I first realized my interest for long distance in high school. Even though I was involved in Track & Field and Cross Country, my passion for running came from the Students Run LA program that helped many middle school and high school students in the LAUSD district to train for the LA marathon. It was a great experience, so suffice it to say, I had a pretty good background in endurance running when I joined the Triathlon team my freshman fall.
I was never much of a swimmer (by much, meaning not at all), nor had ever really cycled apart from riding to and from the grocery store. The only actual experience I had before was running, but even in that, I was never the fastest.
I first reached out to Coach Jim about whether or not attempting the 70.3 miles was possible. When he said it was totally possible, I thought he must have not noticed how slow I was in practice. Despite my doubt, I trusted Jim’s opinion and decided if I was going to go through with training for such a big race, why not do it during my off term.
During winter break, I remember I would train twice a day – once in the morning and once in the afternoon. And I remember everyday trying to get my sister to come on a run with me or to the gym, but she was somehow always asleep when I was heading out – strange. Anyway, I did quickly realize the difficulty of training on your own. When you have no one beside you, encouraging you, talking to you, or even just sweating through the intensity, it becomes harder to motivate yourself. It was not until I got to campus, where I felt I was really improving.
Racing in Clermont reminded me of home: no snow in sight, heat pounding down on you, and best part of all, the resulting sunburn after having spent 6+ hours out in the sun.
The morning of race day, I was overwhelmed with nerves. My nerves never fully settled until the gun went off and we were off, dipping into the chocolate-colored water and trying to break free from the swarm of women all trying to avoid being hit by somebody’s elbow. As I started settling into a pace, I started to relax knowing I would reach land at some point.
As I transitioned to the second leg, biking, I felt alive. Alive and free, knowing I had survived the swim (the part my parents were fearful of me drowning), and was moving strongly. Overall, the biking went pretty smoothly, until the inevitable Sugarloaf Mountain (an excruciatingly painful incline). As I was making my way up the hill, attempting to keep a moderate pace, I started moving so slowly, I doubted whether or not I was actually moving. At that moment of doubt, I suddenly found myself tipping over. By the time I had walked my way up to the top of the hill, a fellow cyclist helped me back on (as I was still pretty new and inexperienced with clipping on), and I was off and away. I felt the last 10 miles go by so fast because now all that was on my mind was getting off my bike as soon as I can because, wow, sitting on your bike for more than three hours is not at all a pleasant feeling.
Two minutes into the run was when I started to feel the toll of the race. It was then when I started to see the finish line quickly fading away. I began thinking I was not going to be able to finish. As I hobbled onward with doubt clouding my mind, I came across some familiar tunes – “Atlantic City” by the Band. I looked up and saw Coach Jim holding up a speaker playing the song we heard endlessly five minutes before the end of a practice on the trainer at the “Pain Cave” (Jim’s basement). At that moment I knew, despite whatever pain or tiredness I was feeling, it was only temporary. I was not about to give in and let the past four months of training have been for nothing. So I pushed onward and before I knew it, I was rounding the corner with the finish line in sight and my teammates in the sideline cheering me on.
For me, my place or rank in a race does not matter. As I achingly lunged past the finish line, I teared up at the sight of my teammates. I realized then that the most surreal moment of this trip was the journey. The journey of having trained endless amount of hours with a team I love so much and with friends that lift my spirits each and every day. I gained something more valuable than a medal on this trip. I gained a family.
About the Author
Emily Martinez is a ‘21 from Los Angeles, California. She is interested in Engineering Sciences with a modified major in Environmental Science. Apart from triathlon, she loves playing soccer and eating as much of Coach Jim’s bread and cinnamon rolls as possible.
Staring as the timer elapsed to zero, I awkwardly spun around and fell face-first into the water of Bowdoin’s large pool. It was the start of my 9th triathlon (how have I possibly done that many?!), and I was still shaky with nerves as I started splashing my way across the pool. As usual, though, the nerves started to fade as I fell into my usual stroke rhythm and continued on – although I can’t ever claim a fast swim time, I can at least be proud that I didn’t run into anyone throughout the strange snake-swim!
Tuesday swim practices this spring have been devoted to the snake-swim, which consists of starting at one end of the pool, swimming down and back in one lane, switching lanes, swimming down and back in that one, and continuing on across the pool. Weird, right? Not only do I struggle with swimming, but I especially struggle when I start to get dizzy from alternating the direction I turn every time I reach the wall. Snake-swimming was definitely not a favorite pastime of mine, but the team snaked together every Tuesday night in preparation for the race, so I couldn’t miss the bonding opportunity.
I want to give a shoutout to Brett Seeley-Hacker ’18 (a varsity swimmer turned triathlete) who kindly gave A+ demonstrations of flipping around at each wall and swimming under the lane line – although I never managed to do it gracefully as he did. Even in the race, nervously splashing around as always, I smacked my knuckles a few times on the lane lines and even hit my head when trying to go under it. Not a great start to my last collegiate tri – maybe I shouldn’t have skipped that one Tuesday night swim for trivia at the Skinny Pancake…
As I half-slipped half-stepped up the ladder, out of the pool of snakes, and into the sunshine, I felt relief just as I always do – that I survived the hardest part of the tri. Next, I got to bike across the basically-flat course, through gorgeous fields and waterfront views – and saw a few of our amazing, fast-swimming 21s along the way! I saw a few more Dartmouth Tri people on the run course too, which was a beautiful route through the woods. And finally, finishing the race with plenty of teammates cheering me on was a perfect way to end it – sunburn and all.
We had 40 Dartmouth triathletes racing that day – about half of them doing their first triathlon. We were by far the largest group there, and the eccentric announcer had a lot of fun making sure to emphasize that ANOTHER Dartmouth kid was finishing up and that ANOTHER Dartmouth athlete had made the podium (we even listened to the announcer’s CD on the way home – that may have been a little too much of him). My talented teammates inspire me every race – from the few that place at every race they compete in, to the ones that just completed their first race and managed to make it through every transition without forgetting something – everyone motivates me to push a little harder and swim, bike, or run a little faster.
Doing a tri is no small feat, and it takes plenty of planning and encouragement to get through it – that’s what the Dartmouth Tri Team is for. They are the best group of people I’ve found to not only work out with, but to spend time with – whether we’re training, snake-swimming, studying, eating ice cream, or celebrating after a race day, they are the people I’ll remember most from my college experience. I’m so thankful for the community that is Dartmouth Tri, and I can only hope to find a group that is half as supportive once I graduate this June. Of course, even though I’ll be graduating, that doesn’t mean I’ll stop checking up on the Tri Team – I can’t wait to see how far the team goes in the coming years. There’s no one with whom I’d rather wake up at 4:30am, dance to pump-up songs in the dark while unloading bikes, eat wildly large quantities of Amato’s pasta, or listen to strange announcer’s CDs on long van rides – the tri team is where it’s at.
GBG and SBR,
Abigail
About the Author
Abigail (’18) is a tri team exec from Poulsbo, WA studying Biomedical Engineering and preparing to apply to dental school. She loves backcountry skiing, drinking great coffee, and spending time with her family in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.
Katie, Abiah and I are in the tiny bathroom of a motor shop attached to the gas station in Lyme, NH. We are stifling yelps and holding back tears as we clumsily peel off our bike shoes and sopping socks with our numb fingers. We hop in place and fling our arms around as we try to get the blood circulating again after 2 hours in the freezing rain, wind, and barely 40-degree weather. We have been up since 5am to have breakfast before an hour-long swim. It’s our first Big Weekend, the training days that most simulated the actual race in distance and time. We still have another hour of biking and a few miles to run according to our TrainingPeaks plan, but all we can think about is whether we are going to brave the next few minutes and get back on the bike. By this point in the day, we have already thought of everyone we could possibly call to pick us up, cried, turned blue, desperately longed for our warm beds and showers back in the dorms, and thought way too many times about quitting. Nevertheless, once our toes turned pink again, we put our bike shoes and helmets back on, and got back on the bikes to finish the workout.
