Ironman Canada Race Report

August 29, 2006 at 6:43 pm · Filed under Ironman Canada, Races

Tossing and turning in my slightly slanted and very creaky Plaza Motel bed, anxiety for the activities that lie ahead began to build. I must have been up five or six times through the night, part due to nerves and part due to the amount of fluids I took in to be sure to avoid being under-hydrated as I went into the day. A few hours earlier Matt and I sat outside the motel room and gazed at the heavy haze that was coming toward us from the mountains. The winds had changed directions and the forest fires from the Washington border were sending smoke in our direction. Not a pleasant thought - to swim, ride, and run through a smoky Pentincton.

Morning finally arrived, 4:00 a.m. to be exact. Time to get up and start getting really nervous. I immediately went to the fridge and pulled out all my drinks for the day, placing them in the appropriate special needs bag. One for the bike and one for the run. The day before we had to take our Bikes, Swim-to-Bike bag, and Bike-to-Run bag to the transition area. So this morning there were fewer things to worry about forgetting. I was lucky to have Matt around, this morning, as well as the days prior. I just mimicked his routine and when he prepared something, I did as well. Following putting together my bags and getting my wetsuit and race gear ready, I ate some breakfast and we headed down Main St. toward the flickering lights.

All the participants enter the transition area through the same gate. A shoot of sorts set up a few hundred yards up Main St. Upon entering, I placed my special needs bags in the appropriate boxes on either side of the road. I then went to designated line for my body marking. The organization of the race is very good. Very precise. You have your bib number (#587) and you place your bags, bikes, get marked, etc in the lines/sections marked with your number. Easy to follow and you know the day before the race where everything is going to be. The transition for an Ironman race is quite different than other races. Most races you setup you area by your bike and that is home base so to speak. In an Ironman, it is very organized. Your bikes are racked by themselves, no clutter around them so you can just grab it and go. You have one line to grab you bike gear after the swim and one line to grab your run gear after the bike. You change in big tents with chairs, and the volunteers take your previously used gear for you. So you change, pack your disgarded gear in your now empty bag, and you’re off.

Back to the preparation… After getting marked I went to my bike to make sure the tire pressure was still good and that everything looked ready to go. I also dropped a few more things into my transition bags. I realized while I was at my bike that i didn’t have my timing chip on me. A moment of panic set in.

Where is my chip?

Did I leave it at the hotel?

Crap, don’t panic relax, it’s still very early, you have time to go back and get it…

But if I did forget it at the hotel, where in the room was it?

I made my way to my swim-to-bike transition bag and thankfully there I found my timing chip. I placed it in the bag so I wouldn’t forget it, I just forgot that I placed it there. Panic completed.

Most of the morning I felt like a deer in headlights. Wandering around, looking at the water, wandering around, double checking my stuff, wandering around… I think it was apparent to others as well as more than one volunteer or Ironman staff took the time to ask how I was doing and to just have fun and have a good day.

The Swim

6:45 rolled around and it was time to get to the beach. The pros, and bigMatt, had just gone off and now it was a short 15 minutes until the remaining 2,200 athletes began the swim. I worked my way across the beach to the outside left end of the mob. The swim is a clockwise elongated triangle. My plan was to stay out of the washing machine and swim along the outer edge. So, there I stood in knee deep water periodically checking my watch and making sure I was ready to start my timer. My heart rate was in the 80’s, not a great resting heart rate, but it certainly could have been higher.

Couples comforted one another in the sea of neoprene. It was clear several had engaged in this journey together and were about to bring it all to a close. The water was calm, a welcome contrast to the wind induced white caps that filled the Okanagan Lake just days before. Crowds lined the fenced-off beach. Queen’s, I Want It All, filled the air. Moments later I found myself wading further into the Lake. The race had begun, but as I sit here trying to recall the day I can’t recall how we got sent off. A count down? A gun shot? I don’t remember…

I slowly waded in and tried to pick my spot. It was crowded to my right, all the way across, maybe 40 yards to the bouys. Over here on the left it wasn’t too bad. There was some maneuvering necessary to find a fit and get a rhythm. It wasn’t too unlike a carousel, things are going by and you’re looking for an open horse to jump on and enjoy the ride. I found my horse and just started swimming, nice and easy. The sun was rising in the sky and to my breathing side. It was an awesome site from water level. With each breath I’d get a glimpse of the sun, and the silhouettes of thousands of swimmers would fill my view. It was unreal. The best swim of my life, not only because it was my fastest, but I felt at peace and calm. Yes, there were a few mini-panics were I swallowed some water or got caught up behind other swimmers, but for the most part it was very quite, calm, and just exhilarating to be a part of this thing.

