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Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Sunday, November 15, 2009
IRONMAN FLORIDA - Hey Man, You're Being Kinda Aggressive - Swim
Panama City Beach - November 7, 2009
I’m not sure why, but I’ve always made a habit of getting to transition early before races. I think Trevor suggested I do it during my first race, and even though since then I’ve realized I always end up just hanging around for an hour and a half with nothing to do, I do it anyway. The Ironman was even worse, since you bring over your transition bags (essentially plastic bags where you put everything you’ll need to get from swim to bike and bike to run) and your bike the night before. So it’s basically just show up with your wetsuit and get in the water.
But I got there at 5:15 anyway for the 7 a.m. start. I wandered around transition for a while, took my Sudafed, took my Lipodrene with about half an hour to go as the sun came up, and took in the scene. It really was quite amazing. They make all the athletes get in this giant holding pen on the beach, and from there you can go warm up in the Gulf. Looking back from the water, the beach was full of spectators, and people were out on their condo balconies to watch the swim start. I have honestly never participated in anything that this may people had watched. The pros went off at 6:50, then it was the other 2700 peoples’ turn.
Swim - 2.4 Miles
If you’ve never seen the swim start to an Ironman, it really is one of the great spectacles in sports. Nearly 3000 people all getting in the water at the same time, all headed in the same direction. Knowing I was one of the larger competitors, I thought I’d use this to my advantage. I put myself in the front of the middle, since that is about how I figure I swim in relation to everyone else, and then just dove in. You can run in the water for probably the first 100 yards since tide is low in the morning, but once I jumped in, it was war time.
Basically, anyone I saw in front of me I just tried to swim through if they were slower. Everyone. It was just this mass of people everywhere you went, and it was every potential Ironman for him or herself. So you just beat people up. And in the water you can’t differentiate between guys and girls, so, yeah, I was probably hitting a few girls as I went by. Just swimming like I play basketball: bruising. Not to say I didn’t get my shares of elbows to the nose and kicks to the face, but I’m fairly sure I gave a lot more than I got. But even if people get pissed, what are they gonna say? “Hey ref, this guy in a wetsuit and a red cap pushed me out of the way.” Yeah, that narrows it down.
I kept a good pace, swam straight, and about ¾ of the way to the first buoy it stopped feeling hard. It was just like stroke, stroke, kick someone in the face, stroke. And look at the throngs of jellyfish under me and pray I didn’t get stung.(My mother would have been very worries). Ended up doing the first 1.2 miles in just over 37 minutes. So faster than I’d expected.
I took some water and hit loop 2, still in throngs of people. I did notice I was going from pack to pack, meaning it seemed to me I was passing a good number of people. But it’s hard to tell in the water. As I slowed and looked up to site myself at the turn at the first buoy, I hear this female voice say “Hey man, you’re being kind of aggressive.” It made me smile. Yeah, ok, I was shoving girls out of the way, but if you wanna swim with the boys, you gotta play rough.
The rest of the swim was rather uneventful, though I felt like I was definitely passing more people than I was passed by. Ended up doing it in 1:17, 3 minutes faster than expected, but not far off.
T1 – Swim to Bike – 9:18
I ran out of the water and got my wetsuit stripped by a “peeler” (they can’t call them “Strippers” anymore, apparently) and sort of jogged barefoot over the concrete into the changing “tent.” A volunteer handed me my swim to bike transition bag, and I ran through this hotel ballroom to a partitioned off section for the men. It was very strange, like this makeshift locker room with plastic chairs, with Gatorade bottles and Clif bar wrappers and all; this shit all over the places. And dudes just walking around naked, putting anti-chafe butter and sunscreen on. It was very odd. Anyway, I took my time in there, put on all my gear, and ran out in my bike shoes to the bike. It’s very nice at the Ironman, too, they bring you your bike, even though you end up running like 150 yards from the “tent” to the start. But whatever. One down, two to go.
I’m not sure why, but I’ve always made a habit of getting to transition early before races. I think Trevor suggested I do it during my first race, and even though since then I’ve realized I always end up just hanging around for an hour and a half with nothing to do, I do it anyway. The Ironman was even worse, since you bring over your transition bags (essentially plastic bags where you put everything you’ll need to get from swim to bike and bike to run) and your bike the night before. So it’s basically just show up with your wetsuit and get in the water.
But I got there at 5:15 anyway for the 7 a.m. start. I wandered around transition for a while, took my Sudafed, took my Lipodrene with about half an hour to go as the sun came up, and took in the scene. It really was quite amazing. They make all the athletes get in this giant holding pen on the beach, and from there you can go warm up in the Gulf. Looking back from the water, the beach was full of spectators, and people were out on their condo balconies to watch the swim start. I have honestly never participated in anything that this may people had watched. The pros went off at 6:50, then it was the other 2700 peoples’ turn.
Swim - 2.4 Miles
If you’ve never seen the swim start to an Ironman, it really is one of the great spectacles in sports. Nearly 3000 people all getting in the water at the same time, all headed in the same direction. Knowing I was one of the larger competitors, I thought I’d use this to my advantage. I put myself in the front of the middle, since that is about how I figure I swim in relation to everyone else, and then just dove in. You can run in the water for probably the first 100 yards since tide is low in the morning, but once I jumped in, it was war time.
Basically, anyone I saw in front of me I just tried to swim through if they were slower. Everyone. It was just this mass of people everywhere you went, and it was every potential Ironman for him or herself. So you just beat people up. And in the water you can’t differentiate between guys and girls, so, yeah, I was probably hitting a few girls as I went by. Just swimming like I play basketball: bruising. Not to say I didn’t get my shares of elbows to the nose and kicks to the face, but I’m fairly sure I gave a lot more than I got. But even if people get pissed, what are they gonna say? “Hey ref, this guy in a wetsuit and a red cap pushed me out of the way.” Yeah, that narrows it down.
I kept a good pace, swam straight, and about ¾ of the way to the first buoy it stopped feeling hard. It was just like stroke, stroke, kick someone in the face, stroke. And look at the throngs of jellyfish under me and pray I didn’t get stung.(My mother would have been very worries). Ended up doing the first 1.2 miles in just over 37 minutes. So faster than I’d expected.
I took some water and hit loop 2, still in throngs of people. I did notice I was going from pack to pack, meaning it seemed to me I was passing a good number of people. But it’s hard to tell in the water. As I slowed and looked up to site myself at the turn at the first buoy, I hear this female voice say “Hey man, you’re being kind of aggressive.” It made me smile. Yeah, ok, I was shoving girls out of the way, but if you wanna swim with the boys, you gotta play rough.
