The cath went better than we had even hoped. No balloons, no stents, no occlusions. I'm out for 5-7 days while the artery heals, but the training resumes then, and Kona is on!!
Thank you so much to everyone for your support and thoughts. It made a huge difference. Hopefully, this'll be the last drama before the big finish.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Great News!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
It's been one of those months...
I'm working on becoming a more interesting story. I've actually gotten some training done this month, but I've also had my share of ridiculous interruptions:
First, I had a root canal. You know when you say something is as bad as a root canal? It's not. Then, I had two teeth extracted (with bone grafts), and some gum surgery in the same area. That's as bad as a root canal, and then some. I had an ugly looking reaction to the antibiotic for that one, which really put a damper on things for a while.
Now, I've managed to fail a stress test, and the above looks pretty simple and silly compared to that. I have cardiac catheterization on Thursday here in Atlanta, and I'll know more then. Here's the whole story, in Q and A format:
Q: Why the stress test in the first place? Are you holding out on us?
A: The log from my July 21st 5K AT test run included "a breakfast repeat, and several minutes on the side of the road trying to decide whether I was dying (I wasn't)." I wasn't too worried, because it was a ridiculously hard run for me. My AT is 157 beats per minute or so, and I averaged over 170 for the first two miles before having the episode. However, Jen didn't like my symptoms there - chest constriction, dizziness, whiteout, near LOC, and more. She convinced me to go to a doc. He thought that I had enough risk factors besides the episode - my mom's shiny new pacemaker from April, my dad's addiction to Lipitor, the fact that all the men on my dad's side have been murdered 'Clue style' by their wives (Mrs. Berman. In the Kitchen. With the chopped liver.), and my own unkown cholesterol levels. He got me the stress test and ordered the lipids.
Q: How did you 'fail' the stress test?
A: I actually felt fine, and thought I had aced it. I got a thalium injection, and they took 'before' pictures. I did the Bruce protocol, and lasted 13 minutes, when 6 minutes is the pass/fail line. I had zero symptoms, and they stopped the test because they hit the target heart rate (also 157). The experience was much easier athletically than getting my AT testing done. The doc administering the test wouldn't tell me much, but the only EKG finding was increased T amplitude post-exercise, which is pretty normal. They took the second set of gamma pics of my heart, and I went about my day. I got a call from my doc a few hours later, who had gotten a call from radiology. I failed the second set of pictures.
Q: So what's wrong with you?
A: Dunno exactly. We know that, in the after pics, the bottom of my heart wasn't getting all the blood it needed. So, there's some ischemia (inadequate blood supply) in the area served by my right coronary artery. The fact that it only showed up in the after pictures means that there's no damage to my heart muscle itself from it, so it's called reversible ischemia (that also means that what happened on the 21st wasn't a heart attack, just a transient event). The most common cause is plaque build up in one or more of the branches of the artery. My lipid panel came back the same day, and my cholesterol is not so hot. My HDL is an athlete-worthy 61, but my LDL is out of control, despite the wee bit of exercise I do. That also leads the doc to think that plaque is the likely culprit, and he got me some lipitor to start last night. Other options would be vasospasm, a dissection of the artery itself, electrical problems leading to inadequate efficiency, and a few other options less likely. Tomorrow's catheterization will answer most of the questions.
Q: What are they going to do?
A: Cardiac catheterization is a really routine procedure, where they'll stick a long catheter from my femoral artery (thigh) up to the back side of my heart, where the arteries feed it. They'll fill the left side of my heart with more dye, so they can find their way around and measure flow. They'll check each branch for constricted flow or other fun. If there's constriction from plaque, but the arteries are less than 50% occluded, they'll likely just pull the thing back out of my thigh and tell me to keep my nitroglycerin handy and stay on aspirin and lipitor. If there are more occluded arteries, they'll inflate a balloon at the end of the cath to open the blocked artery (angioplasty), and leave a stent there to prop the artery open. If it's really occluded, or affects multiple arteries, they'll stop and I'll get a bypass ('cabbage' to docs, because it's a Coronary Artery Bypass Graft). Everyone thinks this is really unlikely in my case. If there's something else going on, they have a good chance of seeing it because the cath is first and foremost an imaging exercise to see all the arteries themselves, and the heart pumping. If they need to, they can dilate or constrict the arteries chemically to test my body's reaction. I'll be given amnesiac conscious sedation (yum, versed) so I'll be calm, and won't remember anything afterwards.
Q: Really, what are the IM chances?
A: Dunno, but I'm going to say very good. If they just pull out the cath because there's only minor plaque constriction, then I'm out of the hospital Thursday night, and I have a good shot at going back to training in a week. Can I finish missing a week in peak? I don't know, but I can try. If another scenario happens, like angio, or something more invasive to solve another problem, then there are just too many variables to know now. One day at a time.
Q: Silver lining?
A: Lots. My cardiologist and my beautiful wife agree that triathlon generally, and iroman specifically, probably kept me from having a heart attack. Without the training, I never would have stressed my heart out enough for symptoms before things had gotten much worse. Heck, I was even wearing my fancy new garmin heart rate monitor on the 21st, and I went over it line by line with my cardiologist yesterday (there are a couple 'holes' in the recording, which may be fibrillation, weak beats, or something else - very, very interesting with hindsight). Also, my overall good fitness will make the procedure much, much easier in the cardiologists' view. Finally, I probably wouldn't have even gotten my cholesterol checked. I'm a non-overweight non-smoker who exercises more than ten hours a week. In the 200+ hours I've worked out since March, I only had the five minutes or so of symptoms in that one 5K.
I'm doing okay, scared but not terrified. Jen's going to be there all day with me tomorrow, and that helps a lot. I love my wife. She continues to be my hero, holding my hand and answering my million questions. I'm still scared and a little blown away that, given my exercise, diet and general studliness, I have ischemia at all. However, with her by my side, I know that this isn't that big a deal, that a million people in America have been cathed, and that it's something we are likely not even to be thinking any more about in a month. She's not scared, so I'm sucking onto her strength for a few days.
First, I had a root canal. You know when you say something is as bad as a root canal? It's not. Then, I had two teeth extracted (with bone grafts), and some gum surgery in the same area. That's as bad as a root canal, and then some. I had an ugly looking reaction to the antibiotic for that one, which really put a damper on things for a while.
Now, I've managed to fail a stress test, and the above looks pretty simple and silly compared to that. I have cardiac catheterization on Thursday here in Atlanta, and I'll know more then. Here's the whole story, in Q and A format:
Q: Why the stress test in the first place? Are you holding out on us?
