Sorry for the lag in posts but these past few months have been busy ones for me. Between work, the 5th annual CAF gala (more on that later), AGTC work (my third job) and training. This season I made the difficult decision to self coach. I would never (and am forever grateful) be where I am if not for the foundation and friendship of coach Neil Cook. However, I needed to do this year on my own to get back to the joy I lost last year (possibly because of the constant injuries) and to self test if I ever actually want to coach. I also needed to lay the groundwork for my "a" race - Vineman 70.3 which I completed this past weekend (see separate posting/race report coming soon).
Anyway, the 2011 race season was well thought out and included some different and very challenging races. First up was the Columbia Triathlon in Maryland - known for the hardest 10k in triathlons - and Rev3 in Quassy, CT - a relatively new race that has a huge following and a very challenging bike (and run) course. Both lived up to their billings and while I had +3 hour Olympic distance races (a first for me since 2009) I focused on things I needed to focus on and learned a lot from every race. I was lucky enough to do both with friends so it made the event and racing even more fun.
June also brought the 5th annual CAF gala where we raised a record 1.3m for this amazing charity. Thanks to those who came out and supported the dinner and bought auction items. The weeks and days leading up to the gala were a lot if work and yes training took a hit but it was well worth it.
Late June I did the swim for a relay team for CAF during the Philly Tri with Julie Golden and a blind athlete I had never met before (true the are challenged athletes whom i do not actually know). Thanks to the Philadelphia Insurance Company for the entry. Always a blast especially hanging with the CAF crew (Willie Stewart, Nick Roumonada, Scout Basset, Sarah Reinertsen, Barbara Evans and Torrie Tinley) as well as AGTC Crew -Rob Gibbons, David Weiss, Anthony DiGangi , Ken Szekretar, Jocelyn keynes, Kerry McGrath, Julie and the countless others racing.
Showing posts with label AGTC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label AGTC. Show all posts
Monday, July 18, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Nola 70.3 - Where that wind come from?
Almost a year ago to the day I was in the operating room having screws put in to repair my broken wrist. This past sunday I finished my second half ironman (well almost half as the swim was cancelled). Considering the winter we had this winter (read lots of indoor training), I am happy with the results -- especially for an early season race in extremely windy conditions. Nola, for me, was a great gauge for the rest of the 2011season.
The prep
When my friend Victoria Brumfield first mentioned doing Nola this past fall, it was something far in the future...I first had to get through foot surgery, the Miami Half Marathon, winterand more importantly try to lose the weight gained in the off-season. I knew I could do the distance - see Timberman 70.3 race report -- but in an effort to constantly improve, wanted to do better. To "prep" for Nola, I needed some benchmarks...The Miami Half Marathon was an eye-opener (wasn't as prepared as needed to be), and thanks to Coach Ben Lloyd, I knew that I had to improve my power on the bike...through training and yes losing weight. Needless to say I had a task ahead of me.
I made the decision to self coach this season -owing a lot to Coach Neil Cook who created an amazing foundation for me to build off of. Self coaching is extremely hard as the only onto motivate you is you. You need to think hard about what areas you are week, develop a training schedule that achieves results and focus. They say time passes quickly, but it seems to come up even faster when there is a race involved. Thank to my friend Rob Gibbons, I focused training in my "zone 2" (a/k/a aerobic zone) - to not only build endurance but also to lose weight. Rob helped me keep a slower pace running, helped to keep me motivated when I jumped on the trainer for hours, but also helped me to mentally prepare myself with constant encouragement.
Near the end of my training I also had the opportunity to enroll in a class to become USA Triathlon certified coach (I passed the multiple choice and the short answer sections and am waiting to hear if I passed the training plan section). The session was a real eye opener for me providing even more knowledge about how to race - the mental and physical side - and how to fuel my body for lasting results.
Race travel/prep days.
Upon victoria's recommendation I decided to ship Malibu (my bike) via UPS to Nola to avoid airline costs (don't get why gold clubs fly free, but bikes don't). Tracking Malibu's journey down to Nola took my mind off of thinking about the race. The posse also decided to make the trip, so along with my mother and Ruth (their first 70.3), Vic and I were joined by her boyfriend Micha Ophir, Linsey Skalamera and Allie Ott. We left NYC on Thursday late and after a quick trip to Wendy's so Vic could get a "softee" (inside joke), we made it to the hotel and crashed.
The days leading up to the race, for me, are all about making sure I am mentally prepared for the race. Yes this means making sure Malibu is in working condition, and that my legs are moving (runing the last 2.5 miles of the course and visualizing myself crossing the finish line helped), that I am registered, that Malibu is checked into transition, and basically relaxed. Micha and Linsey decided to do a relay while we were waiting on line to register...that's ballsy!
I wanted to explore Nola as I heard it's a fun town and indeed it is interesting (sad the same of the roofs o homes in the pooer areas are still gone after Katrina). Being sober (I went on the wagon a month prior to the race) and wanting to stay off my feet as much as possible isn't condusive to being a tourist. After the winter we had in NYC (can we say snow!), wearing shorts was a nice thing...I just did not expect the winds to be as strong as they were (more on that in a bit).
Sunday morning, we all met at 4:30am to head over to the race...Vic was all excited as she heard that the swim was cancelled (unlike me, she hates the swim and loves the bike - for good reason - she's good!) because of the winds. The race organizers could not get the rescue/safety boats into the water and therefore didn't think it was safe to put swimmers there (logical). So instead of being able to warm up during the 1.2 mile swim, we were all headed straight to the 56 miles bike and then the 13.1 mile run. Time to adjust my game plan.
Around 7:30am, the race organizers call the pros to the starting line to kick off the race. While they go out 30-seconds apart, the age groupers will start 2x2 after the pros in swim wave order (I was in the 5th swim wave). We all take our bikes and line up and walk to the start line...8:00am my turn to start. Jump on Malibu and I'm off.
The Bike...
The first few moments I clip in (no running mount on this start) and start to pedal. Looking down at the Garmin, my heart rate (HR) is under control and I'm going at ~ 19 MPH - a good start. I heard from others who raced this course but it could be windy so I was prepared for a bit of breeze (so I'll go even slower on the bike!). Over the first overpass (Nola's version of a "hill") when I start to feel the winds...coming right at me....bike speed drops from 20MPH to 15...then to 13...as I pedal stronger and my HR increases (gotta calm down or I won't make it). I easy up on the pedals, get into an easier gear and try and deal with these winds.
The course is an out/back taking us along the lake, on a freeway, into the swamp areas (yes there were cops with shot guns looking for gators...). It is flat (well we do have a two-three meter elevation gain in some areas (mostly overpasses) which means very little coasting and a lot of pedalling during the bike. The bike is not my strongest of the three legs (or for this race two legs), so am pretty ok when I get passed, which happened a lot. I did pass a few others (always ooking down at their calf to see if they were in my age group - I didn't want to be the last one off the bike afterall) along the way (ok mostly women who started ahead of me, but a pass is still a pass). When the wind is not coming at me, I'm going at an average of 21 MPH...but when the wind hits I drop down to 13 PMH...Because I am pedalling non-stop and now pedalling against the wind, I am using more energy to propell myself foward. Crazy, but I am careful to keep my HR around 158-160 BPM (my zone 2) so I don't blow up.
Fully prepared to be on the bike for a good 3+ hours, I constantly check my HR, my time, and my speed. Vic, who started about 15 mins after me, zooms by me at around mile 20...see you later. Along the way fellow riders shout encouragement (my name is on the bib, but more important I have a big "NYC" on my ass thanks to my Asphalt Green Tri Club gear (hearing anything - even NYC - is great when you're pedalling for hours. At one point I pass my friend Susan Katz - the only feamle physically challenged athlete in the race (and default winner - I'll take that) knowing that the minute she's off the bike and on the run, I'll get passed by her. As I approach the end of the bike, it's time to mentally prepare myself for a half marathon (13.1 mile) run. I see mom and Ruth shout my name as I get off the bike, and walk into transiiton...3:10...not bad, but damn did that hurt!
