Ironman Lake Placid

When the going gets tough do you quit or do you give every last ounce of energy you have? This past Sunday I was forced to answer this question in one of the worst ways describable. For the past eight months I have one goal in mind and that was to cross the finish line of Ironman Lake Placid before midnight; meaning I would be officially an Ironman. Well as the months ticked away, I wanted to entertain new goals along the way. Arriving in Lake Placid on Thursday I had the hopes of finishing, and finishing with a decent time across the official race clock. Although I didn’t tell many people I was hoping for a sub 12:30 finish, but deep down inside I wanted to go sub-12. I personally thought that if I had a scotch free race day, and everything clicked sub 12 hours wouldn’t be too farfetched. I had soon come to realize that this goal was unattainable.
If you have never been to Lake Placid during Ironman you are missing out completely. The energy and the vibe that is bouncing around between athletes is incomparable compared to any other event. The mix between nervous energy and excitement makes for those not even participating waiting for that canon to go off race morning. Waltzing around days before the race only made me more excited, and eager for the race to begin. After meeting up with my entire family/support crew for dinner on Friday it was off to the Athlete’s Meeting, where all 2,900 athletes would listen patiently as each course director would explain how things would work Sunday. Though I should have been listening, the only thing I could think about is “How the hell are all of these people going to fit in that little lake?”
As Saturday morning rolled around it was nerves, nerves, nerves. I was stepping into the unknown and eagerly waiting for the day to begin. I couldn’t stop thinking “I knew I should have done this, or could have done that, there was nothing I could do at this point except to race my race.” I did what I thought I needed to do in order to do well at this distance, and now it was just time to execute to the best of my abilities. After dropping of my bags and bike to the Olympic oval, Saturday was nothing but waiting, and mentally preparing for what was about to come. As I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep the night before I opted to take a nap and just watch T.V by my lonesome. The only thing I really wanted to do was have a quiet night with Catherine, eat, and sleep.
Waking up Sunday morning was like Christmas in July. There was no other way to describe it, but sheer excitement and nerves running through my body. I was shaking and could barely stomach a bagel. From what at first seemed like nerves not allowing for me to eat, soon made me realize later that day, and even into Monday morning that maybe the way my stomach was acting was more than nerves. Once Catie, my mother and father headed out to the transition area around 4:45am, I approached my bike and noticed my front wheel wasn’t holding air. I went to go pump it up and the valve shot off like a bottle rocket into the air. The race had even started I had already gotten my first flat tire. No need to freak out, luckily for me there was mechanic tent there, and they even used one of their own tubes. Flat fixed, no harm no foul. Race morning seemed to be a blur of fast pasted, nervous, type-A, triathletes. I decided to just lay low and stay calm. No need to get caught up in all the hype. I figured there was no need to be pacing back and forth thinking about the next 17 hours and how the hell I would tackle the distance. Once the clock struck 6:25 I kissed my mother and Catie good-bye, said bye to my dad, Staci, Mike, and Emily, then headed over to the swim carrel. Once I was in the carrel I waited patiently with the other 2,900 other future Ironmen and once we were allowed to siphon into the water the true fun began. I swam over to the far side in hopes of finding my own area where I would be safe from flailing arms and elbows, but I soon realized everyone else in the race had the same idea. I soon noticed that there were more people around me than I anticipated. Once the canon went off at 7a.m. the fun began. Kicking, punching, goggles getting knocked off, it was everything I expected and more. An Ironman mass start is one of the gnarliest things I have ever been a part of. I just kept saying to myself not to freak out, relax, and take the pace that’s around me. Well the pace that was around me was slower than slow, but there was no way I could get out. It was a ball of swimmers and lucky for me I was in the middle. The first lap I felt like I didn’t even need to swim, I just needed to fight for my space. It was more self-defense than swimming. After coming out of the first lap I read the time and it read 44:XX. “Holy shit you have to be kidding me!” I knew if I didn’t pick it up my swim time was going to be uglier than I originally thought. The new goal for the second loop was to swim, and swim fast. I found a guy I could draft off of so I sat in his slipstream and let him do the work. This lap once again felt effortless, but felt a lot faster than the first lap. I figured if I had a good second lap I would come out around 1:20 which would be alright in my book. Well as I approached the swim exit I stood up glanced at the clock and saw 1:10:22! At first I had to do a double take because I thought I was seeing things, and then it hit me. I did a 26 minute second lap. Now for those who know me, know I can’t swim to save my life, so this was unheard of for me. Stoked with my time I got my wetsuit stripped by a kind volunteer and headed down to transition where I had my first sighting of my support crew.