A: The log from my July 21st 5K AT test run included "a breakfast repeat, and several minutes on the side of the road trying to decide whether I was dying (I wasn't)." I wasn't too worried, because it was a ridiculously hard run for me. My AT is 157 beats per minute or so, and I averaged over 170 for the first two miles before having the episode. However, Jen didn't like my symptoms there - chest constriction, dizziness, whiteout, near LOC, and more. She convinced me to go to a doc. He thought that I had enough risk factors besides the episode - my mom's shiny new pacemaker from April, my dad's addiction to Lipitor, the fact that all the men on my dad's side have been murdered 'Clue style' by their wives (Mrs. Berman. In the Kitchen. With the chopped liver.), and my own unkown cholesterol levels. He got me the stress test and ordered the lipids.
Q: How did you 'fail' the stress test?
A: I actually felt fine, and thought I had aced it. I got a thalium injection, and they took 'before' pictures. I did the Bruce protocol, and lasted 13 minutes, when 6 minutes is the pass/fail line. I had zero symptoms, and they stopped the test because they hit the target heart rate (also 157). The experience was much easier athletically than getting my AT testing done. The doc administering the test wouldn't tell me much, but the only EKG finding was increased T amplitude post-exercise, which is pretty normal. They took the second set of gamma pics of my heart, and I went about my day. I got a call from my doc a few hours later, who had gotten a call from radiology. I failed the second set of pictures.
Q: So what's wrong with you?
A: Dunno exactly. We know that, in the after pics, the bottom of my heart wasn't getting all the blood it needed. So, there's some ischemia (inadequate blood supply) in the area served by my right coronary artery. The fact that it only showed up in the after pictures means that there's no damage to my heart muscle itself from it, so it's called reversible ischemia (that also means that what happened on the 21st wasn't a heart attack, just a transient event). The most common cause is plaque build up in one or more of the branches of the artery. My lipid panel came back the same day, and my cholesterol is not so hot. My HDL is an athlete-worthy 61, but my LDL is out of control, despite the wee bit of exercise I do. That also leads the doc to think that plaque is the likely culprit, and he got me some lipitor to start last night. Other options would be vasospasm, a dissection of the artery itself, electrical problems leading to inadequate efficiency, and a few other options less likely. Tomorrow's catheterization will answer most of the questions.
Q: What are they going to do?
A: Cardiac catheterization is a really routine procedure, where they'll stick a long catheter from my femoral artery (thigh) up to the back side of my heart, where the arteries feed it. They'll fill the left side of my heart with more dye, so they can find their way around and measure flow. They'll check each branch for constricted flow or other fun. If there's constriction from plaque, but the arteries are less than 50% occluded, they'll likely just pull the thing back out of my thigh and tell me to keep my nitroglycerin handy and stay on aspirin and lipitor. If there are more occluded arteries, they'll inflate a balloon at the end of the cath to open the blocked artery (angioplasty), and leave a stent there to prop the artery open. If it's really occluded, or affects multiple arteries, they'll stop and I'll get a bypass ('cabbage' to docs, because it's a Coronary Artery Bypass Graft). Everyone thinks this is really unlikely in my case. If there's something else going on, they have a good chance of seeing it because the cath is first and foremost an imaging exercise to see all the arteries themselves, and the heart pumping. If they need to, they can dilate or constrict the arteries chemically to test my body's reaction. I'll be given amnesiac conscious sedation (yum, versed) so I'll be calm, and won't remember anything afterwards.
Q: Really, what are the IM chances?
A: Dunno, but I'm going to say very good. If they just pull out the cath because there's only minor plaque constriction, then I'm out of the hospital Thursday night, and I have a good shot at going back to training in a week. Can I finish missing a week in peak? I don't know, but I can try. If another scenario happens, like angio, or something more invasive to solve another problem, then there are just too many variables to know now. One day at a time.
Q: Silver lining?
A: Lots. My cardiologist and my beautiful wife agree that triathlon generally, and iroman specifically, probably kept me from having a heart attack. Without the training, I never would have stressed my heart out enough for symptoms before things had gotten much worse. Heck, I was even wearing my fancy new garmin heart rate monitor on the 21st, and I went over it line by line with my cardiologist yesterday (there are a couple 'holes' in the recording, which may be fibrillation, weak beats, or something else - very, very interesting with hindsight). Also, my overall good fitness will make the procedure much, much easier in the cardiologists' view. Finally, I probably wouldn't have even gotten my cholesterol checked. I'm a non-overweight non-smoker who exercises more than ten hours a week. In the 200+ hours I've worked out since March, I only had the five minutes or so of symptoms in that one 5K.
I'm doing okay, scared but not terrified. Jen's going to be there all day with me tomorrow, and that helps a lot. I love my wife. She continues to be my hero, holding my hand and answering my million questions. I'm still scared and a little blown away that, given my exercise, diet and general studliness, I have ischemia at all. However, with her by my side, I know that this isn't that big a deal, that a million people in America have been cathed, and that it's something we are likely not even to be thinking any more about in a month. She's not scared, so I'm sucking onto her strength for a few days.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Fear (footnote)
This is today's Runner's World quote of the day:
"Fear is probably the thing that limits performance more than anything - the fear of not doing well, of what people will say. You've got to acknowledge those fears, then release them."
Mark Allen
(Mark Allen is a multiple Ironman Champion)
Good timing. The acknowledgement last week has actually done wonders for me. Part of this has just been the support of friends and fellow athletes. Part of it, though, is just like Mark says. Naming my fears has helped me to work on releasing them.
Thanks.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
The new phonebooks are here!
The 2007 USATriathlon rankings are out. I'm not quite near the top, but it shows how far I've come in a year.
The rankings are of course an ordering, but they also include a raw score which is roughly the average winning time as a percentage of your finishing time.
In 2006, my final ranking was 4664 out of 4695 Men between 35-39 (bottom 0.7%) . My score was 48.58, which means that I took a little more than twice as long to finish a triathlon as the winners did (2.06x).
In 2007 (so far), my ranking is 4021 out of 4583 Men between 35-39 (bottom 12.3%). My score is 57.98, which means that I take about 72% longer than the winners do (1.72x).
Again, I'm not going to win any age group awards at that kind of ranking, but it helps me to remember that the improvement is coming. Considering that the top 2% or so of each age group qualifies for Hawaii, it also is a good reminder how lonely it's going to be at the back of the pack there. For example, if I had my exact times and was 79 years old, I still wouldn't be in the top 10% of my age group nationally. There's even an 81 year old man who has a higher score (62.9). There are some tough dudes who do well what I do stubbornly.
The rankings are of course an ordering, but they also include a raw score which is roughly the average winning time as a percentage of your finishing time.
