Turkey Trot Double

I just happen to live in a place where I'm allowed the opportunity to run two races on Thanksgiving morning. The first one is a 5K run on roads that I run and ride on all the time, the second is a 5 miler in the same park as Brian's Beachside Boogie.

I look forward to this all year. I'm not sure why except that it's the sort of unique experience that you just have to take. I've also done well at both races each of the times I've done it, so why not go for it ?

Well, it is getting harder. The 5k in Branford started at 0830 one year, I think, then got moved to 0900, and this year they tacked a kids race on at 0900 so the start time for the 5K was supposed to be 0910. Now many races start late, and with kids, you never exactly know what will happen. On the plus side, the Branford race is run by JB, and JB usually starts everything on time. However, of all his races, this one is the only one I've ever seen with major timing issues, and if a timer isn't ready, that's all she wrote.

Margit and I both ran with Ian and maybe the highlight of the day was Ian pounding out half a mile in like 4:56. He's starting to get it....

I helped clear away the cones and buckets at the starting line (also the kids finish line) and @cvelardi started the race.

The 5K
As soon as I heard go, I started running. And I mean running. As hard as I could, not only did I get the exact line I wanted out of the driveway of the middle school and onto Damascus, there was no one around me. I had my headphones still in and all I could hear was the music and the sound of my own feet. There was a car in front of me, but I wasn't actually looking at it. I was just running. There was nothing going on inside my head. We got to the second turn and that point, probably more than half a mile into the race, where it dawned on me that a) what the hell was I doing and b) where the hell was everyone else.

A few seconds later, I was swarmed by a pack of high school and college kids. I tried to stay with them. Sort of. I mostly tried to maintain as much speed as possible. This was my first race since the Ironman and I was feeling good, but I was also slipping right into the pain cave.

Then JT went by me. Damn it. JT is still a great runner.

I just kept running, hoping no one else could slip by me. The turn-around was out there somewhere. The hard part of the race was after the cone- it's a straight out and back. I was watching the backs of the guys in front of me and the people streaming down towards the cone. I felt like some of those people might have enough of a kick, but except for the guy I was battling directly with- a 30 something guy that hadn't been able to hang onto JT. After the cone it was a gentle sloping uphill and I was really suffering, and I was pretty sure after that hard start, I was going to blow up.

But I didn't. JT slowly pulled away, and the 30 something just was able to gap me as we headed back to Damascus, but no one else closed in and as I made it around the bend back, I felt like I was running well. I even thought I might have a shot at breaking 18:00, and I did. I was running hard, but at the same time I was settled.

Maybe too settled. I turned the corer into the school and the clock was right around 17:50.

So close. I ended up running an 18:04. Grrr. So close.

I was 8th overall, and won my age group.

Transition
I tossed my chip to a volunteer, went over to my backpack, which I left by the finish line, slung it onto my back and started jogging to y car.

I was worried. I thought if it were later than 9:35, I would not have time to make it. I was whipped, absolutely spent. I got in the car and it was 9:35.

On 95, I did my best to relax. This is because I was basically shelled from the effort of the 5K, and because there was moderate traffic. At first I was making good time, but as soon as I got off the highway there was a mile long backup. What had seemed like plenty of time to get everything done was suddenly nowhere near enough time to get parked, get to the start, and oh, I had to go to the bathroom.

Of course, everyone was headed to the race, so it wasn't really that bad. The road we were driving in on, was also the road the race was on. Got parked.

Jogged to the line.

Settled in with the elite runners, Jessie, the college kids, and so on. Granted, I'm not that fast anymore, but I'm close enough. And then, two minutes after I got to the line, just before the anthem, Maureen got there, so there were two of us doing the double.

The 5 Miler
I don't think I've ever felt like I was in a swim start at a road race, not even New Haven, until Madison Thursday.  I was running in a mix of 50 or so people, moving up past some and getting passed but others. We made the first left-hand turn and it was still tight as hell, just a ton of people. This was the perfect thing for me really because I couldn't think about how tired I was from the other race, I was really fighting it out, and trying my best to stay both in a rhythm and not let anyone get away. I went through the first mile just under 6.

There was some wind out there because there is always wind in Hammonassett. We ran back towards the start and I hit the two mile mark still under 6  minutes a mile. The very top guys were so fast I didn't see them going out as I was going in. I saw Jesse and thought he was top six or seven and was running in the 10th-11th spot. We made the turn and headed back out and now I felt like the race was settling into a rhythm and for the first time I could kind of see and end coming to the race. I was running a steady pace and we were headed out to Meigs Point- once we rounded the turn I'd be in the home stretch.

The tide was in- way in and covering the road. Everyone else ran around the water, which was ankle deep or shallower. I went right through it, because that's how you save time. I hit three miles still under 6 minutes per mile and I was pretty sure I was going to break 30. Was I going to break 30 ? After running an 18:04 I desperately wanted to. But I was back and forth with 3-4 guys. Once we turned the point the wind came on and the running got tougher.

It seemed like everyone was settled in now. We heeded back towards the rotary and we all had our places, just running hard- I passed the four mile mark and I was still sure I'd break 30 by a few seconds. People were streaming out the other direction, at less than 3 miles when we were well past four- and that's with me being beaten by the race winners by 5 minutes, which is a- wow, some fast people. There was only one woman ahead of me, and none pressing.

The last mile was slow. I was running at the same speed as the guys around me, running pretty well, but 30 minutes was getting away and I didn't know it. People were yelling and screaming as we came in and I was still kind of fighting to catch the guy in front of me and hold off the guy behind me. We hit the two mile mark and there was less than 15 seconds to break 30 minutes and I didn't make it. BUt I beat a guy on the line by a few tenths of a second.

I also won my age group by 1:02, running a 30:05.

Overall Impressions
You get what you pay for. I thought I ran the 5K all out and failed to break 18. Would I have broken 30 just running Madison ? I think so.

I have nothing to complain about though. I won my age group at two races- beating 135 others at Madison, 77 at Branford. 3700 other people ran one race or the other slower than I did.

But that's not what is it about, not at all.

I had fun. That's what it is really about.

I had a blast.

Ironman Florida Run

I could just write: 'I didn't get it done on the run.'

Yeah, that would do it. It's true. I was unable to run the entire run- I stopped once to take a dump (which didn't happen). I walked mile 20-21 and maybe another half-mile to mile of the course.

I fought the wind too hard on the bike. It's clear and obvious to me now, looking back. It's the one unforgivable mistake of the Ironman athlete. I came out of the swim energized. I came off the bike frustrated. And yet, I think that there was nothing inevitable about my run being bad. I think I could have overcome the way I fought on the bike, but I fell into a trap on the run that I will not fall into again.

It started out well. I put a garmin on and my first mile on the run was in the 7s. So was the second. And this is where I made the mistake that ultimately cost me a good race. I started backing off. I told myself it was too fast, I can't run 7s. If I run 7s I'll blow up.

I passed on of the chronic drafters (my next blog post will be an email exchange, edited to protect the guilty, I had with this athlete). As I went by I looked at their number, with the slash in it, and said 'Oh, you took a penalty. That's a surprise.' Yes, I can be kind of a dick sometimes, because I am competitive.

So after two miles I started to back off, pushing myself to run 8s, then 8:15s. This probably seems like a smart idea, like the right thing to do, but here's the question: was I really beat and unable to run 7:45s, or did I talk myself into thinking that would be suicidal.

Well, I have no question that it's the later. I firmly believe that I talked myself out of having a good run by panicking at how fast I started. Logic told me I should runs 8s or slower. But here's the thing, the slower I ran, the worse I felt, and once I got out of my rhythm, I felt like, well, I felt like shit. Felt like I was blowing up. And I did, in fact blow up.

It's taken me about two weeks to understand what really happened. Since the Ironman, there are only two days I didn't run- the next day, and today, because in the morning I have two races.

I was out in the park, coming back on the loop, and ran with a pro for a while. Ran with him. Not got crushed by him, not saw him briefly, we ran and talked for maybe half a mile. And yet, within a mile of that I was struggling, ducking into a port-let to crap when I didn't need to crap. Once I forced myself to slow down, I was never right again. I made the first loop in OK time.

I headed back out and when I got to Margit and Ian I didn't panic, I didn't get upset, but I stopped to talk to them. I never stop to talk to people, but I had a 'coach, take me out for a play, moment, which I can't stand. Then I went back to running. I'm not going to blow-by-blow that second loop. Why should I ? It was a bad loop.

I will say this. I struggled, but I ran the last four miles solidly, and I caught five people in the last mile. I finished hard to the line and I never lost track of the 11 hour mark and what I needed to avoid having an unacceptably slow Ironman.

I wasted a chance in Florida to have a really good race, but at least now I understand exactly what went wrong. All this time I've been thinking slow it down, go easier. That's wrong.

What I have to do in Louisville next August is let myself go. Let my natural rhythm control the run. I was strong enough, I was focused. If my body says 7:40, then I'm going to let it have 7:40. I'm going to shut my brain off and let my body do the talking, and that way, there'll be no walking...

Ironman Florida Bike

So, I headed out along what I think is Route 98, or Old Route 98. Whatever. I hadn't done the race in 3 years, but having done it twice, so I figured I knew the bike course pretty well.

It was a little windy, but not bad, and to be honest I felt the drafting on this stretch wasn't bad. I was passing people, and there were clumps, but everyone was going at their own speed and it was mostly just congestion and not organized groups. Before I knew it I was going out past the new open-air mall, including zipping by Margaritaville, where we'd had lunch the day before.

The thing I noticed that I thought was odd was the number of non-combantants, some of them old people, who were 'on' the bike course. I mean, I know people have to get from point a to point b, but um, sometimes timing is everything and I'd hate to see someone's Ironman dreams end when they crash into some retiree on a cruiser.

