"A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more." - Steve Prefontaine
A few weeks ago I started playing with the idea of adding more volume to my training routine. I decided I would wake up at 5am and just do an easy 3-5 mile run. This added a few things to my day to make it better.
It helped me get ready and leave for work at an earlier time than I had before. The plan worked to get me into work at the 7:00 - 7:30am range.
Which then allowed me to get out of work a littler earlier. With my new commute to Woburn being laden with traffic in the afternoon, this was ideal.
I was running an extra 10-15 miles a week, and if I ever had to miss an afternoon/night training because of something, I had already run that day, so I wouldn't feel guilty.
However, I found it very difficult to maintain this plan, and was only getting up to run at 5am once a week or so. I just hated it so much, that I would just go back to sleep the next morning my alarm went off at 5am.
My problem: RUNNING AT 5 IS HORRIBLE.
Recently this week, with the help of Laura, I have woken up and run at 5am every single day.
My analysis: IT IS JUST AS HORRIBLE AS I REMEMBER!
I don't know how anyone does anything that early, never mind training in one way or the other. I have started each 5am run this week with a 3-5 minute jump-rope session on my driveway. I found out that I am not that good at jump-rope. When I start running, the first several steps are the most awkwardly coordinated steps anyone has ever taken in the history of walking. For the first 15 minutes of my run, it feels like some sort of weird dream. A dream where I am floating unconsciously on a cloud through the streets, not aware of my movements at all. The edges of my peripheral vision are blurry, and my reactions are delayed. It sounds like a 5am run for me, is equivalent to being drunk.
My conclusion: RUNNING AT 5AM IS LIKE BEING DRUNK (except not as fun because then you hurt).
Several months after I completed this race, I finally get around to writing about it. I hope my memory treats me well.
Preface: The age group national championship is the highlight of many amateur triathletes. It's the race that brings the best of the non-paid best. The national championship is one you have to qualify for. Qualifying for the national championship requires you to be in the top-10% in your age group at any USAT event by a certain date. There are also regional qualifiers that have a wider qualification standard, but also attract a more competitive field. The standard for the regional qualifiers is top-33% in your age group or top-5 in your age group (whichever qualifies more). These standards do make qualifying for nationals a proud feat, but there is some silver lining, especially in the younger and older age groups. Triathlon is a 30s and 40s sport. Meaning that most of the races are comprised of people in their 30s and 40s. That being said, most of the races I do have very few people in my age group. That makes qualifying not too difficult. However, I still have to race my best. I qualified for the 2011 Age Group National Championship last September at the Buzzards Bay Triathlon, where I got 1st in my age group out of 7.
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Last time I went to nationals was in 2009, and that was in Tuscaloosa, AL. That was a lot of fun, but that race was my very first olympic distance triathlon, and I struggled mightily. It was also a very expensive trip. I didn't think I would do another national championship because of the combination of how expensive it is to travel (especially with a bike), and the fact that I would never compete at that level with the amount of training I do. But when they announced that nationals would be in Burlington, VT in 2011, I thought that I'd be okay doing that again. I wouldn't need to fly there!
The timeline up to the race varied quite a bit for me. I trained lots last winter, in preparation for the two half-ironmans I was doing in April and in June. One I finished those, my training all but dropped off the map. I started enjoying the summer more, and getting rather lazy. I didn't stop completely, but I didn't continue the amount I was doing early this year. But carpe diem!
I went up to Burlington Friday morning to do all the check-in stuff: myself for the race, my bike at the race site, all our rooms at the hotel. My family and Laura and her mom were coming up later that day. It was a beautiful day, and the drive up was very enjoyable, all 3.5 hours of it. When I got to Burlington, the main hotel where the check-in and expo was happening, was right off the highway. The parking lot was a frenzy. You'll never see a parking lot worth more money than you will at the main hotel of the triathlon national championship. The bikes most of these people have are crazy expensive! I went inside the hotel, found my race number, checked in, and walked around the expo for a bit. The expo is, in my opinion, a crock. People who do triathlons spend more money, on more crap, than anyone I know. And the vendors at these expos really take that in mind. There are booths at the expos that are brand new training technologies that will "better your training efficiency" or "increase your speed in the water", and people buy into it. And that is a huge negative against their credit cards because most of the stuff they are selling, also costs quite a bit of money. Granted, I would love to have all the equipment that they are selling, but I am not going to spend $1,000 for a machine I lie on to get a better swim workout. After leaving the expo, I went out for lunch, and then met up with Dave and Debi who were also doing the race. We made our ways down to the race site to check-in our bikes and the transition areas. Later, everyone else showed up in Burlington, and we spent the night eating dinner and going to the hotel pool.
Race day: Woke-up real early to put on my race tattoos (new temporary tattoos you put on yourself), eat some breakfast, and be ready for Dave to pick me up at 5:30am. When we got to the race site, it was waiting time. It's normal to get to the race site an hour before the race starts, just to warm-up and start getting rid of your nerves. The start waves for Nationals goes off every 4 minutes (quite like most races I do), but each wave is a specific age group (M20-24 or F35-39 etc). So it takes awhile to start your race if you are one of the last few waves. There was I think about 20 waves, and my age group (M25-29) was one of the last this time. So from the actual start of the race, I had to wait an hour and a half until I could actually start racing.
SWIM
The start of the swim was really cool. We were all corralled into and through the boat house on Lake Champlain. The whole boat house was on the water, so we could feel the bobbing and swaying every step. We then had to jump into the water from the pier to get to the start line. I don't have any pictures available for the race, but it was pretty cool to see some of the pictures the race took of people jumping into the water from the pier. The water was a great temperature, and it appeared from watching the other waves do the swim that there was not going to be any issues with current or wind. I was excited, anxious, and confident. I had accepted the fact that I would not be racing Nationals to compete, it's just impossible to train the amount that most of the top-level racers do with the life I am living. Racing for the pureness of fun is all I cared about this morning. By the time gun went off to start swimming, all my nerves had died down. I focused on getting into a good swimming rhythm, and making sure that I sighted the buoys every 10 strokes or so to make sure I was swimming in the right direction. Half-way through the swim there was this turn buoy that made a right hand turn that had has facing the shore. Unfortunately this direction was East, so after making the turn, nothing was visible; the sun was right in everyones face. I couldn't see the next buoy, I had no idea where I was suppose to swim, so I just followed the legs of someone swimming in front of me. He couldn't see either. By the time I noticed where we were, and where we were suppose to be swimming, we ended up way too far left than we should've, and it added on a couple hundred yards of swimming.It was a consensus after the race from everyone on my team that it was impossible to see for everyone. Everyone had an issue with sighting after that buoy. The last hundred yards or so of the swim was pretty cool. We swim along the shore and up a boat ramp. But swimming along the shore was cool because I breathe solely on my right side, and that was the side that the shore was on. There were so many people everywhere, that it was motivating to finish the swim. I was expecting to swim in the 26 - 28 minute range based on previous swim times for this distance, but what can you do, sometimes the sun doesn't want you to meet a goal.
SWIM stats: 1.5km swim (~0.9 miles), 33:26
BIKE
The bike course was an out-and-back loop that started out in riding through the streets of downtown Burlington. Burlington is a beautiful city. Out-and-backs are cool because you can see where you stand with the rest of the race. You can tell how far behind the leaders you are based on how long it takes from the point you pass them going opposite directions to the point where you turn around. You can also see where people are behind you. But for this race, with all the start waves they had, it's impossible to tell where you stand in the race. There are just people everywhere, all the time. The course was beautiful. We rode through the city, then on a stretch of the highway they closed down (that was cool), and finally through areas of Vermont you that you picture Vermont to be. People had chairs lined up on their front lawns cheering everyone on. The mountains in the back-drops were amazing. But it was very hilly! It seemed like I was constantly going up and down the whole way. When I ride hills with some friends during training, I am usually very good. I am known within my group to be a very proficient climber. But whenever I do races that have hills in them, I do awful. People were passing me left and right for the majority of the first half of the ride. It wasn't until the second half that I started to get into a better rhythm and basically kept my position and started passing people. However, about a mile or two from the bike finish, my chain falls off my bike. I think I was trying to power up a small hill to fast or something, and pushed the chain right off the gear. When I stopped to fix it, all the people I had passed on this second half of the ride re-passed me. Bummer.