After heading into the transition tent I noticed it was overly crowded so I did my thing, and got the heck out of there. Packed the nutrition, lathered on the sunscreen, and took off. Simple, easy, and stress free. The cool thing about Ironman is you literally do nothing; the volunteers do everything for you transition wise. They make your day as stress free as possible once you get into transition. After running down the center aisle, I nice lady was waiting with a smile on her face to hand me my bike. I said a quick “Thank You” and she said “You’re welcome, now go have fun.” Fun? Well I guess I will try. The firs loop of the bike was pretty uneventful. A little rain a little downhill a little uphill and before I knew it the first 56 miles were over and done with.
After coming back into town there were thousands of screaming fans and this gave me a little extra boost to recharge the batteries for the next lap, but once the uphill’s towards Keene started I didn’t feel too hot. I started having trouble stomaching my nutrition. A single bite of my Clif bar took almost 5 minutes to chew and it seemed almost impossible to swallow. This was the second sign of what was about to come. Around mile 60 of the bike I just focused on one hill at a time, and looked forward to the 9k descent into Keene. After getting through Keene, and traveling into Jay and Upper Jay I was still having trouble stomaching whole food. I started to troubleshoot and opted to do what I could with GU and Powerbar Perform. I knew once the right turn into Wilmington arrives I would be in for an uphill battle; literally. The climbs into Wilmington started to take their toll and the stomach was starting to toss and turn. I was trying to get any food possible into my stomach and knowing if I couldn’t take in anything I would be paying for it the last thirteen miles on the bike. Once I made it to Wilmington the slow gentle climb began back into town and at this point I had about 13 miles to go and my clock said 5:05 on the bike. I knew I could go sub-6 on a good day, but this day was far from good, so I took what the course gave me and tackled it one mile at a time. Around mile 100 I hit the dreaded wall, and bonked hard. I knew this time would come sooner or later, and lucky for me it came at one of the worst times. From here on out it was damage control mode and I wanted to just make it to town without losing too much time. Once I knew I was at mile 108 I knew there were some flat sections so I was relieved that there was only Mama Bear, Baby Bear and Papa Bear to go. The crowd on Papa Bear will get you up that hill every time so spinning up that hill felt effortless and finally I made it back into town with a bike split of 6:09, not ideal, but I did what I could given my body wasn’t feeling too hot.
I was very relieved to get off my rig and onto my feet. Transition was a quick change of the shoes and an onward march to tackle the final 26.2 miles. Coming out of transition my stomach was in knots. I knew from the beginning this was not going to be pretty. I started off running the first four miles and right away the unpleasant feelings started. At first I thought it was just cramps so I was alright with having to walk it out during mile five, and take in some sodium. Then I realize it was something far beyond sodium deficiency. I tried to eat some pretzels, but I couldn’t even swallow them, so I started throwing pretzels in water and drink it as pretzel soup. This immediately backfired as it was the first of eighteen bathroom visits. I found the nearest port-o-potty and let it fly. At this point I knew this was going to be a very long marathon, but I was determined to finish. The next four aid stations seemed to be the same. I eat, I go number two. After finding a spot in the woods about twice per mile, and my stomach in more pain then I have ever felt in my life I wanted to quit. I really thought this was going to be impossible. Walking at this point was sending my stomach for a loop. I just remembered Joe Meyer telling me that leg camps you can run through, stomach cramps are nothing to toy with. They will give you a one way ticket to the hospital and I wasn’t there NOT to finish.
