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Ironman

Ironman Lake Placid – The Bike

Previously on The Undeniable Ruth: I had just exited Mirror Lake from the 2.4-mile swim and was walking the blue carpet to the transition area. As I entered transition area, I grabbed my bike gear bag and headed into the women’s changing tent.

Transition One (T1)

The race clock never stops running once you cross the threshold to start the swim until you either cross the finish line after the run or you DNF (Did Not Finish). While other athletes are motivated to move quickly, I take my time in transition. It’s my chance to rest and catch my breath. I ate a “calorie-bomb” cookie while I dried off and put on my cycling gear.

As I dried off my feet in the changing tent, I noticed the top of my left foot was bleeding – not badly, but I obviously cut myself during the swim. Maybe I kicked someone in the corner of their goggles or hit someone’s fingernail at just the right angle. I didn’t think much of it as I pulled on my yellow “Do Epic Shit” socks and cycling shoes and finished preparing for the 112-mile bike ride ahead.

As I looked around the tent, every person in the tent seemed to have a stick, can, or tube of anti-chafe product to apply to their crotch area to reduce discomfort during the ride. I sprayed Trislide down into the shorts of my trisuit (onesie for triathletes), sprayed any exposed skin with sunblock, tied my rainbow tie dye bandana to my head, and then put on my cycling gloves, helmet, and sunglasses. I slid my Chapstick and BASE salt into my back pocket and then walked out of the tent to grab my bike and headed to the bike exit.

Lap One: OMG Those Hills

Bike course was two 56-mile loops through Lake Placid Village and the surrounding areas. This course is notorious for its hills. Coach David tried to tell me what to expect, but nothing prepares you for how grueling those hills are. I knew that riding downhill out of town would feel great, and then the first of many climbs would begin.

I quickly learned to stay in the saddle instead of standing up on my pedals as I climbed each hill. It seemed counter-intuitive but keeping my butt on my seat allowed me to maintain a faster pace. It also caused more wear and tear on my crotch area.

Some of the descents on the course were exhilarating. Even while riding my brakes, I got up to 40 mph on one of them (according to my bike computer) while the more advanced cyclists were flying past me.  

There were aid stations throughout the course, offering us bottles of water and Gatorade, gels, and bananas sliced in half. I don’t have the skill or balance to grab what I need as I ride through. Instead, I snapped my right foot out of its pedal and came to a full stop. I tossed my previous Gatorade bottle to the side and grabbed a fresh one, ate a half banana, and took a hit from my vial of BASE salt.

Conversely, Coach David can ride through the aid stations. We were both surprised when I finished the swim before him, but he made up time in T1, and passed me at the 1st aid station. Not that we were there to race each other. I didn’t care when I finished compared to the field as long as I finished in time to be an official Ironman.

Maybe I Need to Poop

It felt like there was no respite from the hills, and with each mile I felt more and more uncomfortable and miserable. Then the thought hit me: Maybe I need to poop.

At the next aid station (Mile 45), I gave myself a break from the race. I racked my bike and went to the porta-potty. Yes, it turned out, I needed to poop. (Actually, I pooped twice during that break.) I walked around a bit and dumped a bottle of cold water over my head.

My break allowed me to take in more of my surroundings. I realized each aid station had a kiddie pool of ice so the volunteers could chill our bottles of water and Gatorade before handing them to us. That was such a thoughtful touch.

Feeling a bit refreshed, but still tired, I was ready to continue on. I wondered if I was feeling miserable because I was refueling properly. I ate a gel (electrolytes + caffeine) and made a concerted effort to drink more of my protein. It felt thick in my water bottle. To thin it out, I’d take in a sip of my water, spit it into my protein bottle, shake, and drink. I began to feel better once these additional calories hit my system.

At each subsequent aid station, I also dumped a bottle of cold water over my head to make sure I wasn’t inadvertently overheating.

Lap Two: Accept the Pain

As I headed into the second lap, I thought about “acceptance.” I learned a valuable lesson about acceptance years ago at the piercing parlor.  

It was an impulse piercing, and none of my friends were available to hold my hand. I death gripped the piercing table with anxiety as my piercer prepared his materials. He looked down at my white knuckles and said, “This isn’t going to work.” He told me to let go of the table, breathe, and accept the pain as part of the process. That day I learned how to take a piercing without flinching.  

