THE LONG ROAD BACK

I have not posted here since New Orleans 70.3 in April.  That was an auspicious beginning to my most focused season in the 20 years that I have competed as a triathlete. Last october I finished my first Ironman World Championship....not well.  I had high ambitions which got in the way of my real time perceptions.  So, I was determined to get back to the starting line this year, to be more in the moment and practice what I preach as a coach, “Take what the day gives you.”

After New Orleans in April, I went down to southern Ohio for my fifth and last Triple T, four races one weekend, endless hills.  It was a great weekend with a group of very talented triathletes all sharing the same cabin.  I kept my perfect five year record of never riding back up the hill after a race.  

I really enjoyed spending the time between races with cabin mates Joe Lotus, JB Birkelo, Cindi Bannink (First Place Woman Overall), Andy Nesheim and of course my regular TTT mate Tom Geldermann.  Other friends sloughing through the races were Sam Hill, Erin Finnegan, both competitors from New Orleans, and Jennifer Takata and Michelle Lanouette (First Place Senior Female Team).  

Two weeks after the Triple T, I headed west for the Kansas 70.3.  It was probably a little too soon.  For the first time in my triathlon life, I got on the bike following the swim, and had nothing.  Within the first couple of pedal strokes, it was clear that I couldn’t generate any power.  I didn’t panic, figuring that it would come if I just relaxed.  Well, it never did.  I managed third place in my age group, but was about 8 minutes slower than the year before.  It was still a great experience.  I finally got to meet Steve Ryan, and saw Ben Schloegel return to his previous form.

After Kansas in mid-June, it was all about preparing for IM Lake Placid.  My calf was no longer giving me any trouble, so my running such as it is, was beginning to come around.  With a small blip required to adjust to the arrival of heat and humidity, my training became steadily more focused on Ironman training as the race approached.

I left for Lake Placid, the Tuesday before the race with JB’s and Cindi’s bikes along for the ride.  JB would fly in a couple of days later and Cindi the day after that.  Cindi was there to support JB and me as well as her the athletes on her team who were in the race.

I arrived on Wednesday afternoon at the same moment that the rain began to fall steadily for the rest of the day.  I skipped the planned workouts for that day, but when the rain continued on Thursday, I had to get out.  I rode the first 10 miles of the bike course, out and back, in steady rain.  I was a bit intimidated by the descents, and worried that I would lose a bunch of time as I cautiously braked my way down them during the race.  This was confirmed the next day when JB and I drove the course.  A much longer descent was up the road a few miles from where I had turned around.  It proved to be the site of an interesting experience on race day.

By Saturday, Lake Placid was splitting at the seams with triathletes of all ages and shapes.  Lots of posing on Main Street.  Cindi, JB, and I met Sam and Liz Hill for dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, and almost had a “Five Easy Pieces” moment, for those of you old enough to get the reference.

My usual pre-race night of about four hours sleep was interrupted by the usual slugging down of 2 Ensures at 1am.  By 3:15am I was done.  Unfortunately, I misread my watch and was half way out of the lobby on my way to Starbucks to get my race day cup of coffee before I realized my mistake.  

After a few other race morning miscalculations, (some things never change), I was in the water waiting for the start.  The swim was relatively smooth.  The usual piranha start evolved into the usual first lap slap and pull fest.  This swim was a two lap affair requiring us to get out of the water after the first lap, run through the exit where the timing mats were located and jump back in.  The second lap was much smoother, and I managed to finish with a slight PR at 1:11.  

Transition to the bike was long, requiring a run up to the Olympic speed skating rink where all the bikes were racked. I quickly picked my bike transition bag and headed to the changing tent, out to the bike and on the road for the first 56 mile loop.  The day was overcast, with some drizzling during the swim. The bike began with a series of quick descents through town and out past the Olympic ski jump, and then proceeded to climb for about 6 miles.  At this point, the fastest part of the course began.  It was really raining at this point.  My anxiety about the descents was in the background, but lurking. I made it through the first section of downhills at full speed.  A relatively short section of rolling terrain led to the top of the famous 6 mile descent. My plan was to try to stay relaxed in the wide handlebars rather than the aeros.  I managed this till I hit a steep section that followed the only easy pitch of the long run down.  At that point, curves began that I made me uncomfortable.  I started feathering the breaks.  At about 40 mph, as I was getting near the end of the twisting descent, I heard what sounded like a gun shot.  I immediately realized that my rear tire had blown.

