I went out for my last long- 4 hour- ride and run yesterday. I really wanted to get the run nailed down and watch what I was doing. Maybe because it was going on during I workout, I was thinking about Ironman Florida and how the 10:00 mark got away from me in the back half of the run.
Or rather, I was wondering if it had gotten away from me in the front half or the back half.
I had a good ride. I started out with Steve and two other people but at 90 minutes I headed out on Route 1, settled into my aerobars and really opened it up. I had a great ride, came back and stripped off my cold-weather gear and headed right out on my run. I wanted to test a theory.
I wasn't going to take any food with me, just gatorade. I wanted to eliminate a quick burst from a Clif Shot affecting how I felt- I wanted to see if I started to fade at around 15 minutes (what should be 2 miles).
My theory was that what was hurting me- what had hurt me in Firmman and my last kong brick and even in Florida last year- wasn't the back half of my run, but the front half.
It goes like. I get off the bike, get my gear on (I used a three minute transition yesterday to mirror what happens in the race), and start running at what I feel like is a good pace for me. Which is really how fast I feel like I can run running, not really how fast I should be running. That's because I do the vast majority of my running faster than I'm ever going to average in the Ironman, and I start out the Ironnman running at a pace that feels good.
It's no different than the way 5:30 feels fine for the first mile of a 5K, and then starts to feel like crap.
So I was interested in the 10-15 minute range. I was running well when I started and then sure enough, at around 12-13 minutes I started to fade a little bit. I dropped my pace by about 15 seconds a mile and lo and behold, the fade faded. That was it. The inevitable trough was not inevitable at all.
A little bit later I looked at my results from Florida last year. I started out running at a 7:10 pace for about the first 6 miles of the run. I finished the last 6 miles at an 8:23 pace. Now 8:23 pace isn't horrible, but who knows. If I'd started out at 7:50 pace, I might have come home at 7:50 pace.
Can I translate to Arizona in two weeks ?
Who knows...
Showing posts with label ironman florida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ironman florida. Show all posts
Sunday, November 08, 2009
Saturday, November 07, 2009
Getting Cold ? Not Really
While I was not looking forward to today's four hour ride- starting at 9:00AM, wearing booties (first time), gloves (first time), a jacket (first time)- it turned out to be a beautiful day to ride.
I don't like getting bundled up to ride. I'd rather jump on the trainer and climb Mt. lemon virtual with the heater blowing on me just to simulate the heat that's likely to be the issue in Arizona. And it's a bona fide pain in the ass to fish your nutrition out of that deep well jacket pocket.
You just tend to feel (or you get it in your head) that you can't ride fast, or hard or whatever.
And that's just bull. Maybe it was just having my bike back, with a working drivetrain and race wheels, maybe it was having watched the swim start of Ironman Florida, but I had a really good, solid ride today in blazing sunlight, beautiful blue skies with just a hint of clouds.
The leaves are down now and you get to see the countryside in a way you haven't seen it in a year- the air is crisp and fresh.
It was just an awesome day. And too cold ? No, not today.
Today was just a great day to be on a bike, and I was lucky enough to be out there for one more long ride.
I don't like getting bundled up to ride. I'd rather jump on the trainer and climb Mt. lemon virtual with the heater blowing on me just to simulate the heat that's likely to be the issue in Arizona. And it's a bona fide pain in the ass to fish your nutrition out of that deep well jacket pocket.
You just tend to feel (or you get it in your head) that you can't ride fast, or hard or whatever.
And that's just bull. Maybe it was just having my bike back, with a working drivetrain and race wheels, maybe it was having watched the swim start of Ironman Florida, but I had a really good, solid ride today in blazing sunlight, beautiful blue skies with just a hint of clouds.
The leaves are down now and you get to see the countryside in a way you haven't seen it in a year- the air is crisp and fresh.
It was just an awesome day. And too cold ? No, not today.
Today was just a great day to be on a bike, and I was lucky enough to be out there for one more long ride.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Elite Bicycles- Buy a Bike from these guys
I got a call on the Wednesday after Ironman Florida.
"Hi, this is Dave Greenfield from Elite Bicycles."
I was surprised. I like Dave, and Dave likes me, but we don't have phone chats.
He said "I have good news and bad news." I asked for the bad news first and Dave delivered it in an even-handed way. "Your frame is cracked."
Wow. That's like, your bike is broken and you'll need another one. My aluminum frame, cracked, on the top tube where the brake cable feed is. I very much doubt it's the design- it's probably the dumb ass way I flex the bike when I'm climbing. And the bike is over 3 years old.
So I asked what the good news was and Dave delivered that just as quickly. "You're getting a new bike." That's probably obvious. However, what Dave meant was that he was replacing the frame. For free.
That's Elite's policy. Your frame is cracked, there's no discussion about how it happened, whose fault it is or anything else.
I decided to trade up from my T-Class to a Razor for a nice discount.
Dave and I talked about the crack, which was not immediately dangerous- he hadn't wanted me to get all freaked out during the race about it. While I would not have trusted the frame for the Lake Placid race (and it wasn't cracked then), it will probably hold another 2-3 months if I need it to.
Dave and Elite do not produce thousands of bikes a year, where he can just pull one out of the warehouse and write the loss off against damaged inventory. He's going to have to custom order the frame, get it painted- to my specs- and spend half a day fitting me and listening to me jabber. As always, I'm impressed. Dave, for his part, just says 'your family'. And when it says it, it sure makes you feel good.
"Hi, this is Dave Greenfield from Elite Bicycles."
I was surprised. I like Dave, and Dave likes me, but we don't have phone chats.
He said "I have good news and bad news." I asked for the bad news first and Dave delivered it in an even-handed way. "Your frame is cracked."
Wow. That's like, your bike is broken and you'll need another one. My aluminum frame, cracked, on the top tube where the brake cable feed is. I very much doubt it's the design- it's probably the dumb ass way I flex the bike when I'm climbing. And the bike is over 3 years old.
So I asked what the good news was and Dave delivered that just as quickly. "You're getting a new bike." That's probably obvious. However, what Dave meant was that he was replacing the frame. For free.
That's Elite's policy. Your frame is cracked, there's no discussion about how it happened, whose fault it is or anything else.
I decided to trade up from my T-Class to a Razor for a nice discount.
Dave and I talked about the crack, which was not immediately dangerous- he hadn't wanted me to get all freaked out during the race about it. While I would not have trusted the frame for the Lake Placid race (and it wasn't cracked then), it will probably hold another 2-3 months if I need it to.
Dave and Elite do not produce thousands of bikes a year, where he can just pull one out of the warehouse and write the loss off against damaged inventory. He's going to have to custom order the frame, get it painted- to my specs- and spend half a day fitting me and listening to me jabber. As always, I'm impressed. Dave, for his part, just says 'your family'. And when it says it, it sure makes you feel good.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Ironman Florida, Final Thoughts
So it's ten days or so later, I've written the race report, been home long enough to get used to the spreading fall cold, raked up about 50K leaves (yes, literally, and no I'm not sharing the math).
So what do I think ?
First I want to give props to the guy that was the real hero of the day, Force 5 Sports' Michael D'Addetta. Michael suffered a broken toe in the wetsuit stripping area, suffered an unrepairable flat about sixty miles into the bike and walked half an hour- in bike shoes with that bad toe- got a wheel, finished the bike, and went out and ran the marathon- ran it.
I thought Steve Surprise also put in an epic effort- two ironman races in eight weeks. Wow !
So how do I feel- ambivalently psyched ?
On one hand, this was a 17 minute PR, beating a four year old PR set at the same race. So I've gotten older and faster. Mostly older. At the same time, I was more than eight minutes over my 9:59:59 goal.
On one hand, I was hunched over on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with a fit of Outo-geri exactly one week before the race and spent twenty-four hours dehydrated and semi-conscious. On the other hand, I'd completely recovered at least 48 hours before the race.
On one hand, the drafting burned me. I don't think I'm a great triathlete, but did thirty-four guys in my age group beat me cleanly ? I'm going to say no. On the other hand, I'm racing the clock, and I raced it clean and put an hurt on it.
On one hand, I lost my temper on the bike and chirped and bitched at my opponents, letting them get in my head. On the other hand, I overcame it.
On one hand, I had a slow marathon at 3:30. on the other hand, most of the people out there would have been happy with the time.
Overall, I had a good race and a great time down there and I want to go back in 2010. More importantly I finally exercised the demons of Ironman Arizona 2007, and am ready to go there next year.
I'm going to take this one, both the emotion in that finish line photo, largely frustration at myself, and the rest of it- which is positive, happy thoughts about how I am making progress as a triathlete, and getting faster- I was faster than my previous PR in the swim, the bike, the run, and both transitions. That's a step in the right direction.
I want to stop taking steps and get there. That's for next year, for Arizona 2009. This one, this was a keeper.
So what do I think ?
First I want to give props to the guy that was the real hero of the day, Force 5 Sports' Michael D'Addetta. Michael suffered a broken toe in the wetsuit stripping area, suffered an unrepairable flat about sixty miles into the bike and walked half an hour- in bike shoes with that bad toe- got a wheel, finished the bike, and went out and ran the marathon- ran it.
