Denmark is not flat. Ironman Copenhagen Report

On paper, Ironman (“IM”) Copenhagen was my ideal race for my second IM; cold lagoon swim, rolling hills and a mostly false flat run.  In the months leading up to the race Earl (Walton) prepared me for dealing with every possible scenario so I’d be certain to have a good day. I was calm, confident and ready to execute the plan.  We all know that sometimes paper does not live up to reality, and while I had a great race in many respects, it wasn’t my day after all. However, I  can definitely chalk this one up to a strong mind and will over a failing body.  So here is my take on KMD IM Copenhagen.  

To those wanting the A-D-D version, as in my previous reports:  sorry, it isn’t happening.  Guess you will need to read on if you want to know all about my 180k journey from Amager Strandpark Beach to The Castle in downtown Copenhagen.  But I will summarize some of the pre-race stuff (shorten, not spare).

Pre-Race:  A Mermaid, Some Bike…and many, many bikes

If Copenhagen is not called the land of bikes, it should be.  Marybeth “MB” Moore (racing her first IM) and I arrived a few days early to acclimate to the time change, climate and surroundings.  Getting from the hotel to the airport was a breeze, but unfortunately our room was not ready so we opted for some sightseeing.  Making the mistake of taking a cab downtown, we got suckered into a cab downtown ($30 in Danish KR), then walked around the city to get a feel for the streets. We tried to figure out where T2 was (the race was point-to-point), where we would be running, and, of course, the finish line. 

Bikes, Bikes everywhere

Many people told me that Copenhagen was the “land of bikes” but I have never seen such a bike friendly city.  Not only were there more bikes than cars, there were bike lanes everywhere — and both people and cars yielded to bikes.  Bike is obviously the preferred form of transportation and people simply bike to their destination, leave their bikes in one of many racks (unlocked) and fetch when heading out.  Not that these were carbon fiber bikes with power meters, Di2s, etc., but It was amazing. 

Not having slept on the flight, we were beat and took the Metro back to the hotel (very easy) and crashed.  After a quick nap, we re-assembled our bikes (easy thanks partially to the new bike case I got and a lesson from Mike Sherry on how not to screw it up again like I did in Mallorca) and I took Malibu Too out for a spin while MB did a shakeout run.  

Yes they were good!

The next few days (Wed, Thurs and Fri) were a mix of some sightseeing (more bikes), testing the waters literally, shakeout rides/runs, and pre-race mania (registration, packing bike and run clothing, etc.).  We also were very careful not to overindulge on Danish treats (well maybe except for one day when we stumbled upon a place called the Donut Shop (see photo above; yes that’s real).  Mom and Ruth arrived on Friday, along with one of Mom’s oldest friends,  Gloria (whom I had not seen in at least 15 years); together these three were my race posse.

The Main Event:  Race Day

It has been nearly 8 years since my first race and 2 years since IM CdA.  While not a pro by any stretch, I am what Earl calls a “veteran” who knows the drill and really does not freak out before the cannon goes off (even during an IM).  

Race morning was pretty calm. MB went down for breakfast in the hotel while I opted to eat what I packed and was approved by Nicci Schock’s (Elevate by Nicci) metabolic efficiency plan. (For those who don’t know, I followed a metabolic efficient plan this year and it really helped with energy, weight loss, and overall race nutrition.)  We got to swim start and went our separate ways (MB and I would not be reunited until post-race). Making sure Malibu Too was ready, I knew where my clothing bag was, placed post-race clothing in the drop-off area and started to prepare myself mentally. 

IM Copenhagen uses mixed-sex age group seeding (at least this year), but the old folks (me) started at 7:50 as opposed to MB (7:10) and the elite sub-10-hour folks (7:05).  A but unfair in my book as instead of having a full 16 hours to complete the race, I only had 15:10.  

I did not see the posse before the swim start, but since they were situated in VIP (thanks to John Duke at WTC), I did not worry about them.

