Break on Through to the Other Side...

Find. your. Why.

It took 13 Ironman finishes, but I think I’m starting to figure out this whole 140.6-mile racing thing.

Physical fitness matters. Especially at the pointy end of the leaderboard.

But guts, guile and gameplan matter even more.

I’ve received several texts, phone calls and emails about what transpired towards the end of my Ironman Santa Rosa race this past weekend. Not because I was particularly fast overall — it was a middle-of-the-road performance for me. But rather because people asked me to explain how I was able to resurrect myself after a steady but steep demise from miles 9-18 during the marathon.

Here’s my best attempt at an answer.

For context, below is a visual layout of my mile splits during the marathon. I could have made four circles here, labeled based on the theme of my internal monologue at each point:

• Miles 1-8: “Hey, this is smooth and steady; you’re killing this!”

• Miles 9-14: “You are not killing this; work the problem!”

• Miles 15-17: “Damn it! Bonked again! This sucks! C’mon! Don’t give up!”

• Miles 18-26: “What do we tell the God of Death: NOT TODAY!!”

Miles 1-8 Mindset…

(Miles 15-17) my inner conversations with kaa manifesting themselves into physical form…

(Miles 18-Finish) Mamba-Faced zone trance

Before proceeding further, I should add another layer of context. Many of the people whom I suspect will read this recap know it’s been a challenging year so far. My dad, Mitch, has a rare form of bone marrow cancer (primary myelofibrosis) that accelerated and required a rushed stem cell transplant a few weeks ago. Prior to that in January, I suffered some complications recovering from sinus cavity surgery that wiped out roughly two months of training altogether through mid-March. Between my full-time career at Insomniac Games, growing my own Good Wolf Coaching practice, and remaining a dedicated husband and father, I would not be bringing much physical fitness to this race.

Six weeks ago, I actually discussed with my wife, Stephanie, ditching my Ironman World Championship Legacy quest. I didn’t think I’d be strong enough to even cross the finish line for my Kona slot validation race in Santa Rosa. Until the week of April 1, my longest week of training came 7 days after my January 22 surgery (8.5 hours) with most weeks hovering between nothing and up to five hours. Flu, bronchitis and pneumonia relentlessly took over through late March, though I managed three quality-driven, 10-hour training weeks from April 1st right up to race week.

So it would be easy to find excuses why it was OK to shut things down at any point in the race, in other words.

If I was going to earn my Kona validation, I’d have to race smart, and with heart. Steph urged me to go for it. I’m glad I did.

Besides, we both knew this race wasn’t just for me anymore. Not by a longshot.

See, whenever I visited my dad at the hospital, he’d mark his daily laps walking the transplant wing with his tethered IV stand by practically growling, “We’re going to Kona.” Followed promptly by a two-hour nap as he’d exhaust himself trying to impress me with his Festivus-like Feats (feet?) of Strength.

If my dad could endure that kind of pain and discomfort, and still put on a show for me, I had better be able to return the favor and honor his determination and focus.

You’re gonna quit on a guy who trains like this to beat cancer? I don’t think so!

I believe this was the answer I needed for the inevitable inner demon question we all face during a long race like Ironman. Anyone who has raced understands the dance between our inner good and bad wolves. That tempting voice that tells us it’s OK to shut things down, to conserve energy, to just jog to the finish…because who cares?

In my case, it sounded like this: “You know you’re not fit enough for this anyways. You’re only “racing” this on six weeks training. Why over-extend yourself? All you have to do is cross the damn finish line in 17 hours to earn your World Championships Legacy slot. Reeeelax.”

I had listened to that voice and fallen prey to its mesmerizing spell in more Ironman races than I care to admit. That voice is seductive, like the ssssssnake Kaa in Jungle Book. “Loooook into my eyessssssssss….”

I started bargaining with that sssssmooth voice around mile 8 of the marathon when it became apparent I was sssssslowing down and getting more tired. The voice ssssslithered around my throat for the next ssssseven miles, and sssstarted choking me out ever ssssso gently. Nuzzling me to ssssleep, gentle sssssweet sssssleep.

I remembered my dad. In the hospital wing. I thought of my buddies who told me (with love) they’d be heckling me via text message thread all race. It would have been perfectly fine to fold in that moment. This was, as Thanos said…inevitable.

