Tri-Camp Day Zero

After a four and a half hour drive, I got to Lake Placid about 10 minutes before the start of the optional swim that opened this year's camp.

I was not 100% sure I should get in- the thought of a major bacteriological sinus infection interrupting my enjoyment of camp wasn't high on my to do list, but after all, I'd driven up here for camp, to get in as much training as possible.

After swimming 1.2 miles, I was energized. It felt great. I just jumped in the lake and swam and except for when we stopped to talk at the turn around and I had to tread water, it wasn't that hard.

Dinner at Nicoloas on Main was great- I got to catch up with Big Rocks, who I haven't seen in a long time.

Now though, I'm looking at a two hour run on three or four hours sleep- yes, the sinus infection rolled in like an Adirondack thunderstorm. Hopefully, the run will clear my head.

Otherwise that loop of the bike course is going to be rough...

Zoot Ultra Tempo 3.0 Review

First, let me tell you what I think the perfect training running shoe is.

The perfect shoe will be: lightweight, responsive, with a relatively soft mid-sole. The perfect shoe will also allow me to run without socks.

The Zoot Tempo promises sock free running, however, I've been burned on this before and I have the blood stained shoes in my closet to prove it. They are also light weight- very light-weight for trainers.

And at north of one hundred dollars, with discount, they aren't the sort of shoe you buy on a whim and wear a few times before deciding that they don't really fit your needs. Not that Soundrunner wouldn't have accommodated me if I were really unhappy with them.

So, despite having bought them because of the good experiences I had with the TT, I was skeptical that I'd really be satisfied with these shoes.

Admission: I am in love with my running shoes.

I've done half a dozen runs in these shoes now. Except for the day it was 45 degrees out, all have been without socks, including a 75 minute trail run with Eric Hodska.

There are two factors I consider when evaluating a shoe- do they perform well, and am I comfortable in them. On both counts the Tempo has exceeded my expectations. This shoe is insanely responsive for a trainer, and stunningly comfortable. They truly do offer sock-free running, and that is giant bonus I can't oversell. At the same time, you feel like you are flying when you are running in them, and I've noticed the pace of my training runs has improved since I started wearing them.

Of course, as a light-weight trainer, the shoe is most definitely not for everyone. But if it is, I highly recommend getting to your local Zoot distributor- Soundrunner in Branford is one- and at least trying this shoe on. If you are a triathlete, you will not regret giving this shoe a stroll around the block.

Morning Spin from Coach Eric

Today's workout

10 minute warm up
2 X 3:30 High C 54/17 with 30 seconds rest
2 X 3:30 High C 54/19 with 30 seconds rest
2 X 3:30 High C 54/21 with 30 seconds rest
2 X 3:30 High C 54/23 with 30 seconds rest
2 X 3:30 High C 54/12 with 30 seconds rest

5 minutes cool down

Phrases I thought about during the workout (you may recognize the source): 'Anyone can suffer for another two and half minutes', 'this rep can make or break your workout', and 'have some pride'

Polar Plunge 2010

I just wanted to thank everyone who donated- your contributions added 610.00 to our overall total and Eric was very psyched at your generosity !

There's video- and yes, I dove underwater this year. A good clean dive. See the video here

The Cleanse, Day 2

This hopefully will be the roughest day of the cleanse.

As Eric says, you'r getting plenty of energy to make it through your workouts. And he's right. I'd avoided the mistake of the last two years, gulping down extra coffee on Day 1 and then getting no sleep that night.

Instead I overslept until 7:45 this morning, which is unheard of. I then gutted through aero-base builder spin that left me feeling totally drained.

Then came what's become a ritual for me in Week 17. Long story short- except for one game, everyone I was rooting for to win lost.

On the plus side, I did help paint the bathroom, but I was grumpy and irritated all day. No fun for anyone- sorry about that.

It all gets easier though...

Cleanse Day 1

Coach Eric sent out the email letting us know that we'd be starting the Cleanse on January 2nd.

I don't enjoy the cleanse. I've done it a number of times but it's just never been something I can say that I like doing. It's just something I sort of have to do.

That said, the only real challenge day 1 is drinking 100 ounces of water. I drink a lot of water, compared to most people, but in an average day I probably only drink about 50 ounces.

It always seems to get cold right around the start of the cleanse (probably because it's January 2nd), so drinking all that water also makes it difficult to control your body temperature. Unless you like being cold.

Still, Day One is one of the easier days. And it's over. On to day two.

Ironman Arizona-The Run

I came in off the bike and grabbed my bag from transition. Once again, there was no thought of going into the tent. I changed quickly into my running shoes and visor- I decided on the free Tribike Transport visor because it matched my kit, and hey, it was free. If I needed to toss it, I would toss it.

I did stop to try and use the port-potty. I peed a little, but mostly wasted 45 seconds.

Then I ran out and asked which direction was out.

'Through the tent.'

It was my only time all day in the tent.

I ran through quickly, located the sunscreen people and said 'Face, back of neck, arms, legs. And hands.' I'd had the exchange planned while I was still on the bike. After the sun poisoning that I'd gotten in my first race here, I'd sprayed sunscreen all over myself before the swim, and knew I'd need more on the run, as almost my entire run would be under the desert sun.

I'd put my watch on for the run and started it as I went under the arch at about 6:38:30.

I saw Steve almost immediately and began working to real him in. I got to the mile mark and he was close, but problematically, I'd run a 7:30.

Way too fast.

I went through the first water stop. I needed endurolytes and had just taken a GU. A volunteer actually followed me into the aid station, asking what I wanted, which I can't tell you how much I appreciated, as I'd later get stiffed at three different aid stations. I told him I needed water and got it, downed the endurolytes and kept running.

I caught Steve on the bridge and asked if he minded if I ran with him for a while. He said no, but we were running at different paces, and although I wanted to slow down and work my way into the marathon, I just couldn't do it.

I ran the second mile in about 7:15.

Huh ?

Yeah.

I did slow it down after that, although mile 3 is a downhill mile. If you've never seen the course, it's kind of amazing. They've managed to pack an entire marathon into a course that only covers a few miles of roads. You run out, over the river, er lake, um why can't we just call it a canal ? then back over the water again, through transition, down to the next bridge, over that, run a loop that takes you to both the biggest hill and the biggest downhill on the course, back over the second bridge, and back past transition.