There were definitely crowds out watching us and it was pretty cool, because unlike some courses, the one loop IM Florida course is not spectator-packed. Which is fine with me. I'm not out there to wave to the crowd, I'm out there to race.

Once we got off the shore and were heading north it was obvious that the wind was going to be a factor all day.

I was out there in just a cycling jersey, bike shorts and bike shoes with no socks. People were wearing jackets, booties, arm warmers, and so on. I could see the arm warmers, but seriously, booties ?

I felt like the first ten miles of the race was really clean as far as the drafting, and then I started to come up on packs. At first it was no big, because I was still passing people, although I was starting to feel like I was working hard into the wind. I was also forcing myself to drink heed, and by the twenty mile mark I I'd drained one of the three bottles I was carrying, getting in a lot of fluids and hopefully energy. I was also taking shots of vanilla EFS.

Because I was on Margit's race wheels, I had no computer. I remember seeing the 20 mile mark, peeing on the bike, and between that and the thirty mile mark the drafting got serious. It was somewhere in here that I first lost my patience, sitting up and throwing my arms up as people went by in a clump. I get grief from drafters sometimes, lighten up, it's just a race, hop on....

I do chirp back but I hold it in check and what the people giving me a hard time don't understand is that throwing up my hands and muttering sarcastic comments is not what I want to be doing. I'm not going to even say what I'd like to do, but it doesn't involving talking.

I will say that I only remember attacking a pack after it passed me once. I settled in and got my 5 bike lengths and then I went after it. I buzzed everyone as I went by, staying in as tight to the pack as I could. I'll be honest. I don't understand how, when you are in the middle of a pack, you go by a guy who throws up his hands, exhorting you not to cheat, and you go ahead and do it anyway. In that vein, I'll share an email exchange about that I had with another athlete at the race. I'd never met this person, but I was intrigued as to how they could ride basically 100 miles sucking someone's wheel. They answered me, and I think some excerpts from it will make a great blog post. Another time. That's all I'll say about the drafting.

With no computer, and using only the time of day, I actually got a bit confused. The wind was brutal for from miles 10-50 and it was after I thought I'd missed the 50 mile mark that I rode by the forty mile. That was soul crushing. It was such a slow ride and that continued until around 50 miles. The out and back that used to be in the 70-80 range is now in that 50s range.

On the out and back, my bike's front wheel, or so I thought, went from making some small vibration noises, to a lot of noises. A LOT of noise. I knew right away what it was- broken spoken. The out and back was unbelievably rough, and I was milking the bike now. Broken spoke ? And on the rough road, the noise started getting louder, to the point where I was sure I had two broken spokes. I started having visions of me blowing up the front wheel and ending up in ditch, and I was mostly thinking 'Can I possibly finish with a bum wheel.' Then at the aid station I took a bottle of water, poured it over my head, and in the resulting clarity, though to reach down to my up tube. I put my hand around the cables, and sure enough, there were no broken spokes. I'd had some adjustments done, and the cables had loosened up slightly after the bike sat outside all night.

I started riding harder again, exiting the out and back.

A guy went by me as we turned out of the wind and said 'Did we just get a tail wind?'

Indeed we did. It lasted all of maybe five miles.

At sixty miles I peed again. I could tell I was not drinking as much heed as maybe I should be. I was doing well with the EFS.

The bottom line on the bike is I never got into a great rhythm. I was down on the aerobats, in a good position on the bike, but I was putting a lot of grief into my legs, riding alone into the wind and the occasional crosswinds. The packs would get broken up in the turns and twists and hills, then re-form. I continued to ride trying to go at about 90%, nothing dramatic, and keep eating and drinking.

The highlight of the bike ride was getting a thumbs up from an official.

I saw Margit and Ian on the bridge and climbed the bridge solidly. I peed just before 100 miles a third and final time.

The big surprise was waiting for when we finally got onto the oceanside drive that takes you back to the transition.

I though the wind going back towards Tempe Town Lake in Arizona in April was the worst I'd ever raced in, however, this was worse, and it's maybe 10 miles back into town. This was some of the slowest riding I have ever done in a race and I was passing people. I was going slow enough that one car pulled up aside me and the people inside started trying to chat with me...

It was the most brutal part of the ride, and all I can say is I was- as often is the case- terribly glad to get off the bike. When I got into transition I initially couldn't find anyone to take my bike right away. I picked the shoes I knew I could run barefoot in, and I was off....

(next: the run)

Ironman Florida Pre-Race and Swim

The nice thing about doing an Ironman repeatedly- and this was my third time in Florida- is knowing where to stay and what to do.

We were on the run course, barely half a mile from the start, so I was able to leave the condo at 530 and walk down to the start, wearing the pair of sneakers I would ultimately run in and socks I planned to run in (oops). I got body marked and went right into the transition area and got in line for the port-potties. I was listening to Evanescence and was getting either too amped up or two wrapped up in the enormity of it all, so I finally switched to Boston.

I only have one complaint about the 2011 Ironman Florida- not enough port-potties. I got into the port-pottie line after dropping some things of in my race bags, and then waited half an hour to go to the bathroom. When I finally did get into the port-let, I changed from bibs to standard tri-shorts.

There clearly has been a theft issue at the Ironman, and my guess is what has been stolen are iPhones. Security during bike check-in and race morning was extremely tight, and one effect was that it was very hard to get out of transition. They were not allowing us to leave with our morning clothes bag to hand them off to family or friends, and the only exit out of transition was a one-person wide opening in the fence guarded on each side by staff.

The result was a massive backup of stressed-out Ironpeople.

It didn't bother me, but I still ended to try and catch Margit and Ian before I entered the water and I had wanted to get in the water by 630. After the very rough water Thursday and Friday- Thursday's swim was a complete and stressful failure, and Friday was only slightly better. I was actually resigned to the swim on the way down and not that nervous about the race. And then I got there and the water was really rough. The swim on Thursday was a complete failure and the Friday swim was only marginally better and I had a few panicky moments on Friday where I had to fight the urge to get all wigged out about racing.

I got a good warmup in though, noted that the water was cold only very close to shore, and began moving around to find a place to start. Initially I moved far to the right but then determined that I should start right at the edge of what was meant to be the start corral, where the fence moved very close to the shore and therefore I would have fewer people behind me.

When the cannon went off- if you've never done the Ironman they start the swim with a cannon, which is epic the first few times- people started walking out. I started swimming as soon as I could. I had a pretty good line to the first buoy and it wasn't too bad. The opening stanza of the swim is always rough when you're someone like me that can't get clear and has to fight for water. But with lots of people inside the buoy line and lots of people outside it wasn't too bad.

Until I got to the buoy that is. Everyone seemed to actually want to go around the outside of the buoy or swim as close to it as humanly possible. Because I had a good line to the buoy that meant everyone came into towards me.

Grrr. This reoccurring theme was the most aggravating part of the swim. The first time we got to the turn buoy, a number of us actually had to tell people to relax and calm down. There were people- big people- kicking like mad at the turn and that is so not cool.

My other pet peeve on the swim was people who can't sight and swim at the same time. Look people, just tuck your head up, get a quick look, and get back to work. The water in the gulf at PCB is so damn crystal it's a little sick. You can actually watch other people swimming. You do not, in this water, need to stop swimming, 'sit-up' and look around like a freaking tourist.

The course was never clear, there were always people around you, so one rube stopping could easily create a traffic jam. Which it did.

I have never suffered so much contact in a swim. I was kicked in both eyes and the jaw, but I was able to shake off all three.

I think I swam the 1st loop, which is shorter, in 36 minutes. People were walking on the beach while I was trying to run and this too would be a recurring theme. I started to shout 'make a hole, make a hole' and 'y'all gotta keep moving'.

Unlike every other time I've done Florida or Lake Placid, I did not feel like shit getting back in the water, I just wanted to swim.

The compression effect at the buoys continued, providing for plenty of contact, but I really felt I dealt with it well until we got to the red turn buoy and one very large gentleman in front of me sat up and started kicking like a mule. After taking a couple of kicks I yelled 'Jesus, stop your ----ing kicking.' This is the longest speech I've ever delivered while swimming.

I actually really like the swim course. Probably because the water isn't black, the course is so open and easy to see that it makes it feel much shorter than Lake Placid. That salt water doesn't hurt either.

I got in finally- the last quarter of the swim always seems to take forever- and up on the beach. I missed the clock and then I was running up the walk, past the people who were flopping down to get there wetsuits off. There were a lot of us, and most of them were walking, and again I was yelling at them, not mean, but trying to take a commanding tone, make a hole or get moving. I picked my way past as many as I could and quickly got to transition and found my bag. I ignored the volunteers directing me to head to the transition building and ran back the way I came. There was a lot of empty tarmac and no one whose way I was in. I changed, dropped my bag and tried to head for my bike but was told I HAD to go through the transition building even though my bike was about 30 meters away.

The transition building was, as you'd expect, a clusterfrak. It took me about 90 seconds to get in, pick my way around people, wearing my bike shoes and helmet, and get out the back side.

I grabbed my bike and started running, again picking my way around people that were walking. Once out of transition I continued running, passed everyone else who had mounting, running faster than people on their bicycles, then I mounted and I was out on the bike course.

That'll will be part two...

Racing Ironman Florida

Racing tomorrow- #2196

Tapering

I'm not a huge fan of tapering, all things considered. I understand it, but I don't like it.

I was supposed to ride 3 hours today and run another. I suspect this was as much to keep me busy as anything, given that one of my few abilities is a freakish ability to recover from workouts and races. It didn't happen, as William Shatner (have you heard the new album ? I have) say. Due to Margit being at the tail end of one job (and about to start another), my son's soccer game, a hair cut, and my bike being shipped to Florida on an 18-wheeler, I wasn't even close to this.