SNAP.

No, it was not inevitable. Not by a longshot.

Try to run

Try to hide

Break on through to the other side

Break on through to the other side

This was the moment. Nowhere to hide from my own inevitable truth. Run, or hide.

I chose to honor my dad. I chose to will my friends to start texting each other something new, “Hey, Schneider’s flipping the script!” I chose to honor the prophecy of my own coach, Jim Lubinski at Tower 26, who implored me to find a breakthrough performance on the run in his pre-race plan.

Prior to that moment, I thought I understood what a breakthrough meant. In my head, it was simply hitting a “grind” switch. And hoping the body flickered to life.

Now, I think breakthrough performances are more than that. For me, four things happened, and they all have equal value. It’s not a moment. It’s a process.

1. I never gave up mentally. Not once. I slowed down. But never quit.

2. I assessed the problem, fatigue and stiffness in this case, and addressed both for several miles through more conscious eating and drinking, along with popping two Advil gel-caps from my run special needs bag.

3. I committed to a singular focus of honoring my dad by pushing as hard and as fast as I could.

4. My mind and body went blank for the next eight-plus miles. I truly felt absolutely zero pain, only the sensation of (relative) speed, clarity of purpose, and focus. Nothing else existed in my world. Well, maybe intense motivation masked as my Kobe-inspired, Black Mamba-faced anger. (No seriously, ask Gary Michelson…he saw it haha.)

I think I found the mythical Zone.

I closed faster in this Ironman marathon than in any other. I literally (and metaphorically?) jumped over a snake crossing the river run path around mile 20 (NOT kidding!). And I strongly believe I could have run another 5k past the finish chute and still gained speed. I’m pretty proud of that. Especially when literally nothing but pride was on the line.

And yet. Pride sometimes is everything.

So is dignity.

So is honor.

I didn’t want to slink to the finish. Nor for my dad. Not for my Good Wolf athletes. Not for my friends. Not for me. No more. Not today.

So I chose not to.

Sometimes it’s as simple as that.

the finish times don’t really matter when it comes to winning our own personal battles. this was an encapsulation of that moment for me. this was an inner soul growl i can still feel in my gut and will never forget.

Except when it’s not. Still with me?

There are two other physical activities in triathlon, and when those are executed well, you put yourself into a position to succeed on the run. I was able to do that on my swim and bike ride, despite not swimming or riding much at all going into the race.

The first is my swim. Not my fastest swim, not my slowest swim either. Faster than last year on the same course, too. And consistent — to the tune of swimming one yard more year-to-year. My sighting allowed me to swim efficiently, and as you can see, my heart rate is never really elevated. Calm and steady.

I did have to contend with what had to be the WORST kicking swimmer in the history of open-water swimming. This ANNOYING guy clung to me for at least 2/3 of the race. I’d try to draft off him but his vertical scissor-kicking was causing some big jetwash turbulence. I’d try to swim around him, and his rotating sideways scissor kicks hit me in the ribs several times. I’d try to pass, he’d catch up. It was a futile battle and one not worth fighting so early in the race. I swam wider than I like on the second loop, found open water, and cruised.

THis is my Baywatch Shot. There are many like it. But this one is mine. Ladies, Eat Your HEarts Out.

Now for the bike. My longest ride all year was 70 miles about two weeks before the race (a casual jaunt up Mt Baldy LOL). I kept my effort measured, evidenced by an identical 1.03 VI (a good marker for consistency) from last year’s IMSR race. The first two hours of the bike ride felt bleak though. I couldn’t find any power in my legs and was 10 watts below my intended average. My climbing legs were fine on some of the steeper pitches, but I couldn’t generate power on the flats and rollers. By remaining patient, nutrition-focused and positive, I eventually got into a solid groove and my watts improved throughout the day until around mile 100. Then, it was a bit of a mental struggle to fight some low-grade but steady headwinds back to downtown Santa Rosa. Had I over-committed to biking hard to make up watts and time, it would have been harder to rally on the run.

Patience pays off.

But you need the courage to reinvest it later.

Then, if you’re lucky, you might just break on through to the other side.

