Trevor is an Ironman - Now what?

That seems to be the universal question from both friends and family now that I've achieved what I wanted by finishing the Arizona Ironman. I can honestly say that I don't consider myself a triathlon 'junkie' by any means but I do enjoy the lifestyle and fitness that comes with participating in sporting events like these.

I don't know that I'll do a full Ironman again (those words may come back to haunt me!). My goal was to finish; time was secondary. Will I ever qualify for Kona? Do I want to qualify for Kona? I don't have the burning desire like some folks do...I'm ok with that. There are other priorities around the Davenport household that need attention.

I will say (as an out), that I know there are several key places I could take off my time. Could I come in under 13 hours? Definitely. Would I do a full Ironman again just to better my time? Perhaps. That seems to be how I roll.

For now, I envision my race schedule for 2011 will look something like this:

1. PF Chang's RnR Marathon (full): January 16th
2. Lake Steven's 70.3 Ironman: August
3. Another 70.3 event
4. Another 70.3 event

Here are some interesting stats about the race to close out this blog. I'm not sure if I'll be back again but if I am, I hope you'll all be there to support and cheer me on like you have over this last year. Thanks for your support and don't forget, "Anything is possible".

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*all stats coutesy of RunTri.com*

Registered athletes = 2771

Started the race = 2361 (441 did not start)

Finished the race = 2217 (144 did not finish)

Average finish time for M35-39 = 12:46 (compared to my 13:03)

Kona qualifying time for M35-39 = 9:39

Trevor is an Ironman - Part III

I was brutally reminded today that an Ironman is no small feat and your body has ways of letting you know that it's gone beyond the normal limits. Mine handed me a sinus infection this morning. Fortunately, I made it to the urgent care as well as my chiropractor and am feeling better.

On with the story -

T2 was relatively uneventful. Come down the chute, hand your bike off and go get your run stuff.

T2 Time = 3:27

Going in to the race, I had already come to terms with the idea that I would be starting in the dark and ending in the dark. This proved to be right on and mentally prepared me for the long run ahead.

It's an amazing thing to me still that after 112 miles on the bike, running a 9:00-minute mile doesn't seem that hard. I felt great off the bike. I felt more than great...I felt like I was going to PR the run. My goal was to completely run at least one loop of the course (1 loop = a little more than 8 miles) before allowing myself any concessions or walking time.

I successfully made it around 1 loop but by the end of that loop, a couple things happened - (a) I was no longer keeping a 9-minute pace and (b) I was feeling queasy and didn't feel like taking on any more Roctane. Knowing that I had to change things up a bit, I slowed down and started looking for alternative foods at the aid stations.

Grapes really hit the spot to begin with but even those were not packing the punch I needed. Cookies, pretzels, chips were all too dry and required even more water or Gatorade to get down. Between miles 8 and 12 I struggled to keep running and trying to figure out what I was going to do about nutrition.

Funny story @ mile 9 - had to take a potty break. Sat down to begin my business when I noticed there was no TP. DOH!! Improvisation and quick thinking saved my behind...

Anyway, about mile 13 I was thinking, "Man, glad to be halfway done". I was also thinking, "What am I going to eat?" I really didn't want to walk the remaining 13 miles and finish any closer to midnight than I had to. Then I remembered what I read in Joe Friel's Going Long chapter on race day nutrition. Try the cola and chicken broth...

Low-and-behold, cola and broth were my new best friend. Not only was the broth warm (as it was now dusk) but it has a ton of calories that you can just drink without having to stop running. These 2 things kept me powered up and running for the next 13 miles all the way to the finish.

I had a great surprise at mile 20 - my dad, wife and buddy Erik had all wandered across the bridge to try and encourage me on. It was such a charge to see them and know that I was only 3 miles from completing this incredible journey. With a kiss from my wife and another cup of chicken broth, I powered on until I saw that glorious 'mile 25' sign...