It was this day that we not only earned major credit in the triathlon world (at least in the books of our coaches), but also proved to ourselves how serious we were about training for the IronMan 70.3. It all began after the CHaD half marathon in October 2016 when we met as the 70.3 group with our coach Jim in the comfy couches of the gym lobby to get our TrainingPeaks accounts (platform for triathletes to plan workouts and build training plans) and learn about Zone 2 training. The first months of our training were fairly monotonous; we had to learn the art of working out with a heart rate cap for a really long time. For Abiah, this meant being satisfied without a high energy and intensity workout despite the stress of her last term at Dartmouth. For Katie, this meant spending nearly every early morning in the pool before her internship. For me, this meant running several times a week at a pace that she could probably walk faster than. Bit by bit, the 10 to 15-hour long training weeks filled with biking on the trainer, running in the snow, and swimming indoors passed and we saw progress in the things that challenged us most. Katie almost finished the West Wing (five and a half seasons watched exclusively on the trainer), I trained the dog to run up to 8 miles with me (Felix started at 0 miles running), and Abiah enjoyed being able to eat much, much more. Despite being in constant communication via TrainingPeaks comments and Skype with our coach Jim, we all really looked forward to being back on campus to be able to spend the long hours together.
Our spring training looked very different from the winter. We now also juggled team practices with our own training schedules, and had to work around spending time with friends, classes, studying, tri team logistics, and the many other things that make up our day to day at Dartmouth. Nonetheless, the balancing act we took on was very worthwhile. Our spring was filled with wonderful time outside exploring the area and finally actually sbr-ing (swimming, biking and running- in that order). Some highlights from our spring training are:
Alpacas, cows, horses, sheep, goats, chicken, rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels, birds of all types, dogs, cats, turkeys, foxes, loons, porcupines… we saw so many animals!
Beautiful spring flowers and endless blue skies with our to-do lists more than thirty miles away
Loops around the lakes in the area, especially Lake Morey and Lake Fairlee
Realizing we were more than 50 miles into our bike ride and feeling great… there were many moments when it hit us that we were getting faster and training was working!
Endless back and forths on Route 10/ Lyme Road and Route 5, the “five and dime” loop
Hills: we loved those days where Jim just wrote in our TrainingPeaks “Go ride hills, lots of them!” … the Upper Valley is a perfect place to train!
Post Pond open water swims… especially at 5:30am and having the smell of breakfast cooking at the inn by the water waft across
Seeing the TrainingPeaks boxes turn green after a completed workout
Long runs in the snow and running nearly any and every road in the Hanover area
Discovering that endurance/ Zone 2 training sessions were perfect workouts to talk with someone on the phone or listen to podcasts
Wetsuit practices in the pool with our teammates (with buoys made of water polo balls)
Figuring out nutrition on the bike: learning how to open wrappers, eat, and pedal all at once… discovering yummy sports waffles and regretting bringing PB&J sandwiches
Finally understanding how wonderful bike shirts with pockets are
Having other teammates join us for parts of our longer workouts (thanks Catherine!) or biking to the Organic Farm as a big group or finding new routes in Etna (hey Arielle!)
Syncing up from so much time spent together that we were able to know what the other person was thinking before they said anything
6am Eliot Swims with other triathletes in the community
Early mornings and learning how to best fit doubles, food, and school in one day
Katie’s new tri bike that allowed her to fly (or get as close to it as possible!)
Sprinting for the first time in months in the Season Opener duathlon
As much fun as it was, there were some moments in the term that were pretty tough. Abiah was in her senior spring with lots of plans, and Katie and I both had extremely difficult course loads, so there were days were making training a priority was nearly or actually impossible. By the end of the spring term, Abiah put in many more hours training by herself because schedules didn’t always work out. I never was able to get the amount of rest or sleep that my body needed to properly recover. And Katie would have to work on group projects at 5am during the digestion time between breakfast and a morning workout. About a month before the race, I had a bike accident while we were on a bike ride all together. Fortunately nothing serious came of it and I only hurt my arm, had a bad road burn on my leg, and gave my bike a few boo-boos. It was still challenging though to figure out how to return to training (with bandages & ibuprofen) while giving my body time to recover. The tiredness I felt at that point in the term paralleled the way we had to do force ourselves to study and work despite the growing exhaustion we felt after Big Weekends and high volume weeks. It was hard to be training as much as we did and have schedules filled with an intense load of classes and things that wouldn’t give.
There were also some workouts that really challenged us. We had workouts in the extreme cold (like that first Big Weekend “adventure”) and in the brutal heat that left us all sunburnt, dehydrated and defeated after long miserable runs. At one point Abiah even had to head indoors to the treadmill to finish a Big Weekend run. Learning how to properly fuel for longer and longer workouts was also difficult and I learned what it is like to bonk/ hit the wall.
But it was especially all of these not-so-great parts of our training that made anything seem achievable during this nearly nine-month long training journey. We went through the good and the bad together. Having each other to laugh, talk, complain, and ask questions to made finding the resolve within us to stick to the training plan and do the workouts so much easier. We trusted Jim completely as we followed his training plans and built up our fitness day by day. It became really fun to learn the tri world lingo and more about ourselves, share our adventures with our other teammates, or do crazy things like doing more distance and working out for longer than even the IronMan 70.3 we were training for. Really, I think these months of pursuing a dream goal became a way for us to find a sense of empowerment in an emotional, physical and mental sense of well-being. I know for a fact that I couldn’t have crossed those 70.3+ miles without the endless support from Jim, Katie, Abiah and the rest of my teammates and coaches who just understood what was going on in my head during these months of training the way no one else was able to.
The Race: Katie
Although almost seven months of consistent training had prepared us physically for Patriot, we were nervous. Actually, nervous is an understatement. We spent race week obsessively texting each other about what to pack, what to eat, and what it would be like to cross the finish line (or whether we even wanted to cross the starting line). It didn’t help that our workouts were getting shorter and shorter, and we were facing athletic-induced endorphins withdrawal. I owe a big thank you to anyone had the misfortune of interacting with me during that time and still came to watch the race (thanks Connor!).
Even our workout sessions the day before, which took place on parts of the actual race course, did nothing to calm us down. Coach Jim had instructed us to do a 15-minute swim, a 20-minute bike, and a 15-minute run with some faster-paced pick-ups during each leg. Easy, right? Not exactly. We biked first, and almost immediately got stuck in a torrential downpour on slippery, unfamiliar roads. By the time we got back, we were freezing and completely soaked. On our run, the rain picked up so much that we could barely see. We somehow made it back to the car, texted Jim about our predicament, and followed his advice to bail on the swim and get warm. By then, we felt even more worried about the race than we had before. What if there were storms on Saturday? What if they canceled the swim? What if we got blisters from our wet sneakers, or fell during the bike? Rather than feeling calm and confident, we had a whole new list of worries.
We spent the evening trying to dry out our shoes with the hotel’s coin-operated dryers and newspaper, packing and repacking our transition bags, pumping up bike tires, eating pasta, foam rolling, and trying (and failing) to relax so we could get some sleep. The mood was tense and the conversation topic never strayed far from what was on our minds: “Can you believe it’s tomorrow?” At 4 am the next morning when our alarms went off and we were shoveling down oatmeal, bananas, and peanut butter, it was the same thing: “Can you believe it’s today???”
