My Ironman Journey

Ironman morning was a complete whirlwind. With time for only one cup of coffee and a quick breakfast of peanut butter on an English muffin with a banana; I was on my way out the door. Hindsight. . . I probably should have woken up a bit earlier. The fact that Lake Placid would be a complete madhouse totally escaped me. Navigating around thousands of spectators and athletes to get body marked, inflate my tires, put water and fuel on my bike and set out my special needs bags was not an easy feat. To make matters worse, it was here when I heard it announced that the water temperature in Mirror Lake was 77 degrees. Wearing a wetsuit would make us ineligible for an award, including a spot to Kona. What a joke! I had not even considered or prepared for that possibility. My wetsuit would be taking this journey with me today. Feeling a little frazzled, I was finally able to find Vinny and make my way over to my coach, Kevin Crossman and fellow T3’ers Barb, Michael, and Jason. Since February 21st, Kevin has carefully created my workouts, answered my stream of never-ending questions, and guided me through this Ironman journey. . . while putting up with my self doubt and sarcasm. After getting zipped and hugged I was on my way to find my Team Loco buddies at Mirror Lake beach for some pictures and added assurance from up above. I feel like it took me at least 15 minutes to make my way across the timing map to “chip in”. Crap! I may miss our team prayer! As I was running through the shallow waters of Mirror Lake, my foot landed on a slippery rock covered with slime. I totally lost my balance and landed squarely on my tail bone. OUCH!! No time to dwell on my broken butt. . . I’ve got some praying to do! I hold a genuine sense of gratitude to my Team Loco Buddies. Jeremiah is the brick of the group. He maps out routes, provides an empathetic ear, and offers the most eloquent prayer before our long rides. His wife, Sara, is our source of constant energy and motivation. I’ve nicknamed her “Zippy.” She loves to organize, chat, hug, smile and cheer. I’ve never seen so much “zip” in such a little (totally ripped) body. Matt is the comedian of this group. Known specifically for his sensitive stomach and frequent bathroom stops, everything that comes out of his mouth is downright hysterical. Clay is sensible and kind and has absolutely no idea just how athletically talented he is. He may actually be the only normal one of this posse. John is my hero. He’s gone from a (slightly) overweight power lifter to svelte Ironman triathlete in just 2 years. Always pushing himself just beyond his comfort zone and truly appreciating each personal victory. This man is a go-getter, but has this soft demeanor that I find absolutely endearing. Chuck (aka “Cranky Pants”) is a 2nd time Ironman. He whines about hills and wind and anything else he can think of; however, we all know that secretly there is no where else he’d rather be. Jim Daley is one of my oldest tri buddies. He’s an Endurance Nation athlete, speaking the language of power meters and wattage. He is well researched and rarely deviates from his plan. Tony is the talker of the group. I’ve never heard another human being get in the shear number of words that he is able to speak in a single minute. We can’t ride (or run) with him because he is an animal on land, but I love our open water swims. Tony is a fierce competitor; always looking for ways to get faster, but never without his boyish grin. Still slightly undecided about where I’m going to place myself at the start of the swim, I cautiously follow Jim. I know he’s probably been researching this for months! I just remember looking at him among all these hot pink and neon green caps and saying “Can you believe that we are finally here??” Before I knew what was happening, the canon blasted from the dock and we began our 2.4 mile swim in pristine Mirror Lake with 2700 other athletes. Nothing could have prepared me for those first 15 minutes. Nothing. After getting kicked in the head (multiple times), pulled down, and swam over, I finally started cracking up while doing this awkward “Tarzan” stroke. I’m thinking “Wow, I’ve spent the last 7 months meticulously refining my stroke. My time would have been better spent taking a boxing class!” Just unbelievable. When I finally put my face in the water to continue with a choppy front crawl, I was absolutely shocked to discover myself directly over the underwater cable. I honestly don’t even know how I got over there! No wonder it was such a free for all. . . I was swimming in prime real estate! After 1 hour and 7 minutes of mauling, I was happy to be able to exit the water and make my way to T1. The run up the carpet was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced. Despite feeling a little woozy and disoriented, I will forever remember seeing thousands of people clapping, cheering, smiling, and screaming words of encouragement. I felt like a total rock star! I was still honestly a little confused about how to navigate through the transitions. Thank goodness for the volunteers who practically dressed me for my ride. At one point, there were 3 women