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