Swim: 1:09:32 Stoked!

T1
I wasn’t too winded. I felt pretty good coming out of the water. I ran through the timing mats and into the transition area. Teams of strippers (no, not that kind - although that would have made for an interesting morning) lined the lawn. Teams of two.

Red Rover, Red Rover, Send Paul on Over

o.k. my turn, here I come, now what… Drop to the ground and they pull off your wetsuits… Ah, cool

They then chased after me to give me back my wetsuit. Not sure what I was thinking. I wasn’t sure what was going on even though I’ve seen this ritual done several times while spectating my brothers races. Certainly one thing I learned from the whole experience is things just happen very quickly, you get caught up in the momentum of things and don’t necessarily have time to stop and think, it’s all instinctual and with more races to come I’ll get more comfortable with some of these rituals.

So, now with wetsuit in hand I run toward my swim-to-bike transition bag. Another volunteer yells out my number and someone else grabs my bag and hands it to me. I’m then shuffled into the changing tent. I take a seat and begin a leisurely change into my bike shoes and helmet (which I put on my head immediately, but soon thereafter lost track of where my helmet was and tried to steal another’s).

T1: 7:17

The Bike

My legs were a little heavy to start the bike, but I was looking forward to a good ride. I tried to spin a higher cadence to get the blood pumping through the legs and work my way into and past the crowds of cyclists. The roads were very packed for the first 10 miles and then still somewhat through maybe 30. By the time we hit the first hills, Richter Pass, things began thinning out. I tried to stay in my targeted zone for the race, mid 140’s, but found I had to make several harder efforts to make passes and work my way to some more open roads. I didn’t think drafting was a big issue, in some sections it was inevitable, but for the most part it seemed riders were very conscious of staying the required distance from the cyclist in front of them and making passes when possible. I found myself jumping forward and then sliding into an opening to recover, then jumping forward again. In some areas I had to try to ride with some type of staggering to not take advantage of riders ahead. But again, once we hit the hills things spread out quite a bit. It only got a little cluttered again through portions of the out-and-back at around mile seventy-five.

I felt really good during most of the ride. My cadence was good, my heart rate was controlled (aside from a few spikes while overtaking riders), and I felt I was following my hydration and nutrition plan well. There were only a couple sections of where I felt some fatigue setting in and maybe some slight signs of pre-bonking. At those times I would just slow up my pace slightly and take in some fuel to recover.

The hills were tough, even though I trained for them and found them to be less severe than some of climbs I trained on, in a racing situation, and after an hour+ swim, I found them difficult. Especially the last 2km of Yellow Lake, the grade tips up and roads are peppered on both sides with supportive spectators. I felt some slight cramps working their way into my quads. I kept pedaling and trying to keep an even cadence all the while praying under my breath.

Just get up over this hill and then you can recover and hope for a moderate run. Please… You’ve come so far you have to make it the rest of the journey.

I took those miles after the out-and-back and through Yellow Lake very cautiously. I didn’t want to leave my race on the bike course. I focused on getting in more fluids as I believed that to be the issue. I certainly had some unplanned efforts, but I didn’t feel i was out of my overall race plan or targeted efforts.

The last 10 miles or so were all down hill. So I focused on a high cadence to try and work out any cramping that might come. I cruised into the transition in under six hours, I surpased my goal for the bike and was very pleased. My legs felt o.k. and I was looking forward to a good run.

Bike: 5:56:54 Stoked!

T2
I dismounted and handed my bike to another fantastic volunteer. These guys were great, really doing a great job to keep us going and everything running smoothly. I ran over to my transition bag, with a very forward heavy stride. I felt like I was carrying a weight around my neck, very top heavy. Once in the changing tent I slowly began working off my cycling gear and sifting through my run stuff. I noticed I was missing a bottle I had planned to run with. It had salt tablets in a pocket on the side. Bummed, but I did have some back-up tabs in the bag and took those with me. Just before getting up to leave, my left hammy sent a jolt through my body that caused it to salute straight across the row and almost trip another athlete on his way out.