Even though the second lap was more difficult that the first one now that my muscles were getting sore, it was less painful than the first one as regularly reminded myself, “accept the pain.” I even started smiling and somewhere during this lap, I started playing Frank Sinatra singing “My Way” in my head. It didn’t matter if other athletes were faster; I was there to do my race.

As my legs became more fatigued, my body automatically tried to compensate by death gripping my handlebars, as if I could pull myself up those hills with my hands. I had to periodically shake out my hands and force myself to drop my shoulders and relax my trapezius.

“So Proud”

Toward the end of the 112-mile ride, I was ready to be done with this portion of the race. At first, my only thought was, “Are we done yet?” but then I started thinking about a text message I received from my friend Julia the day before: “So excited for you. So proud.” Hearing her voice in my head motivated me to push through those last few miles.

I was so relieved to see the familiar sites of Lake Plaid Village as I approached the end of the bike segment. After nearly 8 hours of riding (7:56), I was ready to get off my bike.  

Next week’s post: Ironman Lake Placid – The Run.

Ironman Lake Placid – The Swim

Six years ago, I said I’d never do an Ironman race because I don’t like swimming. It’s monotonous and boring. And yet, there I was, standing on the shore of Mirror Lake in Lake Placid, New York. I spent more than 4 years swimming laps at the pool at 6 a.m., rain or shine, preparing for this swim.  

Pre-Race Swim with my Coach

On the Friday afternoon before the race, I had a special swim lesson with my coach, David Roher, that he calls Direct Recovery of Open Water Navigation and Guidance (DROWNG).

Yes, I paid him to try to drown me.

As we swam together in the lake, he purposely bumped into me, grabbed my foot, and even tried to swim over me, all things that could happen during the race.

I have a history of panicking during open water swims. My wetsuit will feel like it’s choking me, and my brain can’t perceive that I’m propelling my body forward. The most recent incident was only a few weeks ago when I bailed less than 400 yards into a 1500-yard swim. I was dedicated to staying in the lake with my coach until I was immune to his attempts to rattle my cage.

Guide Cable = Linus Blanket

I acclimated to swimming in Mirror Lake remarkably quickly thanks to the guide cable. There is a yellow guide cable submerged about 3.5 feet under the surface of Mirror Lake’s navy blue water. This cable was my “Linus blanket.” As long as I could see that cable, I was fine, both during practice and on race day.

Race Day with Team Roher

Coach David is dedicated to taking care of his athletes all the way to the starting line. On race day, I’m a bundle of nerves and my anxiety can cause me to wander. To keep from losing me, Coach David literally had me hold onto his shirt as we walked to the transition area to put our water bottles on our bikes and put last-minute items in our bike and run gear bags.

Once we were in our wetsuits, we were literally wearing leashes (attached to the zippers on our backs). I held onto his, and my teammate Shimon held onto mine, as we navigated through the packed crowd of athletes lining up at the lake’s edge.

The race began with the elite triathletes entering the water first, and then a “wave start” for the rest of us. Every few seconds the race official would release the next group of 4-6 athletes into the water. David, Shimon, and I clasped hands and raised our arms high as we walked into the water. From there, each of us was on our own.

Lap 1: Thonk

The swim in an Ironman race is 2.4 miles. In Mirror Lake, that meant two laps where we had to exit the water after lap one, walk/run back to the starting line, and swim lap two.

At the athlete briefing, they told everyone to stay outside the rectangle of buoys. This was to ensure that everyone completed the distance without cutting corners. It also makes it easier for people who breathe to their right to keep an eye on the guide cable.

In truth, we could be on the inside of the rectangle, as long as we went around the outside of the furthest buoys. I breathe to the left. I made a conscious decision to take the “inside track,” and watch the guide cable as much as I could.

Before I left for Lake Placid, I counted how many strokes it took me to get across the pool where I swim laps. Depending how hard I push off the wall, it took me 10-11 strokes. In open water, I figured 12 strokes would take me the same distance. For the first lap, I mostly counted strokes, knowing every time I hit 12, I’d gone another 25 yards.

Everything was going great until THONK!

The top of my head hit a wall. What was a wall doing out in the middle of a lake?

I popped my head up in confusion and pain and found myself looking directly at the red plastic side of kayak. The volunteer in the kayak apologetically said, “I meant to hit you with my paddle.” I was approaching the last buoy, and she needed me to change my trajectory to go around it.  