As I hit mile 8 I had walked about the past four miles, and with the combination of a very slow walk, and consistent bathroom breaks I was at about 18-20 minutes a mile. Now I’m not sure many people can even walk that slowly, but this pace was about the brink. Throughout my years of racing I have felt great, good, perfect, and bad. The feeling I had miles 7-13 is indescribable. I felt like someone was twisting my insides and repeatedly punching them. I stood in the woods wondering if it was even possible to walk the marathon. At this time the race I wasn’t thinking about anything else besides my family. They were probably wondering where the hell I was so I decided to chug along. I walked, and walked, and walked. Sawing those miles tick away was about as painful as it comes. Once I got back into town everyone was cheering, screaming my name, and telling me to run and I just wanted to hide in a corner. There was just no way possible I could run, and I felt like the biggest let down ever. Once I saw my family and friends I just wanted to cry. I felt like the biggest bum ever and hoped they wouldn’t even see me. I told them what was going on and that I had to walk or I wouldn’t finish. My dad told me “Just walk we have all night.” And my Uncle Frank told me “Skip do what you have to do we will be here for you.” That right there made me not want to quit. I had twenty people who came to watch and support me and I wouldn’t be just letting down myself, I would be letting my family down. Once I got back out of town I caught up to another guy from Buffalo and we walked the next 8 miles together talking about everything that was going on. The out and back was slow and the sun began to set and I just kept saying “Keep going, one step in front of another, you will be an Ironman.” After I noticed at mile 13 every time I put something in my stomach in came out seconds later the other end I decided to just drink water and not eat another thing. At this point I had taken in zero calories and hadn’t stomached anything. I had no energy what so ever. Something so simple as walking now became a chore. Then something hit. I was sick of walking and as I approached the end of the out and back at mile 21 I decided to give running a shot. My stomach was far from perfect, but I wanted to get off my feet, and be with my family. I ran back into town, and noticed that my mom, sister, dad, Andrew, Catie, Mike, Staci, Emily, and Uncle Frank were all running to find me to make sure I was alright, and I was so relieved to see them. My mom was balling her eyes out and I started to get a tad emotional. I had about a 5k left and they ran with me for about 200m. I told them go to the finish line I’ll be there in about 20ish minutes. I ran back into town with a crowd a little smaller than the first loop, but low and behold my other family was still waiting for me at the exact same spot as the first loop. I passed a cheering family and said “See you at the line.” Running up Mirror Lake Dr. was unreal. All the training I had put in was finally put into perspective. I did a flashback of the whole day in my mind and it was probably the best feeling of my life once I was on my way into the Olympic oval. My entire support crew was waiting for me and as I rounded that final corner I gave my dad a high five and heard the greatest six words of my entire lifeas I crossed that line; “Skip Kunecki, You are an Ironman!” I crossed the line at 13:32:11 and was greeted at the finish line by an amazing volunteer. I walked through the chute, gathered my finisher gear, and skipped the med tent. Although I probably should have gone I just wanted to see my family, girlfriend and friends. I was greeted with tears and hugs by everyone. Everyone made me feel like I just had the race of my life, when literally it was a race from hell. We all hung out and shared hugs and pictures. I was so relieved to finally be off my feet and be in their presence. I had finished an Ironman. Something nobody can ever take away with me, and something four hours ago deemed impossible.
The next few days after I realized that it was more than nutrition issues. We narrowed it down to a stomach bug or food poisoning, and although I didn’t have the race I wanted too, I accomplished what I had set out to do. I wanted to leave Wheatfield a triathlete and come home an Ironman, and I did just that. There were times were I didn’t think the next mile sign would ever come, and there were times were I didn’t think the next step was possible, but just remember nothing is impossible. Ironman Lake Placid 2010 will be a day I NEVER forget, but it does leave me wondering; “How well can I do if things do go my way?” Needless to say I will be back in Lake Placid in 2012.

Thank You: Mom, Dad, Megan, Catie, ANdrew, Mike, EMily, Staci, Nani, Frankie, Uncle Frank, Mike, AUnt Kathy, AUnt Lori, Uncle Lyle, Nick, Ashley, Jessica, Pete Cerny, Joe, Kevin, and Tri-Spot

When the Going Gets Tough.... Keep Going

Blue skies, mountains every which way, a bustling town, and a place that will always put a smile on my face, we were finally there; Lake Placid. Driving through Main Street with Mirror Lake on your left and the Olympic center on your right, this place never seems to get old. It is a place where miracles have been made, dreams have been crushed, and thousands of men and women have been granted the title “Ironman”.