Son-of-a-$&*#, that stings. Come on, work you’re way out, we’re not done yet, not by a long shot.

Maybe I wasn’t that firm, maybe I sounded like a six-year-old begging mother to buy the Lucky Charms.

Come on… I want to finish… Please, please, please.

Perhaps I had this exchange outloud as two volunteers came over to ask how I was doing.

Just my leg, I told them, it’ll be o.k.

Do you feel light-headed?

Nope.

Did I sound light-headed? No, I sounded fine. I gotta go. Off I went, to the out-house to have a little time to myself.

T2: 11:18 Ouch, but fine.

The Run

I’m out on the course. I’m feeling pretty good, despite the leg cramp. My clip is slow, but I’m a slow runner so this is to be expected. I just wanted to target 10 minute miles going into this and so far I’m on target. The miles started ticking by and I was feeling like I can handle this, I’m not fresh and comfortable, but my heart rate is in my target and I’m moving forward. I’m a little pre-occupied with trying to spot Matt coming the other direction. My goal was to be off the bike before he finished so I could see him on the course. I accomplished that goal and was now spotting the pros coming the other direction and hoping to soon see the bro.

Tighten the bow string and kick it out. What? The right leg has just contracted creating a significant ball in my hamstring, kick it out, straighten the leg, ouch - now it’s stuck there.

Do you need a chair?, asked a spectator

I couldn’t talk. As I reflect on that moment, everything is in slow motion. As if my whole race was flashing before my eyes. Did I not drink enough? Not enough salt tablets? This is painful and it sucks, but keep moving. It took what seemed like several minutes for my right leg to release itself from the clutches of rigor mortis and rejoin the living somewhere between mile five and six of the marathon. I began walking up the hill in front of me and Matt peaked his head over the hill coming in the opposite direction. When he finally came in full view and started down toward me I began running again and moved toward the middle of the road to cheer him on. He wasn’t having a good day and had fallen back to 13th place, cramps had plagued him early on, but he was determined to finish.

O.K. there is no way I’m not gonna finish this thing. I briefly had dreams of a high 11 - low 12 hour race as I left T2 with around 7 hours 30 on my watch. I was excited to have a great race. Now I had to be excited to finish this thing and go back to my original, more realistic, goal of around 13 hours when I signed up for this Ironman a year ago.

It took many miles, salt tablets, pretzels, gatorade, and water to work out the cramping in my legs. Thankfully the two hamstring cramps were isolated incidents. I was now battling quad cramps, side stitches, and some serious gas. Excuse me… and I apologize if you were anywhere near me on the course. It may not be p.c. to speak of this, but someone has too, I wasn’t the only one out there. Anyway, my leg cramps were subsiding so I decided to fall back to plan B of my run. Walk through the aid stations and then run to the next. I almost did that. I’d run to the next mile marker, walk some, recover, then run to an aid station that was usually another .2 down the road. I still had other sections where I was forced to walk. All in all I probably walked 50% of the course, and got to the point where my run wasn’t too much faster than my walk. I had to adopt a short, stiff legged stride to keep the legs cooperating.

The last few miles were tough, really tough. My feet, ankles, and calves were aching something fierce. It felt as if they might snap off at any moment. I’d rub my quads, knees, and calves with ice at the last few aid stations, this numbed the pain momentarily and allowed me to carry on.

As I started down Main St. I may have tried to pick my pace up with the excitement building inside me. I had more energy on the inside than my body could use. My head, lungs, heart, were all shouting go, you’ve done it, you’ve reached your goal! But my body was in a world of it’s own, cursing the inner me.

Slow down you jackass, I can’t keep up! Contain youself until we get to the finish.

So, I put my head down and focused. On short strides, on long training days, on a great swim, a great bike, and on the knowledge that I can do this. That we’ll take this 36-year-old machine back to the shop and work some more on it and next time, that’s right at mile 25 I’m already thinking about next time, we’ll get the run down.

