A Double in Quassy - Say What?

A few weeks ago, August 23, 2015 seemed so far away.  That is until opening my Training Peaks account this week and the number 9 was staring at me.  How in the heck did we get to a single-digit countdown?   So here it is...the last nine weeks before Ironman Copenhagen. It's on!

As Mallorca 70.3 was a test for traveling overseas and the new bike (a few hiccups; see prior post), I selected Challenge Quassy as a big volume weekend on a course that has always kicked my ass.  Challenge Quassy, in Middleburry, CT (look on a map) is a mini mecca for triathletes from around the area.  Annually a large number of athletes come for a serving of the difficult Olympic (OLY) course or the well, humbling half iron course.  And there are a few insane people who opt for both courses; I was only partially insane by trying the OLY and the Aqua-Bike (swim and bike only) on the half course.  The race starts and ends in an amusement park which is kinda fun in its own way.   It also served as the USAT Regional Age Group Championship which meant that I had double duty as chair of the Region; racer and "worker" at our tent and during the awards ceremony.   Cutting to the chase, I was sucker-punched and spit out over that June weekend.  But with all good tales, I am here to tell it...  In summary

* OLY Race:  Decent swim, solid bike, and I actually ran the run.  All in, a solid day with a PR on the course (if you insist on my time, look it up)

* Half Race:  decent swim, a little off and blinded by the sun.  Aborted bike mid-way through.  Not fully recovered from day before.  

The OLY Course - Saturday
Thecourse was pretty much as I remembered it to be.  Hilly.  Even the swim.  I lined up to the far right of my age group (the semi-old guys) and dove into the water.  My goal was to try and find feet (of another competitor) and follow bubbles so not to have to sight.  As I glided through the water and focused on turning the hips, catching bubbles, I felt smooth...and pretty fast...until the turn when I started to swim directly into the rising morning sun....She looked, I blinked and went off course.  Luckily I noticed this quickly and start to breathe to my left (those who breathe on their right side, like me, have a harder time seeing anything when looking into the sun).  Back on course, I started to pass people in the two waves ahead of me.  Back to shore in a solid time.  Out of the water and onto the bike.

Every time I ride this course, whether in a race or training camp, I forget how hard, but amazing, it really is.  The roads dish up everything from short climbs (many of them), to fast downhills and flats, to very challenging climbs which some people walk up.  Within the first 10 mins or so, I cam across my friend Haggai (a few waves before me) and pulled up close, but not in the drafting zone, so that we could chat.  Haggai played cat/mouse, him passing me at times to say something, me coming back and chatting some more.  The 8 or so miles Haggai and I rode together was one of the highlights of the day.  However, after a bit, I needed to say adieu and rode off (saying catching you on the run as I it the hills).  The race is situated smack in the middle of Litchfield County, CT,  Known for its well hills.  While I love this course and after 3-4 times riding it (either in races or training camps), know when to push and when I can ease back., it simply is an ass kicker.  There are several steep climbs and some fast downhills where you can get up to speeds greater than 45 MPH.  The only issue I had while riding was the terrible conditions the roads were in from the winter.  Choppy, broken up and at times teeth chattering made the ride a tad slower than it should have been.   Heading back to the amusement park, I felt good and was ready to run.

Like the ride, the run also takes you around the neighborhood hills.  Immediately the run didn't feel great and I just could not get a rhythm going.  Earl was standing on the top of a downhill (the place he likes to perch himself as we'll be back in a few miles heading the opposite direction) and said nice job (on the bike), now run.  I nod and think to myself, I wish.  Down the hill I go hoping the legs move.  The heat isn't too bad, but my heart rate is higher than I want it to be.  Chugging along, I hit the first hill and opt to run walk it; running more than walking and passing a few folks.  Another quick flat until the biggest hill of the day.  Yup, walking this one too; why waste energy when I can walk faster than trying to run it.  At around mile 3 my legs finally felt like they were coming to life and my run speed started to pick-up.  Zooming and passing people, I felt good...until I didn't;  at about mile 5, I felt a bit off and hit to porta john hoping a quick relief would spell relief. Onward...The downhill at the beginning was now an uphill with Earl once again perched at the top trying to motivate us to the top.  Up and over and onto the finish.  Done, I then rooted the rest of the Tailwind Endurance crew to the finish line.  

The rest of the day, I spent with my USAT Chair duties working our booth and handing out awards to the age-groups.  In hindsight, this probably wasn't the smartest move as I was on my feet and not resting for the next day.  Oh well.

Sunday:  Half Aqua Bike
I believe on omens and should have sensed something was looming when I went to the car at 5:15am and immediately dropped my one nutrition bottle.  Gone.  I started to call teammates to see if anyone had extra; finally Earl to the rescue once again.  

