Beyond the White Line: Ironman Lake Placid Spec-Train-Teering Weekend

Ironman Lake Placid
Run turnaround for the 2014 IMLP marathon on River Road.

In 2009, I was a volunteer at Ironman Lake Placid. It was the first time I saw an Ironman live, up close, and personal. What I saw that day amazed me.

A H. M A Z E .B A L L S.

There is absolutely nothing like the first time you spectate an Ironman. Personal. Physical. Primal. The energy permeates everything. So does the smell.

If you have never watched an iron-distance race, put it on your list of things to do. It will change how you think about the human body and mind.

That day in 2009, I had only finished a handful of sprint triathlons and one olympic distance. I hadn’t even done my first half iron distance race, which didn’t stop me from signing up for IMLP 2010, of course.

My amazement bordered on disbelief – how could people do this? How would I do this?!?

Now, 6 Ironmans later, I understand how people could and would do this – but I am no less amazed, awed and inspired by what our bodies and our minds can accomplish. In fact, I’m even more in amazeballment now that I’ve been through the challenges of training and racing Ironman.

It’s such an important day in the lives of the athletes and their families. So much build up. So much preparation. So much much much.

“It’s YOUR day!!” I cheered to a group of the athletes this year as they passed by me. “MAKE IT COUNT!”

I’ve been a participant or a volunteer at Ironman Lake Placid every year since that first experience. I love the race and I want to be a part of it – whether that means racing it, or being a spectator-training-volunteer (spec-train-teer, for short).

This year (2014), we continued the tradition. I, along with John and our friend Tim (who will do his first IM in Lake Placid next year!), traveled to Lake Placid to spec-train-teer. We knew about a dozen friends out on the course, and I was eager to be good support for them, as well as everyone else out there, working through their big day.

whitelineroadWhen I’m racing, I mostly see only what is directly in front of me. I may take temporary notice of someone yelling my name, or someone in a costume, or the passing scenery. But, really, it’s just me, the effort, and the white line in the road.

So, spec-train-teering offers a perspective that stretches well beyond that line. It’s an experience that is different from racing, but equally enjoyable.

You can see the energy in the athletes’ eyes pre-race: anticipation, uncertainty, excitement, and yes, maybe a little fear.

“Race day is celebration day,” I tell athletes who are about to race. “You’ve put the hard work in – now it’s time to celebrate that hard work!”

There are the experienced folk who are calm, focused, and fearless. They know what the day will bring, and they are ready to bring.it.on. Their confidence is not arrogance. It’s rooted in a strong belief and the will to win.

Then, there are the Robo-Cops, who walk around too cool for school, and mistake arrogance for confidence. I prefer to avoid their energy in the days prior to racing.

The pre-race energy of the experienced athlete emanates differently from the first-timer, who bustles about like an excited child, ready to find out what the first time at DisneyWorld will be like.

The energy of a first-timer, oh man. I just love it. It’s intoxicating. I want to bottle it up and suck it in. I’ve been chasing the high of my first-time finish line ever since. The closest I can get is to suck off the fumes from others who are having their first time finish line experience.

Of course, all of this pre-race energy transforms once the gun goes off, and it’s time to go into execution mode. Throughout the day, I watched this energy transform, and make it’s final push during the run.

We volunteered at Run Aid Station #1, which was about 1 mile from transition. So, we would see athletes just as they came out of transition, and again just as they were getting into their second loop. Our shift was from 3:30-7:30 p.m., which allowed us to see almost everyone who was either on their first or second loop – and sometimes both!

I noticed a few things while we were volunteering, and what I noticed seemed to correlate with the kind of day the athlete was having. Perhaps some of these observations will be useful to those of you racing your first or fiftieth event.

Ready to report for my volunteer duty!! Who better to get some coke and ice from than WONDER WOMAN?! (There also was a cape, which you can't see here.)
Ready to report for my volunteer duty!! Who better to get some coke and ice from than WONDER WOMAN?! (There also was a cape, which you can’t see here.) If you can’t smile at this ridiculousness, I’m not sure what else I could do. Oh, yes, I do. I was also dancing like a lunatic.

Stay positive, especially when you don’t want to.

The athletes who were smiling carried a different energy, and seemed to have more energy than those who weren’t. John and I recommend that when you are feeling terrible – that’s exactly the moment you should smile. Fake it until you make it.

When you smile, it invites others to cheer you on, to support you. I acted like a full on cheering fool for anyone who even gave me the promise of a smile.

Try it. You’ll like it.

It also helps to keep your posture strong. Run (or walk) with a proud chest. Keep your shoulders back. Act strong and eventually you will feel strong. Once the posture starts going, it becomes hard to keep that positive energy moving forward.

Eat, drink and carry on.

