IMCDA Race Report Part I: The Water Blender

It's Thursday, four days since Ironman Coeur d'Alene.  I've been sleeping at least eight hours a night and it hasn't been nearly enough. I'm typing the beginnings of my race report here still in a mental fog.  My brain feels heavy, and sluggish.  My body has recovered to where the swelling in my legs and feet has subsided -- revealing the true aches and creaks in my right hip and left Achilles.  Neither hurt during the actual race, which is either attributed to other parts hurting, willpower to overcome pain, or a combination of the two. I'm going to focus more on the physical side of my race here, saving some of the more mental in-depth stuff for the upcoming Lava Magazine column.  I will share that incorporating several of the lessons from the past six months -- intentionally and unintentionally -- saved my day.  You'll see why below.

PRE-RACE

I woke up quiet and focused around 4:15 a.m., feeling more tense than I recall for Ironman Arizona.  What's worse, the pain you don't know or the pain you know is coming?  Steph lightened the mood in the hotel room by turning on iTunes and playing the Rocky soundtrack, specifically the "Going the Distance" song I love listening to over and over to fire myself up.

All it took was one playthrough to be locked in for the day.

We arrived at the race site around 5:15 a.m.  You'd think this is enough time but I barely made it to the crowded swim start by 6:55 a.m.  Special needs bags need to be dropped off.  Tires needed to be pumped and water bottles needed to be filled for the bike ride.  I had last-minute changes for my T1 and T2 gear bags, and by the time I did that the port-o-potty line was at around 30 minutes.  Add it all up and I'm frantically applying Body Glide before putting on my wetsuit around 6:50, while the announcer is forcing everyone out of the transition area because it is now closed.

I prefer to be in my "happy place" by this point.  On the shore, splashing in the water, focused and ready.  Instead, I'm wedged between at least 1,000 of my new friends, funneling our way to one pinch-point of a beach entrance.  Shuffling.  Elbowing just a little.  Smiling just a little too. Mostly quiet.

I made it onto the sand with minutes to spare.  Being a little guy, I wormed my way to the front of the pack and put my feet in the water, splashed it on my face and kept my hands in it until they started to get numb.  Better to acclimate then than in the mass race start, a tip I learned from my buddy Rusty just the day before.

Then I realized that water was probably filled with urine from everyone peeing themselves in their wetsuits.

Thanks Rusty!

No time to chuckle then.  The race was about to start.

SWIM

This is what the race start looked like from afar:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5Jx06Qpfm4

It almost looks orderly and peaceful, right?  Rows of obedient swimmers plunging into the depths, like an Esther Williams movie.  Oh, how I wish it was that simple.

This swim start, running into the lake and swimming for dear life, was harder than a mass start from a floating position.  With the latter, you can ask around to see what pace people are aiming for and float forward or backward depending on what you learn.  Not here.  Not in the chaos.  Especially not at the front of the pack.

My thinking at the time was that if I could hang with the fast pack for the first 300 yards, I could pause, catch my breath while swimming more slowly and regain my normal T-pace.

Poor theory, poor execution.

I rocketed out into the water, though I instinctually kept my head out of the water for fear of being kicked and punched.  This was totally involuntary but as I saw the rupturing explosiveness all around me -- a white churning hurricane of arms and feet, I realized I didn't want to put my precious head into that blender.

Three hundred yards out (I'm guessing), I was panting for breath.  Breast-stroking.  Being passed by the second wave of fast swimmers, swimming over, around and through me.

It honestly felt like my day was over before it even started.  I've got to become faster and more aggressive in the water.

I managed to rally myself forward, still mostly breathless.  I knew if I could just remain calm and not panic, I'd be OK.  Eventually this proved to be the case.  Despite being kicked in the groin, ribs and head, I found a pace, some free water space, and a nice rhythm.  Before too long, I could hear the announcer's voice welcoming back the swimmers from their first of two loops, and then I could see the archway for exiting the water.  I did it. I survived the first swim loop of Ironman Coeur d'Alene.

My watch read 38:47 when I climbed out of the water blender known as Lake Coeur d'Alene. I figured my first loop would be between 35 and 40 minutes, so I was right on line.

