a porta potty line-up for 15 minutes – how are there never enough porta potties at these races? – we befriended a young, friendly teacher named Zack, who was racing his first half Ironman.
Since our age group was the first to start, we speed walked down the 500m long gravel Camp Kitchen Road towards the swim start, dropped off our morning clothes bags and spontaneously posed for a cute photo for the race photographer. The main entrance into the lake is through a narrow opening between a few trees and you must carefully lower yourself down a couple of makeshift rocky stairs. This set-up makes it difficult for several triathletes to enter all at once, so the volunteers worked hard to corral everyone into groups based on swim cap colours.
Calm before the race on Fairy Lake
Minutes before we started swimming in the first wave of triathletes
Luckily, Emily and I managed to hop into the water with a couple of minutes to spare. We treaded water while everyone sang O Canada and at 7 am sharp, the cannon went off and we started swimming. As usual, it was absolute chaos. There were so many bodies so close together; I found it unusually hard to catch my breath and relax. After the first 150 to 200 metres, my body felt unexpectedly tired and I knew I had to slow down to conserve energy for later. I focused on trying to relax while pulling with a vertical forearm, a technique I had been trying to implement over the previous couple of weeks. As the swim course headed upstream and into the narrow channel for the last 500 to 700 metres, I found it slightly easier to navigate because there were buoys on both sides, rather than the sparsely placed buoys in 2017. I don’t know why anyone would be smoking a cigarette on their dock at 7:30 am, but that someone clearly lacked courtesy and it was disgusting to inhale secondhand smoke while swimming. I had a smooth exit out of the water and up the staircase, capped off by a team of proficient wetsuit strippers who removed my suit in seconds. I was pleasantly surprised as I glanced down at my watch and realized that my swim time was faster than I anticipated.
Swim exit
90 km Bike – 2:44:22 (Avg Speed 32.85 km/h) Category Rank: 6/53 Gender Rank: 20/413
T1 was quick (2:46) and uneventful – I hopped on my bike and started spinning out of transition and onto Brunel Road. It took a couple of minutes to slow my breathing down enough to take sips of Gatorade. The first 10 km of the course were relatively flat, followed by some short, steep-ish climbs until kilometre 20. The bike course felt empty and I felt somewhat alone, but I realized that’s what happens when you start in the first wave of athletes! Since there weren’t many people to pass, I was forced to look within myself for motivation, rather than getting a confidence boost from overtaking others. I entertained myself by playing cat and mouse with a male athlete on a Cervelo – he would pass me on the downhill sections and I would usually overtake him on the climbs.
Shortly after we made a sharp left turn onto Highway 117 at Baysville at kilometre 22, we reached the first aid station and I slowed down to grab a fresh bottle of Gatorade from a volunteer. The Cervelo guy was about 100m in front of me and he must have braked too aggressively or ran over a water bottle, but he suddenly flew over his handlebars and onto the far side of the road. The awful sound of carbon fibre striking pavement shook me to the bones and my heart rate skyrocketed. Had we been alone, I would have stopped to make sure he was okay, but several volunteers rushed over to him right away. A few hundred metres down the road, I yelled at an OPP officer, “Some guys crashed his bike back there! I think he’s okay but just wanted to let you know!” I prayed that he was alright, but I was thankful for my own sake that I wasn’t riding any closer to him.
Beautiful Muskoka bike course
While climbing and cruising down the beautiful rolling hills in along Highway 117, I tried to remain in my aerobars as much as possible. At the turnaround point (the top of a random hill on Highway 117 less than 5 km from Dorset), a woman yelled at me, “You’re in 4th place!” I thanked her for letting me know and channeled that positive energy to maintain my cadence and perceived effort level (I was not wearing my HR monitor and I did not have a power meter…yet). Out-and-back courses are both a blessing – because you can see who is behind you – and a curse – because if they catch you, you realize you are slower than them. Heading back towards Baysville after the turnaround, I felt defeated riding into a strong headwind and remained in my small front ring nearly the entire time. I was passed by a couple of strong female athletes and more male athletes on very expensive-looking tri bikes. Since my Cervelo buddy had disappeared (I didn’t see him again), I played cat and mouse with another woman in my age group.
