Swim + Transition 1
A horrific and terrifying sight greets my eyes. The lake has spontaneously transformed into an angry monster, foaming at the mouth as it swallows hundreds of swimmers in the blink of an eye and daring the rest of us to follow like lemmings. The water is literally boiling...churned up by the fiercely competitive guys and gals who are trying to win age-group awards to qualify for the world championships in Kona.
Then there's me. Still on dry land. My plan was to follow some advice I had received from a fellow racer concerning my first mass swim start. "Over the course of 2.4 miles of swimming, 10 seconds doesn't matter. When that cannon goes off, slowly count to 10, and then enter the water calmly." Best advice of the day. I counted....slowly. 1.......2........3.......
.....8......9.........pause..........10. Ok.
I begin to walk into the 60 degree water. It hits the feet....cold, but not bad. Thanks to my full wetsuit, I won't feel it again until it hits my face. But when it does.....oh boy. 60 degree water certainly has a kick to it. Luckily, Del and I had both swam in the lake a few days earlier and knew exactly what to expect. A minute or two of "Oh dear God" and then your body warms up with activity and you never notice the cold again.
Face down into the water. Start swimming. But oh yeah.....all these people. I guess just do your best. Stroke....breath.....stroke.....bump....kick......elbow.....stroke.....breath.....stroKICKke.....
breaELBOWth......there's really no way around it. If you stop, you get the swimming version of "trampled". So you don't stop. You "trample" other people because it's better than the other way around. Everybody is jockeying for some space to swim in, and after an unknown amount of time, I find it. I lift my head to sight for the buoys and Holy Crap there's nobody in front of me. I don't know how long this will last, so I make the best of it. Lengthen out my stroke and gliiiiiide. I find a rhythm FAST, and now to get my breathing under control. Long, slow exhales underwater and slow, relaxed medium deep inhales when I turn up to breath...each time trying to find the same cloud that I looked at last time. It's a silly mind trick, but it forces me to take my time and not rush the breath. Gotta find that cloud....look at it....has it changed at all since I first looked? Sweet....good rhythm, and easy, controlled breathing.
Every now and then I bump into somebody, catch up with somebody I have to pass, have my feet tickled by the person behind me, or my favorite...being behind somebody who doesn't sight at all, who is swimming damn near sideways across my path. Makes me giggle.
Somewhere in that first out-stretch of the first lap, I realize something profound. I'm having fun. A lot of fun. This startling revelation is coupled with me realizing that I'm SMILING underwater while I'm swimming. The realization that I'm HERE and DOING this has filled me completely with the joy of living and I'm almost giggling to myself.
The swim course is 2 laps. 900 meters out, 100 meters across, and then 900 meters back. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. At the start, the pack of 2400 racers was spread out across about 50-100 yards of beach. There is ONE turn buoy 900 meters out, and every single one of us is swimming roughly in that direction. Translation: This is going to get rough, just the way Alex Trebek's mother likes it.
My plan was to take the turn buoy WAY wide to try and avoid some of the inevitable carnage. It worked......kinda. Approaching the first turn buoy, I'm a good 20-30 feet wide and it still closes in...much worse than even the beginning of the race. Out here, there is no option of waiting for everyone else to pass. Stopping means instant clobberification. Yet it is nearly impossible to maintain your stroke because there is somebody in front of you kicking like a maniac, somebody behind you is pawing at your legs and pushing them down, the person to your left has hooked your arm while coming through on their stroke, and the person on your right isn't sighting and is swimming into you. I'm not sure there is a name for the style of swimming I was employing around that corner, but I'll suggest a few....The Flail, The Orgy, The Knife Fight In A Phone Booth, and the Freestyle Drown. It's all I can do to keep my cool...I keep telling myself that this is normal, I am fine, it will be over soon, calm thoughts, quiet mind, happy place...over and over.
I hear a woman yelling....no.....screaming. And not just "Eeek I'm scared" screaming.....this was full-fledged "Holy shit I'm going to die here, please somebody help me" screaming. I could hear the hysteria, the fear, the utter panic of her most basic survival instincts trumping her higher brain functions. I wanted to help, but knew that I couldn't. That's why there are lifeguards. Luckily she was near the inside, where an army of floating helping hands would be there to pluck her out of the water, or at the very least give her a place to rest while she caught her breath and contemplated whether or not she wanted to finish this race.
I swam on. The second turn buoy came really fast, and I couldn't actually see it because of where the sun was. A fellow swimmer actually said out loud, "Hey, there's the turn buoy." It's pretty rare to hear other swimmers actually speak because there's just no room for it. No explanations, no apologies, no howdy-dos. But I was glad to hear it...I looked where he was pointing, and sure enough, I had completely missed it. Happy to be wide, I turned back towards the beach and found my breath and my rhythm again.
Fast forward some happy uneventful swimming...I'm at the beach...first lap DONE! I come up on the sand, cross a timing mat, hear the happy chirp of the computer as it confirms it has detected the racing chip that is around my ankle. I spot Jess cheering me on, and I smile. As I turn around to run back into the water, a man is standing there with a stopwatch calling out splits.
"We're just coming up on 38 minutes..."
I do an exuberant fist pump and maybe shout something out....not terribly sure. I did a half Ironman in April, and my time for the same distance in that race was 41 minutes. I'm swimming faster than I've ever swam in my life. I hit the water again, excited to keep the pace high, especially since the pack has thinned out significantly for the second lap.
I'm not a swimmer. Never have been. But today, I'm motherfucking Michael Phelps. I'm the goddamn Mark Spitz. I move through the water with so little effort, that I'm beginning to wonder if this really is just the cruelest race dream I've ever had, and that at some point I'm going to wake up and realize I haven't even begun yet.
No...that's stupid. I'm here, and I'm straight-up rocking this swim. The buoys pass, but time stands still(this is a common theme throughout my day, FYI). I've got space, and I'm moving. The second time out is uneventful....until......
I realize that I forgot to swing wide of the buoys. I am about 5 feet from the turn buoy, and it's getting crowded. Fast. Despite the thinned out pack, it's still just as violent here at the turns...especially this close to the buoy. More elbows, more kicks, more desperate attempts to swim MY stroke, only to have my arms hooked and impeded. I honestly wonder how any of us are actually progressing forwards, as we all seem to be spending more effort injuring one another than swimming. I guess the pack moves forward through combined willpower, but eventually the first turn is over and I jockey for position to take the next turn much wider.
I got punched in the face. By a lady.
Of course it was unintentional. But all the same, it's an interesting experience to feel blinding anger one moment, and to completely recover back to my peaceful swimming nirvana the next. My inner dialogue went something like this, "Oooohhhmmmmmmm......ooooohhhhhWHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!Oooooohhhhhhmmmmm........oooooohhhhhhmmmmmm".
And that's just the way it goes.
The second turn went smoothly, and I angled back towards the beach. My arms were getting really sore at this point, but nowhere near what I would consider fatigued. Knowing that I could probably swim a few more miles if I needed to was incredibly comforting, but I had about half a mile to go. For a good portion of the previous year, I was terrified that I'd be unable to complete the swim portion. Heartbreaking to imagine having to give up so early in my day after spending so much time and money preparing for it. Turns out, once I hit the water, there wasn't a doubt left in my mind.
The final stretch flew by and before I knew it, I was at the beach again. I crossed the timing mat. This time I saw my family as I exited the beach. If I could have taken time to study my mother's expression, I'm sure it would have said, "Dear lord, thank you for not letting my son drown."
Total swim time - 1:17:23.....beat my goal by over 2 minutes.
First stop, wetsuit peelers. All I can say is "deadly efficient". These people don't mess around. To say they "help you to the ground" is the polite way of saying they "just about shove you onto your ass". They grab your wetsuit and RUN. Wetsuit pops off, and By the Power of Greyskull, they LIFT you off the ground, hand you your wetsuit, and may as well have slapped me on the ass to get me running off towards transition.
I entered transition, grabbed my bag, and ran into the changing tent. I found an empty chair, and suddenly realized that there was no room for modesty here. Buck-nekkid men EVER'WHERE! I sat down, intent on keeping a clear mind and not forgetting anything important. I start fishing items out of my bag.....towel first....dry feet....uh.....helmet? Gloves....socks......bike shoes.....there's a naked ass 4 inches from my face. Now he's bending over for something....OH he stumbles, nearly landing on me, but he catches himself. Accidental man-on-man lapdance averted! He apologizes, and I make an inappropriate joke. He laughs heartily and continues to get ready, wishing me good luck racing before he leaves......nice guy.