BIKE stats: 40 km ride (~25 miles), 1:20:16
RUN
The start of the run took us up this residential road that you can see from anywhere in the spectator/transition area. And everyone was dreading the start of the run. This road was probably the steepest, longest road that I have ever run on. I passed by my dad near the bottom of the hill and just started walking up it. I guess he was sitting there watching everyone struggle up it. What a guy! It was awful. People were running by me, but literally I could reach out and touch them for a long time because you couldn't run up this thing. It was brutal. By the time I got to the top, my legs were so sore, they didn't want to run. I had to make my legs move. Besides that first hill, this run course was one of my favorite run courses I have done. The first half ran through residential roads, quiet and clean. The second half was all through this state park. It was great, but my time was slow. A few miles out, I was struggling with the heat, grabbing water and ice at every aid station, and walking a bit here and there. Someone who was yo-yoing with me for the last few miles, noticed I was having a hard time with the heat, and gave me the oddest suggestion I have ever gotten while racing. She told me to stick the ice down my shorts. She said that would help cool me off. At first I was in kind of shock and awe. Who tells a stranger to put ice down their pants?! I tried it though, and it helped immediately! I ended up running past her, and continued running the last 2.5 miles without stopping at another aid station or to walk the rest of the way. I think if she didn't help me out with that, I would have run over an hour again. A time I hated seeing next to my results for this distance. Running use to be my thing. In high school, I would go out for a 5 mile jog and be back before an episode of Spongebob was over. Sometimes it's completely frustrating how much I've lost in the run game. I struggle on the runs in my races (for me). Oh well for now. The race finish was exhilarating. Seeing everyone that was there cheering me on helped push me the last half mile. Then there was the finishing chute. It was like the finishing chute you see in big races on tv; with carpeted flooring, walls with sponsors all over them, and a huge banner across the top.
RUN stats: 10 km run (~6 miles), 57:14
We spent some time in Burlington after the race, grabbing lunch and enjoying the weather, before we headed home. I wish that we had stayed another night, because it was truly a great city, but we didn't this year. Overall, I loved racing in Burlington. I definitely didn't have the best race of my life, but I really enjoyed every moment I was there.
So Saturday morning I woke up with a pretty decent sore throat. I had no other symptoms, but it was a pretty miserable feeling not being able to swallow even my own saliva. Laura and I spent the day down Plymouth at my families annual cookout, and to be honest, my throat didn't bother me too much (as I recall) throughout the day. But later that night, when we went home, I had a real tough time. I packed for my race the next morning, and just tried to relax a bit.
I signed up for this race because I hadn't raced since the beginning of June, and I wasn't signed up for another race until halfway through August, and I was itching for competition. My previous races were both of the 70.3 distance, and I felt like I needed to get my fast twitch muscles moving in the right direction. Being down in Plymouth on Saturday, I thought it would be a good idea to look for a race down in the area Sunday, so we could spend the night and do the race real quick. The Falmouth Sprint looked like a good option, but when I went to sign up, it was already sold out. Bummer! So basically the only option I had was the Mass State Triathlon all the way out in Winchendon. Not the ideal place travel wise, but doable from our apartment in Waltham (about an hour drive).
I didn't sleep more than 30 minutes at any interval that night. I don't know if it were nerves, or if I was really starting to develop an illness, but I tossed and turned all through the night that night, and it really made for an uncomfortable morning before the race. I wasn't 100%, but I felt like I could fight through it, as it was only a sprint distance, and I had my base way beyond what this race would need.
The race started out great. I swam with the front of my wave for awhile, finishing several minutes faster than I told Laura to expect, and way faster than I had ever swam before. The bike started out great for me, I was passing people the first few miles, while getting passed by no one, and I felt like I was getting all loose and rhythmic. The middle section had a mile long climb, which was difficult, but I just took it all in stride, didn't kill myself, didn't dilly-dally. Then the run came, and my not-at-100% really started coming home. I cruised out of transition, passing 3 people rather quickly, and then my lungs started tightening up, and not allowing me to take deep breathes without some needle-like sensations. I pushed through it, it was only a 5k, but I did run quite a bit slower than I expected to. After the race, I felt okay.
Later that day, we were relaxing with friends, and I felt like I was getting worse and worse every passing minute. My nose was getting more and more congested. The lungs felt like there were filled with nails, and the cough. Miserable.
The next morning, I woke up, and I got no breaks. I felt 10x worse than I did when I went to bed (even though I took NyQuil), and I had to call into work. My body started aching, and I just laid on the couch all day, too weak to even reach for the remote. It was very odd. But I think racing at that stage was the main reason. I think my body was fighting whatever was trying to hack into my immune system, and then all of a sudden I was forcing it to help me recover from a race. It was defenseless. Luckily, most of the big symptoms passed fairly quickly; the body aches, the weakness, the dizziness. I am still stuck with a small couch, and a very congested nose, but I am still trooping on, and will give a shot at a 5-mile road race tonight. Bad idea?
For anyone thinking about racing while sick, I ask, is it worth it? You will most likely get a little worse, and you probably won't have the race you expect. Some races just aren't worth it. I think this one was one of those races for me...
This past weekend I was spending some quality time relaxing down the Cape, and thought I would go out for a nice long ride on the Cape Cod Rail Trail. The Trail runs from Dennis up to Wellfleet or out to Chatham. I chose to do the Dennis to Wellfleet route, as this is a bit longer ride, and I wanted to get about 3 hours in. The route is great, nice and flat. The only quips I have is at all the street crossings are stop signs, so it's difficult to get into a great rhythm a lot of the time.
I decided to leave a bit early in the morning to avoid all the family traffic that would be on the trail, so I started at 6:30am. I made it out to Wellfleet (approx. 26 miles into the ride) by 7:50am, ate some food, and headed back. The ride was great. There wasn't much traffic, I was cruising along, enjoy the morning sun. When I was about 2 miles from the end of the trail, WHAM, my great morning came a screeching halt.
The families started inhabiting the trail in bunches, making my ride more difficult to maneuver. I had just crossed an intersection, and so I was out of my saddle, sprinting a bit to pick up speed, when a little tike swerved in front of me from the other side of the trail on his tricycle. In instinctively swerved further outside the trail, where I naturally lost control of my bike. My front wheel slid on some sand, and while I was wobbling, I hit a brick that was so conveniently placed alongside the trail. Front roll, crash, front rolls, crash, side roll, etc.
Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, checking for injuries, but only found a little bit of blood coming out of the edge of my fingernail. So I tried to get up and ride away, slightly embarrassed. Didn't happen. I was too shaken up, and it was only due to adrenaline that I was able to stand up at that instant because I fell right over. Looking back down at my hand, which hurt the most, and blood is coming down more, out of more places now too. I sat there for a bit, trying to calm myself down and not faint, and with the help of some other riders that stopped to help me (seems to be a trend for me...), I called Laura to come pick me up.
I didn't go directly to the hospital, even though I felt pretty sore, because I wanted to rest a bit and analyze the extent of my injuries. After some rest, and a clean-up of my hand, my injuries are as follows.
Scratched up left hand, with the ring finger being the worst off, with several layers torn off.
Swollen right knee, which has subsided at this time.
Bruised left quad.
Tender left ribs.
Abrasions on my left elbow.
Nothing too serious, I was lucky! Life goes on, and I will take out of this to watch out for kids on tricycles!
A week late, and a dollar short, story of my life. Good thing this is only my blog, and good thing I only have 8 followers, or people would be irritated. Without further ado.
Freetown, MA, 06/18/2011
Approaching my second half-ironman of the year, I was a lot more calm this time than I was for Oceanside, and I think it was mainly due to the confidence I had building up to this race. I knew I could handle the distance, I did it a month and a half earlier, on a smaller training volume. The Patriot course, in comparison to Oceanside, is 2-dimensional. It is almost as flat as a 56 mile bike and 13.1 mile run could be. In contrast, Oceanside had a few really challenging hills that would give any ski resort a run for their money. My training had picked up, too. I'm not saying that I trained anywhere near where I "should have", but to me I was feeling good about it. In my third year of racing, I still enjoy more just swimming, biking, and running without worrying about the super-quality-hard workouts that would help me race as fast as I can. So that is where I was heading into Patriot.
