Your badge of greatness

I've been reflecting on the significance of this weekend and what I was thinking and feeling a year ago as I prepared to take on the 140.6 mile course at the Arizona Ironman here in Tempe. Nervous. Scared. Anxious. Excited. And ready to be done.

I'll be honest. It seems like a long time ago.

Perhaps it's because I haven't been spending countless hours in the pool or on the road cycling.

Perhaps it's because my goals are aligned with something I truly enjoy.

Perhaps it's because that accomplishment is starting to pale in comparison of my future aspirations.

In either case, I wear my IM badge proudly and am excited to watch as other friends and competitors earn their own this weekend. It is a phenomenal accomplishment that no one will ever be able to take away.

Wear your badge with pride, whatever it may be. You've earned it.

Giddy'up.

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?

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."

Disappointingly educational

I am still stewing over my run today. I try never to be too hard on myself when things don't work out the way I expect because, well, not only could it happen in a race but also, that's life!

Today was one of those (for lack of a better word) incidents where perhaps a little over confidence and lack-of-preparation got the best of me. Though I am slightly disappointed with how the run went, it was very beneficial to come to grips with the reality that running in warm (dare I say hot?) weather is very different than running in cooler weather. Though that might seem slightly obvious, it is most relevant to having (and adjusting) your hydration strategy come race-day.

Having switched over to afternoon runs as of last week, I took today off to ensure I got my long run in under the Arizona sun. Of course, today just happened to be the hottest day of Fall thus far (high of 92).

(Queue lack-of-preparation)

Having dismissed the 'heat' I would be running in, I obliviously thought that preparing my water bottles and Perpetuem a few hours in advance would make them cold enough to withstand the Arizona sun. Wrong.

(Queue over-confidence)

Having performed quite well in my last couple (shorter) runs, I started this run like I was attacking a shorter run in cooler weather. Starting my run at 9:30 should be cool enough to keep an even pace for 3 hours. Wrong again.

When you put those two together, nothing but bad ju-ju happens - just like it did today. When you don't respect the heat, it will take you down in a big ball of scratchy salt.

So while the run itself was disappointing, it was a great reminder that long-runs - whether in the desert heat or not - must be respected.

Lesson learned.

Respect the run, respect the heat.

Check.

Just keep swimming...

I've blogged several times in the past that swimming is probably my least favorite of the three disciplines. In reality, the logic escapes me for why I continue to have such a disdain for the sport - it's the least impactful on the body, requires little to no gear and is one of the best cardio workouts you could ever get. I think it's mostly the chlorine.

Some people have a gag-reflex with yogurt (my wife) others with cottage cheese (my wife)...for me, chlorine. It's not that I'm drinking it on purpose. Towards the end of my 4,500 yard swim today (2.5 miles), I was getting lazy/tired and not twisting my body enough to get my face fully out of the water to take a breath. Chlorine ingestion commenced and I had to stop to clear the pipes...still can't get that taste out of my mouth. Ugghhh.

Someone asked me what I think about when I'm swimming (it seems people are very curious about that goes through the mind of a triathlete when swimming, biking or running these crazy distances). Truth-be-told, for the first 2 miles, I am concentrating on a smooth stroke, trying to alternate my breathing and keeping my body balanced so my legs don't drop too far. Between 2 and 2.5 miles however, I replay the scene from Finding Nemo where Dory and Marlin are on the edge of the dark precipice considering swimming down into the dark abyss to find the diver's mask.

Dory delivers the classic "Just keep swimming..." line and it repeats over and over in my mind during every race and swim session I do. May sound childish and insignificant but when your shoulders are about ready to burst and your lungs are about ready to pop out of your chest, it is the one thing that keeps me going.

With less than 4 weeks to go to Ironman Arizona, that is all I can do is just keep swimming. Later.

A great time in AZ

For those of you following that don't live in Arizona, you should know that as of last week, summer has finally 'turned off' and the temperatures are hovering around 80 pretty consistently. It really is a fantastic place to be this time of year. Close to what Arizonans call chilly. Laugh if you want but after 3.5 months of 110+ temperatures, 75 feels cool. In fact today was the first day the kids wore jeans and long-sleeved shirts to school.

