Jack of All Trades...

My Garmin watch only shows 12 hours and 27 minutes of actual training this week, but I don't care.  This week was about quality, not quantity.  Like today, for instance.  I struck out on my own this morning for a long day on the bike and in the pool.  All my teammates were at the Desert Tri event, which I mentioned was difficult for me not to attend.  I badly wanted to race, but I know I need to be disciplined right now both with my schedule and with wedding planning. Today's ride called for 4.5 hours in the saddle and 2,400 yards in the pool with 10 x 100s at an all-out pace.  For the latter, I knew I'd need to pace myself to even finish the workout, so I went "all-out" with "no cramps, no bonks" as my mantra.  I pulled through with an average pace of 1:44 on the 100s, ironically close to my T-pace.  That's not bad considering my Garmin data transferred to Training Peaks conveyed I climbed 5,500 feet in my 64-mile ride.  (By the way, what's the deal with Training Peaks adding elevation to each upload when the Garmin data is usually less?)

I rode a new road today, Yerba Buena, near Neptune's Net (famous biker hangout) off Pacific Coast Highway. A cyclist I met and rode with for about 10 miles in Hidden Valley said I should give it a go if I needed a steady, long climb. Which I did (Coach Gerardo's workout called for an hour climb or two 30-minute high-energy bursts).

Cycling companions made my ride enjoyable today.  It was all about meeting random people along the way.  The cyclist who recommended Yerba Buena has two kids and tries to juggle riding about 200 miles a week, five days a week.  He's been riding for 25 years, evidenced by an effortless climb up the hill leading to Lake Sherwood that left me panting just a bit.  We joined two other cyclists and formed a pace line before heading up the hill near Sly Stallone's house off Portrero Road. I gassed myself up front when it was my turn to lead, trying to keep the momentum of the ride going.  I hate being the guy that slows down the pack but I think I overdid it.  This cost me as I my new group of friends quickly became my old group of friends.  They sped away and I blew off the back.

I was on my own for the next 20-25 miles until mid-way up Yerba Buena -- which let me tell you is a steady, long climb that lasted about an hour and was pretty un-relenting. (But you get great views, like the one to my left!) At least Mulholland Drive and even Latigo Canyon have some downhills or flats interspersed. This was practically all uphill.  And just when you think you're done, you reach Decker Canyon Road and have more climbing to do before a monster drop back down into the Valley. But, once again, my ride became interesting when I met a cyclist from Morocco who rides more than a 100 miles a day several days a week. Cycling is this guy's life. He cycles to clients as a computer repair consultant.  He used to be a pro in his country years ago.  And he constantly tries to find new paths for each ride to keep things interesting -- the more mountains, the better.  I kept up with this guy for two miles of the uphill slog before he grew tired of me, took my picture for his blog (which I never caught the name of), and never saw him again.  He stayed behind on the hill as I passed him and I think he may have dropped back to the bottom and then done a repeat.  This guy was hard core!

Here's my Garmin watch data of the ride:

All this made me realize that we triathletes are truly like the "jack of all trades, master of none."  We're solid at any of the disciplines, if not good or maybe even great.  But there are specialists in each sport where cycling, swimming or running is all they do.  Andy they do it very well.  I realized this as I got passed all over the place today by many road cyclists, calves bulging, shiny bikes shimmering.  I'm proud of how I got through the day, but I know I've got a lot of work left to do if I ever want to be great at any one tri-sport.

107 days and counting.

A Little Extra Push

The idea of cycling in 40-degree weather this morning at 7 didn't thrill this California native.

But my buddy Bob made it a lot better.

Sometimes, I really enjoy training on my own.  I'm on my own schedule, can take as few breaks as possible and get done with my workout quicker.  However, what I make up for in efficiency can sometimes be lost with pacing, or in today's case, a little extra pushing.

As some of you know who have read the blog for a while now, Bob did Ironman Arizona with me last year.  He's a heck of a cyclist and has bursts of speed that leave my jaw dropped when he chooses to push it.  Today, he made me push it at the end of a two-hour ride at Griffith Park where my legs felt lactic, my climbing power lacked and my heart rate slacked.

And I couldn't be happier.  Bob yelled and paced me to climb a hill much faster than I anticipated or I even thought capable at this stage of my workout and after a nearly 13 hour training week (not including weekend activities yet).  More important, my heart rate didn't explode the way I thought it might, and I sustained the speed down the hill and in the flats for the remainder of what became a small 20-minute crit.  Granted, Bob absolutely destroyed me in speed and power. But I felt like my workout went from good to great thanks to the extra push.

