Blocks versus Gu

My coach recently suggested that we adjust my workouts to focus on speed rather than distance, so I thought that I'd adjust my nutrition to match. Normal on my long bike rides I take Cliff Shot blocks, which are my preferred food, and Gatorade (a single bottle).

On Saturday, with a two hour ride and 30 minute run brick scheduled, and coming off a short race where I used Gu, I decided to take 4 Gu, the same Gatorade, and give the workout a go. The ride was simple- 1 hour in B, 30 minute time trial in C, 30 minutes in B, and the run in B. I decided to aim for a 42 mile ride that would take me out to Madison and up towards Durham from Hammonassett, with enough legitimate climbing to make it a serious 2 hour ride and also prepare me on the off chance we went up to Lake Placid.

Much as in a long race, your nutrition rarely hurts you while you are still on the bike. It can happen, but it's infrequent. The ride went well. I got the 42 miles in at the 1:56 mark, including over 22.4 for the time trial on rolling terrain, pulled into my driveway, tossed my helmet and shoes, put my running shoes and cap on and started run.

The run is hard, with a hill right at the beginning, and two other decent hills in about 33 minutes, although I was aiming for about 31 minutes with a solid B effort. The initial climb always makes you feel gassed and you have to remind yourself that you've gotten off the bike and climbed, that there's a downhill around the corner...

No reason to bore anyone actually reading this with the actually blow by blow of a thirty minute training run, so in short- I was gassed on the run. I did run a solid B pace, but it felt like an uneven C pace.

Verdict- Gu might be all right for a sprint race of about an hour, it simply isn't up to a two and a half hour race or workout without other supplemental nutrition that makes me wonder why you'd choose it as part of your nutrition suite. Now of course, that's just me. And just me is sticking with Clif Blocks.

Lost in Transition

starring: alan macdougall
not co-starring: Scarlett Johansson

It's been a weird season, that's for sure. Just doing an April Ironman is odd. The Griskus Sprint Triathlon was no exception.

I have a mixed history with the race. I was on a team with Ken Osborn and Guy D'Aniello that beat the entire field one year. I also sliced my hand open on my wheel one year and swam into a dock another. I went into the race this year nursing a sore knee, wearing a new uniform, and just hoping to beat the rain off the bike. But I found Evanescence's Lithium in the bathroom about 25 minutes before the race, so I had the right music.

I got off to a good start. I was in the elite wave, I started on the inside, and despite being left in the wake early, I found myself cutting a dead straight line to the first buoy while the bulk of the white caps were far off to the left. Me getting the best line to the first buoy seems hard to imagine, but I took it for what it was and kept going. The first buoy had come up quickly and I was encouraged. I was trying to break the swim into two halves. The second buoy also came up quickly and I was feeling, for me, pretty good. The third buoy ?

Not so soon. The buoys looked evenly spaced from the shore, but then again, it looks like a straight in and out. Finally, I hit the third buoy, rounded it with another guy from my wave, and got pushed back into the lane I'd just come up.

I've been swum into by a single off-course swimmer before. I have not swum into the oncoming lane of traffic before. Four guys hit me in rapid succession, knocked my goggles half off and left me ever-so-slightly disoriented. But I put my head down and swam until I heard someone telling me to get up and walk out. I ended up swimming in the top half of my age group and the top 40% of the field, which is remarkable (for me).

I came out and Marty told me I was 5:15 back.

I had a good bike ride. Not a lot to say. I only got passed by one athlete in his 30s, and I think i had a top 10 bike-split, but I'll never know, because the mat missed me as I went over it and I'm listed as having the slowest bike time in the whole field, 1:37 minutes, which is 30 minutes longer than the whole race took me. Not to be outdone by the mat, I spent upwards of 90 seconds missing my gear.

Now there's no one to blame but me that all I took into transition was a small black bag, a few gels, a hat and a pair of sneakers. Although I was careful not to cover my shoes with my wetsuit (experience has taught me not to make this rookie error). All of my teammates from the elite wave I'd caught on the bike left transition before I did. At one point Steve Surprise yelled 'back here' but it still took another 15 seconds to find the right row. I went out of transition behind Michael D, passed him, stopped to tighten a shoe, passed him again, and then bore down on the run. Eric was the first person I saw, and he said that I was 1 minute behind Steve. Ouch. I'd passed Steve on the bike around mile 8.5...

