I did an Ironman swim. I did an Ironman bike. I did an Ironman marathon. I am an Ironman.
I have always been clear on one thing: I would never do an Ironman. I had described it as 17 hours of certain pain and anguish. Never, ever would I do one. Never, ever would I be able to do one.
Nicole asked me to do Coeur D’Alene 2007 with her. I refused: NO WAY! Nicole continued to train on her own, by herself. I congratulated myself on my sanity – goodness, attempting an Ironman?! Nicole was not able to finish CDA 2007 but she then did the bravest thing: she decided to attempt it again. Again, she asked me and this time, after some denial, I agreed to sign up for the race. However, what she didn’t know was that at that time, I had no intention of actually DOING the race. I would train with her and when I hit the point of failure, I would simply drop out.
Talk about insane.
So, back in August of 2007, we began training. We drew up our plans, changed them, and started to share them with others which led to the birth of the “Daring Damsels.” Karen Roberts was among the intrepid few who dared to join us on our rides and runs and swims. At that point, a long run was 5 miles, a long ride was 40. Through the end of summer and into fall, we continued – adding distance, changing plans some more, pausing for the National Club Championship, and figuring out how to train over winter. The miles got longer, the work-outs got longer and still we trained.
There were some bad days along the way for me. The Club Championship was my longest distance (quartermax) and it was miserable for me – I was disheartened and convinced that I had no chance of taking on something as daunting as Ironman. At that time, I was right. But I trusted Nicole and believed that if I took this day-by-day, perhaps I could reach my goal.
A horrible bike ride – my first DNF – and I lost my courage again. Runs that left me hurting, swims that left me breathless. And through it all, facing yet another work-out, yet another attempt at improving, gaining endurance but with the unstinting, generally patient support of Nicole and Karen.
At some point this past spring, it started to come together. I started to like to climb hills on my bike; I looked forward to those long runs; my swims were easier and I thought “Well, I’ll do this event on June 22 and see what happens.” We practiced nutrition; or rather, I got good at bonking!
Nicole and I left Columbia at 4 a.m. on June 14th with the plan of going by way of Topeka, Kansas where our friend, Cynthia, was doing the Tinman Tri and going by herself. Note – neither Nicole nor I are from Missouri and while we both knew Topeka was in Kansas, we weren’t sure where … and there are at least two I-470’s …. In any case, we got to Topeka in time to see Cynthia start her bike. Screaming and cheering, we startled her just a bit as she wasn’t expecting us at her race. That was worth being up at 4 a.m. without a doubt. We stuck around to see T2 and the run and her finish. How great to see her looking so comfortable, so ready, so together for her race. And she placed 2nd in her age group on the long course!!!
On to Idaho we drove. Up through Nebraska to Iowa, then to South Dakota which is a BIG state, through Wyoming, Montana and finally Idaho. It has been around 18 years since I last traveled this corner of the U.S. and it is spectacular. Wide, grand, open spaces and green hills as far as the eye can see. Eventually, some small mountain ranges appear and we actually saw pronghorn antelope and mule deer along the way. Yes, I was singing “Home, Home on the Range” as we drove and drove and drove. 24+ hours of actual drive time, in a loaded up hybrid SUV (thanks so much, Carol!!!) – 3 bikes (ours and Joe Chambers’); work-out clothes; day clothes; spectator stuff; coolers; race nutrition; travel snacks; more stuff.
We arrived late Sunday afternoon on the 15th and took a drive of the bike course. Hills, I say! Nothing worse than Columbia but lots and lots of them. In fact, Nicole believes that additional hills were grown since 2007. It is a beautiful course for the most part – along Lake Coeur D’Alene and Hayden Lake – country roads, and resorts, and farms. It was, however, a bit daunting to me and I started to feel those familiar, annoying, nauseating butterflies in my stomach. What the heck was I thinking?!
We had dinner that night with friends with whom we were staying. Can I just tell you that this family, the Grubbs, were so amazingly warm and kind and supportive?! They knew Andy from back in California and these were the people Andy and Nicole stayed with last year. They opened up their home and hearts to us, allowing us to take over part of the garage, dry our wet suits on their lawn, our wet tri clothes on their lawn furniture – in short, give over their house to two people getting ready to take on Ironman CDA.
