tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69391455898856860122024-02-06T22:57:25.339-05:00A Couple of Wild and Crazy Guys!The adventures of John and Bill as they train for and compete in their first ironman event, Ironman Arizona.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.comBlogger88125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-11331514040008492382009-12-25T10:37:00.008-05:002009-12-26T12:14:39.900-05:00IMAZ: The Novelization<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd9Qm6reYNA_VJYaAc2x8vWARbqXqXUnwYXmO0YcGE76xsRG18Ks5yjKPIJ7fL0swkBHOsf7VZQ_O7HCQ1D6rDmKy8IiG-B846wf4d6kePFyd5bkaoKoWAw72V5Ek7xX7uLvX3v2oJJo/s1600-h/47879-738-013f.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 384px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFd9Qm6reYNA_VJYaAc2x8vWARbqXqXUnwYXmO0YcGE76xsRG18Ks5yjKPIJ7fL0swkBHOsf7VZQ_O7HCQ1D6rDmKy8IiG-B846wf4d6kePFyd5bkaoKoWAw72V5Ek7xX7uLvX3v2oJJo/s400/47879-738-013f.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419199806882815698" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Note: OK, Here's the last post. </span><span style="font-style: italic;">I give you the full "War & Peace" version of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IMAZ</span> Race Report.<br /><br /></span>Wow! This event was so huge and I have so many thoughts that have gone through my head before, during and afterward, that I almost can't formulate a coherent explanation. To some degree the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ironman</span> must be experienced directly by the individual to truly understand the enormity of it all.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mad Men </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">(Not as in "angry," but as in "crazy," "overly nervous," or "insane")</span><br /></span><br />I'd like to say that the flight from Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lauderdale</span> to Phoenix was uneventful, but would ignore the fun event that Southwest puts on with its open seating process. John & I both forget to check in early and end up with dreaded "B" boarding passes. By the time we get to board for our connection in Nashville, the only seats available on the plane are those dreaded middle seats. I end up in the very last row of the plane.<br /><br />The flight itself was uneventful, but at the rental car building the rental car agent makes the mistake of asking me how my day is going and I go all Larry David on her about the Southwest boarding system. She tells me that she likes Southwest and looks at me like I'm nuts. John chimes in that we are in Arizona for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ironman</span> and I'm clearly on edge with nervous energy for the event, which is probably a dead on psychological analysis.<br /><br />We get to the Mission Palms Hotel to check in. We lug our bags across a courtyard, up the elevators to the 4<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">th</span> floor to go to our room. On getting out of the elevators, we can't help but notice that the floor is a dusty mess with crew of about 6 to 8 construction workers tearing out the wall paper in the halls and pasting up new wall paper. We go to the other end of the hall to where our room is to see if its far enough away from the wall paper job in place, but decide this is unacceptable. John has an asthma condition and doesn't want to risk inhaling dust and smelling wall paper paste. I concur. We go back to registration and get a new room in the front end of the hotel on the 3rd floor. Don't get me wrong, the Mission Palms was a lovely hotel and definitely the place to stay for this event, but it was another of those hurdles on our travel day that made us wonder what else could go wrong. I found out soon enough.<br /><br />We decide to go over to Tempe Beach Park, the site of the transition area, the registration area, shopping tent, and where <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">TriBike</span> Transport has our bikes. We go through the registration area and pick up our race numbers, chip, and sign away our right to hold anyone legally accountable for our choice in doing this event should we become injured or worse. Since this is the first of 2 days to pick up registration packets, the lines are tolerable and we get through the lines fairly quickly. As we mill about the area, you get the feeling that you are at a superhero convention. There are so many extremely fit people on bikes and walking around that you wonder if you even belong in this group. This does nothing to ease our nervous energy.<br /><br />We stop by the clothing sales tent and browse the goods. There is every conceivable shirt, bike jersey, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tri</span> clothing, sweat shirt and tee shirt containing the Arizona <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ironman</span> logo. Pretty cool stuff and you could spend a fortune. Unfortunately, John got to the tent a bit before me and informs me that one of the sales staff informed him that there is lots of inventory and that everything will be available throughout the next three days. John suggests that we not waist our time making purchases at this time, but wait until after the event. I think that John is somewhat superstitious about buying logo wear before completing the event. In order to support my buddy, and on his assurances that there will be plenty of inventory in the next several days, we leave the tent without making any purchases.<br /><br />We go over to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">TriBike</span> Transport tent to pick up our bikes. I'm the kind of guy that likes to "pack his own parachute" as they say, so having given my bike to a third party company to ship across the country to the race sight along with my gear bag felt like letting go of a trapeze swing, flying through the air and relying on another high wire artist to catch me on the other side. I'm happy to report that the guys at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">TriBike</span> Transport are top notch and our bikes and gear bags arrived as promised and in good shape. John & I pump our tires and John has the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">TriBike</span> guys put on his pedals and check out his bike. Having berried my peddles deep in my gear bag, I decide to walk my bike the 7/10<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ths</span> of a mile back to the hotel to work on. As I walk my bike back, I hear what sounds like a gun shot and realize my back tire has blown out. I later realize I must have pinched the tube in putting on new tires just before shipping the bike out. Not <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">TriBike's</span> fault, but another in what looks like a series of unnatural warnings regarding the event if I were superstitious, which I'm not.<br /><br />We go to dinner at Gordon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Biersch</span> Brewery Restaurant at which we do not sample any of the micro brews. John, being single, chats up the young college aged waitress. Not wanting to seem like a deadbeat, I join in on the banter. As the waitress departs with our order, John chastises me for cutting in on his banter with the waitress. Hey, harmless banter is all we married guys are allowed, but I apologise anyway. I got to learn to be a better wing man. After 23 years of marriage, I'm way out of practice. Anyway, the food was good and I catch the Dolphins beating the Carolina Panthers on the TV that I can see over John's shoulder.<br /><br />After dinner, we head back to our room. I work on getting my bike and tires in order, while John works on sorting out his nutrition bags and starts comparing both his own notes, our friend Jerry's notes and the nutrition section of his "Bible," <span style="font-weight: bold;">Going Long</span> by Joe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Friel</span> & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Grodon</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Byrn</span>. He starts doing careful calculations of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">goos</span>, electrolyte tablets, Cliff Bars, and other assorted food products and drinks he will carry and have in his "Special Needs Bag" at drops on the bike and run courses. When I'm done getting my bike in order, I start to take note of the vast volume of food, drink and nutrition products that John believes we need to ingest in order to survive this event. Its a boat load of stuff that looks like it could sustain a family of four for a month. As I start to question John about such a large number of calories, he starts laying out the calculation of per hour calorie consumption predicted by the Bible and the actual calorie count of each product.<br /><br />I think it necessary to point out at this time that John & I take different approaches to our training and preparation for this event. John reads everything he can get his hands on, speaks with several people who have done these events to get advice on every aspect of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">ironman</span>, and takes copious notes on all of this information. In other words, he is very focused on detail, does thorough research and takes copious notes along the way. Very analytical. Too analytical in my view. I take more of an intuitive approach to the event. I practiced the pieces of the event, tried the level of nutrition I felt I needed to get through the bike and run portions, and planned to repeat this level of eating and drinking for the event as done in practice. But with John showing me hard data, I begin to seriously doubt that we have any idea of what consumption is necessary for an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">ironman</span> event.<br /><br />OK, time for panic mode. I start gathering together my food and nutrition products and start to separate the various groupings I'll need to eat during the early portion of the bike, the restock of goods to place in the special needs bag, what to put in my run belt, and what to put in the run special needs bag. We are both overwhelmed by the amount of food it looks like we will need to consume for this event. It suddenly feels like we gathered supplies for the pioneer crossing from St. Louis to California and under purchased. I have my various nutrition parcelled between my various bags. John puts all of his nutritional goods aside to do another set of calculations the next day and reconfigure his goods. Before turning in for the night, I plug my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Garmin</span> 305 into the bathroom socket to charge it for the run portion of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">ironman</span>.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Friday</span><br /><br />When we awake Friday morning, I discover that my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Garmin</span> 305 appears to be dead. I ask John whether he saw any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Garmin</span> booth at the expo the last 2 days, but he reminds me that he noted the absence of one and I had informed him that with Timex as a sponsor, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Garmin</span> was probably not allowed to set up a booth at the expo.<br /><br />After a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee at Starbucks, we pack our triathlon gear bags with our wet suits and towels to go down to Tempe Town Lake to practice the swim. Its not that we need to practice swimming at this point, its that we know the water is supposed to be pretty cold (around 63 degrees) and do not want to be surprised at the coldness of the water on race day. As we approach the water, we start asking other swimmers how the water feels. "Really cold" seems to be the common response. No real help, but about what we expected to hear. I start talking to a woman in a wet suit who turns out to be from Pompano Beach, Florida, a mere 5 miles north of where I live. John & I make friends with this woman named Maria who has previously done <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Ironman</span> Florida. While changing into our wetsuits, we meet another experienced woman named Kim from Colorado. I jokingly mention that doing the half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">ironman</span> led us to doing the full and wondered what the full opens the door to doing. Kim replies, "Oh, that's easy: Ultra marathons." "I don't know about that," I reply. "OK," Kim says, "How about the rim to rim run of the Grand Canyon?" I had just read an article from John's copy of <span style="font-weight: bold;">Marathon & Beyond</span> magazine on the flight over about the rim to rim run. "Sounds like fun," I say, "but I'd want to go with someone who has done it before as a guide." "Oh, I'm in a group that goes every summer," Kim responds. I give her my card to contact me, but I'm not sure I could handle to rigours of the altitude or temperature change.<br /><br />After suiting up, along with a dive <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">hoodie</span>, I note that John is still talking to yet more people asking about the water. Assuming that this is simply a delay tactic for what he knows will be unpleasant, I head to the waterfront along and walk down the steps to the water. As I jump into the water, it feels like I've jumped into a glass of ice water full of ice cubes. I swim just to get over the cold. While somewhat startling at first, I start to acclimate to the water. I swim east in the direction of the start buoy for Sunday's swim. I swim 10 minutes out and 10 back. Good enough to get the feel of it I think. As I come out of the water, I can't find John and figure he made it into the water for his swim. I change back into shirt and shorts and spy a guy wearing an Alaska bike jersey. I introduce myself and inquire if he knows any of my Anchorage running buddies (he doesn't). He introduces me to his wife and twin 18 year old son and daughter. He has done one other <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">ironman</span> event, and his wife and son are joining him in this event. I tell him that there is no way in Hell that my 18 year old son would join me in this endeavor.<br /><br />After dropping our swim gear back to the hotel, we walk over to Hooters for lunch. On the walk over, John announces that he doesn't think he'll join me in my search for a new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Garmin</span>. I express my disappointment in his lack of support for my situation. He asks if I'm going to get all teary eyed over the issue. No, I inform him, I just have to factor in his lack of mutual support when his snoring has me awake for another night. Perhaps I'll not resist the urge to smother him with his pillow. This leads to a whole bit about who will smother whom with a pillow first. I tell him he may be doing me a favor by smothering me with my pillow prior to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">ironman</span> on Sunday. Our humor this day is based on little jabs against each other that is clearly based on nervous energy and the fact that we've been training together for an entire year. I tell John I've already got training buddy divorce papers drafted to be served on him when this event is over.<br /><br />After lunch, John decides to rest while I gear up in bike gear to take my bike for a test ride. I ride over to the bike course and hook up with a group of riders from California. As we ride, I note that even in this early afternoon heat, my arms are kind of chilly. Good, I think, it won't get too hot on the ride on Sunday. As we return from the outward portion of our ride, one of the guy riders tells me he did this event last year when it was held in April. He informs me that he did not finish. This causes me a little concern in that he looks like a very capable bicyclist. He explains that he got behind the cutoff time in the swim and was working hard to avoid the bike and run cut off times the rest of the day. Knowing that John is concerned about the swim cut off time, I choose not to discuss this story with him upon my return to the room.<br /><br />After a few hours rest in the room, we had over to Tempe Arts Park for a welcome dinner that is part of the registration fee and package. We meet other athletes, get our pasta and salad and head over to a large group of tables in front of a presentation stage. There are 2,800 participants registered and along with family and friend support there are probably 3,500 people at the dinner. Mike Reilly, the announcer for all of the Ford <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Ironman</span> events, is the MC for the evening. Mike informs us that there are over 1,000 participants doing a full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">ironman</span> for the first time. He informs all us newbies that come Sunday night, we will be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">ironmen</span>. All us newbies laugh nervously, not so sure that we will get the job done. Mike then calls up the oldest and the youngest participants. The oldest male is a guy named Ed who informs us that "Half of my friends are dead, the other half are in assisted living facilities, and I'm here having fun!" The youngest male turns out to be the 18 year old Alaskan I met that morning. Mike also plays "The Biggest Loser" game by having everyone stand up that lost 10 pounds in training for this event. He then starts to up the ante by 10 pound increments. The winning weight loss ended up being over 110 pounds. When Mike questions the guy, he offers to show Mike his driver's licence showing him the before picture. Of course, we are all amazed and applaud this guy. The prize: a year supply of cookies. Health cookies mind you, but cookies none the less.<br /><br />Mike then introduces the crowd to Rudy, a double leg amputee that took up triathlons because he started trying to do activities that they said he wouldn't be able to do. He had worked his way up to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">ironman</span> distance and had just attempted the Hawaii <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">Ironman</span> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Kona</span> in October. Rudy had failed to meet the 17 hour cut off in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">Kona</span> and was in Arizona to give it another shot. We give Rudy a standing ovation. After Mike Reilly is done inspiring us, the race director and sub-directors give us briefings on the course and various ways the we can be penalized or disqualified from the event on Sunday. After returning to our hotel, we finalize our gear bags and special needs nutrition bags for drop off Saturday morning.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saturday</span><br /><br />John heads over to Starbucks for breakfast before me. I take a shower and get to Starbucks a half hours after John. I find him talking to a woman that I think he's just met. After ordering food and coffee, I approach and ask if the other seat at their table is taken. It turns out the woman is Maria from Pompano Beach whom I didn't recognize in normal clothing. People definitely look different in a full wetsuit and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">hoodie</span>. We get advice from Maria who had previously done <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">Ironman</span> Florida and arrange to meet for an early dinner.<br /><br />After breakfast, we return to our room and gather our gear bags and bikes for drop off at the transition area. I oil and lube my chain and gears before heading out. I offer John my oil and lube bottles, but he refuses my offer wanting to rely on the professional bike mechanics at the transition area. Suddenly, the lubes and sprays that we have shared over the last several months doesn't seem like a good idea to John. "To each there own," I think. I pass it off as a nervous mistake on John's part. Why rely on your buddy when you've got professionals around? After dropping our gear bags and setting our bikes up, we talk to an athlete that informs us that he was told that what was at the souvenir tent was all the stock that was available. When we return to the tent, we find most of the clothing that is not in odd sizes is gone. Oh well, at least I got a few items the day before.<br /><br />We decide to go shopping for some extra food and supplies we will need for Sunday. We stop by a bike shop for extra tubes, air cartridges, and a pair of arm warmers for me. We find a pizza joint that serves spaghetti with meatballs, a find a store for food, and a running store where I get a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">Garmin</span> 310 (the new waterproof ones you can wear during the entire <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">ironman</span> event). On our return to the hotel, I get a call that my family has arrived on their flight out to Phoenix and will meet me in an hour or so. John decides to take in a movie.<br /><br />When my wife Salome, son Alex, and mother-in-law <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42">Kiki</span> arrive, I walk them to the expo and show them the lake we will swim in and the transition area. Salome will volunteer to give out metals to finishers with the hope of hanging one on John & me. We look for the volunteer coordinator, but are unable to locate anyone in charge. I take them to a burger joint for their late lunch and send them on their way to our friends house in NE Scottsdale. I go back to the room and take a nap. I have a short dream in which I am an eagle gliding over the lake course. I feel very confident and awake feeling that this dream is a good omen. John thinks I'm nuts and starts singing "Fly Like an Eagle."<br /><br />We get a call from Maria to get together for an early dinner that we agreed to schedule when we met at breakfast. We meet and decide to go back to the Gordon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43">Biersch</span> Brewery Restaurant. As we are sitting down, I note a table of about 10 that looks like it contains several athletes. I ask for show of hands as to who is participating in tomorrows event. Once the athletes reveal themselves, I ask what they ordered for dinner. Chicken with pasta seems to be the order of the evening and John, Maria and I all follow suit. We top it off with desert as we need the calories for tomorrows event. At least that's our story and we're sticking to it.<br /><br />Back at our room after dinner, John & I lay our gear out for the next morning. John excuses himself from the room so that he can go down to the hotel lobby and review his notes and otherwise get mentally prepared for the next morning. I hang out in the room and channel surf. I prefer trying to not think too much about the coming event. Its just too big to get my mind around. I've planned and planned for this event. I'm ready. Distraction works better for me at this point. After an hour John returns to the room and we turn in for the night.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday-Race Day</span><br /><br />We awake at 4 AM and start getting ice and start mixing our bike bottles. After eating oatmeal, bannanas and a power bar, we finish gearing up and head out for the transition area. We drop our special needs bags and go check out our bikes. The transition area is abuzz with activity and pre-race nervous energy. After getting our tires pumped up and our water bottles onto our bikes, its time to body marked. After that, we do the port-o-potty shuffle. As I wait in line for a<br />port-o-potty to become available, I notice a German athlete who takes off his sweats and starts showing off his condition to his friends just outside the transition area fence. The guy looks to be about my age, but is clearly in much better physical shape that I can ever hope to get into. He has the sculpted body of a body builder, which is only enhanced by his stretching and jumping exercises that he is doing to both warm up and impress his lady friends. OK, enough of that. If I start comparing myself to other athletes in this crowd, I might as well withdraw and go back to the hotel.