Three bridges and you run on both sides of the water. The biggest negative about the run is that too much of it is on concrete.

Over the third bridge on the way out, I saw Eric and he told me I looked solid, or something like that. I waved, slightly.

The real test for me was at about 4 miles. Over the second bridge, on the way out, was where I'd cracked last time I did the race, where I'd ducked into the porta-potty and tried to go, then come out and walked.

There was an amazing amount of shame in that for me. I never really got it, to the point where I had to go back and do the race again primarily because it had beaten me once and I couldn't accept that.

I ate a GU as I ran by the potties, grabbed a water and downed some endurolytes and I never slowed down. Was I a little afraid of the aid station ? Yeah, I was. The knowledge I'd cracked there-

And then it was just another spot on the run and I was past it.

I took it easy up the hill. Then, because of my leg, I took it easy on the downhill.

As I was coming back to the bridge the lead male's entourage was catching up to us. It's kind of tight on the path and I was yelling at people to get out of the way of the motorcycle. 'Come on, it's the lead male. He's already won Canada. Get out of the way.' The truth is that a motorcycle probably shouldn't be on the run course when the run course is a pedestrian path, but that's how it goes. I think he was double-lapping me.

That's DOUBLE-lapping me. Ouch. Humble much ?

I made it back into transition. I was low on GU- only had three, and I took one at the loop marker and then it was out again towards the arts center. I was running OK, but not great. I was really happy to be on the second loop.

It was cool at the long fountain by the art center, and then I was working my way up through people. Even though wasn't running especially well, I was passing people. I got down close to the hotel we were staying at and back to the aid station with the uber-helpful guy. He again escorted me in to the area where I got the water I wanted so I could down more electrolytes and it was back on the bridge again, one of the bigger 'uphills' on the course. By now I was running with certain goals in mind.

Then at about 10 miles the 5th place woman passed me. I know because she was escorted by a mountain bike. When you're the 5th woman, there's no motorcycle and camera, I guess. She passed me, but then she didn't gap me. I was actually getting annoyed. I was still trying to keep my effort steady, and didn't I have to be running harder to not be getting dropped by a pro woman (who had just lapped me) ? Yeah, it's a weird sport. Then, I realised what he problem was as she ducked into a porta-potty. I never saw her again- and I unlapped myself !

Does the Ironman have a scrap of mercy ? No. While the 5th place woman was in the crapper, she became the 6th place woman as the former 6th place woman went by me.

She did drop me.

Eric likes to break the marathon into ten miles, ten miles and then 10K, and I think that's very useful. I have some benchmarks I work with as well- 13 miles, and for no real reason, 22 miles.

I saw Ian and Margit again on the run and think it might have been when I exchanged a high five with Ian. That was somewhere close to twelve miles.

I first took cola right before that, because I was out of GUs. The soda picked me up and then upset my stomach. The upset didn't last as long as the pick-me-up, so I went with it.

It was a big relief to hit the back half of the run course, if there is such a thing on a three loop course. I saw Eric again and he was- as always- nothing but positive energy. Shortly after I saw him I was again headed to that area I'd walked at in 2007 and-

I was worried. I was hurting a lot more than on the first lap. Screw it. I went through with no difficulty and now I'd heaped dirt on this area that had beaten me in 2007. Of course, that uphill graded area of the course hadn't beaten me. I'd beaten myself- that and the sun poisoning and the desalination. Not this time. I ran through the aid station, took some more cola, and then I was easing my way up the big hill for the second time.

I wasn't feeling that great though.

I had to pee, but after I went down the biggest downhill on the run course, there was nowhere for it.

I was having a harder and harder time running. So I found a large utility pole- some monstrous grey metal thing, ducked 'behind' it, bent at the knees, and peed. If this is too gross for you, so be it. I didn't pull down my shorts. I just peed.

And then I started running again.

I felt a lot better. I went through the Inspiration Station and it didn't pick me up like it had the first time 'We love You'. Isn't that sweet. I was going to fast to see my message come up. After that I just concentrated on getting through the second loop and out onto the third loop.

I was so psyched to be on that third loop. About a mile in, getting close to the aid station, I found myself running with a guy and a woman that were talking to each other. They were on their second loop and I was on my third and yet I was having trouble passing them at first. Then I basically got tired of listening to them talk and passed them. I got more great service in the aid station, and was back out on the bridge- that bridge I'd be going over the last time.

The third loop of a three-loop ironman is a thing unto itself. It's liberating in that the end of the day is coming for you and yet, there is still a lot of work to do. I got stiffed at the last aid station before 22 miles, but when I got there, to 22, I really felt like I'd done my job, and put myself in a position to have a chance to-

Do what ?

When I'd left transition at the start of the run I'd set a goal- break 10:40. Not a lofty goal, but I just needed to run a solid 3:40 on one good leg to do that.

With four miles left, I needed to run about 8:00s.

I kept pushing through and ticking off the miles, but by the time I got to 25 miles, the numbers on the watch weren't adding up. I was not going to make the 10:40 mark.

Of course, as deadlines go, this wasn't killer. It wasn't the difference between qualifying or not qualifying, or between getting a medal or crossing the line with the lights out.

I had three people in my sites as we wended through the parking lot. Because Ian had run the kids mile run the day before, I knew what the finish line was set up like. I passed two of the three people I was trying to run down before I reached the final turn into the straight away. Then I had a dilemma.

The guy in blue and yellow I was trying to pass didn't want to be passed. He picked it up in a big way and went by him under the Ford black inflatable. There was no strategy. I just ran as hard as I could, and then it was over.

I had beaten him to the line, and while he tried to recover, I got my picture taken.

But I was whooped...

Ironman Arizona-Pre Race and the Swim

I'm a big proponent of a good night's sleep the night before the Ironman.

I am not a big proponent of lying in a pool of my own sweat, nose running, unable to sleep for two hours.

After swimming in Tempe Town Lake Thursday and Friday I'd noticed some nasal congestion, but mostly when I got up. It was serious enough that I was considering skipping the Saturday swim. But the need to get that open water feel and also weather the cold one more time trumped worries about the bacteria in the lake.

Unable to sleep, sweating, nose plugged
I would have liked to had that decision back.

I did get about three hours of solid sleep.