helping me. One was pulling my bike top over my wet torso while a second had her arms completely around my waist, bucking my race belt. A third had my biking shorts open so that all I had to do was step in and pull them up. Too funny! I felt a little like the cowardly lion in the scene from the Wizard of Oz being primped to meet the Wizard. Truthfully, I was every bit as nervous. Before I know it another volunteer is waiting at the end of my rack, handing me a speedy looking bike. “Jeeze. . . I hope this is mine,” I thought. I guess it’s time to ride! I carefully navigated through the initial twists and turns of the bike course and kept remembering Kevin’s warnings. “Go easy on your first loop, keeping your gearing one less than what’s normally comfortable.” I passed a few people and got passed by many! I will admit now to nonchalantly noticing the age and gender of each person who rode by. Age is easy to identify as it’s written on the right calf of each triathlete. Gender. . . not so much. Most of these athletes are totally shaved down, with skinny little waists and flat chests. I had fun noticing the names of the riders in front of me. There was Frank who couldn’t stop complaining about our headwind, Donald who was riding a snazzy looking Jamis, Henry who was clearly annoyed by my chatter, and Yann who didn’t speak a word of English. . . to me, anyway. Oh, then there was “Carmel.” We played a fun little game of cat and mouse for about 80 miles of this bike leg. She would pass me. . . I would pass her. I really started to hate her, especially once I noticed the “50” printed in black sharpie on her right calf. “Shit, she’s good!” Once again, I could hear Kevin telling me to forget the fact that this is a race. “That will get you into trouble, Fran. Just think of this as a training day with 2700 of your best buddies.” So, up comes Carmel once again and I say with a chuckle “Hey, I think we’d probably make great training partners.” After chatting for a mile or so I learned that she was from Canada and that running was her strength. Yeah, that’s an understatement. She ended up with a marathon time of 3:50.45 and finished 1st in our age group. Training buddies?? Right, I’m an idiot. Kevin seemed a little surprised to see me coming up the final hill and into town to start my 2nd loop. His energy and enthusiasm (and general craziness) throughout the day was a constant motivation for me. Other than the computer on my bike, I had no idea how things were going and where my Team Loco buddies were. I think that may have been a blessing, as I was really content with enjoying every moment of this magical day. Going through town was completely crazy and invigorating. I’ve never experienced so much positive energy. I remember feeling totally elated and just kept saying (out loud) “Oh my God! Oh, my God!” If only those moments could have bottled and saved! My second loop was uneventful . . . Headwind on the Keene descent, Infinit every 15 minutes, 2 porta potty stops, a major crash right in front of me at the Wilmington water station, and intense pain in my right knee. Sweet. I was also still having my doubts about being able to run an entire 26.2 miles after all of this. Kevin had assured me repeatedly that I was ready, but my longest training run all season was just over 13 miles. That just seemed odd to me as everyone else I had been training with had logging in much longer training runs. I’ve only run 1 marathon in my entire life and that was almost 11 years ago. So much for positive self talk! While approaching T2 I noticed the rider in front of me carefully taking his feet out of his biking shoes. “Oh, crap, that’s right. . . I need to get ready for my dismount, too!” After unfastening my Velcro, sliding my feet out of my shoes, and placing them on top I finished the last few hundred yards looking downright professional. I’ve practiced this in my front yard over and over. “Please don’t let me wipe out here!!” Once again, the volunteers totally took over for me. Someone grabbed my bike, while someone else led me to my bag which contained my running gear. Next stop. . . another porta potty! Hmmmm. . . it suddenly dawns on me that I standing barefooted in a porta potty. This is without a doubt the most disgusting thing I have ever experienced! Again, I’m cracking up (out loud) while this poor volunteer is still standing outside the porta potty with my gear bag thinking that Im a total whack job. It’s just incredible that she didn’t bolt while she had the chance. After another quick change with the help of 3 volunteers and I was on my way out the tent for what would prove to be 4 hours and 11 minutes of positive self talk. With Infinit in hand, off I darted into Main Street of Lake Placid where thousands of my adoring fans stood waiting for me to run by. I literally felt high as I heard my name, bib number, and Capital District Tri Club affiliation being shouted out by total strangers. “There’s my family!” I finally spot some familiar faces as I see Vinny, Cate, Drew, Sam, Bryan, and Becca shouting and jumping up and down with a series of G-O- F-R-A-N signs. Words can’t even express how heart warming