Off with bike shoes, on with the sneakers, visor (CAF of course), a quick drink of water and I am off on the run - giving mom and Ruth another high five...see you in 13.1 miles at the finish line. The first few steps are tough - I am more shuffling than running at this point. Like the ride, the run portion is flat taking us through Nola's largest park, (majority of the run) and into the French Quarter for the finish. My HR is higher than I want it to be, so I easy back and let it droop down.
The wind has died down, and now it's just hot. Not wanting a repeat performance like I had during the Chicago Marathon, I am constantly making sure to hydrate and to walk thorugh every water station. I talk to fellow runners as I pass them (I am a stronger running than biker so pass many of the people who passed me on the bike now)...as long as I keep moving forward it's a good thing. Mile 1-4 were mentally challemging, but I keep remembering how far I have come since my last 70.3 when I had to walk 75% of the half-marathon. As Rob likes to say, get into the dark place and remember that as much pain as you are in, others are in more pain.
Miles 5-8 are a breeze...I am sticking to my game plan...walking through the water stations, talking to other, checking my HR, acknowledging "the go NYC" shouts as I press on. Somewhere along the way I see a guy who is obviously in a darker place than I am in...I ask if he's ok as I pass (his muscles are cramping). I dig into my race belt and hand him a salt tablet...and remember to take one myself...he thanks me over and over -- see NYers are nice!
Miles 9-12 are a bit of a blur. At this point we're out of the park and heading into the French Quarter...I remember mile 12 and thinking to myself while I am going slower than my typical half-marathon pace, I am ahead of where I was at Timberman and I am passing people. During the corner I cna see the finish line ahead...Almost done.
Finding another gear, I tell my legs to move...down to 1/2 mile...1/4 mile...I see the chute ahead....hear Linsey, Allie, mom and Ruth call my name, hear Dave the announcer welcome me "home" (and congratulate me) and I am done. Wow what a relief....but a blast! The hard work paid off...I shaved 20 mins off my bike and 15 of my run from Timberman...I healed a broken wrist, recovered from foot surgery, managed to stay on the wagon for a month, dropped 12 pounds, and completed my second half-ironman (70.3)
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Timberman - My First 70.3
It has been a while since sending out a race report; actually for the past few months there has been nothing really to report. As most of you know, this past April while competing in the South Beach triathlon, I crashed my bike on a downhill turn and wound up with a broken wrist and a few battle scars. Originally scheduled for an intensive race schedule (three half Iornman races, two Olympic-distance races, and one Sprint-distance race; oh and a marathon), after the crash this was drastically scaled back. Instead of trying to do too much too soon, I focused only on my recovery and one half ironman race – Timberman. This past weekend, I notched another first in my triathlon “career” – completing my first half-ironman (or 70.3) race – in a little over 6:30 hours.
For those not familiar with a 70.3 race it consists of a 1.2 mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1 mile (or half marathon) run; one-half the distance of a full Ironman – hence the name – and is a test of both physical and mental abilities. Not only did my finish mean I was officially back, I proved to myself that I had the mental and physical ability to continue with a sport that has drastically changed my life. There are many people to thank for helping me get from broken/one-arm guy to a 70.3 finisher – first my family, doctors, CAF/Paratri folks (who know something about overcoming adversity) and my support network of friends and Asphalt Green Tri Club (AGTC) teammates.
Training for this distance is not about speed, it is long and slow…based on keeping a steady and calm heart rate (we typically train in Zone ranging from 1-5) and cadence (the number of times/minute you turnover the pedals on the bike). No longer was a 30-mile bike ride on a Saturday enough – I had to be sure that I was in my saddle for a good 4-5 hours. Short runs were 8+ miles and short dips in the pool were 1,500 meters. I mention this only a primer to the following – the Story of My First 70.3 Race….
Pre-Race
Timberman weekend was always about fun – a nice weekend away from NYC with teammates – those competing alongside me in the half as well as those doing the shorter, Sprint distance. Our journey started on Friday with a 5+ hour drive to Laconia, NH. Bryan Webber and I in one car, Kerry McGrath, Tom Mullane, David Weiss, Reveka Wallace, Anne Ronzoni and Randi Gordon in other cars (there we more than 25 of us from AGTC racing; these are just a handful of people). Bryan, David, Randi, Anne and I were first-timers at this distance. We all knew it was going to be a long, and hard day, but the party after was going to make it worth it. Bryan and I picked Tom up at the hotel and headed over to registration to meet up with David and Kerry and to do some pre-race shopping at the Ironman store (being superstitious, I never wear anything with a race logo until after it is done). Both Tom and Kerry were doing the Sprint on Saturday so after dinner, we called it a night. Saturday after watching Kerry and Tom compete, Bryan and I drove the bike course, swam a bit and biked part of the run course before racking our bikes (Ironman rules dictate that participants must rack their bikes in transition the night before a race).
While you can get a bit of a feel for a road when driving a course, you never really understand how much a hill hurts until you actually try pedaling up it. While testing the bikes, I realized my cadence monitor quit on me. Dumbfounded, I brought it to the on-site bike shop who couldn’t figure out the issue either. Nothing I can do about it; at least I have the Garmin to monitor my heart rate zone.
Following the same routine as I do before all races, I prepped my transition bag (check, all things there), had dinner with the team, downed my ambien and hit the bed.
Race morning…
My two alarms go off (can’t take any chances) at 3:30am; need to hit the road by 4:20am in order to secure a parking spot. We get to the race site and get one of the last remaining parking spots (maybe this is a sign of good things to come) and head over the transition to start setting up our areas. The forecast for the day called for 30% showers. Looking at the sky, it seemed more like 60%, but maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll hold off until the run. As my wave is scheduled to go off at 7:40am I was prepared for down time. Looking down at my Garmin to see exactly how much time I have, I notice is reads 4:48am (not possible!). You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME…my Garmin froze….of all times for this to happen! How am I supposed to race in the right heart rate zone if I cannot monitor it? Quickly I head to the bike shop and ask if they know any way to re-set the damn thing. Nope….ok, Plan C…let’s do this race by feel…I email Kerry who is in our cabin and hope that she can find my Timex watch so I can at least keep track of how long this damn thing is taking me…
I leave transition with David, Bryan and others and wait for the swim to start with the team. I watch the waves ahead of my start including the pros and slowly make my way up to the swim start. Kerry suddenly appears and hands me my Timex…ah at least I can monitor something (the control freak in me didn’t relish the idea of not having any data available). For me the swim is probably the segment I fear least, so while I am nervous, I am not panicking as I used do when I first started doing triathlons. We line up, get into the water (as this is an in-water, as opposed to beach, start) and wait for the journey to begin. The cannon goes off and so do we.
The Swim…
The lake is really shallow…shallow to the point where I can walk out over 50 yards of the swim. Bored, I just dive in and start swimming past people who are still wading into the water. Relaxed, I focus on sighting, pulling the water and breathing the way Coach Neil told me to do. The course was set up like a trapezoid – 750 meters put, 400 meters across and 750 meters back to shore. While choppy, the water is clear so I can see others in front of me. I keep following bubbles and strategically pass others until I see the last buoy and the swim exit gate. I pop out of the water when my hands hit sand and jog to shore saying hi to a few spectators I know and heading over to the wetsuit strippers (a luxury having someone else take off your suit). Time check…a little over 39 minutes; not bad. Knowing I have at least 6+ hours ahead of me, I take my time in transition, putting on socks, taking some water in, and mentally prepare for the next leg of the race.
