Beyond the Finish Line — 2025 Ironman Lake Placid
From Arizona to Lake Placid
On Sunday, July 28, 2025, I completed my second full-distance Ironman at Lake Placid (IMLP) with a final time of 14:33:45. This race was an entirely different beast from my first Ironman (Arizona 2021) in many ways: terrain, weather, strategy, and mindset.
Lake Placid is a small town in upstate New York near the Canadian border. It hosted the Winter Olympics twice, in 1932 and 1980, and is best known for the “Miracle on Ice,” when a team of American college ice hockey players defeated the heavily favored Soviet national team composed of seasoned professionals and eventually won the Gold Medal.
Ironman Lake Placid has been held annually since 1999, making it the longest continuously running Ironman event in the world outside of the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii. Known for not only its scenic beauty but also its challenging terrain and unpredictable weather, Lake Placid is widely recognized as one of the most challenging Ironman courses globally—alongside Lanzarote (Spain), Nice (France), St. George (Utah, discontinued), Wales (UK), and Penticton (Canada, discontinued). The bike segment features a total elevation gain of 2,265 meters (7,432 feet), while the run course climbs approximately 312 meters (1,024 feet), testing every aspect of an athlete’s endurance, mental toughness, and race-day execution.
My Ironman journey started during the COVID pandemic in 2020. With our lab temporarily shut down and the research at a standstill, I decided to channel that pause into something meaningful that also helped keep me physically fit and mentally strong at this time of great uncertainty. I began training for Ironman, something on my bucket list, but never had time to train for. I completed Ironman Arizona (IMAZ) in 2021 with a finish time of 13:23:44. IMAZ was a relatively flat but windy course through the desert, where heat management and aero positioning were paramount. In contrast, Ironman Lake Placid features nearly 9,000 feet of climbing and unpredictable Alpine weather. The screaming descents into Keene, the long steady grinds back to Lake Placid through the Wilmington climb, the Notch and the Three Bears, and the hilly run course with 1000 ft elevation gain require not just endurance, but patience and careful planning.
After completing Ironman Arizona (IMAZ), I took a break from full-distance Ironman races. Over the next three years, I participated in just one half-distance Ironman 70.3 each year—at Geneva (New York), Happy Valley (Pennsylvania), and Long Island (New York). Each race brought its own unique challenges and excitement, but I was never satisfied. Deep down, I never lost the desire to test myself again over the full distance and return to that magical Ironman finish line. Still, with my “day job” as a university professor running a busy cancer research lab, and three kids spanning primary school, high school, and college, I knew my professional and family responsibilities had to come first.
That finally changed in October 2024, when our longtime family friend Zhinong Gao completed his first Ironman in Maryland and immediately signed up for Lake Placid. I knew I could not let the opportunity slip by again. I rallied my friends and kids—who have quickly become my triathlon buddies—to help convince my wife to let me take on IMLP. I promised to stay safe, finish without injury and extreme exertion, and never let my training come at the expense of my family duties.
The lead-up to Lake Placid came during one of the busiest periods of my academic and personal life. In 2024–2025, I was juggling seven major manuscripts in review or revision, the Ludwig Princeton Branch Renewal review due in April, and guiding my son Evan through college visits and applications. Adding to the intensity, my daughter Michelle and my son Evan, were all planning to race on July 20. They would compete in the Challenge New Jersey State Triathlon while I was racing Ironman Lake Placid on the same day. Guiding their training and race prep while finalizing mine added both joy and complexity to an already packed schedule.
I took on IMLP as a way to test my stamina, focus and perseverance. Training required consistency, with daily early morning training, long weekend grinds, and learning to balance all with a busy schedule at work and parenting responsibilities. There were definitely many days when I wanted to skip a training session—there were plenty of excuses, but I soldiered on and finished the workout anyway. Ironman training kept me focused, energized, and efficient, providing the same mental reset it did during the height of the pandemic.
Surprisingly, incorporating Ironman training into an already demanding year helped keep me mentally sharp and emotionally grounded. The structure and discipline required for training bled into other areas of my life, sharpening my focus and allowing me to tackle professional challenges with renewed focus and resilience. Rather than draining me, physical exertion became a source of energy and inspiration. To avoid interference with work and family life, I committed to training primarily in the early morning hours and on weekends. I developed a routine of waking up before 5am to start training and usually still showing up first in the lab before 8:30am. Volume was scaled back substantially compared to my first Ironman, but training was smarter—targeted toward maintaining peak fitness and avoiding injury. My goal was clear: I needed to build myself up, not break my body down, a principle that Coach Joy Yang instilled in me during my preparation for IMAZ.