Moments later, well not really moments. That last mile was the longest mile I’ve ever run, it just kept going, like an old Hitchcock movie where the hallway keeps getting longer and longer. Until finally I’m there, a bright light shining in my face and when I can see again, there is Bigmatt at the finish line holding my medal. I did it.

Run: 5:49:51 Ouch!

Total Time: 13:14:52

I still have that Dear in the headlights look…

Epilogue

While it was painful out there, I never felt like giving up or questioned why I was doing this. I knew why I was doing this, and although I flirted briefly with a potentially great race for me, I was happy with how things were going and that I’d still reach my goal of finishing an Ironman in-around my initial goal.

Disappointed with my run? Most certainly. But I think the accomplishment of covering a distance I never thought possible overshadows the failures of the day. This was a journey that lasted much longer than the 13-plus hours on this course, this day. It was a journey that started long before I signed up for the race one year ago. And a journey I’ll continue for years to come.

Thanks to so many of you for your support. I thought of other Trifuelers on the course and courses past and that kept me going. And a big thanks to the Trifuelers that volunteered at the race and were there to catch me and make sure I was o.k. as I came to the finish. It was great meeting you all in person and I’m certain we’ll meet again.

Training Thoughts
I need to work a lot harder on my running and continue to build my bike base. I need to do more long rides in the bars and on the front of the saddle. I need to train for those unexpected efforts when you need to make a pass. And, I need to continue working on my nutrition, I didn’t have things right for the last portion of this race. While I’m not certain if that would have cured my cramping, I believe it would have made some impact in being able to run a little longer and with a bit of consistancy. But, I think mostly I need to put more miles under my feet and spend more time trying to simulate some of these race conditions.

All-in-all a great experience, and huge base building day for future events

Comments (13)

I Survived!

August 28, 2006 at 8:13 pm · Filed under General, Ironman Canada

Decided to drive home today so been on the road all day. Not fun. Legs so tight and soar. But, excited to see Streatley tomorrow when I pick him up from the Kennel.

As many of you know, I survived the Ironman. Had a great swim and bike, better than I expected, but fell apart on the run. Legs cramped up something fierce in T2 and then again at around mile 6. Took a lot of walking and salt tabs to drive and work it out to where I could run some and walk some. I’ll do a full recap/race report tomorrow. A little tired now and would like to enjoy and a well earned beer!

Overall time was 13:14 and change. Thanks to Libor, Adam, Toni, PoC, Brittda (sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet in person), Trevor, Mom, Tracy, Linda, Dad, Chris, and all the other Trifuelers; all whom were either racing themselves, or cheering me on (live and tracking on Ironmanlive). You support definitely made a difference and helped me grind out those long hours on the run

Comments (5)

IMC Check In

August 25, 2006 at 1:53 pm · Filed under General, Ironman Canada

Just checking in on the blog. I arrived here in Pentincton on Wednesday, so been here a few days. Great town and seems like a great venue for this race. I had a chance to check out the climbs as we drove in. Richter is definitely a good climb and Yellow seems less severe, but a bit longer. Not really as concerned about them as I was before arrival. I had heard they are tough, but seem no more difficult than what I’ve been training on, so confident I can manage them.

Rode part of the course yesterday, The first section out of town. Very fast as the wind is at your back, but when you turn to hit Richter, boy the wind is strong. It’s gonna a be a tough ride home if the winds continue as they have.

The run looks good, some short climbs and some long steady climbs, but manageable. Getting warm in the afternoons though, and supposed to be in 90’s on Sunday, so need to make sure I take in the fluids and manage my efforts. I think the heat and wind could sneak up on you if you don’t try to stay within yourself through the race.

Definitely getting nervous and antsy. Want to go out and do this thing. The tapering and waiting is not fun, you start doubting if you have the endurance to do it because I haven’t riden or run long in a while. We’ll see come Sunday. #587!

Comments (1)

Twenty Seven

August 21, 2006 at 10:47 pm · Filed under Cycling, Ironman Canada

It’s 11:34. I should be sleeping. But, clearly I’m not. I leave tomorrow for IMC and I have christmas eve anxiety. So, thought I’d make a post and share a discovery I happened upon this afternoon.

