Ironman- Catch it on TV All Day, January 1st

Tune in on January 1, as Universal Sports dedicates the entire day to the Ford Ironman World Championship from Kailua-Kona, Hawaii, including the 2009 event aired recently on NBC.

Below is the Universal Sports schedule for January 1st, 2010, in Eastern Standard Time.

Ford Ironman World Championship from Kailua-Kona, Hawaii

10:00 AM - 11:30 AM - 2001
11:30 AM - 1:00 PM - 2002
1:00 PM - 3:00 PM - 2004
3:00 PM - 4:00 PM - 2005
4:00 PM - 6:00 PM - 2006
6:00 PM - 7:30 PM - 2007
7:30 PM - 9:00 PM - 2008
9:00 PM - 9:03 PM - Countdown to Vancouver News Update
9:03 PM - 10:30 PM - 2009
10:30 PM - 12:00 AM - 2001
12:00 AM - 12:03 AM - Countdown to Vancouver News Update
12:03 AM - 1:30 AM - 2009
1:30 AM - 3:00 AM - 2008
3:00 AM - 4:00 AM - 2005

Racevine

I've started reviewing races on Racevine.com. Why did I do this, you ask- well, maybe you didn't actually ask, however, I'm telling you anyway...

Racevine started following me on Twitter and tweeted me several times after I my post-race tweets inviting me to post reviews of the races. Now, I already chronicle my 'adventures' right here on this blog, however, I felt that there's a huge difference between my admittedly self-centered race entries here and a more objective evaluation of races which gives people an thumbnail description of what to expect and what the course is like.

While my opinions may not be of great value, I think the aggregation of opinions about races are. Too many times (myself included I'm sure) an athlete's good or bad performance overshadows or influences their evaluation of a race, and from first-timers looking for the right race to veterans looking for the right race, having a source to go to that rates races, their amenities, travel, and gives each evaluator a chance to actually write out their thoughts in free form is a great service to the running community.

Did I mention they have been having weekly contests where they select winners based on number and quality of evaluations ? Or that I'm competitive ? But contest or not, I think anyone who races should considering adding their reviews to this site.

Again, it's racevine.com. You can also follow them on twitter @racevine or become a fan on facebook. (I did both).

Considering...

Considering is one of those words that I like to pull out when I'm talking to other people, and like to put away when I'm talking to myself.

I had one of those considering moments Sunday running a 5K. I was on the fence about the race. I'm always on the fence about running short road races these days. Sunday is long run day. A 5k is not a long run, and historically, I'm not good at going to a race, running my heart out, and then putting in another 30-40 minutes running. Either I'm too gassed after the race, or I'm too pressed for time. Either way, I don't usually get it done, and Monday turns into long run day.

Margit was at a swimming clinic, so I needed to hire a babysitter to go to the race at all. Because a friend was asking all of us on Force 5 Sports to be at the race, I felt it was the right thing to do, to go and run the 5K. But I determined that for once I was really going to make it part of a 'long' run- at least 15k.

So I drove to the race in Guilford, which is about 15 minutes from my house, signed up quickly, put my number on, and pretty soon I was out running the course. Except for registration going a little too quickly and being ahead of schedule, everything was great. I got in a 4 mile warm-up, and while I felt bad for not talking to anyone, it was good to have the 1st 3rd of my workout done,

Next was the race. I'm not the type of guy that goes to a race and thinks he's going to win it, but evaluating the runners there, I realised I should be thinking about it- and then I saw Jesse Efrom. Winning the race went right out the window...

The race started with an unannounced 3-2-1.

I think Jesse had 50 yards on me at 100 yards. We took it out, me not really hanging on to Jesse, and a couple guys trailing me. We got to about a 1/3rd of a mile and the footsteps behind me became a runner passing me. I evaluated the guy's gait, decided that I should pass him right back, and that was all the excitement the race would have.

Not much else to say. Because there was a turn-around at something over a mile, I had no choice but to know exactly where I was- getting crushed by Jesse and having 60 yards on the guy behind me.

I was never catching Jesse. I ran hard, but maybe not all out. I wasn't going to catch anyone or be caught by anyone.

Still, when I could finally see the clock and it was over 18 minutes I was disappointed. When I crossed the line at 18:40, a slow time, I was a little bummed. Still, I grabbed a water and headed back out. Three minutes after I finished I was was back on the road- and that was the best part of the day. It was hot, I was using the water bottle I'd gotten at the finish more to keep my head cool than to drink and about a mile and a half into that last 5K, I was feeling the way I'll be feeling in Arizona at the Ironman this November, hot and a little spent, but still running, working on hydration and body temperature and yes, it hit me. This is why you do this kind of training. To suffer and be used to it, and yes while it's suffering it's not bad. you're not bonking or distressed. You're tired, you're hot, and you deal.

So it was great workout and when I got done it was right back in the car and home to let the babysitter go, and it was just what I needed.

All things considered, the 18:40, in perspective in the middle of the workout- not so bad.

Still, 18:40 ? Oh well...

New Year's Review, Part I

I'm late doing this. It's already 2009 and here I am just getting around to looking at 2008.

This blog is primarily a place to keep a record of my training and racing. It might surprise you, given the ridiculous and exhaustive detail with which I catalog all my races- really, I need ten paragraph for a race that was 19 minutes long ?- that I've never kept any sort of training journal or record of my races. At the end of the first full year I worked with Eric, he asked me to send him an excel spreadsheet with all the races I could find that I'd done on it. I know I had more than 50 entries on the sheet and that was only what I could find on the internet.

Things change, as Troy Aikman would say.

This was a very unusual year for all of us. It's hard, when your 403B is melting faster than a snowpile along the shoreline, when the Middle East is burning again, when the value of the homes we live in decreases daily, when maybe your job hangs in the balance- you get the picture- to remember that this was an historic year in good ways as well. We had a woman and african-american running for one party's presidential nomination and we elected our first black president. Regardless of your politics, it was a monumental redefinition of our process, suggesting that we may finally, in the 21st century, be emerging as a cultural capable of dismantling the artificial barriers we've erected around the halls of power. Although as Prop 8 in California reminded us, for every two steps forward, we are perfectly capable of taking one back, that inclusivity at the individual level can be highly selective, that we can love and hate at the same time.

I'm never sure what's more perplexing about human nature, its generosity, or its penury of compassion.