Did I mention the utterly freak snowstorm ? If you are anywhere on that northeast corridor I'm sure I don't have to.

The bottom line is I only spun for 2 hours and 20 minutes and got in a zero minute run. No brick for me today.

And you know what ? It absolutely doesn't matter. It will have no effect on my race a week from today and in the end, while I might remember having largely missed my workout, I'll probably forget.

I am tapered and I am ready to race. That's what's important.

So in the morning I'll get up, run for about 100 minutes, and rest for a week.And that's OK.

On the Wheel of a Professional Cyclist (October 15th)

So I had a choice. Ride 100 miles again- for the third week in a row- get my ride started at 9 and be done at 1, and do the training that had been assigned, or go on a group ride with a guy that rides in the Tour De France.

For a lot of people this might be a no brainier. You go and meet the pro, you have an experience. For me though, I wanted to have the best workout to get me ready for Florida, especially after the stink bomb I'd laid out the week before, when it took me almost 5:15 to ride 100 miles. I really had my confidence shaken by this craptastic of a ride, nutrition product fail or no nutrition product fail. There was a string urge to go my own way, even though the ride would ultimately take me right by where the charity ride was, even though I could meet my wife in the parking lot before the race to hand off my son, because it's also where she swims.

I decide late Friday that what the hell, I would go. I mean, I am a firm believer that no one workout makes or breaks a race, and this was a chance to share the road with a Tour rider, I had friends that were going to the ride and for some logistical reasons I won't get into, it actually kind of made more sense to start my ride in East Lyme than at home. I wasn't going to meet the pro though, I was just going to support the ride. And get a good workout in. The CT Cycling Centre guys had sent out an email indicating they'd be doing another 50 miles to get the ride up to a century, which was what I needed, so I showed up early, registered, and then ran half an hour on the track, which was right behind the registration. So I was making it a reverse brick instead of brick, but I was still going to get my miles in at least.

The ride started a little bit late after Tom and his family arrived in the limo. He gave a short but heartfelt speech about growing up in East Lyme, and then we started the ride. It was over a hundred people as far as I could tell, probably more, and it's the first time that I've been involved in what you could call a mass start. We managed to get out of the parking lot and out on the ride, and I'll say this. For the first 15-20 minutes, it was pretty stressful. There were a lot of people, and we were staying together in a group, so it was pretty slow, and a little erratic. I hadn't ridden together with anyone in weeks, and here I was in a mass of people going 20, then going 10, then going 30, then going 15. I mean, I ride with people, but my idea of a big ride if 15-20 people, not a hundred.

But I figured it out after a bit, that I needed to be on the yellow line, as far to the outside as I could get, and until I forgot this, things got a lot better. There were still the occasional sketchy moments, but I was riding behind Greg Comen and another CT Cycle Center/Zanes guy. When they moved up, I moved up. Pretty soon the ride had actually separated, and there were maybe 30-40 of us left, still a 'big' group for me but a lot less than earlier.

I was really impressed with Tom Danielson. He was riding back and forth in the group talking to everyone who wanted to grab a chat and it was interesting stuff, traveling and racing and so on. Really making an effort to engage people. Greg and some of the other guys I knew were talking to him so I rode right behind him, trying to keep a little bubble. Which was ironic, because in a short while, I would come as close as anyone in the ride to causing him some stress- at least as far as I know. Oh yeah, every ride has a story...

So I got comfortable on the ride and of course, this was a mistake. The ride wasn't hilly, but there were some hills, and on one of them I got forced to the inside, our let myself get trapped on the inside. I should never be on the inside when climbing because as people start to slow down, I usually go around them. The guy in front of me was going 12 mph. Then he was going 7 mph. Just like that. I moved to his right, overlapping his wheel but well wide of it, and with the plan of riding off into the woods if that was what it took- at least no one else would get hurt. Since this is something I'm not used to I then made a mistake. Instead of jumping on my gears and getting a nice hard gear to slow my turnover, I tapped my breaks. Immediately I had to clip out. I got my left foot down caught my balance and started right up again. No big deal, except of course that Tom Danielson was right behind me when it happened.

Embarrassed. Tom said 'Whoa, it's getting crazy now,' but his voice was upbeat, not aggravated and that really helped. I mean, it was my fault and it wasn't. The guy in front of me died, but hey, I needed to be ready for it....

At one point of our guys ride up to me and jokingly said 'Tom asked if you'd stay in the back'...

So of course you kind of spend a while after that just trying to forget you did something stupid. Nobody got hurt, I wasn't riding like an asshole. Still, it was a little hard to just relax.

But hey, we got close to the end of the ride, and we were riding near Route 1, which is exactly where I'd been doing my training. We were still on a side road and a pace line formed. There were about 12 guys in the line, but right away, guys started popping off the back. And after my earlier shortcomings I did not want to start hopping the the queue and cutting people off. But these guys weren't getting back on so I started moving up, settling in, pulling people behind me as I went. We settled into about eight people, with Tom on the front and a guy from Keltic named Gerard (?) behind him. Tom would pop out every so often, clearly not expending himself too dearly, seeing who was along for the ride..

Then he and Gerard went. I was waiting for someone else to go and the gap was getting bigger, and no one was going. So I pulled out of the line, and hopped the gap. A couple of guys urged me on as I went, which I though was kind of funny, I mean this was a charity ride, but hey, whatever, I needed it. It was hard work getting across the gap, but I did get there. At some point Gerard dropped and there I was, on Tom Danielson's wheel. What the hell ?

Then someone went by us. Now this is breaking the primal rule. I learned this riding with Eric. If you are riding with someone that can drop you at will, and they want to be in front, then you don't pass them. It's simple logic. Anyway, this guy passed, and then pretty soon he too was gone. I was not. There I was, sucking Tom Danielson's wheel, riding pretty damn hard. He was probably going 80%, I was going 95%.

One more guy joined the mix, and Tom dropped back to see who else was coming, but there wasn't anyone else. I was still second wheel, but with Tom behind me. And then I looked down and saw a front wheel on my right, on road I'd never have ridden on, and I felt a very gentle hand on my hip. Tom Danielson wanted to get by. He didn't push, he was just saying 'Hey, I'm here'. I gave him some room and he moved in front and then that's when the race was on. I looked down and I was hammering away at 37mph- and I was out of contact of both Tom and the guy that was second wheel, who had also been dropped. I was still hammering, but it was over. He looked back to make sure we were still there, and turned into the school. I was expecting the rest of the ride to ride me down then, but that didn't happen, we'd made our getaway and the little charity ride had turned out to give me two great stories.

I have to give big props to Tom Danielson again, because he stayed and gave individual pictures with each and every person that wanted one. (see mine below). I was really, really impressed with how much of himself he put into the event.

I went back out, added another twenty miles, then ran a 6:30 mile on the track, packed it up, and went home, workout completed, and yeah, I had a hell of a lot of fun too.

Branford Shores Fall Classic

I'd last raced two weeks ago, and with Ironman Florida three weeks away, a road race hardly seemed like the right thing to be doing.

The lead-in didn't exactly help, either. I'd swum 3K yards on Friday (a marathon swim for me) and time-trialed the Hammerfest course after, then spent part of my Saturday chasing a TDF pro on a sprint (more on that in a later post).

My Sunday workout called for 2:15-2:30 of running, and as I traded emails with @poycc I was trying to figure out how to make that work with a 4 mile road race on basically the same course as the Hammerfest. I mean, how do you pass up a race you can run to on roads you train year round on ? Well, by staying focused on your main goal, but one of my weaknesses has always been thinking I can train for one thing and still race whatever distances and disciplines I want.

So I came up with a plan. The race was starting at 10AM so if I started running at 8AM, I could meet Michael at his condo at 8:45, we could run over to the race and sign up and then continue running. By the time I got over there and signed up I had a little over an hour under my belt. I registered quickly, then I went out and ran entire course. It was windy- really windy, and running the course really helped to give me an idea how to attack it in a race.

I got back and because I wanted to have 1:40 in the bag before the race started I did another 10 minutes on the Branford Road Race course. The I went and talked to John Courtmanche, JB, and Michael. While doing that I realised that Bart Wasiolek was there. Any chance of a win was gone, because Bart had also brought one of his Quinnipiac runners with him. And the guy that I had beat by five seconds at the last race was there as well.

Well, I was not expecting to win anyway. After having run an hour and forty minutes, with my calves sore from the ride the day before and my achilles tender, I was going to be lucky to hold my own.

We started out, running downhill, and I quickly settled into a lead group of 5 people, Bart and his college runner, the guy from the other race, a teenager and myself. I was in the middle, running hard as we took the right into Indian Neck and as part tried to open it up, I followed him in the college guy, hoping to make it a three man race. I couldn't believe how fast I was running, totally out of the box at the start.

We went through a mile at an almost sick 5:41. I mean 5:41 is pretty slow, but not when it's a 5:41 mile within a two and a half hour run. I was running as hard as I could, but I still fell into fifth place as we ran along the water. I was unable to hold off the other two guys and Bart and the college kid ran away. As we turned onto Bayberry I was locked in fifth, bout I felt like if I picked it up I could move up into third as we took the first turn and then headed up the short hill.

And I did. The five man race became two two man races, two runs off the front and the teenager and I fighting it out on the back of the course. I was convinced a shirtless JB was going to blast by me at some point, but it never did happen. Instead, at each hill, I would open a small gap on the teenager, who was tall and lean, kind of the anti-me. Then his long stride would close me down.