First, let me disclose that this will prove how poor my cycling is.

As previously posted, I prepared my bike yesterday. Put the rear bottle holder on, cleaned it up a bit, put on the Zipps and it’s ready to go. So I thought. Yesterday’s ride was a just a quick 45 minute ride, real easy, real short. Just to spin the legs after the mornings run and keep things loose. I have the new Zipps on and was definitely feeling a difference on the flats and downhills, but wasn’t noticing any improvements on the hills. Legs felt a bit heavy and sluggish, had a hard time spinning those second and third gears. Just sucked it up, mentioned it to Matt, along with the chain feeling like it was clicking. Thought maybe a new chain might be a good investment.

Anyway, went on another ride today. Thank God. It wasn’t on my schedule, but on Matt’s - and felt I should sync with his schedule for this final taper week as it’ll be easier since we’ll be traveling a bit over the next couple days. So out for my ride. It sucked. Climbs were tough, Wind was blowing going out and my average speed was low. Legs felt sluggish again. Chain was still clicking a bit in my middle gears. So, decided on the way home that maybe I should just put my training wheel’s cassette on the Zipps since I know the chain behaves well with it.

I think many of you now know where I’m going with this. The reason my legs feel sluggish and I’m not feeling right on the hills is because the cassettes are drastically different. The Zipps (Matt’s Zipps) have an 11-23 on them, while my training wheel’s have a 12-27. That’s right I’m really not that good of a climber, I thought I was at least pushing a 25 up the hills but I’m actually pushing a 27. In my defense though, most riders here have a 25 in the rear because of the mountain. Matt is just stupid strong. He likes to Ulrich up the mountain, I like spin a higher cadence.

Bad news, I’m still a weak cyclist. Good news is I discovered this glaring oversight before attempting Richter Pass and Yellow Lake. These last couple days on the Zipps I’ve been missing two gears and wondering why my legs feel heavy in gears I can normally turn at a fairly high rate. Your turning the wrong gear, novice… Well I felt stupid, but so glad I realized now and not 90 miles in. Now I know and will make the adjustment tomorrow of moving my cassette over to the Zipps.

No wonder I had such a hard time going up Sparks grade at Pacific Crest. Lesson learned.

Comments (3)

Pre-Race Jitters

August 21, 2006 at 9:04 am · Filed under General

Oh, boy. Six days til the gun goes off.

The last week has been a bit stressful. Lots of issues with servers and hosting of my sites. Some twinges in my sciatica (sp?), left side. Trying to focus on stretching it out and taking it easy on my runs.

Starting to get all anal about stuff. Got some new Zoot shorts and a neoprene seat cover. Fixed up the bike yesterday with new rear bottle cage and my Brothers Zipps. The chain is rubbing a bit on a couple cogs so might look into getting a new chain. I guess you’re supposed to change the chain every thousand miles or so. Hmm… Oops.. not sure I’ve ever changed the chain, probably 10,000 miles on it Oh!

Need to pack stuff up tonight as we start our journey tomorrow. Breaking the drive into two days, 5 hours each so as to not screw up the body sitting in the car too long. Should be in Pentincton Wednesday afternoon.

Beginning to focus too much on what my time is going to be. I’m basing things on where I’m at now and what i could do if I push it. Rather than relax and remember my initial goals set 6 months ago. I need to get my head right and just focus on that, it is my first. I need to focus on how far I’ve come and hitting targets set when i started the journey and not worry about where I need/want to go. There will be plenty more IM’s for that. Thinking of doing Wisconsin next year. Scratch that, I am doing Wisconsin next year. I need to be sure to get online and sign-up in Sept. Make sure you guys remind me and hold me too it, no matter how bad I might still feel from Canada

Who’s in? Road trip to WI07!

Comments (6)

Reflecting on an Iron Journey

August 17, 2006 at 10:23 am · Filed under General

Well, in 11 days I’ll be on foreign soil (if you can call Canada foreign), lined up with 2,000 or so fellow athletes, all anxious to take the Lake plunge and begin the final day of this particular Ironman journey. I say this particular journey because it doesn’t end at the finish line, just the end of chapter one. No matter what the outcome of Sunday’s race, my endurance pursuits will go on, I’m already planning next years event.

