A Near Podium Experience

So close, and yet so far.  Literally. That would describe my first near-podium experience at the Padres Stand For Hope 5k on a rainy, hail-infested Saturday.  The forecast called for near freezing temperatures and the possibility of snow at the 500-foot level.  No matter, as I had a 1.75 hour run to fit in, with the final 20 minutes being in zone 3.  Though Coach Gerardo gave me the green light to run as hard as I could if I felt up for it.  That's keeping in mind that I haven't run faster than a 7:30 mile in several months.

Normally, I wouldn't even bother with a 5k at this point in my Ironman training.  But my coach is allowing me to ramp up the speed work now as several of my teammates are training for sprint or Olympic-distance race.  This is as good as time as any for me to get that work in too before focusing on long-distance training the final few months.

Further, several co-workers at my company decided to run the race for charity and asked if I'd be interested in joining. I thought it would be good to run with my friends and cheer them on, and it was truly the best part of the race.  Seeing the looks of accomplishment (and exhaustion) on my friends' faces reminded me of my first 5k and my first few races.  I was truly happy for them.

Their successes ultimately were the highlight of the day.  The race itself was a disaster.  Total logistical nightmare. When I arrived at 6:30 a.m. to sign up early and begin my pre-race 1:20:00 run, volunteer crews were still trying to determine where to set up check-in and registration tents.  When it was my turn to register, the volunteers couldn't find bibs.  Now I don't want to sound like a race snob by any stretch.  I know most of these folks are volunteering for a great cause and have never participated in a race-like environment.  It just reminded me how grateful we should be for well-run races, where everything seemingly happens like clock-work yet there's a HUGE operation going on behind the scenes.

Not at this race though.

The starting gun blasted nearly an hour after it was supposed to.  I had already run 7.3 miles and was getting cold from waiting in the starting area for nearly 15 minutes after my warm-up run.  Once the run started, I had to quickly decide if I was going to push it or stick to a tempo-run finish.  As soon as I saw my Griffith Park running buddy and co-worker John dart ahead of me, I had my answer.

No way.  I'm not going to lose today.  It's in my nature.  No matter how painful the race may be, no matter if I'm unprepared to go that hard, I'm not going to lose without putting in my best effort.  I'm incapable.

Now I'm really glad I didn't sign up for Oceanside 70.3 recently.

I've attached my Garmin workout to show the progression of my run (though I forgot to click to "Other" instead of "cycling.")  You can see I had the best three running miles probably since the Nautica Malibu Triathlon last September: 7:07, 6:34, 6:13.

What propelled me?  Honestly, all I could think of was "PODIUM."  I kept repeating it in my head the whole time.  I knew that with poor weather -- it started hailing during the first mile of the race -- and with it being a slightly less competitive crowd than what I'm used to, I had a real chance to experience a top-five or better finish.  Every time my heart felt like it was going to give out, I reprimanded myself..."KEEP GOING!  PODIUM."

"PODIUM."

"PODIUM."

"PODIUM."

I started passing people.  John fell back.  My pace quickened. I kept trying to focus on form, but eventually I stopped thinking about that and focused on running as hard and fast as I could.  I'm convinced that if I had committed to the race even sooner - like right after the starting gun and not in the first quarter-mile, that perhaps I could have broken 20 minutes. That is my ultimate goal.

Well, I crossed the finish line at 20:29 by my watch, the same exact time and pace (6:36) I had at Desert Triathlon last year around the same time.  After staying around to congratulate my teammates and co-workers after they crossed the finish line, I went with John to see the posted results.

SECOND PLACE in age group!

I did it!!!!

FINALLY, a podium!  I was elated.  Even though it was a smaller race, I tasted my own sense of real victory for the first time. I called Steph immediately, and of course she was bummed because she wasn't there to witness it -- I made her stay home because of the weather and this not being an A-race by any stretch.

A while later, John and I went to collect our medals. That's when my elation turned to dejection.

Apparently, two other runners in my age group didn't have time chips but told race organizers they had run sub-20:00 times.  And for whatever reason, the race organizer gave them the second and third-place medals.

I had finished in fourth.

Really?

It was like the Breath of Life triathlon last June when I qualified for Nationals only to watch it fall away from a silly drafting penalty.

Can I catch a break?