I was up by 4:45 am. I ran for ten minutes with Steve Surprise, ate breakfast- two bananas and some coffee, plus a few handfuls of Fruit Loops, then Steve and I took the shuttle from the hotel to the race. It was dark and a lot colder than when I did the race in April.

Steve and I stayed together for a while, then he went his way and I went to the bathroom. This gave me a chance to catch up on some decent music, read a few tweets, and an article about Apple bringing flash to the iPhone, get body marked. Then it was back to the bathroom, with time to drink a Red Bull, down a Gu, and get my wetsuit on.

Being on the small side it's easy for me to worm my way through a crowd, squeeze under railings, and get to the water. But when I got to the canal wall, my desire to get in the water was minimal. They were encouraging us to do just that, jump in, get it over with, as we'd have to do it anyway. But I knew every minute in the water would only make the swim harder.

Finally, I jumped in around 6:50, and started swimming to the start. The water was every bit as cold as I'd remembered and my hands and feet immediately started to suffer. I tried getting up on the wall of the canal but that didn't help.

Eric had told us to get to the middle if possible, but I couldn't. I was on the outside with no way in because we were all treading water and even out near the wall, just a few rows back from the buoy, I was having trouble finding somewhere to tread water where no one would kick me.

I don't get it. Why do people in the water think it's okay to kick you. Sure, everyone is trying to do the same thing, but I wasn't kicking anyone...

That's just how it is. Finally, the mayor of Tempe gave a few inspirational words- the guy is part comedian, part motivational speaker. Then we had the national anthem.

Then the cannon went off.

All the people still standing on the wall jumped in and we all started swimming.

At first, it was not bad. I was finding water with my numbing hands and feet. For the the first three minutes I was swimming mostly head down, not having too much trouble.

Then it got to be too tight, too close. I was unable to keep my head down without risking being constantly kicked. As soon as I get my head up like that, my breathing goes south and I start hyperventilating, which makes it impossible for me to get my head down, which...

Eric Hodska, my coach, had said if you were having trouble to just go stand on the wall.

This saved my race. I swam over to the wall. I climbed up on it, adjusted my googles and walked a little bit. Hey, it's a race. Keep moving forward, right ?

About fifteen seconds later, I jumped back in. I had clear water. I started to swim and had no problems until the turn-around.

Meanwhile, my feet were getting really numb. My calves were twinging because my achilles tendons were completely contracted. I was worried. I worked my ankles and toes as much as possible but I knew my calves were in danger of massive cramps..

Because of the shape of the course and the fact that I was on the outside of the pack, some buoys were close and some were far away. I kept trying to work inside but the same two or three guys kept getting in my way or hitting me every time I tried to make a move.

The swim out to the far buoy in a one loop swim is forever.

Finally, I got there. People were cheering when they hit the turn around. This really pissed me off. Stop cheering and keep swimming. The people who swim at my ability in the Ironman seem to always slow down and gather themselves at the buoy, which makes this the most dangerous part of the course and also pisses me off. Why can't they just keep swimming. The increased congestion leads to a lot of unnecessary contact and-

Sure enough, I got knocked around and my right calf cramped. It exploded in pain. I kept swimming. What else could I do.

It was a terrible cramp, lasting about three minutes. Then finally it eased. An unbelievable sense of calm like I have never felt in an ironman swim came over me when the cramp eased. I have literally never been so at ease during a swim.

Then the calf cramped again.

I also felt a series of twinges in the left calf. I fought to stay clear of anyone and it passed.

The swim back was a confusing mix. I was just yards away from some buoys, I was at fifty yards away from others. There were people everywhere, although I seemed to be keeping pace with a group.

We finally went under the bridges and then around the last buoy.

The swim in from the last buoy was epic- long, difficult, confusing. I seemed to be on everyone's right.

Then suddenly I was on the stairs, hauling myself out. I could not walk, I could only limp. I had to take my wetsuit off standing up. The volunteers didn't like this but if I'd laid down and they'd pulled on the leg of my wetsuit the calf would have erupted.

I stumbled on wet feet to the bike to run bags. No one could find mine so I did it myself, then I changed outside the tent where it was light and I could see what I was doing. I slipped my cycling jersey (the pockets loaded with food and electrolytes) on, put on my helmet and sunglasses but forgot my gloves.

I was angry and upset and wasn't sure if I wanted to scream or cry. Another 1:20 + swim. Frozen feet. A seriously injured leg. I'd been here before.

I found the will to run to my bike, then run out of transition with it. While people started trying to mount their bikes standing still, on an uphill, an inch over the mount line, I ran. And ran. More than 100 yards, out onto the street. Then I mounted near the turn and started pedaling. Neither foot was clipped in but I didn't care.

I was on my way.

Behind where I needed to be. Sore. Cold.

And my nose was running...

None of that mattered now. Now I could ride.

No Such Thing as an Easy 2.5 Hour Run

I was a little surprised when I saw a two and a half hour run on my schedule for Sunday. I was hoping to be headed back to two hours from two hours and fifteen minutes.

To be honest, I hadn't run this long since IM Florida last year.

The run was complicated by a very late start for a Sunday run- 3:30 PM on the day the clocks went back an hour. By the 90 minute mark I was turning on porch lights on motion sensors as I ran by houses. But I was lucky, as our weather held for one more week, first for the five hour ride the day before, the the run itself.

I took two things away from this run.

The first was during the run itself, when I really felt like 'yeah, I can do this, no problem'. I was able to turn it up in the last hour and run with only a little soreness in a few places.

the second was what hit my when i went to shower (at 6:30 at night). There is no such thing as an easy run that long. I felt good during the run. I stopped at two hours, thirty minutes and fifteen seconds because that is when I got back to my house, not because I had to. But fifteen minutes later, was I just a little tired ?

You bet.

Not exhausted, but tired. Glad I only had a swim the next day.

Running two hours ? I do that all the time. Run two and a half hours ?

Only when my coach tells me to...

There is No Bonk

How desperate was I to avoid my 5 hour ride outside today ? Or rather, how much would I have preferred just to spin in the comfort of my basement, with an hour earlier start ?

About eight o'clock last night I texted Eric to find out whether it would be better training for Arizona to spin or head out in the cold this morning.

I've been working with Eric eight years now and I have called him for advice maybe a dozen times, mostly around IM time. I have never texted him.

Of course, I knew what his answer would be- it was silly even to ask. Bundle up and get out there, he replied.