Because this race was local, I was able to spend the night at my parents, in the house I grew up in and was comfortable in. So much nicer waking up in a bed that use to be yours, from an alarm clock that always reminded me of what I thought the devil would sound like. Which reminds me, I need to get a new alarm clock in case I ever sleep over there for a race again! The day before, I went for a quick ride on my whip, around the same roads that I ran on all my track days, and I felt great. My legs were spinning smooth and they felt minty fresh. I had all afternoon to pack up my race kit, and attach all my nutrition on my bike (not that I know anything about nutrition for a half-ironman). After getting everything ready, and laying out my uniform for the next day, setting all necessary alarms, I was able to relax on the couch, and then I started getting a little nervous.
The transition area opened up at 5:00am for the 7:00am start time of the race, and because I had checked-in the day before, I thought if I had left my house at 5:15am I would be there with plenty of time, and would be fairly close to the race site. There were 2 parking lots for the race, which was for racers, volunteers, and spectators. My assumption failed, only because everyone else had the same idea, and the close parking lot was completely full by the time I got there, and the 2nd lot was filling up quite fast. Luckily, we got there early enough that I didn't have to sweat worrying about finding a transition spot and having enough time to shake out the nerves. Walking over to transition with all your gear is like the quiet before the storm. It's almost like the air is getting sucked out of your lungs, and as it is happening, all the outside noise is grower fainter and fainter. And then all of a sudden, BAM! You turn the corner and it's like you walked into Mardi Gras (not really) and people are partying like it's 1999. The music was loud, the DJ was obnoxious, people were running around everywhere. The scene before a race is always exciting, and when I'm racing I never look around to appreciate what I am involved in. There are always the people walking around with the volunteer shirts on, and being all hyped up like they were at a college orientation. There's the kids dragging their feet behind their parents bikes, wondering why they had to miss Saturday morning cartoons. And obviously there are those that are chewing down their final bite of their banana, squishing that last bit of energy GU into the gullets, and squirting a mouthful of water to wash it all down, before they head over to the lines at the port-o-potties. What a circus.
15 minutes before race start, my wet suit is on, my transition area is all set up, and I start taking a few large breathes to ease my nerves and get into my racing zone. The race director (RD) corrals all the racers towards the swim start at this point, and the National Anthem is played. I've done so many races in the last 2+ years, and still the time when the RD starts counting down for the start of my wave, I get just as nervous as I did on that first race. 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1...GO!
My swim training took a bit of a hit between Oceanside and now at Patriot, but I still felt I could handle the swim and finish in a decent time for myself. I had swam 44ish minutes at Oceanside, but most of that I blame on the conditions of the Pacific Ocean, so I felt that <40 minutes was within reach for me. The swim was rectangular in shape, with the start going straight out in Long Pond a good ways, turning left at the last buoy, swimming parallel to the shore for a bit, and then turning left again to swim straight all the way back to the beach (not at the same location as the start of the swim). I felt great on my swim out, and really got into a rhythm that made me think I would be able to swim far under the 44ish mins I did at Oceanside. I took turns between all my zig-zagging to swim off the heels of faster swimmers, to give me a chance to draft for a bit and save some energy. By the time I reached the first turn buoy, I looked back and realized that I was really far out. I could barely make out the location of the inflatable archway we were to run under when we got out of the water, let alone that there were people watching us all swim on the shore. It started to make me a little nervous, not because I was afraid of being that far out in the open water, but because I was starting to second guess my speed, and was worrying that I wasn't going to make it in a time I would be comfortable with. It's really difficult to guess how long you've been swimming for, and it always feels a lot longer than it actually is, but nonetheless, I was a bit on edge. After making the turn at the final turn buoy, and during my swim back to shore, I started getting tired in my arms, and could tell I was slowing down. But every time I looked up to site and make sure I was heading in the right direction, the shore was getting closer and closer. Every time it got a bit closer, it gave me more confidence to just keep my head down, and continue stroking and breathing, until I heard the music playing... I got really excited, pushed a bit harder until I could see the bottom of the pond, and I threw my legs down... sand. I knew I walked the rest of the way to the waters edge, and from video my brother took, it was an even slower walk than it felt like (I tell myself not to walk every race, but I never can seem to break the habit), but I looked down at my watch, and the time said 39:xx. Yes! I was so excited that I was under 40 minutes at this point. And although I didn't finish my walk and run across the timing mat before the 40 minute mark, I was pleased that I had cut about 4 mins off my swim time from Oceanside over the same distance. Onto the bike.
Before I go on, I forgot to mention that I was bib #25, which was ironic because I am also 25 years old. So during the pre-race body marking, I had a good chuckle when the volunteer asked me if I were pulling his leg when I kept repeating "25" for everything. Not so funny? I know, but I thought it was interesting. Anyway, because of this nice low number (I don't know how I got it), I was able to get one of the prime transition spots. When we got out of the water, and ran into transition, bib numbers 1-24 were the first bike rack on the left, while numbers 25-50 were on the first bike rack on the right. And each rack was specifically labeled for your race number, so I had the first spot on the right into transition, perfect! I didn't have to run very far in my wet suit before I was at my spot, and changing into my bike gear. Not the fastest transition on the day, but I knew I was about to be on my bike for several hours.
The bike course was a 28 mile loop, that we completed twice for a total of 56 miles. I ride a lot in the area when I am at my parents house, and because of it, I have ridden a lot of the roads before, and knew the area well. I knew there was 1 real big hill, but I also knew that the course took us around it, so it was going to be pretty flat. The first few miles were spent drinking some gatorade, and spinning my legs on a lower gear to try and shake out my swimming legs before I got into a more controlled aero rhythm. I biked the same distance in 3 hrs and 16 minutes at Oceanside, but I knew that the monster hills there slowed me down a lot. At Oceanside, I was at 1 hr and 30 minutes for the first 28 miles. I really wanted to break 3 hrs, and I thought,
"If I could do 1 hr and 30 minutes for the first half at Oceanside, I can do the same thing here, and then push through the flats to repeat it again for 3 hrs here."
I felt smooth, I felt strong, I felt comfortable and relaxed, and by the time I was coming through for the end of my first lap, I felt fast. 1 hr and 20 mins later, I was done with my first 28 miles, and I was 10 mins ahead of schedule. I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep that pace up for another 28 miles, but the course was pretty flat, so I felt confident that I could keep up a decent pace enough to break 3 hrs. I only needed to be within 20 mins of my first laps time to do it. The second lap I focused a bit more on eating, because I didn't do it much on the first lap. My gatorade was gone, I had finished another bottle of water, and was able to complete a bottle exchange for another water, so my fluid intake was about where it should be, I think. Pretzels were my food of choice for this leg, because I would need salt from all I was sweating out. I had about a small zip-lock baggie full of pretzels, and 1.5 energy GUs (the other half fell when I hit a manhole cover). Not enough food, I would be told, but it is what it is, and I'll figure it out someday. Coming back from my second lap, I saw my Mom, Laura and Kevin waiting by the fence near my transition spot, and they looked a bit shocked to be seeing me. I can't blame them, because when I looked down at my watch, it said 2 hrs and 50 mins, 10 mins faster than I wanted, and 26 mins faster than Oceanside! I don't think they were expecting me to kill it. They should have known.
Killed that bike leg! Not many bikes on the racks = many people still biking.
The moment my legs hit the ground was the moment I wanted to quit. 13.1 miles is scary, but throughout the 1.2 mile swim and 56 mile bike, you don't really think about it. It's an after thought. It's a "I'll worry about that when it comes" kind of thing. Well, now it's time. My legs are hurting big time from pushing those pedals so hard, and my sides are aching bad. Mom didn't like my "I guess we'll see" response to her "How are you feeling?" question, but at that point, I wasn't too worried about pleasing her, I was just trying to focus my mind on getting my sneakers on, and away from the total body pain I was experiencing. Sorry Mom.
