Rolling with the Punches - Mallorca 70.3: The start of 2015 season

In putting together my race calendar, Earl (Walton) and I had one goal in mind; race and race well at Ironman Copenhagen in August.  Given how hectic work can be, new added responsibilities at USA Triathlon Northeast, supporting and raising money for CAF and trying to have a social life (trying is the optimum word here), we decided to use every race before Copenhagen as prep ones. I have typically used “early season” races (Nola, Puerto Rico, et al. to test my fitness out.  The challenge has always been acclimating to hot weather during the cold winter months.  Heat and humidity, coupled with windy conditions have plagued my “performance” at these races in the past.  I was hoping not to repeat this when signing up for Mallorca 70.3.  Why Mallorca and not Texas, Florida?  Well, friends and teammates Jacquie Wolfson and Agnes Park decided to do it and hey, I have never been there and hell the Island was supposed to be beautiful.  Unfortunately Jacquie had to cancel her trip due to a business meeting in Far Asia, so what started out as a trio heading to Spain, ended up being just me and Agnes.

The five-day jaunt started off promising as we used my miles to get upgraded to Business Class en route to Madrid.  The 8-hour flight is so much more pleasant when you can actually sleep (and hang in the Admirals Club before the flight).  Yea, it did not suck.  The trip took a turn when after getting off the Iberia flight in Mallorca, our bikes did not arrive.  We waited over and hour  going to various baggage claim areas looking for them.  As many of you know, disorder and chaos are not my friends.  I like to have a set schedule before a race and while a little deviation does not get my off track, a lot of it well just sucks and throws me off my game.  Not having a bike (along with sneakers) put racing in jeopardy as Iberia initially said the bikes would arrive sometime in Saturday (when the race was happening).  Getting to the hotel in Alcudia, Agnes suggested we contact Amex Platinum desk for help.  After a 45-min call, they were extremely helpful, somehow found our bikes and got Iberia to promise to deliver them by 2pm on Friday.   Well, welcome to panic mode.  

Bike Arrivals…and another set-back:

Our bikes finally arrived Friday at 2:15pm (close enough).  I scrambled to assemble my bike and get to the race briefing.  Post briefing, I was struggling a bit and facing a 7:30pm bike check in “curfew.”  Finally giving up, I took it to the mechanic Agnes brought her bike to for help.  $25 Euros later, the bike was ready…but first a test ride.  Jumping on, I could not shift at all.  Well, kids, when I took apart my bike in NYC, I forgot that Mike Sherry (Bikeriders NYC)  told me that the battery (I have new electronic shifters) was housed in the seat post, and inadvertently dislodged the wires tendering the gears useless.  Bike fiasco #2.  Thankfully the mechanics diagnosed the problem and went to work to fix it; seat post off, crank off, cables everywhere.  A good hour and a half and $150 more Euros later, Malibu Too was working and racked along with bike and run transition bags (Ironman Europe does not have traditional transition areas; everything is done in changing tents with nothing at your spot but your bike).  I was mentally drained and the race didn’t even start yet.  

Saturday Morning - Race Day

Mallorca 70.3 starts really late for our standards with the first wave going off at 7:55am.  My start time was 9:10am (the second to last wave).  I am really not used to being that far behind and knew it was going to be a lonely day.  Checking the weather, I prepared myself for one hot day.  At around 8:30am I headed down to the beach which was literally across the street from our hotel in my new TYR (thanks MB for the hook up) wetsuit and immediately started to sweat.  Oh boy, this is going to be fun!   Trying to focus and relax, I watched as waves before me started first the blue caps (young guns) and two waves of light green caps (men 40-444).  Heading to the start line, people are already shoving for a starting position.  Whatever.  Finally, we line up and are called to start.  

Swim…I like the taste of Salt in the morning

Earl told me to use the day as a long, catered, workout.  With that in mind, I was not racing, but training.  This totally helped to relax me.  When the whistle blew, I let people jump ahead of me and started to swim as soon as I was able to do so (it was a beach start and as really shallow for about 100 or so yards).  Soon enough I was passing people who obnoxiously seeded themselves in the wrong place.  Smooth, clear, rotting hips, sighing every 15 strokes, I was sailing along.  Occasionally I started to veer to far to the left on the way out, but was able to easily correct myself and found feet to sight off of (and draft a bit; it’s allowed in the swim).  The turnaround was easy enough too and I started to see and pass a handful of light green caps.  Suddenly took in a mouth full of salt water;  ugh, hope I do not feel that later on.  The route back to shore had me breathing into the sun (not ideal) so I increased my sighting ti every 20 or so strokes.  At one point I look up and catch sight of the crew on the safety kayaks telling me I am too far off course.  Oops.  I started to breathe to my left in order to get back on course. This worked well as I fund the line, started to pass more light green and even some of the slower blue caps.  I see the swim exit arch, stroke until I am hitting sand, stand up and start to wade to the beach.  Not being a race, I take my time and jog into transition (it’s a long trek).

T1: Where are all of the bikes?

This was my far the largest race I have entered with over 3,700 registrants (I was # 3750 and think the numbers want to 3,900).  It was also a very long jaunt into T1 (longer than Mont Tremblant which was long).  I grab my Swim>Bike bag and prepare for the next 90k (56 miles) in the changing tent.  Powder, gloves, shoes, sunglasses, suntan lotion and I head to the area my bike is in.  Where are all of the bikes?  Oh yea, about 3,000 people are already on the course (including Agnes who started an hour before me).  Time to buckle up and ride.     

Bike:  Heat, Hills and Wind…Oh my

Two weeks before the race, Agnes and I did a simulation on the course at Tailwind Endurance.  This allowed us to get a taste for the course and practice on the 15% grades.   Of course experiencing it in real life is vastly different from a simulation ride.  However, with the mindset that this is not racing and just training, I decided to focus on my heart rate and power and keep it in a range that would not make me blow up on the hills.  That provided immediately hard as I had no data.  Two choices, panic and keep going or calmly pull to the side and re-set my Garmin to pick up some data.  Rolling with the punches, I go with the latter, reset the bike computer and once again head off on the ride.  Being used to getting passed on the bike, I just ignore everyone around me and focus on his beautiful Mallorca is.  

The route was flat for the first 10 or so miles before we started to climb, and climb and climb. Approaching the hills, I simply focused on maintaining my goal watts, keeping my feet off the base of my shoes and pedaling in round circles.  While my cadence was low (low even for me), I didn’t blow up, nor pull to the side and rest like a few others.  Instead I just settled in for the 10K+ climb and focused on climbing, taking in the right nutrition as Nicci (Elevate by Nicci) and I discussed, and getting to the top which I knew would come…eventually.

What goes up must also come down.  And down we did via fast and twisty switch-backs.  After the crash in South Beach in 2010 (4-years later and I am still not over it), I am cautious on downhills (probably to my detriment during races).   So while others may have bombed down the mountain, I just took my time and freaked as needed.  This was the right thing for me especially passing someone on the side of the road of one of the descents, as well as ambulance at another.  Just like I eventually made it up, I would eventually make it down the mountain.    

The thing about being in or near the back of a race is that you’re never really sure if you’re on the right course.  With many of the marshals packing up to go, and so few fellow riders, I kept hoping that the sag wagon (used to sweep the last of the riders) was far enough behind me.  I don’t mind being slow, I just don’t to be last.  

Getting off the mountain, the route took us through small towns that were exactly what you imagine them to be; mostly old stone buildings closely clustered together with some residents peering out of their windows to catch a glance as we rode by.  Some of the roads were well paved, but ones that weren’t  were so bad my teeth were chattering, the bike bottles were spilling liquid and my Garmin was bouncing.   Despite this, it was just an amazing sight and something I have never experienced before.  While the course was flat, smooth and fast at this point, it was also extremely windy.  

Now I have faced windy courses before (Nola, Puerto Rico), but the last 20 miles were pure grit as it was pedaling against headwinds throughout.  I kept saying, get into aero, treat it like a hill and push through the wind.  My mind started to play tricks — going between wanting to give up one minute and pushing though the next.  It helped that I started to overtake a lot of people — riders who pushed too hard in the beginning and were now paying for it.  Knowing this was not going to be a PR today in any way, shape or form, I focused on much my biking has improved and how much more confident I am now on the bike,   The new hand I was dealt had a lot of wind and heat.  Well, I see your wind and heat and raise you some speed and cadence (well maybe not speed, but cadence).  I pass a few more folks and see T2 ahead of me.  