It took what seemed ages for me to stop.  The road was still curving back and forth.  I was on my rim with the tire half off.  I finally managed to stop.  Evidently the explosion had forced the tube out of the tire and it grabbed my hydration system, and ripped it off the bike.  I never saw it again.  Fortunately 3/5’s of my supply was still in a bottle in a cage behind my seat. I unzipped the pack that carried my spare tubes with an accompaniment of expletives.  My tools and spare CO2 cartridges dropped to the ground.  As I bent over to pick them up, a scooter with spare wheels attached to its rear fender pulled up.  The woman on it asked me not if I was okay, or if I needed help, but “What took you so long to stop?”  I explained that the rear tire kept fish tailing each time I tried to break.  At that point she could tell that I might not be thinking all that clearly.  She calmly said, “Let’s go slow to go fast.”  She then asked me to lift up the seat so she could get my rear wheel off.  I mumbled something about giving her my tube, but she had all ready pull out one of her own.  By the time, I had gathered the crap that had fallen from my pack, she was putting the wheel back on.  Amazing.  She changed that flat faster than I could have taken the wheel off and begun prying the tire from the rim.  She told me to get on and gave me a push which I hardly needed to start off on what remained of the hill.  When I looked back at my computer file, I found that it took about 80 seconds to stop after the blow out, and another 4 minutes and 40 seconds to get going again.  Bad luck was immediately followed by good fortune.

The rest of the bike was relatively uneventful if cruel.  Once you turn back toward Lake Placid, the euphoria at the fast time you’ve compiled turns to frustration as a long set of uphills and a steady head wind mark the journey.  On my second lap, I was faster on the downhills and slower on the climbs and sloughs into the wind.  I finished the bike in 5:50, not a PR but respectable on the the hardest terrain that I have encountered in an Ironman.

My run plan was simple; run 9 minutes, and then walk for a minute through the aid stations that occur each mile while maintaining a 10 minute per mile pace.  I did slightly better than that on the first 13.1 mile lap.  I even managed to run, (I use that term advisedly), up the two monster hills from the ski jump and into town.  On the second lap, the day began to get to me, I handled the hip discomfort that set in at mile 16 by actively engaging my core.  The side stitch that hit at mile 19 forced me to walk on two separate occasions.  It was finally cured on the long walk up the hill from the ski jump.  I saw an old guy, who turned out to be in the age group below me, walking just ahead of me.  I noticed how slow his gate was, and assumed that with my determined pace that I would catch him quickly.  It was like being in a bad dream as I watched him pull away.

As I turned into town, I began to run the up the last section of the second hill.  At this point you run out of town for about a mile, turn around and head back a mile to the finish.  At each run turn around, (There are four of them.) I was looking at the bib numbers of the runners coming toward me to check to see if anyone in my age group was either just ahead or behind me.  At the last one, I forgot to check.  It was a slight downhill all the way to the finish.  I ran as fast as I could manage while trying to keep something in reserve in case I was passed near the end of the race.  I may not be a great marathoner, but I have always been able to out sprint any other geezer in my age group.  I rounded the last corner and headed into the skating rink.  You finish by running a half lap that leads to the big finish arch that has a large grandstand just before it.  As I crossed the line, I saw that I had PR’s by 1 minute and 15 seconds at 11:42:26.  This was a more challenging course than Wisconsin where I had put up my previous best time.

I was greeted at the finish by Cindi and JB.  Cindi said that I felt strangely cold, and looked a bit grey.  Perhaps I should check in at the medical tent.  I had never been in the medical tent, and consider it a badge of honor that I haven’t.  JB showed me the bandage over the crick of his elbow, and said that he had just had an IV and that he felt great.  I listened and began to think that feeling great might not be a bad thing.  I let them guide me to the tent, and practiced acting slightly out of it.  As they handed me off to a medical volunteer, I pretended to be weak kneed, and when asked by the triage staff how I felt, responded with a number of vague symptoms.  I was weighed with Cindi and JB laughing behind me as I tried to fool the scale into making me weigh less.  The staff finally determined that I had lost 11 1/2 pounds.  I was helped to a medical station where they took my blood, and asked me to try to drink a Coke.  I had no real symptoms  other than the cold skin and feeling cold.  It turned out that my core temperature was 93.  Mine is usually around 97.5.  I was also the first hypoglycemic patient of the day.  That was strange since I had eaten regularly all day.  After 2 IV bags, 2 Cokes and a bag of potato chips, I was released.  I cannot say enough about the volunteer medical staff at this race.  They were kind, attentive and generous.  As a side note, I must say that I have never recovered so quickly from an Ironman.  This was my fifth.  I think all finishers should be offered an IV.

Larry Rosa Photography

When I was released, I went to pick up my bike.  I still did not know the results of the race.  When I got to the transition exit, I asked one of the volunteers to watch my bike while I walked over to the trailer on which the results were posted.  I found my time, looked over at my placing and saw that I was 1/2. (Even after about 40 minutes in the tent, only one other 60 - 64 year old had finished and had their results tabulated and printed.)  That was it.  I had won my age group and would be heading back to Kona in October.  Mission accomplished.  I was thrilled.  Just as I began to turn away from the results, I noticed that right beneath me was someone whose division place was listed as 2/2.  I quickly saw that it was the guy that I had determined would be my stiffest competition.  He finished 11 seconds behind me.  Amazing.

NOLA 70.3

It’s still cold back in Wisconsin.