The swim (1.2 miles) has me start with other Aqua-bikers, a few of the women and another group (a lot of people).  It started like the day before with me picking off people and following feet and bubbles.  When we made the turn and headed into the sun, I veered off course even more than the day before.  Once I saw how off I was, I pushed hard to get back onto the buoy line and find more feet and bubbles.  Back to shore in a decent, but not a PR time.  Time to get onto the bike. 

Getting out of my full-sleeve wetsuit (I wore my sleeveless the day before) was harder than the day before (normally, I don't wear a watch when using a full-sleeve suit as I cannot get the suit over the watch).  Finally getting the sucker off, I jump onto the bike and go.  Earl told me to top my power out at 165 (175 on hills) and use the course as a training day (knowing that I didn't have to run the half marathon when I got off).  The half course mirrors the OLY one, but we have an added 25-miles with, you guessed it, hills including one seven-mile climb which isn't steep, but just long.  As my wave started near the back (but not the very back), the field wasn't that crowded, but I started to pick off people who did not know how to manage the course.  Following my mantra of saying thank you to every volunteer - especially the cops -- I kept on chugging along.  

Turning the corner, the seven-mile climb appears.  Ready....the miles start to tick off, and am feeling ok, but not great.  Half way through the climb, start to cramp.  Not in my legs (which I would expect), this one concerned me as it started in my lower back and started to creep into my midsection and arm.  Pulling to the side of the road, I try stretching to shake out the cramp.  Feeling ok, I hop back on and started to climb some more.  3/4 of the way up, the cramp is not going away.  I see the top and the first aid station and pull to the side.  

Decision time.  Should I push through this?  Can I make it through the next section of 24-hilly miles?  This is when the "smart" and "logical"  Justin takes over from the "stubborn" me.  After speaking with the doctor at the aid station who advised not to continue (suggesting that I am not recovered enough from the day before), the smart Justin opts to call it a day.  I head over to the aid station captain, tell her my decision and ask to call a SAG wagon to bring me back to the start.  Along the way, I borrow a phone and email Earl with my decision.  


At the end of the weekend, I swam 2.1 miles, biked 52 miles and ran 6.2.  Not that bad.  

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.  

The Amazing Non-Race. A Trek Up Kilimanjaro

Before the start of the tale (and yes it’s going to be a long one, but as usual a cliff notes version before the long one), you need to understand the cast (in alpha order); nicknames will be explained later (an incentive to read the full entry)

• Victoria Brumfield (a/k/a Torrie, Kili,)
• Randi Gordon (El Torro)
• Justin (me a/k/a J-Mo)
• Maggie O’Brien (Magpie)
• Micha Ophir (Soldier)
• Jacquie Wolfson (Doc)
• …our fearless guides, Mussa, Deglan and John and about 27 other porters, chefs, and a bathroom attendant.  

And some Swahili expressions and words used throughout the climb…To understand more, read the entire entry (sorry, no short-cuts)

• Pole Pole - meaning slowly (a key expression used a lot)
• Jambo - Means hi in a more formal way
• Mambo - equivalent of  “yo” or “whass-up”
• Assanti - Thank you
• Wash-Wash - something they give you to wash up
• The Blue Tent of Happiness - or portable toilet (yes it was blue and amazing)

Cliff Notes...

Now, it is no secret I am no camping fan.  This trip was stretching me way outside my comfort zone as it required 6 days and 5 nights of camping, no shower for 5 days, sleeping on the earth, wearing the same clothing multiple times (basically being filthy and smelly), and living w/o my creature comforts (books, cell phone, Internet, etc.). 

At the end of the day, I survived — smelled but survived.  Before the trip, I was diagnosed with a slipped disc in my L4/5 and 3/4 vertebrates and wasn't actually cleared to travel until a week prior to the trip.  While I did not make it to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro (I made it to 5k Meters of elevation before succumbing to altitude sickness), I pushed past the pain and did what I could on that given day.  No regrets and cherished the experience…and the shower after.

And now for those wanting the blow-by-blow, here is my version of the trek to Kilimanjaro.

Prologue: The Trek just to Get to Kili

We left NYC on a mild Friday evening for the start of the epic journey.  An uneventful flight from NYC to Amsterdam brought us to a 3-hour layover and the chance to catch some sleep for an hour or so, eat what is served on the plane and repeat.  The 8+ hour flight from Amsterdam to Kilimanjaro felt more like 24-hours, perhaps because none of us had a proper night sleep since Thursday.  In b/w we had discussions on when to take the altitude sickness medication (Maggie and I chose to take it, others did not), several walks around Amsterdam airport, a few security checks, and countless bad movies.  Finally around 10pm we arrived in Kilimanjaro. First the payment window, then the photograph window (where you get your actual visa) and finally time to get fingerprinted (no clue why).  got our visas (one line) and went through immigration (two more lines).  Note to anyone traveling to Tanzania, get your visas ahead of time and save the 45-min wait.    

