Controlling the Uncontrollable

This ain't no 2010. Work is busier.  Multiple projects are shipping this year.  That means multiple business trips, something I didn't really have to contend with much last year, especially in the final six months of Ironman training.  Not so now.  In February, I'll be in London, Las Vegas and San Francisco.  March will see me in Austin, Texas (South by Southwest), and two weeks before my Ironman I'll be at the video games industry's largest trade show of the year, E3.  That will be great for my immune system.

I knew how lucky I was last year as the days went by.  Neither my job nor my personal life really interfered with my training.  It's only my second day back in the office from a prolonged break, and oh how things feel different already.  Though maybe the head cold I picked up while traveling in San Francisco for New Year's is contributing to that.

So what to do?  How to overcome?  I just spent a half-hour today talking to my team about finding new ways to look within to control a scenario -- even when they think things are beyond their control.  For example, instead of lamenting being sick at an inopportune time, maybe rest and nutrition played a factor as well.  Two things one can generally control.

So what can I control given my more demanding schedule?

-- How early I wake up to train.  Maybe I have to get up sooner to ensure I fit both workouts in before work so I can stay later in the evening if need-be.

-- What time I go to bed.  This may be tougher since Steph and I both work fairly long days and don't see each other much during the week as-is.

-- What I eat during the day, and at what times, to ensure I have sustained energy.

-- Accepting that I won't be able to complete every workout like I used to.  I need to be smarter.  I need to listen to my body more, especially now with some creakier knees.

-- Following workouts more closely and less freelancing.  My tendency would be to pack more intensity into each workout to make up for lost ground or time.  But I know the body doesn't train that way, even more so now that I'm reading Joe Friel's book, Your Best Triathlon.  I'll write more about that another time, but so far it's super helpful in filling in the blanks between the how's of training and the WHY.

I'll try to think of more ways I can control this situation, but if you have ideas based on what's worked for you, I'd love to hear them.

167 days and counting.

2010: The Ultimate Odyssey

I've posted 345 blogs since starting this journey last November, with at least three-dozen categories.  I've probably analyzed -- over-analyzed, actually -- every detail of my Ironman journey more than most.  And yet I'm having a very hard time encapsulating the past year for my last post of the year. I set big goals and went out and accomplished them, with a lot of hard work. Stephanie and  I resurrected a broken relationship, for the final time.  None of this journey would have been quite as special had I not restored that healthy foundation.  That alone made 2010 a total success.  The completed races, personal-best times, and finishing the Ironman truly fail to come close in comparison.  Make no mistake, I would have been an Ironman without Stephanie.  But I would have thought of her at the finish, every day leading up to that moment, and every day after it.  I would have chased a ghost the rest of my life, the worst kind too.  The "What If?" spectre.

I hate that ghost. I hate "What If?"  So I destroyed it.  And couldn't be happier.

I remember when I started the year though, skeptical whether Fortius Coaching could mold me into a better athlete. Uncertain of my own psyche following a devastating breakup.  I remember Coach Gerardo telling me I wouldn't even recognize myself physically, emotionally and mentally following Ironman.

Now a year later, I know what he meant, though I'm not sure even he thought my transformation would be this profound.  I truly do feel like a different person.  Perhaps this year was the biggest growth year of my life, which is saying a lot since I spent several months backpacking through Europe both with a buddy and by myself to start the 21st Century.  That trip was a deep transformational experience in a different way.  In Europe at that time, pre-Euro currency, pre-"smart" cell phones and everywhere Internet, I was alone.  I had to learn to rely on myself.  I built a foundation for adventure and extended my personal comfort zones way beyond my sheltered suburban upbringing.  I built the foundation for this Ironman journey too, a far more spiritual and metaphorical trip.

I wonder if my 2010 Ironman would have happened if it weren't for my 2001 adventure serving as the stepping stone.

A lot had happened in my life between my 2001 backpacker's walkabout and this year's odyssey.  During that span, I had many adventures, literally all over the world.  While I may have nudged my comfort zones ever further out professionally, and personally, I hadn't really ventured off the grid (in my mind, at least) into the Great Unknown since quitting my job prior to September 11. That spring I quit work, quit my apartment, quit my car payments, and donned a small bag filled with all the contents I would need to live.