<br /><br />After taking care of bodily functions in the port-o-potty, John & I find a bench and get into our wet-suits. Geared up for the swim, we start heading over the crowd of other wet-suit wearing athletes nearing the start mat that we must all cross to register our chips for the event. As we approach the start mat, we down a goo and drink a final bottle of water. My body's immediate response to the goo is to want to vomit. As David Byrne sang: "Warning sign of things to come." I fight the urge to vomit and wash the goo down with water. With 2,800 participants all gathering towards the double-wide gate just feet before the waterfront, I can't help but feel we look like lemmings jumping off a cliff to an ocean below. We had been advised to wait until the last minute before jumping into the 63 degree water, but the crowd kind of forces us all toward the seawall.<br /><br />Before I knew it, we were on the edge of the seawall. I turn to John and ask "Jump now?" "Jump," he replies. In an instant, we are amongst literally thousands of other swimmers in the dark swimming toward the start area. The water is indeed feels cold as ice, but the fact that we are actually in the water with all these people prevents the mind from event thinking about the cold. This is one boat load of people in the water. A look back towards the seawall only reveals thousands more lemmings awaiting their turn to jump into the icy water. Images of the movie "Titanic" come to mind.<br /><br />John & I stick together as we swim with this hoard toward the start. When we get about 100 yards from the start, the crowd around me stops moving. As I look toward the start area, I realize this is as close as we will get to the start. I turn around to make a comment to John about this fact, when I realize that he is no where in sight. Little did I know that John had gotten claustrophobic with the crowd of swimmers and had headed back towards the sea wall near the start line to get out of the water and away from this mass of swimmers. I realize instantly that we have come to the end of the line as far as buddy training goes. I'm now in this on my own. I also realize that I have inadvertantly placed myself smack dab in the middle of 2,800 swimmers. Given that the sun is just coming over the horizon and the National Anthem is now being played, I realize that there is no time for me to extricate myself from this start position that I had no intention of placing myself in.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Swim</span><br /><br />Immediately after the conclusion of the National Anthem, the start cannon goes off with a "boom." The previously calm water becomes a sea of thrashing arms and legs. Again, it brings to mind the scene in "Titanic" where all the passengers are in the water trashing wildly about just after the ship finally goes underwater. Except that everyone is moving in the same direction. I put my head down and try to start swimming, but who am I kidding. Its too crowded to actually swim and I'm getting hit from all directions. The close quarters also makes it hard to get fully lateral for proper swim position. I take several strokes, swallow some water, and pick my head out of the water to cough. This is what I call the "What the f#@k" moment of the ironman. Prior to this event, all of my triathlons swims have gone off in waves of 20 to 30 swimmers. If you get jostled too much, you can simply drift slightly back from the swimmers hitting you and find some open water. There is no drifting back and finding open water when you are surrounded by 2,800 swimmers. You just trade off one set of highly motivated and self centered swimmers for another group of highly motivated and self centered swimmers. You also feel like there is the very real possibility that you could drown in this pack of lunatics and no one would take any notice, much less render assistance. You realize the only way you will survive this mob, is to swim for you life.<br /><br />While I'm in the middle of this human mayhem, John is off to the right near the sea-wall. Thus, instead of getting whacked on four sides (left, right, front and rear), he is only getting whacked from 3 sides. Fortunately, this truly insane portion of the ironman only last about 5 minutes before the crowd spreads out enough for you to find decent room to swim and stop thinking about other swimmers. That doesn't mean the bumping. climbing over the top, and whacking stops, its just that its now at least mentally manageable. The fear of drowning subsides and you can fully focus on the business of swimming.<br /><br />Once I'm able to focus on my swim and get a decent rhythm going, I note that my new Garmin 310 keeps beeping at me. I'm not sure if its because I'm not wearing my heart rate strap for the swim or if something else is going wrong with the watch. Since I can't stop swimming long enough to get a decent look at the watch, I decide to ignore it for the swim.<br /><br />I find that my navagation skills on the out-bound leg of the swim is pretty spot on. I manage to keep in a straigth line and watch the buildings and mountains go by on my right. Before I know it, I can see the far bridge we have to go under and then the red turn bouy. I manage to hug close to the bouy and make the turn without getting bumped by too many swimmers. As I swim the short crossing leg north, I also hang a pretty good bee-line for the turning bouy. However, the long return leg west is another matter. The course of the river/lake/resevour that we are swimming bends slightly from left to right. The bouys do the same such that you end up swimming in a slightly northwesterly direction if you swim close to the return bouies. In turning my head to the right to breath, I end up following and hugging the northern bank of the lake. This slowly takes me more to the right. About half way back on the return to the transition area, I note that I've drifted to the right of the bouies. However, since the course bends in that direction anyway, I simply swim a straght line back. I don't know if this added distance or not, but figure it had to add something to the swim. Additionally, the north bank of the lake has fewer landmarks making the return seem longer than the outbound leg. I finally get under the bridge near the start of the swim course and make my turn towards the southern bank and the swim exit. This last little leg seemed like it too way longer than it should, but it probably had to do with seeing the exit area for this last leg. It always seems like it takes longer to reel in a finish line when you can see it from a distance.<br /><br />I eventually get towards the finish line. I remember that the course marshalls had suggested not grabbing the first step of the stair coming out of the water but to instead try for the third step in so that you could stand easier. However, the volunteers assisting swimmers out of the water are so helpful that they grab your arm before you can reach for the third step in on the stairs. Thus, I'm being pulled upward with no step to be able to get a footing on. I eventually find my footing and am able to stand. I take a quick look at my watch to see how long my swim took and see my watch reads 1:44. First off, I'm thrilled that the Garmin is working properly since its been beeping at me on and off during the swim. I'm also happy with the swim time. Now, that's nothing to write home about for most swimmers, but the swim is my weakest event and I had estimated a swim leg of between 1:50 to 2:00, so I beat my estimate. John came in a few minutes later in 1:48. Given that he was worried about maybe losing time at the crazy start and maybe cutting it close to the 2:20 swim cut off time, he too was very pleased. We get it; we both need more swim lessons. We were pleased with our better than expected swim times none the less. All of you good swimmers out there can stop snickering now and get on with reading this report.<br /><br />We were warned to be prepared to feel slight vertigo from going vertical after swimming horizontally for so long. Sure enough, my first couple of steps I feel like a drunken sailor. This soon passes and I'm being assisted by the wet-suit strippers. No, its not what you think. Two people grab the top of your unfastened wet-suit and peel you to the waist. They then tell you to lie down on your back and they peel the wet-suit off you legs. You look a bit like one of the dancers in "Animal House" doing the "alligator."<br /><br />Once stripped of my suit, I run over to the gear bag section. The voluteers in the gear bag section are flawless in calling out race numbers and handing over your gear bag to you. I grab my gear bag and head to the changing tent. Its a large tent with a male and female sections, but no partician. No problem though as no one is doing anything other than paying attention to their gear and trying to change and get to their bike. No time for straying eyes. I find a seat and quickly change out of my swim trunks and into my bike shorts. A male volunteer comes up and offers to help me dry my feet and assist me with my socks. As I work on getting my bike helmet and shirt on, I thank the volunteer for such great assistance. He informs me that he has done ironman events and is simply giving back. I tell him that I'm so grateful for his assistance that I'll be sure to volunteer at an event to pay his kindness forward. After stuffing my bike jersey with Cliff Bars, goos and other assorted food products, I come out of the changing tent. Several volunteers offer to hit me up with sunscreen. Being subject to sunburn, I take the offer and get blasted with lotion on my cheeks and neck. Little do I realize that this lotion doesn't soak in and I look like a Massi warrior on the hunt.<br /><br />I run towards the bikes. Again, the volunteers do such a great job calling out your number to other volunteers that by the time you get to your bike rack row, a volunteer has your bike pulled to the end of the row and ready for you to grab and run out of the transition area. I run my bike as best I can in bike shoes out of transition.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Bike </span><br /><br />After mounting in the mount zone, you have to hold your bike place for about 300 yards until you exit the park area where the triathlon village is set up. This is a bit tricky as there are a lot of riders trying to navigate this winding wide sidewalk that goes uphill out of the park. Once we emerge from the park, there is room to find a position on the road. The bike course starts with a series of right and left turns over the first five miles before reaching a straight out and back loop of about 27 miles. My math is probably a bit off here, but the bike course is 3 loops of approximately 37 miles each. For the first 5 miles, I'm able to ride between 18 to 20 mph. Once we hit the straight out and back road, I note that we are riding into a direct headwind. On top of that, the outbound approximately 13 miles is mainly an incline. At the beginning of this loop is a set of port-o-potties that I decide I must take advantage of using. I'm in and out of these toilets as almost no one is using them. Once I start riding again, I start trying to eat some of the food I've brought along for the ride. I down a Cliff Bar and wash it down with some of my drink mix. I work on electrolite jelly beans and later down a goo.<br /><br />I also note on this first outbound leg that my heart rate is not registering on my Garmin. John had forgotten to tell me that I have to sync the heart strap to the watch before using it for the first time. Thus, I realize that I'm going to do the bike and run legs without the feedback of what my heart rate is doing. Oh well, I think, at least I'm getting my overall leg times for each of the swim, bike, run, and transitions.<br /><br />As I get futher towards the outward turn around point on the bike, I note that my speed has gotten slower and slower due to the headwind and the greater incline. I slow all the way down to 13 mph. I look back at my back break thinking I must be rubbing my break. No such luck. Its at this point that one of the leading pro atheletes comes bolting by me. With their disc wheels, the faster pros sound like a train coming up behind you. The faster pros are followed by a camera crew on a moter cycle similar to the Tour de France. Its pretty amazing to be both a participant and a spectator of an event at the same time.<br /><br />I was struggling with the outbound uphill into the wind that I almost forget to take a sideward look at the scenery we are riding through. As I turn my head, I'm in awe of the beauty of this dessert landscape. Large gorgeous cacti and wild flowers cover the planes with the beauty of the mountains in the background. If you can do this event, do so for the beauty of the bike course. It takes you through the unmolested landscape of the native American indian tribe that lives in this region just to the northeast of Tempe. Stickenly beautiful.<br /><br />After making the turn around, which comes after a slight downhill that forces you to brake in order to keep from accelerating into the turn around, we get rewarded for our hard rides out. On the return, we are greeted with both a tail wind and a downward sloping course. You coast at 25 mph. As John & I planned a conservative 17 to 18 mph ride to prevent being depleted for the run, I spend the return downhill trying to do math in my head to figure out my overall ride average. I finally give up and figure as long as I don't feel like I'm red-lining my efforts, the average will take care of itself.<br /><br />At the turn-around near the transition park, crowds are gathered and you get a bit excited. After completing the turn around and heading back out the right and left turning streets on the outbound again, you realize that you have to do this same course twice more. Of course this whole time, I've been trying to take in food and drink. As I come back to the first set of port-o-potties again, I realize I've got to stop again. No problem. More riders are stopping, but its still not too crowded and I'm in and out pretty fast. As I continue my outbound ride, I think I spy John coming back on the return leg of his first loop. Good. I now know that he make it out of the water and beat his feared swim cut-off. I try to shout out to him, but going in opposite directions, he doesn't hear me.<br /><br />On my return leg of my second loop at about mile 66 there is an area where you can stop off and get extra food items from your special needs bag. However, by the time I get to this area and get my bag, my stomach is both full and feeling heavy. I reach into this bag chock full of food products and take out only a supposedly frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwich. This was a product suggested to us on Friday by a fellow athlete that we picked up in the frozen foods section of the grocery store. Unfortunately, our room refrigerator didn't work so well, so I don't know how well these sandwiches kept. In any event, the sandwich tasted good, but I was unable to think about eating anything else.<br /><br />As I complete the second lap, I can hear the announcer call off the names of competitors finishing their bike portions of the race. It made it a little frustrating to make the turn at the park to start my third bike leg. Now, I just want to be done with the bike portion of the ironman. As I finish up the cut back five miles, I witness a near accident wherein a female rider dropped something off her bike and makes an immediate turn around without looking behind her. A pro female athlete shouts "Look out!" and goes flying by both me and the careless rider. That could have been ugly.<br /><br />I suddenly realize I've got to get to those port-o-potties. Bad! They are a few miles off, but I'm able to make it there without an accident. Unfortunately, there is now a line in front of the port-o-potties. I'm forced to burn 5 to 10 minutes just waiting in line. When I finally get into a port-o-potty, I feel sick to my stomach. I do what I can and come out feeling somewhat better. I down some more electrolite jelly beans and get riding again.<br /><br />As I near the turn around point for the last time, who do I see up ahead of me but my buddy John. He must have passed me on the bike as I was waiting in line for the port-o-potty. "You are one strong Greek," I call out from behind. We are both thrilled to know that the other guy is doing OK and that our game plan seems to be working out according to plan. We spend the next couple of mile passing each other for no real reason other than one of us gets a bit of energy. No drafting mind you. We seem to gap each other and its all legal. John gets ahead of me at the turn around and seems to disappear down the inclining road. John had apparently gotten a little ahead of me and stopped off at the next set of port-o-potties. I mistook another rider for John and think I'm pulling him in only to realize its another rider. Looking down the road, I can't seem to find a rider that looks to be him nearby. "He just blew my doors off," I think as I ride on.<br /><br />At this point, I note that the shadows are getting longer and it must be getting closer to sun set. As I come into the final bike turn and see the park, I'm thrilled with the prospect of getting off the bike. I coast into the park, dismount, hand off my bike, grab my run gear bag and head back to the changing tent. The volunteers are not as sharp as in T1, but they offer water and good cheer. As I'm about to finish my change, I hear buddy John's voice. He has just entered the change tent as I'm about to leave. I now figure out that he must have gotten behind me on the last bike leg. I ask him how he's doing. "Good," he replies. I look at him seeing if he wants me to wait up for him, but he waves me on. I leave the tent wondering if he is having a problem. As I leave the tent, I again get offered sunscreen. I again get blasted with war paint and head out for the run.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Run</span><br /><br />Since I've been prone to leg cramps in other marathons, I had a water bottle filled with Pedialite, an electrolite drink for sick babies and small children that I've found helpful in past marathons. As I start my run, I open the bottle and try to take a swig. My body immediately rejects this sweet concoction and I want to vomit. Oops, that's not going to work. I toss the bottle aside. At the first run aid station, I try to sip from a cup of Coke, but get the same violent rejection from my stomach. Oh oh, not good. I try a cup of water. My stomach feels like I've got food poisoning and wants to reject plane water. I'm suddenly seriously worried about being able to run a marathon without being able to take in any fluids.<br /><br />A mile later at the next aid station, I am offered warm chicken broth. "It can't hurt to try this concoction," I think. Luckily, my stomach seems to accept this warm salty drink. I spend the rest of the marathon mixing chicken broth with as much water as I can without my stomach rejecting the mix. Its a fine balancing act. Too much water and I can't drink it. A 70/30 mix of chicken broth to water seems to work. I'm also able to get in a few pretzels or potato chips. I subsist on this lite fare for the remainder of the event.<br /><br />After about an hour of running, the sun starts to set. The run course is a 3 loop course that winds around the triathlon village, the surrounding industrial park areas and over to the other side of the lake into residential areas. The volunteers at the aid stations are again most helpful and cheerful bunch of people you could ask for in support. As I run by the triathlon park and surrounding bridges that are near this area, the spectators are very encouraging of all athletes efforts. I know they are probably supporting a friend or family member, but their cheers and encouragement meant the world to me. I literally sick and tired of this event, but I have no intention of stopping. The cheers and encouragement of both the spectators and volunteers at the aid stations were key to getting through these miles.<br /><br />The confusing part of a 3 loop marathon course is that the mile markers read somewhat as follows: you pass a mile marker that says "Mile 9," shortly thereafter you pass a mile marker that reads "Mile 18," finally you pass a mile marker that reads "Mile 1." A little confusing, but on subsequent laps it becomes a little more encouraging. On the second lap, I see the mile marker that I finished, and in seeing the ones to come for the third lap, I think next time I see this marker I'll be on mile 18. Near mile 5, 14, and 23 was a sign that read "Don't think of how far you have to go, think about how far you've come." This was encouraging for the first 2 laps, but by the time I saw it on the 3rd lap, I thought, "Screw that, I'm thinking about the miles I've got left."<br /><br />As I pass the triathlon park at the end of my second lap, I see my wife Salome on the side of the course. I yell out to her. She is excited to see me and asks which lap I'm on. I tell her I have one lap to go and she is estactic to know that I'm OK. She goes off to work giving out metals while I run my last lap.<br /><br />By this last lap, the competitors out on the course are mostly walking. I've been taking some walk and potty breaks, but refuse to simply walk this thing in. I come from a running background and I'm going to run this thing in if its only a shuffle.<br /><br />As I get to about mile 18, I look over and notice I'm running along side a guy that is dressed up in a Forrest Gump costume. Given that John had completed the Halloween Half Marahton along side a guy in a Forrest Gump costume, I laugh out loud. "You have no idea how ironic it would be if we crossed the finish line at the same time," I tell Forrest Gump. "Sorry, dude," the guy replies, "I don't think I can keep up with you." "Oh well, it would have been funny," I think as I pull away from Forrest Gump.<br /><br />At some point during the run, John had gotten ahead of me. He was obviously not having the stomach problems that I had and finished about an hour ahead of me in 13:18. Salome did not see John finish, but was able to snap some pictures of him after he received his metal.<br /><br />Meanwhile, I'm going thanking and high fiving the volunteers at the aid stations as I walk through drinking my last round of chicken broth/water. I keep saying, Thanks for everything, but I'm not coming around here again." Over the last several miles, I'm passing a lot of people who can only walk. At the last mile, I start picking up my pace knowing the finish is getting near. When I get to the turn off for the finish line, I see people heading out for yet another loop and feel bad for them. But not bad enough to join them. I gladly turn off for the last half mile to the finish line.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Finish</span><br /><br />I can taste the finish. As I come around the series of turns to the head of the park, I notice the crowds getting thicker and more animated. As I cross into the park for the last hundred yards, the crowd is screaming cheers and I'm high fiving people on both sides. The crowd narrows in on both side so that you come down an ever narrowing shoot. At this point, the excitement of the moment and the crowd have me picking up speed to the point that it feels like I'm almost sprinting. The fatigue of the last several miles is lifted and I feel elated. As I cross the finish line with tears of joy in my eyes, I hear Mike Reilly call out, "William Parady, from Fort Lauderdale, you are an Ironman!" My time: 14:19. All I can say is "Wow, what a rush!" I felt an almost spiritual sense of elation.