At around 3 miles we got back to Pawson. I was running up the hill and pulling away, but with a mile left to go I didn't want to blow myself up. So I moderated my effort, which may have been a mistake. I got very little separation and as we broke back onto the main road, I ended up behind. I would spend the rest of the race there, locked in fourth place. I tried and failed to gain ground.

Finally I could see the finish line and my goal was simple. Break 24:00. For some reason though, a flag maybe, the clock was obscured. So I ran my ass off and what do you know ?

23:59. Sub-6.

That felt good.

No, it felt great. I ran home, got my bike and road back to Lenny's and as they called my name I walked in, took my trophy, and rode home.

I ran 2:35 total. So I accomplished everything I wanted, and more....

How to Not Get in a Bike Accident

My long ride last Sunday had plenty of adventures and while the overall ride was a sort of disaster in slow-motion (time-wise- 100 miles in an anemic 5 hours 13 minutes), it had one shining moment. It came when I didn't smash into a car.

I was about an hour into my ride, feeling really good. I was headed up Route one at about 23mph. A blue Honda went by me, going barely faster than me, a line of cars behind him. He appeared to be looking for somewhere to turn, but I had the feeling, since he had no signal on and with the way he was kerning the car, that he wanted something on the other side of the rode.

I was wrong.

When we got the entrance of the Mobil station, he turned right. No signal, no warning, no breaking, just that old man 'I'm going here' turn.

At first, I ran through the 'how do I avoid hitting this car' protocol. I had maybe 2.5-3 seconds before impact, and what a long amount of time that is when you have to start calculating.

Instinctively, I hit the breaks, and because I had my race wheels on, I immediately started to fishtail.

Bad, meet worse.

The fishtail, uncorrected, would lead to a crash. So I admitted to myself that there was no way- none- that I could veer right with enough speed to avoid getting hit and therefore I should hit the car instead.

The clarity that came- the relaxation- when I admitted that yes, I was going to be in an accident and it was up to me to have that accident on my terms, allowed me to focus.

I let go of the breaks, and the straightened out of the fishtail. Step one, that crash was off the books. I was still going to hit the car...

Or was I. I'd ruled out squirting around the car on the left because of the traffic- that line of cars- but the fishtail had me pointed a bit left. I looked down and I was still going 20 mph, so I went.

I didn't think, just went. Missed the back bumper by a good 6 inches.

I turned to give the guy the finger and a mouthful of frakitutudes and he was oblivious, smoking a cigarette and looking straight ahead. No idea he'd almost ended my ride 4 hours early, wrecked my bike or run the risk of me putting a few K of dings in his car.

I fought the urge to go back. I had another 80 miles to ride.

And that was the important thing. Accepting that there was no way I was never going to get to the end of my ride is what ultimately allowed me to do just that.

On Long Rides and Long Runs

Last week I rode 100.0 miles in 4:59:30. On my training wheels. That was a tremendous adventure, full of memorable events, including a frenetic last 29 minutes where I started 50 seconds off a 20 mph pace and somehow rung 1:20 out of the last 10 miles despite plowing through two knee-deep puddles and doing some almost Lance-worthy off-roading.

Today, I ran for 2 hours. Map My Ride gave me some questionable, on the shoreline gps data (a lot of workouts show up short her on the shoreline). I ran a solid negative split of nearly three minutes after running a very solid 1 hour and 1 second out before turning around and coming back. I drained a bottle of hammer nutrition and one flask of EFS nutrition.

I never felt bad. I never had to take a dump (yes, this happens on some long runs), I never felt bloated, and I never faded. I do have to shout out to Bear McCready. His music was the fuel for my run today, as I just listened to BSG seasons 1-4 the whole run, and damn, that music makes me solid. It's the perfect blend. It doesn't send me off the deep end like Linkin Park, and doesn't lull me to sleep the way Alannis does.

The point is, the 5 hour ride was an adventure and an effort. The two hour run ? Just another workout. I went out, I ran, hit the head, grabbed two scoops of Hammer Nutrition Recoverite, then went to my son's soccer game, where I had to convince him that yes, he wanted to play, not just watch.

Now, I've done some three hour runs this year, so I know what even longer runs feel like and it makes me stop and think.

I've come to the conclusion that as an athlete, I'm a better cyclist than a runner, and maybe that's true. But my running has really come together in the last month and maybe instead of fighting the idea that I'm a good runner, I should go with it, what with IM Florida coming up next month. After all, the Ironman doesn't end with a bike loop, it ends with a marathon. Maybe being a runner is a good thing. Maybe being a good runner is an even better thing.

So the fact that I can go out and run for two hours and it's just a punch the clock effort, that's a good thing. Let me save the aggression and the passion for the bike, where I need it, and let's run like a professional at IM Florida. I'll have a better race, maybe even turn in that 3:20 my coach thinks I'm capable of...

Tommy Sullivan's Run for the Ribbons

Yesterday I rode 100 miles and then ran 25 minutes.

This morning I was planning to get up and run up to two hours starting at 0700. I had it in the back of my mind that I might still go and run the race this morning instead of doing my long run, but I wasn't really planning on it.

I got up late, which means about 0645. That's still plenty of time to feed the cats and make the coffee, eat some banana and get dressed. Still I was psyched when Michael D'Addetta emailed and suggested starting at 0730 instead. Mostly because it was pouring rain out and in the mid-fifties.

It was a great call. As I stepped out the front door to run, the clouds parted, revealing blue skies and sun. That was it for the rain and the entire 75 minute run with Michael and Mary Dunn was beautiful. I could have gone another 15 or twenty minutes, but I knew the race was at 1000 and I had over an hour to get there. I'd decided to run it after all.

The point is that I'm training for Ironman Florida. Going and running a 3.4 mile road/trail race the day after a long ride makes no sense. I mean what should come after a 100 mile ride is a long run, maybe 2 hours. So there was no way I was going to rest up for the race. But I won the race last year so I wanted to at least go and run, which was the only reason I'd even been thinking about it.

So I changed from my running clothes to some race gear, hopped on my bike, rode over to the race and registered.

I was already warmed up, so I just did some strides and I saw a lot of the same people I saw last year. Then I saw one guy and everything changed. This guy was tall and thin, running shorts and a tank top. He had a massively long stride and as he warmed up, doing strides the same as I was, t was clear he was faster. He exploded off the line and covered tremendous ground each time.

Oh well, there was nothing I could do about it but run my race.

The race got off pretty quickly after that and I'd picked my line I wanted and surprise, I was very quickly out in front. I was not expecting to lead the race- there were cross-country kids and so on and I was pretty sure I'd be trailing someone. I wasn't.

The start is pretty much downhill, half a mile to the woods. I was chasing the pace car and for now this was my race and I was going to run it and take charge. I forgot about the fatigue of the 100 mile ride/run yesterday, the earlier 75 minute run, and I just kind of ran. When you are out in front, you had better run your ass off. Before I even got to the woods, it was clear that it was a two person race. I didn't look back, I never do, I could just tell from the sound of it. The guy I'd seen at the start, the one i was pretty sure was the fastest guy at the race, was on my back, within 2 seconds.

We headed into the woods, and I had the lead, and I ran with it. I think in the woods, the shorter guy has the advantage. That shorter stride makes it easier to make adjustments and find footing. I ran hard, but I felt like the guy was just marking me and I was expecting him to go by. And he didn't, and didn't. We hit a mile at around 6:30 and still I was in front. In the woods now, I was pushing every advantage and shaving every line, running straight at trees, sailing over clusters of roots. I was still thinking the guy was going to blow by me, until I finally starting thinking he was just marking me because he assumed I knew the course but he didn't.

And that was how I ran the whole woods. And then we broke out of the woods and were back on the road and quickly hit the 3 mile mark. I ad two seconds on him at three miles. No way I was going to gold onto two seconds.

And no way I was giving it up, either. The course dips downhill after three mies, then ticks up to the finish. I tightened the screws as much as I could and just kept running up the hill. I wanted to win, and I didn't want to be caught.

And I wasn't. Kudo to the guy that held me within two seconds for three miles and end up 5 behind me for running a tough race and keeping me guessing. He pushed me the whole way

the coolest thing ? Two days later I was out running at lunch in New Haven and John Courtmanche pulled up alongside me and said "you didn't just win your age group, you won the whole damn race !" I will always remember that....

Niantic Bay Half Marathon

I haven't raced very much this year and for the most part, when I have raced I've raced long. A marathon, a half, a 20K, a ten-miler. I didn't have a great 20k, but I felt like I could have a decent race at Niantic Bay.

First, the conditions were favourable, that is hot and very humid.

No, hot and humid are not prime running conditions. However, I tend to respond well on hot and humid days, partly because of the way I'm built and the the degree to which I can dehydrate before suffering a significant decline in ability, and party because I carry a bike bottle full of sports drink with me.

It's the biggest thing that separates me from the other A and B level runners out there. I'd say 'elite' runners, but I am not an elite runner. I am in that second level of competitive athletes and it is baffling to me that you would go out to run a half-marathon and not carry a bottle with you. I'm not talking about an ironman fuel belt with the little bottles that you see people wearing. Just a bottle- 16 or so ounces of whatever you train with- Heed from Hammer nutrition in my case.

I also carry a cliff shot for around 6 miles or so.

The race is tough in that you have to get off to a fast start. It starts in a remote parking lot which leads to a very wide starting line. Within 75 meters though it narrows down to a one lane road, while going uphill and through several turns. It widens out a little after about 500 meters, but if you aren't up front and on a good line, you're going to lose time, so you either have to run a fast first mile or risk running a really slow one.

This is tough, because the whole theme for me at this race is to pace myself. Still, I feel like you can blow up the first mile of a 1/2 marathon and still settle in and have a well-paced opening half.

