It's been a while since I blogged and I really do have to get better about it, but often times there is just nothing exciting happening. Not that any of it is all that exciting, but I'd rather have at least a little something to say. Anyway, finally I do. This past weekend we had the first of what should become an annual QT2 training camp up in Lake Placid, home of the awesome Ironman race. From the first time I went up there in 2004 to race for the first time I absolutely loved it, and every time I go back I feel exactly the same. Seriously, I could live there.
Anyway, I went up on Wednesday, hitching a ride with my friend Trent who conveniently lives nearby and was also attending. It was about 97 degrees while I was packing that morning and before that I barely completed a 35-minute easy run because I was so wiped out. I took several breaks in the midst of packing from sweating so profusely. The drive up was painless and uneventful and we had excellent timing on the ferry and arrived in town after four-and-a-half hours of travel. Had a quick dinner and checked into the hotel.
Tara was the first of my awesome roommates of the weekend to arrive, with her dog Marley who would serve as room 10 mascot. He is not to be confused with my sister's Marley who we lost last September and who outweighed this Marley by a good seventy pounds. We had some time to settle in before Mary and Jennie finally arrived at like 10:30, so we could finally go to sleep to prepare for the first day.
Thursday morning we woke up in time for some breakfast and to meet up with the other campers before heading down to the water for our first workout of camp: a one-loop time trial swim. Not so luckily, the swim course is currently set up for rowing, which extended a "loop" about another 550 yards, or somewhere around there. The water was fantastic and I wished I had brought one of my now-illegal skinsuits instead of my wetsuit since the wetsuit is starting to show its age and I didn't really need it to keep warm, and all of that on/off is not going to help it from a longevity standpoint.
Anyway, we all lined up in the water ready to take off in a mass start of about 29 of us and then it was time for some good, hard swimming. Coming off Ironman Texas last month I am not exactly in prime shape, and as usual, going as hard as I possibly can isn't really my specialty, so it was certainly a challenge, though a good one. I stayed on someone's feet, finding out at the turn that it was Trent, which I decided were good feet because we've raced together a lot and I am pretty sure he has always beat me out of the water, so I pretty much followed him the rest of the way. Thanks, Trent! I finished three seconds behind him, about seventh I think among all of the swimmers in our group. Also, toward the end I did, in fact, feel like I might throw up, so I decided I definitely paced it correctly.
After that we all headed back to change into bike gear for another hard ride, a time trial on the old out and back. We rode back down the back side of the bike course, which I'd never done before. Certainly it is downhill but nothing like the infamous descent on the course itself. Also, the road was in pretty terrible condition for this stretch, so we had to be careful. It was incredibly warm out during this ride, so I was not upset to find out that the time trial was only 4.1 miles and not entirely uphill.
We lined up in the order we'd finished the swim and took off in intervals based on where we finished the swim. So if you finished ten seconds behind the person in front of you, you took off ten seconds after they did. That was kind of fun. It started off pretty painlessly with some downhill and then flattened out before moving up. Did I mention I'm not good at all-out efforts? I reached a point of maximum oxygen deprivation and just felt like I was almost hyperventilating and couldn't go any harder toward the end, so that was not my best performance, but still fun in that weird sort of way that we all find training like this "fun." Then all we had to do was ride back and then hit the roads for some running.
I was feeling pretty beat up and given the heat I didn't think I'd get much out of an actual run, so instead I ran to the lake and then hopped in the water with Mary and Charlie to do some water running. Charlie is forced to water run due to injury and Mary and I were simply there for moral support. If you've ever been forced to water run it is possibly the most boring activity on the face of the planet. But water running with a couple of friends in Mirror Lake on a beautiful day isn't such a bad thing.
We had a tiny bit of time to get ourselves together before our pizza dinner that night to load up for our big ride the next day. There was a sports nutrition talk that night but a few of us headed back early to get some work done and get in bed early since we are pretty well versed on the Core Diet. I'm pretty sure I slept well that night, having gotten used to sharing the bed with Marley curled up near my legs.
Friday morning we were up, well, as late as we could get up while still making it in time to grab something to eat before our easy one-loop swim in the lake. It was much more pleasant without the feeling like I was going to throw up thing going on. Then it was time to hop on the bikes to ride the course. I opted to ride with the middle of three groups given that my super-speediness on the bike in Texas had all but completely vanished, so I knew I was not going to be keeping up with the big guns. The loop was even slower than I expected and I had to skip a bit the second time around in order to not wind up riding way longer than planned. Given that I pulled into the hotel parking lot after exactly six hours of riding, I'd say I did a pretty good job.
I had ridden with people off and on, stopping often to fuel up thanks to Courtney and her wonderful QT2 van with Marley riding shotgun. The weather was mostly nice, although the second time down the descent it was raining which is sort of painful when you're moving 45mph, but it didn't last too long and the sun came out again later. The day was topped off with a little run and finally I was able to relax... for a very brief period of time before we had to head to dinner.
I guess I should mention that Friday also happened to be my birthday. Now, I don't make a big deal about my birthday. I think in the past ten years I've had a birthday cake twice, maybe. A couple of times I may have literally not seen anybody. Or sometimes I'll meet friends to swim or something and they have no clue, which is fine. Four years ago I did the exact same thing on my birthday, riding the course in Placid when I was up training with friends. The thing is, somehow people always find out. That time it was because my cousin called me to say happy birthday while we were eating lunch and someone heard just enough to be able to figure it out. This time, while my birthday isn't listed on facebook, all it takes is one person to say it and for that person to be friends with a lot of the people who happen to be up at camp with you and the word spreads.
Mostly I wasn't even thinking about it being my birthday. I forgot about it myself most of the time. It was only the second birthday I've had without my dad, and if I skim the calls my cell phone has received I can still see the time he called me on my birthday in 2010. I thought of him a lot when I was up there. He watched me race all seven times and might have loved the town even more than I did. The last time he was there he and my mom were talking about maybe coming up for a winter getaway. It's just too bad they didn't get to do it.
Anyway, upon finishing the run, Courtney was the first one to mention the birthday since she had spent much of the day on social media since she didn't have much to do aside from wait for a lot of tired and thirsty athletes to refuel before moving up the road another twenty miles or so. And then as we were walking to dinner Trent, thanks to having seen my mom and a few other people post on my facebook wall, told my roommates as we walked down to dinner. So, the secret was out. Oh, well. I'm just not the kind of person who wakes up on my birthday and walks around screaming it to the world.
Dinner was up the road at the Dancing Bears, a restaurant at the High Peaks resort. Fajitas never tasted so good. Afterward I was surprised with a birthday, um, bowl of fruit with a candle embedded in the strawberry. Yes, it's QT2. To be honest, having been so stuffed with fajitas I'm not sure I would've been able to handle cake at the time, anyway. I'm also pretty sure that's the first time I've been sung happy birthday since I turned 18.
So then it was time to head back for the general Q&A with the coaches before going back and getting into bed. I think it was difficult to even hold my head up at that point. Oh, but I did get to use our awesome Norma-Tech recovery boots and those felt great. I'd just need a bigger pair for my freakishly long legs. Fortunately, Saturday was a much lower key day. In fact, workouts didn't even start until 9:30. Our standard morning routine was for Mary to get up way before any of us and Marley to bark a bit at her and get all riled up before leaving his spot between me and Tara on the bed to go lie on Mary's pillow next to Jennie. The rest of us would stay in bed until the last possible moment. I am sure I was up pretty late.
First up Saturday was two loops in Mirror Lake. Again, these were long loops so it was more like 5600 yards than 2.4 miles. But I could practically swim all day in that lake, so I had no issues with it and the hour and twenty six minutes didn't feel like it was that long. I did feel exceedingly hungry afterward, though. We had a bit of a break after that where we got some lunch and got to wonder when it was going to rain, because it was definitely going to rain. I had a little bike fitting with Jesse and we moved my saddle forward just a tad, but that was it. There wasn't much reason to change anything else. That's always a good thing.
It was pouring rain and thundering at that point, at which time we were supposed to be doing our ride. I also had two athletes racing the next day who I had to get in touch with so I had to make sure I was available until we finally connected, so that made the afternoon a bit sketchy. I'll be honest and say that I didn't ride. In the grand scheme of things, me missing one recovery bike ride, my strongest sport, five months out from my next A race is probably not a huge deal. So I chose not to worry about it. I got my work done, kept Marley company, had my phone calls, and then went out for the run, which is always the thing I need to spend more time on. Running around Mirror Lake is pretty pleasant.
It's funny though because many times throughout the weekend I also thought of racing there in 2006. There are definitely a lot of vivid memories in my head from that day. The marathon on the out and back, coming to the top of Papa Bear with all of the spectators, seeing my dad when I got off the bike in T2, running out of transition and taking the lead. I really need to figure out how to get somewhere near that again! Not necessarily winning races, just maybe actually having a reliable run again.
Anyway, after that it was once again time to get cleaned up and I got a great deal on a new swimsuit before it was time for my pre-dinner massage. Courtney made me want to cry, but she just casually talks to you while inflicting the pain as you try and pretend you're fine. It was probably a good thing, though. Dinner was some delicious chicken, veggies, salad, sweet potatoes and some other random stuff. And that night was our mental fitness talk. I really, really almost fell asleep during that. Not because it's a bad talk, but simply because I was exhausted! That night we didn't talk much before going to sleep while Tara stayed up working a ton.
Then it was time for the last day. No swim, but easy bike and long run. It was a chilly morning and I opted to run first. I did that because I felt as though I'd be better off surviving the run first rather than trying to get through it as the last thing of the whole weekend. That, and frankly it is not really enjoyable to me to run on the same course at the same time as a whole bunch of people running way, way faster than I am. This leaves me with approximately zero running partners but maybe sometime in the future I'll be able to run with some people again.
But, it was a beautiful, cool, sunny morning in Lake Placid and I could run around the lake a few times without too many people in town, although the lake was crowded with tons of swimmers. There were definitely a lot of camps in town. I finished up in time to pack up my stuff and move out of the room since we had to be out by 11:00 thanks to a horse show.
Once packed and ready I hit the road for my easy ride which was quite nice, especially since I could just ride with some of our runners and chat with everyone. Before we knew it, camp was over and we had some time for lunch before hitting the road. But not before one last little stop at Starbucks with my roommates and Trent who designated himself as an honorary member of room 10 and we parted ways about 3:30. We made it to the ferry with good timing and it was as crowded as I've ever seen it. I actually was worried we wouldn't get on, but thankfully we did. Then just the rest of the super boring ride down 89 and I was home at 8:15. Not too bad.
Somehow I had a hard time sleeping last night, but I did manage to get up this morning to meet some people to swim at Glen Lake. It is definitely not Mirror Lake but at least it was warm and I didn't need my wetsuit and the bacteria levels warning had been lifted. It was a good day for some rest because not long after the swim it started raining and pretty much didn't stop the rest of the day.
So it was an awesome time with some great friends and a good way to kick off the real training for the second half of my 2012 season. I am officially confirmed for Ironman Arizona in November. I recall hating that race, but I do know I can race well there and I know the course and the timing is right, so, there aren't a lot of good reasons not to do it. I'm sure I'll be okay with the fact that the bike course is the most boring on the Ironman circuit as long as I remind myself how fast it is and that the last time I raced there I won my age group by an hour. Not a bad precedent.