**

Before signing off, I’d like to thank my family for yet again supporting this crazy, occasionally stupid, highly intrinsically rewarding pursuit. I can never thank Stephanie enough. And I hope one day Audra (and possibly future lil Schneiders) will appreciate the values that are so viscerally demonstrated during an Ironman race.

My parents and sister know how I feel about them. But thank you for always encouraging me, no matter what. if you want a KICK ASS blog in your life, check out my dad’s daily YouTube musings about his battle with cancer.

Good Wolf athletes…I wanted to set an example you could be proud of and shoot to top for yourself. Can’t wait to go on that journey with each of you. Heartfelt congratulations to first-time Ironman finisher Diana Olveira, who overcame some nausea issues during the bike and still came within 10 minutes of her desired finish time. She also PR’d her overall marathon time. F*ck Cancer Triathlon Team leader Jayson Williams completed Ironman 10 with a near 40-minute Santa Rosa course PR and a marathon PR while overcoming nearly being pulled from the water due to an asthma attack. That’s some Good Wolf mind-over-matter stuff right there.

My friends and teammates…you motivate and inspire me. Christophe, Doc Jon and Weilert in particular…your good-natured ongoing text message banter was more important than you know. Russ, Gary, T26 lanemates…the list goes on and on. Thank you.

Coach Jim and Coach Gerry Rodrigues at Tower 26 triathlon and swim coaching, thank you for being so understanding this winter and spring. Thanks for the encouraging texts and emails and phone calls when I was feeling low. Thanks for pushing me in a balanced and thoughtful way. I gave you my best effort as re-payment. And Efren Jimenez got my body prepped as best he could with a couple amazing massages. Thank you, buddy. Hands of G-d.

To my friends who have been touched by cancer in any way. I feel you. I’m with you. I’m one of you. We’re in this together even if we’re not the patients ourselves. Fuck Cancer!

Next stop: Escape from Alcatraz in three weeks!!!

IMAZ 2015 Race Report: All the Ways to Skin a Cat

"There's a few ways we can skin that cat."

My coach, Brian Stover, said, texted or wrote this to me more often than he probably realized during the last five months. Usually because we needed to figure out how I was going to swim, bike and run at the appropriate volume while on a tight work and family schedule.

I'm not a fan of cats. They're too fussy and fickle. Plus, I'm highly allergic to them. But I became a fan of how Brian and I "skinned cats" to maintain the most delicate of balances between triathlon, career and home. All while being able to preserve enough energy to juggle everything without going crazy...mostly (right Seb?!).

In terms of training in 2015, there was B.A., Before Audra, and A.A., after. I made some pretty big changes to how I approached my training and racing once I became an IronDadMan, mostly out of necessity. Instead of a traditional race report from Ironman Arizona 2015, I think it may be more insightful for others if I share what I learned about those adjustments. 

Besides, my race report would sound like a lot of other people's I've read the last few days. Something like:

Swim: "The rolling swim start felt weird, the buoys moved farther right from past years, why do my calves keep cramping (???) and I came out of the water pretty much when I expected I would, within seconds of the long end of my predicted time."

Yes, 63-degrees warrants a neoprene cap for me to stay warm. I apologize for nothing.

 Bike: "'F-ing IMAZ.' That's what I kept saying to myself with a laugh while cycling. The weather reports predicted fine weather all day for weeks and it was too good to be true. I was cold and wet, but had no nutritional issues to report. I peed a ton and couldn't figure out why. Much to the chagrin of people behind me while peeing on the bike, the wind kept shifting throughout the course... Overall, I biked pretty much how I expected I would, within a minute of my predicted overall window. Took some risks in terms of increasing my watts over my target goal and it seemed to work fine at the time."

"It's raining. F*ck it!"

Run: "After an embarrassingly slow T2 due to being unable to feel my fingers, I started running and shocked myself with a much faster pace than expected. I decided to go with it because the pace seemed manageable and I was able to keep nutrition down. The rain didn't bother me...until it did (along with the mud) later in the race around mile 16. Managed a massive PR for an Ironman half marathon (1:39 by my watch) but couldn't hold the pace for the next 12 miles. Ran pretty much what I expected I would overall though, within a minute of my coach-predicted time. Glad I took the initial risk on the pacing instead of slowing down. Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Anatomy of my marathon, part 1 (miles 1-9): "I feel AMAZING! Sub 7:30s?! Hell yes!"