With Visas in hand and luggage collected (phew all bags arrived), we rode nearly two hours to the “resort” (loose terms).  Upon arrival, we were greeted, assigned rooms, and told to eat dinner (it was approaching midnight by now).  Post dinner (Africa time puts Island time to shame), we all called it a night — 1:00am Sunday morning, after leaving NYC at 5:50pm on Friday.  

On Sunday, we organized our stuff, and did a quick tour of some local “attractions” in the village including the waterfalls, a local coffee and banana farm, and a cave before packing and repacking our day bags (the ones we carry ourselves) and our regular bags (the ones the porters are carrying for us).  During our orientation for the trek, we learned we’ll have a total of 30 guides with us including a head guide, two assistant guides, a cook, and about 27 other guides who will do everything for us from setting up our camp site before we arrive, to carrying a flushing toilet up the mountain (this became known as the blue tented mecca).  All of us rented supplies from the touring company (including sleeping bags, a heavyweight parka, walking sticks, a thin foam “mattress” and Oxygen tanks [we had to carry the sleeping bags, poles, and coat each day and was including into the 15k weight limit).  We also leaned the route, approx. time per day we’ll be walking, and the gain (or eventual loss) we’ll climb each day.  The longest day, summit day, will occur on day 5 (of 6) when we lave base camp at midnight, summit at day-break, and continue down the mountain for a total of about 13-15 hours (about the time of an Ironman).  

The Climb…Rongai Route from 2,000K to 5,686K meters above sea level.  

Day 1:  Mon, December 29th - Park Gate to Simba Camp (+750 Meters )

We left the “resort” at 8:30am and traveled 1.5 hours to the start of our climb.  Prior to leaving, we each had to weigh our luggage (which the porters would be carrying up for us everyday along w our tents, a kitchen, a bathroom [the blue tent), a mess-tent and their own sleeping quarters) to ensure it was not over the max weight of 15k (or ~ 33 lb.). Anything over 15k we would need to carry in our day packs (including water, change of clothing, snacks, etc.) .  Upon arrival at the Gate, we met our Head Gide Mussa, our assistant guides Deglan and John as well as our chief Robert before starting out on the journey.  

The first hour or so was exciting.  While we started to walk uphill, we were fresh, were at lower altitude, were enjoying the scenery, and did’t smell.  All of us were chatting about the adventure, taking some photos of the local scenery (it wasn’t too warm even though we were in the rain forest), getting to know John (who started us out).  I even named my sun hat “Gilligan” (it looked like the one from Gilligan’s Island) which was a constant staple on my head (that or a bandanna which I called “badass” — ‘cause I felt like one when wearing it).  We broke for a boxed lunch consisting of a bread a butter sandwich, carrots, a banana, and a candy bar(immediately I knew my metabolically efficient diet was out the window for the next few days). Making the newbie mistake, I over packed my day bag with 4.5 liters of water, a first aid kit, a book (why I thought I would have time to read is beyond me).  Luckily, Maggie, Jacquie and Micha offered to help lighten my load and took some things off of me.   The vegetation around us was spectacular — almost to the extent you forgot you were on a mountain. Green plush plants, flowers, and trees were everywhere.  Unfortunately we did not catch a glimpse of any wildlife (I was hoping for a monkey spotting) during our trek.  

After lunch, we started to climb again and were met with a sudden downpour (yes this was expected) and we all put on our wet pants (on top of our clothing), ponchos, gators (for those who had them) and continued to climb. To pass some time, we told each other stories about our childhood, I confessed my fear of birds, and joked a lot.  This was going to be a fun trip if we laughed as much as we did the first day.

Throughout the first leg, John made sure we were going “poli-poli” which felt weird, but he knew best.  There were times when we got tired, had to shed clothing (not the rain pants, jackets, ponchos, etc.) as we trudged through the wet conditions.  

We made it to Simba Camp in about 3:45 hours (average time), climbing about 750 meters and immediately went on another acclamation hike of about 30 mins.  After that we settled into our tents (I was with Randi, Maggie and Jacquie were paired as well as Vic and Micha), were introduced to our first “wash wash” had our first taste of dinner on the climb and crashed by 8:00pm (it was not like there was any TV on to veg out in front of).  Each of us was also assigned an attendant to help us during our trip (Ellie was assigned to me).  He was a great guy, but didn’t speak much (I do not know if he even knew any English).  My first night in the tent wasn’t that bad and fell asleep.  

A little about the meals.  Robert was an excellent chef no doubt and did amazing things given the conditions.  Breakfast daily was some type of oatmeal, lunches were some type of stew, and each dinner started off with a vegetable soup (we all had our fair share of cauliflower soup by the end of the trip) and lots (and I mean lots) of carbs (potatoes, rice and even pasta once (but don’t ask Jacquie about the e-bollanese sauce she had one night). 