Monday we braved the cold waters of the lake. Cold, cold, cold. By this time, Ford Ironman had already announced a wet suit MANDATORY policy for this race unless the water temp was over 60 degrees. There were rumors of swim cancellation, full wet suits required, etc. The temperature was a “warm” 56 on Monday. Nicole was in a sleeveless wetsuit and attracted much commentary as she stood in the water, shivering and clenched against the cold. We lasted all of around 10 minutes. This was not reassuring to me. The water was so cold, my hands and feet went numb, we had brain freeze, and my face just plain hurt.
Oh well. What can you do? Well, if you’re me, you start to quietly panic. The butterflies were now bats, food was not appealing, sleep was elusive, and nerves were beginning to rule my world.
Monday afternoon, Nicole and I biked part of the bike course. Well, first off, she couldn’t air up her tires because of a short valve stem. Change the tube. Then a few miles down the road, I lose my profile bottle; stop, pick it up, go without one of two water bottles. The course: hilly. Technical. Difficult. But doable. At mile 28, Nicole lost a spoke on her rear wheel and the wheel is no longer true enough to ride. We kept saying – well, it’s good to get these things out of the way early!
Dianna made arrangements to send out her race wheels. Karen – you are and were a god send!
The rest of the week is spent trying to cope with the cold water (temperature dropping) and doing some resting, etc. I’m on my way to a full melt-down. The inactivity is unnerving and I keep going to the bad places: I’m slow, I can’t do this, I’ll look foolish, I’ll be foolish, it is foolish to even try this! Seriously – I don’t like racing. I need the goal but I hate racing. Well, once I get started I don’t mind it and I love finishing.
Thursday – full meltdown. Tears, withdrawal, anger, bitchiness. Yep – all the symptoms! I call a couple of friends who talk me off the cliff. I still feel awful. Friday, we are to swim one loop (1.2 miles) of the swim course. I ask Nicole if we can do a short bike and run, too. Since the race wheels have arrived, Nicole is game.
Friday afternoon, after our swim-bike-run, I found serenity. I was at peace with this event, with my efforts. I would simply do the best I could and enjoy the moments, one at a time. In short, I would follow the advice of other Ironmen.
Saturday meant checking in our bikes and gear bags. Let me tell you – this Ironman thing is complicated! First off, you are “branded” with a hospital type bracelet which says, in essence “YOU ARE AN IRONMAN ATHLETE.” It allows you into the athlete only areas but more than that, it tells the people around you that you are up for the big game. I still have mine on …
Your packet consists of 5 bags and a sheet of very small print for instructions and rules. The bags: Morning Dry Clothes; T1 (swim to bike); special needs bike; T2 (bike to run); special needs run. The instructions are about putting stickers on things and not drafting and other things I can’t remember. Check, double-check, check again. Then simply let it go … To the race site, rack your bike, put your bags in the appropriate piles and then simply let it go. Sunday is race day and you’ve done all you can. Eat well, sleep the best you can.
I slept 6 ½ hours Saturday night; slept like a baby. I was still serene.
At 5 a.m., Andy drives me, Nicole and Karen to the race site. Last minute checking, including airing up tires and being grateful the rain had come and gone, bringing with it cooler air temps (back to the mid 70’s from upper 80’s) and warmer water temps (up to 59 degrees!). Wet suits on and a quick dip in the lake to get acclimated.
Pictures taken and then we wait. I am struck by the sheer numbers of it all: over 2300 signed up, 70% male, 886 newbies, 3500 volunteers, lots and lots of spectators. BTW — 8 people came in to cheer Nicole and me: Karen Roberts, Andy Pele, Carol Crooks, Lori Brown, Eric Brown, Mackenzie Rickman, Caroline Cue, and Karen Reider. How absolutely amazing that these folks would come out, spend a long day cheering and screaming and supporting us – another blessing to be sure.
So, ready to swim. Standing there, looking at all the people and the gun goes off. Nicole plunges in as do most others. I wade into the water, swish my hands around, pause, and look around me – at the swimmers, at the course, at the lake, at the sun, at the spectators and I take it all in. I am about to start an Ironman. I smile and plunge in.
The first loop passes quickly because I am basically distracted by the goals of (a) making any kind of forward progress and (b) not getting killed in the process. It is packed. It is like a school of unruly fish. It is like a rugby scrum of 2000 bodies. It is being touched and kicked and grabbed. It is doing the same back. Swim technique? No, not really. At one point, I was so hemmed in, I was stretched out and just sculling with my hands. Bodies were on both arms and grabbing both legs. I actually started laughing at this point – here I was worried about getting my stroke timing?! No, I just wanted to find some water where I could do a swim stroke or two. Others were not laughing. There were some pretty scared people out there – you could see it in their eyes, see it as they paused, trying to catch a breath, trying to calm down.