Swim:  Acting like Shakira

Earl and I discussed not wearing a watch at all (except during the run) as I did not want to get stuck on time; after all, breaking the finish line tape or landing a Kona spot was not in my game plan.  I seeded myself in the second row of my age group (again men and women together; which is unusual), knowing that my swim is solid but a sub-1-hour was not going o happen (figure let the faster kids duke it out in the beginning).  My swim is usually stronger in colder water and doing a few practice swims earlier in the week, I opted for a sleeveless wet suit;—a good decision for me, but it made me stand out among a sea of those in full sleeves and even some in neoprene caps. 

7:50 AM…let the games begin.  The gun fires and we jump into the water.  The one-loop, 2.4 mile (3.8k) swim course took us under three bridges on the way out and four on the way back to shore.  Didn’t understand why exactly, but “Happy” by Pharrell popped into my head. This would become my mantra for most of the race, while repeating “hips” and “glide” (key words to focus on and help me stay streamlined during the swim). Between Pharrell and finding bubbles (from others) to help with sighting, I started to pass people early on.  And due to the windy conditions (and hence waves), I found myself sighting out of the water, both to stay on course and to find a new group to draft off of.  Feeling relaxed, I kept singing and speaking to myself,  trying not to swallow too much brackish water (would give myself a 50% success rate on that).  

Midway through the swim, I started to pass even people in the 7:40am wave…and then 7:30am wave, thinking these were the stragglers or those who were going to swim 2:00.  I  thought nothing of my position or overall time and continued to swim, sing, and focus on my stroke.  Without even realizing it, I was at the final turnaround and heading back home and hearing the roar of the crowds  cheering from the bridges above us.  

Sighting off the VIP tent and the swim exit arch, I passed even more folks in the earlier waves and hooked onto a group of red caps (my color) and swam to shore.  Suddenly I got caught up between two slower swimmers and could not push through them despite several attempts.  Breaking free, I got kicked pretty hard in the head; enough to make me check that I wasn’t bleeding or anything.  Good to go, I get back into a rhythm and swim to shore.  At the exit, without a clue as to my time, I grab the hand of a volunteer to help stabilize me on the exit ramp and trot over the timing mat…onto T1.

I grabbed my bike bag from the hook. (For those unfamiliar with Ironman/Long Course, you do not have a transition area for keeping your shoes, shorts, helmet et al.  Everything you need for the bike and also for the run is placed in a bag and left at T1 the day before the race.)  I then trotted into the changing tent.  Unlike IM CdA, there are no volunteers around to help you.  So I got out of the wet suit, tried to dry off quickly and put on my bib shorts and top as fast as possible, and then re-packed everything.  Holding on my helmet, shoes in my hand, I head for the exit only to be stopped by a volunteer who says I cannot leave until the helmet and shoes are on my body. (Vow for 2016 racing:  learn how to get onto the bike with shoes already clipped in.)  Once everything is on me and bag is re-tied I trot to the bin, drop bag, and head to Malibu Too.

And now for the Wind…for 180K

The weather leading up to the race called for winds, but coming from the southeast which would have created a strong tailwind and made the course that much faster.  But alas, the wind shifted in the days leading up to race day, and by Sunday it was now coming from the north and creating headwinds as fast as 20 MPH (yes, not great).  This little wrinkle changed my ideal bike course into a challenge, as wind sucks me dry. (At least it wasn’t hot and windy like it was in Puerto Rico, NoLa, and even Mallorca.)  The northeast winds made the course feel like a climb instead of rollers.  You can never predict what’s going to happen in an Ironman, so I just needed to roll with the punches…and get punched a lot over and over again.  

Getting onto the bike and out of T1 was pretty cool as we started out riding over one  of the bridges we had swum under. The area was filled with cheering spectators, and that boost helped to get me started on the journey.  The first 15k of the bike was pretty technical as we headed out of the city and into the countryside.  While my biking has improved this past year, I have no plans to join the “tour” anytime soon.  I set my Garmin to show cadence (~ 85),  power (b/w 145-150 with a max at 180 only as needed), heart rate (~ 150) and total distance (one mile at a time) to focus on my numbers and not get bogged down in overall time.  