T2..to run or not to run:

I got off, racked my bike, grabbed my Bike>Run bag and head into the changing tent.  Over the past two seasons, I have been plagued by a foot that goes numb off the bike.  After many, many tests, Earl, Andy Feneck (Finish Line PT, friend, and fellow scotch lover) helped to rework my running form so that I was not running solely on the balls of my feet.  Given that I worked hard to get back to enjoying the run, I really wanted to see if the work I have done with Andy and my friend and strength guru Ken Szekretar, was paying off.  So I start and say to myself you can always stop.  

The Run…Hello Sun!

The course was 2 1/2 loops around the Port of Alcudia with many zig zags through neighborhoods.  It was hot with none of the wind we had on the bike (we could have used it now) and very little shade.  Given how many bikes I saw in transition, I knew that I was starting while many were on their second or third lap.  This was a major demotivating factor.  The first mile was somewhat slow but steady; 12.1 miles to go.  The hope of running the full distance soon flew out the window as the walking dead around me suckered me in and soon enough I was one of them.  I can do a run walk…it won’t be so bad.  At first I was doing a 5 min run and a 2 min walk.  Then 5 and 3, then 5 and 5 and then the opposite.  

The course brought us around the finish line twice, but directed people to either finish or head to the second or third loop.  As I approached this split and I heard the roar from the crowds welcoming them back home, I hoped to find Agnes, finished, who would persuade me to quit. Alas, I did not see Agnes, so kept going.

Around 8K (and the start of the second loop), I started to cramp around my mid section overtime I ran more than a few mins.  Was this dehydration?  Did I need to pee?  Was it the saltwater I swallowed in the swim?  Who knew?  The walking helped and I kept hoping to see Agnes along on the second loop somewhere (where in the hell was she?  Walk…run…walk some more.  Drink water, cola, anything that would make me feel better.  

As I approached the start of the second loop, I passed a few people who were in waves ahead of.  Good I will not be the last person on the run course.  Second loop, or 16 K done.  5k and another half a loop to go.  I can eek this out.  It wont be pretty.  I run up to an elderly woman named Patty from the UK.  She and I walk together for a bit.  Patty helped to motivate me as she was so happy to be beating her previous race on this course and for being ahead of her friend and teammate Rob who started after her.  It turns out that Patty is also doing Copenhagen (her second attempt at a full) so we chatted about that race.  Suddenly Rob runs past us and I think, “Oh no you don’t.”  I wish Patty good luck and run after Rob (in Patty’s honor and also because I cannot let a 70+ year old man beat me although I am sure many already had).  Rob and I played Cat/Mouse for a little while until the last aid station.  I stopped in the porta-potty one more time to see if going will help me, you know, go.  I see Rob ahead of my and run past him.  With 2k to go, I just want to be done with this race already.  

I hit the path along the ocean which is now full of pedestrians rather than runners.  Despite the pain I was in from the cramp and the exhaustion from the heat, my running form, when I am running, is actually good and strong.  While I didn’t dare look at my pace, I felt fast maybe as I only had 1k to go.  Near the finish line, I pass a crowd of spectators cheered me on by name (our names are on our bibs along with our nationality) and shout USA, USA as I run past them.  Head down,…a few more steps.  Almost there…Almost done.  Almost.  

Finally I saw the directional signal to the finish line is meters away.  I zig-zag past strollers, walkers and others who likely were not aware a race was going on,“excuse me,” I say, “need to finish this race.”  As I entered the finish line carpet, the announcer personally greater me, gave me a high five and announced my arrival home.  Guess being near the end has some perks after all.  Done and done.  I am cooked.  

While the weather and the course got the best of me, I am proud that I did not give up when I wanted to do so, ran without any foot pain, and focused through the wind.  It was a great experience and then enjoyed Mallorca and chilled out.  

Next Up….Challenge Quassy in June followed by Eagleman 70.3 Relay and then the big dance.  

IM CDA – The Biggest journey yet

To sum it up, Ironman Coeur D’Alene (CDA), my first Ironman (IM) was one of the hardest, most grueling experiences I have ever faced.  Training for it was my life for the past nine months and I do not regret a single moment of it.   I was not racing for time, but to experience an IM race, to honor my father and to raise money for Challenged Athletes everywhere.  At the end of the day, I finished and am now officially an Ironman!    Remembering this got me through the darkest moments of the race.  This is my race report from IM CDA 2013.

Before going any further, there are many people that need to be thanked (feel like the Oscars here). 

• I would not have been able to get through the training or the race day without their endless support  Earl Walton.  Coach extraordinaire and founder of Tailwind Endurance (TW) -- where I spent more hours on a CompuTrainer than want to count -- for putting up with the endless emails full of questions and the hours of face/face meeting.  He equipped me with the tools to be an IM finisher. 
• Rob Gibbons who I suckered into doing this race with me and was the constant counsel along the way. 
• My family and family who, despite protests of going to Idaho, went and were the best support crew who got us through the darkest moments on the course (Alyne Model, Alexa Model and Ruth Randall, Maclean Guthrie, Cathy Caldararo, Christine Freda and Alexander Stephens).  You cannot get through an IM if your family and support network is not behind you.  No question about it.
• The many training partners (Randi Gordon, AnneRonzoni, Ken Szekretar, Kristine Entwistle, Roy Perkins, John Ratzan, to name a few) who kept me company during long workouts
• Those IM sages for providing tips and advice along the way (you know who you are), my work colleagues and teammates who put up with the IM countdown clocks and the endless conversations about races and nutrition. 
• QT2 Systems (and Jaime Window) for the race nutrition plan and MikeSherry for several the bike adjustments. 
• Finally, the donors who contributed to my fundraising.  Collectively, we raised over $11k which will go a long way to helping others in need. 

Pre-Race

The same protocol employed for other races came into play (fly in, situated, register, prep and then race) for IM CDA.  Rob and I flew in to CDA on Wednesday and settled into a condo we rented located near the finish line (a key for later on) and after a quick bite in downtown CDA decided to drive the bike course making notes of hills and changes in the road.  We both sent our bikes via TriBike Transport (TBT) which and were not scheduled to fetch them until Thursday afternoon.

Side note…the weather. 

Idaho weather is unpredictable.  Forecasts called for nice weather in the days leading up to the race.  However, when we arrived, it rained…for two days straight.  Race weather (I checked often) kept changing from thunder, to overcast, to rain, to sun.  At least tracking the weather helped to keep my mind off of the race itself. 

The days leading up to an Ironman are somewhat similar to any other race, but with a lot more moving parts.   In an IM (for those who don’t know this), there is no actual transition area.  Instead of having your own spot where you prepare for the various legs of the race, you have bike and run clothing bags, special needs bags, and morning clothing bags.  You actually change outfits during each segment and change clothing in a changing tent (more on that later).   We spent most of Thursday assembling the stuff we needed for our race. 

Lake Coeur D’ Alane is cold.  No way to state it otherwise (on a “warm race day” it’s low 60s).  The only way to acclimate for it was to keep getting into the water.  So on Thursday morning we got up, and went for a swim.  While the swim is one of my strongest legs, two weeks prior to heading out, Rob suggested I buy a neoprene hat to wear. In case the water was frigid.  Perhaps it was the colder air, but when we got it, the water wasn’t as bad as I remembered from last year when we came out to watch the race.  After a quick 25-min swim (all that Coach Earl allowed us), we officially registered (at least we got nice new backpack out of all of this), did a quick run on the course (at least the first two miles), picked up the bikes from TBT and started to assembly all that we need for the race (we had another chance to swim on Friday morning too).  

Friday was basically the same, but we entered into the meal preparation phase of our IM planning.  Both Rob and I were following the race nutrition plan from QT2 Systems which called for, basically a lot of eating.   Each meal was timed and is focused on preparing our bodies for whatever we needed on race day.   After the swim and a quick ride of the run course (mostly to test out the bikes) we ate our big lunch and waited for Christine, Alexa and Cathy to arrive (Mom and Ruth came in on Thursday and Maclean and Alexander came in on Saturday).  In the afternoon, we (Rob, Christine and I) did another quick run (the big lunch gnawed at my stomach so only ran a bit) pointing out possible spots to watch the race.   