For IMLP training, I followed the TriDot Essential Plan, a cost-effective AI-driven online app which tailored workouts to my fitness level, training history, race schedule and automatically pushed training sessions to my Garmin watch. The integration also allowed seamless control of my cycling trainer and swim metrics displayed through my FORM swim goggles. Despite shorter weekly training hours, each session was precise, focused, and backed by data. This strategy significantly improved training efficiency and avoid burnout while having minimal disruption to my tight academic and life schedule.
This time around, I focused not just on race readiness, but on overall fitness. Compared to IMAZ when I focused mostly on endurance training, this time I put more emphasis on maintaining and improving my muscle strength, stamina and functionality. I began one-on-one strength sessions twice a week with Coach Cheng, targeting hip stability, glute strength, and core activation—areas that are often overlooked in routine endurance training but essential for race performance and injury avoidance. We also focused on mobility drills, particularly targeting ankle stability and mobility—historically the weakest area of my body due to repeated past injuries. These exercises were crucial in improving race performance and preventing fatigue-related form breakdown and muscle cramps.
I rolled my ankle during the run at Ironman 70.3 Western Massachusetts just over a month before IMLP. To allow proper healing and prevent further injury, I significantly scaled back my run training, limiting it to short brick runs, with virtually no long runs or speed work. In fact, my weekly running mileage in the final month leading up to the race remained under 20 miles. Despite the reduced run volume, I felt confident that my strength workout, cycling, and swimming training had built a solid aerobic base and muscular resilience to get me through the marathon. I entered the race prepared for a slower run split and fully accepted that trade-off to prioritize long-term health and injury prevention.
Gear Improvement
Compared to Ironman Arizona 2021, my gear setup underwent a major transformation to meet the challenges of Lake Placid’s hilly terrain and unpredictable weather. These upgrades played a critical role in enhancing comfort, performance, and confidence over the course of the race. The main difference between a half Ironman and a full Ironman lies largely in mental endurance and equipment optimization, since most issues tend to arise after the halfway point. Having reliable, well-tested gear becomes crucial not only for efficiency but also for preventing fatigue, discomfort, and mechanical problems in the latter half of the race.
• Bike: I upgraded from a Felt FR5 road bike with aerobars to a Felt IAx Advanced (2025) triathlon bike equipped with Shimano Di2 electronic shifting. The tri bike allowed me to stay in an aerodynamic position for extended periods, significantly reducing stiffness in the neck and hips in long rides. This setup also facilitated better glute activation while sparing the quads—critical for preventing cramps and maintaining strength for the run leg. I had no cramp or stiff neck during IMLP and very little soreness in the days after the race, in large part due to the switch to the tri bike.
• Tires: I switched from standard clinchers to Vittoria Corsa Control tubeless tires. The choice was influenced by the forecasted wet weather, as these tires offer improved puncture resistance and better traction in slick wet conditions. On better roads or dry courses, I might have selected Continental GP5000 tubeless or Vittoria Corsa Pro G2.0 for greater speed. I brought with me a tubeless tire repair kit, a tiny electronic pump, a spare tube and a dollar bill to patch up the tire in emergency in case the tire puncture is too severe that could not be repaired.
• Helmet: I chose the new Rudy Project Wingdream helmet for its aerodynamic design, excellent ventilation, and all-weather comfort. Its unique wide bottom profile added a touch of flair—earning it the nickname “Stormtrooper helmet” for its unmistakable Star Wars vibe.
• Cycling shoes: I changed to Lake 238 extra-wide shoes to accommodate my wide feet, eliminating the numbness that had plagued my longer rides in the past.
• Runing shoes: For the marathon, I ran in Adidas Adios Pro 3, which provided a roomy toe box and excellent propulsion. These shoes helped eliminate the blisters and black toes I experienced during the run segment of my previous Ironman races wearing the narrower Nike Vaporfly or Saucony Endorphin Pro 3 carbon plate race shoes. They are also surprising durable that I can even wear older shoes for my training runs.
• Socks: I used to wear the Under Armour running socks, which were too thick and prone to bunching up during long runs, and gave me a lot of trouble during IM70.3 Western Massachusetts. I tried many brands and chose Danish Endurance cycling and running socks for better comfort and moisture control. I also changed into a fresh pair of socks during T2, which made me feel like a completely new person after the long, wet, and grueling bike leg in torrential rain.
• Neck protector: I used a Mugiro Wetsuit neck protector to prevent wetsuit chafing around my neck during the swim. I used kinesiology tapes to protect my neck in previous races, but they were not effective and often came off during the long swim.
• TriSuit: I had two trisuit options—Team Zoot Ltd Tri Aero Fz Racesuit and Ekoi Racing Graphene Azure Triathlon Suit. The Ekoi suit is exceptionally comfortable—like a second skin—and kept me cool and dry during long 100-mile training rides in hot, humid conditions. However, after realizing the cool temperature in the 60s and rainy weather forecasted for IMLP on race day I chose the Team Zoot trisuit at the last minute, which had performed well during IM70.3 Western Massachusetts in June and was better suited for the cool and rainy race day. Unfortunately, around the halfway point of the marathon, I developed severe groin chafing that could not be alleviated with Vaseline. In hindsight, changing into my Under Armour running tights during T2 instead of continuing in the trisuit, or packing 2Toms anti-chafing products in my run belt, would have made a big difference.