<br /><br />As I came across the finish line, volunteers came up to me to see if I'm OK. "Yes," I tell them, "I'm feeling great now." I am handed a bottle of water and go further down the line to where the metals are being given to finishers. I see Salome, but she is talking to a male volunteer also giving out metals who is standing to her right. As I approach her, the guy tries to hang a finisher's metal around my neck. "Sorry, I've got to take my metal from her," I say as I point to my wife. Apparently, Salome hadn't expected me for a while, didn't hear my name announced as I crossed the finish line, and didn't recognize me as I approached her. She went nuts with joy, kissed me and hung my metal around my neck. She asked me why I didn't seem as excited as her. I told her that I was very excited, but with the passing of the adrenaline rush of the finish line now felt tired.<br /><br />Salome got me wrapped in a heat blanket and whisked me off to the food area, bypassing the area where additional volunteers handed you a finishers shirt and running cap. She realized this error after the fact and arranged to have them mailed to me back in Fort Lauderdale. In any event, my stomach is still a little messed up and can only manage a small slice of pizza. They have a great deal of food available, but I've got no appetite. We meet up with John and we do a man hug. We both are beaming knowing the other guy made it to the finish and neither one of us needs to feel bad for the other guy.<br /><br />After messages by yet more wonderfully giving volunteers, John heads back to the hotel and I go off with Salome to retrieve my bike and gear bags. On our arrival back at the hotel, we find John sitting next to a bucket of beers on ice and chips accompanied by congratulatory cards to each of us from John's sister. A very classy move. After Salome's departure back to our friend's house where she, my son Alex and my mother in law Kiki are staying, John & I spend the next couple of hours calling west coast friends that would still be awake at 10 PM Mountain Time. After recounting our experiences to each other, I head to the bathroom to shower. Looking in the mirror, I note that my eyes are quite bloodshot. On my return from the bathroom, I note that John's eyes are also very bloodshot. Its been one long day! I lay down and am out like a light at around 11:30 PM. John remains awake until 1 AM doing I know not what. Probably writing down and analyzing his splits.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Afterward</span><br /><br />The next morning, we awake surprisingly early given our efforts on Sunday. I prep my bike and gear bag for return shipping by TriBike Transport. John & I return to the triathlon village to drop my bike and our gear bags. As we walk through the park we note a long line of people lined up to sign up for next year's event. Prior year participants get the first shot at re-upping for the next year. We also retrieve most of our special needs bags from an area where they've all been placed by the event organizers. One of John's two bags is missing. We go over to the IMAZ sales tent where another line is set up to get in and buy finisher's swag. We dutifully get in line and buy shirts, jackets, and assorted other stuff that announces that we are finishers of Ironman Arizona. I normally hate marathon shirts that has the word "Finisher" on it, but for an ironman, it somehow seems very appropriate.<br /><br />After we spend mo' money, we head over to the awards ceremony. They feed us a very nice breakfast and put on a great ceremony. Normally, neither of us sticks around for these types of events, but for us, this ceremony is special. While we don't know the names of the age group or overall finishers, we are amazed at their times and their physiques. The training for these events may be a form of the fountain of youth, because we saw some people in their later 50s and 60s that look extremely fit. The biggest ovation went out to Rudy, the double leg amputee who failed to finish at Kona in October. He was able to finish in the last hour at Tempe. He got up and thanked everyone. Of course, the crowd gives him a standing ovation.<br /><br />After the ceremony, we went back to the shopping tent because John had left a prized warm up jacket there by mistake in trying on shirts. Fortunately, someone turned it into lost and found. Then, John made me help him search what would have been every box of special needs bags (about 50 boxes with thousands of bags) looking for his missing special need running bag. Luckily, I found it before too long and we were able to leave the park before it got too hot.<br /><br />We met up with Maria for lunch back at the Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant to get her race report. She bested both of us with a finish time of 12:15. We all had meat products and I was finally able to drink one of their seasonal micro brews. It was a delicious wheat beer. We spent the rest of the day lounging around our hotel room calling friends and giving our race reports. We ate at a nice Mexican restaurant for dinner and turned in early for the night.<br /><br />John left the next morning and Salome picked me up from the hotel. Our family spent the rest of the week with our friends in Scottsdale, we made a day side trip to Sedona, and enjoyed Thanksgiving with our friends, Dave & Sue. I was also able to have a nice brunch with my sister and her grown children on Friday. All in all, a pleasant week after IMAZ relaxing and visiting with friends and family.<br /><br />I'm sure you'll agree that all this was way more than you needed to know. It was more of a mind dump for me to try to get the feelings down before they fade too much into the past. If you've gotten this far, thanks for you patience.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BSTF5RTc69QxllbkejEGOuNn8DsOhaOMN9k5nKfB_htF5zci-fjKmngbehslevS1xCJOslAcyNVvIx9gysXiW_FGXDg18DVkSqU_FZhbemxmxUwC_sUaquuQoHuf4WkACSpkgTvAXdQ/s1600-h/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BSTF5RTc69QxllbkejEGOuNn8DsOhaOMN9k5nKfB_htF5zci-fjKmngbehslevS1xCJOslAcyNVvIx9gysXiW_FGXDg18DVkSqU_FZhbemxmxUwC_sUaquuQoHuf4WkACSpkgTvAXdQ/s400/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419199024688705858" border="0" /></a>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-14403492326411548262009-12-24T11:23:00.007-05:002009-12-26T18:08:58.754-05:00Where Do We Go From Here?In the weeks since <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ironman</span> Arizona, I've been trying to figure out where this blog is going. It started out as a joint commitment to doing an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ironman</span> event between buddy John and me. With a little push from our running friend Wayne from Anchorage, a blog of this joint journey commenced.<br /><br />Writing this blog had the feel of a natural story arc with beginning, middle, and end. That story ended in Tempe. Our paths forward look to be diverging. John has re-upped for another full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ironman</span>. I am focusing on a couple half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ironman</span> events for 2010. Thus, the joint venture that has been "A Couple of Wild & Crazy Guys" has ceased serving its original purpose.<br /><br />Additionally, the wife is starting to complain. I've heard a couple of times now: "All you do are marathons and triathlons." I've always felt ad <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">hominem</span> arguments are unproductive, but what can I say. I think it best to lay low for a while. Continued regular posts to a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tri</span> blog may be used against me.<br /><br />So, I've pulled down the future schedule and stripped the site down to its postings. Where do our blogs go after we are done with them? I guess they become little time capsules floating around the ether-net waiting for future <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">internet</span> surfers to come across them and examine them as historic artifacts. Thanks to all of our regular readers. Its been a fun journey.<br /><br />Before I go, however, I'll do one last blog entry. I kept working on a long version of the Arizona <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ironman</span> race report, adding to it and editing it. I'll post it as a holiday present to anyone who cares to read a very long race report. It may be a present best left unopened.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-86979790299747910782009-12-20T13:15:00.000-05:002009-12-22T18:37:45.109-05:00The Rest of the Story"The Rest of the Story" were short segments at the end of radio news programs I used to hear when I was growing up. The segments were hosted by Paul Harvey. These couple of minute features consists of factual stories on a variety of subjects with a surprise or "twist" saved until the end. The bits always concluded with the tag line "And now you know… the <i>rest</i> of the story." Sometimes the stories were a little corny, but often they were stories of human struggle and perseverance.<br /><br />I was reminded of these vignettes while watching the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ironman</span></span> World Championship broadcast this Saturday. Narrator Al <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Trautwig</span></span> always provides extraordinary commentary of the leaders and the editing always gives a good feel for how the race lead unfolds. Always an inspirational show.<br /><br />Other than focusing in on the leaders of the race, the show always covers several age groupers, military participants, handicapped <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">athletes</span>, and athletes coming back from injury. Al and the editors usually do a good job at this, but this year I think they fell a bit short. They kind of left us hanging regarding Rudy Garcia <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tolson</span></span>, the double leg amputee that was seeking to complete his first <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ironman</span></span>. As you may know from watching the broadcast, Rudy failed to make the bike cutoff. The show focuses on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">incredible</span> effort these athletes give before realizing they are not going to finish. The athletes either are stopped from starting the next phase of the race or are simply unable to continue mid-course. The camera shows these athletes dismounting their bikes on the side of the road or stopping on the run and sitting or lying down mid-run. They are done for the day. Its always sad to watch.<br /><br />The lingering focus on the reluctant acceptance of failure feels somewhat emotionally manipulative. I guess its done in part to show how difficult the event is and how badly these athletes want to finish. Its also used to contrast failure with the thrill of the people who do finish in spite of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">hardships</span>. A good example was the woman who was coming back from a stroke. As she crosses the finish line, I'm sure no one had a dry eye. I know I didn't.<br /><br />But back to Rudy. When he is told he didn't make the bike cut off, the camera lingers on Rudy. Its almost like the cameraman was waiting for Rudy to breakdown and cry. Many do; Rudy did not. In fact, when John & I were in Tempe to do the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ironman</span></span>, Rudy was there. Rudy was brought up at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">pre</span></span>-race dinner and introduced to the crowd. We heard Rudy's story of growing up with deformed legs, his amputation operation and his subsequent efforts to compete in athletics. We heard about his attempt at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Kona</span></span> in October and his failure to make the bike cut off. Rudy spoke to us and let us know that he wasn't giving up. In fact, he was racing with us on Sunday. Less than two months after not finishing at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Kona</span></span>, Rudy was going to give the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ironman</span></span> another go.<br /><br />That Sunday, I didn't see Rudy in the midst of the 2800 swimmers, but I did see him on the bike. Its was inspiring to see him ride. John ran by him on the run portion of the race and said, "You're incredible man." "No," Rudy replied, "You're incredible." Rudy wasn't looking for sympathy out on the course; he was simply another athlete trying to get through the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Ironman</span></span>. Rudy finished in the 16<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">th</span></span> hour of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Iroman</span></span> Arizona. The next day at the awards ceremony, Rudy was again <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">brought</span> up to the stage. We gave him a standing ovation.<br /><br />While the program editors may have considered it slightly off topic to mention that Rudy came back and finished his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">ironman</span></span> in Tempe, it would have shown the undying spirit which makes an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ironman</span></span>. Rudy would not let one failure stop him from trying again and succeeding. An inspiring message that would have been a good post script to the various scenes of failure shown in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Kona</span></span> broadcast.<br /><br />So, as Paul Harvey used to say: "And now you know… the <i>rest</i> of the story."Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-43974647413224232222009-12-18T15:00:00.010-05:002009-12-18T15:46:10.850-05:00Death to Smoochy<span style="font-style: italic;">Death to Smoochy</span> is a 2002 movie starring Robin Williams, as a once famous, now infamous child's program host named "Rainbow Randolph" who is displaced by Sheldon Mopes (played by Edward Norton) whose child's program character "Smoochy" has replaced Rainbow Randolph in the hearts and minds of the kids and parents of the world. While Sheldon is full of good will and is just what is called for, Robin Williams character wants to kill Smoochy for making his character obsolete.<br /><br />The reason I bring it up is that it seems like a fitting analogy for what e-mails, blogging and Facebook are doing to the holiday card industry. I don't know about you, but in the last two years, I've noticed a steady drop in the number of both personal and business holiday cards that come in the mail. From a business standpoint, perhaps the economy is partly to blame, but I've notice I get more of these blast e-mail holiday greetings from both local and national business I deal with like the one here that I received from USA Triathlon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgMfNEJZ_SfO7oqwMOWTtsooDrOUZNsqxPBM323sevPiyqBHwwhF1nsFFA-cYOM3BWaf9q9omiTbw4_WKzIuRKgXyurS_9eb76eBsvu5ghxgTCrWckJ25ukr2endXsK6bNbSVWmBMk6U/s1600-h/web_USAT2010xmasCrd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKgMfNEJZ_SfO7oqwMOWTtsooDrOUZNsqxPBM323sevPiyqBHwwhF1nsFFA-cYOM3BWaf9q9omiTbw4_WKzIuRKgXyurS_9eb76eBsvu5ghxgTCrWckJ25ukr2endXsK6bNbSVWmBMk6U/s400/web_USAT2010xmasCrd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416658221494131090" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />I've also noticed the little reminders of my friends upcoming birthdays on Facebook. I try to make sure to post a short birthday good wish to my friends when I see its their birthday. In that respect, Facebook has made us all closer. I certainly couldn't keep up with all of my friends birthdays. Prior to Facebook, I could not keep up with all of my friends lives. Thus, I'm a fan of Facebook. I am able to keep in light touch with the goings on of friends from high school and elsewhere around the country that I would find impossible to do otherwise. With Facebook, it doesn't take up more than a few minutes every few days to have a general idea of what your friends are doing.<br /><br />However, Facebook and blogs seem to have done away with the need for the year end summary we would get in mailed holiday cards. We also get pictures posted over the year, so there is no need for the holiday family photo. Without those inserts, we are reduced to the social formality of sending out cards to family and friends who send us one.<br /><br />I knew we were getting into a new social norm when I got an e-mail from an aunt and uncle that said that their e-mail holiday message was in lieu of a mailed holiday card. This e-mail holiday greeting is coming from my parent's generation, usually the last to adopt any new internet based practice. If my parent's generation has abandoned the practice of a mailed holiday card, the mailed holiday card is going the way of "Rainbow Randolph."<br /><br />I'm not saying that this new "Smoochy" era is bad. In fact, I kind of like it. Its just that I grew up in the "Rainbow Randolph" era and its taking me a while to get used to the new social norms. It was always nice to get a personal holiday card in the mail. Those personal cards preserved a little of that childhood joy of a surprise in the mail in the days leading up to Christmas.<br /><br />I may be an old dog, but I do my best to learn the new "e" tricks. I've ordered myself a Garmin navigation system for the car. I've upgraded to the new waterproof Garmin 310 watch from the "don't submerge" 305. I'm even finally upgrading to an iPhone. However, the death of the mailed holiday card seems immanent.<br /><br />This became apparent to me as I tried to retrieve my Xmas mailing list from my computer. It seems that as the operating systems on our computers keeps getting updated and "improved," more and more of our old software ceases to function properly or at all. After upgrading our server at the office and centralizing our data, I can not find my Xmas list data. Furthermore, that mailing list software keeps crashing. If there is a conspiracy here, I think its that the operating system upgrades are a mechanism to keep us buying new software. Yea old planned obsolescence.<br /><br />The point is that I can't find or use my Xmas list data and I don't have the time to try to reconstruct it from scratch. Don't take it as a personal insult if you send a card to me and don't get one in return. Instead, consider this my holiday greeting to you. I know this has little to do with triathlons, running, biking or training, but I did work in USA Triathlon and my Garmin 310. I'll get back to running and triathlon postings soon enough. In the meantime, "Merry Christmas" to my Christian friends, "Happy Hanukkah" to my Jewish friends, and "Happy Festivus" to the rest of us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcP-8eabkwtKZO5UfNrbWl9D0FYFvmim37SI0-EXycaE1Y91SruPudPVrPyOxq_J-SBNgmNEhE6GqjVyEJthcCVpRI32ilKBwNx6tzk6FyY3MutBGFF5NXUYT-QYkg0LlTB1lm_Bj-2Ug/s1600-h/snowman.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 248px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcP-8eabkwtKZO5UfNrbWl9D0FYFvmim37SI0-EXycaE1Y91SruPudPVrPyOxq_J-SBNgmNEhE6GqjVyEJthcCVpRI32ilKBwNx6tzk6FyY3MutBGFF5NXUYT-QYkg0LlTB1lm_Bj-2Ug/s400/snowman.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416680251802830114" border="0" /></a>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-30966253582180668202009-12-10T15:09:00.012-05:002010-10-19T13:35:08.230-04:00Mr. Sluggo Returns<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1j5Cck7o74qaaLfX9DQ9vb42LWyTmqB8YjyRB6DNrpu8k4G-xmKTI0iCX1bcYZJYlSTSjJbPDwwpjp3Np7AvLSe_iRyDUFNcE0tuXViYJ43HiFsh36eWxsP5AUvJUujHBXBQ41fIwVuU/s1600-h/Mr-Bill---Ohh-Nooo-Magnet-C11751410.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1j5Cck7o74qaaLfX9DQ9vb42LWyTmqB8YjyRB6DNrpu8k4G-xmKTI0iCX1bcYZJYlSTSjJbPDwwpjp3Np7AvLSe_iRyDUFNcE0tuXViYJ43HiFsh36eWxsP5AUvJUujHBXBQ41fIwVuU/s400/Mr-Bill---Ohh-Nooo-Magnet-C11751410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413702988902683058" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span>One of my favorite bits from the early years of Saturday Night Live was the Mr. Bill Show. Mr. Bill was a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">claymation</span></span> figure that was supposedly the main character of a kids educational show. Each Mr. Bill episode would start innocently enough but would quickly turn dangerous for Mr. Bill. Along with his dog, Spot, he would suffer various indignities inflicted by "Mr. Hands," a man seen only by his hands. Sometimes the abuse would ostensibly come from the mean Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Sluggo</span></span>, another clay character. The violence would inevitably escalate, generally ending with Mr. Bill being crushed or dismembered while squealing in a high pitched voice, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ohhhh</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">noooooooooooooo</span></span>..."<br /><br />Amongst friends, I've sometimes made self deprecating references to myself as Mr. Bill in some of my road races. "Mr. Bill, surely you can run sub 7 minute miles for the marathon." "But, Mr. Hands, I don't think I can sustain that pace for that many miles." "Oh, Mr. Bill, sure you can." "OK, Mr. Hands, I'll give it a try." Then, along comes Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Sluggo</span></span> and jumps on poor Mr. Bill's back. "Oh, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Nooooooo</span></span>!"<br /><br />I actually found a Mr. Bill plush toy just before going to Tempe for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ironman</span></span>. I did little comedy bits for John in which Mr. Hands talks Mr. Bill into doing the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ironman</span></span>. "But that water is really cold Mr. Hands." "That's OK, Mr. Bill. Oh look, here comes Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Sluggo</span></span> to give you a little help getting into the water." "Oh, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Noooooooo</span></span>!" I've been reduced to a prop comic.<br /><br />My alter ego to Mr. Bill is Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sluggo</span></span>. I become Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Sluggo</span></span> when my energy levels are off and I don't feel like I can work out. Well, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Sluggo</span></span> has come back for a visit. This is probably not surprising given that the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ironman</span></span> was just over 2 and 1/2 weeks ago. I've been expecting <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Sluggo</span></span> for a while. As I said in my last post, Sundays long run of 10 mile felt much longer. Wednesday, I got up early for a 12 mile run with Tony using the run/walk method. It wasn't a particularly hard workout and felt fine. This morning, I had to get up early again to take my mother in law to the hospital for a routine test. So I got up early 2 days in a row. Well, this afternoon, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Sluggo</span></span> returned in a big way. I feel exhausted.<br /><br />I guess I should feel lucky. Another <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">tri</span></span> blogger I read, Missy, just came off of a PR in a half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">ironman</span></span> event. A couple of weeks later, she was flat on her back in bed with what sounds like flu symptoms. I guess that no matter how well we eat and sleep, there is a price to be paid for doing these big endurance event efforts. We can get great results from our bodies, we just have to expect Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Sluggo</span></span> to come pay a visit afterward. I just hope he doesn't stick around too long.<br /><br />P.S. at 10 PM - I just found out that John has registered for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Lonestar</span></span> 70.3 for April 25, 2009 in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Galveston</span>, Texas. So, we now both have pretty full schedules for 2010. "You can do it, Mr. Bill." "But Mr. Hands, that's a pretty full schedule." "That's OK, Mr. Bill. Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Sluggo</span> will help you." "Oh <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Noooooooo</span>!" 2010 is going to be another interesting year.