I’ve had a hard time writing my reflections on my experience. My journey to Ironman Lake Placid has been nothing short of one of the most rewarding and important experiences of my life. It was not a perfect path to get to the finish line. Once I got to the finish chute and had the finish line in sight I was overcome with emotion for the nth time for Ironman weekend. I’ve been so happy first and foremost that I was able to accomplish my goal, along with other emotions I’ve just struggled to find the words for. I still don’t have the perfect words to describe my experience but that’s been the credo of my journey – finding joy and success in imperfection.
There were things that shaped my journey to becoming an Ironman that I will change as I plan for my next Ironman (CRAZY. It’s only been a few days since my first Ironman and I’m already trying to figure out where and how to do my next one). Still, I wouldn’t have wanted the journey to my first ironman to be any different. I went through most of the journey on my own in a way, training by myself and pushing myself to accomplish the goals I needed for each milestone. This alone time I had helped to shape some of my mental fortitude that I rely on outside of my physical endeavors. Those who know me and have been close to my growth know that I deal with some recurring mental health issues. They’re not easy to explain or understand. Going through this journey to become an Ironman gave me an outlet and focus to exercise my mental and emotional health. Instrumental to my growth and success was the support that I received from my closest friends, my family, those who wanted me to succeed, and those who inspired my journey.
I am grateful for everything that I have learned and become over this journey. I am grateful for all those who helped me get there. I will still be processing what this means to me long after I’ve fully recovered physically. I hope my reflections will ripple and resonate with anyone who reads them.
I am an Ironman. Now and forever.
The Morning
I didn’t sleep well. Not only the nights leading up to the Ironman but the night before, too. I was nervous, I was anxious. So much that I had worked for and hoped for all came down to one day. Friends and supporters were wishing me luck late into the night, which only kept me up longer. I was excited and wanted to carry all the energy, from everyone who offered their support, into race day. I started to breakfast and gather my things at 330. Later I was told that a perfect descriptor of my hour in the morning before heading to the race was “clankity clank”. I thought I was being quiet and considerate but I was deaf to the racket I made. From the front porch of our Airbnb I could see so many of the athletes heading down to the transitions to get their gear situated. I couldn’t wait to join them, but was there anything I was forgetting? Was my breakfast enough? How much should I drink before the swim? No matter how many questions I still had, it was time. It was time to relax and take comfort in the preparation I had done and that I was ready to become an Ironman.
The Swim
I sat/strolled around the swim area taking in the starting area, the lake, the people, the buzz – all of it. I had so much time that I went through waves of nerves, calm, nerves, and more calm. Strolling around the area was one of the ways that I kept myself calm. There weren’t many people at first (I was incredibly early). I don’t remember the moment that the area filled up, but there were just many people all at once – all of the athletes and their supporters. My dad and sister showed up to join my mom and brother, bringing me the scissors I needed to trim my RockTape. I got my wetsuit on and was getting ready to get in the water for a VERY short practice. That was when my best friends showed up. I spent a few minutes with Jordan, Julia, David, and my family, chatting, calming my nerves, and of course, taking pictures. I was happy to have them there, and in that moment, I couldn’t have asked for more of a perfect way to spend a few minutes with them before the rest of the chaos would begin.
My practice in the water was more of a quick dip than a swim. I took my spot in the lineup of athletes with the 1:41-1:50 group and chatted with the mix of veterans and first timers around me. There were some first timers that were openly nervous than I was, which took me by surprise! After the national anthem, the cannon went off and the pro athletes were off in a flash. I knew they would be fast but I didn’t expect to see them get out of the water to transition to lap 2 before I was even in the water! On the way in the water the volunteer/referee (I don’t know which he was) checked to make sure my nose clip wasn’t an electronic device – a perfect indicator of my comfort level in the water. I think I was the only athlete using one! I was able to spot my support crew before entering the water, so I gave them a few waves and smiles before focusing back in on the challenge ahead of me, excited to see what I was capable of.