Race morning was a blur of too many things to do and too little time. Ironically, we found ourselves thinking less about the race itself than we had all week because we were so busy getting our last-minute prep in. We warmed up on the bike (and guess what? It poured again!), stopped at the porta potties, warmed up jogging, stopped again at the porta potties, got body-marked, set up our gear in the transition area, put on wetsuits, took a selfie, warmed up in the water, and stopped one more time at the porta potties. Before we knew it, we were wearing fuchsia swim caps, lined up with our age group, wading into the water two at a time, and we were off!
I wish I give a more exciting recap of the race itself, but I’m happy to report that it’s not a very interesting story. Somehow, everything went right. The rain held off, we felt strong, and guess what? We made it to the end in one piece! The swim was a little chaotic with lots of feet in our faces and splashing around the buoys, but we stuck to the plan of not going out too fast and settling into a “speedy but sustainable” rhythm that we could maintain for 2100 yards. T1 was fun, as we got some help from the official wetsuit strippers—several super strong volunteers who helped us racers by pulling off our tight wetsuits much faster than we could on our own. The 56-mile bike was an awesome two-loop course with beautiful scenery and not too many hills, and we got to put our fueling-while-riding skills to the test as we made it through energy bars, electrolyte drinks, and other quick carbs that would keep us going until the end. Coming out of T2 and into the final leg (a 13.1-mile run), we were all getting tired, stiff, and beyond sick of CLIF’s “razz” flavored energy gels, but we pushed on with the end in sight. After getting up and over a steep hill at mile 12.5, we turned into the race site entryway, crossed a footbridge, and smiled across the finish line.
We may have gone into Patriot not knowing exactly what it would be like. Now that we’ve finished, it’s pretty clear that racing a Half Ironman is the only real way to find out what it feels like to race a Half Ironman. “Exciting” doesn’t cover it, and “exhilarating” feels like a cliché. It’s a weird mix of feeling awesome and feeling like your heart might explode. Don’t forget to add the relief and pride that follow, plus the extreme chafing, GI turbulence, and muscle soreness that lasts for days. Maybe we can’t put that race feeling into words, but one thing’s for sure--we know we want to feel it again. Until next year, Patriot. We’ve got some records to break.
The Aftermath: Abiah
When I crossed the finish line, my legs clenched up into what felt like 100 charley horses and my heart rate was nearing 190. My mind was groggy, perhaps from the dehydration or the 3000 calorie deficit, or maybe from the euphoria of finally being done. Some wonderful angel (read: race volunteer) handed me a water bottle, ice-cold towel, and finisher’s medal before I hobbled over to the ice bath to dunk my feet in. Almost immediately, I had loving family and friends coming to me with excited faces and hugs, embracing my grime and sweat from the past 5 hours and 45 minutes. (Of course Katie had been waiting for OVER AN HOUR at the finish line; be sure to check out this blog next year when she’s elite). I wondered if I could’ve come even close to the finish line without I couldn't believe I had finished, and was so happy that the months of training were officially over.
For the next hour, I went through cycles of icing, stretching, begging my family for massages, and eating anything and everything so long as it didn't resemble Gu or make me nauseous. We all watched in amazement as Katie took the podium for our age group and was the first non-professional in female overall rankings. Then followed the picture taking, because pics or it didn’t happen. It took three people to gather all my things, now strewn all over transition, and get me to waddle to the car.
I was so relieved to return to the AirBnb that I had left that morning at 4:30 am. I thought I was done with physical pain for the day, but I was wrong. What could be more painful than completing half ironman? (No, not a full ironman). Taking a shower when you have chafe literally all over your body, from your wetsuit, your heart rate monitor, your ankle timing chip, your bike helmet strap, your ill-fitting tri shorts, and from any tiny, repetitive movement. After a long nap, I pored over race results and scrolled through races photos. It took me less than 24 hours to sign up for my next race. Why is it that we continue to pay money for this special kind of pain? I blame it on the post-race high.
The adjustment back to normal life has been strange. My body still expects me to feed it over 2500 calories a day. While only working out an hour or two a day has given me much more free time, a 6 mile run is no longer enough to give me the endorphins I need to be a functioning human. I’m sure that the transition out of college and into the real world will be even weirder.
Through the 6 months of training, nearly 6 grueling hours of racing, and 6(+/-2) days of post-race reflection, I’ve come to realize just how lucky we are. We are fortunate to have healthy and strong bodies, the free time to train, coaches to guide the process, amazing teammates to do it with, and friends and family that cheered us on the whole way. My time with the Dartmouth Triathlon Team may be over, but I know the friends and memories I made (plus my love/hate relationship with swimming, biking, and running) will last the rest of my life.
sbr
Valentina, Katie, Abiah
About the Authors
Valentina Sedlacek is an '18 on the tri team studying Spanish and Anthropology modified with Global Health, and is pre-med. She loves berries and exploring the Upper Valley in the sun swimming, biking, or hiking with friends, her family, and two dogs.
Katie Clayton ('18) is a tri team captain studying Government and French. She loves cooking, the color purple, Maine wild bluberries, and summer.
Abiah Pritchard is a '17 captain who recently graduated with a degree in Biology. She will move to Boston this year before beginning a career in healthcare. She loves golden retrievers and dark chocolate.
Fog lay like a heavy quilt over Buzzard’s Bay, blurring the line between water and sky. Through the mist, we watched the swells crash with patterned irregularity. I swallowed hard. I’d never done an open water swim before, and certainly not in the ocean. I told myself the waves would calm down by the time our race went off.
I was wrong. Fast-forward two hours, through packet-pickup, transition set-up, and warm up; we stood at the starting line. All of the women, anonymous behind goggles and under our identical yellow caps, watched as the men’s race was lifted into a wall of bodies at the mercy of the gray sea. I said a silent prayer of thanks that the course had been shortened. Just make it around the buoy and you’re golden.
“Alright ladies,” the announcer said into the microphone, “remember: what do you do when a wave comes?”
“Duck dive!” we responded in unison. I felt less like I was standing among competitors than fellow soldiers about to enter battle.
“Right. And we have our wonderful lifeguards out there for you so if you need to stop and take a breather, use them. Are we ready?”
As I’ll ever be.
The horn sounded and we charged into the waves. I ran as far as I could and then dove under the first wave as it pounded the herd of us. Thankful for the warmth and buoyancy of my wetsuit, I swam for all I was worth. It was to no avail. For every three strokes forward, a wave would yank me back at least two. The women around me seemed to be making similar progress. As I came up from under the fifth big wave, beginning to feel serious doubt about my ability to make it through the swim, I spotted the buoy. I had my light at the end of the tunnel.
Around the bobbing orange ball, trying not to go under as the other swimmers pushed over me. This is it! Home stretch! Just make it back to shore an-CRASH.
I fought the urge to gasp as the gray-green water went dark and my feet were swept up over my head. I was a rag in a washing machine. Air. I had no idea which way was up.
As the wave rolled over, the weak light of the sky started coming through and I broke the surface after what felt like an eternity. Two heads emerged next to me, gasping, and behind the goggles I made out two pairs of wide terrified eyes. They hadn’t seen it coming either. I looked behind me at the huge waves rolling towards us. Ghlskhsoaishkjnasdk.
We set off towards shore, now remembering to look over our shoulders so we could dive under the waves as they overtook us. Finally, I felt sand and immediately righted my body, trying to find purchase. My toes clawed at the bottom as I struggled through the water, but I’ve never been so grateful to feel firm ground under my feet.
I came up next to Valentina as we ran to the transition area, bare feet slapping the pavement. “Yeah Ken!” she laughed with a huge smile on her face. The bike passed in a blur, but each teammate who passed me (which was quite a few) encouraged me on. This is unlike any race I’ve ever done. It’s like it’s actually supposed to be…fun. We whipped past old stone walls and scraggly forest and I took a moment to appreciate how beautifully crazy it all was — how lucky I was to be there. My heart pounded with exhilarated joy, all the way through the finish, as teammates cheered me in.
