From the moment I got into Ironman racing, Lake Placid stood out as one of the most iconic courses— a race known for its breathtaking scenery, challenging terrain, and incredible community support. Many consider it one of the top three Ironman events in North America, and few would argue otherwise. It also holds a special place in Ironman history, being the longest-running race in the U.S. outside of the World Championship in Hawaii. The 2023 edition marked its 24th year.
Lake Placid, NY
Beyond Ironman, Lake Placid carries deep-rooted sporting prestige as a two-time host of the Winter Olympics (1932 and 1980), adding to the town’s legendary status. This race had been on my radar for a while, and after competing in Mont-Tremblant in 2019 and Penticton in 2022, I felt ready to take on another hilly course — this time, my first Ironman outside Canada. The best part? Unlike most destination races, Lake Placid was close enough to my home in Ottawa to drive, making logistics far easier than dealing with airports, bike transport, and all the usual travel headaches.
Third Ironman, Same Panic
Preparing for a full Ironman never gets easier — it just gets more familiar. Even with experience, the challenge remains just as daunting the third time as it was the first. The difference? Confidence. By now, I knew I could finish. I just couldn’t quite picture how.
For this race, I made key adjustments to my training. Compared to the previous year, I started swim training much earlier, logging more than twice the pool time in the six months leading up to race day (though still less than half of what I swam before my first Ironman in 2019). My cycling volume increased slightly, but my rides were shorter overall, and I ran a little less. In total, I trained 256 hours in the six months leading up to Ironman Lake Placid — by comparison, I logged 241 hours for Ironman Canada and 280 hours for Ironman Mont-Tremblant.
One major change this year was incorporating more triathlon races into my prep. Just two weeks before Lake Placid, I raced Ironman 70.3 Musselman in Geneva, NY, followed by a local sprint triathlon near Ottawa. These races gave me confidence in my race-day execution, but I knew my long-distance training wasn’t quite where it should have been. I hadn’t done a single ride over 150 km, a single run over 30 km (aside from two marathon races), or a single brick workout longer than two hours. I felt race-ready in terms of execution — but was I truly prepared for the sheer distance?
Race Weekend: Tiny Cabin, Big Race Energy
We arrived in Lake Placid on Thursday, giving us a couple of days to settle in before race day. To avoid the sky-high accommodation prices in town, we booked a small cabin about 8 km from the start line — a little too small for two people, two bikes, and a mountain of triathlon gear, but at least it was on a quiet road, perfect for some final tune-up rides and runs. Some of my race equipment had only arrived the day before we left Ottawa, so I needed to test my brand-new front and rear hydration system on the bike, which itself, by the way, was also new to long-distance triathlon!
Lake Placid’s weather is notoriously unpredictable this time of year, but I got lucky — Friday’s ride was rain-free, which felt like a small victory in itself.
The heart of the event, Athletes’ Village, was set up in the Olympic Oval, right in the center of town — a spectacular venue to cross the finish line. The atmosphere leading up to the race was electric. Lake Placid was packed with athletes and their families, and it was clear that the town fully embraced the Ironman community. Just walking around, checking out restaurants and tourist shops, and chatting with fellow competitors put me in that familiar pre-race Ironman mindset — equal parts excitement and nerves.
With just one transition area, race setup was refreshingly simple. After Mont-Tremblant and Penticton, I finally felt like I knew what I was doing — always a good feeling before tackling 140.6 miles of suffering.
Race Morning: The 2:30am Madness
With a 6:30am race start, I set my alarm for 2:30, an ungodly hour that felt ridiculous until race-day adrenaline took over. The morning flew by in a blur of excitement, nerves, and frequent bathroom trips. Breakfast, final nutrition prep, gear checks, and another obsessive run-through of transition procedures kept me busy.
