Ironman Mont Tremblant
August 20th, 2017
My alarm clock went off at 3am Sunday morning. Its not bright and early, like the saying goes, its still dark outside. It’s earlier than my usual rise at 6am, but its race day. I’m staying at my friends home in La Conception, a 20min drive to Mont Tremblant. Its time to get up and get ready for the biggest race of my life - Ironman Mont Tremblant. A full distance triathlon that includes a 3.8km open water swim, 180km bike course, and a full marathon run 42.2km, all back to back, and must be completed within 17hours that same day.
I had a quick breakfast of coffee, peanut butter toast and banana, before heading out to the race site. I checked in my bike and two gear bags the day before (Saturday afternoon), but I still had to drop off my water bottles that were freshly mixed that morning with Perpetuem (an extreme endurance fuel that helps sustain you during really long workouts, such as 180km bike ride).
I arrived on site and headed to the transition zone, where I found my bike, Ruby, waiting patiently and faithfully for me. It was now 5am, but the transition zone was alive and buzzing with anticipation. I secured the bottles, pumped air into my tires, double checked my gear shifters and nervously wished the two ladies next to me good luck in the race. (One of the ladies I would later find out was a cancer survivor and a really inspirational person, her bib # was 582, and you can see her in the YouTube video recap for the event, linked at the end of this blog.)
Next I dropped off my bike special needs bag (to refill my bottles and grab more of my favourite salted watermelon flavoured energy chews mid-race), and then proceeded to the body marking station where I had my bib number, 583, written down my arms for ID purposes, and my age group written on the back of my leg.
Now all that was left for me to do was use the port-a-potty one more time for the nervous pee, and head off for the 10min walk down to the shores of Lac Tremblant where the race would start.
At this point the skies had begun to lighten and the beauty of the lake visible before me. The day before I did a short 1.2km swim to get familiar with the lake. Every body of water seems to me to have its own character, like its its own being. The water temperature was 18C (which means wetsuit legal), yet calm and refreshing. I enjoyed swimming in this lake, it was going to be a good swim, it was a good lake, on a good day.
I stretched out, pulled on my wetsuit, double checked the velcro fastener on my ankle strapped timing chip, and jumped into the lake for a short 5min warm-up swim. Finally, I then lined up in my on the position on the beach. I nervously scrunched the sand under my toes, waiting. Athletes were asked to self-seed in the starting waves, depending on when you expected to finish. I was hoping for a 90min swim, so I placed myself in the 1:25-1:30 starting wave.
O Canada began to play over the loud speakers and then the CF-18 fighter jet from CFB Bagotville did the first of its two flyovers. The sonic boom and flash of the afterburners was loud and exciting, it set anticipation for what was to come. All the athletes knew that when the second flyby happened, at precisely 6:35am, the fireworks would explode over the shore and the elite racers would be off. A new wave would then follow every 2-3min. My wave entered the lake at 6:54am. Its go time.
While the lake was undoubtedly crowded (there were 2140 athletes registered in the event, 1936 of whom actually finished), the rolling swim start created a smoother entry and reduced the amount of pushing and shoving normally experienced in a mass swim start. I was thankful for that. I did receive one good kick to the mouth mid-swim but I was able to shake it off, it wasn’t an overly rough and hard knock swim when I compare it to others I’ve done, especially those in Guelph Lake.
The bright orange buoys were easy to spot and weather conditions were good, so there was no chop and swell to fight. The 1.5km swim out portion was straight forward enough, and I settled into a rhythm with my front crawl and reminded myself to relax and breathe and spot. However, after we turned around to swim back to the shore, we had to swim straight into the rising sun, still low on the horizon and spotting became more difficult. At this point I tried to draft off other swimmers to help use their bodies as directional aids in the final stretch of the swim.
After 1:33:24, I reached the shore and proceeded to the wetsuit stripping station. Yes, that’s a real thing. The nice thing about doing an Ironman is that going into transition zones T1 and T2, the athletes receive much more assistance from official race volunteers than other triathlons. This includes two volunteers stripping your wetsuit off of you (if you so choose) and then handing it back to you for your run up to T1 where you pick up your bike. And trust me, after a 3.8km swim its a much appreciated service! I gladly obliged.
After a round of high fives to my strippers, I ran off to the transition zone where I stashed my wetsuit, cap and goggles in one gear bag, and then donned my bike helmet, sunglasses and cycling shoes. I ran to where my bike was racked at station 583, and headed off onto the bike course. One discipline down, two to go.