I thought Steve Surprise also put in an epic effort- two ironman races in eight weeks. Wow !
So how do I feel- ambivalently psyched ?
On one hand, this was a 17 minute PR, beating a four year old PR set at the same race. So I've gotten older and faster. Mostly older. At the same time, I was more than eight minutes over my 9:59:59 goal.
On one hand, I was hunched over on the cold tile of the bathroom floor with a fit of Outo-geri exactly one week before the race and spent twenty-four hours dehydrated and semi-conscious. On the other hand, I'd completely recovered at least 48 hours before the race.
On one hand, the drafting burned me. I don't think I'm a great triathlete, but did thirty-four guys in my age group beat me cleanly ? I'm going to say no. On the other hand, I'm racing the clock, and I raced it clean and put an hurt on it.
On one hand, I lost my temper on the bike and chirped and bitched at my opponents, letting them get in my head. On the other hand, I overcame it.
On one hand, I had a slow marathon at 3:30. on the other hand, most of the people out there would have been happy with the time.
Overall, I had a good race and a great time down there and I want to go back in 2010. More importantly I finally exercised the demons of Ironman Arizona 2007, and am ready to go there next year.
I'm going to take this one, both the emotion in that finish line photo, largely frustration at myself, and the rest of it- which is positive, happy thoughts about how I am making progress as a triathlete, and getting faster- I was faster than my previous PR in the swim, the bike, the run, and both transitions. That's a step in the right direction.
I want to stop taking steps and get there. That's for next year, for Arizona 2009. This one, this was a keeper.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Photos from Ironman Florida
Note: the guy in blue drafting me on the bike is also the guy in the all-red singlet I've passed on the run- Jean Deloddere.
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Ironman Florida- Run Part 2
The worst miles of the whole race were 13 and 14.
As an ironman, I'm still learning- confidence in myself, pacing, and just simple strategic grounding.
I was gastronomically challenged, just slightly, but the stomach was not happy. As I ran back out on the second loop, having struggled in my last two ironman runs in Arizona and Lake Placid, I was worried. And the pressure was mounting. I was still moving up, but now there so many people because first loopers were mixed in with the second loop runners.
I guess Margit thought I looked kind of 'leaning' to the right. I'm not sure. I'm not leaning in any of the pictures and I don't think I was running like Lee Majors (yeah, I'm that old, folks).
But then something happened. I know my second loop was slow, and - well, it was slower than the first- but I settled down and kept the keel of the ship pointed forward and refused to trim the engines (much). I continued to work as hard as I felt I could as I crossed the road and went by the trio of Obama signs for the second to the last time. I took sponges at every station and poured them on my head (as I had done on the first loop). I continued taking small amounts of water. At mile 14 I poured ice into my cycling jersey pockets. When I took my next Clif Shot, it was almost solid from being cooled.
I was struggling a little bit as I wound through the neighbourhood, but at the same time, I was in the back half of the marathon and I was still running. Margit, Ian, and Steve had made a sign for me that Ian had-'Go, Daddy' and then, 'no more walking.'
There would be no walking. My left calf was really sore because the hamstring was so tender, but at the same time, as long as I didn't make any weird changes in direction, I knew I'd be fine.
I'd had two miles or so on Steve on the first loop and I saw him again as I was headed out. I noticed the twins I'd seen on the first loop were now gapped. There was a lot more traffic- runners- this time- they seemed to be everywhere, because by now all two thousand of us were out on the course. I kept taking sponges at every stop. At mile fifteen I finally started taking coca cola, just a mouthful. It's best when it's hot and carbonated, and it was at some of the stops.
I went across the road, ran to the aid station, took more cola. My calf nearly cramped, but I was able to ignore it. Turned onto the sidewalk and I wanted so desperately to get in the park so I could get to the turn around. I was still taking electrolytes, but I was almost out and at the first aid station inside the park I had half of what remained. There was no real wind now, the sun was still well up in the sky and I knew that I was finishing in the daylight. I was also still passing people, although I did get passed twice on the way in.
I babied the turn-around and the calf thanked me. Then I took my last Clif Shot, went over the encouragement mat, and this time I saw the message.
Not long after that I almost got hit by a boat.
No, I was not having an hallucination about the swim. The park is a national park (or state park). There are side roads off the main one we run on and as I went by one side ride, a car pulled out right in front of me and then a pick-up truck turned in right behind me. I was inside the truck, that is, on its left, and it was pressuring me farther inside thanks to the big ass rear-view mirror.
I looked over my shoulder as the truck started to pull away and saw a boat trailer's leading sidebar inches from my right leg. I speeded up and yelled at the driver. 'I shouldn't have to speed up to avoid being hit by your boat. Back off.'
The truck backed off, but my IM marathon was almost ended by a boat. That would have been a story.
Out of the park, I knew two things now- PR yes, sub-ten, almost no chance.
I ran as fast as I could. At one point just out of the park my stomach turned over ominously, but I was able to fight that off and then I was back across the road, in the neighbourhood, running. The one second before the right hand turn seems kind of downhill. Then, as I took the next left-hand turn and was in that final section of neighbourhood I was passed by a woman. Normally I'd have fought it, but at the left-hand turn I'd almost lost my calf in a major way. I kept it steady.
Then I was across the road, up the little hill and headed back towards the Sunset Inn. I took cola at the last aid station, and when I got to mile 25, I opened up my stride again.
The last turn, back onto the main road, my calf twinged so badly that I was ecstatic there were no more turns. I started revving the engine, picking up speed as I went by Alvin's Island. I was passing people, but they were still on their first loop. I just kept picking up more speed, people were cheering and saying look at that-
And then some guy who I outran in the marathon by over eight minutes, some guy in my age group, blew by me with two hundred and fifty yards left. That sucked. At least he put enough distance on me to be well out of my picture when I finished and they had time to put up the finisher's line again. I saw Margit and Ian as I ran in, going hard.
I broke the tape at 10:08:36, which was a PR by a little less than 17 minutes (on the same course). My hamstrings (what was making my calves hurt) were so shot I let two people who were there hold me up. Unfortunately they were both over 5'9", so I had to stretch up to let them support me. Within thirty seconds I was ready for my finisher's photo, and gladly took a Guinness from my wife.
So, was this a good race ? Good question...
As an ironman, I'm still learning- confidence in myself, pacing, and just simple strategic grounding.
I was gastronomically challenged, just slightly, but the stomach was not happy. As I ran back out on the second loop, having struggled in my last two ironman runs in Arizona and Lake Placid, I was worried. And the pressure was mounting. I was still moving up, but now there so many people because first loopers were mixed in with the second loop runners.
I guess Margit thought I looked kind of 'leaning' to the right. I'm not sure. I'm not leaning in any of the pictures and I don't think I was running like Lee Majors (yeah, I'm that old, folks).
But then something happened. I know my second loop was slow, and - well, it was slower than the first- but I settled down and kept the keel of the ship pointed forward and refused to trim the engines (much). I continued to work as hard as I felt I could as I crossed the road and went by the trio of Obama signs for the second to the last time. I took sponges at every station and poured them on my head (as I had done on the first loop). I continued taking small amounts of water. At mile 14 I poured ice into my cycling jersey pockets. When I took my next Clif Shot, it was almost solid from being cooled.
I was struggling a little bit as I wound through the neighbourhood, but at the same time, I was in the back half of the marathon and I was still running. Margit, Ian, and Steve had made a sign for me that Ian had-'Go, Daddy' and then, 'no more walking.'
There would be no walking. My left calf was really sore because the hamstring was so tender, but at the same time, as long as I didn't make any weird changes in direction, I knew I'd be fine.
I'd had two miles or so on Steve on the first loop and I saw him again as I was headed out. I noticed the twins I'd seen on the first loop were now gapped. There was a lot more traffic- runners- this time- they seemed to be everywhere, because by now all two thousand of us were out on the course. I kept taking sponges at every stop. At mile fifteen I finally started taking coca cola, just a mouthful. It's best when it's hot and carbonated, and it was at some of the stops.
I went across the road, ran to the aid station, took more cola. My calf nearly cramped, but I was able to ignore it. Turned onto the sidewalk and I wanted so desperately to get in the park so I could get to the turn around. I was still taking electrolytes, but I was almost out and at the first aid station inside the park I had half of what remained. There was no real wind now, the sun was still well up in the sky and I knew that I was finishing in the daylight. I was also still passing people, although I did get passed twice on the way in.
I babied the turn-around and the calf thanked me. Then I took my last Clif Shot, went over the encouragement mat, and this time I saw the message.
Not long after that I almost got hit by a boat.
No, I was not having an hallucination about the swim. The park is a national park (or state park). There are side roads off the main one we run on and as I went by one side ride, a car pulled out right in front of me and then a pick-up truck turned in right behind me. I was inside the truck, that is, on its left, and it was pressuring me farther inside thanks to the big ass rear-view mirror.
I looked over my shoulder as the truck started to pull away and saw a boat trailer's leading sidebar inches from my right leg. I speeded up and yelled at the driver. 'I shouldn't have to speed up to avoid being hit by your boat. Back off.'