Lap 2: Holding My Own

I walked between the end of Lap 1 and the beginning of Lap 2, giving a cheesy double-thumbs up to the camera. My goal for the swim was to survive. I didn’t care about my speed.

Some of the other swimmers were so fast! One passed me during the beginning of Lap 2 and at first, I thought she was wearing (illegal) paddles on her hands. It took me a few seconds to realize there was an orange logo on her wetsuit near her wrist. She was moving so fast that it was hard to tell where her wetsuit ended and her hand began.

During Lap 1, I was passed by elites who were already on their second lap. When I was on Lap 2, I was passing people who were still on their first lap. By Lap 2, my confidence was growing. As a rule, swimmers ahead of you have the right of way, and it’s your job, as the passer, to navigate around them. As I zipped between other racers, I refused to be pushed around, staying in my invisible lane, undeterred by the errant arms of less experienced swimmers.    

I do not have a swimmer’s build with my long torso and short T-rex arms; however, my arms were an asset at the end of each lap. Coach David said don’t stand up to walk out of the lake until your fingers can touch the ground. Shorter arms meant I could swim longer than many of my counterparts.  

77 Minutes

As I got out of the water after Lap 2, I looked down at my watch – 77 minutes! In the workouts leading up to the race, the fastest I ever finished 2.4 miles was 82 minutes, and that was with pushing off the wall every 25 yards. I wasn’t trying to haul ass, and yet, somehow I managed to do it.

I also wondered if there was a whirlpool effect happening in the lake with 2,200+ people moving in the same direction.

Once I was out of the water, I headed over to the volunteers we lovingly call the “strippers.” These are volunteers who work in pairs and trios to efficiently unzip and peel your wetsuit off your body. As I approached them, I said, “Who wants to touch me?”

After the strippers handed my wetsuit back to me, I walked the blue carpet back to the transition area. Others opted to run, but I know I’m clumsy enough without outside help. Both sides of the blue carpet were packed with supporters cheering and holding signs and giant heads of their loved ones doing the race.

Next week’s post: Ironman Lake Placid – The Bike

50 Days Until Ironman

Smiling at the Beginning of my bike workout on South Mountain

It’s 50 days until my first full Ironman race – Ironman Lake Placid. It’s taken nearly 3 years to get here.

After my coach and I did the Half Ironman Maine in 2019, we signed up for Ironman Mont-Tremblant (near Montreal, Canada) for 2020.  

And then COVID hit.

Our race was cancelled, and all got deferred to Ironman Mont-Tremblant in 2021. Then that race was cancelled, not because of COVID infection rates, but because the Canada-U.S. border was still closed. Ironman gave us the option to change to a different race that year or get a refund. I took the refund, and we signed up for Ironman Lake Placid 2022.

What is an Ironman Race?

The Ironman race is a 140.6-mile triathlon consisting of:

  • 2.4-mile swim
  • 112-mile bike
  • 26.2-mile run

The race will start at 6:30 a.m., and you must finish by midnight to be an official Ironman.

Many people have asked me why we swim, bike, and run in this order, and my best guess is because they want the risk of death to decrease as we get more tired throughout the day. If you get tired and stop while swimming, you could drown. If you stop pedaling on your bike, you’re going to fall. If you stop running, you’ll just be standing there.

How’s Training Going?

I’m quite pleased with how my training is going. Each week, my coach sends me my custom training schedule that currently consists of 2 swims, 2 bike rides, and 3 runs. My hardest workout of the week is a “brick” workout, which is a bike ride followed immediately by a run.

It’s getting warm in Phoenix, so I try to start my workout early, at sunrise when possible. The bike course at Lake Placid is hilly, and I’ve been preparing by riding my bike at South Mountain, which has steeper inclines (up to 7%) than what I’ll have to ride on race day (up to 3%). I want to be in a position where nothing I do on race day is more difficult than anything I’ve done in a workout.

I’m probably the healthiest I’ve ever been heading into a race. My coach, David Roher, is diligent about getting his athletes to race day without injuring them along the way. He understands that the goal is to finish the race, not kill myself on my way to the starting line. I also see my physical therapist (who is also an Ironman) twice a month for maintenance, primarily focusing on my hips, quads, and back.

My workouts from this week and last week.