Leaving transition I felt like I couldn't make it. I ran to the street, made my way past all the spectators cheering, sported a few "C'mon, only 13 miles to go!" Yeah, super easy, right? Then I started walking, legs didn't like me, and they were not afraid to let me know. Somehow I was able to focus a bit longer, I realized that if I ran the 2 hr half-marathon that I was hoping to do, I would be in the 5 hr and 40 minute range for the race, which is way under the 6 hr goal I had set for myself. It gave me a few extra breaths in my lungs to realize that I had a 20 minute cushion, and that I had already done better than I had expected at both the other legs. Miles 1-2 I was hurting, but I was doing good, 9:00min/mile pace. Miles 3-4, hurting a bit more, still doing okay, 10:00min/mile pace. Wasn't looking good, I just needed to keep up that 10 minute pace for 9 more miles... Then my lack of nutrition on the bike started hitting me. I got light-headed real quick, and I started heating up bad. I drank some coke at the next water station, and it seemed to help. (The sun was completely out at this point, and it was beating down with some real heat. There was little shade on the course). The next 9 miles looked like this: Jog, walk, jog, walk, stop and stretch, jog, walk, drink, etc. Not a fun way to do the majority of a half-marathon. During the later stages of the race, things seemed to get worse for me. I felt dehydrated, I felt really hungry, and at one point, I was wobbling so bad that another racer stopped me for a minute and helped me lean against a tree. She gave me a GU, told me to take my hat off to let some heat out, and drink some water and rest at the next water station. That angel saved my life that day. Well, at least helped me finish my race, but I am extremely grateful for her help and for the GU. It really did help pick me up. They say that when adrenaline takes over, you don't realize how bad you really are, and I guess I was at that point where I didn't know. I was in a trance, I didn't think the run would ever end. Mile 8 done. Mile 9 done. Mile 10 done. And I realized I wouldn't be breaking 6 hrs unless I started running 5 min miles. No problem, at this point, I didn't care where I finished, I just wanted to run across that line. I love that feeling. The change from racing to surviving. It's the digging deep for myself and mine own accomplishments that keeps me coming back for more. I don't think I'll ever stop. And I didn't. I passed the Mile 11 marker, and I picked up my pace. I was so close. And although I stopped to walk during the last 2 miles, they were for far less time and at far fewer frequencies than throughout the run. Mile 12 done. Music is playing over the loud-speaker, and I pick up my pace.
Crossing that line at this point is so emotional. The moment I cross the line and realize I am done, is the moment my body wakes up and then realizes it has nothing left. I collapse in a chair, and medics throw a bunch of cold clothes on my back, neck, and head. It feels great, but it hurts. I can feel the build-up of pain, joy, and relief creeping up on me, and by the time I go sit with my family, it all comes out. I cried. It's happened to me before when I've gone beyond how far my body wanted to go, and it's great. It was the best tears I ever shed. I scared the little boy sitting across the table from me, but I didn't care. I wanted to cry it all out. I loved every minute of the day. From putting my sunglasses into my helmet before the race, to drying my feet off and struggling with my socks, to trying to focus on anything that isn't blurry after the race, and trying to put something in my stomache without throwing up.
I would not give up any second of this race for anything, and I cannot wait for my next half.
I hate them. Most of the time, they are way more trouble than running in the street. They are frequently uneven, with bumps, and dips, and are way more unkept than the streets they run along. I have to constantly run onto the street or onto someones yard to avoid mailboxes, telephone poles, trash barrels, over-hanging branches, recycling bins, or cars that people think they can just park across the entire sidewalk. I enjoy kicking tires of said cars as I run by (I'm very mean, I know). Beyond all of this, the worst part about sidewalks, in my opinion, is the slopes down and up where the sidewalks meet the driveways. They are not too steep, but over the course of a long run, all those step-ups and step-downs really take a toll on my legs. I prefer to run my miles on the street (if I am not running on a trail somewhere) along the side of the sidewalks, unless the sidewalks are very wide and are noticeably "good."
So as a warning, if you park your car across a sidewalk or driveway along my running route, forcing a handicapped person to go into the street to go around your car, I WILL kick your tires. So there!
If anyone ever wonders how they can become a better cyclist, I would suggest doing hill climbs at a minimum. The strain you put on your legs, and the amount of work you make your heart do, does wonders with your strength and conditioning on bike. As long as you give your body a chance to recover.
This season, I am trying to incorporate more hill workouts into both my cycling and my running training. Last year, after doing a few hill workouts, I noticed a considerable difference in the rest of my training with leg strength. Going to blue hills reservation is going to be a regular event for me this spring/summer, and hopefully with a group of people; it always makes it more difficult to quit with more people. The loop around the "mountain" is approximately 7.5 miles, while the access road up the "mountain" is approximately 0.9 miles. Typically we start out the workout with 2-loops around the mountain, for a 15 miles warm-up. Then we hit the access road with blazes. I go hard up the access road, and then cruise back down (wearing my brakes out the entire time). Two weeks ago, we completed 3 intervals up-and-down the access road, and we were close to spent. This past week, we completed 4 intervals. The goal is to increase the intervals by 1 each week, until we cannot feel our legs anymore. I can already feel improvements in my cycling in only 2 weeks of this. Last week I went out for a 20 mile tempo ride, and I felt so much faster than I had previously, and it was so much easier.
Below is not any recent data, because I broke my garmin, but you can get a glimpse of what it's like.
Do not try this workout unless you are ready for the following:
Now that my race report is out of my head and into my blog, I can concentrate my brain on the rest of the trip to California. In as detailed a report as my memory can muster, I will try to bring you as close to our trip as possible.
I can't believe it's been 3 weeks since we got back from California, and I haven't even posted a blog about it yet! Let me rewind.
Way back last May (2010), one of my friends from college and his girlfriend moved out to San Diego, and it was at their going away party that we promised them we would come out and visit. I mean, who wouldn't make that promise? Southern California? Sign me up. This past fall, I decided to go through on that promise. Now, the way I went about following up that promise isn't a normal way of following up, but it's how I've visited Craig in Colorado, and now Dave and Nikki in California. I looked for a triathlon that would be near their place, in the time frame I was looking at, signed up for it, and then boom, I'm forced to buy place tickets! In this case, it was the Rohto Ironman 70.3 California!
Wednesday, March 30, our flight out of Boston is at 8:00am, so we were up and out of the house (spent the night at my parents so they could drive/pick us up and watch our dog) early enough to be at the airport around 6:30am. This was like my 20th time on a plane, our 2nd time flying together, but either of our 1st time with the new security features of the TSA. We chose to fly on Virgin America this trip, because I was flying out there this time with my bike, rather than renting one when I got out there (I hurt my back last time I did that), and after some researching, I found that Virgin America had the cheapest bike fees around. It was only $50 to check my bike! It was my first time flying Virgin also, and it was pretty cool. I am typically favorable to JetBlue only, as they have some of the best features I've flown with, but Virgin was pretty close! They had personal TVs on the backs of each chair, where you could watch TV, movies, listen to the radio, or play video games. For some reason or another, I had the worst luck with this, though. My TV kept freezing and I couldn't do anything! Luckily I brought along my new Kindle that Laura got me for my birthday, and my PSP. Before landing in San Diego, we had a lay-over in San Francisco, for 3 hours!! That's okay, they had a bar. After a few Long Islands, and then finally taking off again, we finally landed in San Diego around 5:00pm PST (8:00pm EST); 12 hours of traveling!! After getting picked up at the airport, and getting settled into their place, we chatted around their dining area to catch up and drink some beers.
Thursday, March 31, we had plans to head to the most famous part of San Diego, the San Diego Zoo. Dave and Nikki were still planning on working that day, so we worked it out with them that they would carpool for the day, and let us use one of their cars to get around. This worked out great, because I guess it was a bit of a ways too far to get a taxi, and it also allowed me to get up to Oceanside to register for my race on Saturday without taking out time hanging out with them. The zoo itself was amazing, purely incredible. It's everything that is said about it. Laura and I got there about 9:30 in the morning, and we were able to park within a couple hundred yards of the entrance. It was a perfect day weather-wise, 70s, nice breeze, perfect. The zoo had everything both of us wanted to see (lions for her, tigers for me). We stayed until about 2:30, and we didn't stay a tremendous amount of time at each exhibit, just walked around at a nice steady pace enjoying everything, and we still didn't see the whole zoo! It was huge. I highly recommend making this a must-see stop if you are ever in the San Diego area. After leaving the zoo, we went up to Oceanside to check out the race location area, walk around the expo a bit, and then register and pick up my race packet. It was the most organized registration I have ever experienced. Later that day, we met back up with Dave and Nikki, and spent the night grilling dinner at their apartment, and just enjoying the rest of the night.
