In the beginning

One of my friends asked me how I got into triathlon and it got me thinking. So here it is...

I was a late bloomer of the latest degree. In fact, at 26 I am just now figuring out exactly how to shave and I get carded like I'm Justin Bieber begging for margaritas at an Applebees. My golden years of athletics were elementary school. But damn, they were good. I was dominant at soccer, the mile run, and just about everything you could imagine... I was like the Michael Jordan of North Creek Elementary. But it couldn't last. The testosterone of an 8 year old can't compete in modern high schools and I was left in the dust. But I simply couldn't let sports go. I bounced around from tennis, to golf, to soccer, searching for dominance but the well had run dry. I was pissed and turned to candy as my escape from my sporting woes. I ate more candy than you could possibly imagine. I regularly scarred my taste buds with the strongest candies. Altoids and warheads were consumed by the gross. 20 dollars worth of candy in one sitting was a Saturday morning routine. Turns out I have an addictive personality. Chubbiness soon followed. Meanwhile, my little sister was completely ruining the state at cross country. She was a scrawny little baby and was making everyone look stupid at these races. She was also getting faster than me...

As any prideful big brother would do, I took up running. I ran in the dark because I was completely ashamed of both my blubber and my waddling speed. Seriously. I kept running at night and soon I was enjoying it. I ran for two years and still sucked at soccer, but I was starting to do ok at the practices where we ran.

I decided to forget about soccer and see if my sister's mojo would rub off on me. I joined to cross team. I got so excited and I was running pretty well in the summer. I put in a huge running summer for me and totaled 500 miles in something like 2.5 months which was astronomical compared with my usual running.

I ran well in one meet and then overtrained myself and was completely mediocre. But I had gotten just slightly faster than my sister and I had found something that I liked.

Then came the fateful day. My friend Jessie and I were sitting at her computer talking about Michigan State and surfing around on the internet. She found this thing called triathlon and taunted me saying, "I bet you can't do this". Bullshit. I would at least try.

I figured it would at least be a good way of meeting people and so I went to the first practice of the MSU triathlon club. It was then that I discovered I could ride a bike pretty well and I hit puberty. The perfect storm. I had found my sport.

Big Day

Caitlin ran her first half marathon and here's the tale!

She has been training for around 4 months for this and pushing her mileage up slowly to the point where the next logical long run would be 13.1 miles. On Friday, we headed up to Santa Barbara to register and crash at a hotel. We got her checked in and ready to go. I saw a bucket of sample lara bars and took roughly 50 of them for later indulgence. Then we headed to get a massive meal of barbecue turkey and brisket. Food coma ensued which made our musty motel 6 room much more appealing.

Race day came and it was clear, comfortable, but windy as hell. No worries. We headed to the start and Cait prepped her Ipod with Dave Ramsey podcasts of all things...

Who the hell listens to financial podcasts as motivation in a race?

THIS GIRL!

The race blasted off and Cait got rolling. She was super nervous so the plan was to cruise through mile four imagining it was a training run. I was biking on my Quintana Roo which would help me play sag wagon/ race support for the day. I saw her at the mile and she was comfortable and smiley. Good sign. I took off to catch her at another point and promptly got lost. My race issued fisher price map was of absolutely no help as it just showed toilet icons and water icons instead of useful things like street intersections. Dumb.

I found an overpass around mile three and waited but she didn't pass by. I missed her so hopped on the bike path and missed her again at another point. The marathon and half marathon had merged so it was impossible to gauge the pace of the runners. 6-8 thousand people or whatever made it like a horrible game of where's waldo. I took off again and rode on the course ignoring chastising comments from race officials and police officers alike. Just as I saw the lead men for the marathon hauling ass up a hill, I found Caitlin. She was at mile 6 and blasting financial podcasts. It was hard to get her attention but she looked good, relaxed, and still smiling which was a good sign.

I biked with her for a bit and then she got annoyed with my hovering and sent me up the road. I proceeded to become a human mile marker and cheer for about a mile's worth of runners while waiting for Cait. The course was tough with wind and some massive uphills, but there was live music on the side of the road at around 5 different spots which was distracting and pretty cool.