50 cities, 12 countries, 90 days.  A different kind of triathlon.

And yet my preparation for and completion of Ironman surpasses even that epoch.  I NEVER expected my journey to Ironman to rebuild what had become an eroded sense of self-confidence, rekindle my passion for writing, stabilize my emotions and provide me with such a supportive group of friends and teammates, not to mention some of you readers out there.

My 2001 odyssey was an escape.  My 2010 odyssey was a gift to myself.

I hope 2011 brings more gifts, but most of all, I hope that if you haven't already you'll reward yourself with such a gift.  We all deserve it.  We deserve abolishing that "What If?" ghost, even if it's only for once in our lives.  To stand at the finish line, real or metaphorical, arms raised, screaming from a primal place, nothing can surpass that feeling. The feeling of personal victory.  It doesn't have to be an Ironman either.  It can be going for a promotion at work, or starting a new career venture, taking a chance with that cute friend you always liked but haven't had the courage to ask out. It can be ANYTHING.

Make the most of 2011.  Pick your Ironman and FINISH IT.

Wipe "What If?" from your vocabulary.

I'd say good luck, but you won't need it.

Enjoy your New Year's Eve celebration!  I'll be back on January 2, fresh from spending the holiday with future wife.

175 days and counting.

PS: For those wondering about my legs, it appears that I've got a problem with the tendons in my hips connecting my glutes and IT bands.  The acronym for that part of the body is TFL, which some of you (Robyn?) may be familiar with.  My ART specialist said it's hard to say for sure though because of all my other structural issues, but based on the pain there in today's therapy session, I'm guessing it's a root cause.  We'll keep at the recovery, and I'll keep you posted on the progress.

One Mile at a Time

Lately a lot of folks at holiday parties or social gatherings have asked me about my Ironman experience.  To be honest, I've been shocked by the outpouring of interest. I thought people would be sick of it by now, with the blog, my Facebook/Twitter updates, etc.  Heck, I'm sick of it!!!!  It's gotten to the point where I'm almost ashamed to speak about triathlon in front of Stephanie because I'm sure she's sick of hearing it over and over even more than I am feeling. But my friends (and even people I rarely keep in touch with) want to know how the race felt, what the training was like, how I persevered through the weather and the pain on race day.  What crossing the finish line felt like.

Despite feeling inspired or excited, every conversation typically ends with the other participant saying, "That is insane.  I could never do that."

They're right.

And I think it's just as insane to not even consider it if you have the desire to try.

With that kind of attitude they never will complete an Ironman, or any triathlon for that matter. Or the metaphorical equivalent.  It's amazing to me these folks have accomplished much at all with that approach.  And the thing is, they've all achieved so much whether it's in their careers, their education or some other personal activity.

I don't blame anyone though for saying it's seemingly impossible.  If you look at Ironman solely as a singular achievement, a mammoth destination without the journey that comes with it, it can look like an Everest.  But, as I try to tell my friends, if you look at Ironman the same way you look at going to school -- taking a step forward every day, learning something new every day, improving incrementally and expanding your capabilities -- it's not quite as intimidating.

And this time, the only person grading you is yourself!  The only tests you take are the ones you assign, or maybe they're from a coach that you hire.

One day at a time.  One mile at a time.  One lesson at a time.  One test at a time.

If you focus on that and not the destination itself, you'll find you've arrived a lot quicker than you anticipated -- and maybe a little faster too.

Certainly a little wiser.

An Ironman is not out of reach. It is within all of our grasps ... if we want it bad enough.

189 days and counting.

Lava Man

I have a little secret to share with you. In fact, you're the first to know.

Starting at the end of this month, I'm going to be writing monthly columns for Lava Magazine's website. As you may know, Lava is the official magazine of Ironman, and I'm beyond honored to become a small "official" part of the Ironman experience. My column, which will be called "Mind Games," is going to focus on the mental parts of training for an Ironman.  As I trained for my first Ironman, I found the spiritual, mental and emotional journey to be far more powerful (and useful) than any physical gains made from my training regimen. "Mind Games" will be devoted to exploring the many issues we all face as triathletes and looking to pros, sports psychologists -- and each other -- for answers and support.