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-44809526548715163192009-12-08T10:40:00.007-05:002010-10-19T13:36:39.703-04:00Rest, Recovery & Temptations<span style="color: rgb(68, 68, 51);font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></span></span><span style="font-style: italic;">I live on a big round ball. I never do dream I may fall.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And even one day if I do, well I'll jump up and smile back at you.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I don't even know where we are. They tell me were circling a star.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Well, I'll take their word, I don't know. But I'm dizzy so it may be so.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Defying Gravity</span> - Jimmy Buffett<br /><br />Periodization is a concept in sports training of in which you plan a target big event that you want to prepare for and compete in at your top form. Most endurance athletes are familiar with the concepts: base phase, build phase, peak phase and recovery phase. Within a macro cycle, athletes often place micro cycles of base, built, peak and recovery for smaller events as a build up to a major event. If charting fitness over time, the micro cycles end up looking like a series of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:ComplexSinInATimeAxe.gif">upward sloping sine waves</a> in which one's fitness level continues to improve over the course of a half year or year long build up toward a major event.<br /><br />John & I followed this micro/macro periodization in our build up toward IMAZ. I started my build towards the Ironman by starting the year with a series of half marathons in January and February. John was out of action with his snowboard induced calf muscle tear. In March and April, I did 2 Olympic distance triathlons, with John returning to action for the April St. Anthony's event. We then built up towards June's Seattle Marathon. After a short recovery period, we then began our major base build in July and August, checked our progress with the Clermont HIM in September, and built towards our final peak in October, before tapering down for November's peak in Tempe. A pretty flawlessly executed periodization plan if you discount John's snowboard injury and my getting hit by a car in early September. Whether you can say we "peaked" at IMAZ is up to debate, but in my book completing the event was peaking. We both felt good about our training plan and still are proud of sticking to our plans.<br /><br />As amateur athletes, however, we tend to violate the last step of periodization: recovery and transition. Most of us have no coach sketching out our training schedules and scheduling in rest and recovery periods. This opens the door for the slightly greedy and egotistical move to tack on another event after our major goal race. We hope that we can add one more cycle to that fitness sine wave and squeeze out another good performance without taking the down time to allow the body the rest and recovery it needs before building for another macro cycle. I am as guilty of this phenomena as anyone.<br /><br />I only bring this up because in the weeks after completing the ironman, I planned to take it easy. I knew this last year was a big build up to the biggest event I had ever attempted. The couple of days after the ironman , I did some serious lounging around as I vacationed in Arizona. It felt good. My body needed the rest and recovery and I planned to give it just that. Then, I came back to Fort Lauderdale and all my training buddies. My first Sunday back, I go for what I plan as a 6 mile easy run with Salome and buddy Tony. Tony is training for the Miami Marathon as his first marathon. He plans to do the Galloway method. I agree to extend my run to 10 miles if we are doing the run/walk method. At about mile 9, Tony suggest that we tack on an additional mile to the run and I end up running 11 miles. Ouch! That was definitely too far to go on my first recovery run.<br /><br />John e-mails me that he is registering for the Santa 5K run on Saturday. I decline to join in. I can't do a 5K without running it hard, so best to stay away. Then everyone is signing up for a charity century/metric century bike ride. I plan to start riding again, but at shorter distances. Again, I decline. My plan was and still is to take it easy in December, start a base phase in January and do a couple of half marathons in late January and mid February before getting ready for an Olypmic distance tri in March and the Paris Marathon in April.<br /><br />Saturday morning, I get a race report call from John telling me how he ran a pretty good 5K time and who of our mutual sports friends he met at the race. He informs me that he plans to do the Miami Marathon and shoot for a Boston Qualifying time. He coaxes me out for a 45 minute swim at the pool. As we talk afterward, he mentions a half marathon he wants to do the following weekend. I say I'll consider it.<br /><br />The next day, I opt for an easy 10 mile run. It feels like more, which tells me my body wants more light workouts and more down time. Afterward, I check my e-mail and find that John has pulled the trigger on the Florida Ironman registration for next November. I don't think he had even one drink in him when he signed up. I lost that bet. I call Tony and John to find out how the ride went. After giving his report, John informs me that he's also thinking about doing the Naples half marathon in mid January. "Tempter be gone!" I say. I tell him he's over scheduling. He rightly points out that I've scheduled events that take me through the end of October, 2010. Touche, dude.<br /><br />In all fairness to John, last year he ran a half marathon in Fort Lauderdale the weekend after we did the Maimi Man Half Ironman. He ran it well, so I can't criticize his intent to continue the mega cycle and keep getting more fit. He may pull it off. As I said to him as we came across each other during the bike portion of IMAZ: "You are one strong Greek." I just know I can't follow suit. My body is telling me to take it easy for a while. I'm trying to listen to my body and ignore my buddies' tempting calls to get back in the game too soon. Hopefully, I can hold out until the new year.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-58454186710224275082009-12-04T10:27:00.010-05:002009-12-08T21:48:24.209-05:00Looking Ahead<span style="font-style: italic;">Letting the days go by/let the water hold me down.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Letting the days go by/water flowing underground.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Into the blue again/after the money's gone.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"> Once in a lifetime/water flowing underground.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Once In a Lifetime</span> - Talking Heads<br /><br />I thought I was done with this blog. John & I completed our mission of doing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IMAZ</span>, and I completed my commitment to my buddy Wayne to blog about this year long journey. However, I like to check in occasionally to see if any of our listed followers posted any comments. When I go to check for comments, low and behold there is a new follower of the blog. Who would be signing on at this late date? I've got to check this out.<br /><br />It turns out to be a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tri</span>-blogger and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ironman</span> athlete named Anne from Texas. Being curious, I read her most recent blog entry. Since completing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ironman</span> Florida last month, Anne keeps getting asked the same question from people she tells about her experience: "Will you do another <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ironman</span>?" Funny thing is that John & I are getting the same question. Now, I put that question right up there with asking a woman just after she delivers a baby whether she plans to have more children. The immediate response is: "Are you mad? That was a long and painful experience that I'll never do again." However, the smile of a newborn infant softens the hardened heart; and you can't ignore the feeling of accomplishment and the sense of joy in crossing the finish line of an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Ironman</span>. Thus, we live in a world where couples have second and third children. We also live in a world where athletes keep coming back and doing the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Ironman</span> distance.<br /><br />John already keeps bringing up in conversation that he keeps going to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ironman</span> web site to look at whether the Community Foundation slots are still open for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Ironman</span> Florida for 2010. I'm sure that all it will take is for John to come home from one of these holiday parties and do a little drunken registering and he'll be in for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">IMFL</span> for next November. As his attorney and training buddy, I've advised him to wait and think about it over the holidays and not commit to a registration until the new year. I'm guessing that he'll register after getting home from a New Year's Eve party at approximately 3 AM on January 1, 2010.<br /><br />As for me, my wife Salome jokingly states that she'll file for divorce if I register for another <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Ironman</span> event. At least I think she's joking. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, whose friend actually ended up divorced over his commitment to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Ironman</span> events, so I don't take her statement totally idly. So for the time being, I plead my 5<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">th</span> Amendment right not to incriminate myself. More importantly, as stated in my last posting, I already registered for a good number of events for 2010, with half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ironman</span> events in mid-July (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Vineman</span> 70.3) and late October (Miami 70.3). Thus, I've got what I call "prophylactic registrations" that should keep me from doing an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Ironman</span> in 2010. I figure I should take a step back and try to get better at these shorter distances before jumping back in to the full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">ironman</span> again. Like having kids, it looks like it may be best to have them a couple of years apart. It helps your spouse to forget the long months and special needs of getting ready for that special event.<br /><br />In any event, I liked what I read of Anne's blog and added it to my list of blogs I follow. We now have a whopping 12 people that will publicly acknowledge that they read this thing. I guess I'll have to update the events I'm registered for in 2010. To my knowledge, John is not registered for any events in 2010 yet, but he did register for a 5K Santa run and a 60 mile charity bike ride, both for this weekend. Perhaps he'll post the next blog entry and tell us how it feels to jump back into the thick of things again so quickly. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Same as it ever was... Same as it ever was...</span><span style="font-style: italic;">Same as it ever was... Same as it ever was...</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"><strong><em></em></strong></span>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-56796993635774478072009-11-30T17:26:00.012-05:002010-07-15T11:13:16.961-04:00On Second Thought<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3TMrCfifFtphpFwvg6U04CwhPzNGe7BjpDEJwMWLRYrvfWvfJ3Hg1NEC84hSVzdv8od8mon1gDE5cZZqQ1CSXsklULYhfr6zPAL1Tb5UPjGS1aTwZShov2hoY998sWHaybdz8HgdOgU/s1600/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+013.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3TMrCfifFtphpFwvg6U04CwhPzNGe7BjpDEJwMWLRYrvfWvfJ3Hg1NEC84hSVzdv8od8mon1gDE5cZZqQ1CSXsklULYhfr6zPAL1Tb5UPjGS1aTwZShov2hoY998sWHaybdz8HgdOgU/s400/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+013.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410094786857634050" border="0" /></a>I intended to go into a lengthy review of John & my Ironman experiences. I spent a couple of hours doing a draft over the weekend but only got through the days leading up to the event. The narrative was overly long and really only meaningful to John & me. Thus, I've decided to scrap the long narrative in favor of just going through some bullet points of the overall event. Here goes:<br /><br />1. Nutrition was the hardest thing to get right for the Ironman. Neither of us had to worry too much about this issue prior to this distance. For half ironman events, we simply took some goos, electrolyte tablets, maybe a Cliff Bar and a sports drink. For the Ironman, we were inundated with other people's and book's advice as to try to consume a load of calories during the bike course. The main result of this force feeding for me was to shut my stomach down completely during the run. I had a hard time even drinking water. The best I could make out was to mix the chicken broth from the aid stations with water and try to get my stomach to accept this mixture. I think I would have been better served taking a lot fewer calories and still having the ability to take in fluids during the run. Live and learn.<br /><br />2. Man were we nervous. As first timers at this distance, there is nothing to compare it to from our past experiences. We figured we had to double our half ironman times and add an hour. This makes one pretty nervous and keyed up during the days leading up to the event. But, there is really no way to prepare for that first time other than doing it. It made for fun banter between the two of us with an undercurrent of hostility. Nothing serious mind you. After the event, all was forgiven and we were buddies again.<br /><br />3. The mass swim start is insane! A first time for me. I'm used to 20 t0 30 person waves of swimmers. I found myself smack dab in the middle of 2800 swimmers in the open water. John was lucky to have had a little panic and swam off to the far right side of the large group and hug the seawall giving other swimmers only 3 side to hit him. The first five minutes of the swim, I wondering if I'm going to be drown by this extremely self-centered mob. I'm shocked no one gets knocked out and drowns. After the first 5 minutes, things spread out and settle down, but its a wild 5 minutes.<br /><br />4. The volunteers at these events are by far the best in any sporting event I've ever participated in. They not only help you out of your wet suit in a kind and efficient manner, but the volunteers in the changing tents are like having your personal butler. "Let me wipe your feet for you and help you get on your socks." I haven't had this much help getting dressed since I was 4 years old. The volunteers at the aid stations were quick to get you what you wanted and cheerful and encouraging. This feature was much appreciated on the 2nd and 3rd laps of the marathon run. I was so pleased with these folks that I high fives them all on my last loop, thanked them and told them I wasn't coming back, but I really appreciated everything they had done for me. What can I say about the volunteer giving out metals. My wife Salome was there to greet me and put the metal around my neck. You can ask for more personal attention than that. Thanks for volunteering Salome. And thanks to all the volunteers for going above and beyond the call of duty to give great service.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibngnKTQHiChyphenhyphenldvkBzn8j9sXdMG5woubS4znr8MO21aYxS3JYTDmFY41MlKOU6CHyvu5o5g7TomNOpDswrk-Cf1Z6Z_C9yjeSZb2f9GQvN7Ahk_yOUgKJz-BIQymunYsT5J7oJer4-c4/s1600/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibngnKTQHiChyphenhyphenldvkBzn8j9sXdMG5woubS4znr8MO21aYxS3JYTDmFY41MlKOU6CHyvu5o5g7TomNOpDswrk-Cf1Z6Z_C9yjeSZb2f9GQvN7Ahk_yOUgKJz-BIQymunYsT5J7oJer4-c4/s400/Arizona+Trip+Nov+2009+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410094244107745474" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />5. Pain is a funny thing, but not "ha ha" funny. I wondered whether the pain and discomfort of such a long event would be worse than my worst marathon. Not so much. It turns out that the pain and discomfort don't get worse, it just keeps at about the same as any marathon. You just have to endure the pain and discomfort longer. I guess that's why they are call endurance events. Of course the same can not be said for gastro-intestinal issues. I've never dealt with such a tricky situation as when my digestive track decided it didn't like going 14 hours shut down. I guess that is the main difference between these really long events and marathons and half ironman events.<br /><br />6. It really helps to have a good training buddy to train for and get through these events. I guess you could do the training and go through the event solo, but that would be a lot harder and less fun. Thanks John for all of your time and mutual support in getting ready and training for this event. We saw each other for the first time on the third lap of the bike course and ended up in T2 at the same time. It felt good to know your buddy was hanging in there and that our game plan was working.<br /><br />7. There is nothing like going down that final shoot high fiving all the people going absolutely nuts in support of your finish. To hear Mike Reilly call our your name and say "You are an Ironman" is just amazing. If that doesn't bring a tear of joy to your eye, nothing will. It makes all of the struggle of the last miles well worth it. What a blast!<br /><br />8. It was great to have so many friends and family following us live on the internet the whole day that we were doing this event. When I first crossed mats in the run, I thought about the verification that every runner did the full course without cutting corners. As I continued on, I realized that this was also a signal out to friends and family that we were still out there plugging away. It lifted my spirits knowing you all were tracking us. To hear from some of you that you saw our crossing the finish line live on the net was really amazing.<br /><br />9. It was also great to get all of your calls, e-mails and Facebook posting congratulating us on our achievement. Thank you all from the bottom of our hearts for your good wishes and encouragement along the way. It meant a lot to both of us. Of course, knowing you were all aware of what we were doing also kept our feet to the training fire and kept us going on the course when things got tough. When you have so many people to answer to, you are not giving up. At the end of the event, John bestowed a new nickname on me: "Iron Will." Well, I am the first to acknowledge that the will is forged by the love and support of those who care about us. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.<br /><br />10. To quot one last song: "What a long strange trip its been!" I thought that running the Disney Marathon for my 50th birthday was my gift to myself. It was only in completing this event that pretty much covered my entire 50th year that I realize the Ironman was my gift to myself. I figured turning 50, I didn't want to wait another year before attempting this monster feat. In completing it, I now realize that training and completion of the ironman was the best gift I could have given myself. I'm probably in the best shape of my life from all this training. You can't give yourself a better gift than that.<br /><br />Well, that about sums it up for me. "Iron John" may want to chime in with his thoughts and feelings about the Ironman. John's blog handle was "Half Iron John (for now)." Be sure to change that to "Iron John" buddy. I started this blog out of a mutual obligation to buddy Wayne Crayton who was to do his Trampathon abroad in Europe where he would run 3 marathons in six weeks as he toured Western Europe. As you may know, Wayne's plans got pushed back a year due to his cardio surgery, but he is recovered and his Trampathon plans for the Spring of 2009 just got rolled forward to the Spring of 2010. Salome & I will join Wayne as well as several other friends in Paris in April to run the Paris Marathon. It will be his second of the three, the other 2 being Rome in March and Madrid in late April/early May. Well buddy, it looked like your commitment to the blogosphere would end first. You just never know how it works out until it plays out. Keep up the good work. I expect full and entertaining reports from Europe.<br /><br />Me, I've enjoyed doing this blog the last 12 months, but it is like writing a weekly or semi-weekly newspaper column. You've got to think about something to write and try to make it entertaining. I hope I've informed and entertained you guys with these postings. I don't know if I'll keep it up. My schedule of events for next year is already filling up. I wanted to make sure there was life after the Ironman. John took a different tactic of not scheduling any events until after the Ironman was over. I'm sure that John will end up doing plenty if history is any indicator of the future. The guy is busier than I've ever been, a better athlete (at least at distances over the half marathon), and ends up doing more with his free time than I could hope to do. He just may be the guy that they patterned those <span style="visibility: visible;" id="main"><span style="visibility: visible;" id="search">Dos Equis </span></span>beer commercials on. Its either him or our buddy Roger. In any event, our schedules will most likely diverge in the coming year. Thus, if I do continue the blogging, I may need to go solo and think up a new name.<br /><br />Enjoy the holiday season. I know I will. I only plan to do maintenance and recovery workouts until the new year. I think I've earned the rest. Stay thirsty my friends.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-9415765069908752652009-11-24T16:44:00.005-05:002009-11-24T17:23:42.244-05:00Ironman!<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ironman</span> Arizona was this Sunday. Yours truly and buddy John hung in from sunrise to well past sunset to hear Mike <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Rielly</span> announce and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">anoint</span> us by saying as we crossed the finish line: "You are an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ironman</span>!" The quick version is that we survived the human chum that is the start of the swim leg with 2800 other swimmers. The bike leg was interesting in that we tried to maintain our planned average speed amid a strong headwind on the mostly uphill outbound portion of the 3 loop course and a killer tail wind on the mostly downhill portion of the 35 mile loops. Tricky math indeed. The marathon was a bit of a survival juggle for me with my stomach totally shutting down the ability to take in even plain water. Thank God for warm chicken broth and amazing volunteers. Our swim times were better than budgeted; the bikes times a little over-budget. John beat his run time estimates to come in at 13:18. I came in one minute and an hour later at 14:19. <br /><br />The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">experience</span> was a blast, a joy and a trial all rolled into one, ending with the epiphany of the finish. I have many thoughts and feelings about this that I will go into in a much longer posting after I return home from a much deserved Arizona vacation. I was simply amazed at the number of you that tracked us online. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that I was able to complete this year long mission. I'm thankful for all of your interest and support of John and my efforts in this journey. I'm thankful for John's joint efforts in planning and executing this task. Finally, I'm thankful for my family's love and support. Happy <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Thanksgiving</span> everyone.