That's also the real benefit of having a training partner who's a better athlete than you.  Learning by osmosis, you can't help but get better yourself.  Frank helped train me as a beginner cyclist, and if I can ride more with Bob, I'll get even better.

Now I just have to ask myself who will pace me tomorrow as I slosh through a rain storm for my first unofficial race of the year, a Pasadena 5k that serves as the tempo portion of a 1.75 hour run.  I hope I have enough energy to finish the race as I'm pretty worn out from an epic week of training and another swimming milestone.

I like my chances though if I can latch onto someone down the stretch.

Race report to follow tomorrow.

G'night all!

116 days and counting.

Getting Better, All the Time

As I sit here writing my blog entry, I'm thinking of the classic song with the lyrics, "I've got to believe it's getting better, it's getting better...all the time." That's how I feel after my long bike ride on a sunny but chilly President's Day holiday.

Frank and I rode just shy of 64 miles and climbed roughly 3,700 feet over nearly four hours.  I'm excited to report that my ride included a successful 20 minute time trial in Simi Valley towards the beginning of the ride, with my average mph at 21.78 mph.  Granted, that's with a 1% downhilll most of the way, but there were uphills and a cross-wind, so I think it evens out a bit.

My reward was a brief visit at my dad's auto shop, where my mom promised me I wouldn't upload this photo.  Whoops!

While I pushed it on the bike for most of the remaining 50 miles, I still was able to run a few miles in zone 2 with my Newtons.  It was my third time out with them, and while I'll save the details for my actual Lava Magazine Online review, so far I like what I'm feeling.  Don't worry though, I'm taking every precaution to go slow for my first few runs.

Perhaps my favorite part of the ride is witnessing another strong effort from Frank. He's clearly regaining his power and stamina, which helped mold me into a better cyclist early in my training days.  Frank challenged me hard up Santa Susana Pass and through the first 45 miles of the ride.  I know we're not supposed to be competitive with our buddies, but for whatever reason, Frank forces me to bring out the best in my riding.  I can't help it.

I like where I'm at in my training now.  Like I've indicated recently, I can finally see strength and stamina gains.  Though I hate to jinx it -- the past several minutes have included an elevated body temperature and hotness behind the eye sockets.  Steph is sick at the moment...I hope I wasn't in the peak form that Mark Cavendish wrote about in his book -- which often led to immediate illness.  Fingers crossed!

Now it's time for stretching and chores.  But I'll be humming a certain song in my head while I do them.

120 days and counting.

PS: Here's my Garmin data from today's ride.  The pace is slower b/c I tacked on about 20 minutes of running while still on the "bike" setting.  But this is really where I'm at in my training from an overall viewpoint. Gotta regulate the HR a bit more on the bike but otherwise I'm feeling good!

That's So Last Year

This year is like a small child, young and feisty, keeping me on my toes constantly.  Last year was like a senior citizen, consistent, and predictable (and there were even a few moments that required Depends). As a result, I've had to constantly balance and juggle priorities, which has meant skimping on the blog lately.  Two business trips, wedding planning and Ironman training will do that to a guy.  I thought about my failing juggling act while  in the recovery phase of my 73-mile bike ride with Frank today through the Conejo Valley.  Keep in mind the "recovery" was approximately half the ride after climbing 900 vertical feet in just under four miles.  As you'll see in the embedded Garmin workout report (which includes post-ride run data), I kinda overdid it with my heartrate, which skyrocketed to 178 bpm and left me blasting out primal yells to psyche myself up and keep from getting off the bike and walking.  The grade, according to Frank, was 23% at one point on the climb.

When I wasn't coaxing my legs not to cramp over the remaining few hours of the ride, I was analyzing my performance on this very hill compared to less than a year ago, when I recall scooting up like a gazelle and onward with my workout.  I was also reminded of "last year" by today's Firecracker 10k run in Chinatown, which I didn't attend.  Last year, it served as a pivotal moment in my training, the last big run before tapering for the LA Marathon.  This year, I would have been in no condition to run the race at all.

Which led me to an observation that hopefully may serve as a pithy reminder for all of us struggling with "last year":

Where you were isn't where you're at.

It seems so simple, but yet it was powerful enough for me to let go of "last year" on the spot.  I can't keep comparing myself to the past. I'm a different athlete.  With different priorities, different schedules, and a different life.