I had no hiccups throughout the swim. The plan was to breast stroke as much as possible and toss in some freestyle when I felt good. I was at home in my wetsuit and had mostly clear water throughout both laps. I was confident in making the cutoff so I didn’t check my pace until after the first lap. To my disbelief I finished the first lap in 43 minutes, a 10 minute PR! This had me even more excited for lap 2. I kept up my pacing and enjoyed the view of mountains and the thousands of bobbing swim caps in the water. I had a few slower swim strokes where I took in the beauty of what I was attempting to do and how. I got out of the water for the end of my swim and felt great! My 1:32 time was a 20 minute PR! Even quicker than I was able to sit down the wetsuit peelers yanked off my wetsuit and handed it to me to go onto the rest of the transition. Why can’t I have wetsuit peelers every time I swim? I walked and added some slow jog steps down the road to the main transition area. As much as I was excited to see my support crew on the way to T1, they were surprised to see me out of the water so quickly! I apologized to them at the end of the day for cutting their breakfast short. I kept the energy going through transition (even though I took my time). I was so caught up in all the steps I had for myself that I didn’t pay close enough attention when I was slipping on my cycling shorts and put them on backwards. After getting them on right I had to look around to check if anyone noticed because I was definitely embarrassed. That’s a mistake I hope to never make again! I charged out of the transition and headed to my bike, excited to have an extra 30+ minutes to complete the challenging 2 loop course ahead.
The result I had on the swim was definitely a surprise and a relief. I had almost no comfort in a pool 7 months ago when I started the rigorous portion of my training and yet was able to absolutely crush the swim when the time came. The swim of IMLP set up the high points of my day. I couldn’t have hoped for a more beautiful and successful start.
The Bike
Cycling is the triathlon discipline I have spent the most time with, not just throughout my training, but before my Ironman journey began. I fell in love with cycling in the summer of 2017. I was mainly using my old ‘70s road bike as a commuter. I was invited to a group ride with a cycling shop on the night of a full moon. The event was a movie night followed by a moonlit ride along the trail. The group atmosphere and camaraderie of the ride was nothing short of incredible! I enjoyed it so much I committed myself to the sport of cycling. I went on a number of group rides and then upgraded my steed to the bike I still have and rode for the Ironman. It was only later that summer that one of my best friends then laid the foundation for the journey I was lucky enough to be able to accomplish in Lake Placid.
I had a wide smile starting the ride and gave my support crew a fist pump as I rode past. I felt like I belonged with the mass of riders set out on the same journey. When I got to the first hill a few miles in, I couldn’t help but smile when I looked up the road to see so many cyclists in one place. I had a moment of reflection and joy. So much went into each of us getting to that point and so much more lay ahead. Yet, here we were in this one moment on a hill attempting one of the most difficult physical feats imaginable. I reminded myself here of how different each of our stories are and how all of our universes converged in that moment. Something felt pure about that moment. Unsurprisingly, I had more than a handful of thoughts like this throughout the day, each with its own unique trigger.
After the first out and back, starting up the hill when joining back onto highway 73 was the first time I had any serious worry. I’ve been dealing with some recurring knee pain throughout my training but primarily when running. I never had pain/issues when on my bike. The sudden stab I felt just on the outside of my left knee was nothing I’d experienced before. I struggled to understand why I was having any pain and allowed my cadence to drop. I had to massage my leg just below my knee every time I coasted in the hopes that the pain would subside but it would return as soon as I would resume pedaling. I went into the steep and famed Keene descent with no fear, excited to see how fast I could push myself down the hill. I was able to hit 43.4 mph on the first lap. This and the next stretch of highway on the course were more beautiful than had been described with the Adirondacks in the background. I could easily understand why people spoke so highly of the beauty of Lake Placid.
I returned quickly to reality when I had to continue pedaling – the pain kept growing. When I reached the top of the 3 bear hills I hit my darkest moment of the day. I was on the verge of tears and had a conversation with myself if quitting was going to be my fate that day. The pain was agonizing – was I causing irreparable damage? Did I want to keep punishing myself? Not a moment too soon was the first time I saw my support crew since I started the bike. The first thing I said to David when I came by was “I am not doing well.” My crew was cheering me on and all I wanted to do was pull over to the side of the road and collapse. In the final few miles between my support crew and the end of the first lap, I did cry. The last few hills in that stretch sucked. I cried not only from what I was feeling physically and what I had considered mentally (and was still considering), but from how much the support of my friends and family meant to me. Seeing my support crew and getting kicked one more time before the lap was over gave me a reset. I didn’t train my ass off to just give up when my knee wasn’t holding up like I planned. I definitely didn’t drag my friends and family out to the mountains to watch me quit.