The New Orleans 70.3 weekend could not have happened without two formidable personalities, Jesse Leblanc and Joe Lotus.  Jesse is the proprietor of the Green House Inn, and a developing triathlete.  Joe is...well JOE, triathlete, bike mechanic and impresario extraordinaire.  Jesse and Joe managed to herd cats all weekend and get a talented and inspired group of athletes to and from workouts, meals and the race.  Many of us were coached by Training Bible Coaching or had some connection with it.  Those racing included Joe, Sam and Liz Hill, Ramon Macias, Susan Phillips, Keith Bowersox, Erin Finnegan, Erin Finnegan (not a typo, but sisters-in-law), Keith Morgan, Andy Nesheim and me.  There was also a large contingent of supporters including Kelly Murawski, Amber Macias, Ramon’s and Amber’s cousin and parents, Mike from Dallas, and Jay Finnegan, Erin’s brother and Erin’s husband.  Now, you can understand the almost impossible job of cat herding accomplished by Jesse and Joe.

From this relatively small field of competitors emerged 5 of 50 qualifiers for the world championships in Clearwater.  Not a bad showing considering that over 2500 people raced. Keith, Joe, Andy and I will be going, and Erin, (sister) has greater challenges to meet and declined the spot.  Two others were doing their first 70.3’s and had great races.  Erin, (sister-in-law), doing her first triathlon finished in 5:30.  Look out for her in future races.  I think there’s a trip in Kona on the horizon.  Kevin had a fast bike leg, and with his running talent will be a force when he learns to balance all three events.

New Orleans is still recovering from Katrina, but it’s made amazing strides.  Magazine Street in the Garden District is a thriving mix of restaurants and shops as well as home to the Green House Inn.  The French Quarter, site of the race finish, appears to be all the way back.  Unfortunately, there are many other areas of the city that are still suffering.  I was told that the population is only half that of pre-Katrina levels.  As other disasters continue to occur around the planet, we should not forget our fellow countrymen and women that are still in need down in NOLA.

Now for the important stuff.  Let’s try to remember that as my amazingly supportive wife Polly says, “It’s all about me.”  I was a bit apprehensive going into this one. During the process of tying to improve my running form, I have been experiencing a series of calf issues.  For the eight days leading up to the race, I had not run a stride.  I was advised by my coach, Adam Zucco to skip the whole thing.  My PT, Kathy Howell felt that we were making progress, and that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.  So there I was in the 11th way, starting almost an hour behind the pros.  The water was rough.  Even Andy Potts, perhaps the best swimmer among all pros said it was a bit daunting out there.  He was almost 3 minutes slower than normal.  I was a bit slower than that.  

Once out of the water, I was quickly out on the bike and into the wind.  This was not all bad news, it meant that I would probably be blown back on the return to transition.  I never felt right on the bike.  I could not keep up the power, but I kept passing people.  Given that I started behind so many groups, this really was not indicative of anything.  The course is very flat and heads out from the shores of Lake Ponchetrain to the bayous east of there.  The roads are almost dead flat with the occasional overpass resulting in slight grades or accidents, (just check out Joe Lotus’ Facebook).  I felt a bit better as I made the turn for the final dash back to T2.

I was quickly out on the run.  I did not feel too bad a first.  I felt the usual stiffness in my right calf, but it never really effected my performance.  The sun was pretty hot.  My inability to train the run consistently since last October were the cause of a very uncomfortable day.  It is amazing how the proximity of the finish line can change everything.  My last quarter mile was the fastest of the day.  I just wanted to get it over with. I was expecting to find Joe and Jesse at the finish, but they were no where to be found.  When we finally met up, I quickly realized what had happened.  Joe had suffered an awful crash at mile 50, but he managed to get up, finish the bike one handed, and completed the run, qualifying for the World Championships at Clearwater...all with a separated shoulder.  Over an hour after I finished as we were walking to the awards ceremony, Polly called with congratulations.  I asked why.  She thought I was kidding, but I had not seen any results.  It turned out that I had won my age group by 26 minutes and qualified for Clearwater.  

The most amazing aspect of the this whole experience was waking up on Monday morning with absolutely no stiffness or pain in my right calf.  I guess that whatever was the evil calf spirt was exorcised in New Orleans.  The world is a strange and dangerous place.

KONA

Hot hot hot. As I was walking to our rented condo to get another load of bags to put in our rented car for the trip to the airport, Iran into another Kona competitor who finished his 16th World Championship on the same day that I finished my first. I asked him about the wind and the heat. He said that the wind has always been unpredictable, and that this year was nothing remarkable. The heat was all together different. It was the hottest he had ever experienced.

Before, I get to the race, or perhaps I should say the experience, because any idea of a race ended for me about 20 miles north of Kona as I headed back from Hawi on the bike leg, let me give you some details of the best vacation I’ve ever had.

Polly and I had plenty of time to plan for this trip. I qualified for the Ironman World Championship, (I’ll refer to it as Kona from now on) at Ironman Wisconsin 2008, 13 months ago. Her skills acquired as a travel agent several decades ago have not diminished, and she found us the perfect condo in Kailua Kona. It was about a kilometer from the race start and featured a lani, (deck) above the ocean. When sitting in our living room, looking out the window it seemed as though we were in the Pacific.