I thought I would be more emotional (e.g., sobbing/crying) but it was clearly the opposite. I was yelling, fist-pumping and getting the crowd all riled up at my entrance and date with Ironman destiny. The adrenaline, excitement and pride swelled like nothing I had felt before. Crossing that finish line was one of the most glorious things I have ever experienced.

Run time = 4:53

Final time: 13 hours and 3 minutes

Final thoughts and wrap up yet to come...

Trevor is an Ironman - Part II

I was originally worried that it was going to be cold coming out of the water preparing for the bike. Truth is, it wasn't an issue. Adrenaline combined with the warmer air temperatures (the impending storm clouds kept in the heat) made the jog/walk through the chute rather enjoyable while taking in the crowd energy and cheers. BTW, the chute from the swim exit to the bags and bikes was one of the longest transitions ever. It's laid out well for traffic control, but man it's long.

After grabbing my bike bag and heading to the changing tent, it was clear that the real estate there was not adequate for the number of warm bodies trying to dry off and get changed for the bike. I found a picnic table outside the tent, sat down and started changing. Though I had a full wardrobe of warm clothing, I chose to only put on my arm warmers, helmet and sunglasses for the bike.

T1 = 8 minutes

Heading out on the bike was the point in the race when I knew I'd finish. The energy from the crowds and my overall excitement to be done with the swim was difficult to contain as I headed out the bike chute. Though I knew the wind would be a factor as soon as I woke up that morning, it was readily apparent heading east on Rio Salado that any pacing strategy or mile-per-hour goal would need to be tempered accordingly to adjust for the northerly winds. So while the first 25 miles heading north were a piece of cake (note, awesome tailwind) the return journey back into the wind was not so great (estimated 15-20 mph wind speed). I have never been so small and aero on the bike before but I know it made a difference to cut down drag. I was able to keep my speed around 16 (down to 13 at times) without over-exerting myself.

Just to make things interesting, it started to rain during the second lap. Being an AZ-local, I knew that the rain would be short-lived. There were others however that were clearly distraught about both the rain and wind. Sure, it was annoying and cold but I kept my head about things, maintained perspective and continued to keep my level of effort as flat as possible. There was one point however where I could see a wall of dirt blowing towards me. Some chose to stop. I put my head down and just kept riding.

(It is still uncanny that the bad weather chose to show up on the day of the race. The 2 months leading up to race-day had been perfect).

Overall, I felt really good about my nutrition and hydration - never did I feel hungry or get the 'vurps'. Miles 0-35, I stick with water and Powerbars. Miles 36-60 I move over to Perpetuem, Snickers and bananas. Miles 61-90 I hit the water, Roctane and more bananas. Starting mile 105 I grab another Snickers followed with more Roctane shots and water.

Though the rest of the ride was pretty uneventful, there were a handful of things that stuck with me -

1. Getting passed by Chrissie Wellington. I was doing 21 mph but I might as well been standing still. She rocks.
2. Feeling the pain and disappointment for the fellow next to me after watching his bike seat break off.
3. Being reminded and humbled knowing that even amongst world-class athletes, accidents still happen. Rain coupled with 40 mph gusts makes Arizona roads extremely treacherous.

In retrospect, I'm kind of glad it was windy. It forces concentration and a reassessment of your goals to ensure a conservative pace that would eventually help see me through the run. I was also happy not to have any mechanical issues.

Bike time = 6:28 (17.3 mph average)

T2 and run summary tomorrow.

Trevor is an Ironman - Part 1

I've tried to collect my thoughts over the last 24 hours and have still not come to terms with everything that I experienced and saw yesterday. What most people might think is a long day, seemed to whiz by me as a collective stream of cowbells, yelling and aid stations. While I did take some time to enjoy the experience, I was also very keen on staying focused mentally throughout the day to ensure I accomplished my primary goal.

For the sake of keeping this manageable, I'll break this into three parts.

First, swimming.

Honestly, I'm not a fan of open-water swimming let alone a mass-start with 2700 other determined and hungry triathletes. My plan was to start in the back part of the field close to the buoy-line to ensure I wasn't swimming any further than I needed. I jumped in about 5 minutes before the pros were set to take off.

