Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
I heard rumblings of people in the old house getting up when, at 4:20 am, a jazzy cell phone alarm music was heard quietly coming from one of the other bed rooms. That was it. Pretty much everyone started to rustle and roll out of bed within minutes of that quiet music, even though their own alarms hadn't gone off. Nobody was sleeping hard enough to need a blasting loud alarm, plus the house was so creaky you could hear every footstep thruought the night and morning.
As we packed up to leave, people were not visibly nervous. It was just a house full of really fit people making jokes and walking around in weird clothing. Most of them were wearing the Chicago Triathlon Club jerseys, but not me, as I was a last-minute guest-bed-renter at the house. I hopped in the Jetta, in plain darkness of morning, where all my necessary gear was tightly and studiously packed in my transition bag, and I drove about a mile north, under the big bridge in St. Joseph, Michigan. A long line of red brake lights slowly snaked into a large parking lot. I was in the second of what would be 20 or so rows of cars, so I was confident that I hade left early enough (not typical if you know me well). I was wearing my sandals, and I walked about two minutes away to the bus pickup area with my tri bag on my back. (everything except my bike, which I had to rack the night before)
We packed in to short corporate-style busses that showed up within 5 miuntes. It started rolling after it was comfortably full athletes, parents and grandparents, boy/girlfriends, friends, and the occasional child or baby of the athletes. The mood was a bit excited but notably groggy as we drove through the darkness with few streetlights to illuminate exactly where we were going. I sat next to a guy who had invented a new sponge to fit the top of his aero water bottle because he said the provided net sponge always fell out of the bottle when you hit a bump. Perhaps this man will be a millionaire someday.
We pulled up in front of transition, still dark outside, and I walked in and started to set up my spot. I kept it simple but saw others with even more simple setups—what looked like two sets of shoes on top of a folded towel. I had backup gear and clothing in my protuberant tri bag, but my actual transition gear, which gets placed out on a towel by my hanging bike tire, was just the basics.
Over the PA system we kept hearing the 6:45 closing time, announcements about flat tires, found lost gear, open bar ends that had to be capped (the announcer suggested taping a nickle or bottle cap (as-if!) over the pipe to do this, or they couldn't race), and that men had to wear shirts in this race, and there was some cool vocabulary word for this that I didn't catch.
I noticed a pretty gusty wind as well, and the announcer kept saying that the lake was choppy but nobody paid any attention as the glow of the sun started to come up over the horizon and we started to filter out of transition. The lines for the toilets were very long this morning, at least 20 minutes long, so I forwent this until I could find another set of port-o-lets, and there were many.
I was finally set and exited transition barefoot (although many left with sandals, I didn't want to deal with potentially losing them, so maybe next time I'd bring cheap flip flops) but most people figured nobody would steal them off the beach.
Because the current was coming from the north to the south we had to walk about 1 mile north along the beach. It was solemn and exciting at the same time to watch an orderly group of several thousand athletes and spectators walking 2 or 3 abreast on the sand, right where the waves stopped because that’s where the sand was flattest and you could expend the least amount of energy to walk that far. The goal was to arrive in style with energy to spare. Once I got about 100 yards from the swim start inflatable, I walked up a small dune to use the 20-minute line port-a-potty (had to do it).
This is where I saw my friend D'arcy Lynch, who said she was trying to finish the race in sub 5 hours. INSANE! The girl is a madwoman when it comes to triathlon. What an inspiration. She was the one who said that I might just do the race as a training day when I asked her what I should do because I hadn't had enough time to prepare all three disciplines. We hugged and she went on her way. It was great to see her. She’s really the original inspiration I had for signing up for the Kona Lottery, and therefore the reason why I did this race in the first place (had to finish a 70.3 event to validate my spot at Kona, which I never got anyway)
Just minutes before I entered the bathroom, race officials called the swim because of high waves and wind. What occurred next was a full hour of collective sighing about how much that sucked, about whether the race could still be considered for clearwater 70.3 spots, about how much people's performance would be different because of this, about how much the race officials were wrong, and some defiant swimmers going for a ‘prove-it-to-you’ dip in the water. I was personally deeply disappointed because I had spent the majority of my thought in training lately on overcoming the difficulty of swimming 1.2 miles. I had achieved that goal, and had neglected long bike rides to train the swim. Oh well.