Loop two got wicked though.

Swimming in 54 degree water can harm the body, no matter how warm you think you are.  Honestly, the cold never bothered me in the water.  However, the grabbing, punching and kicking from other swimmers took its toll.  A third of the way into the second loop, I got grabbed on my calf, and as I wriggled free my legs locked up.  Cramps. Both of them.  I went from being horizontal to completely vertical in the water, bobbing helplessly like a cork top.  Waves of swimmers in my pack lurched ahead.  Was my day over now? I had hardly ever experienced a cramp in the water before in an open-water swim.

Cramps became a problem throughout the remainder of the swim.  I overcame them by not panicking and employing various mental exercises that helped me visualize a successful swim from a different vantage point. I'll get into that in my Lava column.  My goggles were also knocked loose, which proved difficult to fix because my hands were not too dexterous due to the cold and because my goggle straps were tucked in underneath my latex neon green swim cap.  I lost two minutes adjusting my straps there, and another two minutes late in the swim peeing. See, at Ironman Arizona, I refused to pee in the water during the swim, thinking my urge would go away once I got on the bike.  And I was so focused on having a great swim I didn't want to bother stopping.  Not this time.  I knew better, bobbing in the water and peeing roughly a quarter-mile from shore knowing I'd save time in T1 while everyone else peed before cycling.

According to the Timex clock above the archway, I exited the water in 1:19:43, just 17 seconds faster than my predicted 1:15-1:20 duration.  I looked down to see what my Garmin watch indicated.

It was gone. Victim to the thrashing, scraping, kicking and punching in the water.

Disbelief.

How am I going to pace myself the rest of the day without a watch?

More on that tomorrow.  Part II: Racing on Instinct.

No More Counting

Post-Ironman has been a whirlwind, hence no race report blog post just yet.  Stayed out until close to midnight after the race, celebrating with teammates and cheering on late-night finishers.  Monday, we left beautiful Coeur d'Alene in the early afternoon and didn't return home until late last night. Today, I worked from 9 to 5:30 in the office, caught up on 500 emails and then helped Steph and her girlfriends prepare our wedding invitations.

I can barely keep my eyes open.

I can barely drag my legs forward to walk.

I can barely wait to begin training for the next Ironman!

So much to say about my second Ironman.  So much to share.   Please be patient with me the next few days.  Here's my initial plan of attack:

-- Lava Magazine column is due in a couple days.  My article will focus on wrapping up everything I learned from my Mind Games columns and how I applied it at IMCDA.

-- Race report for the blog will focus on the day itself, more the physical side of the event and everything that went into it.

-- Then, I'm excited to share with you my initial plans for 2012.  And with my writing.  Though I only have one race on the calendar so far (Oceanside 70.3), that will change in the coming months.

Finally though, for the first time in a year and half, I'm about to write a sentence that symbolizes not the end of a journey, but rather the beginning of a new phase in my life and training.  That sentence is: "No more days and no more counting."

No more events for the rest of the year.  No more scheduled workouts for at least the next couple months -- just fun "playing."  No gels. No heart-rate zone monitoring (easy considering my Garmin got ripped from my wrist in the chaotic IMCDA swim!). No huge clunky tri bags to pack every day of the week.  No brick workouts.

No regimens planned for me other than those that I plan for myself.

I cannot wait to get started.  First, I need to get my energy back. So I bid you good night. Race report and Lava Magazine column brewing.

NO MORE DAYS AND NO MORE COUNTING.

(For a while at least.)

Gear Bag Prep Walk-Through & A Tear-Jerker

I believe this will be the last blog post I'll make before the race tomorrow morning. The gear bags are packed.  Below is a video of what's in them:

This morning, I made what I consider to be the smartest choice in my time here so far.  I skipped the final Fortius team 7 a.m. swim.  I slept instead, and didn't make the team breakfast either.  It's not that I don't want to hang out with my teammates.  I love them!  I can't wait to race with them tomorrow and celebrate after.  It's just that I needed some "me" time and space -- alone -- to focus the way I typically do before a race. It's just that time in my preparation to get quiet, think about the plans I've made, the journey to getting this point, and simply shutting out as many other distractions as possible.