I saw the better part of human nature yesterday. Eric has been holding a Polar Plunge now for five years to raise money for charity, starting with the tsunami victims- I can't believe it's been that long. It was cold yesterday- I ran for two hours in the morning, and the whole time I was wondering if the weather would deter people from coming. We've had worse- colder, darker days, but Eric made a change this year that was key- he held the plunge at high tide, instead of in the morning.

The truth is though, that if he held it at 4 AM I think he'd get just about the same turnout- Gus with the dog, Denny, Eric's dad on the camera, Baker there for moral support, plus dozens of others, all crazy enough to run into the nasty cold water of the Sound. Most of us only know the cause that the Plunge raises money for through Eric each year, but I think we're all happy to do it because a) Eric's a great guy, and anything he's willing to put himself out there to support has to be worth it- look at the tremendous work he's done helping to take Ride for Rick from an idea (his) to reality b) it feels good to do good. I think your soul or whatever you want to call it can be a dark and evil place and you would still get a charge out of reaching out to good for others in a group of like-minded people.

The fact that there was snow on the beach this year stopped no one, and if fact all I heard from anyone this time around was that 'it wasn't that bad.'

There were other good moments- and of course the Plunge was actually this year, but hey, it's my blog...

An American stood on the podium and took away eight gold medals. CSC finally, in their exit performance, won the Tour. We had a presidential election that was not marred by allegations of voter disenfranchisement. The nation finally seemed to get the message about 'green energy'.

I don't know. On balance, I'm glad to see 2009 come in, even though I've never been a big believer in arbitrary divisions of time really meaning anything, and we have a lot to see before we raise our hands and dance like we just don't care.

Oh yeah, I did a few races. More on that later.

Ironman Hawaii Coverage

One of the athletes profiled this year presents the enigma of sports. This is a man who is at the peak of his very demanding profession, and he made it clear that he feels going out and competing in the Ironman puts him alongside 'the best athletes in the world.'

He also said that he 'hates to run, hates to bike, and hates to swim.'

I guess I can understand that, sort of. I can't say I still hate to swim, but I know there was a time I did. As I (slowly) get better, I hate it less.

But still- he hates all three sports- and he's racing Kona ?

Now that's dedication to an idea....

Ironman Replay

A few hours after running the Sweetheart, I found myself on my bike in the basement, spinning out an Aero Base Builder. After all, Saturdays are for the bike, not running races, so there was no question I should do the spin after resting and recovering from the race.

I have an Apple TV with a number of Spinervals set up on it, and that and its monitor sit on top of an old TV. So when I went downstairs the ironman was on, however, I didn't turn it on right away. There was the fact I'd already seen it once. There was also the fact that, well, I have a little bit of a sore spot there.

It's an hard thing to get by. I'm really fortunate to train with, know, and even be coached by people who not only have been in the big show, but conquered it nicely. As someone who never thought about qualifying, to have qualified and then not gone is- it makes it a little difficult to watch this ninety minute celebration of other people at Kona. Which is incredibly selfish. So after refusing to turn it on during the first five minutes of my spin, I did flip the TV on.

Of course, I was glad I did. It's good to get past your own selfish hangups. There are the obligatory reminders about how good you really have it. There was the kid with the scar running the length of his chest, the blind man, the guy with zero legs.

But what really affected me was Rutger Beke. My own race at IM Arizona was brought back to me in force. I was embarrassed. I was shocked with myself, but mostly, I was just disappointed. And then I watched this man, a true professional, an accomplished athlete, the sort of guy who is looking at breaking not just 11 hours, or 10, but who is a top ten finisher, and multiple Kona finisher. And there he was, honouring the race, walking the marathon not because he wanted a finisher's medal, not because he planned to walk the marathon, but because he could no longer run.

That was something. That is something I'll take into races with me, a reminder about determination, about looking inside yourself to find something, even when nothing is left...

IM Lake Placid

It's always a tough day when we are here in CT on race day. For me, for both of us to some extent, Lake Placid is the race, but a new job for Margit and a new furnace were enough to shelve plans to head up this year, although as late as yesterday Margit was still talking about me jumping in the car and driving up.

Instead, I got up and ran early so we could take Ian to the Beardsley Zoo. It was a beautiful morning, a little windy maybe but as I was running back up the road in Indian Neck and the sun was stretched out long across the still water, no boats moving yet it made me think about just how special it is up there- and how Branford in the morning, before the traffic gets going, isn't such a bad place either.

It's ironic- if you had told me when I was 18 that one day a year the world would kind of stop and the only place I'd want to be was the Adirondacks, I'd have laughed, living about 2 hours south in the foothills north of the Capital District. Running and biking about 1000 ft of climbing from my high school parking lot to Grafton State Park (biking on a 3 speed touring bike), I never really thought much about doing either in a race- I just happened to have a friend who lived off Route 2- and I can't say I enjoyed it. Of course, I also wouldn't have guessed that a year later, I'd be selling the family house and moving away for good, making coming back to Upstate New York a lot less ordinary.

We have a lot of friends doing the race this year- Howard Jones, Ken Osborne, and of course Steve, not to mention Chris Schulten, who judging by his top 40 position, just about ready to ask for that pro card...

It's such a tough course- harsh but fair ? I don't know. I just hope everyone has a great race, or had a great race, or enjoys being in one of the world's truly special places, doing a truly special race...

Independence Day 5k

Wow. A record crowd showed up for the 5K in Milford (USATF-CT Championship race #3). 400 hundred race day registrations, which was enough to blow through the all the registration forms, race goody bags, and force Marty to delay the race by twenty minutes.

I was certainly not expecting much. I did do three hour plus runs in the week since the Fairfield race, but not were speed workouts. With my knee being sore still, it's much easier for me to go out and ride- 60 miles on Sunday, 42 in 2 hours yesterday. I rode hard yesterday, pushing in the wind and going after some decent hills.

As the sanctions representative for USATF-CT and a member of the LDR committee, it's great to have such a large crowd for the race. As an athlete, well, the guys that show up because it's a USATF-CT race are better athletes (than me, that's for sure) and that means my name sinks down the results list like a stone.

Holiday races tend to offer one feature other races may not- costumes. Guys in red,white and blue top hats, suspenders or other patriotic gear. This year, I saw a guy in his late 60s or early 70s in cowboy boots. He started, unbelievably, in the third row. He apparently ran the entire race in the boots- no socks. I'm thinking some really scary blisters happened there.