I hope you'll continue to read my blog, and if you're so inclined, to join me at Lava Magazine's website for a monthly visit as well.

And if you have any ideas for columns I should consider, I'm totally open to hearing them!

***

In other news, I can summarize my day in the following manner, which could encapsulate my lifestyle the past few weeks:

-- Spun on the bike trainer (45 minutes)

-- Iced my legs

-- Ate all day (mostly decent food)

-- Fit in a full day of work

-- Downed a massive burger for dinner with a pint of beer

-- Lying on couch blogging and watching Lakers game

I do not feel like an Ironman, and I'm beginning to wonder if I no longer look like one either. I've gained six pounds now since November 21, with no slowdowns of that trend in sight.  I feel like a bear that's stuffing himself to build up fat for a long hibernation period.  I can't stop eating!

195 days and counting.

Back to Work

Today I hit the Refresh button, literally, on my Ironman training. After a brief moment of reflection, I reset my countdown clock on the blog to Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  It's time to look ahead and move forward.  I basked in the post-IMAZ glow for two weeks, and now it's time to get back to work. Of course, that's easier said than done -- especially after not exercising since the race.  So, I added a little motivation on my bathroom mirror.  Something I'll look at every morning when I get out of bed.  I still have "Remember THIS Day" and "It's the journey, not the destination" scrawled on notes stuck to my mirror as well.  But this note is smack-dab in the center.  Staring me in the face.

I know this Post-It might seem harsh.  But I need to kick-start myself emotionally as well as physically.

That's what I attempted to do this morning with my Fortius trail run in Agoura.  Several of the usual suspects (Richard, Ann, Mike, Karen, David) were running the CIM marathon in Sacramento. But we still had a solid turnout on this crisp, cloudy morning, including a new teammate, Chris.  He volunteered at IMAZ near the first aid station on the bike route.  I'll look forward to sharing what I know about the course with him as he begins his own journey towards Ironman Number One.

The plan was to run for two hours today, but my IT bands wouldn't cooperate.  As you can imagine, my legs started tightening up around the third or fourth mile.  We weren't even doing much elevation today (600 feet total).  My left leg really started acting up around the turnaround point for us (just shy of an hour), the same burning, tingling sensation around my lower kneecap I felt at IMAZ around the eighth mile of the run.

Something is definitely not right with my leg.  I mashed my way through the rest of the run, taking brief moments to stretch my left leg and then my right -- which started acting up around the seventh mile.  The only bit of good news I can take from this run is that I was never winded or overly tired.  Fitness-wise, I feel fine. Once again, like at IMAZ, my body betrayed me.  But I'm not sure I can really write that in good conscience since I didn't stretch in two weeks, gained five pounds and generally did nothing constructive for my training.

I'll be fixing that starting today.  I've applied ice bags, rubbed pain gel, stretched, and even howled in pain from being overly aggressive with the foam roller.

Yep, time to start training again.

I also ran with a new pair of shoes today, the Asics 2160 trail shoes.

I bought them last night from Road Runner in West Hills, in a half-size larger as often recommended for running shoes.  This is my third pair of Asics trail runners, the 2140 and 2150 being the previous versions of the 2160.  It's too early to offer a legitimate review, but I can say that my heels were a little sore after the run, which is unusual, and the shoe was tighter than I expected last night when I wore them to a dinner party to break them in.  I've had nothing but great luck with my Asics so I'm confident this pair will eventually work out well.  While the Asics 2150s were a little on the heavy side (around the 11.5+ oz mark), I rarely had fit-related issues and after IMAZ my feet weren't sore.

So, on two wobbly legs I managed to run just over 10 miles in just under 1:45:00.  Not my best run, but for my first run back, I'll take it.

And, as my Post-It note implies, I certainly won't basking in that "accomplishment" for very long.

After all, Ironman Coeur d'Alene is nearly seven months away.

198 days and counting.

