Thursday, October 25, 2012

Back Home

Well, my trip back home served as my punishment for having such a good time in Hawaii and served to solidify the fact that traveling to and from Hawaii can really only be a yearly event.  Otherwise a person might lose their minds and/or risk spending the better part of the rest of their lives either on airplanes or in airports. 

I had a very long day of mostly just waiting around for my ride to the airport at about 6:30pm.  Apparently my flight had already been delayed, but I was going to be just sitting around and waiting whether I was in town in Kona or at the airport, so I might as well check in my bags and stuff.  The line was horrendous as there were several flights out that night but I had more than enough time to get through.  Once on the other side of security I could jump on my computer and follow the "progress" of my plane.  The plane we were taking had taken off close to two hours late from Los Angeles, which of course meant that we would likely be taking off at least two hours late from Kona.  I was due to have a two hour layover in Los Angeles on the way back, which at the time seemed like more than enough of a cushion.  I hadn't even gone anywhere yet and already I knew I was in big trouble.

Now, sometimes I find the Kona airport adorable in the fact that it is so small and cute and all outdoors.  At 9:30 at night at the beginning of 6000 miles of travel "cute" is not a word I would choose to describe it.  It's more like, "How about some air conditioning?"  Or, much more accurately, "Why are there literally no information screens telling us anything about what time we're leaving or what gate I'm supposed to be waiting at?  Where am I supposed to go and when do I finally get to leave?!?!?"  I had just hit a finite point where it was time to go home, and things were not looking good.

Finally at some point it became somewhat apparent which gate we were leaving from, and we had to pass through another screening for agricultural stuff to leave the island.  On the other side of this were three gates for the three planes leaving at roughly the same time, all of which were full of passengers stuffed into way too small of a space to accommodate all of them.  This plus the continued lack of communication or information made me about ready to see if I could probably get my pilot's license and charter a flight home before it was finally time to leave.  I'll admit at this point I was overreacting, but did I mention I was exhausted?

It was us Los Angeles passengers, another flight to San Francisco which I also could've been on as an alternative route back, and a flight to Phoenix which again, could've been my starting point.  Phoenix took off on time.  San Francisco was in the same spot we were... except at one point it became apparent that things got worse for them.  They announced that their plane was having some sort of radio frequency issue, hence the delay.  Our plane was fine, it just wasn't there yet.  Eventually they announced that they were boarding their flight, but the particular issue they had meant that they were prohibited from flying to the mainland, so they would be stopping over in Honolulu.  Honestly, I have no idea how that was supposed to better their situation.  I have no idea what happened to those people but I'd be absolutely shocked if any of them left for the mainland that night. 

Eventually, after I was about ready to start swimming to California since I'd thrown my goggles in my carry-on, we finally got to board our flight.  I spent the entire time unable to relax due to knowing almost without question that I was not going to make my flight to Newark.  I might have slept some, but the little girl in the seat next to me slept more I know because she kept on falling asleep on my arm in spite of the fact that her father was in the seat on the opposite side of her.  I suspect a few times he pushed her to my side. 

My flight landed at 7:04am.  My next flight was at 7:05am.  Of course that was the only flight I was scheduled for in the entire duration of the trip that actually took off on time.  So I got to spend some time in line at customer service wondering if I'd even be able to get home that day.  The nice lady at the counter told me that they had already automatically rebooked me on another overnight flight home.  Yeah, I know Hawaii is far away, but it is not two nights worth of travel far away.  She found me another option through Cleveland a few hours later, getting me home four hours later than initially planned.  All in all, not so terrible, so I took my $10 food voucher - a nearly useless consolation prize as at the Los Angeles airport I don't think you can get even a simple sandwich for less than $12 - and got to feel slightly more relaxed that at least I would soon be headed in the right direction.