Cold. Cold. Cold. 61 degrees will make anyone's pieces-parts shrivel just a little...

I personally take a while to acclimate to the open water, the pressure of the wet suit and the general uneasiness of not being able to see your hand in front of your face. If that alone is not daunting enough, actually seeing the distance you have to swim put a small amount of fear and doubt into my head...can I really swim that far? At that point in the day however, you really don't have a choice...

At the sound of the cannon, the "washing machine" begins. If you aren't familiar with that term, check out this Ironman video. 2,700 bodies jockeying and fighting for personal space is an amazing site - except when you're an average swimmer like me and are caught in the middle of it.

After about 15 minutes of struggling through the field, I was finally able to get some open water and get into a rhythm. The crazy thing about open water swimming is that just when you think you've found your pace and a good stroke, someone comes cutting across the water at a 45 degree angle to you and smacks you in the head. Someone probably blogged about me doing the same thing several years ago when I started triathlons as well. Oh well. You pause, collect yourself and keep going.

I was just about to the Rural St bridge (the turn-around point) and thinking to myself, "sweet, half-way done". Only to discover that once you go under the bridge, there are probably another 200-300 yards before the actual turn to head back to the Mill St. bridge (start/finish). Oh well. Just keep swimming, right?

Three-quarters through the swim, it dawned on me that I had some pain on my neck from the wet suit rubbing and chaffing. There was little I could do about it since it was already in the advanced stages. I tried alternating my breathing from left to right but that just aggravated the suit even more and twisted the Velcro to be flush on my skin regardless of which direction I turned my head.

To add to the fun, my goggles started leaking. Not bad, but enough to be annoying. I noted it and told myself that I'd stop and fix it if I couldn't see where I was going. Fortunately, it never got that bad and I was able to make it to transition without any other incidents.

I was super happy to be done with the swim. My fitness felt good. Even though I was a bit wobbly coming out of the water (which is normal from being horizontal for 1.5 hours), I managed to make it though the chute and into the changing area to prepare for the bike.

Time = 1:30

More on T1 and the bike ride tomorrow.

Final thoughts

This will likely be my last blog before race day. I've run out of things to say at this point. I checked in yesterday (Thursday) to avoid the rush of Friday and Saturday but then realized that I'd be sporting the bracelet around all weekend. It makes a great conversational piece around folks you don't know, however.

I have been staying somewhat active just to keep things loose. Small swims, small runs and stretching paired with a massage yesterday have definitely done the body good.

I will say however, I have 2 things ailing me right now - they've crept up over the last week and for now, I'm just going to ignore them.

1. Left shoulder/lat knot: Just tense and tight. I personally think it's caused by stress and anticipation.
2. Right quad tingles: It feels tight like I haven't stretched it - ever.

I'm not going to say these will hinder the race but I will definitely be keeping an eye on them in the next day or so. I've heard that the taper can cause these types of things to creep up as the body 'settles' and heals.

I am taking these final days to just relax and mentally prepare for the adventure to come. There won't be any Hallmark after-school Special, but I'm still very proud of where I've come from to get here. To all those who have encouraged, supported or talked me into doing my first triathlon (you know who you are), thank you.

You can follow my progress Sunday on www.ironman.com - look for bib 780.

When we talk again, I will be an Ironman.

Perspective

Here we are only 5 days away from one of the hardest things I'll probably ever do (physically) in my life. The funny thing about tapering is that not only does it provide you the time to solidify race plans but it also gives you the opportunity to put your training, dedication and effort into perspective.

I have always been a bit jealous of other folks who have this incredible network of friends, supporters and family to cheer them on during race day. I'm not sure why I'm envious because when I think about the countless hours spent alone during training and what I've learned about myself this year, I am satisfied with the realization that i'm not doing this for my friends or family - I'm doing it for me and that's all that matters.

I do constantly have to remind myself of the enormity of an Ironman and how one's perspective can change your life. Many of my neighbors - most of which are not cycling or running buffs (save Andy the mountain biker) - have any context on what it's like running or cycling farther than the house to the mailboxes. When I tell them I cycled 120 miles or ran 20 miles, their eyes usually pop out of their head, they pick their chins off the floor and comment in some neighbor-friendly way what a damn fool I am.