One loop, out on the beach, cross the timing mat and back into the water again. Yee haw! This loop allowed for some actual swimming. I even had a chance to reflect on the experience and plan my next Ironman … yes, at this point, I was thinking I would do another. The water temp was fine, the swim was challenging and interesting.
Out of the water and to the strippers. I knew this occurred but I was not quite prepared to be manhandled by two guys trying to take my wet suit off. I was laughing the whole time. Unzip, one arm, two arms, then lie down. What?! Yes, lie down. They pull your wetsuit (and you), stand you up, put everything in your hands and you stagger off in search of your T1 bag. Grab the bag, head to the changing tent. Too crowded! Go to the grass by the tent, see you friends (who are taking pictures of you struggling to put on socks …). Nicole is right behind me and actually beats me out of T1. Good job! Stuff the swim stuff into the bag and run off in search of my bike.
First tree? Second tree? Where is that damn tree?! Okay. Got it. Got the bike. Run down the path to the mounting line. Click, click, click, click as you rock along on your cleats. Leg over the bike. Clip in. Clip in! CLIP IN, DAMNIT! Okay, got it.
I start smiling again. I’ve just done an Ironman swim and now I’m going to do an Ironman bike. How cool is that?! Through town and to the first mini-loop – an out and back, up one long, not-too-steep hill. Feels good to be out of the water. I’m all tricked out in CMC socks, CMC tri shorts, CMC tri top, CMC arm warmers. I am soo CMC cooool! Out of nowhere, a bottle of orange Gatorade comes flying through the air, heading towards me and my bike as I start on my first ascent. Oh shit. Avoid the bottle with the front wheel, roll over it with the back – all is okay. My first hit of adrenaline. Must eat. Must drink. Up the hill, down the hill, turn around, up the hill, down the hill. Through town and out to the second section, the one with hills.
Spectators all along the streets in town; people cheering and clapping everyone that goes by. Signs and posters along the way – some for certain people, some in general support of the athletes. This town really comes out for this event. It’s like a tailgate on a giant scale. Churches organized barbecues to watch the event, groups got together and this is not even including the volunteers! I have been told that CDA is one of the best Ironman races for its community support and I believe it.
Back to the bike. I am paranoid about eating and drinking enough. I have packed 2400 calories in the form of semi-solids (shot blocks, luna moons, sports beans). I drank water for the first 20 minutes after the swim to settle my stomach. I started eating. Up the hills, down the hills, hard left turn, hard right turn – they called this course “technical.” Supposedly that means “lots of turns.” I think it means – we are going to make you think these are rolling hills but you rarely will get the advantage of the down hill because we are (a) going to put a sharp turn at the end; (b) make it so twisty, you can’t see; (c) make the up hill so steep that the down hill isn’t much help. Oh, and of the 112 miles, roughly 70+ are hills. Have fun!
Oh the cruelty of course designers!
Did I mention nutrition? Drinking, drinking, drinking leads to the necessity of potty stops. I did three on the bike. Yep, three. No problem with hydration here! And if I never see another black-cherry, double caffeine shot block again, that’s fine with me. My absolute favorite moment on the bike was passing this woman (Shannon) for the third time and she says “Girl, you really crushed that climb!” Okay – so apparently, I can go up hills but am not so adept at the down hills. Not enough nerve yet.
Spectators on the bike ride – my favorite group – 3 country boys, sitting on the back of their pick-up, with a cooler of beer and one of them yells “I love Ironwomen!” I’ll bet – nothing like seeing a bunch of women in spandex rolling by. Can I say that the view of the Ironmen was also nice? Smile.
By mile 105 or so, my butt was sore. This is the home stretch, into the head wind, back into town. Lots of shifting of position but basically, I’m done with the bike. It was real and it was fun and it was real fun. Not that I’m so keen on the run – this is my weakest leg to be sure. But I felt pretty good – I had the energy, I was fed and hydrated. At this point, I am still planning my second Ironman and the things I will do differently, better.
T2 – hop off the bike and hand it to someone who whisks it away and off I stagger to find my T2 bag. I really want to sit down, so I go to the changing tent and an obliging volunteer is helping me dress/undress. Out of the tri top and into my running singlet. New socks. I dither over arm warmers and make the wrong decision – I leave them behind. Out of the tent and to another army of volunteers to slather me with sunscreen. One per limb – don’t be shy here, folks – men and women just slather away!