I was running just behind the group with Jesse as we headed down towards the finish line and they were talking about why Jesse wasn't running with the eventual race winner, who went on to win by 4:30 something.One of the guys said 'Is it because he could drop you at 4 miles ?' to which Jesse replied 'he could drop me any time he wanted.' I looked at George Buchanan after this exchange and said 'We're too old to be running with this group.'

We went through mile one at some crazy fast time and then right away I started to back it off. I had to. I was planning to run the whole 13 miles, not run the first 11 and stumble through the last two.

I tried to pour some water over my head at the first aid station, however, all the water got grabbed up. I took a cup of Gatorade and dumped it down my back, although not over my head. Probably sounds gross, but you either regulate your body temperature or you don't.

By the time we'd taken the turn back of the main road after exiting the park, people were passing me. This is the hardest part of a long race, the part where I am being passed by people I ultimately want to beat and have to force myself to just let them go. George passed me, Maureen passed me, and another guy passed me.

I got mixed up in a group with a guy that seriously into green- green racing flats, a green singlet- and three other people. The woman who would eventually finish third also got mixed up into the group as as we were running towards the sea wall, I clipped the green man's heel slightly because he got off his line as I was trying to run right in the middle of the road, just to the right of the cones that were dividing the road. I mumbled an apology and thought he didn't notice. Then the woman clipped his foot and she apologised and he went off on her about how sorry didn't cut it.

Both she and I moved away from the green man. I lost pace with her for a bit. We went into the back section, where the only real hill is. I just couldn't really hold on to Maureen, George, and company and I was kind of back and forth with the green guy, but I also wasn't concerned. I was watching that group's back because I had a plan.

As we came out of this little back loop we were headed back on the long straight road that parallels the park. I was waiting until we got back in the park to make any kind of move. George starting coming off the back, then reconnected with Maureen and the other guy, then started to fall off again. Last year I had passed George just passed the halfway point where you run by the finish line. I was planning to pass him again there. At each aid station I was dumping water (or if I couldn't get it, Gatorade) on my head and toros. At around 6 miles I took the cliff shot, tossing the wrapper at the aid station and heading into the park. It seemed like there was five or six of us in a group, sort of jockeying. We went past the finish, around and back out. I tossed my now empty bottle, 16 ounces of fuel consumed. I passed George, put the hammer down a bit and started to separate from the other guys around me, for the most part. One other guy was running ahead of me, closing on Maureen while I was still marking time.

Once I hit mile 8 I steadied again. Yes, I was running out of time with just 5 miles left, but I still had my plan, and no one was getting away from me. I was slowly picking up the pace as we headed back out towards the sea wall. For two miles I just slowly closed on the people in front of me, starting to feel good, my stride lengthening, and at mile 10 as we went into the back loop Maureen and the guy between the two of us were getting closer. Other people were falling back, losing time on me. We broke through the loop and back out onto the straight away and I made my move.

I passed the last guy between Maureen and I and then pulled up next to her right at mile 11. We exchanged brief greetings and then I was off again, chasing the two guys in front of me, trying to hold off the people I'd just passed.

I was back in the park soon after, and before I knew it I was at mile 12. I took as much water as I could get and dumped it on myself and tried to zip up my Zane's cycling jersey. The jersey was so wet and had slid so low on me that when I zipped it up I felt like I was choking and had to unzip it again. The last mile was not easy. I was running as hard as I could but I wasn't catching the guys in front of me and I was little concerned about the people behind me. That last mile seemed to stretch out in the way the last mile always does there, whether it's the half or back when it was the marathon.

I got through the final turn and I knew no one behind me was coming. I was disappointed not to be able to catch the last two guys I could see, but I'd gone from mid-30s to 25th overall on the 2nd loop. Still, it's funny how much time 2 seconds a mile costs you between the guy in front of you (who ran 6:36) and yourself (I ran 6:38) over that half-marathon distance.

I put more than 30 seconds on some of the people behind me in just the last few miles, so my strategy to hold something back for the second loop, plus staying a little better hydrated, and just being an ornery runner, all kind of played in to help me have what I thought was only my second good running race of the year. Not because of who I beat or where I finished.

I finally felt like I ran a good race, and that's been way overdue this year...

Bridgeport Olympic Triathlon

One word. Mosquitos. I parked my car across the road from the beach aviation area that serves as the transition area and finish line. I started waking over with my bike and gear and at first I thought I was imagining a bug on my leg. Reaching down and slapping I killed 3 Mosquitos.

This is how I spent the pre-race, whether it was getting marked, or waiting to go to the bathroom, racking my bike.

I got in the water early. I hadn't raced a tri since Hammerfest almost a year earlier. I had a very poor swim in the team 'race' in very rough water the week before. I needed a good swim, and by good I don't mean fast. The water was flat, eerily flat. I had a really good warm-up and was feeling very confident. The first bout was far from shore, while the tide was out.

I was pretty calm for the start of a swim, and finally as the last stragglers were getting out of the water, and why are there always stragglers, who put their warm-up ahead of starting the rac on time, I actually wanted to start. When I say that I'd had a bad swim the week before, it was crazy bad, really choppy seas and insanely rough. We did this little two loop swim and one of the team members coordinating the race tried to stop me from doing the second loop. So I'd gone out in the sound a couple of time after that and had very good swims, and finally the race started.

The men in the first wave tried all strategies- swimming, running, and everything in between. I kind of watched it and then didn't. I sort want to concentrate on keeping my heart rate down at the start of the race and that requires me to focus on, well, me. Finally our wave was off. I started swimming right away. Because the first buoy was a long way off, it was a nice wide spread and I had no problem getting my own water and working out to the first buoy and making the turn. Frankly, I was surprised at how easy getting there was, how unlike my last crazy swim. Because the course was counter-clockwise, the low sun was in our eyes, and if there is one thing the course could use more bigger, it's buoys. Still, there were enough people around me that I could follow the course, about the halfway mark I found myself coming up on the stragglers from the first wave.

There's not a lot to say about the swim really, because it was surprisingly unremarkable. .

I got out of the water after yet another swim that I'd feared would be a disaster yet was completely ordinary.

I could probably end the race report right there. I needed to have a good, confident swim, and while my time was crap- 28 minutes- I did just that. Now the next athlete with a worse swim time finished 20 places behind me, I still got out of the water and on the bike feeling pretty good, relaxed, and knowing I needed to Hammer.

There could not be a worse bike course for me. Board flat with a bunch of turns, including two 180 degree turns. I mean, I still have a good ride there, and I like the relentless time-trail nature of the course, but honestly, all I could think of as I was plowing through the five loops was that I had not done enough time-trialing this season and Leopard-Trek jersey or not, I was not ready for this course.

Unlike most races, this course is kind of a mess from the get go. The very top guys from wave one are half a loop ahead of you, and the people in front of you are everywhere- and that's just the first lap. Starting with lap two, the chaos is all-encompassing. You can sort of tell who you are competing with, but not exactly. I have to say that I did get passed a few times, and that there was some drafting, but overall, I didn't feel the drafting was as bad as it has been in past years. I think having two engaged officials on the course really helps. On A few occasions I got re-passed by people who just couldn't let it go that someone else was out-riding them, but for the most part it was one of the cleaner races I've ridden. Of course, my bike split totally left me aggravated. It was in the 23 mph area, which is not really acceptable on a flat course. I definitely felt that a lack of racing really hurt me on the bike, where I was working hard, but lacked the fluidity, or the anger, or whatever the hell it is that makes me good on the bike.

I had left transition with only a few bikes on my rack- and my rack was full of people around my age. So when I came back in on the bike and had changed the equation quite a bit, even though I was pissed about the ride I had, I was satisfied I could do my job. I threw on my hammer nutrition cycling cap, grabbed two gels and started running.

Right away I was catching people, both guys in their 40s, and a lot of younger guys. There's something about this run. The sun always comes out and it gets as hot as the proverbial and because it's a 10K, people start walking. I'm more of a long-distance athlete and the thought of walking while running a 10K is kind of- well, whacked. As I headed down the path, the athlete wearing number 1 came back in my direction, who knew how far ahead- only he was walking. You want confidence ? #1 is walking and you are walking. That's confidence.

This is my part of the race. I am looking for one thing at this point, numbers on calves. I have to pass those 40+ men that were in my wave, and the more younger men I pass as well, the better. Still, for all the run is flat, in some ways a long flat 5k with long sight lines, especially when the summer sun comes out and starts beating down on you, is formidable than you might think it would be. I drenched myself at the water station at the quarter point turn around and then simply went back to the task at hand.

The second loop was a lot like the first, only more congested. More people were on the run and I wasn't always sure if I was passing or lapping people. I didn't care either. If you were in front of me, I was passing you, no questions asked, no answers given. I hit the turn around again and somewhere I pawed #[ 1, I think, but I have no idea when. Heading back, I was not thinking about how thrilled I was to be finishing another tri, but rather I was thinking about how damned far away the finish line was.

Good thing too. I passed a couple more guys in my age group and then I got close to the finish line. There was a guy with grey hair in front of me and I was thinking this guy could be in my age group. I really was spent but I found the turbo and passed him 50 meters before the finish line. I was so spent I just stood in the finish area until a volunteer go me a folding chair and a wet washcloth and I then happily sat in the finish area, wet washcloth and ice on my head, the best damn seat in house as I watched people finish.

The guy was 50+, so i'd saved embarrassment, not a place. Just as good.

So I was back- as a triathlete. And liking it....

Hammerfest Triathlon

I might actually be getting back into a rhythm of racing every other week or so.

Hammerfest is a great race- my wife Margit is one of the organizers and she works very hard on the race. But the race has been a difficult one for me. It's the week after the Firmman Half-Ironman, so I've come into the race frequently still in recovery mode. I've also struggled with the swim almost every year- I can usually count on having my worst swim of the season there- blinded by the morning sun and crushed early by the competition on the long slog out to the first buoy.