• Watch and bike computer: I upgraded to the Garmin Forerunner 970 from the 935, gaining new features like real-time stamina tracking, ECG, built-in LED flashlight, training readiness, wrist-based running dynamics, multi-band GPS, and improved sleep and recovery monitoring. These enhancements made it an indispensable tool for both training and race day. I also upgraded from my old Element Bolt to the Bryton Rider 750SE bike computer, paired with the Garmin Rally RK100 pedal power meter and the Bryton Gardia R300L rear radar with tail light for enhanced safety during road training. Bryton, a Chinese brand, offers many of the same features as Garmin at a much lower cost. The only drawback is slower pairing speed with Garmin power meters, but it is a small trade-off for the overall value.
• Nutrition: I simplified my race-day nutrition to avoid gastrointestinal issues. I avoided Maurten gels and Mortal drinks provided in aid stations due to their known tendency to cause GI distress and the insufficient carbohydrates in Mortal. Instead, I brought two 24 oz bottles of Tailwind hydration with built-in carbohydrates on my bike and placed two additional 24 oz Tailwind bottles in my bike personal needs bag, plus two small bottle on my running belt and one 24 oz bottle in my run personal needs bag, which should be sufficient based on the race day weather. The volunteers were very fast in grabbing my bags for me, making it a faster and safer way to re-stock my hydration than grabbing bottles in aid stations and trying to add powders into the bottles. I use home-made energy bars for most of my re-fueling during long bike rides and one gel every half hour for the run. I set my bike computer to alert me to eat every half hour and practiced all fueling strategies during long trainer sessions and brick workouts. During training sessions, I used continuous glucose monitoring to make sure that I could maintain stable blood sugar levels throughout prolonged workouts. This nutrition strategy was executed flawlessly during the IMLP race, with no gastrointestinal discomfort or energy depletion whatsoever. Unlike after my IMAZ race where I completely lost my appetite and had trouble falling asleep after consuming too many caffeinated gels, this time I had an excellent appetite and was able to fall asleep almost immediately after IMLP. The next day I woke up at 5 am as usual, feeling completely normal.
• Anti-chafing: Chafing has always been a major issue for me during long bike rides and runs, especially in wet or humid conditions. I tested many options—TriSlide, Vaseline, Chamois Butt’r, and 2Toms SportShield—but only 2Toms consistently provided lasting protection and comfort throughout long workouts and races.
These upgrades and improvements worked perfectly during the race except the unexpected trisuit chaffing issue, which was not enough to derail my whole race but slow down my run considerably. New gears are costly but I found ways to get discounts for these upgrades. Joining Team Zoot gave me access to significant team discounts on gear like Garmin devices, Vittoria tires, and Zoot trisuits, while also connecting me with a supportive and inspiring endurance community.
Ramping up to race day
I have the basic fitness level to do a half ironman race at any time. In the winter months leading up to IMLP, I relied on the Tridot training plans to maintain and improve my fitness level, especially cycling since training outdoor was not practical. In the lead-up to Lake Placid, I also raced Ironman 70.3 Western Massachusetts one month earlier on June 8th as a tune up race. I used a few 50-60 mile bike plus 5 mile brick runs and a couple of open water swim training as final training preps for Ironman 70.3 Western Massachusetts. That half-distance race was an effective way to test my new tri bike and other equipment, nutrition, and pacing under similar hilly terrain and weather conditions.
Despite a whirlwind of academic and professional commitments in June, I managed to weave in an onsite training stop at Lake Placid. On June 8, I raced Ironman 70.3 Western Massachusetts in Springfield. After crossing the finish line and taking a quick shower, I drove five hours north to Sunday River, Maine, to attend a Gordon Conference. After chairing a session on June 11, I drove 6 hours west to Lake Placid, where I had booked a short stay to test the actual Ironman bike and swim course. I completed a 1.2 mile swim before sunset in Mirror Lake and tested out swimming along the fabled underwater cable lines. The next morning at 6:30am, I went on one loop of the IMLP bike course with my Facebook friend Cassie (more on this in the next section). After the bike ride, I drove five hours south back to New Jersey, changed my luggage, and immediately headed back north to Newark Airport on a red-eye flight via Frankfurt to Shanghai for a cancer conference and a lecture celebrating the 120th anniversary of my alma mater, Fudan University. After wrapping up in Shanghai, I returned to Princeton via LA, in time for my son Evan’s high school graduation. The next morning, I flew back to Los Angeles again to attend the Prostate Cancer Foundation (PCF) annual meeting at UCLA. Only after all these events did I finally have a travel-free month to focus on the final phase of IMLP training.
