Kyle Yost

What am I doing back in Lake Placid for the Ironman? In 2002 I thought I'd try an Ironman and intended to be "one and done" with that distance. That race didn't work out as planned, so I tried again at Lake Placid in 2004. Once again, the race didn't go as planned. Stubborn or stupid - take your pick - but here I am on the morning of July 23 having another go at it in 2006.

With respectable times of 11:27 and 11:14 under my belt it's somewhat difficult to explain to people that I'm at it again because I feel like Ironman has beaten me. While I've completed the distance, in both races I blew up on the run, with the marathon changing from a run to an exercise in survival as I fought cramps and stomach issues from the early miles on. So, although I have two Ironman finishers medals, I felt like I had not conquered Ironman, but rather, it had gotten the best of me.

With these two humbling experiences behind me, I went into the 2006 Lake Placid event with just one primary goal in mind, and that was to hold up on the run, to not have the marathon turn into a shuffle-walk battle just to get from one porta-potty to the next. I knew that if I managed to run the marathon, even if at just a slow trot, that my overall time would be solid and certainly under 11 hours. Deep down I knew that I was capable of actually running the run and that it was possible I could get down to the 10:20 ballpark which historically would put me on the bubble for a Kona spot for the 35-39 age group.

After analyzing my two prior experiences I came to a conclusion of what I had done wrong. First that I was consuming too many calories on the bike, and while it didn't create any issues for me on the bike, the symptoms were appearing early in the run after my stomach had essentially shut itself down. As a big guy with a pretty big engine on the bike I had always assumed I needed more fuel than the little guys. But, in researching the symptoms of my blow-ups and analyzing my caloric intake in those events, I concluded that the 450-500+ calories per hour I was consuming was the likely cause of my stomach distress. So, during training I experimented by decreasing my calories per hour until it was clear I was deprived and had bonked. I found that I had no energy issues until I got down to below 250 kcal/hr, so in training and racing I settled on 300-325 kcal / hr and never encountered any low energy problems.

The second conclusion that I came to was that my cramping was primarily due to dehydration. It occured to me while riding in Spain this spring that other riders needed to stop and pee frequently while riding and I virtually never felt that need. And, never during a race had I needed to go, while others were discussing whether they pull over and hit the woods or just go right on their bikes, a dilemma I'd never needed to worry myself about. I've always been a very heavy sweater, and while I've always thought I've been drinking adequate amounts of water, I now concluded that I was actually dehydrating myself and was hopeful that was the root cause of my chronic cramping problems.

Based on these conclusions I decided that in training and races in preparation for Lake Placid that I would consume a steady 300 kcal per hour of liquid fuel and augment that with however much water it took such that I felt the need to urinate during the bike leg. I tested this approach with success at the Mooseman 1/2 Ironman in June. I had no energy issues on the bike at my lower caloric intake, and had to pee during a race for the first time ever late in the bike leg. But the best part was that my running legs felt good and not once during the run did I have any stomach issues or feel any cramps coming on. This bode well for Lake Placid, but I had still had doubts whether I had my problems figured out as in 2004 I had managed a sub 4:30 1/2 IM with a 1:28 half marathon, so a successful tune-up 1/2 IM with a good half marathon proved to be no guarantee of running success at the Ironman.

Nonetheless, it was with this new approach of eat-less and drink-more that I went into Lake Placid confident that I could finally conquer this distance.

As in 2004, I went into Lake Placid healthy and fit - particularly on the bike. I'd spent a month on my bike in Europe in March, had done a week of intense training in the mountains in June, and had numerous quality, long rides under my belt. My running had gotten a late start due to calf and achilles issues through the winter and spring, but due to my solid biking fitness I had been able to step up the distances pretty quickly and was running well and had gotten in lots of long runs and bricks in the final two months leading up to the race. I even had some secret hopes for a swim near an hour as my swim workouts had been showing good progress. So, just like in 2004 I toed the starting line healthy and very fit and confident I was capable of a good day.