This led to a very special moment during my own breakfast this morning, at a small restaurant called Shari's next to the Amertiel Inn where I'm staying.  It was a little after 8:15 a.m., and the restaurant was quiet.  I sat alone at the counter, and the waitresses were near their station chatting about how much they love Ironman.  Then, they looked over at me and saw I was smiling.  One woman, Tara, asked me for my race number and told me she was going to make a sign to cheer for me the next day.  It's her family's tradition to support athletes whom she either knows or who visit the restaurant in the days preceding the race.  I was ecstatic -- I needed some motherly TLC and excitement and that's what I got. I just never expected it to be in a restaurant diner.

Tara went on to tell me a story why she loves Ironman so much.  She and her daughter watched an older man in his 70s struggle to finish last year.  They were two blocks from the line and the man's legs were buckling.  He looked weak and disoriented.  Tara's daughter started to cry and asked her mom what they could do to help -- it was clear this person wasn't going to make it two blocks.  Tara had an idea.  She told her daughter to go to the other side of the sidewalk chute.  Then, Tara went to the other.  They both started talking to the man from the chute, asking him if he saw the amazing bird in the sky they were trying to find.  He said he hadn't.  Then, Tara and the daughter started describing the bird in detail while walking ever so slowly towards the finish line.  The man was asking about the bird while walking slowly, making progress.

Finally, Tara and daughter stopped.  The man stopped.  He was exasperated.  "Why are we stopping?" he asked, exasperated.

Tara said, and she had a tear in her eye in the restaurant when she did: "This next part is only for you to walk."

He had made it to the finish line, thanks to the help of a concerned resident and her daughter.

THAT is awesome.  I believe I was meant to meet this person today.  She was put in my life for a reason.  She reminded me how special Ironman is to so many people, what I love about it so much.  The people.

I can't wait to see her tomorrow.

Less than one day to go.  It's time.

All Mixed Up

The past few days were supposed to be chill.  I arrived early, intent to relax, acclimate at my own pace, and enjoy the moment.

Truth is, I don't know how or why the time has passed by so fast.  I'm practically exhausted.  I took a two-hour nap today and it wasn't enough. I haven't trained that much either -- swam on Wednesday and a light bike ride.  Swam and ran for a combined total of 40 minutes yesterday.  Biked easy for an hour today and ran a half-mile after.  But it's everything in between that can sap your energy.  Registration.  Bike Transport pick-up.  Expo.  Shopping.

Combine that with every athlete looking like a cover model for Lava Magazine, and suddenly my nerves have kicked in.  It's not whether I belong here -- I know I most certainly do.  It's more will I embarrass myself compared to these beautiful specimens all wearing the best compression gear and sporting the hottest bikes?  Everyone just looks so damn fast!  Have I trained enough?  Will those niggling injuries in my calf and Achilles hold up?  Am I eating enough?  Am I eating right?  Will the cold water of Coeur d'Alene Lake devour me?

Questions, questions, questions.

And for answers, all I have is the knowledge I've been through this before.  I've been through rain.  I've overcome wind.  Cramps.  Illness.  GI issues.  Pain.

I can do this.

It's just that sometimes, we're all human.  Especially when we're not competing for a Kona slot and everyone around us seems like they are.  It can eat at your confidence just a bit.  That's where I'm at right now.  Perhaps it's the danger of hanging out with the team near the race site.  Everything is so visible.  There's no escaping it.  The M-Dot is everywhere.  Almost to the point where I'm sick of seeing it.

So how am I coping?  Believe it or not, I'm reading my old blog posts. I'm seeing the same nerves two days before the race from last year.  Though I will admit that the excitement level going through this the second time is far less.  I'm nowhere near as giddy.  I wouldn't say I'm grim either, just filled with a strange mixed-up feeling that's part anxiety, part exhaustion, and part pride.

It's time to start focusing more on the pride part.  I have to remember all the solo workouts I've done this year.  How this year has been harder than last year due to a tougher work-life schedule.  But yet I'm still here.  And ready.  I know I'm ready.

