TriBeirut: July 2011

You know that ending scene in the movie where Robert Downey Jr's character is in a press conference, he looks straight at the camera and says, "I am Ironman."

I feel like holding a press conference.

Recap of the race:

4:20am Wake up, get dressed, eat some breakfast, chat with Shay and a few others in the lobby, get gear together and get on the bus

5am Bus to start/transition area, the bus gets lost and drives in circles for a while which makes me (and everyone else on the bus) regret paying so much money for the prearranged bus service, arrive at the start/transition area around 5:45am, set up my transition area, organize and reorganize it until I am satisfied, chat with people in transition area, wait in line for the bathroom, get my wetsuit on, get in the water just to get wet and hear the announcement asking everyone to get out of the water for the professional start (at 6:55am).

7am Swim start

Over 2,000 competitors anxious to get in the water and start the epic race, bouncing up and down on the beach in wetsuits, consulting complex fitness watches... then the starting announcement comes and everyone moves toward the water.
Intense.

I am drowning! I think I am going to drown for the first three minutes - I feel trapped in a wetsuit, unable to breathe, panicking a bit, panicking a bit more, elbowing and being elbowed, kicking and being kicked, swimming over people and being swum over... no amount of preparing made me ready for this (I doubt anything aside from actually doing a mass start triathlon could prepare someone), I survive only the knowledge that if my mental toughness can get me through these first few minutes of panic the rest of my training will get me through the rest of the day. In the worst moment of panic when I am choking on water and feeling like can't breathe in my wetsuit, quitting and staying alive seems like a wise choice. I pull my head up and focus on breathing, trying to avoid hyperventilation. The panic subsides and I continue, making sure to pull my head up and breathe deeply when I feel the panic rising. After a few more minutes the panic disappears and I'm swimming instead of drowning.

The swim portion of the race is divided into two unequal loops.

That first leg out to the first pontoon took an eternity to swim or at least it felt like it. After the second turn I settle in to my normal "race pace." Forty-two minutes in, I reach the turnaround island.

7:42am I stumble out of the water. My legs refuse to work properly since all the blood has been tasked to swimming muscles and not running muscles. The wetsuit doesn't help. The volunteers do. I cross the island and get back into the water for the second loop. So far I've covered 1.8 km (1.12 miles) in 42 min, which is ahead of my projected time (worst case scenario) so I'm feeling good.

Back in the water I quickly get in the zone and the time passes quite quickly. I veer slightly off course a few times because I am not spotting often enough. I once again stumble out of the water and head to the transition area. Second lap of 2 km (1.24 miles) covered in 49 min. Finished the entire 3.8km swim in 01:29:56. Faster than I gave myself, so I feel pretty good about starting the bike ahead of schedule so to speak.

8:30am I struggle out of my wetsuit, dry off a little, slather on some sunscreen, throw on my bib number, compression leggings, bike top, bike shoes and helmet, eat a banana, drink some isostar (like gatorade), and head out on the bike course.

The bike course is set up as two laps of 90km (55.9 miles). The first 30km is mostly flat which is good because my legs take a little time to get the blood going. After not taking in any liquids or nutrition during the swim, re-hydrating was my main goal for the first hour or so. There are a number of port-a-potties along the route but I found it hard to spot them and stop before passing by them. I managed to stop in time for one before reaching the first aid station. I had looked at the course before the race but for some reason I didn't prepare for the fact that the first aid station is almost at the 30 km mark. Perhaps I knew that fact but I didn't comprehend the reality of it being so far! I feel like the energy levels on the video-game-me are flashing yellow and nearing red. I am slowing down but not from fatigue. The route so far is mostly flat and follows the main road next to the lake. It still feels suburban and there are still many cars on the streets. Fortunately the course is well marshaled. Feels much safer than my training in Beirut.