Ok where was I? Man ass. No, that's not it. OH YEAH, get ready to ride. I finish up, stuff all my swim stuff back into the bag. The volunteer tells me to just leave it there, they'll take care of the rest. I hit the urinal before I exit the tent, and then I goose-step(because of the cycling shoes) to the bike area. I quickly find Lucille, she's sitting there just like I left her. Take a few minutes to stretch. Unrack my baby, run towards the transition exit. I see my family again at the mount line. With a wave and a smile, I mount my trusty steed and take the first pedal stroke of what will be the longest bike ride of my life.
I clip in and start rolling, feeling pretty good about my transition. It wasn't amazingly fast, but I'm confident that I did everything I needed to do and I didn't forget anything important......
.......or did I?
To be continued.....
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Ironman Coeur d'Alene: Part 1
It has been over a week since I did this event and I'm finally putting "pen" to "paper" to try and encapsulate everything that happened, how it felt, and what it all means to me. It's going to take awhile, but I'm going to try.
Race Morning
I had an expectedly restless night of "sleep", also known as waking up every 30-45 minutes to look at the clock to see if it was time yet. My alarm was set for 4:15 am, so the sun would not have been up yet, and I had to actually LOOK at the clock to confirm that it was not yet time. Think back to your childhood, trying to sleep on Christmas Eve, except imagine it as if you were terrified of presents.
My final premature awakening occurred at 4:00 am. I figured that was good enough and decided to give up and started getting ready. Oddly enough this involved lying back down, not to sleep, but to do some slow and deep stretches. Time passed, but only just so...it felt like an out of body experience, very dreamlike despite being more awake than I've ever felt in my life. Maybe more alive than I've felt in a long time. And dreamlike. Yeah, I know.
This was The Morning. 2.4 swim, 112 bike, 26.2 run. Today.
I eventually heard stirring in the house, giving me the impression that Delaware was also up and about, getting ready. Upstairs....bagel.....OJ....something else which I ate but don't remember what it was called, what it looked like, or tasted like. Mystery food. More stretching, more massaging my left calf, hoping to alleviate any potential achilles pain later in the day. Worries.
I begin to find all the little notes I've left for myself from the previous night.
"Get bottles out of freezer."
"Don't forget your Garmin." (Delaware did this a few years ago before his first Ironman, so I made a point to learn from his mistake)
The rest of the morning is way less clear....I have no recollection of doing many of these things, but I have solid proof that they actually happened: packed bags, loaded the car, drove to the event site, dropped off T1 and T2 bags, loaded bottles on bikes, possibly used the toilet(1 and/or 2). Del and I donned wetsuits and went to meet up with Jess and my family. Some lighthearted conversation, joking, pictures, hugs, well-wishes. Time seemed frozen, though this has been disproven as evidenced by the fact that the race did eventually happen.
Del and I say our final goodbyes and join the long, somber funeral procession of neoprene-clad athletes trudging towards the beach entrance. I wouldn't have flinched to hear a priest giving us our last rites. We're a little late getting there for my preference, but we cross the pre-race timing mat with 10-15 minutes to spare. Light conversation with other racers, squishing sand between my toes, looking very likely like a deer in the headlights. I remember to have some quiet time before the race begins, because it proved a very successful technique in my 70.3 in Galveston. To escape the world, I squat down and close my eyes. Breath in. Out. Calm thoughts. Quiet mind. I even check my own pulse to make sure I'm not overexcited.....60-70 bpm.....perfect. While I'm in my quiet place, a very odd notion strikes me.
This is it.
What?
This. What you're about to do. The thing you've been wrapping your mind, body, and soul around for the last 11 months(and in a certain sense, for the past 22 months). You are about to begin an Ironman.
I stand up. Del is standing there, looking prepared, focused, and confident. I actually said the following words.
"Is this really happening?"
He replied that it indeed was.
If anything else was said, I don't remember. We were far enough down the beach that we couldn't hear the announcer's voice. Apparently there was some kind of countdown and then they fired a cannon.
All I was aware of is that, all at once, everybody on the beach started running into the water.
Chaos.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Progressive vs Conservative
Just to prove that this blog isn't COMPLETELY about my athletic endeavors...here's a little late-night political thought.....almost let this one slip, but I had to get it down before I went to bed and ultimately lost it.
Conservative thinkers: We've been around the block. We've been working hard our whole lives. We've paid our dues and we've paid our taxes. WE KNOW HOW THINGS REALLY WORK. We were once young like you. We were full of hope and dreams of a fantastic world where the poor were fed, the uneducated were taught, the water was clean, the air was pure, and the world was peaceful. We've been down that road, saw that those ideas don't/won't/can't work. The sad reality is that things have always been this way and will continue to be this way, so we've gotten used to it. "We understand how the world works."
Progressive thinkers: We recognize that you have worked hard your whole life. We respect that you've paid your dues and worked your ass off to get what you have and get where you are. We get that you are comfortable with the status quo, the current system that you mastered in order to carve out your happy existence. We, however, are not satisfied with "how the world works". We are more concerned with "how the world COULD work". We still dream the impossible dreams. As convinced as you are that this is The Way, we refuse to accept that this is The Best Way. Feed the hungry. Insure the uninsured. Find an energy source that DOESN'T pollute everything it comes into contact with. Cure terminal illnesses in 3rd world nations. Negotiate peace when threatened with violence. "Solve the fucking problems of the goddamned world."
I can identify with thinkers from both sides. Both have their pros and cons. Maybe because I'm still somewhat young and optimistic, I tend to lean towards the progressive side of things. Things COULD be better. Why are conservative thinkers so set in their stubborn knowledge that none of these ideas could possibly work? Are they nervous that some of them could actually work and somehow disturb their peaceful existence?
And the big finish.....this is why I turned the light back on and got out my laptop.....
Conservatives are progressives who gave up the dream that the world could someday be a better place.
Peace and hair grease.
Conservative thinkers: We've been around the block. We've been working hard our whole lives. We've paid our dues and we've paid our taxes. WE KNOW HOW THINGS REALLY WORK. We were once young like you. We were full of hope and dreams of a fantastic world where the poor were fed, the uneducated were taught, the water was clean, the air was pure, and the world was peaceful. We've been down that road, saw that those ideas don't/won't/can't work. The sad reality is that things have always been this way and will continue to be this way, so we've gotten used to it. "We understand how the world works."
Progressive thinkers: We recognize that you have worked hard your whole life. We respect that you've paid your dues and worked your ass off to get what you have and get where you are. We get that you are comfortable with the status quo, the current system that you mastered in order to carve out your happy existence. We, however, are not satisfied with "how the world works". We are more concerned with "how the world COULD work". We still dream the impossible dreams. As convinced as you are that this is The Way, we refuse to accept that this is The Best Way. Feed the hungry. Insure the uninsured. Find an energy source that DOESN'T pollute everything it comes into contact with. Cure terminal illnesses in 3rd world nations. Negotiate peace when threatened with violence. "Solve the fucking problems of the goddamned world."
I can identify with thinkers from both sides. Both have their pros and cons. Maybe because I'm still somewhat young and optimistic, I tend to lean towards the progressive side of things. Things COULD be better. Why are conservative thinkers so set in their stubborn knowledge that none of these ideas could possibly work? Are they nervous that some of them could actually work and somehow disturb their peaceful existence?
And the big finish.....this is why I turned the light back on and got out my laptop.....
Conservatives are progressives who gave up the dream that the world could someday be a better place.
Peace and hair grease.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Made it....
So the first leg of my journey to becoming an Ironman is complete.
The Drive.
Two days of driving has resulted in me and Delaware meeting my parents in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho at the house we have rented for the week. It was after dark when we arrived, so I can't really comment on the alleged mindblowing beauty this place has to offer, but if the drive here was any indication, I have no doubt we won't be disappointed.
Oh. My. God. You. Guys.
My earlier status indicated as much, but Wyoming is basically like if they took the Flint Hills of Kansas, made it the size of an entire state, and added mountains. Holy crap. Absolutely breathtaking. And Montana? Shut the hell up. Easily some of the most beautiful countryside I've seen in my entire life...and I've seen a lot of what this country has to offer in that department.