This last week has seen a slight shift in training given the change in temperatures as well as my glorious rebound from a sinus infection that plagued me last week. For the past 4 months, long-runs were done in the morning well before the sun had come up - and even then, by the time you were done, the temperature bordered on 90+. Between now and race-day, all runs will be done in the afternoon under the warm and glorious Arizona sun. I'll leave the swimming for the early mornings...

Though last week looked pretty dark relative to the time left until race-day, I have successfully pulled out of the funk and focused on the quality of my workouts rather than the volume...I have to say, damn I feel good.

I was supposed to hit my long-run this morning but guess what? It was raining. Hard. I resolved to find time during the day to get in my 2 hours of running. I managed to break free of the desk around 11:30 knowing there were calls pending back at the office around 1. Although I accepted the fact that I would not get in a 2-hour run, I resolved to sacrifice the distance for speed.

I'll be the first to tell you - this is not my race pace. In fact, not even close. But again, quality not quantity right? I ran a solid hour at a pace that was challenging but not drop-dead hard. Check it out. It even felt like I was flying around the neighborhood. I can only imagine what Ryan Hall feels like running a 5-minute mile.

I'm looking forward to amping up my mileage on the bike this weekend. I may even throw in a short run after the bike just to make up for the distance lost today. The way I feel right now, I could take on the world.

Look out. I'm back. Ironman Arizona is going to be glorious.

Fill the damn dam!

Well here we are almost 40 days before Ironman Arizona and already I am filled with a sense of accomplishment and anticipation...and I haven't even made it to the starting line yet!! So good news today however - let the dam filling process begin. Looks like Tempe Town Lake will be ready for the race.

Let me take you back to Sunday - long ride day. For the last couple weeks I've been tinkering with the notion of nudging my mileage up beyond the 60 or 80 miles that I've done for a couple weeks now. It was expected to be overcast and cooler so I threw caution to the wind and plotted a nice 100-mile ride that would avoid any kind of urban streets or traffic lights. I wanted to ride solid for 5 hours without hills or interruptions.

I personally am a little tentative riding a new route especially when you don't know the condition of the roads. With the number of flat tires I've had lately too, I was packed to the brim with extra tubes, bars, Roctane and a little cash to stop and get some food along the way. This route was excellent and I intend to use it again in the future. Spinning aero in the big chain ring for 20-40 miles at a time is exactly what I've been looking for to simulate the ride along the Bee Line highway come race day. I was also focused on nutrition and payed close attention to what I was putting in me, how often and what I was feeling at certain mileage markers - 30, 60 and 90 miles. I felt better after this ride was done than I have coming back from shorter hillier rides.

Since then, I skipped Monday swim drills, ran 7 miles this morning and then swam 2.4 miles this evening. It rained like the ba-jesus today so I don't think I'l be cycling in the morning (too much standing water and debris in the road). I'll probably wait until the afternoon.

The knee is still acting up, though not quite as bad as a few weeks ago. I think I'm resolved not to over-extend my mileage between now and race day. Max, I may try and put on 14-16 miles for long runs but honestly if I can't, I'll be fine with that. I don't remember where I saw the quote, but it always sticks in my mind during long runs -

"[A marathon is] 20 miles of hope, 6 miles of guts"

I'm sure we're going to find out. Cheers.

Family first

Everyone training for or supporting someone who is training for an Ironman knows that "sacrifice" is *THE* most often used word in our vocabulary.

Work. Early mornings. Weekends. All of it at the mercy of long rides, extended stretching/icing sessions and multi-hour runs.

We ask a lot of our families during this time. I'm sure for my wife, it's like being a single parent on the weekends. Getting up earlier than she'd like, making breakfast for the kids and then cleaning up a house that I am probably the most guilty of making a mess of. I will publicly acknowledge that she is the Iron-wife who takes care of us all.

That's why this weekend, I won't be riding. A prior commitment means that I will be taking care of things Sunday morning (Can't you ride later in the day, you might ask. Not really - it's 105 outside). Clearly not a hardship for me to be there when my kids get up to make their favorite waffles and eggs for breakfast but nonetheless, a gap in my training. Will it make a difference? I doubt it.

I'm happy to take an extended weekend actually. The rigors of this last week have taken a bit more recovery than usual and I'm happy to get a little extra recovery time. Despite everything I do each week for training, nothing comes close to the responsibilities of taking care of our home and family. It's actually harder than training for an Ironman - but it's a challenge I'm happy to take on.

