The DNF

I had hoped I would never have to write about a "Did Not Finish", but unfortunately I have to. I am doing this in part because after today, I really don't want to talk about it. In all honesty, there is nothing anyone can say or do that will help me feel better about not finishing Ironman Lake Placid.

I do want to say "thanks" to everyone who was concerned and for your support.

Sunday Morning, pre-race

I get up at 4:20 am and follow my same routine I have been doing for years. Hot shower, bathroom, and then breakfast. I head to eat with my dad. I have the usual, bagel with peanut butter and Gatorade Endurance. I take my Advil, Tums and Sport Legs pills and get ready to head down to the race site.

I am eerily relaxed with no rush or anxiety. I take my time getting my nutrition onto my bike, borrowing a pump to check my tires, and finally check my bags to make sure I am set. I leave transition with my wetsuit and dry clothes for my dad to take. I see Dave, Paul and Tom and we talk for a quick minute. The rain comes as I wait in line for the porta potties. Frustrated about it but not overly concerned.

I head up to the water with my dad hoping to see the rest of the family. I wait as long as possible, 6:45 am, before I head into the water. I am getting excited, but it is a good excitement. Not nervous, ready to get on with this thing.

The Swim (goal of 1:10:00)

This year, I take in more of the crowd excitement. I am singing along with AC/DC and getting warmed up in the water. Like last year, I start a little back so I can swim into the blender instead of being in the middle of it.

The cannon sounds and I do exactly what I did last year. I take my time and swim to open areas. I seem to get hit more this year and actually climbed over on the first 1/4 of the swim. I wasn't going to fight with people so I try to stay away from the buoys. For some reason, I keep getting pushed towards them. The first turn around was crazy but I get through it. Ironically, I get hit more by females than males.

The first loop goes really well and my time is 32 minutes. I figure I would be faster on loop 2 so I jumped back in and started at it. Weird, but it is still crowded and I am getting hit more than I anticipated. Again, I try stay wide of the buoys and draft off others. I feel good and strong in the water.

I swim to the end, and look up, 1:06:00 on the clock. I am happy with the time and as I drop to get my wetsuit stripped off, my parents and Jordan are right there. I find out later, Tammy has taped some of it. So far, so good.

T1: Run to the tents and get everything on and off quickly. Most people take there time, but I am here to race people, so move over.

The Bike (goal of 5:30)

I knew going in that averaging 20 mph on this course was going to be difficult but I felt I had improved a lot leading up to Lake Placid. The first 5 miles were uphill and at my first time check, I was behind by 3 minutes. No worries. I started my nutrition and my stomach had settled after the swim. Even though things were going well physically, my mind wanted out. Already, 5 miles in, my mind was telling me to quit.

I saw a fellow coach on one of the uphills and said a quick "hi" as I plodded along. There was a significant downhill, around 5 miles or so and I knew I could easily go 40+ mph on the way down. People were still buzzing by me but I was determined to stay safe and vertical. The next section of the race was very fast, rolling hills and flats. This is the section to make up time.

At mile 20, I was now 9 minutes ahead of schedule but I knew the tough part of the ride was coming. At mile 25, I got a fellow from Molly, a "hello" NH native and former IMLP winner. I was riding with her and feeling good. Then came the hills. Here was where I made my move. It was a long hill, about 1.5 miles. I passed a bunch of people and at mile 30 was still 8+ minutes ahead of schedule. The idea of quitting the race began to get stronger.

As I peddled, I the idea of quiting became more and more justified. My legs left fine, nutrition was good, but I wanted nothing to with racing. I was able to shake the self doubt up until about mile 40, then it all crept back into my mind. My lower back was hurting and so was my left hip. These were all new pains for me.

For the next 16 miles, I wanted to quit. Yes, the race was hard, but I still felt good physically. I just couldn't shake the feeling. Even when I saw the GSTC Posse (Tom D's family and fellow GSTC members), I couldn't get the thought of riding another 56 miles and then running a marathon. I have no words to explain it other than my mind was made up, I was going to quit when I get back into town. I was not enjoying this race at all.

As I rode through the center of town, I rode slowly, looking for Tammy and my family. I saw my mom at the turn by the oval. I stopped after the timing mat and tried to wave her down. A gentleman there asked what I needed. I asked him to get my mom. He ran down to her and my mom came to see me. I explained to her I didn't want to continue and that I had no interest in being there. She called Tammy and my dad.

After explaining to everyone where I was mentally, Tammy told me to just do it and have fun. My point was, this was not fun. I reluctantly got back on my bike and decided to ride the second loop comfortably and "enjoy it". I had spent 20 minutes talking with my family trying to figure out what to do.