So I'm here. I'm in bed and winding down before I go to bed.
The last two days of driving have been pretty enjoyable, catching up with Delaware, listening to good music, reliving some of the joy of our road trips to far-off climbing destinations back when that's what we did. A lot of movie quotes thrown around, as always. Occasionally discussing/joking about the race has been nice(ex. Someday when I'm a real hardass, I'm gonna do a full Ironman using only beef jerky as my fuel).
My attitude for the past few days of driving has been surprisingly positive and unworried. I have a large amount of confidence right now, which is great. I am worrying less than I have been the last week or so, which is good and bad(maybe). It's good because at this point worrying won't do me much good unless it is productive, problem-solving worrying. It's bad because I feel like there are still some details about my race plan that aren't quite set in stone, which is worrisome. In a short race, you can leave some of those nitty gritty details undecided, up to chance. In a long race, the small stuff can punish you if you don't pay attention. In a REALLY long race, the small stuff can end your day.
Seasoned Ironman triathletes have these things Ironed(ugh....pun) out weeks in advance. I failed to do so. My hydration and nutrition strategies for this race are still based largely on previous race experience and are highly theoretical, instead of having been repeatedly proven to succeed in training sessions. I think my plans are good enough to see me through, but there is room for doubt, of course.
With so many X-Factors in this race that are out of my control, it seems silly to worry about them, so I'm trying to make an effort to only spend time thinking about the things I can control. These are the things that make triathlons so different from any other sport. The sport I have quickly fallen in love with is such a cerebral experience. There are so many things to pay attention to...attention paid to each individual event during training, choosing your race gear, choosing your fuel, balancing exertion between the three events throughout the course of a race, and managing transitions between them. I'm not a golfer, but it feels like I'm learning a golf swing that lasts an entire day. So many little things to remember in order for it to work. Forget one thing....just one thing.....and you slice it into the woods. A good example: In Texas, I forgot to stretch in T1 before I got on the bike. Result? Halfway through, my right quad seized up and I had to stop for about 3 minutes to stretch it out.
I like that triathlon is constantly a mental challenge. Training isn't just mindlessly grinding out mile after mile; it is a constant exercise in problem solving, time management, and mental toughness.
I'm done rambling for the night.
I'm fucking ready for this race. If I figure out a few more things before Sunday, they will either help or hinder me, but I know that barring something out of my control, I'm going to cross that damn finish line, even if I have to crawl.
3 days + 6 hours until I have the distinct pleasure of standing and facing the greatest challenge of my life, thus far.
Good night.
The Drive.
Two days of driving has resulted in me and Delaware meeting my parents in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho at the house we have rented for the week. It was after dark when we arrived, so I can't really comment on the alleged mindblowing beauty this place has to offer, but if the drive here was any indication, I have no doubt we won't be disappointed.
Oh. My. God. You. Guys.
My earlier status indicated as much, but Wyoming is basically like if they took the Flint Hills of Kansas, made it the size of an entire state, and added mountains. Holy crap. Absolutely breathtaking. And Montana? Shut the hell up. Easily some of the most beautiful countryside I've seen in my entire life...and I've seen a lot of what this country has to offer in that department.
So I'm here. I'm in bed and winding down before I go to bed.
The last two days of driving have been pretty enjoyable, catching up with Delaware, listening to good music, reliving some of the joy of our road trips to far-off climbing destinations back when that's what we did. A lot of movie quotes thrown around, as always. Occasionally discussing/joking about the race has been nice(ex. Someday when I'm a real hardass, I'm gonna do a full Ironman using only beef jerky as my fuel).
My attitude for the past few days of driving has been surprisingly positive and unworried. I have a large amount of confidence right now, which is great. I am worrying less than I have been the last week or so, which is good and bad(maybe). It's good because at this point worrying won't do me much good unless it is productive, problem-solving worrying. It's bad because I feel like there are still some details about my race plan that aren't quite set in stone, which is worrisome. In a short race, you can leave some of those nitty gritty details undecided, up to chance. In a long race, the small stuff can punish you if you don't pay attention. In a REALLY long race, the small stuff can end your day.
Seasoned Ironman triathletes have these things Ironed(ugh....pun) out weeks in advance. I failed to do so. My hydration and nutrition strategies for this race are still based largely on previous race experience and are highly theoretical, instead of having been repeatedly proven to succeed in training sessions. I think my plans are good enough to see me through, but there is room for doubt, of course.
With so many X-Factors in this race that are out of my control, it seems silly to worry about them, so I'm trying to make an effort to only spend time thinking about the things I can control. These are the things that make triathlons so different from any other sport. The sport I have quickly fallen in love with is such a cerebral experience. There are so many things to pay attention to...attention paid to each individual event during training, choosing your race gear, choosing your fuel, balancing exertion between the three events throughout the course of a race, and managing transitions between them. I'm not a golfer, but it feels like I'm learning a golf swing that lasts an entire day. So many little things to remember in order for it to work. Forget one thing....just one thing.....and you slice it into the woods. A good example: In Texas, I forgot to stretch in T1 before I got on the bike. Result? Halfway through, my right quad seized up and I had to stop for about 3 minutes to stretch it out.
I like that triathlon is constantly a mental challenge. Training isn't just mindlessly grinding out mile after mile; it is a constant exercise in problem solving, time management, and mental toughness.
I'm done rambling for the night.
I'm fucking ready for this race. If I figure out a few more things before Sunday, they will either help or hinder me, but I know that barring something out of my control, I'm going to cross that damn finish line, even if I have to crawl.
3 days + 6 hours until I have the distinct pleasure of standing and facing the greatest challenge of my life, thus far.
Good night.
Friday, June 18, 2010
How did I get here?
It's taper week. So I've got lots of free time.
Time to sit.
Time to think.
Time to obsess.
I've been crafting this narrative in my brain for a while now. How did I go from being a regular dude who wasn't particularly active into a guy who will, in 8 days, attempt to complete an Ironman? Something that in my previous life seemed like this insane theoretical race that only insane theoretical people would ever do. The name alone...Ironman....from far-off Hawaii....always carried a certain intimidating mystique. Now I'm doing one. Doesn't seem right. I feel like there's been some kind of mistake. I'm not an insane theoretical person. How did I get here?
Well, I suppose we have to go back a long ways....back to January 2007. Ashley, a friend of mine from the Sandbar, worked for Adidas at the time, and in a seemingly friendly gesture had acquired a new pair of running shoes for me. How nice of her! A week later, she asks me if I'd like to train for a half marathon with her. Well played, Ashley. I had never run more than 5 miles in my life at this point, but I couldn't say no. So we planned out our training schedule, trained together, and did the race. Turns out I didn't die, and actually really enjoyed the challenge, the experience, and the feeling of accomplishment. Wow....a half marathon!
That summer I found my way back into riding my road bike which had been collecting dust for several years, mostly due to my friend Delaware, who had made the step we all wanted to make, and signed up for the MS 150. A group of us followed suit and soon we were all riding together and getting in shape. That ride was a blast, but I was pretty spent by the end of it.
As far as running, I decided that doing one half marathon every spring would be enough for me, as I wasn't quite a "convert" to the sport.....yet. The following spring, I signed up and did my 2nd half marathon. Please note that I didn't actually train for it this time. Ended up only being 7 minutes slower than the previous year. Again, I enjoyed the race, and proceeded to forget about running for most of the remainder of the year. Did the MS Ride again, feeling much better prepared for it this time around. One thing that did happen though.....that August, my friend Delaware did an Ironman up in Canada. WHAT?!?!? Apparently, he had signed up for it a full year in advance, had trained, done a few smaller races for triathlon experience, and fucking DID it. I remember how vaguely aware I was of what was going on in his life at the time. I was back in school, and he was in KC, so I barely saw him or heard from him. I remember feeling very concerned for him, and like a fool, I was more worried that he would fail than I was excited that he might succeed. I can say without hesitation, that the immense support I have received from my friends and family are a constant reminder of how much I regret the cynical attitude I had at that time in my life. I will never again allow myself to be a naysayer. Never.