When I got off the plane, a week to the day before the race, the humidity amazed me. It felt heavy. I was inhaling water. I immediately drove to the bike shop to which my Trek TTX SL was shipped, and then headed to the condo to set up race central. That evening, I had dinner with John Post, my coaching client and Kona mentor and Bob Scott, the legendary Ironman. Bob has held several Kona age group records, and is still looking great and going strong at age 78. The three of us with a combined age of 201 years drove up to Waimea for great barbecue the next evening. We met an old friend of John’s, Lindsay Barnes, who is the headmaster of Hawaii Prep, and who as a volunteer handed me a bottle of water at the Hawi turn around during the race.

It was amazing to see the spirit of Kona build over the week. Driving from the airport on Saturday, I saw one or two bike riders, no runners and several signs warning drivers about athletes training on the Queen K. By the following Thursday, 2 days before the race, there was a steady stream of cyclists on the Queen K. Ali’i drive was sleepy the day I arrived; on Friday, the day before the race, as Polly and I strolled back from our morning swim, the street was brimming with some of the most amazing and intimidating bodies I have ever seen. The finish line, including a massive 3 screen jumbotron was under construction. Men and women pros were being interviewed and participating in photo shoots for their endorsers. What had been a sleepy tourist strip had been transformed into a Felliniesque festival.

My routine during the week was pretty regular, an early morning swim in Kailua Bay followed by a visit to the massage tent, breakfast, and then a ride along the Queen K (major portion of the bike course). Some days included short runs after the bike. It was a bit unnerving riding along the apron of the Queen K. Traffic was constant and fast, and with the cross winds at times blowing me into the rumble strip that separated the apron from cars, the rides were often a bit uncomfortable. I felt very strong with surprisingly high wattage for me, (230’s) at IM pace efforts. The heat was intense all week, but I was adapting. I felt great.

Polly arrived on Thursday, and the pre-race excitement really began to build. We strolled around downtown Kona, and I was able to buy yet another Kona t-shirt. I think I now have the world’s largest collection. I pointed out all the Ironman celebrities, and Polly was completely unimpressed. On Friday morning, she went swimming with me in Kailua Bay, and later that evening, we had a nice pre-race dinner with Curtis and Sue Weinstein who flew to Kona to watch me do the race. As arduous racing may be, watching it is perhaps more difficult. Polly, Sue and Curtis hung in for the whole day.

Okay, here it is...the race. I had my usual two Ensures at 1am, tossed and turned until 4am, and got up to chug another. The bike and transition bags had been checked in the previous evening with remarkable ease. All I had to do was pull on my trisuit, gather my swim goggles, skinsuit and sports drinks and head to the transition area. Polly kept me focused, and waited patiently for me to get body marked and pump up my tires. I gave her the pump, and headed back in to transition. I wouldn’t see her for another 8 hours.

I forgot to hand her my ipod, but fortunately ran into Jennifer Takata, my doctor, and an accomplished veteran of Kona who had come down to watch her friend Michelle Lanouette compete. She generously held on to it for me, and returned it to me back in Racine. Serendipitously, later that day, Sue and Curtis were standing on the “hot corner” waiting for me to come out of T1 when they started talking to a woman at the same spot. After a few minutes of conversation, they learned that she was from Wisconsin, and was there to watch a friend. When they said they were there for the same reason, and mentioned my name, Jennifer let them know that she was my physician. It’s a strange world.

I felt very calm and confident. Everything including my swimming had been going remarkably well. I was not afraid of the heat. I couldn’t wait to get started. I can’t quite remember the order of the following events, but there was a distinctly Hawaiian version of the National Anthem, Navy Seals dropped out of the sky, and the canon went off for the pro start. They began the race 15 minutes before the rest of us. At the sound of their start canon, I eased down to the water and stood watching for a while before I paddled out to the start line. To avoid the battering of faster swimmers rolling over me, I seeded myself about 50 yards behind the line. When the canon went off for the age groupers, I began swimming steadily but easily. After a few hundred yards, I picked up the pace. At the same time another swimmer went by me. I latched on to his feet, (not literally, but drafted behind him). For the first 7/8’s of the race we continually passed other swimmers. As we did so, each would try to get in the draft of the swimmer I was following. I kept saying to myself, “those are my feet.” At times, I would have to be quite aggressive in maintaining my position. A few hundred yards from the finish, “my feet” slowly vanished as their owner picked up his pace. I was sure that I was completing the fastest ironman swim ever. When I exited the water, I was shocked to find that it was in fact the slowest by about a minute, at 1 hour and 19 minutes. I have no explanation. Perhaps relying on the pace of the swimmer in front of me was a mistake. Lessons learned.