Okay, almost time for bed because it's another big training week ahead!
Monday, June 25, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Mooseman Spectator Report and What Happens Next
This past weekend was what I often feel is the official kick-off to summer triathlon season in New Hampshire: Mooseman. After the original Mooseman in 2004 this race moved to Wellington State Park in Bristol where it has been held every year since 2005. I raced the half in 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009 and last year and the Olympic distance in 2010 since it was a tad too soon after Ironman St. George. The point is, this was my first time not racing. Not once during the weekend did I wish I was.
No, that is not because I don't like racing and don't want to do another triathlon. That is definitely not the case. Two weeks after Ironman Texas I certainly was not in racing mode yet again and the weather was... less than desirable. The weather in New Hampshire in June is sometimes quite pleasant. But there is something about this race that attracts either incredible heat and humidity or torrential rain and cold. It's very rarely anything in between. 2005 was blazing hot, 2006 was really cold, 2008 I think the pavement was on fire, in 2010 you would've been better off keeping your wetsuit on the entire race.
So this year as race weekend approached, while the weather was absolutely gorgeous in the days leading up, just in time for registration the rains moved in along with awesomely cold temperatures. Nothing like having to wear a heavy jacket in June. I wisely opted to skip spectating on Saturday at the Olympic. It rained all day long. My friend Trent came up to stay at the Zahr lake house and we went over to the QT2 dinner in Bristol with an exceptional amount of athletes. The team has expanded so much I feel as though there are more people I don't know than do know at this point. Being a non-racer I was just about the only one without a plate of pasta and chicken in front of me.
The other nice part about not racing? I didn't set an alarm that night. I knew I was going to watch but under the circumstances I figured there was no reason for me to be there to sit in the rain and watch people come out of the water. I woke up a little after 6 and fortunately Trent was already long gone so no worries about him missing his start or anything. The good news was that it actually wasn't raining. The even better news was that a quick look at the weather radar showed that it really wasn't going to be all that rainy that day. The temperatures weren't going to get out of the 50s, but cold and dry is a hundred times better than cold and wet. So I took my time getting ready and then hit the road.
Given that I had some extra time I stopped off for some breakfast at a little local diner I've always loved and had a really good veggie omelet and arrived at the race site about 8:15. There was some drizzle as I pedaled my bike in from my really-far-away parked car, but other than that, it was basically fine. Oddly, it took me a very long time to run into anyone I knew. I watched some people heading out on the bike before heading over to see some of the slower swimmers come out of the water. Given that there was nothing else to watch really at that point, I opted to stay and watch the final swimmers come out. It's sort of amazing to see the circuitous routes some of these people take. Not that I haven't been one of them in the past. It's also pretty cool to see how immensely thrilled some of these people are just to get through the swim. Two guys came in together (note that every single one of those slower swimmers I saw were men!) and just made the cutoff and a couple of minutes later one last soul came in and unfortunately had to be told that his day was over. But the guy would take like ten swim strokes and then stop and "rest" by treading water in place for like ten seconds before continuing forward. If that was his entire swim strategy then he might want to consider at least doggie paddling in a general forward direction while he "rests" so he's at least continually making progress.
Anyway, after that I just kind of wandered around some, looked at the expo and stuff, because the bikers wouldn't be back for a while. And even after the first biker came back it was like ten more minutes before the second one came in. That bike course is so challenging that everyone is really pretty spread out, but slowly people started to come in, including plenty of QT2 jerseys right up front. I don't think I saw anything particularly exciting. I will say that transition was basically a swamp, so that was kind of amusing. And actually watching people come out of T1 quite a few of them would walk out and put their shoes on after they were out of transition and there was even a person with a hose standing there to spray people's feet off. Yes, things were messy. But again, at least it wasn't raining!
I think at some point there in spite of the lack of rain it actually got colder outside. Great running weather, though not so great for biking. Eventually I went over toward the finish line to watch people come through which is always fun. Lots of very solid performances there including by two athletes I coach, which is always nice to see. Especially since this was the first race I'd coached them through. Trent had a good race in spite of having been stopped on the bike course for a bit due to an ambulance and a bike accident. I hope nothing too terrible happened there. Then it was just watching more and more friends come through.
Sometimes I can't believe how long I've been racing and I remember my first few years not knowing anyone when I'd go to a race. I think I'd have to go race in Switzerland or something at this point if I didn't want to run into anybody. It's always fun though to run into people at races. And eventually it was time to get out of there. That is of course another perk to not racing and certainly not getting awards, you can leave whenever you want!
Last year this race was basically the end of my season. I had had a disappointing race in Oceanside, a really bad race in Florida including a foot that kept hurting and I didn't know why, and then I went out at Mooseman knowing things weren't going to go well. It was the second race I'd ever had to drop out of, although the first one I knew going in I'd have to stop before the run because I already knew I had a stress fracture. After a terrible bike ride I ran three miles and finally said to myself, something is definitely wrong with that foot. So I stopped. And an x-ray some days later told me that I was not imagining things and I was sentenced to the boot for the entire summer. So, anyway, let's just say I'm in a better spot this year.
All right, so, what's next for me? For the first time ever, I didn't have a whole line-up of races planned out. After IMTX I had no plans. Zip. Zero. Honestly, a couple of months ago I was wondering if I'd even wind up racing at all again afterward. My USAT membership needed renewing in March and I usually renew it for two years just to delay the hassle a bit, but I opted for one because, well, I wasn't sure if I was going to need it beyond that. Who knew what was going to happen?
The best possible outcome was another trip to Kona. That obviously didn't happen, and that's ok. I finally had to start thinking though about what I might want to do next. Right away I went into overdrive thinking up a few crazy ideas. Mooseman had 25 slots to Lake Placid. Maybe I could get through that and get a Placid slot and qualify for Kona and race there again. I knew that entire plan was ridiculous, but it was hard not to at least consider it briefly. Jesse would certainly never let me do that.
Another thing I discovered was that Ironman Louisville was still open. In the past I felt as though you'd have to pay me to do that race, run in that weather and, most importantly, swim in that disgusting water. But suddenly it all sounded like a great idea. Three months. I can be ready in three months, right? Well, Jesse didn't like that idea either, really. And the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. I mean, not only is it turning around and doing another Ironman pretty quickly, but if the whole point was simply to get to Kona again, I'd then have to turn around and do yet another Ironman six weeks later. Yes, maybe that's not the best idea.
So, I'm trying something new. Being patient. I'm not going to lie and say it's really easy. A big part of me is still sitting here thinking, but if you just get your act together you can do it now. Okay, that may be true, but at what cost? Where is that going to leave me for 2013 and beyond? Admittedly we all have a finite amount of time to be elite athletes. I can't pretend that there will always be enough time because unfortunately, that's not actually true. But at my age another year is not going to make or break me. Craig Alexander and I share the same birthday... except he's six years older than I am and he seems to still be doing pretty well.
So instead of scrambling to try and barely make it through the season and maybe or maybe not make it to race Kona for 2012, I will be ending my season with an Ironman, it just won't be in Hawaii. Where has not been 100% finalized, but it will be at a point in time in which I can perform to my own standards. Those standards are pretty high, but given another five months or so it will be amazing what I can do. I'm sure in October I'm going to feel a little sad that I am once again not racing on the Big Island. It was 2009 when I last toed the start line and 2007 the last time I finished the thing, so you can see why it might be tough for me to be patient. But being patient now will pay off a whole lot more in the long run.
Given the late season plans there is a lot of room for some racing over the summer and I am quite happy to say that it appears that every race I do between now and October will be in my home state and involve me waking up in my own bed. Not bad. Next up is Black Fly in Waterville Valley, an international distance and a race that I've always wanted to do but it never quite fit the schedule. After that most likely I'll be doing a small, independent half ironman at the end of July in Enfield. How small? Well, last year there were 49 people who raced. But hey, maybe I can finally get my elusive half ironman win. I've won a sprint, Olympic and an ironman but haven't quite nailed one of these, yet. If things go well and only about nine women show up maybe I can finally hit for the cycle. After that I get to finally race Timberman again. Yay! I raced it eight years in a row and it was my first half TEN years ago, so it will be nice to go back after my little hiatus for 2009, 2010 and 2011. Then there is yet another small, new half ironman over by Sunapee in Semptember. I don't know how or why so many of these races have sprouted up in my tiny state, but I'm not complaining and am taking advantage.
So, a busy but fun schedule I'm certainly looking forward to. Entry fees on some of these smaller races are certainly kinder and gentler. As is the lack of flying. It is really nice to be excited about racing again instead of sitting around worrying just how bad the next personal worst is going to be. Very pleasant change of pace.
No, that is not because I don't like racing and don't want to do another triathlon. That is definitely not the case. Two weeks after Ironman Texas I certainly was not in racing mode yet again and the weather was... less than desirable. The weather in New Hampshire in June is sometimes quite pleasant. But there is something about this race that attracts either incredible heat and humidity or torrential rain and cold. It's very rarely anything in between. 2005 was blazing hot, 2006 was really cold, 2008 I think the pavement was on fire, in 2010 you would've been better off keeping your wetsuit on the entire race.
So this year as race weekend approached, while the weather was absolutely gorgeous in the days leading up, just in time for registration the rains moved in along with awesomely cold temperatures. Nothing like having to wear a heavy jacket in June. I wisely opted to skip spectating on Saturday at the Olympic. It rained all day long. My friend Trent came up to stay at the Zahr lake house and we went over to the QT2 dinner in Bristol with an exceptional amount of athletes. The team has expanded so much I feel as though there are more people I don't know than do know at this point. Being a non-racer I was just about the only one without a plate of pasta and chicken in front of me.
The other nice part about not racing? I didn't set an alarm that night. I knew I was going to watch but under the circumstances I figured there was no reason for me to be there to sit in the rain and watch people come out of the water. I woke up a little after 6 and fortunately Trent was already long gone so no worries about him missing his start or anything. The good news was that it actually wasn't raining. The even better news was that a quick look at the weather radar showed that it really wasn't going to be all that rainy that day. The temperatures weren't going to get out of the 50s, but cold and dry is a hundred times better than cold and wet. So I took my time getting ready and then hit the road.
Given that I had some extra time I stopped off for some breakfast at a little local diner I've always loved and had a really good veggie omelet and arrived at the race site about 8:15. There was some drizzle as I pedaled my bike in from my really-far-away parked car, but other than that, it was basically fine. Oddly, it took me a very long time to run into anyone I knew. I watched some people heading out on the bike before heading over to see some of the slower swimmers come out of the water. Given that there was nothing else to watch really at that point, I opted to stay and watch the final swimmers come out. It's sort of amazing to see the circuitous routes some of these people take. Not that I haven't been one of them in the past. It's also pretty cool to see how immensely thrilled some of these people are just to get through the swim. Two guys came in together (note that every single one of those slower swimmers I saw were men!) and just made the cutoff and a couple of minutes later one last soul came in and unfortunately had to be told that his day was over. But the guy would take like ten swim strokes and then stop and "rest" by treading water in place for like ten seconds before continuing forward. If that was his entire swim strategy then he might want to consider at least doggie paddling in a general forward direction while he "rests" so he's at least continually making progress.