The day before an IM, is basically waiting and resting which is exactly what we did.  A big Denny’s breakfast, followed by sitting on the couch and packing and re-packing our race bags consumed most of the day.  As mentioned before, there is no transition spot in an IM.  Instead, we have to pack everything we may need for both the bike and the run and put them into marked bags.  For this race, like other Half Ironman races, we needed to rack our bikes on Saturday.  In addition to the bikes, we had to also hand in both our bike and run bags on Saturday (we’d arrive on race morning with our special needs bags for both bike and run on race morning).   

We heard from a lot of people providing some last minute advice for race day.  Ones that I kept with me during the day (no disrespect to others) were from Sari and Gil Schorr (separately) telling me to take one mile at a time and to savior the moments, RevekaWallace making sure that I control what could and let everything else happen, Anne Ronzoni telling me to stay in the moment at all times and not focus on what lies ahead, Julie Golden telling me to smile at the finish line and of course Earl making sure that I knew that“we got this” and to trust our training.” 

The big day

I am known for my crazy pre-race routines.  I know and embrace this.   So in usual fashion, two alarms were set for 3:00am on Sunday.  At the appointed time, I stumbled from bed, and prepared my Race Day breakfast of three cups of apple sauce (Rob had to eat 4 ½ cups), whey protein, a sports drink and a banana.   After “breakfast”, a quick nap, and some last minute preparation and head out to the race start. 

After handing in our special needs bags (which has anything we may need to get us through the second half of each segment), we checked on our bikes as well as our bike and run clothing bags (which we dropped the day before) and waited (and waited) on the porta-potty line.  The time flew…all of the sudden it’s 6:00am and the professionals were in the water. 

The emotions of the day caught up with me as the national anthem played.  I had no idea what this day would bring, but knew I was racing for a greater purpose. 

Side note:  I was able, through the folks at Ironman, to get our entire crew VIP passes for the race.   This allowed them beach access for the swim and great viewing for the finish line.  

The Swim

For the first time in IM history, the race would not be a mass start, but rather a self-seeded coral based on projected swim finish times.  Partially for safety reason, IM CDA was indeed the test case for future IMs.   Earl and I thought I would be between 1:10-1:20 so opted to started in the 1:15-1:30 wave.  I am a faster swimmer than Rob (something both he and Earl know), but we decided that Rob would start the swim with me.    I opted not to wear a watch for the swim and to just go by feel.  I was confident in my abilities and knew the swim was one of my strengths.  The wave start, in my view, helped a bit, but the start of the swim was congested.   I was very happy to see Mom, Maclean, Alexa, Cathy, Christine and Alexander before jumping into the water.  Having the support crew by my side was emotional as I closed my eyes to focus some more.

Mike Reilly (the voice of Ironman) shouted “who is ready to be an Ironman today?”  We all waved our hands as we were ushered us to the start line to begin our race.  I dove into the lake and was aggressive to start (like Earl suggested), and quickly settled into a rhythm (stroke, stroke, sight).  I was a little off course at first, but kept focused and shut off my brain (I tend to drift when the brain starts to think).  I collided with many people and tried to catch a draft when I could.  However, I quickly realized that those who I drafted off of were slower than I was going so tried to move to the next group. 

Each buoy was marked  (yellow on the way out, red at the turn-around and orange on the way to shore).  Every stroke was another inch closer to the shore.  I kept Sari’s mantra of one mile at a time in my head as I passed each marker.  As I rounded the second turn around and headed to shore, my swim drifted to the right a tad (didn’t help that I breathe to the right which is where the sun was rising), blinding me at times (note to self, swim more to the left on the second loop).  Sighting the swim turn around (and the second 1.2 mile loop), I focused on getting to shore.  I pop out and see Christine and hear call my name.  A quick wave and jump back into the lake for the second loop. 

The second loop was like a scene from American Gladiators.  I was kicked in the face, pushed against, kicked some more.  Yet, I tried to find open water.  Each buoy seemed to come slightly faster on this loop and I was soon heading to shore.   Focused I kept stroking and being present and swimming my race not anyone else’s (something that would carry me through the ride).   The swim exit was in sight and I knew 2.4 miles of 140.6 was in the bag.  One mile at a time.   I approached the shore line and again heard Christine shout my name.  No need to look down at my time, I trot into the transition area to get stripped of my wetsuit, grab my bike clothing bag and head into the changing tent. 

Swim to Bike

I have often said there is no modesty in triathlon.  We are used to people speaking about bodily functions and being naked.  I get to a chair, and basically strip, towel off (putting powder anywhere I could to help dry myself off) and start to dress for the bike. Bib shorts and race jersey on, lube everywhere (and then some), oops, I out the wrong sock on the wrong foot.  T1 may have taken me forever, but I am not winning this race.   I trot out of transition, have the amazing volunteers put sunscreen everywhere not covered and head to my bike.  I grab Malibu (if you don’t get the reference, look back at prior race reports) and head out on the 112-mile leisurely ride. 

Side note:  The volunteers on the IM, were in a word, amazing.  Not only were they there wherever we needed them, but they were incredibly helpful, friendly and thankful of us being there. 

The Bike

The bike is not my best leg.  I am a conservative rider and while more confident than in the past, know my abilities.  The first part of the ride mirrors the run in that we ride in town.  As we drove the course a few times in the days leading up to Sunday, we broke the course down into segments; 14-miles in town, 40 on the highway (a few hills here and there) and repeat.  

The first few miles were really uneventful (a good thing).  Being focused on keeping a low heart rate (to make it through 112 miles and then a marathon, I would need to keep a maximum HR of 156 on the steepest sections), high cadence and make sure to drink a lot of fluid.  Mile 4 I felt strange…something didn’t seem right.  I looked down only to realize I didn’t put my bib shorts on correctly and had the straps hanging down.  Knowing this would bother me, I pulled over to the side and basically got undressed to fix it. The first few miles went by pretty quickly and while I am passed often (guess my swim was good if all of these folks are now passing me) my focus remains on my race and not anyone else’s). 

In and out of town we go and onto the 95 Highway for the next 40-miles.  As I approached the highway, I saw some of the professional men heading back to their second loop (lucky bastards).  Driving the course helped to understand when we’d face the various climbs during the day (the first one (a 3+ mile one) would come at about mile 18).  I also knew that the course was harder on the front with more downhill sections on the way back into town (again, this was going to be repeated on the second loop). 

Looking up, I saw the first hill quickly approaching and prepared to settle in for a climb.   The course said it was a 6% grade, but it felt steeper and longer as we kept going up and up.  Keeping a max 156 max HR required me to know when to push my pace while keeping nutrition in check.   Up with hill we went…HR under control, good cadence, check…I told myself to keep pressing as I passed a few fellow competitors who were not so cautious and blew up early.  Each pedal stroke took me closer to the top and the opportunity to recover.

One crucial aspect of any IM is nutrition.  The QT2 plan I followed called for at least 10 24-oz bottles during the bike as well as 7 PowerBar gels, two PowerBars, and lots of salt tablets.  My friend Brad Strater a QT2 coach (and a bad ass, Kona qualifier) preached drinking early and often which is exactly what I did.  At the first aid station (around mile 10), and everyone thereafter, I replenished some of the supply and made my way onto the course.  Figuring out how to go to the bathroom on the bike is an art.  It is something that I learned how to do and then forgot.  This meant hitting the porta potty’s at the various aid stations and avoiding any discomfort on the bike.  Hey, I am not winning this thing, so might as well be comfortable! 

As we continued on the highway, each mile ticked by one by one.  One reason we drove the course prior to the race was to make note of certain “landmarks” to help identify where we were.  One I picked out was a neon casino sign (think slot machines) signaling 4-miles until the turn-around (those who know my love for Vegas and gambling would appreciate this).  After passing the first turn around, I saw Rob approaching in the opposite direction.  Knowing he would soon catch up to me was nice as that would allow us to ride together for about 10 miles when I told him to take off and ride his race. 

Throughout the ride, I never let myself get into the dark (negative) place and just stayed focused.  This allowed me to temper my ride and pass a few other people as we made our way back into town and onto the second loop.  Past the swim start and up a small hill, I saw the posse waved and pressed on.   