I am so ready when I finally see the first aid station. I grab bars, gels, bananas and water from the volunteers, stashing most of them in my pockets to be consumed later at regular intervals. As the video-game-me eats the banana and a gel the energy levels immediately return to green and I receive an immediate boost of energy. I feel great! The course then heads into the countryside, away from the lake. Here the views are mostly hilly farmland with the occasional house or small village. Residents sit at the edge of their driveways cheering us on with cow bells and chants of "Happ! Happ! Happ!" I fall in love with the bells. I time my water intake and food consumption carefully so my energy levels don't drop the way they did before that first aid station. I feel like I am keeping a steady pace. I intentionally don't pay attention to the time and focus on shorter intervals and keeping my average speed as consistent as possible. It starts to get hot. I am certain my shoulders are getting sunburned but I can't do anything about it. I shift my saddle position every 30 minutes hoping to stave off some soreness later on.

The biggest climbs are in forested areas which feel quite rural and dredge up feelings of home. This is the most enjoyable part of the ride. Around kilometer 65 things start to go downhill. I mean, the course- I still feel fine. The course drops most of the altitude gained thus far in one or two short kilometers. Since I don't know the course I descend cautiously trying to remember as much as I can about this section for the second time around. A hairpin turn and the course levels out back at the lake and into the city.

After about twelve km of flat riding on my aerobars, I approach heartbreak hill.

This is only a 0.7 km climb, but it’s steep. Spectators line the climb, spilling into the road at times and forcing the racers to ascend single file down the middle of the road. The crowd cheers, makes all kinds of noise, ringing cowbells, running along side of you, the loud speakers blasting music. They make you feel like you are riding in the Tour de France, except you are not nearly as fast. But it feels great! I stood up and pounded up the hill, passing a bunch of people. At the top of the hill an announcer calls out your name and country and then you are flying down the hill on your way toward the second time around. I'm not in this video, but it gives you a good idea of the level of support provided at this point in the race. Amazing.

12:21pm Finish the first lap of the bike course in 3h50m.

I'm feeling pretty good. I've kept my energy level and hydration up and that long flat stretch without an aid station is much easier to do with fuel in my pockets. I am definitely sunburned but still can't do anything about it. I really hope I don't get skin cancer from this. Aside from my ass being sore, things feel pretty good the second time around. The weather starts to turn. My sunburn welcomes the cloud cover. Soon after I get to the hills it starts to rain. I can see lightning in the distance and thunder quietly rumbles in the distance. The longer I ride, the harder it rains. During the longest climb the rain comes down so hard it feels like hail. It's nasty. It lightens up as I reach the downhill segment, but the road is still super wet so I am just as cautious as before and take the turns even slower.

The second time up heartbreak hill slows most racers up more than the first time, as seen in this video. The weather is still rainy and the road wet. I felt fine and hammered past a bunch of people, thinking, "This hill isn't THAT hard, is it? Or am I going to die in the marathon?"

4:16pm Finish the bike segment.

The transition to run doesn't take very long. I take off my bike top, throw on my running shoes (I heart bungee laces) make a quick stop at the loo and then I'm off. Aside from the first five minutes of the swim, not once have I doubted my ability to finish the race. Knowing that I have 7 hours before the course closes makes me feel fantabulous! Barring injury, no WAY I don't finish.

The run course is set up as 4 loops, but the course is in the city and doubles back on itself countless times so there is PLENTY of support the entire time.

I keep a great pace and feel pretty good throughout the first lap (about 11.5k). At each aid station I walk though, take a few sips of liquid, eat a few bites of something and occasionally stop at the loo.

5:33pm Finish first lap in 1h17m.

I'm still feeling pretty good after 12km. And 13km. And then I'm not feeling so good. My digestive system is revolting. It didn't mind biking and eating, but the combination of running and refueling seems to be an enemy. I slow down and stop at the next port-a-potty. It doesn't help. I feel like this lady looks.

But I keep running, albeit slightly slower than before. The sun is back out and has dried things up pretty well. Chaffing is now an issue on a few spots around my arms. At the aid stations I only drink a little fluids. My stomach can't handle anything more. I feel like I have cramps throughout my intestines and everything else in my abdomen. I can't take a deep breath without discomfort. After another kilometer or two I start feeling a little better so I pick up the pace again. Feeling alright. Tired, but alright. The rest of the second lap is alright.