The swim was entirely unpleasant. For an entire 65 minutes I got hit, kicked, and never found a comfortable swimming rhythm. I don't know if it was due to the 300 additional people that started the race than in 2004 or if it was because the kayakers prevented us from going as far left of the buoys as I recall going in 2004 to find open water, but whatever the cause this swim was too crowded and never eased up, not even on the second loop. I felt fine and tried to remain calm, but I did not enjoy one second of the swim. One conclusion I've come to is that in a race this dense you have essentially determined your swim fate by 5 minutes into the swim. After that point you are pretty well stuck at the pace of the masses you are with. At times I felt like I was swimming too slowly, but there was no way to find any clear water to swim past the masses around me, and the people around me weren't swimming so much more slowly than I wanted to go that I could, or would, just swim right over and through them. This year, my mantra throughout the race was to be patient until the marathon, but I do wish I had taken it out a bit harder the first five or so minutes of the swim to put myself a bit further up the field before everyone settled in. But, after all, what's a few minutes here and there in an Ironman? Ha, I'll find that out soon enough.

I exited the swim in 65:10 for 464th overall and 104th in the age group, about 50 seconds slower than 2004.

I felt phenomenal early in the bike and had to work very hard to remain patient and not worry about the people passing me. Two years ago I had a great bike split and had thought I felt comfortable, but after considering my run blow-up and that I had the 47th fastest split of the day, I had concluded that I had biked too hard and must take it a little easier this time around.

Leaving transition I saw my always reliable bike computer had chosen this moment to cease operation, so I was going to be doing this ride completely by feel. Early on I worried I was perhaps taking it too easy as plenty of folks were passing me, but I kept repeating my mantra of taking it easy until the run. On the fast, wet, and treacherous descent into Keane I heard a thud next to me and looked over and saw one of my two bottles full of my calories skidding along on the road beside me. I didn't even hit a bump, how did I throw a bottle?!? It turns out a bolt had broken and my cage had flipped around and was now pointing down. Luckily I had a backup gel flask with me so my entire nutrition strategy was not sliding along the road at 52mph beside me in that water bottle, but the loss of a bottle cage did screw up my plan to take a bottle of water at each aid station and drink it between aid stations. No worries, I could always do like the Tour de France riders and find some space down the back of my jersey or shorts, or I could just try to swig down the entire water bottle during the length of an aid station and immediately discard it, which is mostly what I ended up doing.

The first loop was very, very easy and quite enjoyable for the most part. The amount of blatant, intentional drafting that I saw was really very disappointing. I realize that when you swim 65 minutes there are going to be lots and lots of cyclists around and it's going to be hard to avoid some unintentional drafting early in the bike leg. But, there were some large, dense packs of riders, and on one occasion I got passed by a group of 5 riders in a rotating paceline, something I had never seen in a race before. I tried not to get worked up by this and to race my own race, but I did bark a few choice words to some of the worst offenders at times, and on the 2nd loop when things had thinned out and I passed many of these riders back I voiced my opinion a few times with comments like: "A little harder when you don't have a wheel to suck, huh?" or "Awww, too bad, looks like your peloton shattered, tough to be on your own, isn't it?" Immature, yes, but it just pisses me off to see this blatant cheating. I mean, if you're going to cheat, why not just cut off part of the bike course or hand your chip to someone to do the run for you. Really, what's the difference? Ironman tried a new approach of on-the-course penalty enforcement this year, so there were four penalty boxes on the loop where you had to stop and wait for four minutes if you had been tagged by a marshall for drafting. This process is fine in theory, but I saw a lot of drafting going on, and not once did I see anyone who had been caught waiting out their penalty in the box.

