IMWI Recap

Last weekend was a graduation of sorts for me, as I participated for the final time in the 35-39 year old age group. I had a great race, and for the first 7 hours I followed my nutrition and pacing plan spot on. It got a bit ugly in the end (but what Ironman doesn't?), though I surely wasn't complaining, as I qualified for Kona 2010 and completed what seems to be a journey during which - especially at certain times - I wasn't sure I would ever see the end. And now for the gory details...

Swim
The beginning of an Ironman is always pretty special, and I can’t help but get a bit emotional as I realize that all of the training and sacrifice that everyone put into the day is going to imminently begin. The tension is further heightened by the music and enthusiasm of the thousands of spectators. Everyone has their goals, and I always hope they have the patience along with the mental and physical stamina to reach them. But with a minute or so of the start, something strange happens: I feel an overwhelming sense of calm, and I stop noticing or even hearing anything around me. That is, until the boom of the cannon brings me back to reality.

And bring me back to reality it does. “Don’t do anything stupid” was my only thought for the first 4-5 minutes. This, along with the hope the dead body wouldn’t surface (long story involving drunk boater who went missing while swimming near the course late Wednesday night, and whose body was still missing and later found...on the swim course).

Energy conservation was my swim goal. I started wide and completely avoided the mayhem, swimming a good 20 yards to the right of almost everyone with the exception of the two feet in front of me. This was so unlike any Ironman swim I have ever had, but I wasn’t complaining! Normal chaos ensued at the first turn, and I spent the remainder of the swim slowly moving from group to group, trying to remain calm and keep my pace. One soft kick to the jaw was the only incident of note, and I actually enjoyed the swim.

T1
One of my favorite moments in Ironman is stepping out of the calm and quiet of the water into the adrenaline-pumping sound of a few thousand spectators (not to mention being done with the swim!). I was excited to see Mary after wetsuit stripping, and after a quick hello I moseyed up the helix ramps. I figured I could shave 2-3 minutes off my 2008 T1 time but wanted avoid spiking my HR, which is very easy to do in the frenzy of T1.

Bike
With a forecast of 85 and sunny, I knew the day would come down to the second half of the run, which just emphasized the need to have a tremendous amount of patience. I went out easier than planned and kept it there, despite getting passed continually for the first 30 miles. I was keeping a decent enough pace and was surprised by the speed at which I was getting passed by some riders. Um…do you guys realize we still have 80 miles of hills on the bike followed by a marathon? And did I mention 85 degrees? It was pretty evident within the first 90 minutes or so of the bike there was going to be mass carnage come the back half of the run.

I rode around Pete and a couple other guys up until special needs and then was alone the final 50 miles of the bike, only occasionally passing individual riders. It was pretty lonely at times but I tried to focus on nutrition and staying aerodynamic, and I guess it worked: my goal was to average 245 watts and I ended up at 231, although my time was right where I wanted it to be.

T2
Uneventful change into runners and my CEP compression socks, where I was hopeful the socks would help me buy back the 45 or so seconds they took to wrestle on (they did!). A little sunscreen, a quick bathroom break, and I was ready to bust out a sub-3:15 marathon. Unfortunately, my legs had other plans…

Run
I started a bit slower than my goal pace and through 5 miles I was pretty sure it was going to be a great run, and then whammo! Coming down the backside of Observatory hill, both quads and hams cramped, and I was suddenly facing a final 21 miles which surely wouldn’t be pretty.

Another great thing about Ironman is that there will be some point in the race – or several points, more likely – where you will most likely be convinced you are going to have to stop and abandon any and all hope. I always hope this moment comes as late in the race as possible, but in some perverse way I’m always a bit relieved when it does come. This is kind of where the real race begins, and when crisis management comes into play.

As I see it, at this point you have 3 choices: try and fight through it with mental toughness, assess & address your situation, or just quit. The most latter option would definitely be the easiest and is usually the most attractive option at the time, but not necessarily the best long-term solution. I think a combination of the former 2 are critical, with address/assess being the most important (unless perhaps you are in the final miles of the marathon and can just gut it out).

I spent my first 5 or 6 Ironman races attempting to mentally push through ‘walls’ early on in the marathon, and guess what? The wall always won. But if you have the mental wherewithal to back it off a bit and figure out what you need (prior to losing the mental wherewithal to do so), you should rebound enough to let mental toughness kick in and take over. Kind of a one-two punch, though perhaps only delivering the power of a Montgomery Burns feathery slap vs. a Evander Holyfield knockout. For me, I've found that within a few minutes of backing it off a bit and taking a PowerBar Gel, the thoughts of hopelessness are replaced with hope and some shred of confidence. I then try to settle in and repeat the cycle as necessary, until the finish: feeling good, feeling horrible, slow pace, take PowerBar Gel, feel less hopeless, feel better, etc. I by no means am saying I have it figured out, but this simple approach seems to get me to the line eventually.