The swim was replaced by a 2 mile run (all of these announcements coming over the PA system). Race officials had to be on their toes with this one, what a logistical nightmare it would be to have to reroute bike and run in/outs because of this. But they did a stellar job and we were all impressed. However our starts were pushed back an hour! So my already last-wave start (wave 17 of 17) was pushed back another hour to 9:09am, as they reduced the intervals between the waves as they went. It was just kind of ridiculous to wait a full 6 minutes between waves, so they started squeezing it to 3 minute intervals at about wave 9.
By the time I started the race, I had been awake for 4:40 minutes, and walked the better part of 3 miles in the sand and on pavement, and sat on my ass in uncomfortable poison-ivy laced mosquito-town forestry. What could I do about this? Well I ran two 8-minute miles to start! That was great to see 16 minutes on my watch by the time I got to my bike in transition. I was pleased sprinting past a few people in my wave in the chute into transition. The race was on!
T1 was boosted by something I heard over the PA "We have only about 120 people still out on the run", and that gave me hope that I had finished in the top half of my wave on the run. Onto the bike my transition was pretty fast. I clubbed along in my bike shoes down a long 50-yard pre-mount chute, being encouraged by cowbell ringers and cheering crowds. I mounted at the line and off I went.
Unfortunately I was already winded, and my Quads non-responsive to additional effort output. It would be the first 10 miles of the bike before I started to get my groove back. And this is where a whole host of insanely annoying things started to happen. First of all my ASS hurt so bad. It was like my seat was just a bed of nails and some muscle in my butt was not happy with this. I had to stop and stand on the pedals to stretch my glutes like every minute or two. It was horrible but I saw other people doing this too. Then I began to realize, that my bike geometry, as far as the aero position, was a complete disaster. My knees were hitting my elbows, my hands were off the front of the tri bars, I kept having to push myself back on my seat post, my hamstrings were in pain because I guess my seat was too high. I actually considered making these adjustments in-flight, but then I heard my friend Jason Muelver's voice in my ear, calling me a dumbass for talking on my cell phone during our early training rides, and I just huffed it out.
After I passed through this horrible slow-mph wannabe biker phase I started to get my groove on. I was in a passing challenge with only about 2 people in my wave during this bike ride. I passed by only a few people in my wave, and I really didn't want to pay any attention to that but I couldn't help myself.
The ride was beautiful and the weather was too. The air was cool, the scenery was your typical Midwest summer farmland and bushy berry fields. The aid stations were frequent and incredibly well stocked. Traffic control was 100% rock solid county and city police presence. The pavement was both rough for some long stretches (but not unexpected as they made the announcements about this in the pre-race talks) and some of it was butter-smooth brand new blacktop. The hills were very moderate rollers with maybe 2 or 3 short grinders here and there.
I was hanging tough, but the last 20 miles, despite the gooing every 45-50 mintes, were very hard. I was very exhausted already, and weirded out by this fact. I would like to see what my MPH average was, because I really think I was incredibly more exhausted during these last 20 miles than I've ever been on the bike so I have to assume I was averaging a lot of wattage during the first 36. However I wasn't being passed by a lot of people. It was only 3 or 4 of us and we kept trading the passing. In the end I think most of them finished in front of me, but they weren't even in my wave, for the most part, so I was locked in the same effort that everyone else was making and I guess everyone was feeling the same thing I was.
The last 2 or 3 miles were a FAST descent, for either resting your legs, or passing that last person in your wave, whatever you could muster. Again here I rode it fast and tried to pass people, but nobody had that big “17” written on their right calf in front of me.
Into the transition I went. I had amazingly little to do here. Dump the bike, swap helmet for wildflower running hat, swap biking shoes for running shoes with elastic laces (no tying) and repack some goos. Off on the run. I think the smartest thing I did here was a) eat swedish fish for energy, b) eat goo for the same reason, and c) take three advil to slow the onset of the horrible hip and knee pain that I usually experience around mile 9.