Through this packed itinerary, I squeezed in workouts in unfamiliar streets, pools and lakes, and even strength sessions with minimal equipment. The discipline it took to maintain consistency while living out of a suitcase gave me confidence that no matter what the obstacles on race day, I would be prepared. The fragmented nature of training across time zones, hotel gyms, and unfamiliar terrain mirrored the unpredictable conditions of an Ironman—and gave me the mental fortitude I would later rely on.
Friendship in the Ironman journey
One of the most serendipitous encounters leading into race week was the opportunity to meet and ride with Cassie Evans Winter, a triathlete from a town called Rome in upstate New York. In a post in the Ironman Lake Placid 2025 Facebook page, she offered to guide visiting athletes on a training ride along the Lake Placid course in the week of June 11th. When I saw her post while attending the Gordon Conference in Maine, I jumped on the opportunity and arranged with Cassie to do our training ride together when I get to Lake Placid.
Cassie has a story that deserves to be told. Her health was declining fast at mid-age, struggling with obesity and several chronic illnesses. In 2006, she decided to take control of her life and health, had gastric bypass surgery, and began exercising. She completed her first Ironman in 2012 and raced Ironman Kona in 2022. IMLP 2025 will be her 9th. However, her previous chronic diseases have done damage to her. She suffered a heart attack in 2022, and her bicuspid aortic valve was falling. Her cardiology scheduled an open-heart surgery for her on August 7 and gave her the green light to train for and race IMLP, but it must be done with a slower heart rate.
The training ride with Cassie along the scenic but hilly roads of Lake Placid helped demystify several of its most challenging segments, including the often-overlooked but taxing climb out of Lake Placid, the technically demanding Keene Descent, the relentless ascents leading to Wilmington and the Notch, and the “Grandma Bear” after the Three Bears (one more hill to climb after the three famous climbs heading back into Lake Placid). Those hours in Lake Placid were limited but incredibly high yield: they helped me mentally anchor the course and visualize strategy on race day and allowed me to adjust my training plan accordingly. I realized that the climbs at Lake Placid was less daunting than I previously imaged. Instead of my planned cycling training in the hilly terrain of Sourland Mountain in Montgomery to get used to the climbs, I chose to train in the safer, low-traffic 5-mile loop in Mercer County Park, which features wide roads and little weekday traffic in early mornings. I rode at high speed in my last two long bike sessions at the Mercer County Park to simulate the stamina and intensity required for the IMLP race.
I traveled up from New Jersey on Friday, attended the Pro Forum, and met up with Matthew Marquardt, a Princeton Swim Team alum and now an Ironman Pro and top contender for IMLP, for a brief catch up conversation. I first got to know Matthew when he was a junior on the Princeton Men’s Swim Team, in which I serve as a faculty fellow since 2019. His junior and senior Ivy League race seasons were canceled due to the pandemic. We were both finding our footing in a world without swim meets or in-person lab work during the pandemic, and without knowing it, started our Ironman journey around the same time. Matthew and I had many discussions about nutrition, training and blood sugar monitoring during that period of time. Today, Matthew is a medical student at Ohio State University, set to graduate next year, and is a top professional Ironman triathlete. He just won his first Ironman professional victory in Ironman Carins, Australia on June 15th despite losing eight minutes to a leg cramp in the swim-to-bike transition. We chatted about the race, exchanged updates on our respective work in cancer research, and reflected on the challenges of balancing training with demanding professional lives. We wished each other good luck for the race ahead on Sunday.
I picked up my race packet, ordered some Chinese takeout, and met fellow Chinese triathletes from Beijing, Dongguan, New York, Boston, Phoenix, Philadelphia, and Montreal at the welcome ceremony. Before sunset, I managed to squeeze in a short practice swim in Mirror Lake to familiarize myself with the swim loop. That turned out to be a wise decision, as the weather cooled significantly overnight. By Saturday morning, temperatures had dropped into the 50s, and athletes who went out for test rides or swims reported frigid conditions. Although Saturday brought clear skies and beautiful weather, storm clouds were already gathering by late afternoon—and the forecast for Sunday called for heavy rain.
Swim
Mirror Lake in Lake Placid lived up to its reputation—calm, clear, and tranquil, even on a rainy morning. Swimming is my weakest discipline, so I seeded myself with the 1:35-1:40 finish group, which turned out to be a good choice—slightly faster than my target time to take advantage of the drafting without being beating up constantly. The famous underwater cable line indeed made navigation easier, though the swim course could get crowded as most people tried to follow the cable line. Small buoys for rowing lanes were attached to and floated on top of the cable every 20 yards, and larger Ironman race buoys were also attached to the cable every 100 yards. As a result, swimming directly above the cable meant bumping into buoys. I quickly realized that the wind was pushing the large buoys to one side of the cable, so I swam close to the line but staying on the side free of obstruction. In the outbound swim, I stay on the left side of the cable, and on the inbound swim, on the right side.