About mile 63, we had the chance to get into our bike special needs bags.  When I pulled in (another pit stop), I asked one of the amazing volunteers for my special needs bag (which contained an extra water bottle, some nutrition and some extra tire tubes in case).  After a quick stop, I got back on the bike and pressed on.   Mile 70-77 were a little bit of a blur, but do remember seeing everyone again before heading to the highway for my last 40 miles.   But first the big hill….again.

I rode conservatively in the first loop and rode it in about four hours (to compare a professional finishes the bike in about 4:30, but hey this is their job!).  But for me to be able to get off the bike in less than 8 hours would mean that I needed to press a bit more on the second loop which is exactly what I did.  After the hill crested, I started to pick off more people (even playing cat and mouse with a small group of competitors; people who were not as conservative as I was on the first loop and were burning out).   

The one benefit of being in the back of a race is that people are nice and actually talk to you.  I had many, albeit, short conversations with folks on the bike ride (mostly complaining about the endless hills; why did it seem like there were more of them on this loop than the first one).  Those who have done an IM told me at some point you need to listen to your body and abandon your race nutrition plan.  I hit that point around mile 85 when I was sick of PowerBar Perform and just started to drink water whenever I needed to.  This helped…a lot.

Another rest room break (and a chance to stretch my legs), my lovely casino sign came into view which meant I was in the home stretch.  Miles 90-95 flew by as did miles 95-100.  12 miles to go…2 loops of Central Park and then I am off the bike…Each mile was a mile closer to home…Ah the lake…more people I could pass…more small conversations…the exit ramp from the highway…the transition area all came into view during the last 25 mins of the ride.   

Heading back to transition, I got my run clothing bag and did a quick calculation despite not knowing the time of my race still.  114.2 miles down…26.42 to go.  I got this.  Walking back to the changing tent, I shed my bike clothing, started to get dressed for the run and regrouped.  Making the conscious decision to keep my compression calf guards on (perhaps a tactical error), I headed out onto the last leg before I was able to be called an Ironman. 

The run…and the walk…

I would love to say the run was blissful.  Part of it was. But most of it wasn’t.  Like the bike, prior to the race, I broke the run down into sections.  Town, the area near the lake, the turn-around and back again.  I headed out onto the run still not knowing my swim time, but knowing the bike was about 7:45 with roughly 25 mins of transition times.  Guessing my swim was under 1:20 (the worst case of my range Earl and I laid out), I was going to be an Ironman today.  Up a small hill, I once again saw the clan.  Earl told me to stop and give high fives to my family as well as anyone who offered, I was taking in the energy from the crowd.  I was on my journey to the finish line.  I decided to soak up the experience of the IM.   

Earl and I discussed doing a 5:1 scenario (5 mins run, 1 min walk) for the first 30+ mins of the race and walking the back end of the aid stations.  Right before Mile 1, I saw Christine (filming our run) telling me how well I looked (sure!) and that those in Canada (racing) were cheering me on.  She told me how good my swim was (1:11) -- shit that was faster than even Earl and I planned.  Excellent.  That gave me motivation to run and run I did.  The first part of the run course is entirely in the neighborhood surround the lake.  So many people were out there supporting us, it was such a high.  Past mile 2 and onto the lonely section of an 8-mile out and back.  At mile 3, my left foot started to tingle – like it did at a race in May when I pulled out.  No way was I going to let this derail my IM experience…If I had to walk the marathon I was going to be an Ironman today. 

Walking to the side of the road, I took off my shoes trying to relieve the pain.  Nothing helped.  I pulled off the compression calf guards tucking them into my pockets and then my shoes.  With my shoes off, the pressure eased a bit, but started to throb again when they were back on.  Trying everything, I took the compression calf guards off, moved the timing chip from my ankle to my wrist and started to move forward again…one mile at a time.  Unfortunately the sensation would not wane.  I decided to try untying my shoes and running with untied laces.  Finally relief.  Ok, I am moving, Yes my sneakers are untied (and many fellow competitors said hey guy in CAF (I was wearing CAF clothing if you could not guess) your laces are united – like I did not know thatJ), but I was running and walking.   

Taking each mile one at a time, knowing that I am out here for CAF funded athletes and to honor my father, I started to enjoy the experience.  The first 8 miles took forever to pass, but then I started to approach town again and started to use the energy from the crowds.  Back into town, I got to the special needs run area and changed socks.  I was Rob walking with Christine.  Running again, I saw the clan again, ran down the hill, back up the hill and back to where Christine was standing.  She said Rob was only about 10 mins ahead of me at this point.  Ok, I got this. 

At this point if walking was the way to this finish line, I would power walk.   At times my walk was faster than some people running.  So I started to play a game with people.  Picking them off slowly.  Like the bike, the people at the back of the race are very friendly and very supportive of each other.  Hell, we were all going to the final place and knew we were all going to finish this thing in under 17 hours (the cut off).   

Speaking to a few people, they commented how fast my walk was – “I am from New York, that is what we do (walk fast)” was my constant retort. One guy and I (think he was from Alabama, or somewhere around there – all of those states are alike to me) kept traded places – he would run while I was walking and I would scoot past him.    

After being on the course for probably 13+ hour, the thought of any sweet like Ironman Perform, or a gel was more than my body could handle. Opting to try broth (salt) seemed to work and then cola (they can’t serve a brand name on the course as neither Pepsi nor Coke are sponsors) went down well.   Keeping moving forward one mile at a time was my mantra. 

Approaching mile 20…6.2 (or 10k to go).  Past the turn around, I was heading home…heading to the finish line and being called an Ironman.  Seeing mile 23 – knowing there was less than 5k to go, put a smile on my face.  That alone made me run more than walk…and pick up my walking pace.

Yes the sun was down (and I had not really mentally planned to be on the course in the dark), but as each mile past, I was getting closer to home.  Walking through the neighborhoods, and past the lake, the smell of the finish line crept into my psyche. 

As I approached the last small hill before the 8-block finish line. I took a moment to pause and reflect (yes this may have cost me more time, but I was only going to have one first IM finish and wanted to be present).  On the corner before Sherman Avenue, I asked a spectator to help put my timing chip back onto my ankle and then basically took off. 

The Finish Line

The finish of IM CDA was amazing.  Basically 8 blocks of downhill.  Suddenly there was no pain.  No tingling in my feet….just glory as I past a fee fellow athletes and counting down the blocks and seconds….Total thumbs up and a hug smile on my face…I was going to be an Ironman.  

There is nothing like a finish to an IM (especially our first one).  It is a party.  You start to hear the cheers of spectators from two-blocks away.  The feeling when you hit the blue carpet is unlike any other race finish I have done. The smile on my face as I entered the finish line shoot was as wide as the lake and  my hands flew straight up into the air as I flew by and heard Mike Riley – the voice of Ironman – call my name.  I did not know my time…I did not care!  I was an Ironman!  

Passing the chute,  two volunteers immediately "caught" me and helped me to get my bearings.  After handing my my medal, finisher’s tee shirt and hat, they helped me walk to the photo line.  Rob was waiting for me there and we gave each other a fist bump.  We both made it.  After the photos I saw the crew and gave mom and Alexa a huge hug… I did it.  And I did it as well as I could on that day.   

Reflection…

I am an Ironman.  10 months of dedicated training…to putting a lot of my life on hold…to focus on one single day that was finally here.   Six years after doing my first triathlon I am an Ironman.  I am one of less than 1% of the population who can claim that.  Wow.

I completed the journey I set out to do and along the way helped to raise money for CAF.  I think my father would be proud.  Not sure if there is another IM in me, but for now, despite the pain, I am beyond psyched.  

San Diego Training Camp – Report

After a thrilling, but exhausting weekend as title sponsor of the Accenture CA 70.3 race (a/k/a Oceanside), I was ready to spend some quality time training for IM CDA.  Earl laid out a brief, but aggressive, plan calling for three days of riding and two days of running (and a swim if I could manage it). 

Sunday morning I slept in (6:30am) and headed south to Del Mar where I was crashing with my friend Roy Perkins.  Before this “camp” my only outside ride had been the 56-miles during the PR 70.3 so wasn’t sure how I could fare, but was excited for the challenge.  After helping put my bike together, Roy and I did a quick ride (20 miles) before eating some California-inspired Mexican food (and a margarita). 