Bike Nutrition: 2.5 x 710 bottles of Gatorade 3 x Quaker chocolate chip granola bars 1 x Clif shot block
Heading back into town, I managed to loosen my bike shoes while riding, quickly dismounted off the bike and I smiled when I heard Emily’s former roommate, Fiona, cheering for me. I switched into my running shoes and grabbed my hat, puffer, shot blocks and Tums. As there was a porta potty conveniently placed next to our age group’s bike rack at the end of transition, I opted to empty my full bladder before starting to run. While I was in there, I swear the announcer said over the loudspeaker, “Lisa Purzner is taking a long time in transition…”, which made me self-conscious about how long it was taking me to urinate. It was a hot day and this girl had drank nearly 3 bottles of Gatorade, what am I supposed to do?
21.1 km Run – 1:47:09 (Avg Pace 5:04/km) Category Rank: 4/53 Gender Rank: 17/413 Elevation Gain: 152 metres
My T2 time (3:06) was slightly longer than usual, but I felt fresh at the outset of the run and was able to maintain a pace of 4:35 to 4:40. I stuck to my nutrition plan, eating one shot block every 3 km and taking sips of water/throwing the rest in my face at every aid station. The out-and-back design of the run course enabled me to assess the other female athletes around me and evaluate how fast I should run in order to maintain or improve my position. Along Main Street, I kept my eyes peeled for Emily’s supportive parents but never saw them. Fiona was hands down the cheerleader of the day and her positive energy brought a smile to my face every time I saw her.
Just put one foot in front of the other…
Never before have I been offered or used ice chips during training or a race, but I happily accepted them at every aid station beyond 10 km. Half of them went in the upper back of my trisuit and half in the front of my sports bra, which instantly cooled down my core temperature and I believe this was crucial to keeping pace. America, the friendly woman from Hawaii who had borrowed Emily’s bike pump, cheered me on as we passed each other on a short out-and-back section. I somehow passed her around 15 or 16 km and gave her some words of encouragement. My faster than anticipated run pace and the imposing heat made it feel like my calves were on the verge of cramping, but they decided to cooperate.
Struggling a bit
During the last kilometre, the last few uphills felt okay and I was able to keep a good pace towards the end and I sprinted down the finish chute with a new surge of energy. I was shocked to see that I had finished with a PB of 5:12:35 – 38 minutes faster than my previous year’s time of 5:40:46.
Elated to cross the finish line with a PB
Post Race
My right calf muscle began to tighten and a medical volunteer asked if I wanted to sit down for a bit; I responded, “Yes, please!” and he led me over to a Muskoka chair with a footrest under the medical tent, brought me a bottle of water, removed my timing chip and confirmed with Sportstats that my age was indeed listed as 30. After a couple minutes of rest, I felt okay and slowly waddled out of the finish area. As I stood in the blazing sun for 20 minutes, my stomach began to turn itself inside out and I vowed to never again gorge on nachos as a pre-race meal, no matter how tempting they are. Emily made her way down the finish chute with a painful-looking gait pattern – that’s when I finally spotted her parents and their PEI friends cheering her on. It turned out that Emily’s calves started cramping around 10 km and she had to continuously stop, stretch and continue on for the final 11 km. I sat down with her on the pavement in the shade and gently massaged and stretched her rigid calves.
That physiotherapy training coming in handy…
Best friends & training buddies
I checked the results board and was elated to find out that I finished 4th in my age group and 17th female overall! Our cheerleaders left after Emily had recovered from her muscle cramps and we gingerly made out way inside the Canada Summit Centre for our post-race meal. After devouring some chicken and pasta, we changed out of our sweaty clothes and reunited with porta potty Zack (as he will forever be known) before the awards ceremony.
Top women 30-34 (3rd & 5th place MIA)
Eventually, we drove back to Emily’s parents’ cottage in Haliburton for beer and appetizers on the dock, and a celebratory salmon dinner. The next morning, I drove to our new home in Elliot Lake with heavy legs and was welcomed by my husband, who had unexpectedly unpacked everything!