The bike…
I jump of my bike (Malibu) and head out on the 56-mile journey. The course is an out and back loop- ~ 28 miles each way and fully expect that it will take me between 3:30 – 4 hours – especially as the bike is my weakest part of this crazy sport. Immediately out of transition we face our first hill. Letting others pass me, I get into my small ring and head up the hill. We finally hit some flat land when I hear Tom yell my name from the sidelines. I keep going…keep getting past, but just focus on trying to feel what a Zone 2 heart rate would feel like. By driving the course the day before I remembered that one of the biggest hills was around mile 9 – but w/o a way to track distance, I just wait for it. Oh year, there it is…I see other racers struggling up that damn thing. I get into an easier gear, grin and bear it. Up and over I keep saying…where there is an up, there has to be a down..somewhere…I keep telling myself “don’t push too hard, you have 45+ miles more to go and need to deal with this hill again.” Finally the hill crests and I head downhill. Given that my crash in Miami happened on a downhill, I am even more cautious not to pick up too much speed and ride my brakes (hell, I am not going through any more surgeries). Finally I hit a big stretch of road where I can go into my aero position, and try and open up a bit, just when it starts to rain, just a few sprinkles so it’s not that bad. During the next 15+ miles, I pass some people (but am still passed by more people than I pass), take in food (as crazy as it sounds, I trained using snickers bars for some nutrition; something I will change in future races), make sure I stay hydrated and take in salt tablets according to a personal schedule/clock I set up for myself. As the time on the bike increases so do the number of miles…Then I see the turn around and know I am at least headed in the right direction – home.
One piece of advice an AGTC teammate gave me when doing this distance is not to think too far ahead. So in my mind I was focused on 5 mile segments and not on the half marathon that awaited me. As I pass mile markers 30, 35, 40, 45, I am focused…not on time (which is kind of liberating), but on taking it all in. The rain is coming down a bit harder now, so I am even more cautious of the white lines and on the descents (again, I am here for the experience and not for a podium spot).
Suddenly I started to have this strange cramp-like feeling – thinking it’s a stitch cramp, I cough, breathe, take in water to get rid of it. But it’s not going away…then it hits me…it’s not a cramp, I have to pee (all of this focusing on taking in fluids, I had no plan for getting rid of it--note to self, learn how to pee on the bike for next race). I pass mile 50 and know that I have 6 miles – or one loop of Central Park to go. Staying calm, I pass others…one girl just says to anyone in earshot ,“I want off so I can have kids one day.” I laugh and say hell, I’ll marry you…she laughs back (too bad I have no idea what she looks like as we both were in our aero position). Finally the last hill (the one we faced when first leaving) and I am headed home. Two down, one to go…
The run….
I get off the bike, and mentally prepare to run 13.1 miles. Earlier this spring I developed a really bad neuroma, which for those who have never heard of it, an inflamed nerve in the ball of your foot which makes it feel as if your toes are on fire….not the best situation to try and run. Anyway, I ice my foot (another trick Neil suggested), pull on my shoes and head out……but first I hit the porta-potty.
The course is a two-loop, out and back run. This is great as you can see lots of people and you can get a good feel for the course. Having done a few half marathons, I know I can do the distance; I just have never done it after a 56-mile bike ride and a 1.2 mile swim). Knowing this I had to set a strategy…walk when needed, but run when able. Neil suggested that I pick a point to run and then run. However, it’s bad as you pass the finish line and see others ending their day when you now you have 6.5 more miles to run. As I head out, I am slow – much slower than my typical pace, but hey I am not going to win this thing. My foot is in some pain, and I stop once in a while to adjust my shoe and the pad to lessen the impact and the pain. At times it is pretty intense to the point that I need to sit down on the sidelines and rest the foot. I keep telling myself this is just four 3+ mile runs…take one segment at a time. I opted to walk through water stations and up the few hills – to both hydrate and get my heart rate down. I see Randi on the first loop out and decide to walk/run with her for a while. But I started to feel ok, so took off; it was great to know that if needed, she was behind me to mentally get me through this. Every once in a while I would glance at my watch to see how I was going. Going into my second loop (and seeing others finish – damn, 6.5 miles to go), I was running close to six hours…wow I was going to finish this thing.
On the second loop, I decided to employ the run/walk program Reveka lauds – hey, she ran five marathons in five months using it, so it had to have merits. I opt for a 1:2, 1:1 (one minute walking/one running…one minute walking/two minutes running…you get the idea). When I was able to run, it was great – passing people who were in all different types of pain – one racer even commented on my stride and cadence (that made me happy). As I head out for the first 3+ miles, I see other AGTC teammates finishing – I slap their hands as we pass, tell them I’ll see them soon and ask them to get me a beer… Finally, I hit the turn around – walking but saying to myself one foot in front of another…one foot in front of another. As I head to the finish line, I am with a few others who I use as pacers – I pass them when running and they pass me when I am walking. We trade positions for about 2-miles when I start to approach the last hill, I know that I have less than a mile to go. Head down and focused, I decide the walk for a few and then go for it.
Then I hear it…the sound of the finish line and the cheers…I am almost there…Kerry who has been standing on the run course watching everyone finish cheers and yells out my name…then it hits me, I am about to finish my first half ironman. Entering the finish chute I start to speed up get into my stride as I cross the finish line, grab my medal and then it hits me…I completed my first 70.3 race…
Wow, what an experience…yes I was in a lot of pain at times, yes I probably could have pushed more on the bike, but am so glad to be back physically and mentally.
Next up, the Chicago Marathon where I will be running with friend and colleague Julie Freeman to kick off her 40th b-day celebration.
For those not familiar with a 70.3 race it consists of a 1.2 mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride and a 13.1 mile (or half marathon) run; one-half the distance of a full Ironman – hence the name – and is a test of both physical and mental abilities. Not only did my finish mean I was officially back, I proved to myself that I had the mental and physical ability to continue with a sport that has drastically changed my life. There are many people to thank for helping me get from broken/one-arm guy to a 70.3 finisher – first my family, doctors, CAF/Paratri folks (who know something about overcoming adversity) and my support network of friends and Asphalt Green Tri Club (AGTC) teammates.
Training for this distance is not about speed, it is long and slow…based on keeping a steady and calm heart rate (we typically train in Zone ranging from 1-5) and cadence (the number of times/minute you turnover the pedals on the bike). No longer was a 30-mile bike ride on a Saturday enough – I had to be sure that I was in my saddle for a good 4-5 hours. Short runs were 8+ miles and short dips in the pool were 1,500 meters. I mention this only a primer to the following – the Story of My First 70.3 Race….
Pre-Race
Timberman weekend was always about fun – a nice weekend away from NYC with teammates – those competing alongside me in the half as well as those doing the shorter, Sprint distance. Our journey started on Friday with a 5+ hour drive to Laconia, NH. Bryan Webber and I in one car, Kerry McGrath, Tom Mullane, David Weiss, Reveka Wallace, Anne Ronzoni and Randi Gordon in other cars (there we more than 25 of us from AGTC racing; these are just a handful of people). Bryan, David, Randi, Anne and I were first-timers at this distance. We all knew it was going to be a long, and hard day, but the party after was going to make it worth it. Bryan and I picked Tom up at the hotel and headed over to registration to meet up with David and Kerry and to do some pre-race shopping at the Ironman store (being superstitious, I never wear anything with a race logo until after it is done). Both Tom and Kerry were doing the Sprint on Saturday so after dinner, we called it a night. Saturday after watching Kerry and Tom compete, Bryan and I drove the bike course, swam a bit and biked part of the run course before racking our bikes (Ironman rules dictate that participants must rack their bikes in transition the night before a race). While you can get a bit of a feel for a road when driving a course, you never really understand how much a hill hurts until you actually try pedaling up it. While testing the bikes, I realized my cadence monitor quit on me. Dumbfounded, I brought it to the on-site bike shop who couldn’t figure out the issue either. Nothing I can do about it; at least I have the Garmin to monitor my heart rate zone.
Following the same routine as I do before all races, I prepped my transition bag (check, all things there), had dinner with the team, downed my ambien and hit the bed.
Race morning…
My two alarms go off (can’t take any chances) at 3:30am; need to hit the road by 4:20am in order to secure a parking spot. We get to the race site and get one of the last remaining parking spots (maybe this is a sign of good things to come) and head over the transition to start setting up our areas. The forecast for the day called for 30% showers. Looking at the sky, it seemed more like 60%, but maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll hold off until the run. As my wave is scheduled to go off at 7:40am I was prepared for down time. Looking down at my Garmin to see exactly how much time I have, I notice is reads 4:48am (not possible!). You have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME…my Garmin froze….of all times for this to happen! How am I supposed to race in the right heart rate zone if I cannot monitor it? Quickly I head to the bike shop and ask if they know any way to re-set the damn thing. Nope….ok, Plan C…let’s do this race by feel…I email Kerry who is in our cabin and hope that she can find my Timex watch so I can at least keep track of how long this damn thing is taking me…
I leave transition with David, Bryan and others and wait for the swim to start with the team. I watch the waves ahead of my start including the pros and slowly make my way up to the swim start. Kerry suddenly appears and hands me my Timex…ah at least I can monitor something (the control freak in me didn’t relish the idea of not having any data available). For me the swim is probably the segment I fear least, so while I am nervous, I am not panicking as I used do when I first started doing triathlons. We line up, get into the water (as this is an in-water, as opposed to beach, start) and wait for the journey to begin. The cannon goes off and so do we.