Busting the 100-mile cherry

Monday was my “epic” day of cycling which called for seven and a half hours of riding over 100-miles.  Let’s see how I handle this one.  Roy and I headed out for a warm-up before meeting up with Kristine Entwistle (a friend who also works at CAF), who mapped out an 80-mile loop taking us from the coast to the mountains back to the coast.   In addition to getting a lot of saddle time, the ride was another test in my nutrition plan.  Loaded with more PowerBar gels, PowerBar bars, and PowerBar perform (in powder as my bike can only hold  two bottles and knew I needed to drink at least 8+ bottles) than I could imagine, we hit the road.  Our ride had us on open roads consisting of some flats, rollers, some steep inclines and nice descends.  As we were riding with open traffic, we had to wait for traffic lights.  While it was nice to rest our legs at time, some lights felt like they were taking forever to turn.

The morning weather was chilly, so started out with a short sleeve bike jersey, bib shorts, a vest and a borrowed pair of arm warmers from Roy.  Midday, when the sun started to come out more, I shed the arm warmers – and have slightly sun burned arms to show for it. 

The first two hours of the ride kept me in a pure endurance zone (I had a maximum power which I could not exceed).  I set the Garmin bike computer to “normalized” power (which calculates the power but includes variables such as wind, accelerations, uphills, downhills, etc.).  My legs responded well to the inclines – not burning too much – but thanked me on the downhills.  Drinking and eating on schedule, I was totally in focus as the miles kept adding up.  Mentally I was “in the ride” and did not hit any dark spots.  It was nice chatting and catching up with Kristine…She has done the “old CDA course” and gave me an Ironman 101 reality lesson (her one advice, have a plan b when the thought of another gel on the bike or ride makes your skin crawl).   

The three hour mark called for another hour of Tempo watts (up to, but not above 165).  Luckily, these also came on the rollers and some steep inclines too.  Kristine and I stopped to refuel at an interesting corner store near a trailer park before hitting the infamous Circle R Drive (apparently a pretty well-known and challenging climb).  As we approached the climb, I was focused on my power #s, cadence and heart rate.  Kristine told me where we should meet up and I went off.  At one point I could hear her saying you just climbed a 6% grade.  Holy shit here comes another hill…followed by another one…While the climbs were indeed hard and my quads started to burn, I was keeping in my zones and looking at the amazing scenery.  Finally at the top, Kristine and I regrouped and headed back down the hills.  Still in my tempo zone, I was focused on the switch-backs and rollers on the last part of the loop.  When we reached the bottom, I told Kristine “that was kinda fun” – and she commended me on tackling Circle R (felt as if I earned some creds!).

  

Hours four and five (120 mins) called for another endurance session.  As we approached the coast, the winds started to pick-up big time.  Kristine and I traded blocking the winds over the next 7 miles as we headed towards Oceanside.  Keeping in aero position and an easy gear, I kept pushing through the wind, but the pushing resulted in more burning to the quads.  I kept readjusting and pedaling focused on the mile markers and hoping for a tailwind at some point.  Finally we hit the Oceanside – where I just left two days ago.  Talk about full circle! 

After another refuel stop and bathroom break, Kristine and I were off.  The next hour + went by pretty quickly (maybe I just lost a sense of time), but was chugging along…chatting with Kristine and watching the coast, the ocean/waves and eating/drinking on cue.  Through Oceanside we approached Carlsbad when I had to start my next session – a mix of tempo and endurance (4 mins tempo followed by 10 of endurance) over the next hour +. 

Taking off, Kristine said she would meet up with me on the recover/endurance section.  I was in the zone and didn’t feel any pain, but now had to contend with side-winds (where are my tailwinds)!  While powerful gusts, I stayed in the aero position pedaling down Highway 101 on uphills, downhills and on flats.   Past Carlsbad and into Escondido, the winds did ease up as we made the last approach before Kristine veered off (her ride done, mine with a tad more to go). 

Now without any company, and the delicious smell from various restaurants off the 101 hitting my nose (gels don’t smell or taste like a good meal), the next 45 mins had me going back down to Torrey Pines, back up to Escondido, back again to Torrey Pines (you get the idea).  My mind kept wandering, the pain in the quads and now my far right toes (something I never experienced before) increasing, I was fending off the dark zones.  Riding along, I kept telling myself mind over matter.  Just a few more miles to go. 

Looking down, I saw 99 miles…the end almost there.  The last 2 miles took forever.  Every tenth of a mile could not come fast enough.  99.5 then 99.6 then 99.9.  Down the final stretch and I could get off the bike.  Past the light, up the hill leading to Roy’s driveway (like I needed another hill), I open the garage door, take off my shoes, put on my running shoes and jog off (did I forget to mention I had to run 20-mins off the bike!).

The first few steps were a total struggle.  My legs were trying to fire, but the pain was great.  I opted to stop, take a breather and try and start again.  Heart rate in check, I started to run (well jog really).  After 5 mins, I had a strange pain in my back, so stopped and walked for second.  “Focus,” I said to myself.  Running for another 20-mins (well actually 22 mins) and was relieved when I stopped in front of a pizza place.  I didn’t care how cold and crappy the slice, I downed it and walked back to Roy’s place.  Compression socks on, I answered work emails until dinner time.

My first century ride and first 7+ hour ride in the books.  Wow that hurt. 

A Tuesday’s struggle ride

My ride for the next day called for 75-miles (25 warm-up/25 tempo/25 endurance) followed by a 2-hour run.  As I was riding solo again, I opted to stay on the 101 (Roy gave me a route out to Oceanside which he thought was about 20 miles).  Knowing I had to double back at least once, I tried to memorize the road.  Earl warned me that if I felt real pain I should stop immediately and if needed should cut my run to an hour.  Little did I know how hard a back-to-back volume ride would is. 

Starting out up a hill from Roy’s towards Del Mar, I immediately felt the ride from Monday, but was focusing on being in the moment and keeping to the plan.  The first 10 miles went by pretty slowly, but I made my way north on the 101 checking out sights.  Keeping to the right HR/watts combo I kept the checking miles.  Keeping in aero, I was thankful the wind wasn’t as intense as it was the day before.

Past Del Mar, Solana Beach, Escondido, Carlsbad and into Oceanside.  22 miles done.  Back to the start of the Oceanside race once more.  Quick calculation – the ride back to Roy’s would be 44 miles, so had to make up ~ 30 miles somewhere.  Figure if I did 18 miles down and back, that would get me pretty close.  Let’s go.   

A quick bathroom break and a refueling stop at a nearby deli, I headed back south on the 101, this time in a Tempo race (I cut the remaining 3 miles of the warm up off). In reverse order, Oceanside, Carlsbad, Escondido, Solana Beach, Del Mar.  Some side winds, but mostly decent conditions.  Focusing on keeping my watts and not the pain in my legs, I made it back down hitting 40 miles before returning back up north.  Focusing on eating/drinking/taking in calories (practice makes perfect).  Suddenly my Garmin watch, which I needed for the run off the bike, died (thought I had charged it the night before).  An omen?   I still had my bike computer (fully charged) and would figure out something for the run. 

The stretch from mile 40-55 was really tough mentally and physically.  I kept playing mind games with myself to keep in the moment, but at times that was hard considering the pain.  Will I have legs to run?  Right outside Oceanside, I hit a 7-11 to refuel again, hit a porta-potty and headed home.  As tough as miles 40-55 were, the last section felt like I was watching paint dry, but with someone pounding on my legs (and my two right toes again).  The wheels of the bus felt like they were coming off, but I tried to keep in the moment.   I kept telling myself, “get back to Roy’s, re-pack the bike and then run an hour maybe (definitely not two).”   I was focusing as much as I could hold on (Up and down 101 (the hills didn’t feel as bad the first few times I rode this route, but now, wow!).  Despite the intense pain, my HR and watts were in check (I was in the endurance zone). 

Heading back to Escondido, I knew I had only a few more miles to go.  One more hill I told my legs…one more set of lights…one more burst.  Finally cresting the last hill, I had a downhill leading to Torrey Pines and the turn off to Roy’s complex.  Up the hill of his drive way, I stopped, opened the garage door and breathed a sense of relief.  Relief I was off the bike and finished with another 5 hour ride.  However, I knew my legs simply did not have it in me for a run today. 