Of course, Delaware finished. He had to. One of the Ironman slogans is "You WILL do this." He had to finish, and he did. I watched him cross the finish line via a live internet video feed. I was ecstatic and amazed. My friend.....did an Ironman. My friend isn't an insane theoretical person...he is very much a real and tangible person. I never saw him the same again...he was now a hero to myself and many our friends. He was now on another level. But he was still Delaware.
I had never swam, I had never done a triathlon, I had never run a marathon, I had never ridden more than 100 miles in a day. But the seed of belief was planted. I didn't know how, or when....but I KNEW someday I'd do it too. At the time, this knowledge seemed complete lunacy. At the time, this knowledge seemed a fairytale.
The following January(2009), I was dealing with some issues in my personal life. I needed an outlet of some kind. Something to keep me from sitting around feeling pathetic and obsessing over things that didn't need to be obsessed about. I went for a run. It hurt. Lungs, legs, and body were all complaining, but at least my thoughts were quiet. This could work. Before I knew it, I was racking up a LOT of miles. My yearly half marathon resulted in a PR by about 8 minutes, and my motivation to do other races was growing. I signed up for a half Ironman which was to take place in June. That race became my sole focus aside from school. I won't say the race was a smashing success, but I met my goals and wanted more. A little over a month later, I completed my first marathon in San Francisco. The personal issues compounded that week, and my training was there for me.
One day that summer, I was looking around on the Ironman website....looking at full distance Ironman races. I had no intention of signing up for one because in my mind that was still a LONG way off, after all, the half Ironman had hurt so badly. Plus, those races usually fill up really fast....often they are full before they even open up for online registration. In a mere act of curiosity, I was looking at some of the races that had been recently completed. Ironman Coeur d'Alene in Idaho....it was OPEN for registration. I thought about it. Crazy. Insane. Don't even think about it.
But wait....
I talk to my friend Delaware....."Hey this race is open still....what do you think?"
Without a moment's hesitation he says, "Do it."
Really? He goes on to explain to me that I can totally do it. I'd have almost a full year to prepare, and I was already in pretty good shape. He also warns me....if you go down this road, nobody else will understand. They'll support you, but not in the true sense, because people can't really support something they don't understand.
It made sense.....I've gotten so many crazed looks of disbelief since I signed up for this race. Why? How? You're crazy. You're going to die. Others are supportive, but I can tell they don't really "get it" either. Not to say I'm not appreciative of all of this support; I couldn't live without it. It keeps me going when I'm tired and burned out. It reminds me to believe in myself. It reminds me that "I WILL do this." But the point remains....very few people can truly understand what goes through my head on a daily basis when I train, when I think about June 27th, when I wake up sweating in the middle of the night because I had another race nightmare.
Delaware burned some "Oh baby" points with his girlfriend by convincing her to put up with another long season of training and signed up for the race as well. I was thankful to have him along for the ride, and to have somebody to train with.
Training officially began that week, though technically it had never stopped. Another half marathon PR in October, a new marathon PR in December. Took most of December and January off to recover from 10 months of nonstop training and racing. And because it was flipping cold outside. Hit the ground running in February with a plan. Half Marathon in March, Half Iron in April, Olympic tri in May(tune-up/confidence builder). A few small races here and there for motivation, fun, and to add to my ridiculous collection of race bib numbers. Also a long weekend doing the Cottonwood 200, which gave me great confidence in my riding form. I started tapering my run a little earlier than planned because of some worrisome aches and pains in my hip and ankle, but I feel that the rest did them a lot of good.
So here I sit. Tapering. Compared to what I've been doing, tapering feels exactly like "sitting on my ass getting fat". I've heard them referred to as the "Taper Blues". How amazingly appropriate. There is nothing more depressing than staring an enormous challenge in the face and knowing.....knowing that there is nothing else I can do to prepare for it. I compare it to the last 10 minutes before a big test....you want to cram, but you know at this point none of it is going to stick...you know what you know. So instead of obsessing and worrying, I'm writing. And you're(hopefully) reading it. But I'm out of things to write....I answered the question posed in the title of this post.
How DID I get here?
I got a lot of help, that's for sure. Ashley started it all, but since then I've received help/motivation/advice/love from the following people.
Delaware, Jake, Mom, Dad, my brother Chris, Deanna C, Lisa M, Adam L, Jess W, Dustin J, Chris and Karli L, Anna Q, Alan G, Evan R, Sam M, Megan S, Jenny C, Christina H, Carly F, Todd C, Ellie M, Melissa M, Taras Z, Brad M, ALL of my friends and coworkers from The Sandbar, and literally COUNTLESS others. Everyone listed here has, at some point, lifted my spirits in some form or fashion...whether they commented on Facebook, cheered for me at a race, swam/biked/ran with me, or simply told me, "I'm proud of what you're doing." If I were speaking this to all of you out loud, this is the part where I'd get a bit weepy in thanking all of you, because it absolutely means the world to me to know that you all believe in me and unquestioningly believe that I will succeed!
How did I get here?
I got here because of all of these people. And with a little sweat and suffering, but all the accomplishments in the world would mean so little without such a great group of people behind me.
Thank you so much for who you are, what you do, and the huge role you play in my success!
Ironman Coeur d'Alene
June 27th, 2010
7:00 am
2.4 mile swim
112 mile bike
26.2 mile run
The achievement of a lifetime. And hopefully it's just the beginning.
Thank you for reading and letting me take a break from obsessing!
Danny Loental
Time to sit.
Time to think.
Time to obsess.
I've been crafting this narrative in my brain for a while now. How did I go from being a regular dude who wasn't particularly active into a guy who will, in 8 days, attempt to complete an Ironman? Something that in my previous life seemed like this insane theoretical race that only insane theoretical people would ever do. The name alone...Ironman....from far-off Hawaii....always carried a certain intimidating mystique. Now I'm doing one. Doesn't seem right. I feel like there's been some kind of mistake. I'm not an insane theoretical person. How did I get here?
Well, I suppose we have to go back a long ways....back to January 2007. Ashley, a friend of mine from the Sandbar, worked for Adidas at the time, and in a seemingly friendly gesture had acquired a new pair of running shoes for me. How nice of her! A week later, she asks me if I'd like to train for a half marathon with her. Well played, Ashley. I had never run more than 5 miles in my life at this point, but I couldn't say no. So we planned out our training schedule, trained together, and did the race. Turns out I didn't die, and actually really enjoyed the challenge, the experience, and the feeling of accomplishment. Wow....a half marathon!
That summer I found my way back into riding my road bike which had been collecting dust for several years, mostly due to my friend Delaware, who had made the step we all wanted to make, and signed up for the MS 150. A group of us followed suit and soon we were all riding together and getting in shape. That ride was a blast, but I was pretty spent by the end of it.
As far as running, I decided that doing one half marathon every spring would be enough for me, as I wasn't quite a "convert" to the sport.....yet. The following spring, I signed up and did my 2nd half marathon. Please note that I didn't actually train for it this time. Ended up only being 7 minutes slower than the previous year. Again, I enjoyed the race, and proceeded to forget about running for most of the remainder of the year. Did the MS Ride again, feeling much better prepared for it this time around. One thing that did happen though.....that August, my friend Delaware did an Ironman up in Canada. WHAT?!?!? Apparently, he had signed up for it a full year in advance, had trained, done a few smaller races for triathlon experience, and fucking DID it. I remember how vaguely aware I was of what was going on in his life at the time. I was back in school, and he was in KC, so I barely saw him or heard from him. I remember feeling very concerned for him, and like a fool, I was more worried that he would fail than I was excited that he might succeed. I can say without hesitation, that the immense support I have received from my friends and family are a constant reminder of how much I regret the cynical attitude I had at that time in my life. I will never again allow myself to be a naysayer. Never.
Of course, Delaware finished. He had to. One of the Ironman slogans is "You WILL do this." He had to finish, and he did. I watched him cross the finish line via a live internet video feed. I was ecstatic and amazed. My friend.....did an Ironman. My friend isn't an insane theoretical person...he is very much a real and tangible person. I never saw him the same again...he was now a hero to myself and many our friends. He was now on another level. But he was still Delaware.
I had never swam, I had never done a triathlon, I had never run a marathon, I had never ridden more than 100 miles in a day. But the seed of belief was planted. I didn't know how, or when....but I KNEW someday I'd do it too. At the time, this knowledge seemed complete lunacy. At the time, this knowledge seemed a fairytale.
