My friend and coaching client, Lt Col Tom Impellitteri, USMC, successfully completed Ironman Lake Placid this past weekend, improving his 2009 finish time by more than 100 minutes with significant improvements in all 5 race splits: swim, T1, bike, T2 and run.
Wow!
What is amazing about his story is not how well he did, but rather how well he overcame three significant adverse situations during his race – any of the three could have derailed his race.
Like life, racing an Ironman is full of challenges, many of which come at you unexpectedly. The key, I believe, to successfully navigating Ironman (and life) is how we choose to respond to those challenges.
As best-selling author and motivational speaker Margie Warrell says, “While you’re not always responsible for your experiences in life, you are responsible for your experiences of life.”
Here’s Tom’s story as told by Tom (note: the end of his story caused to choke up with emotion):
My Journey to Ironman Lake Placid 2010
by Tom Impellitteri
Stride good, pace good, feel good.
“What the heck was that…?!?!”
The left knee buckles, you stumble, almost fall and then collect your thoughts and try to figure out what just happened. It is mile 19 of a marathon and the pain in your left leg is excruciating; a marathon that happens to be coming after swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112.
This is an Ironman. A 140.6 mile surreal journey through the physical and meta-physical. A 140.6 mile war between your mind and your body that consists of a never ending series of little battles. A 140.6 mile adventure that inevitably involves adversity. As my coach always says – “Ironman racing is all about overcoming adversity.”
Every story, even this one, has to start somewhere and every story requires perspective. If you will indulge me for a few moments I will try and provide you with some background that will allow you to put my Ironman Lake Placid 2010 race into perspective.
My story begins in August of 2006 at the finish line of a 1/2 marathon. It was there that I ran into my friend Dave who thought it would be a good idea if I did some triathlon race with him in the spring of 2007. He said it was the California 70.3. I didn’t know what that meant because I knew little to nothing about triathlon except that it involved swimming, biking, and running and once a year I saw some show on TV about a big race in Hawaii. None of this really mattered because I told him he was nuts, I wasn’t interested, and generally some other things that aren’t suitable for print. He proceeded to question my manhood and testosterone levels in ways that aren’t suitable to say either. Needless to say I told him to go “pound sand” and I went home.
Problem was I started thinking about it. Not to mention men don’t like having their manhood questioned. I can swim, not good, but I can swim, I can bike, I’ve been doing that since as long as I can remember and hey I can run, I’ve run a few marathons. Hey, I can do this triathlon thing.
Like most married men I need to seek approval from the household commander before committing to anything; amazingly enough she was all for it. I’m not sure why and to this day I wouldn’t be surprised if she questions her decision as Triathlon has become the 4th most important part of my life behind family, God, and work. Okay sometimes I’d like to put it in front of work. Making a long story short, I entered the race, finished and then did a couple sprints, a couple Olympic distance races and one more 70.3.
Did I mention I was hooked?
My race season was cut short by a pending overseas deployment for work. While deployed another friend of mine, John Flores, who was my main training partner/triathlon mentor, thought it would be a good idea for me to enter an Ironman. I wasn’t too keen on this but saw it as a massive challenge and that’s all the motivation I really needed. After a little research I settled on Ironman Lake Placid. I travelled to the 2008 race to register for the 2009 race. After I registered, and on John’s advice, I made the smartest decision of my very short Triathlon career, I hired David Glover as my coach.
We had our first meeting in the fall of 2008 where I established my goal for IMLP 2009 — finish the race. With that David designed a training program for me that would allow me to accomplish my goal while not getting fired from work or more importantly having my marriage end in divorce. I did a variety of events leading up to IMLP with varying amounts of success. Generally I wasn’t satisfied with my performances but David kept encouraging me.
IMLP 09 came and I raced – I finished with a time of 13:31:21. I walked away from the race knowing I could do better and I wanted to do better. Having already signed up for the 2010 race I started making preparations. What’s that phrase about paths and roads and intentions?