But, today I sit at the local coffee shop enjoying a cup and my day off. Tapering is going well and a rest day is just what I need going into the final week of prep before my Ironman. Since the blogging has lapsed as the training volume and overall hecticness of life increased, I felt it time to take a moment and reflect on the journey thus far. The last six months of training and preparation have been tough, but well worth it.

The journey really began half a lifetime ago…

Circa 1990
An Eighteen year old skinny, chicken legged, kid buys Dave Scott’s Triathlon Training with a dream of one day completing an Ironman. I also bought a new bike, the Centurion Ironman Dave Scott edition of course. I enrolled in a cycling class in college and began my journey toward training for an Ironman. Well I quickly learned I had no talent for cycling. My chicken legs really struggled in keeping up with other riders in the class. It was very dissapointing and I became discouraged with my inability to ride. I continued the pursuit for 6-12 months but gave up on my dream when rent was due and I had no money, so sold the bike. It wasn’t a hard decision as I recall. None of my friends had road bikes, and spandex/lycra was not the attire of choice at the Fraternity.

Eight years ago…
During the mountain bike craze a group of friends and I decided to try a triathlon. Wildflower mountain bike course. Needless to say, I was hooked. I loved the race and decided again to purchase a road bike and try my hand at triathlons. But, with no real motivation to go long. I’d stick with Olympic distance races. My bad experiences on the bike earlier in my career squashed all hopes of the big show. Not to mention I was getting older now, approaching thirty and the years of basketball at the park had taken it’s toll on my knees and back. Not only did I think I was a horrible cyclist, but I knew I couldn’t run much further than 8 miles or so without it becoming very uncomfortable and painful.

So for several years I was happy doing my Olympic distance races, starting this website, and following the career and accomplishments of my brother. At some point along the way I decided to push my limits again and do a half Ironman. Vineman to be specific. Training was difficult and the race itself was very painful, but I did it, and it was probably one of the proudest moments of my life. I never thought I could go that distance and I had. Though I was in such pain I knew there was no way I could double it.

One year ago
The time had come to suck it up, quit complaining about what I think I can’t do and start thinking about what I can. I had taken a couple years off from racing, but had continued to ride my bike and run. I had recently moved to Bend, OR to start the next chapter in my life and doing Halfs and Full Ironmans were going to be a part of that. Chris had just won Canada and in my excitement for his win I asked him to sign me up. Unfortunately he went down the next morning and did so, Oh… no turning back now.

I think I went into some degree of self sabotage at the thought of trying to complete an Ironman. My biggest obstacle all my life has been the one between the ears. I think I was looking for excuses to back out. Winter came and my training was very minimal. I gained too many pounds and began to feel really bad about what was happening. I topped out at 188-190lbs, considering my Vineman weight in 2003 was 160, this was not good.

Six months ago
Reading the journey’s of other Trifuelers and having my brothers as inspiration, I finally snapped out of my self pity I can’t mode and began my real journey to getting this thing done.

The journey was difficult. Ironman is hard… but well worth it. There is so much to learn on those long lonely rides and runs. I discovered a lot about myself and broke through many barriers, both physical and mental. Things I never thought I’d be capable of doing, I did. There were many painful moments during those rides and runs, but I discovered I can gut it out and the next time it’s easier. I haven’t become a good cyclist or runner, but I can endure far longer than I thought possible. I know I can line up along with my fellow athletes that Sunday morning and be proud because of the process I endured to get there. In my mind I’ve already won, I’ve already succeeded. The race itself is just the last sentence in this particular chapter. More chapters will follow post August 27th.

Some observations during my journey:

This isn’t easy
Going from a half Iron distance to a full distance isn’t easy. The volume isn’t twice as hard, it’s exponentially harder. During the building up phase an 80 mile ride felt twice as difficult as a 60 mile ride. And running over 90 minutes was very difficult for a long time.

The pain is worth it
I’d do it all again and will. The pain you may experience during some of the training sessions is so worth it. It’s hard to explain the feeling you get when you finish your first 100 mile ride or 3 hour run. The adrenaline and excitement that overwhelms you those last few miles is almost undescribeable. You feel proud of yourself. Proud of your accomplishments. I often found myself running the last 2 miles of a 2 1/2 to 3 hour run singing along to the songs on my iPod. Having just come through some difficult miles, now I see the finish and I see my stopwatch pass 2:55:01 and there is no pain. Only euphoria.