6:56pm Finish second lap of the marathon (around 12k) in 1h23.

A few minutes into the third lap I stop feeling alright. I slow to a brisk walk. I end up staying at that pace for around 25 minutes before kicking it back up to a jog. It's a struggle, but I'm back on pace for the rest of the third lap and finish it in 1h32m.

8:28pm Finish third lap of the marathon. 12-13km more to go!

I celebrate by taking a walk break for 5 minutes. Such a reward! Kick it back up to a run for another 30 minutes. Now I'm starting to feel everything. I walk for a bit, stop at the port-a-potty, and walk a bit more - probably a total of 25 minutes. Then I'm feeling slightly stronger, at least mentally, and resume jogging.

One of the best things about the marathon is the supporters cheering you on by name. This was made possible thanks to the wonderful race bibs with our first names printed in large letters. All along the course everyone cheering in a variety of languages but always using my name. AWESOME! It really helps to keep me going at this point, when I'm running solely on mental toughness and determination.

10:02pm I enter the finish line chute. Very happy to see the finish line.

10:02:18pm Cross finish line. I am an Ironwoman. A volunteer places a medal around my neck. Another volunteer smiles, congratulations me, and wraps a towel around my shoulders. She is probably worried about me because I haven't said anything and I am not acting overly-elated. Probably because it feels very surreal. Plus I burned about 8,500 calories and haven't stopped since 7am. I smile at her and gush about how great it feels to have finished.

I don't stop. If I stop I fear I won't be able to move again. So I don't stop. I wander around the finisher's area, grab a plate of food and eat it while walking around and shaking my muscles out. I get a massage. I get my medal engraved with my name and times. I chat with a few other people. I take a shower and collect my bike and the rest of my gear.

I wait for the bus back to the hotel. And I wait. And wait. And wait. I'm waiting with a couple other guys and finally we find the bus just in time to catch the last one back to the hotels. I chat with my sister online for a few minutes and smile at the wonderfully supportive emails from friends, then I ride the endorphin high and exhaustion hits leaving me dead to the world.

Surprisingly, I'm not as sore today (the day after) as I thought I’d be. I'll share reflections later – for now I’m on holiday in Switzerland!

To follow the entire course route on googlemaps click here.
For a succinct video highlighting Zurich and the Ironman click here.

I never got up last night. I meant to get up and go get some dinner or something, but I just was out cold. When I did wake up I was more than ready for some food. I went down to the lounge area of the hotel with my computer to enjoy breakfast and wifi. Unfortunately I couldn't get the wifi to work, so the hot triathlete I had been sitting/talking with offered to let me use his computer and he would try to get mine to work. It took Shay a few minutes but he did get it to work. Turns out he was in the room directly across the hall from me (and he's from Israel while I live in Lebanon). Made for some interesting conversation. I walked around the neighborhood a bit and got my bike all set up then I met Shay and his buddy to ride down to the starting area for the race debriefing.

We rolled up a little late, but didn't miss much. There were so many people there! So many fit (crazy) people. Friendly people. It was great to be surrounded by people who "get" what triathlon training is (and are as crazy as I am). From all over the world.

I knew I would feel like a newbie. And I did. Fortunately there were a bunch of other first-time-Ironmaners in this race as well. Shay was one of them. I definitely felt like the country-bumpkin rolling up to the big city fashion show. Pretty much every single person in this race is a part of a triathlon club and trains with a team or at least a partner or two. I researched and mashed up a number of training programs to create my own, workout out my own nutrition plan, and trained by myself. It was so nice not to be alone anymore.

I walked around the expo area and was amazed by all the gear being peddled. I was just a window shopper. I would have registered except in an epic fail the thousands of dollars in my bank account were not available electronically. I was able to convince the people at registration to give me the wristband that would get me in to the welcome dinner tonight. I really hope the bank sorts itself out and my money is available. If not I am not sure how I'm going to register but I will make a way. I didn't get this far just to let something get in the way.