Day 2, Tuesday, December 30th: Simba Camp to Kukelelwa Cave and Kevin’s appearance. (+900 Meters )

We were woken up  at 6:30am and offered a “wash wash” and coffee (or tea) and were told to be in the mess-tent by 7:00am all packed up (meaning our day and luggage was all packed up) so we can get into the road by 8:00am.

This was billed as a long day  — meaning 8 hours of climbing gaining 900M of altitude — with a break for lunch after 4 hours and another 4 hours after that.  The weather started to get colder, and while I had a base layer, a sweater and a windbreaker on, I still did not wear long johns.  

I have to say this was by far the most enjoyable day for me.  While the trek was tough taking us over steep terrain, rocks, and a few pauses to catch our breath, we had a blast singing, laughing and making up nicknames.  Micah started to tell us about the Israeli army (first McGuyver was his name and then we settled on Soldier (but when together, Vic and Micha were known as the “Michas” like the Ropers in Three’s Company...alas J-Mo, MagPie and Doc stuck w/me, Maggie and Jacquie…Randi’s name did not emerge until Day 4).  We also started to call ourselves Kili (Vic as lead singer) and the Monjaros because of our bad, but enthusiastic singing and we sang a lot that day.  As the air thinned, we could hardly remember full songs or even verses so decided our group does jams of hit songs, snippets or just one liners.  I do not know if Deglan (who was leading our group this day) knew what to make of us, but think he even started to laugh near the end.  

As mentioned, I have an irrational fear and dislike of birds.  Call this having pigeons crap on me, having a seagull nearly attack me while on vacation last year, or just the fact that their beaks look like they can do serious damage; I just don’t like them very much.  At one point, Micha saw a very large looking creature (I have no idea what type of bird it was), pointed it out to me and said, hey look Kevin is following you.  Well, Kevin stuck and overtime we saw a bird soaring over us, someone said, '“hey Kevin is here.” Funny enough Kevin did actually follow us the entire journey up the mountain and until we exited the area.  

The route was getting harder and harder and at each in line I kept cursing whomever said this trek was easy.  There were times we were walking up what felt like the side of a skyscraper (really), or were walking over volcanic rocks (Kili was an active volcano many, many centuries ago). The plant life was changing from lush grass and trees, to smaller plants and desert-like vegetation.  We took short and long rests throughout the day to catch our breath, allow our bodies to adjust to altitude, and take photos (we have many).  Indeed it was hard both mentally and physically, but eventually we caught a glimpse of Blue Paradise and knew we made it “home” for the night.  After a wash wash,we had dinner (yes some type of veggie soup again), and crashed getting ready for the next day.  

Day 3: Wednesday, December 31st: To Mawenzi (New Years Eve) - The Alpine Desert (elevation +750 Meters )

The day started out like the previous, but with thinner and colder air.  This meant the layers kept being piled on (and our day packs were getting heavier).  This was a shorter day, but a much harder one (terrain and elevation-wise) than the previous two days and we could see the mountain in the foreground.  The terrain was desert-like (makes sense considering it was a volcano); we only wished there was desert-like heat.  Regardless, we continued to try and have fun and pass the hours (the first stage was ~ 4 hours) and fatigue, soreness, lack of oxygen and initial onset of altitude nausea made it around our group).  

I do not believe any of us properly planned for the clothing, hence we started to wear and re-wear clothing over and over again.  Not that we cared, as showers were nowhere near on the horizon and our daily wash consisted of baby-wipes and other wet cloths (which did I mention were heavy).  Deglan, John or Mussa kept trying to keep us on our pole pole pace, but it was getting harder to do so as the terrain wasn’t exactly like Central Park (where we did the majority of our practice climbs). Our boots (which were once pristine) were covered with soot as we continued the upward climb.  

Instead of stopping for lunch like we did on prior days, we plowed right through it stopping for rests and quick snacks only (our oatmeal and toast breakfast was bone sticking).  I packed a lot of Kind Bars, some jerky, and self-made trail mix baggies; none of which I actually ate on the trek up.  Guess I was losing my appetite as the altitude started to affect me more and more, so each day I gave some of my snacks to the porters to enjoy.  

On our last few Kilometers into camp, we traveled across shocking rocky terrain, but were struck that the porters were simply hanging  out in certain areas.  When we asked Deglan about this, he told us it was where they knew cell service could be found and they were checking in with their families, loved ones, or simply playing candy crush (kidding).  The road into camp required we go one-by-one and we all made sure we were all ok (helping each other over tricky areas).  Finally, we saw Blue Paradise on the horizon and knew we made it “home” again.  

Mawenzi was probably one of the most beautiful camps — with its own “lake.”  The air was cold, but before we were allowed to eat and rest (before an acclimatization hike), we had to register with the Kili Park Service (basically had to sign in).  There we noticed a pair of bull horns and wanted to take some photos.  Randi walked over, put her head near the bones and knocked them over (earning her nickname of El Toro).  After a quick meal and rest, John needed us to practice using our oxygen tanks and walking poles so he and Deglan took us out of an extremely steep hike up the side of a ridge surrounding the camp.  