The rest of the swim was rather uneventful, though I felt like I was definitely passing more people than I was passed by. Ended up doing it in 1:17, 3 minutes faster than expected, but not far off.
T1 – Swim to Bike – 9:18
I ran out of the water and got my wetsuit stripped by a “peeler” (they can’t call them “Strippers” anymore, apparently) and sort of jogged barefoot over the concrete into the changing “tent.” A volunteer handed me my swim to bike transition bag, and I ran through this hotel ballroom to a partitioned off section for the men. It was very strange, like this makeshift locker room with plastic chairs, with Gatorade bottles and Clif bar wrappers and all; this shit all over the places. And dudes just walking around naked, putting anti-chafe butter and sunscreen on. It was very odd. Anyway, I took my time in there, put on all my gear, and ran out in my bike shoes to the bike. It’s very nice at the Ironman, too, they bring you your bike, even though you end up running like 150 yards from the “tent” to the start. But whatever. One down, two to go.
IRONMAN FLORIDA - Drafting, Cheating Fucks - Bike
BIKE – 112 miles
2 Lipodrene
3 Advil
I had remembered my training ride on this course, and how I’d sort of nuked my village on it by going to hard at the beginning. Similarly, every piece of advice I read on biking this course told me to avoid the temptation to fly on the bike early, so I decided to pace it a little.
By this, of course, I mean passing pretty much everyone I saw in the first 22 miles. I didn’t have the wind at my back like I did on the training ride, so I was doing a reasonable 22-24. But the funnest part was passing all these people on $5000 bikes with ease. I didn’t feel like I was pushing it either, like my quads felt fine. I was also encouraged that there wasn’t much of a tailwind, meaning I wouldn’t suffer on the way back like I had a month before. Then I hit the turn at mile 22.
The wind was blowing hard in my face, so much so that after about 5 miles, my back started to kill me. This is what happens to me in wind since it requires me to pedal so hard. Well, I went from cruising at 22 to struggling to get up to 20. I spent a good amount of time going about 14-16, as I knew this course was too long to expend too much energy fighting the wind. It didn’t help matters that my bike is not nearly as aerodynamic as the aforementioned $5000 bikes, and neither am I. I don’t have an aero helmet, and my shoulders are pretty fucking wide. Like a road grader going into the wind. Really not fun.
To make matters worse, all those people I’d passed had decided to form draft packs to combat the wind. Is that illegal in Ironman competition? Of course it is. And I wasn’t about to do It either, since I do have some integrity (I also don’t really know how to draft, but even if I did I wouldn’t. I don’t like cheating). But as struggled to combat the relentless wind, hundreds of people were passing me in scores of mini pelotons. I just kept looking over at them and thinking “You drafting, cheating fucks. How dare you.”
A little before mile 50, which marked the end of the windy section, we got access to our “Special Needs Bags,” which was basically a bag with any shit you might want halfway through the bike that you couldn’t pack. I threw in some Oreos, some gels, a Clif bar, and of course lots of Lipodrene and Advil and Salt tabs. I had been keeping to my one Lipodrene every 25 miles plan, even struggling to open the Ziploc bag while riding. But I took this opportunity to get out of the saddle for a minute and relax my back. It needed it. I was probably there a little over a minute before I pressed on.
About a mile later, we turned back south onto 231. But this time, there was no brutal headwind. Not only that, but it was a lot cooler than it had been a month earlier, and we got water every ten miles. It’s amazing the difference not being dehydrated makes on a ride like this. I was able to drop into aero on this stretch and do a solid 20-22 until the turn onto the real Camp Flowers Road. No dirt for me this time.
While I knew I was biking well, I also knew that the drafting cheating fucks were far enough ahead of me that I probably wasn’t going to catch them. Going back West II had the wind at my back,, and was able to go a solid 21-24 for most of that stretch, until the 7-mile down and back on perhaps the bumpiest road in Bay County. At the end, there was an aid station where I stopped to relieve myself, and again stretch out my back. It came at about mile 75, which seemed like a good time to take a break and another Lipodrene. So I used the bathroom, took my pill and had the rest of my Oreos, and pressed on for the final 38 miles. Just a trip down Hawthorne and back.
I kept expecting to slow down, but I just didn’t. We hit one stretch of about 18 miles from mile 82-100 that was not only closed off, but repaved like the week before. And a tailwind. It was like riding on silk. Just amazing biking, and I don’t think I dropped below 22 the whole time. Though I was happy to get to mile 100, I was sad to see that road go. But as I was on it, I realized that I had it. Like the 5+ hours I’d been on the bike had flown, I’d gone faster than I thought I would, and I was almost 2/3 done with the Ironman. I started to get a little sad, actually. Like this day was what my entire life had been about for the past six months, and it was almost over. I was happy with my performance, but I had under an hour left on the bike, then just a run to suffer through and then what? When I started thinking this, it was the only time I really slowed on that section. Then I told myself I could think about that shit at the finish line.
So I hit the Front Beach road, which is like the last 7 miles, and of course the wind is just brutal. I wasn’t overly concerned as I knew I was gonna average over 19 for the ride, so I just fought it a little and did about 16-18 on the way back. Then, at about mile 108, I got the worst gas pains of my life. Like it felt like a giant bubble was about to explode in my intestines. And it was funny, since Klueber had just asked me about the acceptability of shitting one’s pants during the bike section. I had decided I didn’t want to do that, and just gritted it out, promising myself I could demolish a toilet in transition when I got there. Of course, by the time I rolled up to the dismount line, the gas was gone. My dad and Trevor took some pictures as I got off the bike, I waved at them, and slapped Professor Limon, who works in my department, a high five as I went back into transition. Made the bike in 5:55, again slightly faster than expected. I was pleased.
T2 – Bike to Run – 8:45
Now that I was familiar with the layout of the transition, I found my way much easier. Of course, I was also a little more tired. So this time, I just walked it. Sat down, put on my black shirt. Took my time putting my stuff away. I think the volunteers in there were a bit confused, since this kid started laying out my gear for me. I was like “Thanks, but I got it.” He helped me out anyway, which was nice. I had a Vitamin water, took two more Lipodrene, a couple Advil, a gel and a salt tabs, and headed out for the run. I was right at 7:30 when I got onto the course. Breaking 13 hours was definitely an attainable goal.
2 Lipodrene
3 Advil
I had remembered my training ride on this course, and how I’d sort of nuked my village on it by going to hard at the beginning. Similarly, every piece of advice I read on biking this course told me to avoid the temptation to fly on the bike early, so I decided to pace it a little.