Since this wasn't a huge deal to me and it's really about charity, I shrugged my shoulders, grumbled under my breath, and drove home.  As I have a day to think about it more, I realize how much I have to feel grateful for.  I'm no longer injured, quite clearly.  My training is paying off again, quite clearly. I equaled my 5k PR in my first real speed training of the year, and proved again to myself that if I work hard enough, I can run pretty fast.

It's not a medal, but it's close.

I'll take my near-podium experience and savor it just a bit.

114 days and counting.

What Cannot Be Measured

The danger of a sport filled with metrics -- pace, heart-rate, watts, splits, cadence, T1/T2, etc. -- is that once you understand the data, it's easier to objectively analyze your true performance. The metrics indicate that I finished sixth in my age group out of 20 for the sprint portion of the 11th Annual Desert Triathlon today, good for top 22% of all males and top 13% overall.

However, my individual pace times tell the real story.  And for two out of the three events, I woefully underperformed.  As you know, my swim T-pace has steadily decreased the past several weeks, to the point of 1:55 per 100 yards.  I was most excited to see how much time I'd shave from my overall finish thanks to my new-found swimming prowess.  Today, for my first open water swim of the year, I swam at a 2:14 pace.  Wow.  Worse yet, for the 14-mile bike portion of the triathlon, my pace was 17 mph.  Are you f-ing kidding me?  Granted, I brought my "beater" bike, the one I use on the trainer at home, since I didn't want to risk crashing in the rain on my prized Colnago.  My Scott Speedster is a veritable tank compared to many of the other tri-bikes I was competing against.  (For the record, it also probably saved my life when I crashed last year!) But still, I wouldn't have expected such a decrease in speed.  No excuses either way.  I pedaled hard, but rode slow.

Fortunately, the run was a different story. I've never run a faster three miles, not by a longshot.  My pace was an astonishing 6:36, which is 21 seconds faster than my previous fastest recorded mile time.

In that regard, I can definitely see my training paying off.  That, and the fact that I'm not remotely sore tonight as I'm sitting on my couch typing.

Still, I can't help but feel a little disappointed in my performance.  I realize it's the first race of the year, and I'm definitely happy I placed so high given this was a competition between two huge Southern California triathlon clubs, Los Angeles and San Diego.  On the other hand, I have a lot of training left to do.  A lot of ground to gain.

I think my biggest lesson learned today was to arrive to the race more prepared.  I missed packet pick-up yesterday due to printing the wrong email from an LA Tri Club dispatch and screwing up the cut-off time.  So, I was a frazzled upon arrival, scrambling to put the appropriate tags and stickers on my bike minutes before needing to meet at the starting point.  This left me little time to warm-up, let alone use the restroom for my ritual pre-race jitters. There's a fine line between being relaxed before a race and being careless and unfocused. Before I knew it, I was at the starting point playing with my goggles when the gun went off unexpectedly (no countdown warning?!) to start the swim.  I wasn't even ready!  Being caught off-guard in a sprint triathlon shotgun swim start is not a good way to place high.  As a result, the rest of the swim I felt like I was playing catch-up.  It wasn't until I was halfway finished with the swim (about the 250 meter point) that I started to hit a comfortable T-pace groove.  And by then it was too late.

Fortunately, the race itself wasn't even the highlight of the day, or the weekend. While the best part of the weekend was sharing the experience with Stephanie, a close second was bonding even more with my Fortius Coaching teammates and Twitter buddies (@fittorrent, @chaibot, @rcmcoach).  What a talented and fun bunch!  Each member of the group brings a healthy attitude and friendly spirit to every practice, meeting, party and event.  It's so much better training with people you care about than slogging through the experience solo.  There were so many memorable moments with them: Saturday night at our pre-race meal, cheering wildly for each other during the rainy, cold race, and partying together afterwards for a three-hour Mexican food feast.

In the end, my teammates and Stephanie made the Desert Tri a special experience. Not the metrics themselves.

Funny that the best thing about a race can be the parts you can't measure.

261 days and counting.

How I Met Your Mother

If you read yesterday's blog, you know I was approaching the Desert Triathlon with a fairly nonchalant attitude. At least the race part. However, I'm more excited about the weekend for a different reason.

For the past few weeks, I've been walking around with a noticeable spring in my step.  My smile has felt bigger, my laugh heartier, my joy practically uncontainable.  It's been hard not to share the news with everyone, but there was a little bit of housekeeping that had to occur first.