I maintained a steady, comfortable rhythm to conserve energy for the long day ahead. The first loop passed quickly, thanks to effective drafting behind faster age-group swimmers from earlier waves doing their second loop. At the midpoint of the swim, I started to feel some chafing from the tight Garmin watch strap, but I adjusted it mid-swim and the discomfort faded. The second loop was noticeably less crowded, with most swimmers around me moving at a similar pace, though it was about three minutes slower without the benefit of drafting. The water was so soothing that I felt like I could have kept swimming for hours—it’s the most relaxing race swim I ever had. During the final 500 yards, I even figured out how to better engage my hips to initiate more efficient leg kicks, something that I didn’t quite get in my many hours of pool practice.
I emerged from the water after one hour and 44 minutes, feeling completely fresh and ready to take on the bike portion of the race.
Bike
The 112-mile bike course at Ironman Lake Placid is legendary—not just for its nearly 8,000 feet of elevation gain, but for how relentlessly it tests your focus, fortitude, and strategy. The climb begins almost immediately, two miles out of transition. I settled into low gear and rode conservatively, knowing that attacking the early hills would only come back to haunt me in the second loop. At the top of the climb, I spotted a race photographer up ahead and decided it was time for the classic “Pathetic Triathlete” pose—chin resting on one hand over the aerobars, grinning as if riding an Ironman were as effortless as daydreaming. She snapped the photo, looked up, and smiled back—a little fun to brighten a grueling long day ahead.
About five miles into the ride, as rain began falling, I passed 三叔 while making a right turn into the Bobsled Run Lane for a short out-and-back. By the time I began the 6-mile long descent into Keene starting from mile 10, the rain had turned into a torrential downpour. Buckets of rain coming down, unrelenting. The high-speed descent, known for its scenic views along the Cascade Lakes, became a slick gauntlet of poor visibility and wind chill. I brought a trash bag with me and planned to use it to shield my core if I started shivering, and I came close to resorting to this measure. I kept my speed under 30 miles per hour for safety. The practice ride with Cassie paid off, as I could expect the road condition and turns coming up ahead of me. Despite the heavy rain, the feared crosswind which could make the bike wobble never occurred.
The 10-mile scenic stretch along Keene to Upper Jay and then to Jay was beautiful and flat and it's a great opportunity to catch up on some speed and nutrition in the aero position. The pro men’s group flew past me at lightning speed through the pouring rain. Matthew later told me he reached 56 miles per hour on the Keene Descent, staying in the aero position for most of the descent.
At around mile 26, we made a right turn into the Jay Covered‑Bridge Loop, which included a couple of short, punchy climbs. Spectators lining those hills and motorists waiting in traffic line kept morale high, cheering with cowbells and car horns. I laughed out loud seeing volunteers dressed as inmates at the penalty tent right after Jay—I loved these guys, but definitely did NOT want to spend any time with them.
After a swift descent back into Jay and a right turn onto Route 86 at mile 36, we began the relentless 20-mile climb back to Lake Placid, broken up by a few short descents and false flats offering brief moments of relief. At the Wilmington climb leading into the Notch, I braced for the usual headwind—but luckily it never came—one of the benefits of the rainy day, in addition to the cooler temperature. The rain eased briefly, and sunlight even broke through for some brief moments, but by the time I reached the Three Bears climb after mile 50 back into town, the skies unleashed another torrential downpour. Despite the miserable weather, spectators packed Papa Bear with Tour de France-style energy—cheering, waving signs, and even running uphill alongside us, powering us through the final climb of the loop.
Lap two was colder, lonelier, and mentally tougher. All the photographers were gone since it’s impossible to take any reasonable photos in such heavy rain. It began with the same heavy rain descending into Keene—this time, with small hail pelting my helmet. At one point, I saw a female rider trying to use her foot to brake—her rim brake clearly losing braking power in the wet conditions. I quickly and carefully passed her at a wide berth in case she fell. The rain continued through Upper Jay and the Jay Covered‑Bridge Loop, and the wind began to pick up. I completed the bike section safely in 7 hour 15 mins and, despite tired legs, ready to tackle the marathon. The torrential rain had tested my focus, mental fortitude and gear—but both held up. Nothing can stop me from reaching the finish line now.
Run
I rolled into T2 feeling physically drained from the bike. But the simple act of changing into dry socks and running shoes brought a mental reset. My legs were heavy, but my mind was clear—I had a full marathon ahead, and I was ready to tackle it by taking one step in front of another at a time.