By this, of course, I mean passing pretty much everyone I saw in the first 22 miles. I didn’t have the wind at my back like I did on the training ride, so I was doing a reasonable 22-24. But the funnest part was passing all these people on $5000 bikes with ease. I didn’t feel like I was pushing it either, like my quads felt fine. I was also encouraged that there wasn’t much of a tailwind, meaning I wouldn’t suffer on the way back like I had a month before. Then I hit the turn at mile 22.
The wind was blowing hard in my face, so much so that after about 5 miles, my back started to kill me. This is what happens to me in wind since it requires me to pedal so hard. Well, I went from cruising at 22 to struggling to get up to 20. I spent a good amount of time going about 14-16, as I knew this course was too long to expend too much energy fighting the wind. It didn’t help matters that my bike is not nearly as aerodynamic as the aforementioned $5000 bikes, and neither am I. I don’t have an aero helmet, and my shoulders are pretty fucking wide. Like a road grader going into the wind. Really not fun.
To make matters worse, all those people I’d passed had decided to form draft packs to combat the wind. Is that illegal in Ironman competition? Of course it is. And I wasn’t about to do It either, since I do have some integrity (I also don’t really know how to draft, but even if I did I wouldn’t. I don’t like cheating). But as struggled to combat the relentless wind, hundreds of people were passing me in scores of mini pelotons. I just kept looking over at them and thinking “You drafting, cheating fucks. How dare you.”
A little before mile 50, which marked the end of the windy section, we got access to our “Special Needs Bags,” which was basically a bag with any shit you might want halfway through the bike that you couldn’t pack. I threw in some Oreos, some gels, a Clif bar, and of course lots of Lipodrene and Advil and Salt tabs. I had been keeping to my one Lipodrene every 25 miles plan, even struggling to open the Ziploc bag while riding. But I took this opportunity to get out of the saddle for a minute and relax my back. It needed it. I was probably there a little over a minute before I pressed on.
About a mile later, we turned back south onto 231. But this time, there was no brutal headwind. Not only that, but it was a lot cooler than it had been a month earlier, and we got water every ten miles. It’s amazing the difference not being dehydrated makes on a ride like this. I was able to drop into aero on this stretch and do a solid 20-22 until the turn onto the real Camp Flowers Road. No dirt for me this time.
While I knew I was biking well, I also knew that the drafting cheating fucks were far enough ahead of me that I probably wasn’t going to catch them. Going back West II had the wind at my back,, and was able to go a solid 21-24 for most of that stretch, until the 7-mile down and back on perhaps the bumpiest road in Bay County. At the end, there was an aid station where I stopped to relieve myself, and again stretch out my back. It came at about mile 75, which seemed like a good time to take a break and another Lipodrene. So I used the bathroom, took my pill and had the rest of my Oreos, and pressed on for the final 38 miles. Just a trip down Hawthorne and back.
I kept expecting to slow down, but I just didn’t. We hit one stretch of about 18 miles from mile 82-100 that was not only closed off, but repaved like the week before. And a tailwind. It was like riding on silk. Just amazing biking, and I don’t think I dropped below 22 the whole time. Though I was happy to get to mile 100, I was sad to see that road go. But as I was on it, I realized that I had it. Like the 5+ hours I’d been on the bike had flown, I’d gone faster than I thought I would, and I was almost 2/3 done with the Ironman. I started to get a little sad, actually. Like this day was what my entire life had been about for the past six months, and it was almost over. I was happy with my performance, but I had under an hour left on the bike, then just a run to suffer through and then what? When I started thinking this, it was the only time I really slowed on that section. Then I told myself I could think about that shit at the finish line.
So I hit the Front Beach road, which is like the last 7 miles, and of course the wind is just brutal. I wasn’t overly concerned as I knew I was gonna average over 19 for the ride, so I just fought it a little and did about 16-18 on the way back. Then, at about mile 108, I got the worst gas pains of my life. Like it felt like a giant bubble was about to explode in my intestines. And it was funny, since Klueber had just asked me about the acceptability of shitting one’s pants during the bike section. I had decided I didn’t want to do that, and just gritted it out, promising myself I could demolish a toilet in transition when I got there. Of course, by the time I rolled up to the dismount line, the gas was gone. My dad and Trevor took some pictures as I got off the bike, I waved at them, and slapped Professor Limon, who works in my department, a high five as I went back into transition. Made the bike in 5:55, again slightly faster than expected. I was pleased.
T2 – Bike to Run – 8:45
Now that I was familiar with the layout of the transition, I found my way much easier. Of course, I was also a little more tired. So this time, I just walked it. Sat down, put on my black shirt. Took my time putting my stuff away. I think the volunteers in there were a bit confused, since this kid started laying out my gear for me. I was like “Thanks, but I got it.” He helped me out anyway, which was nice. I had a Vitamin water, took two more Lipodrene, a couple Advil, a gel and a salt tabs, and headed out for the run. I was right at 7:30 when I got onto the course. Breaking 13 hours was definitely an attainable goal.
IRONMAN FLORIDA - The Easiest Thing You'll Ever Do - Run
RUN - 26.2 Miles
As I headed to the first turnaround for the run (about ¼ mile from the start) I saw Trevor and my dad once again taking pictures. Trevor yells at me “Easiest thing you’ll ever do!” I’m not sure if this was sarcasm or not. I mean, yeah, a marathon following everything else isn’t easy, but it’s also like, yeah, this is it and I’m an Ironman. So really, it’s not THAT hard. And the first mile, that’s exactly how I felt.
Then the gas came back. And worse this time. I suppose deluging your guy with pain killers, energy boosters, heavily processed gels and snack bars and sugar drinks may not be the BEST thing for your digestive track. So I suffered my way to the first aid station a little past mile 2, and decided I’d take as long as I needed to make the gas go away. Outhouses on a sunny day aren’t the funnest places to be. You tend to sweat a little, Throw in that I’d just biked 112 miles and run about 2, and had put massive amounts of thermogenics in my body, and I was sweating a little bit. Or a lot. I was probably in the outhouse close to ten minutes, listening to pretty much everyone I’d passed on the bike run by, with kids yelling “Water! Gatorade! Gels! Pretzels!” I thought to myself ‘If this persists, this run is gonna be the most miserable 6 hours of my life.”
I got done, pounded about 5 cups of Gatorade to rehydrate myself, and got back on the run course. I made it about another mile before the gas came back. Just as bad. I actually ran past the aid station about 100 yards, then realized I wasn’t going to make it another mile, turned around, and ran back to the porta-john. Another 8 minutes in that one, and I felt like I was done. But I told myself no more pills (those salt tabs are packed with magnesium too. Probably not the best either), no more Gatorade, and no food for a while. Just water.