The next flight took off twenty minutes late.  Ok, not so bad.  The woman sitting next to me never fell asleep on my arm, but the morbidly obese man sitting behind me spent the entire four hours of the flight snoring like a motorboat.  Why is it that the people who snore so loudly are the ones who fall asleep the quickest and stay asleep the longest?  I could tell in between my trying to watch Spider-Man for the third time in my travels (they kept playing it, and it was like seeing it for the 20th time because I swear I JUST saw that movie when it starred Tobey Maguire...) I could hear him waking himself up, but he'd just go right back to sleep.  I'm just glad I wasn't the poor woman stuck sitting next to him. 

Upon my arrival in Cleveland at about 7:00 that night I was annoyingly not surprised to see that my last flight had already been delayed.  Scheduled for 7:50, it already said 9:29, and given how things were going, of course I knew it would probably be later than that.  I walked around the airport aimlessly for a bit, just to move after so much time sitting still.  It turns out I probably should've sat down earlier because everything in the Cleveland airport shuts down at about 8pm like it's midnight since there were about 17 of us left to leave the airport either heading to Manchester or Grand Rapids. 

My flight was coming from Baltimore and finally it was headed for us, and there was some hope that I might see home soon.  I couldn't even tell anymore what day it was or where I was or what was going on.  What I did know was that when my plane finally arrived and I watched the few pieces of luggage get loaded on it, there definitely wasn't a bike case involved.  Awesome.  But again, very much not unexpected.  At that point I only cared that I made it back.  It was one of those small planes that only has two seats on one side and one on the other, and finally some good luck came when I had nobody sitting next to me.  Sure, there was a crying baby in the seat in front of me, but at least I could elevate my feet.

Finally, at 11pm after 20+ hours of travel, I made it home.  Our tiny plane load was the only group at the airport, and I walked to the baggage claim area and saw that of course nobody was at customer service.  But before I could even try and figure out what to do next, I saw my bike just sitting all by itself in the over-sized bag area.  I was too shocked to think anything, just picked it up and then stood there for another minute or two wondering what to do now about my suitcase.  Then again before I had a chance to try and think, I saw an airport worker walking our direction wheeling a cart with one bag on it.  Yeah, it was my suitcase.  "It got here before you did," she said.  "I saw you were on this flight."  I should've hugged her but I was so tired I could barely even thank her.  I just couldn't believe it.  So at least things ended well there.  Apparently there was another flight to Newark at 8:30 from Los Angeles, and I did not make it through customer service in time to get on that one, but my bags did.  Sometimes the airlines can do a little something right.

So now I'm home and trying to adjust to life back on the east coast.  I think wimpy things like I can't go outside because it's 55 degrees and I might freeze.  And while I've actually been falling asleep fine, I'm still sleeping for way, way too long in the morning.  Or I'll get up to swim and come home and go back to sleep.  Fortunately it's a rest week so I've got more time for that. 

For now, just tapering until the race, really.  Very strange.  I can say I'm very much over all of this bike taking apart and putting back together and upon my return from Phoenix I plan to stay in one place for a good, long time!

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Kona Report

Yeah, I've been a bad blogger.  The worst part is there has actually been a lot going on lately that might have actually made for some interesting reading, so I'll do my best to condense the past six weeks into something manageable to read. 

There has been quite a bit of travel and a lot of airports and bike disassembling/reassembling.  It began with my first return to Phoenix/Tempe since I left after Ironman Arizona in 2007.  I did some training there and realized that I did not at all miss the Beeline Highway.  For anyone who has not been there it is one of the most boring stretches of road possible, and to make matters worse, you have to ride the same "loop" three times.  It was blazing hot - triple digits - but for some reason I actually enjoy riding my bike when it's really hot out.  Maybe it's just the fact that being cold on the bike is so unpleasant, so I might as well soak up the lack of shivering and blue lips and frozen water bottles while I can. 

I also got to swim in Saguaro Lake, which should be called, "Why don't we swim here for the Ironman?" Lake.  It's clean and nice and in an actual pretty area.  This is a stark contrast to Tempe Town "Lake" where you can't see your own hand when your arm is extended.  I know I've got some long arms, but seriously.  There was also a run of a loop of the marathon course which was flat and easy and while boring, I think flat and easy is just what I need at this point. 