At mile 9 Brian told me that Mary and the kids were at mile 13, and for 4 miles I was driven by the though of seeing them. When I finally arrived, instead of your typical shouts of “you can do it” and “looking great”, Oliver shouted “Daddy, I lost my tooth!” It made me laugh and smile for the next several miles.

At the finish I was promptly escorted (thanks, Craig) to medical, where I started cramping uncontrollably, my HR dropped from 64 to 30 and my blood pressure plummeted to the point where they had difficulty finding a vein for the IV. Eventually, of course, they found one, and a couple bags later – along with several cups of chicken broth and a lot of massage – I was able to walk out and start looking forward to the next race.

As Brian so appropriately put it: Ironman is to the type-A personality what heroin is to a junkie: you’ll always be addicted; the only question is to what degree you are recovering. 2010 brings Ironman Coeur d’Alene and Kona, and I’m already super excited for both. It’s a lot better than heroin, I suppose…

I really want to say thank you to my wonderful wife, who not only puts up with me on a daily basis (in addition to this IM-business) and has been incredibly supportive of my training and racing, but who was also my biggest source of motivation throughout the day. I really didn’t want to let Mary and the kids down by giving into my every desire to stop and walk the final 21 miles of the marathon. Not that she would care if I finished in 16:49 instead of 9:49, but I know how unbearable I would be to live with if that happened.

I also want to thank my WI Multisport teammates, friends and family for the support on course throughout the day. And a big thanks to KP for the hospitality and dinner on Saturday afternoon. At the risk of sounding cliché, it made all the difference in the world!

Race Stats
9:49:19 (14th amateur and 28th overall)
Swim 1:03:44
T1 6:08 (2:39 improvement over ’08)
Bike 5:13:20 (231 watts, 135 Avg. HR, 21.4 mph avg.)
T2 3:29
Run 3:22:39 (7:45 avg/mile)

Crisis Management

Puala Newby Frasier once described Ironman as a day of crisis management, which could be the best description I have ever heard for the event. Yesterday, I was lucky enough to get a little practice in managing crisis, beginning at 6am.

I jumped on the bike yesterday am and was greeted by a loud, knocking sound emanating from my frame. I couldn’t figure it out, so I drove out to the Bicycle Doctor, hoping they would have time to take a quick look. At this point my mind was racing towards what I would do if it were a cracked frame (long story, but due to some carbon damage while shipping the bike to Seattle last month, it had already been on my mind…). My wonderful and experienced Ironmate wife tried her best to reassure me, and sure enough, it turned out to be only a bad BB cup. Crisis I averted.

Not sure why it decided to act up 2 days prior to Ironman, but better Friday then Sunday. The knocking would have surely destroyed me mentally on the bike, as I’m sure I would have spent the entire ride waiting for the frame to come apart. The silver lining here was that while we waited at the Doc for the repair, I decided to try on wetsuits, and I now have a brand spankin’ new Zoot, which I tried out this morning and LOVE. :)

As we walked out the door of the shop we received a call from Oliver’s school, letting us know he was sick and needed to be picked up. We were in a bit of a bind as I didn’t have enough time to go home and drop Mary off and make it back to Madison before athlete check in closed. No/late check-in = no race. Luckily, my Mom was already on her way up and within an hour of the school. Crisis II averted.

We spent the majority of the afternoon worrying about Oliver and feeling guilty for not being there, even though we knew he was in very capable hands. And I ended up making the check-in cut-off by about 30 minutes. Not the most relaxing Friday prior to an IM, but I’m trying to make up for it today.

Good Luck!!

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”
- Winston Churchill

The thing I most love and most despise about Ironman are one and the same: you only get one shot. If you think about it - and perhaps you shouldn't - the odds are really stacked against you: so many things can go wrong to unravel your day while it takes so many things done correctly (and in a specific order) to pull off a good race. The seemingly endless combination of variables (weather, pacing, nutrition, sleep, taper, injury prevention, mental strength, etc.) also provide an equally endless opportunity for optimism, and thus the puzzle begins anew each year and as we approach each event.