Friday, April 1, Dave was planning on working a half-day from home, and then taking Laura and I out for a tour of the area. The whole time we were driving around, I felt like I was in a movie. Everything was so perfectly groomed, with palm trees lining almost every street, I thought every street was Beverly Hills! Our first stop was out to this place we call "Seals Beach", and it this cool little beach/cove area that was roped off because there were a ton of seals and sea lions and a bunch of their puppies lounging on the sand. It was incredible. We had lunch at RT Longboards (Boston-based pub) which was fun, because it was the Red Sox opening day and there were people all around wearing Sox gear. After lunch, we headed around to a few other site-seeing places before meeting back up with Nikki after she got out of work. We had plans to stay at her friends house for Friday and Saturday night, so we packed up to head over there. Nikki has recently been employed as an Executive Assistant, and it was at her employers house that we stayed. The house was incredible, it was mansion-esque! Everything you could imagine having in a house, this house had: a sensored gate at the driveway, beautiful landscape, 2 islands in the kitchen, 2 fridges/2 freezers/2dish washers all looked like cabinets, a living room with a grand piano, a full bathroom in every room with trees in the showers, 2 full bathrooms in the master, a really nice pool with a waterfall, 3 outside grilles (all remote controlled), a huge gas fireplace, a guest house, endless places to sit, orange/lemon/avocado trees, a tennis court, not to mention the 6 car garage was filled with a porche, a mercedes benz, an old cadillac, a range rover, and a bright red ferarri... This family was living the life! So jealous. And that is where we stayed for Friday and Saturday night.
Saturday, April 2, was the day of my race, which you can check out here Rohto Ironman 70.3 California. After the race, I was super tired, and super hungry, but I couldn't eat. I tried eating a chimichanga, but it wouldn't go down. So we went back to the house and I napped for a good 2.5 hours. Our friends wanted to go out to some bars that night, and because I felt bad that I took up so much time of the day doing my race, I tried my hardest to be a trooper and rally.
Sunday, April 3, was my birthday (happy birthday?). The race was my birthday present to myself, ha-ha. All of us planned on heading to Temecula, which I guess is the Napa Valley of Southern California, for some wine tasting and winery touring. The wineries were all one after another, and it was really cool just looking around and seeing endless grape vines in any direction you looked. We stopped at the first place and had some lunch in the restaurant, and each of us got a flight of wines to try. After that, we drove down the street to Calloway, where we took a tour of the facility (it was huge, so many barrels!), and then had another tasting; we got complimentary wine glasses with this one. Later that day, we drove down to Coronado, walked around the pier for awhile, checked out the Dr. Seuss museum, and then headed to another place for dinner. At this point, I was still not able to eat too much, and I couldn't even finish my beer. My stomach was just not feeling anything yet. I ordered lobster mac 'n cheese, and was so disappointed that I couldn't eat it that night. But I packaged it up and had it for lunch the next day. It was just another great night hanging out together, and that's all I could've asked for on my birthday.
Monday, April 4, was our last full day in San Diego. Dave and Nikki hadn't planned on taking the day off, which was fine, because I was still fairly drained at this point. They left us one of their cars again, and we just relaxed. We took our time getting going, then drove around for awhile enjoying the beautiful weather, before heading back for the last night in. This was the slowest moving day of the trip, but it was much needed at this point. Neither of us wanted to come back from California, needing a vacation.
We flew out early the next morning, said our good byes, and then just enjoyed the memories of the trip the whole flight back to Boston.
Last night my lovely girlfriend surprised me by meeting me at work, and taking me out on a date to F1 Boston! She's the best!
The facility is great, and the experience was amazing! They offer the best kart racing I have ever experienced, much unlike the go-kart racing at a local carnival. We reached speeds over 30 mph, and with more skill, I'm sure we could have gone even faster. They provide you with a safety video, and safety equipment (jumpsuit, helmet, and neck guard) and it all makes you feel like you are racing a real race. At the end they print off a performance sheet of each person. I can't wait to go again! By the way, I kicked Laura's butt :)
Rohto Ironman 70.3 California Oceanside, CA, 4/2/2011
HERE WE GO!!! My first 70.3 finally came and went with success, meaning I finished.
The night before the race, I was hanging out with my friends that we were staying with in San Diego, and some of their friends. We all shared dinner that night (some delicious raviolis), and then hung around a campfire that night, drinking (water for me) and playing games. It was a little uncomfortable for me, because in my head I was juggling trying to go to bed early and get the rest I would need for the race the next morning, and hanging out with these people who were so gracious to us in letting us stay with them. But I was able to get to bed by 10pm. Hardly early enough, but earlier than my body is use to, so it's okay? In my mind, yes.
Waking up at 4:30am the next morning, I thought, would be a piece of cake. My thought was that because we were only out there for a few days, that our body clocks would still be set for EST. So waking up at 4:30am PST (7:30am EST) would be alright. It turned out, that waking up at 4:30am PST felt like waking up at 4:30am EST; miserable! Between 4:30 and 5:00am, we (Laura and I), got dressed, packed a few things into Dave's car, and prepared a small breakfast of bananas and oranges. Of which I could not eat. I know I 100% should eat food before a race, but my stomach doesn't agree with that. But I had a plan, and we left the house at 5:00am.
Transition opened up at 4:45am and closed at 6:30am. Because we had gone to Oceanside a few days before to check-in, I was fairly confident that by leaving at 5:00am, we would be able to get to the site location with plenty of time to set-up my transition area, have a small breakfast, and warm-up a bit for the race. We got to one of the parking lots in plenty of time, 5:40-5:45am, unpacked all my gear, and started walking down to the transition area. There was a shuttle bus running people back and forth to transition, and we contemplated having Laura take the shuttle, and I could ride my bike down, but we decided to make the walk. One, because we didn't think it was that far away and two, we saw several other athletes already walking down, so we thought we still had plenty of time. The walk ended up being quite a distance, and took us a lot longer than we anticipated. Once we got down to the transition entrance, there were volunteers separating the athletes from the spectators, because only athletes are allowed in transition. At this point, I told Laura to wait right there, that I was going to go set-up my transition area and then head back out to grab my breakfast and warm-up. I get to my transition spot, drop my things off, went over to the body-markers, then started laying out my things when I hear a megaphone inside transition, "Everyone start heading down to the wave corrals, the transition is closing." I started freaking out. I hadn't eaten breakfast, I hadn't warmed up in the least bit, and I hadn't been able to see Laura since I came into transition. She was probably just as freaked. I squeezed a GU into my mouth to at least have something in me before the start of the race.
The race itself, so far, was very organized. By far the most organized race I have done. The check-in itself, which usually takes 30 seconds of me going up to a fold-up table and telling a person there my name and them giving me a packet with my race number, took 15 minutes of an organized walk-through of an auditorium picking up things from different tables. Heading to the swim, I just follow the flow of wet suit cladded people, and then I hear a gun shot. My throat dropped, because I knew that was the start of the elites wave, and I knew that my wave started 19 minutes after theirs, and it hit me that this was it. I head through the corrals or colored swim caps, towards the group of purple, which signified my wave. I was wave #7 out of 16 or 17. All the corrals were along the edge of the water, so we could all see the action that was playing out at the start of the swim. In an attempt to calm my nerves, I didn't watch the swimmers at all, I just looked around at the spectators and the volunteers and thought about what it would be like to be watching this right now or working it. It worked for awhile until they called my swim wave, and we started heading down to the water. You can see I was getting pretty nervous in the video below (I was rubbing my eyelids). So we walk down the boat ramp, dive into the water, and swim the 25 yards across the bay to the start buoys.