There was no doubt about it. I was fucking cooked. The typical jelly legs you have after a long cycling lasted quite a while. This is where some superlative end-game scenarios started to happen.
I expected the course to be pretty flat, but I was nonetheless already walking, about 50 feet past the end of the chute. There was nothing left in my legs to put out. I really think this had a lot to do with the 2 mile run we had to start. I felt I was majorily handicapped by that decision, but I struggled on. By mile 1 I was already resigned to 1/2 walking and 1/2 running, alternating every minute or so, as a method to continue (but not necessarily complete) the race. Eventually this was reduced (I wasn’t checking my watch, but…) to walking for 30 seconds every 4 minutes (?) so it wasn't that bad.
By mile 2 I started to calculate that I would probably see D'arcy within a few minutes. Not a few minutes later there she was! She was already finishing her run, just two miles to go, and she totally was looking out for me and pointed to me and cheered me on, and I did the same. She said I looked great and I was happy that at this moment I had been in a run phase. The encouragement certainly gave me some extra oomph to keep going. I was so proud of her, and simultaneously proud of myself because, holy crap, I was actually running at that moment!
I had some mild-mannered chats with other people, both running and walking, as we made our way down country roads, helping me realize that I had energy left in this race. I was only passed by very fast people, and probably only two in my age group. There were a lot of us walking here. I couldn't believe how many had resigned to the walk/run method. This is where I kept thinking how hard this was for me, but doable, and how much everyone else must have been in the same boat as me. It was strange because everyone I saw had started earlier than I had, or were on a 2nd loop of the middle of the course, so I was so confused as to who I was supposed to be passing and who didn't matter and when they had left. Ugh! My walking became less frequent as I was moving through the course.
13.1 miles is by far the longest I've ever propelled myself on my feet without stopping. I had trained 11 miles and 9 miles a few times, but the last 3 or 4 miles of this run would definitely be unknown territory. The course included two loops through the Whirlpool campus of buildings and suburban streets to the south. The numerous aid stations had cold wet sponges, cups of ice, hoses and sprinklers, water, and gatorade. My entire afternoon was a combination of dousing myself with these various substances, or packing sponges into my singlet. I would frequently toss a cup of ice down my shirt and listen to it sloshing around and becoming a cocktail of sweat water in my tri top before I would dump it out. Delicious.
I was surviving. There was pain and walking here and there, but I was running and I was surviving. I hit a stride around mile 6 when I broke off from the finishing crowd into the 2nd loop, because there was nobody in front of me for hundreds of yards, and few behind me. I entered this awesome zone of running alone, and it reminded me more of my training and cleared my mind a bit. It was nice, also, to catch up to some other racers and gague myself again. It’s the duality of racing experiences, I guess. In triathlon you can draft people on the swim and the run, but not on the bike.
The eloquent thoughts about how this blog would be an award winning, adjective-laced description of my experience this day, raced through my head. Pun intended. I had come up with these gorgeous poetic sentences about the limits of effort and endurance and the beauty of the human body, the strength of my will to keep running, strides I had hit and lows I had felt... And I can't remember a single one of them. I assure you if you had been in my head at this moment they would have been glorious.
It was at some point during the first loop that I thought to myself "I could not imagine doubling this distance". And that's where I'm at with Ironman. It’s absolutely insane and outrageous to double this distance. Although anything is possible.... I couldn't imagine doing a 1/2 ironman in my first year of triathlon and here I am...
I was utterly amazed that no matter how many people I passed, I never saw anyone in my wave on the run. The gap of our age group must have been so spread out by the time the run started that we could barely pass one another. I kept passing people on the run but nobody was there from my wave. I was kind of bummed about this and also that the course was so barren of people by the time I was finishing, because I was in the last wave. I never got to experience the mass of people moving together. I have no doubt I’ll experience this at the Chicago Triathlon, though.