The following January(2009), I was dealing with some issues in my personal life. I needed an outlet of some kind. Something to keep me from sitting around feeling pathetic and obsessing over things that didn't need to be obsessed about. I went for a run. It hurt. Lungs, legs, and body were all complaining, but at least my thoughts were quiet. This could work. Before I knew it, I was racking up a LOT of miles. My yearly half marathon resulted in a PR by about 8 minutes, and my motivation to do other races was growing. I signed up for a half Ironman which was to take place in June. That race became my sole focus aside from school. I won't say the race was a smashing success, but I met my goals and wanted more. A little over a month later, I completed my first marathon in San Francisco. The personal issues compounded that week, and my training was there for me.
One day that summer, I was looking around on the Ironman website....looking at full distance Ironman races. I had no intention of signing up for one because in my mind that was still a LONG way off, after all, the half Ironman had hurt so badly. Plus, those races usually fill up really fast....often they are full before they even open up for online registration. In a mere act of curiosity, I was looking at some of the races that had been recently completed. Ironman Coeur d'Alene in Idaho....it was OPEN for registration. I thought about it. Crazy. Insane. Don't even think about it.
But wait....
I talk to my friend Delaware....."Hey this race is open still....what do you think?"
Without a moment's hesitation he says, "Do it."
Really? He goes on to explain to me that I can totally do it. I'd have almost a full year to prepare, and I was already in pretty good shape. He also warns me....if you go down this road, nobody else will understand. They'll support you, but not in the true sense, because people can't really support something they don't understand.
It made sense.....I've gotten so many crazed looks of disbelief since I signed up for this race. Why? How? You're crazy. You're going to die. Others are supportive, but I can tell they don't really "get it" either. Not to say I'm not appreciative of all of this support; I couldn't live without it. It keeps me going when I'm tired and burned out. It reminds me to believe in myself. It reminds me that "I WILL do this." But the point remains....very few people can truly understand what goes through my head on a daily basis when I train, when I think about June 27th, when I wake up sweating in the middle of the night because I had another race nightmare.
Delaware burned some "Oh baby" points with his girlfriend by convincing her to put up with another long season of training and signed up for the race as well. I was thankful to have him along for the ride, and to have somebody to train with.
Training officially began that week, though technically it had never stopped. Another half marathon PR in October, a new marathon PR in December. Took most of December and January off to recover from 10 months of nonstop training and racing. And because it was flipping cold outside. Hit the ground running in February with a plan. Half Marathon in March, Half Iron in April, Olympic tri in May(tune-up/confidence builder). A few small races here and there for motivation, fun, and to add to my ridiculous collection of race bib numbers. Also a long weekend doing the Cottonwood 200, which gave me great confidence in my riding form. I started tapering my run a little earlier than planned because of some worrisome aches and pains in my hip and ankle, but I feel that the rest did them a lot of good.
So here I sit. Tapering. Compared to what I've been doing, tapering feels exactly like "sitting on my ass getting fat". I've heard them referred to as the "Taper Blues". How amazingly appropriate. There is nothing more depressing than staring an enormous challenge in the face and knowing.....knowing that there is nothing else I can do to prepare for it. I compare it to the last 10 minutes before a big test....you want to cram, but you know at this point none of it is going to stick...you know what you know. So instead of obsessing and worrying, I'm writing. And you're(hopefully) reading it. But I'm out of things to write....I answered the question posed in the title of this post.
How DID I get here?
I got a lot of help, that's for sure. Ashley started it all, but since then I've received help/motivation/advice/love from the following people.
Delaware, Jake, Mom, Dad, my brother Chris, Deanna C, Lisa M, Adam L, Jess W, Dustin J, Chris and Karli L, Anna Q, Alan G, Evan R, Sam M, Megan S, Jenny C, Christina H, Carly F, Todd C, Ellie M, Melissa M, Taras Z, Brad M, ALL of my friends and coworkers from The Sandbar, and literally COUNTLESS others. Everyone listed here has, at some point, lifted my spirits in some form or fashion...whether they commented on Facebook, cheered for me at a race, swam/biked/ran with me, or simply told me, "I'm proud of what you're doing." If I were speaking this to all of you out loud, this is the part where I'd get a bit weepy in thanking all of you, because it absolutely means the world to me to know that you all believe in me and unquestioningly believe that I will succeed!
How did I get here?
I got here because of all of these people. And with a little sweat and suffering, but all the accomplishments in the world would mean so little without such a great group of people behind me.
Thank you so much for who you are, what you do, and the huge role you play in my success!
Ironman Coeur d'Alene
June 27th, 2010
7:00 am
2.4 mile swim
112 mile bike
26.2 mile run
The achievement of a lifetime. And hopefully it's just the beginning.
Thank you for reading and letting me take a break from obsessing!
Danny Loental
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Getting tired of THIS happening...
THIS has happened at least 3 times in the last 6 months.
1. Meet a girl.
2. She's my kind of attractive.
3. Shared interests out the wazoo.
4. Funny.
5. Intelligent.
6. Interesting.
7. Seems to "get" me.
8. Amazing conversation.
9. Hit it off.
10. I feel like I've known them for years.
11. Her boyfriend does such and such.
At least 2 of these girls were into triathlons and running and one of them is in nursing school.
Seriously?
Could I please stop meeting Girls Of My Dreams if they're already more than spoken for?
Thanks.
1. Meet a girl.
2. She's my kind of attractive.
3. Shared interests out the wazoo.
4. Funny.
5. Intelligent.
6. Interesting.
7. Seems to "get" me.
8. Amazing conversation.
9. Hit it off.
10. I feel like I've known them for years.
11. Her boyfriend does such and such.
At least 2 of these girls were into triathlons and running and one of them is in nursing school.
Seriously?
Could I please stop meeting Girls Of My Dreams if they're already more than spoken for?
Thanks.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Ironman Lonestar 70.3
This is also on Facebook, but I'm putting it here so I can have a handy link to send to anybody/post on Daily Mile.
This is gonna be a long one, so if you're not interested in the mundane details of an aspiring triathlete's weekend, then I suggest you move on.
This weekend I raced the Lonestar Ironman 70.3 triathlon in Galveston, TX. For those unaware, a 70.3 is exactly half the distance of a full Ironman, which is what I am training to complete at the end of June in Coeur d'alene, Idaho. This was my second time entering a race of this distance, the first one being last June in Lawrence, KS. I will occasionally reference that race for the purposes of comparison.
Leading up to this weekend, I had decided to cut out alcohol from my life, so I could maximize my last few weeks of training and reduce the possibility of getting sick. Well wouldn't you know it, I got sick anyways and headed down to Galveston with a fun chest cold and barking cough.
Temps for race day were supposed to be warm, but not too bad, and the wind was expected to be mild. We arrived late Friday night and got a few hours of sleep before heading down for packet pickup and the "mandatory" pre-race meeting(All they do is go over the rules, and nobody actually takes attendance so nothing is really enforced).
Del and I both hadn't swam in a while, definitely not in open water, and definitely not with our wetsuits. After the meeting, we suited up and plunged into the surprisingly pleasant waters in the bay between Galveston Island and the mainland. The race buoys were set up for the race already, and the the 1.2 mile swim course looked, as usual, intimidatingly long. I was pretty comfortable with my form and the short swim went...well.....swimmingly. My biggest problem in my last 70.3 swim was that I got overexcited and was basically hyperventilating for the entire distance. My focus for this race was to remain calm and keep my breathing under control and try to find a rhythm. This is often difficult because you are surrounded by other swimmers who are either faster than you and swimming over you, slower than you and in front of you, or swim your speed and don't sight enough, which basically means that everybody is bumping into everybody, throwing elbows, getting kicked, and so on and so forth.
After our exploratory swim, we hopped on the bikes and spun our legs a little bit to stay loose. My friend Delaware, who also raced this weekend is in the middle of a cross country cycling trip, and you can visit his blog here. http://chatter.chrisdyroff.com/ He was concerned that his lack of running and swimming, and riding many miles on a different bike than he would race on would cause him difficulties with the race, more on that later.
We all showered up and got settled into our rooms, and then we went out to eat at a place called Mario's which had some pretty decent italian food, and was completely mobbed, as you may expect on a race weekend(athletes carb load before races). Good food, good service!