As we sat around enjoying post-race ice cream, I stopped to reflect on how I came to be a part of this team my senior year of college. For as long as I can remember, some of my best friends have been triathletes. Maybe that says more about me that it does about them, but if you’ve ever met the Dartmouth Triathlon Team community, you’d probably understand. I’ve never encountered a more genuine, compassionate, fun group of humans. I thought about the way Jim supports each athlete — whether their goal is the first-place prize or simply crossing the finish line — with the same amount of selfless energy; how he voluntarily drove all the way to Buzzard’s Bay the day after competing in his own triathlon in Maine; the way Brandt spent all of his pre-race time replacing two flat bike tires that popped during warm-up; the patience that every single athlete had with all of us newbies; Fiona’s dab as she ran into the finish…I have nothing to offer any of them, but they welcomed me anyway. And I will never be able to thank them enough for that.
SBR,
Ken
About the Author
Kennedy is an ’18, new to the Triathlon team, who studies Biology and Anthropology. She loves climbing trees, eating watermelon, and going on spontaneous adventures.
I stopped munching on my chocolate chip cookie, and looked up at Ben, startled, confused. “Let’s do it.” I said. And that was the beginning.
My friend Ben Chen and I decided to sign up for the “Virtual” Boston Marathon this past Spring. We had both done a fair amount of cross country meets, track workouts, and charity 5Ks, but 26.2 miles seemed like a daunting feat; the most I had ever run had been ten miles.
I emailed coach Katie for advice on how to best prepare for the marathon. Once she got back to us with an incredible 16-week training plan, Ben and I were destined to spend our Freshman Summer intensely tracking mileage, carb-loading, and perfecting the art of zone 2 training. Fun. He would be in San Diego and I would be in Florida, but we planned on keeping up with each other, encouraging each other, and checking in to monitor our progress.
After a few months, it was time to run. I decided to run the marathon in San Francisco, since I took an off term to intern at a company there. If I’m being completely honest, I was so busy at work during the last few weeks of training, that I found it difficult to strictly adhere to the training plan. So, when the weekend of October 9th rolled around, I felt a bit underprepared. Still, though, my goal was simple: to finish and to enjoy.
And so, I woke up the morning of October 9th, made myself some peanut butter toast, drank a ton of water, and began my run. My friend Annaliese (a ’23) was super helpful and made me a 26.2-mile-long route that would take me around the most beautiful parts of San Francisco (the best part to explore a city is by running!). I first ran from my apartment to the beach (first segment, ~6 miles), then I headed north till Presidio Heights (very hilly, ouch), across the Golden Gate Bridge (more noisy than pleasant; mucho tráfico), east to Crissy Field, the Marina District, and finally ended up in Embarcadero (very touristy area). I think being able to explore San Francisco was the best part of my marathon experience. To make it even more exciting, that weekend was also Fleet Week, which featured the iconic Blue Angel plane show to honor those who served in our armed forces. Therefore, the city was vibrant with thousands of people, both visitors and residents, that had flocked to Marina Green Park to watch the Blue Angels perform. As I ran through the Fleet Week spectators, I felt the energy of SF, the breeze, and the sunshine strengthen me. I was almost done.
When I reached the end, I met Annaliese at the SF Aquarium (near Embarcadero). She was surprised that I wasn’t even breathing heavily nor sweating profusely. So maybe I didn’t look super tired, but oh boy, my legs felt like noodles. That leads me to my next point: I need to start lifting more. Whether I end up doing another marathon or not is unclear right now, but I realized that in the midst of my intense running training, I overlooked strength training! Not a good choice on my end. All in all, though, while the marathon was far from easy, I am happy I did it. After much training, very sore legs, lots of peanut butter and protein bars, and time spent curating a Spotify playlist, I felt triumph and satisfaction in knowing that what began as a perhaps impulsive “Let’s do it,” became a memorable accomplishment. If you’re reading this and wondering if you should run a marathon, the answer is YES! Start slow, build up speed and strength, and have fun with it! You never know if you don’t try.
About the Author
Tina is a ’24 at Dartmouth from Puerto Rico. She now lives in Florida with her family, and in her free time enjoys cooking, roller blading, and discovering new music. She is a bio + French double major, and in addition to Tri is involved with the Collis student center, the dartmouth undergraduate journal of science, and research at the Geisel School of Medicine.
When I signed up for the CHaD Half Marathon back in the summer, I declared that I would run every day and go on so many long runs, exactly like everyone on the internet says to do for a half marathon. However, things did not pan out that way at all. The race snuck up on me, and the week of the race I realized I had not trained enough. My google searches for “How to train for a half marathon in a week” were not reassuring. I expressed my worries to the team, but they were so supportive and gave me tons of advice, such as to not get a season-ending injury like Brandt did last year and don’t run in a costume. In the end, they made me excited to race no matter what happened during the race.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling great, and I could feel the energy and excitement on campus. Racing on campus made me much less stressed since if forgot anything, I could just walk back to my room. I was also familiar with the course and had run it before. Before the race, the team decided to meet up. I was surprised but happy to see so many people on the team racing either the 5K or the half marathon. I knew I wasn’t going to be alone in my suffering. We took a team picture, warmed up, and then it was time to line up for the race. I lined up next to Kevin the pacer from UVRC (Upper Valley Running Club), who had stellar recommendations from Coaches Jim and Jeff. I had no idea if I would be able to keep up with him at all, but I decided to give it a shot.
The anticipation kept building as we were waiting for the starting gun. Along the sidelines I spotted Moises, who showed up to cheer the team on. He gave me one last pep talk and then it was time to start racing. When we started, I felt amazing and was so excited. The crowd was so loudly cheering us on. I just wanted to run as fast as I could, yet I was warned that the 5K starts at the same time as the half marathon and runs the same course for the first two miles, so I should hold back my energy. Because I am a competitive person, I struggled to let all these runners pass me even though I knew most of them were running 10 less miles than I was. Thankfully, Kevin the pacer was experienced and knew not to start too fast. We were running at a perfect pace and we could actually talk to each other at the beginning.
The energy of the spectators cheering us on was so contagious. All along the course, groups of people with their kids and pets dressed in costumes stood out in front of their houses and shouted motivational words. Every time I passed a group of spectators, I smiled at them, so they would at least think I was doing well and having fun. Well turns out, I was smiling quite a bit as there were people everywhere. When I saw Brandt and Carly, who raced the 5K and immediately hopped on their bikes to cheer the rest of us on, I got so excited and motivated to keep pushing through the pain. I just started thinking about how amazing my team is. I especially needed the motivation at the point as I had just decided to break away from the pacer and increase my pace. I had no idea if I would be able to continue holding this new faster pace or if I would collapse during the impending hilly sections.
The highlight of my race was reaching the top of Tuck Drive, which is the steepest hill of the course, and seeing a large group of students just cheering me on and reassuring me that the worst was behind me. I did not know most of them, but that didn’t stop them from cheering me on. While I had initially thought that I would start slowing down here, I, in fact, sped up, partly to possibly impress anyone who might be watching me, but mainly because of the crowd’s energy. I couldn’t slow down with only 4 more miles to go!
When I finally finished the race, I felt the best I had ever felt before. I was on such a runner’s high and just could not stop smiling. And of course, the team was still there cheering me on at the end. I was so excited that I almost forgot about the post-race food! Once I reached the food tent though, I didn’t want to leave.
This was one of the best races of my life thanks to all of the support of my team and of the spectators just cheering me on. I don’t know how my teammates have so much energy to be constantly cheering, but they do. I am so excited for my next race with the team, whenever and wherever that may be.