This seemed to work s after that the gas was gone. Apparently my first 6 miles, though, I averaged 13 minute miles. I guess that’s what happened when you spend 15 minutes in the shitter. But had I not done that, it woulda been a much longer day.
The run course was pretty nice, starting on the beach and winding through some residential areas of Panama City Beach, before ending with a loop around St. Andrew’s State Park and then heading back the same way. Every mile had an aid station with all kinds of stuff, like cookies, grapes, water, Gatorade, pretzels, gels, power bars. I guess we really got our $500 worth, ya know? A lot were themed, like one was “That 70s Station” with people in afro wigs and 70s music playing. One was MASH themes, with the theme from the show playing and everyone dressed in army fatigues from the 1950s. I yelled at one volunteer as I went by “Man, you must be getting REAL tired of that song.” “Ugh,” he responded, “you have no idea.” I told him I’d trade him, which he didn’t take me up on. I think my favorite aid station, though, was the one with the unintentional theme of “Bad Part of Town” Like it was across the street from a ship-freight loading dock with some empty, run-down industrial buildings around it and some small houses with overgrown lawn. Oh, and the staff manning the station was a little, um, ethnic? Needless to say, there was nobody at this aid station the second time I got to it. It was dark. Nobody’s hanging around there after the sun goes down.
As I ran back from my first loop of the course, Trevor caught me on his bike, and I gave him my souvenir order. Then Justin, whose dad was doing the race, caught me on his bike and interviewed me on video. That was all kinda fun. Trevor even gave me my split for the first 6 miles, which, as I said, was awful. The urn back to the finish line/turnaround went right by the condo, so again my dad and Trevor were out there with cameras. I later learned they’d also been drinking pretty solid from the time Trevor left me on his bike until then. Or about an hour and a half. That section of the run was motivating, though, as it was lined with people heading out beer and playing music. Panama City, like everyone who lives there comes out for this race, so the streets were just lined with partiers.
I hit the turnaround and saw the finish line. For some reason, the MIley Cyrus song “I Can’t Wait to See You Again,” then proceeded to be stuck in my head for the next hour. But it was true. I saw the bright lights and heard the crowd and the announcer, and the adrenaline started going. Even though I had 13.1 miles to go. But fuck it. All I had was 13.1 miles to go. And it was all over. I got my special needs bag, changed into my 1st Battalion Drill Instructor PT shirt from boot camp, and headed out for the home stretch.
Trevor decided to run the beer mile with me, which was fun. He even gave me a Michelob Ultra to chug, which I did. It made me feel slightly better, actually. Got some good pics of me running backward, gave me some advice that I don’t remember, then it was all me for the next 2 and a half hours. My quads were hurting, it was dark, it was cold, but I felt fine.
When I got to the park, I was running in complete darkness for a couple of miles. This really allows you to focus on your running and actually made it easier. But at about mile 20, I was walking and stopping briefly at every aid station. I needed it, my legs were dying. At every one, though, I just said “Ok body. Look. You give me 6.2 more miles, and you can take the rest of the year off.” My body liked that deal, and kept going. Getting out of the park (which featured a giant digital message board where people could send messages to encourage the athletes, mine saying “Run, fat man, run!”) it felt like the home stretch. But it was easily the hardest part for me.
I just wanted to bet to the beer section. That I knew I could just breeze through like nothing. But the 4 miles through the residential areas was boring and tedious and I just wanted to get done. This was the only time in the race I started getting cranky and irritated. When the fuck was I getting out of there?!
But I finally did. I hit beer mile, and the crowd starting doing the Tomahawk Chop for some guy in an FSU jersey. It made me wish, for the only time in my life, I’d gone to Florida State. That shit had to be motivating. Of course, the guy stopped and walked, so maybe not. Then a guy with a megaphone gets in the middle of the road and yells at me “Hey, this guy wants a BEER!” I said “Fuck Yeah, I want a beer!” And his group went nuts. They handed me a beer, I chugged it (it was like a Dixie cup of beer, not a whole can) and I kept on. I saw the lights of the finish line. I could hear the crowd and the announcer. Another 5 minutes, and I was an Ironman. I heard some lady yell “12;50!” as I ran by my condo, so breaking 13 seemed pretty certain.
As I headed down the final stretch, I somehow missed that there was a short turnaround I had to do before I could turn into the finishing chute. I mean, it was like maybe 20 yards, but some volunteer had to steer me back to it. Just as I got steered back, Trevor runs up to me with a plate and a slice of pizza.
“This is your finish line pizza,” he told me. “You gotta take a bite of this when you cross the line.” Great fucking idea. For a year, I’d thought about what to do at the finish line, and this seemed perfect. Given my penchant for pizza for which I am constantly mocked, and my perpetual demanding of slices at the end of the night, it seemed only fitting. So, slice in hand, I turned the corner down the finishing chute.
The lights hit me in the face and my eyes got wide like a little kid seeing a baseball
stadium for the first time. This was it. The end. The crowd I’d been a part of the year before, and seen when I saw Trevor finish 2 years prior. Thinking “I want that feeling. I want to cross that line and feel like that.” And there I was, running down the finishing chute at the Ironman. It was surreal, and I only wished that more people could have seen it. I heard my name, followed by someone else’s, and then those four words I’d been waiting to hear….
‘You are an Ironman.”
With that, I took a bite of my slice, looked at the camera, and crossed the line. Not the adrenaline rush I’d expected, but great nonetheless. I ended up finishing at 12:55:14 just making my goal (the marathon took me 5:26). I had done it. As my dad told me when I first walked out of the Athlete’s area at the finish line “An Amazing Feat.” And it was. No matter how mad I fuck up the rest of my life, whether I’m a roaring success or a miserable failure or just a slacker who never tried, nothing will ever take away what I did on November 7, 2009.
As I headed to the first turnaround for the run (about ¼ mile from the start) I saw Trevor and my dad once again taking pictures. Trevor yells at me “Easiest thing you’ll ever do!” I’m not sure if this was sarcasm or not. I mean, yeah, a marathon following everything else isn’t easy, but it’s also like, yeah, this is it and I’m an Ironman. So really, it’s not THAT hard. And the first mile, that’s exactly how I felt.
Then the gas came back. And worse this time. I suppose deluging your guy with pain killers, energy boosters, heavily processed gels and snack bars and sugar drinks may not be the BEST thing for your digestive track. So I suffered my way to the first aid station a little past mile 2, and decided I’d take as long as I needed to make the gas go away. Outhouses on a sunny day aren’t the funnest places to be. You tend to sweat a little, Throw in that I’d just biked 112 miles and run about 2, and had put massive amounts of thermogenics in my body, and I was sweating a little bit. Or a lot. I was probably in the outhouse close to ten minutes, listening to pretty much everyone I’d passed on the bike run by, with kids yelling “Water! Gatorade! Gels! Pretzels!” I thought to myself ‘If this persists, this run is gonna be the most miserable 6 hours of my life.”