The truck backed off, but my IM marathon was almost ended by a boat. That would have been a story.
Out of the park, I knew two things now- PR yes, sub-ten, almost no chance.
I ran as fast as I could. At one point just out of the park my stomach turned over ominously, but I was able to fight that off and then I was back across the road, in the neighbourhood, running. The one second before the right hand turn seems kind of downhill. Then, as I took the next left-hand turn and was in that final section of neighbourhood I was passed by a woman. Normally I'd have fought it, but at the left-hand turn I'd almost lost my calf in a major way. I kept it steady.
Then I was across the road, up the little hill and headed back towards the Sunset Inn. I took cola at the last aid station, and when I got to mile 25, I opened up my stride again.
The last turn, back onto the main road, my calf twinged so badly that I was ecstatic there were no more turns. I started revving the engine, picking up speed as I went by Alvin's Island. I was passing people, but they were still on their first loop. I just kept picking up more speed, people were cheering and saying look at that-
And then some guy who I outran in the marathon by over eight minutes, some guy in my age group, blew by me with two hundred and fifty yards left. That sucked. At least he put enough distance on me to be well out of my picture when I finished and they had time to put up the finisher's line again. I saw Margit and Ian as I ran in, going hard.
I broke the tape at 10:08:36, which was a PR by a little less than 17 minutes (on the same course). My hamstrings (what was making my calves hurt) were so shot I let two people who were there hold me up. Unfortunately they were both over 5'9", so I had to stretch up to let them support me. Within thirty seconds I was ready for my finisher's photo, and gladly took a Guinness from my wife.
So, was this a good race ? Good question...
Friday, November 07, 2008
Ironman Florida- T2 and Run Part 1
I went straight from my bike to a porta-potty. There's nothing like the Ironman- here's my bike, thanks- the volunteers are great.
I snatched up my bag and immediately started to ask about sunscreen. After Arizona, I was determined not to meltdown. I got the direction that I could get it on the way out of the tent and this time I did go in the tent.
The bike/run transition is not nearly as chaotic as the swim/bike- people are not soaking wet and throwing around wetsuits and there are far fewer people in the tent. I got in a quick change of footwear and decided against trading my bike jersey for a singlet. I wanted to advertise Elite, but I didn't have the time. I got my sunscreen (even my legs) on the way out, and then was told to switch my number to the front. This 'rule' clearly services ASI, but that's okay, although having the number on the front is a little annoying.
I wanted to moderate my effort as much as possible. I looked at my watch, which I'd started at the beginning of the bike and I was at 5:20:20. I started running, and running well. I thought I was at about 6:44 on the clock, which meant no chance of breaking 10:00. If the clock was still set to pro time, I had an outside shot, but either way, I thought PR was probably more likely.
Too well. At one mile, I was running 6:50 pace. I went by the Elite tent, Margit and Ian. Everyone was great, encouraging me, tell me I was doing well. Ian was half-nodding off, but he's three, so he's excused for that.
I ran up past the Sunset Inn, where we've stayed several times. I have an intimate knowledge of the run course- I've been down there five or maybe six times now and run the course as many as four times in a visit. It's so different on race day, so alive. I took sponges at the aid station and some water to wash down the Cliff Shot, then focused on trying to moderate my pace. I went up the little hill across the main road and at two miles I was at fourteen minutes.
Still too fast.
I continued through the neighbourhoods where we'd trick or treated less than twenty-four hours ago and my times were still seemingly too fast- I'd be at 7:10 per mile after 6 miles.
At four miles I had another Cliff Shot but my stomach wasn't quite so happy anymore and I needed a full mile to have it settle back. I took the last of my race caps and some endurolytes after crossing the main road the second time. I was passing people, still feeling pretty good. I desperately wanted to get in the park and out to the turn around, which I did. The sun was really high in the sky thanks to daylight savings time being that night and not a week earlier. There was some car traffic in the park, but nothing too bad going out.
I ran over the mat, careful at the cones. My left calf was already a little crampy. I went over the athlete encouragement mat, but the message from Ian and Margit didn't come up before I passed the huge LED.
I was back out of the park before I knew it and headed along the sidewalk. i hate that part f the run because we're all on top of each other and was glad to get off it and run by Schooners. For those of you that haven't done the race in a few years, you end up back on the main road for a short ways because they stuck a high-rise and parking garage on what used to be the course and the road doesn't go through like it used to.
Then it was back across the road and into the neighbourhoods again. I had seen Steve and Kramer around the park- then I saw Michael and Mandy in the neighbourhood, I think. I was still running pretty well, but as I got to around 11 miles, I saw Sue. She said 'alan, you're looking great !' and then a few seconds followed this up with 'are you all right ?'
It's never good to be asked if you're all right halfway through the IM marathon, but hell, it was a legitimate question. I'd taken more Clif Shot at 8 miles and at 11 was still waiting for my stomach to settle so I could take one at 12.
I went across the road and ran back along the next stretch. I saw the Elite guys again at around 12 miles and I was still running well, but hurting. Still, it was a psyche to run through there, get back on the main road and head towards the turn around, watching people go out, many of them on their first loops. I headed down past where I was staying, past Alvin's Island, and towards the arch, cruelly knowing I'd been headed out again at a point where the winner was already done, judging by the women pros I'd seen headed back on their loops while I was headed out, now an hour ago.
I hit the turn around, listening to the announcement of someone finishing, and headed back out.
I was hurting- but still confident. I thought a PR might just be in the works....
I snatched up my bag and immediately started to ask about sunscreen. After Arizona, I was determined not to meltdown. I got the direction that I could get it on the way out of the tent and this time I did go in the tent.
The bike/run transition is not nearly as chaotic as the swim/bike- people are not soaking wet and throwing around wetsuits and there are far fewer people in the tent. I got in a quick change of footwear and decided against trading my bike jersey for a singlet. I wanted to advertise Elite, but I didn't have the time. I got my sunscreen (even my legs) on the way out, and then was told to switch my number to the front. This 'rule' clearly services ASI, but that's okay, although having the number on the front is a little annoying.
I wanted to moderate my effort as much as possible. I looked at my watch, which I'd started at the beginning of the bike and I was at 5:20:20. I started running, and running well. I thought I was at about 6:44 on the clock, which meant no chance of breaking 10:00. If the clock was still set to pro time, I had an outside shot, but either way, I thought PR was probably more likely.
Too well. At one mile, I was running 6:50 pace. I went by the Elite tent, Margit and Ian. Everyone was great, encouraging me, tell me I was doing well. Ian was half-nodding off, but he's three, so he's excused for that.
I ran up past the Sunset Inn, where we've stayed several times. I have an intimate knowledge of the run course- I've been down there five or maybe six times now and run the course as many as four times in a visit. It's so different on race day, so alive. I took sponges at the aid station and some water to wash down the Cliff Shot, then focused on trying to moderate my pace. I went up the little hill across the main road and at two miles I was at fourteen minutes.
Still too fast.
I continued through the neighbourhoods where we'd trick or treated less than twenty-four hours ago and my times were still seemingly too fast- I'd be at 7:10 per mile after 6 miles.
At four miles I had another Cliff Shot but my stomach wasn't quite so happy anymore and I needed a full mile to have it settle back. I took the last of my race caps and some endurolytes after crossing the main road the second time. I was passing people, still feeling pretty good. I desperately wanted to get in the park and out to the turn around, which I did. The sun was really high in the sky thanks to daylight savings time being that night and not a week earlier. There was some car traffic in the park, but nothing too bad going out.
I ran over the mat, careful at the cones. My left calf was already a little crampy. I went over the athlete encouragement mat, but the message from Ian and Margit didn't come up before I passed the huge LED.
I was back out of the park before I knew it and headed along the sidewalk. i hate that part f the run because we're all on top of each other and was glad to get off it and run by Schooners. For those of you that haven't done the race in a few years, you end up back on the main road for a short ways because they stuck a high-rise and parking garage on what used to be the course and the road doesn't go through like it used to.
Then it was back across the road and into the neighbourhoods again. I had seen Steve and Kramer around the park- then I saw Michael and Mandy in the neighbourhood, I think. I was still running pretty well, but as I got to around 11 miles, I saw Sue. She said 'alan, you're looking great !' and then a few seconds followed this up with 'are you all right ?'
It's never good to be asked if you're all right halfway through the IM marathon, but hell, it was a legitimate question. I'd taken more Clif Shot at 8 miles and at 11 was still waiting for my stomach to settle so I could take one at 12.
I went across the road and ran back along the next stretch. I saw the Elite guys again at around 12 miles and I was still running well, but hurting. Still, it was a psyche to run through there, get back on the main road and head towards the turn around, watching people go out, many of them on their first loops. I headed down past where I was staying, past Alvin's Island, and towards the arch, cruelly knowing I'd been headed out again at a point where the winner was already done, judging by the women pros I'd seen headed back on their loops while I was headed out, now an hour ago.
I hit the turn around, listening to the announcement of someone finishing, and headed back out.
I was hurting- but still confident. I thought a PR might just be in the works....
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Ironman Florida Bike, Part II
I really hated writing the last blog post.