Anyway, after that I just kind of wandered around some, looked at the expo and stuff, because the bikers wouldn't be back for a while. And even after the first biker came back it was like ten more minutes before the second one came in. That bike course is so challenging that everyone is really pretty spread out, but slowly people started to come in, including plenty of QT2 jerseys right up front. I don't think I saw anything particularly exciting. I will say that transition was basically a swamp, so that was kind of amusing. And actually watching people come out of T1 quite a few of them would walk out and put their shoes on after they were out of transition and there was even a person with a hose standing there to spray people's feet off. Yes, things were messy. But again, at least it wasn't raining!
I think at some point there in spite of the lack of rain it actually got colder outside. Great running weather, though not so great for biking. Eventually I went over toward the finish line to watch people come through which is always fun. Lots of very solid performances there including by two athletes I coach, which is always nice to see. Especially since this was the first race I'd coached them through. Trent had a good race in spite of having been stopped on the bike course for a bit due to an ambulance and a bike accident. I hope nothing too terrible happened there. Then it was just watching more and more friends come through.
Sometimes I can't believe how long I've been racing and I remember my first few years not knowing anyone when I'd go to a race. I think I'd have to go race in Switzerland or something at this point if I didn't want to run into anybody. It's always fun though to run into people at races. And eventually it was time to get out of there. That is of course another perk to not racing and certainly not getting awards, you can leave whenever you want!
Last year this race was basically the end of my season. I had had a disappointing race in Oceanside, a really bad race in Florida including a foot that kept hurting and I didn't know why, and then I went out at Mooseman knowing things weren't going to go well. It was the second race I'd ever had to drop out of, although the first one I knew going in I'd have to stop before the run because I already knew I had a stress fracture. After a terrible bike ride I ran three miles and finally said to myself, something is definitely wrong with that foot. So I stopped. And an x-ray some days later told me that I was not imagining things and I was sentenced to the boot for the entire summer. So, anyway, let's just say I'm in a better spot this year.
All right, so, what's next for me? For the first time ever, I didn't have a whole line-up of races planned out. After IMTX I had no plans. Zip. Zero. Honestly, a couple of months ago I was wondering if I'd even wind up racing at all again afterward. My USAT membership needed renewing in March and I usually renew it for two years just to delay the hassle a bit, but I opted for one because, well, I wasn't sure if I was going to need it beyond that. Who knew what was going to happen?
The best possible outcome was another trip to Kona. That obviously didn't happen, and that's ok. I finally had to start thinking though about what I might want to do next. Right away I went into overdrive thinking up a few crazy ideas. Mooseman had 25 slots to Lake Placid. Maybe I could get through that and get a Placid slot and qualify for Kona and race there again. I knew that entire plan was ridiculous, but it was hard not to at least consider it briefly. Jesse would certainly never let me do that.
Another thing I discovered was that Ironman Louisville was still open. In the past I felt as though you'd have to pay me to do that race, run in that weather and, most importantly, swim in that disgusting water. But suddenly it all sounded like a great idea. Three months. I can be ready in three months, right? Well, Jesse didn't like that idea either, really. And the more I thought about it, the worse it seemed. I mean, not only is it turning around and doing another Ironman pretty quickly, but if the whole point was simply to get to Kona again, I'd then have to turn around and do yet another Ironman six weeks later. Yes, maybe that's not the best idea.
So, I'm trying something new. Being patient. I'm not going to lie and say it's really easy. A big part of me is still sitting here thinking, but if you just get your act together you can do it now. Okay, that may be true, but at what cost? Where is that going to leave me for 2013 and beyond? Admittedly we all have a finite amount of time to be elite athletes. I can't pretend that there will always be enough time because unfortunately, that's not actually true. But at my age another year is not going to make or break me. Craig Alexander and I share the same birthday... except he's six years older than I am and he seems to still be doing pretty well.
So instead of scrambling to try and barely make it through the season and maybe or maybe not make it to race Kona for 2012, I will be ending my season with an Ironman, it just won't be in Hawaii. Where has not been 100% finalized, but it will be at a point in time in which I can perform to my own standards. Those standards are pretty high, but given another five months or so it will be amazing what I can do. I'm sure in October I'm going to feel a little sad that I am once again not racing on the Big Island. It was 2009 when I last toed the start line and 2007 the last time I finished the thing, so you can see why it might be tough for me to be patient. But being patient now will pay off a whole lot more in the long run.
Given the late season plans there is a lot of room for some racing over the summer and I am quite happy to say that it appears that every race I do between now and October will be in my home state and involve me waking up in my own bed. Not bad. Next up is Black Fly in Waterville Valley, an international distance and a race that I've always wanted to do but it never quite fit the schedule. After that most likely I'll be doing a small, independent half ironman at the end of July in Enfield. How small? Well, last year there were 49 people who raced. But hey, maybe I can finally get my elusive half ironman win. I've won a sprint, Olympic and an ironman but haven't quite nailed one of these, yet. If things go well and only about nine women show up maybe I can finally hit for the cycle. After that I get to finally race Timberman again. Yay! I raced it eight years in a row and it was my first half TEN years ago, so it will be nice to go back after my little hiatus for 2009, 2010 and 2011. Then there is yet another small, new half ironman over by Sunapee in Semptember. I don't know how or why so many of these races have sprouted up in my tiny state, but I'm not complaining and am taking advantage.
So, a busy but fun schedule I'm certainly looking forward to. Entry fees on some of these smaller races are certainly kinder and gentler. As is the lack of flying. It is really nice to be excited about racing again instead of sitting around worrying just how bad the next personal worst is going to be. Very pleasant change of pace.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Texas to New Hampshire Drive Report
What could be more fun immediately following an Ironman than hopping in the car and driving almost 1900 miles? Oh, that's right, just about anything. But, well, unfortunately I had to get my car and my stuff home somehow. Immediately after the race I had some really awesome finish line catchers who helped me over to the food area and even got me a chicken burrito and made sure I was all right. It was very strange to finish and not know anyone anywhere nearby, but fortunately Michelle finished a couple of minutes after me so I wasn't alone for long.
We eventually got cleaned up after lots of walking back and forth to get the bikes and bags and find the cars and jump start their car because the lights were left on and by about 8:30 or 9:00 we were back in town to try and find a celebratory meal. Annoyingly, after an Ironman even though you'd think you'd be starving and you've been dreaming about that post-race meal for months, usually your stomach isn't really able to handle much. After some wandering around, Michelle, Jen and I found ourselves at a nice outdoor table at Tommy Bahamas where I had half a grilled chicken sandwich and a few fries before calling it quits. Not even a thought about dessert.
I got back to my room a bit before midnight and didn't bother trying to go to sleep until 1:00 because I knew it would be a futile exercise. I may or may not have fallen asleep somewhere in there, I really don't know. I do know that when I rolled over and looked at the clock it was 5:30 and I decided to start packing up my stuff. I definitely felt sore, but it wasn't quite the crippling post-Ironman soreness I've often experienced. Probably because of all of those walk breaks and not running that fast. The blisters were horrendous, however.
I met Michelle and Jen for breakfast at their hotel where I still wasn't really feeling like eating much, which was a bit disappointing, but oh, well. I then finally packed everything up and went to the roll down where almost no slots rolled down and certainly not close enough to my sixth in my age group and then headed over to the awards to hang out with some of my award winning teammates. But before that all ended I decided I should hit the road and begin my long, long, long drive back home. I wanted to get as many hours as I could stand in that first day so I wouldn't have as much left to go later.
That first five hours in the car weren't too terrible. I made it out of Texas and through almost all of Louisiana. I never, ever want to drive through Louisiana again. I drove through it last year, then to and from Galveston and then to and from The Woodlands and there is just something about that stretch through that state that is so much worse than anywhere else. Somehow, I wasn't able to really sleep that night, either. I expected that somewhere in the middle of my day of driving I'd be ready to fall asleep but somehow that never happened.
I hit the road at 6am and for some reason I had decided in my head based on almost nothing at all that I was not going to stop until I made it to Pennsylvania. I had found online a town not that far over the border that had plenty of hotels and that became my goal. A mere 1075 miles away from where I had stayed in Louisiana. What was I thinking? Oh, that's right, I was thinking that it would leave a lot less for the last day, which wound up being a good thing but made that day incredibly painful.
Mississippi passed quickly since just about nobody drives through it. Alabama had some slower spots but once I got north of Birmingham it was like being in the middle of nowhere. At one point for twenty miles the interstate was narrowed to one lane going both ways and traffic was not slowed at all. I made it to Georgia and my own time zone for the first time in a very long time and fortunately was in and out of there quick since the road conditions were awful. That must be why there was no sign welcoming me to Georgia, because they didn't want anyone to know how poorly they took care of their roads.
Then I was in Tennessee for the first time in my life. Not that I got to see much of it. Although they do love to point out constantly how many highway fatalities there have been this year. Somewhere around Knoxville was where some on and off rain started. And eventually I made it to Virginia. Now, although in order to get to Pennsylvania I still would have to pass through both West Virginia and Maryland, those states were so short that the majority of my drive was in Virginia, which I thought was never going to end. Somewhere down there was where I saw the cheapest gas of the trip, $3.17 a gallon as compared to the most expensive, I believe $4.26 off the Merritt Parkway.
I wasn't really indulging on too much road food, either, simply because I wasn't that hungry. Okay, so most of the drive that day was fueled by little powdered doughnuts, but my big "splurge" meal was a BBQ chicken sub from Subway. I don't even like Subway very much but that was what they had there, so that was what I'd be eating. I actually didn't even have dinner on the road because by the time I'd make it to my hotels simply lying down was way more important to me than food. Torrential rain started hitting through the state, off and on and off and on and causing traffic to slow way down. Like I needed that. You could see it coming from far away, too, the menacingly dark clouds off in the distance and the occasional lightning. I kept thinking I'd gotten through it only to be slammed with more rain and slowed down once again, wondering if I'd ever make it out of that stupid state.
I guess the only up side was that I saw a double rainbow all the way across the sky. And I was reminded of driving that same stretch of highway with some friends after my freshman year in college when we took a road trip to Miami and we played the cow game. That means each side of the car is a team, and you count the cows on your side and keep adding them up and if you pass a church your cow total doubles, but if you pass a cemetery all of your cows die and you have to start over. There were definitely a lot of cows on that stretch, and if memory serves, my team made it to over 300,000 cows before we lost them all.
Anyway, finally I survived all the way to West Virginia, which I wasn't in for too long before spending even less time in Maryland. And fourteen hours and forty-five minutes after I'd left that morning and having lost an hour thanks to crossing time zones, I pulled up to the hotel in Chambersburg, PA. My whole body was shaking, and you can imagine my legs weren't feeling too great after that whole Ironman thing and having spent all day sitting up in the car. I actually managed to prop my non-driving foot up on the dashboard, but even in spite of that and the compression socks my feet were unbelievably swollen.
I slept fairly well that night but was up way too early thanks to the fact that the person who had been in my room last set the alarm clock for 5am and left it on and I'd forgotten to make sure that nothing was going to wake me up. At least breakfast started at 6 and I had a real meal before getting on the road.
450 miles to go. It rained some more, although at least it wasn't too cold. The traffic was more annoying and I missed the 75mph speed limits of the south but at least I was making progress. And at least I didn't have to get out of the car in New Jersey. Over the Tapan Zee Bridge and onto all of those annoying highways to get around New York City. There was an incredible back-up at one point thanks to pretty much absolutely nothing. Yes, one car pulled off the side of the road doing nothing, but just in case let's all come to a complete stop before we move on so that traffic can be backed up for a mile.