Setting 'em up, knocking 'em down

Today was another banner training day both mentally and physically. Given that last week's long run was 17, I had a sneaky suspicion that going 20 was going to be a stretch goal but still a milestone I needed to hit.

In case you don't want to read any further, here are the stats for the run.

On top of the distance, I tried a different nutrition plan for today's run. I've been having GI issues with longer runs lately so I figured it was time to devise at least a skeleton strategy I could live with knowing how I've performed at other distances. I won't bore you with the details but suffice it to say, it worked out really well and I'm excited at the prospect of not only finishing strong but not wanting to toss my cookies at the end of the run.

Miles 1-10 felt good. I was able to keep at race pace through that distance. I remember feeling pretty good between miles 11 and 14 too - I recall thinking, "This second half feels much better than the first half. Maybe I can have a negative split."

Psshh. Crazy talk.

The effects of my over-confidence showed itself on mile 14. I got some cramps in my calves that needed to be walked off. After that however, I was able to loosen up an bit and continue on my way.

Miles 14-17 didn't feel so good. For some reason, those miles just felt like they took a long time. Not to mention that during this swath of mileage, I could feel the bowels churning. The combination of a poor lunch selection the day before, Roctane and Perpetuem were just the right combination to induce a "pit spot" on mile 17.

If you've ever run [this kind of] distance before, you know that stops or pauses in the upper 1/4 of your workout is almost like death. Pausing to go to the bathroom allows things to settle, relax and get comfortable with the idea that your body is no longer in motion. It was either stop and take care of business or clench for the next 30 minutes. I opted to stop. Yes, starting again hurt like hell.

Miles 17-20 were all gut - nothing more. My water was warm, the Roctane was gone and all I had left was the commitment to get the miles done no matter what. I won't lie. The last 3 miles hurt too. Less so than miles 14-17 but they were still hard.

It's still hard to believe that I'm able to put in this many miles a week. It doesn't seem like very long ago I struggled to run 100 yards while recovering from plantar faciitis. Each week, each goal and each success brings more and more strength, determination and mental power to my training. Setting 'em up and knocking 'em down - traithlon training at its best.

Thanks for reading.

Artful negotiation

I remember thinking about a really good blog topic on my long (17 mile) run yesterday morning but I can't for the life of me remember what the heck it was. I'm sure it would have been nostalgic, insightful and a pure joy to behold...if only my mind was focused on blogging and not the pain in my legs and calves.

I was scheduled to do 19 but around mile 15 I really wanted to stop and walk a bit. My mind was telling me to keep going but my legs and hips we're screaming at me to walk. Now I don't mind walking during a run, but experience has shown that after mile 13, the likelihood that my mind and body will both agree to continue moving  at the same pace is pretty unlikely.

So I resorted to some clever negotiation - I told myself that I could stop and walk a bit, BUT I had to finish the entire 19 miles. Option #2, was to keep running (even though I wanted to stop) and knock out 17 miles.

Monte, I'll take door #2.

I mean, really - will 2 miles make a difference in my overall training this week? Not likely. Do I feel any worse completing 17 miles rather than 19? Not really. My quads and calves ache just the same.

Cycling Sabotage

It's been difficult to ignore that in the last 2 weeks of training, I have not completed my long bike rides due to tire/tube malfunctions. Last weekend I made it 60 out of 75 miles due to a slashed tire and tube. This weekend, AGAIN, someone or something up there did not want me to complete my long ride.

I had a fantastic new route all planned out and was actually very excited to make that mileage mark after these long weeks of training. Again, just another barrier succumbing to my determination and fitness. You can view what the full route would have looked like here.

I knew things were trending downward about mile 8 when I got the first flat tire. Many of you are in-tune with your bike as I am and you instantly know the sound of a flat. It's that ominous 'thubbing' sound and the added vibrations of the handlebars or seat. I groaned and cursed a vulgar obscenity looking for a street lamp I could use to change my tire (it wasn't quite sunrise yet). After a delay of about 15 minutes or so, I was on my way.

The ride continued normally as I made my way though Usery Mountain and the Bush Highway. This was the part of the ride that was new to me so I was excited to see the new scenery and anxious to take on the elevation. The second half of this ride would take me down the Beeline Highway - the same road that will be used of the cycling portion of the Arizona Ironman.