I was afraid the water would be way too chilly, because they said it was going to be 55-60°F, but it actually wasn't bad at all. I wore 2 swim caps, my purple one for the race, and another one underneath it. I wasn't uncomfortable at all with the water temperature, and felt like I would be okay swimming the 1.2 miles. The swim was an in-water start, meaning we had to tread water for the few minutes until our gun went off. It sounds tiring, but between the buoyancy of the wet suits, and the extra density of salt water, I just bobbed in the water like one of the buoys! My main thought going into the swim, was to start real slowwww. Because this was my first 70.3, and longest straight swim to date, I didn't know how it would affect me later on in the race. So I planned on swimming a lot slower than I could, and saving my energy for the bike and the run. Swimming started out great, the bay was real calm, and there were no turns in the first few minutes which usually causes clusters. I started in the back of my wave, took off like a turtle at the start of the gun, and just rhythm-ed my way along the buoys. I was very surprised to pass people in the wave before me in the first few minutes, and I just felt bad for them because I knew they were in for a much longer day than I was. The water in the bay was very calm, it was great. Then came the turn buoy that meant I would be swimming out of the bay and straight out into the ocean. The sea swells came rolling in, I started getting pretty sea sick, and all I could see when I was siting was buoy after buoy after buoy with no end in site. My thoughts in the next few moments were:
"Oh man this is awful, I feel like I'm going to throw up that GU."
"I guess throwing up in the ocean would be okay, it would all get washed off me pretty quick."
"Ew, then some poor guy behind me will be swimming through my puke."
"I wonder if I have ever swam through someone else's puke?"
"Probably, just keep swimming."
After making all the necessary turns, coming back into the bay was great. I could hear the loudspeaker, I could see the boat ramp, and I knew I was almost done. Getting out of the water was another new thing for me, because there was a line of people in wet suits who started grabbing at me as I was running up the ramp! I was so confused at what was going on, until I realized that my wet suit was starting to come off. They were pulling down the zipper of our wet suits, and helping us take them off, it was cool, but I didn't need the help. I took off my goggles, put it in my swim caps, and was about to take off my sleeve of my wet suit (leaving my goggles and swim cap in the sleeve) when I noticed my goggles weren't in my cap anymore. I had dropped them in the water coming up the ramp. Looking around for them real quick was useless. The water was waist-high coming up the ramp where I dropped them, and the water was dark, and there were people rushing up the ramp. It was like looking for an acorn amongst a stampede of rubber wildebeests. So I gave up and ran into transition. Swim time for the 1.2 miles = 44:01.
Transition 1 started with a run up the entire side of transition. There were about almost 3,000 athletes, so it was a fairly long run. With that many people in the race, it was very important for me (in the little time I had before the race), to find something I could site with coming into transition to tell me where my stuff was. If I have more time before a race, I typically will simulate the run out of the water into transition, and count my steps until my row. I didn't have that luxury today, but I was able to notice that my stuff was parked right next to one of those big traveling dumpsters, perfect! So I find the dumpster, take off my wet suit, put on my socks (not getting blisters on this long of a race!), grab some food to put in my pockets (doing this all in no absolute rush either), and start heading out of transition with my bike.
I was especially excited about this bike leg because I had bought my first tri bike a few months before (see picture below). I hadn't been able to ride it much, mostly because the weather in New England in the winter makes it fairly difficult to do fun training. (See Off-season Training in New England). I was excited to see what I could do. The first half of the race went great. I was following my nutrition plan of having a GU every 30 minutes, drinking a few sips of gatorade frequently, and eating pretzels/saltines (bad idea on the saltines) every 20 minutes. I was cruising along, not worrying about people that are flying by me, and just concentrating on my cadence. I started out real slow the first few miles, which typically happens to me. Probably because I have trouble getting rid of the sea legs. But then once I got a few miles out, I was able to get into a good rhythm and was right around averaging 20mph for the first 25 miles. My goal for the ride was to break 3 hrs, and at the 28 mile mark, I was at 1 hr and 24 mins, right on mark. Almost immediately after checking that time, I look up (and up and up and up) and see this monster of a hill (mountain!). It was still a good distance away, but I could see large groups of people all together. You usually don't see large groups of people together in a race like this, unless they are cheating and drafting off each other, or they are going super slow because of a steep incline. Getting to the start of that climb was like hitting a brick wall. The gradient increased almost immediately, and it was a struggle for a few seconds until I was able to get my gears all the way down. I just put my head down, and cranked away up the climb. I feel I am a pretty decent climber if I want to be, so although it wasn't the most difficult part of the race for me, it's still less fun than cruising downhill or over flat roads. There were many people who were off their bikes, walking them up, and even several that ended up going so slow that they just tipped over on their bikes. I'm not sure how long it took my to climb, but it was around 7-8 mins I think, and was way less than a mile climb. It seems short, but it sure didn't feel like it! The next 20ish miles had several more of these steep climbs, and also had a major headwind that we had to deal with. It was so strong, that on some of the downhill decents, I felt like I had to pedal or I would be pushed back up! The whole second half of the ride was very difficult for me. I wasn't struggling per say, but my time wasn't what I was expecting. After that half-way point, I felt like my legs couldn't produce the kind of power they were producing in the first 28 miles. The ride was through commercial areas for the first and last few miles, but was mostly through different areas of Camp Pendleton Marine Base. It was very cool because there were a lot of marines out on the course cheering us all on; there were some that were blocking the road and directing traffic for us; and there were others that were doing drills and different exercises in the fields as we passed. Bike time for the 56 miles = 3:16:44.
Coming off the bike, I was feeling tired, but not drained, and I felt confident of completing this race. The transition was easy, but I knew I was going to be awhile on the run, so I took my time again. Found the dumpster, changed my shoes, threw out my trash from the bike, and then headed out for the final leg.
The start of the run was really cool for me. As I left the transition, the announcer was getting all excited, and I could see Mirinda Carfrae coming down the road in the opposite direction. Mirinda is a pro who ended up winning the women's race, and I was able to see her finish the run with several girls right behind her. She was flying! The announcer was saying how she was 4.5 minutes back at the start of the run, and how she was still 30 seconds behind 1st place with 1 mile to go, and obviously she crushed that last mile to win by 10 seconds. That excitement was a huge boost, and helped me shake out my biking legs, until the end of the first mile...
The sign for mile 1 came up, and then that signaled my legs to die. I had run the Hyannis Half-Marathon a few weeks prior, and knew how difficult it was going to be for me to run this distance after enduring everything else before. But I didn't fly out all that way, spend all that money for nothing. I just focused all my thoughts on the small picture. I looked at buildings coming up, or looked at people playing volleyball on the beach, or ran towards overhead lights. Anything small to get me over this distance would be great. The run was an out-and-back half-marathon along the Oceanside beach for awhile, and then taking a few turns to run up and down a residential street. They said the run was "flat" and for the most part it was. There was just a few gradual hills that seemed like huge steep mountains with how my legs felt. I walked at every water station, drinking water or coke, eating an orange slice, and putting a wet sponge on the back of my neck to cool me off. I walked up these gradual hills. I ran what I could in between. Mile after mile came and went, I made the turnaround and knew I was going to be slower than I wanted, but at this point, I was very proud of myself for my mental state. Although I was walking, it was more so that I would be able to finish at the finish line rather than at a medical tent than being mentally weak. I felt strong mentally, and I was happy for that.
Turning that last corner, coming down the road with all the screaming people (and cowbells), and running through that finishing chute was amazing, and I couldn't help but think about doing the next one. Even though I was on the ground right after, trying to shove a cookie down my throat so I wouldn't pass out. I couldn't talk for a few minutes, and I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn't find a seat somewhere, but I held onto that finishing medal with great pride. Run time for the 13.1 miles = 2:32:41.
Overall, it was a great experience for me. Now many days later, I feel like so much stronger than I did before the race. I feel like any distance under 70.3 will be a breeze, and that's a great feeling. I learned that I really need to get to races earlier, so I have plenty of time to warm-up and get ready, and not have to worry about anything; I learned that I need to run A LOT MORE than I am doing now; and I learned that I need to learn about riding into the wind (if that is possible). After it is all said and done, I would definitely do this race again, if it were all free for me next time.