Am I talking about buying a new bike or piece of triathlon equipment?  Not even close.

My favorite person in the world, Stephanie, has re-entered my life.  Yes, we are dating again, and yes, we're looking forward to a long life together with plans for an engagement already in progress.

She's also here supporting me at the Desert Tri event.

I couldn't be any happier!

For those of you who have been with me since the blog started, you're probably wondering: "But didn't you spend the past couple months trying to move forward with your life?  I don't get it."

Totally valid point.  The truth is that after a LOT of soul-searching, I realized that there's only so much time you can spend rationalizing or analyzing your life instead of simply appreciating it for what it is and going with the flow.  I also realized that if you want something bad enough, you have to be prepared to defend your choices and accept the consequences -- which I wasn't always able or willing to do in this relationship.  I thought my life was supposed to head in a certain direction but every time either Steph or I tried to move on a different path we always found a way back to each other.

And I'm truly at home now.  At peace.  FINALLY.  With myself, with this choice, with life.  I am filled with gratitude every day for getting to spend the rest of my life with my favorite friend.

The story of Stephanie and me is one that requires several blog posts to even begin to describe. Over the course of this Ironman journey, I'm going to share tales of how we met, some of the struggles along the way, and of course all the fun that's going to follow in the coming months and years.

The first tale has to start with how Steph and I met, which I still chuckle about every time I think about it.  I will save the story for another post next week.

When I first began this blog, I intended it to be a blueprint for my future children to learn how to tackle big goals in their lives.

I never realized it would be an ode to "How I met your mother."

Aren't they going to be lucky.

Race day is 12 hours away, and I couldn't care less.  With Steph being here, I've already won.

262 days and counting.

Triathlon Season Approacheth

In two days I'll be kicking off the 2010 triathlon season with the Desert Triathlon near La Quinta, Calif.

This marks the start of my second full season in the sport, though I completed two triathlons in 2008.  At what point am I considered a grizzled veteran?  The Desert Tri, which brings together both the San Diego and Los Angeles triathlon clubs for a weekend of socializing and friendly competition, marks my eighth triathlon overall. Four sprints and three Olympic-distance events.  Maybe when I hit 10 triathlons I'll attain non-noob status, as the video game kiddies like to say.  Sufficient XP gained, Trophy unlocked.

I'm pretty surprised at how mellow I am about the whole race thing.  I remember just a couple years ago feeling so incredibly jacked up for my first triathlon, the Nautica Malibu Triathlon.  I even got a hotel room -- 30 minutes from my own townhome at the time -- to make sure I arrived on time to the event with a few minutes extra sleep.  Hard core, or just plain ignorant? Probably a little bit of both.

Tonight while at work, I casually flipped open my email inbox to see A) where the race was being held, B) how to get there, C) remember the hotel I booked and D) oh yeah, what's the course look like?  It would be nice to know the distance associated with the race, too.  Since it's a sprint, though, I didn't figure it would matter much given all the training.

How times have changed.  I remember last year my IT bands would lock up during the 10k run portion of the Olympic triathlons.  Usually around the fourth mile, my legs would start to give out.  I could barely walk after the events.  Now, it seems like I don't even get warmed up until around the fifth mile.  I'm eager to see how I feel during Sunday's race.

I've already proven to myself that the training is paying off in terms of my physical conditioning and mental outlook, so I really don't have the usual pre-race jitters of any kind.  Instead, those feelings are replaced with total relaxation, almost as if it's just another fun weekend of training and socializing.  I'm not sure what to do with that.  I'm used to everything I do taking on a deeper meaning of some kind, a greater significance.  But, honestly, even though the Desert Triathlon marks the start of the 2010 triathlon season, it's a tiny blip in the grand scheme of things.  On one hand, I'm proud of myself for having such a relaxed and detached perspective.  On the other, I miss the giddiness of wondering what to expect out of the race and out of myself.  I miss the excitement of trying something new, of pushing myself to the limits.

Then again, it is early.  It's only Friday night. After a day off from training.  Chilling out on the couch playing games in the dim light of my living room.

If I'm writing the same type of blog on Saturday night, then maybe I've really changed.

I have a feeling I'll be jacked up by then.

263 days and counting.