At the first long hill, a former PSC hoop player of mine pulled up next to me. We talked about what troubles he had earlier and I was trying to explain my issues. I wished him luck as he took off. I then spent the next 15 minutes or so talking with a fellow NH hoop coach. We talked about this race, re-evaluating what is best for us, training and other upcoming races. I was feeling OK and decided to pick it up a little.

I was able to pick up the tempo and even after my easy climbs and talking with my family, at mile 76, I was only 14 minutes behind my goal of 5:30:00 for the bike. It was at that point, I realized I hadn't pee'd since the swim. It had been close to 6 hours and I had drank around 60 ounces of fluid. At the next feed station, I took in more water and Gatorade, ate some Clif Bloks in hopes it would help me out.

Well, it didn't. I was not sweating and my body couldn't tolerate anything. The hill where I took off on the first loop, I struggled to get up it. Energy was leaving and I couldn't get it back. I tried a Powerbar but it just sat there in my stomach. I cooled my body with water and tried to force water into my system.

As I turned the corner to the out and back, I stopped and tried to puke. I was hoping this would help my in some way. No puke, no luck. I figured I would do the out and back and if things didn't get better, I would stop at the medical station. This was another 10 miles of riding.

Luckily, at the turnaround, there were EMT's so I stopped to ask them about my condition. Dehydration seemed to be the cause. I had a choice, keep going or call it quits. I decided to keep going and get back to the medical station at mile 98. It was a struggle. I was beginning to yawn and get sleepy on the bike and I got a sharp, piercing pain in my stomach. I crawled my way back to the the medical station.

Once there, I explained my situation. It was unanimous, dehydration. They told me that they could not pull me off the course, only I could decide to quit. I knew that getting to the run would be difficult. If I crashed and hurt myself, that's one thing. But, if I took someone else out along with me, well, that's another.

Reluctantly, I told them I was done. They recommended an ambulance ride with IV back to LP. Option 2 was to wait for a sag wagon, ride back and try to take care of my self. I chose option 2. I borrowed a cell phone to call Tammy and let her know. While waiting for the sag wagon, I still could not drink and pee. I was really tired, wanted to sleep but wanted to support Tom, Dave and Paul. I missed Paul but I saw Dave and told him what happened. Tom buzzed right by me.

Final Time: DNF

When the sag wagon finally arrived (1:20 wait), 8 of us got in. At that point, around the corner, comes Bob, Sandy and Andy (the GSTC posse). They had been tracking me online and knew something was wrong. I wish I had seen them early. It was great to see friendly faces who knew my disappointment.

The 45 minute ride back to town as surreal. Eight people in a van and you could have heard a pin drop. Not one person said a word. It was like a funeral. During the ride back, I kept looking at the people riding the last 12 miles. Why are they out there? There is no way I should be in this van while they are riding and finishing Ironman.

Once back to the race site, I easily find my family. I think they understand my disappointment but it is difficult for me accept. I pack up and head back to the room. Finally, in the hot shower and after 8 hours, I finally pee. Ahhh. In the shower, I make sure to wash off all indications that I was in the race. I am still tired, thirsty and my back hurts where my kidneys are. They actually feel bruised.

About an hour later, I was able to drink and eat. Tammy and I decided to go and support all of the other Ironmen and women. I really wanted to see Tom, Paul and Dave race. I have always been the racer and not the spectator. I watched with excitement and amazement as I watched all of these people finish this race. It was really cool to see Paul and Tom finish. It was fun to be around their families and to watch them glow with pride. It was also great to be able to support Dave and his family as his race ended early as well. Scary but we all got through it.

What Happened:

I went into this race with high expectations. In hindsight, I am not sure what went wrong. Questions have been swirling around in my head for the last 24 hours. Was last year a fluke? Did I put too much pressure on myself? Why couldn't I shake the negative thoughts? Should I have continued on the bike, even feeling the way I felt? Did I not train enough? Did I subconsciously sabotage my second loop in some way?

I can honestly say that I am angry with myself for not finishing the race. The more I think about it, more angry I get. I feel I have let many people down and that my personal expectations or fear of failure got the best of me. I don't want to talk about this race. I don't feel like an Ironman. And I don't know where I go from here. I threw away my Ironman stuff that I had intended to keep, like my race number. I know this sounds childish, but it was something I needed to do.

What was once really fun and exciting, I am now hesitant about doing. I am sure I will snap out of it, but when is the big question.

Until then, I'm out.