In 2006, my final ranking was 4664 out of 4695 Men between 35-39 (bottom 0.7%) . My score was 48.58, which means that I took a little more than twice as long to finish a triathlon as the winners did (2.06x).
In 2007 (so far), my ranking is 4021 out of 4583 Men between 35-39 (bottom 12.3%). My score is 57.98, which means that I take about 72% longer than the winners do (1.72x).
Again, I'm not going to win any age group awards at that kind of ranking, but it helps me to remember that the improvement is coming. Considering that the top 2% or so of each age group qualifies for Hawaii, it also is a good reminder how lonely it's going to be at the back of the pack there. For example, if I had my exact times and was 79 years old, I still wouldn't be in the top 10% of my age group nationally. There's even an 81 year old man who has a higher score (62.9). There are some tough dudes who do well what I do stubbornly.
July training volume
July was a much more productive month - it's amazing what Matt has gotten out of me:
Swim 18.53 miles (11h 57m 08s)
Bike 365 miles (29h 11m 54s)
Run 83.75 miles (18h 18m 58s)
The race is ten weeks from Saturday!
Swim 18.53 miles (11h 57m 08s)
Bike 365 miles (29h 11m 54s)
Run 83.75 miles (18h 18m 58s)
The race is ten weeks from Saturday!
Friday, July 27, 2007
Shopping list
On a lighter note, here's the Kona shopping list from last year, stolen from their media guide.
Food & Drink
140,000 pounds of ice
100,000 gallons of fluid replacement, cola, water and soup
21,000 packets of PowerGel
7,500 energy bars
24,000 cookies
7,000 bananas
5,000 oranges
3,500 bread rolls
Communications
300 cellular phones
50 land line phones
30 pagers
9 Fax machines
Vehicles
54 motorcycles
50 surfboards
28 vans
25 patrol boats and kayaks
25 cars
12 trucks
4 buses
2 outrigger canoes
Promotion
10,000 race programs
10,000 posters
300 badges
160 trophies
Television
9 portable cameras
8 drivers
5 motorcycle cameras
1 camera-equipped helicopter
2 cranes
1 jib
Misc Supplies
250,000 paper cups
50,000 sponges
53,000 bike bottles
15,000’ mesh fencing
8,400 safety pins
10,000 gear bags
3,500 tables & chairs
3,500 towels
4,000 wrist bands
2,300’ metal barricades
1,700 trash cans
1,800 swim caps
1,800 run numbers
1,800 bike numbers
889 jars of petroleum jelly
600 bottles of sunscreen
300 bike racks
300 massage tables
125 coolers
200 cots
100 luas
200 ice chests
55 tents
40 tiki torches
25 computers
18 bleachers
12 printers
Fear (without loathing)
Okay, so I spend most of my Ironman training time afraid to some extent. I figure by writing it down, I can at least name some fears, and you can see that it's not always fun and bravado.
Running
While running, I'm afraid of two classes of things. The first is creepy-crawlies. From bears to bees, snakes to spiders, I have images of being the first guy felled in whatever park I'm running through. It's funny, because I love being in the woods. I love the sound (or lack thereof). I love the dappled light coming through the trees, the different experience of running on soft surfaces. I love the thought required in putting each foot in a good landing spot, compared to the road slogging. Yes, I even love the wildlife. In Montana, I startled a buck coming around a corner behind a huge rock pile - it was beautiful that close (really, really friggin close). I saw a huge Georgia turtle yesterday, a few feet across, wondering why I was going so slowly. I love watching the butterflies this time of year, which I never really appreciated before moving down here. And yet, I still see a bear over every hill, a snake under every dark rock, and a yellow jacket nest hanging from each tree.
The second class of fear is the 'random misstep'. Most of y'all know my beautiful wife, and know that she took a funny step warming up to play tennis last summer, and spent the entire summer and fall nursing a Jones fracture that still predicts the weather. Another relative broke a foot walking down the sidewalk, and devastated their shoulder going down stairs that they had gone down thousands and thousands of time before. My worst training injury for my last marathon was tripping over the dog and falling down the stairs. In yesterday's long run, I put down each foot about 15,000 times. It just amazes me that I can do that, tired and dehydrated, and still remember to point the toes forward and put the flat part down. Especially since I consistently stub my toe between bed and bathroom in the middle of the night.
Cycling
Biking is a whole new level of fear for me. It's possible to hurt myself running, but, in general, I figure the result would be not being able to finish (or start) the Ironman in October. On the bike, I worry about permanent, life changing injury. As a kid I would fly down whatever hill I could find. My friends and I would play 'Chinese downhill' on our bikes, trying to knock each other over. In the summertime, we would be biking down to the harbor, and would be wearing life jackets for sailing. With these on, we were truly invincible (yeah, it was the 70's not even professional hockey players were wearing helmets yet). I had some bad falls, but basically just bounced and rolled. Now, I know that those falls would be a major problem. My helmet feels pathetically light, and the rest of my body is totally unprotected. Combine that with real speed (I've topped 40mph), feet clipped in to the bike, and a lack of experience, and I'm thankful every time I finish a ride in one piece.
And then there are cars (and motorcycles). Even these days I drive more than I cycle, and I understand how things look different with two tons of steel around you. That said, I've been honked at (a lot), crowded (a lot), and blown around (a lot). There are a few roads I ride on that have semi traffic. Despite what Breaking Away would have you believe, trucks are not fun. They put out a huge wall of wind, and generally are wide enough to make the space pretty tight. I'm highly reflective, and incredibly defensive. I've gone off the road several times, or stopped, just to defuse a situation. I'm super careful, but I'm constantly afraid every time I hear an engine behind me, or see someone approaching on a side road.
Swimming
Lots of people are terrified swimming, of drowning, sharks and snapping turtles. For some reason, I'm not. I consider myself lucky.
Failure and Looking Like a Buffoon
There's not a person who reads this that runs as slowly as I did yesterday. I had a mile, near the middle of a hot day, that took me fifteen minutes. Just try to shuffle that slowly - it's really hard. There are lots of times when I think I have no business at all attempting Kona. Sister Madonna finished it at 76 last year. Former SD Governor Frank Farrar has completed more than 25 Ironman races over the age of 65, on a 30 year old 'temporary' replacement knee. Sarah Reinertsen completed it as an above the leg amputee. And then there's me. People that have found out I was going to Kona have actually thought that I qualified. A lifetime of smoking, eating and sitting on my behind doesn't show. I'm just that slow guy, doing what everyone else is doing, with more sweat and jiggle. I'm going to be very, very close to the cutoffs in Kona, if I make them. Unlike Sarah (who missed the bike cutoff her first time around), I don't get a second chance. I'm afraid of going through all this expense, time, stress and risk, and then just plain not being able to do it. Yep, real fear there. It's made worse because I know what an opportunity it is to race in Hawaii, and the responsibility it entails to honor the luck that is bringing me there.