I emailed Earl with headline “Failure” and explained what happened.  Could it have been three rides in three days and no runs/swims in between?  Did I push too hard?  Am I not in the right endurance shape yet (yes I have 11 weeks until CDA, but that is only 11 weeks!).  Earl immediately responded that the camp was no failure, but a major biking breakthrough.  Yea, but…you know Earl you’re right.  I accomplished a lot, rode for over 13 hours and close to 200 miles over three days on roads that I am not used to. 

So to celebrate, I had an In-n-Out Burger (while in CA….)

Puerto Rico, you lovely Island, full of tropical breezes and HILLS! Report from Puerto Rico 70.3 – My IM CDA warm up

Since embarking on my IM journey in October, my focus has been trying to improve on my weakness – biking – while not neglecting both my swimming (one of my stronger legs) and running (something I actually enjoy).   Over the past six months, training has not been that bad yet, but if you ask Coach Earl Walton, the “fun” has only begun.  Yea…right.

When reviewing my race calendar, Earl and I were looking for a half-iron distance race during the late base stage of my training.  Having done some early season races in the past (Nola, South Beach), I was game for something new and different. Looking at IM and Rev3 races, there was only one that actually fit into my work and training schedules – Puerto Rico 70.3.  But March 17^th?  Wow that is an early season race.   While I don’t really mind racing alone, traveling alone is another story – who will cheer for me at the finish line (and have a post-race drink with me)?  Thankfully my friend (and now best race Sherpa) Randi Gordon stepped up to the plate (she rationalized the trip as a weekend away from the NYC cold – and indeed it was). 

Side bar…Back to training for a sec….

While I have had some rough run workouts (especially in the cold, dark days of winter), I keep telling myself, I am not just doing an IM for me, I am doing it to honor my father and raise funds for Challenged Athletes everywhere.   The training is tough (just like the race itself) , but I have put in the work thus far and now it was time to see how it is starting to pay off.  

Back to the race…

I heard a lot about the PR 70.3 race – mostly how nice the swim was (cool), how well supported the ride was (even better), but how tough the run was (how bad could it really be?  O h bad!).   For those who know my spreadsheet-loving, crazy advance-planning pre-race regiment, you might be surprised that going into PR 70.3, I was completely calm; calm to the point that Randi joked she had no idea who I was when I told her the only reservation I made was for the post-race dinner. 

I was also using the race to test my new race nutrition plan thanks to QT2 Systems and Jaime Windrow.  The plan is pretty intensive, exact, but heard it works.  Hey, if it’ll get me through 140.6 miles, I am game – including giving u my beloved morning coffee (yes I have been coffee and mostly caffeine free since January)!

For those w/ A.D.D and like the bottom line…I was pleased with the race…the swim and ride were great, but the run was “what the f*ck was that!”  

And for those with an attention-span…

Randi and I flew to PR on Friday to take advantage of being away as much as possible.  Landing, we got to the hotel, registered for the race, ran into friend Dave Ragsdale (who was announcing), put my bike together, Randi went for a run and I tried to ride the run course.   I got a little misdirected in Old San Juan and wound up riding part of the course which I didn’t think was that bad (oh I was wrong).  Friday night we had a relaxing dinner at a local restaurant – this was big “carbo load” dinner.

The day before the race (Sat) was all about following the QT2 plan, doing last min race prep.  We woke up, did a quick run (where I proceeded to not see a curb cut and fell on my knee – not a huge scrape, but ouch), and head to breakfast. 

It’s all about the food…

Now I like breakfast.  It’s an important meal.  But I typically never have eggs, potatoes, toast, and pancakes in one sitting.  But that is what the plan said so I ate it.  After some digestion, we made our way to the swim start for a practice swim (just to the first turnaround) before heading back to the hotel to yes, eat again (this time a chix wrap – plain with a little mustard and my second of three bags of pretzels).  My former colleague and friend Tillie Castellano, who retired in PR a few years ago, came by to visit us at the hotel and laughed at how much I had to eat and drink (there goes another bag of pretzels). 

At this point Tillie and Randi (who ran most of the run course the day before) explained what I had in store for me on the run.  Tillie calls it the “hell hill” that leads to her son, Marc’s, house at the top of it (Tillie said she would be waiting outside Marc’s house waiting for me on the run).  Randi just laughed….After more water, PowerBar Perform drinks and a PowerBar, I had to lie down for a bit….before dinner (thankfully Randi took matters into her own hands and made a dinner reso for yes, 6:15pm – just following the plan).  While Randi had an amazing looking meal, I had, you guessed it, 4 oz of grilled chicken and 1 cup of pasta (basically the most basic thing on the menu and I could only eat ½ of it).   Off to bed at 8:15pm…

Race day

3:15am alarm buzzes.  Why 3:15am when the race doesn’t start until 7:00 (and my wave doesn’t go off until 7:28)?  Well because I had to eat 2 ½ cups of apple sauce, whey protein, a sports drink, and a banana in enough time to digest.  Now most of us eat, maybe ½ cup of apple sauce at one time.  Trying to get down that much made me, well, spit up just like a baby does (but I had no one to burp me).  But at least I watch to sun rise while getting my pre-race meal down.

Restless (there is just so much social media you can do before 6:00am); I went to transition to set up my area before heading to the swim start.   I looked for AGTC teammate Sonia Cordero, but could not find her in transition.   So I just made my way to the swim start and waited…and waited. 

My wave – men’s 40-44 #2 (wave #10) started to line up.  I ate my late Perform Gel and visualized the race.  Earl and I spoke the day before and decided I would just go and test things out.  No goal…just go.  So when it was my time to start, I did just that…I went.

The race was an in-water start.  Waiting on the edge where I could stand until 30-seconds before our horn went off, I was totally calm.  At 30-seconds, I swam my way to the front and we’re off.  Aggressive at the start, I was a little off my sighting, but after some corrections, I kept swimming.  Past a few people in the waves ahead of my (not getting passed that much), the water was clear and I felt good.  Buoy to buoy I went until the turn around.  The course was like a long “U” but on its side – most of it in a protected bay off the ocean.  I was going strong until about ¾ through when we hit the waves from the open sea started to rear its ugly head.  I was tossed a bit, and got off course with the current, but straightened myself out and headed to shore.   Getting helped up the ramp out of the water, I quickly glanced at my time – 36 mins and some sec…not bad for a 1.2 mile ocean swim without a wetsuit.  The run to T1 (transition 1) was about ¼ mile on asphalt.  I started to jog, saw Randi (who was about to go out for another run), got into transition, got Malibu (my bike) and myself ready for our ride and went out. 

Time to get onto my bike

The ride was really pleasant.  Again Earl and I decided to focus the ride on maintaining a decent power (I plopped down a pretty penny and bought myself a PowerMeter – a cool new toy for those who don’t know what it is, it basically measures how much power I am putting out through my pedal strokes.  I have certain watts I know I can maintain for a long period of time and still have “legs” for the run).  The course was specular.  Right along the ocean, I was cruising, keeping to my numbers.  Yes I was passed – often – but I still passed a large number of people (I always said good morning to every pretty girl I passed – most smiled and said thanks). 

This being my first outside ride since October 2012 (during CAF’s SDTC Race Weekend), I wasn’t sure what to expect on the 56-mile route.  Especially troubling was that the race was sponsored by Gatorade and not PowerBar (which I have been training with) so while I had two bottles of the formula I knew, Jaime and I discussed using Gatorade and seeing what happened (flash forward, yea that wasn’t planned).   During the ride I am sticking to my nutrition plan – making sure to drink when I can, eating PowerBars and PowerBar gels on schedule and taking in salt.  I made the first turn-around (the ride was basically two loops) and checked in on my power and HR (all good) and looked up a saw a large rain cloud and thought I wonder when it’s going to rain.  NOW was the answer.  The sudden the sky opened up and buckets (literally) came down on us.  Immediately, I became a tad more conservative (no repeats of old bike spills), watching out for white lines to avoid a crash/fall.  Yet, as quickly as the rain started, it was gone.  Sunny sky, but yet wet pavement means riding conservatively and not crashing.  At the second (of three) turn around, I started to pass more people, keeping in areo position and staying in the moment.  Then the finally turn around and I am heading home. 