There's a part of me that feels like you just have to suck the drafting up and should be able to overcome it. Of course, the reason the rules are there for the merely human is that you absolutely cannot overcome a thirty-man (person) pack. They will beat you. The math is inexorable.
I also don't want anyone reading this to think that overall, I didn't enjoy the race. I did. If my friends or my wife had been willing to go back I would certainly have signed up for next year.
The last two runs I took at the packs were on a stepping stone series of hills (yes, there are hills in the race), which was an easy attack for me, and at the special needs, which is in the first half of the race. I had determined not to use special needs because it requires a full stop in this race and that's right out, and because it's on a hill. I was amazed to see many of the serial drafters stopping at the special needs bags, so I rode the hill hard, made the turn as another athlete I went by said he was looking forward to the tailwind.
It was there. You turn, you come off the climb onto a steady slight downhill and the wind is at your back. I jacked it up, got going, and urinated at 20+ mph, which is definitely the way to go.
That stretch goes on for a while and I started slowly losing ground on the guys in front of me, some of who were working in twos and threes. I just wanted after a while to get into what we call 'the neighbourhood.'
Before you get there, you pass the halfway point, and I did at about 2:37 or 2:38. My stomach was already a little skitchy. I decided to expand the next feeding point from 30-45 minutes and take water at the next stop, but I kept with the gatorade, took some race caps, and worked on spinning. My left hamstring was very sore, which I had expected. I'd gotten a massage a week before the race and was told that was 'very tight.' It just plain ached, but I was still able to stay aero and keep my knees into the top tube (thanks, Coach Troy).
The neighbourhood, as some of my Force 5 teammates and I call it, is not exactly a neighbourhood, given that a double yellow line runs down the middle. The road in this area- 60-70 miles, sucks. I mean, it sucks. there's a crease in the road every 20 yards, some of the creases have angular potholes- our friend Michael flatted in here- and kudos to him for walking 20 minutes after his repairs didn't take.
I was dying to get out of this rumblestrip of a road, and did, only to find myself on a slight incline and teeth into the wind.
There's a point in every Ironman, in the back half of the ride, where you are riding hard into the wind and you start to feel like, well, like shit. You either feel sorry for yourself, or you remind yourself the bike course will change direction a bunch more times. I went with that.
I got onto the out and back and there was a lot of jockeying. I was going back and forth with a group of five guys. They would pass me, string out, I would pick them off in ones and twos and then they would come at me in a group again. Talk about self-defeating.
But I was riding well. I finished off the out and back and before I knew it I was at the bridge. Once there, I saw Ian and Margit as I climbed the bridge. I got some separation from some people and ratcheted it up a notch on the way back. I did try to pee for the fifth time briefly, but decided to get as much time shaved off the bike split and hit a porta-potty in transition.
When we turned back towards PCB, the wind was in our face again, and people started to come back to me and I took every advantage to pass people on the way in. The ride back in only seems to take forever, and slightly longer when it's windy. I know that stretch of road better than any part of the bike course as it's how we drive in to PCB at the beginning of the trip and back out at the end.
I came in under 5:20 and felt good about my ride. Unlike last time I did the race, I was able to walk when I got off the bike. I'd ridden 112 miles, done it clean, and I was ready to run. Really ready.
Except I had to pee...
There's a part of me that feels like you just have to suck the drafting up and should be able to overcome it. Of course, the reason the rules are there for the merely human is that you absolutely cannot overcome a thirty-man (person) pack. They will beat you. The math is inexorable.
I also don't want anyone reading this to think that overall, I didn't enjoy the race. I did. If my friends or my wife had been willing to go back I would certainly have signed up for next year.
The last two runs I took at the packs were on a stepping stone series of hills (yes, there are hills in the race), which was an easy attack for me, and at the special needs, which is in the first half of the race. I had determined not to use special needs because it requires a full stop in this race and that's right out, and because it's on a hill. I was amazed to see many of the serial drafters stopping at the special needs bags, so I rode the hill hard, made the turn as another athlete I went by said he was looking forward to the tailwind.
It was there. You turn, you come off the climb onto a steady slight downhill and the wind is at your back. I jacked it up, got going, and urinated at 20+ mph, which is definitely the way to go.
That stretch goes on for a while and I started slowly losing ground on the guys in front of me, some of who were working in twos and threes. I just wanted after a while to get into what we call 'the neighbourhood.'
Before you get there, you pass the halfway point, and I did at about 2:37 or 2:38. My stomach was already a little skitchy. I decided to expand the next feeding point from 30-45 minutes and take water at the next stop, but I kept with the gatorade, took some race caps, and worked on spinning. My left hamstring was very sore, which I had expected. I'd gotten a massage a week before the race and was told that was 'very tight.' It just plain ached, but I was still able to stay aero and keep my knees into the top tube (thanks, Coach Troy).
The neighbourhood, as some of my Force 5 teammates and I call it, is not exactly a neighbourhood, given that a double yellow line runs down the middle. The road in this area- 60-70 miles, sucks. I mean, it sucks. there's a crease in the road every 20 yards, some of the creases have angular potholes- our friend Michael flatted in here- and kudos to him for walking 20 minutes after his repairs didn't take.
I was dying to get out of this rumblestrip of a road, and did, only to find myself on a slight incline and teeth into the wind.
There's a point in every Ironman, in the back half of the ride, where you are riding hard into the wind and you start to feel like, well, like shit. You either feel sorry for yourself, or you remind yourself the bike course will change direction a bunch more times. I went with that.
I got onto the out and back and there was a lot of jockeying. I was going back and forth with a group of five guys. They would pass me, string out, I would pick them off in ones and twos and then they would come at me in a group again. Talk about self-defeating.
But I was riding well. I finished off the out and back and before I knew it I was at the bridge. Once there, I saw Ian and Margit as I climbed the bridge. I got some separation from some people and ratcheted it up a notch on the way back. I did try to pee for the fifth time briefly, but decided to get as much time shaved off the bike split and hit a porta-potty in transition.
When we turned back towards PCB, the wind was in our face again, and people started to come back to me and I took every advantage to pass people on the way in. The ride back in only seems to take forever, and slightly longer when it's windy. I know that stretch of road better than any part of the bike course as it's how we drive in to PCB at the beginning of the trip and back out at the end.
I came in under 5:20 and felt good about my ride. Unlike last time I did the race, I was able to walk when I got off the bike. I'd ridden 112 miles, done it clean, and I was ready to run. Really ready.
Except I had to pee...
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Ironman Florida- Transition and Bike Part I
I ran up the walkway to transition. Unlike Lake Placid, where your bags hang on hooks, in Florida the bags are on the ground, ordered by number. There is a changing tent.
My bags were at the far end of the last row for the men, so when I grabbed my bag, I saw there was another person changing behind the tent- and there were volunteers there catching wetsuits. So I changed behind the tent. There's no way to overstate what a timesaver this was. The tents are generally a madhouse, at least when you finish the swim in the middle of the pack. I was able to get shoes and gloves on, stuff nutrition in my bike jersey, get my number on, grab my bike and be out of transition in about 4 minutes.
That said, I'm hard-pressed to know where to start on the bike. I don't want to be a whiner. I don't want to bitch. I knew there would be drafting out on the course, and I knew it would affect where I finished. I spoke to my coach the day before the race and he specifically told me I should avoid surging to fight the packs. At the end of the day, what happened to me happened because I rode 22 mph instead of 24 mph. I had a good bike, despite the fact that I was absolutely buried overall- 330+, compared to twice ranking in what- the top 120 ?- at Lake Placid. But if I had buried the course ?
I'd have really run like crap. After all, the bike isn't about the bike- no one gets a medal for riding 112 miles- you get that medal for getting off the bike and running a marathon....
I picked up my first drafter shortly after I started riding. I ran my bike out past the mat, past where the other athletes were mounting, and then hopped on the bike while it was moving. By the time I had clipped in I was already pulling away from the other cyclists, but I quickly developed a shadow. This shadow, which appears in some of my race photos, appears to be about 5'8" and 175, which is amazing because I'm 5'4" and 135. The shadow followed me out onto the first long straight away, or about ten miles.
But then I was able to settle into a pace and was starting to feel pretty good. I finished the Propel in my water bottle, ate both when I got on the bike and again 30 minutes later. The first feed station is up on a hill, and I got myself some Gatorade and set to working on my nutrition. After that, things went well for a while. As I have no computer, I had only perceived effort, and time checks when I hit 10 mile markers (there were also KM markers, but i was being mathematically lazy and just using the mile markers to compute speed.)
However, at around 20 miles a pack of 20-plus riders swept past. I started dropping back, which takes a while. I was angry.
But what made it really bad was this: After they passed they went the same speed I'd been going, leaving me no choice but to pass them. All of them. I was angry, so this was a real surge, exactly what my coach warned me would lead to gastric distress.
This happened several other time with large groups in the next fifteen miles. I was not well-behaved. By that I mean I did not bear the drafting well. I asked people where their pride was. When people would tell me to relax, I'd tell them I'd relax when they'd stop &%$^ing cheating. This is not good. I should have kept my mouth shut. I would sit up, aggravated, and get harshed on for sitting up and not just riding with the group. It's one thing to draft, it's another thing to rag on people for refusing to draft.