I have great teammates from Force 5 Sports, but I wanted to be the first Force 5 finisher, and I was trained and rested and ready to have a good race so that was a reasonable expectation. I passed Steve after the first mile, running really hard but feeling tired from the long downhill (it turns out the section we were on is a false flat that is actually uphill. I saw several other on the other side of the road but closer to the turnaround than I expected.

I caught Gary Rodenbaug next, who is a phenomenal 59 year old, absolute star. I tried to give him a few words of encouragement, and then set my sights on Robyn, who is another superb athlete (Gary and Robyn are fresh off nationals). Right in front of her was Bill Sheetz, one of Eric's clients. I gave them both what encouragement I could as I went by- we were climbing now and that cut into me. I passed a few more people and then duked it out and lost to one last athlete on the line.

Margit had a great race and placed in her age group, as did Robyn, Steve, and Gary. I didn't. Minus the 90 seconds lost in transition, I would have placed third, but you don't get mulligans in triathlon.

I was able to trade up my 4 dollar draft miller for a Guinness after the race, which was the best move I made all day- thanks, Mike Barry !

Did I learn anything finishing 25th instead of 15th ? Hell, yes. I went right to Eric and asked him for a plan. He said to get a flag so I can find my stuff. I think a canadian flag will serve the purpose nicely. There's no point in regretting the massive brain fart I had yesterday, and I still ran as hard as I could and moved myself back into a decent place, higher than last time I did the race in 2005.

I think I need to expect to do well more than I do. I ran hard, swam well, bikes very well, yet a mental mistake torpedoed me. Confidence isn't always a bad thing, and can actually help. While I didn't panic in transition, I also did not get the job done in an area I usually have no problem with. That's a lack of confidence.

At least that's easily corrected.

Independence Day 5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iPhone

This is a little change of pace for this blog, but I wanted to add my impressions to the myriad of iPhone blogposts.



Getting the iPhone my wife had promised as a birthday present was and wasn't an easy task. My wife's aunt's 70th birthday party was Friday, so standing in line at the Apple Store in Westfarms was not an option for me. I'm not sure I would have wanted to do that anyway, although I did stand in line for 10.4 there, which is the first time I've stood in line for the release of anything. My plan was to get online at 9PM EST and order one online, eat the ten dollar shipping and hopefully have it next week.

One flaw in this plan. Well, two flaws. I took my MacBook with me to the Higgins household, where the wireless is free and the yard is large enough that war-driving isn't an issue. I felt kind of bad about this. 9PM was likely to be right around that awkward time when we either should have left half an hour earlier or we would need to stay later to get Ian settled. The second was there was no guarantee that- the Apple Store would be able to handle the load, that there would be many phones being sold online, and so on.

I got on the site and although I got a few http service unavailable, I was able to get through the ordering process. However I stopped short because the estimated shipping time was 2-4. Weeks that is. Weeks ? I was willing to wait, trust me. But I was thinking I'd be waiting a week or so. Not a month.

I drove up to the Apple Store in Westfarms after calling to confirm they were in stock. The local ATT store was out of stock, so that was my only option. I walked in, was taken directly (although the store was packed, the line was short to check out. I bought the phone, turned around and walked out and drove home.

I didn't get to activate it until six hours later. That took all of 5 minutes (I was already an ATT customer).

I've been using the phone for a day now and here's what I've found:

The phone is incredibly easy to use. I actually kind of like my Treo 700P, but only compared to the cell phones I loathe. I am still not good at dialing with the touch screen. No such issue with the digital number pad on the iPhone. It's a joy to use. Recording a greeting ? How cool is it that you don't have to dial into your voice mail ?

The internet. The ATT coverage in my area is rated as good (on a scale of moderate to best). On the wifi at home, it rocks. On the ATT network- it works. It's good enough. It looks awesome, the flip orientation is great, and if you have the fingers for it you can move around the internet pretty damn well.

The camera- that's the biggest letdown. I'm a recent convert to the value of a camera on a phone. My Treo camera is simply a better camera which takes pictures with more vibration than the iPhone seems to tolerate.

Music and video playback. I was surprised how good the two tiny speakers on the bottom of the phone are and how good they sound.

