Over the six months leading to the Ironman, I had dialed in my bike training to exactly where I wanted it to be. I had several rides of 180 km behind me; I rode in heavy rain, extreme heat and high winds; I nailed my nutrition. Finding the right fuel and hydration for the ride took a lot of trial and error, especially with some dietary issues. My chiropractor suggested that I try Skratch Super High-Carb Sport Drink Mix and that made a huge difference for me. With 50 grams of carbs and 200 calories per serving added to my water bottles, the improvement in my energy when I started to drink Skratch was noticeable. While experimenting one day, I created a much zestier and fruitier taste by adding a Nuun tablet to it. Wow! What a difference! And, by doing this, I had Skratch for carbs and Nuun for electrolytes in the same bottle – and I planned to have 6 or 7 bottles to get me through my ride on race day.

I also needed some solid food so I packed Skratch Energy Chews and Xact Energy Bars for some additional carbs, as well as Brix waffles. I discovered Brix waffles when I was in Quebec last June and and loved them: sweet carbs that taste like real food. I also needed some solid food like the waffles so that I wouldn’t end up with an upset stomach. Pretzels packed in mini-ziplocks were another good choice of “real food” in my stash of snacks but, by the time I got to them, they were soft and disgusting . Pre-pacakged fuel was definitely the way to go.

After leaving the transition area, I knew that I needed to get some food into my stomach to help it settle from the swim. This is something else that I learned during training in the spring and summer; if I ate something within an hour of swimming, my stomach didn’t feel quite as chlorinated (i.e. gassy). After the Ironman swim (3.8km) in the choppy river, I had a feeling that I had swallowed a ton of water that would end up haunting me on the bike if I wasn’t careful. So, as soon as I was feeling settled on the ride, I intended to start munching on a Brix waffle. Unfortunately, it took longer than expected to start feeling comfortable enough to do that.

The 180 km bike course is almost 3 full loops with the start of each loop going over some very bumpy roads – so bumpy that I didn’t want to ride in an aerodynamic position (many I spoke with later also felt the same) so I stayed upright for more stability. There were quite a few bike accidents along this road (one lead cyclist was carried away in a stretcher), lots of flat tires, and many lost water bottles. In my case, there was also quite a bit of burping up the Ottawa River. Once I was on a smoother surface in downtown Ottawa, I ate my waffle.

The ride course went through downtown Ottawa, along the Rideau Canal, turned around and went into the Gatineau Hills, back downtown and back towards Britannia Beach. Then, we looped around and did it two more times. Being one of the last swimmers, I spent a lot of first loop trying to catch up to and pass as many cyclists as I could.

The Gatineau Hills was my favorite part of the ride. I loved the green space, water, blue skies and turkey vultures. Yes, turkey vultures. In one section was a group of spectators cheering along cyclists. Coming from a tall grassy area, between the spectators and me, was a giant turkey vulture – huge, bigger than some of the kids along the road who were watching the race. Within milliseconds, I realized that the big bird was heading towards to the road. I started to panic, slowed down, and tried to decide what to do: stop or keep going. I heard a spectator gasp “Look!” and another say “Oh, oh!” and I watched the vulture turn back. Phew! This all happened so fast and I still don’t know how I managed to stay upright. Another cyclist, and much faster than I, caught up to me and went through the same motions. Side by side, we looked at each other, relieved and he laughed “Now that’s not something you see every day.” He took off and I followed. On the way back into town, though, I saw this same big bird (I assumed it was the same) again! This time, though, it was crossing the road and it was with its family – 5 or 6 turkey vultures crossing the road in the middle of the Ironman bike course! This time, I didn’t panic, but I did slow down so that they could cross safely (and I wouldn’t get caught in a mess).

Another reason that the ride through the Gatineaus was my favorite part is my family was near the turn-around to cheer me on. As in any race, seeing a familiar face can make a huge difference to my mindset so I was thrilled to see my own cheer squad there for two of the three loops. On the third loop, when I really needed to see them, I was on my own.

At the end of the second loop, on my way back to Britannia Beach, I fell. Somehow, the front wheel of my bike got caught in a groove in the road. I managed to ride my way out of that but I ended up turning into a median. My wheel brushed against it, my bike wobbled, I tried to stabilize it, the cross-wind grabbed the wheel and…..I slid across the road. I think I swore too. My leg got the worst of it: my outer thigh and knee were bleeding from sliding across the road; my inner thigh was pressed between the road and the top tube of my bike; my knee was squished between the road and the down tube. There was road rash on both elbows. I didn’t want to think about my right hip, my wonky hip, but I was fairly certain that it was angry. “There is no way that I am walking away from this without some kind of a break” I thought. At that point, I realized that mechanically inept me was alone. I swore again.

Another cyclist, Dave, rode up from behind and asked if I was okay. I was just starting to check my bike. “I think I’m okay. Brakes are working. Gears seem fine. I think I just need some first aid.” He kindly offered to ride with me to the next aid station and, as soon as we started to ride, I realized that I couldn’t shift my gears. I stopped again, shifted the gears while spinning the back wheel and trying to look like I knew what I was doing. I surprised myself. “I think I fixed it! Yup! My gears are fine! I can ride!” I thought about how proud Husband Dave would be. I did another quick check of my arms and legs and figured that any wounds weren’t all that serious – just a major inconvenience. I was lucky. But I wanted to see First Aid anyway to make sure. Cyclist Dave, stayed with me until we got to the aid station, then carried on with his ride.

“What do you mean there isn’t any First Aid here?” I asked.

“Well, there is but I just don’t know where he is right now. He must have gone somewhere else. I’ll call.” From my side of the call, I gathered that the First Aider left the area to look after someone else. When I asked how long I would have to wait, the reply was “I don’t know. It will be a while, I think.” I looked at my watch and thought about the time that I had lost because of this. I wasn’t about to stop; I went to Ottawa to do an Ironman and I was determined to finish, now more than ever.

“Oh, look. There he is.”

At that point, all I wanted was to be cleaned up and the assurance that my bumps and scrapes were more or less superficial. The First Aider agreed. Being treated, though, was a bit more of a challenge.
“I’m not sure how I can clean it. I don’t have any water.”

“No water? Do you have any rubbing alcohol?”

We cleaned my scrapes with rubbing alcohol, then tied gauze around my knees because he didn’t have any bandaids (or tape for the gauze). I hoped that it and the bit of compression that it created would stop the bleeding – or, at least, keep blood from staining my socks.

I left as soon as I could to finish the last 60ish kilometres. I was quite concerned about the loss of time so I pushed through the last lap as much as I could. I managed to catch up to Cyclist Dave, chatted with him for a bit, then kept going to catch and pass as many other cyclists as I could.

The ride ended up taking me almost 7.5 hours, about 45-60 minutes longer than I expected. But I did finish and was proud of that, especially given the “adventures” that I had on the ride. Now I was ready to lace up my shoes and spend the next few hours running the marathon.