It's been a week and a day since my visit to BCSM and Matt's recommendation to take a break from running; and a few more days since my last run.
It's official - I miss running. These beautiful fall days are perfect for trail running but certainly not conducive to healing an aggravated knee. I've also been thinking about the Denver Marathon and not running it tomorrow. Mentally, I know that I have bigger fish that need frying - rest, heal, strengthen.
I've developed this borderline insane obsession/relationship with the squat rack and leg press at the gym. Three increasingly intense workouts to date where I have all but wrecked my legs. I can't really tell if my knee is getting a lot better or if I am just distracted but the incredible soreness everywhere else. I do think the healing has begun as sensitivity has decrease and changed more to a tightness.
True to form with my addictive personality I have also become very attached to my Moji, its kinda like a woobie for my malady.
The fitness curve with legs is STEEP...but I am hooked; with swims on off days to loosen those puppies up - I know the plan and will stick to it as I wobble off to the gym for another torture session.
Since about three weeks before Ironman I have had this nagging pain in my knee...some days worse some days better than others, but constant. Not really a surprise with the givens...a long season, big volume, 3 marathons, one Ironman, a half-iron distance and a few shorter races...3 prior knee surgeries and a leg that's an anatomical 15mm short.
The prognosis, grade 3 chondromalacia...more commonly known as runner's knee (varying degrees of severity grades 1-4). My self diagnosis was spot on. I know my body - now all I need to do is listen to it. Easier said than done, but I am making strides...I had to make the decision to not run Denver this week, which was not easy. Must shut it down and rest, and while I rest, relish in the accomplishments of this year (thanks Jess).
Dabbling in medicine in my free time, I have obsession with needing to know, learning to diagnose, and trying to treat, and should I by the grace of God win the Powerball, I'll go to med school. To that end, I have learned that the principle causes of this type of injury are overuse and imbalance of musculature; so its no surprise that my right leg, aka "little guy" is the root of the cause. Better than 90% of these types of injuries lead to full recovery given earlier enough recognition of the problem, a giving in to the stubbornness of managing and working thru pain, rest and strength training.
I plan to take 4-6 away from running and then start back slowly. Before I return, I'll have read "Born to Run" to see what that does for my thoughts on running, as it seems to have influenced all my friends who have read it. Also, I plan to decrease my shoe lift to 8mm rather than the 10mm that I have been running on all year to compensate for my leg length inequality. A realization that I came to while watching my shadow as I ran and feeling that the material used for the lift was far less compressible than the other shoe making the lift seem larger than it should be (I know I lost Kristina here with the details). Trial and error, inexact scientific methodology . I'll do all this in some new Mizunos Wave Riders as well...hoping for a good fit, literally.
So begins a more restful off season that will include lots of swimming and squats and long z2 bike rides until I run again...with a small score to settle in June in Coeur d'Alene. For now that's as close to the bench that I am prepared to be.
Winter Park Weekend with Beej and Craig (and Harry & Lhasa). Kinda a season-end, unwind & indulge event...with many beers, ice cream and Lucky Charms among other things!
After a decadent night on Friday, we ran long...the Beej of course the longest; I managed 18 miles. A little perspective - 2 weeks after IM...18 miles at 9,000 feet, with 3,000 ft of climbing, on mainly dirt roads and trail is what we think is fun....but shit is it hard!
Also got to bust out the camera...pretty stoked about that.
One week after Ironman Wisconsin. Today's effort can be recapped in one word. Ouch.
The weather was really hot and windy, until the storm blew in and the temperature dropped 20 degrees. It's a pretty tough course, lots of people in a spot of bother.
I have no idea how Kristina did the full, but she's a bigger stud than I'll probably ever be. Next year maybe I'll do the full...
What a day! 9 teammates, 1 pro debut, a handful of friends, our families and racing with my wife. So much positive energy to draw from; for Ironman, anything you can draw from, do! I woke up an hour before my alarm. Lame. Tried so hard to fall back asleep, no luck. 4 am. Giddy up. Ironman is here, the culmination of 28 weeks of training. As with any race, a champion's breakfast is a must. Ours was hilarious. We had enough good sense to go to Trader Joe's the day before to get bagels, peanut butter and jelly; but not enough good sense to remember the toaster that Kristina's parents brought to town or any utensils. We had to cut the bagels with scissors that I had in the tool kit and spread the PB and J with a coffee stirrer. Laughed until we cried.