After that it was onto another plane and bound for Orange County to meet up with my friend/teammate/fellow QT2 coach Michelle to do a little half ironman on the west coast.  I forgot to mention that just before I left for this trip I got a phone call from my credit card company that there had been some suspicious activity on my card.  I had used it earlier that day at the bike shop and Walgreens, yet somehow to go with those two purchases totally about $18 was another one, from a Babies R Us in Pennsylvania for about $2600.  Yeah, I'd call that suspicious.  So, great, credit card needs to be canceled and I won't get another one for a week or so, as in after I get home from my trip.  No problem, I've got a back-up.

Except two days into the trip I get an e-mail from the other credit card company saying there was a suspicious charge of about $250 to some web site.  Yeah, I didn't make that, either.  Before I even left Phoenix I suddenly found myself limited to only the cash in my wallet.  Great.  So, thank you Jen, another teammate who came out to race, who fronted me the money for food while I was in California! 

Anyway, there was a race and I was feeling pretty drained from some fairly hard training in Tempe.  That plus heat and a ridiculous race course left me with not the greatest race performance of my career.  This was a smaller race, not an "official" 70.3, and a lot less participants.  That did not stop them from charging a ton for entry.  It was a very early start and the swim in the ocean was nice, but then we climbed 2500' up a winding canyon road before turning around and coming back down.  My bike decided to skip in the two easiest gears, so I was left to ride without them.  Not ideal.  Onto the run which included zero shade, tons of soft sand beach running, waiting for a train to cross before continuing, and multiple out-and-backs on the Pacific Coast Highway pretty much roasted me.  I did somehow manage to get I think third in my age group.  Having been first off the bike makes that not the greatest result, but I did survive.

Then it was time to head home for a couple of weeks of training and getting used to riding the trainer again thanks to lots of rain.  Not super fun.  I did swim open water a few more times though thanks to some friends who are relentless in their avoidance of the pool. 

But before I knew it, it was time to get on a plane again.  Several months ago my friend Mary decided that we needed to go to Kona.  I hadn't been since my DNF in 2009 (I knew going in it wouldn't be a finish as I started with a stress fracture that had been diagnosed two weeks prior) and since I don't have to check with anyone to see if it's okay if I do anything, I decided to go.  I now have to not spend money at all in 2013, but I'll tell you right now it was worth it. 

I traveled for nineteen hours but somehow it didn't feel anywhere near that long.  The downside is that you arrive in Kona in the dark and aside from the humidity and exiting the aircraft right onto the tarmac, it is difficult to even be able to tell you're in Hawaii.  Mary had arrived just before I did and had time to get the rental car and pick me up and drive us down to the QT2 house, a condo right on the ocean about four miles from the finish line right on Alii Drive.  Miraculously, we made it there in the dark.  The fact that the ocean was so loud was the only evidence it was there since of course everything was pitch black. 

By the time I went to bed, I had been awake for over twenty-four hours.  I didn't really care.  That did not stop me from waking up at something like 3:30 in the morning.  Since that was 9am east coast time, it only made sense and I was expecting it.  Instead of futilely trying to go back to sleep I did a few things on the computer and then went out for a run under the stars.  Not a bad way to start the trip.  Mary and I went and swam at the pier once it got light out and then had ourselves a nice breakfast at the infamous Lava Java.  Honestly, you'd think there was nowhere else in town to eat breakfast, but it's always delicious.  Eventually we made it back to the house so I could put my bike together and go for a little ride.  It's amazing how fast three hours goes by with a change of venue.  Then again, anything goes quicker when you're actually moving instead of in the basement.  My last ride had started at 3:45am before I got on the plane.  Yeah, this was better.