In some ways, they're right -

A. Cycling 112 miles is not 'normal'.

B. Running a marathon is not chump-change.

C. Swimming 2.4 miles is a distance migratory whales swim.

Attempting all of them in one day is nothing short of amazing. I'm sure I will pinch myself at some point and the magnitude of the Ironman will sink in.

 "Anything is possible"

Race planning

This past week has been fairly uneventful from a training perspective. Everyone has said that the aches and pains would creep in but I've yet to have anything impact my overall sense of well-being. I've spent more time just planning this week. I feel for those folks that have to travel to Arizona for the race. I've traveled to various venues for some Ironman 70.3 races and often times that process is more stressful and time-consuming than the race itself! More about planning in a bit - here is a summary of the week.

Monday: Full day of rest after last brick workout.
Tuesday: (Morning) 8-mile run, (Evening) 1.5 mi swim (0.5 mi in wet suit)
Wednesday: (Morning) 2 mi swim
Thursday: 13.1 mi run
Friday: 2.5 mi swim (1.0 mi in wet suit)
Sunday: (11/14): Long bike ride (60-80 miles??)

This coming week will see a steady decline of activity until completely shutting things down on Thursday. I have a massage that afternoon that I've been looking forward to for a very long time.

So more about planning...it's easy to be consumed by all the planning that goes into a triathlon. Planning all the gear, equipment and nutrition by itself can be daunting until you realize that the schedule for checking in, attending the mandatory athlete meeting, practice swim and transition check-in is equally as crazy...I literally had to create a 4-day calendar that is laid out hourly to account for all the things, places and events going on BEFORE the race itself.

Sitting down to plan has been a good opportunity to and reflect on my actual race plan, pacing and re-enforcing my race goals. If you haven't read Joe Friel's book "Going Long", I definitely recommend getting it if nothing more than a reference book for triathlon fundamentals. The chapters on mental preparation and goal-setting are particularly honest and can apply to anyone.

I will probably have one more post this coming week as I prepare for the big dance. Final thoughts before treading water in Tempe Town Lake on Sunday morning @ 7 am, just waiting for that cannon to boom.

Thanks for reading.

Ready. Set. Wait...

It should be a glorious time now that the hardest parts of my training are complete. Should...


I say that tongue-in-cheek because all I want to do is race and get this knocked out. While it's been a very quick year of training, I have a feeling that these last couple weeks are going to (seemingly) take forever.

Don't get me wrong - I'm still as stoked to be taking on this challenge and making one of my most significant life goals become reality. I just wish it would get here and be done with.

After a massive brick yesterday, I am feeling great. Ready to rock it.

A 117-mile bike ride followed by a 45-minute run was icing on the training cake and proof that I have gotten to a place, both mentally and physically, that I know I needed to be.

Ready.

Set.

Bring it.

What is an Ironman?

As you might imagine, the table talk the last week at our house has been increasingly focused on how I'm feeling, how training is going and what I'm going to do once I cross that finish line and forever become an Ironman. Though it means the world to me, I don't think my kids have ever paid much attention to my endless hours of training (remember, my kids are 7 and 4) nor really understood what daddy has to do in order to become an Ironman.

Hadley (left) and Carvor (right) @ Shcnepf's Farm

So after asking them some interesting questions (followed by some  hilarious answers) at dinner the other night, I learned that becoming an Ironman (to them) meant that I would turn into this robot-like guy with a red and gold helmet with a pulsating light on his chest.

Ah, the power of marketing.

So after clearing up the confusion between the movie and daddy's race, the light bulb seemed to click on for them (at least for the 7-year old). At least now they know I'm swimming, biking and running in a race and not flying through the sky or shooting light rays from my hands (though, the latter might be awesomer according to my son).