SBR,
Hunter
About the Author
Hunter is a ’20 who studies Geography and German. On campus, he is an active leader in the DOC and can’t survive without his daily foco pizza slice.
Sharks, riptides, and 66 other athletes kicking me in the face. These were the things I was trying my hardest not to think about as I watched the collegiate men’s wave enter the water. But with my teammates by my side, including some amazing alums, I felt ready to jump into the salty waves in Buzzard’s Bay.
I am by no means a swimmer. Or a biker. At least that is what I thought coming out of high school. My time with the triathlon club has started to change that. I often lament to my teammates that I regret not joining the team my freshmen year, but instead waited until Sophomore spring to become a part of the group. But maybe I just wasn’t ready. Maybe I was obsessed with running… or afraid of swimming and biking. Whatever it was, I am thrilled and grateful to be a part of the team now. Buzzard’s Bay was a fantastic opportunity to reconnect with teammates who had not been around this summer (my Dartmouth Sophomore Summer) and continue to get to know the ones that were around.
The weekend started in the parking lot behind Mass Row (Is this how all Dartmouth triathlon trips start?). I conquered the long trek from South Mass to the trailer, one bike, one helmet, and four bags in hand. Emily and I joined Andrea and Sonia in the truck, which was attached to the massive trailer holding all of our bikes. The ride down to Massachusetts was full of music, great conversation, the exchange of pump-up gifts and a slight mishap at a gas station -- a truck and a trailer need a lot of room, but no worries, Andrea and Sonia are pro trailer drivers. Hanging out with Andrea, Sonia, and Emily in the truck was definitely one of the highlights of the trip. I loved hearing about Emily’s study abroad in Beijing this summer, Andrea’s affinity for mediating group drama (a handy thing for a sorority leader), and Sonia’s experiences working at a Psych clinic. In no time, we were in Massachusetts, taking care of race registration, and on our way to the hotel.
After a bit of confusion with the seemingly overwhelmed hotel manager, the team found its way into the hotel’s breakfast room for a carbo-load pasta dinner from Olive Garden topped off with cookies made from our very own chef/captain, Carly Tymm. We finished off the night with a few board games and a team pre-race meeting before a respectable bedtime of 9:30pm. Before long, by 6:20am to be exact, we were up and out of the hotel, on our way to the beautiful Buzzard’s Bay. I can truly say that the website does not lie when it says it hosts the most scenic triathlon in Massachusetts. The gorgeous scenery and nice weather boded well for a good race.
Later that morning I was on the beach, watching the men’s wave enter the water. Soon after, it was my turn to flounder in with the other 66 neon pink swim caps, too disoriented to have any hope of avoiding the mess of limbs hacking through the waves. To make it through, I concentrated on breathing (and spitting out salt water), and strokes, occasionally stopping to look around and find the next buoy or shore. I swear, every time I paused to look up, the buoy or shore was in the opposite direction from where I thought it should have been. Nonetheless, I made it safely out of the water and immediately began stripping the wetsuit off.
For the rest of the race I was thankfully much more aware of my surroundings, happily enjoying the sandy hills, marshy landscape, and green shrubbery of Buzzard’s Bay. On the bike and then on the run, I enjoyed seeing teammates and exchanging cheers. I think I saw almost everyone on the bike, if you count catching Sonia beginning her run, a good few minutes in front of the rest of our collegiate girls wave. Reaching the run myself, I took off on wobbly legs and didn’t look back until I hit the last stretch along the ocean, alums and teammates cheering me on. When I passed the finish line, I was out of breath and panting, but I was also surprised it had all gone so quickly. When I used to race track races in high school, I was a nervous wreck whose greatest wish in the world was to be done with the race. It has been quite the opposite with triathlons so far. As much as I enjoy training with my teammates, learning how to swim fast and handle myself on a road bike, I truly love racing triathlons with the team. The two triathlons I have raced so far have been highlights of my Dartmouth experience, both for the chance to bond with my teammates and for the thrill I get from challenging myself athletically in a new way.
Racing at Buzzard’s Bay made me motivated and excited to begin training this Fall with the team. I can’t wait to train with the new 22’s and the old, but just as exciting, returning team members. I want to take the opportunity to thank Sonia, Tucker, and Carly (and all of the other execs) for all that they do for the team. It is clear to me that running this team takes an army’s worth of work and they do it with all smiles and a friendly attitude that makes this community so special. I also want to thank the rest of the triathlon team for welcoming me my sophomore spring. My time on this team has meant the world to me and I’m so excited to enjoy two more years of it.
SBR,
Megan
About the Author:
Megan is a ‘20 from California studying Biomedical Engineering. She loves long trail runs, baking extravagant birthday cakes with her two lovely sisters, and reading historical fiction novels on the flights back home.
This summer, I've been doing a consulting internship in Boston (classic Dartmouth) and have been loving every second of it. I'm living in the city by Fenway and making great new friendships with the other interns. I've been able to explore Boston and travel around New England, enjoying the amazing weather. I love working during the week and enjoying stress-free weekends. With only a couple weeks left of the summer, I've been feeling a little sad at its ending and not as excited to start senior year.
This past weekend, however, helped me get over this distance I've been feeling between myself and Dartmouth. At the beginning of the summer, a bunch of tri team friends agreed to do the Boston Triathlon. I had no excuse not to since I would be living in the city, so I signed up for the Sprint. Before I knew it, the day before the race had arrived. Meeting so many tri team members at packet pickup the day before got me extra excited for the race. I hadn't seen many of them in a while, and it was so comforting to be around my supportive teammates again.
Come to think of it, that's what sticks out to me about the whole weekend--the many examples of the supportiveness of the Dartmouth tri team. First, the day of packet pickup, I suddenly became very stressed about how I would get to the race from my apartment. I realized that for races during the normal school year, the tri team had amazing logistics support with large vans to get bikes and people to and from races. This time, I hadn't secured a ride yet, and I realized it could be tricky to get my bike and gear across the city on my own at 6am (of course I realize this the day before). But lucky for me, Catherine and Sarah volunteered time out of their race morning to swing by my apartment and bring me and my bike to the race. Even though we missed a turn, forgot Sarah's race bib, and arrived to the transition area with 5 minutes before it closed, going through the morning with two positive, supportive teammates kept my attitude right.
Second, seeing Brandt come out to cheer us on as we lined up on the beach was such a comforting surprise, and getting to try out the water with Abiah helped us prep for a good swim start. I haven't yet started a race without teammates by my side, and I don't want to figure out what that's like.
Third, during the loopy bike and run course of the sprint race, I passed by Catherine, Sarah, and Abiah multiple times, and we whooped and cheered each other on each time. I love the boost I get from seeing the Dartmouth tri suit whizz by.
Fourth, after the race was over, the teammates who did the Sprint were all tired, happy, and excited to change into some clean clothes before the awards. However, when we heard in the GroupMe that Matt was at the hospital after a bike crash during the Olympic race, we all immediately freaked out and wanted to go to the hospital right away. Of course, Sonia’s parents and Brandt were already there with him as he got stitches in his chin and were bringing him back to get his bike. This scary experience showed me the value of support that a team like ours brings in case something goes wrong during races. Seeing Matt show up after awards smiling and congratulating the rest of us on our races was heartwarming--he genuinely was happy for everyone else and not brought down by his randomly popped tire. He stayed positive and made sure to show us bloody pictures of his injury—ew!
Fifth and lastly, our teammates settled in together near the food tents and stage to watch all the team members who received awards for the race. Even though everyone was exhausted and could have left to get back to Dartmouth earlier to study for Monday midterms, we all waited together in the shade and cheered our hearts out as Sonia, Katie, and Jim got up to the podium as top placers in their age groups. I'm sure everyone else was jealous that we had such a rowdy team to support our champions.