The Swim…
The lake is really shallow…shallow to the point where I can walk out over 50 yards of the swim. Bored, I just dive in and start swimming past people who are still wading into the water. Relaxed, I focus on sighting, pulling the water and breathing the way Coach Neil told me to do. The course was set up like a trapezoid – 750 meters put, 400 meters across and 750 meters back to shore. While choppy, the water is clear so I can see others in front of me. I keep following bubbles and strategically pass others until I see the last buoy and the swim exit gate. I pop out of the water when my hands hit sand and jog to shore saying hi to a few spectators I know and heading over to the wetsuit strippers (a luxury having someone else take off your suit). Time check…a little over 39 minutes; not bad. Knowing I have at least 6+ hours ahead of me, I take my time in transition, putting on socks, taking some water in, and mentally prepare for the next leg of the race.
The bike…
I jump of my bike (Malibu) and head out on the 56-mile journey. The course is an out and back loop- ~ 28 miles each way and fully expect that it will take me between 3:30 – 4 hours – especially as the bike is my weakest part of this crazy sport. Immediately out of transition we face our first hill. Letting others pass me, I get into my small ring and head up the hill. We finally hit some flat land when I hear Tom yell my name from the sidelines. I keep going…keep getting past, but just focus on trying to feel what a Zone 2 heart rate would feel like. By driving the course the day before I remembered that one of the biggest hills was around mile 9 – but w/o a way to track distance, I just wait for it. Oh year, there it is…I see other racers struggling up that damn thing. I get into an easier gear, grin and bear it. Up and over I keep saying…where there is an up, there has to be a down..somewhere…I keep telling myself “don’t push too hard, you have 45+ miles more to go and need to deal with this hill again.” Finally the hill crests and I head downhill. Given that my crash in Miami happened on a downhill, I am even more cautious not to pick up too much speed and ride my brakes (hell, I am not going through any more surgeries). Finally I hit a big stretch of road where I can go into my aero position, and try and open up a bit, just when it starts to rain, just a few sprinkles so it’s not that bad. During the next 15+ miles, I pass some people (but am still passed by more people than I pass), take in food (as crazy as it sounds, I trained using snickers bars for some nutrition; something I will change in future races), make sure I stay hydrated and take in salt tablets according to a personal schedule/clock I set up for myself. As the time on the bike increases so do the number of miles…Then I see the turn around and know I am at least headed in the right direction – home.
One piece of advice an AGTC teammate gave me when doing this distance is not to think too far ahead. So in my mind I was focused on 5 mile segments and not on the half marathon that awaited me. As I pass mile markers 30, 35, 40, 45, I am focused…not on time (which is kind of liberating), but on taking it all in. The rain is coming down a bit harder now, so I am even more cautious of the white lines and on the descents (again, I am here for the experience and not for a podium spot).
Suddenly I started to have this strange cramp-like feeling – thinking it’s a stitch cramp, I cough, breathe, take in water to get rid of it. But it’s not going away…then it hits me…it’s not a cramp, I have to pee (all of this focusing on taking in fluids, I had no plan for getting rid of it--note to self, learn how to pee on the bike for next race). I pass mile 50 and know that I have 6 miles – or one loop of Central Park to go. Staying calm, I pass others…one girl just says to anyone in earshot ,“I want off so I can have kids one day.” I laugh and say hell, I’ll marry you…she laughs back (too bad I have no idea what she looks like as we both were in our aero position). Finally the last hill (the one we faced when first leaving) and I am headed home. Two down, one to go…
The run….
I get off the bike, and mentally prepare to run 13.1 miles. Earlier this spring I developed a really bad neuroma, which for those who have never heard of it, an inflamed nerve in the ball of your foot which makes it feel as if your toes are on fire….not the best situation to try and run. Anyway, I ice my foot (another trick Neil suggested), pull on my shoes and head out……but first I hit the porta-potty.
The course is a two-loop, out and back run. This is great as you can see lots of people and you can get a good feel for the course. Having done a few half marathons, I know I can do the distance; I just have never done it after a 56-mile bike ride and a 1.2 mile swim). Knowing this I had to set a strategy…walk when needed, but run when able. Neil suggested that I pick a point to run and then run. However, it’s bad as you pass the finish line and see others ending their day when you now you have 6.5 more miles to run. As I head out, I am slow – much slower than my typical pace, but hey I am not going to win this thing. My foot is in some pain, and I stop once in a while to adjust my shoe and the pad to lessen the impact and the pain. At times it is pretty intense to the point that I need to sit down on the sidelines and rest the foot. I keep telling myself this is just four 3+ mile runs…take one segment at a time. I opted to walk through water stations and up the few hills – to both hydrate and get my heart rate down. I see Randi on the first loop out and decide to walk/run with her for a while. But I started to feel ok, so took off; it was great to know that if needed, she was behind me to mentally get me through this. Every once in a while I would glance at my watch to see how I was going. Going into my second loop (and seeing others finish – damn, 6.5 miles to go), I was running close to six hours…wow I was going to finish this thing.
On the second loop, I decided to employ the run/walk program Reveka lauds – hey, she ran five marathons in five months using it, so it had to have merits. I opt for a 1:2, 1:1 (one minute walking/one running…one minute walking/two minutes running…you get the idea). When I was able to run, it was great – passing people who were in all different types of pain – one racer even commented on my stride and cadence (that made me happy). As I head out for the first 3+ miles, I see other AGTC teammates finishing – I slap their hands as we pass, tell them I’ll see them soon and ask them to get me a beer… Finally, I hit the turn around – walking but saying to myself one foot in front of another…one foot in front of another. As I head to the finish line, I am with a few others who I use as pacers – I pass them when running and they pass me when I am walking. We trade positions for about 2-miles when I start to approach the last hill, I know that I have less than a mile to go. Head down and focused, I decide the walk for a few and then go for it. Then I hear it…the sound of the finish line and the cheers…I am almost there…Kerry who has been standing on the run course watching everyone finish cheers and yells out my name…then it hits me, I am about to finish my first half ironman. Entering the finish chute I start to speed up get into my stride as I cross the finish line, grab my medal and then it hits me…I completed my first 70.3 race…
Wow, what an experience…yes I was in a lot of pain at times, yes I probably could have pushed more on the bike, but am so glad to be back physically and mentally.
Next up, the Chicago Marathon where I will be running with friend and colleague Julie Freeman to kick off her 40th b-day celebration.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
NYC Marathon (2009)...A Marathon of a Marathon
While I am not one to typically create new year resolutions (tried, they fail), when 2009 came around I created a goals for myself as a 40th “birthday” present…get a PR (personal record) in a triathlon (check), run a half-marathon (check) and complete the NYC Marathon (on its 40th birthday too). On Sunday, November 1st the last item on my list was checked. Completed done. I ran an actual marathon and not just any marathon, the NYC Marathon. And while I did it a tad slower than initially sought, nonetheless, I completed it. It was harder than anything I have done before, but glad I did it and run “for” two affiliations – Asphalt Green Tri Club (AGTC) and The Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF).
This tale does require a tad more of a lead into it than my other recaps, so read on if you’re into the details or stop now if you got what you needed from the first paragraph.