I also should not have surged, but each time it happened, I'd drop four bike lengths behind the last bike in the chain, and then accelerate and pass the whole group- now between 30-40 people.
I had no problem doing it- passing large groups. Once you get out to their left, you are still getting a draft, but you're passing, so that's legal. I cut in sharply when I got up past the last person.
On one occasion as I was being swept over, I gave a hard left head fake and upset some mid-packer. That I regret because it was dangerous, but not as much as I regret the surges. Then something happened at 35 miles that changed the race for me. I passed my friend Steve Surprise. A pack immediately engulfed me. I started dropping, by sitting up and not pedalling. Maybe the drafters are right and this is some dickish, perverse version of following the rules. I can tell you some day someone is going to ask me 'what's wrong' when I sit up like that and I'm going to accidentally stretch my left arm out and catch them in the mush.
I went back by Steve, who was still pedalling but also dropping, just not as quickly. One of the officials had been following the large pack- you could hear the motorcycle.
She didn't penalize the pack of thirty-plus people. No, she flashed a red-card to my friend Steve, who was trying his best to drop back and had just been caught up in the back of the pack. It was a totally absurd penalty. I was behind him about 50 yards, banging, literally banging my front wheel up and down and screaming 'No f%cking way !'
I took another run at the pack and passed them, but it was the last senseless attack. My heartrate went through the roof, my stomach started to turn over the way it only can when it's full of Gatorade and Cliff Shot Blocks, and I knew my coach had been right and these surges were simply bad for me.
I was mad at myself for losing my temper, and I knew I had to get my ego and my temper under control and ride my own race, because at the end of the day, if I rode clean, that was great, but if I wanted to have a good race- and a shot at a sub-ten- I had to ride clean and smart....
My bags were at the far end of the last row for the men, so when I grabbed my bag, I saw there was another person changing behind the tent- and there were volunteers there catching wetsuits. So I changed behind the tent. There's no way to overstate what a timesaver this was. The tents are generally a madhouse, at least when you finish the swim in the middle of the pack. I was able to get shoes and gloves on, stuff nutrition in my bike jersey, get my number on, grab my bike and be out of transition in about 4 minutes.
That said, I'm hard-pressed to know where to start on the bike. I don't want to be a whiner. I don't want to bitch. I knew there would be drafting out on the course, and I knew it would affect where I finished. I spoke to my coach the day before the race and he specifically told me I should avoid surging to fight the packs. At the end of the day, what happened to me happened because I rode 22 mph instead of 24 mph. I had a good bike, despite the fact that I was absolutely buried overall- 330+, compared to twice ranking in what- the top 120 ?- at Lake Placid. But if I had buried the course ?
I'd have really run like crap. After all, the bike isn't about the bike- no one gets a medal for riding 112 miles- you get that medal for getting off the bike and running a marathon....
I picked up my first drafter shortly after I started riding. I ran my bike out past the mat, past where the other athletes were mounting, and then hopped on the bike while it was moving. By the time I had clipped in I was already pulling away from the other cyclists, but I quickly developed a shadow. This shadow, which appears in some of my race photos, appears to be about 5'8" and 175, which is amazing because I'm 5'4" and 135. The shadow followed me out onto the first long straight away, or about ten miles.
But then I was able to settle into a pace and was starting to feel pretty good. I finished the Propel in my water bottle, ate both when I got on the bike and again 30 minutes later. The first feed station is up on a hill, and I got myself some Gatorade and set to working on my nutrition. After that, things went well for a while. As I have no computer, I had only perceived effort, and time checks when I hit 10 mile markers (there were also KM markers, but i was being mathematically lazy and just using the mile markers to compute speed.)
However, at around 20 miles a pack of 20-plus riders swept past. I started dropping back, which takes a while. I was angry.
But what made it really bad was this: After they passed they went the same speed I'd been going, leaving me no choice but to pass them. All of them. I was angry, so this was a real surge, exactly what my coach warned me would lead to gastric distress.
This happened several other time with large groups in the next fifteen miles. I was not well-behaved. By that I mean I did not bear the drafting well. I asked people where their pride was. When people would tell me to relax, I'd tell them I'd relax when they'd stop &%$^ing cheating. This is not good. I should have kept my mouth shut. I would sit up, aggravated, and get harshed on for sitting up and not just riding with the group. It's one thing to draft, it's another thing to rag on people for refusing to draft.
I also should not have surged, but each time it happened, I'd drop four bike lengths behind the last bike in the chain, and then accelerate and pass the whole group- now between 30-40 people.
I had no problem doing it- passing large groups. Once you get out to their left, you are still getting a draft, but you're passing, so that's legal. I cut in sharply when I got up past the last person.
On one occasion as I was being swept over, I gave a hard left head fake and upset some mid-packer. That I regret because it was dangerous, but not as much as I regret the surges. Then something happened at 35 miles that changed the race for me. I passed my friend Steve Surprise. A pack immediately engulfed me. I started dropping, by sitting up and not pedalling. Maybe the drafters are right and this is some dickish, perverse version of following the rules. I can tell you some day someone is going to ask me 'what's wrong' when I sit up like that and I'm going to accidentally stretch my left arm out and catch them in the mush.
I went back by Steve, who was still pedalling but also dropping, just not as quickly. One of the officials had been following the large pack- you could hear the motorcycle.
She didn't penalize the pack of thirty-plus people. No, she flashed a red-card to my friend Steve, who was trying his best to drop back and had just been caught up in the back of the pack. It was a totally absurd penalty. I was behind him about 50 yards, banging, literally banging my front wheel up and down and screaming 'No f%cking way !'
I took another run at the pack and passed them, but it was the last senseless attack. My heartrate went through the roof, my stomach started to turn over the way it only can when it's full of Gatorade and Cliff Shot Blocks, and I knew my coach had been right and these surges were simply bad for me.
I was mad at myself for losing my temper, and I knew I had to get my ego and my temper under control and ride my own race, because at the end of the day, if I rode clean, that was great, but if I wanted to have a good race- and a shot at a sub-ten- I had to ride clean and smart....
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Ironman Florida- Pre-Race and The Swim
IM Florida is everything IM Lake Placid is not.
The venues are remarkably different. Lake Placid is a beautiful community, which may be built around a lake- Mirror Lake (not Lake Placid), but is built upon its history (two Olympic games) and its topography- the mountains and the by extension, the skiing. As much as I love it there, the town groans under the weight of athletes and spectators on race week.
PCB, on the other hand, is built to stand up to nothing less than being marketed as the #1 spring break capital of the US. Granted, half the restaurants are closed, but there's plenty of room for anyone and the only place outside the race venue where there seemed to be consistent waits was the Mellow Mushroom.
In much the same way, the swim starts are similarly different. The Placid start can't be a beach start- the beach is too narrow at its mouth and there is a dock in the way- you'd also have to swim counter-clockwise. Once you get in the water, there still isn't anywhere to go, and you have to get out there and tread until the cannon.
IM Florida is the exact opposite. The beach goes on for- well, who know. They make this cute little coral out of black mesh that still allows pretty much the whole field to stand inside. I was the third person over the mat and into the corral. Note: do NOT ask if you can put your socks, the socks you did two other ironmans in, on the glasses table. The answer is NO !
I started in the middle, in the water. They told us we could be knee deep in the water, and that's where I was. I could see the buoy, because no one was in front of me.
Let me step back. I got up early- 4:30- after another dicey pre-race sleep of probably around 4-5 hours that included a lot of sweating. Nothing like getting dehydrated while you (don't) sleep. I made some coffee, ate a banana, ran 10 minutes- up to the Sunset Inn and back. Then I ate two 'single-serving' bags of Fruit Loops. My two good IM races featured crappy cereal that I typically find inexcusable as anything except a snack- go figure.
I walked down with a friend who was a few minutes late, we got body marked and then went our own ways. Maybe it's just experience, but my last three IM pre-races have been easy and quick. I get body-marked, I get in line for the porta-potty, listen to some music- hell, I even posted to my blog from my iPhone in transition- the line to the bathroom was eight deep and I got bored. It was terribly not clever.
I heard a lot of good music off the iPod- Nine Inch Nails, Evanescence, Linkin Park.
I was not allowed to put the pair of socks I'd done at least two ironmans in on the glasses table. I was told this in no uncertain terms...
Back to the swim start. I was standing next to my friend Steve, who rightly questioned my decision to stand in the front row, dead middle, and start there. He was worried about my safety. I told him I was tired of starting off to the right. I had decided if I was going to get clobbered, I'd rather get clobbered by good swimmers than by the duffers on the fringe, who don't know what they are doing and trend large. After all, a good swimmer might swim over you, but they don't keep clubbing you after they do it. The weaker swimmers will pound the hell of you, it takes forever to get in to the buoys...
I looked back. There were people- mostly guys behind me. But not too many.
The cannon went off and I started swimming. Everyone around me was walking, but I was swimming. This is my thing. Unless my nose is scraping the sand I swimming. I paid 550.00 to swim 2.4 miles, and I'll damn well swim the whole thing.