I've done plenty of outdoor riding in the cold, and I'm not adverse to the cold. When I get a couple of beers in me and tell you about how in high school I used to run - while it was snowing- in track shorts and a half-shirt, it's not just the beer talking. I really used to do that- and I lived in upstate New York, where below zero was frequent, and it was fahrenheit.

But the truth is, if I had owned a trainer when I was 16, I would have put my three-speed on it and cut my running down to three or four days a week.

In the end, I didn't even bother with a heavy cycling jacket or booties, and I was fine.

In the fifth hour, I did a time trial effort. I'd separated from Steve Surprise, who had suggested at about three hours that I ride ahead and just turn around in an hour. I was on a tighter schedule. I did just that, turning around at four hours- an hour from home, and rode as hard as I could to catch Steve.

Only Steve had stayed on Route 1 when I'd veered off by the Surf Club. On the way home, I was chasing him and he was behind me, which was great because I never stopped working hard. I got home, disappointed I hadn't made the catch, put on my running shoes and headed out.

At first I was running really, really well, jamming along listening to 3 Doors Down.

For the first 4 hours on the bike, I was doing really well- 2 Clif Shots, 2 Clif Shot Blocks and three bottles of Gatorade,. But in the last hour I was going close to race pace and ate nothing and drank only 2/3 of my bottle.

What happened 14 minutes into my run was almost inevitable. I crashed, hard. A real bonk.

And that same biochemical deficiency that saps your strength, that makes your stomach turn over and your legs crash, also affects you mentally. I immediately went into hyper-doubt mode.

This is exactly what happened to me at Firm-Man (twice in the same run).

This is what happened to me last time in Arizona. In fact, this is exactly what I'm trying to build confidence to protect against with a long brick, and instead I'm proving I don't have what it takes to go long.

Too many of my long bikes had too little effort on the run.

I didn't sleep enough last night.

I'm going straight home, go in the house and lie on the floor for a while in a pool of self-loathing.

And then, I decided instead of feeling sorry for myself I'd eat the Clif Shots in the back of my jersey. I wolfed down five blocks (I dropped one).

Two minutes later ? The bonk was over. I ran another 35 minutes. I ran by my house to add on eight more hilly minutes. I remembered that bonks or no bonks, I had a good run and a decent race at Firm-Man.

I ended the run listening to 'Spybreak (Short One)' (the Propeller Heads from the Matrix) and that brought the following thought:

There is no bonk

Getting Serious about Arizona

There's a point in every build-up to an Ironman where you realise that you have a certain number of weeks left, and you have some long workouts in your schedule, and they mean something. That's the point in the cycle when, like any other point in the cycle, no one workout will make or break your training, but the psychological lift of a good5 hour, 100 mile bike or 2 hour run really can carry all the way through to your race, can in fact remind you when you slip into a painful, unhappy place, that what you are trying to accomplish has been done- by you- before.

This is where I've been lately. I ran 2:15 a week ago Saturday (with a 4 mile race in the middle), rode 4.5 hours on Sunday then came back and ran 90 minutes Tuesday.

This weekend I rode 5 hours on Saturday, rode another 2:45 Sunday with a half hour run, ran 70 minutes Monday, then 2 hours on Tuesday. I added Spinervals Mental Toughness tonight- a great 90 tempo effort that delivers a red-zone punchline in the last ten minutes.

i can tell there's an edge here. On one side is the real danger- not that you'll be undertrained, but the opposite. Push too hard and instead of peaking you'll be so spent that you end up flat- Eric, my coach, talks about that in this post about swim training for Kona. I think among athletes who have a serious expectation for an ironman, the ones that don't plan to walk the marathon, overtraining is probably a bigger issue than under-training.

Nevertheless, the other side of the edge is that. That the training will be intense enough but not long enough or long enough, but not intense enough. I tend to think you can replace duration with intensity more easily than intensity with duration. Train long and slow and you will be...

Still, some of the long training needs to be moderated, which is why I've been mixing easy and hard runs.

I've been running 2 hours all year, starting in January. I'm not concerned about whether I've worked the run hard enough. And I've worked the bike hard, and now I'm getting in my long rides (or maybe long spin this Saturday...)

I feel like this could all work out really well. Of course, there are no guarantees...

Congratulations Eric

Congratulations Eric on another sub-ten Ironman. Eric ran a 6:28 last mile, just to be sure. Wow !

Just saw John Wilson finish as well.

Watching the championships is nothing if not inspiring.

Kona

I'm giving a big shout-out to everyone I know who's racing tomorrow, including my coach Eric Hodska, Kramer and everyone else that's looking forward to fair weather and a fast course.

This is it, the big moment the sport holds its collective breath for. I hope it's a great day with fair winds and following seas for everyone, and that the stories that the day makes are the kind that can be told with smiles...

Niantic Bay Triathlon- Surprising Myself

I warmed up for about 15-20 minutes. The water was almost flat. It was low tide, but slack. That was until about 10 minutes before the race started. While the tide had come in a little during the warm-up it was calm water.

By the time the race started, however, the tide was coming in and we were swimming right into it. Nevertheless, it was still out, meaning that we had to wade about 75 yards into the water. It was a weird combination. I wanted to start swimming immediately because when you run in the water your heart rate goes up. But with so many people around me walking, I was worried about the people behind me diving on top of me (happens) and the people in front of me diving and kicking me with their heels (happens).

The end result of being the third wave in a fast incoming tide swimming straight out is predictable. Chop, big, chop. No big story here. It was a mess. People who are better swimmers than I am agreed it was a mess.

Mark Satran and I swam the exact same time. We went into transition together and I came out slightly ahead.

The bike starts up a hill. Rather than mount and climb I ran up the hill in my bike shoes, passing people. I stopped to mount and @poycc passed me. I quickly passed him back, hit the first big left hand turn onto the main road and started bombing.

For the first time all year, I felt good out of the water. My back wasn't bothering me as it had been for the last 24 hours, I wasn't hyperventilating and the rolling terrain is exactly what I train on. Usually I'm pretty low-key about how I'm performing, but I was really cranking the bike, and with two waves plus the elites in front of me I had to give it everything I had. I felt like all the training I'd done on the bike this year, especially the time trialing, paid off.