Then my GPS took me to the Merritt Parkway because for some reason it loves that road, even though I do not. Oddly, it doesn't love it when I'm driving south. In the rain it's even more fun to drive on, as well as when you're really hungry and you know that you're not going to be passing anything resembling real food for miles. But just like the rest of the trip, I got through it and then was on to interstates I knew and trusted and I also knew I was almost home. That day was the day I thought I was going to fall asleep at the wheel. So much so that even when I didn't need any more gas with ninety minutes to go I stopped in Massachusetts to get out of the car and actually sit down and have something to eat in an effort to wake myself up just as much as finally eat some real food.
Luckily, that worked and got me through the rest and seven hours from when I'd left, I was home! Walking still wasn't fun, but at least I survived. I have to say, I don't think I'm going to be planning any more trips that require me driving hundreds and hundreds of miles by myself. The novelty has certainly worn off. So New Hampshire might have to get used to having me around a lot. And, fortunately, sleep has been made up for. And my bed is just as nice as I remember.
So, what's next? Well, hopefully decisions will be made over the next couple of days, but it should be fun, whatever it is.
We eventually got cleaned up after lots of walking back and forth to get the bikes and bags and find the cars and jump start their car because the lights were left on and by about 8:30 or 9:00 we were back in town to try and find a celebratory meal. Annoyingly, after an Ironman even though you'd think you'd be starving and you've been dreaming about that post-race meal for months, usually your stomach isn't really able to handle much. After some wandering around, Michelle, Jen and I found ourselves at a nice outdoor table at Tommy Bahamas where I had half a grilled chicken sandwich and a few fries before calling it quits. Not even a thought about dessert.
I got back to my room a bit before midnight and didn't bother trying to go to sleep until 1:00 because I knew it would be a futile exercise. I may or may not have fallen asleep somewhere in there, I really don't know. I do know that when I rolled over and looked at the clock it was 5:30 and I decided to start packing up my stuff. I definitely felt sore, but it wasn't quite the crippling post-Ironman soreness I've often experienced. Probably because of all of those walk breaks and not running that fast. The blisters were horrendous, however.
I met Michelle and Jen for breakfast at their hotel where I still wasn't really feeling like eating much, which was a bit disappointing, but oh, well. I then finally packed everything up and went to the roll down where almost no slots rolled down and certainly not close enough to my sixth in my age group and then headed over to the awards to hang out with some of my award winning teammates. But before that all ended I decided I should hit the road and begin my long, long, long drive back home. I wanted to get as many hours as I could stand in that first day so I wouldn't have as much left to go later.
That first five hours in the car weren't too terrible. I made it out of Texas and through almost all of Louisiana. I never, ever want to drive through Louisiana again. I drove through it last year, then to and from Galveston and then to and from The Woodlands and there is just something about that stretch through that state that is so much worse than anywhere else. Somehow, I wasn't able to really sleep that night, either. I expected that somewhere in the middle of my day of driving I'd be ready to fall asleep but somehow that never happened.
I hit the road at 6am and for some reason I had decided in my head based on almost nothing at all that I was not going to stop until I made it to Pennsylvania. I had found online a town not that far over the border that had plenty of hotels and that became my goal. A mere 1075 miles away from where I had stayed in Louisiana. What was I thinking? Oh, that's right, I was thinking that it would leave a lot less for the last day, which wound up being a good thing but made that day incredibly painful.
Mississippi passed quickly since just about nobody drives through it. Alabama had some slower spots but once I got north of Birmingham it was like being in the middle of nowhere. At one point for twenty miles the interstate was narrowed to one lane going both ways and traffic was not slowed at all. I made it to Georgia and my own time zone for the first time in a very long time and fortunately was in and out of there quick since the road conditions were awful. That must be why there was no sign welcoming me to Georgia, because they didn't want anyone to know how poorly they took care of their roads.
Then I was in Tennessee for the first time in my life. Not that I got to see much of it. Although they do love to point out constantly how many highway fatalities there have been this year. Somewhere around Knoxville was where some on and off rain started. And eventually I made it to Virginia. Now, although in order to get to Pennsylvania I still would have to pass through both West Virginia and Maryland, those states were so short that the majority of my drive was in Virginia, which I thought was never going to end. Somewhere down there was where I saw the cheapest gas of the trip, $3.17 a gallon as compared to the most expensive, I believe $4.26 off the Merritt Parkway.
I wasn't really indulging on too much road food, either, simply because I wasn't that hungry. Okay, so most of the drive that day was fueled by little powdered doughnuts, but my big "splurge" meal was a BBQ chicken sub from Subway. I don't even like Subway very much but that was what they had there, so that was what I'd be eating. I actually didn't even have dinner on the road because by the time I'd make it to my hotels simply lying down was way more important to me than food. Torrential rain started hitting through the state, off and on and off and on and causing traffic to slow way down. Like I needed that. You could see it coming from far away, too, the menacingly dark clouds off in the distance and the occasional lightning. I kept thinking I'd gotten through it only to be slammed with more rain and slowed down once again, wondering if I'd ever make it out of that stupid state.
I guess the only up side was that I saw a double rainbow all the way across the sky. And I was reminded of driving that same stretch of highway with some friends after my freshman year in college when we took a road trip to Miami and we played the cow game. That means each side of the car is a team, and you count the cows on your side and keep adding them up and if you pass a church your cow total doubles, but if you pass a cemetery all of your cows die and you have to start over. There were definitely a lot of cows on that stretch, and if memory serves, my team made it to over 300,000 cows before we lost them all.
Anyway, finally I survived all the way to West Virginia, which I wasn't in for too long before spending even less time in Maryland. And fourteen hours and forty-five minutes after I'd left that morning and having lost an hour thanks to crossing time zones, I pulled up to the hotel in Chambersburg, PA. My whole body was shaking, and you can imagine my legs weren't feeling too great after that whole Ironman thing and having spent all day sitting up in the car. I actually managed to prop my non-driving foot up on the dashboard, but even in spite of that and the compression socks my feet were unbelievably swollen.
I slept fairly well that night but was up way too early thanks to the fact that the person who had been in my room last set the alarm clock for 5am and left it on and I'd forgotten to make sure that nothing was going to wake me up. At least breakfast started at 6 and I had a real meal before getting on the road.
450 miles to go. It rained some more, although at least it wasn't too cold. The traffic was more annoying and I missed the 75mph speed limits of the south but at least I was making progress. And at least I didn't have to get out of the car in New Jersey. Over the Tapan Zee Bridge and onto all of those annoying highways to get around New York City. There was an incredible back-up at one point thanks to pretty much absolutely nothing. Yes, one car pulled off the side of the road doing nothing, but just in case let's all come to a complete stop before we move on so that traffic can be backed up for a mile.
Then my GPS took me to the Merritt Parkway because for some reason it loves that road, even though I do not. Oddly, it doesn't love it when I'm driving south. In the rain it's even more fun to drive on, as well as when you're really hungry and you know that you're not going to be passing anything resembling real food for miles. But just like the rest of the trip, I got through it and then was on to interstates I knew and trusted and I also knew I was almost home. That day was the day I thought I was going to fall asleep at the wheel. So much so that even when I didn't need any more gas with ninety minutes to go I stopped in Massachusetts to get out of the car and actually sit down and have something to eat in an effort to wake myself up just as much as finally eat some real food.
Luckily, that worked and got me through the rest and seven hours from when I'd left, I was home! Walking still wasn't fun, but at least I survived. I have to say, I don't think I'm going to be planning any more trips that require me driving hundreds and hundreds of miles by myself. The novelty has certainly worn off. So New Hampshire might have to get used to having me around a lot. And, fortunately, sleep has been made up for. And my bed is just as nice as I remember.
So, what's next? Well, hopefully decisions will be made over the next couple of days, but it should be fun, whatever it is.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Ironman Texas Race Report
It has been a long time since I had an Ironman race that I felt sincerely satisfied with. In fact, when I think about it, it's been just shy of three years. Honestly it seems crazy that I've even been doing these for three years, even though I did my first in 2004, a staggering eight years ago. Anyway, the point is, it's been a long time coming and it makes me even more excited for whatever happens next. But let's get down to it...
I actually slept pretty well the night before the race. I was on my hotel bed with my feet up from about noon until I got up the next morning, so that helped. I turned out the lights at 8:30 and fell asleep pretty quick since I was so tired. I remember waking up at about two or so and rolling back over only to be awakened by my alarm clock at 3:30 for breakfast. Blech. I downed the applesauce pretty quick, intermittently sprinkling my protein powder in there to get that down as well. After quickly eating the banana and chugging my bottle of Powerbar Perform I snuggled back down into my bed after resetting my alarm for 4:30.
I definitely did not fall back asleep before the beeping went off again. I immediately turned the alarm off - as a side note, always make sure to turn those alarms off on race morning once you've used them because you do not want them going off the morning after the race! I got up and used the bathroom and just kind of milled around a bit before putting on my awesome Pearl Izumi race kit - seriously, the thing is magical and I had zero chafing! - added sunscreen and some Body Glide to the important places and then headed down to the car to drive the four miles to the race site.
The race guide did a staggeringly bad job of telling us where things were. I mean, there were vague mentions of locations, such as: "Waterway parking lot." How exactly we were supposed to know where that was located was anyone's guess. It might have been nice to have, say, an address or at least a cross street in there. Same goes for transition and the mention of race morning parking just said something about garages off of Lake Robbins Drive. There are lots of garages off that street, and I wound up parking in the first one I saw, not knowing I probably could've gotten a lot closer. I just know that I've never done an Ironman where it was eerie how quiet the streets were and there was no line of cars waiting to get into town. I've also never had to pay for parking at one of these things before, but $5 wasn't that terrible.
I grabbed my bag with my swim stuff and headed down to transition, which was way too long of a walk. I wasted no time in there, stopping only to put bottles on my bike, make sure the tires were pumped and put it in a good gear to start. I was at my bike for a grand total of about ninety seconds before heading to double check my gear bags. I added a banana to my run bag and then turned on my Garmin in the bike bag to the multisport mode and again, quickly hit the road. Because now we had to walk another mile down to the swim start. Seriously, this race was more like 142.3 or something.
Anyway, after wondering if I might ever see the water I'd be swimming in, I finally made it down there to get body marked, eating my Powerbar on the way. At that point there wasn't much to do aside from wait. Oddly, I didn't see anyone else from the team even though they had to be somewhere. Instead I just found a nice spot of grass and sat down. To be honest, there weren't a lot of thoughts going through my head there. In my past couple of Ironman races it's been more like, "What am I doing here? I didn't train hard enough. This is going to be awful." I didn't know what to expect, but not in the bad way. It was more just like, let's see how this goes and just do what you need to do.
Eventually I decided it was time to put on the swim skin, asked a stranger to zip me up and headed toward the water. Had my Powergel and made my way over to the lake. It's strange to be starting a race that you really have no idea what you're getting into. Most other races I do I know the course perfectly and this one was going to be a complete surprise. I decided to start the swim on the far right so as to avoid spending the first half mile worried that I might actually die from drowning after people tried to swim over me. Plus, with the nature of that swim course, it is impossible to get off course and you don't lose much time by swimming wide. I stood in the 80-degree water shivering for a while before swimming up to where I thought might be a good place to start. It was strange, I wasn't anxious or nervous or anything. More importantly, I also wasn't thinking about how I'd rather be anywhere else but in that water.