The bike course consisted of 2 loops of a 90km course, much of those hills. There would be a lot of climbing ahead, a total elevation gain of 1,980m spread out over 180km. The bike route left the resort village of Mont Tremblant, onto Montee Ryan, along Route 117 up to Labelle, turning back along Route 117 onto rue Saint-Jovite, then back down Montee Ryan again, where we then had to climb the infamous Chemin Duplessis before completing the loop all over again.
The first lap went great. The weather was cooperating, wind was not a factor and the roads were clear and car-free, just how I like them. I kept my head down and pushed my pedals.
The real test was climbing up the steep incline of Chemin Duplessis. At this point, racers were about 70km into the ride and now faced a challenging climb over the next 10km. I saw several athletes get off their bikes and start walking up the steep parts of the hill. But I had painstakingly prepared for this part of the course. During my training leading up to the event I spent a lot of time cycling the steep hills of Muskoka. I practiced by riding parts of the Ironman 70.3 course nicknamed “Puke Hill” and “The Beast”, as well as doing hill repeats on the steep incline leading up to Toronto’s Sunnybrook Park “past the stables”, to prep for the lactic acid burning up my quads. And climb I did. I climbed those hills until my legs were screaming, but I did them all and never quit, never got off my bike to walk.
The real fun part was riding down the hills. When I checked my Garmin post-race, I discovered I reached a max speed close to 60km/hr descending Duplessis. Whheeeeee!!!!
During the second lap, a headwind came up on Route 117 and I had to work a little harder to keep pace. I was getting tired now (about 5 hours into the race) and still had a long way to go. I saw my friends Shauna & Mark waiting for me on the side of the highway at La Conception and I blew them kisses as I whizzed past them. It’s always uplifting to have a cheering squad waiting for you. Merci beaucoup mon amis!
The hills became more of a grind and I had to dig deeper to get through the so-called sufferfest. I’ve always joked that if you say something out loud enough you can make it true, so as I climbed the hills I started to chant my new mantra “I love hills, I love hills, I love climbing hills...” over and over, getting louder as the hills got steeper. It felt silly but very necessary. But damn it, it worked! I sung my way past many other cyclists who struggled on the hills. Most laughed at me, a few even started singing with me. We got through it, it was a good pain, and it got me over the rest of the hills on the second lap, including my second time up Duplessis, when I was already 160km into the ride. I endured.
It took me 7:22:11 to do the entire 180km bike course, my average pace was 24.4km/hr. I was nervous that I wouldn’t make the bike cut off time of 5:30pm, but I had plenty of time. It was 4pm. Finally time to get off the bike and start the marathon run. I still had a long way to go, 42.2km to be exact.
When you’re already pretty darn tired from a marathon swim and bike ride, the thought of doing a marathon run can feel really overwhelming, as I would soon find out. I found my legs pretty quickly through T2, as I had practiced A LOT of running off the bike during my training in the months leading up to the event (anyone who follows me on Strava can attest to that). But I felt a little more discouraged as I thought of all 42.2km I had to run. There was still a lot of pavement between me and my goal.
I passed the 1km sign, then the 2km sign slowly crept passed, it had been 13min since I left T2. I was only pacing 6:45/km at that point, no where near my normal run pace. I felt frustrated. I needed to shake this. I decided that I was thinking about this the wrong way. I had to knock off this run one kilometer at a time and not think about anything else. Otherwise it would be too overwhelming. This wasn’t a normal marathon so I had to re-think my normal strategy.
That helped. Mentally I had a shift, I felt happy every time I saw a km sign post because it was one more kilometer that I had completed and never had to do again. It didn’t matter what number it was, because it was done and over with. That felt like an accomplishment and it got me through, kilometer after kilometer.
As I left the village and headed out onto the old rail bed, Le P’tit Train du Nord, I looked around and felt the beauty of nature all around me. The trees were lush and green, the air clear and fresh, and the water skirting the edge of the trail looked so incredibly cool and refreshing. I recalled earlier that morning I was working so hard to get myself out of the lake, and now all I wanted to do was jump back into it. Was it just earlier that same day? It felt like ages ago now I was swimming. It didn’t matter. I was happy to be here on the run trail.
I eventually fell into a consistent running rhythm and my spirits picked up. I started joking with the other runners around me and I realized that I was passing many other athletes who were reduced to just walking at this point.