I don’t know exactly what went through my head in the moment everything turned around for me. The rush of thoughts and emotions happened so fast. I had a lot more fight in me so I made a plan and stuck to it. I saw my crew 2 more quick times before bike special needs.The 2 volunteers that partially held me up at the bike special needs stop were invaluable to the plan. I was determined. I had to push to the first med station (which ended up being farther than I was told/remembered) to set myself up for the rest of the day. I finally saw a red tent and stopped frantically. The Ace bandage that they wrapped just under my knee helped to put some pressure right on the worst spot and stopped my leg from feeling like it was going to burst. It didn’t stop the pain (and neither did any of the ibuprofen I took) but it helped keep me pedaling. I was still scared but I quelled those thoughts and just kept pushing.
Even though I was hurting, I hit faster speeds on the second lap Keene Descent which helped put a little smile back on my face. Though I was hurting, I was passing many athletes on the second lap of the course. Every overtake gave me an extra burst of energy and confidence in how my leg was going to hold up. There were 2 other aid stations I stopped at along the second lap to receive some brief assistance and re-up my nutrition. In hindsight I took way too many ibuprofen in such a short time, but I was desperate. I did everything I could to keep my cadence and pace up but I definitely coasted more on the second lap than the first. When I got to the final major climb, papa bear, I got a burst of adrenaline and got out of the saddle and climbed the hill as if it were the only thing I had done that day. I have no regrets to showing papa bear who’s boss. This time when passing my support crew in the same spot I was excited and on top of the world with only a few miles between me and the last challenge. They could quickly tell a difference in my resolve, too.
I took my time in T2. I was in no rush to get back on my feet and start the run. I wanted to make sure I was as dry and comfy as possible before I set out for the hardest run of my life. I was in good spirits and made some jokes with the athletes around me. I got mixed ‘reviews’ to how much I enjoyed sitting after sitting for 7 hours. I helped out a few of the athletes with some of my ibuprofen and one of them helped back with some biofreeze spray for my upper back. The moment came where I was finally ready to get going. I called an audible and stayed in my Cleveland bike jersey to be more recognizable on the run course. I had prepared my left knee with KT tape, the Ace bandage, and a knee brace I had ready in my gear bag. From that moment on I didn’t look back until I crossed the finish line.
The bike was easily the hardest ride I’ve ever been on. I fought through so many waves of up and down emotions, reaching my darkest moment of the day. It was a huge test of my character and resolve. I don’t like quitting, or losing. Dropping out of the race would have been both. I have no regrets pushing myself past any reasonable comfort to complete the ride. I finished only about 15 minutes shy of my goal, even with all the stops and issues I had. I’m proud of what I pushed through and what I was able to learn about myself in those 112 miles.
The Run
When I thought the 112 mile bike was the hardest physical activity I’d ever done, I was dead wrong. My limited long distance run training and the state of my knee when starting the run didn’t set me up for success. My goal for IMLP was to become an Ironman. I had ‘stretch’ goals of different finish times and race day performance, but those were thrown out the window shortly after I took the first steps of my marathon. My plan was to shoot for a 10 minute mile but that quickly became a battle of how can I keep moving forwards. I did the math to understand how much buffer would I have if I kept up the walk and was relieved to know that I would make it in time. Regardless, I didn’t want to let my finish come down to the last few minutes so I used a strategy of power walking with intermittent jogging stints.
My support crew was incredible during the run. There wasn’t a lot of it where they could be next to me feasibly. However, every bit of the run that went through town and along Mirror Lake Drive, they were by my side. They offered words of encouragement and let me vent. Most importantly, their spirits raised mine and kept me focused on keeping upright and moving forwards. Someone else I couldn’t have done this without is the athlete who became such an important part of my IMLP story, Paul. It wasn’t his first Ironman but it was definitely the one that posed the longest and most unique challenge to him. Paul and I stuck with each other to do the walk/jog side by side for almost the whole event. If it wasn’t for Paul’s experience, encouragement, and grit, I don’t know how I would have fared in the run.