That night we headed over to the TYR house for a little luau which I was somehow awake enough to enjoy.  The next morning we swam at the Kona Aquatics Center.  This is a beautiful outdoor pool - or pools, more accurately - and it costs exactly nothing to go over and hop in a lane and get your workout done.  Even better was later in the week when I'd ride my bike over and I could just leave it right on deck in sight of my lane.  This should exist everywhere.  After that was the Kona Underpants Run.  This storied tradition goes almost as deep as the World Championship itself.  It was a lot of silly fun and gave me another opportunity to do something I definitely wouldn't have done if I'd been racing.  Don't get me wrong, I love racing too, but in this particular instance I truly believe this is just the kind of trip I needed.

There was probably another bike ride in there and then some time spent at the expo before I went up to Waikoloa to meet some of my athletes for dinner.  I had one athlete here racing, who qualified at his first Ironman in Mont Tremblant just eight weeks prior, and he was here with his wife, who I also coach.  It's so nice to actually be able to be there in person for an athlete.  It's not always possible, but it's great to take advantage when it is.  He was relaxed and calm and as ready as he could be. 

The following morning I think I was awake before 3.  I skipped the team breakfast in favor of getting my long ride done.  More important than anything for the day though was some surfing.  I've surfed for about ten years and have a board back home (I even went once in mid September although I had to quit after only an hour because I thought I might freeze to death) and Mary had tried it before and wanted to go again, and we had run into our friend and teammate Chuck and his wife Michelle who also wanted to join us. 

This particular afternoon, I think probably for all of us, was the highlight of the trip.  We had plenty of fun, but this was just an absolute blast.  The waves were pretty consistent, the water was warm, everyone got up - including Mary who impressed the instructors with her ability to surf sideways on her knees rather than ever actually standing, and Chuck and I got to go out and ride a few of the bigger waves toward the end of the lesson, including the final one in which we took off right next to each other and broke off in opposite directions and rode the wave almost all the way to shore.  This is definitely not something you can do the afternoon before the race if you have to race in the morning.  Anyway, funnest afternoon ever.

That night Mary and I went to check out the "Thank God I'm Not Racing" party, which I thought she was just calling that to be funny but apparently it is literally called that and comes complete with hats and medals that indicate that you swam, biked and ran 0.0 miles.  It was kind of a zoo with no real good food (we spent the week seeking out free food) and I think we spent roughly fifteen minutes there.  We were really tired anyway. 

Race morning I was up almost as early as if I had been racing.  I felt no desire to be racing that day.  Not in the sense that I never wanted to race, just knowing that this was not my year for it.  Mary, Charlie and our other roommates Greg and Jody (Greg was racing, Jody is his girlfriend) headed down to drop Greg off and I got my run in right from the house down to meet up with Mary later.  Charlie was the official QT2 photographer for the day so he had some work to do.  Mary and I found a nice spot on the rocks to watch the swim and eventually made our way up near the infamous "hot corner" to watch the bikers go out.  There we learned a valuable lesson: if you're crossing the street in front of the bikers on the bike course, pay attention!  After countless close calls, this woman who wasn't even really looking (at this point the bikers are coming around a corner after going downhill, easily topping 20-25mph) darted out in front of this poor racer who had no chance of avoiding her, and there was a loud and painful collision.  The racer, miraculously, had minimal road rash on his shoulder as the only visible injury, though was obviously shaken up.  His bigger issue was his flat front tire and the unnecessary guilt of having injured this woman who really started his day on a bad foot.  I have no idea what injuries she sustained, but she was kept quite still and eventually taken away by ambulance.  The racer was able to change his tire and continue with his day, and he finished.  What an unnecessary incident. 