I'm especially ready on the mental side, despite my confessions above.  See, my second Ironman has a huge advantage over the first -- Coeur d'Alene is absolutely beautiful!  We drove the course today and every mile is filled with little postcard memories that will make this the most beautiful place I've ever ridden (ahead of Malibu in Pacific Coast Highway).  And the run course is the most beautiful I've ever encountered too.

How is this an advantage?  Last year, I slogged -- and I mean SLOGGED -- through session after session in desolate, smelly, windy, barren Fillmore.  And I raced in windy, desolate, plain-looking Tempe and the surrounding areas.  I didn't realize how numb my mind had become to the pleasure of being on a bike ride or a run. Here, in gorgeous Idaho, I realize how well Ironman Arizona prepared me for IM CDA.

In Arizona, there's nothing to distract you from pain and suffering -- unless you count the In N' Out burger on the run course!

So no matter what happens beginning 7 a.m. on Sunday, I know this much: I will be at the starting line.  Next to the pretty people and tbe frigid water and pretty scenery.  And I will be ready to race.  I will be nervous.  Everyone around me will be nervous.  But, thanks to Chrissie Wellington, Sam Warriner, Andy Potts, Chris McCormack, Mirinda Carfrae and several others, I've learned a lot about how to meet the race head-on. With my head screwed on straight.  Acknowledging and respecting what's in front of me but never fearing it.  Storing positive memories in my memory banks, accessing them the way Macca does, like computer file folders.  I will call on several folders for 12 hours.

One of those folders is you, Mr. and Ms. Reader.  I know you're out there.  I know you're cheering for me too.  I won't let you down.  I'm racing for all of us -- Kona qualifiers or folks like me just happy to call ourselves Ironmen and Ironwomen.  We are age-groupers, but we are not average in any way.  We are IRONMEN and IRONWOMEN.

That is what we are.  That is what we're made of.  And that is what I'm about to become again on Sunday.

2 days and counting.

Bags are Packed

So much for my detailed plan about my race week. I'm leaving tomorrow, not Thursday, for Coeur d'Alene!  I couldn't resist the temptation from my teammates to join them a day early for some fun and getting an early preview of the course.  So, $155 later and I'm on a plane tomorrow at 8 a.m. instead of on Thursday at 6 a.m.

That decision led me to a whirlwind of a day.  Highlights included visiting my local bike shop for one more cram session on flat tire fixing, since I haven't had to deal with one since last year really.  I'm getting better, but the mechanics at Santa Monica Mountain Cyclery have little to worry about in terms of job security.  Johnny, the shop's lead mechanic, taught me how to quickly drop the back wheel in and out by turning the bike upside down.  Unfortunately, this approach won't work with the horizontal stays on my tri-bike, but I remembered the motions and process so I think I'll be fine.  Just needed to re-tool the muscle memory.

Tonight, after one final swim at the local pool (VNSO is back open!), I packed late into the evening.  However, this packing session was far quicker and less stressful than last year.  I remember laying EVERYTHING out on the floor of my office den, double-checking my Fortius travel checklist twice, and then packing into bags.  This time, I really knew what to bring, and NOT to overpack.  I know I'll be buying lots of merchandise!  So, packing probably took half as long, was far more relaxed, and ya know what?  If I forgot something I'll buy it at the Ironman Store.

Because I'll be there a day early!

Next post will be from Coeur d'Alene!

Good night all.

5 days and counting.

Ironman 1 vs Ironman 2

There's much to reflect upon in the final few days of Ironman Number 2.  Today, I think I'm going to write about the differences between training for my first and my second Ironman. -- During my first Ironman, I trained exactly to specifications prescribed by my coach.  During my second Ironman, I shaved roughly 10-15 minutes off many or even most workouts to preserve energy overall.  I also trained less in general due to injury and some illness.  In fact, I completed merely 76% of my workouts this time, compared to 90% for my first Ironman.