I started signing along with the music that was being played from one of the aid stations when a runner turned around to talk to me. She had long red hair and wore a bright orange shirt and skirt. She exclaimed, “You were the person singing ‘I love hills’ on the bike course! Thank you for the serenade! That really helped!” We both laughed, high fived and continued on our way running, feeling bolstered with each step. It was nice to know I reached another athlete, even in a little silly way.
I shared many little meaningful moments with the other athletes on the run course. There is a camaraderie between athletes on the long run. You are all pushing yourself way past your comfort zone, and this enduring pain helps you relate to each other in a special way. You’d say things to each other that you wouldn’t normally say to other strangers on the street.
I remember seeing a male runner in a Superman t-shirt looking like he was beginning to fade and I shouted at him “Come on Superman! I thought you were supposed to be faster than a speeding bullet?!” He returned with, “Superman is Supertired and wants his Superbed because he didn’t get enough Supersleep.” Perhaps we were all exhausted but everyone within earshot burst out laughing.
At one point during the second loop of the run I looked down at my Garmin and I felt confused. It said 12:30. Odd it didn’t feel like just after lunchtime. I thought it was later than that. Then I realized that it wasn’t my watch showing the time of day, it was my actual time into the race. I had been going for over 12 hours at this point. I shook my head and kept running. I had to stay focussed. The mind can get hazy on the long run.
It was starting to get dark now but I was still going strong. I was holding an average pace of 6:45/km. I was running consistently, the only time I walked was when I came into an aid station and needed to refuel or use the port-a-potty.
The first half of the run I fuelled with gatorade, orange slices, gels and salty pretzels, but the second half of the run I fuelled almost exclusively with the flat pepsi-cola poured into shot cups. This might be surprising to some, but the sugar and caffeine provided by the flat cola is an amazing fuel for runners this far into a race. When its whisked, the gas is released and easier on the stomach. I ran the last 15km of the ironman on shots of flat pepsi-cola. That was a new experience for me, but a very effective strategy.
I had originally hoped to do my first Ironman in 13.5 hours. It was hard to predict what my finishing time would be as I’d never attempted a race of this magnitude before. I just combined what my average 3.8km swim, 180km bike and 42km run times had been (1.5hrs, 8hrs, 4hrs respectively) and based it on those. As I glanced down at my watch I didn’t think I was going to make that time. I readjusted to getting across the finish line in under 14 hours, an admirable time still.
I had just 5km left to run as I entered the village for the final run up the hill and, at long last, down the finishers chute. I dug my feet and elbows in to pull me up the hill and through the final few kilometers. People were cheering me on, and the crowds were getting thicker and louder as I neared the finishing line. I was so close now. The trail turned to cobblestones and then to the blue carpet and railings of the finishers chute. I heard someone call out my name, it was Marianne, a friend from my ultimate frisbee club, whose husband was also competing in Ironman. She gave me a high five and a big smile and I continued on down the chute. Hands stuck out from all along the railings and I high fived a dozen more hands along my path. I was beaming at this point I was so happy.
I pulled the hat off my head because I wanted to see everything clearly and remember every sight, sound and smell from this moment. I had been fantasizing about this for so long, and now it was reality. The bright lights and the time clock and archway lay just before me. I didn’t feel tired any longer. I had renewed energy. I felt so alive! I starting jumping up and down as I crossed the finish line and the words I had been longing to hear for so long filled my ears, “Kelly Barrington - you are an Ironman!”
It was 8:48pm. It took me 13:53:42 to complete my first Ironman, and I am very happy with that. To just finish an Ironman is an amazing accomplishment, and I did it well under the 17 hours/Midnight cut off time.
They say that crossing the finishing line of an Ironman changes you. I can agree with that, now that I’ve finally done one. On the bottom of the finishers certificate is the slogan ‘Anything is Possible’. It may sound cheesy to those who haven’t crossed the finish line of an Ironman, but once you’ve pushed yourself so hard and achieved such a tremendous goal, you really do believe in your ability to do the incredible because you’re learned how to push past your physical and mental limits. I experienced anxiety, which transformed into faith, into suffering and then into almost a meditative state, and then a sense of calm, joy and bliss. It was such an amazing experience and one I will never forget.
Links of interest:
For an excellent video recap of Ironman Mont Tremblant 2017, you can watch the official 12min video posted to YouTube:
My official race results can be found on the Sportstats website:
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