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-46483791110050882632009-11-15T17:33:00.013-05:002009-11-16T12:21:35.611-05:00CertifiableIn order to participate the ancient Olympic games, athletes were supposed to stop their regular mode of making a living, and undergo a minimum of ten months of intensive training. The idea was that the athlete would train full time to get their bodies to an extraordinary level of fitness. In showing up at the Olympic games, the athlete would have to certify that he had undergone the required level of training in order to be allowed to participate in the games. To some degree, national Olympic committees today require a level of fitness and conditioning to participate in various Olympic events by having qualifying standards that must be met in order to be eligible to compete for a spot on that country's Olympic team.<br /><br />I am ready to attest that training buddy John and I are certifiable to participate in the Arizona Ironman next Sunday. Yes, I know what you're thinking: certifiably crazy! I'm not sure I'd argue that point. Perhaps it is a bit nutty to connect up a 2.4 mile open water swim with a 112 mile bike ride, and topping it all off with a marathon for good measure. But its been done before. Thousands have done so before us. We call them "Ironmen." In any event, it truly is a crazy and amazing endeavor to attempt and achieve. We both have huge respect for the men and women who accomplished this goal. It still kind of boggles the mind that anyone can complete an event that starts at sunrise and goes on for 10 plus hours.<br /><br />I'm not exactly sure how we even got to the mental place that got us to think that doing an Ironman was even within the realm of our achievement. I guess its doing the events leading up to this crazy distance. We've both done many marathons. That's about a 3 1/2 hour to 4 1/2 hour endeavor, depending on the course and our conditioning. Then, we started doing sprint triathlons, events that take in the range (for us) from around 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes. That opened the door to the question of which was more demanding: a marathon or a half ironman. The half ironman is about a 6 to 7 hour endurance event (again, for us at least). Of course, there was only one way to answer that question. So about a year ago, John & I did the Miami Man Half Ironman. Low and behold, it could be done. I guess that only opens yet another door of whether we were up to the full ironman distance.<br /><br />Knowing full ironman events fill up quickly, we registered last November for the Ironman Arizona. We then started researching a training plan, nutrition plans, and questioned all of our buddies that had done ironman events and came up with a training plan. For the last 10 months or so, we dedicated ourselves to training for IMAZ. We threw in a summer marathon, did several Olympic distance triathlon events, and a half ironman in September as a gut check on our training. We did three 2 1/2 mile swims, 3 century rides, and two 2o mile runs in preparation for this event. We have other friends that completed ironman events on less training than this, but this was what we figured was appropriate training for this distance. We did each and every scheduled long training event, never skipping a major workout. Unlike Olympic athletes that train pretty much full time for their events, we did all this while trying our best to maintain our work and family lives. This level of training does suck up a ton, if not all, of your free time. But I'm here to certify that we did all the training we planned to do in preparation for this event. We are ready for this event.<br /><br />But like all athletes that do all the hard work to get to the Olympic, we can still mess up our event by failing to follow our game plan. John & I both scuba dive and one of the rules of diving is to "plan your dive" and "dive your plan." John is very good at following his game plan to a tee; me, I have a history of going rogue. I usually pay for this mistake. Thus, I plan to not let any feelings that I'm doing well cause me to change the plan. I have no time goal in mind. I simply want to complete this event. In playing it conservatively, I'm budgeting 14 to 15 hours to complete the event. If I do better, great; if it takes longer, that's OK too. At this point, I simply want to get the hoped for payoff for all this hard work: crossing the finish line.<br /><br />This is probably my last posting before next Sunday's event. I want to thank all of you that have given John & me guidance and advice in preparing for this event. Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to read my somewhat longish blog entries. Thanks mostly to buddy John for all the virtual and actual training together. I know it would have been immensely harder to get all this training in without knowing he was either meeting me for a ride or run, meeting at the pool, or doing a separate workout that I needed to match. Finally, thanks to my family for putting up with this whole endeavor. Now, we just need to fly out to Arizona and get this thing done. At this point, I'm excited, nervous and itching to go.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-703674446446848932009-11-11T13:01:00.005-05:002009-11-11T22:14:33.853-05:00Bye Bye Bike<span style="font-style: italic;">Bye bye, love. Bye bye, happiness. Hello, loneliness. I think I'm a-gonna cry-y.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bye Bye Love</span> -The Everly Brothers<br /><br />I dropped my beloved Cervelo P2 Tri-bike at the drop ship bike shop in Miami yesterday for shipping out to the race cite in Tempe, Arizona. Before dropping it off, I took a final ride to make sure all was in working order. I then had to remove the carbon water bottle seat post attachment and computer from the bike. I also packed my gear bag with my tri-suit, running and biking shoes, tools, lubes, spare tubes and cartridges, tri-belt and water bottles. The whole ordeal caused a little accelerated anxiety in that I was forced to go through my checklist of items to make sure to have for race day a week before I have to pack for the flight out of town.<br /><br />While I've only had the Cervelo for two months, I've grown to really love this bike. Yes, its pretty much limited to use for triathlons and tri-training, but I really feel it makes a difference in saving the legs for the run. The long time in the aero position took some getting used to, but I feel my neck muscles have made the adjustments necessary for this task. This morning, I rode a regular road bike for a bike/run brick, with my secondary helmet, gloves, shoes and peddles. I missed the feel of the Cervelo already. Oh well, the separation is brief. Soon, I'll be reunited with my bike in Tempe. I hope to still have good feelings about my bike after the 112 mile ride portion of the Ironman.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-89506867913241778712009-11-08T17:55:00.013-05:002009-11-09T23:11:13.909-05:00And I'm Gettig Blown AwaySaturday was the last workout of real substance before heading into real taper time. John & I had planned an Olympic Bike/Run brick (25 mile ride/10 run). We were scheduled to meet at my house before dawn to get the brick knocked out before John had to go home and pack for a weekend trip to New York to attend a wedding. Late Thursday, I was given 4 tickets to the Friday night Miami Heat game. In order to make sure I didn't get short sleep with John arriving too early and fresh for Saturday's workout, I invited John to join my wife, son Alex and me at the game. Of course, he saw right through the ruse, but graciously accepted the invitation. The game was great, with the Heat sending the Denver Nuggets to their first loss of the season.<br /><br />I check on weather conditions for Saturday morning was not as pleasant. The forecast for the entire weekend was for steady winds out of the NE at 19 to 20 mph, with gusts up to 35 mph. As I got up Saturday at 5:15 AM, I could see the trees getting blown westward pretty good. After getting my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pre</span>-ride grub in my and checking my bike, I strolled around in front of my house. The forecast seemed to be pretty accurate; these were steady 19 to 20 winds. It looked like it would be pretty stupid to ride in such conditions, so when John arrived, I suggested that we bag the bike and do a 12 mile run. "No, let's stick to the plan," John said, "It could be windy in Tempe and this would be good practice for windy conditions." We compromised that if it was too windy after our 10 mile loop south, we would cut the ride short of the remaining 15 ride north and lengthen the run.<br /><br />As we head south, I note that its too windy to risk going to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">aero</span> position. Getting in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">aero</span> position may be good to cut the wind, but it gives less stability for handling the bike during the gusts that regularly kicked up. Worse, the ride south goes past pretty much open beach. The wind blew sand creating wide patches of sand. Not friendly to a steady tire grip on the road. Living in South Florida, both John & I have done many long runs in "Like a Hurricane" conditions. However, there is a big difference running on wet, slippery roads. Its a wholly different experience riding a road bike in such conditions.<br /><br />John rides very conservatively, but I take advantage of short periods of slower winds to pick up my pace and actually spend some time in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">aero</span> position. John does not follow suit. Every time I look around to see if he's with me, he is clear out of sight. I make two or three stops along the ride to wait for him to catch up. Of course, he pays me back later.<br /><br />After pulling into my garage and doing our transition, we run out towards the beach for the 10K. When we get to the beach, we are sand blasted by the wind and sand. I'm running slightly ahead of John and when we get to the turn around point, John turns where he is about 50 feet short of the turn around. So now, he who was following, now has the lead. John being a better into the wind runner than I, not only crosses the street to get further away from the wind, but starts upping his pace. Yes, paybacks are Hell. I decide that this isn't a race, its a workout. I let him go off ahead and keep at my training pace. The winds are blowing the sand into my side such that I've got to turn my head slightly west to avoid getting sand blown into my eyes. I am coated with a fine misting of sand that has somehow been blown through my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tri</span> suit and is literally everywhere.<br /><br />As we get off the beach and are running though the backstreets of my surrounding neighborhood, I come across my wife Salome on the outward leg of her morning run. I yell to her that John cheated by shorting the course at the turnaround. In reality, he keeps getting further and further in front of me and ends up with over a 300 yard lead. As I complete the somewhat winding road of the last mile to my house, I've completely lost sight of John. When I turn onto my street, I can see him finishing at my house at the end of the road. As I come up to him, I say, "Nice work, you negative splitting bastard." Of course, I say this in a nice, training buddy sort of way, mind you. We bump fists knowing we've just completed our last long workout.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>The next morning, I note that I received an e-mail from John asking me to re-read the taper portion of "the Bible," <span style="font-weight: bold;">Going Long</span> by Joe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Friel</span> & <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Grodon</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Byrn</span>. He asks me for my workout plan for the next 2 weeks. Of course, he asks for this information without disclosing his plans. I can see I'm being set up for a critique. In essence, the book recommends doing shorter workouts, but more interval work instead of a steady easier workload. I had already decided that this plan was for experienced <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Ironman</span> triathletes that were trying to move up the competitive ranks. Me, I'm an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">IM</span> rookie. I just want to get done in a reasonable time and survive this thing. <br /><br />I spent Sunday working on my bike getting it ready for shipping out with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">TriBike</span> Transport on Wednesday. I changed the tires, cleaned the bike, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">de</span>-greased and lubed the chain and gears, and removed the carbon water bottle holders as instructed by the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">TriBike</span> folks. I then went shopping for more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">goos</span> and other miscellaneous supplies for the trip.<br /><br />Monday morning, I take out the bike for a shakeout ride to make sure everything is in working order before removing the pedals (another <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">TriBike</span> requirement). The winds are again blowing at the 20 mph range. Again, a scary ride getting blown sideways by swirling winds and trying to avoid both huge patches of slippery sand and fast moving cars on their way to work. I cut the ride short at 12.5 miles. I've come too far to get in an event ending road accident in conditions that I would otherwise never ride in.<br /><br />Tonight, I'll give the bike a last cleaning to get the sand from this morning's ride. Tomorrow, I take the bike to Miami to drop it at the bike shop that acts as a drop for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">TriBike</span> Transport. I'll still get in a couple of easy rides on my wife's road bike, but that's it for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">tri</span>-bike riding. Now, its mostly short tempo runs and 45 minute maintenance swims in the pool. I'd like one last open water swim in my wet suit, but the surf is again in "Like a Hurricane" conditions. Its supposed to be windy and a ruff surf all week long. Hopefully, it will calm by the weekend.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-80972912681205960532009-11-04T17:38:00.006-05:002009-11-04T18:14:33.215-05:00Say Amen Sombody!Today, John & I rode our last century ride prior to Ironman Arizona. The out portion heading north along A1a put us into a head wind. It rained a bit on and off on the ride north, just enough to coat our bikes and drink bottles with a dirt and grit. You had to spit out the first sip of water as it came in a mixture of mud and fluids. However, the overcast skies kept it from getting hot on the outbound journey. We spotted running buddy, Jen Jones out for her morning run as we passed through Boyton Beach.<br /><br />We received our dividend of wind assistance on the ride home. It got a little hot as the morning progressed towards the noon hour. John had kept talking about doing a 30 minute run at the end of the ride, but by the time we were in Boca Raton about mile 80 it was getting a bit too toasty. I told John the run was out for me. I had done a 5K treadmill run after our last century 10 days earlier and felt no need to prove that I can run after a century ride.<br /><br />After stopping at my house, John changed into running shoes and took off for his run. I hosed and cleaned my bike. When I finish, John had yet to return. As a good training buddy, I hosed and cleaned his bike also. He returned the favor by springing for lunch. As he said, I now know what my cleaning services are worth.<br /><br />With this ride, our very long workouts for IMAZ are done. Completed. In the books. Fini. We had mapped out and have now completed two 20 mile training runs, three century rides, and two 2.5 mile swims. Of course, there were numerous other workouts leading up to and interspersed with these longer workouts. We will do an Olympic bike/run brick this Saturday, then cut way back for the last 2 weeks of taper before the event. All I can say is "Say Amen Somebody!" We have climbed the mountain of workouts and are at the summit of Mount Workout-More. We can now coast downhill to the promised land: Tempe, Arizona.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-62068030604388496782009-11-01T17:43:00.011-05:002009-11-06T14:34:03.802-05:00Life's Like a Box of Chocolates<span style="font-style: italic;">"For no particular reason I just kept on going. I ran clear to the ocean. And when I got there, I figured, since I'd gone this far, I might as well turn around, just keep on going.</span>" Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Gump</span><br /><br />When John first mentioned the idea of running the Halloween Half Marathon on Miami Beach and add a 7 mile run to it, I thought he was a bit off his chum. I've heard of people trying to do a run after a race to get their weekend long run up to a particular mile mark, but always heard that it didn't work out well. Usually this is due to the person running the extra miles after a race run at race speed. John's running friend Deb, whom he met at the Gold Coast Marathon in Australia was running it and John decided running the race would be a great way to knock out our planned 20 miler. Since the weather looked to be warm as the morning wore on, I convinced John to run the extra 7 miles before the half marathon instead of afterward.<br /><br />Deb is originally from Australia, but now lives in Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Lauderdale</span> with her Mid-Western husband Mark, a really great and friendly guy, and her two young blond hairs boys who kept us in stitches with their post-race antics. Mark and the boys were heading down at a reasonable hour later in the morning, so I picked up John & Deb at John's condo complex for the ride down to Miami Beach. At around 79<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span> Street the traffic was funneled down to one lane and finally diverted off of I-95 completely, dumping us into what we all knew was a not so nice neighborhood. As we passed a couple of "working women" at about 5 AM, Deb starts to tell us about an incident she had where she got lost in a not so nice section of Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Lauderdale</span> looking for some governmental office. Deb tells us that as she rolled down her window to ask for directions some women advised her to "buy her stuff from them, because the guys will rip you off." I tell an off color joke I'd heard the night before on Comedy Central about a guy trying to get beads tossed at him from a float during <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Mardi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gras</span>. The whole thing had a sort of whistling through the graveyard feel to it. Tell jokes as you ride through a neighborhood you wouldn't voluntarily drive through and maybe all will go well.<br /><br />We clear the bad neighborhood and turn onto US-1 heading south. We finally get to Parrot Jungle, a tourist attraction that is the sight of the race start. After Port-O-Potty stops, John and I leave Deb to do our 7 mile <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">pre</span>-race run. We follow the race course along MacArthur Causeway past the cruise ships coming and going from their week touring the Caribbean. Its still dark with a cool breeze coming off the water. On the return run, I start in on a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger impression to avoid hearing further lecturing on pacing from John "the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Governator</span>." John keeps us on about a 9 minute pace that he figures is what we should not go faster than to complete the whole 20 miles.<br /><br />We make it back to the start area about 2 minutes before the start of the half marathon. Almost all 800 participants are in closed off and gated corrals. I suggest we go to the back of the pack and work out way up to the appropriate pace area during the race. However, Deb waves to us from near the front of the starting line. As I jog towards the back John says, "No, let's go hop the barrier and get in with Deb. She said she would run at our 9 minute pace." I knew that Deb was a pretty good runner and that this would be a bit of a slow pace for her if she was racing the half marathon, but assumed John and Deb must have discussed and agreed upon her running our pace. So, back we jog to near the front of the crowd and squeeze in from the front past the first five lines of runners. You know these people, predominantly guys, that are planning to run so fast that they go shirtless because they are going to get so hot running at such fast speeds (and besides they've got their 6-pack abs and this is the only way they can show them off without looking like they are showing off their 6-pack abs).<br /><br />I turn to John & Deb and say, "We are going to get run over." I just ran 7 miles and hadn't planned to have to bolt off the front with the fast boys and girls. Oh, well, I figure, we're going to pace out together. We'll let the fast runners go around us and find our proper pacing place within the first mile. As the race starts, I go off at the pace of those around me. Too fast. I look around and neither John nor Deb are with me. I have gone out too fast due to lining up with the fast runners. Oh well, <span>stupid is as stupid does</span>. I slow a bit and find Deb. John is no where in sight.<br /><br />As we run the first couple of miles together, I mention that I'd better pace back to John in order to avoid a lecture. I fall back at the first water station. When John catches up, I am not so lucky as to avoid the "proper pacing" lecture. John starts telling me some lame recycled story he picked up at a business meeting about personal responsibility...blah, blah, blah. It kind of sounded like one of those lectures high school gym teachers tell guys about practicing safe sex. If I'd known I'd be in for this treatment, I'd have stayed up with a better looking and more friendly Deb. As John carries on, all I could think about was the various ways you can eat shrimp. <span>You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There is shrimp-kabob, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That's about it.</span><br /><br />After John's lecture, we settle into a steady 9 minute pace and start appreciating the costumed runners in our area. Some people really got into the Halloween theme with some great costumes. One guy ran with a diaper and pacifier; probably a good way to avoid any Port-O-Potty stops, I guess. There were a lot of women dressed up as Wonder Woman. My feeling is that all women endurance athletes are Wonder Woman. There were also a couple of guys dressed up in various stages of Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Gump</span> during his running phase. More on that in a bit.<br /><br />I've always endorsed the Miami Half Marathon and Marathon as the most beautiful runs in the state of Florida at those distances. Well, the Halloween Half just one upped the Miami Half. While it pretty much matches the Miami Half route, it makes the Miami Beach portion even more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">pictureque</span> by going completely along the ocean front the entire route. The middle miles end up on a boardwalk along the beach with beautiful views of the beach and ocean. Additionally, the boardwalk has a little more give to it over the road making it feel a little like a trail run. Finally, the out and back aspect of the beach part of the run gives you a chance to see the race leaders and your friends. John and I see Deb as she is doubling back. We shout encouragement and exchange high fives.