Though I slogged home mired in the small chain and managed to eke out a run at the goal zone 1 pace, I felt lighter.  I'm no longer bearing the burden of meeting unrealistic expectations for myself based on last year.  This season is already so much different anyway.  Surprisingly, it's actually more mental than physical.  Last year was all about "Can I?"  This year, it's about, "How will I?"  There's a big difference.  The first implies doubt or uncertainty about reaching the finish.  The second implies devising a new plan to reach an achievable goal. That's what it's all about now: goal planning.  Smarter, not harder.  Efficiency. Calmness.  Confidence.  Even when injury, inconvenience and illness rear their monstrous heads at the worst possible times.

So, the next time you worry about where you're at compared to where you were, stop.  It's a false comparison.  Where your'e at is where you're at.  Plain and simple.  The past won't make you faster. Or stronger.

But it can make us all wiser.

128 days and counting.

Reunion

You know you've been away too long -- from anyplace -- when several people ask where in the world you've been.

That's what happened to me this morning when the Fortius gang got together at a new local bike shop for a repair clinic before hitting the Malibu Canyon hills for some sweet cycling torture. I've been training on a different schedule lately, and with the holidays thrown in, teammate time took a back seat.

It was great to see everyone. Lots of laughter and learning, including how to measure chain wear (with a digital monitor, no less) and how to become more efficient at back tire removals (roll the wheel backwards to get more room and separation from the chain).

The ride itself was very productive: 4,100-plus feet of climbing and a new record at 7-Mile Hill (9:56). Last year my PR was 11:00, I think, so definite progress with climbing. We followed the bike with a short brick, which further made me realize that A) running with a new stride may be more taxing at first, and B) I'm still nowhere near my pre-Ironman conditioning level. I eked out 8:30-9:00 miles but my heart-rate was in zone 3 most of the time (150s bpms).

Though the ride and run were confidence boosters, I'll remember today more for spending time with teammates and friends. It makes a huge difference in training as the hours on the clock rapidly vanish. It's like getting a play date when we were kids.

And just like childhood, I'm off to take a nap. The one thing about getting older...naps become more and more cherished when one can find the time to squeeze one in.

150 days and counting.

Coming Soon...

My first video blog coming soon!  But my editing skills are meager so this may turn out to be a weekend project. My other weekend project is trying to embed Garmin workouts to my blog.  No luck so far.  It's not as simple as cut and paste the embed code into the copy, or if it is, I'm still doing something wrong.  Help?

Anyway, the vlog will be an as-I-go synopsis of the ride.  Should be fun.  All I can say about today's ride is that it was a fantastic place to start this vlogging thing.  I was so exhausted at the end of the trip that I tried to go swim and stayed in the pool parking lot for five minutes debating whether to go inside.  But the views were spectacular, the by-product of killer winds blasting through the canyons, tossing Frank and me around like empty bottles adrift at sea.

I went home and napped for an hour and a half instead.  That fulfilled a minor promise to myself this year, when my body says enough is enough, I'll listen.

Now I just need to do a better job following my prescribed workouts!

157 days and counting.

Chicken Salad Out of Chicken Sh*t

My morning bike ride started off poorly.  First, my buddy Frank and I were confronted with a fog bank so thick in Agoura Hills that we had to drive back over the hill on the freeway to higher ground to have enough visibility to ride.  But it wouldn't matter, as Frank realized once we prepared to leave that he forgot his shoes at home.  His day was over before it started.  On the day before his birthday, no less. Then, if that wasn't enough, I got a flat tire on my back wheel -- in the first mile of my solo ride.  I knew my back tire had a slight gash in it following my rainy Santa Clarita outing a couple weeks ago.  Yes, Frank suggested I replace the back tire but I thought I could get lucky and make it last a while longer.

Turns out Frank knows what he's talking about.

Fortunately, I noticed my flat about a block away from a cycling group preparing for its own Saturday morning ride. I was even more fortunate that my Fortius teammate Jason decided to ride with this group instead of our team -- he pulled up in his 4Runner almost immediately when I pulled up with my lame bike in the cul-de-sac.  Jason helped me insert an empty Clif Bar wrapper between my new tube and the tire to keep debris out for my ride back to the car.