The tubes to the oxygen tanks were put into our nostrils with the packs on our backs (like they are in the hospital).  Collectively, whenever we took a breath, it sounded like a scene from an old-age home was walking towards you.  The practice hike was hard and not being a skier, I was not used to using poles to support my legs (either up or down).  If the practice hike was anything like the mountain trek, I was in trouble.  We went extremely pole pole and most of us did ok (Mica, of course, opted not to use his oxygen tank that much — he is a true bad ass solider).  Gong down was a lot harder than going up and we had to ensure our feet did not slip on any of the earth or rocks.  It was harder to go slowly, but I managed by making sure I went zig-zag and stepping with my heels and not the base of my foot.  We climbed for about 1,000 meters in multiple layers, walking poles and oxygen tanks,  Compare this to what we would have done on a typical New Year's Eve.  

That night, after another round of soup and a main course of pasta; which is when Jacquie got her taste of e-bolenese, we settled for the night.  I cannot say it was a restful one as at 10pm and again at midnight, the porters started to celebrate the new year (maybe the first  celebration was one of the neighboring trekkers from Europe - probably the Norwegians whom we encountered a few times during the trek).  Anyway, it was loud, and the temps definitely dropped a lot (meaning multiple layers on in a sleeping bag…on the ground…in a tent that did not keep much of the air out [did I mention I am not a fan of camping).   In fact, Mussa left his shorts to dry on a rock overnight only to find them frozen the next morning.  

At 6:00am it was time for our wake up with a wash-wash and hot coffee.  

Day 4: Thursday, Jan 1st (New Years Day) To Kibo Hut +370 Meters

What a way to kick off 2015. Unlike others when I would be suffering from a hangover and watching college football trying to cure my body from over indulgence, I was on a mountain, having camped for three nights and was planning on climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro.  Wow!  Yet this day had its own type of hell.  It was hard both mentally and even more so, physically.  The path was extremely steep and it was very cold out, and it was when I started to get altitude sickness.  

We left camp and proceeded closer and closer to the mountain.  I felt great as we started the day — making our way out of the valley our camp was in and onto the road to Kibo (our base camp).  At times it felt like the City of Oz in the foreground that was never getting any closer.  We tried to sing, but kept forgetting the words to songs.  The persistent laughing and smiling of prior days were not so prevalent — but we all tried to keep our spirits high and made sure we rested whenever someone needed it.  Our strides were slower than before, as we kept walking, walking and walking.  While not that steep, the incline was constant and steady — never really breaking for a flat or even a downhill.  Most of the crew kept the prospect of climbing the mountain as motivation for achieving base camp.  I was fighting the altitude and kept making sure I was breathing and drinking water or Nuun to get in some nutrients (as our appetites were suppressed, most of us were not taking in many calories at this point).  

There is no doubt about it…I felt horrible as we finally made it up the last hill and got to base camp.  There was a great energy around the camp — something I wished I was able to catch, but I felt nauseous and could only think about crashing.  Maggie took charge and signed us all into camp (like we had to in the prior camp).  After taking our day 4 photo, I crawled to our tent and fell flat on my face. I started to doubt whether or not I would even begin the journey up Kili - I felt that bad.  Mussa came over to see if I was ok and made my get up to try and eat some dinner. While I tried to get some food in, I could not eat, could not vomit and as Randi said, looked horrible.  Robert brought out a bottle of wine for us to celebrate the New Year.  However, none of us — especially me — wanted to drink a thing the night before the summit. 

After playing with my food a bit, Mussa sent us all to bed at around 6:15pm as the next day was summit day and we would begin with a 11pm wake-up call. 

Day 5:  Friday , Jan 1st and Saturday, 2nd (Part 1).  Summit Day 

At 11pm, we heard our wash-wash being delivered along with our coffee.  Having come back to life a bit, I was somewhat optimistic about being able to climb.  I tried to get some oatmeal down and we assembled ourselves.  5 layers on top, two on the bottom, walking poles, two hats, a pair of heavy gloves, 3 liters of water and the very critical oxygen tank — we all looked like we should have been checking into The Biggest Loser Ranch instead of climbing 1,500 meters.

We started the assent walking probably a foot every minute or so (if that fast).  When I tell you we were walking uphill, imagine walking on a sandy floor at a 45-degree angle in pitch black.  The oxygen tanks went off in unison as if we were all in a retired elderly home hooked to tanks.  With our fearless guides leading the way, we slowly we zigged and zagged the trail.  