I was up on my bars maybe 2-3 times the whole ride, once on the flats late in the race when I was trying to drop someone from another local tri club who decided not to drop back after I passed. I just stayed in my aerobars and kept up a high cadence of around 90. I didn't shy away from the small gear either on the hills.

I don't think I've had too many bikes as good as this one. It's just too bad that I didn't listen to the advice to take my shoes off before going down the long steep hill into transition after the dismount. Well, actually, I undid the strap on my left shoe, only to find out that I do not, in fact, like the pros, know how to take my foot out of my shoe.

I lost time going down the hill and Mark passed me. He also got out of transition with me.

He's three weeks off an Ironman (Canada) and he really made me work on the first mile of the run. I tried to pass him, and he wouldn't let me. I felt like he was turning it up a notch, but I also knew I might just not be strong on the run today. I pushed a second time. No dice. But I noticed I had a little advantage on the uphills and finally managed a pass on a hill and then hit a quick left and tried to open a gap. For a guy who's doing the big final week of training (and has another ride he had to do later in the day) he really made it hard to pass him and he looks like he's in great shape for an awesome IM Canada- good luck.

I was now running down exclusively men in their 30s. Since I was putting a big chunk of time on these guys (7 minutes ?) that was great, but I knew there must be 1-2 40-44s in front of me.

I ran well, but it was not my absolute best stuff. When I hit the two mile mark, I was very glad, and I should have but didn't take a second Cliff Shot (I had one on the bike).

When we got near the beach I saw I had three guys right in front of me, about 15 seconds. But I didn't have the acceleration to run them down, and sure enough the guy that finished ahead of me in ninth was 41.

I was unhappy with myself, however, I had no idea I'd finished 10th overall.

This was a good race for me, no question, and with room to improve on the swim (102 out of 495) and run (just 5th). The 3rd overall bike I'll take.

Shout out to Charlie Hornak, who survived a pretty rough swim and finished his first tri in who knows how long and also @poycc and all the rest of the Force 5 crew who showed up and raced well.

Some Disasters are Good for You

I did not post anything about my last race. It was a little dishonest of me, because I usually do race reports on every race, but the truth is, I was embarrassed about it. Long story short, I panicked in the water. I would not exactly call it a panic attack, but after side-stroking the whole swim, I was wasted and to be honest I still haven't looked at the results, but it was ugly.

It was the mini-tri at Lake Placid the day after the Ironman. Talk about stupid. There's no other word for it. But it taught me something valuable. I panic when I can see that I'm losing ground to the people around me. So it's a for-fun mini triathlon on a Monday night and I shouldn't care about how I do. Doesn't matter. I And that's what I ultimately decided- I'll be fine in the water as long as I can submerge my head and my ego.

Fast forward. Friday Night we went to the North Branford Potato festival. Ian struggled a bit- all he wanted to do was the bouncy house, so there was a good deal of me carrying him on my shoulders. When I got up Saturday morning the muscles behind my rib cage in the back, or above the hip (lower back) hurt on the left side. I did a 40 mile in the morning, but easy, then we went to a pool party where I was the one in the water with Ian. By the time we got home at 5PM. I knew there was something wrong with my 'back', just not what. I decided to go to bed at 10PM, which is insanely early by my standards.

I got up just before 5AM and my back was either worse, or the same. I could not tell.

Lot of backstory here. (Sorry)

@poycc gave me a ride to the race. Once there, I knew that I needed to run. Usually, I set myself up in transition and head straight for the water, but not today. I didn't think I could run at all, so I needed to test myself. It hurt a lot at first, but I was able to get in a mile, then still be the first person in the water 45 minutes before race start.

After 20 minutes of warming up, I realised I was still trying to decide if I thought I could race. And the funny thing is, if I hadn't had a disaster in Lake Placid, I might not have. What if my back spasmed during the swim ? I hear they do that. I might get so freaked that I'd be afraid to ever get in the water again. I might get out on the bike or run and really hurt myself...

Then I thought about Eric's latest blog post, Hedging. Great post, better than this one, trust me. That post made me realise even he isn't always 100% sure about what he's doing, and more importantly, as he often says, it's not that hard. You swim, you bike, you run. Game on, then you're done, game over. This isn't hard.

I went positive- not really my style. I decided the swim would make my back feel better. And it did.

End of that story. Now back to the race in my next post.

Ironman Lake Placid 2009- Spectator View

I thought I should get a few thoughts down on the seventeen hour day we all spent last Sunday at IMLP.

Spectating an Ironman is no small assignment. First of all, it's not your race, it's the 2400 or so people lined up and waiting to get in the water that are racing so you kind of have to tailor what you do to be focused on them. Note to spectators that use the porta-potties right by the beach 20 minutes before the race starts. I'm talking to you. Cross your legs and hold it until 7:00, would ya ?

We got down to the water about twenty minutes before the start of the race and waited in the rain for it to start. You always kind of get these chills. The music is blasting and then they start the pros- 10 minutes early- before the rest of the the race- the age-groupers- can't we just call them the athletes ?

Steve and I got up next to the wetsuit corral and got to see the majority of the athletes getting out of the water pix here. Except for having to strip down and rescue a scared kid floating on a dock, this was pretty uneventful. I took hundreds of low-quality photos with my iPhone, a few movies I haven't posted, and then we headed back to the room on the opposite side of the lake.

We could hear them bringing in the last swimmers from across the lake.

Then we went out to run, heading out on the run course, which is also the bike course. It was Steve, Margit and I, with me pushing Ian, on the opposite side of the road from the bikes. It amazes me that on race day there are people out riding bikes on the bike course. What are you thinking ? I heard LPPD yell at two of them to get out of the way. The lead guy came through hauling ass and we didn't see anyone else for more than 10 minutes. When the second guy came through (down near the bridge were you turn off to the run course), I yelled 'Five minutes, he's got five minutes on you.' I was trying to to keep up his hope...


We ran the run course until we got to the turn-around, kept going instead of turned back, and then went up 86, Steve and I together, Margit right behind. Because of the hills, I was able to run and talk to the cyclists at the same time, combining banter and cheering with the occasional make-the-pass remarks. It was kind of weird climbing the bears pushing a stroller, chatting with athletes. I saw Mandy and a few other people I knew.

We stopped at the top to cheer people on and regroup, then Steve and I put the hammer down for the finish from the turn-around on the run to our condo.