Syncing- awesome, just awesome.

Running New Haven- Undressed

It's funny how some race courses retain their basic charms and feel year round, while others- don't.

I was looking to do a longer run today and the way my schedule and day care worked out, the only option to do that was to do it at the end of my work day at work. That means running in West Haven and New Haven. A run up to an hour I can do in the area of Yale Bowl, but I was hoping for 75 minutes, so I decided to try something different.

I headed up 139 to 34 and hung a right, ran down to 10 and once on Route 10 I was on the race course. Of course, on race day, the road is closed, there are cheering people spread out all over the course and there are water stations. At 4:15 on a weekday, there's mostly just a lot of traffic, punctuated by the fairly regular interruption of sirens from police, fire, and ambulance (I saw at least one of each during my run).

New Haven is one of those races that just wears you down. Technically, it's a relatively flat, unquestionably fast course. In the real world, the course eats we amateurs up. It's almost always hot (like it was today, although today was worse), humid (again like today), and the course sends you on a series of upgrades and uphills.

Running from work starts with a decent climb, a tough downhill, and then a decent flat stretch before turning downhill on 34. That part of the run was easy, but once I turned onto 10 I pretty much felt the course. I was in the grass on the opposite side of the road, there was a lot of traffic, but the tunes were good, the knee was manageable and I was looking forward to getting on the bridge and climbing.

I got over the bridge, around the underpass below 95 and started working my way towards Long Wharf. I usually feel like I'm struggling in that stretch. If I started out too fast, that's where I fade. I turned onto the that street IKEA is on and by some ironic twist, I hit the exact place where the 10K mat is at 37:10 or so. Right on schedule, except I hadn't run 10K to get there. I went under another underpass and I was on Long Wharf.

Long Wharf, at least today, looked to be subtly uphill. But that wasn't what I really noticed. Let's just say that Long Wharf on race day is a sanitized placed. Hopefully whatever happens on Long Wharf stays on Long Wharf, or at least in the cars on Long Wharf it happens in. At the end of Long Wharf I wrapped back onto Water Street, headed for Route 1.

Route 1, Downtown New Haven.

Tough road.

Tough neighbourhood.

Even the churches have bars on the windows. No one should have to live in a place where the churches have bars on the windows. No one.

Of course, it's all too easy for me to breeze into a rough neighbourhood during a hard run, feel bad about it, and then get on with my own upper-middle class life and go back to my nice suburban house, two-car, two-garage, one child in great day care. There's something pointedly wrong about that.

Towards the end of this section of the run, the song Nightswimming came on my iPod. I've been given a little ribbing about having this song on my iPod and there's no question it's a downer. I have a little bit of history with the song- songs about swimming in general- but this is one that I associate with Lake Placid. I'm running along and there are literally shards of glass underfoot with each and every step. There were places where the sidewalk simply ended, just a dirt path. Abandoned buildings and businesses and lots that grow over and aren't grabbed up by greedy developers to be re-developed and re-sold. Bars on doors.

Depressing. No question. I realise I'm getting an emotional undercurrent seeing these things which is basically the same one I get when I hear the song and think about Lake Placid the years I'm not doing that race (like this one). Some places have a pull on you, but let's face it, there's a big difference between doing a race and well, having to live and work somewhere that's, well, just unpleasant, some place where there are bars on even the screen doors.

And then it happens. you break through to the route 10 crossing, the song changes from Nightswimming to Nickleback's Figured You Out, you pick up the pace and leave it behind you. And as you head for the final, long hill, you get U2's Beautiful Day (talk about a song that evokes Lake Placid) and the sun very coincidentally comes back out, and it really is a beautiful day. And you wipe the sweat off, you jump in the car and head off to day care, the workout good, the workout over.

But there's this nagging feeling you're still missing something...

Fairfield Half- Marathon

Still in post-season mode. I decided to run Fairfield last night but was certainly not trained for it. On Friday I'd gone out and done a 75 minute run/40 minute time-trial brick and Saturday I'd ridden for three hours and mowed the lawn. I'm still icing the knee and my legs kind of hurt, so it was interesting decision, still, since I was planning on otherwise running for 90 minutes, I figured why not add an hour of driving time and a 35.00 t-shirt. You can never have enough of those.