By December I had gained over 10 lbs, done little in the way of physical exercise except for the bare minimum, and was generally disgusted with myself. This would be the first piece of adversity that I would experience for IMLP 2010. Over Christmas I vowed that I would lose all the weight and more, and that I would dedicate myself to my training. Win, lose or draw, I would leave it all out there. By May I was down below my 09 race weight – overall I lost 26 lbs between Christmas and race day and was 16 lbs lighter on race day this year as compared to last year – and had completed a sprint triathlon and Triple T Ohio. In June I went top 5 in my age group in a sprint (first time ever) but then at Eagleman I had a sub par swim and below average run. In July I went top 10 in my age group at another sprint but I wasn’t seeing much improvement in the pool, my bike felt like it was lagging and my runs all seemed the same. David continued with the encouragement and told me to stick with the plan that I was doing fine and that once properly rested I would surprise myself on race day. You can say that again.
Now where was I, mile 19 on the run or something along those lines? Well we need to back up just a bit, not 4 years, just a several hours. I will not bore you with the all the pre-race “stuff” except to say that about 18 members of my Team, Team FeXY, were up in Lake Placid to support and another 9 were there racing and you can’t put a price tag on the value of that support.
So it’s about 0650, the pro race has just started and I’m in the water with 2610 of my closest friends. Seriously these mass swim starts are insane and not for the faint of heart. The gun goes off and I start swimming. As I said I’m not a great swimmer. Never have been and pretty sure I never will be but I did make a smart decision in my last month of training. I sought out a member of my team, Shelly Prendergast, who is an accomplished swimmer in her own right, for some one on one instruction. What she taught me, coupled with David’s workouts, proved to be invaluable as I exited the water on my first lap 6 minutes faster than I had ever swam 1.2 miles. As I exited the water after the second lap I looked at the clock and was floored — I was 8 minutes faster overall than my time last year. Talk about feeling elated.
Off to T1 (swim to bike transition) I go. Grabbed my transition bag, got what I needed, grabbed my bike and out onto the bike course I went. My bike strategy was simple — play it conservative on the first lap and watch your wattage on the climbs. Lap 1 down, time ~ 2:45 or about 18 minutes faster than lap 1 from last year. Knowing I had a little more to give for the second lap I cranked it up a notch.
I’m about quarter mile to the first aid station on the bike and I try to shift into the big chain ring. Nothing. I try again. Nothing. I look down as I’m moving to see what’s wrong, but I can’t tell. All I know is that my shifter moves freely but nothing is happening. I pull into the first aid station seeking race support to determine what was wrong. I’m not sure how long it took until we figured it out but it felt like an eternity.
The cable housing for my front derailleur had exploded making shifting all but impossible. I quickly asked if there was a way to lock it into the big chain ring, they looked at me like I was nuts because of all the climbing associated with this bike course but I had a plan or at least I thought I did. They were able to lock my chain in the big chain ring and off I went.
Absolutely furious about the 15 minutes I just lost, all the people that passed me, and for this totally unexpected bad luck, I allowed myself to wallow in self pity for about 30 seconds until I remembered the sage advice of my coach. “Ironman racing is all about overcoming adversity.” Bad things are going to happen during a race and what is most important is how you deal with them. I had two choices; ride my bike and cry like a little baby for the rest of second lap or suck it up and give it everything I had with the gearing I had left. This decision was a “no brainer”. As I began the decent into Keene, those of you that have ridden this course know how crazy that is; I made a calculated decision to take risk. Those of you that know me know how much I don’t like to descend. I got down in my aero bars and hammered down that mountain as fast I could go.
Within 15 miles I started to catch and pass people that had passed me. As I’m riding I’m trying to remember what my plan was for locking the chain in the big ring. I’m pretty sure I thought I could finish the race that way but then reality hit me — no way you can climb all those remaining hills with the gears you have and expect to have any legs left for the run. Remembering what I was told about how to lock the front derailleur in the little ring I stopped to make the manual adjustment at the aid station right before you turn right onto Route 86 and begin the climb from the town of Jay to the town of Wilmington. This stop cost me another 5 or so minutes as the screwdriver on my multi-tool didn’t want to cooperate. Back on my bike and about 20 miles to go. Start climbing. The back half of this course is relatively hilly but there is a small decent or two and some flats and none of the climbs are Tour de France like. I did run out of gears on the descents and the flats and sacrificed some time there but overall I was still holding my own.
As I came into T2 I looked at the clock and realized even with everything that has just happened that my bike split is still about 40 minutes faster than it was last year. No time to think about what could have been; time to hit T2 and start running.