We set out to drop our special needs bags and get body marked. The next few hours slipped away quickly. Making our way down the helix to the swim start, the pros set off at 6:50. Ten minutes later for us. Kristina and I said our goodbyes, then got in the water to find our spots. A few minutes before the canon went off we bumped into each other a few hundred meters out.
Swim The canon went off...it was on...140.6 miles to go. 2,397 triathletes. There is really nothing like it...scary, uncontrollable, nerve-wracking...Relax. For the first few minutes K and I were swimming together. She breathes to the left and me to the right. It was comforting to see her ever few breaths. Then "whack", an elbow to the goggles and off they came. Thankfully, I always put my goggles on under my cap so I didn't lose them (good trick). Instinctively, I turned back to have a look-see. Mistake. Never do that. Hundreds of swimmers. I freaked, then got pummeled, but only for a few seconds. After a few seconds or minutes, who knows, I got my goggles back on, settled in and got to the task at hand. Soon enough, 2.4 miles down, 1:22, same as last year in Coeur d'Alene. Coming out of T1, no sunscreen? What? It’s 85 degrees and there isn’t a cloud in the sky…hell. I saw K in transition as I was headed out, she was headed in. A great swim for her…hard work paid off!
Bike We've all heard a lot about this course leading up to the day. In retrospect, it’s all true...whatever it is. Things like, "you won't win the race on the bike, but you could lose it", "you don't do any one thing for more than 4 minutes", "if you overcook the first lap, you'll pay".
A lollipop, 16 miles out, 2 - 40 mile loops, 16 miles back. 5 miles out of T1, I dropped my first bottle, 10 miles later it happened again...2 bottles of Infinit gone, new plan for nutrition until special needs...all bottles would now go in my jersey pocket, a power bar an hour and a bottle of Gatorade it was. The roads were total crap but what a fun course...not only challenging but technical and quite possibly one of the most beautiful. Old Sauk Pass and Verona with streets lined with spectators screaming…pretty sweet. The first stretch of the last 16 miles into Madison sucked, a few more hills and it was time to run. 112 miles, 6:37, 6 minutes better than last year on what is a harder course for sure. 26.2 to go.
T2 was a total cluster but also a lesson - miscommunication with a volunteer who was trying to “help me”. Long story short, my shades ended up in my bike transition bag, which ended up in a pile of bags. I got them, 4 minutes later. I am learning to let it go…here I let it go.
Run My run last year in CDA was a disaster. Since, I have worked pretty hard to hold it together in those late miles. With IM, you can never tell what’s going to happen. One minute you feel great, the next you feel like total crap. It comes down to managing those highs and lows and just keep moving forward. My only goals for the run were to stay out of the porta-potties and run. More or less I was successful.
I felt Kristina on my heels and knew that I’d see her, soon. My secret little game of cat and mouse was soon going to be over. The cool part was that we ran together for quite a while…one of those memories that I will cherish. I felt really lucky. Basking in my good fortune, I got passed. Then the chase was on, which gave me a focal point.
The last few kilometers were surreal…close enough to the finish to feel it. As the Capitol got closer and the sound of Mike Reilly’s voice carried thru the air, the legs start to turn over a little easier, a little quicker. A left turn on MLK Drive…a few hundred meters of delight, where it feels like you are the only one that the lined streets of fans are cheering to victory. It’s that larger than life feeling that will keep me coming back. As I looked up I saw my wife cross the finish line…A minute later I was there. Our mother’s, who were Janus VIPs for the day placed our finisher’s medals around our necks. 140.6 miles done!
This year’s run and my overall result was 1:04 faster than last year. I can’t thank my wife enough for her support and hard work to make me a better triathlete, my friends for the long hours on the legs, my coach for always believing in me and knowing I have more to give than I thought I could.
Until Coeur d’Alene…
IM Wisconsin
Swim:1:22:55; T1: 9:08; Bike: 6:37:39; T2: 11:13; Run: 4:48:28; Total 13:09:21. Rank 1,059 of 2,397.
Taper is here. And so begins the anxiety, anticipation, endless mind games of "am I fit enough?, am I putting on unneeded weight? and on and on...", phantom aches and pains...The psychosymatisism of taper gets me every time... funny, when I Googled the term a picture of a dirty little troll came up.
BIG ride - 120 miles here to Horsetooth Rez and back
BIG swim - 2.4 miles at the Boulder Rez
BIG day - turned the "BIG 4-0"
Another BIG day - IM Canada and Kentucky for close friends...a first Ironman and the culmination of a year's hard work chasing a dream of the BIG island.