I continued to goo thruought the run, and I felt it’s swell of energy rise and fade throughout the run. The advil was definitely working too, and I was so grateful that I had taken it (I think I have to credit D’arcy for this idea). I saw lots of people on their second loop through the campus pulled off to the side, working on leg cramps. It is just a thing you see in these races. And pretty soon I was that guy too. My QUADS started to cramp up at some points too, every time I would reach maximum extension on my leg, and there's really nothing you can do about that, they were mini cramps that lasted just an instant as it was extended, but I changed my stride to prevent that. My hamstrings were again a problem here, but I think the bike really did that to me. I have to fix my bike. Luckily my knees were cooperating for the most part. Butt and calves were definitely needing some deep massage and I stopped a few times to thumb them into compliance.
The last few miles of the run, I had a shit eating grin on my face. I realized I was going to make it. I cheered myself on. I cheered others on. I was really ecstatic. I was passing people here more than ever--walkers from previous waves, older people, and I ran with a 70 year old woman for the better part of a minute, chatting with her, and I felt good. I was just amazed at what was happening.
Definition of “eternity”: the exact time it takes to run one mile after you have just run 12.1 miles, immediately following a two-mile sprint and a 56 mile bike ride.
I swear to anything that the last mile was much longer than that. The race officials should do their homework on this. It took forever, finishing in a long sand tunnel that had been dug out so we could finish on the beach. But I was nonetheless that nerdy guy pumping his fists in the air and so explosively elated that I had finished that the crowd was going crazy for me. I really felt so superbly proud of myself at this moment, and even the disappointment with the swim situation faded at that moment.
I had finished my first attempt at a half-ironman triathlon. 71.1 miles!
Turns out, on the car ride home I realized I was Hyper-hydrated. I had drank too much water and output too much salt as sweat and my salt balance was wacked out. I felt really sick but not nauseous, it was strange. I kept drinking water because I thought I was dehydrated, but since that wasn't working I went to McDonalds and ate like 4 salt packets and felt better within an hour, and peed like a racehorse. Awesome. At least now I know to take salt tablets on long events like this.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Friday, August 1, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
WHAT I REALLY SUSPECT WILL HAPPEN
Monday, July 21, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
I am loosing hope that I will actually do the Steelhead half iron on August 2nd
The circumstances that precipitated this sinking feeling are really important to me, so I will blog them. It all started with my not-excellent but hearty performance at Wildflower. FedEx totally hozed my bicycle in shipping to California so I spent the next month trying to get them to pay me back my claimed insurance amount, and until I got the check I was unwilling to repair the bike because they might need to do a closer or additional inspection of the packaging or damage. There went all of May, but finally they came through and paid me without much haggling, just learning the ropes of how to actually get it done.
Somewhere in the mix here I go for an incredibly long and arduous run, that turned out to be on a random whim of a tuesday night with no regard for nutrition or sleep preparation or anything and I ran 11 miles. I had hoped I crossed over into 13.1 but mapmyrun said otherwise. I was so proud of myself, cranking out my absolutely consistent 8.5 minute miles.
That being said, my only experience biking 56 miles was on the hilly miles of Barrington Hills. My confidence was low from how much of a struggle that was... the saga continues...
June was fantastic and interesting. I'm totally blowing off my workouts because I'm dating this great girl and she's moving out of town so we're trying to make up for future lost time. But we do manage to squeeze in a great 4 mile run together, which was a lot of fun. (Turns out that she's going to to a marathon this year, beacuse she had set her sights on it a while ago, but turned away because of hip and knee problems.) But aside from a few rides here and there to get the bike back in shape for the big MS50 ride, this is literally my only major workout.
Somewhere in the mix here I do the MS150 "Tour De Farms". This was a 2-day, 75 mile per day event with major rest stops every 15 miles. I couldn't have had a better time, and I totally survived the distance and time, thanks to kickass bike shorts from Pearl Izumi and Sugoi. Riding on the flats, as I imagine the Steelhead Half Ironman to be, was SO MUCH easier than the Barrington Hills hills. Confidence boosted.
Then Steelhead sends out an elevation map, which makes no real sense to me and so I have to go ride it, but lo and behold I'm going out of town for two weeks on vacation and I get back on the 11th of July, leaving me 3 weeks to get into shape to swim 1.2, bike 56 and do a solid 13 mile run afterwards in the DEAD HEAT of a Michigan summer day.