T2 bag in hand I preceded into the tent, slipped on my running shoes, heart rate monitor, etc and excited. T2 time was ~ 9 minutes faster than last year. I must have taken a nap or something last year.
As I cross the timing mat I hit start on my Garmin. I don’t hear the “beep” – I look down and my screen is blank. Could have sworn I turned it on. I hit the on button; it comes on, then the shuts off. Repeat – same result. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. I charged this thing. I checked the charge. It has never let me down. I’ve done every run for 7 months wearing this thing and staring at the numbers. How am I going to get through the marathon if I don’t know how fast I’m running or what my heart rate is? Well not much I can do about it.
About 100 yards down the course I saw my wife cheering for me. I ran over to her, threw the Garmin at her, and tell her: “The damn thing doesn’t want to cooperate.”
God bless my wife. She looks at me, tells me: “Suck it up, you don’t need the damn thing anyway! You’re wasting time talking to me.”
I just start to laugh and off I go.
My run strategy was much like my bike strategy – run the first 6 miles, or, if necessary, the first lap, at a pace I could sustain indefinitely as long as someone kept feeding me. I reach the turn around on River Road, ~ 5.5 miles in, and I feel really good. Along the way I saw several members of my Team that where out there to cheer us on. Talk about a huge morale booster.
I came back into town and finished the first lap somewhere between 2:05 and 2:10. Did I mention I’m not good with numbers? I head back out of town feeling great, realizing that I’m having my best race ever, and beginning to have delusions of grandeur about running a 4:10 marathon split. I start to try to do some calculations in my head but I have no idea how fast I’m running. So I hit a mile marker and look at my watch, by the time I get to the next mile maker and look at my watch I can’t exactly remember what the starting time was. So I repeated this for many miles, with the same result. I came away generally feeling that I was running a 9 something minute per mile pace. While I know this isn’t fast, it is pretty good for. So now that I’m armed with a bunch of loose numbers in my head I start thinking I can finish this thing in around 11:30.
I hit the turn around on River Road for the last time. I’m in the home stretch. I can’t believe my time.
That’s pretty much when the final wheel came off and brings us back to the beginning at mile marker 19. Even today I’m not sure what happened to my leg. My guess is that my iliotibial band just decided it was done for the day, punched its time card, and went home.
What followed was paranoia about not being able to run or even worse not being able to finish.
Then I remembered my last long training run. I ran through all the monuments in Washington D.C., to include the steps of the Lincoln Memorial where I stopped to read the Gettysburg Address. I remembered those words about being dedicated to the great task remaining, about the honored dead, about taking increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, about how these dead shall not have died in vain. Pain in an Ironman is insignificant to the pain and sacrifice on any battlefield. Keep running, you really have no choice.
I ran with a limp for the last 7.2 miles of the race. Obviously running with a limp cost me time but it truly didn’t matter when put into a much grander picture. I was going to finish this race, finish in a time I only ever dreamt about, and more importantly finish it in one piece and still breathing. My run split was about 43 minutes faster than in 09.
11 hours, 48 minutes, and 17 seconds after I started, 1 hour and 43 minutes faster than last year, I heard Mike Reilly call out my name and tell me: “Tom Impellitteri, you are an Ironman!”
While that might be true in the world of triathlon I think it is only fitting to recognize the true Ironmen and Ironwomen. They are 20,000 miles from home right now, wearing over 100lbs of equipment, waking up each day realizing it could be their last, never complaining, and working in an environment that I’m pretty sure most of my 2474 “friends” that finished the race couldn’t even fathom. For those of you that have read this far, thanks for your indulgence. I hope I was able to provide you with some perspective.
Special “Thanks” to:
- Team FeXY for everything they do and stand for and a special thanks to those members that travelled to Lake Placid to support those of us that raced.
- My Coach, David Glover, for taking me further in my second year of Ironman racing than I thought I could go.
- God for giving me the mental and physical ability to finish.
- Most importantly my wife. Without her support over the last two years this never would have been possible.
Congratulations, Tom, I’m very proud of you!!!!
Live strongly and boldly!
David
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David B. Glover, MS, CSCS
Coach, Athlete and Writer
Author of Full Time and Sub-Nine: Fitting Iron Distance Training into Every Day Life
Web: enduranceworks.net© 2010 David B. Glover
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Awesome Job Tom!