The following day, after being sequestered in my office with a full day of phone calls my kids surprised me with some posters they had created (with the help of mommy). They hang right beside my desk and are a great source of motivation. It's a reminder that as adults, we naturally over-complicate things that are usually  pretty simple when viewed through the eyes of a child.

I'm pretty sure they don't care much about my race - oh, I know they support me and will be happy when I return victorious. But at the end of the day, I'm still just dad. And I wouldn't change that for the world.

(speech bubble = "I'm tired")

The order of events isn't important. It's the thought, right?

Taper in sight

Folks in the other parts of the world are going to think I'm whining again but this damn heat has GOT TO GO. It's a perpetual summer around here in Phoenix. The uncanny part is that it seems that the hottest day of the week just happens to be on the day I'm doing my long run. Another 90-degree day today and I have the tan lines to prove it. I certainly hope it has cooled down by race-day.

Compared to last week's ill-prepared long run, I was not going to let the heat, sweat or my aloof attitude wither away what would be my final long-run before tapering. I set out around 8:30 am figuring that things would heat up nicely toward the end of the 3-hours/20 miles (whichever came first).

The first 2 hours of the run were as expected - holding a reasonable pace (9:15-9:30) with the clear recognition that I was sacrificing speed for distance today. Then the wind kicked up. If the idea of running into a 20 mph headwind doesn't dampen your spirits, the cloud of dust blowing into your eyes most certainly will. See, Arizona is a dessert and there's dirt - lots of dirt. I'm still picking it out of my teeth.

For whatever reason - conditioning, the wind, the heat or all the above, the last hour of my run seemed to take an eternity. While my mind was still in a good place, my quads were on fire. I had stopped and stretched throughout the run just to keep things loose but I was at a place where my muscles just felt like they had reached their limit.

So while I'm happy with the run I am still a little unsure about my stamina and ability to muscle through 26.2 after a huge bike ride.

This weekend I'll be doing my last large brick - 112 on the bike followed by an hour run. I realize it's a little late to be doing a huge brick, but I'm a week behind the curve due to my sinus infection last month. After this weekend though, it's all about the taper, baby.

Starting to sink in

Over the last couple days, the obviousness and closeness of the Arizona Ironman has become exceedingly clear. If it's not the ridiculously long bike rides, it's most definitely the appearance of my pre-race triathlon dreams (as-in, REM sleep dreams/nightmares).


Let's start with my unconscious and see what all the amateur Freuds have to say...


Typically, within a week or two of a race, I start having 'race dreams'. They are never at particular venues I've actually raced before so I'm not sure the location is very important. The recurring theme is these dreams/nightmares is my lack of organization and forgetfulness when it comes to race time. In order, here are the most frequent issues I have in these dreams:

1. I have misplaced my bike (neither with me or in transition)
2. I have forgotten every running/biking accessory (visor, shoes, race belt, etc) and am frantically running around the expo trying to buy or barter for it all
3. I'm standing in the water waiting for the swim to start and someone asks me, "Where is your wet suit?"

The fear of being under-prepared must be more prominent and worrisome than actually competing/doing the race. Maybe I should have finished that psych-major in college...

The second thing I FULLY realized this weekend is that I am in for one hell of a race. (I'm calling is race still because it is timed and you're competing against others, but mostly, I'm competing against myself.)

At mile 100 of my long bike ride this weekend, I wasn't feeling so hot - gluts on fire and my neck straining from 6 hours in the aero position. All I could think about was "how in the hell am I going to run a marathon after this bike ride?"

Surprisingly, between miles 110 and 112 I was feeling much better (Snickers is an amazing power food BTW!). When I got home, I still had the lingering question in my mind of whether my legs would take me another 26.2 miles. I know that running 26.2 miles even without a 112-mile bike ride is hard. I guess that's why not everyone does an Ironman.

At the end of the day, my pre-triathlon dreams and insecurities about being able to run post-bike ride are simply things I'll have to overcome. I've known that this was going to be hard. I've known that there is going to be pain. Up until this weekend however, I just did not have the perspective for how much.

Even still, I can't wait.

"Do or do not. There is no try."