Suddenly, the cannon fired and we were off. I went out pretty hard and there was the usual contact right away but it didn't take long at all for me to actually start swimming. It also didn't take me that long to realize I was swimming way harder than I'd be able to maintain for 2.4 miles because my legs were already burning from kicking, so I tried to settle into a steady rhythm while still maintaining some decent speed. I was wide enough outside the buoys that I hardly ever bumped into anyone, which was nice. I was actually surprised when we hit the first turn buoy because it seemed early for that, but I got around that without much issue and started coming back in. I remained wide right but since we would be taking a right turn into the canal eventually it might have actually made things shorter than if you directly followed the buoys. Either way, I was still fine and not worried about contact.
The water itself was nice and warm once we got going, although murky which made it hard to see anyone around you. I am so spoiled by the crystal clear lakes up north. Eventually we made it to the canal, which is where everyone gets sort of funneled in together which makes things a lot tighter, though aside from two back-to-back kicks to my forehead from the same person, that also wasn't too bad. I was more concerned that suddenly the water smelled and tasted funny, and in such a way that I had no idea what it reminded me of so I just tried not to think about it. The water also got really rough in there because with all of those people on such a narrow channel there are waves just bouncing off of the walls and churning things up. I could feel my legs sinking that late in the race and I missed my wetsuit a little bit, but finally we made a turn and I saw the stairs and was thrilled that it was time to get out.
I exited in 1:11, and I told myself the whole time that I was swimming well and that is my fastest non-wetsuit swim, so I was fine with it. Would I have liked to have been faster? Sure, but all in all it wasn't a bad start. The first transition was pretty quick. I grabbed my bag and went into the tent where there were a couple of dozen women mobbed around the first bunch of chairs so I ran way down to the end where I had about ten chairs to myself. A volunteer came to help me out and put my race belt on me while I put on my shoes, and put my nutrition in my back pockets while I dealt with my helmet and glasses. Seriously, talk about service! I chugged down about two thirds of a bottle of sports drink to get a head start on the hydration, stopped for another five seconds to get my back and shoulders slathered in sunscreen, and ran up to get my bike.
Oh, the trusty bike. Well, to be honest, even the trusty bike has been letting me down the past couple of years. I was a little disappointed with my ride in Galveston in April, so with a course that wasn't as flat as that one, I didn't think I'd suddenly have an amazing ride. I had a heart rate to target, so that's what I did. Right away, as usual, I was passing people. I had a few harder surges early on to get away from people and even from that early on there seemed to be some little groups forming or, my favorite, two guys blasting through - one leading and one just blatantly sucking on his wheel. It was somewhat crowded, but not too bad. I tried to find that line between not going too hard but also getting away from groups that were driving me nuts.
Eventually I instead decided to let a couple of groups go, knowing that we still had, say, 90-something miles to go and I'd probably beat them all eventually. After we made the turn onto the big highway I got passed by a little group that was all bunched up and I decided to let them go for a couple of minutes and use it as an opportunity to drink. I was told I'd have to drink fifteen bottles. Yes, three hundred ounces, so I had some work to do. Probably a mere two minutes after I let that group go off in front of me I heard the crashing noises, saw the wheels in the air and the people in the back trying not to crash into anyone who was already down. See, that is just one of the reasons why you shouldn't ride in a pack in these races! Two people were left on the ground, one male and one female. I honestly don't know if they finished or not. Those of us nearby rode by and continued on. I know that sounds awful and rude, but right across the street were a couple of police officers working an intersection, so it's not like we were leaving them alone.
After that, as you can imagine, things started to spread out a bit more. I just spent my time drinking like crazy, taking in my gels and Powerbars and trying to make sure my heart rate stayed where it needed to. As usual for me in these races, the more miles passed the less people there were around me. I had a few random people ask me where I was from or tell me I was doing a good job. I had my Garmin set to split every twenty-eight miles. I did the first in about an hour and twelve minutes. Wow. Then I hit halfway in an overall time of 2:28. Now, that is some pretty easy math to do and at the time I realized, holy crap, that is on pace for under five hours! I knew that was a bit of a stretch, but it was still a good feeling. And early on the course was very fast and every turn we made seemed to put the wind at our backs, which I knew wouldn't last forever.
I didn't know what to expect but I really loved this bike course. And that's not just because it was fast. Sure, some of the roads were a bit rough but mostly it was just riding on some very pleasant back roads by farms and stuff. The course had more hills than I thought but it broke things up nicely. There were also tons of aid stations, which definitely helped. As for getting down fifteen bottles, I completely lost count after only about four or five, so I have no clue. I do know that I never felt dehydrated and my stomach never bothered me. After sixty miles or so, I was more and more alone. At mile seventy-four, I passed my first female pro. Gradually I was passing less and less women until I got to the point where the only people I saw were men, and even then there were hardly any of them. In fact, at one point late in the ride I got a bit concerned that I took a wrong turn or something because there was not a soul in sight in front of me.
I knew I had slowed down and the winds had kicked up and that wasn't helping, but it also wasn't quite that demoralizing wind that makes you want to give up and throw your bike on the side of the road. It just meant you had to use some different gears. Finally we were approaching the end of the ride and I was definitely ready to get off. I mean, it was fun and all, but a person can only stand being in a bike saddle for so long. I took my feet out of my shoes and reached the dismount line before crossing into transition and handing off my bike. I forgot how nice that was. I glanced at my Garmin and was amazed that I had set a new Ironman bike PR. Previously it was a 5:15 I rode in Kona in 2006. In 2006 I was in some sort of otherworldly place fitness-wise, so it was incredible to beat that by six minutes, finishing in just over 5:09. I hadn't set a PR in anything since about 2007, so it was certainly a good feeling. But, well, now I still had to run a marathon.
As I ran through transition my legs felt... well, they felt like I had just bike 112 miles in a mere five hours and nine minutes. But one thing I made sure to do all day was remain very present. By that I just mean never getting ahead of myself or wondering how I was going to run an entire marathon, or being upset my swim split wasn't faster or whatever. I took it all one mile at a time, so I didn't go through T2 thinking that I'd just wrecked my marathon. I just thought about putting on my shoes and stuff and running the first mile.
I had about a four-person team of volunteers helping me out, which made things easier. I just threw on my shoes and socks, stuffed my gels and Clif bloks in my pockets, threw on my visor, ate the banana and was on my way. Even after only sitting down for a minute my legs felt much better as I ran out. Right away as I began running I saw Tim Snow. Tim is a great spectator, even when he's racing, and fortunately this time he didn't have to yell at me to keep my eyes up or anything as I was actually running. I don't remember the last time I set out on a run course feeling anything aside from absolute dread. I wasn't delusional and thinking I'd somehow run a 3:40 or something either, but I also wasn't afraid that my run would take longer than my bike as has happened in my last couple of races. And again, I just wanted to take it one mile at a time.
I'm sure I went out too hard, but amazingly, it was already kind of fun. I was careful to seriously hydrate at the aid stations and dump lots of water on my head and use the icy cold sponges. I have to say, the aid stations at this race were phenomenal. The volunteers kept up with the crazy demands as there were always cups being held out. Sometimes if you grabbed a sponge a volunteer would run behind you and wring another one out on the back of your neck. There was plenty of ice to dump down my shirt and sometimes people with hoses. You'd think it would be difficult to keep up on a three-loop run course, but they did an amazing job. I really don't think they could've done any better.
By the third aid station, I was ready to start walking those. Not because I was exhausted and needed a break, but because I knew a huge key would be getting in enough hydration and walking through would help with that, but also in training I never ran more than thirteen miles straight so I knew my legs just weren't ready to handle the pounding of twenty-six consecutive miles. So to avoid walking like, the last four, I just walked each aid station and it always refreshed me enough to keep going pretty well to the next one.
It was the weirdest thing. I actually had fun running that marathon. I mean, sure, I was ready for it to be done when it was done, and it was certainly far from my fastest, but I never felt badly about how things were going. And given the conditions, I was still passing lots of people. The course also went along the canal where there were tons of spectators which also made it more fun. The heat never bothered me, so thank you, Alabama. My stomach never bothered me as I was able to get in all of my nutrition. I might feel something weird in my stomach for about a minute at some point after having a gel or something on the run, but the feeling would go away as quickly as it had arrived.
I had no idea how fast or slow I was running. I purposely had my heart rate monitor display my heart rate only. There was no reason to see more than that. So I was clueless as to how things were going. Was I going to run 4:10? 4:30? I had no idea. I knew it wouldn't be great, but the last two of these were about five and six hours respectively, so something in the four-hour range was going to make me happy.
Due to the nature of the course having no out and backs, I almost didn't see anyone. Amanda Kourtz and Cait passed me on the run, and Pat Wheeler passed me just before he finished and I headed out for my third run loop, but I never saw a lot of the rest of the team, including Jesse. Of course the QT2 spectators were out in full force so they at least knew I was doing all right. I almost couldn't believe how fast the miles were going by. Somewhere around mile 21 I had a banana at one of the aid stations since my hands started to feel kind of... puffy, I don't know. But that made me feel better and I just kept on going. Okay, so my aid station walk breaks were getting longer each time, but I still knew I'd be able to make it and I wasn't giving up.
22, 23... wow, is it really almost over? I wonder how I'm doing? I had my last Clif blok at mile 24 and was so glad to be done with my fueling plan. Admittedly I took some Coke from the last two aid stations just to get me through, but I was almost done, anyway. Once I hit the last turn-around at a short out-and-back I picked up the pace, knowing that when I reached the end this time I'd get to bypass that arrow to the second and third laps and head down that glorious lane that read, "to finish."
I had no idea how far to the finish I had to go, I just kept trying to run hard and get there as fast as I could. The fact that I was able to pick up the pace at all probably means I could've done the whole thing faster, but I don't really care. Finally I thought I was there, ran down this hill at whatever full speed I could muster at that point in the race only to see I had to turn around and run back up in order to finish. Well, that was sort of mean! But finally I turned to run up the hill and saw the finish arch and looked up to see 10:45 on the clock. I smiled. Finally! I crossed the line in 10:46 with a marathon of 4:19. Yes, in the not-so-distant future a 4:19 marathon will be a huge disappointment. But at the moment, I am completely happy with it.
My finish line catchers were awesome and I got my medal and shirt and hat and they got me some food so I could just sit down. There was nobody there but fortunately Michelle finished only a few minutes after me so I wasn't alone for long. I called my mom and texted some people and really just felt so good to have finished the race that I was happy with. More importantly, it gives me hope for things to come. Honestly, two months ago when I started this whole winter journey I was in pretty rough shape. So if in two months I can do that, just imagine what can happen in another two months.
I want to thank all of you who cheered whether in person or from afar, or those of you who posted encouraging words on my blog or through e-mails or texts or even just "liked" any of my facebook posts. I often feel like I'm in this alone but that always makes me remember that I have a lot of people who are pulling for me. I need to thank my coach, Jesse, who has been far more patient than I deserved over the past few years but never stopped trying to help me and bring me back. I know he doesn't waste time with anything he knows isn't going to get anywhere, so just the fact that he was willing to continue to work with me told me I shouldn't give up just yet. Another special thanks to my new friend Kelli who opened her home to me in Birmingham so I could train through the winter in the heat. I don't think this race would've been possible without that.