PS: Here's my blog post from one year ago today.  It's interesting to me that one year ago today was apparently the first moment in my training where I realized I could truly become an Ironman.  I'm really glad I wrote this stuff down!

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.

Ironman Arizona Race Report Part I

"So, how was your Ironman?"

That was the question I was greeted with from our well-intentioned office administrator as I opened the door to the lobby this past Tuesday on my first day back from completing Ironman Arizona.

You'd think that 12.5 hours plus the ride home would have given me more than enough time to practice and rehearse my canned response to such a simple question.  Yet, upon being presented it, I could only muster an amused stare as my jaw dropped.

How could I possibly sum up an Ironman in quaint morning conversation?

Almost a week later, I'm still struggling to find the words, but I will try below.  From the comfort of my office den at home. In sweats.  Workout clothes and race kits neatly folded for the time being.  Wetsuit flopped over my rocking chair, apparently done for the winter.  Browned, dirt-stained running shoes placed in the closet. Tri bike still at Coach Gerardo's house, waiting patiently for me to retrieve it (this weekend I swear!).

So far, the quiet is the strangest part.  No workouts to log.  No bottles to rinse or prepare.  No early morning or late evening workouts to schedule around. Nothing.  Swim, bike, run has been replaced -- somewhat reluctantly -- with eat, sleep, rest.

And plenty of time to reflect on a yearlong journey that ultimately was blessed with good luck, good health and plenty of good results. Culminating in my first Ironman, but certainly not my last.  Despite the commitment, the pain and the sacrifices, I can't wait for my next M-dot race, Coeur d'Alene. The countdown is about to begin anew but before it does, here are my thoughts on Ironman #1.

I hope this helps a first-time Ironman competitor somewhere out there.  Also see this post for more basic tips and lessons learned

SWIM

As I wrote in the days preceding the race, I was surprised at how calm and relaxed I felt. The best way to describe my emotional state is that I simply felt like I belonged at Ironman Arizona.  All the hours spent alone training, and with my AMAZING Fortius Racing team, had melded and forged my mind and body into something hard.  Not one part of me felt ill-prepared for the day and as a result, I could enjoy every moment going into race morning.

Around 6:40 a.m., after some photos with fellow IMAZ competitors, LA Tri Clubbers and teammates, I plopped into the chilly, murky lake water. The temperature was never a factor, as several ocean swims in Santa Monica, Marina del Rey and Malibu were actually colder than the announced 64 degrees.  Bob and I found a spot together towards the middle-left of the pack.  Upon seeing the massive volume of people in the water, we both realized the likelihood of swimming together was slim. We wished each other a great race, hugged, and treaded water silently for a few minutes absorbing the moment.

Then, Black Sabbath's "Ironman" started blaring through the loudspeakers.

SHOWTIME!

I whooped and hollered, dropping my rock horns in beat with the music.  This was it!  The moment was here, and it was perfect.  The bridge lights above us twinkled overhead, the moon was still out.  And then, the cannon blast signaling the race start.

All hell broke loose.

The lake simply erupted into mass chaos.  Arms churned and legs kicked.  Elbows struck, hands grabbed.  Those first 500-1,000 yards are a total blur.  I just kept my focus and surged forward as best I could without panicking.  Which is hard to do as competitors claw at you to find better position in the water.  I zig-zagged all over the place to find any opening I could for a few strokes without drinking water or being pelted by body parts.  Others weren't so fortunate.  I remember seeing out the side of my right goggle lens a man floating on his back, appearing to hyperventilate.  I'm somewhat ashamed to admit I kept swimming forward.

It took around 30 minutes, by my estimation, before I found enough room in the water to swim at what felt like my race pace.  That would have been roughly 10 minutes before the 1.2 mile turnaround buoy.  I remember feeling incredibly relaxed at this point and somewhat surprised at how fast the morning was going.  After all the waiting, I was in the middle of an Ironman!