<br /><br />For most of the run, John is pacing just behind me such that I can't tell whether he is holding steady or falling off my pace. However, having promised to not run faster than an 8:55 pace, I keep self correcting and slowing a bit. "We are training for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ironman</span>, not racing a half marathon," I keep repeating to myself. At about mile 10, my hips and pelvis start to bother me. This is the one residual I notice that is left over from my bike accident back in early September. This give me some concern about how I'll feel at the 26.2 mile distance. However, I figure there is not much I can do about it. <span>My momma always said, "Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get."</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>I decide its best to slow a bit and take my pace back to 9:20s. As John passes me, I tell him to go ahead. John pulls away still keeping the steady 9's.<br /><br />As John starts to approach the finish line, he realizes that he's about to get passed by a guy dressed as Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Gump</span>. The guy has the full beard and wild hair of Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Gump</span> at the end of his running with the group of running <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">disciples</span>. As he passes Deb and her family, he shouts out, "I'm getting beat by Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Gump</span>." Then shouts, "No I'm not." He starts a final kick, which only causes Forrest to start a finish kick. They end up crossing at the same time. I come in about a minute later.<br /><br />That evening, John looks up his results and can't find his time listed. It turns out Deb came in second in her age group. John stumbles across the "Fastest Funny Costume - Men" <span id="role_document" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;" ><strong></strong></span>division and tries to find Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Gump</span>. Instead he finds his time listed. He queries by e-mail to Deb and me, "Did I look that funny? Go figure." My response was that I think they had him down as "Person in crowd running with Forrest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Gump</span>."<br /><br /><span>Anyway, that's all I have to say about that. </span>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-20399231228313040242009-10-28T10:54:00.019-04:002009-10-28T14:28:54.712-04:00ContrastTraining buddy John is a member of the Lauderdale Yacht Club. The club has a pool with swim lanes. Its not an Olympic sized pool, but it works for our evening swims. Last evening we had a swim/run brick planned. The pool is in the back of the yacht club which has a bar, food service area, and tables for outdoor seating. As I approach the pool area, I notice that the club is having one of its evening socials. Couples in casual outdoor evening attire are mingling around with drinks in hand, taking offered hors d'oeuvres from waitstaff, and listening to a steel drum reggae band. The crowd has that relaxed look of people that have a drink or two in them and are really enjoying a party. Not New Year's Eve fun, mind you, but a casual mixer type of fun.<br /><br />I find a table out of the way near the kiddie pool so as not to have my towel, running shoes and car keys get in the way. John is running late as usual, so I get ready, dive in the pool and start my laps. Its a bit of a weird feeling doing your swim workout in the midst of a party. I feel somewhat on display and yet apart from what's going on around me. There is the usual guy who drifts off from the party to have a lengthy personal cell phone conversation. He distractedly walks around the perimeter of the pool as he ignores the party and focuses on his conversation. I can't figure out if he's been dragged to this event by his spouse and is using the call as a party avoidance technique, or if the conversation is actually important. I try to ignore this guy pacing around me and focus on my laps.<br /><br />John shows up, apologizing for his late arrival. We agree to make the swim a 45 minute swim and to 4 miles afterward. I have a 15 minute lead on him in the pool. Thus, after my 45 minutes of swimming are up, I have a 15 minute wait for Johnny come lately. I shower, dry off and put on my running shoes. I am off to the side of the party, but have nothing better to do than people watch. The crowd is now deeper into their cups and are having a very nice social evening. Then it hits me: but for this ironman training, that would be me at a social gathering enjoying a glass or two of wine on a Wednesday evening.<br /><br />John and I have discussed how knowing you have a long run or ride the next morning has kept us from accepting a lot of invitations to go out, have a drink or two, or three, and stay out late. No, training for an ironman causes you to think more and more about what you will put in your body, whether wine, a harder drink, or that ever tempting, but not helpful, desert. My weight is down in spite of my increases appetite and calorie consumption. It feels great coming out of the pool, chest a little pumped up from the swim. John & I are probably in the best shape of our lives.<br /><br />From my vantage point, mid-workout, just outside the party, these party goers look soft. They most likely could not run a half marathon or swim a mile. But they do look like they are having a very good time. I am a bit disdainful and envious of these party goers at the same time. I guess I deserve having other people's good times thrown in my face for doing a swim workout at a yacht club. I vow to continue my Spartan existence until the AZIM. There will be no backsliding at this point. However, once I cross that finish line, I will be imbibing in a drink or two; that is, if I'm not imbibing IV fluids.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-14372414052644895972009-10-25T14:47:00.005-04:002009-10-25T15:34:40.655-04:00The Impossible Seems PossibleThree weekends ago, in the midst of Florida's record breaking fall heat wave, my long workouts were killers. I had to cut short my intended 15 mile long run to a 12 miler. My century ride was shortened to a 94 mile ride at the end of which I was risking heat exhaustion and suffered cramping. I had to cut my long open water swim at 1.5 miles do to simply being tired. From that vantage point, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ironman</span> distance looked impossible. I figured I would be able to complete the swim and probably finish the bike portion of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ironman</span>, but I couldn't fathom getting off of a 112 mile ride and running a marathon. I vowed to myself that I would continue training and give the Arizona <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ironman</span> a go, but frankly, completing the event seemed impossible.<br /><br />I kept at the training. Then, last weekend a cold front finally, God blessedly, moved into Florida. The temperatures dropped out of the high 80s and low 90s, down to the 50s. I got a 22 mile long run in last Saturday. I did a long pool swim on Friday morning that buddy John calculated to be a 2.5 mile swim. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Yesterday</span>, John & I did very smart steady paced century ride that left me feeling so good that I was able to top it off with a 5K run to make it a brick. This morning, I went to the ocean and did a 2 hour open water swim and ran back the 2.5 miles along the sand.<br /><br />Suddenly, what previously seemed impossible, seems possible. I felt good enough last Saturday that I felt I could have run a full marathon that day. I felt good enough on the ride yesterday that I believe I could have continued the ride to compete a 112 bike ride. I felt good enough coming off the bike <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">yesterday</span> that I believe I could have run a marathon if it had been the day of the event. From my last 2 swims, I know I can complete the swim portion of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ironman</span>. I'm suddenly coming to the belief and understanding that I will be able to string all of these events together on one day. It will take very smart nutrition and effort management, but I know believe it can be done.<br /><br />My body has made the adjustments and is ready to do the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ironman</span>. I still have a long run and long ride to complete, but my body has made the adjustment. My training is at the peak of the training hill. The next couple of weeks are coasting at the this peak before easing off in taper and resting the body for the event day. This is good, because I now am ready for the final level of training: mental training. Belief is the first step in being able to complete. I now believe this thing is realistically doable. Its clearly possible. Now, I simply need to start thinking about my game day nutrition and strategies. Its time to plan to make the possible a reality.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-32300210582897566852009-10-22T09:39:00.015-04:002009-10-23T12:06:43.868-04:00Do You Feel Like I Do?<span style="font-style: italic;">Do you feel....like I do? Do you feel.... like I do?</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Do You Feel Like We Do</span> - Peter Frampton<br /><br />Way, way back in 1976, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Frampton Comes Alive</span> was released. I was a junior in high school and "Do You Feel Like We Do" was the hit single off the album. The first 2 short verses of the song were kind of irrelevant to the jazz like extended jam. In the later part of the song, Peter Frampton first hushes the live audience, then brings it to a cheering frenzy with his call and response of "Do You Feel Like We Do?" during an extended "talkbox" solo, an effects pedal which redirects a guitar's sound through a tube into the performer's mouth, allowing the guitar to mimic human speech. It was a marathon of a song, clocking in at about 14 minutes. Not what you would consider radio friendly. Thus, for the first month or so of the album's release, you would listen to this cool, jazzy song on your home stereo and really enjoy this extended jam. People heard about it through word of mouth and the album became a huge seller.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the song and album got so popular that pop radio couldn't leave it alone. Soon you couldn't drive in your car with the radio on without the song coming up in quick rotation. Like many popular things in our culture, the more popular something becomes, the quicker commercial interests will force it down our throats so often that we want to throw up. Too much of a good thing. What had been cool and cutting edge very quickly became hackneyed and uncool through overexposure. "Do You Feel Like We Do" became the poster child for this phenomena. "Do You Feel Like We Do" would come on the radio and my automatic response was to change the station. Fast! I'd come to resent a song I used to love. To this day, my conditioned response to this song is revulsion.<br /><br />Other than showing how F-ing old I am, why do I bring this up? Because at some point in training for a full ironman event, the sheer volumn of training starts to wear on you. While you have to enjoy training to do a half or full ironman, at some point the long swim, long bike ride, and long run start getting old. I've noticed this phenomena in other triathlon bloggers. Luckily, the sense of "this shit is getting old" seems to kick in just before taper time. It may be the body's and mind's way of telling you that its OK to cut back. It may be the mind's way of letting you know that you'll want to rest up a bit before the big event. Either that or the mind simply gets tired of routine.<br /><br />These thoughts entered my mind last evening while doing an hour pool swim solo. If you've read my prior blog entries, you probably know that I prefer open water swimming to pool swims. The up and back of a pool just gets monotonous for me. I like seeing the shore go by on a long swim. It makes me feel like I'm making progress. I guess I'd say the same thing about running and biking. I'll use a treadmill to run if its just too hot or too wet to run outside. I simply can not get myself to ride on a trainer. I tried it for a while, but just can't bring myself to use one. My mind needs the changing scenery to keep it interesting.<br /><br />In any event, I have no doubt that I'll get through these last couple of weeks of long training before tapering down to race day. I also know that after some time off post event, I will come to love the training again. In fact, I somehow have "Do You Feel Like We Do" on my iPod. I play my music in random play mode to keep things interesting. This morning, "Do You Feel Like We Do" cued up on the iPod. I almost hit the skip button on my car music system, but resisted the automatic urge to not listen to this song. After 33 years of not listening to this song, it actually sounded pretty good again. Hopefully, it will not take that long to get back into training after Arizona.<br /><br />So, I must ask in closing, do you feel like I do?Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-78644942566789923402009-10-19T22:14:00.027-04:002009-10-20T12:32:56.113-04:00Going Back to Gainesville<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes, I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Goin</span>' Down to Florida, Where The Sun Shines Damn Near Every Day. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Well I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Goin</span>' Down In Florida, Where The Sun Shines Damn Near Every Day. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Yeah, I'll Take My Woman Out On The Beach, And Sit Down On The Sand And Play.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Yeah, I Think I'll Go Down <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Gainesville</span>, Just To See An Old Friend Of Mine.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Well, I Believe I'll Cut Down to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Gainesville</span>, Just To See An' Old Buddy Of Mine.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Well, You Know If We're Not Too Busy, I Believe We'll Drop Over to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Newberry</span> Sometime. </span>Deep Down In Florida - Muddy Waters<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzwl4oZxcwHP2Sx53ndh4D0uZRrmDqSCHn4wEuN5yRU2BA_dvUNrF0U3jOuk3s9zHfrUaFT1xN-wiWqxlc21EBLAOyTNVccMtaQ1vdAFk3TfbpTpoorkO79nFra_3S13FXcWndusSwn0/s1600-h/UF+Homecoming+2009+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwzwl4oZxcwHP2Sx53ndh4D0uZRrmDqSCHn4wEuN5yRU2BA_dvUNrF0U3jOuk3s9zHfrUaFT1xN-wiWqxlc21EBLAOyTNVccMtaQ1vdAFk3TfbpTpoorkO79nFra_3S13FXcWndusSwn0/s400/UF+Homecoming+2009+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394529533149045362" border="0" /></a>Well, for me it was more "Going Up to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gainesville</span>," but I have to quot Muddy Waters accurately. In any event, this past weekend was Homecoming at the University of Florida in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Gainesville</span>, Florida. With my son John a Freshman at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">UF</span> and a trombone player in the "Pride of the Sunshine State" (the Florida Gator Marching Band), Salome & I decided to take young son Alex and go visit some an old buddy of mine. My buddy Jeff <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Dollinger</span>, who I attended both undergraduate and law school with, had returned to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Gainesville</span> after a couple of years in Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Lauderdale</span> and had lived deep down in Florida ever since. If its at all possible to imagine, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Gainesville</span> is philosophically "Deep Down in Florida," while South Florida is more northern, at least in feel. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Gainesville</span> has more in common with Southern Georgia than South Florida. Spanish moss, smaller town feel; yes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Gainesville</span> is the South. Its also a great college town.<br /><br />Prior to leaving for the five hour drive north from Ft. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Lauderdale</span>, I was able to get in a 1.5 mile swim on Thursday morning. I had my doubts as to whether I'd get that swim in last week. The open water had been rough all week. I had contingency plans to do a 25 mile ride, but when I woke up Thursday morning and looked out my window at the inter-coastal waterway, I knew the water was calling. It was finally calm enough to swim with the fishes. While I did get a pool swim in earlier in the week, there is nothing like a long open water swim. I love getting into a rhythm undisturbed by turns required in a pool. Thus, I headed north feeling like my workouts were once again in balance.<br /><br />We got into <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Gainesville</span> pretty late, so it was off to my Aunt's house and off to bed. Friday morning, I had breakfast with Salome & Alex, before running 3 miles through downtown, past the University and out the law school to meet Jeff and his son Brian. Brian is a senior in high <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyRGjsb_cdOFbN8h8iKY8wqry2idCb6T9bH7V0gFW9dvr8a9LP7FDhFsAfaExVlRXy-n_4JdA2HTVqEUn8hW4w_3hwkAfU82S5heY-KVUZzikbV60s5xKTwJ4gEIvHqFR40UL47Kt0kg/s1600-h/UF+Homecoming+2009+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYyRGjsb_cdOFbN8h8iKY8wqry2idCb6T9bH7V0gFW9dvr8a9LP7FDhFsAfaExVlRXy-n_4JdA2HTVqEUn8hW4w_3hwkAfU82S5heY-KVUZzikbV60s5xKTwJ4gEIvHqFR40UL47Kt0kg/s400/UF+Homecoming+2009+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394526232386660130" border="0" /></a>school and was going to race the Gator Gallop, a 2 mile run that starts off the homecoming parade. I ran it easy with Jeff who hadn't run regularly in a couple of years. He had switched over to swimming as his main exercise, but agreed to run with the Gallop. It's primarily a true "fun run." We treated it as such. All in all, I got in 5 easy miles between the 2 runs. After the run, I worked my way back to the parade route to meet up with Salome & Alex in front of John's fraternity house, Delta Upsilon. Another good buddy of ours, John <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Neukamm</span>, a former DU President, was also in front of the house watching the parade.<br /><br />That night, it was off to Gator Growl, billed as the largest pep rally in the country. Growl is largely student skits, introduction of the senior class of the football team, followed by a comedian and some music. The comedian this year was Dana <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Carvey</span>, who was pretty good. The music was by O.A.R., also pretty good. However, young Alex got tired and we left before O.A.R. finished playing. We picked up older son John and went out to eat at "The Original Pizza Place."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0bjkUPPtWNCXPd3yqElIiwFVGB0-egGVbPiF4l9BizUByZSlx3H19jcz85spiGvqzzGv9sLeXQHceNzCkQqf8Xe2w2vfMq2OYOLQyX-srrY3is8YUtdakgakRpeBKK5f_ff_lXQSxXc/s1600-h/UF+Homecoming+2009+040.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0bjkUPPtWNCXPd3yqElIiwFVGB0-egGVbPiF4l9BizUByZSlx3H19jcz85spiGvqzzGv9sLeXQHceNzCkQqf8Xe2w2vfMq2OYOLQyX-srrY3is8YUtdakgakRpeBKK5f_ff_lXQSxXc/s400/UF+Homecoming+2009+040.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394527328034546274" border="0" /></a>Saturday was all about the football game between the Gators and the Arkansas Razorbacks. We met up with son John and the band and marched with them to the stadium. Jeff had set us up with great seats 16 rows up in the northwestern corner of the end-zone. We could watch Tim <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Tebow</span> warm up with his receivers, and were surrounded by a charged up crowd. You could probably say that about the whole stadium. "The Swamp" gets loud and is a twelfth man on defense. If you saw the game, you know it was a nail biter. The Gators keep losing the ball in the first half and went into half-time trailing for the first time this year. It was a back and forth second <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EEw85DrCpzvXLHmosSpxiaLuXRmKurPsLyofGD__vqfOX0Y0etN6Ltp8Y6qLji8egYbsxYX1ifiNU1QBhXCJYjukhfatVNi9G-slX3yKFa5RTIYXhVhsaOxEVJ7KTb5HvEXpTVPJll4/s1600-h/UF+Homecoming+2009+085.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_EEw85DrCpzvXLHmosSpxiaLuXRmKurPsLyofGD__vqfOX0Y0etN6Ltp8Y6qLji8egYbsxYX1ifiNU1QBhXCJYjukhfatVNi9G-slX3yKFa5RTIYXhVhsaOxEVJ7KTb5HvEXpTVPJll4/s400/UF+Homecoming+2009+085.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394529061952194770" border="0" /></a>half, with the Gators breaking a tie by a field goal with seconds left on the clock. We all went nuts cheering and singing the Alma Mater at game's end. Afterward, we marched back out of the stadium with the band back to their start area, where they played some more. We again met up with John for anther dinner together as a family.<br /><br />A cold front had moved in the area during the day Saturday, but it wasn't too cold; however, overnight the temperatures dropped into the low 50s. Ah, yes, the cold front I'd been dreaming of had finally arrived in full. The record breaking heat wave of the last couple of weeks was finally broken. Buddy Jeff had given me directions to a "Rails to Trails" course about a mile west of where we were staying. I found the trail, but went in the opposite direction from what Jeff had intended I take. No matter. The temperatures we ideal for a long run and I had a 20 miler on the schedule. It was sweet. However, I was in unfamiliar territory, so that the end of the run that I planned to run through the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">UF</span> campus ended up extending my run to a 22 and 1/4 mile run. It was OK by me. I figured I was running in temperatures about 35 degrees cooler than my previous runs and I was going to take advantage of the conditions. The conditions were so runner friendly, I probably could have run a complete marathon. Meanwhile, up in NYC, training buddy John ran his 20 miler in Central Park with temperature in the 30s. Perhaps a little too cold, but he got it done.<br /><br />So, we are down to a century ride this weekend and our "13.1 + 7 = 20" race in South Beach on Halloween morning. After that, it's time to start the taper down to 11/22/09 go time. Plenty left to do, particularly in the swim department. At least for me. I'd like to get some long swims in with the full wet suit on. It's been too warm in the water to do that prior to now. Hopefully, the cool weather will continue for a while.<br /><br />Finally, I attach a picture of the new ride. This is for Jen, who has repeatedly requested that I do my civic duty and post a picture. Perhaps she will want a closer look and join in for the northern portion of our century ride this Saturday.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTlfcGykIiZY1rs6QOr6NsMzDQdpd6ckeE4aabf7pPn860UT4wOdDaSsZq_fQi2dQGEURoPX9unJwNn5YHXZP85WngqzUI-Jww-XqlGZVvvXepLYBVbhS_5nOmqjSM6KOfFLp6YOr4bo/s1600-h/UF+Homecoming+2009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTlfcGykIiZY1rs6QOr6NsMzDQdpd6ckeE4aabf7pPn860UT4wOdDaSsZq_fQi2dQGEURoPX9unJwNn5YHXZP85WngqzUI-Jww-XqlGZVvvXepLYBVbhS_5nOmqjSM6KOfFLp6YOr4bo/s400/UF+Homecoming+2009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394666252906330930" border="0" /></a>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-62486935765536329142009-10-14T19:31:00.010-04:002009-10-14T19:54:26.098-04:00Mo' MoneyI never saw the 1992 <span class="binding">Damon <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Wayans</span>'</span> comedy "Mo' Money" but I remember the commercial with Mr. <span class="binding"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Wayans</span> </span>repeating the tag line "Mo' money, mo' money, mo' money." That's how I'm starting to feel about this whole <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ironman</span> thing. It seems that every time I turn around, I'm shelling out mo' money to feed this monster.