An hour and a half in, my health began its backward slide.  I was just off.  My legs were moving slowly, yet my breath was labored.  My legs felt like they had weights attached to them walking steadily uphill,  Once in a while we all stopped to take a break.  What felt like eternity was only about 2 hours and about 200 meters.  As we were approaching what we thought was our first long break, my left foot essentially said enough and almost collapsed underneath me.  When we all stopped for a quick break, I told the head guide — Mussa — I was done and I need to go back down the mountain  He asked me three times if I was sure (sort of what a ref does in a race).  Sadly I was.  My long term health, the recovery from the slipped disc and an Ironman this August was much more important than summiting.  With my decision made, Mussa guided me back down to base camp.  I wish the way down was as easy as you would think it would be, but alas it was not.  Only having skied once in my life, the poles were my lifeblood as I skidded, walked, and prayed on my way down.  What took me 2-hours to get up, took me 20 minutes to get back.  I proceeded to my tent and crashed to await the others return.  NO regrets.  

In my tent, the temps got colder and colder as it turned from early morning to mid-morning.  I woke up a few times to check the clock, anticipating the crew to return around 7am.  7am past, then 8am, 9am, 10am.  Finally around 11am, Randi came in and looked like death.  She made it to  Stella Point at 5,686 meters) — one of the last ones before the very summit, but had to stop and was escorted down by Mussa (who after taking my back down climbed back up).  Randi crashed and around 45 minutes later, I heard Maggie, Micha and Vic all come in.  They were thrilled to have made it to the top (Uhuru Peak at 5,896 Meters), but were all exhausted from the trek.  A few minutes later Jacquie returned and kissed the ground.  Immediately I knew I made the right decision for me on that day and knew my body simply would not have made it up the mountain. I wish my friends had an opportunity to rest, but our day called for a quick lunch and an immediate departure 3/4 back down the mountain (or another 5 hour journey). Feeling fresh, I helped pack everyone I could before we set off.  

Day 5: Part II:  Down we Go….2,180 Meters from Kibo Hut to Horombo

As hard as going uphill is, downhill is equally hard as your quads, ankles, and calves feel every movement  Carrying clothing for the cold and warmer weather — as we left the mountain — and were traveling to warmer climate — added some extra weight to our weary bodies (at least we did not have to carry the oxygen tanks).   Jacquie was struggling the most so Vic, Micha and I walked alongside her offering an arm on the steeper descents to help stabilize her.  While we were not going as slowly as were on the ascent, we were all very cautious as the ground was slippery and you could lose fitting very easily.  

Even though it got slightly warmer as we made our way back down and we had to shed layers along the way, the mountain air was still very much present and the winds were gusty at times.  The minute the altitude started to wane, my headache disappeared and I started to feel more normal (well as normal as I get).  The road down was never truly flat, but there were section that were easier than others to navigate.  Jacquie started to come alive a bit more, but we had to force her to take in some fluids (Nuun again saved the day) to regain some strength.  Our laughing and even a bit of singing returned as we all started to feel a bit better (not having made the climb up, I had an “unfair” advantage and felt better than the rest). We kept asking Mussa how much longer as this 25k felt like an eternity; his reply was a constant “about 20 more minutes” which after a few times made us laugh even more so.  Finally after about 5 hours of walking downhill, I caught a glimpse of Blue Paradise and knew we were finally back.  Randi and Maggie had walked ahead of us and signed us into camp and helped to lay out Jacque’s sleeping bag so she could crash.  

Mussa let us re-organize a bit before calling us into dinner.  For the first time in three days I had an appetite and actually ate most of dinner.  Jacquie slept through this meal and both Maggie and Randi were not feeling so great.  Eventually we all crashed as our goal to leave camp was 7:30am the next morning.  

Day 6:  Sunday, January 3rd - Horombo to Marantu Gate - 1,920 meters of descent

The morning started out with a symbolic and ritualistic goodbye from the crew which included a few traditional songs for us (like their goodbye and congratulations ceremony) followed by a speech from Mussa.  After which it was our turn to speak (we nominated Vic as our spokesperson) and our turn to offer tips as a thank you for bringing us — and more important our stuff — up and back down the mountain (as the self-nominated banker, I created envelopes for each of the teams).  Following this ritual, we packed up our stuff for our last portion of the trek down the mountain.  

The last leg of our journey called for a 19k walk for about 8-hours as we made our way back to the Gate.  At this point all I could think about was a shower and a coke.  Two things that keep my motivation up and my walking speed.  Jacquie and most of the gang were all back to their normal selves and the frequency of the laughter increased as we kept getting closer and closer to home.  

This day took us from the base of the mountain into the rain forest covering both extremely rocky and steep terrain.  We had to keep constant vigil on our footing as one misstep and you could easily fall.  Micha, Deglan and I were walking out ahead while Maggie was mostly walking with Randi and Jacquie with Vic.  Micha and I were asking Deglan a lot about the Tanzania culture, his tribe, life as a guide and his family life.  We both walked away with a wealth of knowledge and a deeper understanding of what life is like for guides and porters.   This really helped the time (not to mention the 11k by foot) go by as we broke for lunch and a rest.  