One of the most exciting things for any triathlete is spending money. We spend money on all the best gear; we spend money on all the best supplements; we spend money on all the best trainings/coaches; and we think it all actually makes a difference. The place where this can all happen at the same location was at the Multisport Expoat MIT.
Here, athletes were able to enjoy walking around to all the different vendor booths (and there were a lot!). There were a ton of booths that were selling products, from gear to drinks to clothing to whatever you could need in the multisport world, and almost all of them at really reduced pricing. Many booths were giving away samples of their products, which was really cool. The first 1,000 people to register for the expo got a "swag bag" for you to carry around and put flyers, or different samples into. But there was no list of people registered, so if you just said that you were in the first 1,000 to register, then you got one, ha-ha. There was also a lot of groups and organizations that had information on events they were putting on later this year, either for charities or other causes, and gave people the opportunity to sign up for those if they wanted to.
Another cool thing they did this year was put on a team challenge. It consisted of a 5km run on the track/campus of MIT, a 10km indoor time trial (ITT) on computrainers, and a 1600m-relay swim in the MIT pool. Teams could register 4-12 people for the challenge, but could only have 4 people do each event (the same 4 people can do each event). In the run, the times of all 4 members of the team are added up, with the lowest combined time being the winner. The same was for the ITT. While for the swim, each person swam 400m. The run was 2 laps around the MIT track, then 2 laps around campus, and then finished with another 2 laps around the track. The ride on the computrainers was my first time on one, and it was tough! The computrainers simulate an actual ride, increasing the resistance on the bike when we were going uphill. Although, it was sort of unrealistic because you had to pedal going downhill. There was no coasting! MIT has the NICEST pool I have ever swam in. The pool was so clean, I couldn't taste an ounce of chlorine or any other chemicals while I was swimming. I felt like I could've drank the water if I wanted to. It was also the perfect temperature for swimming in. It was chilly, but not cold enough to shiver. I wanted to swim all day long.
Overall, it was a great day, one that I am looking forward to repeating next time the expo is in town. It was a great event for all athletes. I recommend going to this event to anyone that does or is interested in anything multisport: triathlon, duathlon, aquathon, running, cycling, swimming, walking, whatever. There was something for everyone (almost everyone).
Since I decided to step up my game, and race the Ironman 70.3 California, I really tried to stay focused with the training. My last race was on Halloween 2010, and I took a few weeks off from the sport before picking up my training again. Again, I chose not to invest in a coach mainly because they cost a lot of money, and to me personally, some days I prefer to just do my own thing and have fun doing what I want to do, and I wouldn't get out of a coach what I should, and I would be wasting their time.
December came, and I really started picking up my training; mostly in swimming and running. Once the new year rolled around, I really stepped up my biking game. The off-season training mostly consisted of 3 workouts a week, per sport. Mondays and Wednesdays consisted of a swim workout at my local Y; Tuesdays included an interval bike workout on the trainer followed by a tempo run either outside or on the treadmill if it were too bad outside (and a lot of times it was); Thursdays were my tempo rides on the trainer; Fridays I went on the treadmill again for a nice hard interval run and an easy ride on my trainer if time allowed; Saturdays mornings I woke up early to swim at the Y, then came back to put a really long movie in the DVD player and rode on my trainer for several hours; and Sundays were spent endlessly trotting on the treadmill for my long runs. Pool, trainer, treadmill, pool, treadmill, trainer, treadmill, pool, treadmill, trainer, poooool, treadmillllllll, trainerrrrrrrrrrrrrr. What an endless amount of boredom there is training in the winter in New England! I drew the picture below out of frustration of this boredom.
I really don't think I will race again as early as April 2, because I can't stand training to that intensity indoors. Maybe I should move somewhere warm?
Pre-race: I was worried about making this race on time, and because of it, I hardly got any sleep the night before. Craig and I were camped about 30-40 mins away from the race site, on top of a mountain with little reception. I think I checked and rechecked whether my phone alarm worked with no reception at least 10 times before I went to bed. We got up early, I forget what time now, and packed up real quick. It didn't take too long, because we didn't set-up an extensive camp. On the way Craig needed to stop at Starbucks. Stopping on my way to a race is not something I am usually keen on doing, but this guy got up super early on a non-work day to take me to my race and then spend hours standing around waiting for me, so of course I was okay with it! When we got to the race site, at Loveland High School, there was a giant line around the building. Time crept away, and it was soon to be race start time, and I was no where close to being ready. What made me feel better, though, was that I was in line with everyone else in the race, so I knew they wouldn't start the race until this line died down, whatever it was for. By the time I got to the front of the line, I realized it was the line into transition, where they had 1 person checking your bike out, and body-marking you. HUGE race organization fail! You need to split that job up, and have several people doing each. Once I get into transition, I realize the lack of organization didn't stop at the entrance. The bike racks were not numbered at all, and it was a free-for-all on finding a spot for your bike. This was the first race I had done that didn't have race-number specified bike racks. Oh well, found a spot and set-up my gear and headed down to the lake.
Swim (1.5 km): Craig and I swam a bit in the lake the day before the race, after I checked in. The beach is nice, but it was kind of crowded, so we walked to the far end of the beach, and it was real mucky! Gunk mixed with gunk, over mud, was all we could walk on. "Good thing the swim tomorrow starts/ends on the beach!" was all I could think.The water was nice, a little warmer than is ideal for swimming in a race, but good enough anyways. For me, this swim was very important, because it was my second Olympic distance swim after my disaster swim. My first try at this distance was at the Age Group Nationals the previous year, and I was totally unprepared for it. With my poor swimming skills, and the fact that the gates on an upstream dam were released before the race, I had no chance and finished that swim in almost an hour and a half, but that's another story! So this race I was hoping to get this sour taste out of my mouth, and gain some swimming momentum. The first buoy was about 50 yards from the beach, and so I decided I would take this start to get into a rhythm and just swam nice and slow to find it. Once I got around the buoy, I maintained my rhythm and just picked up my pace a little bit. The swim went great, I was able to maintain my rhythm the entire time, stroke-stroke-breathe-stroke-stroke-breathe, and I didn't stop the entire time. The only time I lifted my head out of the water, was to site and make sure I was going in the right direction. This gave me huge confidence, and also made me feel stronger going into the next leg of the race. Getting out of the water, there was at least a 1/4 mile run from the beach to the transition area, and this added time was included in my swim time.
Swim Result - 33:44 (2:03 min/100 yards), 382nd overall
Transition 1: My transitioning seems to be getting more consistent, and I didn't have any trouble switching between my wet suit and my biking shoes. Although, I hardly burned a blazing trail.
T1 Result - 1:52
Bike(30 miles): Leaving the transition area and heading out on my bike, I was completely expecting on having an awful bike ride. I hadn't tried riding at elevation before, and the race was a couple thousand feet above sea level, so I was thinking that this was going to really affect my race. That coupled with the race distance (the longest I've raced to date), I wasn't expecting much. The first 10 miles were mostly through neighborhoods, which made it difficult because of the constant turning from street to street. I couldn't get into any great spinning rhythm. Then the Rocky Mountains showed up. Huge massive mountains! For climbing sections of the race, I just dropped my gears down real low, and focused on just spinning my legs until I was at the top of the climb, not worrying about other people. To date, my fastest mile ever biked included the decent of one of these climbs, at 1:52 for the mile (31.9 mph average), I was flying! The bike leg finished with a long straight section of rollers, which I was able to keep a really good pace at. People were cranking on this part, flying down the rollers and powering up the other end, so I just kept pace. This is what really helped me pick up lost time on the first part of the leg.
Bike Result - 1:33:29 (19.3 mph average), 338th overall
Transition 2: With the confidence gained from my swim, and the confidence I gained on the last section of the bike, I was feeling excellent going into transition. There were so many volunteers and spectators surrounding the transition, that my adrenaline starting pumping so hard, and I bolted out like a rocket...