The rest of the swim was fairly uneventful.  I did veer off course, straying inward to where an official in a kayak had to gently corral a few of us stragglers back to the main route.  I probably lost 45 seconds correcting myself but wasn't too rattled.  I'd prefer to veer inward anyway as I can track an inside line towards the final turn to the finish.  The only real dilemma at this point was whether I could coax my body to pee while I was swimming. I had to go for a second time even though I pee'ed prior to the race.  I was in such a swimming zone that I didn't want to disrupt my cadence to stop.  This would turn out to be a mistake.

After essentially sprinting the final 500 yards of the swim to reach the stairs exit, I'll never forget looking at the event timing clock while running to T1: 1:12:53. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!???" That's all I could think to myself, I had shattered my best-case scenario swim goal by two full minutes.  I had swam at a 1:43 pace, a full :04-:08 faster than usual.

This was going to be a great day, I thought.

Part 2 tomorrow: The Windy Bike Ride From Hell

OHMYGODI'MANIRONMAN!!!

I'm also ridiculously caffeinated. I don't and haven't drank cola or much caffeine for at least three years.  I had a 5 Hour Energy for the first time (yes, that's generally a no-no) and had several colas throughout the run.  You'll see why below.

Anyways, my caffeine rush prompted three pages of notes so I'm sharing them verbatim.  I will write a race report incorporating these lessons into something a bit more prosaic, but figured this is a good start.  I don't want to forget any of this stuff.

Thank you all for your support the past year.  I feel like this blog has somehow made a difference for a few folks and that means so much.  And I made a new friend tonight with a fellow competitor and FINISHER, Robyn.  She ROCKS. 

So, I need to eat dinner and then TRY to go to bed.  I'm exhuasted but WIRED.  Let's see how this goes haha.

More to come in the next couple days, but I hope this captures the spirit of the lessons learned while it doesn't come close to describing the emotions of the day.  That's next.

12:39!

I AM AN IRONMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pre-race day:

Remember all your bags.  Pack with gear/special needs in mind so  all you have to do is transfer bags. Literally put stuff in separate bags beforehand. Will save tons of time.  Wish I had done that.

Get to event early.  You’ll be surprised how hard it is to relax.

I found staying off-site better.  The energy near the race site is too hectic and could be a distraction or could psyche you out.

Swim:

Scrum!

Don’t panic

Find a lane during the event, and keep switching if need-be.  Be flexible.  Keep sighting!  Practice sighting in open water drills.

Practice exiting the water.  It’s giant stairs.  There’s a right way and a wrong way to do this. Stay compact, use your knees and elbows to crawl up the steps, don’t swing your leg to the side as someone could bump you or you could get a cramp.  This did not happen to me, thanks to listening to Bob’s advice.

Bike

Don’t panic if the weather doesn’t go your way.  Adjust accordingly.  I tried to keep my goal time intact instead of going with the flow a little more – though I don ‘t believe I overexerted too much.  My coach might disagree, and I wouldn’t argue too strongly about that.

If you have a Speedfill, do NOT do what I did.  Don’t put powder in and then mix with water. It will clog your filter.  Bad idea.  Use water bottles the way you normally would and then squirt the mixture in the speedfill.

If you have to leave your bike out overnight, which you probably do, leave a little pressure out of the tires until the next morning.  This will help you avoid a temperature pressure-driven flat.

If you can, I highly recommend practicing in inclement weather.  The worse the weather, the better the idea to practice.  Fillmore saved my ass in training due to the winds but it still didn’t prepare me totally adequately for today.  And rain is a whole different story.  Gotta just get through it, though I recommend lighter-tinted glasses since if you  have water on the lens it’s harder to see.  This didn’t bother me too much but I noticed it enough to mention.

Pace yourself.  I knew I would feed off the crowd at the end of each loop so I pushed it a bit to “put on a show” and feed off the crowd.  I think that’s fine, but chill out for a bit after you’re away from the main crowd so you can regain your energy and focus.

If you need to pee, pee.  I pee’ed twice on the first loop.  So glad I did.  I was bummed to lose time, but I was a lot more comfortable.

Experiment with compression shorts a lot before wearing them in an IM.  It helped me for sure, but I wonder if the pressure on my gut caused some of my GI issues today.  Nutrition was a big problem for  me on the bike.  I couldn’t stand ingesting my normal foods (Clif Bars and gels) for some reason.  This was highly unexpected but again DON’T PANIC.  Listen to your body.  I ate a lot of bananas today and it was a good substitute.