How am I Feeling?

I oscillate between squee-we’re-doing-Ironman and holy-fucking-shit-how-am-I-going-to-do-this. I’m trying to enjoy the excitement as we ramp up and do final preparation for the race. When the scared voice creeps into my head, I try to remember to breathe, take it one thing at a time, and remember that 1000s of people have done this before me. If I stick to my training, I’ll be more than ready for race day.

With each hard workout, I feel my confidence growing. This week, I ran 16.5 miles, and while I was tired by the end, I could have done another 10 more if I needed to.

Why Lake Placid?

I’m going to Lake Placid because Coach David is going to Lake Placid. I didn’t want to do my first full Ironman without him, so that means I go where he goes.

Actually, it was his wife who picked our race. Based on our availabilities, we had our choices down to two, Lake Placid and Maryland, and she said she wanted to go to Lake Placid. My coach’s race weekends often mean a vacation for the rest of his family.

Lucy Jane likes to lick the sweat off my face after my workout.

How Do the Next 50 Days Look?

I’m probably at the point now where I could complete an Ironman race, but it wouldn’t be pretty. Then next 50 days will be the buildup of my strength and stamina, doing my hardest workouts in early July, and then tapering down for the last few weeks before race day. In the process, I’ll be working on my mental as much as the physical as well as practicing my nutrition and hydration strategy for race day.

An important part of the next 50 days will also be getting enough rest. On my Rest Day each week, I won’t be partaking in any major activities, nothing more extensive than running errands. Getting enough sleep will also be imperative. I can’t let myself stay up late, lying in bed, dicking around on my phone.  Instead, I’ve been making myself put my phone out of reach when it’s time for bed.

Training for Ironman Mont Tremblant 2021

I’m doing my first full Ironman race in 229 days – Ironman Mont Tremblant in Canada. I was supposed to do it last year, but the race was cancelled, and we all got deferred to this year.

I’ve never done heroin, but this is what I say every time I pay for something expensive related to my race.

What is the Ironman?

The Ironman is a triathlon, composed of the following distances:

  • 2.4-mile (open water) swim, then a
  • 112-mile bike, followed by a
  • 26.2 (full marathon) run,

All in under 17 hours.

The race starts at 7am, and you must finish before midnight to be an official Ironman.

Why Are You Doing This?

I learned a long time ago that if I don’t have a race or other athletic event on my calendar, I will not be motivated to work out.

I enjoy the challenge of pushing myself to do something I’ve never done before. Races like this take dedication and mental toughness to get through not just race day but also the training to prepare for the race.

In 2017, I hired David Roher to help me train to complete my first marathon. During Mile 20 of the race, even though every part of my body hurt, I knew I wanted to do more marathons. I knew David did triathlons and coached triathletes, so I expanded my training in the off season to include swimming and biking as cross-training. Within months, I was signing up for my first sprint triathlon. About 30 seconds into that race, I knew triathlons were for me. I did the Half Ironman in 2019, and after that went well, I signed up for a full Ironman.

Are You Following a Program, Have a Coach, or Creating Your Own Thing?

Coach David is overseeing my training. Every Sunday, I get a text from him with my workouts for the week. Most weeks, I have two swim workouts, two bike workouts (one on the stationary trainer, one outside), two run workouts, and a rest day. I also have strength work that I do three times a week and stretches that I do every day. 

In addition to this, I also go to physical therapy once a week. I’ve been having long-term issues with my hips and back. My physical therapist is also an Ironman, which is helpful, because she has a greater understanding of my goals as well.

How Many Hours Are You Spending Training, Prepping, and Planning?

Oh geez. Right now, my shortest cardio workout is about 28 minutes (1,500-yard swim), and my longest is about 3 hours (48-mile bike ride). My strength workout is probably around an hour each time. Stretching takes around 30 minutes each day. A physical therapy session can last over 2 hours with all my exercises.  

In addition to all of this, there are other activities like checking on airline ticket prices for the race, bike maintenance, and replacing gear when it wears out like running shoes, workout clothes, and swim goggles.

In terms of diet, I mostly try to eat healthy, avoid excessive sugar, salt, and white flour. I also try to make sure I have enough protein in my diet, which might require more planning since I’m vegan.

Triathlon Shoes: Flip flops for the pool, bike shoes that clip in to my pedals, and running shoes.