I got done, pounded about 5 cups of Gatorade to rehydrate myself, and got back on the run course. I made it about another mile before the gas came back. Just as bad. I actually ran past the aid station about 100 yards, then realized I wasn’t going to make it another mile, turned around, and ran back to the porta-john. Another 8 minutes in that one, and I felt like I was done. But I told myself no more pills (those salt tabs are packed with magnesium too. Probably not the best either), no more Gatorade, and no food for a while. Just water.
This seemed to work s after that the gas was gone. Apparently my first 6 miles, though, I averaged 13 minute miles. I guess that’s what happened when you spend 15 minutes in the shitter. But had I not done that, it woulda been a much longer day.
The run course was pretty nice, starting on the beach and winding through some residential areas of Panama City Beach, before ending with a loop around St. Andrew’s State Park and then heading back the same way. Every mile had an aid station with all kinds of stuff, like cookies, grapes, water, Gatorade, pretzels, gels, power bars. I guess we really got our $500 worth, ya know? A lot were themed, like one was “That 70s Station” with people in afro wigs and 70s music playing. One was MASH themes, with the theme from the show playing and everyone dressed in army fatigues from the 1950s. I yelled at one volunteer as I went by “Man, you must be getting REAL tired of that song.” “Ugh,” he responded, “you have no idea.” I told him I’d trade him, which he didn’t take me up on. I think my favorite aid station, though, was the one with the unintentional theme of “Bad Part of Town” Like it was across the street from a ship-freight loading dock with some empty, run-down industrial buildings around it and some small houses with overgrown lawn. Oh, and the staff manning the station was a little, um, ethnic? Needless to say, there was nobody at this aid station the second time I got to it. It was dark. Nobody’s hanging around there after the sun goes down.
As I ran back from my first loop of the course, Trevor caught me on his bike, and I gave him my souvenir order. Then Justin, whose dad was doing the race, caught me on his bike and interviewed me on video. That was all kinda fun. Trevor even gave me my split for the first 6 miles, which, as I said, was awful. The urn back to the finish line/turnaround went right by the condo, so again my dad and Trevor were out there with cameras. I later learned they’d also been drinking pretty solid from the time Trevor left me on his bike until then. Or about an hour and a half. That section of the run was motivating, though, as it was lined with people heading out beer and playing music. Panama City, like everyone who lives there comes out for this race, so the streets were just lined with partiers.
I hit the turnaround and saw the finish line. For some reason, the MIley Cyrus song “I Can’t Wait to See You Again,” then proceeded to be stuck in my head for the next hour. But it was true. I saw the bright lights and heard the crowd and the announcer, and the adrenaline started going. Even though I had 13.1 miles to go. But fuck it. All I had was 13.1 miles to go. And it was all over. I got my special needs bag, changed into my 1st Battalion Drill Instructor PT shirt from boot camp, and headed out for the home stretch.
Trevor decided to run the beer mile with me, which was fun. He even gave me a Michelob Ultra to chug, which I did. It made me feel slightly better, actually. Got some good pics of me running backward, gave me some advice that I don’t remember, then it was all me for the next 2 and a half hours. My quads were hurting, it was dark, it was cold, but I felt fine.
When I got to the park, I was running in complete darkness for a couple of miles. This really allows you to focus on your running and actually made it easier. But at about mile 20, I was walking and stopping briefly at every aid station. I needed it, my legs were dying. At every one, though, I just said “Ok body. Look. You give me 6.2 more miles, and you can take the rest of the year off.” My body liked that deal, and kept going. Getting out of the park (which featured a giant digital message board where people could send messages to encourage the athletes, mine saying “Run, fat man, run!”) it felt like the home stretch. But it was easily the hardest part for me.
I just wanted to bet to the beer section. That I knew I could just breeze through like nothing. But the 4 miles through the residential areas was boring and tedious and I just wanted to get done. This was the only time in the race I started getting cranky and irritated. When the fuck was I getting out of there?!
But I finally did. I hit beer mile, and the crowd starting doing the Tomahawk Chop for some guy in an FSU jersey. It made me wish, for the only time in my life, I’d gone to Florida State. That shit had to be motivating. Of course, the guy stopped and walked, so maybe not. Then a guy with a megaphone gets in the middle of the road and yells at me “Hey, this guy wants a BEER!” I said “Fuck Yeah, I want a beer!” And his group went nuts. They handed me a beer, I chugged it (it was like a Dixie cup of beer, not a whole can) and I kept on. I saw the lights of the finish line. I could hear the crowd and the announcer. Another 5 minutes, and I was an Ironman. I heard some lady yell “12;50!” as I ran by my condo, so breaking 13 seemed pretty certain.
As I headed down the final stretch, I somehow missed that there was a short turnaround I had to do before I could turn into the finishing chute. I mean, it was like maybe 20 yards, but some volunteer had to steer me back to it. Just as I got steered back, Trevor runs up to me with a plate and a slice of pizza.
“This is your finish line pizza,” he told me. “You gotta take a bite of this when you cross the line.” Great fucking idea. For a year, I’d thought about what to do at the finish line, and this seemed perfect. Given my penchant for pizza for which I am constantly mocked, and my perpetual demanding of slices at the end of the night, it seemed only fitting. So, slice in hand, I turned the corner down the finishing chute.
The lights hit me in the face and my eyes got wide like a little kid seeing a baseball
stadium for the first time. This was it. The end. The crowd I’d been a part of the year before, and seen when I saw Trevor finish 2 years prior. Thinking “I want that feeling. I want to cross that line and feel like that.” And there I was, running down the finishing chute at the Ironman. It was surreal, and I only wished that more people could have seen it. I heard my name, followed by someone else’s, and then those four words I’d been waiting to hear….‘You are an Ironman.”
With that, I took a bite of my slice, looked at the camera, and crossed the line. Not the adrenaline rush I’d expected, but great nonetheless. I ended up finishing at 12:55:14 just making my goal (the marathon took me 5:26). I had done it. As my dad told me when I first walked out of the Athlete’s area at the finish line “An Amazing Feat.” And it was. No matter how mad I fuck up the rest of my life, whether I’m a roaring success or a miserable failure or just a slacker who never tried, nothing will ever take away what I did on November 7, 2009.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
T109 - Welcome to The Big Leagues - Swim
Panama City Beach
Panama City, I guess, is usually a big party location. This weekend, though, it's a bit different. This weekend, the place has been overrun by ridiculously healthy, slightly insane people biking, running and swimming all over the streets and beached usually occupied by falling-down drunk college kids. It's very surreal. On the drive in, I saw no less than four SUVs with bikes on the back, and this morning the streets were lines with cars with 140.6 and M-Dot stickers on them. And bikes. Fucking bikes everywhere.