Nutrition is Paramount
I struggle with nutrition. I’ve tried many times to re-program my eating habits, but find myself lapsing back to my old ways often. I’m getting better, but know I still have a long way to go to a healthier diet. What I have noticed during this process is nutrition is so critical at this distance. Poor diet not only effects you energy levels, but your mental disposition. The mental aspect can greatly impact the quality of your workouts and your motivation to keep pushing ahead. There were a couple points during the last six months were my motivation waned and my training went to hell, and for the most part I feel it was lapses in my diet that attributed to these poor periods.

Having a support group is Key
One reason I didn’t succeed in my attempt at age eighteen was because there was no support group. I didn’t have friends who road and it was too easy to give it up. Having my brothers, family, friends, and fellow Trifuelers to draw motivation, inspiration, and support from has made all the difference in this attempt eighteen years later.

Shaving your legs can be cool
Especially when after a clean shaving, and the light is just right, and your flexing with every fiber of muscle you can muster, you can finally see some muscle definition.

This is longest I’ve sat and tried to write something in a while, so I think it’s time to sign-off. I’m off to Canada on Tuesday and hopefully come Monday the 28th I’ll be making an entry about my survival. Bib #587.

Comments (7)

This Stuff is Hard

August 1, 2006 at 7:57 am · Filed under General

While I always had respect for those athletes that complete an Ironman, my awe for their accomplishments continues to grow. Training for an Ironman isn’t easy, it’s damn hard. While my training is going well for the most part, adding miles to get to those Ironman numbers are very difficult. I went into this thinking it would be tough but not this tough. I had completed a half so figured, “o.k. a full will be twice as hard, I can do that.” Not so, seems (for me at least) adding those miles at the top end are exponentionally more difficult. Adding just 10 miles to a bike ride of 70, 80, 90 miles is painful. Not just moderately more difficult, but painfully more difficult. Adding 20 minutes to a 2, 2:30 run is very painful. The knees and back ache, the pain shoots up the left side of the leg, the doubt creeps in.

I went from grand dreams of finishing an Ironman in a respectable time, to now conceding to just surviving. Goal number one and pretty much my only goal going into Canada is going to be crossing that line and surviving this Epic battle with my body and mind. I’ve made many mental notes along the way and definitely have some things I’ll do differently for next year’s race (haven’t decided which one yet). Things such as training with a Powermeter, doing core work, being a little more consistent in training and especially diet. May even look into a nutritionist, as I think this is my biggest crutch. It’s amazing how a poor meal or bad nutrition can effect workouts and motivation, especially when you get up to these distances. You can’t fake it up here, a 6 hour ride is a 6 hour ride, 15 miles of running isn’t something you can just go out and do on a whim. Maybe soemday I’ll have that kind of endurance and fitness, but now it takes planning and eating well the day before these tasks.

At any rate, as difficult and painful as this can be at times, I won’t stop. I’ll never give up. I’ll continue to endure for the rest of my life. This has been a great experience and I haven’t even done the race yet. At this point it doesn’t really matter how my race goes, well maybe it does . But I feel I’ve accomplished som much in just my training that the race itself is just the footnote on this Ironman chapter of my Endurance book. I’m already excited to train for another next year and to do other endurance events, maybe push myself to do some mountain bike endurance rides, some Xterra’s, maybe a ultramarathon type race is in my future. Basically I want to keep pushing myself, keep training for new experiences.

So why, if it’s so painful at times, do you want to continue doing it? One may ask. Well, it’s hard to explain unless you’ve done it. Most of you readers will understand. Most of you readers have inspired me to continue. It’s about seeing your cyclometer tick past 90 miles and you know you can put it another 10. It’s about looking at your watching and seeing 3:01 and realizing, holy crap I just ran for 3 hours… and I don’t feel like death. The sense of accomplishment and inner pride that washes over me when I surpass these plateaus is amazing. These are things I never comprehended being able to do 1-2-3 years ago. Now I know I can, and I can continue to go further, and I will.

Comments (4)