Earl had specifically told me not to drink anything for at least ten minutes, and my nutrition plan had my first dose of UCann at :45 mins into the ride.  Without a clock to go by, I was estimating the overall time by mile splits (we opted not to change the system from miles to Ks to keep with my training) and ate/drank accordingly. 

The bike course is spectacular, with two loops around the coast, farmland, small villages, and a highway section (where the famed Geels Bakke is located) before heading back into the city.  It had a mix of paved roads which were in pretty good condition as well as cobblestones, which were a little nerve-wracking; I hoped that my tires would hold up.  The course was well marked and well supported with plenty of aid stations and small groups of spectators cheering us along.  

Once we hit the coast, the winds picked up even more and I did my best to tuck in (staying aero) and keep my numbers.  Despite being only about ~20k, this section felt like the longest as the winds were relentless.  I pedaled on and started to sing “Happy” again (still not sure why this song was in my head, but whatever it takes to get through 112 miles).  Finally, after making a left, we headed into the farmland, which indeed felt like 9W. (For those not in the NYC/NJ area this is basically where we train.  Since I had done my 100-miler as well as my metric IM training on this stretch, the rolling hills were not too bad.) I was still waiting for the promised fast, flat areas of the course, with the wind dying out a tad (maybe to 8-10 MPH).  Winding our way past beautiful turn-of-the-century homes with amazing vistas, I just wanted to jump off the bike and take pictures. But no camera meant I  had to continue to pedal.  

I assumed that I had had a decent swim as I was passed by a handful of people who looked “younger” than me.  However, being in one of the last waves still meant that there were few fellow competitors in my “section,” and many passed me as I continued to struggle through the wind. Once past the farmland area, we made a left onto a stretch of highway (closed to traffic) which, you guessed it, brought some more wind.  This was probably one of the most boring areas of the course, but I knew that Geels Bakke was approaching. 

I had heard different things about this climb — one person said that it was short but steep, one that said it wasn’t too bad, and others said it was nothing.  The pictures from prior years made me think it was going to be a nightmare.  To get to the climb, we faced other hills which were hard (maybe because of the wind) so when I finally saw the famous one I braced myself for some pain.  

Over my triathlon “career” I have never seen a crowd like the one that was at this area.  Both sides of the road were lined with spectators, and everyone was offering a cheer or a high five (for which I gladly obliged).  Perhaps it was the crowd support or the fact that I rode many steep hills during my training, but the incline never felt that tough and was over before I remembered.  

This section is where we had the opportunity to grab our special needs bag which I did.  It was also where I suggested that the posse situate themselves—both to see them and in case I needed anything. (The race allows spectators to hand racers items in a specific spot on the hill.) However, I could not find them. (I later heard that the directions in the official spectator guide were wrong and they got lost) Oh well. I exchanged my nutrition bottle, took a swig of Coca-Cola, stretched out a bit and jumped back on the bike for lap two.  Immediately after the climb, we had to ride through about 5 blocks of pure cobblestones. Never having biked over these before, I was unsure how to handle them so got onto an easier gear and just braced myself for some bumps.  Approaching another turnaround, I caught sign that slits the race either back to T2 (right) or onto lap (left) two; onward I go. 

Lap two brought more of the same, especially the wind, but this time the field of bikers was thinner than before with only a handful of us still on the course (or so I thought).  Passing a few people who looked like they pushed too hard on the first loop gave me some relief as I knew I would not be the last one into T2.  While I wish I could say the second loop was easier, it was not as my back started to twitch and I could not stay in area for long periods of time. 

Side note: Earlier in the year my L2 and L3 (in my lower back) slipped a little creating a huge issue for training and basically everyday life.  As a result, I worked with a neurologist (who told me  it wasn’t a good idea to run at all), a chiropractor (David Williams, the best) who gave me exercises to strengthen my back, and a physical therapist (Andy Feneck) to help with mobility.  Andy is the person I credit with keeping me injury free this year.  