The front was really tightly packed and as often is the case I wanted to get a team box going but there were only three of us standing right there. First Chad Brown was nice enough to move his feet a little, then I got some help from one of my teammates and managed to get off the line. My right foot had actually been turned out and back, which is not how you want to start a short race.

Sort of. The race featured some pretty serious false starts, which I won't go into because they were accidental and did not affect the finish. Meanwhile, although I was in the second row, the middle sagged backwards while the ends went forward. The race starts up a sort of sloping grade. Hill would be a strong word, but not much. I was in about 60th place as we took the first turn. I was behind a number of women, several kids in basketball shorts and high-tops, this guy Rodney with the the big head band, and possibly, although I can't confirm it, Doc Whitney.

It could easily turned into panic time, however, a number of people around me are people I should be either right behind or in the area of as I watch them run away, so I settled in. My knee had been bothering me all through the warm-ups, during strides, and I tried doing a knee-bend once and that was definitely a bad idea. However, as I started running hard- but controlled- it really didn't bother me. In fact, it might have helped me have a better race by forcing me to run a little slower.

I was just over 5:30 for the first mile and I seemed to be out-dueling people on the hills. There was a lot of back and forth and a few guys passed me, but I felt like I was having a good, controlled race. I hit 2 miles at 11:20 and still going ok. Marty saw me when I gave the V sign and he called out my name.

I was a little gassed in the last mile. I haven't run a 5K since Christopher Martins. I let one guy get passed me, but other than that, I held my won as we took the last turn. I was sure Kerry was bearing down on me and teammate or not, I didn't want any women beating me. That's silly, I suppose, but oh well.

I went through at 17:48. Wow ! First, it's kind of sad that 17:48 would excite me. Five years ago, I was still running sub-17s on really good days. Of course, I was probably running 5-6 days a week back then, still doing speed work, and so on.

However, it's a good time for me. The last time I broke 18:00 minutes was a 17:59 at Christopher Martins in 2005 and it was my fastest time since a 17:47 at the Corporate Challenge in August 2005. It was also 20 seconds faster than last year, although last year's race was my best training day before Lake Placid (I followed up the race with a 98 mile ride, my longest of the year outside the Ironman). 18:08 was the closest I had all last year, even the one race I won...

Better still, teammates of mine were the top man and woman- Kerry for the women, Oscar for the men.

But the biggest shocker of all- Charlie Hornak shaved his head...

Welcome to the post-season

I had a very front-loaded season this year- Ironman in April, half-ironman in June. That's one way to get your racing done early.

Coming into the half, I'd been struggling with injuries, and after doing Eagleman I'd started to wonder if I was going to have to take some time off.In a way, I already was- I was only able to run once a week each of the two weeks before the race and continued that for a week longer. That meant a lot of time on the bike, because June is when I have to take a lot of time off to use up the 4 weeks of vacation I get, so I take a lot of days off and half days and it's hard not to want to use that time to get into shape.

But for what ?

On Tuesday, we went down to Philadelphia to see the guys at Elite Bicycles about a bike for Margit. After running Branford (and running just a little bit slowly, to be honest) Sunday, I'd come to the conclusion that babying the legs wasn't helping. I did a run/bike/run Monday, and run hard, and decided to do about an hour running while Dave was working on Margit's bike fit. About 4:30, I headed out into the swampy 95 degree heat to run along the Schuylkill for an hour. While it didn't feel great, it did feel OK. Margit got a great fit, they adjusted her Lightspeed and she decided to get a T-Class with some really sweet wheels.

On the way out, we met up with a woman from Dave's group who we'd seen in Lake Placid before and knew us. She asked how the season was going and, with no more planned races this year, I said that my season was basically over. 'That must be really hard for you,' she replied and although I said what I think were the right things, the truth was, it is pretty hard. I ran into this once before, in 2004. I did Ironman Florida in November and was then basically without a plan until Lake Placid in 2006.

The funny thing was I had my first good half in 2005, placing third in my age group at Firmman. It was also the first time I was trained for that distance.

But the truth is that it is hard to not have a race goal. I've been pushing to try and map something out but so far, nothing has really stuck. After Fairfield today (Sunday), Chris Schulten asked me when (not if) my next Ironman was. I told him I didn't have one planned and he remembered I'd gone through this before, and I guess that there are two kinds of Ironman participants, those that do races now and again and those that kind of go from race to race, and I think I more fall into the later category.

The strange thing is that after getting to my 'off-season', I've run two road races in two weeks, after running one in the first five and a half-months of the year.

Eagleman

It's been a while since I posted. After my last post I went to a duathlon, and I hate to write this because of how it sounds, but a duathlon I could and probably would have won. Instead, my left calf locked up 3/4 of a mile into the run and I somewhat shamefacedly dropped out of the race, limped back to transition and worked the first run in and the bike in. Eventually I was able to do a three mile warm-down with a friend at the race.



I did not run after that until Thursday, just three days before the race on Sunday. I went out for a forty-five minute run and confirmed two things. The first was that the calf was in good enough shape to stand up to half-marathon pace on a board flat course. The second was that my right knee was injured.

I'm not someone who talks about aches and pains as an injury- I consider an injury to be something that potentially stops you from racing or training. I'd hit a wicked pothole about a week earlier and my knee had smashed into the stem of my Elite. I forgot about it the next day. Because my calf was so sore, and because I had not been running, when I again noticed the knee felt sore a few days later I'd dismissed the pain a by-product of favouring my bad leg and driving hard on the downstroke of my pedal. For the second time in as many weeks, I was wrong.

I started icing the knee three times a day, and hoped for the best, but what was I really thinking ? I was going to go and complete a half-ironman with a bad knee a week after a few measley calf spasms had knocked me out of a duathlon ?

Yeah, I was thinking that. We got there early enough Saturday for me to shake hands with Coach Troy, get my bike tightened up by the guys from Elite, test ride, swim, and then run. The best part was the swim. I spent more like 20 minutes in the Choptank, swimming out to the first buoy and I felt like it hadn't been 7 weeks since I'd been in the murk of open water. However, I was doing more knuckle-dragging than Tyrol. On Saturday the Choptank was more like the Walk-tank. I got of the water and ran and my knee hurt for 10 out of 10 minutes.