Besides, I had a cool new kit to race in, courtesy of Dave Greenfield. My Elite Bicycles singlet and tri-shorts were just dying to be hauled through what is usually a brutal race. What makes the race so hard is a combination of factors- a top-notch field and a flat first two miles makes for over-cooking the early miles, the hills can wear you out early, if they don't get you the three mile downhill probably will, and the scorching humidity will broiling you in the home-stretch.

Today, for a change, coming off a 55 degree night, the heat was not a serious factor. And as Chris Schulten put it 'I looked like I was running comfortably.' In a sense this was ironic, because my knee was still hurting when Chris saw me (first mile), and because my calves hurt the entire race (on and off, but with lots of on). Nevertheless, my goal was to run comfortably, make the race a hard training run. I need to keep pushing myself because my legs tend to feel better the day after a good run or ride, not worse.

I went out about 6 minutes, which, while fast, was reasonable. I had some people around me I felt I could run with, I had a good mini-nutrition plan (Power-Gel at 2, 6, and 10 miles.) Except for being cut off by the same runner three times in the first three miles as they surged and then faded (finally going off the back and staying there), I felt like I was having a solid, if slightly slow, race. They changed the course this year and to me, the mile markers seemed to be a little funky. But I never started my watch and since there's very little flat running in the middle miles, who knows.

I was trying to run about the same pace as one of my teammates, Ian Frankel, who'd handed me my hat (visor ?) at Branford. He pulled away a few times, but I would close back on the hills and I was keeping him in my sights. I was also ignoring the occasional twinge in my left calf that felt like a knot was about to blossom. Finally, at around 7 miles, during what has to be a sustained three mile downhill, Ian paused to get some water and I passed him. I then surged past another runner as we went up a short rise. As soon as I passed him, he accelerated. At first I pushed again. I'd been gaining on this guy for some time, felt I'd established a faster pace and was a little confused by his decision to start trying to race mile 8.

I decided that I was not ready to race yet. And thus began a frustrating three miles. Now, I've gone on record saying that in a triathlon, I think there are times you battle to keep a cyclist from passing you as well as times you don't. For me, this is mostly about people I've already passed. Make no mistake, this is just about having to interrupt my own cadence and drop back for a rider who is going outside their previous pace to battle it out as well as not wanting to get involved in those back-and-forth battles on the bike, which I believe encourages drafting by the other riders in the area where it occurs. If you're going to pass someone, pass them. If you're struggling in the 15th second to get a tire-width ahead of someone, you shouldn't be there.

There's not a drafting rule in running though, and I've accepted that to run my own race, I cannot, absolutely cannot, battle with runners until very late in the race, when the outcome is actually up for grabs. Tack on to someone and let them help pull me into a group I'm already trying to close on, yes. Engage in psychological warfare with other runners trying to determine who has the biggest stones with 5 miles left to go in a race, no. alan go boom.

So I let the guy go, without backing off. The downhill was still going on, and I was trying to moderate my effort so I'd be ready for the last few hills. Ian caught up and then passed me after 9 miles. However, at around 10 miles he had to stop for water again. I continued pushing on the hills and on the very last uphill, I started by this same runner again. He immediately and obviously surged again and although I'm sure it was uncalled for I made a comment about runners and their egos (and hey, I was a runner once- not fast enough anymore to be one). I kept my pace consistent and on several occasions this led me to start to pass him. Each time he surged, or so it seemed to me. To be fair, it could have been my imagination, but it didn't seem like it.

Finally, after mile 11, I just picked it up a notch. After all, I'd been at about 95% and as I pushed, my legs felt good, better than they had all day. I ended up being glad this guy was behind me, because I really pushed those last two miles and finally felt like I was running well. Who knows ? I might just have been imagining what was going on, but it gave me the push I needed.

I felt bad for Ian. If he had not had to stop for water, he'd certainly have beaten me and ran a better race.

I surprised to see that I'd actually beaten my last time by about 15 seconds. It's a great race. But the drivers sure seem testy today.

A big nod to teammates Chris Schulten, who buried the course in 1:17, Ian Frankel, Steve Surprise, who skipped a sprint triathlon to do the right thing for his Lake Placid training, and Bill Sheetz, who looked like he had a great race.

Welcome to the post-season

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

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

But for what ?