That wasn't even the highlight of the pit-stop though.  I met Julie, who recognized me from my Fortius race kit and told me she was the person cheering for me at the bike turnaround point at Ironman Arizona.  I had never met Julie in my life, but she was a friend of my buddy at Helen's Cycles, Pete.  Pete told Julie about me and asked her to cheer for me that day.  This unknown cheerleader had remained a mystery for me since then, so I was excited to tell my new friend that hearing her scream for me at those lonely checkpoints truly boosted my energy and resolve heading back into the headwind.  If nothing else, that helped make my brief ride today somewhat of a success.  Saying "thank you" to Julie felt great.

So now that my bike ride was over for the day, I had a choice.  I needed to be back home in 1.5 hours for a family obligation with Steph.  I could just skip working out for the day and lament my bad luck on the bike, or I could try to squeeze in a trail run.

Even though I was bummed about not cycling with Frank and embarrassed by my choke-job on fixing my own bike in front of others, I decided to at least try to fit in a hilly trail run.  I'd have to drive another 30 minutes to the Dirt Mulholland trail, but I couldn't let the whole day be a loss.

I'm so glad I did!  FINALLY, seven weeks after Ironman Arizona, I enjoyed a run where my knees didn't act up!  Yes, my right psoas still felt tight but that was it.  Better still, my calves weren't screaming in pain from my new running technique where I'm trying to run purely off the balls of my feet instead of my old heel-to-toe strike.  Better than all that was my lower, calmer heart-rate on hills.  I felt like I was running slower, but still I managed to bang out nearly six miles in an hour on a hilly trail where my heart-rate only briefly visited zone 4 a few times and I typically stayed in the low-mid 140s.

To think I would have missed that experience had I sulked about my bad luck on the bike.

We often hear about how if you fall off the proverbial bike, you should get right back on it again.

Sometimes, maybe it's best when you fall off the proverbial bike, to simply ditch it and just change into running shoes.  Take what the moment gives you.  Accept it for what it is.  And plan a different route to achieve a goal.

164 days and counting.

Promise Keeper

Just yesterday I agreed that I'd slow things down with my training to recover properly for Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  I agreed with Coach Gerardo that we'd seek injury credits for both the Los Angeles 13.1 half-marathon and the Surf City full marathon on Super Bowl Sunday. So what did I do this morning, in the misty cold rain in the Santa Clarita Valley?

I cycled 40 miles with Frank and Bob.

I can't figure out which promises to follow!  I promised myself I would attack bad weather days in Southern California to ensure I don't have any excuses for future races that throw wind, rain and hail at me like Ironman Arizona.  I promised myself I'd lay off the running and focus on recovery too, so does that mean if I take it easy on a 2-hour-plus ride in the rain that I'm "recovering?"

Isn't having fun part of the recovery process?  No heart-rate monitor?  Water and road grime on my face?  Clothes soaked?  Black toe covers turned brown with mud?

C'mon!  That's fun! How can I turn that down?

The whole reason we enjoy do what we do, at some level, is because this is supposed to be FUN.  Honestly, despite my "injury" I'm having a lot of fun.  Something I wasn't doing at the end of my IMAZ training. It was a chore.  Work.  Somewhat stressful.  Grinding.

The past few weeks, though frustrating, have been a lot of fun.  Even if I'm not following doctor's orders completely, I feel like I'm re-energizing myself in other important ways.

So which promise do I keep to myself?  To get better and hold myself back? Or do what I feel like doing because it's simply fun?

I know the answer lies somewhere in between. I know I haven't found the balance quite yet.  But like the biggest lesson I've learned about becoming an Ironman, the answer lies in the journey, not the destination.

So, I'll either get this recovery process thing right, or I'll misfire and experience a setback.

I don't know how this all will turn out.  But I do know that I had a lot of fun today on a rainy stretch of road in the middle of rural nowhere.

182 days and counting.

Back in the Saddle

You know it's been a while since your last bike ride when you have to think hard about what to pack in your gear bag beforehand. And you get out of the car at the meeting spot with your teammates realizing you forgot your helmet.

That's how my morning started with a few folks from the Fortius team (Mike, Tom, and Yolanda) in Northridge.  Fortunately, Tom lived nearby and was kind enough to retrieve a back-up helmet.  The only thing is, Tom is about 6"5 and weighs nearly twice as much (which I mean in the most respectful way, Tom!).  So, his helmet size is a wee bit larger.  I had to borrow a hat from Mike and tighten the helmet straps all the way to keep it remotely close to snug on my head.  My shadow image made my head look like a mushroom.