A quick note about Galveston....this town was torn a new asshole by Hurricane Ike in 2008, and on the surface appears to have rebuilt significantly. However if you look closer, you can occasionally see buildings that still have the windows boarded up and are abandoned. You also sometimes notice a plot of land that doesn't quite look right, until you realize there used to be a building there. Overall, the city was bustling with tourism and appears to be thriving.
Race day! I catch a ride down to the race site with Del and Jess and we set up our transition zones. This is where you go in between the swim, bike, and run to change clothes and gear up for the next portion of the race. My transitions were pretty slow and inefficient last year, and while it wasn't a top priority, I was hoping to at least improve some this year. Del and I then headed down to the dock where the swim would begin and got in our last minute bathroom breaks. The swim waves began to line up according to age group/gender. I was in the Male 30-34 age group, Wave #4, which was to hit the water 15 minutes after the pros.
1.2 MILE SWIM LEG
Our wave was up....a few minutes before our scheduled start time, we jumped off the dock into the water and began lining up behind two buoys which represented the start line. For the past 15 minutes I have been thinking calm, serene, and positive thoughts. I tell myself...This is going to be fun....you're going to get banged around a bit.....you will keep your breathing under control....you WILL find your rhythm......swim aggressively or get clobbered by the person behind you. I am calm. We're floating around with about 30 seconds to go and I say out loud to my fellow racers, "All right guys, let's mix it up....throw a few elbows, make some friends out there!" This comment elicits some hearty laughs from many of them, who apparently had been giving themselves the same pre-swim pep talk and were just trying to relax a bit. In the end, this is supposed to be fun, and as many times as we can remind ourselves of that, the better off we are.
The horn sounds....chaos. It takes a few minutes for the pack to begin to spread out, but as far as I can tell, I'm in the middle of the pack. I begin my stroke and just start going. Same as last year, lots of contact, but this year it doesn't bother me...I'm ready for it. I keep my breathing steady, I sight regularly, and I am SWIMMING. Last year I remember being passed by the fast swimmers in the waves behind me. This year, I was startled to find myself passing the slow swimmers from the waves in FRONT of me. Lots of them. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm halfway decent at this. Long story short, the swim went amazingly well. I exited the water feeling strong, confident, and like I was actually racing, not just desperately trying to finish. 41:41, which is faster than last year.
TRANSITION 1
Pretty smooth and decently efficient, but my #1 mistake was that I forgot to stretch before getting on the bike. This would prove bothersome later on.
56 MILE BIKE
I got on the bike and started spinning, a few twisty turny roads to get out to Seawall Blvd, which is where the majority of the ride took place. Once I hit the main road, I cranked up to my usual average speed, 17.5 mph and cruised there. I was riding hard, but not too hard. Initially I was passing more people than I was being passed. Eventually, the really fast riders began to blow by me as if I were sitting still. No big deal, it happens. It felt like we were riding into a headwind, which was exciting because that meant after the turnaround, we'd have a tailwind and I might end up averaging 19-20 mph, which would give me a sub 3 hour bike split. At the turnaround, however, I realized that it was just a crosswind and that the ride back was going to be just as difficult as the ride out. Delaware passed me shortly after the halfway point, apparently having no trouble whatsoever because of the switch from his touring bike to his tri bike. As he passed, he yelled that I would likely catch him on the running leg and still beat him. Shortly after that, my right knee began to experience great discomfort and I was forced to stop and stretch it out thoroughly. I got back on the bike and finished out the ride, feeling decent, but still averaging just 17.5 mph. 3:11:56, slower than last year.
TRANSITION 2
Rolled in and got to work switching over to my running gear. I felt disorganized and forgetful, but chalked it up to nerves. Wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything crucial, and I also had to reapply sunblock. When I was finally satisfied that I was ready to run, I started jogging towards the transition exit, definitely getting that old familiar feeling that my feet weighed 100 pounds.
13.1 MILE RUN
I am immediately upset because the bottles on my race belt are jostling around and there's nothing I can do to fix it. I can't just ditch them because that's against race rules, and I kinda need the stuff that's in them. I also am feeling a lot of numbness in my legs, but I figure once I get into a rhythm they'll loosen up and I'll be fine. I also regret not hitting a portapotty while in transition because I REALLY have to pee. Also....it was FREAKING HOT!.
The run course is 4 laps around Moody Gardens(a waterfront park for families, kids, old people) and has some nice views of the island and also runs right along the water at one point. I make it 3/4ths of the way through my first lap, keeping a sub 9:00 pace pretty well, until I finally have to stop and relieve myself. I waited for what seemed like an eternity to get an available john, but finally got in, did my thing, and then hit the road again. Time had passed. My average pace was now a 9:22. It would not get any faster from that point on. I found that I could run at a decent pace, but only for about a quarter mile, at which point I would either break form and slow down, or stop entirely. In training, you refer to having "good legs" or "decent legs". I had "no legs" whatsoever. Something was terribly wrong and I just couldn't move. My pace kept climbing, and I could maintain it for a period, but then I'd stop and it would keep climbing. By the 3rd lap, it was up to 10:25, which would put me over my 2 hour time goal for the run split.
In addition to my legs blowing up, I was having nutritional issues. Nothing I was consuming was sitting well, and half the time I felt like it was just going to come up anyways. I got lazy on my carb/protein intake, and unfortunately also on my electrolyte intake. At aid stations, I'd have one swallow of water and then splash the rest on my head/face in a desperate attempt to stay cool. I was taking ice cold sponges two at a time and wringing them out on myself. Nothing was going right, and I was just getting slower. Delaware lapped me on my 3rd lap, right before he completed his last lap and continued on to the finish line. His final time was an incredible 5:35:58. His lack of running during his cross country voyage did not cause him any problems during his race, and he absolutely crushed it!
My last lap was utter misery. I struggled greatly, half the time just wanting to stop, sit down, and take a nap. I knew a sub 2:00 run split was out of reach, but I still was hanging on to the hope of an overall PR. That is really the only thing that kept me from walking the entire last lap. I finally rounded the corner and had the finish line in my sight. In previous races I've done, that moment when your prize is finally visible, no amount of fatigue could ever stop me from making an all-out sprint to finish my day. Today was different. I had no reserve....nothing in the tank. I wanted to finish strong, but I was completely unable to do so, and trudged towards and across the finish line. Final run time: 2:11:30...faster than last year.
Overall time - 6:16:38....a PR by almost 6 minutes.
Last year, when I finished the 70.3 in Kansas, a funny thing happened when I crossed the finish line. For reasons unclear to me, I cried. Tears of joy, excitement, relief, exhaustion, amazing achievement, or just because I was so overwhelmed with life? Who knows. I had myself a nice little cry, grinning like an asshole the entire time.
This year, there were no tears. There was nothing. A few steps past the finish line and I was already contemplating just collapsing where I stood and taking a nap, damn the spectators. Oh, but I have to get my finisher's medal first....so I took a few more steps, bent down so the girl could place it over my head, nearly unable to straighten back up afterwards. I stumble forward a few more steps and a man in a red shirt comes up to me and we hold the following conversation:
Red Shirt - "Are you feeling ok?"
Me - "Yeah, I think so."
RS - "Do you need medical assistance?"
Me - "I don't know....what have they got?"
RS- "Well, that depends....what do you need?"
Me - "I don't know. I guess I'm ok"
In retrospect, the word that completely and accurately describes how I felt is "delirious".
I continue walking out of the finisher's area, where I run into Jake, Taras, Jess, and Delaware. They congratulate me and ask if I need help walking, to which I reply that I can make it on my own. First thing first......I really have to pee. Jake helps me find a restroom. Unnecessary details to follow...if you're not interested, skip to the last sentence. I go to pee, and I can't. Not a drop. I try for about 10 minutes and then give up. I realize I'm dehydrated.
I meet back up with my friends who proceed to force feed me water, mostly on account of my complete lack of awareness of my surroundings and inability to form complete or coherent thoughts and sentences. After 4-5 bottles of water, I get some pizza. It tastes utterly delicious and was completely satisfying, but something still just isn't right. I'm still hyperventilating, nearly an hour after I finished running. I'm anxious and still slightly delirious. Somebody suggests that I maybe visit the med tent to see what they think. I already know exactly what is going on as Unit 1 of Pathophysiology, Fluid & Electrolyte balance, and Blood pH starts to fill my head with explanations for all my symptoms. Hyponatremia. Yet apparently I'm a stubborn asshole who is more fascinated by what's happening to me than I am concerned for my well-being.