A word of warning to anyone considering riding this road - on the safety meter of 1 to 10 - 1 being super unsafe and 10 be super-safe, this road was a 3. Riddled with debris (full tires, metal and bags of ???), covered in glass and flowing with traffic going 50-70 miles per hour (speed limit is 50) makes for a disaster waiting to happen.

Fortunately, the second flat tire hit me in a civilized part of the world (right at a gas station and casino). So I stopped to change my tire, grab some more water and sent a text to my wife that I had another flat tire and that I'd be delayed a bit more. At this point, I was recycling tubes. The tire I was putting back in was the one that had the hole at mile 8 earlier in the day. After finding the hole (which was hard enough), I patched it and pumped it back up as best I could with my hand-pump.

Back on the road, I was making good time and feeling slightly fatigued yet ready to finish the remaining 50 miles I had planned out. About the time I was considering whether my tire would hold out, I heard the ominous 'thubbing' again...I simply hung my head in defeat and dismounted. I tried one last time to apply another patch to the tire but it was painfully obvious that no amount of patches would be saving my ride this day.

I pulled my phone out and called my wife. As if she was almost expecting me to call, she did not even hesitate. She asked where I was and said she'd be there as quickly as she could (which was about an hour away from our house). I made my way back to the gas station to hang out, wait and reflect on my ride for the day.

Whether it's just bad luck or my choice in cycling routes, I need to figure out some way to appease the cycling gods here in the near future. While I'm consistently getting 3 hour rides on the weekends, I need figure out how to extend these a few more hours (and miles). Perhaps I need to sacrifice one of my old jerseys or start carrying a small bike shop on my bike...

Buggy

Cycling is a glorious sport. You go fast. You see new places. You are the master of your destiny.

You are also a big object hurdling through space, being bombarded with anything else that is occupying that space. Like bugs for instance. It's a simple formula really...

(Bugs + sweat) x miles per hour = HOT MESS

If you need that shot in a bit more detail...yes Virginia, those are bugs. The kids were completely grossed out.

Also, in other news Ironman race officials are looking at alternative places to hold the swim. Read more here.

Cut short

The remainder of the week turned out to be a strong one with cooler than average temps here in Arizona. Cloud cover mixed with a little rain has made training a bit more tolerable this week. Allow me to catch you up.

- Thursday -
Thursdays are long-run-day. The training calendar said 15 but I wasn't sure I had the juice for that. In my mind, I set 13 as the goal figuring I'd compromise for 11 or 12. Turns out, the temperature was slightly cooler and I found a way to push through to make that 13-mile mark.

I don't run with a headset or iPod so it gives me plenty of time to think. Miles 1-8 usually consists of various song lyrics going through my head or making mental notes for things I need to do at work or home. Miles 9-?? are typically about focus - form, stride, arms, speed and fluids. It's these miles I also marvel at how powerful the mind really is. Even though I feel like I can't go on, my mind says I must. So I do. Mind over matter really does matter.

- Friday -
Day off

- Saturday -
Long bike ride is normally scheduled for Sunday but even this guy has to prioritize a little fun over training. Poker night with the guys is tonight and there is usually beer involved so the long Sunday ride becomes the long Saturday ride.

Looking back, perhaps I should have kept the Sunday ride. I had this weird feeling last night that something was going to go wrong but what do I know? I'm not psychic.

Or am I?

Up to mile 40, the ride was fantastic. Then, pop! I ran over some sort of metal piece in the middle of the road that literally sliced the side of my tire open along with the tube (Exhibit A)

Exhibit A - The patch held for about 20 miles.

After panicking a bit (seeing it was 6:30 am) and knowing that no one in their right mind would be carrying a spare tire, I figured I was FUBAR. Tubes I carry. Tires I do not. I texted a few friends to see who would be able to cart my sorry ass home first but no luck. Either no on wanted that responsibility or they weren't up yet.

After many generous offers of aid from fellow roadies, I started digging around in my under-seat pack for inspiration or anything else that might carry me the remaining 20 miles home. As luck would have it, I had forgotten about the patch kit that has been in my bag since 'NAM...after 15 minutes of wrestling with the tire, I managed to replace the tube and pump it up to at least support my weight.

Gingerly, I peddled my way home. I stopped every couple miles to check on the patch. I swear the patch seemed to be popping out a little more each stop. But it held. What was meant to be a 75-mile ride was cut down to 60. Still a respectable ride but not what I had planned.