<br /><br />Let's step back to about a year ago when we signed up for this thing. Five Hundred and Fifty smackers for the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">privilege</span> of getting to beat the crap out of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">myself</span> in a full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ironman</span>. Wow! I remember when the New York Road Runners Club upped the registration fee to run the NYC Marathon to $135.00. I was outraged. Most marathon registration fees were in the $90 to $100 range. How dare they jack up the NYC fees to $135.00, I protested. What a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">naive</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">pre</span>-triathlete I was then. How darling, how cute, how cheap! Now, I feel like its a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">bargain</span> when I'm only paying $200 to $300 for an Olympic or HIM distance event. Marathon registration fees? What a deal!<br /><br />OK, enough of registration fee bashing. I'm sure there are a lot of costs <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">associated</span> with putting on an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Ironman</span> event. Permits, safety boats, transition area set up equipment, support tables along the course, costs of hiring off duty cops to keep the course open and safe. I can see where it gets expensive to run these events. Besides, they have to raise money for to give those cash prizes to the professionals. OK, I have to admit it. It still seems like a boatload of money. If I was an investor, I'd be looking for an audit. Where the heck is all this money going?<br /><br />But I labor the point. I look at the registration fee as money spent long ago. Its the money I keep shelling out recently that bring to mind Mr. <span class="binding"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Wayans</span>'</span> "Mo' money" refrain. I have a perfectly good sleeveless wet suit that I intended to use for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">IMAZ</span>. When buddy John got the report back for his buddy Carl <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Rosen</span> about just how cold the water was in Tempe, I decided I better pony up the extra bucks for a full sleeved wet suit. While I was at the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">tri</span> store, I decided to replace my old bike helmet for a new one. OK, so $300 later, I feel I'm ready to roll.<br /><br />The next weekend I did roll...over the top of a 89 year old lady's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Cadillac</span>. My bike was totalled. As I'm sitting on the ground, I realize I need to buy a new bike. I must say, I love my new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Cervelo</span> P2 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">tri</span> bike. With assorted water bottle holders, lights and another new <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">helmet</span>, I'm out around $3,700. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Fortunately</span>, I should get this back from my old lady's insurance company. (I never thought I would ever be able to use the term "My Old Lady" and not feel like it was sexist.) Again, I'm shelling out money, but its not bothering me yet. $250 round trip flight booked and paid for: check. Hotel reservations: check. Oh, the family wants to come out to Arizona too. That's 3 more flights. OK, we should be done.<br /><br />Nope. After confirming that the Miami bike shop that will act as the drop off store for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Tri</span> Bike Transport is still up and running, John & I book our bike shipping fees. Cost of shipping: $275. Cost of transporting your gear bag: another $25. After insurance and processing fees, I'm into Active.com for about $320.00. Ouch! It cheaper to send me out to Arizona than to send my bike and gear bag. Well, maybe about the same after the airlines hit me up with those baggage fees; however, those charges are not on my radar yet. Baggage fees, car, hotel and meal costs are off in the future.<br /><br />I decide to get some new nutrition supplies, some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">goos</span> and an upgraded set of swim goggles. Mo' money. John was coaxed into signing up for a half marathon at the end of the month in Miami Beach by an woman runner friend. We have a 20 miler scheduled for that day, but John figures we can run the half and add 7 miles to our run after crossing the finish line. John signed up and kind of pushes me into signing onto his somewhat goofy "13.1 + 7 = 20" plan. I give in, sign up, and fork over another $92 bucks to Active.com. Mo' money!<br /><br />Oh, I almost forgot, The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Clermont</span> HIM was done as preparation for the full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">IM</span>. That was another $175. The hotel stay in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Clermont</span>: $135. The organized ride and hotel in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Clermont</span> 2 week before the HIM: $25 and $90. Mo' money, mo' money, mo money! This doesn't even get into the occasional new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">tri</span> shirt or shorts, new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">tri</span> bike shoes, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">goos</span> and assorted <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">nutrition</span> purchases over the year building up to this event.<br /><br />I now know why people try to get better and turn professional at this sport. Its not for the glory of winning or placing in these events. Its not to show who is the most fit, can log the most training, or can endure the most pain. Its to get a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">sponsor</span> who will pay your entry fees, hotels, and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">various</span> equipment and transportation costs. Its either go pro or go broke.<br /><br />For me, I don't want to add up these costs for a total. It would scare me. What I do know is that if I had any inkling of what this whole venture would end up costing me, I don't think I would have signed up for it in the first place. I also know there are no money back <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">guarantees</span> on an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">ironman</span> event. I'm all in. I vow to keep diligently working on the training. Its the only way I've got a chance to finish and get a return on my investment.<br /><br />In training news, I did a 25 mile/5K bike/run brick this morning. I needed it to re-establish my self respect after Tuesday's anemic 30 minute open water semi-synchronized bobbing routine. I need calmer seas for a proper long swim. Choppy open water does not allow me to focus on my technique. This weekend, I'll be in Gainesville for UF's homecoming. A cold front is supposed to come through the area, bringing lows into the low 50s/upper 40s. I'm bringing my running gear and plan on getting in a 20 mile training run.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-6338395428370984362009-10-12T21:49:00.008-04:002009-10-13T10:05:57.450-04:00And the Heat Just Keeps on Coming!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tn9CBTDObN7Oku5rcHkB6SAGa1F6-4Pxzl_DCvVEp2cd1aNHqntSuyUHzVPBv9mJJzkXD8sMGxLjKpuoDQl7LCy42WzEjU_Kq5Xow70qX0BSi9rs-0NyRHG97uY5bbf79v5Kqx5mn9o/s1600-h/MaxT1_conus-thumb.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tn9CBTDObN7Oku5rcHkB6SAGa1F6-4Pxzl_DCvVEp2cd1aNHqntSuyUHzVPBv9mJJzkXD8sMGxLjKpuoDQl7LCy42WzEjU_Kq5Xow70qX0BSi9rs-0NyRHG97uY5bbf79v5Kqx5mn9o/s400/MaxT1_conus-thumb.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391913958254402018" border="0" /></a><br />When John & I signed up for the Arizona <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ironman</span></span> last November, we figured that we would get to do our long runs and rides during the month of October. We expected the Summer heat to have dissipated and cool mornings greeting us as we logged our longest runs and rides. We figured the water temperatures would cool enough to allow us to start practicing our open water swims with the full wetsuits we know we will need for the cold river water in Tempe in November. The weather gods have not cooperated.<br /><br />We hear from our friends getting ready to run the Chicago Marathon how its literally freezing in Chicago. Meanwhile, we continue with a solid week of record breaking hot days the entire week. I end up cutting my long run Thursday morning somewhat short to a 12 miler due to the heat and my dehydration. Saturday morning, I go to the beach for a planned 2 hours open what swim, but am greeted with rough seas. I return home, do a 10K on the treadmill and go watch my son's soccer game at 10:30 AM in a heat that wilts the young soccer players.<br /><br />Saturday afternoon, John & I travel to Miami to verify that the local bike shop that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Tri</span></span> Bike Transport uses is still in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">existence</span>. The shop has changed hands, their web site is not active and the phone number is disconnected. When we get finally get to the shop located in Coral Gables, we are pleased to find the shop indeed is still in business and the staff well informed about the whole bike transport situation. We are not so lucky at the triathlon store, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Tri</span></span> Village, located even further south. John wants a new full wetsuit, but we show up just at the 5 PM closing time. While I'm able to buy some new goggles and some nutrition supplies, the clerk is unwilling to spend the time it would take for John to try on a wet suit. The guy must of had a hot date planned, because he is unwilling to give us the extra time it would take to try and buy a wetsuit. John is not pleased with this lack of customer service. He will not be purchasing a wet suit from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tri</span></span> Village. Given that we drove down from Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Lauderdale</span></span> to southern <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Maimi</span></span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Dade</span></span> County, I concur with his decision.<br /><br />As I scope out the Sunday morning weather, I see it will be another in the string of hot days reaching into the mid to upper 90s by 10 AM. I make several calls to fellow riders, but get no takers to my offer to join me in my century ride. John decides he will do his 2 hour swim Sunday morning and his long ride on Columbus Day. Having my own business, I don't feel I can kill half a day on Monday and stick to my plan to ride Sunday.<br /><br />I start off with 3 other riders, but they all decide to cut the ride short. At about the 20 mile mark, 2 of our group turns back. At mile 25, Tony turns. He is in taper mode for his half <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ironman</span></span> in Austin in 2 weeks. I can't blame him. I find a group of 3 other <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">aerobarred</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">tri</span></span> riders and get a little more of a group ride. But by mile 35, no one is going further north to Palm Beach. I'm on my own. As Tony said before he turned at 25: "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Trianing</span></span> for a full <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ironman</span></span> is a lonely pursuit."<br /><br />I had never made the ride all the way up A1a from Fort <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Lauderdale</span></span> to the end of Palm Beach. Its actually a very pretty ride along the Ocean in Palm Beach with patches of shade trees along the way. However, there are also long stretches of open exposed roadway with the sun beating hotter and hotter as the morning progresses. I miss the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Texaco</span> gas station my trainer Penn told me about. Fortunately, I have a third water bottle on board and can make it back to another refueling stop. As I work me way back south, I note that there are fewer and fewer bicyclist on the road. Its just too hot to be doing a very long ride and all the smart riders are near the end of their rides or already home. Only an idiot would go on a century ride on a record breaking hot day. That would be me.<br /><br />I keep working the fluids and nutrition and think that perhaps this is good training for Arizona. Who knows, it might be this hot in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Tempe</span> during my the ride portion during the middle of the day. As the miles progress and the temperatures continue to rise, I decide that this is not such a great concept. With every traffic light I have to stop at, I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">squirt</span> my helmet and head with some water. I'm no longer concerned about heat conditioning as I am about heat exhaustion. I get toward the end of my ride and start to think that I could possibly pass out from this heat. Its near high noon. I decide to cut me ride a bit short and shave 6 miles from the century mark. I finish up at 94 miles and pull into my garage. I go directly upstairs into my bathroom, peal off my riding jersey and shorts and turn on the shower, making sure to keep the water cold. The rest of the day, I keep drinking water. I take a leak once.<br /><br />Meanwhile, John did his 2 hours open water swim that morning starting about 7 AM. He reports back that the water felt warm. It was clearly too warm to even think about trying out a wet suit. As he planned, this morning he did his century and found it to be similarly hot, hot, hot. At one stop light on his return portion of his ride, he tapped on a drivers window. When the guy opened his window, John asked, "Can you share some of that air conditioning, buddy. Its really hot out here."<br /><br />The seas were too rough again for me to attempt my 2 hours swim. I also feel like I needed a day to recover from the body slam the heat delivered to me on Sunday. I'll watch the conditions and give it a go in the next day or so.<br /><br />Speaking of the Chicago Marathon, friend Miranda <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Jamieson</span> ran a 3:33:42 in Chicago on Sunday in 30 degree temperatures. That's a Boston Qualifier. Way to go, Miranda! By the way, if you could bring some of that cold weather back with you, I'd really appreciate it.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-7693349760250720482009-10-07T14:58:00.010-04:002009-10-07T15:38:50.494-04:00Your Current Weather<img src="http://image.weather.com/web/common/wxicons/52/30.gif?12122006" alt="" width="52" border="0" height="52" /><br /><b class="obsTextA">Partly Cloudy</b> <div style="padding: 10px 0px 3px 5px;"><b class="obsTempTextA">89°F</b><br /><b class="obsTextA">Feels Like<br />100°F<br /><br /></b><span class="obsTextA">As I check the local forecast on the Weather Channel web site, this is the reading with which I'm greeted. I'm checking to see what it will look like for a long evening run. Let's just say, it does not look promising.<br /><br />Its October, the time of year that things start to cool off. </span><span class="obsTextA">As David Letterman said last night, "I was walking through Central Park this morning. Its getting kind of cool out. It was so cool, I noticed a squirrel had frost on his nuts." </span><span class="obsTextA">Well, down </span><span class="obsTextA">here in sunny Fort Lauderdale, I can assure you there is no frost. We are in the midst of an early Indian Summer or late Dog Days of summer. Its hot! I'm not looking forward to a long run in this sauna. I'm training for Arizona in November, not the Badwater Ultra-marathon in July.<br /><br />When I check the hour by hour forecast for the early morning, it gets all the way down to 79 at 6 AM. It will feel like 86, but it will at least technically be below 80. Yeah! While I can manage bike rides in these conditions with a bit of a self generated breeze, running is another story. Not that I look forward to my weekend century ride that will take me near the noon hour. Last night, buddy John & I got together for a night pool swim at 9:15 PM. It was still fairly hot and humid at that hour. The water was the only escape from the mug. When your choice is between 78% humidity and 100% humidity (the pool), you choose 100%.<br /><br />John has a trip to New York City planned for next weekend. He plans to run a 20 miler in Central Park. Earlier, I was critical of his planning a trip out of town during this peak training period. Now, he's looking like a genius. Enjoy the run in the cool northeastern weather John, but watch out for those squirrels.<br /></span></div>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-76746876423887501362009-10-05T12:34:00.012-04:002009-10-05T17:08:00.782-04:00Running Out of TimeThe new fall television lineup has been playing for a few weeks now. I have no idea what new shows are worth watching or what is happening on shows I used to watch. With the constant demand that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ironman</span> training puts on me and the need to turn in somewhat early for bed to get enough recovery sleep, I have no time for regular television viewing. I tried to use <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">TiVo</span> to keep up with late night shows I tried to keep up with, like <span style="font-style: italic;">Saturday Night Live</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">The Daily Show</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Colbert Report</span>, but after a while, I realized I was just filling up the hard drive and not getting a chance to watch much of these programs during the summer months. I was able to keep up with <span style="font-style: italic;">Rescue Me</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">Entourage</span> on a delayed viewing basis, but that was during the summer when the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ironman</span> deadline was further away...and scheduling that viewing time was a bit of a chore.<br /><br />Now that we are into the fall, with youth soccer and college and pro football, there is just no time for downtime. I've got several good books I'm in the midst of reading, but reading time is hard to find. By the way, even though I'm not even half through it, I can recommend <span style="font-weight: bold;">Born to Run</span> by Christopher <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">McDougall</span>. It the story of a reporter who travels to Mexico’s Copper Canyon region to explore the running habits of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Tarahumara</span> Indians, arguably the greatest distance runners in the world. My stack of unread books gets larger as I tend to only consult triathlon training books and get a glimpse of the morning paper. My Wall Street Journals and Barron's issues go largely unread. I image time to do blog entries will get harder to find.<br /><br />Getting out to see a movie? Dream on. I'd love to see Matt Damon's new film, "The Informant," or Ricky <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Gervais</span>' "The Invention of Lying," but the best I can manage was to take my young son Alex to see "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs." Kids movies are always good for a little recovery nap. I do manage to squeeze in a college or pro football game, but its usually background noise to doing other home tasks. No sitting down and actually watching a full game. Who has the time?<br /><br />On Saturday, I drove back to Ft. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Lauderdale</span> from a seminar in Tampa to have my wife announce that we were scheduled at the last minute to go to a friend's house for a French themed dinner and a showing of the couple's summer trip to Paris. Since Salome & I are going to Paris in April for the marathon, I wanted to attend to discuss Paris. However, our son John was in town from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Gainesville</span> and we wanted to do dinner with him. So, we agreed to attend at 8:30<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ish</span> and catch the slide show presentation. We arrive to find the dinner party was only on the soup course of a several course French dinner. While I love long dinners with wine, by 10 PM, I realize this party is going on to the wee hours of the morning and I've got a 6AM bike ride scheduled. We excuse ourselves and I get home to bed by 10:45PM.<br /><br />The 70 mile bike ride Sunday morning was a great ride with a couple of the stronger riders in my circle of riding buddies pushing me through my paces. But the point is that its getting hard to fit in both a social life and triathlon training during this crunch month of October. I just got off the phone with buddy John to try to coordinate some long runs, rides and swims. With both of our busy schedules, its getting harder to do joint workouts. We alternatively refer to our training partner status as "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">VTB</span>" (Virtual Training Buddy) or "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ATB</span>" (Actual Training Buddy). It looks like there will be more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">VTB</span> workouts in the coming weeks.<br /><br />As we discussed the need to schedule century rides, 2 hours open water swims and 20 mile training runs, John mentions that he can't wait for Thanksgiving when the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">AZIM</span> will be behind us. I respond that in December, I plan to do nothing but go to holiday parties and catch up on my reading. I'll think about returning to working out after I recover from New Year's Eve.<br /><br />So, when it comes to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ironman</span> training, there is normal life and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">ironman</span> life. I feel a bit like Gene Wilder in <span style="font-style: italic;">Young Frankenstein</span> as he asks Marty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Feldman</span> what brain he took for the Frankenstein monster. "Whose brain did you get?" "Abby something." "Abby who?" "Abby Normal." Yes, for these last 2 months before <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">IMAZ</span>, you can call me Abby Normal. I'll be exercising a lot and sleeping when I can. I'll hope to keep up on work and my son's soccer games. Other than that, I'll have little idea what's going on in the news and not a clue about what's hip culturally. Someone take note and send me a nice Christmas letter to get me back up to speed.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-11989931405245056182009-10-01T11:00:00.008-04:002009-10-01T11:28:48.996-04:00Impulsive Registrations: Miami 70.3 on 10/30/10<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(68, 68, 51);font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;" >You may be right, I may be crazy.<br />But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for.<br />Turn out the light, Don't try to save me.<br />You may be wrong for all I know,<br />But you may be right</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;" >.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"> </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">You May Be Right</span> -Billy Joel<br /><br />I have always been a proud South Floridian. While I live in Fort Lauderdale, one of my favorite Marathons/Half-Marathons is the Miami Marathon in late January. When the course was announced in the fall of 2002, I signed up for it immediately due primarily to the beauty of the course. Starting off next to the cruise ships along the Macarthur Causeway, a run through South Beach, back through downtown Miami into Coconut Grove, and finally a run back to the finish along palm tree lined Brickle Avenue, I knew this would be the most picturesque marathon in Florida.