It was the easiest swim I've had in an IM. Yes, there was traffic, and yes, I couldn't get that close to the buoys until the third green one out. But I didn't get that beat up. I did get a foot in the mush, but it didn't knock my goggles off. In fact, my first real frustration was at the red buoy, the outer marker at the turn.
Why do so many people stop at the buoy ? When I'm close to the buoy, the only thing I want to do is get around it. I'm not looking to stop and capture a mental image of the damn buoy. I just want to keep going.
The result of this site-seeing for me is that I always get pushed wide of the buoy and because of the shape of the course, it's important to start turning in, because between the outbound buoys and the inbound buoys the line cuts in.
I got across that line and came out wide headed back in. This was a serious problem the other time I did this race as I swam halfway to Alabama coming back in.
I got in at around 36:30, and despite having done the race before, I was shocked at how long it took to get from the arch to actually start swimming again.
We'd been told repeatedly while on the beach that we were allowed to swim inside the buoys as long as we cleared the two outer corner buoys. Although I've always seen this as a little underhanded, after talking with some people about it, I had come to the conclusion you still swim the same distance as long as you go around the turn buoys. I was determined to get inside the buoys. But it never happened. I swam the entire second loop on the buoys, practically running into all of them. Still, on an open course, being on the buoys for me is huge, because it means I am swimming the course and nothing extra.
I was actually hoping that I'd negative split the swim by swimming the course tighter. But my left shoulder did fatigue, and then the left calf started to feel like I had to be careful with it to avoid a cramp and kept my effort moderate. I has the same issue at the turn- people seemed to be taking it all in instead of swimming. I fought a lot harder at the turn to stay on the buoys- it was hard to see because of the sun, but there were fewer people and I did manage to get close to the buoys. I was swimming alongside a woman (pink cap) and we were going the same speed. That really calmed me.
There was certainly some craziness- people swimming into me, swimming at weird angles or frog kicking. But I got a good line into shore, swam until I could swim no more, and then hauled myself out of the water and started running. I went under the arch in 1:13 and was disappointed that I hadn't swum faster, but I got my wetsuit stripped and then ran to the shower.
At the shower, I pushed my way through people- I couldn't believe people were actually standing still under the thing. Standing still- in a race.
Next: Transition and the Bike- this will be the good stuff...
The venues are remarkably different. Lake Placid is a beautiful community, which may be built around a lake- Mirror Lake (not Lake Placid), but is built upon its history (two Olympic games) and its topography- the mountains and the by extension, the skiing. As much as I love it there, the town groans under the weight of athletes and spectators on race week.
PCB, on the other hand, is built to stand up to nothing less than being marketed as the #1 spring break capital of the US. Granted, half the restaurants are closed, but there's plenty of room for anyone and the only place outside the race venue where there seemed to be consistent waits was the Mellow Mushroom.
In much the same way, the swim starts are similarly different. The Placid start can't be a beach start- the beach is too narrow at its mouth and there is a dock in the way- you'd also have to swim counter-clockwise. Once you get in the water, there still isn't anywhere to go, and you have to get out there and tread until the cannon.
IM Florida is the exact opposite. The beach goes on for- well, who know. They make this cute little coral out of black mesh that still allows pretty much the whole field to stand inside. I was the third person over the mat and into the corral. Note: do NOT ask if you can put your socks, the socks you did two other ironmans in, on the glasses table. The answer is NO !
I started in the middle, in the water. They told us we could be knee deep in the water, and that's where I was. I could see the buoy, because no one was in front of me.
Let me step back. I got up early- 4:30- after another dicey pre-race sleep of probably around 4-5 hours that included a lot of sweating. Nothing like getting dehydrated while you (don't) sleep. I made some coffee, ate a banana, ran 10 minutes- up to the Sunset Inn and back. Then I ate two 'single-serving' bags of Fruit Loops. My two good IM races featured crappy cereal that I typically find inexcusable as anything except a snack- go figure.
I walked down with a friend who was a few minutes late, we got body marked and then went our own ways. Maybe it's just experience, but my last three IM pre-races have been easy and quick. I get body-marked, I get in line for the porta-potty, listen to some music- hell, I even posted to my blog from my iPhone in transition- the line to the bathroom was eight deep and I got bored. It was terribly not clever.
I heard a lot of good music off the iPod- Nine Inch Nails, Evanescence, Linkin Park.
I was not allowed to put the pair of socks I'd done at least two ironmans in on the glasses table. I was told this in no uncertain terms...
Back to the swim start. I was standing next to my friend Steve, who rightly questioned my decision to stand in the front row, dead middle, and start there. He was worried about my safety. I told him I was tired of starting off to the right. I had decided if I was going to get clobbered, I'd rather get clobbered by good swimmers than by the duffers on the fringe, who don't know what they are doing and trend large. After all, a good swimmer might swim over you, but they don't keep clubbing you after they do it. The weaker swimmers will pound the hell of you, it takes forever to get in to the buoys...
I looked back. There were people- mostly guys behind me. But not too many.
The cannon went off and I started swimming. Everyone around me was walking, but I was swimming. This is my thing. Unless my nose is scraping the sand I swimming. I paid 550.00 to swim 2.4 miles, and I'll damn well swim the whole thing.
It was the easiest swim I've had in an IM. Yes, there was traffic, and yes, I couldn't get that close to the buoys until the third green one out. But I didn't get that beat up. I did get a foot in the mush, but it didn't knock my goggles off. In fact, my first real frustration was at the red buoy, the outer marker at the turn.
Why do so many people stop at the buoy ? When I'm close to the buoy, the only thing I want to do is get around it. I'm not looking to stop and capture a mental image of the damn buoy. I just want to keep going.
The result of this site-seeing for me is that I always get pushed wide of the buoy and because of the shape of the course, it's important to start turning in, because between the outbound buoys and the inbound buoys the line cuts in.
I got across that line and came out wide headed back in. This was a serious problem the other time I did this race as I swam halfway to Alabama coming back in.
I got in at around 36:30, and despite having done the race before, I was shocked at how long it took to get from the arch to actually start swimming again.
We'd been told repeatedly while on the beach that we were allowed to swim inside the buoys as long as we cleared the two outer corner buoys. Although I've always seen this as a little underhanded, after talking with some people about it, I had come to the conclusion you still swim the same distance as long as you go around the turn buoys. I was determined to get inside the buoys. But it never happened. I swam the entire second loop on the buoys, practically running into all of them. Still, on an open course, being on the buoys for me is huge, because it means I am swimming the course and nothing extra.
I was actually hoping that I'd negative split the swim by swimming the course tighter. But my left shoulder did fatigue, and then the left calf started to feel like I had to be careful with it to avoid a cramp and kept my effort moderate. I has the same issue at the turn- people seemed to be taking it all in instead of swimming. I fought a lot harder at the turn to stay on the buoys- it was hard to see because of the sun, but there were fewer people and I did manage to get close to the buoys. I was swimming alongside a woman (pink cap) and we were going the same speed. That really calmed me.
There was certainly some craziness- people swimming into me, swimming at weird angles or frog kicking. But I got a good line into shore, swam until I could swim no more, and then hauled myself out of the water and started running. I went under the arch in 1:13 and was disappointed that I hadn't swum faster, but I got my wetsuit stripped and then ran to the shower.
At the shower, I pushed my way through people- I couldn't believe people were actually standing still under the thing. Standing still- in a race.
Next: Transition and the Bike- this will be the good stuff...
Ironman Florida First Thoughts
I have to write a real race report, but I'm not sure that I'll be able to get that done tonight. 48 hours out from the race, it's nice just to be home on the DSL and have some real internet access, something that was in very short supply in our condo in PCB.
On one hand, a 10:08 is nothing to complain about even though I got buried in my age group- I got beat by 34 people- in my age group ! On the other hand, wow, I could have broken ten hours and I didn't.
It was a great day, but it was not an easy day, and it was largely a reminder that there is no such thing as an easy Ironman, or an easy Ironman course, even though Florida is an easy course and it was a pretty damn nice day to race.
So before I write my race report proper, let me say this. I felt like I belonged out there for the entire time. From the moment I started the swim, in the front this time, not in the back, not well off to the side, until I crossed the line ten hours later, I felt like I belonged out on that course. I didn't feel like an impostor.
On one hand, a 10:08 is nothing to complain about even though I got buried in my age group- I got beat by 34 people- in my age group ! On the other hand, wow, I could have broken ten hours and I didn't.
It was a great day, but it was not an easy day, and it was largely a reminder that there is no such thing as an easy Ironman, or an easy Ironman course, even though Florida is an easy course and it was a pretty damn nice day to race.
So before I write my race report proper, let me say this. I felt like I belonged out there for the entire time. From the moment I started the swim, in the front this time, not in the back, not well off to the side, until I crossed the line ten hours later, I felt like I belonged out on that course. I didn't feel like an impostor.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Two days and counting
I went to the Gatorade® swim this morning with a 20 minute swim on the schedule. I'd gone to bed early last night but I still woke up tired because we all slept together and my son is a worse sleeper than I am.
I felt pretty out of place the first two minutes or so. The water until you get to the sandbar is really cold (well, a little cold), I had not been in open water since Nutmegman, and well, I'm a lousy swimmer- but getting better.