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

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

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

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

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

Eagleman

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



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

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

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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Getting old ?

I was talking to a friend from high school last week. She's a little younger than I am, but her boyfriend is older, in his early fifties. He was a runner until a serious case of plantar fasciitis stopped his running over a year ago, and he's never recovered from it. She asked me if now that I was getting older (sheesh, is 41 really getting older ???) if I was starting to break down a little bit.

I said that no, on the contrary, I felt like I was getting stronger. I really have felt pretty good lately. This is not to say I haven't been knicked up. I have. I went into the Ironman in mid-april with a lot of pain in my foot- I didn't talk to anyone about it because I felt that it wouldn't affect my ironman- it didn't, and I've figured out that my aging bike shoes- 3 years old- are simply too tight and have been aggravating the arthritis in my big toe, which I've had since college- and a serious problem with my elbow from a combination of carrying Ian and playing computer games. Weight training has solved that problem.

However, when I ran the Washington Trails 10K and came away with an extremely tight calf Monday, I couldn't help but revisit my answer. When I say tight, I mean there was a ball in my left calf. I soaked it in an hot tub that afternoon, but I would find myself unable to run again until Friday (and I passed on the opportunity). I was still able to work out- that is swim or bike, including a 50 mile ride on Wednesday. However, on Thursday night, I was forced to spin for 45 minutes because a test run on the road outside my house indicated that I still could not run. Just touching the calf still was causing pain.

So am I getting old ? No ! Six weeks ago, I took two days off after the Ironman and started training for Eagleman. And the training has been going well. But there are days my hamstrings are tight, or my calves are tight. I've been pushing hard. Add to that having a young child at a race can complicate you day- I had only about 10 minutes to warm up and immediately after the race I had to start following Ian around instead of running a warm-down. Throw in a VERY hard and hilly race on a hot and muggy day and a little calf pain is totally understandable.

I've been a very fortunate athlete. Injuries have not kept me out of races or away from training. Neither has age. So no, age is not catching up, not yet anyway. If anything, the thing keeping me young is continuing to run, bike, and even, yes, swim...

Washington Trails

No one was more surprised when I told him that I had not run a road race since last December than Ken Platt, who'd timed both that race- Christopher Martin's, and this one, the Washington Trails 10k.

in the interim I'd done 3 duathlons and an Ironman, and I have a half-ironman coming in two weeks. On Saturday I'd done a very hard two hour ride, 40 minute run brick, and yesterday I'd done an extremely hilly two hour ride, leaving my calves sore.

Washington Trails is a tough race. I regularly ride the course as part of my longer, hillier rides. It's also a race that I've had some decent results at- a pair of fifth and then back to back third places the last two years, but I never know who is going to show up at the race and kick my ass. There's almost always a local favourite/college division I all-american or other top runner, Chris Schulten or some other top-notch guy. This year was no exception.

While warming up I ran across Dave Pantin, Chris Dickerson, and Mike Gulay, who wasn't, it turned out, there to run. Even John Bysiewicz was there, talking large to Chris. We were joking about letting JB carry us up the first hill, but as I hadn't raced in 6 months, I should have known what would happen.

When the cannon went off, the kids took off, and full of adreneline, I chased them down. Halfway up the first hill, I took the lead, humped over the hill, and turned onto 17 (79?). I was running hard, really hard, but I was also hoping someone, anyone with more brains than me would catch me and allow me to back off. I mean, I knew I was running too fast, but for the second time in eight days I was following the pace car so I had to just keep plowing along, the old man leading out the college kids in hid custom kit, working too hard to even put on the tunes.

Finally, mercifully, two college kids ran me down just shy of the one mile mark and I went through at a totally sick 5:44 on a course I would never run under sixes. I turned the corner and started to wonder when Chris Dickerson would catch me. That didn't happen until well after two miles. Chris is the most awesome guy- he always has a word or words of encouragement as he drops me, never chiding me for going out too hard.

We schleped up more hills, and by the 5k mark, I'd dropped to 6th and I was hurting, but I was still running pretty strong. I got passed for the last time after the big downhill that takes you through four miles and I neither ran down the last guy in range nor did I get caught by Dave Pantin. It was a great day for a race- hot, sunny, and humid, just how I like it. I even took a power gel at about 5 miles and I think it really helped carry me to the finish, sore calves and all.