I think you get the gist: the Dartmouth tri team is supportive as all get out. In addition, I'm happy to say that this past weekend at the Boston Triathlon has shown me the harmony that can exist between a post-grad working life and triathlons (hopefully I can continue doing them with some of the same awesome teammates). Though I need to figure out how to train correctly in a city, I felt myself improving in confidence and having a lot of fun during this race. I can’t wait for senior year and more triathlons with the supportive Dartmouth team I’m proud to be a part of.
SBR,
Erin
About the Author
Erin Connolly ('18) is an Econ major and Computer Science and French minor who manages the Tri team website. She loves traveling, reading, trying new restaurants, and spending as much time with friends and family as possible.
Running is fun! Said no one ever? Noooo!!! With either a good playlist, nice company, or scenic views, it can be an enjoyable activity! Most people will disagree, but I’m a firm believer that running CAN be fun! I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember. My dad picked up casual jogging when I was about 5 after finding out he had hypercholesterolemia- fancy word for high cholesterol. His doctor recommended he pick up jogging, and as a little girl, I started going on runs around my neighborhood with him. Soon that fun pastime evolved to become more than a hobby. My school in Puerto Rico had a track team early in elementary school, so since the fourth grade I became a part of that. Once I moved to the mainland US, I stopped running competitively, but still enjoyed it on my own as a good workout and way to relax. I’ve found that even though sometimes going out for a run might seem tedious, I am guaranteed to feel happier, more relaxed, and more energized after the run.
When I got to Dartmouth this past fall, one of the most pleasant surprises was discovering all the beautiful running trails around campus. Now that I live in Florida, most of the running I do at home is on sidewalks around my neighborhood or sometimes by the beach. While I can’t complain about that, I will say that Dartmouth’s running trails are by far more enjoyable. I’ve LOVED running by Pine Park, the golf course, Mink Brook, down Main St and by the river, and of course RIP ROAD! With Tri-Team, I’ve been able to discover a ton of new routes and I know I always have good company to run with.
This past weekend, Tri-Team partnered up with the Dartmouth Running Team to host a Virtual 5K. Although I anticipated running the trail in Pine Park along with some of my Tri-Teammates, my parents surprised me with a visit for Mother’s Day, so I ended up spending the weekend in Boston with them and some friends. Finding myself in Boston, I was still committed to running the three miles I had signed up for. I don’t really know much about the city, so I figured I would map out a few streets I could run by, maybe along the water, and just give it my all! So, after a delicious milkshake from J.P. Lips, I headed back to my hotel, rested for a bit, and then put on my running clothes, tied my shoes, grabbed my Air Pods, and hit play to Boris Brejcha’s Tomorrowland set on Sound Cloud. Like I mentioned before, I am a firm believer that a good playlist is key to a good run. My dad and I share a profound love for house music, and Boris Brejcha is one of our favorite DJs. I listen to his same live set every time I go for a run, and it never fails to motivate me.
Running in Boston was super fun. The streets were quite busy, so I ran past a lot of pedestrians. The course I ended up choosing though, wasn’t hilly at all, a nice change from Hanover. I hadn’t really run a fast 5K in a while, since I usually go on longer, slow runs. In the end, I finished with a good time and right on the beat drop in Boris Brejcha’s set. A successful run.
(Two pictures of breezy, cloudy Boston that I took while running the 5K!)
I’m super grateful for Tri-Team for being such an active club on campus. Starting my freshman year in the middle of a pandemic, I was scared student organizations wouldn’t be as active. To my surprise, Triathlon was all the contrary. Since the fall, I’ve been able to go on countless runs, bike rides, and now in the Spring, swim practices. I love the supportive and welcoming community Tri-Team fosters, and I can’t wait to see us all grow (both physically and mentally) these next years.
About the Author
Tina is a ’24 from Boca Raton, Florida looking to major in Biology and French on the Pre-Med Track. Being originally from Puerto Rico, where she lived for fifteen years, Tina loves the tropical outdoors, and enjoys going to the beach, running (with a good playlist, of course), mountain biking with her dad and younger brother, and roller blading (a new skill she learned this past Winter). Although not extremely experienced with SBR-related activities, she is so excited to be a part of the Triathlon Team and looks forward to developing her skills during her next four years at Dartmouth.
Disclaimer: I recognize that some readers are unfamiliar with triathlon and the IRONMAN race event. I have included a glossary of discipline-specific terms that appear in the following write-up; all underlined words are included in the Glossary.
Moreover, I recognize that some people are interested solely in the race and not any anecdotal/introspective comments. Therefore, I have organized this post into sections, as follows:
Foreword (my background and training), Travel Log (from Hanover, NH, to St. George, UT), Pre-Race, Swim, Bike, Run, Finish/Post-Race, and Summary. If you are primarily interested in race details, see Pre-Race through Finish/Post-Race.
Athlete Guide containing race specifics, course maps, and logistics.
Foreword
I am twenty years old as of writing; I am a first-generation college student; I am the son of supportive parents. I am an anxious person at times, and I adore puns, to a fault.
I am part of the Class of 2024 at Dartmouth College in Hanover, NH. I am a member of the Dartmouth Triathlon Club (“tri-team”). On May 7th, 2022, I competed in the 2021 IRONMAN World Championships in St. George Utah.
The event was a full-distance “Ironman Triathlon”, consisting of a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride, and a 26.2-mile run (a marathon) to finish.
An athlete typically qualifies for the world championships in a general-entry Ironman (IM) race and “earns a slot” to worlds. Due to the enduring COVID-19 pandemic, race organizers moved the championship from its historical site to another race schedule in St. George, Utah—this change was announced on Sept. 23, 2021, six days after I signed up for my first IM in St. George.
Thus, I became an IM World Championship competitor.
In sum, I spent 185 days training for the event. I swam over 100,000 yards, cycled nearly 2000 miles, and ran over 300 miles.
On Jan. 2nd, I injured my knee and I was unable to run for three months.
In early March, I contracted COVID-19 and I was unable to train for 10 days.
On April 2nd, I was cycling through Orford, NH, when I was bitten by a local dog. Thereafter, I received four rounds of rabies vaccinations from Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center.
On May 4, 2022, three days before the event, I left Hanover with Coach Jim Anderson of the Endurance Drive.
Travel Log
3:45 am. 04 May. Wake up. Travel to Logan Express station in Woburn, MA.
8:58 am. 04 May. Board DELTA 695 traveling to Las Vegas, NV.
— Time Change (EST → PDT, -3 HRS.) —
12:00 pm. 04 May. Disembark DELTA 695.
01:30 pm. 04 May. Commuter shuttle to car rental facility.
02:00 pm. 04 May. Drive to St. George, Utah, for athlete registration.
— Time Change (PDT → MDT, +1 HR.) —
05:00 pm. 04 May. Arrive in Town Park Square in St. George for athlete check-in.
06:00 pm. 04 May. Arrive at Airbnb in St. George.
Approximately 13 hours of travel.
Pre-Race
Jim and I woke up around 3:30 in order to make the 4:15 athlete shuttle to Sand Hollow State Park, the site of transition one.
It was still dark by the time we arrived at Sand Hollow. It was 60° F, cool enough to wear a thin layer. We found a comfortable fence to lean on for the next several hours: Jim’s race would start around 7:15, and mine would start around 7:30.
Katie joined us after a while. She gave each of us a salt tab, and we watched athletes checking in, arranging their belongings in T1, and preparing themselves for the day ahead.
I listened to an episode of the Hidden Brain podcast, then I listened to “Tales of Dominica” and other songs from Lil Nas X’s Montero album.