Back to the race. The first loop was effortless and the day was turning into a perfect day for racing as the early rain had cleared and clear skies were starting to break through the clouds and the temperature remained cool. I checked the race time as I finished the first loop and calculated my loop time to be 2:35. Yikes, that's identical to 2004 and I was trying to ratchet it back on the bike this time around. But, I was riding by feel and I felt great, so I continued at the same effort. The 2nd loop was eventless; I felt great and I was peeing regularly, so clearly my hydration strategy was working. And, yes, I was peeing while still on the bike, can't waste any time by stopping! By the last ten mile climb I was starting to feel ready to get off the bike, but the legs were not tired, nor did they feel like cramping was imminent like in 2004. At this point there are few cyclists in sight on the road, and at one point I looked down at my rear disc wheel because it was making some godawful screeching noise and I was worried the entire wheel was going to fly apart or something tragic (in hindsight I think the noise was my broken bottle cage rubbing against my CO2 canister, though it sure sounded worse than that). Lo and behold, what do I see when I look back at my wheel, but someone elses front wheel about one inch off my rear wheel. Someone I had passed miles back had decided to latch on for a free ride back to town. Pissed off once again, I pull left, slow down and ask if he could possibly get any closer. His response: "It's alright. I'll share. You want me to pull for awhile?" "It's alright!!" He actually said that to me as he drafted off of me, acting as if he's surprised that I'm pissed off. Seriously, is this standard operating procedure for the folks racing on the Kona bubble? Infuriating.

I finished the bike in 5:20:16, 21mph, 34th fastest of the day (28 pros in race), and 2nd fastest in my age group, and 1:22 faster than 2004. I'm still in disbelief of that result as the bike felt easy all day and I had to force myself to hold back for the run. Did I go too fast? Should I have gone harder and stolen a few more minutes with what has clearly become my strength? It's so hard to know in an Ironman.

I started the run in 57th overall and 10th in my age group (11 Kona slots), although I didn't know that at the time. What I did know was that I was having a virtually identical race to 2004. In 2004 I swam :64 and biked 5:21 (2:35, 2:46 loops), and now I had just swum :65 and biked 5:20 (2:35, 2:45 loops). Indeed, my transitions were nearly identical as well, and I started the run a whopping 29 seconds ahead of my time in 2004. I recollect thinking as I started the run that it was deja vu all over again, and that I would be seriously dejected if the marathon also turned out the same as 2004.

My legs felt a bit heavy, but all in all I felt pretty good starting the run. I settled into a comfortable pace and reminded myself to be patient when someone in my age group flew past me in the first mile. My marathon plan was 250 kcal/hr of gel and a few cups of water at every aid station. I made it to the first turnaround at mile 5.6 and the legs still felt good and no stomach issues brewing. A milestone! By this point in 2004 I had already cramped up and vomitted and hit the porta-potties. I was just under 41 minutes at the 5.6 turnaround, comfortable at about 7:30 per mile, a bit faster than I expected to be able to maintain, but it felt good and I was being passed more than I was passing so I proceeded running by effort and tried to not worry about time or position.

Then Mile 8 came. Maybe I had fallen behind on my gel consumption, or maybe I just needed more calories than I had expected, but I started to bonk right as we got to the hills on the return trek. Luckily too few calories is easily rectifiable whereas too many is not, so I took a large swig of gel and went on a major shopping spree at the next aid station, and before too long I had my energy back. But, I did not have my legs back. Whether it was the hills, the bonk, or it was just time to start feeling it, I realized somewhere around Mile 8-9 that the marathon wasn't going to forever remain as easy as it been the first 8 miles. Those sub-7:30 miles became 8 minutes became 8:30. I got back to town, struggled up the hill, and finished the first loop in 1:42:47.

However, I now had 13 miles yet to go and I was already in survival mode. But my feared stomach and cramping problems had not presented themselves, so I was still running, with my legs being the only limiting factor. I had always figured that even with tired legs I could manage 8 minute miles, but due to the cramping and stomach issues had never been able to test that. Well, now I was learning that I may have been a bit optimistic and my dead-leg shuffle is closer to 9 minute miles. Nonetheless, that still counts as running, and for the next 13 miles I gut-checked it at my agonizing 9 minute mile shuffle just trying to get to the next milestone: the bend in the road ahead, the next mile marker, the next aid station, the lightpost up ahead, the turnaround, catch John Mead, catch Haig, .... It was a long time to operate in survival mode, and I spent longer and longer at each aid station and walked about half of each of the two big hills, but more or less I held it together the entire second loop.