While I didn’t have a time goal, I thought it would be great if I could break the three-hour mark (a PR for me).  Then the winds started to pick up even more and at times I was getting blown all around the road.  While not as bad as they were in Nola, they were bad.  But I was more prepared this time around and kept my focus….approaching the last 10 miles, I look up and see NYC on someone’s ass…that must be Sonia.  Hey Sonia I yell as I pass her.   Making my way on the last stretch of highway, I suddenly become concerned as I see no other bikers around me.  Did I miss a turn?  Nope all good. There are some police men I am heading into T2. 

Jumping off the bike, I trot into transition, check my time 3:03 (cool all things, rain, etc.) considered and prepare for my run.  Not having a second pair of socks in transition, I need to run on semi wet socks (from the rain).  I ask a pro who just finished how bad it is and he comments, just drink a lot…and often.  It then dawned on me that I didn’t pee once on the bike…didn’t even feel as if I needed to.  Despite drinking over four bottles, I was still dehydrated.  Oh boy, I am f*cked.  Ok, let me try and see what happens. 

The hot and hilly run…

Before heading to the run, I got into the banana boat tent and ask the girls spraying lotion to down me in whatever they had.  Face, head, arms, back, legs…all good.  I am off. 

Immediately I see Randi who walks/runs me over the first bridge/hill.  As I head out on the run, I see professional women Rinny Carfrae finishing (she looks like she had a hard day out there) and hope the wheels do not come off too quicky.  I have my plan (eat a Block every 2 miles, drink at every aid station and keep going. 

Not knowing the full course, I opted to use the first loop (there are two) to see how bad this run course really is.  One hill, well that sucked…ok some flats….a little downhill, good.  Usually when I start to run, my HR jumps up for a bit and then settles in.  For some reason this isn't happening today. Only time wll tell what this means for my race.

  

As I turn a corner I see it…the “hell hill” both Tillie and Randi described.  Yes indeed it’s hell.  Straight up.  No way can anyone human actually run this…so I do a fast walk.  Finally cresting, I start to run again until I see one more hill.  Looking to my left I look for Tillie and her son Marc.  I go over to say hi (a nice high five and a hug) and get a nice dose of water sprayed on me by Marc’s son (this would be one of my un-doings).  Despite the hills, this is one beautiful run course. 

Past the old fort, we run on historic cobblestone streets down to the edge of the fort (what goes down will need to come back up).  At the first turn-around (prob mile 3), I am feeling the heat and some burning on my feet (never had that before), but I go on.  Tracing my way back to the start, I pass Tillie again, get another dose of water on me and head down the hell hill (going down isn’t much easier).  The miles keep clicking away and despite the soreness, the heat and the need to run/walk, I never get into the dark place where I want to quit. 

At the turnaround I see Randi again who tells me how good I look (looks can be deceiving) and how proud everyone at Tailwind Endurance (Earl’s studio) is of me (that gives me more energy to go).  Only 6.5 miles to go.  I am running more now…running up hills, trying to stay focused.  Once again, I walk up hell hill and think, only 4.5 miles to go.  I see Marc again, who took my picture running up the hill (below).  Passing the old fort again, the pain in my feet is intense.  I know the blisters under my feet must be roaring in full force (I cannot...will not let that get me down).  Onto the edge of the fort to the turn around, I am on my way home.  Passing Tillie and family again, I tell them I cannot stop…need to get this done.  

Down the big hill again.2 miles to go. 
Then wow…the heat, blisters, dehydration all come on at once.  I start to walk.  I keep telling myself to run walk the last two miles…it’s only two miles….I walk in the shade to get away from the heat…I run in the street and get inspired by a 60-year old man (his age was on his calf) who is running and not giving up either.   One mile…half a mile.  Ok last aid station…last bridge up…I crest the top, and head home.  I see Randi near the finish line chute and she runs me home.   Dave announces my name (I still get a kick out of that) and I am done.  Time for a beer and burger and some celebrating with Randi and Sonia.

So the good:  no demons…no dark zones.  Positive thoughts.  Great swim, Pr on the bike.  An early season race…lots to improve, but all around a stellar early season race.

The bad:  a slow half-marathon.  Dehydration.  Not having an extra pair of socks in Transition.  All things to improve.

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Vineman 70.3 - There really are that many vineyards?

Anne Ronzoni, my friend, fellow traveler, and teammate said it best, "with this many vineyards, no wonder we have a drinking problem in the U.S."  Vineman - my third 70.3  (half-iron distance) experience was a blast.  Since the beginning of 2011,  I have raced over 200-miles in five triathlons, plus another 50+/- during road races.  But this by far was the best experience this year.  Technical, challenging, yet fair and a new PR for me.  I left it all out there (throughout the Sonoma region of Northern CA) and had an amazing swim and bike (thanks to the swim lessons and new race wheels), but had issues on the run.  Goes to show you that you need to keep up training for all three disciplines and not slack on one of them as your weakness will be exposed in the end.

Warning Label:  For those new readers to my race reports, do not expect a straight forward accounting of the race.  This is more like a tale of a triathlon from my viewpoint.  It can be long in places, so if you're not ready for the journey, close your browser now.  

Travel Days...
I flew to San Francisco on Thursday morning (partially to get to the Valley to see old work friends from Orrick (great seeing you Melissa and Ann, sorry Frank, Ashley and others could not join us), but also to be on the ground to troubleshoot a client event (thanks Ashley and Lee for managing this one for me) taking place in NYC and NJ.  Randi Gordon (another friend and teammate) joined me later that day and finally Anne arrived after a delayed and diverted flight.  Friday, we did some quick sightseeing in San Francisco, had a great breakfast and a shopping spree in Ghiradelli's Square, picked up a borrowed Bike Rack from Allison Caccoma and Alan Shanken and headed up to Windsor, CA to prepare for our race.  

Anne, Randi and I decided to use a bike travel service and send out bikes ahead of time, so we did not have the stress of flying out with, and transporting three bikes with us.  We get to the Hampton Inn  (cannot say enough good things about this hotel), go to the river for a trial swim (I also did a quick 25-min run to get the legs moving), drove the bike course (more on that later), checked in with Tara Rasch, a friend also competing, who flew out on my flight with her mother) and settled in for the night after a great meal at Johnny Garlic's (see pictures on Facebook).  

Vineman is a point-to-point race - meaning that our swim-bike transition (T1) is located at a different place than our bike-run transition (T2).  This required us to prepare our T2 the day before so that we went straight to the swim start on Sunday morning.  This arrangement also required us to pack all of our stuff in a supplied plastic bag immediately upon exiting the water (the bag had our race number on it) so that they can transport it to the finish line.  So on Saturday, we registered, prepared our T2 spots, picked up our bikes, went for a quick test ride packed for our race, chilled at the hotel before a quick meal, alarms set, wake-up call requested and bed...

Sunday...(Race Morning)
1:30am I hear a buzzing sound...Anne accidentally set her alarm (never trust an amateur) to NY time and not CA time.  Oops...we have at least three more hours to sleep.  4:15am wake-up call comes in.  I get up, get some coffee downstairs (another reason to love the Hampton Inn is that they had breakfast/coffee for all athletes (and spectators) at 4:30am (a rarity for a hotel), hop in the shower and prepare for the day ahead.  5:10am we're in the car with bikes and head to the swim start.  Normally, I like to get to the transition area in plenty of time to rack my bike, set up my gear and do some mental and physical preparation.  Normally, we have a designated area (set aside by actual race #) to set up our bikes & stuff.   However, the Vineman race organizers only had racks set aside by swim wave - it was a first-come/serve situation at the racks.  By the time we found parking and walked to the swim start, I was a bit pressed for time.  It did not help matters that my plastic bag broke on the way to the start, so some of my mental energy was spent trying to solve this issue (turns out the volunteers mend any bag before bringing it to the transition area).  I hear the pros go off (~ 6:45am) which means I have less than 15 mins to get settled and into the water before my wave goes off at 7:02am.  I check everything, pack what I can into the T1 bag, find Randi and wish her luck (I cannot locate Anne and Tara has started her race),  hope for the best and head to the water.