What Will be the Longest Training Workout/Brick in Your Ramp Up?

That will be up to Coach David. In passing, he’s mentioned a 50-miles bike ride/5-mile run and a 100-mile bike ride/3.1-mile run.

I’m also planning to fly back East to do a 3.1-mile open water swim with my coach and the rest of the “Jewish Swim Club” in the Atlantic Ocean. During the race, I’ll be able to remind myself that swimming 2.4 miles is easier than swimming a 5k.

What Are You Most Looking Forward to Related to This Race?

So much. I’m excited to be an athlete who is capable of completing an Ironman race. Every time I can go faster, go farther, or see more muscle developing, it’s exciting.

What’s especially exciting about this race is the fact that I’ll be doing it with my coach and almost all of his other triathletes. There’s a strong sense of family and camaraderie in this group.

What Are You Least Looking Forward To?

My race is in August in Canada, but most of my training will be in Arizona. My longest workouts will be in June and July, when the low for the day can be in the high 80s. We’ll have to be careful to make sure I don’t overheat. On my long workout days, I may have to start at 2am or 3am to beat the heat.

Are You Practicing Peeing on the Bike or While Running?

To date, I haven’t needed to use the bathroom during a race. I’ve heard this is a thing. I even heard from another triathlete who was peed on by another racer while they were both on bikes. That must have happened while one was passing the other, because Ironman has strict rules about maintaining a minimum distance from other cyclists unless you’re passing.

Are You Going to Get the Tattoo?

Oh yes! I’m looking forward to getting the classic “M-Dot” tattoo.

Benched

“One of my favorite meditation spots” by Jay Thompson from Flickr (Creative Commons License)

My hip pain flared up at the end of last week, and Coach David benched me for three days. I don’t even have a good story. It just started hurting. Only things I can do are stretch, heat, and strength work that doesn’t engage the hip. (My apologies in advance to anyone I converse with while I’m on the sidelines. I get moody and opinionated when I don’t workout.)

Yes, this is the same hip injury I’ve been dealing with off and on for over a year. It’s the one body part I didn’t blow out as a gymnast (except for a few pulled groins), so they’re making up for lost time.

Coach David has been increasing my workouts painfully slowly – like increasing my running distance by ¼ of a mile each week. (The standard is a runner can increase their mileage by 10% each week.) I’ve pushed myself hard the last few weeks, but I didn’t think I was going too hard.

As always, Coach David uses a practical and logical approach to dealing with injuries. It’s better to take a couple of days off now – over six months before race day – than to push through and be triaging a worse injury closer to race day. This morning David lovingly said, “Your body needs a vacation.”

Thankfully, I was already ahead of schedule in regards to my training, so taking a few days off isn’t a setback in terms of that. It’s just a challenge for me to be forced to sit on my tush.

I’m starting to wonder if the line between pushing hard and pushing too hard is razor thin. It’s frustrating to constantly have to deal with the possibility that my hip could flare. I felt like we were doing everything right. I was slowly gaining speed, strength, and confidence.

I was pushing myself, but not that hard.

Challenging myself, but not killing myself.

Over the last week, I spent a lot of time sitting as I was sending 500+ emails promoting my first online course on the legal side of photography.  I wonder if that has something to do with this most recent bout of soreness.

Rosie’s trying to teach me how to relax.

Regardless of the cause, I’m spending three days sitting on my heating pad, trying to get the muscles to relax and the joint to calm down. (I have two heating pads – one at home and one in the office.)

I’m on board with the plan that it’s better to deal with a minor setback now than to deal with worse pain later.

The goal is Ironman Mont Tremblant, not killing myself getting to the starting line.

New Swimming Accessory: Choker Necklace

Yup. I’m wearing a choker.

I don’t like things touching the front of my neck.

I don’t own turtlenecks.

I don’t wear kerchiefs or fashion scarves around my neck.

When I go to the salon, I ask them to make the drape one snap looser.

Sometimes I can’t even wear crewneck t-shirts because – you guessed it – the edge of the shirt barely touches my neck.

When I picked out my wetsuit, I got one with the lowest neckline I could find. It still touches my neck. Actually, my wetsuit is snug around my neck. It’s snug around every part of my body. That’s how wetsuits work.