Cait was clipping off the miles and I saw her at mile 10 which was the toughest part of the course. It was a half mile long climb at about 8-10% gradient. If that doesn't mean anything to you, just imagine something you don't want to run up. Cait and I had talked about this point in the course as basically the end as it was all downhill from that point. She tore into the hill just chewing it up and staying relaxed. She really made it look easy while all around her, people were crumbling.

Good illustration of pink lady running with marshmallow form and Cait looking like Craig Alexander. Mercenary.

She crested it and rolled down the huge slope to the finish line and even had enough to out kick a college age guy with 200m to go. It was hilarious. Cait actually has ridiculous footspeed to the point where when she is kicking it pushes me to stay with her. I have seen her finish a run at 5:20 pace up hill! She unleashed her patented kick and this guy foolishly tried to counter. He was shown a clean pair of pink nike heels as Caitlin finished her first half marathon in a time 6 minutes faster than expected! Awesome.

She also earned one of the largest blood blisters in history for her efforts. Look away if you are a cry baby and the human body makes you tremble with fear like a coward.

BOOM goes the dynamite

American verification

So my last update included a 400's workout in which I, in theory, ran much faster than ever before. Suspiciously faster. Usually my absolute fastest 400's are around 69 seconds. In that workout, I hit 63 seconds for a 400. I felt great but 6 seconds doesn't just come off like that so naturally my first thought was to blame the track for being inaccurate. It was a dirt track with no lanes so I thought maybe it wasn't quite up to snuff.

Naturally, I couldn't leave it alone so I promptly set off to confirm the accuracy at a trustworthy American track. I had some 1 minute fartleks scheduled so I changed the route to end at a track and had some of the intervals changed to 400's just to check. I hit 66, 66, 65, 63! I was wrong to doubt the Finnish track. It was bigoted of me to think that 400m is somehow less in Finland and for that I am deeply sorry... but I had to be sure.

I am so pumped with that speed. Cutting 6 seconds in a 400 over one season really is getting me geeked.

And with that, I am definitely in for the Ironman in December!

Misc.

Hey all,

I am currently in Finland. The trip over was a brutal 20+ hours of travel. I despise flying mainly for the desert-like lack of humidity. I hate drinking constantly and staying thirsty. Obviously the problem is exacerbated if the trip is interminably long. But, I did get a chance to read which I never seem to make time for when I am staying in one spot and have endless amounts of free time.

I am nearly finished with Iron War, the new book chronicling the 1989 Ironman World Championships. It is one of the best races of all time, with Dave Scott and Mark Allen slugging it out with the decisive move happening at mile 24. It is literally insane to watch/ hear about. The book is definitely not a disappointment as the subject is too good to ruin. It’s sort of like baking…generally if the food has enough fat and sugar in it, it will taste good. It’s hard to mess it up.

The writing is not exactly spot on but the angles the author takes on mental toughness, perception of fatigue, and the background of Mark and Dave are pretty interesting. I love Dave Scott. He has the biggest balls in history and, in defeat, you see truly how deep he can take it. He ties up completely like a 400m runner down the stretch in the last 2 miles and his form breaks down. Any other athlete would slow down, but he forces his body to accelerate despite a complete systems failure. He is so tough he literally can will his body to do things he shouldn’t be able to do. In the end he loses but in the most bad ass way in history. I like to watch people who race like animals and don’t cave mentally no matter what.

The race in my opinion is bittersweet as I don’t think it is indisputable that Mark Allen was the strongest on the day. I think he raced a tactically perfect race and did what he needed to do to win as he shadowed Dave Scott. But the bottom line is Dave Scott dictated and did the all the work until mile 24 in the marathon. Mark Allen drafted his way to the win but Dave Scott raced arrogantly and that’s what happens. Either way, both of those guys are hard as hell.