Since there was no refrigerator in the room, icing the knee was out. I put some ironman ointment on it.

Race day- I went down to the race with Steve. I found my bike, which I had racked at about 2 PM, had been moved from where I'd placed it to the opposite side of the rack. I never did figure out why. There was no good reason for it. Call it the Amy Rice effect...

I was able to get in the water about 7 minutes before our wave went off. Avril Lavinge's Girlfriend was kicking around in my head because out the 142 songs on my iPod shuffle I could find that one but I couldn't find Evanescence's Lithium. Try having that crammed in your skull for 4 hours and 39 minutes...

The swim was different than any other race swim that I've had in that I was able to settle in and swim with the same group of guys for the whole 1.2 miles (or however far it was, some of the swimmers seem to think it might have been short). I felt like I was herding people who were not online with the buoys (I had a remarkably straight swim). Until Kenny and some of the other blue caps came roaring over me, I felt pretty good. I even passed a few white caps (men and women 55 and up, who has started 10 minutes before me). I climbed out of the water and saw the clock and my hopes for the day just crashed around me, however. 54:20.

I multiplied that by 2 and was horrified. That would be a 1:48:40 Ironman swim. What had happened ?

I have to admit to not really paying much attention to the wave schedule, and after more than half an hour in the water, I was not thinking about anyone but myself and the people around me I wanted to beat to the mat. About halfway to my bike, I realised that the clock had started well before I'd started swimming. So I subtracted 15 minutes and that left me with 39:20. Not good, as I'd done 37 the other time I'd done the race, but that was slow Ironman pace and to be honest I pretty much swim at the same speed whether it's a sprint or an ironman.

Transition was quick enough. Putting socks on wet feet is always a challenge, and I only crammed one finger in each hole in my gloves, confident I could finish pulling them on with my teeth once I was going. I beat most of the guys I came out of the water with to the bike mat and was off. Eventually I realised I'd started swimming with 20 minutes on the clock and had pounded out a 34:20 swim. Psyche !

At first I was passing a lot of guys in my age group and more than a few guys in their 30s (who had a five minute advantage being a wave behind me). I was feeling good early. My knee initially loosened up and the wind, if there was any, was at my back. I will admit to getting a little annoyed by the drafting. I really lost it when this one overweight 42 year-old who I'd easily passed went by me in a pack of five guys. I sat up, let them go- getting that 'are you all right' look you get from people who draft as they go by and you don't jump on- waited about ten seconds, and then went on a 30 mph sprint that made me feel oh so good (and then maybe not so good). My heart rate must have soared, I was breathing like, well, a sprinter, and I realised that I was being stupid. Here I'd said the previous day that I was just going to go out and have a solid race, that given the fact a week earlier it hurt to walk and also wanting to bounce back from Arizona, I was just going to try and re-establish a positive track. I was angry, and I ride fast when I'm angry, but I was probably 35 miles from the finish.

And of course the same group went by. I asked the overweight guy if he knew the rules and he ignored me, which is exactly what I should have done. I memorized his singlet, because I planned to see him on the run. Don't get mad, just run fast. Then we headed into the wind. I swear, there was wind- I would look to the side of the road and the tall grass was not moving, the leaves on the trees looked painted, but there was wind. I probably lost 3-4 minutes in the wind, but I was determined not to blow myself up in the wind. I'd needed about 1:40 to run the half-marathon last time I'd been here and that was just silly.

Oh yeah. My knee also was hurting. As I continued pushing forward, I didn't feel like I was losing any time- I was at the cadence I wanted to be at. But the pain in the knee, which was below the kneecap, had spread to the outside of the knee, the quadricep and my groin. Ow.

Then I was out of the wind. I was able to pick my cadence up. This was a good thing. While riding into the wind, I was starting to be passed by some fast 30 year olds (I have to say it, in groups of two more often than not). I was also passing exclusively 55 years old plus men and women. This is not as ego-boosting as you might think. I was saying 'You're doing great, keep it up' as I went by them, but where were the other 40 year olds ?

I found them in the last ten miles and started passing them regularly again, but I still kept it steady. I wanted to have a good run.

As I headed in the final stretch, in the last mile, I saw the overweight 42 year-old draft king running out maybe half a mile into the run. I noted where he was, tucked that information away, and headed back into transition. My second transition was really good, about two minutes. I left 4 cliff block shot packs in the back of my singlet. I never touched them...

I looked at the clock, finally knowing exactly where I was in the race, and with a stated time goal of 'under 4:40', I knew I'd have to run under 1:30, which meant being in the sixes. I thought that was going to be hard, and I would have to be patient to do it.

The first mile was good. Yes, the knee hurt and everything around it hurt. But some pain reduces function, and some doesn't, and this didn't. I kept it simple, started passing people that had passed me late in the bike. I caught the draft king before mile three and didn't acknowledge him. I just went by. After that, it was just run, although at about 5 miles, I got passed by a 40 year old who really made me feel a little embarrassed by how well he was running. We caught up in the chute after the race and he actually complimented me, and I told him in no uncertain terms that he was the one who had a great run.

I saw Mark Foster first and he was flying. Joe Whelan came soon after, then Kenny, and a little later, Bill.

The run was uneventful, which was what I wanted. I took endurolytes twice. I stopped eating, and by eating I mean drinking Gatorade, after 8 miles. That was probably too soon, but I had drank well on the bike and eaten lots of blocks. I was still passing people, although a couple of 30 somethings did slip by.

I caught Bill at 12 miles and I could see that he was having a good race and pushing with everything he had. I didn't want to interrupt him, so I just said 'hey, Bill, keep it up.'

Matt and I hooked up soon after that. We ran down another 40 year old, but he was saving something and passed us at about 12.6. Matt wanted to chase him, but I told him I was done, and I appreciated his offer but he should go. The guy was a little too much for either of us, and I was able to get back up to Matt and we did finish together...

Overall, this was not a bad race for me. I was able to come back from something that really aggravated me, overcome probably the worst pain I've raced with (and I'm sure it pales compared to what other people go through) and PR the course. My overall standing was not what I would have liked, but I think this was a good race that kind of puts me back on the road towards where I want to be.

Reflections

The Ironman, at its core, is a selfish pursuit. You can train with friends (I don't), take your family to the race (I did), but out there, it's about you. If it's not, on race day, about you, you may struggle.