By the time I hit the warmer water, I was feeling good. By the end of the twenty minute swim, I actually felt like maybe I can do this thing, and even do it well. The illegitimacy of me putting myself in an Ironman, which always strikes me when I first look at an IM swim course, fades again when I get in the water, start swimming, and remember I've done six of these.
I felt pretty out of place the first two minutes or so. The water until you get to the sandbar is really cold (well, a little cold), I had not been in open water since Nutmegman, and well, I'm a lousy swimmer- but getting better.
By the time I hit the warmer water, I was feeling good. By the end of the twenty minute swim, I actually felt like maybe I can do this thing, and even do it well. The illegitimacy of me putting myself in an Ironman, which always strikes me when I first look at an IM swim course, fades again when I get in the water, start swimming, and remember I've done six of these.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Falling into place, or falling apart ?
Looking at my last post, wow ! What a difference a day makes. I went to bed Friday night and my biggest concern was how to fit in a four workout around dropping my bike off for transport to Florida in New Haven at noon. I hate when we have things to do at noon on the weekend...
At 4:00 I woke up with stomach cramps. Half an hour later, I was evacuating my bowels and stomach in a pretty fearful way. I hadn't been sick since August of 2008. I wasn't sure if it was a virus or if it was chlorine poisoning. I'd gone swimming in the Branford pool late Friday night and it seemed like they'd treated the pool right before I got in. Add that they turn the hot water off at night and the showers were too ice cold to bear, and I had a tremendous amount of chlorine on me- I should have showered when I got home. Nauseous now, the smell was making me even sicker.
At 5:15 am Saturday morning, I was up for the second time with a combination of diarrhea and vomiting- just dry heaves at this point- while Margit was upstairs with Ian. I rushed to get out of the bathroom before she came downstairs- she was going swimming and with the next week likely to be a difficult one for her for workouts, I didn't want her bagging her swim because I was sick.
I got up around 6:45 AM and worked on packing my gear bag, which was going down on the truck with my bike. I drank some coffee and did eat a banana, but my stomach was at about 20% and it was amazing that I held that down. My legs were already very sore- when my stomach hurts I sleep in a ball- and that position and less than four hours of sleep makes my knees ache.
I knew the ride (3 hours plus an hour run) was never going to happen, so around 9:30 I put on a pair of tri shorts and ran around the house, thinking I'd swap my Saturday and Sunday workouts. I came to the conclusion my stomach might handle it, but my legs couldn't. I was so dehydrated that I could feel every trouble spot in both legs.
I thought maybe I'd be able to eat some lunch and feel better, so I came inside and mixed some Propel. I never was able to bring myself to eat before we went to drop off the bike.
The rest of the day was spent alternately running around doing things we needed to do and lying flat on my back. I had no strength, I felt miserable. I managed to get down a second banana, an apple, a plain yogurt (something I would never normally eat), and finally, a small amount of dinner. Then I slept 9 hours.
I got up at the ridiculously late time of 7:15. I can't say I was 100%, but I was 90% at least. I had my usually breakfast, a cup and an half of coffee, a banana, half a grapefruit, and an apple, got everything ready to take my Lightspeed out for a three hour ride, or some combination of ride and run. I debated just doing my 90 minute run. That's just part of my routine. I plug into the music and run and just kind of have some time to myself. But i wanted to get that ride in.
We had a pretty viscous storm last night- rain and wind, so there was a lot of stuff down on the side of the road. I got out riding and was doing a pretty good job dodging things, but then I hit a branch about twice as wide as my thumb. My front wheel started to wobble and I know with the Light speed when that happens not to try and force it to stay straight. So I let the bike go off to the right as there was traffic behind me.
Dodge the telephone pole !
Telephone pole dodged, I did a little off-road work, then got back on the road as the truck went by, slowing down to make sure I was all right. I probably should have turned around and gone home.
I was debating what to do the rest of the way out. Ride an hour out, ride back, run an hour. Ride 1:15 each way and run half an hour ? I had to be done by around 12:40 so Margit could get to her massage.
The Lightspeed is an older bike, long past it's last tune-up, and with my gear bag packed and on it's way to Florida, I was stuck with no way top fix any problems I might have.
After the bike skipped gears a few time on me I decided to bring it back home after two hours and turned around in Clinton. I was about 10 minutes past my turn-around when I hit some auto-glass hidden in the leaves outside Hammonassett.
I heard the snick-snick of the glass, climbed the hill, and thought I was all set. But down at the bottom of the hill, I realised I was flat.
I was at 1:11, and I had a total of 3:05 to get home.
I started running- from the far side of Madison, I ran for about 50 minutes, in my bike shoes, to the bike shop in Guilford, bought a tube, and road home, then went out and ran another five minutes.
I checked the phone messages, realised I had to go meet Margit to pick up Ian.
It was a nice, sunny day and I had a good, if weird workout, and hey, I'm still alive ! And still ready to race.
At 4:00 I woke up with stomach cramps. Half an hour later, I was evacuating my bowels and stomach in a pretty fearful way. I hadn't been sick since August of 2008. I wasn't sure if it was a virus or if it was chlorine poisoning. I'd gone swimming in the Branford pool late Friday night and it seemed like they'd treated the pool right before I got in. Add that they turn the hot water off at night and the showers were too ice cold to bear, and I had a tremendous amount of chlorine on me- I should have showered when I got home. Nauseous now, the smell was making me even sicker.
At 5:15 am Saturday morning, I was up for the second time with a combination of diarrhea and vomiting- just dry heaves at this point- while Margit was upstairs with Ian. I rushed to get out of the bathroom before she came downstairs- she was going swimming and with the next week likely to be a difficult one for her for workouts, I didn't want her bagging her swim because I was sick.
I got up around 6:45 AM and worked on packing my gear bag, which was going down on the truck with my bike. I drank some coffee and did eat a banana, but my stomach was at about 20% and it was amazing that I held that down. My legs were already very sore- when my stomach hurts I sleep in a ball- and that position and less than four hours of sleep makes my knees ache.
I knew the ride (3 hours plus an hour run) was never going to happen, so around 9:30 I put on a pair of tri shorts and ran around the house, thinking I'd swap my Saturday and Sunday workouts. I came to the conclusion my stomach might handle it, but my legs couldn't. I was so dehydrated that I could feel every trouble spot in both legs.
I thought maybe I'd be able to eat some lunch and feel better, so I came inside and mixed some Propel. I never was able to bring myself to eat before we went to drop off the bike.
The rest of the day was spent alternately running around doing things we needed to do and lying flat on my back. I had no strength, I felt miserable. I managed to get down a second banana, an apple, a plain yogurt (something I would never normally eat), and finally, a small amount of dinner. Then I slept 9 hours.
I got up at the ridiculously late time of 7:15. I can't say I was 100%, but I was 90% at least. I had my usually breakfast, a cup and an half of coffee, a banana, half a grapefruit, and an apple, got everything ready to take my Lightspeed out for a three hour ride, or some combination of ride and run. I debated just doing my 90 minute run. That's just part of my routine. I plug into the music and run and just kind of have some time to myself. But i wanted to get that ride in.
We had a pretty viscous storm last night- rain and wind, so there was a lot of stuff down on the side of the road. I got out riding and was doing a pretty good job dodging things, but then I hit a branch about twice as wide as my thumb. My front wheel started to wobble and I know with the Light speed when that happens not to try and force it to stay straight. So I let the bike go off to the right as there was traffic behind me.
Dodge the telephone pole !
Telephone pole dodged, I did a little off-road work, then got back on the road as the truck went by, slowing down to make sure I was all right. I probably should have turned around and gone home.
I was debating what to do the rest of the way out. Ride an hour out, ride back, run an hour. Ride 1:15 each way and run half an hour ? I had to be done by around 12:40 so Margit could get to her massage.
The Lightspeed is an older bike, long past it's last tune-up, and with my gear bag packed and on it's way to Florida, I was stuck with no way top fix any problems I might have.
After the bike skipped gears a few time on me I decided to bring it back home after two hours and turned around in Clinton. I was about 10 minutes past my turn-around when I hit some auto-glass hidden in the leaves outside Hammonassett.
I heard the snick-snick of the glass, climbed the hill, and thought I was all set. But down at the bottom of the hill, I realised I was flat.
I was at 1:11, and I had a total of 3:05 to get home.
I started running- from the far side of Madison, I ran for about 50 minutes, in my bike shoes, to the bike shop in Guilford, bought a tube, and road home, then went out and ran another five minutes.
I checked the phone messages, realised I had to go meet Margit to pick up Ian.
It was a nice, sunny day and I had a good, if weird workout, and hey, I'm still alive ! And still ready to race.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Closing in on an Ironman
With the race about a week away, it's odd to finally start to feel as though some things are falling into place.
I tweaked my achilles tendon about a year ago and while it never stopped me from doing anything, it has been getting progressively more sore right up through about two weeks ago. To the point where it felt like I had a high ankle sprain. I just kept icing it, didn't back down on the workouts, even when the other ankle started to hurt as well.
In fact, last weekend was my longest weekend- a 4 hour bike, one hour run and a two hour run the next day.