During the swim, I was a bit miffed at one of the kayakers who placed his boat in the middle of the swimming pack. As I tried to maintain my position, I was a bit nervous about being slammed by the hull. It was only after two minutes of concern that I realized that it was not a kayak, but a dolphin frolicking with these slow moving thrashers. The amazing thing about the swim at Kona is the amount of sea life that is visible during the race. Especially in the shallows, the colorful fish are teeming.

The 8 minute difference between my best time, and what I swam was not of great concern. The chaffing that was caused by my skinsuit was. 20 minutes into the swim, my neck and under arms were feeling the effects. I still have scabs in both places 10 days after the race. Fortunately, vaseline and the protective wing, (a white garment that had sleeves connected by a thin shoulder covering) minimized the discomfort from these abrasions during the race.

T1 was the site of the first Dicker Dufus move. I headed out of the changing tent without the skull cap that was supposed to protect my tonsorially challenged head from the sun. I realized too late that I had forgotten it. When I went back to get it, my bag had all ready been thrown into a sorting pile. Not even the expert help of my friend and savvy volunteer John Post was able to locate the bag. Oh well, the racing striped sun burn on my head was a badge of honor.

The first 65 miles of the bike were perfect. I kept to my wattage plan, and if anything, felt like I should be going harder. I knew it was hot. I kept dumping water on my head and arm coolers constantly, and stuck with what I thought was my conservative approach. My running was going well in training, and I wanted to make sure that I left enough in the tank to take advantage of that training. A modest wind was in our face all the way out to Hawi. It was less than I had experienced on any training day. I was looking forward to a supporting tail wind back to Kona after the turn around. FOOL! I had heard about the Mumuku, “the wind that blows both ways.” But, we all know that those urban or in this case island legends are pure BS. I was sure that I was on my way to a great day. I rolled down the 7 miles that I had climbed up to Hawi. I was flying, at least for me. I certainly wasn’t passed by anyone. Then, just as the road flattened out, it hit me in the face, a rude and unexpected slap.

At times on the way back to Kona, I was was in the small ring up front and the 25 in the rear cog set while riding downhill. I kept pushing, and kept cooling by dumping water on my head, arms and back. I picked up two bottles at every aid station for the purpose of external cooling. It was about 20 miles outside of Kona that my race was over. I suddenly realized that If I had any hope of finishing the, I had to shut it down. Until that moment, I actually thought that with a great race, I might have a chance to be 5th in my age group. No chance for that now. I took it very easy for the rest of the ride. As I crested the hill marking the entrance to the airport, the wind let up a bit, and made the last few miles a bit easier.

I actually ran through T2, a long way, all around the entire pier. I slathered my feet with Vaseline, pulled on my running shoes and headed up Palani. After a right turn on to Kuakini, I saw Polly, Sue and Curtis. Polly yelled, “you’re in 7th, come on, pick it up.” I smiled and told her the day was pretty much done. I was shuffling, and knew that was the pace for the rest of the day. Wrong again. As I turned to head back down to Ali’i drive to make my way out to the 5 mile turn around, I could not believe that I had not yet reached the first aid station. I was dying for some ice to put down my singlet. I started walking and finally made it to the first of the 25 aid stations manned by the fabulous volunteers. I stuffed my singlet, hat and shorts with ice, and tried to start shuffling again. I made it about 100 yards to the base of a hill and started walking. This was the closest to the edge I have ever been in a race. I was extremely overheated. At each aid station I managed to shuffle a bit further after the ice stuffing frenzy. By mile 8, I could run almost a kilometer before walking. At that point I was almost back to the spot that Polly, Sue and Curtis were waiting for me. When I saw her, I told Polly that they were going to have a long wait before they saw me again at the finish. She walked along with me for a while, and it was a big lift. I turned back on to Palani for the long climb up to the Queen K. No question about running up that monster. When I reached the top, I had about 15 miles to go. When I reached the infamous Natural Energy Lab, the hottest spot on the course, the sun was almost down. There’s a silver lining to every cloud.

Before that, as I headed out the Queen K, a guy with my colored wrist band, (the colors of the bands identified the age group of the competitor.) walked by me as I was stuffing ice. I caught up to him in a few strides. Steve Brown is from Perth, Australia, and was in the process of completing his fourth ironman of the year. His day like mine had not gone according to plan, but, for the next 14 miles we walked, jogged and finally ran to the finish together. We shared our training histories, and the huge debts that we owed to our wives for what they had to put up with. At the finish, Polly and Helen actually met each other. I probably walked more than I had to at that point, but time was really no longer a consideration. Those last miles were much more manageable and pleasurable because of the conversation with Steve.

While running down Palani with about a mile and a half to go, I asked Steve to help me pull off the protective wing that spared my arms and shoulders from the sunburn that seared my legs and head. I explained that even though my race time was not what I had hoped it would be, that I was going to get a great finish photo for the effort that I had put in. About 400 yards from the finish, I tossed my wing and the glow ring into the bushes and prepared for the finish. Evidently, in the 2 minutes between that toss and the finish line, I forgot what I was about. This last picture is worth a thousand words. DUFUS! LOOK UP!