However, the next day is something different. The day after Lake Placid last July, I stood in line and kept another athlete signing up company, shattered the windshield of my wife's car (from the inside), packed the car. Still, Lake Placid is a 6 hour drive from where I live and you don't have to be up at the crack of dawn the next day.

I was up at six am the day after the race, packing my bike. The whole morning would be mostly running around getting the packing done, picking things up at the race venue, and trying very hard to put us in a position where we'd have time to go to Gordon Biersch for lunch (and beer). And unlike the previous day, I got everything done on time and we made it to the pub. I wasn't driving, so I was drinking beer.

I was also partially absorbed in self-loathing about the race when I realised that something major was going on. The TVs in the pub were set to Fox News, who like CNN, gets a single story, loops up two minutes of footage and is off and running for the next however many hours (is our news really packaged in three minute intervals because our attention spans are that short) ? Of course, the footnote during the Virginia Tech coverage, which lasted our entire meal, was how 150 people in Iraq had been killed and another 150 injured by car bombs. Perspective (or its lack) is sure an interesting thing.

Wow. What a way to get out of your own reflection- I work in higher education, after all, in fact, I'm a criminal justice major. Here you've had this bad, I mean a stinker of a race, and you have to turn around and admit to yourself how meaningless it is in some ways. Tragedy has a way of making you feel small, or at least restoring some perspective.

But there was more to come. That Saturday, a friend who'd I'd only really gotten to know at an Ironman (Florida) died during a marathon swim- Dave Parcells. Dave is someone you should google. The real deal. Double Channel crosser. Million dollar fund-raiser. Sucessful business man, first-class dad. A real guy, the sort of person who makes a difference and leaves a mark and is missed. The type of person who can't be summed up or dismissed with words at all.

I spent six months with a goal in mind, an Ironman race. Six days in the rearview, I had to admit that whatever happened out there was way less important that what was going on back east. Sometimes, a race is just a race, and life- wow, life is complicated, isn't it ?

The One that Got Away...

Warning: If painful urination disturbs you, stop reading. Also, I may take a day or two to post this in its entirety.

I can't help but feel like I let a great opportunity slip away at about the 9 mile mark of this Ironman, when my determination to finish wavered. I have to be honest, I don't know how athletes with families do two or even three Ironman races a year- outside of doing one and then qualifying for Hawaii and going there. But carving out the time and suffering the expenses of doing an Ironman is a lot of work. I wanted to have a really good Ironman race this time- we didn't have the time to make a real vacation of the trip and I was there to race, plain and simple. And I kind of laid an egg. It will be about a year and a half at least before I race the distance again. And I'll be old...

Well, maybe not. Old at least.

Anyway, without further rambling reflection, here's my impressions of the race.



Pre-race: I got up at around 4:15. I ate a banana. Note to self- never do that again on the morning of an Ironman race. I drank a cup of coffee, jumped on my MacBook, checked the weather- predictions of wind- checked EH's board and my email, then made sure that everything was in my special needs bags and woke up the brood. I grabbed a red bull and threw it in my dry clothes bag for after the race and was down at the start by around 5 AM, the suggested time. Note to everyone- at this race, that's massive overkill. I was body marked, had dropped off my bottle of high-test gatorade endurance formula on my bike, checked the inflation of my wheels with my thumb, and off-loaded my special needs bags by 5:15. 1:45 to race time ? That's way too long for someone who swims the way I do to think about the race.

I hit the road and did a ten minute jog. My calves felt a little twitchy. Since it would be close to nine hours before I started running, I thought that was fine. I then went to the port-a-let. Note to the race director- why would you only have six port-a-lets for over 2100 athletes in the transition area ? Fortunately, there were four others tucked away about 100 yards from transition with basically no lines. I switched the shuffle to sequential play, cruised on over to Evanescence, found a quiet place to lay down. About fifteen minutes later (probably actually ten) I decided to check something that was bothering me about my bike.

I didn't want to put an x-lab on my bike but with the tubular wheels, but what choice did I have ? You can't fit anything under my seat, certainly not a tire. I had tightened it up as much as I could, and it was tight- as long as I didn't move it laterally. I'm not sure how I determined that would be a problem lying on my back, but it required more tightening. I called back to the room but the second of our two Park Tools was missing, so I headed over to the special needs bags. I had this vision of the x-lab bouncing off the top of my back wheel, stopping and ripping it off and then having to ride 10 miles with it in my right hand wondering where the frak the aid station was. I was able to tighten it. I removed the particular wrench I would need if further adjustments were required, and stuck it in the gear bag on the left side of the x-lab. I would never see it again, although I heard it one more time, bouncing on the raod at about 40 miles.

I did not start putting my wetsuit on until 6:20 because they weren't going to let us into the water until close to 6:40- it's an open water start a good 100 metres from the entry-point. It was about then I realised I had a full tube of chammy butter but no bodyglide...

The Swim: For the first time in my life, I floated in the water, on my back, and didn't end up choking up more water than the Titanic's bailing pumps, while waiting for the race to start. Although I suck at treading water, I was determined not to have to rush to the line prior to the start. I was able to stand on a wall some of the time, but I spent the last ten minutes right on the line, all the way on the outside, and when we started, I was off the line.

I was also soon being swum over by people who know how to keep moving even though they are catching only my back and legs and not water. Someone reading this please explain how you can catch nothing but other people's wetsuits and zoom forward..

The course is a one loop out and back- ironic, really. Both the run and bike are 3 loops, which is really annoying, yet the swim is a single loop. Go figure. So you start thinking straight lines, only the course is curved. It took me a while to get back to the line- I felt like I was off on the right against the wall forever, but by the halfway point I was head-butting bouys- literally. I was swimming along and hit two consecutive ones. The first one startled me, because I didn't see it coming. I looked up. There were a bunch of people way inside the bouy (this seems like cutting the course to me, but again, feel free to explain while it isn't) and another bunch way outside. I was alone. Which can only mean sticking on the buoys was the long way round.

It was a scrum at the turn bouys. It's always a scrum at the turn bouys. I come from a team sport background, and if people hit me like that playing say, some sort of hockey, it would be time to drop the stick and go- and I was a goalie...

As always, I got forced wide at the bouy. I tried getting back inside. I heard/felt my left shoulder pop at least twice, but there was nothing i could do except finish.