Anatomy of my marathon part 2 (miles 10-15): "I feel less amazing, but functional!"

Anatomy of my marathon part 3 (miles 16-24): "I do not feel amazing.I would like to stop running now."

Anatomy of my marathon, part 4 (miles 24-26): "Dear Lord where is that finish line?!!?!"

As for the race result itself, I have very mixed feelings, which I'll share at the end. 

So what worked and what didn't? First, here's what changed. After six years, I made a decision to switch coaches. I did so not because I was dissatisfied (I still heartily refer athletes to Fortius Coaching), but more because I felt like I needed a new voice and fresh perspective to shake up my training. That's exactly what I got. In short, my new coach (Stover) and I developed a plan that would involve more overall training volume, but spread more evenly throughout each week. That's triathlete-speak for essentially no rest days unless I was traveling on business or had a family obligation. Additionally, we dramatically increased my run frequency and volume to six or even seven days a week at 35-40-plus miles. I would estimate 95 percent of my workouts were entirely aerobic in intensity, meaning completed at a conversational pace and thus easier to recover from. This was a big change for me and took some time getting used to. We also went more than four months without a brick workout, and only scheduled two total. No track workouts either in the traditional oval sense.  Taper changed too for me, shrinking from weeks to days. Five, in this case. Finally, we opted out of strength training workouts due to lack of time, replacing them occasionally with jump rope work after runs.

Also as part of my new lifestyle change (A.A.), I stopped trying to complete both daily workouts prior to leaving for work in the morning. There was no way that could work again. Instead, my wife and I would talk every day and more in-depth once every two weeks (before Brian sent my schedule over) about when I could fit in each workout without infringing upon family time. Cat skinning would ensue. I also reluctantly chose to suspend my early morning swims with Tower 26, much as I enjoyed and relied on the group along with the superb Gerry Rodrigues to improve my stroke. The added sleep was going to be critical to balancing all the moving aspects of my life. Fortunately, I found a terrific master's group, Golden Road Aquatics, 10 minutes from my office. GRA offered energetic lunchtime swims and that became critical to maintaining a higher overall training volume.

What Worked

Everything Brian implemented seemed to pay off. The near daily running at an aerobic pace made me a much more efficient runner. In fact, almost my entire IMAZ 2015 marathon (99% literally) was done in HR Zone 2 (moderate) effort even with a record 13.1 mile split that was near my Ironman 70.3 pace. What?! Again, that was without really doing any brick workouts, which saved me a ton of time on the homefront. The aerobic work also translated to the bike, where the vast majority of my effort was in that moderate zone too. 

I also wised up as a triathlete, finally following every workout as it was prescribed. (This was largely my fault in the past as I often found myself caught up in other people's workouts instead of completing my own as written.) And since the vast majority of workouts were at a moderate level, it was much easier to complete them. I only missed two workouts in five months, and both came on the final day of my build prior to taper due to a horrendous night of sleep and an early morning doctor's appointment for Audra.

Spacing my daily workouts out by a few hours was also beneficial. Each workout became more of a quality session, though my swimming suffered since it almost always became the second workout of the day. It's much harder to swim on heavy legs following a run. Still, I think giving my body more time between workouts enabled me to complete more workouts at the specified level and duration.

Finally, printing my bi-weekly schedule and posting it on the kitchen wall was one thing that subtly helped me remain engaged in my training. Steph and I could see what was on the schedule and discuss any potential conflicts. Plus, I could cross off each completed workout, which served as positive reinforcement and motivation to keep my consecutive workouts finished streak intact.

Printing my training calendar helped my wife and I communicate daily on training regimen, along with how to manage family time and daddy duty.

What Didn't Work

My swimming took a big hit the last few months, and it's primarily because swim volume was cut by between a third and a half compared to last year. Swimming is by far my weakest discipline, and something I need to work extra hard on to improve. But Brian recommended we focus more on improving my run as being fitter across the board would help me overcome some of my swimming deficiencies. Brian already told me we'll be swimming a lot more this winter. Joy. I'd like to strangle that cat and then skin it with a dull blade.