T2 Result - 1:32
Run(10 km): ...bad idea. As soon as I left the safety blanket of cheers from the crowds of spectators and volunteers, my spirits died, along with my lungs. At this point, the elevation was taking a noticeable toll on my running, and I knew I was in for a long one. Since graduating college, I haven't been as good a runner as I once was, and the longer the distance, the worse I get. A 10k run for me, was very difficult at this point, and I walked far more than I would have liked. The run was an out-and-back, taking the competitors around Loveland Lake. The last half-mile before the turn-around was great, because it was along a very nice path along the lakes edge, and it gave great views of the lake and the mountains in the backdrop. On the way back to the finish, I ran with another guy that seemed to be having as much a hard time as me. We chit-chatted about how much we were hurting, how we hated ourselves for doing the race, and for doing triathlons. Then the most amazing music came upon our ears, the finish line music! I love hearing the DJ at the finish, because it always gives me a new sense of confidence. So I pushed myself hard to the finish, and sighed a relief when I crossed the line.
Run Result - 1:01:47 (9:53 min/mile pace), 518th overall
Post-race: After crossing the line, leaning on the edge of the fence for a moment, grabbing a water, I found Craig waiting nearby. I was half-expecting him to have a bored expression on his face, but he seemed rather excited, and told me that he actually enjoyed being at the race and watching. I might have converted another person to the triathlon lifestyle after all! We chilled out on the grass for a bit longer, watched a little bit of the awards, then headed inside to grab a bite to eat. FREE FOOD! The best part of doing a race. Food this time was breakfast foods that you could make into a burrito: eggs, potatoes, bacon, sausage, peppers, etc. It was pretty delicious, and I think Craig even went up for seconds. It wouldn't surprise me.
Final Result - 3:12:25, 16th in my age group, 407th overall (56th percentile)
Overall, I was super excited about my time, but knew I would be able to improve all my legs at future races. My swimming confidence gained was tremendous, and I felt really good about how I was able to have the bike leg that I had.
Well June and July came and disappeared for me in a blink of an eye. For me, that's not a bad thing, except that I haven't updated this since May. That just means that I have so much to update now in August. I can't just list everything either, because everything I've done since May has been worth writing a whole post about.
June 23: I boarded Airtran Airways for the oxygen-deprived Colorado Rocky Mountains. My good friend from College, Craig Daigle, moved out there early 2009 to get a taste of skiing that beautiful powdered snow. As you can see, he got hooked. Got a job at the same company as me and just enjoys the Colorado lifestyle to the fullest. He has been asking me to come visit him since he moved out there, and I have always had the intentions to, but never pulled the trigger. So I bit the bullet, and signed up for the Loveland Lake to Lake Olympic Triathlon (update coming later) just 50 miles north of where he lives, just so that I would feel committed to planning the trip.
June 24: My first full day in Colorado with Craig, and we had a blast! He cooked me some eggs in the morning, and then we loaded into his Jeep Wrangler and sought out the sites of Colorado. He showed me around Boulder, took me to Starbucks (which they have everywhere out there; it's their Dunkin Donuts), and then met up with one of his rock-climbing friends to do some outdoor rock-climbing in Boulder Creek. The place we decided to climb was about 30 minutes through the creek, and I did not hate a single second of the drive. The drive was on a 2-lane road, with a beautiful flowing, windy river running on one side, and an extremely fun looking (for a joy ride) dirt path for casual mountain bikers and joggers. On the far sides of the river and the path were just cliffs of pure bliss for climbing. When we arrived at the spot we were going to park and hike to the climbing location, we got out, started grabbing or things, then Craig and his friend look at each other: "Did you bring rope?" "No, I thought you did." Needless to say, none of us were going to start climbing without any rope! Back down Boulder Creek. But at least the view was amazing! We went to a climbing store on the way back down to boulder, and Craig grabbed a bunch of climbing gear (including rope!). We ended up climbing at this other location closer to where we now where, of which the name is escaping me, and it was amazing. My first time outdoor rock-climbing and it was better than I imagined. The only "downfall" happened during our hike off-road to the climbing location. We had to hike up this hill that was probably only 30 feet high, and at the top I was completely (and I mean completely) winded. I was huffing and puffing and I thought "I am in pretty good shape, I'm doing an Olympic triathlon here in a few days, am I in trouble?!" At the time we were climbing, and the angle of the cliff, the sun was just in view when you approached the top, so the higher you climbed, the brighter it got, and so it was like climbing up to Heaven. After finishing up a few climbs, Craig and I headed to Golden to take a "short" tour of the Coors Brewing Factory. The "short" tour consisted of us cutting the whole tour, and going straight for the bar on site! They gave you a wrist band with 3 holes on it that represented how many free beers you got. We could try any of the beers Coors Brewing Factory brews, and it was delicious! We would wait in line, grab a beer, and go straight for the line again. By the time we were done with our beers, we would be at the front of the line again, genius! After leaving the factory, we stopped over at Clear Creek to cool off a bit. We stripped down to our (Mom close your eyes) underwear, and just jumped in the creek. The water was absolutely freezing because it was coming down from the Rocky Mountains and the melting snow, but it was quite refreshing as it was so hot out. Later that night we went to the Colorado Rockies game, and they just happened to be playing the Boston Red Sox!! I was so excited when I found this out that I had to buy the tickets and incorporate this into our schedules for the trip. Our seats were the 2nd row FROM the top, which was fine for the view, but terrible for climbing all those stairs at elevation! By the time we got to our seats, which were a good 15 rows above the "purple seats" (signifying a mile above sea-level), I was gassed and had to take a few moments to breathe before starting on my beer (Another one? Yes, of course.). The game was incredible, back-and-forth, extra-innings, 3-home runs from Dustin Pedroia, and the Sox pulled off the win. I brought them some luck, because they had lost the first 2 games in the series.
June 25: This day wasn't as high-intensity "lets do everything" as the day before, but it was a good day for us to enjoy Colorado again and just spend some time together. We drove to Denver to pick up my bike because I decided to rent instead of paying to ship my bike both ways. There was a charity bike race the same day as my race, and so they didn't have any bikes available in my size, and I had to get a bike 1 size to big. I thought this would be okay, and that I was just racing for the experience anyways. We headed up to Loveland to check out the area and check-in for the race. The drive up was amazing, again. The highway was completely straight, but everything on the left hand side of the highway was mountainous and just a beautiful view of the Rocky Mountains. Everything along the left hand side was just gorgeous valleys and beautiful land. Skipping ahead to after Loveland, we headed towards the Rocky Mountains towards Estes Park to find our digs for the night. We decided to camp in Estes Park for the night, and it was a great idea. We found this great road off through the mountains, took us 45 minutes to drive up to our location, and then we set-up camp, ate dinner, and then decided to take the Jeep off for some night-off-roading.
June 26:Loveland Lake to Lake Triathlon - Updates Later. After the race, we headed back towards Denver to drop off the bike, and headed back to the Rocky Mountains, met up with another one of his friends for some serious off-roading (don't worry Mike, you don't have to do anything, I know you are tired from your race, just sit and relax, ha!) and then camping at 14,000 feet elevation. Our off-roading took us through some of the most difficult terrain I have ever seen, and their Jeeps handled it like champs! At one point, snow was blocking our path, and we had to find another way around! Unreal for there to be that much snow in June.
June 27: So tired from the previous few days, I obviously had to get up early enough for us to make our appointment on this day, white water rafting in the Rockies! I'm down. Now, I've been white water rafting several times, but they have all been in Maine, in the wide river of the Kennebec. And although the Kennebec sports a cool Class 5 rapid, I had little knowledge for what was coming at me today. The river we rafter on this day was very narrow, very shallow in some spots, and very windy which meant that it was a technical river to navigate, and those rafts are hard to navigate! As a bonus for visiting, Craig and all his friends let me ride in front (or they knew what was coming). Every dip, every turn, every rapid hit me straight in the face with a rush of cold water. I was slipping and sliding up to the front, back to my position, up to the front, and several times I thought I would just slide right off the front. Then it happened. We hit this gnarly rapid and the raft dipped and then shot straight up and launched me far out of the raft. Luckily, I knew how to get back to the raft and knew to use my paddle to help the others help me back in. I was back in the raft in a short time.
Hitting the rapids like we own the place.
Me after getting tossed from the raft (and the guide!), you can see my face in the water.
June 28: Back to the bay state, and a week spent on the beaches of West Dennis with the Forrest family. A much needed vacation from my vacation!
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