When I’m wearing my wetsuit and I go from being vertical and walking into the water to horizontally swimming in it, the discomfort becomes more intense as going face down puts extra pressure across the front of my neck. (If past lives are real, I’m pretty sure I either drowned or was strangled in one of them.) Add in being hit by other swimmers and unable to find my swimming cadence, and it’s enough to make me panic.

Heading into Ironman Mont Tremblant, I’m trying to work on this. I don’t want to start this race with a panic attack.

I can’t control how choppy the water is.

I can’t control other swimmers bumping into me.

What I can do is force myself to get used to swimming with something snug around my neck. (I know some athletes cut their wetsuits to lower the neckline, but I don’t want to do that.)

My chokers, courtesy of the junior section at Target.

I bought myself a set of five stretchy choker necklaces, popular among tweens and young teens. I look like a person having a mid-life crisis when I wear them.

Before I leave the house for the pool, I pull one of these things on, and I don’t take it off until I’m back. I figure the more I wear it, the sooner I’ll get over the heebie jeebies of having something touching my neck.

For my first day wearing a choker to the pool, I opted to wear the red one so if the feeling of it touching my neck was too much and I ripped it off mid-lap, I could easily find it in the water and not litter in the pool.

Thankfully, that didn’t happen. I don’t notice it when I’m swimming. Once I’m fully used to wearing one necklace, I may try wearing two, then three, at a time, so I can get used to the material covering more of my neck.

Hopefully, this exercise will teach me that I can have something snug against my neck without feeling like I’m choking myself.

Open Water Swim Training Update

After a brutal swim at the Half Ironman in Maine last year, I knew I’d be spending part of my off season practicing open water swimming. In the pool, I can see where I’m going, I have my own lane space, and I can put my feet down whenever I want. Open water swimming is the opposite of all that, plus I’m in a wetsuit. Mine has a lower neckline compared to other wetsuits, but it’s snug against my neck, especially when I rotate my body to be parallel to the ground to swim. I always have to remind myself that my wetsuit isn’t strangling me. (I’m really sensitive about things touching my neck.)

I did the Splash and Dash at Tempe Town Lake a few months ago. It had four race options:

  • Swim 1,000 meters, Run 5K
  • Swim only, 2,000 meters
  • Swim 2,000 meters, Run 5K
  • Swim only, 4,000 meters

I suspect the real purpose of this event is to give the people doing Ironman Arizona a few weeks later a chance to swim the length in the race (4,000 meters) in the lake where there’ll be swimming on race day. I signed up for the 2,000-meter, swim only.

Tempe Town Lake – Image by Dru Bloomfield – At Home in Scottsdale from Flickr (Creative Commons License) – No, I did not get poisoned or super powers from swimming in this water.

I arrived at the lake at 6:50 a.m., checked in, and strapped my timing chip to ankle. The air temperature was 58 degrees. The water was 63. The 2,000-meter swim started at 7:32 a.m. They invited us to jump in a little before race time to “splash about” and get used to water temperature. Yeah, no thanks. I was only getting in that water once.

The race route was a 1,000-meter rectangle. Each person did one, two, or four laps depending on which event they signed up for. Like Maine, there were kayakers and paddle boarders throughout the route to help any swimmer who got in trouble. Shortly after I started swimming – 2:19 according to my Garmin – I grabbed onto a kayak, trying not to panic. (There’s something about feeling my wetsuit against my neck coupled with being hit by other swimmers that triggers my “fuck this” response.)

I told the friendly volunteer in the kayak, that I was panicking and he asked an insightful question, “Has this happened before?” That actually helped me calm down a bit. I took a minute to take some deep breaths and compose myself, and then continued with the race.

Once, I calmed down, running into other swimmers wasn’t as big of a deal. After one collision I remember saying, “Oops, that’s your butt.” The rest of the race felt pretty good. I worked on my spotting (trying to swim in a straight line by aiming at landmarks). A good rule is to check your spot every 2 strokes. I was doing it every 10, because I don’t like how spotting breaks up my cadence.

I finished the 2,000-meter swim in 45:03, 17 minutes faster than my time at Maine 70.3. The cut-off time for the swim for the full Ironman is 2 hours, 20 minutes (140 minutes). That’s encouraging to see that I’m on track to have a good swim at Ironman Mont Tremblant this summer.

I still need to work on not panicking when I first hit the water. I hope to do a few more open water group swims before the race.