At the finish, I told Polly that even though I had signed up for Lake Placid next year, that I was officially done with Ironman. I never thought I would qualify for Kona. I did, and I finished even though it took me 13 hours, 7 minutes and 15 seconds, more than 90 minutes slower than what I had hoped. By the next morning, I was planning my return to Kona. I learned more in this race than I have in any other. But, that’s another story for my new blog.

Polly is a saint. The different versions of me that she has had to get to know and put up with are absurd. She hangs in, supports me and allows me to keep on going. The happiness and peace I have achieved is largely due to her, “the genius of everyday life.” I would also like to thank Curtis and Sue for coming out to share the experience with Polly and me. It helped make Kona even more special. Of course without the effort that Adam Zucco, my coach, put in, not only to focus my training, but to deal with my constant questions, I would never have completed my first ironman, let alone qualified for this one. Kathy Howell kept treating my different muscular and skeletal issues while Heidi Fannin worked to keep my soft tissues soft. My thanks to both of them. Finally, I want to thank John Post for all the information and support both before and after we landed on Hawaii together.

And, I certainly thank anyone who has managed to keep reading to this point.

ROAD TO KONA

Okay, okay....so it’s not me. But I can ride a bike.

It’s been a long time since my last post. Before I recount the highs and lows of the Ironman World Championship at Kona, I thought it might be a good idea to give a brief synopsis of the training year leading up to the big day. Skip this if you are the type that likes to turn to the last page of a novel. It will still be here after I post the story of Hawaii.

I previously described my first race of the year at Oceanside. I beat my previous time, but only came in 7th. Following that race, I went down to Portsmouth, Ohio in late May to do my 4th Triple T. That’s the 4 triathlons in one weekend that together total a full ironman distance. I did well, but not exceptionally so. The weather was cooler than usual, and I managed to hold my dufus moves down to a single boneheaded instance. I forgot to pack socks for the afternoon olympic distance race and ran without them., I managed to produce abrasions on both feet within the first mile of the run. Massive foot binding with gauze at the first aid station allowed me to walk and jog it in with Tom Geldermann who caught me as I was finishing the application of my vaseline poultice.

With the end of the school year, training picked up significantly, and it went well. My confidence grew with better and better running workouts. My next race was the Kansas 70.3. It was a great experience. I stayed with Ben Schloegel, an amazing athlete who lives in KC. We had great barbecue and a lot of fun. I came in second in my age group behind Steve Smith, probably the best American in the 60-64 age group. It wasn’t a close second, but it was a new 70.3 record for me at 5:24. I also got a hug from Chrissie Wellington as I crossed the line. So did everyone else that crossed the line after her. If you don’t know who Chrissie is, that’s her next to me. If you’re interested in why she’s amazing, email me, and I’d be happy to tell you and point you to websites that might be helpful in informing you about this amazing woman who happens to be the best triathlete on the planet.

Training continued going well. In late June, I competed at the Bigfoot olympic distance triathlon held at the Lake Geneva end of Geneva Lake. (Don’t ask about this inversion.) I won my age group, although my run was disappointing. Two races, Kansas and Bigfoot, and no major blunders. Training was going well, and I could feel my fitness and confidence rising.

In late July, I was back at the starting line of the Spirit of Racine. The trademark vigilant World Triathlon Corporation will not allow any event to use the term Ironman. So these half and full ironman distance races that are not part of WTC or pay WTC for the privilege have the odd sounding “full distance” or “half distance” descriptor after their names. Incidentally, the Spirit of Racine is rumored to be entering the fold, and will be a Ironman 70.3 next year, (70.3 being the total swim, bike and run miles of a half ironman). Anyway, this was a good race for me, everything, or almost everything went according to plan. I was under 5 hours for the first time in a half ironman. Unfortunately, the swim was a bit short. The one thing that did not go according to plan was the swim preparation. As I was talking to Bill and Jenny Schmitt, I tried to pull my wetsuit on my jamming my leg through the arm hole. I shredded the wetsuit, and had to swim with a gaping hole under my arm. It’s always something.

My final race of the year was a local sprint. I won both my age group and the one below me even though I had a usual dufus blunder. This time, I forgot to pack my running shoes, and had to do the 5k in my sandels. At least I didn’t get any blisters.

I was feeling great, and continued to train hard for the next 6 weeks leading up to the world championship.

In a couple of days, I’ll post the description of Kona.

SORRY

First of all, I’m sorry for doing this.  I have never asked friends for a donation before.  But this project got to me on a couple of levels.

Year after year I have been solicited by friends for their charities.  I usually come through.  Many of them have been in the form of solicitations that state they are doing a ride, a run, a triathlon to raise money for -----.  Let me say that I am competing in The Ironman World Championship in Kona for myself.  As my sainted wife Polly describes my life, “It’s   all about me.”  But after hearing about Puppies Behind Bars  http://www.puppiesbehindbars.com  I decided to give the race fundraising idea a try.