The ice paid off. I don't use painkillers or anti-inflammatories except for the ice, but somewhere during the last week the pain started to fade away and right now, with eight days to the race, I'm starting to feel like I'm really ready for this thing that seemed so far away for so long and now- now I'm right on top of it...
I have friends that are going down to race as well, and I hope it a good day for everyone. I'm especially impressed with my friend Steve, who hasn't let the fact that he punctured a lung and landed in the hospital at this race in 2006 stop him from going back two more times.
It's time to start throttling down the engine and hoping what feels good now or could feel just a little better will all fall into place...
I tweaked my achilles tendon about a year ago and while it never stopped me from doing anything, it has been getting progressively more sore right up through about two weeks ago. To the point where it felt like I had a high ankle sprain. I just kept icing it, didn't back down on the workouts, even when the other ankle started to hurt as well.
In fact, last weekend was my longest weekend- a 4 hour bike, one hour run and a two hour run the next day.
The ice paid off. I don't use painkillers or anti-inflammatories except for the ice, but somewhere during the last week the pain started to fade away and right now, with eight days to the race, I'm starting to feel like I'm really ready for this thing that seemed so far away for so long and now- now I'm right on top of it...
I have friends that are going down to race as well, and I hope it a good day for everyone. I'm especially impressed with my friend Steve, who hasn't let the fact that he punctured a lung and landed in the hospital at this race in 2006 stop him from going back two more times.
It's time to start throttling down the engine and hoping what feels good now or could feel just a little better will all fall into place...
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Last Long Ride
I wasn't looking forward to my last long ride once I got up this morning. At 7 AM it was light enough to start of 4 hour ride, however it was still overcast and 42 degrees. A week ago, I'd done 4 hours in 60 degree weather, so this was just not what I wanted.
I waited until 9:20 and then set out. It was still in the 40s and I have to admit that at first I was feeling a little sorry for myself. It was cold- by fifteen minutes my hands and feet were paying the price, although I'd rubbed bodyglide on my face and that seemed to make a big difference. The wind was blowing hard in my face, I couldn't get myself to drink any appreciable amount of gatorade, I kind of had to pee. I couldn't help but thinking this was not an ideal training ride to prepare for Florida. On Thursday night, I'd been sweating in near seventy degree heat and humidity running...
But then I started to think about it. The clouds had blown off, it was bright and sunny, the leaves are turning- it was beautiful day. And I was cautiously optimistic that on the way back, the wind would be at my back and I'd be rewarded for the hard work into the wind I was doing- and it was hard work.
And for once, the wind was at my back and not a cross-wind (something I've been burned on plenty of times riding along route 1). In the end, battling the wind made it a better ride- I rode farther today than last week, negative split the ride by 8 minutes, and although it never really warmed up, I was able to enjoy the fall in all it's awesome splendor.
Then I hopped off the bike and at first, it was like the start of the bike ride. My feet were still cold. My tight hamstrings were making my ankles hurt. I was thinking about how it would be in Florida if I got off the bike and felt like this. And then everything warmed up and I started running not just well for after a four hour ride, but well period. It was a beautiful day for running- maybe a little chilly on the bike but a great day to run. I put in 50 minutes and when I finished, I realised that I'd just had my best workout yet getting ready for this race...
Sometimes, you have to just bundle up, get out there, and everything falls into place.
I waited until 9:20 and then set out. It was still in the 40s and I have to admit that at first I was feeling a little sorry for myself. It was cold- by fifteen minutes my hands and feet were paying the price, although I'd rubbed bodyglide on my face and that seemed to make a big difference. The wind was blowing hard in my face, I couldn't get myself to drink any appreciable amount of gatorade, I kind of had to pee. I couldn't help but thinking this was not an ideal training ride to prepare for Florida. On Thursday night, I'd been sweating in near seventy degree heat and humidity running...
But then I started to think about it. The clouds had blown off, it was bright and sunny, the leaves are turning- it was beautiful day. And I was cautiously optimistic that on the way back, the wind would be at my back and I'd be rewarded for the hard work into the wind I was doing- and it was hard work.
And for once, the wind was at my back and not a cross-wind (something I've been burned on plenty of times riding along route 1). In the end, battling the wind made it a better ride- I rode farther today than last week, negative split the ride by 8 minutes, and although it never really warmed up, I was able to enjoy the fall in all it's awesome splendor.
Then I hopped off the bike and at first, it was like the start of the bike ride. My feet were still cold. My tight hamstrings were making my ankles hurt. I was thinking about how it would be in Florida if I got off the bike and felt like this. And then everything warmed up and I started running not just well for after a four hour ride, but well period. It was a beautiful day for running- maybe a little chilly on the bike but a great day to run. I put in 50 minutes and when I finished, I realised that I'd just had my best workout yet getting ready for this race...
Sometimes, you have to just bundle up, get out there, and everything falls into place.
Friday, October 10, 2008
One More Long Run
I did my second long run last Sunday- again 2.5 hours.
But I'd run a lot of rolling hills in that first extra-long run, and I'd been chasing a rabbit on the way out. Another athlete had told me they'd run all the way to the Guilford Green and back in 3 hours- so I was determined not only to run to the green in one hour fifteen minutes, but exceed that distance, so that my 2.5 hour run would be even longer. I did it so I would have a goal, but looking back, that goal, while achievable, was too aggressive, and I ended up leg sore (well, ankle sore) for several days.
So last week I ran as close to board flat for the 2.5 hours as I could and I started out slow. I also started out early- at 7 AM, in the rain, the 50 degree rain. The rain let up and stayed away- until 2 hours, and I ran that last half hour much harder than the first two.
This is the effort that I should be aiming for in Florida- two and a half hours of very steady running, followed by 45 minutes or so of hard, hard effort, running against the end of day so I can finish my second ironman in daylight this year...
Two hours this Sunday. One last long run and then dial it down.
But I'd run a lot of rolling hills in that first extra-long run, and I'd been chasing a rabbit on the way out. Another athlete had told me they'd run all the way to the Guilford Green and back in 3 hours- so I was determined not only to run to the green in one hour fifteen minutes, but exceed that distance, so that my 2.5 hour run would be even longer. I did it so I would have a goal, but looking back, that goal, while achievable, was too aggressive, and I ended up leg sore (well, ankle sore) for several days.
So last week I ran as close to board flat for the 2.5 hours as I could and I started out slow. I also started out early- at 7 AM, in the rain, the 50 degree rain. The rain let up and stayed away- until 2 hours, and I ran that last half hour much harder than the first two.
This is the effort that I should be aiming for in Florida- two and a half hours of very steady running, followed by 45 minutes or so of hard, hard effort, running against the end of day so I can finish my second ironman in daylight this year...
Two hours this Sunday. One last long run and then dial it down.
Friday, October 03, 2008
IM Florida
Wow ! I'm actually going.
The airline tickets have been reserved, the condo reservations are set. Sure, Margit said 'You were always going', and I've been training since August 1st for this race, but to me, when you're talking about a race that's across the country (it's not literally across the country, but close enough), you're not really going until you've bought the tickets and committed to actually go there.
I'm psyched. One more big training week, maybe two, plenty of ice, and let's do this thing.
The airline tickets have been reserved, the condo reservations are set. Sure, Margit said 'You were always going', and I've been training since August 1st for this race, but to me, when you're talking about a race that's across the country (it's not literally across the country, but close enough), you're not really going until you've bought the tickets and committed to actually go there.
I'm psyched. One more big training week, maybe two, plenty of ice, and let's do this thing.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Was that a long run ?
I've gotten spoiled. I've been running 90 minutes on Sunday most Sundays since two weeks after the Hartford Marathon- last October. There were some races in there and a few 75 minute runs, but hey, I ran 90 minutes two Sundays ago in the afternoon after a sprint triathlon.
On Saturday, I took a really close look at my workouts because I knew I had two workouts Sunday and I realised I had underestimated my run. The schedule said- 2 hours 30 minutes in B...
Wow- totally understandable, but from a training perspective, I've only ever run longer than 2.5 hours once, and 2.5 is generally the back end of my long runs, and I figured I was one week away from my biggest training week for Florida.
Does that mean that I have a 3 hour run in my future ? Not sure.
But if I do ? I can do it. Sure, my achilles was sore by 1:50 or so and by the end, I was pretty damn glad to be stopping, but I ran even splits, I covered a lot of ground, and I really worked my nutrition. It was grueling, but then again, so is running the IMFLA marathon...
Thanks coach. I needed that.
On Saturday, I took a really close look at my workouts because I knew I had two workouts Sunday and I realised I had underestimated my run. The schedule said- 2 hours 30 minutes in B...
Wow- totally understandable, but from a training perspective, I've only ever run longer than 2.5 hours once, and 2.5 is generally the back end of my long runs, and I figured I was one week away from my biggest training week for Florida.
Does that mean that I have a 3 hour run in my future ? Not sure.
But if I do ? I can do it. Sure, my achilles was sore by 1:50 or so and by the end, I was pretty damn glad to be stopping, but I ran even splits, I covered a lot of ground, and I really worked my nutrition. It was grueling, but then again, so is running the IMFLA marathon...
Thanks coach. I needed that.
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