The purpose of this trip was simple; Train as much and as hard as possible. Minus the sleeping and driving that had to take place in order to make this trip possible I was left with thirty-eight possible hours to train on the actual Ironman course. After setting up camp at the traditional Whispering Pines Campground we headed straight to Mirror Lake to get a swim in. Well when I say “we” I mean Mike and myself, though I would be the only one swimming. The beach seemed to be over crowded with tourists and Mirror Lake itself was like New York City, but instead of taxi’s driving up and down the streets, there were kayakers paddling like children hyped up on caffeine. The course was loosely marked with buoys so I had an idea of where to go and when to start and stop. I started where I thought I would start race morning and that was in back and off to the side. I set sail stroke after stroke, and I finally found a rhythm. I knew I had about three hours until it got dark so I figured I may have to push myself a little in order to finish the 2.4 miles before the sun set. (Kidding) I would love to tell you how long it took me, but I know if people actually read this thing they may laugh at the snails’ pace at which I moved at. Once I completed the two loops I was greeted by some fellow triathletes/teammates who were also there busting there asses for the next 48 hours. We took a little time to talk one another, but soon after I was out on my bike for a thirty mile spin. The main purpose of the small bike ride was to see how I would feel after the 2.4 mile swim, and to loosen up my legs for tomorrow’s 112 mile trek around the surrounding towns.
First day=done. It was now time to shoot the shit with Mike and find something to eat and fuel up for tomorrow’s long ride. We walked, and walked, and walked and found not a single restaurant under $15 per plate. So we opted to hit up Subway and go for the $5 footlong. We were on a pretty tight budget this trip so money was a limiter. Lucky for us after we ate dinner it was 8:30 which meant, back to our 5 star tent and lay our head on a rock hard ground, and try to get some shut eye. After taking Mike down in rummy we decided to wake up and six in the morning, that way I could set sail by 7-7:30. Sounded like a great idea the night before, but when those alarms went off the next day it sounded like torture.
Once I got my butt in gear I laid everything out for the ride and tried to organize what I would need for the day and at what time. 6 packets of GU, 2 Clif Bars, Pretzels, 2 Bottles of Ironman Perform, 1 bottle of Gatorade, and 2 bottles of water. The one thing that was absent was Mountain Dew which I later regret not having. After drinking my coffee it was time to rock and roll. First six miles of this bike are up and down it felt like a rollercoaster. I’m talking constant climbing then descending. There were some decent little climbs that made the legs a little tight so I decided just to spin up these little diddy’s at a slower pace. After all I did have 106 miles to go. After the first ten miles my average speed was a whooping 16.9 miles per hour! Not knowing this course I figure I was going to be in for the worse ride of my life. The next miles came easy, very easy. It was approaching the Keene descent and I was ticking of 29mph which seemed effortless, but I did have a 20mph tailwind which was brilliant. After about 5ish miles the scariest part of the bike course came about. For all those adrenaline junkies who love flying down this hill, I envy you. I was simply scared shitless. It had to have been the steepest, toughest descend ever. I was griping so tight on my handlebars I thought I was going to snap them in half. I was clutching onto my brakes and I was going still 42mph. Holy hell never again. After finally making it into Keene, I quickly thanked my lucky stars and made my first wrong “turn”. I kept going straight when I was suppose to turn left, but I only went about 4 miles roundtrip out of the way. No biggie Ill just cut short the out and back. After getting back on track I was off to Upper Jay, and once again the tailwind became my friend, and I was hitting 27mph on flat land. This section of the course felt extremely fast and is going to be a huge help for keeping a decent average speed throughout the ride. Once I did the out and back to Ausable Forks, I saw a sign which read “Lake Placid 17.” Score! Only seventeen more miles and I’m done with the first lap and my average speed is slightly over 21mph. I’m kicking ass right now, or so I thought. The last 17 miles of this course simply suck. They can break you down and strip you to the core. The climbing is brutal, and the tailwind that I loved oh so much before was now 20mph in my face. Joy. Let this go by extremely fast. Needless to say the next 17 miles took me slightly over an hour. Spinning up Mama Bear and Papa Bear I finally saw the end was near, well for the first loop at least. Once I made the left back into town I stopped quickly to see an eagerly waiting Mike, filled up my bottles, got some nutrition and with a quick goodbye I was off for lap number two.