The wind did not wane either — despite forecasts that said the wind would shift directions around this time.  I nearly screamed “uncle” to the wind — as if that would actually do something.  This is around the time when  the war between my mind and my body started — something that would continue at the latter stages of the run.  

Despite a few dark moments of self-doubt, I pushed on through the winds and back onto the farmland, the highway and Geels Bakke (again).  However by this time the crowds were thinner, as the bulk of the racers had passed and were likely on the run.  However, I finally saw Mom and Gloria on the side of the road waiting for me to pass.  I quickly pulled over to give them a status report and hope to hand them my wind vest.  When I tried to hand it to the, an official said I could not or I would be DQd — oh well.  I had ~ 20k to go.  I could deal with it for that long.  Back to the cobblestones for more bumps; finally I can make the right towards T2.  

Heading back to the city with more wind; still no relief.  Counting down the miles (or Ks) , there was Pharrell again to help me focus, get into aero and push on as I started to pass a few more folks also finishing the bike. Through the streets of Copenhagen, I finally caught sight of people on the run course; they did not look happy.  Giving up was not an option as despite my discomfort, everyone was in the same boat as I was; this was an Ironman after all.  The last few blocks came quickly, and I finally saw the sign for bike dismount. Relief.  I handed Malibu Too over to a nice volunteer, I trotted to my run bag and headed into the changing tent—a co-ed one (when in the Nordic region, I guess that’s how it’s done).  

To the right of the mass changing area (which was more crowded than I expected given the time of the day) was a small area for men and one for women where we could change clothing.  Getting into the tent, I stretched for a few minutes, got out of my cycling clothing, changed into a tri top, shorts, my CAF hat (I always race with something that says CAF and was fundraising for the organization) and headed out for the 26.2 miles (or 42k run).

Running in the Wind - can’t  guy get a break already!

My run plan called for a 5 min walk, followed by a 5 min run and 1 min walk plan.  Sticking to my plan, I smiled as people urged me to run…run…run.  After the first 5 minutes, I obliged the crowd and started to run; not too fast, but not too slow.  

The run consisted of a four ~ 8k loops, taking us from near the finish line to a pedestrian bridge near the water, back though the streets of Copenhagen, past the Little Mermaid statute, through a park, out to a pier where we collected a colored bracelet for every completed lap (four in total) and back to the finish area.  The roads had every imaginable surface, from asphalt, to wood, to cobblestones, to cement.  It was an excellent test of one’s ability to handle a variety of surfaces and keep focused.  The course was well marked (in the daylight), with tons of people lining up at a variety of “hot spots.”   The hype of the crowds lived up to expectations which totally motivated me to keep on running (during the five minute sections of course).  

The first lap went smoothly and I passed some familiar faces from TriLife along the sidelines cheering their ~10 teammates competing as well.  While I did not catch sight of MB on the run, she was out there somewhere.  Making my way past the finish line for the start of lap two, I saw the posse, stopped to give them hugs, and made my way back for another loop (~ 17 miles to go).  Making my way back to the Little Mermaid statute and the furthest point of the run, the winds started to pick up again. (Perhaps they never died out and I just started to notice them again.)  

It was now the latter part of the day and the temperature had begun to drop. I started to feel a little uneasy (queasy and definitely off).  Making my way to the pier, I saw Ross, a TriLife coach on the sidelines (guess Earl asked him to look out for me) and went over to him for advice.  He felt my arms and immediately told me I was cold to get something warm on and get some nutrition in me; I checked my pockets and noticed my gels had fallen out—likely on the cobblestones!  Ross handed me a Coke and told me to drink it and get cola at the aid stations to get some simple syrup calories in quickly.  Thanking him, I continued on.  Grabbing the second of four bracelets, I headed back to the start of the third loop but modified my plan to a 3:1.  

Getting counsel from mom before
she gave up her pink windbreaker

Heading to the finish line area, and the start of loop 3, I saw the posse again and told them I was cold.  Not having prepared for the wind, or the chill it created, I did not have an extra layer of clothing. I asked them if I should call it a day (in the back of my head this wasn’t really an option).  Mom said try one more lap and see how I feel; at this time I also asked for her windbreaker; a pink one, to keep me warm.  Better wear a small, pink windbreaker than be freezing.