We watched some more bikes, hit a very quick shower and then lunch at Lake Placid Brewery. Note on Josh's FIre Fish- make it hotter ! It was like, OK hot, but not alan hot. Not close.

Then we watched more cyclists coming in and I snapped many more low-quality iPhontos. Pros were headed out on the run and in on the bike at the same time.

A little later, I was down at the expo when Dave Harju came in.



He was pretty banged up from a crash near the firestation at the end of the bike out and back. He'd finished the ride, gotten some bandages, and then run a loop of the (edited) run course. I have to say, he really refuted the idea that pros maybe don't hesitate to drop out of races when they suffer adversity. He looked like a doctor in a hospital should have been cleaning him up. Someone I know gave me a hard time about not recording his account of the day's events with my 3gs iPhone's movie mode, but I felt like the guy deserved his privacy.

Then we set up by the condo and watched the race go by. People start coming in on the bike and you know these people are still on the race course, but their race is over, they've missed the cut-off and they may or may not know it. This scene repeats on the run. Steve and I were surprised at how long it took for the sweeper truck to come through with the truly forlorn and how many over the limit people they left out there.

After that, it's all about the runners. We were at the hot corner for the ambulance, right past an aid station where several runners collapsed or called for aid.

One of those was Gus Ellison. He was shivering and apparently sick to his stomach- we offered to walk him back but he decided (wisely) to take the ambulance.

It's hard. People are struggling out there and I'm an outgoing person, so I'm always trying to find that right balance- encourage but don't badger. One guy gave me his Red Bull to hold until he came back from the turn around. Others started running again when Steve and I encouraged them to keep going. This is the part that's the most fun because you are in the action in a good, supportive way, but it's clear some people just aren't going to make it.

We never saw Mandy Braverman on the second loop of the run and it was only afterwards that I found out that was because she collapsed at mile 16 and needed CPR. Wow, that's scary- get better soon, Mandy, especially since you are signed up for IM Florida.

About 10 PM Steve and I made it to the venue and got up in the bleachers, spent about an hour, but we were both tired, knew we had to be up early to sign up, and just weren't feeling the excitement.

As we walked away, Mike Reilly headed down off the scaffolding and we heard people start banging on the sponsor placards and we knew we'd missed that moment, where you do feel it, where the 16 hour plus people start to really mean something to you, by about 1 minute.

One minute. Eight minutes. Just time. Just something you have to get over regardless of the numbers. We went back to the condo- Margit was out watching and the three of us cheered on people as they went by- 24.5 miles on the way out. 25.2 or .3 on the way back. Increasingly desperate, increasingly unlikely to make it back under 17 hours.

We went inside right at midnight.

Next year. Now it's about next year, and I'll be there, on the course. So will Steve. I hope Margit finds a way to be there too.

Ironman Lake Placid- Something New

I talked to Eric last night about what my workout should be while at Jeff Molson's pre-race party. I'd swum a loop of the swim course and there'd been that funny smell I associate with bacteria in the water- which is unusual for Mirror Lake - so I was focused on getting in a 'big' bike ride, meaning two loops of the course, and didn't plan on another swim today.

Eric was riding today with a friend, so I assumed I'd be going solo. He suggested two loops without the out and back, the first one backwards, the second one forward, and a brick run. I'm a big boy, so riding alone doesn't bother me, it's what I usually do and last year I did two loops on my own.

But I wanted to make sure Margit and Steve also got out and rode and we couldn't agree on a plan before bed, so although I was up at 6:30, I just started assembling food, fixing a few things, and because I knew there was a small chance Dave Greenfield would see me, cleaning my bike.

Complicating everything was the final real stage of the Tour. While instinct had me ready to bolt at 7AM, I thought that would be bogus and selfish. Also, I'd only gotten about 3 hours of sleep- the lake had done a great job of stuffing me up and I'd spent most of the night with a headache and and a stoppered nose. So maybe I wasn't looking to start a somewhat technical ride all fuzzy-headed, although I'd have followed whatever marching orders came my way.

Finally around 9 AM, someone had to make a call. I was a lot shorter on time- my own fault- so I decided to do one loop- with the out and back- backwards, then run.

This was great. I got to watch the start of the Tour stage, and then I got in a great ride.

I can't recommend finding a time to do this ride strongly enough. You learn a lot- I mean a lot- about the course- tackling it in reverse. There are a lot of false flats and even some false uphills and downhills that I've wondered about for years. I've raced the course 4 times now and done numerous rides on it. There's always been the wind- you don't race here and not run up against any headwinds.

It's also simply a harder course the other way. You get hit with the hills on the backside either way, but after averaging 24 mph the first hour (and I was taking it easy), things start to get challenging from you as soon as you get about half-way out on the out and back.

The funny thing is the ride went by really quickly, even though it was one of the slowest loops I've ever ridden- nearly three hours to ride what ended up being 57 miles.

The big hills back into Lake Placid ? I honestly believe that if they reversed the course there would be a significant spike in attrition. Eric wanted me to stay aero and climb for a strength-workout, which I would say I did about 90% of the time, with 5% standing and 5% sitting up.

The hills were tough, but totally manageable. I mean, I thought I was gassed when I got to the top- and I knew exactly when I was there, and I gave a big fist-pump, which isn't like me, but then I was able to settle right back and I was flying downhill again.

I finished the loop, then ran for 15 minutes.

Thanks, EH. Going backwards was the way to go, and so what ? I only got one loop in ? My ironman is in November, I have a sprint Monday, a ten mile road race next Sunday, and another sprint after that, and my training has me perfectly positioned to do an half-ironman. Did I get 112 miles or two loops in ? Who cares.

I got a great workout, Steve and Margit got to ride a loop, I took Ian to see Dave Greenfield. It's all good.

Good luck tomorrow, everyone.

Independence Day 5000

Filed under: Better late than never.

There was a time, when I started racing, that 5Ks were my bread and butter distance. I was in my mid-30s, ran 70 miles a week, ran twice a day. I'd run anything, but 5ks were my race of choice. I could go, run a mile warm-up, run the race, do a half mile warm down and go home.

Hard to image. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Absolutely not. There are moments (when I'm in the Sound and the water is so rough I can't see the buoy 20 feet in front of me) I wish maybe I was still that guy. 5Ks are affordable, the training for them is reasonable, the equipment is affordable...