Back to real life, I am looking forward to exercise in Finland as it is just like Michigan. Fall is my sweet spot for training. I ran last night at 8pm and again today at 4:30 am and I am starting to feel excellent. There is a pool 5 minutes away from my hotel so I swam after work. I got done, took a nap (damned jetlag) and went for another run. I found a track midway through and decided to cruise an aerobic mile. To my shock, I finished it in 6:12 and felt SO easy. I decided to open it up and run some 400's. I came around feeling super easy and looked down to see a 71 on my watch. Whoa. That was stupid easy so I shifted gears. The next one was 65, then another, then another. I couldn't believe it. I was ticking off 65 second 400's like it was nothing and then I finished with a 63. I felt like I was on fire. I am actually a bit suspicious that the track was off... I don't know why but I am just going to have to verify that workout on a good old-fashioned American track. I don't know what the meter to meter exchange rate is in Europe. Eh, just means another speed day.

After today, things are looking good for the December Ironman. Still up in the air, but I should be able to decide by the weekend which is hyping me up so much.

Kona: Aftermath

‎"In truth, the pleasure comes less from the suffering but from the knowledge that we overcame the impulse to relent."

No idea where that quote came from. I snaked it from my buddy Ken. It is excellent and I think it sums up how I feel about Kona. However, I take no pleasure in my performance athletically. The bottom line is that it was a death march that was about damage control and not speed.

In the weeks that followed, I chewed over this and, honestly, I am bitter about it. I feel like I wasted some good run fitness on an Oprah speed marathon.

So...

I am thinking I may go after another Ironman before I take a year long hiatus. The HITS triathlon series is putting one on in December basically in my backyard. The roads are licorice and I like the area. I may just get one more bang out of my fitness buck before the year is out and take a crack at running a fast marathon.

I know I am a stubborn mule. I don't care.

The decision is still to be made. I am off to Finland on Saturday and I will probably make the call when I am traveling depending on how I feel. It's also my birthday.

Kona part III: conclusion

To be honest, at the point we left off, finishing was a huge question mark. I started running and the wind and cloud cover allowed me to move again. I couldn’t believe it! I was running again and feeling ok. Not much to say about mile 13-22 except that I kept the recipe the same. Minimize time losses and keep temp down. I was running much faster though. I kept looking up, preparing mentally for the energy lab. This is theoretically a soul sucking stretch of the course that takes you through a solar energy field in the middle of the lava fields. What a heinous place to run. However, I found that the energy lab is way over hyped compared to Ali’i. I will take 4 miles of heat vs. 10 miles any day. I blasted through it. I saw Matt after the energy lab, hugged him and said, “I love you buddy, get through this and we don’t have to do this shit anymore for a long time.” He was in full-on stagger/death mode but he had come too far and the fastest way back to town was to run. People who know Matt know he can take it deeper than just about anyone. He nearly killed himself doing three lengths of a pool underwater… he chose to black out rather than to come up short and not get to the wall and he nearly died. Ridiculous, I know, but it is a story for another day.

I looked at my watch at mile 22 and it seemed possible to get under 10 but I would have to book it. I was still stopping at each aid station but running 7:15- 7:30 pace between them which was way closer to my projected pace. I was officially off death’s doors. However, the renewed quest for sub 10 put me back on the doorstep very quickly. I hit mile 24 completely smashed as I headed up the final hill. On my limit, I tumbled down Palani and nearly fell over. I was completely ragged as I headed towards the pier. Words can’t describe how out of control I was during the last 2 miles. I threw up bile 6 or 7 times and ran into a side railing as I staggered into the finish. My buddy from MSU, Greg Boyd shouted that I had two minutes to go sub 10 and I found a small pathetic burst but it was something. My vision kind of blurred and I lost focus on everything aside from the clock, blinking in the distance. I hit the finish chute and saw 9:59:55 ticking and was too far out. Damn it. I eased up the final 10 yards and crossed at 10:00:09. I swayed and collapsed into the volunteers. They tried to put one of those stupid flower necklaces on me and cover me in thick towel. I refused both. I was completely fried. I did not need a thick towel and flowers are just pretty trash in my opinion. The volunteers dumped ice water over my head as my vision flickered in and out. I was carried into the med tent and hooked up to an IV. My family (Caitlin, Rachel, Dad, and Mom) wasn't allowed into the med tent to see me but sent a note saying they were proud of me and loved me. I teared up as I spilled hot chicken broth on my chest. I sat up and hobbled out of the tent to see my family. They are the best.