I spent last night working on the race's website and went to bed around 12:15 AM. I'm not sure what time you should go to bed the night before a race, but I'm pretty sure it's not 12:15 AM. Between then and when I got up I snagged maybe 4 hours of sleep, so by this morning I was really wondering if if today was really a good idea. Certainly after having such a good swim at Bridgeport, the thought of being exhausted, still from whatever respiratory infection I'd had, and jumping into the sound, well, I didn't want to have my usual Hammerfest swim today, because my next triathlon will probably be IM Florida and I wanted to go in confident.

I dropped Ian off with Margit and started prepping for the race- setting up my transition area, followed by standing in line for the bathroom, listening to 3 Doors Down.

The water was stunningly flat and then I got some great news- the swim was going to be clockwise this year, because the ramp the athletes usually run up at the end of the swim had been smashed by the hurricane. So instead of a long swim out to a far away buoy followed by a turn into a blinding sun, we'd be going out to a very short buoy, maybe 100 meters, and then turning to the far bout with the sun at our backs. Granted, the second buoy was far out and the swim was going to be 6/10 of a mile at least, but that first near buoy was going to be huge. We were second wave and as usual when I am not in the first wave, I completely ignored the first wave after about a minute and started to focus on what I needed to do. I did notice some of the 1st wave men walking practically out to the first buoy.

Then it was our turn. I started swimming right away. A lot of the guys around me were walking, but I was getting comfortable in the water, staying relaxed, and unlike when we go out on an angle to a far away buoy, I was not losing ground to the walkers. Now, when everyone started swimming there was a moment where it was a big mix with a lot of swimmers and I got a little skittish, but it didn't last. I made the first buoy easily and started straight towards the second one. Meanwhile most of the wave was swimming in an arc off to my left- I was psyched because I knew I had a better line than they did, which was odd. It's not like me to pick a superior line anywhere but in the grocery store.

The swim out to the far buoy was unremarkable, which is how I like it. While I'd be faster if I was in someone's draft, the knowledge no one was going to kick me in the head was much better. I turned that buoy and sighting the next one was a little harder but I was still inside almost everyone else and very happy about that. I was halfway to the buoy when I realised I had to cough up so phlegm and that's exactly what I did. I had to skip a beat breathing, but it was worth it. I felt like I was swimming really well for me, and before long I'd made it to the 3rd buoy and turned. That was the hardest part of the swim. I saw people in front of me but they were spread out all over the water. I thought I saw the buoy on shore and aimed for it, but it was a real crap shoot whether I was actually going in that direction. I'd asked Margit to make the second wave green caps, because they are easy to follow in the water. I had to cough up some more phlegm on the way in but it was really one of the most low-stress swims I've had, and although I haven't see the splits yet I think I had a good time.

Margit told me I looked like I was working too hard though.

So I went into the race thinking I shouldn't even be out there. I came out of the swim in the mix with the other green caps thinking the opposite, that I had a shot. I knew though, the bike was going to be a challenge. I had snapped off one of my aerobats riding a week earlier and had just made some additional adjustments to the new ones Saturday that I would only be testing out in the race. I had a fair transition, but my feet were cold enough that I did something I rarely do- put socks on. So my first transition was probably slow.

I know this bike course better than any other course I race, with IMLP coming a distant second. I time trial it, in both directions, maybe 10-12 times a year. But the two loops are completely different. I like the first loop the best because you are competing with people in your wave and the one in front of you and you can make sense of what is going on. I got out of the box quickly and wasted no time passing people. My new aero bars were set up with aggressive time trailing in mind, and that was a good decision. The lack of sleep was not. My hamstrings were shredded, and I could tell as I struggled to find the right gear. Also, as usual, I was breathing hard. Still i was making up ground. Not a single cyclist who came out of the water today passed me on the bike, unlike Bridgeport. And for the most part I was able to ride down everyone in front of me.

Down by Linden Avenue I thought there was some wind, but I cam around the POYCC and pushed hard up the hill and really felt like I was having a good first loop. Then I came up on a guy in his 50s and after a little bit of work, I passed him. I kind of felt like he was riding in the middle of the road, but I'm picky, so whatever. I thought that would be the end of it. After all, this guy had started in the wave behind me, out swam me, and my job was to bury him along with everyone else I passed. I was passing a lot of guys with 20s and 30s on their calves and that was making me feel good- guys that were 3 minutes ahead of me and I was already passing them on the first loop...then the guy with the 50-somthing on his calf passed me. This would go on for the rest of the ride. My hamstrings never stopped hurting, or feeling spent is maybe a better term, but I just kept the turnover up and tried my best to really keep passing people. There was some traffic on the course and I had to do a few dodgy things along the way. As I went by the Armory I established a better angle on the turn and go in front of the 50 something. Then he passed me again....

The second loop of the bike is different then the first. A lot of other athletes have fed out onto the course so you are interacting with 1st lap riders, trying to maintain your sight on second loop riders. It's a tremendous challenge to stay focused while still outputting your best cycling. I was mostly affected, however, by the continual back and forth with this older guy. I was getting really annoyed. I just do not want to cheat, not under any circumstance. But I was having to slow down after being passed, and it was costing me time. I passed him going up the hill past the POYCC, really powering up the hill. It's a downhill on the other side and as I went down to the bottom I went to go wide to avoid the manhole cover in the road, only I couldn't because the 50-something, in the middle of the road, was passing me. Now I was really annoyed.Again, my problem, probably, but when you go to move somewhere and someone is in your way it's aggravating. I actually fought a little here, but I had to let the pass happen. Then I waited. I passed him again after the stop sign, I think.

He passed me again.

This whole time I was passing other guys in their 40s, as well as 20s and 30s. This was the big moment on the bike. We came to the 3-way intersection before the middle school and I used stopped traffic to outmaneuver my shadow. That only lasted a short while and he passed me again.

I relaxed and settled back. Pounding the crap out of my legs was not going to help me, I didn't want to cheat, so I dropped off a bit. I started thinking about having a good run. I kept passing other people in my age group. Still, the opportunity to pass him would come one more time. I'd noticed some hesitation in tight spots, so I took him at the left-hand turn at the armory. It was a good pass, but thirty second later he passed me, and then another guy I had just passed passed me.

That was it, I was done. I rode into transition behind both guys. I'd had a good battle with this 50-something but now I was ready to run after a top-ten bike.

As is tradition in the Hammerfest, my feet were numb when I came into transition. I wedged my shoes onto my feet, put one cliff shot in my singlet and tore open the other one and started taking small amounts from it. As a rule, I take an entire shot at once, but I didn't think that was the right move, so I started milking it, and I found that worked a lot better. I started out, getting by several people that had ridden in ahead of me leaving transition. There were plenty of guys right in front of me, and I started picking them off. When I run, there's none of the emotion that fuels the way I ride the bike. On the run, when I catch someone, I expect to drop them and that's it, it's not arrogance, it's just math. There's not the drama and speed of the bike. I was passing mostly guys in their 30s and 20s, but there were some 40-somthings. I was disappointed to get down to Bayberry and hook a right- the out and back at the end of the road was not in use, so I had a short run to make my catches. I saw Dick Korby and ran him down and then as we were way out there in the back a kid yelled 'Hey, you're Ian's dad.' Not how I expected to be defined on the race course, but it's true. There are a few short hills in the back of the course and I felt like I was making good time catching people.

I saw Scott Roth coming out of the loop you can see Branford Point from, so I that gave me a good idea where in the mix I was. I rounded that loop and bore down on two guys in front of me and the next thing I knew, taking occasional small portions of my cliff shot, I was back on the main road and headed back to the Owenego. I had four guys in front of me and the third one had grey hair. I'm at that age where a guy with grey hair might be in my age group, or worse, older, and either way, they have to be caught. I reeled in the first two and was on the final short downhill before the short uphill that leads back into the finish and that was where I passed the grey-haired guy. On his leg was a 48 and I knew that I had to catch him. Once I was in front of him I just turned up the run half a notch and took it home.

Not my best stuff- only top-10 on the bike, but I was 16th individual overall, 3rd in my AG instead of my usual 4th.

I'll take it.

New Haven Road Race

No excuses.

I firmly believe that, that if you step up to the line, and you start the race, you have to live with what happens. I was sick- I'm on antibiotics now, but that's not an excuse for why I ran slowly, and hey I had some fun along the way...

The last time I was tripped at the start of a race and went down was the Troy Turkey Trot in 1983. This was my first road race ever. I remember telling Rich Goyer that sometimes people get tangled up at the start and bam, someone tripped me coming off the line. I'd never been tripped since.

Well, I can't say that anymore. I ran a long warm-up before the race, almost two miles, because I was trying to get my adrenaline up. No excuses- but yes, I felt like someone had whooped me pretty good. My legs were dead, my head was fuzzy, and a long run was just the ticket to get some positive energy flowing again.

I got on the line with same goal I'd had last year. Negative split. Now, this wasn't going to be one of those glorious kick-ass splits. This was going to be one of those OMG I finished the race negative splits.

I snuck into the starting corral at the last minute, maybe 5 rows back, just about where I belong on a good day. this was a good day, but no one but Margit knew that, so I was was right where I wanted to be. JB started the race with a confusing two command start. We all reached down and started our watches, even me, because hey, negative split. I took maybe two steps before someone behind me clipped my foot, my right foot. Clipped it good. I went down, careful not to reach my arms out . I tucked my arms in and let myself hit the pavement. I've had a lot of practice as a ball sport athlete taking falls and after one dislocated wrist and one dislocated shoulder I got the message that the chance I was going to break my fall with my arms was not as good as the fall causing a serious injury. So I went down, sustaining only one set of cuts on my left hand below the pinky. I really do fall well.