My parents have reserved a condo less than half a mile from the starting line, so this morning I decided I'd go and try out my wetsuit, and swim one lap of the swim course. Trevor had said it was a good idea as a confidence builder, and it gives you an idea of what you're up against in the water. Of course, within 50 feet of my front door I ran into this guy from Louisiana who was in town for the race, and we made triathlete small talk all the way to the Gatorade Bag Check on the beach, where probably 300 people were preparing to or doing or finishing the swim.
I walked through the athlete's expo on the way. Pretty surreal to see all the booths and tents and trophies and serious, $10,000 bikes in there. This is it. This is the pinnacle of triathlon insofar as non-championship events are concerned. And it definitely looked it. Not one person there looked like they couldn't finish. Everyone looked sinewy and weathered. Like the kinds of people who do Ironman's on a regular basis. I'm not one to get intimidated, mind you, but this crowd was definitely the big leagues.
I got down to the beach area where the swim was and everyone was in wetsuits. Conversations I overheard were all about past Ironman's people had run, or about the experiences people had had in Kona a few weeks before. Like I said, this is the big leagues. Everyone also felt the necessity to wear their finisher shirts from past races, be they full Ironmans or 70.3s. I'm not sure if this is bragging or just fitting in or what, but I thought it was pretty funny that pretty much every single person had some sort of M-Dot attire on. Ok. We get it. We're at the Ironman. I was in a nondescript muscle shirt and some USMC shorts just for the record. Yeah, we get it. I was in the Marines.
Swim - 1.2 miles
3 Sudafed
I put my wetsuit on, at least the leg part, over by the gear check. Which was fine until I got in the water and once again realized I had it on backward. Nothing says "This is my first Ironman" like putting on your wetsuit backward, does it? I'm not sure if anyone notices, but I quickly sat down in the water, took it off, and then put it on the right way. That Cooking Spray really does help a lot in getting it on and off.
I walked out about as far as I could and then began to stroke, and for some reason, just could not breathe. No idea why, but I stopped, turned around, went back to where I could stand, and breathed for about 30 seconds. False start. Got back in the water, started stroking, and didn't really stop except to site.
Which I did not do well.
Sighting has never been a real strength of mine, but today was [perhaps the most ridiculous example. I knew something was wrong when I saw a lot of people swimming back in as I was swimming out. The course was a loop, after all. I figured they were just pussies and didn't want to do the whole thing and were turning back. I figured wrong. When I ran, head on, into a lady who looked at me like I'd just insulted her mother, I knew I'd probably fucked up. I made it out to a guy on a surfboard, who informed me that I had just swim in a diagonal from the starting line to the far turn back, essentially bisecting the entire course. Well, I wanted to do a full 1.2 miles, so he told me to just swim to the other far turn (essentially the end of the initial swim out) and then come back. I later realized this ended up being more that 1.2 miles, but hey, more training, right?
Anyway, I managed to do that, and sighing on the way back was easy because there was a giant condo tower to sight off. I seriously hope the buoys are bigger on race day, or I may be fucked. Seriously, these things were so small, I couldn’t see them at all from the water. Of course, the 2000 other people in the water may help that direction too. But I really need some fucking Lasik.
So this was my last training day. This was it. I’m going to take Friday off to rest up fully, then Saturday is the big day. This is the end of the training road, and this is the body I’m going to do the Ironman with. Ready as I’ll ever be. This swim definitely made me believe the swim will not be a big problem (Challenging, yes, but not deadly unless one of those jellyfish I saw gets me) and I’m ready to go. Now it’s just 2 days of check in a bag packing, and the hardest 12-13 hours of my life.
Panama City, I guess, is usually a big party location. This weekend, though, it's a bit different. This weekend, the place has been overrun by ridiculously healthy, slightly insane people biking, running and swimming all over the streets and beached usually occupied by falling-down drunk college kids. It's very surreal. On the drive in, I saw no less than four SUVs with bikes on the back, and this morning the streets were lines with cars with 140.6 and M-Dot stickers on them. And bikes. Fucking bikes everywhere.
My parents have reserved a condo less than half a mile from the starting line, so this morning I decided I'd go and try out my wetsuit, and swim one lap of the swim course. Trevor had said it was a good idea as a confidence builder, and it gives you an idea of what you're up against in the water. Of course, within 50 feet of my front door I ran into this guy from Louisiana who was in town for the race, and we made triathlete small talk all the way to the Gatorade Bag Check on the beach, where probably 300 people were preparing to or doing or finishing the swim.
I walked through the athlete's expo on the way. Pretty surreal to see all the booths and tents and trophies and serious, $10,000 bikes in there. This is it. This is the pinnacle of triathlon insofar as non-championship events are concerned. And it definitely looked it. Not one person there looked like they couldn't finish. Everyone looked sinewy and weathered. Like the kinds of people who do Ironman's on a regular basis. I'm not one to get intimidated, mind you, but this crowd was definitely the big leagues.
I got down to the beach area where the swim was and everyone was in wetsuits. Conversations I overheard were all about past Ironman's people had run, or about the experiences people had had in Kona a few weeks before. Like I said, this is the big leagues. Everyone also felt the necessity to wear their finisher shirts from past races, be they full Ironmans or 70.3s. I'm not sure if this is bragging or just fitting in or what, but I thought it was pretty funny that pretty much every single person had some sort of M-Dot attire on. Ok. We get it. We're at the Ironman. I was in a nondescript muscle shirt and some USMC shorts just for the record. Yeah, we get it. I was in the Marines.
Swim - 1.2 miles
3 Sudafed
I put my wetsuit on, at least the leg part, over by the gear check. Which was fine until I got in the water and once again realized I had it on backward. Nothing says "This is my first Ironman" like putting on your wetsuit backward, does it? I'm not sure if anyone notices, but I quickly sat down in the water, took it off, and then put it on the right way. That Cooking Spray really does help a lot in getting it on and off.
I walked out about as far as I could and then began to stroke, and for some reason, just could not breathe. No idea why, but I stopped, turned around, went back to where I could stand, and breathed for about 30 seconds. False start. Got back in the water, started stroking, and didn't really stop except to site.
Which I did not do well.