Marathon Prep: a mental and physical game plan
Throughout my training, several marathon veterans – especially Coach Neil Cook who trained me for the race -- offered me essential advice on everything from controlling my pace, when to do long runs, nutrition, etc. My friend Rob told me that preparing for a marathon (he’s a veteran of a few) was part mental and part physical. Boy was he right. Rob summed it up this way for me, “you have run over 1,000 training miles to run 26.2…you can do this.” Having done the training (thanks to Coach Neil and running partners Vic, Regina, Liz and others, who kept me sane during 20-mile runs), the week before the Marathon was tough combining nutrition planning (thanks Michele and Mary Ellen for answering inane questions) to ensure my body was properly fueled for race day and mental readiness – relaxing, visualizing crossing the line at Tavern on the Green – and resting on Saturday just chilling and watching mindless TV (thanks Alexander for the tip). Special recognition goes to the Korff Enterprises gang – Hunter, Brittany, Victoria and Linsey for the corbo-loading lunches and getting my family into Columbus Circle (more on that later) and of course John Korff for his Marathon Tips of the Day for cracking me up when I could have been freaking out.
I didn’t expect to be as crazy at work as I was the week before the race, but sometimes you cannot control everything (Type “A” anyone?). With three programs to plan for and a visit from our new head of the U.S., there was no choice to focus on something other than running. Thursday I made it to the Javitz to register (no turning back now) and to pick up credentials for the NYPD Running Team (which, thanks to Rob, got us access to a special bus which left midtown at 7am and dropped us off in a special waiting area on Staten Island). There I saw my friend Sarah Reinertsen at the Rock & Roll Marathon booth who was singing copies of her book (In a Single Bound – read it if you haven’t yet), and Stacey Skole – another marathon vet – both of whom gave me some more tips about the weather (it was a 50/50 chance of rain at that point), where to keep gels, et al. That night I met AGTC teammates and friends Reveka and Richard for another practice run down 5th Ave to the finish line and head home.
Friday was another crazy day at work. Mid morning Ken Podziba, a friend and the NYC Sports Commissioner, who helped to secure my entry for the race arranged for a special luggage pick-up back at Javitz – so back I head after work – but this time my friend Sari offered to go with me and then have a light dinner with Sarah. 9pm back home and crash. T-minus one…Saturday. The day was a basic wash…big breakfast as Michele suggested, TV watching (Alexander’s tip) and hydrating before heading off to a 4:30pm dinner with fellow Reach the Beach Teammates Liz and Brad. Home by 7:30pm, no Yankee game on because of a rain delay (we all knows how that one turns out), last check on gear for next day, breakfast laid out, ½ an ambien down and off to bed.
Race Day
Marathon Day…dah dah…arrives with a 5:15am alarm. I get up (fully rested from the ambien and day-light savings extra hour), have coffee, shower, get dressed and head off to meet Regina and her roommate Kristen before heading out to the bus pick-u area (see above). We meet up with the Reach the Beach gang who are also running – Liz, Steve, Brad, and Maryellen, board the bus and we’re off to Staten Island.
The NYC Marathon is massive with close to 42,000 people who start the race (I think about 41,000 people actually finish). Now imagine all of those people milling about, tossing gels, clothing and water bottles all over the place and they prepare for their race. Now imagine trying to find your spot in a corral system comprised of three start times (I was lucky with a 9:40am start), three colors (I was green) and seven waves per start time (I was in “E”). Regina, Maryellen and I were all in Green “E” but still had a hard time finding where we entered the start. After a lot of pushing, yelling “start wave 1” we made it into the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge in time to shed my sweat pants and line-up. All of the sudden, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” – a marathon tradition – starts to play signaling the start of the Marathon. I am actually about the begin the NYC Marathon – what did I get myself into? Well, I made it to the start line, now all I need to do it make it to the finish line in one piece.
I had three goals for the race. Finish, with a smile, and in about 4-hours. As long as I got the first two, the last one was a bonus. Neil suggested that I think of the marathon as three runs -- two 10-mile runs and a 10k (6.2 miles). To make it to the finish line in relatively little pain (I knew and was told there would be pain) he suggested I run the first ten miles at a conservatively pace, gradually increase speed during the second and run with whatever I had left (or “reckless abandon”) during the last 6.2. He also said to listen to my body and take a GU (the gel of my choice), salt tablets when I felt it was right and to drink early and often so that I had no hydration issues later on in the race.
The first two miles – over the Bridge (goodbye Staten Island, hello Brooklyn) were tame – in truth you really have no choice as it’s crowded and people are talking to shed the nervous energy (opposite to the start of a triathlon where no one really speaks – guess speaking and swimming are hard to do at the same time). Regina and I (Maryellen took off) run into Reveka (she is easy to spot in her Team in Training shirt/hat) and the three of us get onto a rhythm. The first 5k was a steady 9:20-9:25 pace as I let others pass me and continue to drink at every aid station. Around the 10k mark I comment to Regina “6 down, 20 to go” and encourage her to take off and run her own race (Reveka is on her own doing the “Gallo method” combining a run/walk pace).
I heard there is nothing like the NYC Marathon from a runner’s perspective. I gotta say the reality does indeed live up to the myth. With the amazing field of spectators smiling, cheering, offering oranges, bananas, water and ringing cow-bells, the first ten miles went by pretty quick – I kept looking at my Garmin to make sure I wasn’t going too fast – and counting down the distance to go (“6 down, 20.2 miles to go…”). As we ran down 4th Avenue in Brooklyn, I kept seeing hints of the Manhattan skyline. I honestly can say I do not remember every mile was like, nor do I have any idea what neighborhood we passed through. I do remember a few key things: a fellow marathoner going to the side and asking a cop how she can get out as she’s done, churches playing music, crowds cheering us on yelling “come on Justin” (I had my name on my shirt – a good thing at times) and enjoying the experience of seeing the diversity of this City. There are also some really cool bands along the course and for runners like me who don’t race with an ipod, the music from the street, coupled with paying attention to my cadence (the times I turn over my stride) and breathing keeps me focused on running.
The reality of the distance set in around Mile 12 as we were still in Brooklyn (it is one big borough) and still not at the half-way point. Approaching the 2-hour mark, I finally hit the Polanski Bridge taking us from Brooklyn and into Queens and past the half-marathon (13.1 miles) point. Off the Bridge and into Long Island City (I think) where my friend Kara said she was going to be. As I look for her in the crowd – actually any friendly face would do at this point -- I stat to increase my speed a bit. I see more of Manhattan in the distance as well as the 59th Street which means we’re close to Mile 16. Goodbye Queens….Hello Manhattan.
The 59th Street Bridge was perhaps one of the loneliest and creepiest places along the entire route. Imagine going from cheering crowds to the sound of silence in a blink of an eye (maybe this is what Simon and Garfunkel were talking about). Imagine hundreds of runners no speaking a word and the only sound you hear is breathing, stomping feet, cars above you and an occasional subway train on your right up a short, but steady climb. The Bridge plateaus over Roosevelt Island and we start our downward slope into the craziness that is First Avenue.
Being a newbie at the NYC Marathon, I asked my parents and Ruth to be on 60th Street and First Avenue to give me a much needed push (truth is the thought of seeing my family got me through the mental hardship of the Bridge). Boy that was a stupid idea as I kept scanning and scanning the crowd, but couldn’t see them anywhere….damn (it turns out that I actually stared right at them, but completely missed them in the crowd). I don’t know how runner could have found anyone they knew unless they were wearing bright neon green!
First Avenue from 59th – 98th Street is wall-to-wall spectators. It is an amazing sight and really hard not to get caught up in the moment and run faster to give the crowd what they want…speed. It takes a lot of energy to keep a steady pace (after all, the first step into Manhattan is only about Mile 16…which meant we had 10 more miles to go). The good thing about being in Manhattan is that you can count blocks; 20 blocks = one mile = one mile closer to the finish line. So as I count the blocks, I take in more liquid, eat GU and continue to look for familiar faces in the crowd. Time check: 3 hours…close to being on target for the third goal. Up First Avenue I go (it’s actually kind of hilly) as I approach the aid station at Mile 18 where Asphalt Green had a large contingency. I knew Rob and Tom were somewhere on the right hand side so I make my way over there and look for friends. I see Randi and Paul, but no one else (turns out they were on the other side of the street). I see Rob and Tom in the distance – he’s hard to miss especially ringing his large cow bell. I stop give them a high-five and complain that this is fking hard as I hand them my sunglasses and gloves (something I didn’t need as it was pleasant, but not sunny out). Off to Harlem I go….19 miles down, 7.2 to go…I am going to finish this thing.