Since I was running so much, I found it even harder to keep my weight up to what I'd consider a healthy level. It constantly felt like I was pushing a giant food rock up a hill each day only to watch it tumble back down. I'd lose up to four pounds and try to gain five, day in and day out. That lack of weight likely affected my bike power output, which is something I think needs more attention in the future. I think the chilly weather at IMAZ affected me a little more than other folks perhaps due to my inability to use stored fat to keep my core temperature warm.

Despite getting more sleep than people told me would be possible with a newborn, it still probably wasn't enough quality rest to help me fully recover each night. Waking up three to four times each night can't be considered a helpful workout recovery tool, but I don't think it affected me as much as I expected. I feel obligated to put "lack of sleep" in the "What Didn't Work" section but honestly...it could have been much worse (thanks to my awesome wife) and I don't think it affected me on race day when it mattered most.

10:25...Again!?

Three years, differing conditions, same result. Almost exactly. I trained more than I ever have before for an Ironman, improved my run, slightly improved my bike split and ultimately I came in at the same time I did when I was training with less volume but higher intensity. What does that mean? I made all these changes to take the next step in my evolution as an athlete. But did that happen? Percentage-wise, I fared better this year in my age group and overall than in 2013 (when conditions were more favorable). But I was worse compared to last year's results, when conditions were much windier on the bike and more favorable on the run.

Have I peaked as a triathlete? It's only going to get harder to find time to train now that Audra is growing rapidly, so finding more time to improve is probably out of the question. I honestly thought I could flirt with breaking 10 hours this year at IMAZ if the conditions were perfect and once again I was nowhere close. Is that goal a Quixotic dream? And Kona, which I thought could be a stretch goal I was closing in on, feels more distant than ever. A Legacy slot seems my best hope. Only five more years of Ironman races to go then! Hooray!

I'm not calling the Wahmbulance over this great injustice. I have no regrets about my training or the race itself. There were some big changes in my life that delivered a profound level of joy that is simply irreplaceable. That made those big training changes far easier to make. It's also important to note that April, May and June were largely a wash for me from a training standpoint due to illness, burnout, moving to a new home and of course, Audra's birth. So, Brian had to essentially build me up from scratch to where we wound up on race day. And to his credit, I arrived at Tempe Town Lake statistically in the best shape of my life. I'm reminding myself to stay positive and think what he and I can do together if we use this new fitness base to improve upon for Ironman Vineman next July.

During the race,  I took calculated chances, and grew as a person and triathlete in the process. I dictated my race for a change, instead of simply managing the day based on what the weather gave me. That took confidence.  I hope to take more chances in future races like Wildflower and Vineman, in fact. I liked the rush of not knowing whether they would pay off instead of simply going with the flow. 

I won't resume formal training for a few more weeks. Body, mind, and soul need a triathlon break, and I simply want to snuggle up with my wife and baby in bed every morning without rushing out the door to train.  My first race won't likely be until  next May. That will give me plenty of time to think about the athlete I am, the athlete I want to be, and what the best path is to arrive at my ultimate desired destination without sacrificing what matters most: family. 

I'm sure there will be several ways we can skin that cat.

"I am sooooooo happy that is over with. Let Week of Decadence begin!!!"

Tour of Asia Recap

After 20,000 miles of flying in nine days, three countries visited in five days, six stage presentations, dozens of press demos and even signing a few autographs...I'm home.

To celebrate, I woke up early for a morning spin at Cycle House LA and an hour easy run after. Steph is sick, so I went to the Farmer's Market next door to pick up some berries and a smoothie to help her recover. Of course, in true Stephanie fashion, she wants to rally today but I'm hoping she'll rest up. And I'm not-so-secretly trying to stay home anyways. As you can imagine, I've had enough of moving about from place to place, literally living out of my suitcase.

View from the stage in Taiwan, where we held a press conference and fan demo for 600 eager Xbox aficionados.

The trip itself was a huge success.  Many people in each market we visited hadn't heard much about Sunset Overdrive.  That changed in our favor, as several fans at each tour stop told me they were pre-ordering the game. And the press were unexpectedly animated and complimentary about the game.

"The Ferrari 430 Spider. If you have the means...I highly suggest picking one up."