There's also a more subtle fear, that comes from hanging with elite athletes. I'm a little softer, and a lot rounder, than a lot of these folks I see more often than I used to. Things that are natural to them are complicated procedures or complete mysteries to me. If there's a wide shot of the athletes lining up on the pier that October morning, it'll be awfully easy to find me. I'll be the pale non-zero-body-fat guy, with the fear in his eyes. I'm the guy who doesn't know how to fix this or that on his bike, has never done a serious swim in the ocean, and who has only run three marathons and finished two half-ironmans. Imagine for a second they were auctioning off Boston symphony violin positions to newbie violinists like you. There's a performance fear, but there's also the fear based on the fact that you wouldn't know how to open your case, or how to take care of your violin. That you'd hold it wrong, and would hear the rest of the orchestra snicker while you fought to assemble your music stand, that everyone but you had set up thousands of times. It's that fear, of being the idiot in the room, that strikes when I'm out with other trigeeks, or swimming in public.
So that's it. I have fear. I deal with it. Lance is often attributed a quote that the Marines used for years before he was born - "Pain is weakness leaving the body". I love this quote, especially when my legs get tired. My corollary is "Fear is limit leaving the body". Every time I run past a hole, bike past a car, ask a stupid question, or take off my shirt in public, I'm stretching my boundaries, and knocking something else off the list of things I'm too afraid to do.
Running
While running, I'm afraid of two classes of things. The first is creepy-crawlies. From bears to bees, snakes to spiders, I have images of being the first guy felled in whatever park I'm running through. It's funny, because I love being in the woods. I love the sound (or lack thereof). I love the dappled light coming through the trees, the different experience of running on soft surfaces. I love the thought required in putting each foot in a good landing spot, compared to the road slogging. Yes, I even love the wildlife. In Montana, I startled a buck coming around a corner behind a huge rock pile - it was beautiful that close (really, really friggin close). I saw a huge Georgia turtle yesterday, a few feet across, wondering why I was going so slowly. I love watching the butterflies this time of year, which I never really appreciated before moving down here. And yet, I still see a bear over every hill, a snake under every dark rock, and a yellow jacket nest hanging from each tree.
The second class of fear is the 'random misstep'. Most of y'all know my beautiful wife, and know that she took a funny step warming up to play tennis last summer, and spent the entire summer and fall nursing a Jones fracture that still predicts the weather. Another relative broke a foot walking down the sidewalk, and devastated their shoulder going down stairs that they had gone down thousands and thousands of time before. My worst training injury for my last marathon was tripping over the dog and falling down the stairs. In yesterday's long run, I put down each foot about 15,000 times. It just amazes me that I can do that, tired and dehydrated, and still remember to point the toes forward and put the flat part down. Especially since I consistently stub my toe between bed and bathroom in the middle of the night.
Cycling
Biking is a whole new level of fear for me. It's possible to hurt myself running, but, in general, I figure the result would be not being able to finish (or start) the Ironman in October. On the bike, I worry about permanent, life changing injury. As a kid I would fly down whatever hill I could find. My friends and I would play 'Chinese downhill' on our bikes, trying to knock each other over. In the summertime, we would be biking down to the harbor, and would be wearing life jackets for sailing. With these on, we were truly invincible (yeah, it was the 70's not even professional hockey players were wearing helmets yet). I had some bad falls, but basically just bounced and rolled. Now, I know that those falls would be a major problem. My helmet feels pathetically light, and the rest of my body is totally unprotected. Combine that with real speed (I've topped 40mph), feet clipped in to the bike, and a lack of experience, and I'm thankful every time I finish a ride in one piece.
And then there are cars (and motorcycles). Even these days I drive more than I cycle, and I understand how things look different with two tons of steel around you. That said, I've been honked at (a lot), crowded (a lot), and blown around (a lot). There are a few roads I ride on that have semi traffic. Despite what Breaking Away would have you believe, trucks are not fun. They put out a huge wall of wind, and generally are wide enough to make the space pretty tight. I'm highly reflective, and incredibly defensive. I've gone off the road several times, or stopped, just to defuse a situation. I'm super careful, but I'm constantly afraid every time I hear an engine behind me, or see someone approaching on a side road.
Swimming
Lots of people are terrified swimming, of drowning, sharks and snapping turtles. For some reason, I'm not. I consider myself lucky.
Failure and Looking Like a Buffoon
There's not a person who reads this that runs as slowly as I did yesterday. I had a mile, near the middle of a hot day, that took me fifteen minutes. Just try to shuffle that slowly - it's really hard. There are lots of times when I think I have no business at all attempting Kona. Sister Madonna finished it at 76 last year. Former SD Governor Frank Farrar has completed more than 25 Ironman races over the age of 65, on a 30 year old 'temporary' replacement knee. Sarah Reinertsen completed it as an above the leg amputee. And then there's me. People that have found out I was going to Kona have actually thought that I qualified. A lifetime of smoking, eating and sitting on my behind doesn't show. I'm just that slow guy, doing what everyone else is doing, with more sweat and jiggle. I'm going to be very, very close to the cutoffs in Kona, if I make them. Unlike Sarah (who missed the bike cutoff her first time around), I don't get a second chance. I'm afraid of going through all this expense, time, stress and risk, and then just plain not being able to do it. Yep, real fear there. It's made worse because I know what an opportunity it is to race in Hawaii, and the responsibility it entails to honor the luck that is bringing me there.
There's also a more subtle fear, that comes from hanging with elite athletes. I'm a little softer, and a lot rounder, than a lot of these folks I see more often than I used to. Things that are natural to them are complicated procedures or complete mysteries to me. If there's a wide shot of the athletes lining up on the pier that October morning, it'll be awfully easy to find me. I'll be the pale non-zero-body-fat guy, with the fear in his eyes. I'm the guy who doesn't know how to fix this or that on his bike, has never done a serious swim in the ocean, and who has only run three marathons and finished two half-ironmans. Imagine for a second they were auctioning off Boston symphony violin positions to newbie violinists like you. There's a performance fear, but there's also the fear based on the fact that you wouldn't know how to open your case, or how to take care of your violin. That you'd hold it wrong, and would hear the rest of the orchestra snicker while you fought to assemble your music stand, that everyone but you had set up thousands of times. It's that fear, of being the idiot in the room, that strikes when I'm out with other trigeeks, or swimming in public.