And of course to my family who could not attend the race because my cousin Kevin got married the night before. And I'm sorry, Kevin, for missing the event! My family has been very supportive and especially my mom who has just been amazing through a lot of things over the past couple of years. And of course any other friends and teammates who ever said anything encouraging. You know who you are.
It has been a pretty rough couple of years for a variety of reasons. Yes, some were out of my control but a lot of it was my own fault, but finally I've been able to pull out of it and I really can only look forward to whatever races I do next. Now that's the big question: What races do I do next? I'm not signed up for anything! But one thing I've decided already is that in the not-too-distant future, people are going to have to be scared of my run again. It's in there somewhere and I'm getting dangerously close to finding it.
I actually slept pretty well the night before the race. I was on my hotel bed with my feet up from about noon until I got up the next morning, so that helped. I turned out the lights at 8:30 and fell asleep pretty quick since I was so tired. I remember waking up at about two or so and rolling back over only to be awakened by my alarm clock at 3:30 for breakfast. Blech. I downed the applesauce pretty quick, intermittently sprinkling my protein powder in there to get that down as well. After quickly eating the banana and chugging my bottle of Powerbar Perform I snuggled back down into my bed after resetting my alarm for 4:30.
I definitely did not fall back asleep before the beeping went off again. I immediately turned the alarm off - as a side note, always make sure to turn those alarms off on race morning once you've used them because you do not want them going off the morning after the race! I got up and used the bathroom and just kind of milled around a bit before putting on my awesome Pearl Izumi race kit - seriously, the thing is magical and I had zero chafing! - added sunscreen and some Body Glide to the important places and then headed down to the car to drive the four miles to the race site.
The race guide did a staggeringly bad job of telling us where things were. I mean, there were vague mentions of locations, such as: "Waterway parking lot." How exactly we were supposed to know where that was located was anyone's guess. It might have been nice to have, say, an address or at least a cross street in there. Same goes for transition and the mention of race morning parking just said something about garages off of Lake Robbins Drive. There are lots of garages off that street, and I wound up parking in the first one I saw, not knowing I probably could've gotten a lot closer. I just know that I've never done an Ironman where it was eerie how quiet the streets were and there was no line of cars waiting to get into town. I've also never had to pay for parking at one of these things before, but $5 wasn't that terrible.
I grabbed my bag with my swim stuff and headed down to transition, which was way too long of a walk. I wasted no time in there, stopping only to put bottles on my bike, make sure the tires were pumped and put it in a good gear to start. I was at my bike for a grand total of about ninety seconds before heading to double check my gear bags. I added a banana to my run bag and then turned on my Garmin in the bike bag to the multisport mode and again, quickly hit the road. Because now we had to walk another mile down to the swim start. Seriously, this race was more like 142.3 or something.
Anyway, after wondering if I might ever see the water I'd be swimming in, I finally made it down there to get body marked, eating my Powerbar on the way. At that point there wasn't much to do aside from wait. Oddly, I didn't see anyone else from the team even though they had to be somewhere. Instead I just found a nice spot of grass and sat down. To be honest, there weren't a lot of thoughts going through my head there. In my past couple of Ironman races it's been more like, "What am I doing here? I didn't train hard enough. This is going to be awful." I didn't know what to expect, but not in the bad way. It was more just like, let's see how this goes and just do what you need to do.
Eventually I decided it was time to put on the swim skin, asked a stranger to zip me up and headed toward the water. Had my Powergel and made my way over to the lake. It's strange to be starting a race that you really have no idea what you're getting into. Most other races I do I know the course perfectly and this one was going to be a complete surprise. I decided to start the swim on the far right so as to avoid spending the first half mile worried that I might actually die from drowning after people tried to swim over me. Plus, with the nature of that swim course, it is impossible to get off course and you don't lose much time by swimming wide. I stood in the 80-degree water shivering for a while before swimming up to where I thought might be a good place to start. It was strange, I wasn't anxious or nervous or anything. More importantly, I also wasn't thinking about how I'd rather be anywhere else but in that water.
Suddenly, the cannon fired and we were off. I went out pretty hard and there was the usual contact right away but it didn't take long at all for me to actually start swimming. It also didn't take me that long to realize I was swimming way harder than I'd be able to maintain for 2.4 miles because my legs were already burning from kicking, so I tried to settle into a steady rhythm while still maintaining some decent speed. I was wide enough outside the buoys that I hardly ever bumped into anyone, which was nice. I was actually surprised when we hit the first turn buoy because it seemed early for that, but I got around that without much issue and started coming back in. I remained wide right but since we would be taking a right turn into the canal eventually it might have actually made things shorter than if you directly followed the buoys. Either way, I was still fine and not worried about contact.
The water itself was nice and warm once we got going, although murky which made it hard to see anyone around you. I am so spoiled by the crystal clear lakes up north. Eventually we made it to the canal, which is where everyone gets sort of funneled in together which makes things a lot tighter, though aside from two back-to-back kicks to my forehead from the same person, that also wasn't too bad. I was more concerned that suddenly the water smelled and tasted funny, and in such a way that I had no idea what it reminded me of so I just tried not to think about it. The water also got really rough in there because with all of those people on such a narrow channel there are waves just bouncing off of the walls and churning things up. I could feel my legs sinking that late in the race and I missed my wetsuit a little bit, but finally we made a turn and I saw the stairs and was thrilled that it was time to get out.
I exited in 1:11, and I told myself the whole time that I was swimming well and that is my fastest non-wetsuit swim, so I was fine with it. Would I have liked to have been faster? Sure, but all in all it wasn't a bad start. The first transition was pretty quick. I grabbed my bag and went into the tent where there were a couple of dozen women mobbed around the first bunch of chairs so I ran way down to the end where I had about ten chairs to myself. A volunteer came to help me out and put my race belt on me while I put on my shoes, and put my nutrition in my back pockets while I dealt with my helmet and glasses. Seriously, talk about service! I chugged down about two thirds of a bottle of sports drink to get a head start on the hydration, stopped for another five seconds to get my back and shoulders slathered in sunscreen, and ran up to get my bike.
Oh, the trusty bike. Well, to be honest, even the trusty bike has been letting me down the past couple of years. I was a little disappointed with my ride in Galveston in April, so with a course that wasn't as flat as that one, I didn't think I'd suddenly have an amazing ride. I had a heart rate to target, so that's what I did. Right away, as usual, I was passing people. I had a few harder surges early on to get away from people and even from that early on there seemed to be some little groups forming or, my favorite, two guys blasting through - one leading and one just blatantly sucking on his wheel. It was somewhat crowded, but not too bad. I tried to find that line between not going too hard but also getting away from groups that were driving me nuts.
Eventually I instead decided to let a couple of groups go, knowing that we still had, say, 90-something miles to go and I'd probably beat them all eventually. After we made the turn onto the big highway I got passed by a little group that was all bunched up and I decided to let them go for a couple of minutes and use it as an opportunity to drink. I was told I'd have to drink fifteen bottles. Yes, three hundred ounces, so I had some work to do. Probably a mere two minutes after I let that group go off in front of me I heard the crashing noises, saw the wheels in the air and the people in the back trying not to crash into anyone who was already down. See, that is just one of the reasons why you shouldn't ride in a pack in these races! Two people were left on the ground, one male and one female. I honestly don't know if they finished or not. Those of us nearby rode by and continued on. I know that sounds awful and rude, but right across the street were a couple of police officers working an intersection, so it's not like we were leaving them alone.
After that, as you can imagine, things started to spread out a bit more. I just spent my time drinking like crazy, taking in my gels and Powerbars and trying to make sure my heart rate stayed where it needed to. As usual for me in these races, the more miles passed the less people there were around me. I had a few random people ask me where I was from or tell me I was doing a good job. I had my Garmin set to split every twenty-eight miles. I did the first in about an hour and twelve minutes. Wow. Then I hit halfway in an overall time of 2:28. Now, that is some pretty easy math to do and at the time I realized, holy crap, that is on pace for under five hours! I knew that was a bit of a stretch, but it was still a good feeling. And early on the course was very fast and every turn we made seemed to put the wind at our backs, which I knew wouldn't last forever.
I didn't know what to expect but I really loved this bike course. And that's not just because it was fast. Sure, some of the roads were a bit rough but mostly it was just riding on some very pleasant back roads by farms and stuff. The course had more hills than I thought but it broke things up nicely. There were also tons of aid stations, which definitely helped. As for getting down fifteen bottles, I completely lost count after only about four or five, so I have no clue. I do know that I never felt dehydrated and my stomach never bothered me. After sixty miles or so, I was more and more alone. At mile seventy-four, I passed my first female pro. Gradually I was passing less and less women until I got to the point where the only people I saw were men, and even then there were hardly any of them. In fact, at one point late in the ride I got a bit concerned that I took a wrong turn or something because there was not a soul in sight in front of me.
I knew I had slowed down and the winds had kicked up and that wasn't helping, but it also wasn't quite that demoralizing wind that makes you want to give up and throw your bike on the side of the road. It just meant you had to use some different gears. Finally we were approaching the end of the ride and I was definitely ready to get off. I mean, it was fun and all, but a person can only stand being in a bike saddle for so long. I took my feet out of my shoes and reached the dismount line before crossing into transition and handing off my bike. I forgot how nice that was. I glanced at my Garmin and was amazed that I had set a new Ironman bike PR. Previously it was a 5:15 I rode in Kona in 2006. In 2006 I was in some sort of otherworldly place fitness-wise, so it was incredible to beat that by six minutes, finishing in just over 5:09. I hadn't set a PR in anything since about 2007, so it was certainly a good feeling. But, well, now I still had to run a marathon.
As I ran through transition my legs felt... well, they felt like I had just bike 112 miles in a mere five hours and nine minutes. But one thing I made sure to do all day was remain very present. By that I just mean never getting ahead of myself or wondering how I was going to run an entire marathon, or being upset my swim split wasn't faster or whatever. I took it all one mile at a time, so I didn't go through T2 thinking that I'd just wrecked my marathon. I just thought about putting on my shoes and stuff and running the first mile.
I had about a four-person team of volunteers helping me out, which made things easier. I just threw on my shoes and socks, stuffed my gels and Clif bloks in my pockets, threw on my visor, ate the banana and was on my way. Even after only sitting down for a minute my legs felt much better as I ran out. Right away as I began running I saw Tim Snow. Tim is a great spectator, even when he's racing, and fortunately this time he didn't have to yell at me to keep my eyes up or anything as I was actually running. I don't remember the last time I set out on a run course feeling anything aside from absolute dread. I wasn't delusional and thinking I'd somehow run a 3:40 or something either, but I also wasn't afraid that my run would take longer than my bike as has happened in my last couple of races. And again, I just wanted to take it one mile at a time.
I'm sure I went out too hard, but amazingly, it was already kind of fun. I was careful to seriously hydrate at the aid stations and dump lots of water on my head and use the icy cold sponges. I have to say, the aid stations at this race were phenomenal. The volunteers kept up with the crazy demands as there were always cups being held out. Sometimes if you grabbed a sponge a volunteer would run behind you and wring another one out on the back of your neck. There was plenty of ice to dump down my shirt and sometimes people with hoses. You'd think it would be difficult to keep up on a three-loop run course, but they did an amazing job. I really don't think they could've done any better.
