Month: June 2023

Ironman Coeur d’Alene race recap- my 1st Ironman

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I just completed my first Ironman! I’ve been doing triathlons for years now. I’ve raced in every popular triathlon distance except for a full Ironman. This year I decided it was time to change that so I signed up for my first Ironman in Coeur d’Alene Idaho. Just thinking about the race made me feel slightly nauseous and my heart beat faster but I was curious to see if I could complete one, so I signed up and got to training.

All too soon it was time to head to Coeur d’Alene for the Ironman. My training had gone well for the most part with just a slight hiccup towards the end of the training block. I developed tendonitis in my hip and was banned from running for the last three weeks before the race. Whether or not I be able to complete the marathon at the end of the race was unknown.

Race morning dawned calm and clear and sunny even at 6am because it was northern Idaho in June. It was a beautiful day with temperatures that would eventually climb into the 80’s, but early morning was still nice and cool. I got everything set up at my bike and went to find my friend Alicia. We, with the help of my husband, got our wetsuits on and walked down to the lake where we met up with a few other friends. Alicia braided my hair as we waited in line to walk down to the water. Nerves were high but honestly at this point I was just ready to get the race over with.

Soon enough they let us walk down to the water and line up based on estimated swim finish time to start the race. Alicia and I joined our friends and we all gathered in a group hug right before we headed to the water. I stood at the water’s edge and when the buzzer went off for my turn to start the race, I pressed start on my watch and ran into the water and began to swim.

The water was beautiful. Cool, but not overly cold, and so clean feeling. I swam and swam and it actually wasn’t too bad! I’m a slow swimmer but can go forever at a certain awkward ugly looking pace so I told myself to just do that. People would bunch up and things would get a little crazy around each buoy, but then things would space out in between allowing for some nice consistent swimming. The course was two loops. After the first loop you run out of the water onto the beach, go through an archway, and head back in to swim the loop for a second time. I had been worried that I would not want to go again but I found myself really not minding it. I ran back in the water and swam a second loop with no issues. And suddenly I was finished, running out of the water. I had done it- swam 2.4 miles! Something I truly never thought would be possible for me. I remember thinking that no matter what happened the rest of the day I would always be proud that I swam that far.

In an Ironman race there is a volunteer to help you with getting off your swim gear and putting on your bike gear. So an amazing woman got my wetsuit off, handed me my shoes, sunglasses, helmet, asked if I had everything, gave me words of encouragement, and sent me on my way. I grabbed my bike and ran it out of transition.

When I reached the line to mount my bike, I hopped on and tried to pedal and nothing happened. I figured I must just have the bike in a hard gear so I tired again and still I could not move the pedals. A volunteer ran over to me and said he’d help me get on the bike but then he looked down and said- wait, your chains off. He pulled me over to the side and went to work getting the chain back on the gear but it was really jammed in, stuck to the side of the bike. He kept working on it and after a few minutes finally managed to get it unstuck and back on the gear. My savior! I’m not sure I would have been strong enough to do that myself. I thanked him profusely as he helped me on my bike that now worked and I pedaled off to start the 112 mile bike portion of the race.

Ironman Coeur d’Alene is known for its hilly bike course of which you get to do two loops. It consists of two separate out and backs. The first out and back is flat and goes through the town and follows the lake for some beautiful views. The second out and back is on a highway and is where the hills kick in. It’s honestly nothing horrible or too steep, but it’s just a lot of slow chugging away up hills. We had driven that part of the course the day before so I knew what to expect and it all felt pretty much as I thought it would. I chugged up those hills and tried to make myself go as fast as possible downhill- not my favorite thing to do.

Soon I was back to the flattish out and back section for a second lap when I began to realize that I’d made a mistake nutrition-wise. I had been drinking water at every aid station but not dumping extra into my bottles so I completely ran out of water. I still had about 5 miles to go until I reached a point 62 or so miles in where we had “special needs” bags waiting for us in which I had placed a refill of water and some liquid nutrition I was so thirsty and could feel myself getting that tingly dehydrated feeling and began to get worried but managed to make it to my special needs bag, filled up my bottle, and from then on made sure I refilled my water bottle at every single aid station. After that I was fine but definitely a lesson learned.

The second loop of the hilly section went well at first but around mile 85/90 or so I just felt slow and over it. It was windy there too which made progress feel even slower. I kept moving forward and suddenly came to a downhill section where moments earlier a rainstorm had passed by. It was no longer raining but the road was wet enough that the water sprayed up on me in a nice cool mist. Everyone around me, myself included, all sighed “awww” when we hit that section. It felt amazing! The wet road lasted for a few miles and completely revived me. I was happy after that and started to get very excited about the fact that I was about to complete the bike portion of the Ironman. Each section felt like such an accomplishment.