So that's it. I have fear. I deal with it. Lance is often attributed a quote that the Marines used for years before he was born - "Pain is weakness leaving the body". I love this quote, especially when my legs get tired. My corollary is "Fear is limit leaving the body". Every time I run past a hole, bike past a car, ask a stupid question, or take off my shirt in public, I'm stretching my boundaries, and knocking something else off the list of things I'm too afraid to do.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Warning - Spandex Ahead!
Some pictures for y'all from the Macon Rock 'N Roll Half Ironman:
Biking (last ride on the old bike, I'm more aerodynamic on Ferris)
Finishing (check out the guitars in the back, and the Kona wave)
Biking (last ride on the old bike, I'm more aerodynamic on Ferris)
Finishing (check out the guitars in the back, and the Kona wave)
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Macon
Okay, here's the report from Macon... My final time was 7:19:38, which put me 351st out of 420 competitors.
PRE-RACE
Pre-race routine:
Spent the night in Macon with my pop, wishing for the rain to stop. Hit the Olive Garden, which wasn't an original idea, but wasn't too long a wait.
Event warmup:
Up at 4:30, McD's coffee, unpack and triple-check transition area. Wait for wetsuit announcement (legal!), fight with wetsuit, take a quick dip, and try to calm back down. The rain stops just as we're setting up, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief after obsessing about lightning cancellation all night.
SWIM 1.2 MILES, 44:01
Comments:
A great swim for me - It's hard to believe that I managed to be in the top 75%. I appear to have a left hook in my 'straight swim', but it worked for me here. It pushed me way outside the line, which meant I was by myself almost the whole way. Also, this was my first OWS with ear plugs, and I'm ready to buy the company. No dizziness at all. I'm not fast, but I was consistent here, just pausing once about halfway through to get my bearings.
What would you do differently?:
I'm really happy with my swim progress, and feel like I'm getting there. I definitely need more time in open water, to work on swimming straight, but I can't complain about a time like that (for me). The time was actually a little faster, because the mat was after a decent uphill run to T1.
FIRST TRANSITION 4:42
Comments:
This was fine, although I couldn't find my sunscreen (some Fergie-head took it). No sunscreen folks either, so I'm fried today. I took in a little fluid, and felt good about the whole thing.
What would you do differently?:
I don't see much need to try to get another minute here, but I think I'll get better at not having to double and triple check everything before leaving.
BIKE 56 MILES, 3:33:36
Comments:
Despite doing pretty well, I just wasn't feeling it. I couldn't find a spot on the seat that worked. In addition, swimming in the first wave and having a good swim meant that I ended up getting passed the whole day. It's funny, because my time was good (by my standards), but getting passed constantly made me feel like it was worse than it turned out to be. I'm a full mph and a half above IM cutoff pace, so I'm still super pleased. I can't wait to switch to the new bike.
What would you do differently?:
I just need more time in the saddle, more strength for the hills, more flexibility, and better nutrition strategy. Other than that, I'm ready for anything.
SECOND TRANSITION 3:27
Comments:
Again, I don't feel a need to crank this up. The extra thirty seconds was changing into clean and dry socks (glad I did), and some time finishing my last gatorade bottle. I did assume they'd have at least sunscreen spreaders here (was spoiled by NA Sports), so that was dumb of me.
What would you do differently?:
Seemed fine to me. Scratch that - backup sunscreen hiding somewhere (he says, with back on fire).
RUN 13.1 MILES, 2:53:54
Comments:
The people were very nice. It was hot, though, and no shade at all. I got some bad blisters on my feet from pouring water on my head (dumb - how do I always forget that happens?).
I had major stomach issues on the run, especially in the start. I couldn't raise my pulse without burping and retching (sorry, ladies), and my trisuit was about to pop because my belly was so distended. I didn't know if it was too much or not enough water/salt/food/etc., so just lived with it, walking most of the first 6 miles or so. In a race like this, I'm not devastated by that, because I know these things happen, and I'm glad that even during that time I was walking at a better-than-Kona-cutoff pace. I just need to do some work on my end of bike and beginning of run nutrition strategy.
Finally, around mile 9, I found a great walk/run partner. We alternated cones and mailboxes in, and she saved me from a long, long walk.
What would you do differently?:
I've got to come up with a better nutrition plan that doesn't leave me pregnant and sick on the beginning of the run. I also need to remember that cooling myself doesn't need to mean soaking my shoes and socks and having to limp in on nasty blisters.
This sounds negative, but I would describe the run as 'hard' for me, rather than 'bad' for me. I had a tough day, but I sucked it up, and actually ran right at my overall rank (better looking at just men - proof that women are smarter?)
POST RACE
Warm down:
I'm normally a huge post-race eater, but, even though there was free beer, my stomach just wasn't having any. So, I packed up pretty quickly, and drove home to kiss Jen before she went back to work. Ordered in a ridiculously big pile of sushi and put my feet up.
I have some blisters, which aren't that bad today. My sunburn is really, really ugly looking on my back and shoulders (second time in two friggin years). It's by far the most painful thing I have going on today. I'm really considering wearing short sleeves in Kona just to avoid this problem.
What limited your ability to perform faster:
This was a pretty balanced effort for me. I need more 'race day' practice, especially with nutrition and 3-sport pacing. I'm working hard to get it, and to improve my base.
Oh yeah, I improved by more than half an hour from a MUCH easier HIM last year in Florida. I'll take that as an unqualified win.
OVERALL
Event comments:
There was a start delay of about fifteen minutes because the swim course wasn't set up. That surprised me, because the event was really well run other than that.
Also, for a geek like me, it was a shame they weren't selling any logo gear (no new HIM hat for me). They did have Henry Forrest there selling T-shirts. He came in 7th in the (first ever) 1978 Ironman. He had an original 78 t-shirt there with him, too. It was screen printed on the back of an old marine corps t-shirt of his. Everyone had to bring their own shirts to be printed. He was really, really nice, and we had a nice long chat about the spirit of the ironman. He even let me fondle the first ever ironman trophy (John made his first because he had to leave a few days after the race). It really put me in the mood of appreciating the opportunity to move my body, and participate in these fun events.
This is not an easy race, and it is open to traffic. If neither of those scare you off, and you like a smaller event (450), then this is a nice and inexpensive trip to make.
I have a coach!
I'm no longer going into this blind.
I've always been self-coached (read, stubborn and opinionated), but this one is just too big for me to do on my own. So, since finding out about the lottery spot, I've been coach shopping. The thing is, most coaches are either not coaching the back of the pack, or not adding much value. I've been talking to other racers and coaches, and I finally found a coach who is a match for me. He's as much of a tri-geek and geek in general as I am, and yet he's willing to add me to his stable of pros and elites, and help me get around the course in Kona.