it was to have them there for me throughout the day. Immediately after, I see Mark Mead with baby Cooper, Stacey, and Jay. Kevin (going absolutely nuts) runs up beside me with camera in hand. “You’re doing great! Keep drinking and watch your pace.” Oh yeah, pace. . . as I look at my Garmin I notice that with all the excitement I’ve established an 8:03 min/mile. That’s not good. My tendency is to start out too fast and crash, so my new focus was on establishing quick feet but to try to maintain a 9 minute pace. “Really, Fran, how tough should this be to slow down??” I continue to look at my watch every minute or so as I hear Kevin’s reminder to take it easy from the start. “You’ve got 26 one mile repeats. Just keep your feet moving and establish your stride rate.” My son, Andrew, has been a great help to me mentally throughout this journey with his constant reminders to relax, visualize, and think positive. I had decided to dedicate each mile of my marathon to a person (or people) in my life that have helped me to get here today. I find myself feeling really fresh until I reach mile 6. “Wow, this is getting hard and River Road feels longer than I had remembered.” As I approach mile 7 I think of Kim Watson. This mile’s for her. I can feel she’s sending energy my way and it carries me through to the next aid station. “Water! Performance! Sponges! Ice! Pretzels! Cola! Chips! Gels! Cookies!” Hold on. . . did someone say “cookies?” I’m so tempted, but as I see runners on the side of the road retching their guts out I know I better stick to my fueling plan of one squirt fruit punch Infinit to 4-6 ounces of water. “Water please,” I shout. I have the rest of the week to eat whatever I want. This stuff is beginning to taste sickening sweet and my teeth are actually starting to feel fuzzy, but this is how I’ve trained and now isn’t the time to experiment with potato chips! Being an out and back course does have its perks. I was so entertained and inspired by seeing my friends and training buddies throughout the afternoon. Tony was looking amazingly happy and relaxed. “Yo, Frances, looking strong baby!” I was so relieved to see that he had survived the swim and wasn’t doubled over with stomach issues. Next, is TJ. He honestly looks like he just started. Wow, there’s Clay with his perfect running form. Jeremiah isn’t far behind me. I know he’s probably worried about getting “chicked.” Then comes Sara bounding down Sentinel Road. . . all smiles with her arms open wide for a huge hug. As the miles roll by, I feel my IT band in my right knee getting bratty. I draw upon the energy of my Lonnie friends (mile 8), The Smith’s (mile 9), Team Loco (mile 10), and Jen Mead (mile 11). Amazingly, just as I’m thinking about her, there she is! I quickly stop, give her a sweaty hug, tell her I love her, and run by, fully energized. I know that once I make it into town the crowd will get me through the next 2 miles. “Just keep the feet moving. Count your strides. You’ve got 30 seconds to race walk through the aid stations. Yes, you can!” I say to myself over and over. A mere 2 hours of self talk and mile inspirations and I find myself climbing the hills leading into town for the final time. I have completely lost track of the day until I hear a runner next to me asking a spectator what time it is. “It’s about 6:20.” Can that be right? Maybe I didn’t hear correctly or perhaps my brain is glycogen depleted and can no longer handle simple math. It’s not until I reach the turn around on Mirror Lake Drive that it finally dawns on me that I’m actually going to do this! As I round the final corner of the Olympic Oval to the sound of screams, music, and the voice of Mike Reilly, I just can’t hold my emotions together. “Man, I have honestly never worked so hard for anything in my entire life and this is really going to happen.” “Frances Vincent of Slingerlands New York. . . You are an Ironman.” Before I know it I’m being greeted by yet another volunteer, all smiles. “You certainly don’t look like you need the medical tent,” she says. Actually, I felt great! I don’t think I stopped smiling since 8:07 this morning. I didn’t even think to look at my time as I crossed the finish line, as my time and place didn’t matter to me. My goal was to enjoy every moment of this incredible day and I absolutely did. It wasn’t until a few hours later, back at the Smith’s condo when Kevin called and said, “I’m going to make this quick. Do you have any idea how you did?” “Not really. I don’t have internet access and I didn’t even think to look.” “You placed 5th in your age group. Had water temperature not been an issue, you would have earned yourself a slot in Kona!!” Honestly, I have no regrets. I know I’m not ready for Kona, and I’m pretty sure that Kona’s not ready for me. I’m just so grateful for this experience. A very wise Kevin Crossman had sent me an email months ago explaining to me that “ . . . The Ironman is SO MUCH more than the 140.6 sticker on your car or a tattoo or even the title of being an “Ironman.” For you it will be, too. In hindsight, you will realize the journey is the IRONMAN... July 24th is the reward for getting there!” Amen.