I've run faster there, finished higher up than 7th, but for my first road race of 2007, I'll take my medal and work on recovering, and I certainly feel like I ran well.

Shamrock Duathlon

These race reports are going to start coming out of order, I guess.

I have to admit to not being especially committed to the race. Oh, I wanted to do it all right. I qualified to compete at worlds last year at this race, and while it was not a qualifier again this year, I wanted to go back and race. By the same token, I'm training for a half-ironman and didn't hold back on my Saturday workout. There was also the feeling that perhaps the best thing for the family as a whole was not me chasing up to Glastonbury on what seemed destined to be a rainy day.

So I didn't put on the race wheels, replace the missing bottle cage, test ride the bike after having the front chain-rings replaced. I did prep the coffee maker, mix my gatorade, and get up at 5 am and drive up to the race, however. I got there all too early. While I got a great parking spot, registration didn't even open for another 15 minutes. They were very, very strict about opening registration at 6:30 am, and strangely, the race started 15 minutes late.

I don't like to spend a lot of time on my bike before a race. I did pump the back tire up a bit, which is also something I hate to do, but I just made sure it was in the right gear and racked it, then went for a 5 minute run. Wearing arm warmers and a cycling jersey, I was too hot. To the south, thunderstorms seemed to threaten, to the north the sun was out. It stayed this way as I listened to Evanescence (it was hard not to stay with the ipod when the DJ was playing a baseball park organ version of the Addams Family Theme Song).

Just before the race I switched to my EH jersey. I stood next to a guy, who, I kid you not, stood with one foot almost completely over the starting line. Baffled yes, but sure I could out run him, I said nothing.

The race started. As usual, I felt as though I was off to a bad start as six or seven guys ran ahead of me and another 4 or 5 surrounded me. Greenwich (my next post) all over again. But Mike Guylay was just 3-4 seconds ahead of me so if anything, I figured I was running too hard. As it's a two loop run the first loop is a feel me out affair, but it quaickly became obvious that I was going to finish the top run at the rear end of the top 5. A friend, Sue Lathan, randomly drove by in her red VW bug, confusing me on the way to her soccer game.

I realised on the second loop that I had a chance to do well in the race. I hung on, passed my wat into fourth, and hit transition in good shape (although the eventual race winner was about two seconds behind me).

I was second out of transition behind Mike, but he had to climb a grassy hill in his bike shoes and then mount going uphill. I ran by him, got on the round, started pedalling without my feet in the cages, and looked up. There was a police car. Why was there a police car ? Oh sh!t, I realised, I was in the lead. That lasted for 3 miles, then the race winner and Mike zoomed by me, 10 seconds apart.

I rode the next 14 miles alone, in fourth, on roads that seemed beaten down and damaged by recent rains, up hills, down hills, struggling, breaking on the endless 90 degree turns because I was in third and wanted to finish. And then, with a mile left, I got passed, but by someone I knew I could drop on the run. I stayed loose, came in, racked my bike, and by the time Mike got his shoes on, I was able to watch his back the whole second run. The first woman zoomed in as I headed out and I thought 'Better ask coach for some bike time'.

For 3.1 miles, I chased Mike and the race leader, and while I put time into both of them, i still finished third. I needed to ride faster and run even harder.

I think I could have won Sunday, but I came third, and that's a pretty good result for a guy like me.

Just don't ask me about the drive home.

Reflections

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The One that Got Away...

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

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

Well, maybe not. Old at least.

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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



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



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

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

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

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

Quick Thoughts on a Tough Day

I'm not going to mince words or make excuses. I had a poor race today. After what was simply the most hellish bike ride I have ever had, I ran poorly and I finished with an 11:27 something.



That is to say, I walked much of the second and a small part of the third loops. I had always felt as though I would never walk, however, when that moment came when I started to think about whether I should run or stop, I instead decided to keep moving. It probably was a bad decision but I think that had I simply kept running i would have ended up in the medical tent or just lying on the side of the road like other people I saw today.

I also ran 6 of the last 9 miles, including the last five. It could have been worse. And it could have been so much better. More later. No regrets.

Final Thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Active Release Techniques

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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



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

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



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

Aye, that's the rub !

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

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

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

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

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

Last Run- Going Under

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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