In the week before race day, I had been feeling under the weather. My throat was scratchy, my chest and nose were congested, and I drank Emergen-C and Skratch by the gallon. I still felt that way on the morning of the race, but I decided that if I hadn’t thrown up by that morning I would commit to the event.
The hours passed without note—no big pep talks. Katie, Jim, and I sat there, chatting idly or napping as we pleased, until the time came for us to don our wetsuits.
When that time came, we were organized into columns according to our age category (e.g. Men 18-24). These categories determined our start types. We moved in a slow herd, around one bend and down a long chute before arriving at the starting arch.
The water was placid save for the chop created by the athletes and the safety boats. Dozens of volunteers were on the water in kayaks, monitoring athletes’ progress. I’d heard race officials announce that the water was 5° warmer than the practice swim that previous Thursday. In other words, the water had risen from a balmy 59° F to a sultry 64° F. The sun had started to rise.
Then, it began!
Swim (2.4 miles)
We entered the water in a rolling start, which meant that every 10 seconds a pair of athletes crossed through the arch and dove into the reservoir.
When I entered the water, it was cold and refreshing. I had opted for two swim caps, both pulled over my forehead to provide insulation.
The main objective in open-water swimming (OWS) is “sighting” well. Sighting is the practice of identifying the next buoy and swimming toward it; an athlete will “resight” roughly every seven strokes in order to stay on-course. Over a 2.4-mile swim, poor sighting can add hundreds of yards to an athlete’s total distance.
Open water swim (OWS) buoy
Two things helped me maintain focus during the swim. First, my watch vibrated for every 500 yards covered (I assume this was a carry-over from previous OWS). Therefore, every time my watch vibrated I knew I had completed another ⅛ of the distance: I gauged my effort and readjusted as necessary. Second, I knew the general layout of the swim course. I understood that the course was a rough L-shape, and that we crossed in front of Sand Hollow Island going out and coming back.
I found breathing difficult given my previous days’ illness. The water tasted like gasoline from the motorized safety boats. Throughout the race, I was constantly maneuvering around a man in a purple swim cap. He moved in front of me, next to me, and behind me for 80% of the swim. It was infuriating, but I focused on my sighting.
I finished the swim and I couldn’t believe that 85 minutes had passed in the water. I crossed through the arch once more and I walked up the chute to the wetsuit peelers.
It cannot be argued that the IM volunteers were anything other than angels in disguise. There is no discussion. If you are under the false assumption that these people are not the kindest, most willing, and most enthusiastic humans you have the pleasure to meet, then you are sorely mistaken. Literal godsends, doing God’s work.
Case in point. The wetsuit peelers, as they are called, sit you down and subsequently pull your wetsuit from your body. This was my first time with wetsuit peelers, but after a 2.4-mile swim I didn’t find much energy to object. Moreover, I’d had my ankles grabbed and my ass incidentally smacked by fellow competitors, so having someone remove my wetsuit seemed mundane in comparison.
At the same time I was having my wetsuit stripped, I felt a dry pain in my throat—I realized I had lost my voice during the swim. The previous days’ illness had taken its toll on my lungs, and I found it difficult to take deep breaths or speak in full sentences without pain.
By the end of the IM, I estimate I spoke no more than 150 words to competitors and race volunteers.
The wetsuit was removed and I walked into T1. I dried myself off, applied a liberal amount of Chamois Butter, and equipped myself for the ride.
Bike (112 miles)
Now you may be wondering: When do you eat during an IM?
Really, it’s more like: When don’t you eat?
I ate ~500 calories of solid food moving through T1. Then, I broke two Clif bars into bite size pieces and stored them in my bike's bento box. I walked my bike to the mount line, mounted the bike, and set off for the hills ahead.
I started the ride light and easy, remembering Coach Katie and Coach Jim’s words about IM pacing, especially with all of the hills ahead. In the days before, they had said: “So many people should pass you on the first 20 miles, control the impulse to gun it up hills.”
The course could be delineated into three major ascents: The Wall (mile 20, circled in blue), the Veyo (mile 75, circled in pink), and Snow Canyon (mile 100, circled in purple), accompanied by rolling hills.
The first 20 miles passed without note. Coach Katie found me on mile 25, gave a few words of encouragement, then carried on with her race.
I found the aid stations judiciously placed. I was never without ice (to pour down my back) or water (to pour on my head).
Around mile 40, I encountered a novel situation. I cycled over a bump and exerted force on my handlebars (as one does, as one does). However, when I came to rest on the bars they shifted ~5° down (toward the ground). So… my headset was loose. The two screws, partially rusted from recent months of weathering and numerous years of use, were not strong enough to keep the headset in place—huh.
At this point, I wasn’t foreign to “making do” with a less-than-stellar bike. The day before, Coach Jim had opened my back brake (i.e. no back wheel braking for the 112-mile ride) due to previous issues with rubbing/friction. Several months before, we had done a bike fit and we resorted to raising the seat in order for me to ride comfortably.
I had personally tightened the screws on the headset the day before. I knew that I’d tightened each screw to their limit. Though I had bike tools with me, there would be little I could do to tighten the screws further and prevent the headset from moving. From that point forward, I rode on borrowed wheels. Every bump, I minimized force on the headset; I loosened my grip on every bump, and I was careful when going into the aero position.
At mile 56, there was a special needs supply station. Athletes packed their special needs bags and dropped them in Town Park Square before boarding the shuttle that morning. My special needs bag contained a brownie, water with electrolytes, and a few Gu packets and other snacks. Race organizers had placed these special needs bags on the tarmac in preparation for athletes’ arrivals. Mind you, it was north of 90°F.
When I opened my water and took a sip, I retched. It was at a temperature comfortable for sipping tea or coffee. The combination of heat and salt was nauseating.
When I tried to eat my brownie, I found it had turned to mush. In any case, I couldn’t stomach solid food with the oppressive heat.
I asked one of the volunteers for sunscreen and I continued on the course.
Around mile 60, somewhere in the valley leading to the Veyo, I received a drafting violation on the bike. Rather than dispute the violation and risk disqualification (DQ), I nodded and continued on the bike. For the rest of the course, regardless of ascent/descent or speed, I placed myself to the left or right of an upcoming cyclist. Some cyclists rode in the smack center of the road (instead of staying to the right, as is courteous and conventional), at which point I maneuvered around them, too.
The drafting violation cost me five minutes of my race, which in all honesty was a welcome respite at mile 90 (before Snow Canyon).
Entering Snow Canyon, cyclists were sitting or lying down on the side of the road. Their hands were on their stomachs, their heads to the sky, their bikes strewn in the dirt. They had been put to a halt by heat exhaustion or heat stroke.
I overheard a volunteer speaking over the radio: “Yeah, we’ve got a guy who’s been here for thirty minutes…” The volunteer stood alone, a silver SUV parked 20 feet behind him. “What? No, we don’t have any water.”
This was mile 100. People were walking, spitting, hacking, and coughing. It was about 2 pm. I decided to walk most of the ascent in Snow Canyon, recognizing the marathon ahead and the conditions of other cyclists on the course.
When I crested Snow Canyon, I knew that it was a steady downhill all the way back into town. I cherished the downhills and peddled only when I fell below 25 mph, monitoring my heart rate and saving myself for the run.
Run (26.2 miles)
As soon as I dismounted the bike I felt a ball of pain in my right foot. I believe that during the bike I tiled my foot outward (with clipped pedals) and added additional force to the right side of my right foot. Thus, for the first miles of the run I hobbled at a 15’ per mile pace.
The course consisted of two, 13.1-mile loops beginning and ending in Town Park Square. There were aid stations at every mile of the course.
I met Coach Jim on my mile 2 (his mile 11). We checked in briefly before continuing our respective races.
Miles 1-12 didn’t leave an impression on me. It was still hot, and I think that those first hours were the origin of my horrendous sunburns. I took ice and water at each aid station and put one foot in front of the other.