Anyway, after that there was plenty of waiting around for people to come back from the bike, so we passed the time with some breakfast since I personally was about to pass out.  Then we found some tents with the live internet feed playing and hung out there for quite a while.  Honestly, spectating is tiring!  It was a very hot day and the word was that it was windy out on the bike.  Big surprise.  Eventually we found a good spot to watch around mile one and saw the leaders and eventually the QT2 crew trickling through.  From the looks of everyone, it was an especially brutal day out there.  Very few people held it together from start to finish, and that includes some major veterans of the race.  Eventually we situated ourselves a tenth of a mile or so from the finish line and Mirinda Carfrae - who was running to her third place finish - stopped right in front of us and could barely make it in from that point.  This is not someone who doesn't know how to handle herself out there.  It was just that kind of day. 

This was my second time coming to spectate the race.  The last time was in 2008 and I remember seeing the finish line and wishing I was going to get to cross it that day.  I haven't finished this race since 2007.  That was longer ago than I'd care to admit.  While 2008 made me sad, this year I wasn't feeling that way.  This is not because I never want to race here again.  I've realized some things recently in thinking about how the last bunch of seasons have ended.  2007 ended with me being burnt out and mentally exhausted.  I finished Kona tenth in my age group and was bitterly disappointed.  In 2008 I had been injured and it was my first time not qualifying since 2004.  Basically I thought I was done with the sport, at which point Jesse actually reached out to me from QT2 and revived me.  Unfortunately 2009 also ended in disappointment as a mere two weeks from Kona, I found out I had a stress fracture and couldn't complete the race.  My comeback was incomplete and I dropped out after the swim and bike.  2010 saw an early season mental collapse followed by the unexpected death of my father, so my subsequent tri season wasn't really on the forefront of my mind.  2011 I think I tried too hard to be into things, but after losing Dad my heart just wasn't in it, and I suffered another stress fracture that left me mostly without a racing season and off the start lines of any Ironman races for the first time in eight years. 

I took that injury as a sign to take a real step back.  I had been plugging away for almost ten years without a break and my body was telling me I needed one.  But looking back at the way all of those seasons ended, it was no wonder I'd been entering each new one feeling a little more disheartened.  The last season that finished on a positive note was 2006 where in spite of feeling as though I was going to die for a good six hours post-race, I had an incredible race in Kona.  Looking now at all of the negative endings, it's a wonder I was ready to start training for a new season at all. 

Things feel different this time.  This year started with my first respectable Ironman finish in three years.  It wasn't on par with the best of my performances in the past, but it was the first time in a long time I'd been able to cross an Ironman finish line with my head held high.  It included a marathon time that at other points in my career might have been viewed as a huge disappointment, but I was finally able to see it for what it was: progress in the right direction.  It didn't get me to Kona, but in spite of the progress I'll admit I probably just wasn't ready yet. 

Recently though I've started to be and look a whole lot fitter.  I'm finally looking in the mirror and seeing the athlete that was hiding for way too long.  I'm heading into Ironman Arizona in just four short weeks with a whole lot more confidence.  The last time I was there I won my age group by an hour.  I am definitely not expecting that kind of result, and it's funny to look back and know that I was, at the time, disappointed in my finish time because I felt like garbage during that marathon.  I can still almost feel what my legs did that day as I tried to make them go faster, but I had blown them apart fighting the extreme wind on the bike.  If I cross the line in a time anywhere close to the one I had there in 2007, I'd be ecstatic.  At this point I don't know what to expect, but I'm going to give it everything I have.  If that means I get to qualify for Kona again, then great.  If not, I'll be racing Ironman Texas again in May, and one way or another, I will be at the start line in Kona for 2013.  I'm not usually much for professing goals, but this particular decision has already been made. 

It's not that difficult to understand why the athletes who race in Kona get there.  Sure, there are some anomalies with crazy talent and flawless genetics, and if recent evidence is any indication some of them also use some less-than-legal means to enhance their performances.  For the most part, it is the people who choose to do everything they can to reach their potential.  I can tell you that in the years I qualified I did some crazy things to get workouts in.  It was outrageously rare that I'd miss one.  Actually, thinking about my best couple of years, I bet I never missed anything.  I made the training a priority and it showed on race day.  I was as surprised as anyone with what I was able to accomplish.  I can tell you that on my best Ironman day, in Lake Placid in 2006, all I wanted to do was break eleven hours.  I had no idea I had the ability to do what I did that day, but things just went perfectly. 