I'm not sure I can handle this, at this point, or wether its just dumb.
I will resume thought about this when I get back on the 11th and maybe do a full distance triathlon that weekend and see how i feel.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I went to Fleet Feet tonight and finally bought this year's pair of running shoes. I tried on, probably, 7 different pairs from various manufacturers including Saucony, New Balance, Brooks, Mizuno and settled on the Asics Gel-DS Trainer 13 in White/Liquid Silver/Lime color.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Sometime June/July - Mississippi River trail biking 500 miles, to . Depends on co-rider's availability. 5 days-ish camping and rolling with full gear on the back of the bike. Insanity.
- Steelhead 1/2 Ironman (official Ironman event, was to be my Kona qualifying race... And within a margin of error, my 1-year Triathlon anniversary.) This is my headline event this year.
- International Distance (hopefully I will rock this out because of preparations)
November? - ?? Ohh, did I say that? It's a maybe at this point.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
2008 Wildflower Olympic Triathlon
Sunday May 4th, 2008
Swim 1650yds / 0.93 mi / 1.5 K
Bike 24.8 mi / 40 K (major hills)
Run 6.2 mi / 10 K (major major hills)
Daniel Rucci, Bib #5598
The whole day was a bit clou
ded by the sore throat I had. It was kind of there in the background and went quite well with the overcast sky and general grayness of everything. I think it helped to calm me, in fact I was oddly calm, oddly prepared as opposed to previous races where I fe
lt very nervous the morning of, over-thinking every
This time in transition I had to really just shove away any crap I didn't need and think to myself "What do I need to swim.... okay, what do I need to go
biking with... and what do I need to go for a quick 6 mile jog?" All of these questions had simple answers that reminded me of training, just throw on my shoes and go... minus the ipod, and suddenly I had my whole towel laid out with everything. Th
e only addition this time was the nutrition. I don't goo in training so I had to add t
hat into the mix. I went for a short jog too, across the front of transition, and had to pee but the line was too long.
With 20 minutes left before my swim I snapped to attention and wa
lked down to the ramp and started to look for Rob. He showed up in his wetsuit, as he changed his mind at the last minute. I often wondered if the buoyancy of the wetsuit is worth the inflexibility in your arms and most of the long course people I asked said yes, and that's why there are
sleeveless suits. Rob and I chatted a bit and enco
uraged each other a bit before our wave start, and I was again oddly calm.
Race start! HOOORN! About 50 yards into the swim i realized I had forgotten to goo before the swim. I was at ease with it, but I think it would have kicked in mid-swim and helped me move a little faster. No worries though.
The swim was quite pleasant. I think most of my age group passed me by and I was either heading up the slow folks, or I was at the tail of the fast pack (turns out i was about halfway 121/248), turning the corner on the first buoy the next turnaround seemed to be so far away, and intimidatingly so. I never saw my 33-pool laps all stretched out end-to-end, but what ran through my head was the fact that I'd done open water before, and I'd c
ompleted this distance in the pool. Preparation sure does ease the anxiety. I had a few people swimming at my pace nearby and I traded taking the lead with another g
uy a few times before a yellow or silver cap super speedy guy from the wave following ours came roaring through and embarrassed us all. I tried to stay out of his line. I felt like I was going pretty slowly, and had to sight the buoys VERY frequently. I was clearly not focused and was very asymmetrical with my stroke
because I kept veering to the right. I probably only lasted about 20 strokes without looking up or stopping completely to look back. I did back balance about 2 times for 10-15 seconds each, just to rebuild from the oxygen deficit. But I was very calm and knew I could keep going. I kept zig zagging all the hell over the place because the buoys were pretty far from each other, in my opinion, and my stroke was a bit distracted by the fun
. The water temperature, advertised at 63-65 degrees depending on which rumor you heard, was really totally manageable, and this is coming from someone who only trained in 80-degree pools the entire time. It really was not that bad for me
, but others felt differently.