I wish I could say the pink jacket gave me mighty twin, super powers, but it did not.  The combination of winds from the bike and now relentless headwinds on the run sounded the call of the war between mind and body.  Strategically I picked places where to run (when I could pass someone) and where to walk (when the wind picked up), as  the miles counted down.  Passing Ross again, he asked how I was feeling as he helped to tuck the hood of the jacket in to stop a sail-like effect it was having in the wind. That quick pep talk helped a lot as I made my way to collect bracelet three. 

Heading back to the finish, I was not among the sea of more walkers than runners.  Looking at fellow competitors’ wrists, I was jealous of their four as compared to my three.  Hitting a sign that showed I had ~ 13k to go, I told my body to shove it and forged ahead.  Passing the posse for one last time, I made sure MB was done (they told me yes), looked down at my watch and saw that I had close to 1:45 hours to finish the race.  I could easily do 10k in well under that time, especially if I picked moments to run.  Mom would later tell me that once I finished the third loop, she knew I would finish, regardless of how much pain I was in physically.  

Side note:  The posse was standing in the VIP area which was great viewing for the finish line.  It was also where the laps split.  Approaching the finish area, a guard pointed to the finish line, but alas I shook my head, pointed to the three bracelets and told him I would see him real soon.  

At this point the sun was gone and there were far fewer spectators out.  I started to talk to a few others on the course, some of whom were very friendly as those in the back of the pack tend to be, while others were in their own dark zone and did not want to deal with my chatter.  Every step forward, whether a walk or a few mins of running, was another step to the finish line.  The winds were even stronger now and navigating the streets in the dark was somewhat difficult. (For some odd reason, the race did not put out any extra lights on the course, but as I had done the loop three times before, I generally knew where I was—well mostly.)  Heading past the Little Mermaid for the last time, I entered the park area which was really pitch dark.  The aid stations were packed up, and the only way to really figure out the path was to follow people ahead of me,  The only challenge of doing so was I passed many of them when I was able (and willing) to run.  Finally collecting my last bracelet,  I let myself say that the end is near; a mere 3 miles to the finish line and another IM finish.  

Leaving the park (and the darkness), I again picked times when I could run.  My quads felt as if on fire at times, but my mind was ruling my body at this point. Running on asphalt, walking on the cobblestones and cement, the last three miles went by somewhat quickly — especially as I passed others.  Hitting the last timing mat, I was a mere 1k from the finish and decided to run as much as I could.  Over the last bridge, down the last long stretch, I could see the red and black carpet welcoming me home.  Remembering the pink jacket, I stopped for a second to take it off (no finish line pics with that on), hoping to throw it to Mom before the finish line.  

The finish - finally
(pink jacket in hand)

I made my way around the last bend, and saw the finish line chute.  I gave the announcer (not Mike Reilly) a high five and used whatever I had left in the tank to sprint to the finish line (pink jacket in my hand).  While this was not the race I planned it to be, I found out I notched a PR overall — besting my CdA time by ~ :30 mins — despite the slower than expected run.

After Thoughts

This race took all I had mentally and physically and am proud to once again call myself an Ironman. Congrats to MB on her first IM and to the TriLife crew.  A special thank you to Ross for his help.  

I would never have gotten through IM Copenhagen without the help of many people.  Sorry if this sounds like an acceptance speech, but,