And a really BIG chair...somewhere outside of Loveland, on our BIG ride. Geez this Ironman training stuff has really made us smaller!
With the biggest training weeks and workouts in the rear view, only one more breakthrough workout left! 120 or so miles this Friday!
Last week we logged a 5,000 meter swim and a 70/17 brick on back to back days. 3.1 miles in the pool and just shy of 7 hours on the brick. Some lows, some highs...one step closer to IM.
Last night my lovely wife sent me an Ironman Ode...compliments of Bob Mina, who wrote it as he prepared for IM Canada a few years back. It says everything that needs to be said. Perfectly. For everyone that has worked so hard and sacrificed to become an Ironman, this is for you. For us.
I'll tell you what she told me. Have KLEENEX handy.
" Right now you've all entered the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until next year to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.
You ran in the snow.You rode in the rain.You ran in the heat.You ran in the cold.
You went out when others stayed home.You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.
You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lies before you...and it will be a fast one.Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest.
While this taper is something your body desperately needs, your mind cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.It won't be pretty.It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body already does.
Your body knows the truth:You are ready.
Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong.
You are ready.
Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered, "How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.
You are ready.
You will walk into the water with 2000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY long is finally here.You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.The helicopters will roar overheadThe splashing will surround you.You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll watch as the shoreline grows and grows, and soon you'll hear the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what happening, then you’ll head for the bike.
The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff can't wipe the smile off your face.You'll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?
You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like hours. You reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today.You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there. You'll fight for every inch of road. The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you - your body will get just that little bit lighter.
Grind. Fight. Suffer. Persevere.
You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come - soon! You'll roll back - you'll see people running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?"
The noise will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back, with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike. You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that counts.
You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've worked for all year long.
That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good.That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it won't last.You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating.
Maybe you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule, don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down - don't EVER sit down.You'll make it to the halfway point. You'll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good, toss the rest.
Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.Run if you can.Walk if you have to.Just keep moving.The miles will drag on. The brilliant sunshine will yawn. You'll be coming up to those aid stations fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP.
Keep moving.You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on.
When your legs just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when someone catches you…and puts a medal over your head... all you have to do is get there.You'll start to hear the people in town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, and when you left on the run, and now when you've come back.You'll enter town.
You'll start to realize that the day is almost over. You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?" You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.
You'll hit mile 25. Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.
You'll run.
You'll find your legs.
You'll fly.
You won't know how, but you will run. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps.Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You'll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the night sun made just for you.They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.Nothing will hurt.The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.You'll break the tape at the finish line, 140.6 miles after starting your journey. The flash will go off.You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly...be capable of nothing more.Someone will catch you. You'll lean into them.It will suddenly hit you. YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!
Last week was one of the biggest volume weeks to date. Coming off of the Long Course made it interesting. I have a soleus muscle that has been talking to me for a few weeks now, but to this point a steady regimen of ice, heat, stretching and massage have seemed to keep it at bay.
Key workouts for the week included a 20.5 mile run...3 x 10k+ loops while boiling the frog with a warm up/cool down. A negative split on #3 loop was the goal which happened. (1:02:40; 1:03:31; 1:02:19) The 4,750 meter swim was long, as was the 112 mile bike, both were solid but not what I would hope to do at IM. Our remaining breakthrough workouts - this week, swim (5,000 m) and brick (70/17) and next week, bike (135 miles).
Each workout represents a bail of hay, more or less. These key peak workouts are like 10 bails of hay. Once logged, I'll stack them away in the barn to draw from on September 13t both mentally & physically.
In an age when good customer service is all but extinct, I am happy to report there are still a few shining stars in a sea o darkness.
Being a strict regimentarian unable to deviate from the habit and protocol which I call life, I was in a mild panic to find that my race shades of choice, the Zeal Maestros had broken at the temple just days before the Long Course. Knowing that Zeal was a race sponsor, I had hoped that they would be at the expo and furthermore that they may be able to help an OCD triathlete in need.
I dropped them off with the rep who said he would try to repair them while I took my pre-race dip in the Rez. When I returned he advised me that in his opinion, in order for me to perform at the t of my game on race day, he felt that I would need a new pair of Maestros; to which I graciously agreed.
My shades of choice for racing (Maestro) and chilling (Flyers - which are so pimp!)
Great product! Great customer service!Great company! I am a Zealot fo' shiz!
It's been a week and a day since my visit to BCSM and Matt's recommendation to take a break from running; and a few more days since my last run.