By nature I am an eternal optimist, so I will keep trying to focus on what I think I can continue to improve upon. I'm not sure what will happen when I get to the point where I realize my (athletic) improvements may be coming to an end and the best I can hope for is to sustain where I'm at, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

I just found out that a friend of a friend crashed his bike last night, cracking his frame and his shoulder at the end of one of his final prep rides before IMWI this weekend. So after months of training, he’ll fall 4 days short of making it to the starting line. I've never met the guy but my heart really goes out to him. As a result, I’ve decided to move my scheduled ride this evening indoors to the trainer. I suppose I could fall off that as well, but I’ve only crashed on a trainer once, and that was on rollers and back in college when my roommate and I were trying to see what else we could “accomplish” in addition to riding. My crash involved me trying to stand while playing guitar, but that’s another story altogether.

I don’t really have a point to make here other than to just wish everyone racing this weekend good luck. After all, a little luck never hurt. And although I would never wish bad luck upon anyone, I do wish a bit more luck to those who don’t happen to be one of the other 395 male 35-39 participants in my age group. :)

Good luck especially to Pete, Kim and Berry from Wisconsin Multisport!!

Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.
- Elmer Leterman

Goals and the Countdown

My Ironman career (if you can call 9 IM races a career) started off 2-for-2, with Kona spots at my first 2 attempts. Both of which I passed on as a result of not really knowing what Kona was about and the incorrect assumption that I would be able to qualify again any time. Throw a couple of kids, a hectic work schedule and a pulmonary embolism into the picture - not to mention a continually increasing competitive field - and it’s now been a long, long dry spell for me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never been able to get back in shape enough to confidently feel like I can consider it a realistic option. Sure, if all the stars were aligned, perhaps, but if I were a betting man I wouldn’t have waged any high stakes on my chances.

When I registered for my first Ironman, which was IM Canada 1998, I believed that only through public proclamation would I be motivated to do the necessary training to survive. I forked over my $250 (the good old days, eh?) and told everyone I knew that I was doing an Ironman, and only at that point I did I feel I needed to follow through on what I had started.

I'm not ready to publicly proclaim anything with how I expect my race to turn out, but now, for the first time since 2001, I do feel like I have the physical fitness and mental strength I think I need to pull off a good race. I’m trying something new this year by coming off 2 big weeks into only a 2 week taper. Big, I realize is relative, but one thing I’ve already noticed – almost 1 week into the taper – is I am so far feeling less sluggish and irritable. I’ve always felt a 3-week taper takes the ‘freshness’ out of you, though have always assumed that’s just how you should feel. Everyone seems to say as much. Perhaps that’s the point, and I’ll learn the hard way come 9/13, but we’ll see.

I’ve done this long enough to know, however, it really all comes down to the day and the confidence to follow your plan and not get caught up in the excitement of the morning or in racing others (especially those in packs blowing by you in TTT format early in the bike). Most importantly, you need to focus on what you can control, and structure your goals accordingly. Sure, I realize I’ll still need to be at about 9:50 to get a spot, but if I concentrate on Kona during the race I’m almost certain it will result in a too-fast bike split followed by a run involving more shuffling than running.

With this in mind I am shelving my Kona or bust mentality, along with any time or placement goals, and focusing on goals I can control. Namely, my pacing, nutrition and mental toughness. So as simplistic as it sounds, here are my goals for IMWI:

Nutrition: follow plan and always place more emphasis on nutrition over speed. Keep ahead of hydration on bike and slow down and eat/drink any time I get to the point where I a) begin to question why I’m out there, or b) question whether I can do it. Pretty simple, but essentially a boat-load of PowerBar Gel and Endurance beverage, with a dash or two of water to taste.

Pacing Plan:
Swim (swim tough…stay relaxed)
Go medium-hard for 400 meters and then find feet and stay relaxed
Bike (stay aero…stay smooth)
230 watts first 30 minutes
240 watts 30’-2:00
250 watts 2:00-5:00
240 watts 5:00-5:15
Run (stay relaxed…and in “the box”)
7:30-7:45 pace miles 1-4
7:30 pace miles 5-13
7:15-7:30 pace miles 14-26

I also have some mantras I’ll repeat to myself as needed for mental boosts, but that’s pretty much it. I just need to have the patience and confidence that following my goals will result in meeting my targets (S = 1:03 / B = 5:18 / R = 3:15), which will hopefully result in the outcomes I need to get to the big show.

Until then, I’ll continue to take extra vitamin C, wash my hands like mad, and try to keep at fightin’ weight. More to come next week...