I kept my pace conservative from the start, averaging around 10:30 per mile. The IMLP run consists of two loops of W shape routes, featuring three out and backs, with the longest and farthest leg of the W along the River Road. The beautiful countryside surrounding the River Road was bathed in golden light as the sun began to set. I ran into a few familiar faces on the course—David, Shuyi from Ann Arbor, and two Mistry Mountain runners nicknamed Simple and Lanny.
The first half of the loop was mostly downhill, but then you paid the price back with climbs longer and steeper than the heartbreak hills in Boston Marathon. At the personal needs bag station at mile 12, I stopped briefly to reload my hydration, ate a piece of my favorite bread to satisfy my stomach, and then eased back into a jog.
Up to that point, all of my gear and clothing had performed flawlessly. I had even marveled at how comfortable my tri suit felt during the first half of the run. But, as with any Ironman, it was only a matter of time before something went wrong. After soaking in the rain for over 10 hours, the bike pad in my tri suit began to chafe badly in my groin area. I kept adjusting the suit to ease the discomfort. At the mile 17 aid station, I applied some Vaseline, but it did nothing to reduce the chafing. By mile 25, the pain was unbearable. I stopped at the personal needs station, grabbed the BioFreeze from my bag, and applied it to the irritated skin—forgetting it contained alcohol. The burning was so intense I nearly screamed out loud, but thankfully, the numbing effect kicked in quickly and allowed me to keep moving.
As darkness fell, the floodlights came on, and the crowd support along the finish stretch was phenomenal. I ran into the Olympic Oval and caught another surge of energy as I clapped high-fives with spectators lining up the victory lap toward the finish line.
The finish line: every Ironman has a story
I crossed the finish line with a time of 14:33:45 and was medaled by Matthew Marquardt. He gave me a big hug, hung the medal around my neck, and asked how I felt. I told him I felt great and asked how he did in the pro race.
“I won!”
“I knew you would!”
Matthew won the race with a new course record of 7:50:08. He cramped again after the swim and suffered a mechanical issue on the bike but still caught up with the lead group before T2. When Trevor Foley—the same rival who had edged him out for the win at IMLP 2024—overtook him during the run, Matthew showed remarkable mental resilience, regaining the lead at mile 20 and ultimately cruised to victory with a commanding six-minute margin over second-place finisher Christian Hogan.
(The moment when Matthew retook the lead from Trevor)
Although he was the first to cross the finish line, Matthew did not rush back to hotel to rest. Instead, he stayed at the finish area to personally medal many friends and age-group finishers. As the champion, his prize money was a modest $18,000—a far cry from the payouts in other professional sports, and likely much less than what he could earn as a future physician. But for Matthew, the true reward lies not in the money, but in what he represents: a top professional Ironman triathlete who is also balancing the intense demands of medical school and cancer research. He uses the sport and his influence to advance cancer research, promote philanthropy, and inspire wider participation in triathlon.
Without the dark moment of pandemic when everything was in complete standstill and there was no visibility into the future, perhaps neither of us would have found our way into the world of Ironman. As the saying goes, “When one door closes, fate opens a window.” To be medaled by Matthew felt like everything came full circle. It was a proud moment for both of us as members of the Princeton community.
Cassie finished her race in 15:56:12. It was her slowest finish among her nine Ironman races and yet it was the most satisfying one and richest in meaning. In her Facebook post after the race. She said: “Racing with a failing heart valve, every part of this day reminded me how good God is. Through the storms — literal and figurative — He sent people to lift me up, to keep me laughing, to remind me that joy is not in the place, but in the purpose.”
Cassie underwent successful open-heart surgery on August 7th. She has already registered for Ironman #10 in Wisconsin in 2026 and is recruiting friends for #11, Ironman Ottawa in 2027.
Across all Ironman events, female participants are vastly outnumbered by male athletes at a ratio of 1 to 4, but they truly shine in these grueling challenges. Among this remarkable group of women were two of my Chinese triathlete friends in this race, Shuyi Liu and Yuyuan Li, both passionately chasing their dream of qualifying for Kona.
I first connected with Shuyi (from Michigan) through the IMLP 2025 Facebook group after she sent me a friend request—one of the rare ones I accepted from an internet stranger. A quick look at her Facebook profile confirmed she was not an internet scammer (after all, it is hard to fake podium finishes in triathlon races). I met Yuanyuan (from Montreal, Canada) back in 2023, when the local Chinese tri club she leads played host to fellow Chinese triathletes in IM 70.3 Mont Tremblant, which was unfortunately cancelled due to thick smoke from forest fire.