I rode into transition grinning and sat on the ground to get my running shoes and race bib on. I also pulled on a pair of compression socks. A lot of triathletes pee on the bike during such a long race but I just couldn’t, plus I was probably dehydrated the first half, but sitting on that ground it all came out. I was definitely re-hydrated and ready to run. I got up and began the 26.2 mile run of the Ironman.

My first thought as I began to run was- how in the world am I going to do this? Running felt horrible. I ran out with another girl and we made a turn past a group of people who yelled- looking good! She laughed and said to me, “we look good?” I told her, “well, I’m glad we look good because I sure don’t feel it”, and she agreed. But I figured as long as I kept moving forward I could complete the race now within the 17 hour time period even if that meant walking the entire thing. Just knowing that was an encouragement. Another encouragement was that my hip seemed ok! The bike ride had warmed it up.

The run course consisted of 3 loops through town and along the lake. This gave me lots of opportunities to see my husband, friends, and coach, all of whom shouted words of encouragement, asked how I was feeling, and gave me updates on my place in my age group. All was good until around mile 5 my stomach revolted and I quickly got to a port-a potty. After several minutes of not fun I felt good enough to get back to it and continued on my way. Luckily my stomach was fine from then on.

I settled into a pace that felt difficult but not impossible and just kept running. I walked through every aid station drinking some water, pouring the rest on my head, and dumping ice down my sports bra. Then I would start running again until the next aid station where I would repeat the process. About halfway through I began to add coke (the drink!!) to the ritual which tasted amazing at that point.

Towards the end of my second loop my calf’s started to cramp up some. I switched to Gatorade at the aid stations in hopes of staving off severe cramping which I could see had happened to many people out there. At this point more and more people were walking but I never felt like I had to, just kept running at a pace that felt doable.

I saw my coach at the beginning of the third lap and he informed me that if I kept running at the pace I was I should outrun 4 girls ahead of me in my age group’s ranking’s because they were running at a slower pace than me. I told him about my legs cramping some and he said- “this is the part of the race that feels like hell; just keep running.” And so I did. I kept running, my pace definitely slowing but kept the effort the same. I still walked through every aid station but at this point there were a few where I just dumped water on my head and didn’t drink because I was becoming water logged. The miles slowly ticked off.

Finally I made it to the split in the road that I had been waiting all day to get to. “To finish line” was written on the ground with a large arrow pointing to a spilt in the path away from the path that brought you to the second and third loop. I turned onto that path with a massive smile on my face- the finish line was right up ahead.

Only it wasn’t! At least not as close as I wanted it to be. I turned a corner into downtown Coeur d’Alene and there was one more hill for me to run up. So cruel! But I happened to be the only competitor at this section and the streets were absolutely packed with spectators all of whom were cheering me on. It was amazing and I could not stop smiling, even running up that one last hill. As I reach the top a guy yelled out- turn the corner and there’s the finish line. And he was right! I turned the corner and saw a nice downhill that ran into the red carpet Ironman finishing shoot. People were cheering and screaming all around me. I got in the shoot and gave high-fives to every person that stuck their hand out. Then I head the announcer say the words every first time Ironman competitor dreams of “Heather Goyette, you are an Ironman”. It was surreal and so amazing. I couldn’t believe I’d done it!

Because far fewer women compete in Ironman’s than men, certain races will offer more slots for woman to go to the World Championships in Kona Hawai’i (the birthplace of Ironman) and Coeur d’Alene was one of those races. With my place in my age group and those extra slots I was able to qualify for Kona. Another surreal moment!

I’m excited for Kona, but that’s not my favorite part. I loved to learn that I could really push myself in both training and the race to do things I wasn’t sure were possible. I loved the process, the hard work, the exhaustion, the pain, the eating all the things, and then whining about it all and getting up and doing a little more the next day. Such a sense of accomplishment. But truly my favorite part is the triathlon community. All are amazing people and athletes, everyone with their own story and reason for completing an Ironman. Every last one of them inspires me. It’s a community that I’m very proud to be a part of.

Walks with dad

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When I was 7 years old my parents sat my 5 year old sister and me down on the couch in our family room to tell us some big news. We would soon have a new brother or sister. This, for some reason I don’t recall and probably couldn’t even explain back then, greatly upset me and I ran out the room refusing to talk about it. My dad came and found me and asked me to go on a walk with him. I agreed and we put on our coats and shoes and walked the long route up and over the hill behind our house. I don’t remember what was said but I do remember that the walk with my dad calmed me and by the time we returned home I was ready to have a new brother or sister in my life; even looking forward to it.

(It was a brother. A few years later a sister came into our family but by then I was 12 years old and just rolled my eyes when I found out, highly embarrassed that my mom could even be pregnant.)