We left the cabin at 4:45am, parked in Lake Placid by 5:00, and headed straight to transition. There were a few last-minute tasks: stocking my T1 and T2 bags with drinks and food, dropping off special needs and morning bags, filling my bike’s hydration system, and checking the brakes, shifting, and tire pressure. It always felt like there was too much to do, yet somehow too much time left to think.
With everything set, I walked to the swim start, zipped up my wetsuit, and found a spot in the lineup among nearly 2,000 athletes. The sun was just beginning to rise. It was almost time.
3.8 km Swim – A Rocky Start in Mirror Lake
Shortly after 6:30 AM, as the elite athletes began their first loop, the rest of us age-groupers lined up according to our predicted swim times. Small groups entered the water at regular intervals, heightening the sense of anticipation. One moment, I was standing there, nerves building. The next, it was my turn. With a deep breath, I stepped forward and dove into my third Ironman.
After a successful and calm training swim on Friday, I felt confident going in. My biggest worry was my goggles leaking, but as I took my first strokes, they stayed perfectly sealed. The buoys were easy to spot, and for a brief moment, I thought this might actually go smoothly.
But if there’s one thing a decade of triathlons has taught me, it’s that things can go wrong fast. Within the first few minutes, I couldn’t settle into a rhythm. My breathing felt off, my body tense. Then, out of nowhere, the panic set in — not a full-blown attack, but just enough to throw me completely off. It felt like my very first open-water race all over again. My focus wavered, making it difficult to maintain a streamlined posture and execute more than two consecutive strokes. Consequently, I resorted to breaststroke, momentarily fearing that the day’s prospects were already bleak. The close proximity of other swimmers, a scenario I typically enjoyed in the past, now compounded my sense of disorientation, causing me to swallow water as others overtook me with force.
Yet, another profound lesson from my decade-long involvement in triathlons is that initial discomfort may transform within minutes. Determined to persevere, I pressed on, seeking calmness, and concentrating on one stroke at a time. By the 400–500 meter mark, I started breaking through the mental wall, regaining my rhythm. Locking onto the underwater cable that marks the swim course, I followed it closely, using it as my guide. The first loop was still one of the toughest and most physical swims I’ve ever had, but I reminded myself: I’ve been through this before, and I can handle it.
At the end of the first 1.9 km loop, we had to shortly exit the water, jog past a well-placed water station, and dive back in for round two. The energy from cheering spectators and volunteers gave me a much-needed boost. By now, I was fully adjusted to the underwater chaos and just focused on passing one buoy at a time. My wetsuit started chafing my neck, my arms grew heavy, but I knew I was almost done.
I exited the water with a swim time of 1h16m — faster than expected. A rough start, but a strong finish.
Link to Strava activity
Transition 1
Concluding the swim part of an Ironman to me always feels fantastic. The most dreaded section is over, and the real competition can finally begin. Volunteers helped me out of my wetsuit before I headed to the transition area. Inside the change tent, I took a moment to collect myself. I wanted to enjoy the transition time while also ensuring I didn’t forget anything crucial for the long bike ride ahead — well over 5 hours! I cleaned the sand off my feet, drank some electrolytes, put on socks, bike shoes, and a windbreaker, applied sunscreen, filled my pockets with Clif bars, put on helmet, sunglasses, gloves, and placed all the swim gear back into the transition bag before exiting the tent towards my racked bike.
180km cycling – two loops through the Adirondacks
It was a great day for a bike ride. Sun was out, roads were dry, and my mood was great. I spotted Tara cheering me on just at the bike start, which gave me some extra uplift. Not too much did I know about the course, other than that it was very hilly, that there’d be a long and steep decline towards the beginning, and that most of the climbing would come at the end of each loop. Lake Placid is known for being an hard bike course.
After some initial twisty turns and short downhills just in town, I settled quite quickly into my rhythm. Positioned down onto my aerobars, keeping an 80-90 cadence, and staying below 200 watts on the flat sections felt generally easy. As a moderate swimmer but strong (and lightweight) cyclist I usually pass plenty of athletes over the first half of the race. For the first 10-15km I basically stayed in the passing lane overtaking rider after rider, friendly yelling “on your left!”