I am finally convinced that I should forego my post-race massage and go for some Q+A at the med tent. I show up and they immediately recommend an IV to restore my fluids. They sit me down next to another nice lady who is getting the same thing. The nurse comes over, asks some questions, and goes to get the kit. For some inexplicable reason, she tries to stick me in some tiny vein that I don't even know the name of, instead of my enormous median cubital vein(that's the one they use when you donate blood, in the crook of your elbow). In any case, it's not working. She's digging around with a needle in my arm and it hurts like hell. I've never been bothered by needles before...ever. It doesn't hurt much on my pain scale. The strangest thing happened as she was probing my forearm with a sharp piece of metal.....for the first time since my childhood, I cried as a result of pain. Perhaps it was a combination of anxiety, fear, being overwhelmed, or the dehydration, but the tears started flowing and I was having a hard time holding them back. I am almost 30, a reasonably "tough" guy, and something as simple as dehydration has nearly reduced me to a blubbering mess.
They give up on the possibly nonexistent vein, and decide to use the median cubital. Wow, great idea....why didn't you just use the really awesome, huge, easy-to-find vein in the first place?? I'm not mad. These are volunteers who have taken time out of their day to help athletes fulfill their goals. They set me up with a bag of NaCl saline and got the fluids flowing. I sit there and sip on Gatorade, chatting a bit with the lady next to me. Occasionally one of my friends pops in to see how I'm doing and keep me company(You guys are awesome, btw). After the first bag finishes, a volunteer asks how I'm feeling. I don't remember my exact words, but it apparently was not a satisfactory response and I was immediately hooked up to another bag. I also requested some albuterol for my mild exercise-induced asthma because my chest was feeling tight, which they happily provided! After the 2nd bag finished(2 liters of fluid total) I really was feeling much better, and most importantly, I had to pee really bad, which is a very good sign. I was released and sent on my happy way. The remainder of the weekend consisted of packing up, saying goodbye to Jake and Del(who are continuing from there on their cross-country cycling tour) and sleeping the majority of the 13 hour drive home.
The conclusions I've come away with from this weekend are varied. I have a lot to work on. I have to figure out my nutrition and hydration systems, because my currents systems left me nearly incapacitated and would certainly have spelled failure in June. Remember that this weekend is only HALF of the distance I'll have to cover in Idaho this summer. I have worries, but I remain confident. One thing I was reminded of this weekend, is that no matter how prepared you are mentally and physically, these races can utterly humble you. All it takes is a few things to go wrong...a chest cold, unexpected high temperatures, and a lackadaisical approach to nutrition, and suddenly you're in danger of getting a big fat DNF on your results sheet. In spite of all of this, I know that if I maintain my training and do things smart, the Ironman will be a success. I WILL do this.
Thanks for reading!
This is gonna be a long one, so if you're not interested in the mundane details of an aspiring triathlete's weekend, then I suggest you move on.
This weekend I raced the Lonestar Ironman 70.3 triathlon in Galveston, TX. For those unaware, a 70.3 is exactly half the distance of a full Ironman, which is what I am training to complete at the end of June in Coeur d'alene, Idaho. This was my second time entering a race of this distance, the first one being last June in Lawrence, KS. I will occasionally reference that race for the purposes of comparison.
Leading up to this weekend, I had decided to cut out alcohol from my life, so I could maximize my last few weeks of training and reduce the possibility of getting sick. Well wouldn't you know it, I got sick anyways and headed down to Galveston with a fun chest cold and barking cough.
Temps for race day were supposed to be warm, but not too bad, and the wind was expected to be mild. We arrived late Friday night and got a few hours of sleep before heading down for packet pickup and the "mandatory" pre-race meeting(All they do is go over the rules, and nobody actually takes attendance so nothing is really enforced).
Del and I both hadn't swam in a while, definitely not in open water, and definitely not with our wetsuits. After the meeting, we suited up and plunged into the surprisingly pleasant waters in the bay between Galveston Island and the mainland. The race buoys were set up for the race already, and the the 1.2 mile swim course looked, as usual, intimidatingly long. I was pretty comfortable with my form and the short swim went...well.....swimmingly. My biggest problem in my last 70.3 swim was that I got overexcited and was basically hyperventilating for the entire distance. My focus for this race was to remain calm and keep my breathing under control and try to find a rhythm. This is often difficult because you are surrounded by other swimmers who are either faster than you and swimming over you, slower than you and in front of you, or swim your speed and don't sight enough, which basically means that everybody is bumping into everybody, throwing elbows, getting kicked, and so on and so forth.
After our exploratory swim, we hopped on the bikes and spun our legs a little bit to stay loose. My friend Delaware, who also raced this weekend is in the middle of a cross country cycling trip, and you can visit his blog here. http://chatter.chrisdyroff.com/ He was concerned that his lack of running and swimming, and riding many miles on a different bike than he would race on would cause him difficulties with the race, more on that later.
We all showered up and got settled into our rooms, and then we went out to eat at a place called Mario's which had some pretty decent italian food, and was completely mobbed, as you may expect on a race weekend(athletes carb load before races). Good food, good service!
A quick note about Galveston....this town was torn a new asshole by Hurricane Ike in 2008, and on the surface appears to have rebuilt significantly. However if you look closer, you can occasionally see buildings that still have the windows boarded up and are abandoned. You also sometimes notice a plot of land that doesn't quite look right, until you realize there used to be a building there. Overall, the city was bustling with tourism and appears to be thriving.
Race day! I catch a ride down to the race site with Del and Jess and we set up our transition zones. This is where you go in between the swim, bike, and run to change clothes and gear up for the next portion of the race. My transitions were pretty slow and inefficient last year, and while it wasn't a top priority, I was hoping to at least improve some this year. Del and I then headed down to the dock where the swim would begin and got in our last minute bathroom breaks. The swim waves began to line up according to age group/gender. I was in the Male 30-34 age group, Wave #4, which was to hit the water 15 minutes after the pros.
1.2 MILE SWIM LEG
Our wave was up....a few minutes before our scheduled start time, we jumped off the dock into the water and began lining up behind two buoys which represented the start line. For the past 15 minutes I have been thinking calm, serene, and positive thoughts. I tell myself...This is going to be fun....you're going to get banged around a bit.....you will keep your breathing under control....you WILL find your rhythm......swim aggressively or get clobbered by the person behind you. I am calm. We're floating around with about 30 seconds to go and I say out loud to my fellow racers, "All right guys, let's mix it up....throw a few elbows, make some friends out there!" This comment elicits some hearty laughs from many of them, who apparently had been giving themselves the same pre-swim pep talk and were just trying to relax a bit. In the end, this is supposed to be fun, and as many times as we can remind ourselves of that, the better off we are.
The horn sounds....chaos. It takes a few minutes for the pack to begin to spread out, but as far as I can tell, I'm in the middle of the pack. I begin my stroke and just start going. Same as last year, lots of contact, but this year it doesn't bother me...I'm ready for it. I keep my breathing steady, I sight regularly, and I am SWIMMING. Last year I remember being passed by the fast swimmers in the waves behind me. This year, I was startled to find myself passing the slow swimmers from the waves in FRONT of me. Lots of them. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm halfway decent at this. Long story short, the swim went amazingly well. I exited the water feeling strong, confident, and like I was actually racing, not just desperately trying to finish. 41:41, which is faster than last year.
TRANSITION 1
Pretty smooth and decently efficient, but my #1 mistake was that I forgot to stretch before getting on the bike. This would prove bothersome later on.