I do run out of T2 and head down the path to the dike road. I don’t feel bad but my legs hurt. I was expecting this and knew that walking the first few miles would be likely. Normally, after mile 4 or so, I can pick up a run again. In any case, down the dike road for a short out and back. Here comes my second favorite moment: getting my ass kicked by a 64 year old blind man! He and his guide pass me on the dike road, probably on their second loop of the run while I start my first.
On the run is where our cheer leaders truly out-did themselves. First, I saw Andy and the Grubbs family at the first water station – a moment for hugs and stuff and my first jolt of spectator support on the run. Truly awesome. Catch them again on the way back, then it is off through the town, some neighborhoods and then an out and back along the lake.
My legs were shot. Did I over bike? I don’t really know but I don’t think so. My pace on the bike was steady and comfortable the whole time. I believe that I just didn’t spend enough time toughening up my legs for this part – literally, they hurt. Not muscle fatigue or being tired – just painful. So, I got into the power-walk – arms pumping, butt swinging, short-strides – keep up the pace! At each aid station, take some food (cookies) and liquid (water or Gatorade) because I was starting to feel a little pukey. On loop 2, switch to chicken broth and cola – you have no idea how good these things are until you are at the end of a long day. There were people everywhere – in their yards, on lawn chairs, music blaring, some people were even in bands and costumes.
I smiled pretty much the whole time. I had done an Ironman bike and I was doing an Ironman marathon. I was so grateful to be this far and I knew I would finish in time. When I first saw Carol and Lori, I asked about Nicole – I had passed her on the bike but knew she was faster than me on the run portion. She was behind me but catching up. Awesome! Carol and Lori were screaming and yelling and exhorting me to “keep pumping those arms!” Loop 1 and back through town, out the dike road and back to the lake. The sun is setting now and while the answer was always clear, the most difficult time for me was making myself start Loop 2. I was disappointed that I simply couldn’t run – my feet were blistering (the balls of both feet), my skin hurt, and I was tired. I had 3+ more HOURS to go.
But I turned the corner, pumped those arms, counted those miles, and looked forward to when I would see familiar smiling faces again: Mackenzie and Caroline and Karen Roberts dancing in the street in front of a band, walking a portion of the route with me, giving me updates on Nicole. Heading up the hill and seeing Rei and Andy waving and encouraging me. Walking with different people and learning parts of their stories.
Night had completely fallen as I approached the last turnaround along the lake. Glow stick necklaces donned and I walked down the hill, feeling my blisters pop. Only 5 more miles to go now and it is just before 10 p.m. I’m sure I’ll make the midnight cut off and maybe, just maybe, I can come in closer to 11 p.m. Pump my arms, and keep smiling. I am lucky to be here. Doing another Ironman is less of a goal at this point.
There were physically challenged athletes in this race, there were people competing in honor of others who couldn’t: sick, deployed, disabled. I thought of the many people in my life who couldn’t do an event like this; I thought of the many people who have done an Ironman; I thought of the people taking on new challenges and distances this year. It was a powerful incentive to keep smiling.
The home stretch – down the dark streets and soon I could hear Mike Riley and the crowds. I was still over a mile away but it certainly picks up your pace. At Coeur D’Alene, the final approach is all down hill from around 7 blocks away. Downhill sounds good but for me, at this point, it was, well, painful. I turned on to Sherman and continued to walk but you can’t walk to the finish, can you? The crowds were thick despite the late hour (11 p.m.) and when I finally picked up my run, you would have thought I was a rock star – the crowd went wild. Down the chute and hundreds of hands looking to high-five you as you go and then the arch and that voice: Lise Nyrop – YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!
I cannot describe it. I was grateful. I was painful. I was elated. I was greeted by friends. I posed for pictures. I was wrapped in Mylar. I was handed a cap and a shirt and a finisher’s metal. I was done. I had done an Ironman. A volunteer was propping me up. I was giddy. I asked Karen where Nicole was; “right behind you, maybe 2 miles.” The volunteer wanted to take me to the recovery area and I said no, I have a friend out there on the course.
My heroine came in and she finished with time to spare. Nicole was amazing. We have pictures of the two of us together, during the journey and now, at the destination. I am truly blessed to have trained with her for the journey and to have shared the destination with her.
Advice? Train hard but don’t lose balance in your life – friends and family are forever. Practice nutrition and know that stuff can still go wrong. Don’t try anything new on race day. Pray. Know your friends are there and know that there are people behind you that you don’t even know yet.
Be serene.