His name is Matt Russ, and he owns The Sport Factory, a local athletic coaching organization. Here's the bio from his website:
We've been working together for a few weeks, and it's already made a huge difference. My mileage is ramping up, and yet I'm less sore (mostly). He's been working on form and Vo2max training, and analyzing each workout beat by beat (I've been wearing a gps-based heart rate monitor, that also records pedal strokes on the bike). He's been encouraging and realistic, and so far so good.
Thanks to mom for making this one happen - I wouldn't have done it on my own, and it's really going to make a difference.
I've always been self-coached (read, stubborn and opinionated), but this one is just too big for me to do on my own. So, since finding out about the lottery spot, I've been coach shopping. The thing is, most coaches are either not coaching the back of the pack, or not adding much value. I've been talking to other racers and coaches, and I finally found a coach who is a match for me. He's as much of a tri-geek and geek in general as I am, and yet he's willing to add me to his stable of pros and elites, and help me get around the course in Kona.
His name is Matt Russ, and he owns The Sport Factory, a local athletic coaching organization. Here's the bio from his website:
Matt has over seventeen years competitive experience in running, multi-sport, and adventure racing. He has competed in races from coast to coast winning overall placements as well as many age division finishes. He is a member of the 07 USA duathlon Team.
Matt has trained, coached, and counseled hundreds of athletes over the last thirteen years from around the country and internationally. He has worked with pro level athletes and top age group competitors in Iron Man, 70.3, cyclo cross, mountain biking, Xterra, and road cycling. His athletes have won numerous podiums both regionally and nationally. He has designed cardiovascular training plans for elite military, law enforcement, FBI agents, top ranked boxers, and the Land Rover Adventure team.
Matt earned his BS in Commercial Recreation from Georgia Southern University and has received an ACE certified level II personal training certification, an ACE certified weight management consultant certification, AAFP Post rehab specialist certification, and has specialty recognition from ACE in strength conditioning. He has over ten years experience working in a rehabilitation setting with Body Pros physical therapy, as well as a licensed power coach. He is an expert level USA Triathlon coach, and is a USA Track & Field licensed coach. In 2001 Matt was one of the first outside coaches contracted by CTS ( Carmichael Training Systems) to coach their athletes. He worked with legendary coach Chris Carmichael ( coach of Lance Armstrong), and was trained in his coaching methodology and systems. Matt also underwent certification in Joe Friel's Ultrafit Association.
Matt is a freelance writer and his articles regularly appear in such magazines as Triathlete, Inside Triathlon, Running Times, Triathlon Life, and on the web at Active.com, Tri Newbies, Beginner Triathlete, Trifuel, and Triathlete Online.
Matt coaches athletes full time and is Head Coach and owner of The Sport Factory. His coaching philosophy is to consider each client's unique life style and integrate a balanced and consistent training plan.
We've been working together for a few weeks, and it's already made a huge difference. My mileage is ramping up, and yet I'm less sore (mostly). He's been working on form and Vo2max training, and analyzing each workout beat by beat (I've been wearing a gps-based heart rate monitor, that also records pedal strokes on the bike). He's been encouraging and realistic, and so far so good.
Thanks to mom for making this one happen - I wouldn't have done it on my own, and it's really going to make a difference.
Yep, still going...
Okay, so maybe a month and change went by between posts... My bad.
Since the last update, I've gotten in:
Bike 342.44 Mi - 22hr 37m 52s
Run 84.64 Mi - 16hr 53m 7s
Swim 18.89 Mi - 12hr 38m 28s
It's been creeping up, both in terms of hours and distance, as I had recovery and a trip early in June.
I'll backpost a report from Macon, and post other updates more regularly. Thanks for sticking with me.
Since the last update, I've gotten in:
Bike 342.44 Mi - 22hr 37m 52s
Run 84.64 Mi - 16hr 53m 7s
Swim 18.89 Mi - 12hr 38m 28s
It's been creeping up, both in terms of hours and distance, as I had recovery and a trip early in June.
I'll backpost a report from Macon, and post other updates more regularly. Thanks for sticking with me.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Miles and miles, and then STOP
Okay, I have a big race on Sunday.
I'll be doing the Rock N Roll Man half ironman in Macon, GA. That's a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile ride, and a 13.1 mile run. I don't need to set a speed record, but I do need to finish it to validate my spot for Hawaii. I did one of these last year, and finished with 7 minutes to spare. I do hope to do better this year.
I can do it, and I'm treating it like an "A" race, practicing all the aspects of getting ready and performing in a big (for me) event.
That means, that after miles and miles of biking, running, and swimming, I cut way back in the weeks leading up to the event. I still move around as often, but gone are the four hour bikes, two hours runs and hour swims. Instead, it's just quick 20 minute or half hour workouts.
It's really, really hard on me, but I just keep telling myself over and over again that I can't improve my fitness in the two weeks before a race. It takes that long for your body to adapt and improve from a workout.
So, it's been quiet. I can't wait to ramp the mileage up again over the next month.
I did pick up a new bike, with the blessing of my beautiful and supportive (did I mention beautiful?) wife.
It's also beautiful, but in a completely different way:
I won't be riding it on Sunday, because everything from shifting to the actual geometry of the bike is different, but it will be a huge help in the winds of Hawaii.
I'll be doing the Rock N Roll Man half ironman in Macon, GA. That's a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile ride, and a 13.1 mile run. I don't need to set a speed record, but I do need to finish it to validate my spot for Hawaii. I did one of these last year, and finished with 7 minutes to spare. I do hope to do better this year.
I can do it, and I'm treating it like an "A" race, practicing all the aspects of getting ready and performing in a big (for me) event.
That means, that after miles and miles of biking, running, and swimming, I cut way back in the weeks leading up to the event. I still move around as often, but gone are the four hour bikes, two hours runs and hour swims. Instead, it's just quick 20 minute or half hour workouts.
It's really, really hard on me, but I just keep telling myself over and over again that I can't improve my fitness in the two weeks before a race. It takes that long for your body to adapt and improve from a workout.
So, it's been quiet. I can't wait to ramp the mileage up again over the next month.
I did pick up a new bike, with the blessing of my beautiful and supportive (did I mention beautiful?) wife.
It's also beautiful, but in a completely different way:
I won't be riding it on Sunday, because everything from shifting to the actual geometry of the bike is different, but it will be a huge help in the winds of Hawaii.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Just Checking In
Okay, a busy week, but I got my last build week in before being out of town all of next week.
Fourteen and half hours! Even though more than nine of it was over the weekend, that still means I got in an hour of training each day. That's a good week.
Because I'm supposed to work to my weaknesses, the bike and swim increases meant a little cutback in running (distance). I'm not as worried about that, and should be able to get in at least a few runs next week while I'm away.