Back to the ways the puppies got to me.  Polly trains therapy dogs and brings them to nursing homes to cheer up the residents.  It works believe me.  She also brings them to reading programs to sit and listen to children read who might otherwise be intimidated to read before other children or adults.  Not only is Puppies a great effort all on its own, but it resonates with me because of her work.  It also uniquely redeems both the giver and receiver.   You see, 8 week old puppies are given to people incarcerated for serious violent crimes.  They are taught to train these dogs to help veterans who have traumatic brain injuries or have suffered extreme psychological damage.  The prisoners become more human as a result of their connection to the animals.  The soldiers who receive the dogs are able to make a loving relationship that they seem incapable of developing with other humans. They are twice blessed.

If you can, I would really appreciate any donation you can make to this effort.  They have their own donation page, or you can go to my Facebook cause page   Click Here   and click on the donate link above the comment box.  Please feel free to tell me what jerk I am, especially if you give a couple of bucks.

Feel free to forward this to any dog lovers who might be suckered into giving something.  The puppies always get them.

I also promise never ever to do this again.  

Who Are Those Guys?

Sitting here at San Diego Airport with the SoCal sun streaming in I can hardly feel the saddle sore acquired in yesterday’s California 70.3. This is one of the two great U.S. triathlon centers, the other of course is Boulder. CO. This morning driving down from Oceanside, the site of the race, I must have passed at least 500 cyclists and literally thousands of runners doing their pre or post outdoor coffee house exercise. I’m green with envy.

You can read about the competition won by Matt Reid, (a 1:11 half marathon!!!) and Mirinda Carfrae on any number of sites, I’ll just stick to a description of the course and the day. It started off quite chilly, about 46 degrees which made the 56 degree water seem inviting. The swim left from the harbor at Oceanside and took a dogleg out to the ocean and back. Evidently, I was worried about the possibility of enemy submarines as I zigzagged my way for about 1.5 miles of the 1.2 mile course. On the way back in, the sun was a problem. I had a big problem finding the buoys. Andy Potts avoided this problem on his way to setting a course swim record of 21:27.

The air temperature made some upward progress as the swimmers came ashore. The bike leg’s most technical part was right at the beginning as the athletes made their way out of the marina and up to the roads that lace through Camp Pendelton. Sharp turns and quick climbs kept the riders alert. The gently rolling hills and flats encountered a major shift at about mile 30 when in the distance what appeared to be a relatively long slope with hundreds of ants crawling up it loomed in the distance. They weren’t ants; and there was nothing relative about about the slope. Just as you thought you were reaching the summit, the road curved and continued up. It was there that you came upon some walkers, all men in my case. It’s probably the length of the hill and not the slope that got to them. It was a tough hill, but nothing like the legendary Beast of St. Croix. There were some more steep hills through about mile 40, but at this point it was the wind that played a greater part in slowing forward progress. It was on one of these hills that I felt a friendly tap as Adam Zucco of TrainingBible coaching passed me on his way to a first place finish in the impossibly competitive 30-34 age group. (Obviously he was in a wave that started about 40 minutes behind me.) Finally, it was back to the marina, T2, and the start of the run.

There were two surprising aspects to the two loop half marathon. The first occurred at the beginning and happened three more times. The runners had to get off the road and run on the beach around a condo development. The soft sand between the road and the harder sand near the water made for a real trudge. The competitors got to experience and think about this sandy march as they went out and back and out and back. The other surprise was the hilly course that sprung up on a beach and town run. Just before mile 2 and 8 of the run, the course took a sudden turn up into a residential area of Oceanside. The turn was a short steep climb, from that point on it was up and down to the turn around. Those expecting or hoping for flat run along the water were disappointed.

With the exception of the chilly start, the day was perfect. For those coming from the chilly regions of the U.S. and beyond competing with the sub-species evolved in California presented a daunting challenge. Who are those guys? This was the most competitive race in which I’ve competed. This includes, Vineman 70.3, IM Louisville, and IM Wisconsin. If you want to see where you stand in the grand scheme of US Triathlon, this is the race for you. I was 7th of 24 in my ancient 60-64 age group, this, after breaking the course record for that age group in Wisconsin by 34 minutes. Who are those guys?

IRON WISCONSIN 2008

I had a good day at Ironman Wisconsin on September 7. I won my age group, qualified for Kona and broke the course record for my age group by 34 minutes. Okay, all the suspense is gone. Polly has always told me not to bury the lead. If you’re interested in the details, please read on.

Toward the end of July and beginning of August, I was beginning to feel optimistic about my chances for two reasons. My long rides were going well, and I honestly thought that I could go faster than the record time for my age group. At that time, I mentioned this to my coach Adam Zucco, and asked him to keep it quiet in the likely event that I was deluding myself.

As the day of the race approached, weather reports began to look sour. Chances of rain were increasing, and projected temperatures were dropping. Flashbacks to the horrible conditions of the 2006 IM Wisconsin filled my head. My whining was increasing in direct proportion to the sinking weather reports. Polly made fun of me and called me a whimp…a shocking characterization.