Incidentally, this is a good time to mention that there were a smorgasbord of opinions about every aspect of triathlon
heard thruought the weekend. Between the newbies asking the vets for their opinion
on stuff, and some of us thinking we know everything, the whole weekend was chalk-full of theorizing. Fun!
When I turned the last corner towards the boat ramp, I felt great. I knew that just a few more repeats of putting my hea
d down and getting out of the awareness and into the rhythm and I'd be at the finish of the swim, and that reassurance was as good as being at the end of the swim.
I was really feeling happy at the end of the swim and since I didn't have my watch I didn't know what I had achieved at all. I had a feeling that I went slow when I was in the water but I never really stopped like I do in the pool. Before I knew it I was sort of doing this pathetic baby-steps trot up the ramp
and undoing my wetsuit top. It was surreal being in the water, the dark green murky water, and hearing those swimming sounds, and then all of a sudden being in the sun to the sound of a couple thousand cheering voices, cowbells, and announcers. Very strange. This same shuffle glided me into the transition area and I heard Beth's voice "Go Dan!", I mustered a thumbs up for her (ironically hers is one
of the voices I hear when I'm competing a lot, her pearls of wisdom at
Catalina '07, which she won for the females)
I shuffled to my spot, after one mis-location and a bump into a volunteer. I found my spot, it was very close to the bike out. I kept focused and peeled off the wetsuit, and realized the sun had sort of come out and then tossed on the glasses and helmet and sat and put my shoes on. I got the hell out of there and i think I did well on my T1 time (64/248!)
The bike was great. There were people cheering at the top of lynch hill, including three cute col
lege girls with their asses hanging out reading "harder" "faster" "stronger" (a campfire joke was later made about a girl writing "HARDER" on another girl's ass, but that's a beer story...) I was feeling quite tired already, my legs were in pain and my first goo on the bike hadn't kicked in yet. Yet this bike ride was oddly similar to Barrington Hills,
Illinois training, but the hills were longer in distance, and none quite as steep as Barrington's dreaded "Bull Valley" that jason and I attacked twice together before the rac
e weekend. I'm really glad he took me out there to train, it was a major help.
The whole ride was gorgeous. Surrounded by California Wine country whizzing by (sometimes crawling by). At
one point the riders in front of me pointed to their right, signaling danger, and I looked down at a snake coiled by the side of the road! Freakin cool! As the water bottles started to be shown, strewn around the course I thought to myself that 24.8 miles on the bike is a totally manageable distance, and I could definitely compete on the bike in my half ironman course later this summer. (Ironically I came in 193/248, for my worst division rank of all three events). That goes to show how fun riding out there can be. I am psyched up for my MS150 miler at the end of June now, even more, just for how fun it is to ride.
At about mile 11 on the bike I passed a female athlete with a prosthetic leg named Sara Reinertsen,
who is quite famous in Triathlon. She was the first woman with a leg amputation to finish Ironman Kona on a prosthesis. Pretty weird to be seeing a semi celebrity on a racecourse, but I didn't even know it until after the race.
What happened on the bike course kind of reminded me of my life. I kept asking people with flats on the side of the road if they were okay. I probably should have just kept passing but I think it's in my nature now to want to be available for those people and help them if they need it. It reminds me of all the weird accidents I've witnessed and really makes me question my calling in life, to maybe be an EMT, I dunno. I kept asking, and everyone was OK with just flats, and finally a girl asked me if I could help with her chain, so I stopped for her and re-hung her chain, this probably cost me about 30 seconds. Later on in the race I had to do the same for myself. This probably added a few minutes to my bike time but I felt good about what I had done, and I felt good about making others feel taken care of. That's not what Triathlon is about, but it made me feel good to help people. As did boisterously thanking the volunteers at every aid station
I was tempted to ask oncoming riders when the hell the turnaround was coming because I hadn't reset my bike computer. I think in the future I will wear my watch because I think it helps me. I stopped to pee in the porta-john at the 13 mile turnaround. This probably cost me another 45 seconds.