I climbed out at 1:18, tied for my slowest swim ever, and- that was hard. I was a good six minutes off where I wanted to be. Six minutes ! I took two or three seconds to stand still, until I shoook that thought off and found a peeler. I got most of the suit off standing up, flopped for the leg pull, and then ran through the crowd of swimmers to my bag.

T1: Better than Lake Placid. Fewer choices, better organised. Only one little mistake. No sunscreen. Hey, the swelling in my left arm went away Tuesday...



Bike: I promised myself no matter how annoyed I got, I would not sit up and let someone drafting me go by... so I sat up three miles into the race. I didn't want to start racing early, although this guy would draft by me six or seven times during the race (and pass me once on the right). I was thinking I was six minutes off and therefore needed three minutes on the bike, or a minute a loop. Thoughts like these sound so good in your head...

I didn't have a chance to see the course ahead of time, but as I headed out on the 18.5 mile portion of the out and back, I was moving fairly well, however, I felt like I was in a crosswind. I got excited about, of all things, getting to the turn-around, which was on what passes for the biggest hill on the course, and hoped the crosswind would be more at my back. Up I climbed. I had started out so well- I took electrolytes and food in the first mile of the course, my foot felt good, I was fighting my way up through the ranks.

I hit the turn-around and words actually came out of my mouth 'What the frak ?' The wind was unbelievable and nearly unbearable. It wasn't a crosswind at all, it was a dead on breezefest at about 20 mph. I put my head up and started trying to lug the mail. i tried to keep eating and drinking, but my mouth was dry constantly from the wind, I couldn't eat my combos, and I was only taking one bottle per rest stop. I was keeping up with the planned amount of electrolytes, which were half what I needed. My fault....

I'm not going to say anything else about drafting. It is what it is. There were some people out there drafting, there were some people riding clean. Except for a pair of forty year olds that went by me several times working together, I felt more able to let it go this time, and let's face it, even the drafters were working hard into the wind.

Things got dire for the first time at 70 miles when I tried to pee a second time. I started to urinate and immediately had to stop because of the incredible burning sensation. I've had this before, but never this bad. Each time I stood up, more urine leaked out (because I'd stopped in mid-pee) and the pain was- not refreshing. I finally got ice cold water at a rest stop and stupidly poured the entire bottle on my crotch. This releaved the symptom but failed to solve the problem...

I tried to drink more, but it was too late. I went back to trying to pee and for the rest of the ride, the result was always the same, so painful I had to stop. I made the second lap and headed back out on the third, but I didn't push as hard with the wind at my back the way I had the first two times. I wanted to be strong coming in, get in the port-a-let with a bottle of water, and get the hell out on the run.

I kept up with the food and the gatorade or water and made it out to the turn on last time. On the way out a guy passed me (for no reason I could tell) on the right, even though there was one bike width between me and a bridge and a ton of room on my left. I gave him a piece of my mind, but I let him go instead of chasing him down. I felt a little worried about the peeing thing because I knew it meant my electrolytes were not right and I was dehydrated, but I had a decent third lap. The wind was stronger on that lap than the others, and the entire ride in to Tempe, even though it was my slowest lap, I was passing and dropping people. By the casino, people were going maybe 10 miles an hour. It was as bad a wind as anything I'd seen.

T2: I knew my bike was around 5:40 (all I had on my computer had been cadence, 85-100 for the ride), and that was not as good as I would have liked. Also, I was sunbaked. I got changed, got sunscreen, hit the port-o-let with a bottle of water, and poured that on myself as I peed. I was able to bear the pain, which was good as I had another two days of it to deal with. I was back on the road in about 4:30.

Run: Wow. My IM was torpedoed by my run. Would I have ever thought ? No, not really. But take a look at my face and tell me I wasn't feeling bad...



I had an OK first loop. By OK, I was running mid-eights, which is not the 7:56 average I wanted. As usual, the first five miles were too fast. I tried to go out on 8's, and was at 38:30 at 5 miles. So I backed off, a little too much, and finished the first loop running in the 8's. Soon after I finished the first loop, I started to feel- wrong. Byv wrong, i mean I just did not want to run anymore. I was going uphill into the wind- I wasn't sick, I wasn't so legsore I couldn't keep moving, I just felt wrong.

I cracked. I'm not going to make excuses, I'm not going to look down the lens of history at what was right or wrong with anything up to that moment. I needed to keep running and I didn't. I though if I gave myself three minutes, I'd be OK. But I wasn't. The 11 minute plus average on the second lap tells you how much I ran versus how much I walked.

The good news. I never gave up on finishing. The bad news. Finishing has never been my goal, or something potentially outside my ability.I never stopped moving forward. I kept walking even though I was ashamed to be walking, had never walked before- and oh yes, I suck at walking. When I was walking, I was being passed- by other people who were walking. I may be a good runner, but I am a suck-ass walker. I didn't let it get to me when I passed the same people over and over. I ran when I felt good, walked when I didn't.

I took water and cola. I even tried pretzels. Note to self: NEVER AGAIN PRETZELS. You know that powder they mix with water to make cement ? Next time, hand me a mouthful of that. Combos, with their extra cheese and salt, are fine, but the inside of a regular pretzel is just, well, like a beige dirt.

At mile 14, a volunteer almost grabbed me and forced me to accept additional sunscreen. Ah, blessed volunteers. Probably the only thing that prevented the amputation of my left arm.

The third loop was a little better. More running. Perversely, I ran best and hardest into the wind and uphill, and worst or walked the easier parts. What really got me going again, and allowed me to run the entire last five miles, was a brief conversation I had with a 19 year old who was also walking. I was trying to encourage him and he said, 'Hey, let's run to the bridge.' I never walked again after we started running.



I finished. I was glad I finished. I was mad. I was- drained.



Wow. That's some hair gell. Still spiky !

Post Race: I collected my bike, my two transitions and my dry clothes bag, huddled under a space blanket, drank a red bull, and tried to negotiate a ride home. Unable to do that, I rode my bike back to the hotel on the opposite side of the road from where people were still headed out on their second and third run loops. I went home, washed out my wet suit and hung it on the balcony, posted to my blog, and waited for the family to get back.

I later went and watched people finish from 14:30 to 16:00. Wow, some impressive efforts here, older athletes, first timers, people with real enthusiasm, and the champagne celebration for the race winners.