Of course, the highlight of the press trip had nothing to do with media meetings.  Instead, it had everything to do with driving a Ferrari 430 Spider on the Singapore F1 Grand Prix circuit. Even if I drove...conservatively.  After all, it was my first time driving on the "wrong" side of the street, and with the steering wheel on the Western "passenger side" of the car. Still, I gunned it a few times, enough to feel the Ferarri's power and acceleration speed. We also went indoor skydiving at the world's second largest indoor skydiving venue.

Training-wise, I probably maintained or slightly lost some fitness.  In between all the travel, I squeezed in just over six hours of workouts. The heat and humidity in Singapore provided a real physical and mental challenge to overcome, but I'm glad I had the opportunity to run on the SAFRA Singapore Half Marathon course after the sold-out race ended.  The Army was still cleaning up the course and all the aid stations still contained buckets of ice, which I liberally used to try and stay cool.  The soldiers were cool and even cheered me on a bit as I ran alone in what amounted to 97-degree heat.  The week's fitness highlight though was running up to the Seoul Tower in Korea with Beeoh Kim, a Fortius Racing teammate and well-known Korean pro triathlete.  We caught up a lot about living in Korea, which sounds pressure-packed at times -- especially for women.  It's a culture driven by an obsession with perfection or success, punctuated by women feeling a need or desire to keep up through plastic surgery.  

Me and my buddy Beeoh. The taxi ride after he and I dined was priceless. The cab driver didn't speak English, but tried admirably by making lists of things Korea is known for. One example, "Chevrolet 1! Toyota 2! Hyundai 3! Kia 4!"

In thinking about the trip, I came away with a number of impressions about life in Asia...and a few training insights too.

• Outside of needing cash to get from the airport in Singapore to the hotel at 3 a.m., I could use credit cards wherever I traveled. We indeed live in a paperless cash world -- though if you have Visa in Singapore you're out of luck for a taxi. MasterCard and AMEX only.
• Singapore, and to lesser extents Seoul and Taipei, are remarkably Western.  You can even get a Baja Fresh burrito in Singapore, while we can eat the best dumplings around Singapore, Din Tai Fung, in Los Angeles. Though it's harder to travel in Seoul with no Korean language skills, you can get by with English-only. Especially in Itaewon, the more modern, hip district in Seoul near the US military base. (BTW, Vatos Tacos is NOT to be missed if you visit there.)
• If you ever have the opportunity to fly Singapore Airlines business class, I can't say enough good things about the experience. Despite six different flights in nine days, I always looked forward to getting on another Singapore Airlines plane. And Thai Airways' economy class was a pleasant surprise -- far better than any domestic carrier.
• Singapore features the most modern architecture I've seen outside of Melbourne.  I felt like I was on the set of Star Wars.  
• Seoul seems like it's in the middle of a struggle between modern and traditional.  Beautiful skyscrapers pierce the sky amidst an jigsaw puzzle of concrete apartment buildings. And it has the worst traffic I've ever encountered -- worse than New York City, Mexico City and Los Angeles.
• I talked with a couple Taiwanese folks who said the biggest misconception Americans have of their citizens is that "we all eat dogs." In truth, I saw pet dogs everywhere in the city. They are treated with love and respect just like we do here. What a sad thing for people to have to clarify.
• When I travel for international business in the future, I'll do a better job of checking in advance for local races. I missed an opportunity to run a half-marathon that would have been awesome.
• If you travel to Seoul, the Grand Hyatt is amazing...with a solid gym and an indoor 25 meter pool.
• In Taipei, the W Hotel is a must.  Outstanding across the board, and a 25 meter outdoor pool to squeeze those swim sessions in.
• Taipei is the home to Giant bicycles. Apparently, it's quite easy to rent a road bike in the city and there's plenty of places to ride. 

Outside of Hyundai and Kia, PSY is Korea's biggest export. There's a giant "Gangnam Style" sign at the Gangnam train station where tourists like me could take photos.

That's my hotel, the Marina Bay Sands, in the background in...Coruscant...err Singapore.

This week, I'll be refocusing my training and hope to race the Malibu Triathlon this Saturday -- if I don't get sick for a third time after international travel. I have no business racing given my physical conditioning at the moment. But I have a belief that I can still perform at a high level.  We'll see how far belief and attitude can carry me.