-- During my first Ironman, I obsessed over my diet.  I avoided red meat.  I essentially counted calories.  In so doing, and through the very aspect of obsessing over food, I raced at 127 pounds -- my lightest weight since college.  This time around, I ate what I wanted, when I wanted (within reason).  I'm eight pounds heavier, look better and think I'll perform better with some extra fat to burn!  (At least I keep telling myself that.)

-- During my first Ironman, I stressed about every detail of the race -- yet didn't prepare a mental plan going into it.  I freaked out all the time, pretty much about everything you can freak out over.  In case you don't believe me, just pick a post from mid-2010 and read away!  This year, while I've certainly had my doubts and moments, I'm a lot more relaxed.  What will be will be.  However, I DID write a mental race strategy plan, as I noted in last night's post.  So, perhaps the stress level is the same, but I'm managing it differently.

-- During my first Ironman, I stayed awake at night thinking about crossing the finish line, but worse yet, what would happen if I didn't cross the finish line!  This time, I'm not worried at all.  Even if I do DNF, I'm still an Ironman. It's under my belt already.  However, I've prepared less for bike mechanical problems -- which has me concerned.

-- During my first Ironman, every workout was a challenge in its own way, simply because it was all new.   This meant I was whiny, grumpy and exhausted.  Oftentimes I'd complain to my coach or blog about my training misery. This time, I simply kept my head down, knew what to expect and did the work. As a result, mentally I've been much fresher overall.  GI Joe was wrong, "knowing" is way more than half the battle.

I think, in the end, that's the best thing I can say about training for the second Ironman compared to the first: You know what you're getting yourself into.  It's immeasurably easier and more comforting as a result.  I don't know how it will play out on race day, but getting to this day was nowhere near as stressful as my first Ironman.

The moral, of course, is this: Once you complete your first Ironman, don't make it your last! There's more magic around the next corner.  And it will get a little easier.

6 days and counting.

Dialing In...FINALLY

First things first, I've calmed back down and am back to my normal, relaxed self.  Sorry for the freak out the past couple days. Work, life, wedding, taper all collided.  Steph and I had a great talk about how I can take control of my stress and figure out how to minimize it.  Simply focusing on the fact that I had control over my mood greatly helped.  I definitely will do that more in the future.

Today has been the first relaxing day I've had in the past couple weeks.  No big errands.  No big drives.  No huge training days.  No wedding stress.  That allowed me to sleep nine whole hours.  I woke up refreshed, and with enough time to participate in my first yoga class in several months.  Boy, am I rusty!  And creaky for that matter.  However, I willingly sacrificed flexibility for added power and weight.  I believe this was the best decision I could make given my limited training schedule, though it's clear I've taken a step back with my flexibility compared to last year.  As my family likes to say though, "with one tush you can't dance at everyone's ball."

This afternoon, I'm taking time to write a couple important documents that I recommend you do too.  First is a mental race strategy document.  I included things like my goals overall, but specifically how I want to feel at every stage of the race.  I'm really trying to put into practice what I've learned the past six months from the leading pros in the sport.  In other words, I'm beginning to dial in to the race in a relaxed, focused manner.

My second doc is just a checklist of what I plan to pack.  Coach Gerardo gave us a detailed sheet but it's so huge that I wanted something more specific to me.  So, I'll cross-reference the two but at least now I have a running start.

Overall, my goal for the next week (outside of a hectic work day tomorrow) is to stay calm, and have a plan for every day of the week in terms of race preparation.  Here's mine so far:

Monday: Final day of work and tying loose project ends together.

Tuesday: Sleep in as late as possible.  Light training, packing, including pre-packing transition bags. Learn how to use new Kindle! Add more salt in diet.

Wednesday: Sleep in as late as possible. Add more salt in diet.  Begin carb-loading.  RELAX!!! No work. No stress.

Thursday: Travel!  Pick up bike.  Settle at hotel.  Meet teammates.

Friday: Bike/Run/drive course.  Begin to taper off carbs.  Hang out with team.  CHILL.

Saturday: Swim course.  Meet Steph when she arrives. Team lunch and dinner.  Early bed time.

Sunday: KICK ASS!  RACE SMART!  TAKE NAMES!

I am rejuvenated. I am ready for the week ahead.  I am ready to run MY race.  I am ready to have a great time.