At the first water station I was about to try out my refueling procedure on my new hydration system for the first time; I took one Gatorade bottle and stored it in my rear bottle holder; followed by a bottle of water, which I squeezed empty into my front hydration canister before the end of the water station. It all worked very smoothly and was a good confidence booth right at the start of the ride.
The course took us riders along a couple rolling hills out of Lake Placid. The first real challenge came after around 18km: the infamous Keene descent! What a thrilling blast that was. Around 10 kilometers of steep downhill on smooth asphalt without too many sharp turns – and yet, it felt quite sketchy, not knowing the course, or the surface, or the other riders that I was passing, while holding the best aero position I could. Once in a while I had a peek at my speedometer, which at times went up to 80km/h. Adrenaline kept rushing through my veins while I held on to my aerobars, leaning into the curves that seemed much steeper at that speed; by far the fastest I’ve ever cycled on a road bike.
After the steep section, a smooth downhill continued for a couple more kilometers. What followed was a beautiful and very scenic flat section along a river. Extremely smooth riding, and by that time my overall average speed was well above 38km/h, without putting too much effort into the pedals. The sun was out, not too much wind and a great surface below the tires made this part a quite enjoyable sail. Refueling at water stations went well, too, and I was able to consume about 800ml of fluids, including electrolytes, every 25 kilometers. My calorie intake for the first loop on the bike mainly consisted of sips of Tailwind (about 600 calories diluted in 500ml of water), Xact bars (400cal altogether), and Clif bars (500cal total).
At around 65 kilometers, the endless climb back up to Lake Placid started. Not as steep as the Keene descent, but much longer – around 25 kilometers of rolling climbs, parallel to Whiteface Mountain. I still felt pretty fit, and I love climbing, but I also knew that this would only be the first half of the course.
The closer we got back to Lake Placid, the more crowded the ride got with people cheering at the side. On one of the final climbs, pretty steep and straight up, so many enthusiastically loud screaming people were lined up on the road that you felt like a Tour de France cyclist just about to win a mountain stage, powering up the final 200 meters right through a mass of fans cheering just for you. What an energy boost!
Shortly before starting the second loop, I stopped at the so-called special needs station. It did not even took one minute to be handed my prepared plastic bag, taking out another bottle of highly concentrated Tailwind-water-mix, storing it on my bike, and keep going again.
90 kilometers down; and still feeling fresh. I didn’t go as hard as two weeks ago, when I participated in a half-distance triathlon in Geneva/NY (Ironman Musselman), not even too far from the competition in Lake Placid. My average speed at this point was at around 33km/h – solid, I thought, and if I would be able to keep that on the second loop, I’d be able to finish the bike section well under six hours.
Some discomfort started to make the ride a bit more uncomfortable. My neck and upper back began hurting a bit. This was the longest I ever rode this bike, so my body was still adapting at this point; three to four hours in aero position takes its toll. My butt also asked for some relieve, and I was actually looking forward to every uphill section that would allow me to pedal standing up.
Keene descent came along again, and this time I felt much more confident – knowing how to take it, and that the bike would feel stable and safe enough even at high speeds. There were also fewer other cyclists around at this stage of the race, giving me more space to navigate around the curves.
On a two-loop course you know what’s coming, once you completed the first; which I personally like, since it helps me breaking down the second part. I knew that the flat sections following the descent would be enjoyable; that there would be a bit of a dragging out-and-back section, during which you have cyclist coming towards you; and that the last 25km would be uphill, but not too steep.