I ran the last 10 miles of the Race a few weeks back so knew the route…over the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx for about a mile and then on home via the Madison Avenue Bridge to Fifth Avenue. The Willis Avenue Bridge has a few grated spots on it which the race organizers cover with some type of non-slip carpeting. While it is a nice change from the hard asphalt we have been on for over three-hours, it is far from comfortable. As we enter the Bronx, another Marathon myth comes into focus – the dreaded wall when you realize the enormity of what you have done, but remember that you’re not home yet. At this point it takes a lot to keep lifting your feet to move forward, but I am not going to let the wall get me… I keep telling myself don’t walk, “focus on the runner ahead of you”, lift your feet, all of the Neil buzz words as I hear the Rocky theme song from the crowd of spectators. Suddenly the Bronx is coming to an end (goodbye) as we trudge over the Madison Avenue Bridge. Friends Kara (another Kara for those paying attention) and Alexandra said they’d be near Kara’s apartment right off the Bridge so as I get to the crest, I make my way over to the right to try and see them waving and cheering me on.
As I make my way around Marcus Garvey Park, the mythical wall hits me like a ton of bricks and suddenly lifting running is painful. My pace is dropping and my time is increasing. I scoot over to the side so I can walk a bit…keep going forward, one step at a time …just don’t stop. Mile 22…a little more than four to go…I can do this. Spectators keep cheering me on, encouraging me to keep running (I wish I could) as I run/walk my way down Fifth Avenue in a battle of mind over matter. The start to run again, eat a half of a GU (I don’t want stomach issues this close to the finish) as I reach the top of Central Park. Fifth Avenue from 110th – 90th Street is a one-mile steady climb – something you do not feel unless you’re running it (or on a bike) until we enter Central Park and head south to the finish line. On our training run the other night, Richard recommended counting down the blocks from 110th – 90th Streets – taking one block at a time. Ahead of me I see nothing but a line of people going up Fifth…I am going to make this even if I have to I run/walk some more.
Suddenly I am at the 90th Street and enter the Park…I am homeward bound…on turf I know and have run hundreds of times. I know every groove, every bump, where I can coast down and when I can speed up. Every stride has some pain, but the finish line is so close I can taste it. Behind the Met Museum, past Cat Hill, past the Boat Basin, up near East 72nd Street…crowds getting louder and louder and the finish line is every so close. At This point I am mostly running with a few seconds of walking as Mile 25 comes into sight…1.2 to go…past the Central Park Zoo, out to near the Plaza Hotel and onto Central Park South.
I am lucky to have friends who have the right jobs; the Korff crew let family (at this point plus my sister) into the band area in Columbus Circle to see me about to finish the Race. I knew this was a prime spot to see people entering the Park as that is where I watched Julie and Chuck Freeman complete their marathon in 2008. 800 and Meters to go as I see the Band and the Stage near Columbus Circle and then I see my mother, sister, Ruth and Linsey at the barricades. Hitting the four hour mark has long past so I decide to a hug from each of them is much more important before heading off to the finish line. They yell at me to move on and to finish as I make my way back into Central Park, and up the last incline to the finish. 400 meters, 200 meters, 100 meters…I raise my hands over my head and cross the finish line.
After crossing the finish line, getting the hardware, I make my way to meet my family. Everyone I pass says congratulations from dog walkers, to police men to spectators. We head back to my apartment where my father was waiting…a much needed ice bath, a hamburger than never tasted so good…a champagne toast…I just need a minute to take it all in…. I did it…I finished the NYC Marathon and 4:14…not sure if that’s a good or bad time, but I’ll take it. It was 26.2 miles of pain, but also seeing my city in a very different way.
Before I leave, you , I just a moment to thank everyone for all of their support and encouragement along the way. Too many people to name, but you all know who you are.
This tale does require a tad more of a lead into it than my other recaps, so read on if you’re into the details or stop now if you got what you needed from the first paragraph.
Marathon Prep: a mental and physical game plan
Throughout my training, several marathon veterans – especially Coach Neil Cook who trained me for the race -- offered me essential advice on everything from controlling my pace, when to do long runs, nutrition, etc. My friend Rob told me that preparing for a marathon (he’s a veteran of a few) was part mental and part physical. Boy was he right. Rob summed it up this way for me, “you have run over 1,000 training miles to run 26.2…you can do this.” Having done the training (thanks to Coach Neil and running partners Vic, Regina, Liz and others, who kept me sane during 20-mile runs), the week before the Marathon was tough combining nutrition planning (thanks Michele and Mary Ellen for answering inane questions) to ensure my body was properly fueled for race day and mental readiness – relaxing, visualizing crossing the line at Tavern on the Green – and resting on Saturday just chilling and watching mindless TV (thanks Alexander for the tip). Special recognition goes to the Korff Enterprises gang – Hunter, Brittany, Victoria and Linsey for the corbo-loading lunches and getting my family into Columbus Circle (more on that later) and of course John Korff for his Marathon Tips of the Day for cracking me up when I could have been freaking out.
I didn’t expect to be as crazy at work as I was the week before the race, but sometimes you cannot control everything (Type “A” anyone?). With three programs to plan for and a visit from our new head of the U.S., there was no choice to focus on something other than running. Thursday I made it to the Javitz to register (no turning back now) and to pick up credentials for the NYPD Running Team (which, thanks to Rob, got us access to a special bus which left midtown at 7am and dropped us off in a special waiting area on Staten Island). There I saw my friend Sarah Reinertsen at the Rock & Roll Marathon booth who was singing copies of her book (In a Single Bound – read it if you haven’t yet), and Stacey Skole – another marathon vet – both of whom gave me some more tips about the weather (it was a 50/50 chance of rain at that point), where to keep gels, et al. That night I met AGTC teammates and friends Reveka and Richard for another practice run down 5th Ave to the finish line and head home.
Friday was another crazy day at work. Mid morning Ken Podziba, a friend and the NYC Sports Commissioner, who helped to secure my entry for the race arranged for a special luggage pick-up back at Javitz – so back I head after work – but this time my friend Sari offered to go with me and then have a light dinner with Sarah. 9pm back home and crash. T-minus one…Saturday. The day was a basic wash…big breakfast as Michele suggested, TV watching (Alexander’s tip) and hydrating before heading off to a 4:30pm dinner with fellow Reach the Beach Teammates Liz and Brad. Home by 7:30pm, no Yankee game on because of a rain delay (we all knows how that one turns out), last check on gear for next day, breakfast laid out, ½ an ambien down and off to bed.
Race Day
Marathon Day…dah dah…arrives with a 5:15am alarm. I get up (fully rested from the ambien and day-light savings extra hour), have coffee, shower, get dressed and head off to meet Regina and her roommate Kristen before heading out to the bus pick-u area (see above). We meet up with the Reach the Beach gang who are also running – Liz, Steve, Brad, and Maryellen, board the bus and we’re off to Staten Island.
The NYC Marathon is massive with close to 42,000 people who start the race (I think about 41,000 people actually finish). Now imagine all of those people milling about, tossing gels, clothing and water bottles all over the place and they prepare for their race. Now imagine trying to find your spot in a corral system comprised of three start times (I was lucky with a 9:40am start), three colors (I was green) and seven waves per start time (I was in “E”). Regina, Maryellen and I were all in Green “E” but still had a hard time finding where we entered the start. After a lot of pushing, yelling “start wave 1” we made it into the lower level of the Verrazano Bridge in time to shed my sweat pants and line-up. All of the sudden, Frank Sinatra’s “New York, New York” – a marathon tradition – starts to play signaling the start of the Marathon. I am actually about the begin the NYC Marathon – what did I get myself into? Well, I made it to the start line, now all I need to do it make it to the finish line in one piece.