5 Hour Energy.  Holy Shit. Blew my mind.  Never used it before, which is a bad idea in general for any race as a rule of thumb.  However, it saved my ass on the brutal bike ride.  And I powered through some 35 mph gusts (by Bob’s estimation) while others struggled b/c  the B12 kicked in at the right moment.  This stuff rocked, but it may also have contributed to a nasty sidestitch on the first mile of the run.  Yikes.

Speaking of run….

Run:

Don’t panic.  I got a cramp the first mile.  Thank goodness I found out there was a cramp/massage station in the first check point.  I used it and it helped immensely.  My cramp went away.  And then, at mile 8, my IT bands locked up big time.  Again, don’t panic.  I used the med tent to get THE MOST PAINFUL MASSAGE in my life but it was worth it.  Don’t worry about losing time in the short term.  I could not have completed the marathon in the time I did without these necessary breaks in the race.  Which leads me to:

Sometimes you need to go slow to go fast.  I needed those breaks to continue the race.  And while I lost 15 minutes at least on those massages, I think I raced faster throughout the day as a result.  This is a hard concept to accept, I think, because you have to sacrifice your goal time potentially to get what your body needs.   But your body will pay you back big-time.  Which leads me to:

Don’t panic!  Stuff WILL go wrong throughout the day.  My nutrition, my Speedfill needed ER attention at the last second.  I couldn’t eat the stuff I trained all year to eat.  My body locked up.  The weather turned into a storm.  Keep your head down and FOCUS.  Focus one mile at a time.  That is all you can do.  Don’t worry about your best-laid plans.  They very well may fall through. What is your back-up?  And what’s the back-up to that if the shit really hits the fan?  You need to know, and accept these conditions BEFORE the race.

Carry Endurolytes.  It saved me from really cramping.  Keep spare pills in your special needs bag.  I lost all my pills from the first container b/c I accidentally tipped them over while while drinking water.

On the run, eat what you want to eat.  Don’t worry about it.  Follow your body.  Do what it tells you.  Walk when you really need to walk.  Try to run as much as you can.  Shuffling is OK AND EFFECTIVE.  Accept that you can move pretty fast with an alternate gait if you must.  I did, and I’m happy with my time.

Enjoy that chute finish!  You deserve it!  Celebrate!  Let loose!  Shout, or do whatever comes naturally.  You can plan all you want for how you think you’ll react, but you  have no idea until you’re there.  But don’t rush it.  Embrace the moment.  It only happens once.

Highlights:

n  Swim!  PR

n  Bike: Seeing the pros whiz by and being on the same course as them at the same time even for a few seconds, right next to them.  Wow!

n  Bike:  5 Hour Energy!  Holy shit!

n  Run: Not panicking.  Being smart in how I raced.  Hugging Steph for a boost at mile 17.  Running the last big hill without stopping.  The finish!!!!

n  Being recognized for my blog from a wonderful human being and now friend, Robyn.  Such a touching moment at the finish where we hugged.

Lowlights:

n  Nutrition going haywire

n  Swim like a water polo match meets rugby match.  Brutal out there!

n  Weather absolutely destroying my body on the bike and wind challenging me several times on the run, along with brief drizzles too.

n  Cramps and lockup on the run.  Most painful massage in my life.

n  Lodging an Endurolyte in my throat at mile 22.  Dry heaves ensue.

Final lessons learned:

n  The race hurts real bad. That pain is temporary and harsh.  But the life lessons last forever.  Among those, sometimes you need to put yourself through extreme pain to get the most benefit from what you need -- even if it's not what you want.   For me that’s don’t panic, dealing with real physical pain, dealing with disappointment and rallying, understanding slower can be faster, and having three plans for truly important goals.  So valuable (thanks Gerardo!)

IMAZ Training By the Numbers

Today marked my last "official" day of California-based Ironman Arizona training.  It also marked my packing day.  Check out this image...that's a LOT of stuff!