<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span> I've run either the full or the half each year of this race's existence<span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>and recommend the race to any of my running friends looking to escape the winter cold and see a beautiful Miami course. <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>Now the people who choose the locations for the Ford Ironman 70.3 Series have chosen a half ironman course in Miami that takes into account much of the beauty that is the Miami Marathon. So, even though I have yet to complete the AZIM, I've already signed up for a half ironman over a year from now. I suppose its a little crazy or an act of faith, but I don't want to miss this event. I'm in.<br /><br />Here is a description of the course from the web site for any of you blogging buddies or Facebook friends that might be interested in the event. I love company and have room at the house for some out of town guests. Register now if interested as these events close out fast. First come, first booked at Casa de Paradise. <a href="http://www.ironmanmiami.com/">You may click here or on this blog title to take you to the web site.</a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>SWIM- Participants will swim 1.2 miles (1.9 km), which will be held in the protected waters of Miami Florida. Spectators and athletes will have a great view of Watson Island and The Port of Miami at the beginning of this race. Water temperatures are expected to be between 76-78 degrees (24-26° C). The transition between the swim and bike will take place at the beautiful Bicentennial Park.<br /><br />BIKE- The majority of the 56-mile bike course encompasses the quiet, scenic communities of Miami. The athletes will head north to Watson Island making a loop heading back south to Homestead. During this ride, the athletes will pass great architecture work consisting of classic and modern mansions as well as a mini tour of the Mediterranean Style City of Coral Gables, Coconut Grove, and Pinecrest.<br /><br />RUN- The running course takes athletes on a 13.1 miles (21 km) run alongside the waters of Miami. As the runners make their way through this course, they will experience one of the most popular and beautiful ports around the world; Port of Miami. This is where most of the cruise lines depart to make their way to their destination points. On the opposite side, there will be the gorgeous Watson and Star Island. The course will consist of a two loops with the U-turn at Macarthur Causeway.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-79021087347985658272009-09-28T17:12:00.008-04:002009-10-07T13:43:59.097-04:00The Intimidator - Clermont Half Ironman Report<span style="font-style: italic;">Someone told me long ago, there's a calm before the storm.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I know; its been comin' for some time.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">When its over, so they say, it'll rain a sunny day.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I know; shinin' down like water.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I want to know, have you ever seen the rain? </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Comin down on a sunny day?</span> <span style="visibility: visible;" id="main"><span style="visibility: visible;" id="search"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Have You Ever Seen the Rain?</span> Creedence Clearwater Revival<br /><br />The Clermont Half Ironman, called "The Intimidator" by its organizers was a gut check on John and my training to date as we gear up for the full ironman in Arizona in late November. The event turned out to be both intimidating and a gut check on our training.<br /><br />John had a golf outing with some friends in North Carolina on Friday, so had dropped off his bike and gear bag for me to drive up from Fort Lauderdale. I arranged to pick him up at the Orlando airport around noon on Saturday for the short drive north to Clermont. We checked into our hotel and headed over to the race site to get our numbers and meet up with friends Keith Seago and Jay Greely who were teaming up to do the event as a relay. Keith was scheduled to do the run, Jay was scheduled for the bike and a third buddy, Paul was scheduled for the swim. Unfortunately, Paul had to cancel, so Keith decided to also do the swim.<br /><br />The days immediately preceding the event were some pretty hot days in Florida. Saturday was no different. I had planned to either ride a portion of the bike course or drive in Saturday afternoon having missed the bike ride 2 weeks prior due forces beyond my control (see my entry on "Life's Curve Balls"). It was so hot, however, that I quickly decided against any pre-race course preview. I wanted to get indoors and out of the heat to avoid any unnecessary dehydration. We spent the afternoon getting our gear ready for the next day and reviewing nutrition and hydration strategies. John, Jay, Keith and I had an early pasta dinner and turned in early.<br /><br />With the event teed up as a check on our progress, neither John nor I got too worked up about the event. It was viewed more as a training event. In fact, John, knowing my tendency to go out too hard in a race, told me my mantra for the event was: "Pacing, not racing." Thus, race morning, we calmly went through our routines of setting up our gear and bike stations. On my way to drop off my bike, I came across a couple that had seen the car hit me 2 weeks earlier. "Hey, its the guy who got hit by the car," the guy says. "Yes, its me," I reply, "Glad just to be here."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Swim</span><br /><br />As we await the swim start at the edge of Lake Minneola, John says, "I was calm until now. Now, I've got butterflies." "Me too," I say, "I always get them just before the start." Someone points out that the lake has alligators and they only allow swimming in the lake for the triathlons. An interesting fact. I don't know they figure all the activity of a large group of swimmers keeps the alligators away or they just don't give it consideration. Before we know it, the starters have counted down the first group and then our second group. We begin our 1.2 mile swim.<br /><br />The lake water seems clean, but is murky as mud. If an alligator was in the vicinity, I wouldn't see it until it was too late. In any event, I try to get into a rhythm and avoid the usual bumping and path crossing that typifies a mass swim. Our friend Keith is swimming in the next group wearing green caps. My strategy is to get to the first of 2 turn buoys before any green capped swimmers overtake me. I make the turn and meet that target. However, by the second buoy turn, the faster of the green caps start overtaking me. I manage to get out of the water in 54 minutes, 4 minutes slower than I expected. I'm guessing that the additional time was due to course corrections or a slight current. Keith & John also take longer than expected, so I don't feel too bad about the extra time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Bike<br /><br /></span>At transition, I take some extra time to put on socks with my riding shoes. I also put bike shorts on over my tri shorts figuring the extra padding will be nice for 56, but even better for the 112 on the full ironman. I want to test this new configuration. As I begin my ride, I find the extra shorts to be no problem. In fact they were so comfortable, I forgot to take the riding pants off for the run and completed the race wearing them over my tri shorts.<br /><br />The bike course is hilly enough that I'm OK with missing the ride 2 weeks prior. If I had done it, I may not have come back. This is a challenging ride with a series of hills. As John said, the extra speed you make on the downhills doesn't quite even out with the extra work on the climbs. Overall, I'm liking the new tri bike and the areo position. However, about 20 miles in, a guy in a black Camaro passes me and pulls over to the side of the road just ahead of me. He is taking up the bike lane and part of the road. To make things worse, the guy swings open his drivers side door to take care of some business. I can't believe this. After having gotten hit by a 89 year old lady who is late for church, I'm about to plow into a guy dressed in black in a black Camaro. Its like God was trying to take me out 2 weeks ago and now the devil wants a shot too. I swing wide and wonder what else Clermont has in store for me.<br /><br />The bike course includes a hill called Sugarloaf Mountain that has a reputation for being the hardest climb. After going up a series of hills, I wonder if I've already done Sugarloaf Mountain. Then, I make a turn and see it. No mistaking it. A very long uphill climb. I give it what I can, but I don't do much hill climbing. As I get about 3/4ths of the way up the climb, I realize I'm in the lowest (easiest) gears and I've run out of gears. I'm out of the saddle and slowing. I realize I risk coming to a complete stop and falling, so I swallow my pride and dismount. Fortunately, this humiliation only lasts about 20 yards before I remount and finish the climb.<br /><br />The rest of the ride is fairly uneventful except that at one point on the course, they still have the markings from the ride 2 weeks earlier. As you look down there are three directions. On the left, the is an indication to turn left the has a label stating "1st lap", in the middle a slightly brighter arrow pointing straight ahead, and on the right, a right arrow with the label "2nd lap." I see a rider up the road straight ahead and decide to follow the slightly brighter arrow pointing straight ahead. Coming up behind me, buddy John is not so fortunate. He gets confused and takes a wrong turn. The road does take him back to the course after adding an additional 5 and 1/2 miles to his ride, doing 61.5 miles compared to my 56 mile ride.<br /><br />At about the 45 mile point on in, I'm kind of tired of the hills and am thinking that I want to be done with the ride and on the run. Its only my second long ride in the tri bike position and I haven't quit worked up the neck and quad muscles to be comfortable on too long of a ride. As I come towards the end of the bike ride, I note that storm clouds are gathering overhead.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Run Through Hell (If Hell was full of rain and thunder)<br /><br /></span>After racking my bike and changing over to running shoes, I head out of the transition area<span style="font-weight: bold;">. </span>I see buddy Keith coming in the other direction. Since the run course is 2 loops of an out and back course covering just under 3.3 miles, I don't know if he is finishing or half way through his run. As I approach the first water stop about a mile in, the rain is falling so hard, I have to remove my sunglasses as they are more a slighting hazard than a help. A few steps later, I feel the cold flow of the cup of water Keith pours over my neck and back. "You'll thank me for that later," he says as he goes by. I realize that Keith has to run his second lap, so I feel pretty good about my progress.<br /><br />I make my way out to the turn around point and start back. At about the 5 mile mark, I come across John as he crosses the 2 mile marker. He thinks that the course is a one loop out and back and that I'm at mile 11. As we pass each other I say, "Pacing it, not racing it." He thinks I'm running super strong and am rubbing the mantra in his face. In reality, I am just trying to run a nice even pace to finish up this first lap.<br /><br />As I start on my second lap, my quads that got extra work on the tri bike, now let me know that they are not happy with me. They start twitching on me that lets me know that soon they will be cramping up on me. I start throwing in walk breaks to forestall a total lock up. To add to the excitement, the rain starts coming down in buckets. Its coming down so hard that the run path is covered in flowing water trying to drain off these rolling hills. My quads don't care and don't seem to be helped by the cooler temperatures of the rain. I am now soaked and semi hobbled. I think back on my hydration and nutrition throughout the bike and run and can find no flaws. I think about my pacing on the bike and run. The bike was clearly more work than I am used to doing, but I did try to keep it in a safe mode. No, I think, perhaps my 50 year old body is just not up to exercising for over 6 hours at a shot. Maybe these long triathlons are just beyond what my body can handle. Whatever the issue, I am determined to finish this event if I have to walk it in.<br /><br />I begin to fear that buddy John will catch me before the finish. I assure myself that this will mean a long ride home in which he lectures me on proper pacing and nutrition. Not a conversation I look forward to hearing. So, I carry on with a run/shuffle and walking when I start to cramp. I make it to the 9.9 mile turn around without John catching up with me. However, as I head back for the final leg of the 13.1 mile run, we cross paths for the last time. John now realizes that he is closing in on me. I have 3 miles to try and hold him off. The rain takes no note. After clearing and heating up the course to a muggy slog, a new storm comes racing across the sky. This time there is lightning accompanied by very close and and very loud, hand of an angry Old Testament God, thunder. Its at this point that I tell the guy running near me that this area of Florida is the lightning capital of the world. People get struck and killed by lightning in these parts. Another very loud crack of thunder comes down from above. I'm beginning to doubt that the Lord wants me to do triathlons in the Clermont area.<br /><br />The rain again lets up, but its of little matter. The run course is now a river of water soaking our shoes to the point of slowing us runners even more. To add to the fun, the water stops at each mile have run out of water. Its Gatoraide or Coke. Ok, if that's what your stomach wants at this point, but mine wants water. As I come to the 12 mile mark, my right hamstring muscle decides that it too will cramp. I am stopped dead in my tracks. I look behind me as I try to message the camps out of my legs. No sign of John. I start to walk and am able to get a slow jog going again. As I come to the finish, I think to myself that if my buddy John catches and passes me now, there is no justice. I manage to cross the finish line in 7:02. Not a time I am proud of, but one I will accept with several lessons of additional training needed before November 22nd.<br /><br />As I talk to some other competitors just past the finish line, buddy John comes in about 54 seconds behind me. We congratulate each other and get some water. John starts telling me about his extra miles on the bike. I decide that its his problem. I officially crossed the finish line first and will not have to be lectured to by him. On a very tough day, its the only victory I've got. On the other hand, Keith and Jay took 1st place in the relay division. Jay joked to John that they had a special award for those participants that rode 61 miles.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Post Race</span><br /><br />Clearly, if John hadn't added the extra miles, he would have finished about 20 minutes or so before me. However, he too was having the same questions on the course about his ability to double what we did in this half ironman in about 2 months. He starts to use hedging phrases about doing the ironman, but I tell him that you can never think about an endurance event immediately after a tough course like the one we just completed. "Its like asking a woman if she wants to have more children just after she delivers a baby. Its a bad time to think about such things."<br /><br />As we sit in a picnic shed eating our burgers and hot dogs, the winds kick up really good and the rain starts coming down horizontally. The course finish area starts to break apart and get blown down. The two of us and several other finishers and family supporters also take shelter. As we watch the finish area slowly deteriorate, we note other competitors coming up to the finish line. We all start cheering and clapping for these competitors that are truly getting the worst of it. The least we can do is give them an ovation. With each new finisher, the clapping and cheering gets louder and longer. These triathletes deserve our appreciation and we are happy to oblige.<br /><br />After the rains die down for the last time, we collect our thoroughly soaked gear bags and walk our bikes back to our vehicle. Along the way, we talk with a triathlete from Miami who has done the Arizona Ironman. He tells us that compared to the course we did today, Arizona will seem easy. We take some solace from his kind words, but realize we have our work cut out for us.<br /><br />We return to the finish area to be the last people to get messages. We figured we earned this reward. By the time we get back to our hotel, we are hours past the late checkout time and decide to spend a second night in Clermont. We had planned to clean our gear back at the hotel, but its all such a wet mess, we decide to just leave it where it is and put our luggage around it where we can. We shower, relax a little, then go out for celebratory dinner at Chili's with margaritas to lubricate the festivities. We make small talk with the wait staff and discuss the hard work ahead. Its time to step up the training.<br /></span></span>Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6939145589885686012.post-86107249819574088682009-09-23T07:40:00.005-04:002009-09-23T22:29:38.530-04:00Running in the HeatThis last Sunday was the running of the Berlin Marathon, one of the 5 World Marathon Majors. The World Marathon Majors is a championship-style competition amongst the elite marathoners. It is comprised of the five most prestigious marathons in the world: Boston, London, Berlin, Chicago, and New York City. John & I ran Berlin last year. It was special in part because the world record holder in the marathon, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Haile</span></span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Gebrselassie</span></span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Geb</span></span>), of Ethiopia, broke his own world record set the year before at the prior year's Berlin Marathon. Because he had set the world record the prior year, his image was on the finisher's medal for the race. So, when he reset the world record last year at 2:03:59, it was an amazing race to have participated in. Click here to read my <a href="http://runninginbeautifulplaces.blogspot.com/2008/09/berlin-marathon.html">Berlin Marathon race report</a>. As my friend Linda Mueller said in a post to me this week, its amazing that the year since we ran Berlin has gone by so quick.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTzPFhpgf4QRPO9X4NjJdYpZSiy9yLK_iOc4a0nEz6y-Ff-flRGXXiwu7HnLncOH0WBDGRlc_6Qk-fy8Mky9tmNFX9nVVptJNmjEY50hQJYMtDFMsSYcxLdCU7_PAYT5yPepB9zIDCsE/s1600-h/Geb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 339px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTzPFhpgf4QRPO9X4NjJdYpZSiy9yLK_iOc4a0nEz6y-Ff-flRGXXiwu7HnLncOH0WBDGRlc_6Qk-fy8Mky9tmNFX9nVVptJNmjEY50hQJYMtDFMsSYcxLdCU7_PAYT5yPepB9zIDCsE/s400/Geb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384525379337481282" border="0" /></a>This year, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Geb</span></span>, at age 36, was up against the second fastest marathon runner ever, Duncan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kibet</span></span>, a 30 year old Kenyan runner whose P.R. of 2.04.27, set last fall in Rotterdam, is just one second slower than the time that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Geb</span></span> himself ran in Berlin two years ago. Thus, expectations were high for a world record breaking race between the #1 and #2 marathon runners in the world. But like most great expectations of an epic marathon race, the competition between these 2 great runners didn't last past the half marathon mark. No new world record was set. What happened? It got hot in Berlin on Sunday. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Kibet</span></span> fell out of contention before the half marathon mark. While <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Geb</span></span> maintained world record breaking pace through the 30K mark (18.6 miles), he slowed for the last 7.6 miles to come in at 2:06:08. I can relate.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. I couldn't run one mile at the pace that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Geb</span></span> averages for the entire 26.2 miles. But I can relate to the heat sucking the life out of me in the last 12K of a marathon. For a refresher of when the heat has ruined a good race for me, see my entry on the <a href="http://acoupleofwildandcrazyguys.blogspot.com/2009/07/arrogant-bastard-seattle-marathon.html">Seattle Marathon</a>. The heat over the last 4 miles of unprotected, sun exposed highway made my race go from ecstasy to agony.<br /><br />On Tuesday's Runner's World website, Amby <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Burfoot</span></span> did an analysis of <a href="http://peakperformance.runnersworld.com/2009/09/sep-21-.html">the impact of heat on marathon race times</a>. Apparently, sports scientists have studied the impact of heat on marathon times and have concluded what most marathoners could probably tell you: the best <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">temperature</span></span> for a good marathon run is in the low 50s. Amby then extrapolates from these studies to come up with the following formula: your marathon time is likely to slow by three percent for every 10 degree rise in temperature from 50 F. In other words, you'll run 3 percent slower at 60 F, 6 percent slower at 70 F, 9 percent slower at 80 F, and so on.<br /><br />What I can add to those cold, or should I say "hot" statistics, is that when it gets hot, bad things happen to me. Like cramping. My body loves to run in cool weather. It does not like the heat. Being of Northern European <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ancestry</span></span>, my body does not adjust well to running in heat. Why do I live in South Florida? Because its lovely down here. I live near the ocean and enjoy nice sea breezes, enjoy the ocean, and love open water swimming in the warm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Caribbean</span></span> currents. But running here in the Summer and the early fall...how shall I put this?....sucks! We get up and out the door an hour or two before sunrise, and it can still be hot and muggy. A bike ride that lasts beyond 9:45 AM gets uncomfortable.<br /><br />Why do I bring this up? In part because it gives me a little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">solace</span> to know that the heat can slow down even an East African great like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Geb</span></span>. If any bodies have evolved to deal with heat running, its the Ethiopians and Kenyans. But even these great runners are slowed by the heat. Oh, yeah, there's another reason I bring it up. I hear that the run portion of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Clermont</span></span> HIM that John & I are doing this Sunday is hot. Very hot. I can't wait. Let's not even think about the afternoon temperatures in Tempe in November. Here's hoping they have ice at the water stations.<br /><br />Finally, in honor of my son John, a proud member of the University of Florida Marching Gator Band, I link in this <a href="http://www.espnmediazone.com/mediacenter/20090918_MARCHING_BAND_FLORIDA.html">ESPN commercial</a> featuring that fine band.Billhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17622111498938455227noreply@blogger.com1