What I did not expect was the change of weather. Lake Placid apparently is known for sudden weather changes. And right at the beginning of the final long climb, a heavy downpour started, turning a dry, sunny day into a wet and very windy experience. Within minutes, I was completely soaked, from head to toe. At least the ride wasn’t too technical at this point. The clouds didn’t look like they’d be gone anytime soon, and I started thinking about the upcoming marathon… would the shoes in my transition bag (which was stored outside) be soaked, or did I pack them carefully enough? At least I’d have a spare pair of shoes waiting for me about halfway into the run, at the special needs station. What if the rain wouldn’t stop for the run at all?
But then it took only about 30 minutes before the rain disappeared and the sun came back out. Quite the relieve, and a positive mood swing that helped me pushing up towards Lake Placid. I love those last 10km of an Ironman bike section. You feel proud to have conquered that huge distance; somehow you managed more than five hours in your saddle. You’re happy about not having had any flats or mechanicals, and you’re enjoying the increasing number of people along the road, cheering for everyone who passes by. 180km done!
Transition 2
Back in the changing tent I debated whether or not to completely change from my tri-suit into a running outfit but decided against it. Luckily, my running shoes didn’t get wet during the rain, so my main focus was on carefully drying my feet with a towel, putting on dry socks and my running shoes. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, put on a hat, my bib number, and sun screen, took a deep breath, and made my way to exit transition. At this point, I felt surprisingly well. Let’s run a marathon!
42.2km running – two rough loops around town
Coming out of transition felt bizarrely relieving. The bike section was done, the sun was out, and I technically had about 8 hours until the finish line would close at midnight. More than enough to complete 42 kilometers on foot. That confidence went away rather quickly, though. The first two kilometers were fine, going downhill through the village, alongside hundreds and hundreds of people on the side. But then I felt it – pretty strong cramps in my upper stomach, as if I had too much fluids or ate too much food too quickly. The pain was too strong to be ignored, and only relieved when massively slowing down.
Relieve turned into worry. Would my condition worsen over the next hours? How would I be able to hydrate and consume more calories when my stomach was already cramping? This is when race experience can really safe the day. I’ve dealt with other complicated situations before, I’d be able to deal with this, too. There was no rush, I had a strong bike section, the run course was scenic and busy with so many athletes; I was going to become an Ironman today, even if it would take me longer than I secretly hoped for.
The cramps would not go away throughout the whole remaining race. I was so thirsty, and felt like I needed more sugar, but each sip of coke or little bite of something was upsetting my stomach more. What a dilemma; you need the energy, but your body refuses to take it. The sun was hot, the course was hilly, and I was forced to put in more and more walking breaks. And while it felt I completed each kilometer in a slower pace, it also felt more and more rewarding getting closer to that finish line. I chatted with other athletes, who had to start walking for their own reasons. I finished the first of two loops, making my way through the town centre, being cheered by hundreds of enthusiastic spectators and also was able to spot Tara, who provided some extra boost for the second lap.
One step after another, one water station after another, and one mile at a time. Somehow I managed my walk-run regimen for the whole marathon, and after just a bit over four hours, the finish line was in sight. That feeling you get once you’re convinced you’ll make it, once you only have to run a couple hundred more meters, and you feel the excitement of everything going on around you – this is, what each minute of suffering is worth going through. With my absolute last remaining energy I started running again, closed the zipper of my tri-suit, and made my way through the finish arc. I felt awfully close to throwing up, but luckily kept my dignity and received that medal. I am an Ironman; for the third time now!
Aftermath
In each race you gain more experience; each race is not only an opportunity to have fun, but to learn, too. This is what Ironman Lake Placid taught me:
- Try to get accommodation as close as possible to where the action is. It may be more expensive, but competing in Ironman competitions is expensive anyways. Having to drive from your rental to transition in the morning (and throughout the whole weekend) for me is not the best experience.
- I am not sure what my stomach issues caused. Maybe too much fluid? For the next one, I will not drink any pure water, but only fluids with calories.
- Also, I have not done enough brick sessions during training. More long runs after long bike rides may be needed to get my stomach used to those activities.