56 MILE BIKE
I got on the bike and started spinning, a few twisty turny roads to get out to Seawall Blvd, which is where the majority of the ride took place. Once I hit the main road, I cranked up to my usual average speed, 17.5 mph and cruised there. I was riding hard, but not too hard. Initially I was passing more people than I was being passed. Eventually, the really fast riders began to blow by me as if I were sitting still. No big deal, it happens. It felt like we were riding into a headwind, which was exciting because that meant after the turnaround, we'd have a tailwind and I might end up averaging 19-20 mph, which would give me a sub 3 hour bike split. At the turnaround, however, I realized that it was just a crosswind and that the ride back was going to be just as difficult as the ride out. Delaware passed me shortly after the halfway point, apparently having no trouble whatsoever because of the switch from his touring bike to his tri bike. As he passed, he yelled that I would likely catch him on the running leg and still beat him. Shortly after that, my right knee began to experience great discomfort and I was forced to stop and stretch it out thoroughly. I got back on the bike and finished out the ride, feeling decent, but still averaging just 17.5 mph. 3:11:56, slower than last year.
TRANSITION 2
Rolled in and got to work switching over to my running gear. I felt disorganized and forgetful, but chalked it up to nerves. Wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything crucial, and I also had to reapply sunblock. When I was finally satisfied that I was ready to run, I started jogging towards the transition exit, definitely getting that old familiar feeling that my feet weighed 100 pounds.
13.1 MILE RUN
I am immediately upset because the bottles on my race belt are jostling around and there's nothing I can do to fix it. I can't just ditch them because that's against race rules, and I kinda need the stuff that's in them. I also am feeling a lot of numbness in my legs, but I figure once I get into a rhythm they'll loosen up and I'll be fine. I also regret not hitting a portapotty while in transition because I REALLY have to pee. Also....it was FREAKING HOT!.
The run course is 4 laps around Moody Gardens(a waterfront park for families, kids, old people) and has some nice views of the island and also runs right along the water at one point. I make it 3/4ths of the way through my first lap, keeping a sub 9:00 pace pretty well, until I finally have to stop and relieve myself. I waited for what seemed like an eternity to get an available john, but finally got in, did my thing, and then hit the road again. Time had passed. My average pace was now a 9:22. It would not get any faster from that point on. I found that I could run at a decent pace, but only for about a quarter mile, at which point I would either break form and slow down, or stop entirely. In training, you refer to having "good legs" or "decent legs". I had "no legs" whatsoever. Something was terribly wrong and I just couldn't move. My pace kept climbing, and I could maintain it for a period, but then I'd stop and it would keep climbing. By the 3rd lap, it was up to 10:25, which would put me over my 2 hour time goal for the run split.
In addition to my legs blowing up, I was having nutritional issues. Nothing I was consuming was sitting well, and half the time I felt like it was just going to come up anyways. I got lazy on my carb/protein intake, and unfortunately also on my electrolyte intake. At aid stations, I'd have one swallow of water and then splash the rest on my head/face in a desperate attempt to stay cool. I was taking ice cold sponges two at a time and wringing them out on myself. Nothing was going right, and I was just getting slower. Delaware lapped me on my 3rd lap, right before he completed his last lap and continued on to the finish line. His final time was an incredible 5:35:58. His lack of running during his cross country voyage did not cause him any problems during his race, and he absolutely crushed it!
My last lap was utter misery. I struggled greatly, half the time just wanting to stop, sit down, and take a nap. I knew a sub 2:00 run split was out of reach, but I still was hanging on to the hope of an overall PR. That is really the only thing that kept me from walking the entire last lap. I finally rounded the corner and had the finish line in my sight. In previous races I've done, that moment when your prize is finally visible, no amount of fatigue could ever stop me from making an all-out sprint to finish my day. Today was different. I had no reserve....nothing in the tank. I wanted to finish strong, but I was completely unable to do so, and trudged towards and across the finish line. Final run time: 2:11:30...faster than last year.
Overall time - 6:16:38....a PR by almost 6 minutes.
Last year, when I finished the 70.3 in Kansas, a funny thing happened when I crossed the finish line. For reasons unclear to me, I cried. Tears of joy, excitement, relief, exhaustion, amazing achievement, or just because I was so overwhelmed with life? Who knows. I had myself a nice little cry, grinning like an asshole the entire time.
This year, there were no tears. There was nothing. A few steps past the finish line and I was already contemplating just collapsing where I stood and taking a nap, damn the spectators. Oh, but I have to get my finisher's medal first....so I took a few more steps, bent down so the girl could place it over my head, nearly unable to straighten back up afterwards. I stumble forward a few more steps and a man in a red shirt comes up to me and we hold the following conversation:
Red Shirt - "Are you feeling ok?"
Me - "Yeah, I think so."
RS - "Do you need medical assistance?"
Me - "I don't know....what have they got?"
RS- "Well, that depends....what do you need?"
Me - "I don't know. I guess I'm ok"
In retrospect, the word that completely and accurately describes how I felt is "delirious".
I continue walking out of the finisher's area, where I run into Jake, Taras, Jess, and Delaware. They congratulate me and ask if I need help walking, to which I reply that I can make it on my own. First thing first......I really have to pee. Jake helps me find a restroom. Unnecessary details to follow...if you're not interested, skip to the last sentence. I go to pee, and I can't. Not a drop. I try for about 10 minutes and then give up. I realize I'm dehydrated.
I meet back up with my friends who proceed to force feed me water, mostly on account of my complete lack of awareness of my surroundings and inability to form complete or coherent thoughts and sentences. After 4-5 bottles of water, I get some pizza. It tastes utterly delicious and was completely satisfying, but something still just isn't right. I'm still hyperventilating, nearly an hour after I finished running. I'm anxious and still slightly delirious. Somebody suggests that I maybe visit the med tent to see what they think. I already know exactly what is going on as Unit 1 of Pathophysiology, Fluid & Electrolyte balance, and Blood pH starts to fill my head with explanations for all my symptoms. Hyponatremia. Yet apparently I'm a stubborn asshole who is more fascinated by what's happening to me than I am concerned for my well-being.
I am finally convinced that I should forego my post-race massage and go for some Q+A at the med tent. I show up and they immediately recommend an IV to restore my fluids. They sit me down next to another nice lady who is getting the same thing. The nurse comes over, asks some questions, and goes to get the kit. For some inexplicable reason, she tries to stick me in some tiny vein that I don't even know the name of, instead of my enormous median cubital vein(that's the one they use when you donate blood, in the crook of your elbow). In any case, it's not working. She's digging around with a needle in my arm and it hurts like hell. I've never been bothered by needles before...ever. It doesn't hurt much on my pain scale. The strangest thing happened as she was probing my forearm with a sharp piece of metal.....for the first time since my childhood, I cried as a result of pain. Perhaps it was a combination of anxiety, fear, being overwhelmed, or the dehydration, but the tears started flowing and I was having a hard time holding them back. I am almost 30, a reasonably "tough" guy, and something as simple as dehydration has nearly reduced me to a blubbering mess.
They give up on the possibly nonexistent vein, and decide to use the median cubital. Wow, great idea....why didn't you just use the really awesome, huge, easy-to-find vein in the first place?? I'm not mad. These are volunteers who have taken time out of their day to help athletes fulfill their goals. They set me up with a bag of NaCl saline and got the fluids flowing. I sit there and sip on Gatorade, chatting a bit with the lady next to me. Occasionally one of my friends pops in to see how I'm doing and keep me company(You guys are awesome, btw). After the first bag finishes, a volunteer asks how I'm feeling. I don't remember my exact words, but it apparently was not a satisfactory response and I was immediately hooked up to another bag. I also requested some albuterol for my mild exercise-induced asthma because my chest was feeling tight, which they happily provided! After the 2nd bag finished(2 liters of fluid total) I really was feeling much better, and most importantly, I had to pee really bad, which is a very good sign. I was released and sent on my happy way. The remainder of the weekend consisted of packing up, saying goodbye to Jake and Del(who are continuing from there on their cross-country cycling tour) and sleeping the majority of the 13 hour drive home.
The conclusions I've come away with from this weekend are varied. I have a lot to work on. I have to figure out my nutrition and hydration systems, because my currents systems left me nearly incapacitated and would certainly have spelled failure in June. Remember that this weekend is only HALF of the distance I'll have to cover in Idaho this summer. I have worries, but I remain confident. One thing I was reminded of this weekend, is that no matter how prepared you are mentally and physically, these races can utterly humble you. All it takes is a few things to go wrong...a chest cold, unexpected high temperatures, and a lackadaisical approach to nutrition, and suddenly you're in danger of getting a big fat DNF on your results sheet. In spite of all of this, I know that if I maintain my training and do things smart, the Ironman will be a success. I WILL do this.
Thanks for reading!
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