The thing is, your instinct is to scramble immediately back to your feet. This is not the right thing to do. When you first go down, everyone else is as surprised as you and if you go to pop up you will likely only trip and stumble again and take out more people. Instead, give the people around you a second to adjust, then stand up.

This is the most scary moment. The New Haven Road Race is not a small race. It's a freaking national championship and there are literally thousands of athletes behind you, people who potentially could trample you. It takes discipline not to panic.

Of course, I like a little contact. I am, at heart a ball sport athlete. Getting dinged makes me feel more like 'yeah, now it's on'. Which doesn't explain why I hate being touched, much less hit, while swimming....

So I waited about one full second then I popped up and started running. No one else tripped over me. I had some cuts on my fingers, but other than that I was fine. It was on to the first mile of the race. Of all the first miles in races I run regularly, New Haven is at once one of the easiest- flat, flat, flat- and hardest, because the pace for the first mile of a 12.4 mile race tends to be overly aggressive. It's also a smorgasbord of everyone you know, running in front of you, behind you, past you, you past them...

I saw Dave Pantin and Maureen Terwilliger and a bunch of other people I knew and I went through a little over 6:00. For New Haven this is great. I've gone through the first mile under 5:45 and that is the set-up for disaster. Still, for the physical condition I was in, it was a fast mile, made harder by working my way up after going down. Still, my goal was to run the first three miles at a normal race pace, and to negative split, both of which I felt possible after this first mile. I ran a solid second mile, going back and forth with some people but Dave and Mo both started to pull away. We hit the hill by Southern and I tried not to run hard up it, because I knew digging into the energy stores this early on a short hill was bad. By the end of the third mile, I knew I was not running that well, and I was right in that area, between 3-4 miles, where if I continued to push too hard, I would end up completely spent by the time I hit the bridge.

I came off that hill, and we headed for Route 10, and as I got on route 10 I could feel the cord starting to snap and people getting away. I let them go. I knew better than to fight in here, but it was tough as people I knew that I should be showing my back went by. I was dumping lots of water on my head and at some of the intersections I was seeing people I knew. It's always disappointing when people call out your name while you are running slow. I feel embarrassed. I saw the one Milford Road runner guy that had passed me duck behind a pillar of a pedestrian overpass to pee, and despite that allowing me to gap him, he was quickly back on and then passed me. I was watching people's backs now. I hadn't given up or anything. I was trying to keep people close because in this race, I have come back on more people more often than any other race.

We went up the 'hill' on Route 10, which is actually a bridge rather any kind of natural rise in the terrain. I took a cliff shot just before getting on the hill, not wanting to eat while on the climb but wanting to toss the wrapper as soon as I was done. I lost a little more ground in here but I watching two people's backs, Maureen and Dave. I was holding my own about 20 seconds behind them. As I got to the bottom of the hill and then the aid station, I saw one of the top runners walking. This would become a theme- attrition and plenty of it. It was hot and humid, but not that bad. as I went under the 95 ramp underpass and then turned the corner by those waterfront condos, I saw another person walking. He then started running again. As we hooked the next left, still short of six miles, yet another person was walking.

I found myself mostly running alone, in between groups, being passed and yes, now passing people. I was running alone and suddenly someone bumped my elbow. Now we were running up a four lane street, which was closed to traffic, and I was in the middle between the two travel lanes and a guy bumps my elbow as he goes by. Out loud I said 'How much f*cking room do you need ?' I mean, it was just a graze really. It's the concept. If you can't run by my when I am in the middle of the damned road running all by myself,and not touch me, there is just something wrong with you. I'm not a good luck charm or a leprechaun.

I went through the 10K, according to my watch, at 42:47. I have no explanation for my reported 10K split time except that it's wrong. Maybe I can't read, but I don't think so. Whatever.

Right after the split, you go under 95 and end up on Long Wharf. This is normally one of my favourite parts- bands, plenty of race support, you get a chance to gage the wind. However, the tide was max out and with all the nasty remains from the hurricane the low-tide smelled worse than I have ever smelled low tide there. It was nauseating. Chris Schulten ran up alongside me and we chatted about how we were both having poor races. I was really struggling, and then something happened. I hit a water station, dumped three waters over my head and the sun went under a cloud. I realize now I was running a fever at this point and couldn't really think straight, but as soon as my body temperature, and especially the temperature of my head, dropped, I felt great. I turned that corner off Long Wharf and started running, and I mean, really running. It was a completely different experience- people started coming back to me immediately. Dave and Maureen had gotten completely out of site but I was still looking for them, and I was no longer being passed by people- maybe one or two now and then, but not groups of three as had been the case before.

The course has a few short hills in here and then it gets flat again, and what I really took away from this section was how well I was running. Everything went pretty well until the water station between 8-9 miles. I was being tailed by a woman in black shorts and singlet/jog bra and just as I got to the water station she cut right in front of me and took the water I wanted and needed to knock back my fever. This was bad enough, but as went along the line of water bears I went straight for the last one, and she decided she wanted a second one and even though I was lunging for the cup she got there first. I was pissed off. I think she was so obliviously inconsiderate that it just never occurred to her that a) passing someone in the water stop is rude and b) after taking one cup of water away from me, she should have let me have the last one.

All I said was 'Really, really ?'

We kept running and I got ahead of her again and waited. The next rest area is just before the hill into East Rock. I had to work a little too hard to keep myself in front of her, but I had a plan.

This is a big water stop, with tables on both sides of the road, although the road is wide. you go for one side or the other. I was watching over my shoulder and once I was convinced I knew which way she was going, I broke that way. I let another lead into the water stop. He got the first cup. I slowed down just enough to take each of the next 6. I got them all and by the time I exited the station, I was literally dripping wet, since they all ended up on my head and chest.

It was petty, and probably wrong. But it felt good.

I got up the hill and then started down it, holding back. The girl in black started to pull away and I couldn't keep up. But I was still watching in front of me and both Maureen and Dave were just visible. I was holding my own and maybe clawing back a few seconds. I went by the bagpipers, then I was in the turn and running uphill slightly, looking for that final real turn in the race and the 11 mile mark.

Then you just run, and run and run. I was slowly closing on Dave, and Maureen was pulling away from him, and the people around me were coming back to me more than they were getting away. I finally forced myself to take a second cliff shot at about 10.7 miles, way too late, but still good experience for my next long race. Someone was handing ice out of a colander. I grabbed the colander, out it on my head and ran, then tossed the colander away.

It's such a struggle that last last section. I went through the bend and I was in the mix with four other guys and I was fading. And at about 12.1 miles there was Will Graustein and he was yelling 'Pump your arms alan.' And that was all I needed. I was fading, I was at the end of a long run that was never supposed to be anything but training and guys were going to beat me and then Will said pump my arms. So I pumped my goddamned arms.

I almost caught the guy in front of me, and I beat four other guys by 1-5 second. So instead of 180, I finished 175th.

But hey, I'll take it.

Another year, another New Haven.

Life is good.

Lake Placid Marathon, Part II

So I'd dumped my bottle, which was dry. I'd taken two Clif Shots, and i'd rounded the cone. I started chasing immediately. I was far back, too far back. I was in the high teens, I wanted to be top ten.

At thirteen miles, with the backs of three men right in my sights, I was at 1:31:34. That left me over 3:05 for the marathon, which wasn't cooing to work. My suspect Achilles tendons and hamstrings, sore for the last year since I hurt the right one on a training trip, all felt good. I opened it up and caught the three of them on the way to the fairgrounds. Next was a younger guy, in white, backwards cap on his head, who i'd seen was struggling as far back as the first turn around at the out and back. I went by him and quickly dropped him and set my sights on the next guy.

This was one of the great running race moments I have ever had. From mile 12.5, I simply turned up my effort a notch and the people in front of me dropped back, and they had no answer. Granted, there was still a guy twenty minutes ahead of me, running the kind of time I was once capable of. But I looked down the guys in front of me, I saw my family out there cheering me on, and I responded. When I got in the fairgrounds I was running hard. I passed one guy at t his point- I think it was here- who would not fall off the pace though. This was important, but not yet.

Popping back out of the trail grounds you almost immediately hit the downhill. I think a lot of runners miscalculate the downhill a bit- it's a serious downhill. You have to attack it, but you can't open up too much. You are pushing 15 miles and if you tear down the hill you will tear up your quads. So you really focus on form, and let a long but reasonable stride carry you down the hill.

You break around the corner and you are on the out and back again and there are a lot of half-marathoners going the other way, and spectators. The ski jump was out of sight at my back, and now I had a shadow, a runner in back pacing me, not like the first half of the race but different. He's using me...

And oh, you're lapping peole. Yes, they are probably walking but you've run 10 more miles than them. The people on the other side of the road are also quite a few miles behind. I reach across the middle of the road and sap hands with Darren McGeary's brother Dean, he yells 'Al' and then it's back to chasing the guys in front of me. From across the road a woman yells to me to drop my arms.

I am probably carrying them high. I know. Still, I have run 8 miles farther in the same amount of time as this woman has, and low so she can't hear me but definitely out load I say 'Bite me.' I am a completive person....

We passed another runner here, a marathoner, and now it was we. Not I. I was a two-car train, reeling people in...

Not what I wanted. I wanted to be working alone, but I wasn't, and there's nothing you can do in that situation but try to run your own race and is there a time it's ever harder than when someone else is working directly off your pace ? Not really. I mean, dictating the pace is easier in some ways to trying to follow someone, but like in a bike race, you would prefer to share the work and the guy behind me was not showing any interest in sharing the work. He was letting me do it all, breaking what little wind there was, giving him the opportunity to sit in behind me.