After lunch, we headed deeper into the rain forest (luckily it did not rain) for about another 8k.  The vegetation changed once again as the terrain went from rocks to tree roots.  We still had to be extremely careful with our footing as the slope continued down and down.   Vic’s IT band suddenly tightened and had to stop often to stretch.  Despite her (at times extreme) pain, she continued to have fun creating a Floridian persona that she and Jacquie kept up for a good 45-minutes making us all laugh.  At one point John pointed out a monkey in a tree which we all stopped to watch for a bit.  The weather was never too hot and we are still at about 2,000 meters above sea level.  However, I felt great and kept focused on the getting clean and downing a coke (Maggie joked that I was going at shower speed); At every turn, but to no avail, I kept hoping to see concrete and a parking lot.  Finally, at one last turn, I saw it, the  sign for Marantu Gate signaling our arrival back.  We were all so happy to see the gate, our strides and pace increased — no more pole pole — we were home.  

After a group photo with John and Deglan (Mussa went ahead of us to sort out our luggage and plan for our arrival), I dashed into a concession/gift shop and bought everyone a Coke (one wish granted).  We all had to sign back in and state our highest point where we climbed.  Everyone who made it to the top of the mountain received a nice certificate as a souvenir of their survival to the top.  While I did not receive one, I did push my personal limits, lived outside my comfort zone, faced my own demons and came out on top.  It was a truly memorable trip, but I am down with extreme camping and climbing for a while.

And then it was time for a shower……Ah!!! 

More photos from the trek can be found here.  

A 200 mile journey for CAF

One year ago, I became an Ironman, completing the biggest physical journey I have endured to date.  It was an amazing experience; knowing that my family was at the finish line to welcome me “home” but also because I was racing for a greater purpose – to raise funds for the Challenged Athletes Foundation (CAF).  This year, instead of an Ironman, I am cycling 216 miles over 2-days (yes that’s 108 miles a day) for CAF and am once again asking for your help.

As you (hopefully) know, CAF funds adaptive equipment, coaching, and other essentials to people with a physical disability so that they can compete in whatever sport they choose.  The barriers to become active are tremendous for those with a physical disability as items such as running legs and racing wheelchairs are not covered by insurance.   CAF believes that involvement in sports at any level increases self-esteem, encourages independence and enhances an individual’s quality of life.  CAF makes sports accessible to a whole generation of people who want to actively participate in life.  They are my inspiration and why I keep pushing myself to compete outside my comfort zone; the Ironman was one of these challenges and so is this bike ride. 

CAF changes lives.  Period.  So, I am asking for your support in making the ride about changing someone’s life.   Please click here to make a donation.  While any amount is appreciated, you can also “sponsor” a portion of my ride.  For example, your donation can be $108 (miles a day), $216 (miles in total), a partial day ($54), the highest elevation we climb ($700), or just make a number up. 

Visit my blog which will be updated during certain milestones between now and the ride (and the nights after on the ride).

As always, I appreciate the support,

Justin

Employee Spotlight on Accenture Careers

 

Proud to be recognized as one of Accenture’s employees striving to #begreaterthan

USAT ParaTri Handler Webinar

A few months ago, USAT asked if I would be interested in developing a webinar to help race directors (and coaches) develop and understand the ins and out of a successful ParaTri hanlder programs. 

After a few weeks of prepartion, the Webinar is ready and can be seen (live) on March 4th at 2pm MST (4pm EST). 
http://www.usatriathlon.org/events/usat/2014/03/justinmodel.aspx

Check it out.  Hope you can tune in...and ask questions (hopefully I  know the answer)

2013 - What a Year!

Normally I am not a look back type of guy.  But with 2013 in its last few hours, thought I'd spend a few moments reflecting on the year.  2013 started with a fun new years eve black tie party and is ending with a trip to Sanibel Island.  The 365 days in between had many highs and yes some lows.   But every moment came with lessons being applied to the future (looking ahead).  

Here are a milestone from 2013...

Completing Ironman Coeur D'Alene

Has to be the top of my list.  I accomplished my goal of racing 140.6 miles (still in awe that I did it).  IM CDA was just one-day, but the training took up a big chunk of my life this past year.  Besides being all consuming from a time perspective (my life was scheduled in hour chunks - the training alone was epic and came with some sacrifices in the form of my social life).  However, I would never have changed a thing.  I am an Ironman and in doing so honored my father and gave back to physically challenged athletes.

The finish line video still makes me smile.