I had three goals for the race. Finish, with a smile, and in about 4-hours. As long as I got the first two, the last one was a bonus. Neil suggested that I think of the marathon as three runs -- two 10-mile runs and a 10k (6.2 miles). To make it to the finish line in relatively little pain (I knew and was told there would be pain) he suggested I run the first ten miles at a conservatively pace, gradually increase speed during the second and run with whatever I had left (or “reckless abandon”) during the last 6.2. He also said to listen to my body and take a GU (the gel of my choice), salt tablets when I felt it was right and to drink early and often so that I had no hydration issues later on in the race.
The first two miles – over the Bridge (goodbye Staten Island, hello Brooklyn) were tame – in truth you really have no choice as it’s crowded and people are talking to shed the nervous energy (opposite to the start of a triathlon where no one really speaks – guess speaking and swimming are hard to do at the same time). Regina and I (Maryellen took off) run into Reveka (she is easy to spot in her Team in Training shirt/hat) and the three of us get onto a rhythm. The first 5k was a steady 9:20-9:25 pace as I let others pass me and continue to drink at every aid station. Around the 10k mark I comment to Regina “6 down, 20 to go” and encourage her to take off and run her own race (Reveka is on her own doing the “Gallo method” combining a run/walk pace).
I heard there is nothing like the NYC Marathon from a runner’s perspective. I gotta say the reality does indeed live up to the myth. With the amazing field of spectators smiling, cheering, offering oranges, bananas, water and ringing cow-bells, the first ten miles went by pretty quick – I kept looking at my Garmin to make sure I wasn’t going too fast – and counting down the distance to go (“6 down, 20.2 miles to go…”). As we ran down 4th Avenue in Brooklyn, I kept seeing hints of the Manhattan skyline. I honestly can say I do not remember every mile was like, nor do I have any idea what neighborhood we passed through. I do remember a few key things: a fellow marathoner going to the side and asking a cop how she can get out as she’s done, churches playing music, crowds cheering us on yelling “come on Justin” (I had my name on my shirt – a good thing at times) and enjoying the experience of seeing the diversity of this City. There are also some really cool bands along the course and for runners like me who don’t race with an ipod, the music from the street, coupled with paying attention to my cadence (the times I turn over my stride) and breathing keeps me focused on running.
The reality of the distance set in around Mile 12 as we were still in Brooklyn (it is one big borough) and still not at the half-way point. Approaching the 2-hour mark, I finally hit the Polanski Bridge taking us from Brooklyn and into Queens and past the half-marathon (13.1 miles) point. Off the Bridge and into Long Island City (I think) where my friend Kara said she was going to be. As I look for her in the crowd – actually any friendly face would do at this point -- I stat to increase my speed a bit. I see more of Manhattan in the distance as well as the 59th Street which means we’re close to Mile 16. Goodbye Queens….Hello Manhattan.
The 59th Street Bridge was perhaps one of the loneliest and creepiest places along the entire route. Imagine going from cheering crowds to the sound of silence in a blink of an eye (maybe this is what Simon and Garfunkel were talking about). Imagine hundreds of runners no speaking a word and the only sound you hear is breathing, stomping feet, cars above you and an occasional subway train on your right up a short, but steady climb. The Bridge plateaus over Roosevelt Island and we start our downward slope into the craziness that is First Avenue.
Being a newbie at the NYC Marathon, I asked my parents and Ruth to be on 60th Street and First Avenue to give me a much needed push (truth is the thought of seeing my family got me through the mental hardship of the Bridge). Boy that was a stupid idea as I kept scanning and scanning the crowd, but couldn’t see them anywhere….damn (it turns out that I actually stared right at them, but completely missed them in the crowd). I don’t know how runner could have found anyone they knew unless they were wearing bright neon green!
First Avenue from 59th – 98th Street is wall-to-wall spectators. It is an amazing sight and really hard not to get caught up in the moment and run faster to give the crowd what they want…speed. It takes a lot of energy to keep a steady pace (after all, the first step into Manhattan is only about Mile 16…which meant we had 10 more miles to go). The good thing about being in Manhattan is that you can count blocks; 20 blocks = one mile = one mile closer to the finish line. So as I count the blocks, I take in more liquid, eat GU and continue to look for familiar faces in the crowd. Time check: 3 hours…close to being on target for the third goal. Up First Avenue I go (it’s actually kind of hilly) as I approach the aid station at Mile 18 where Asphalt Green had a large contingency. I knew Rob and Tom were somewhere on the right hand side so I make my way over there and look for friends. I see Randi and Paul, but no one else (turns out they were on the other side of the street). I see Rob and Tom in the distance – he’s hard to miss especially ringing his large cow bell. I stop give them a high-five and complain that this is fking hard as I hand them my sunglasses and gloves (something I didn’t need as it was pleasant, but not sunny out). Off to Harlem I go….19 miles down, 7.2 to go…I am going to finish this thing.
I ran the last 10 miles of the Race a few weeks back so knew the route…over the Willis Avenue Bridge into the Bronx for about a mile and then on home via the Madison Avenue Bridge to Fifth Avenue. The Willis Avenue Bridge has a few grated spots on it which the race organizers cover with some type of non-slip carpeting. While it is a nice change from the hard asphalt we have been on for over three-hours, it is far from comfortable. As we enter the Bronx, another Marathon myth comes into focus – the dreaded wall when you realize the enormity of what you have done, but remember that you’re not home yet. At this point it takes a lot to keep lifting your feet to move forward, but I am not going to let the wall get me… I keep telling myself don’t walk, “focus on the runner ahead of you”, lift your feet, all of the Neil buzz words as I hear the Rocky theme song from the crowd of spectators. Suddenly the Bronx is coming to an end (goodbye) as we trudge over the Madison Avenue Bridge. Friends Kara (another Kara for those paying attention) and Alexandra said they’d be near Kara’s apartment right off the Bridge so as I get to the crest, I make my way over to the right to try and see them waving and cheering me on.
As I make my way around Marcus Garvey Park, the mythical wall hits me like a ton of bricks and suddenly lifting running is painful. My pace is dropping and my time is increasing. I scoot over to the side so I can walk a bit…keep going forward, one step at a time …just don’t stop. Mile 22…a little more than four to go…I can do this. Spectators keep cheering me on, encouraging me to keep running (I wish I could) as I run/walk my way down Fifth Avenue in a battle of mind over matter. The start to run again, eat a half of a GU (I don’t want stomach issues this close to the finish) as I reach the top of Central Park. Fifth Avenue from 110th – 90th Street is a one-mile steady climb – something you do not feel unless you’re running it (or on a bike) until we enter Central Park and head south to the finish line. On our training run the other night, Richard recommended counting down the blocks from 110th – 90th Streets – taking one block at a time. Ahead of me I see nothing but a line of people going up Fifth…I am going to make this even if I have to I run/walk some more.
Suddenly I am at the 90th Street and enter the Park…I am homeward bound…on turf I know and have run hundreds of times. I know every groove, every bump, where I can coast down and when I can speed up. Every stride has some pain, but the finish line is so close I can taste it. Behind the Met Museum, past Cat Hill, past the Boat Basin, up near East 72nd Street…crowds getting louder and louder and the finish line is every so close. At This point I am mostly running with a few seconds of walking as Mile 25 comes into sight…1.2 to go…past the Central Park Zoo, out to near the Plaza Hotel and onto Central Park South.
I am lucky to have friends who have the right jobs; the Korff crew let family (at this point plus my sister) into the band area in Columbus Circle to see me about to finish the Race. I knew this was a prime spot to see people entering the Park as that is where I watched Julie and Chuck Freeman complete their marathon in 2008. 800 and Meters to go as I see the Band and the Stage near Columbus Circle and then I see my mother, sister, Ruth and Linsey at the barricades. Hitting the four hour mark has long past so I decide to a hug from each of them is much more important before heading off to the finish line. They yell at me to move on and to finish as I make my way back into Central Park, and up the last incline to the finish. 400 meters, 200 meters, 100 meters…I raise my hands over my head and cross the finish line.
After crossing the finish line, getting the hardware, I make my way to meet my family. Everyone I pass says congratulations from dog walkers, to police men to spectators. We head back to my apartment where my father was waiting…a much needed ice bath, a hamburger than never tasted so good…a champagne toast…I just need a minute to take it all in…. I did it…I finished the NYC Marathon and 4:14…not sure if that’s a good or bad time, but I’ll take it. It was 26.2 miles of pain, but also seeing my city in a very different way.