Last week's training volume:
Swim 6806 yards: 2 hrs, 49 minutes, 4 seconds
Bike 146.2 miles: 9 hrs, 11 minute, 47 seconds
Run 13.3 miles: 2 hrs, 28 minutes, 45 seconds
Fourteen and half hours! Even though more than nine of it was over the weekend, that still means I got in an hour of training each day. That's a good week.
Because I'm supposed to work to my weaknesses, the bike and swim increases meant a little cutback in running (distance). I'm not as worried about that, and should be able to get in at least a few runs next week while I'm away.
Last week's training volume:
Swim 6806 yards: 2 hrs, 49 minutes, 4 seconds
Bike 146.2 miles: 9 hrs, 11 minute, 47 seconds
Run 13.3 miles: 2 hrs, 28 minutes, 45 seconds
Monday, May 7, 2007
Big Bike Weekend
On the other end of the spectrum from rest days are breakthrough workouts. These are the days that you really push your body, stressing it out to the point where it has no choice but adapting.
This weekend was a breakthrough bike weekend. I did two metric centuries (100 kilometers). On Saturday, I rode the course from my upcoming Half Ironman (Rock N Roll Man) in Macon. With my wrong turns, the 56 mile course turned into a 65 mile hill ride.
Sunday morning, I somehow got back on the bike and did another 62 miles around Palmetto, Georgia with the Ride for Health folks. I slowed down a mile per hour (average), but I made it through.
So I did 128 miles of biking this weekend, and stressed by body out. All of a sudden, the 56 mile ride Half Ironman ride doesn't seem nearly so intimidating, and I'm almost ready for a century (100 miles). Rest day today, and then back into the routine. I have one more build week, and then a recovery week while I travel for work.
Last weeks training volume (through Friday - doesn't include the above rides):
Swim 5056 yards: 2 hrs, 12 minutes, 7 seconds
Bike 78.25 miles: 5 hrs, 1 minute, 51 seconds
Run 17.1 miles: 2 hrs, 20 minutes, 18 seconds
This weekend was a breakthrough bike weekend. I did two metric centuries (100 kilometers). On Saturday, I rode the course from my upcoming Half Ironman (Rock N Roll Man) in Macon. With my wrong turns, the 56 mile course turned into a 65 mile hill ride.
Sunday morning, I somehow got back on the bike and did another 62 miles around Palmetto, Georgia with the Ride for Health folks. I slowed down a mile per hour (average), but I made it through.
So I did 128 miles of biking this weekend, and stressed by body out. All of a sudden, the 56 mile ride Half Ironman ride doesn't seem nearly so intimidating, and I'm almost ready for a century (100 miles). Rest day today, and then back into the routine. I have one more build week, and then a recovery week while I travel for work.
Last weeks training volume (through Friday - doesn't include the above rides):
Swim 5056 yards: 2 hrs, 12 minutes, 7 seconds
Bike 78.25 miles: 5 hrs, 1 minute, 51 seconds
Run 17.1 miles: 2 hrs, 20 minutes, 18 seconds
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Winning and Losing
There are three things you're not allowed to say within a hundred miles of Jen's childhood home:
"Wide right."
"Forward pass."
"No goal."
For the uninitiated, these are all official calls in championship games that Buffalo lost - Two Super Bowls and a Stanley Cup finals game. In all of these cases, Buffalo was the second best team in the nation. In all three cases, they were losers that day. Even the biggest Bills and Sabres fans wouldn't say that they somehow won, and celebrate those days as great days in Buffalo history.
So, guess what. In 164 days, I am going to lose the Ironman World Championship. In fact, I am liable to get my behind handed to me. I estimate that, if everything goes perfectly, I'm not going to come in second, or even in the top thousand. In fact, the only person I know will be there that I think I have a decent chance of competing with is a 77 year old nun (really - here she is - she says that she "trains religiously"). If the stars truly align, I may finish in less than twice the time it takes the winner.
So why try? Why do it? Because I'm not racing against any of those folks, not even Sister Madonna. I'm racing myself. I win when I kick my own behind, lose when I stop improving.
I took part in a local sprint (very short) triathlon last Saturday, held in John Tanner State Park. It was a 600 meter swim, an 11 mile bike, and a 5 kilometer run. 261 people finished before me, and only 66 took longer than I did. Sounds like a clear beating, the kind of thing that should have me packing up my bike in silence and heading home, hoping that nobody saw me. Instead, if you had been at the finish, you would have seen me hooting and hollering like the world records were falling. I practically floated across the line, and high-fived the volunteer. Why? I kicked my own behind. Hard. Compared with the exact same race last year:
My swim time improved 19%
My transition from swim to bike time improved 10%
My bike time improved 13%
My transition from bike to run time improved 8%
And my run? My run time improved 31%
Overall, it took me 22 minutes less than it took me last year. That's a 21% improvement in one year. I did that, by working my tail off.
I won. I came. I saw. I kicked some butt.
So what about the Ironman? I've never done it before, so where's my win loss line? There are so many factors, so much uncertainty, what could I possibly set as my goal?
I want to race 140.6 miles in less than 17 hours. That's pretty hard - even in this championship race, 10% to 20% of competitors don't manage it. I don't know if I can do it. I'm going to work as hard as I can. I'm going to hope that Sister Madonna prays for low wind speeds (you can help if you'd like). I'm going to practice changing flat tires, and swim bike and run at every opportunity until then.
It's a tough goal, but I think I can do it. I think I can win. Heck, I think I can win at the Ironman World Championship race. How do you like them apples?
"Wide right."
"Forward pass."
"No goal."
For the uninitiated, these are all official calls in championship games that Buffalo lost - Two Super Bowls and a Stanley Cup finals game. In all of these cases, Buffalo was the second best team in the nation. In all three cases, they were losers that day. Even the biggest Bills and Sabres fans wouldn't say that they somehow won, and celebrate those days as great days in Buffalo history.
So, guess what. In 164 days, I am going to lose the Ironman World Championship. In fact, I am liable to get my behind handed to me. I estimate that, if everything goes perfectly, I'm not going to come in second, or even in the top thousand. In fact, the only person I know will be there that I think I have a decent chance of competing with is a 77 year old nun (really - here she is - she says that she "trains religiously"). If the stars truly align, I may finish in less than twice the time it takes the winner.
So why try? Why do it? Because I'm not racing against any of those folks, not even Sister Madonna. I'm racing myself. I win when I kick my own behind, lose when I stop improving.