One nice thing about a two loop course with two out-and-backs per loop is that you get to see a lot of people, and I definitely got boosts during this agonizing stretch from all the folks out there I knew: Ted, Tom, Schwartz, Haig, Jenni Banks, Jeff Emmons, all the Team Zers, Laura, and great spectators: my folks, Brady, Tara, Bruce, Libby, Vaughn. And it was definitely great to wear the TeamZ colors as they had hundreds of fans cheering with endless energy! When you're struggling just to get one foot in front of the other, knowing all those other racers out on the course and having so many great spectators makes a huge difference!

I pushed it with everything I had all the way until I was on the finishing oval. Now I wanted to savor the finish and just cruise home enjoying the moment, but at 10:15 I figured I was on the bubble for a Hawaii spot so I looked back to make sure I wasn't about to be passed right before the line. Sure enough, there was someone eyeing me up and looking to make a late move past me. 140.5 miles complete and no chance to cruise in and enjoy the final 0.1; I had to hustle it around the oval and all the way through to the finish. It turns out the guy was indeed in my age group but it would have had no bearing on Kona anyway had he passed me.

I was absolutely spent when I crossed the line. I had left everything I had on the course and had finally conquered the Ironman distance. I ended up 87th overall and 18th in the age group with a 10:15:30. My run split was 3:41:24, good for 153rd overall and 36th in the AG, and a fantastic improvement over the 4:40:10 of 2004.

I was completely wiped out, but for the first time I did not need the medical tent or an IV. I recovered pretty quickly and stuck around the finish and the TeamZ cheering area all the way until the midnight finish party, another first for me. It was great to watch so many people I knew completing the race, and for many of them it was their first Ironman. Incredible!

My 10:15 finish time would have been fast enough to get a slot in M35-39 every previous year. My age group place of 18th would have gotten a slot in every previous year except 2005. But, not so in 2006. There were only 11 slots (of 418 M35-39 starters) and these slots only went as deep as 13th place, who finished in 10:09:33, a bit less than 6 minutes ahead of me. The number of participants at Lake Placid is increasing every year, but they have decreased the total number of Kona slots for the race from 100 to 80 to 72, so it is getting harder and harder to qualify. But, that's part of the appeal; if it were easy it wouldn't be as meaningful.

While I was pleased that I held up well on the run and actually ran the marathon this time and managed a respectable 3:41, a post mortem reveals that I lost my ticket to Hawaii on the run. I started the run in 10th and fell to 18th by the finish. I passed only two who started the run ahead of me, but got passed by ten. Indeed, I remember during the rough patch I hit between miles 8 and 10 a parade of six straight in my age group rolling past. Clearly these people were racing each other and knew they were racing for Hawaii while I was focused on racing my own race.

As time passes I remain thrilled with my effort. I'm ecstatic that I finally conquered the distance and figured out my stomach and cramping problems. And I still find it hard to believe that I went 10:15 on a very difficult Ironman course.

But, I'm also starting to wonder if it's more than bad luck that I always seem to be a just-missed guy. Am I chronically unlucky or just not good enough or simply not tough enough when it counts? In high school I never made the state championships in track and xc, though by all metrics I was fast enough that I should have managed it. In college I surprised myself by coming painfully close to the NCAA Championships qualifying time, but never managed to get over the barrier. And now I miss Kona by the skin of my teeth in a time that would have been good enough any other year.

Surely I could have managed six minutes faster. How did all those guys outrun me? I'm a runner and I don't have the cramping or stomach excuse this time, yet I got run down. There's no holding back on the run; couldn't I have stuck with the guys in my age group when they passed me? Did I really need to walk half of the last two big hills or spend so much time at the aid stations? Why couldn't I manage at least a 3:35 marathon like the rest of the contenders? Was I just not mentally tough enough on the run? Did I bike too hard? Did I do too much bike training and not enough running? And, just think if I could only learn to swim just a few minutes faster! Oh, so much to ponder as I watch the Kona broadcast on TV once again this year.

So I planned to be one and done with the Ironman distance. It took me three tries until I got it right, so it's time to be done with this distance. But now I find myself within spitting distance of qualifying for Kona. What to do, what to do......

My flickr photo album of the day can be accessed here. Many thanks to Dan Hicok who took many of these photos and was the official photographer for TeamZ. His entire portfolio from the long day at Lake Placid can be accessed here.