I may not have had the ironman I wanted, but I had an Ironman, my fifth. I got to explore a new place, hit a great pub- Gordon Biersch. And when I think about the wheelchair athletes and the people who crashed on the bike and still finished, what right do I have to complain ? And hey, I survived another 2.4 mile swim...

Final Thoughts

I took this after I got out of the water today. The last day before the race is not the easiest preparation day, and yet-

My secret shame is that I enjoy opening up my athlete area or my email and getting my final workouts before the race. 15 minutes of each is the day before workout. There's a lot of pressure getting those workouts in during the last six weeks or so before the race and more than ever when it's dark early, and cold outside. So not being stressed out about the workouts is definitely a help. There's a certainn luxury in say, running for 15 minutes and going home, done.

So where do my thoughts turn the day before the Ironman. Oddly, this train of thought- should I consider the Ironman just another race, or something really special ?

I think this question is answered differently for every person. For me, no answer is good, as I think both are the coward's way out- for me, and only me. I cannot stress that enough. After all, it's just a race, just our 'other' life. But for me, neither answer works. To say it's just another race is to trivialise my A race and also give me an out if I don't have a great race. After all, not all my races are good races or races where I have my best performance.

To say it is a big deal also gives me an out. It's such a big race and how can you expect everything to go well ? It's the best of the best competing against you, the pressure is on, so many things can go wrong...

I thing the middle road is the only one for me. Yes, it's a big race, and yes, it's just another race. If circumstance and my own fortitude co-operate, i may have a good race, I may even do something memorable, for myself if no one else. Regardless, if I finish, I will write a time in the book, and either have something to live with or something to be, it's hard to say, proud of. In any event, I plan to enjoy the day.

And when it's over, have a beer. Or three. Maybe even a massage.

Active Release Techniques

After I swam, I slipped on a singlet and headed out on my VERY easy 30 minutes run. While I'd had a good night sleep Thursday night, the night we'd flown out I'd had about three hours of sleep, and spent more time than probably advisable lugging around well more than my weight in luggage (hence the etymology of the word).

As a result my right hamstring was sore enough that- well, it was sore enough that I was concerned it could have an impact on my race. So after my run, I asked if we had time for me to do a session.

If you've had ART before, you proably know what the process is like and, unlike say, getting a sports massage, where the therapist asks you what needs to be worked on and then gives you a massage, the ART therapist is looking for a cause of your discomfort. After asking me a few questions, she had the head therapist, or whatever he is called, watch me run. He came to the conclusion that my problem was that my quads were tight.

My quads are tight, but rarely bother me. The upper part of my leg is also a little proportionally shorter than it should be, and the end result is are muscles that are very tight. However, because of a terminology gap I initially got the impression that my choice of foot strike was being criticised. My choice of foot strike is one of the few things that is the result of some concious choice and experimentation, so I was a little taken aback.

However, what he was really saying was that I could run more efficiently and have more energy return with my current stride if I had better quad response. At that point the therapist was ready to go.

I don't work on well, and ART is an aggressive technique. That plus how tight my quads were made for an unpleasant session. However the therapist was very good, and also very patient, and after working on me she had the head therapist watch my stride again and he was satisfied my legs were in a better place.

So far, no pain in my hamstring this morning...thanks ART.

Oh My God, the Water Is(n't the least bit) Cold

I heard a lot about the cold water at Ironman Arizone. To be fair, everything I heard about last year was undoubtedly true- I know people who did the race and it was cold- even the pros were wearing insulated caps on their head.

We got in early enough yesterday to get to the river and go swimming during the Gatorade swim. However, getting to the car rentals, and then even harder, getting a car seat for Ian, took too long. There's an automatic DQ for getting into the river outside the posted hours.



I got in this morning around 8:45 AM. I was pulling on my wetsuit and listening to a guy that was pulling a wool cap over his head and was wearing an Ironman Lake Placid sweatshirt talk about how cold the water was. I thought to myself that he must know what he's talking about, he's been to Placid. I went to put my Ironman Lake Placid finishers cap on and of course, it tore. Undetered, I wrapped it around my head, put my spare swimcap over it, and headed for the water.

It was not cold. It was not even remotely cold. It was not chilly. While it was not warm, it was at least as warm as the Yale pool. However, it is full of dirt, or something I'll pretend is dirt. Visibility is zero, and it has a weird toaster (taste+odor).



The ramp you may or may not be able to see in my Treo's pictures is a nice touch. I practiced climbing up it several times because after swimming 2.5 miles (I always like to do a little extra credit), I don't want to eat a ramp-face sandwich with a side of visit to the medical tent.

I was pretty psyched by the warm water. Then I had some ART. That deserves its own post.



By the way, here's a look at transition...

Aye, that's the rub !

The first major task after getting to the hotel, after detours to Brueggers and Starbucks for lunch, was to put my bike together. Despite TSA, a long flight, and getting shoved upside-down into our rental, the bike case came out in good shape.

It had been suggested that I try getting the bike in with the back wheel on. To do this, I had to take the front break pads off (it still didn't fit). My last two tasks involved reseating the headset, which is one of two or three tasks I can do, but would prefer not to do, and reseating the front breaks.

Despite the fact that my breaks were wide open, I was still rubbing on the wheel. I looked at them and decided they'd been placed too high. i lowered them. I spun the wheel and watched. No contact- and still a rubbing noise. Well, there are only two things a front wheel can rub against- the breaks, or the fork. I got down lower, spun the wheel, and sure enough, the tire on my Zipp wheel is not quite perfectly glued and has a bulge (?). Barely noticeable. Also barely rubbing, which means rubbing. At the top arc of the fork....

I played with the exact seating of the wheel, the way the skewers tightened, and managed to get it to stop, but...rubbing ? Aye, there's the rub, and it's on my fork. Just a little bit disquiting.

Weather update: wind-storm while I was riding. 40 mph gusts, dirt everywhere, and then light rain and noticably colder...

Last Run- Going Under

Day: Sunday
Length: 81 minutes
Temperature: 35 degree F
Wind: 15 mph
Precipitation: Flurries

Wow. I'm out on my last run yesterday and those are the conditions- as I am preparing to run in 80 degree heat, it's snowing. On Easter. Now I once saw a foot of snow on Easter, and that's not like that, but it is still a little crazy.