Sighting has never been a real strength of mine, but today was [perhaps the most ridiculous example. I knew something was wrong when I saw a lot of people swimming back in as I was swimming out. The course was a loop, after all. I figured they were just pussies and didn't want to do the whole thing and were turning back. I figured wrong. When I ran, head on, into a lady who looked at me like I'd just insulted her mother, I knew I'd probably fucked up. I made it out to a guy on a surfboard, who informed me that I had just swim in a diagonal from the starting line to the far turn back, essentially bisecting the entire course. Well, I wanted to do a full 1.2 miles, so he told me to just swim to the other far turn (essentially the end of the initial swim out) and then come back. I later realized this ended up being more that 1.2 miles, but hey, more training, right?
Anyway, I managed to do that, and sighing on the way back was easy because there was a giant condo tower to sight off. I seriously hope the buoys are bigger on race day, or I may be fucked. Seriously, these things were so small, I couldn’t see them at all from the water. Of course, the 2000 other people in the water may help that direction too. But I really need some fucking Lasik.
So this was my last training day. This was it. I’m going to take Friday off to rest up fully, then Saturday is the big day. This is the end of the training road, and this is the body I’m going to do the Ironman with. Ready as I’ll ever be. This swim definitely made me believe the swim will not be a big problem (Challenging, yes, but not deadly unless one of those jellyfish I saw gets me) and I’m ready to go. Now it’s just 2 days of check in a bag packing, and the hardest 12-13 hours of my life.
T108 - Saying Goodbye to Some Old Friends - Bike, Run
Gainesville
Today was my last training day in Gainesville. I left for Panama City at about 5, and won't be back until the Ironman is over. Kinda weird to look at my room and all the shit in there, and all the kids in my classes and everything, and think that the next time I see any of it, this will all be over. A long time coming, you know? But anyway, for my last bike ride, I thought I'd go visit the Hawthorne Trail since I'd done it probably 100 times by now.
Bike: warm up 10 minutes, 30minues cruise at race pace, cool down.
3 Sudafed
2 Lipodrnee
All semester, I had intended to work in some training during my 3 hour break on Wednesday. Hadn't happened once. Usually that was nap or sex time, often both. But today, I actually managed to get in an entrie trianing day between my morning and afternoon classes on Wednesday. On my next to last day of training.
Anyway, the "warm up" here was essentially a nice cruise down Waldo to the trailhead. and then I hit Hawthorne going only slightly slower than my usual good pace. about 20.5-21 all the way down to the first hill. I notcied, though, that there was a bit of a wind on Hawthorne today, not something you get in the summer. Yet another reason I hate winter training, the fucking cold wind. I made it just past the bottom of the hill in the hammock, turned aorund, and went back up the hill. Becasue I typically need that 20-25 minutes to warm up, I went back up the hill much faster than usual, and I was even able to maintain about 18 up the final incline. Not something I do even on good rides.
I ended up averaging about 17.5 for the ride, but this was more because I rode the hilly seciton of Hawthorne only, and my average speed usually goes up a mile or 2 in the flats that comprise the rest of the course. And really, this was not the most crucial training ride of the cycle. I felt good about how it went, and it kept my body loose. And that's all one can ask.
Run: warm up 5 minutes, 15 minutes cruise at slightly faster than race pace,
cool down
I got home, had a sandwich, answered some email, then hit the Treadmill at Jefferson. Again, my last time on the treadmill I'd used most often. Because I'd brought the iPod, I did a nice little warmup at 5.5 (which is a hopeful race pace, really) and then did 8.0 the final 15 minutes. It wasn't even as hard as I'd thought it would be. I sweated like crazy, but made it through without even feeling overly winded. Hmmmm, maybe I COULD have pushed the run a little more. But it's a bit late to start thinking that.
So after, I went to class, got home, packed up and headed up to PCB. Total focus, and that is exactly what I need.
Today was my last training day in Gainesville. I left for Panama City at about 5, and won't be back until the Ironman is over. Kinda weird to look at my room and all the shit in there, and all the kids in my classes and everything, and think that the next time I see any of it, this will all be over. A long time coming, you know? But anyway, for my last bike ride, I thought I'd go visit the Hawthorne Trail since I'd done it probably 100 times by now.
Bike: warm up 10 minutes, 30minues cruise at race pace, cool down.
3 Sudafed
2 Lipodrnee
All semester, I had intended to work in some training during my 3 hour break on Wednesday. Hadn't happened once. Usually that was nap or sex time, often both. But today, I actually managed to get in an entrie trianing day between my morning and afternoon classes on Wednesday. On my next to last day of training.
Anyway, the "warm up" here was essentially a nice cruise down Waldo to the trailhead. and then I hit Hawthorne going only slightly slower than my usual good pace. about 20.5-21 all the way down to the first hill. I notcied, though, that there was a bit of a wind on Hawthorne today, not something you get in the summer. Yet another reason I hate winter training, the fucking cold wind. I made it just past the bottom of the hill in the hammock, turned aorund, and went back up the hill. Becasue I typically need that 20-25 minutes to warm up, I went back up the hill much faster than usual, and I was even able to maintain about 18 up the final incline. Not something I do even on good rides.
I ended up averaging about 17.5 for the ride, but this was more because I rode the hilly seciton of Hawthorne only, and my average speed usually goes up a mile or 2 in the flats that comprise the rest of the course. And really, this was not the most crucial training ride of the cycle. I felt good about how it went, and it kept my body loose. And that's all one can ask.
Run: warm up 5 minutes, 15 minutes cruise at slightly faster than race pace,
cool down
I got home, had a sandwich, answered some email, then hit the Treadmill at Jefferson. Again, my last time on the treadmill I'd used most often. Because I'd brought the iPod, I did a nice little warmup at 5.5 (which is a hopeful race pace, really) and then did 8.0 the final 15 minutes. It wasn't even as hard as I'd thought it would be. I sweated like crazy, but made it through without even feeling overly winded. Hmmmm, maybe I COULD have pushed the run a little more. But it's a bit late to start thinking that.
So after, I went to class, got home, packed up and headed up to PCB. Total focus, and that is exactly what I need.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
T107 - My Kinda Sprints - Swim, Run, Bike
Gainesville
Well, it's race week. I've got this kinda strange focus going on right now. Like I really don't want to talk to anybody or be too social. All week, just thinking about Saturday. It keeps occurring to me that a week from now, it'll all be over. And nice as it'll be to get back to a semi-normal life, I'm not looking forward to it at all. But more on that later.