Before I leave, you , I just a moment to thank everyone for all of their support and encouragement along the way. Too many people to name, but you all know who you are.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Mooseman Tri...The Taming of the Moose
So let me start from the beginning...I promise to get to the good stuff quickly.
Taking the day off on Friday, I drove up to NH with teammates Allie Silverman (our race captain extraordinaire), Barbara Heinkens (who opted to do the Bull Moose -- the Olympic one day and the half-iron the next; think she was smoking something on her recent trip to Holland if you ask me) and Mary Fleiger (who offered her car and drove almost the entire way up). The drive was wet...to the point that we kept looking in the rearview mirror to make sure all four bikes were still there; at least our bikes got a cleaning! On the drive up. we came up with a game plan; register, drive the bike course, eat dinner, hit the sack. We arrived around 4:30pm in the afternoon, checked in (got race numbers/bib, schwaag -- really water bottle, cool dri-fit shirt and hat) and decided to test the water to see how cold it actually was. I have raced in cold water -- the Pacific Ocean in Sept isn't exactly the tropics -- but wowza, the water was pretty damn cold; definitely long-sleeve wetsuit weather, but damn, do I actually need a neoprene hat for the swim? We exited the race area and drove the "rolling" hills around the lake to try and get a feel for what we'd encounter the next day (more on that later) and then met with fellow teammate Craig Eichen, his wife Brenda, and their kids for a pasta dinner. 9:00pm check-in at hotel (we opted not to camp, but selected a hotel way too far from the race, lesson learned), 9:20pm transition bag packed, 9:23pm ambien swallowed, 9:30pm goodnight!
Then out of nowhere -- at least in my mind -- the blackberry alarm and alarm clock go off within minutes of each other. It's 4:15am - Happy Moose Day! Re-check transition bag, bike, have pre-race breakfast (bagel, banana, coffee, G2) and head down to meet the ladies to start our day. Parking on site wasn't the best for those not staying nearby (I am still not camping- ever) as we had to walk a bit to get to transition. Rack bike, lay out transition area, go for a quick warm-up run with Mary and Barbara, put on wetsuit (Glide everywhere -- except for one key area; again read on) and head to the water to start. I typically do a pre-race swim to "warm up" but feared that I would never warm-up waiting for my wave to start. Now that I have aged up in USA Triathlon's mind, I was slotted in the third wave of the morning (it could have been worse -- Barbara and Mary were in the second to the last wave) so I had the chance to watch the faces of those in earlier groups as they touched the water for the first time. 7:38am hits and we're off.
I dive into a tepid 61-degree lake (at least it's clear) and immediately get into a rhythm -- trying to catch the bubbles from people ahead of me to get me out on the first stretch. No luck...I continue to swim and hear Coach Neil say to me, relax, get into an easy stroke pattern, and pull the water. The only problem is that it's so cold, I can't feel my hands and my feet are freezing! Well, I'm here, best to continue to swim. Around the first set of buoys and I realize I'm slightly off course...oops...Need to do a better job of spotting. Around the turn-around as I head for home, I'm still having sighting issues (getting a little off course), still can't really feel my feel or hands, but pass others from earlier waves and a large number of floaters (people who had panic attacks while swimming). Finally I see the beach and head towards it. Then out of no where, a close encounter of the fish kind -- an actual fish who swims right at me...gills and scales in my face. At least it wasn't a shark! I hit sand (I think as the hands are still dumb), jump out of the water, run to the beach, check my watch (28 mins -- not bad for a .93 mile swim) and reach for the wetsuit chord on my back. I can't find it...I keep trying as I run to shore...where is it? Finally a wetsuit stripper (get your mind out of the gutter, this is a volunteer who helps to get you out of the contraption) starts to help me. I realize put Glide everywhere except on the outside of the suit so I have issues getting the sucker off.. In what feels like hours, but is prob. only minutes, I'm free of the suit and head to T1.
Immediately I opt for no socks, no extra t-shirt and no gloves, throw on helmet, sunglasses and try and get numb feel into my shoes. Grab Malibu (yes, the bike has a name) and head onto the ride. The first few miles are pretty ok and I get acclimated to the roads...Some small rollers (a/k/a hills) -- well they felt small on the bike, but not on the run...more on that in a bit -- as I go around the lake (I lost all sense of direction all weekend so had no clue what direction I was going). With Neil in my head saying, keep dancing on the pedals, increase your cadence, I'm feeling pretty good when I see it...Devil Hill. How do I know the name? Easy, a woman is dressed as a devil at the base and shouts "up and over" to every rider as they pass...Neil is now out of my head and "up in over" is replaying over and over and I grunt and churn the pedals; at least I'm not walking my bike up like some others! Finally at the top, devil past me, heart rate (HR) close to 182, and some relief (those doing the half-iron distance the next day have to do that thing twice!) as I head down hill a bit and try to get the HR down, just in time for another roller. Yes, this course has one or two small flat sections, the rest is all up and down hills. The roads aren't great, lots of bumps, but at least no pot-holes -- that would be horrible. I get passed a few times, pass some others, play sea-saw with a fellow rider when finally I see a sign that says mile 20, only 7.5 more to go! That was the worst thing to get in my head, as the last 7.5 were painful with ascents on top of ascents and only a few descents (I guess the race director really wanted to remind us that NH isn't flat -- like Devil Hill didn't provide a clue). Finally I pass a familiar landmark and know I am approaching the end of the bike; time check, a little over 2 hours -- and 1:30 on the bike. I pass Allie who is cheering us on from the sidelines and head into T2.
Bike re-racked, helmet off, shoes, race belt, visor on and I'm off. The run starts with a jaunt through a path and onto the road (where we biked). The first few steps are ok, I am picking up my feet, but it's not going great...I usually go slower right off the bike. I see other teammates Matt Long and Frank Carino (who are racing also the half the next day) on a practice ride and they cheer me on. But something isn't right...not a stitch cramp this time, it's my right leg...it won't fire. I drink water at the aid station (no need for Gatorade yet) and attack the first hill -- the first roller we faced on the bike which when you're running it and not biking it feelings longer and steeper (I walk a bit to see if it helps to calm the burning in my leg). I tell myself keep moving forward, don't stop. I run, walk, run walk past the first mile -- only 5.2 more to go. I see the turn around, a nice downhill (ahhh, a chance to let the legs go), which only means an uphill on the way home...only 3.1 miles remaining...time check: 2:35 -- I can do this in under 25 mins. I grab water at every aid station and keep pushing forward. Neil told me late last week that the key to me racing well is, at this point, to get my head in check (a/k/a confidence); right now I am letting the body take over when the mind should be in control. Screw this. Mile 4 I tell my right leg I'm racing the last two miles and it's coming with me. Suddenly I am actually running, at the speed I should have been running all along. Ben Lloyd and Trish (his fiance) are there on the sidelines -- Ben tells me to put my head down and go. So with about a half-mile left I nod (to Ben) and take off. Down the remaining portion of the road, onto the small stretch on the beach, past T1/T2 and into the finish chute I get more speed and take a fellow racer in the chute to pass the finish line. Check: 2:59 (another sub 3-hour finish). Pretty happy with my race -- while obsessing about ways I could have cut off more time -- I cheer on Mary, Barbara and other AG teammates as they cross the finish line. While the traditional posse didn't make this trip, my cousin Robin, who lives about an hour away, came to the finish line to watch the race unfold; always nice to have family support.
While we opted not to hit the free margarita/beer area -- the line was crazy by the time everyone crossed, we ended up eating at a cool place in a nearby town. The only problem is that it was dry! Ugh, no immediate post-race beer...After hitting the supermarket - where I got a six pack and chugged a beer -- I spent the rest of the day chilling. Sunday was a lot of fun watching teammates compete in the half-iron race.
So with the Moose was tamed for all of us, we headed back to NYC in time to work on the CAF Gala. June is a pretty packed racing month -- Wyckoff on June 20th and Philly on June 28th, so be on the look out for future reports.
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