We saw the listless shuffle of many athletes who needed to take on more fuel – probably when they were on the bike. But, by the time they got to us, they were fatigued, glycogen stores completely wrecked, and they were unable to muster even a little giddy up in their step. They weren’t smiling.While as the day goes on, staying on a regular nutrition schedule gets more challenging, it’s vital to your end-of-the-day success. Practice your nutrition in training EVERY time.

We were at the coca-cola and ice table. How poetic, that I the supreme LOVER of crack-a-cola in a run, would have the privilege of doling it out to the athletes!

I yelled, “Coke! Get yer Crack-a-cola here!” I looked into the eyes of the athletes that I thought might especially need the pick-me-up that only coke seems to deliver during the late stages of an Ironman.

I talked to them telepathically: Just take a sip! It won’t hurt you! There’s MAGIC in this cup!

It worked almost every time.

Sometimes, people just need a little bit of encouragement to let it flow. 

One athlete said, “I don’t know what I need.” I talked with her for a bit. She continued, “I have to pee.”

“Oh, there’s a porta-potty right there,” I pointed, to be helpful, not certain if she wanted to pee her pants. I realize that’s not for everyone.

She grabbed my arm, and confided in me: “I’ve been trying to pee almost the whole day, but it won’t come out.”

Okay, wait for it.

“Oh, there it is,” she sighed with relief.

And sure enough, I looked down and she was peeing, while holding my arm. I gingerly moved my feet a few more inches away, but not so far that she would lose her grip on my arm. I was afraid she might fall.

I’m thinking my pro-pee-your-pants energy must have transferred through our epidermis. Clearly, there’s no other explanation.

She thanked me, took a cup of coke, and went on her way. One of my favorite moments of the day: I gave her the energy to pee AND she took some crack-a-cola from me. BA BLAM BOOM DIGGITY DANG!!!

getting out of water
Athletes getting out of the water at the nearest shore during the swim. Photo from Ironman Lake Placid Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/IRONMANLakePlacid.

Control what you can, and forget the rest. 

If you followed along with the events at IMLP 2014, then you know that the swim was a little less than ideal. The rain was torrential. The lightning was for realzzzz scary stuff, and some people had to get out wherever the nearest shore was (as per the call by the race officials), which meant they had to walk/run in bare feet up to 1.5 miles to get to T1. Some people were able to finish two loops. Some weren’t. But everyone who crossed the finish line that day is an Ironman.

It was a super challenging start to the race, and cycling the infamous Keene descent in the pouring rain (even with the brand new pavement) can be dangerous–and it’s not the only tricky section by any means. Several people had the day end due to treacherous conditions on the bike.

So, what’s the lesson here? Well, we can’t control the weather. Thank you, Captain Obvious! But, we can control our reactions and responses to it. We can control how cautiously we approach the day, and stay within our limits in terms of bike handling skills and safe cycling conditions.

Most importantly: When the “bad” moments have passed – let them pass. Don’t dwell on them. Focus on the present moment and what you need in that moment only to keep your positive progress moving forward. What’s done is DONE.

People inspire me. 

Tim and I in the final hour of the finish line at IMLP 2014. Tim will be coming through this white line in 2015 - and I will be there cheering my fool head off for him!
Tim and I in the final hour of the finish line at IMLP 2014. Tim will be coming through this white line in 2015 – and I will be there cheering my fool head off for him! BTW – I have totally been training Tim on the proper tongue-out-of-mouth look. He’s SOOOOO good at it!!

It was an absolute thrill to see friends as they pushed through the challenges of the day to find their way to that finish line. For some, it was the race of their dreams, and they achieved their goals plus some. For others, the day did not turn out as they hoped, but they pushed on until they could go no more – maybe that was the finish line, maybe it wasn’t. But, it doesn’t matter. I saw so much grit and determination out on that run course it made me weepy several times.

It still makes me weepy.

In the final hour of the finish line spectating, Mike Reilly’s energy pops into overdrive. I mean, seriously, this man is INCREDIBLE. He’s been going all day long too, just like the athletes. But, he never falters – he dances, he cheers, he whips the crowd up into a frenzy, he runs up and down the finish line chute bringing in the last set of athletes. He’s got no less than 2,000 different ways to say:

“You. Are. An. Ironman.”

Seriously, I love Mike Reilly. And, I not-so-secretly want his job.

The clock ticked midnight, which signaled the official end to Ironman Lake Placid 2014. But, Reilly told the crowd there was a woman out there, and she was just about to come into the oval.

“Will you all stay to bring her home?” he asked.

We cheered and clapped and hooted and hollered. And, of course, we stayed to bring her in. She was 2 minutes shy of an official 17 hour finish, but Reilly made her feel special. Because, well, she is special.

She’s an Ironman.

And she found her way to the best white line there is: the finish line.

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