Between miles 12 and 14, I decided that I should probably start “racing” again (especially after seeing Coach Katie finish her race as I was starting lap 2 of the run course). By that point, I’d been walk-running (walking for a time, running for a time, repeat), and I’d had some success.
I tried making promises to myself. I’ll walk for 100 paces, then I’ll run for 100 paces; I’ll run half a mile, then walk half a mile; I’ll walk the aid stations and run between them. Nothing stuck.
Then, I started to calculate the finish. At mile 14, it was about 8:36 pm. I needed to cover 12 miles before the time cutoff. Each athlete as a rule had 17 hours to complete the course, and seeing as my start time was approximately 7:22 am, I needed to cover 12 miles before 12:22 am (May 8th).
Of course, this is what I thought at the time. I didn’t know for certain when the time cutoffs occurred, and none of the race volunteers or athletes could tell me, either.
Nevertheless, I was worried about not finishing the race. I had 12 miles to cover in just under four hours; I had to travel at an average of 3-point-something miles per hour in order to finish within the time limit. Since my watch was still tracking my speed (the battery life of the Garmin 935 is outstanding), I knew that my fast-walking pace was slightly faster than 15’ per mile (4+ mph).
I didn’t know if I was going to finish the race. I knew the numbers.
I decided on a new strategy. I would run every flat and downhill, and walk every uphill. This strategy was founded on simple logic: the run was easiest on the flats and downhills. If I was going to maximize my speed while also economizing my effort, I needed to utilize the flats and downhills and earn myself the time to walk uphill (and conserve energy).
I started thinking to myself: “I’m running on easy money!” (flats and downhills) and “Why would I ever run uphill?” (because why would I ever run uphill?). This made miles 14-19 straightforward.
Reminder: I lost my voice after the swim.
At each aid station, I made exaggerated gestures and used eye contact to communicate with volunteers. At mile 18, when I rasped to a volunteer that “I [was] cramping”, she knew to give me salt—another volunteer handed me a full banana (this would be my fourth or fifth of the run). You wouldn’t think it, but consuming a condiment cup of table salt does help with severe cramps. After the salt, the cramps subsided and I was able to continue the race.
Around the same time, my mind wandered to a metaphor I’d heard among people with the Endurance Drive (link) and the tri-team. It goes like this: you have a finite number of “matches.” Matches are strong efforts (e.g. a sprint) that you “burn” (perform) during a training session or a race. The thrust of the metaphor is that you have a finite set of opportunities to burn matches and if you burn those matches at the wrong times you can end up spent before the finish.
At mile 17, I thought about the matches metaphor. I said to myself, “I have nine dry, unused matches.” Each mile, I updated the number, “I have eight dry, unused matches.” Each time I clocked a mile I burned another match, if only to focus my mind and visualize the finish. This mental trick carried me back to Town Square Park.
Finish, Post-Race
I finished the race with a sprint down the chute. After crossing the line, Daniela Ryf (the women’s 1st place finisher that day) was there to give me the IM World Championship medal. I was led through the chute, collected the rest of the finisher swag, and finally released into the athlete area for food and refreshment.
Shortly after sitting down and attempting to eat, I found myself unable to keep down solid food. I remained in the athlete area until I reconnected with the support squad; we returned to the town house.
I finished the race at 11:18:59 pm. I was unable to stomach solid food until noon the next day. The sunburns on my thighs and back were 2nd degree (blistering/bleeding)—I sought medical attention at the College’s health center after I returned to campus on Monday. I was limping for a week following the race (due to the burns). Because I gripped the headset so tightly on the bike, I lost (and mostly regained) fine motor control in my left hand; on the Sunday night following the race, I was unable to hold a pencil.
Since then, however, my burns have healed and I have resumed light training. I look forward to summer in Hanover.
Summary
I sustained burns, I lost my voice, I had multiple injuries in the leadup to the race. Over the past six months, training for this event became my most salient character trait and came to define my social and academic lives. In full transparency, my academics suffered as a result of my poor time management. I found myself mentally fatigued.
To be certain, I’ve gained physical and mental strength. I ascended to one of the highest peaks of athleticism.
I have Coaches Katie Clayton and Jim Anderson, as well as their families and friends, to thank for their support around this event.
From left to right: Coach Katie Clayton, Coach Jim Anderson, Ben Levesque.
I have Coach Jeff Reed, and my teammates on the tri-team, who tracked my progress throughout the race and cheered me on in the months prior to the big day.
I have my colleagues, my peers, my fraternity brothers, and my circles, all of whom influenced my thoughts and perspectives on this event.
I have the 26 donors that helped me raise $1500 to pay for race-related expenses (plane tickets, entry fees, etc.).
Writing this report has been a mechanism to process the physical, mental, and emotional stress of this journey. It’s also a way of documenting what this experience has required of me: where and from whom I found the will to keep training and adapting to new circumstances.
This has been a long haul and I’m truly glad it’s over. I’m looking forward to focusing on my academics and building better relationships with my friends and family.
To some, doing an ironman could be considered a special type of hell.
To me, doing an ironman with so many people behind me—supporting me, cheering for me, congratulating me—made this experience a boon. I will never forget the overwhelming support of my teammates, friends, and family.
With their support, I have become an Iron Man.
Crossing the finish at the 2021 Ironman World Championships. OT: 15:16:22 (S-1:24:42, B-8:05:12, R-5:58:01)
Glossary:
Ironman Triathlon: In 1978, the first “Ironman Triathlon” was held in Kailua-Kona, Hawai’i. It was designed as a competition between swimmers, cyclists, and runners to determine which discipline was the strongest. The route of the race combined a traditional swim, a circumnavigation of the island, and a marathon to finish. The first Iron Man in 1978 completed the race in 11 hours, 46 minutes, and 58 seconds. These distances are generally regarded as the “Ironman” distances for triathlon. There are triathlons of varying distances, including sprint, olympic, half-Ironman, and full Ironman.
Transitions: Transition one (“T1”) is the swim-to-bike transition area: it is where athletes exit the water, remove their wetsuits, and change gear for the bike portion. Transition two (“T2”) is the bike-to-run transition area: it is where athletes dismount their bikes and change gear for the run portion.
Salt Tab(lets): A tablet of salt, consumed to boost electrolytes. Salt intake is crucial during long-distance events, where water and other essential nutrients are sweated out over time.
Skratch: A brand of electrolyte powder, mixed with water.
The Arch(es): At each transition area, and at intermediate points in the race, tracking devices recorded athletes’ times and paces. This was accomplished using an ankle bracelet that athletes were required to wear at all times during the race.
Chamois Butter: A brand of anti-chafe cream, critical for long-distance bike rides.
Equipment for the Ride: Per Ironman regulation, athletes need to have their helmet on and clipped before exiting T1. An athlete will be stopped if they are seen without their helmet on and secured.
Bento Box: A small, trough-like compartment with a mesh net cover, meant to hold nutrition. Secured between the top-tube and the headset of the bike.
Bike Fit: A fitting session for a bike, to adjust seat height and other features (such as stem length, handlebars, etc.) for comfort and power efficiency.
Aero(dynamic) Position: Triathlon bikes are unique for their design, particularly the “aero-bars” that stick out from the front of the bike. These bars are used when the athlete can comfortably enter the “aero position”, with both forearms on the pads. This position is aerodynamic and is preferred for long-distance races, where small efficiencies save time over the course of the race. Drafting (violation): Drafting is the practice of sitting behind another cyclist to save energy. Sitting in someone’s “pocket” (the pocket of air behind the cyclist), is said to save up to 30% of your energy. It is illegal in ironman races because it goes against the idea of “moving by one’s own effort.”