By the third aid station, I was ready to start walking those. Not because I was exhausted and needed a break, but because I knew a huge key would be getting in enough hydration and walking through would help with that, but also in training I never ran more than thirteen miles straight so I knew my legs just weren't ready to handle the pounding of twenty-six consecutive miles. So to avoid walking like, the last four, I just walked each aid station and it always refreshed me enough to keep going pretty well to the next one.
It was the weirdest thing. I actually had fun running that marathon. I mean, sure, I was ready for it to be done when it was done, and it was certainly far from my fastest, but I never felt badly about how things were going. And given the conditions, I was still passing lots of people. The course also went along the canal where there were tons of spectators which also made it more fun. The heat never bothered me, so thank you, Alabama. My stomach never bothered me as I was able to get in all of my nutrition. I might feel something weird in my stomach for about a minute at some point after having a gel or something on the run, but the feeling would go away as quickly as it had arrived.
I had no idea how fast or slow I was running. I purposely had my heart rate monitor display my heart rate only. There was no reason to see more than that. So I was clueless as to how things were going. Was I going to run 4:10? 4:30? I had no idea. I knew it wouldn't be great, but the last two of these were about five and six hours respectively, so something in the four-hour range was going to make me happy.
Due to the nature of the course having no out and backs, I almost didn't see anyone. Amanda Kourtz and Cait passed me on the run, and Pat Wheeler passed me just before he finished and I headed out for my third run loop, but I never saw a lot of the rest of the team, including Jesse. Of course the QT2 spectators were out in full force so they at least knew I was doing all right. I almost couldn't believe how fast the miles were going by. Somewhere around mile 21 I had a banana at one of the aid stations since my hands started to feel kind of... puffy, I don't know. But that made me feel better and I just kept on going. Okay, so my aid station walk breaks were getting longer each time, but I still knew I'd be able to make it and I wasn't giving up.
22, 23... wow, is it really almost over? I wonder how I'm doing? I had my last Clif blok at mile 24 and was so glad to be done with my fueling plan. Admittedly I took some Coke from the last two aid stations just to get me through, but I was almost done, anyway. Once I hit the last turn-around at a short out-and-back I picked up the pace, knowing that when I reached the end this time I'd get to bypass that arrow to the second and third laps and head down that glorious lane that read, "to finish."
I had no idea how far to the finish I had to go, I just kept trying to run hard and get there as fast as I could. The fact that I was able to pick up the pace at all probably means I could've done the whole thing faster, but I don't really care. Finally I thought I was there, ran down this hill at whatever full speed I could muster at that point in the race only to see I had to turn around and run back up in order to finish. Well, that was sort of mean! But finally I turned to run up the hill and saw the finish arch and looked up to see 10:45 on the clock. I smiled. Finally! I crossed the line in 10:46 with a marathon of 4:19. Yes, in the not-so-distant future a 4:19 marathon will be a huge disappointment. But at the moment, I am completely happy with it.
My finish line catchers were awesome and I got my medal and shirt and hat and they got me some food so I could just sit down. There was nobody there but fortunately Michelle finished only a few minutes after me so I wasn't alone for long. I called my mom and texted some people and really just felt so good to have finished the race that I was happy with. More importantly, it gives me hope for things to come. Honestly, two months ago when I started this whole winter journey I was in pretty rough shape. So if in two months I can do that, just imagine what can happen in another two months.
I want to thank all of you who cheered whether in person or from afar, or those of you who posted encouraging words on my blog or through e-mails or texts or even just "liked" any of my facebook posts. I often feel like I'm in this alone but that always makes me remember that I have a lot of people who are pulling for me. I need to thank my coach, Jesse, who has been far more patient than I deserved over the past few years but never stopped trying to help me and bring me back. I know he doesn't waste time with anything he knows isn't going to get anywhere, so just the fact that he was willing to continue to work with me told me I shouldn't give up just yet. Another special thanks to my new friend Kelli who opened her home to me in Birmingham so I could train through the winter in the heat. I don't think this race would've been possible without that.
And of course to my family who could not attend the race because my cousin Kevin got married the night before. And I'm sorry, Kevin, for missing the event! My family has been very supportive and especially my mom who has just been amazing through a lot of things over the past couple of years. And of course any other friends and teammates who ever said anything encouraging. You know who you are.
It has been a pretty rough couple of years for a variety of reasons. Yes, some were out of my control but a lot of it was my own fault, but finally I've been able to pull out of it and I really can only look forward to whatever races I do next. Now that's the big question: What races do I do next? I'm not signed up for anything! But one thing I've decided already is that in the not-too-distant future, people are going to have to be scared of my run again. It's in there somewhere and I'm getting dangerously close to finding it.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Night Before the Race...
How did it get here so fast? When I woke up this morning and realized that it was my last normal morning waking up it seemed impossible. And yet I had to get up and make my way to the Cheesecake Factory for the QT2 breakfast. No, we did not eat cheesecake. But one of the athletes on the team works for the corporate office apparently and had this awesome breakfast set up just for us. Sure beat Denny's, let me tell you. Eggs, hash browns, toast, really good pancakes, it was great. I managed to get sufficiently full without crossing that line into feeling like I might explode. Perfect.
Next it was time to go drop off my bags and bike. Let me just say that the Ironman Texas athlete guide is nearly useless when it comes to information on where to go and, more importantly, where to park for everything. First I had no idea really where to park for the expo and just wound up getting lucky stumbling upon the expo and finding someone pulling out of a spot just as I drove up. Otherwise mostly athletes were parking quite far away and walking around trying to figure out where to go. Then today for transition I really had no clue where it was aside from a very general location and again, no indication on where I should park. Fortunately I found another athlete walking along with his bike who knew where he was going because he had already driven around and figured it out.
Once I got there, dropping everything off was quick and painless and I headed back to my hotel after picking up a sandwich. Fortunately that sandwich was not from Subway. Then began a long afternoon of doing just what I needed to do: nothing. I ate, I took a nap that I tried not to let go on too long so I couldn't fall asleep nice and early tonight, I watched TV, mixed up my bottles and got my stuff laid out for the morning and that was pretty much it.
It's very strange staying by myself for this race. In some ways it's kind of nice because I like to be kind of completely in control of when I do things before the race and I'm certainly used to being by myself lately, but it's still just kind of weird. And not that I usually have too many issues, but it is certainly going to be interesting after the race when I don't have anyone to make sure I can still, like, move and stuff. Oh, well, at least I pre-emptively purchased some post-race treats so I won't have to go anywhere to get anything when I wake up in the middle of the night starving. Or, more accurately, when I just decide I need more food as I lie awake completely unable to fall asleep all night long due to spending the day ingesting obscene amounts of caffeine and sugar in the form of sports nutrition products along with throbbing pain throughout my entire body that won't allow me to get comfortable. Really, I promise it's a good feeling.
So if all goes well, by this time tomorrow night I should not only be done, but maybe even already enjoying some celebratory post-race food. I'm not sure if I'll be able to really enjoy it given the wreck my stomach is sure to be after a long, hot race, but I am sure at that point I won't care. I'll have 1800 miles of driving home to enjoy lots of road treats instead of my more recent drives that have involved water and protein bars. Yes, due to the heat I am supposed to take in fifteen bottles of fluid over the course of the bike alone. For those of you who might not fully understand what that means, that's three hundred ounces. It will be interesting to see how that goes.
Currently the rest of my family is at my cousin Kevin's wedding, for which I've already seen a few pictures on facebook. It's too bad I had to miss it but hopefully tomorrow will make that and this entire excursion worth it. It's time to see if I can finally get one of these races right. At least I feel mentally and physically prepared. Now all I have to do is execute the plan. We shall see what happens...
Next it was time to go drop off my bags and bike. Let me just say that the Ironman Texas athlete guide is nearly useless when it comes to information on where to go and, more importantly, where to park for everything. First I had no idea really where to park for the expo and just wound up getting lucky stumbling upon the expo and finding someone pulling out of a spot just as I drove up. Otherwise mostly athletes were parking quite far away and walking around trying to figure out where to go. Then today for transition I really had no clue where it was aside from a very general location and again, no indication on where I should park. Fortunately I found another athlete walking along with his bike who knew where he was going because he had already driven around and figured it out.
Once I got there, dropping everything off was quick and painless and I headed back to my hotel after picking up a sandwich. Fortunately that sandwich was not from Subway. Then began a long afternoon of doing just what I needed to do: nothing. I ate, I took a nap that I tried not to let go on too long so I couldn't fall asleep nice and early tonight, I watched TV, mixed up my bottles and got my stuff laid out for the morning and that was pretty much it.
It's very strange staying by myself for this race. In some ways it's kind of nice because I like to be kind of completely in control of when I do things before the race and I'm certainly used to being by myself lately, but it's still just kind of weird. And not that I usually have too many issues, but it is certainly going to be interesting after the race when I don't have anyone to make sure I can still, like, move and stuff. Oh, well, at least I pre-emptively purchased some post-race treats so I won't have to go anywhere to get anything when I wake up in the middle of the night starving. Or, more accurately, when I just decide I need more food as I lie awake completely unable to fall asleep all night long due to spending the day ingesting obscene amounts of caffeine and sugar in the form of sports nutrition products along with throbbing pain throughout my entire body that won't allow me to get comfortable. Really, I promise it's a good feeling.
So if all goes well, by this time tomorrow night I should not only be done, but maybe even already enjoying some celebratory post-race food. I'm not sure if I'll be able to really enjoy it given the wreck my stomach is sure to be after a long, hot race, but I am sure at that point I won't care. I'll have 1800 miles of driving home to enjoy lots of road treats instead of my more recent drives that have involved water and protein bars. Yes, due to the heat I am supposed to take in fifteen bottles of fluid over the course of the bike alone. For those of you who might not fully understand what that means, that's three hundred ounces. It will be interesting to see how that goes.
Currently the rest of my family is at my cousin Kevin's wedding, for which I've already seen a few pictures on facebook. It's too bad I had to miss it but hopefully tomorrow will make that and this entire excursion worth it. It's time to see if I can finally get one of these races right. At least I feel mentally and physically prepared. Now all I have to do is execute the plan. We shall see what happens...
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Ironman Week
Somehow my 2012 adventures in the southeast are soon to be coming to a close. I've been gone from home for over three months and as far as things look now, while I'm definitely ready to go home, this entire experience was just what I needed to get back to where I need to be. Jump-started with the QT2 Florida training camp where I had a few good workouts and a lot of workouts (the running ones) that reiterated just how far I had to go. Then some random wandering around Florida, some of which was spent alone and some with friends in Clearwater and then with my friend Kim in Daytona. Then it was off to Birmingham for a couple of months of dedicated training.
I'll say, things did not start out smoothly. I felt slow and out of shape and overweight. None of those were unfamiliar feelings over the past, say, two years. But missing this time was the hopeless feeling that things weren't going to get any better, even if I did the training. And here's a secret: if you think things aren't going to get better, they aren't. You can do the training all you want, but if your head isn't in it and you don't think it's going to get you anywhere, well, it won't. I'm not going to say that on every training session I felt amazing and knew that things were going to go great this year, but I also wasn't approaching everything with dread. And every once in a while I'd finish a workout and be able to look back on it and think that it actually went really well and maybe I was finally getting somewhere. And the more of those I had, the better things got.