I took part in a local sprint (very short) triathlon last Saturday, held in John Tanner State Park. It was a 600 meter swim, an 11 mile bike, and a 5 kilometer run. 261 people finished before me, and only 66 took longer than I did. Sounds like a clear beating, the kind of thing that should have me packing up my bike in silence and heading home, hoping that nobody saw me. Instead, if you had been at the finish, you would have seen me hooting and hollering like the world records were falling. I practically floated across the line, and high-fived the volunteer. Why? I kicked my own behind. Hard. Compared with the exact same race last year:
My swim time improved 19%
My transition from swim to bike time improved 10%
My bike time improved 13%
My transition from bike to run time improved 8%
And my run? My run time improved 31%
Overall, it took me 22 minutes less than it took me last year. That's a 21% improvement in one year. I did that, by working my tail off.
I won. I came. I saw. I kicked some butt.
So what about the Ironman? I've never done it before, so where's my win loss line? There are so many factors, so much uncertainty, what could I possibly set as my goal?
I want to race 140.6 miles in less than 17 hours. That's pretty hard - even in this championship race, 10% to 20% of competitors don't manage it. I don't know if I can do it. I'm going to work as hard as I can. I'm going to hope that Sister Madonna prays for low wind speeds (you can help if you'd like). I'm going to practice changing flat tires, and swim bike and run at every opportunity until then.
It's a tough goal, but I think I can do it. I think I can win. Heck, I think I can win at the Ironman World Championship race. How do you like them apples?
Friday, April 27, 2007
Rest days
Today is a rest day. I'm going to take at least one a week, and more if I need them. The basic idea is get into a pattern of repetitive stress and repair.
I'll work out hard, and my body will give me what I need that day. If I consistently work out in this hard/easy cycle, my body will realize that I'm going to be working out hard regularly. It will then, the theory goes, use the easy days to build up everything from capillaries to muscle and bone. I have 20 or so of these week long cycles between now and Kona, and I'm hoping to make each of them count.
The risk that I work out too hard and hurt myself is actually much higher than the risk that I won't work out hard enough, but it's a very narrow zone between over and under trained. I'm sure I'll spend time on both borders, and will just try correct my course as I go.
My weeks start on Saturday, usually with a race, and end on Friday with a rest day.
The total volume this week was :
Swim 4400 yards: 1 hr, 55 minutes, 37 seconds
Bike 78.24 miles: 4 hrs, 55 minutes, 30 seconds
Run 13.7 miles: 2 hrs, 29 minutes, 18 seconds
I'll be well above twice that by late summer. Wow, it seems like a lot.
I'll work out hard, and my body will give me what I need that day. If I consistently work out in this hard/easy cycle, my body will realize that I'm going to be working out hard regularly. It will then, the theory goes, use the easy days to build up everything from capillaries to muscle and bone. I have 20 or so of these week long cycles between now and Kona, and I'm hoping to make each of them count.
The risk that I work out too hard and hurt myself is actually much higher than the risk that I won't work out hard enough, but it's a very narrow zone between over and under trained. I'm sure I'll spend time on both borders, and will just try correct my course as I go.
My weeks start on Saturday, usually with a race, and end on Friday with a rest day.
The total volume this week was :
Swim 4400 yards: 1 hr, 55 minutes, 37 seconds
Bike 78.24 miles: 4 hrs, 55 minutes, 30 seconds
Run 13.7 miles: 2 hrs, 29 minutes, 18 seconds
I'll be well above twice that by late summer. Wow, it seems like a lot.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
When and where? Can I come?
"Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement - and we will make the goal."
-Jerome Fleishman
The race is Saturday, October 13th at 7:00 A.M., which is a short 171 days from the date of this post (yikes!).
It's on the 'Big Island' of Hawaii (which is also called Hawaii). The swim takes place, and the bike and run start and finish, in Kailua-Kona on the west coast. I'll break down the courses for you another time, but the best place to stay and see would be in Kailua-Kona itself. It would also be possible to stay in Kohala, which has nicer resorts, but it would probably mean an early morning if you want to see the swim. It's quite an event, and there are no tickets to buy.
Anybody and everybody is welcome. This is a big deal for me, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compete in the 'super bowl' of Triathlon. Even so, I'm a cranky and nervous wreck before the race. Sunday and Monday after the race would be the best days to hang out with me. I'm actually pretty busy in the days leading up to the race (freer earlier in the week), and Jen and I are looking for some alone time ourselves after then. The hotels are usually ridiculously booked, with long minimums. So, that means you're better of coming if you want a Hawaiian vacation anyway. Spend some time, come say hi (you don't know how much it would be appreciated), celebrate, and then continue your vacation. If you're thinking about it, and don't want to surprise me, just drop me a line. I'm not thinking of much else these days anyway.
Yesterday was an 'easy day'. I'll be trying to alternate easy and quality to stay healthy through the summer and fall. It was an 1100 yard swim, and a 6.2 mile easy (slow) run.
-Jerome Fleishman
The race is Saturday, October 13th at 7:00 A.M., which is a short 171 days from the date of this post (yikes!).
It's on the 'Big Island' of Hawaii (which is also called Hawaii). The swim takes place, and the bike and run start and finish, in Kailua-Kona on the west coast. I'll break down the courses for you another time, but the best place to stay and see would be in Kailua-Kona itself. It would also be possible to stay in Kohala, which has nicer resorts, but it would probably mean an early morning if you want to see the swim. It's quite an event, and there are no tickets to buy.
Anybody and everybody is welcome. This is a big deal for me, and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to compete in the 'super bowl' of Triathlon. Even so, I'm a cranky and nervous wreck before the race. Sunday and Monday after the race would be the best days to hang out with me. I'm actually pretty busy in the days leading up to the race (freer earlier in the week), and Jen and I are looking for some alone time ourselves after then. The hotels are usually ridiculously booked, with long minimums. So, that means you're better of coming if you want a Hawaiian vacation anyway. Spend some time, come say hi (you don't know how much it would be appreciated), celebrate, and then continue your vacation. If you're thinking about it, and don't want to surprise me, just drop me a line. I'm not thinking of much else these days anyway.
Yesterday was an 'easy day'. I'll be trying to alternate easy and quality to stay healthy through the summer and fall. It was an 1100 yard swim, and a 6.2 mile easy (slow) run.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Here we go...
Okay, today is as good as day as any to call the first day of training for the Ironman World Championship in Kona. I'll try to provide information in little bites, but here's the basic info:
Today is 'quality swim' day, meaning a long, hard swim at the Y.
1.25 miles, done as 22x100 on 30 seconds or so rest. It takes me around an hour.
Today is 'quality swim' day, meaning a long, hard swim at the Y.
1.25 miles, done as 22x100 on 30 seconds or so rest. It takes me around an hour.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