Both ladies juggle demanding lives—Shuyi works irregular shifts as a nurse, while Yuyuan balances her schedule as a businesswoman and community leader—yet they continue to train with unwavering determination. I finished the bike course at the same time with Shuyi, but she left me in the dust on the marathon with an extraordinary 4-hour run, completing the race in 13:25:06. She had been most concerned about the swim but was relieved it was not canceled due to the weather. “No Ironman is complete without the swim,” she said. Her finish line dash was pure inspiration—running with the light steps of a deer, she ignited the crowd. As she described it later: “Approaching the finish line, I felt this mix of overwhelming emotions—laughing and crying at the same time.” That's exactly what crossing an Ironman finish line should make you feel.
Yuanyuan, who transformed from someone who didn’t know how to swim at all to an elite amateur triathlete, also delivered an outstanding performance - completing her 4th full Ironman in 13:41:03. Although neither made the Kona qualification rolldown this time, their spirit, strength, and perseverance will certainly bring them there one day.
Both Zhinong Gao and David Wu are my longtime Ironman buddies from Princeton. Over the years, Zhinong and I have been like shadows of each other, completing every Ironman 70.3 race and taking on legendary hikes together: Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim, Tour du Mont Blanc, the W Trek in Patagonia, Alta Via 1 in the Dolomites, Italy, and the Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails in Iceland. He was also my sherpa for my first full Ironman in 2021, offering support when I needed it most. David has run countless races with me since my first Princeton Half Marathon in 2015, while his wife Katherine has always been my savior whenever I suffered severe cramps—thankfully, this time I didn’t have to trouble her again.
After battling race-day leg cramps for years, Zhinong finally completed his first full-distance Ironman in Maryland in 2024. Without hesitation, he signed up for Lake Placid just days later. David completed his first Ironman (Arizona) in 2023 and, to this day, has never run a standalone marathon. Our approaches to training could not be more different: I rely heavily on a scientific framework, constantly refining my training regimen and optimizing gear choices. Zhinong powers through long solo open water swim and bike hill repeats with relentless determination. David, on the other hand, brings a refreshing spontaneity—training at will and racing without even wearing a Garmin watch. (Does it still count if it’s not on Strava?) As our friend Joyce Ma, a fellow triathlete and Ironman hopeful, once put it: I represent the “academic style,” Zhinong the “resilient school,” and David, the “free spirit.” We all made it to the finish line, regardless of how we approached it.
Both David and Zhinong faced their own unique challenges at IMLP. Zhinong committed the cardinal sin of Ironman racing: using an untested gear. His brand-new shoes caused severe blisters after the half marathon, making each step excruciating. He cursed his way to the finish line, vowing that this would be his last Ironman. David suffered two dropped chains during the bike leg, one of which left the drivetrain jammed until a race technician helped him fix it in the pouring rain. To his wife Kathrine’s great relief, David also announced that Lake Placid would be his retirement race during the celebration breakfast after the race. Knowing them well, I predicted in our group chat that they would change their minds within 48 hours—and sure enough, they did. Within 48 hours, Zhinong already registered for Ironman Chattanooga to be held just two months later and made the decision to purchase a tri bike. David, to the dismay of Kathrine, will be joining me for Ironman Ottawa in 2026.
Two of our friends from the Misty Mountain Chinese Runners Group in New York City also joined us at IMLP, and their stories are even more remarkable. Lanfei “Lanny” Chen, a veteran of Lake Placid in the past two years with finishing times in the 13-14 hour range, hoped to break the 13-hour barrier this year. Yet the race threw him one relentless challenge after another: During the swim, respiratory distress forced him to cling to rescue kayaks twice for recovery. Then at mile 40 of the bike course, his tubular tire (which requires glue-mounted installation) suffered a catastrophic blowout - an exceptionally rare failure for this type of tire that typically requires 24+ hours to repair properly. Convinced roadside repair was impossible, he grimly rode the deflated tire up nearly 20 miles of climbs to complete the first loop, only to learn in transition that officials could provide a full wheel replacement. To compound the ordeal, water inhalation during the swim triggered lingering pulmonary discomfort that manifested as persistent coughing throughout the marathon. Still, when he finally crossed that finish line just before midnight, the crowd erupted in cheers worthy of a champion's homecoming.
For Stanley Xue, this was a redemption race after missing the bike cutoff in 2024. Despite pouring rain and slippery roads, he cleared the bike cutoff with time to spare and crossed the finish line in 16:38:52. He, too, had signed up for Ironman Chattanooga in September.
These stories of my Ironman friends are reminders of what Ironman truly represents. Each athlete inevitably faced severe adversity—equipment failure, injury, weather, and doubt, but they adapted and kept on moving forward. Ironman is not about perfection or winning—it is about rising after being knocked down, about finishing when every fiber of your body says stop. This is why crossing the Ironman finish line is unlike any other races, it’s magical—you will never be the same person again. Never.As this video below put it perfectly:
Some chase the podium…
Others chase who they used to be…
Some are proving something…
Others are healing something…
But we all chase the same thing.
A finish that means everything!
It’s not just a race.
It’s who you’ve become!
Your finish line is coming….