I had a bit of a confidence boost in Galveston, which was nice. A great swim for me, a solid bike and a run that, well, the overall split wasn't great, but there were some moments in there in which I actually felt pretty good, including towards the end which hasn't happened in a long time, so I considered it a good sign even if the overall pace wasn't very good. That allowed me to return to Birmingham for the last weeks of training knowing that things had already improved dramatically and I was ready to tackle the biggest weeks of training. It was tiring and not always easy and not every workout was great but I did keep getting better and finally started feeling much closer to my old self for the first time in a very long time. And, more importantly, I started to look like my old self. For me, and I'm sure for a lot of people, just looking the part inspires a lot more confidence.
So now I'm back in Texas again after having to drive through Louisiana. If I ever make plans in my life ever again that require me to drive through the state of Louisiana, please someone stop me. I hate that stretch of I-10 and I-12 and after crossing it on the way back home after the race, I never want to see it again! Last year when I drove from California to Florida, this year to Galveston and back and now again here and back. No more! Anyway, it has been cooler here but it's supposed to get really hot for the race, of course. I'm not too nervous about that since in my time here I have gotten to the point where I'm really cold if it's only like 75 degrees out.
Last night I went to bed thinking about how I only get two more nights to go to sleep that are not the night before the race. I haven't done one of these since the disastrous season of 2010 where I had not one, but two hideously bad Ironman races: St. George and Lake Placid. My two personal worsts. It feels like far more than two years ago, but at the same time I definitely still remember the feeling of being on those start lines and knowing things weren't going to go well. And it wasn't just because I wasn't feeling great that day, it was because I didn't feel prepared to race either mentally or physically. I knew my training hadn't gone well because my head wasn't in it and I wasn't anywhere near as fit as I needed to be. Even if I'd been delusional about my preparation there is no way I could've even willed myself to do much better than I did. I've shown up at Ironman start lines feeling completely ready to go (aside from the typical nervousness) and I've shown up feeling totally ill-prepared and I think it's pretty obvious which is the preferable way to approach things.
Do I feel as ready as I've ever felt? No, definitely not. But do I feel more ready than I've felt in years? Absolutely. I know it won't be my best race. And that's not me being negative, that is me being realistic. While it can't be my best, it can certainly be a big step back in the right direction. And considering how far I've come in only the past two months I can certainly do a lot more over the course of the rest of the season, and that is definitely a good feeling to have.
What happened to change things? For one thing, I'll say I decided when my foot was broken last season to embrace my time off and really, really rest for the first time in... nine years. I think that was exactly what I needed. It allowed the injury itself to heal, it allowed any other little nagging aches and pains built up from years and years of training to go away and, most importantly, it allowed me that mental break from training and gave me enough time away from things to really, really want to train and race again. It felt like starting from scratch back in the fall, but it definitely all came back quicker than I expected.
So here I am now, running paces I haven't seen in a very long time, swimming better than ever and biking strongly. 90% of the clothing I brought with me for this trip doesn't fit anymore. I had to wear my one pair of jeans I brought yesterday and not only do I not have to unbutton them to put them on or take them off, the belt I have for them feels loose on its last notch. I do have a couple of pairs at home that should fit, thankfully, but those were definitely tight when I got here. And I know, I need to go shopping and I will but I think it would be better to wait until I get home.
So this race holds a lot of meaning for me. Not just in the sense that I feel like it's my first opportunity to actually do well since about 2009, but the last time I crossed an Ironman finish line my dad was there. He didn't see me race in Arizona in 2007 or Utah in 2010 or Hawaii in 2009, but he was in Hawaii all of the other years and watched me race in Lake Placid all seven times. I will never forget seeing him when I came off the bike in 2006 about to take the lead. And nobody else from my family will be here either because my cousin Kevin is getting married on Friday night. It's definitely not going to be easy not just to not have him there to watch but to know that I can't call him after to tell him how it went. But hopefully in some ways he'll be with me all day and I can make him proud.
I'll say, things did not start out smoothly. I felt slow and out of shape and overweight. None of those were unfamiliar feelings over the past, say, two years. But missing this time was the hopeless feeling that things weren't going to get any better, even if I did the training. And here's a secret: if you think things aren't going to get better, they aren't. You can do the training all you want, but if your head isn't in it and you don't think it's going to get you anywhere, well, it won't. I'm not going to say that on every training session I felt amazing and knew that things were going to go great this year, but I also wasn't approaching everything with dread. And every once in a while I'd finish a workout and be able to look back on it and think that it actually went really well and maybe I was finally getting somewhere. And the more of those I had, the better things got.
I had a bit of a confidence boost in Galveston, which was nice. A great swim for me, a solid bike and a run that, well, the overall split wasn't great, but there were some moments in there in which I actually felt pretty good, including towards the end which hasn't happened in a long time, so I considered it a good sign even if the overall pace wasn't very good. That allowed me to return to Birmingham for the last weeks of training knowing that things had already improved dramatically and I was ready to tackle the biggest weeks of training. It was tiring and not always easy and not every workout was great but I did keep getting better and finally started feeling much closer to my old self for the first time in a very long time. And, more importantly, I started to look like my old self. For me, and I'm sure for a lot of people, just looking the part inspires a lot more confidence.
So now I'm back in Texas again after having to drive through Louisiana. If I ever make plans in my life ever again that require me to drive through the state of Louisiana, please someone stop me. I hate that stretch of I-10 and I-12 and after crossing it on the way back home after the race, I never want to see it again! Last year when I drove from California to Florida, this year to Galveston and back and now again here and back. No more! Anyway, it has been cooler here but it's supposed to get really hot for the race, of course. I'm not too nervous about that since in my time here I have gotten to the point where I'm really cold if it's only like 75 degrees out.
Last night I went to bed thinking about how I only get two more nights to go to sleep that are not the night before the race. I haven't done one of these since the disastrous season of 2010 where I had not one, but two hideously bad Ironman races: St. George and Lake Placid. My two personal worsts. It feels like far more than two years ago, but at the same time I definitely still remember the feeling of being on those start lines and knowing things weren't going to go well. And it wasn't just because I wasn't feeling great that day, it was because I didn't feel prepared to race either mentally or physically. I knew my training hadn't gone well because my head wasn't in it and I wasn't anywhere near as fit as I needed to be. Even if I'd been delusional about my preparation there is no way I could've even willed myself to do much better than I did. I've shown up at Ironman start lines feeling completely ready to go (aside from the typical nervousness) and I've shown up feeling totally ill-prepared and I think it's pretty obvious which is the preferable way to approach things.
Do I feel as ready as I've ever felt? No, definitely not. But do I feel more ready than I've felt in years? Absolutely. I know it won't be my best race. And that's not me being negative, that is me being realistic. While it can't be my best, it can certainly be a big step back in the right direction. And considering how far I've come in only the past two months I can certainly do a lot more over the course of the rest of the season, and that is definitely a good feeling to have.
What happened to change things? For one thing, I'll say I decided when my foot was broken last season to embrace my time off and really, really rest for the first time in... nine years. I think that was exactly what I needed. It allowed the injury itself to heal, it allowed any other little nagging aches and pains built up from years and years of training to go away and, most importantly, it allowed me that mental break from training and gave me enough time away from things to really, really want to train and race again. It felt like starting from scratch back in the fall, but it definitely all came back quicker than I expected.
So here I am now, running paces I haven't seen in a very long time, swimming better than ever and biking strongly. 90% of the clothing I brought with me for this trip doesn't fit anymore. I had to wear my one pair of jeans I brought yesterday and not only do I not have to unbutton them to put them on or take them off, the belt I have for them feels loose on its last notch. I do have a couple of pairs at home that should fit, thankfully, but those were definitely tight when I got here. And I know, I need to go shopping and I will but I think it would be better to wait until I get home.
So this race holds a lot of meaning for me. Not just in the sense that I feel like it's my first opportunity to actually do well since about 2009, but the last time I crossed an Ironman finish line my dad was there. He didn't see me race in Arizona in 2007 or Utah in 2010 or Hawaii in 2009, but he was in Hawaii all of the other years and watched me race in Lake Placid all seven times. I will never forget seeing him when I came off the bike in 2006 about to take the lead. And nobody else from my family will be here either because my cousin Kevin is getting married on Friday night. It's definitely not going to be easy not just to not have him there to watch but to know that I can't call him after to tell him how it went. But hopefully in some ways he'll be with me all day and I can make him proud.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Two Weeks To Go...
Somehow my trip is almost over. I'm definitely ready to go home and am in that place where I simultaneously can't believe I've been gone for three months but also can't believe that it's already time to leave. It will definitely be nice to get home. One reason being that most of the clothing that I brought with me doesn't fit anymore. That's not really a complaint but I really only have one pair of shorts that I can wear and look normal. Not that it's not kind of fun to be able to take off the other shorts and even my jeans without unbuttoning them, but, you know, I'd like to not look ridiculous when I go to Texas and actually have to be out in public. I at least went to Old Navy yesterday and picked up a couple of t-shirts.
Tapering is a tough thing. It's great to be in a position where I've been through this many times before and I know what to expect. I tend to feel like crap during the taper up until literally maybe a couple of days before the race. My workouts suck. I'm tired and feel sluggish. The shorter workouts seem more daunting than the much longer ones I'd otherwise be doing. Basically all I want to do in between the training is sleep. I think for a lot of people feeling like that would cause them to panic. To me, it pretty much puts me right on track. Even when I had my greatest race at Lake Placid on my long ride two weeks before I think I cried and I know that very much throughout I was seriously contemplating pulling over, throwing my bike in the woods to never see it again, and calling my dad to come get me. So I fully expect tomorrow's ride to be tons of fun.
One strange thing that has happened over my time here is that I'm actually starting to look like my old self again. I'm hoping to maintain this finally, but between stress fractures and family issues and more stress fractures I was definitely not as close to race weight as I'd like to be. Actually, nowhere near close. I'm not quite there but I'm close enough that at least I finally feel like it's physically possible again. And frankly just knowing that makes things a lot easier. I might even almost be looking forward to this race. It's been a few years since I approached a race that way rather than looking at it with absolute dread. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think while things aren't entirely there, they are definitely moving in the right direction.
Tapering is a tough thing. It's great to be in a position where I've been through this many times before and I know what to expect. I tend to feel like crap during the taper up until literally maybe a couple of days before the race. My workouts suck. I'm tired and feel sluggish. The shorter workouts seem more daunting than the much longer ones I'd otherwise be doing. Basically all I want to do in between the training is sleep. I think for a lot of people feeling like that would cause them to panic. To me, it pretty much puts me right on track. Even when I had my greatest race at Lake Placid on my long ride two weeks before I think I cried and I know that very much throughout I was seriously contemplating pulling over, throwing my bike in the woods to never see it again, and calling my dad to come get me. So I fully expect tomorrow's ride to be tons of fun.
One strange thing that has happened over my time here is that I'm actually starting to look like my old self again. I'm hoping to maintain this finally, but between stress fractures and family issues and more stress fractures I was definitely not as close to race weight as I'd like to be. Actually, nowhere near close. I'm not quite there but I'm close enough that at least I finally feel like it's physically possible again. And frankly just knowing that makes things a lot easier. I might even almost be looking forward to this race. It's been a few years since I approached a race that way rather than looking at it with absolute dread. I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think while things aren't entirely there, they are definitely moving in the right direction.
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