Having An Amazing Support Crew (a/k/a Friends/Social Network)
You learn a lot about who is in your corner when raising $10K+ (and asking for money from your friends) and training for an Ironman (yes that again).  Luckily my triathlon friends/network understood what it takes to get from the start to the finish line and that raising money for CAF meant a lot to me.  When my non-triathlon friends finally stopped asking if I was crazy, ceased making fun when I left bars/dinners at 8:00pm to sleep or passed on parties, they were in my corner in terms of support and helping to accomplish my goals of racing and fundraising,

The Support of My Family/My "Rocks".  My family (blood and otherwise)  deserve a special call out from what I put them through this year.  From being nay-sayers to being the first people I needed to see before the start of CDA and wanted to see at the finish line (after trekking to Idaho).  I promised not to do another IM...until 2015!

Having a Work/Life Balance:  Boy did this come into play this year.  Accenture's culture really allowed me to handle working 40+ hours a week, taking on new management responsibilities, and of course training (on average) 15-hours a week.  My colleagues tolerated the countdown clock on the white board and the constant smell of chlorine in my office.  Having everything so scheduled, actually made me a better, more focused employee too.  I also managed to weave in my love for triathlon into two Accenture-sponsored races in Oceanside (CA) and NYC (Paratriathlon).  We also launched a new sponsorship of Dark Universe at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH); go see it (and explain it to me after). 

Pursuing More Coaching/USAT Board: Opportunities: I coached someone to his first full marathon and advised a few racers for the NYC Tri; learning a lot and honing my coaching skills along the way.  Being a member of the USAT NE Board (chairing Paratri and Grants Committees) offered new perspectives and opened new networks.

 Enjoying the Off-Season - Finally!  Boy did I enjoy this and made up for 10-months of being on the social-life bench.  A trip to Peru, a few days in Ocean Beach (Fire Island) and in Denver (ah those margarita's at Rio Grande), celebrating my bday in Vegas, watching and not running the Komen Race for the Cure, heading to Barbados for my sister's bday  and enjoying a rum punch tour (thanks Clare and Geoff), learning the butterfly stroke (thanks Earl!), studying Florence and the Machine's music in time for the AMNH's Fall Gala, spending a weekend in La Jolla with CAF friends at SDTC, cheering on NYC Marathoners and finally, the holiday season in NYC.

Here are some random photos from Facebook.  Enjoy the year in pictures.

Looking Ahead to 2014
While not resolutions, here are some milestones I look forward to in 2014....Will check back in 365 days and see how these go.

• I have joined a new triathlon team - Tailwind Endurance wih new teammates.  Project Faster will (hopefully) get me to a new PR in the half-ironman distance
• Taking a more active role in the International Paratri movement
• Taking on new challenges such as a back-to-back century ride in August
• Serving as a change agent at work and being a better manager/mentor
• Pursuing new opportunities outside of triathlon (a/k/a making a priority for a vibrant social life)
• (Yes), Not being so attached to my iPhone...

For now, a happy and healthy new year. 

Ironman Recovery? How about a walk around Peru?

Maybe this wasn't my brightest idea ever, but less than a week after IMCDA I traveled to Peru. My friend Kara Dunn and I started the trip on Friday night (LGA>MIA>LIMA>CUSCO) finally making it to the Sacred Valley on Saturday afternoon.

For the rest of the week we climbed up Machu Pichu (what can you say about one of the seven wonders of the world, but wow!), walked around the City of Cuzco (the Capital of the Inca Empire), took a boat ride around Lake Titicaca (the world's highest navigable lake at 4000M), finally going to Lima before heading home.

Training for an IM does not prepare you for the various changes in altitude.  We went from sea level in Lima, to 2500M in the Sacred Valley, to 3500M in Cuzco to finally 4000M in the Lake.  Glad to neither of us got sick and while we had to sometimes stop mid trek to catch our breathes,  every step in Machu Pichu, every trail in the villages in the lake and every climb in the Sacred Valley was made.

It was an amazing week with amazing photos (warning, there are many) on Snapfish and/or Flickr.  Enjoy!

Some impressions

• Amazing scenery - especially Machu Pichu (of course), the Sacred Valley and the markets (the pictures do not lie)
• There are people living on floating islands (literally made of weeds) who rely on solar power for all electricity.  Some of them also have DirectTV (go figure)
• For 1 Sol (their money), you can take a photo of a traditional Incan
• Lots of Llamas and Alpaca (we actually now can tell the difference b/w the types of wool)
• I used to think if you learn how to drive in NYC you can drive anywhere.  Amend that.  If you learn how to drive in Peru.  They are nuts!  
• We had amazing tour guides.  Never try and see the sights without one
• Lima was just ok.  Glad we only spent a day there
• They eat Guinea Pigs -- as a delicacy (no I didn't try and but did taste Alpaca meat)
• There is no stand-out food in Peru (well I guess if you like Guinea Pig), but the Pisco Sours do pack a punch
• Taking a taxi is an exercise in negotiation.  No meters.  All bargaining
• While many of the people are poor, they actually like a simple lifestyle
• By the end of the week, I was "Inca'd out"

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.