We head out on the out and back and I was in a really good rhythm. I picked off a couple more runners, and then went by the 'traditional' out and back.

That's right. Part of avoiding having you climb all the way back into town (why ?) is that the second out and back is rather severe out. The out on this route is always longer than you think. I was tracking four guys in front of me, which seemed like two guys too many. We ran and ran and ran. I know the entire length of the road, having ridden and run it all the way out to where it dumps you onto 86.

The turn around cone for the second back was within sight of 86, and the extra two guys I didn't think should be there ? They ran to the cones and kept going, then raised there arms and starting talking to the people camped out at the turn. Grrr....

Yeah, I was less than thrilled, having chased them down for no reason. But I went around the cone and set my sights on the next guy in front of me. The 19.0 mile mark was before the turn, and the 20 mile mark after. I went through that 20 mile mark and I felt really good. I have always been aware of that mark, and although I don't put any stock that there is anything special in 20 miles, I have struggled at that point.

I passed the mark and nothing changed. I was still running faster than the people in front of me, I wasn't struggling, my plan of a cliff shot every 40 minutes was working well, my stomach was good, my legs were holding up.

I was passing people now- occasionally, that were running pretty well, just not as well. I think my next pass came at about 21 miles, then there was more climbing, then I made one more pass on the back. There were still half marathoners all over the road, and on the other side plenty of marathoners headed out. That was the thing that changed after we hit the turn around, and I'll comment on that out of order. As I saw the people I had already passed, I was surprised by how much time I had put on them- no one was catching me.

No one but my shadow, that is.

I decided to attack on the hill back into town, figuring I would have 2 miles to either recover from a failed attempt or hold him off if I did get a gap.

Simply put, it didn't work. I attacked going up the hill, crested first, found myself very slowly gaining ground on the first woman, who was clearly losing time, and then I was passed. There was almost two miles left I think, when he made the pass and although we both started to close down the woman in front of us, he actually passed her, while I just kept getting very slowly and unsatisfyingly closer. We went through the turn-around from the first loop and then up the road you come down on at the start of the ironman bike. Although I was closing on her I was losing ground on my former shadow and I was spent.

I climbed the hill and headed for the speed skating oval and it seemed like maybe I had one more catch in me, but in the end I didn't. I ran as hard as could around the oval, the nearest guy behind me three minutes and change back, but the woman in front of me maybe 20 seconds in front.

I came around the oval, just like the ironman, and I felt pretty good. I was not blown up, I'd run a smart race, and while I was unhappy two people close in front of me were not held off or reeled in, as I crossed the line in 3:02:30ish I knew I'd run the second half of the race with about a 3 minute negative split, and that was something to build on.

I decided then and there I want to go back and do it again next year....

But what did I learn ?

Lake Placid Marathon, Part I

Let me start by saying that I have never been so relaxed at a starting line in Lake Placid.

That's probably because for the first time in my life I was actually standing at the starting line on pavement, as opposed to say, trying very hard to tread water in Mirror Lake.

This was huge really. I was at the starting line, for a marathon, and I wasn't nervous. It's kind of ironic. Despite my questionable swimming skills I usually get in the front at Ironman, so you could say I have about the same 2000 people at my back in that race as I did at the marathon and half-marathon. The difference is in a road race I can get off the line in a manner that encourages rather than inhibits self-preservation.

That's right. You basically can't hold a marathon outside of Boston or New York that isn't also a half marathon, and three-quarters of 2000 runners were in fact wearing the blue numbers of the half versus our bronze numbers. It's the same start and for most of the first loop we all run together. This presents a real challenge. After all, running a marathon and a half-marathon are totally different endeavors. I was doing my warm-ups and evaluating the top end of the half-marathon guys and it was pretty clear- there were some fast guys, college kids and whatnot, and that was going to make for a fast start on Main Street.

Not just a fast start either. A fast uphill start. Starting basically in front of the top end of the oval, it's a sharp uphill to start out and then a more gradual uphill through town and around to the top of the lake. If you look at the road around Mirror Lake the top of the lake is higher than the bottom, at least the road around it is. If you are doing IMLP, remember that the out on the second out and back at Mirror Lake is uphill going out and downhill coming back.

So it was going to be a quick start, and I didn't want to get sucked up in that. As a potential top ten marathon finisher, I thought I should start right on the line, and I did, but I didn't want to get drawn into the melee.

Overall, I did pretty well. I'd lined up my start up the hill and into town and of course, started running too fast.

I've always consoled myself with too-fast starts at every marathon by telling myself that I could either get the time earlier or later and might as well do it early, or that I could overclock the first mile and then still settle in and be fine. Only I know that isn't true. If the first mile is too aggressive it can throw off the pacing for the entire race. While it's true you should be able to run the first mile pretty much as you like and still recover a normal pace, that requires even more discipline than simply running a solid but unspectacular first mile. And the later option has fewer risks.

At about 3/4 of a mile I saw Darren McGeary, one of my closest friends from high school, on the right side of the road, up past the end of Main Street. I heard him yell my name and kept going.

I hit the mile mark at 6:34, for an uphill mile 1. Now, the worst part of this is that Mile 2 is a downhill. I could have run 6:34 easy on the second mile, but instead I had to back it off on the downhill mile to get back closer to seven minute miles- running hard uphill then easy downhill. Classic bad move. But still, I was able to use that downhill mile to get the race under control. I found myself chatting with one of the half-marathons about how he was carrying his arms too high (more on that later) and trying to run our own races.

This was definitely an issue by this point. Most of the athletes were either wearing race belts- more of us than the typical race, or they had their numbers pinned to the side of their shorts despite repeated instructions that numbers MUST BE WORN ON THE FRONT. (Have I mention how much I loathe the D-Tag and the 'wear on front' BS that comes with it ?) So people were going by me and I was struggling to evaluate half-marathon or marathon. Why ?

That's actually a good question and not one I can answer without admitting that no matter how hard I try to be a good athlete, a smart athlete, I am competitive. I shouldn't have been evaluating people at all, but I was, and yes, it's easy to fight the urge to let someone go when they are running the half. BUt not when they are running the whole marathon. Such as the woman that went by me between 2 and 3. I did check her out and instinct told me, as she put a major hurt on my pace, that she was going too fast. Of course I wanted to believe that....

We plowed out of town and I did a remarkably good job of keeping my desire to haul some ass down the big hill. That hill is a quad-ripper going down and there's no point that early in the race putting a hurt on your legs that you can't recover from.

Then we were on our way out of town, a lot of us, and I knew there were about fifteen marathoners in front of me, mixed in with dozens of half-marathoners. Someone settled in next to me, and despite my dislike of talking while racing, started talking. We started off with how his number was on the side of his pants, where I couldn't see it. He was a full-marathon runner, and he was from the Coast Guard Academy, just graduating. He asked me what I was planning to run as we went down the bottom of the hill and out onto the first out and back- the ironman out and back, and I said under three hours. But somehow, I'd slipped to a point that by around 6 miles, I was running a solid 7:02 pace. This made no sense, but that was that. He was looking to run 3:10. I was about 4 minutes over my pace. He was like 6 minutes under his.

It's a lot of pressure running with someone else in a marathon. You really want to do your own thing and you really, really don't want to talk. But you do. The kid- I mean at just over half my age, I think I am required to call him a kid- was nice. We joked about how when there are trees growing in your fields, you haven't planted crops in a while. I took water at the aid stations, but then just dumped it over my head. I was carrying my own bottle and it would last me through more than 12 miles.

I tried to encourage this guy to run his own pace, but he said he was going to do what he could while he could, which to me is not a great strategy, but hey, I have tried it more than once.

On the first loop the out and back ended at the same place, or about the same place, as the ironman. I had warned the guy I was running with that the 'flat' out and back wasn't. I've heard a lot of people suggest this section is flat, and well, if you take it as a whole, it's not far from flat. However, except for maybe the first mile, it's mostly rollers, and several of the hills are significant as far as what happens to your heart rate when you climb them.

There were a lot of people in front of us, and I wanted to close enough to the out and back to start counting the marathoners. I was steeling myself- at a plus 7-minute pace, it was going to be a lot.

That damn turn-around is always just a little farther than you think it's going to be. I counted more than a dozen guys and one woman in front of us, and the woman was at least 4 minutes ahead of me. That plus the pace I was running gave me pause, but I wasn't worried. I was drinking my electrolyte fizz, and taking a cliff shot every 40 minutes.

Some of the half-marathon people started coming back to me on the back of the out and back. This was a part of the course I was determined to stay disciplined on. There are a couple of short but decent hills and I was absolutely not willing to push. I was drinking regularly for the bottle of Electrolyte Fizz I carried on the first loop- I highly recommend trying some, and taking a gel every 40 minutes, which to this point meant taking one.

I still was running with the other guy from CT and he was holding up well, but I knew the hill back into town was coming. I hit the ten mile mark at over 70 minutes. I didn't panic- not yet, but on the other hand, I had a lot of work to do.

We turned back onto River Road and as soon as you turn, you are on the massive hill that so defines the run in the Ironman. That hill breaks people, that hill coaches tell their athletes to walk up. I attacked it, not hard, but steady, keeping my pace close to what it had been. The guy who had been running with me disappeared off my back. I would see him going the other way after turn-arounds but that was it.

I crested the hill and I felt pretty good, but I was behind and I knew I needed to be steady for a while longer but start taking some risks soon. I was quiet a ways back.

By 12 miles, the leading marathoners including the first woman was on her way back out, half a mile ahead of me in her case (and more for the top three men). I drained my bottle, reached the turn-around, and in about 15th place, tossed the empty bottle on the ground at Margit's feet. I waved to her and Ian as best I could, but as I rounded the cone i was looking at the people in front of me, and I wanted to start catching them.

Which I did....