Before I go forward into the desert, I think it's fair to take a look back at all the stats from the past several months.

Wanna know what it takes to train for an Ironman?  Here's a very rough approximation.

(Quick notes: My training range is roughly Thanksgiving 2009 to November 17, 2010.  Approximately 350 days.  I began using my Garmin watch in early April, so the most accurate data actually spans seven months. And I may have deleted data inadvertently from April-June while trying to clean out my watch database. I logged workouts on Training Peaks beginning in early December 2009.)

Garmin miles logged (since April): 2,855.27

Distance from San Francisco, Calif. to Lubec, Maine: 3,452

Average combined speed (swim, bike, run): 11.9 mph

Garmin elevation logged: 124,794 feet

Mt. Everest in feet: 29,035 feet

Distance in feet from ocean level to leaving the Earth's atmosphere: 327, 360 feet

Calories burned: 90,646

Based on a 2,000 calories/day diet, equivalent days of calories burned: 45.3 days

Training Peaks Hours Logged: 608/660 (still have 14 hours of training to complete this week, including race)

Percentage completed: 92% (not including upcoming hours this week)

If I trained non-stop, the equivalent in days would be: 25.3 days

Bike: 164.3 hours (27%)

Run: 152.7 hours (25%)

Swim: 109.2 hours (18%)

Classified as "brick" hours: 79.1 hours (13%)

Race hours: 34.0 hours (6%)

"Custom" (usually yoga/strength): 42 hours (7%)

No matter how I slice it, that's a LOT of time spent training for one event.

Time to go see how that training pays off.

My next post will be in Arizona.

Four days and counting.

Embracing the Unknown

I remember when I first started swimming at Van Nuys/Sherman Oaks pool.  Almost a year-and-a-half ago it seems.  Back when a half-mile swim felt challenging (and satisfying), and all I did was swim back-and-forth without any direction, instruction, or a clue as to how to improve. That's what I thought about today as I blasted through a taper workout of 2,700 yards featuring two 500s and a 1,000 yards broken out by sprint 50s.

I also thought about how today marked my final VNSO swim until Ironman.

The next time I jump into that heated pool and feel the cold concrete sting my toes, I will be an Ironman.  Everything that I've worked for since 2008 will have come to fruition.

What a long, strange, trip it's been.

That also got me thinking.  This journey has been a rite of passage.  I'll be going from a world I knew nothing about -- a Herculean fantasy -- to having full experience and knowledge of it very soon.  It's not unlike other rites of passage over the course of our lives.  Getting our driver's license.  SAT's.  The first day of high school and college.  Losing our virginity.  I don't know about you, but I rushed through all those rites.  All I could ever think about was reaching those milestones, not the journey along the way.  Nor could I appreciate the nervous energy, apprehension and shear terror (at least with the sex part) prior to those gargantuan moments until long after.  When I was safe, comfortable and secure enough to look back at them.

But strangely enough, when I recall those life milestones, I'm surprised to find that I miss the giddyness, stress and anxiety of the unknown prior to"The Big Moment" as much as the moments themselves. As a result, I find myself slowing down more these past few days.  I'm not in a hurry to get to Sunday the way I thought I would be.  I'm truly living in the "Now." I generally don't hang out in that space for very long.  It's the way I'm wired. But since this past weekend -- since my surprise send-off party -- I'm savoring the nerves, the excitement and the feelings of wonder.

I also know, based on all those other "firsts," that this "pre" period just might be the best part.  Maybe the unknown is better than the real.  Maybe the build-up is better than the actual moment.  Either way, I'll know on Sunday.   And then on Monday, it will all be over.  I'll be driving home.  And the countdown to Coeur d'Alene will begin.  How strange indeed.  The countdown clock will reset.  The journey will begin anew, but I'll know what to expect.  It may not be the same as the fabulous wonder of not knowing.

So why not enjoy every moment and sensation of these last few pre-Ironman days? I'll never be quite the same person after the race, and I know that.

Like this morning's swim, this is the end of my "first time" Ironman journey.

And for the first time in my life, I'm going to stop, smile, savor, and embrace the unknown.

Five days and counting.