Those moments always pass. I can't hear Clocks without wanting to be in water of Mirror Lake at 6:59 AM. Or Beautiful Day. I may be kidding myself about being a triathlete the same way I was kidding myself back then about being a serious runner- I was never willing to do the speed work, as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, I showed up early, grabbed my registration stuff, and went out and ran the course for a warm-up at 7:30 pace. Is that a warm-up pace for me, looking to run about 5:45 ? Who knows ? (Eric knows) Who cares ? I wanted to run the course twice and know I'm a lazy bastard and that after 'giving everything I had (cough cough, eye-roll)' I would wimp out on the warm-down after a mile. Also, Margit's workout would start when my finished, so I needed to run and get home, epecially because we had a party and dinner lined up. And even 10K is barely a workout...

I love this course. Margit and I have both won races on this course (although not this race) and I had my best 5K in several years on the course last year. I spent the last 15 minutes before the race lining up a perfect straight line run through the start, which is uphill and winding. I was all set.

Then about a minute before the race this woman in basic running clothes, training shoes, kind of, well, solid for an top runner, and her boyfriend, who was clearly just well, not a top runner, lineup right in front of me and the guys next to me.

I didn't want to say anything. For all I knew she was some hotshot runner (her boyfriend, not so much).

We started. She totally blocked me. It was insane. The start is very tight and once you are packed in, you really have nowhere to go. She had me absolutely pinned behind her and her boyfriend. It was just like one 3000 I ran in high school where I got boxed in by the other team. Experience told me to bite the bullet, take a few hesitation steps, and get the frak around her and her boyfriend, who was already fading.

I was not all happy thoughts because I then had to work on the hill to return to contact with the people I should have been in contact with. If I hadn't been with Charlie Hornak after the race when I did see her, I might have made a regrettable comment to her, like I did during the race at Griskus to someone.

The race gets off to a fast start. Cheryl Anderson, the first woman and a Branford resident, was right in my general area. I knew as we took the first two turns and headed up towards the seawall that I was not quite at last year's pace, but there were a lot of people around me and I worked up the hill to pass some of them. Then it's mostly downhill after the turn at the top of the hill to the mile mark.

I was on pace to run 17:50 or so. I went through the mile mark and there was a lot of backside pressure but I was trying to run my own race. Cheryl passed me in here I think and decided against battling anymore. I'd try to stay close, but I don't get points for my team- it was a USATF-CT race- for beating unattached (or attached) women. Just open and masters men.

I was a little tired. I'd ridden 60 miles the day before at an aggressive pace because, well, I'm a triathlete. And stupid. Don't forget stupid. I was coming back to the best 5K I'd run in years, a state championship, and running on tired legs.

I could still see George Buchanan, but he was like a mirage wrapped in the pain of my slowness.

We climbed the hill, the course's big hill, and then hit more downhill as we wrapped around a neighbourhood. I took a cup of water at the water stop and poured it over my head, because that's what I do.

I battled back and forth with a couple of runners, wrapped back around towards the main road, remembering from my warm-up that the perceived uphill basically is non-existent.

Then it was downhill again and I was on fumes as we turned the corner and ran towards the back-door entrance to Foran High School. As we made that last turn, I was passed or last contact with three runners, which was hard to take- two would finish just a second ahead of me when I made one last, late- just too late surge.

But when I saw the clock I knew I was breaking 18 for just the second time in the last two years, and although it was 18 seconds slower than last year, I guess I'll take it.

I'm a triathlete after all. Why am I running 5ks anyway ?

Oh yeah, to break 17:30.

Damn!

I had a nice conversation after the race with Keith 'Newton' Guinta, then warmed down with Charlie.

Glad I went ? Sure. Happy with how I ran ?

Of course not...

Durham 10K- Memorial Day

The Durham 10K is a race I really like to run. It's often been the tail end of a major spurt of racing like it was this year. I had a run of years at this race where I finished 2nd, 3rd, 5th three straight years, and 3rd again.

Someone asked me what I wanted to do this year and I told him I wanted to finish on the podium and that I'd take third place. Coming off a 10K the day before, and knowing my speed is not there yet, I figured that, like all races, it would depend on who showed up. It didn't matter. One of the other bonuses of the race is that Margit's aunt and uncle live in Durham, so we can drive up there, hand off Ian, and both run the race with no worries.

I didn't get the great warm-up that I was hoping for- some strides had to do. We also were using a new timing system. I'm not going to get into my feelings about the d-chip here in this post. I'll just say that the Champion-chip is a tried and true method of timing races.

I got in my strides and then we were off.

I love the start of this race. It's a family and community event, so, you get the excited kids and so on at the start, but then you climb this big hill out of the school, and it kicks the ass of everyone who isn't really competing for the top spots. The 4k and 10k also start at the same time from the same line, which I totally space on. There were four of us heading up the hill together, including one really big guy that, from the view I had of him the whole race, was a dead ringer for Eric Hodska, and the guy who I'd picked out and told Margit would easily win the race, Patrick Dooley from Durham.

We went down the other side of the hill and by the time we took the turn, I knew the two guys in front were gone and that there was no chance that I'd be seeing them for long. However, the Eric clone was holding a decent pace in front of me but he was so big that I knew I'd have a chance to counter his opening when we got to the hills. We final hit the second turn and were off the main round- there was some goofiness at the intersection with the State Trooper, but I ignored it as it didn't affect us. Then were were sloping around a bend and taking another turn and the sun came out and it was hot and humid, but now we were running downhill and I was starting to feel a rhythm. It was the first time this season that I felt like I was running well, like I really was in control, well, since Brian's anyway.

It's funny how you can forget so much of why you do what you do. I put a lot of time into training. Why do I train ? So I can race. Yeah, I love balling around local roads on my bike, a little out of my head sometimes, doing stupid things like racing cars and motorcycles because I just can't help myself, but some of it is drudge work, too. Getting up at 5:30 am to spin even though it's going to be a nice day out, squeezing 50 minutes of running into an hour of lunch... Then you get out there in a race and you've got your racing stride, and you're settled in almost where you want to be and you are running downhill and people are handing you water to dump on your head and it's a road you know and almost everyone in the race is chasing you and they aren't going to catch you.

When it feels good, it's such a simple, pure joy. Pain and all.