I ws testing out a new pair of Brooks I bought at Sound Runner. They are great shoes but they're mid-weight racing shoes, so on a cold day they are a little stiff. Still, once I get going I started to feel good, the music sounded great...

I've been listing to a lot of Evanescence and my favourite song is 'Going Under'. Now, for anyone who knows how I swim, which needs no description, this is part irony and part bad thinking on my part. This should not be my theme song by any stretch of the imagination. Or should it ? I am at once at risk of going under and not coming back up, and guilty of not getting far enough under water, so in a strange way, going under is exactly what I need to be doing more of.

I was running on the Hammerfest Course and right after the turn-around I passed a guy going the other direction- tall guy, running shorts, good stride. I was thinking how I was on my last training run, plunking along and I was going to be run down by some twenty-something out for a Sunday run. I have a little bit of an ego problem that way- I don't like to be passed, never have. But I have a strict rule about never looking back, at least when I race, although i do sometimes make exceptions when I'm training. I finally looked back around 4 minutes later and surprise- I'd gapped the guy in a major way.

It reminded me what I always forget during the off-season. Triathletes sure are a fast-looking bunch. Most of the men- and women- are taller, thinner, have cool bikes, cool kit, and at least look the part. Me, I'm short, kind of heavy for my size (5'4", 138). But speed isn't about how you look- and when you look at other athletes and think, wow, they look fast, you're just taking energy away from yourself and giving it to them. I can't change how look, or I've given up making anything more than a miminal effort, but I can think fast, I can go steady, and maybe, just maybe, have the race I want to have, me against the clock. I might even look up my IM PR just to have it in the back of my head...

Brian's Beachside Boogie, or How to be Second...

Last year Brian's was the only focus race I had before Lake Placid. I've done Brian's four or five years in a row. This year, however, it was an open question if I would race, with it being two weeks before IM Arizona.



Well, it was an open question in that Eric and I hadn't talked about it, and therefore the possibility existed he would say don't do it. I didn't even ask about the 5K run in the same park the day before, which I'd won due to sparse competition both years they'd held it.

It was a nice day for Brian's, which means it was about 50 degrees and sunny. the wind in Hammonassett Park is always present, and always in your face out to Meig's point.

Last year, I lost the race by eight seconds. For the fourth year in a row, I'd been first off the bike, but had nothing to show for it in the end as Mark Hixson outran me in the last two-mile run.



When we ran into each other before the race, I knew what my assignment was- try and put more time into him on the bike than last year, and have a better second run, while not spending too much energy in my first serious race since November.

We went out on the first run and he got away from me but good. He put :51 into me because the guy is a great runner. Still, I wasn't worried. it's a 10 mile bike and I felt I could get over a minute a loop. Which I did. Problem- both of us were behind another great all-around athlete, Peter Daly.

Peter had only put 30 seconds into me on the run. He never came back on the bike. I only saw him a few times because the course is twisty, turny, and woody at times. I saw him once on the run and thought- I can't catch him. I ran as hard as I could, but it wasn't close. I gave up 38 seconds to Peter on the first run and 38 more on the bike and second run, and I came into the finish three seconds off last year's time but much farther back in second.

The race raises money for The Myelin Project, so if you are feeling generous please give the site a visit. Brian's gets its name from a boy who has a de-myelinizing disease named Brian, who is always at the race, cheering us on.

It was still a good start to what is going to be an early season.

Spring, Sprang, Sprung

I rode outside today for 4 hours- I took half a day from work because I knew that I wouldn't be able to get a long ride in on Sunday- it's supposed to snow Saturday night.

Because the bike spends most of its time on a trainer, it's kind of a production getting it ready for the outdoors. I have to swap out wheels, do a quick lube, wash my hands- because my bike is so perpetually dirty I can't touch the wheels without getting my hands covered with grease. I checked the weather's hour by hour forecast and from 2-6 it was 10% chance of rain. I found that a little odd, as the sky was that angry shade of grey you usually only see when it rains or snows, but I thought, what do I know.

It took about ten minutes to get the Zipps out of their bags, get them on, check their inflation. I walked out into my garage, opened the door- and of course, it was raining. I walked back into the basement, switched the back wheel and put my Elite on the trainer, but I sort of hesitated.

It was 50 degrees- so a slight drizzle was not going to be a big deal. I was kind of worried about getting caught out in a soaking rain, though. But I'd been toying with the idea of doing 3 80 minute loops to get used to the idea of a three loop race. That gave me an easy bail-out if the rain came down. I shoved my cliff shot blocks back in my jersey aong with my cell phone, and headed out. The start of the ride is a nice, long, shallow climb that you can get warmed up and although you are climbing, you're moving. On a cold day you usually get a false optimism- you're warm because you're climbing, because you've just left the house...

The rain never was an issue. The snow pack melt puddled in a variety of places, and riding through those meant wet feet and wet shorts. That would be more of an issue.

I climbed up out of Branford- there are several more stair-step climbs through Stony Creek and was feeling good. Then I got near the Sound, or at least the marshes, and of course, the temperature dropped. My feet got cold and stayed cold- I can still feel it now- only now it's like a warm spot where my cleats sit on my shoes...

It was at the end of the first loop that I started debating whether I would do two loops or three. I had on these awesome lightweight Specialized gloves that keep my hands comfortable- neither warm nor cold, but with my shoes it's a catch-22. The shoes fit just right. The heavy socks that would have kept my feet warm make the shoes too tight and cut the circulation off in my feet. I had on a normal pair of socks and my feet were cold.

About halfway through loop #2 I decided I would hit the trainer after 2 loops and 2:40 minutes outside. I'm getting ready for a warm-weather race- my coach is holding a camp in Arizona right now and it's 90- I want to sweat, not suffer, and it will be a better workout. I was having a good ride, my usual pace, but...

When I hit the turn-around, I headed back out anyway. There's telling yourself you are going to take the easy way out, and then there is what you actually do. At first, it seemed warmer, the sun was more fully out- and then I hit Stony Creek, and of course, it was even colder. My first loop it had been 50. The second loop it was 45. When I finished, it was 40, too cold for just bike shorts, although when your feet are cold you don't notice much else.

Every endurance athlete in a cold-weather place has days like these, and as always, the rewards are often in doing the things you don't want to do but do anyway. Nothing novel or new here, but still worth noting.