I needed the helmet to be as tight as possible because the winds heading out to Santa Clarita Valley were nearly as punishing as Ironman Arizona.  What a way to return to outdoor cycling for the first time since the race. I certainly had a few flashbacks as I got tossed from one side of the bike lane to the other from the nasty crosswinds. At one point, my makeshift helmet blew backwards, causing my hat brim to blow upward and almost right off my head!  It was a sorry sight to see.

Mike and I rode with Tom for the first hour of his scheduled four-hour journey. Yolanda headed back a little early.  Since Mike ran the CIM marathon last week, our pace was leisurely at best. We meandered through 26 miles in around two hours, though that included lots of elevation and a few breaks.  I didn't wear my Garmin watch since I just wanted to enjoy the ride. I'm trying to find that happy place where the training is "fun" again, and one way I'm planning to do that is through taking a bit easier on analyzing all the data for the time being.  I know what I need to do to recover, and a big chunk of that process will involve simply smiling and joking more during workouts instead of staring at my watch as often.

That said, I had a thought during an especially long, windy, uphill climb this morning.  I should have trained in poorer weather conditions more often this past season.  Granted, that can be easier said than done in pristine Southern California.  However, I think my psyche was HOPING for great weather in Tempe rather training as hard as I could have to account for less-than-ideal conditions.

How do you walk the line between enjoying your training and finding nasty weather to improve?

I made a pledge to myself this morning that I will hunt down wind, rain, cold and heat more often this coming year.  It's sort of a training resolution.  Though I have great respect for Mother Nature, I'm not going to be afraid of her.  I think that mentality, along with a worry about my ability to fix flats on my own, kept me from reaching my full potential this past year.

No more.

Training smarter, in this instance, may mean training harder.

And while the results on a per-workout basis may not be pleasant to view, it may pay off in Idaho this summer.  I'm not sure what the race conditions will be there, but whatever they are, I want to be ready for them.

After Mike and I returned from our ride, I drove to Simi Valley visit my parents and to meet my dad for an impromptu lunch at my favorite barbecue joint not located in Austin, Texas.  As you can see here, my appetite continues to grow.  I've now gained about seven pounds post Ironman, with no end in sight.  Both my parents commented that I look much healthier and less gaunt.  Too bad most of these pounds are probably garbage weight from one too many helpings of cookies, steaks, shakes and cupcakes.

Shhh, it'll be our little secret.

Tomorrow, I have my first week of officially scheduled IM CdA training workouts.  The real work begins again.  No more "do whatever you want" workouts. My three-week training holiday is drawing to a close.  I'm sad about that on one hand.  I've gotten a glimpse back into the good life of spending lots of free time with Stephanie, sleeping in late and generally being lazy.  On the other hand, I can feel my body changing for the worse.  My legs are tighter.  I've been a little moodier the past few days as well.

So, back in the saddle, again.  With a renewed sense of purpose (become a better, smarter triathlete), a new goal in mind (beat my IMAZ time), a new plan in my head (have more fun this season, but push myself a little harder), and a lot more confidence (I know what it takes to be an Ironman).

I hope you'll continue to go on the journey with me.

191 days and counting.

Ironman Arizona Race Report: Part II

BIKE: AKA The Windy Ride From Hell

All that time I gained towards my best-case scenario goal of 11:30:00 quickly evaporated during a 10:22 T1.  For context, I was hoping for between a 5:00-7:30 T1 total, and that's slow.  Practically everything that could go wrong in a transition did.  I never should have zipped up my cycling jersey the night prior with all my gear in it, as that left little room to unzip the shirt and drape it around me in the rush of the moment.  Instead, I accidentally dumped all the contents out.  Whoops!

However, I did make one very wise choice: wearing my Fortius racing windbreaker.  Despite the gusty, rainy conditions the entire day, I was never truly cold or uncomfortable.  What I may have lost in drag, I more than made up for in relaxed comfort, right until I crossed the finisher's line several hours later.  That said, I'd like to find a windbreaker with cycling gear pockets.  I struggled throughout the bike ride to access some extra gels because they were tucked inside my jersey pocket.