Then you're around the next turn and you give up on the leader for the second and final time and you see the 10K/4K split and the guy in second is headed right down the 4K turn and for a minute, the guy in third looks like he'll turn too...

But he doesn't. I'd raced against him before here at Durham, coming up short. He started up the first of the hills on the back part of the course (he'd been the one that, when we crested the very first hill, responded to another runner's comment that the first hill was out of the way with 'There's more than one hill ?'). It's a hard hill because it's probably 6% but long, and it gets steeper at the top. I avoided the sprinkler and did my best to keep my effort moderate while holding my ground. There are crowds all over this course and the local support for the race is incredible.

As someone who never looks back, it's also a great way for me to know who's chasing me. I know Charlie Iselin was right back there and who knew who else, but I could tell by the noise that we had a gap. I climbed, then descended, then repeated that, waiting for the 5K mark to really assess where I was and whether I had a shot at 2nd. We blew through that point in the race and we'd both slowed down a little. I was about ten seconds out of second, chasing this shirtless giant who runs with EH's stride and I was trying like hell just to be patient.

We took the big right hand turn at the back of the course and a short downhill gave way to the longest uphill of the course. I should have attacked him here, but with the giant downhill at the end of the climb, I felt it was tactically unadvisable. I was wrong. We went through four miles on the downhill and then I forced myself to take a cliff shot as we worked our way around the lollipop loop at the back of the course. I was neither closing nor losing ground and I'd determined not to even try anything until after 5 miles, given that I'd burned myself with an early move just a week ago.

When we turned back onto the course at around 5 miles, I thought I still had a good shot at closing the gap, but I would have to start pushing again. I'd been racing within my comfort zone- my racing comfort zone, protecting my 3rd place spot, nursing calves that were not thrilled about this much racing (and in 2007, I blew out my left calf as a result of this 10K just two weeks before Eagleman, costing me my next race and hobbling me for two week going into Eagleman, where I ran well, but not as well as I wanted to). As we crested the big hill in the last mile the guy ahead of me, Michael Maffei, played a single pitch and catch of a football with a kid on the side of the road. I considered doing the same thing, asking for the ball, because it would have been cool, but when I'm racing, I'm racing, and I'm not laid back enough for that. Should I be ? Probably.

Maybe it's OK to take yourself way too seriously if you know you're doing it...

I descended the backside of the hill and never let up the pressure. Mike was just being nice, but he said he felt pressured the whole way and really had to keep working. I'm not sure I believe him, because he put 8-10 seconds on me in the last 600 yards, but I ran my ass off through the finish line.

At 37:30, it was certainly nothing to brag about, although it was 59 seconds faster than two years ago, when I'd felt fine until the day after the race. Still it was a strong third, with the next runner a minute and sixteen seconds back. I'd made it in where I wanted. Margit took second in her age group. My son was having a ball with his great aunt, great uncle, and their neighbours. I got to hang with Charlie Iselin and his family- warm down with him and then talk for a while.

That's the formula- friends, family, and racing. It was the right exclamation point to ten days of racing.

Avril Lavigne Saves My Run

Last Monday, the day after Brians, I had a two hour run on my schedule. Monday runs are very doable for me, but there are a certain set of conditions on a two-hour Monday run.

They have to start by 5:30 PM at the latest, and preferably earlier. I have to be flexible about the route and be reachable by cell phone, in case there is an accident on 95 or something that will prevent Margit from picking up Ian at day care.

So that means doing a two-loop run, assuming the weather cooperates.

Last Monday it did not. I skipped lunch so I could leave work early. Standing in my office, I told myself that no matter what, regardless of how bad the rain was, I was going outside. Ironic, because my coach posted a few days later about how people needed to stop complaining about bad weather and get outside.

The drive home completely quashed, or rather washed out, that idea. It wasn't raining. It was pouring. The old man was snoring. The ducks were looking for a place to hide. So I pulled into the garage, grabbed the house phone, the cell phone, two hammer gels and a gatorade endurance and started running on the treadmill. Our treadmill only goes to 99 minutes, so I set the treadmill to, well 99 minutes. I then jacked up the volume on the Apple TV, which has some 40.00 speakers hooked up to it and started listening to Evanescence.

This worked for the first 40 minutes or so. When the treadmill got to 69 minutes, I reset it to 90 minutes and kept going. Running two hours on a treadmill is tough. I'd raced the day before and wasn't fresh and I was pounding along on the tread, kind of looking outside to see if it was going to stop raining.

Finally, as much as I love Evanescence, it wasn't doing it for me. The videos, which are more engaging than the songs as just audio when you are on the treadmill, don't play loudly enough. I started browsing and came up with the Boys of Summer by the Ataris. Great song, but it's not 50 minutes long.

So I decided to try something different. I have two Avril albums, Under My Skin and Best Damn Thing. Under My Skin I know inside out. It's a darker, brooding album that critics didn't like because it was uh, dark and brooding. Under My Skin I'm not sure I'd ever listened to. I only ever found out because iTunes gave away Girlfriend (from Best Damn Thing) as a free download and I found myself listening to it while waiting for the port-a-let at Eagleman two years ago and so the song stuck with me.

I turned on Best Damn Thing and yeah, it's pop-ish and silly and totally commercial. It's also about a mile away from the usual stuff I listen to, and it's probably age and gender inappropriate for me as well. When it comes to getting through a workout though, I could care less. I'll admit to the most embarrassing music I listen to- yeah, I think William Shatner's Has Been is awesome- because there isn't anything I listen to I'm ashamed of. Or I can take the abuse. My best friend from U of R beat all the shame out of me with his constant (and sometimes valid) criticism of the music I was listening to in the early 1980s.

The bottom line ? This isn't your typical bubble-gum pop. It's not just Avril's R-rated lyrics. The riffs and digs of the music were just what I needed to distract me from the last 50 minutes or so of a run that was never going to be easy.

I think the sun came out after about 60-65 minutes, when I was just getting on the back half of the run, at that point where I was no longer getting off the treadmill for anything. It had become a test of wills, and although I hated the treadmill with a passion when I got done, and felt beat down, I'd beaten it. And the music, that had been a big, no a huge help. When Best Dam Thing Ended, it went right to Under My Skin, reminding me of races Eagleman and another race in Rochester two years ago, and I was set.

I'll take that two hours on the treadmill. Just don't make me do it again...