Typically I like to start the swim near the back of the crowd and find open water.  However, Earl Walton (a/k/a the swim god from my prior post) told me that I should actually start near the front, go strong for the first few mins and then get some open water.  Ok Earl, you're the pro at this....The horn (I think it was a horn) sounded, I start my Garmin and start to swim.  Never being near the front means that I never really experienced the washing machine that is a swim start.  Arms, feet,  bodies all collide as we all jockey for position and try and find open water.  I am in the mix of things and keep feeling fellow racers on all sides, in front of me and especially annoying on my feet -- trying to draft off of me (get the hell off).  I find some open water and start swimming.  Russian River is clean, mostly visible, but very shallow.  So shallow that at time you can actually feel the bottom of the river.  I try and stay on course - sighting every few strokes.  Whenever my mind wonders, I go off course...so by focusing on counting strokes and my swim cadence (how often I am taking a stroke), I tend not to do zig-zags.  I see the turn-around buoy and see fellow swimmers walking...seriously?  I turn around the buoy and keep swimming until I am scrapping the bottom of the river.  Ok I stand up (might as well do a quick time check - 19 mins), dive in take a few strokes and repeat until I am able to swim without hitting bottom.  I decide then to pick up speed and just go for it.  I start to pass a bunch of others in my wave (white swim caps) and catch up to a few in prior waves (blue and green caps), when the swim exit appears.  That seemed quick....holy shit it was - 1.2 miles done in 34 mins (a 5 min improvement over Timberman's swim).

I just out of the water and go to T1 only to go right when my bike was racked to the left.  Finally I find my bike, strip off my wetsuit, pack my T1 bag, get on my compression socks, helmet, sunglasses, bike shoes and grab Malibu and take off.  One leg down, two to go...

When we drove the 56-mile bike course on Friday, we noticed a lot of technical turns, a few straight aways, two challenging climbs, but mostly fair rolling hills and beautiful scenery.  We suspected it was going to be an amazing ride and it was. The bike started off with a quick somewhat steep climb from the beach to the road which I decided to walk up (my heart rate would have been too high to start the ride otherwise).  At the top, I hop aboard for what I suspect will be close to a 3.5 hour ride.

The first 5 miles were mostly flat which gave me a chance to test the new wheels.  Immediately I feel the difference and start to pass a bunch of people.  Hey, riding can be fun finally.  At mile 5, there was a quick and very technical down slope and turn, which I made sure to take easily (I am not having a repeat of South Beach ever again) followed by about 12 miles of rolling hills through perhaps the best scenery in triathlons.  As we pass vineyard after vineyard, I keeping remembering what Anne said about the amount of wine produced and am amazed.  On one side of the road we have a vista of mountains and blue sky and on the other fields full of grapes getting ready for harvest.  But I am not here to sight see, but to ride.  At least the next 3+ hours will have a nice view....

I am actually amazed how well I am riding.  Perhaps it's the new wheels, perhaps the amount of work I did on the bike during the pre- and training season is paying off (finally) or perhaps it's a combination of both, but I am rolling along, keeping my HR in check (mid Zone 2), a high cadence and a decent speed.  Despite being passed by the "fast kids" I am actually passing people (a lot of them).  The miles keep going by and while I do need to stretch once and while (staying in an aero position for a while can begin to ache), I am feeling great.  By driving the course before, we knew there were a few "hills" which would require getting into my small ring (easy gear) and scooting up the hills.  Yes, my HR would spike, but that would only be for a short period and I would be able to recover after on a flat or a downhill.  Still having fun riding, watching the landscape, I am being tactical - getting aggressive for quick bursts to pass people, yet doing it in a safe way (safety first).  One thing I focused on was nutrition -- making sure I take in not only enough fluids, but also some solid food and gels -- all to be sure I don't bonk on the run.  On schedule, I take a shot of my EFS gel (tastes like vanilla pudding) every 40-minutes, take liquids as needed and take half of my mojo bar at the mid-way point.

Another warning:  Triathletes speak candidly about bodily fluids, so if you're not comfortable reading about this, skip the next paragraph.  


During Timberman and Nola, while I was drinking enough fluids, I had some slight discomfort as I needed to pee, but was not able to do this on the bike (I did not want to get off the bike, find a porta-potty and try and get back on as my legs may not move again).  While I tried peeing while riding several times during training, I simply was not able to go.  Mile 35 was approaching and as I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the aid station (a few sips and I toss it back to the volunteers), I knew my bladder would not hold for another 20-miles.  I had to figure out how to pee...now.  I focus, relax my bladder and concentrate....success!  Just like being a toddler all over again, learning to pee on the bike is a big thing  and now that I know I can do it, am happy (yes, we triathletes also celebrate the small things).

The last hill on the ride at mile 45 is a bitch.  While not as hard as ones in other races (certainly not as hard as Rev3) or on training rides, it is a steep one covering 3/4 a mile.  Time for the small chain ring again.  Time to hunker down, focus on strong, quick pedal strokes and not to get my HR too high.  The crowd on this hill is great - they cheer us on step by step as we go up...and up...and up.  I crest the hill and know that with single digits left, the end of the bike leg is near.  Miles 46-54 are a blur.  A few more rollers, a few more competitors passed...Mile 55, I start to get my foot out of my bike shoe and lay it on top of the pedal...I see the crowd cheering as others are on the run course.  Time check.  Approx. 3:09 on the bike (excellent, this is a +20 min improvement from Timberman and + 10 from Nola) with a total time of under 4 hours (unless something horrible happens, I am going to have an excellent day).  I dismount and run to my T2 spot.  What the hell.  Some ass parked their bike in my spot.  I move his bike over so I can park Malibu, grab my sneakers, CAF visor (always do a race with something CAF related), a sip of water and head out for the next 13.1 mile leg; but first another bathroom stop.

Out of T2 and onto the run, I am in pain, but not incredible pain.  It started to get hot as it's closing in on mid-day.  The game plan for this leg was to keep a moderate pace for the first few miles to get my running legs back and then do whatever I can after.  I do best when I follow a run/walk pattern to make sure my HR doesn't go off the charts, yet I am not shuffling.  So I run walk, run walk.  A teammate who did this race in prior years told me the run was like the West Side Rollers in Central Park.  Well from my view point, they were just that, but on acid.  My hamstring and quad start to ache, so decide to walk up the hills (a strained hamstring after Ragnar was incredibly painful).  Up the hills...running at a good clip (probably a 8-min mile) when I can followed by a 15-min pace walk.  I am definitely feeling my training - or lack thereof - now (focusing on the swim and ride paid off, but now am in trouble).  I am focused...mile by mile I go.  Mile 4 was a climb and as a crew of volunteers cheer us to run up the hill, I say "screw that" (PG version of what I actually said)  and walk up.  Cresting the hill, I start running into La Crema Vineyards ( a race sponsor) into their orchards (if that's what the grapes are called) on a dirt path (the course changed this year...in prior years they ran around some fountain), which is a nice relief and pick off a few fellow racers.  As much as I wanted to grab the grapes directly from the vines,  a nice bottle of chilled vino would be in my hands soon enough.

I hit the mid-way point (6.65 miles) and know I am on the way home.  Mile by mile I go.  I start to get hungry but keeping hydrated is more important as the sun is at high noon by now.  At around mile 8 I pass Randi and then see Anne on that killer hill (she is training for her first IM in Canada and is following her coaches orders to run a certain HR).  Miles 9, 10 go by as I keep running and walking...passing people and getting passed.  At mile 11, I feel  pebble (must have picked this up in T1) in my shoe which I know was there for the past 10, but is now at my toe.  I need to get it out.  I walk to the side of the road, pull off my shoe, sock and dump the stone onto the ground.  Back to running.  Up the last few hills.  I am not having a great run, but not a horrible one either.  I get into what my friend Rob Gibbons calls the dark place and focus.  2 miles to go...1.5 mile to go...1 mile to go.  I turn onto the last stretch.  Home is a few mins away. I walk for a few seconds (breaking my cardinal rule) to lower my HR a few beats.  Ok, ready.  Let's roll. Into the finish line chute, meters to go...I pass someone (sorry guy), hear the announcer call out my name and for hit the finish line.

Time check:  6:09!  Amazing.  A new PR.  + 30 mins from Timberman and prob +12 mins from Nola (if we had had the swim, I projected a time of 6:21).

Vineman does a great thing by holding a finish line tape for every competitors.  After all, we are all winners for completing this thing.  Stretch, get a quick bite, and make my way to the start of the finish-line chute to cheer on fellow competitors and wait for Randi and Anne with Tara and her mom Sandy.

By 2:15pm we are all home...all have hit PRs (Tara did her 19th half Ironman - amazing) and time to celebrate and drink some vino.  More on that later.