Onto the ride itself. No sooner had I finished basking in the glow of my swim than I realized I had a problem on my hands.  I had to pee still. Badly.  I waited until around mile 13 of the bike, which happened to be the second aid station.  Here, I lost around two or three minutes, which I knew I could make up. But what I didn't anticipate was that I'd start having an upset stomach.  On the scale of 1-10, with 10 being excruciating, unbearable pain, my stomach issues were around a 3.  Something I noticed, in other words.  To this day, I'm not sure what caused the issue. My coach thinks it may have had something to do with taking Emergen-C packets daily going into the final week to avoid illness.  He's had other teammates complain of reflux-related issues at past races when taking Emergen-C.  I hadn't had stomach problems on a bike ride the entire year.  The result was a peculiar one though.  After eating a Clif Bar almost immediately into the first two miles of the bike, I couldn't fathom eating another one.  I love Clif Bars!  What was going on???

I put the discomfort out of my head the best I could.  Due to a decent tail crosswind I was making what I'd call "acceptable" time, clocking in 19-22 mph miles according to my Garmin watch.

Then, the half-way point turnaround on the first loop.

I will NEVER forget being smacked in the face with the headwind that followed.  It was the boxing equivalent of getting my bell rung.  Right then and there, I knew it was going to be a long day on the bike, and I could probably kiss 11:30 goodbye.  Maybe I could still break 12 though.

My Garmin watch data for the next 7 miles of the bike ride indicated I never could cross 19.6 mph.  And then my stomach issues kicked in again.  This time though, my race bib started to flap wildly at my back, causing several competitors to pause to tell me I should fix it before it blows away and I incur a potential penalty.  So there I was, around mile 31 -- stomach aching, minor equipment issue, and yet again I have to get off the bike to use the restroom.

My dream day was quickly vanishing before me.

After a roughly five-minute pee, bib-adjustment break, I was back on the road.  And for a while, my results picked up.  I crossed the 56 mile mark (half way) a few minutes shy of three hours, meaning if I could hold that pace I would still be in position to break 12 hours with some room to spare.  I was very pleased at this point despite the mounting winds, for I knew that if I could just stay on the bike, stay focused and pound when the wind was at my back I could make some time back off the clock.

That emotion was marked by how I greeted my Fortius teammates heading into the third loop of the bike, exuberantly shouting, "One more lap!" while pointing my finger to the sky.  I was fired up and back to my old self.

Ultimately, it just wasn't meant to be though.

Though I came close to finishing the rest of the ride without breaks, I would need to briefly get off the bike at the 100th mile, where I accessed my special needs bag in what became the biggest calculated risk of the day.  The day before the race, I convinced myself that I would ingest a 5 Hour Energy drink in an emergency situation.  I had never taken such a thing before in my entire life.  I've maybe had 1-2 Red Bull drinks without alcohol either.  So, what kind of emergency would require  me breaking the cardinal sin of triathlon (though shalt NOT try new things on race day!) would be open to interpretation.  At mile 100, it meant I still had a delusional sense I could break 12 hours if I ran a solid marathon and could beat back the incessant howling winds on that final loop back to Tempe. (At this point though I was also riding anywhere from 13-17 mph miles due to what seemed to be the peak of the wind/rain/hail gusts.)  But the real emergency was that I was starting to bonk physically and mentally. I remember around mile 94 being pounded into submission by the weather.  The headwinds just became too much.  I was being passed all over the place.  The ride stopped being fun.  My watch data was indicating three, four and even five-minute miles in the face of the headwinds.  Wind has always been my weak point and it was being exposed in the biggest racing day of my life.  That, combined with a continued inability to eat anything other than bananas, deflated my psyche.  What was wrong with me?  Why today?  How could I possibly run a marathon next after the beating I was taking on the bike?

Enter 5 Hour Energy!

Yes, the berry flavor tasted foul, like acidic Robitussin.  But within 20 minutes, my pace picked up by more than a full mile-per-hour, and even crept up close to a 2 mph bump.  At one point I blasted through a group of bigger, stronger riders that included Bob amidst a massive 35-mph wind gust.  This stuff really works, I thought!  I was practically reborn, and though I took it easy on the final mile back to the bike transition, I was ready to attack the run.

When I finally entered the chute to T2, I have rarely been more relieved to get off a bike.  Without question, that 112 mile Ironman bike was the toughest ride I've ever encountered.  I'm comforted to know that several others, including pros, have commented about how tough the course was on Sunday.  I wasn't the only one who had a rough day out there.

But, I got through it, crossing the finish marker in 6:16:11.  Despite three stops, I still was only 16 minutes off my training goal and well within my third-place goal of breaking 6:20:00.  Moreover, I could still break 12 hours if I hustled.

However, there was another factor at play.  One that I thought I could ignore on the bike but was proven wrong.  More on that next.