Along the course out me and another biker were trading leads which was fun. On the way back I heard a few comments about that "last hill was a nut buster" and then I had a full-on conversation with another guy who used to live in St. Louis. I really enjoyed this camaraderie. As I was loosing steam 3/4 of the way back, a far more talented rider rode up to me and encouraged me to follow him, and said the worst was behind us. I gave it some more gas to stay with him but I couldn't hang on and I wanted to save some for the run.
I felt very strong in transition on this race. Everything went smoothly and keeping it simple was the best idea. The biggest problem I had in T2 was the fact that these shoes I had were heavy and stiff as boards. They were quite difficult to pry open and I knew this was going to be a problem, but realigning the elastic laces the night before only added anxiety so I stopped and just let them be.
So bike racked, biking shoes off, helmet off, running cap on (bought it at the expo), race belt on, goo down the hatch, then sit down and put running shoes on in weird crab-stance on the ground. I should have had a spare water bottle here but there were volunteers everywhere with water, thankfully. No socks.
I felt SO slow on the run. My engine was running and burning fuel, but my legs were so tired; I had to remember to keep feeding oxygen to my metabolism. Looking back I should have bike-run bricked a few more times in training.
I kept the goo up every 30 or 45 minutes thru the biking so I felt fueled well. It took the first two miles or so to get int
a good rhythm, which I had expected, but there were rolling hills for the first few miles, then three or so miles UP HILL, and the last mile on a severe downhill slope. There was no rest on this course! I found myself going very slow on the uphill climbs, getting passed by older men mostly, which was good because I wasn't being passed by many of my own age groupers. I ra
n slower than walking at certain points, I walked a few times for about 10-15 seconds, and I cranked out an averag
e of 10-minute miles, as opposed to my usual 8.5 minute miles on the flat course. The run was very trying and up hill most of the way, but now I know how to train for that mofo. Very very hard run and very very slow.
At 6k I started to feel a rock in my left foot arch, I couldn't find it with two or three stops and finger down into the shoe. It later turned out to be a double blister, which I look forward to popping with delight next week. It's time to retire these New Balance 504's.
At 7k I had my left hamstring freeze up. I stopped and bent over forwards and slowly rolled a massage thumb over it from top to bottom and I think it then faded over the rest of the course
At 8k I hit the wall. It happens, but luckily that was pretty much the end of the uphill and it was easy after that. It couldn't have been more better timed.
The insult to the injury was the downhill gazelleing I had to do for the last mile of the run, back down lynch hill, with bikers passing at 45-50mph. The good news is that I found myself passing people on the downhills thruout the run so I feel
like I have some more natural talent for that than most. No saving the knees here in competition, I was in full on-shock absorbent mode and prioritized safety and speed to a short descent that could be damaging over the long term.
Running down the chute at the end Robert Wallsgrove was there to greet me, he had finished about 15 minutes before me, and I was quite impressed with that. All I could muster for Rob was "you son of a... :)" but in all reality I enjoyed the positive camaraderie we had for the race. I was really impressed how far he'd come since his first triathlon at Catalina '07. I sprinted the last 100 feet when an older female attempted to pass me in the chute.
Bananas, endless water and gatorade, utterly delicious oranges, and a chocolate reward power bar recovery meal.
After I finished I mulled around the finish line and watched a few people coming in. I talked breifly with Mary Miller (gomarygo.blogspot.com), who seemed to be quite happy with her finish. She told me she was considering going pro but didn't give me a definitive answer on it. She is also a total freakin babe, and I got a really nice vibe from her.
I met up with Rob and slowly we met up with others over the course of the following hours.
What a day!
Monday, April 7, 2008
I committed to 40 miles yesterday with my friend Jason, riding Barrington hills, but we rocked out 54, at which he had sprinted the last 4-5 miles and my chain broke two miles from the rendezvous. Too bad. it was a brutal, hilly ride, but i think it's just what the doctor ordered. Now I have to train running on some of those hills.
In other news it's just 7 days now until I have to pay my taxes AND I find out about the Ironman Kona lottery for 2008. It was a serendipitous lucky week when I signed up for Ironman Kona, and I figured that would be it. The storm was calm until tonight, when I got huge news, and if the coming 7 days are anything like my January, I better start playing the lottery and training my ass off.