People, it's go time.  Probably my last full-distance Ironman.  I'm going to soak it all in.

Now that my head is screwed back on straight.

7 days and counting.

Cranky Taper

Last year before IMAZ, I remember Coach Gerardo warning me about tapering.  I'd be irritable.  Short-tempered.  Tired.  Moody. Honestly, it never happened. I was so excited to participate in my first Ironman after a year of training that I could hardly wait.  I knew I belonged with the other competitors, I was excited to be in Tempe, and I was flat out ready to rock.

For my second Ironman, it's a little different.  I'm downright nutty right now.

Short-tempered? Check.  Steph and I have been snapping at each other for days.

Stressed?  Check.  Wedding planning is building to a crescendo.  Work is busy with two game titles close to ship and a third just getting off the ground.

Tired? Check.  I'm having a hard time getting out of bed in the mornings.  Today, I woke up with Steph at 6:30 a.m., hung out for a bit, tried to rally to get on my trainer and instead slept until 8:45.  It's 9:40 p.m. now and I'll probably go right to bed after this post.

What's wrong with me?

Note to all engaged people out there...or engaged to be engaged people out there... NEVER do an Ironman within three months of your wedding.  There are so many deadlines to contend with -- budgets, seating charts, floral arrangements, event planning, venue contracts, invitations and others I'm missing -- that it's impossible to focus on the race at hand.  Not to mention work.  At this point, I'm honestly thinking of changing my flight to Wednesday and getting the hell out of LA a day early, costs be damned.  I need space and time to focus on this race!

I hope everyone else's taper is going well, for those of you fellow IMCDA'ers reading out there in space.  As for everyone else, apologies in advance if I snip at you unintentionally.  It's nothing personal.

It's just an Ironman taper.

9 days and counting.

Whirlwind Week

A week of trade shows, bricks in unfamiliar territory and a wedding has finally drawn to a merciful close. I'm simply in awe of the parents who find time to train for an Ironman after a week like this one.  On the go from dawn to well into the night, seven nights in a row.  Usually, I have some measure of a balanced life -- balanced by my standards.  This week wasn't one of those times.  But I'm hopeful to begin a true taper phase this week.

I've neglected to mention one part of my week, which is how it ended. I just returned from my Fortius team Ironman Coeur d'Alene send-off party at Christina's home.  She wasn't kidding when she said she had enough food for an army and drinks for an army and a half!  The entire team joked around light heartedly, celebrating several podiums from weekend races and what seemed to be the true onset of summer.

One thing one didn't feel at the party was a sense of nervousness.  I was pleasantly surprised.  My fellow IMCDA teammates all were frolicking in the pool and totally relaxed.  Last November, I remember being a ball of nervous energy -- of course, I was surprised to have such a shocking send-off (thanks Steph!).  As I explained to my buddy Bob, whom raced IMAZ with me, this time just feels different.  I know the race is in two weeks, but right now it feels like it's two months away.

Finally, my quick weekend wrap wouldn't be complete without mentioning the hospitality of some new friends I met while cycling in Riverside this past Saturday.  I showed up in a parking lot at 7:30 a.m. hoping for a shop ride, but nobody was out.  Maybe I had missed them?  Instead, I found a man preparing to clip in on his own, so I asked him if I could tag along.  He welcomed me in, having just moved here from Kansas City himself.  We met up with some of his new friends, and our own shop ride was born.  We burned around town for a sometimes meandering, sometimes challenging 40-mile ride.  Honestly, I think the first 20 minutes they tried to drop me just to see if I could hang.  Once, I demonstrated I wasn't going anywhere, the mood changed, the riders became more talkative and we bonded.

Here's a look at the bike route, along with a five-mile run I tacked on at the end:

There's something special to me about being able to take a bike anywhere and knowing you can hang onto the group ride (for the most part). It's a sense of community blending with personal confidence.  While it may not have been the best thing for my taper training, it still was a confidence boost nonetheless.

Now, after a week of activities and stress, I'm going to pack it in and enjoy some well-deserved quiet time.  Lights out.

14 days and counting!