The day turned out to be perfect, although I have heard that some people complained about strong winds on the second loop of the bike. While looking for a place to relax before the start of the swim, I ran into all the Schmitts clustered around Jenny who was about to compete in her first Ironman. I was Jenny’s coach for this event. She trained like a pro all spring and summer, and had a great day finishing well under 13 hours. Tom Geldermann strolled by as we were sitting there. I was also Tom’s coach. His training went well right through the Triple T, and then hit a few speed bumps. He still soldiered on, and finished the race.

Tom and I got in line and headed down for the swim. We swam out to the buoy line and positioned ourselves so as not to be clawed and pushed under by the better swimmers and those overly ambitious athletes that we would be passing later. When the canon went off, I found myself in a Piranha tank. The water came alive with 2300 people all trying to be in the same place at the same time. During the first 1.2 mile loop, I had by goggles knocked off 4 times. In spite of this, I swam easily, and exited the water 3 minutes faster than my previous best effort.

After running up the spiraling traffic ramp to the transition area, I dashed into the convention center and put on my helmet, ran out to my bike and took off on my 112 mile ride through hills of the Madison country side. I can honestly say that I never pushed on the bike. On the bigger hills people tried to encourage me to push to the top. If they had followed my progress to the top, they would have seen me pedaling past those that had passed me going up as they tried to recover. I hardly glanced at my power meter. I just felt that I was in the right effort zone. I was averaging a little over 20 mph until I began the second loop of the course. As the wind picked up from the South, I began to slow down a bit, but it seemed that others were slowing down more. I wasn’t passed on this loop, and when I turned to ride the final 14 miles back to Madison, I saw that my average speed had dropped to 19 mph. The wind pushed me all the way back and pushed my average speed back up to almost 20.

I had another quick transition, (that seemed to be my best event-changing, I was almost twice as fast in T1 and T2 as the others in my age group) and headed out on the first loop of the run course. The run at Ironman Wisconsin is fabulous. It winds back and forth through the campus, even entering Camp Randall for a run around the football field. The crowds are dense and enthusiastic. My first mile was way too fast. I spent most of the first loop telling myself to take it easy. I wanted to run a 4:20 marathon, and felt that 4:30 would be an easy time to make. In the end, I only managed a 4:40, so there’s plenty of room for improvement. Everything was going pretty well until I turned up State Street and headed toward the capitol for the turn around. At that moment I felt a stitch in my side. I used all the tricks that I know to get rid of it, raising my arms, breathing in on the stride of the opposite foot, and explosive breathing out. As the sharp stitch pain began to dull, I noticed that I was beginning to feel some intestinal distress. Unfortunately, this stayed with me for the rest of the run. However, my greatest moment of the day was only moments away. Oona lives on Dayton at a point between the turn around and the 14 mile aid station. Before the race, I had asked her to track my age group on Ironman Live. As I passed her on the run, I yelled “How am I doing in my age group?” She yelled back, “You’re in first place by 40 minutes.” I knew that I could almost walk in from there, and still win, and thus get my spot for Kona. I relaxed, and just lived with the stomach cramps for the rest of the race. Polly must have known how I was doing as I turned around at the capitol because she was chanting Kona, Kona, Kona as I passed her. I crossed the finish line at 11:43:41, faster than I ever imagined I could race.

Unlike the California Half Ironman of 2006, I actually lost my chip this time. As I rode the final 50 miles of the course I yelled my number to every official standing on the side or driving by on a motorcycle. At the bike to run transition, I screamed at every volunteer "I need a chip; where can I get a chip?" It was a little Shakespearean...a chip, a chip, my kingdom for a chip. If I had bothered to read the race brief, I would have known to stop at the run start and ask for one. When I finally arrived there after my paniced screaming, a volunteer calmly strapped a new one to my ankle. Somethings never change.

My friend and client Ben Schloegel did not have the day he wanted, but he learned things that will propel him to the place he deserves to be. When I say he didn't have the day he wanted, we mere mortals need to understand how someone who runs a 3:03 marathon and finishes 12th overall is disappointed. Look for Ben in the Florida Ironman in November. He's going sub 9 hours.

Polly is my number 1 fan and supporter. She’s not that interested in triathlon, but she encourages me to do what I love, and even keeps me on track by reminding me of my goals, when my will begins to falter. She lets me be who I am which always amazes me because I’m such a dufus.

I can’t end this report without thanking Adam Zucco. He has been my coach since I decided to do my first Ironman over 3 years ago. He has had to put up with my constant questions, and suggestions, but in the end, I do what I’m told, and evidently what he’s been telling me to do has worked. I completed my first Ironman. I dropped my time by almost an hour in my second one, and I dropped that time by over 30 minutes in my third. Now, it’s on to the world championships in Kona in October of 2009. The race will be on Polly’s and my 24th wedding anniversary. It should be another good day.

For more images of the day click HERE

Once you arrive at the gallery you can select the way you want to view it at the bottom of the page. If you click on an individual image, you can click on the i that appears below it to see the caption.