And it turns out that's just what happens when you do the work.  Your results usually show you exactly what kind of preparation you put in.  My heart and my head weren't in things for a while, and my results showed that, too.  You can do all of the training but if you're just going through the motions you're probably not going to get the results you want.  My heart and my head are back in it again.  My physical ability hasn't quite caught up yet (running continues to be slow in coming around) I finally have the confidence back that it will if I continue to follow the path I'm on.  And given that, I can be a little more patient and be glad that I wasn't racing this year, and still walk away with the drive and desire to do what it takes to make sure I am on the start line and, more importantly, at the finish line a year from now.

Okay, end tangent.  Where was I?  QT2 racers had a great day.  Cait came in ninth and even she wasn't smiling at the end of the race (if you've ever seen Cait race, it is rare that she shows any indication that running a marathon at the pace she does is difficult or taxing in the slightest) and my athlete didn't have the day he initially hoped for but having lost his Garmin on the swim and with no data to go on, accompanied with stomach issues that started before the race and continued for days after, not to mention race day conditions that were by all accounts the worst in years, I'm very happy with his race and I think he has gotten to a point where he is, too. 

We somehow had some dinner and then collapsed in the grass in a heap to await Greg and Jody after their dinner and we drove back to the house.  It was definitely a long and exhausting day.  That did not stop the early morning wakeup on Sunday and my early morning bike and run before we eventually went to a brunch at the TYR house where Mary found herself once again getting caught up in a kick-off challenge to raise money for Teens Living With Cancer, this time against Craig Alexander who happened to be at the house hanging out with his family. 

That afternoon Chuck and I tried to replicate our surfing experience from the other day, but the waves were basically non-existent and while I got in a couple of decent rides, mostly we just sat on the boards waiting for nothing to happen and wound up just paddling in.  It sucks how you can never replicate that truly awesome experience.  We hit up the awards that night and I found it is much less painful to sit in those folding chairs for three hours if you didn't race. 

Monday was the last full day on the island for Mary and Charlie and we did some swimming and hanging out in town and we had planned on trying to surf but the waves were terrible again, so instead we went and jumped off a cliff.  Because that's the same, right?  Mary didn't jump.  I'd jumped off high points of similar height, so I didn't waste much time launching myself off.  Actually, climbing back out of the water was much worse.  Then Charlie spent quite a while trying to convince himself to jump off, and got some inspiration from the first real-life slow clap I've ever witnessed from some other crazy cliff jumpers.  He also said that since I had jumped, of course he couldn't walk away without doing so.  We had a nice dinner on the water and ended our final day. 

The next day Charlie and Mary left and I was alone, left to train and... that's about it.  Honestly, it's been a really good thing, I think.  I'm kind of tired of it, but I'd be tired of it anyway.  My travels in preparation for IMAZ have done for me exactly what I wanted them to do.  I had more ocean swims, rode way too much on the Queen K, swam in the pool, ran on the marathon course and got too much sun.  Actually, I didn't get burned but I almost look like a crazy tanning lady, so it's probably time to go home. 

It's been an amazing trip.  We kept saying the first few days how we couldn't believe how short of a time we had been there, like on day three it felt like we'd been there for a week.  Probably because we had been awake most of the time.  The past week, however, has absolutely flown by and it's unbelievable to me that it's time to go home.  Although the fact that I have no clean clothes left begs to differ.  Also, while I've enjoyed not being cold, fall running in New England isn't such a bad thing. 

So now it's about time to board a red-eye flight to Los Angeles before getting on another plane to Newark, and then yet another one bound for good old Manchester.  I'm certainly not looking forward to the travel aspect but I am ready to go home.  And I know I'll be here next year.

If you actually read all of that, you are obviously way too bored.