This lap for some reason felt a lot more relaxed. I knew the course, I knew where to turn, I knew what was next, I knew where to push and where to hold back on. Overall I was ready to go for round two. The once blue skies now turned grey and the wind seemed to be picking up even more! The flags were whipping around the flag poles, the trees were swaying and my speed seemed to be borderline fast. At this point of time I knew it wasn’t the engine it was the wind so I decided to push it a little, knowing this wind was going to be the devil once I make the turn into Willmington. Second lap was pretty uneventful up until the last seventeen miles. Once again the wind was howling and the grey skies were now drizzling rain. Once I finally made it into Willmingotn, I was just hoping to make it back to Placid in one piece. The drizzle now turned into a straight downpour and I was 10 miles out and miserable. I had 102 miles under my belt and only ten more grueling miles to go. I started to get extremely cold and the “F” bombs were flowing like the Niagara River. My first true question of “Why the hell am I doing this?” happened. At this point my legs felt like a tractor trailer ran over them. About eight miles out I caught up to an older couple stranded on mountain bikes. I said, “This is miserable eh?” and the older man said “No way this is a blast.” I was saying to myself “How the hell could be going up this hills in the freezing rain be a blast?” This is fricking stupid, give me a bed and a beer and life would be so much better. Then I stopped for a second and though :This is a blast.” This is what I love to do. I love riding my bike. I love challenging my body. I love climbing hills. I love the sport of triathlon, and all of a sudden when I thought I had nothing left in the tank I got a second wind. I decided to quit complaining and ride. I quickly pushed up the last two hills and was rounding the corner to of then be greeted by Mama bear and Papa Bear once again. I took them slow and just kept pushing knowing that it would be only a matter of minutes before I was back into town. Freezing, cold and tired there was no transition run in my future. Off to the showers and it would then be time to eat.
The schedule for the rest of the day was to hang out with Mike and just enjoy what the town had to offer. We walked around the town for as long as the weather would allow us to. Once again the weather man was way off, as the 70 degrees and sunny, turned into 60 degrees and rain. Awesome! No hotel room, no shelter we were up the creek without a paddle. We ran to our car and weathered the storm (no pun intended). Once the rain seemed to have stop, the sun came out and it was a brilliant day at last. We chilled out, people watched, ate some food and before we knew it, bed time was quickly approaching. One more day. One more training session and it would be time to head home.
Mike and I decided to sleep in a little today and woke up to a 7am alarm, hoping to start the run by 8am. What I had planned was pretty vague, but bare minimum I wanted to run 13.1 miles. After getting in the coffee I started at the Olympic oval and headed out onto the run course. Before I knew it I was running 7:15 miles and soon realized that if I continued this pace I would make it about five miles so I slowed it down to 7:45-8minutes per mile. I figured after yesterdays ride I would be dead tired, but soon enough I noticed the first hour was gone. I felt pretty good, and thought I could go for about twenty miles with not gut wrenching pain. Turning back onto Route 73 I hit a wall and I hit it hard. Only 1:10 into my run and it was like night and day from two miles that had just passed. I knew Mike was waiting for me back into town so I kept the legs moving and kept thinking about how this same scenario would come about in about three weeks. Would I want to stop and walk during Ironman this early into the run? Negative, if I walk this early I would get way to use to walking, so I pushed up the hill back into town. This was one of many times were I pictured the course lined with screaming “fans” and I got goose bumps all throughout my body. As I did the out and back on Mirror Lake Dr. I gave a shout out to Mike and decided to do another six miles on the course. Even though I wasn’t in the best form running those last three miles or so I couldn’t stop thinking about how in three weeks I will be here doing the real thing. Two thousand plus people and I will be trudging along the course all with one goal in mind. To get to that line and to get there as fast as you possibly can.
I learned a lot these past two days. Sure I learned more than how tough the course is or when to push and when not to push, but the big thing I learned was to never give up even when the going gets tough. I have put in countless hours of training to get to the point where I am right now. Even though it hasn’t always been easy, I wouldn’t trade the past eight months for anything. It has been a journey that I honestly may never experience again in my life. I’m not saying I’ll never do an Ironman again, I can promise that in 2011 “Ironman __________” will not appear on my race schedule. I know one thing for sure is I could not have done this without the support of my parents, friends and Catherine. I can’t wait until I get to share this race with them July 25th. I hope once I cross that finish line it will be a minor payment of all the hell I have put them through for the past eight months. In the end I cannot wait until I step foot in Mirror Lake race morning. It is going to be an experience I’ll never forget.