My wetsuit came over the weekend. When I get up to Panama City Wednesday night, I'm going to do some wetsuit practice, then go swim a lap of the course Thursday morning. Until then, I'm just trying to get in some good meals and some good sleep. I took Monday off to recover from the weekend's strenuous events in Miami. I figured the short, keep-loose stuff the cards has scheduled wasn't overly crucial, and the rest would do met better. That being said, I still need to keep in constant training mode, as too much time off seems to have led to some bad workouts. But today's didn't look overly daunting.
Swim: warm up 5 minutes, 6 x 50 fast!, cool down 5 minutes
3 Sudafed
2 Lipodrene
The only concerning part about today's swim was when I did my traditional drop to the bottom of the pool when I got in. At about 1 foot down, my head started to feel like it was in a vice. Like one might if they don't eqaulize enough while scuba diving. But I was at 1 freaking foot! This is obviously a sign that I have some serious sinus congestion going on in my head, and the Sudafed, while making me breathe ok, isn't doing much to help that. Not that it's gonna keep me form doing the race, and the swim does not include a 30-foot underwater portion, but I do hope I get better.
The swim itself was fine. I definitely needed the warmup, and the sprints were hard. But short. And few of them. I can't keep that kinda pace for 100 yards, especially since I really haven't done much sprint work here in the last month and a half. Still don't like sprints, and even though I let up a little at the 40-yard mark of a couple of sets, my muscles felt good and I did for the most part what the card had instructed. Not my best swim, but I do like short sprints.
Run: warm up 5 minutes, 5 x 1 minute fast!, cool down 5 minutes (Treadmill)
Anything involving keeping a fast speed, I pretty much have to do on the treadmill. And, of course, I used the iPod. This section also felt fine. My legs needed a minute to warm up, but once the muscles got warm I made it through the sprint sections (which I only did at 8.0-8.3, depending on the song I had on) without difficulty. Holding a sprint for a minute is doable even for me, and my strides felt good. I think they just do these sprints to keep your muscles a little challenged without wearing them out. Good strategy, I think.
Bike: warm up 5 minutes, 5 x 2 minute fast!, cool down 5 minutes (trainer)
I briefly considered just doing this on the stationary, but I want to spend as much time in the saddle this week as I can. So I went home, had a sandwich, and got on the trainer. This was a bit more of a challenge, since the fast sections were 2 minutes long instead of one. For each one, I slowly shifted into my hardest gear, got into aero, and just went as hard as I could. I'd drop about 1-2 mph in speed by the end of the two minutes, but kept it over 22 the whole time. Again, I know speed isn't that relevant a stat, but it does give you something to show how you're doing relative to the rest of that workout. And my biking muscles felt challenged, used, but not worn out as I still felt fine after. I think all of this was a good first workout for race week.
Trevor told me today that I need to sleep by myself in my own bed the rest of the week. Obviously, that's not happening Wednesday on, since I'll be in PCB. And while I'm not sure I can keep to that tonight, I am promising myself that I'll be in bed by 12, to ensure a solid eight hours sleep. That's my minimum (at least attempted mimimum) for all but race night. When we know you never sleep. Other than that, a short bike and run tomorrow during the break, and then I'm off to Panama City. Hopefully these condos have wireless. Otherwise, I'll have to do the full report when I get back.
Well, it's race week. I've got this kinda strange focus going on right now. Like I really don't want to talk to anybody or be too social. All week, just thinking about Saturday. It keeps occurring to me that a week from now, it'll all be over. And nice as it'll be to get back to a semi-normal life, I'm not looking forward to it at all. But more on that later.
My wetsuit came over the weekend. When I get up to Panama City Wednesday night, I'm going to do some wetsuit practice, then go swim a lap of the course Thursday morning. Until then, I'm just trying to get in some good meals and some good sleep. I took Monday off to recover from the weekend's strenuous events in Miami. I figured the short, keep-loose stuff the cards has scheduled wasn't overly crucial, and the rest would do met better. That being said, I still need to keep in constant training mode, as too much time off seems to have led to some bad workouts. But today's didn't look overly daunting.
Swim: warm up 5 minutes, 6 x 50 fast!, cool down 5 minutes
3 Sudafed
2 Lipodrene
The only concerning part about today's swim was when I did my traditional drop to the bottom of the pool when I got in. At about 1 foot down, my head started to feel like it was in a vice. Like one might if they don't eqaulize enough while scuba diving. But I was at 1 freaking foot! This is obviously a sign that I have some serious sinus congestion going on in my head, and the Sudafed, while making me breathe ok, isn't doing much to help that. Not that it's gonna keep me form doing the race, and the swim does not include a 30-foot underwater portion, but I do hope I get better.
The swim itself was fine. I definitely needed the warmup, and the sprints were hard. But short. And few of them. I can't keep that kinda pace for 100 yards, especially since I really haven't done much sprint work here in the last month and a half. Still don't like sprints, and even though I let up a little at the 40-yard mark of a couple of sets, my muscles felt good and I did for the most part what the card had instructed. Not my best swim, but I do like short sprints.
Run: warm up 5 minutes, 5 x 1 minute fast!, cool down 5 minutes (Treadmill)
Anything involving keeping a fast speed, I pretty much have to do on the treadmill. And, of course, I used the iPod. This section also felt fine. My legs needed a minute to warm up, but once the muscles got warm I made it through the sprint sections (which I only did at 8.0-8.3, depending on the song I had on) without difficulty. Holding a sprint for a minute is doable even for me, and my strides felt good. I think they just do these sprints to keep your muscles a little challenged without wearing them out. Good strategy, I think.
Bike: warm up 5 minutes, 5 x 2 minute fast!, cool down 5 minutes (trainer)
I briefly considered just doing this on the stationary, but I want to spend as much time in the saddle this week as I can. So I went home, had a sandwich, and got on the trainer. This was a bit more of a challenge, since the fast sections were 2 minutes long instead of one. For each one, I slowly shifted into my hardest gear, got into aero, and just went as hard as I could. I'd drop about 1-2 mph in speed by the end of the two minutes, but kept it over 22 the whole time. Again, I know speed isn't that relevant a stat, but it does give you something to show how you're doing relative to the rest of that workout. And my biking muscles felt challenged, used, but not worn out as I still felt fine after. I think all of this was a good first workout for race week.
Trevor told me today that I need to sleep by myself in my own bed the rest of the week. Obviously, that's not happening Wednesday on, since I'll be in PCB. And while I'm not sure I can keep to that tonight, I am promising myself that I'll be in bed by 12, to ensure a solid eight hours sleep. That's my minimum (at least attempted mimimum) for all but race night. When we know you never sleep. Other than that, a short bike and run tomorrow during the break, and then I'm off to Panama City. Hopefully these condos have wireless. Otherwise, I'll have to do the full report when I get back.
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