Walks have always been a big part of our family life. I’ve been told that I originally was not interested and as a toddler would trail behind my parents crying because I didn’t want to walk. They’d wave at neighbors shrugging their shoulders, pretending to have no idea whose screaming kid that was following them. But eventually I accepted the family walks and then grew to enjoy them.

When I was in grade school we lived in Wisconsin and my memories of those walks are accompanied by the sound of melting snow and deep red and orange sunsets. As soon as it got warm enough (Wisconsin warm that is) we would bundle up and get outside for a quick walk. Summers in Wisconsin are short but beautiful and we would take advantage of the long days, walking to meadows that boarded our neighborhood. To this day there are certain wildflowers and bird songs that remind me of those walks through sweet smelling colorful fields.

A few times a year my dad would take my sister and me up a large hill across from where we lived. The rutted trail wound through a forest and eventually ended up at a lookout where you could look down on our neighborhood and out further to the town we lived in. I was so proud to hike up that hill and loved the view.

Our family eventually moved south to the St. Louis area, but the walks with my dad continued. The neighborhood was fairly new and our walks would take us to explore the construction sites of houses going up; walking through the houses, commenting on what we liked, which room would be ours, and wondering who would eventually move into the house. Walks at night in the summer were my favorite. The Missouri humidity would wrap around you like a warm blanket as we walked past neighbors grilling and enjoying the evening on their patios while fireflies blinked all around us.

After I moved out, any time I would come home one of the first things I would do was go on a walk with my dad. We would catch up on life walking side by side in all types of weather. Nothing was off the table- politics, God’s grace, family drama, our jobs, what we would eat for dinner; we discussed it all and came up with solutions for most of it. Although we might never have shared the family drama “solutions” with anyone else. I remember one walk we rounded a corner and there was a large black bear eating a plant in front of us. He looked up at us, we looked at him, said hi, and kept walking while he went back to eating the branches, all of us completely unfazed.

Soon my kids joined us on our walks. I’d push them in a stroller as we walked around the neighborhood, often venturing into surrounding streets and neighborhoods to keep the walk going; neither of us ready to stop.

One day, shortly after I had my 3rd child, we took a long walk. It was one of those days that had a timelessness feeling- warm and gray and damp- I remember having a moment of confusion as to where I was and what time of year it was, my mind clouded by the exhaustion of caring for a newborn and his two young siblings. There’s no doubt in my mind, though, that those long walks when my kids were young kept me sane.

We would often go on vacations with my parents. Two favorite places were the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York and to the 30A section on the panhandle of Florida. As soon as we would arrive, we would dump our luggage into the house and go on a walk. Sometimes it was just me and my dad, and other times various kids and family members would join us. Often times on those vacations I would wake up very early to the smell of coffee and know that my dad was awake. I would jump out of bed and the two of us would go on a sunrise walk well before anyone else was stirred. Those were some of my favorite times.

A few years ago my parents moved to Tennessee, not far from where we live. My dad and I would often text each other to see if the other wanted to walk after work. Dogs replaced strollers and we circled the neighborhood and town trails discussing life, jobs, my now teenage kids, and of course our newest babies- the dogs. We walked in all kinds of weather, from bitterly cold windy days to the hot and humid summer evenings where a stop at the creek halfway through was required to cool off the dogs.

Then, one day I got a call from my parents to come over. They sat my husband and me down and let us know that my dad had been diagnosed with glioblastoma, a highly aggressive form of brain cancer with no cure. He had actually first realized something was wrong while taking a walk with my mom. She noticed one of his feet slightly dragging as he walked. His prognosis was 12-18 months. Our lives had changed forever.

He had surgery and the week after it, I stayed with my parents. For the first time ever I walked their dogs without my dad. It was such a lonely and scary time with so much uncertainty, yet the walks once again kept me sane. I continued to walk the dogs during that time, often using those walks to mourn my dad. He was still alive, but I was losing him more and more each day. And no longer being able to walk together was one of the hardest things to process.

Last year on Strava, an exercise tracking social media app, I found our last “regular” walk together. It was just a week or so before he went to the doctor and was diagnosed with brain cancer. On Stava you can see the day and time and the map of the loop we walked. It’s around 2.5 miles and I have no pictures or comments from that walk. It was just a normal walk on a normal day and we probably talked about very normal, mundane things. And I liked that.

My dad passed away in March, 18 months after being diagnosed with glioblastoma. I still walk the dogs. Sometimes I’m accompanied by my kids and sometimes I’m alone. I often want to be alone, just me and the dogs, but when I am accompanied by my kids and family members I try to remember how much I cherished those walks with my dad and try to offer to them what my dad did to me- his presence and the opportunity to walk side by side and discuss life.