The first lap had clear weather and a lot of light. The second lap, especially out in the woods on River Rd, were full of darkness and certainly some misery. At one point on the run I was acutely aware of every inch of my legs. I even used my knee brace as an ice pack. That quick thinking helped my knee but ended up making life miserable for my foot every time the ice melted. It seemed like all of us at the back of the pack were in the fight together, regardless of our individual struggles. I faded pretty quickly late in the second lap before we came back into town. The pain was overwhelming and was likely all that kept me awake. Coming back through town on the second lap we were gifted by the golden nectar of the gods: beer. David and Julia provided Paul and I with a small Dixie cup of beer based on our special request. Though it wasn’t what my body needed at the time, it was what my mind wanted (and probably helped numb the pain in my legs). We were almost just a mile from the finish. As long as we could stay on our feet, it was time to start celebrating.
There are so many small moments that I remember vividly from the run. There are so many more where I missed the details because I was so heavily focused on the pain in my legs or just making the next step. I tried to keep enjoying the day and I certainly had the highest spirits I could hope for. I would whoop back at the spectators and volunteers who called out Cleveland. I would do my best to engage other athletes and spectators as the moments allowed. So many people along the way provided inspiration through their determination and fight, regardless of what they were going through.
The last turnaround on Mirror Lake Drive was “just around the corner” for what seemed like an eternity. During the last stretch leading up to the Olympic oval I wasn’t sure how I felt, and I still don’t. I think I really started processing my feelings in that moment and just haven’t stopped processing since. Paul and I talked about the finish line and how much it was going to mean to each of us. Paul stopped to be with his family and gave me my finishing moment. I wanted to savor every second of coming down the finish chute so I kept up my purposeful walk. I wanted as much time going down the chute as I could get. I remember having a smile and wide eyes as I took it all in. I was told later it was more a dead and dopey look of astonishment. The people, the finish line, Mike Reilly. My dream was coming true.
As I got close to the finish line, Mike called “Jeffrey!”. I think my heart stopped or I blacked out. Mike was trying to do something special for me and it took him calling my name twice more and stopping me with his hand for me to realize he was getting my attention and stopping me. Mike then called out “Jeffrey! You are ..” and the crowd took over with the rest “…AN IRONMAN!”
With my arms in the air, a smile on my face, some tears behind my eyes, and the weight lifted off my shoulders, I crossed the finish line.
I became an Ironman.
Post Race
The weight lifted off my shoulders and my energy gave way. A volunteer helped keep me upright as they gave me my finisher swag, took back the timing chip, and led me to the finisher picture area. I stayed to give Paul a big hug and congrats, and promised to look him up later. All I wanted was to see my friends and family and almost as importantly, lay down. I couldn’t find my support crew and wasn’t sure how to go to get ahold of them until borrowing a cell phone from a vendor on the Olympic oval. My support crew showed up with nothing but pride and excitement. They handed me my gear bag with gifts inside. There was indeed a gift, but there was also a Smirnoff Ice. I was unhappy about being iced, but thrilled to be doing it as an Ironman.
Since I was already there, I stuck around to hear some of the last athletes called as Ironmen. It was inspiring and heartwarming. I was so proud of what those athletes were able to accomplish and experience. I am also so proud of all the athletes that put in the work and had the experiences but were unable to make it across the finish line that day. So much is out of our control that sometimes no matter how much we fight, we can’t win.
We eventually made it back to the AirBnB. My body was drained and I had nothing left so I had to be helped up the stairs. I have no regrets. When I finally laid down, we all spent some time together, chatting and recounting the moments of the day that brought us together as a team and what my crew was able to do to enjoy themselves during my battles. On top of everything else my friends and family did for me, they also surprised me with a congratulations cake. I was so grateful to have them by my side.
Ironman Lake Placid wouldn’t have been possible without the dreaming, the preparation, the taunting, the crying, the struggles, and every other thing that I got to experirence along the way. I will always look to find the words that best describe what it all meant to me. Until then,
I am an Ironman, now and forever.