Keep chasing it!
Endurance in Life and Work
After completing three of my personal “bucket list” goals in 2021–2023—finishing an Ironman, qualifying for Boston, and completing the Marathon Six Majors—many people asked me, “What’s next?” I did not have an immediate answer. I had poured enormous energy into reaching these milestones, but I want to turn such pursuit into a more sustainable way of living—one that would not consume me, but would inspire and uplift the people around me, especially my family, friends and students. That, I realized, was my true next goal—and I believe I have lived up to it.
There is a deep resonance between Ironman training and my work as a cancer researcher. Both require relentless commitment, long-range vision, and the resilience to persist through setbacks. In both arenas, progress is often invisible in the moment. Breakthroughs are the product of hundreds of unseen efforts layered over time. In the lab and on the race course alike, success is about showing up—day after day, even when it is hard, even when no one is watching.
I often reflect on how a hypothesis becomes a discovery in much the same way that a 5K grows into an Ironman: not through epiphany, but through incremental gains, patient work, and enduring belief. Both science and sport demand discipline, mental toughness, and the ability to stay focused on goals that may be months or years away. These lessons have become part of our lab culture. Last fall, over a dozen members of my lab (Team KANGaroo) crossed the finish line of the Princeton Half Marathon—many of them first-time runners who could barely jog a mile just six months earlier. In one lab meeting exactly half a year before the race, I gave them a tutorial on “how to train for your first half marathon,” walking through training plans, pacing, gear, and nutrition. Six months later, every one of them finished. After the race, they requested to hold our celebration lunch in the same conference room where that lab meeting had taken place—a full-circle moment that symbolized how ideas, when acted on consistently and with great team support, can turn into reality.
That belief has extended far beyond the lab. At the invitation of the non-profit Princeton Active Group, I have given multiple talks to local Chinese communities about endurance training, fitness, and triathlon, sparking more and more people to join triathlon, a sport that still has few Asian participants.
Triathlon has also drawn my family closer in ways I never imagined. What began as a personal challenge has become a shared source of family passion, pride and connection. I never asked my kids to join me—they wanted it themselves once they saw me living it.
My eldest son, Evan, was diagnosed with cerebral palsy as an infant and spent much of his childhood in physical therapy, working through challenges in balance, coordination, and strength. From taking his first unsteady steps to riding a bike and swimming independently, every milestone was hard-earned. Triathlon training helped him rebuild his physical abilities and, more importantly, gave him confidence, independence, and the courage to take on difficult things. This fall, he begins college, taking the first step toward his dream of becoming a physical therapist—a goal born from both his own journey and his desire to help others.
My daughter Michelle caught the triathlon bug after watching me, Evan, and her cousin race. Last year, after a New Jersey triathlon, she lifted Evan’s bike for a photo, laughing that this was “the triathlon curse.” A few months later, she texted: “Ok, I’ve decided. I want to do a half Ironman. I need to do one. Like an itch I need to scratch. It’s a great challenge, and I like those. Plus Evan has inspired me too.” This year, she signed up for the Long Island Ironman 70.3 in September. She had planned to use the New Jersey State Triathlon in July as a warm-up, but a cycling accident two weeks before the race left her with a knee injury that forced her to withdraw. She recovered quickly, resumed training, and will be racing alongside me this September, just as we did for her first half and full marathons last year.
My youngest son, James, is fiercely competitive and refuses to be left behind. The night before Evan’s Princeton Triathlon in June, he suddenly declared that he wanted to race too. I told him that triathlon was not something you just showed up for without training, especially when his bike was an old, hand-me-down kids’ bike barely held together. But he persisted, bugging me daily to find him a race. A week after Ironman Lake Placid, I signed him up for the YMCA Kids’ Triathlon in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, and trained him for one week. On race day, he focused hard, finished strong, and came across the line beaming. He was hooked.
These moments reaffirm my belief: Words can persuade, but example inspires. This principle manifests universally—whether observing my children's growing determination, witnessing lab members surpass their perceived limits, or seeing community friends embrace new challenges. The catalyst is never eloquent persuasion, but rather the quiet power of watching an ordinary person, someone you know and trust, methodically conquer their doubts and achieve what once seemed impossible.
When I signed up for Ironman Lake Placid, I promised my wife that safety would be my top priority and that training would never intrude on family time. This time, I kept that promise—racing well within my limits and returning from Mirror Lake with almost no soreness. That earned me what my wife jokingly calls an “unlimited pass” for future races.
I took a week off after Lake Placid but quickly returned to my regular training. Ironman is no longer just a race to me; it is a way of life—one that makes me a better scientist, father, mentor, and human being. It has taught me how to balance passion with patience in research, how to lead by example, and how to pass on belief and strength to my family and team.
The racecourse always has a finish line. But the impact, and the inspiration it sparks last forever.
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