• Earl, Four years, 2 IMs, many coffees and life talks and not letting me quit. I am glad to not only trust him completely as a coach but to call him a friend
• Andy, Nicci, and Dr. Williams (see above)
• Mike Sherry and Bruno Pinto (Bikeriders NYC) for helping Malibu Too stay in shape as we
• The countless training partners at Tailwind Endurance — the Squirrels (Jacquie "Doc" Wolfson and Joyce "Dean" Perley), everyone who kept me company on long ride (especially Maggie O’Brien for the 85 miler and Meg Gardiner for keeping me company on the 100 miler), my bike yoda who helped me focus on cadence Abe Bornstein, and the 5:30am Tailwind crew (Steve “CIA” Dean, Kevin Boova, Christine Hoffmann, Agnes Park, Rosie McGuire, Sarah Couham, Sarah Rupprecht, Salah Tanlay, Matt Bach, Matt Gilotti, and Randi Gordon).  
• Ken and Jocelyn Szekretar, Meg Newcomer, Vic Brumfield and everyone who knew that an early dinner on a Sat night meant the blue-haired special
• My family (blood and otherwise) who were more positive on the IM trek
• The people at Accenture — especially the local market team who knew I was crazy and the my new colleagues at Hogan Lovells who just started to learn how crazy I actually am
• Thank you to everyone who donated to CAF.  Thus far, I have raised over $10k!  

Now to the off season and not thinking about the 2016 season…at least for another two weeks.

After the race, we took a mini vacation to the Nordic region spending a few days in Stockholm and St. Petersburg.  More on those visits coming soon.  In the meanwhile, here are some photos from the three cities:

• Copenhagen

• Stockholm

• St. Petersburg

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.  

Accenture IM California 70.3

This past weekend my company, Accenture, served as the title sponsor of the half Ironman (70.3) in Oceanside, CA.  It was an incredible experience in many ways.  In addition to having 19 employees and clients racing under our "colors" the Challenged Athletes Foundation was the official charity of the race.

While the days were long (I have always maintained supporting a race is longer than doing it), I  also had the cool experience of holding the finish line tape for the men's winner (Andy Potts edging out Jesse Thomas by ~ 10 seconds to claim his 5th win).

The weekend was full of meeting new people, having a great time spectating and cheering on racers, but also supporting many of my CAF friends.  It was a crossroads of work, friends and my triathlon passion.

Check out Facebook for photos from the race.

My biggest journey….An Ironman with a purpose

My biggest journey….An Ironman with a purpose

When I first started doing triathlons in 2007, my focus was finishing with a smile.  Never in my wildest imagination did the idea of an Ironman cross my mind.  I liked doing shorter races (sprint and Olympic distances) …then did some half iron distances and enjoyed it.  I was challenged, and satisfied.  Triathlons offered me a new network of friends,  helped me to become a certified triathlon coach and presented me an opportunity to become very active with the Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF).  Why in the world would I want/need to put myself though 10-months of training? An Ironman was for real triathletes…for strong, skinny people…for people who were basically not me.  But things change.

Life throws you curve balls.  My curve ball came in August 2011 when my father passed away somewhat suddenly.  In truth, my world was shaken – not knowing what side was up and what was down.  Besides my family, the only thing that kept me grounded was my training.  Many of my father’s friends told me how proud he was of my athletic accomplishments.  I was never into high school or collegiate sports, so the idea of my father calling me a “jock” (his words) was pretty funny to me.  Hearing how much my father admired my racing “career” pushed me to make the decision to push myself further and harder than even I could imagine. Now, close to six years after I first crossed my first triathlon finish line, on June 23, 2013, I will be participating in an Ironman. 

I am participating to honor my father and to give back to others.   I have a great coach and a solid support network (many who are making the trip to Coeur d’Alene Idaho with me).  And I am trying to raise $10,000 for CAF and continue to support athletes with a physical disability – especially those wounded while in uniform -- pursue active lifestyles through physical fitness.’

I am asking for your support in making my Ironman even more significant by helping challenged athletes achieve their goals.  Your financial support will go a long way in changing someone’s life.

Please click here to make a donation.  While any amount is appreciated, you can also “sponsor” a portion of my race which corresponds to part of the Ironman course.  For example, your donation can be $112 (miles on the bike), $26.2 (miles I will need to run), $140.6 (entire distance in miles of the race), $1,020 (the total time, in minutes, I have to complete the race – that is 17 hours for those doing quick math) or any increment thereof. 

Visit the blog which will be updated during certain milestones between now and race day.

Thanks in advance for your support.  

Summer Months - all leading up to the big race...

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.

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.