I felt much better for the next hour and saw Lauren, Kiplinger, Boyd, and the Inch clan. They all came in for the race and were ridiculously awesome super fans. Boyd, Kiplinger, and Lauren even made tricenter at the Hawi turnaround!

Things started to go south after that. I wandered into the transition to collect my things and headed back out...it must have been 5 minutes total. In that 5 minutes, I went from chipper back to black out mode. I was using my bike as a walker when my Mom saw me. She and Eric carried me back to the car. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open again as I was ushered into a bed. I was third-spacing electrolytes and swelling like a pufferfish. This made it tough to poke a vein but we finally got an IV started. One liter later and I was still in and out. We popped in another and I drank a couple sips of tea and broth. Finally after another liter, I was back in business... It was a long day.

After a couple days of thinking about the race, my overall thought is that I made good decisions the whole day and I don’t think I made any glaring mistakes. The pacing was dead on, the nutrition was too, and when I went into system failure mode, I did what it took to minimize my losses. Like I said, the one thing I would change is wearing a long sleeve shirt like Thunderbear. I think this may have saved some problems on Ali’i but hindsight is annoyingly accurate or however the saying goes. I wore sunscreen and was ready for the heat but the sun was something I hadn’t fully comprehended. Overall a 10 hr Kona on the first go around is pretty satisfying, especially considering it easily could have been an 11 if I had allowed it. I am not buying into the ‘oh woe is me’ perception that this is an impossibly difficult course with a mind of its own. It is a problem and all problems have solutions. I was very close to nailing it and I will next time.

Kona part II: the gates of mordor

After getting a bad split down to Matt at the halfway point of the ride (see part one), it was a good time to get aggressive as the downhill back from Hawi was a bit sketchy due to the crosswinds. I figured this would make him slightly cautious. That part of the course rewards risk and I decided it was the time to take it as it wouldn’t really require much effort just some nerve. I bombed down and as we turned back to the Queen K, I was only a minute down! I had pulled back 2 minutes in around 15 miles and I was happy again as we started the tough section back into town. The headwind was constant on the way back and I put the pressure on as the 1^st half heroes dropped like flies. Matt came back to me around mile 85 and was looking ragged. I figured he was in trouble and was a victim of the 1^st half pace. I took off hoping to drop not just him, but his pack. If one person stays in contact, chances are the whole group will, which means he would get a free ride back into town. No chance. I hit the gas and looked back 10 minutes later to see a big gap.

I rolled into transition clocking in at 5:03, which was dead on my projected split.

The bike course was ready to get smashed as was proven by the pros. It was mild and the roads are like licorice. It actually is a relatively easy course outside of two factors that everyone knows: the wind and the sun. The wind wasn’t too bad on our day, which was unbelievably fortunate. The heat isn’t noticeable but the sun is an absolute killer and the exposure derailed my race. Literally the only thing in the entire race I would change if I could go back is to wear a long sleeve shirt on the ride. I nailed nutrition, nailed pacing, nailed power spikes, but did not realize sunscreen wouldn’t be enough for me.

I moved off the bike feeling fresh in the legs but rotten in general. I couldn’t figure it out. The pace out onto the run was slower than normal but I still ticked off a 7:30 first mile. The second mile was completely torpedoed and I staggered to a stop. I was like a beater car, dying on the side of the road. I saw my Dad and said, “I am completely fried. I'm overcooked.” He said it would come around, but I was convinced it was over. It was the first time in a race where I nearly pulled the plug. I had concrete thoughts of the dreaded letters DNF. For those of you not of the triathlete persuasion, this is the abbreviation for “did not finish” and is a source of incredible shame for us. I prayed again for anything.

My core temp was through the roof and Ali’i drive was well into the 90’s, with no moving air, and completely exposed to the sun. I had visions of Norman Stadler, a former world champion, pathetically hiding under a telephone pole for shade and kept thinking, “you are Norman now, you idiot.” I walked a half-mile to an aid station and drenched myself in ice water, put ice down the shorts, ice on the palms, took water, took coke, and had a gu. Anything. Desperation move. I started running again thinking, “What the hell. I’ll be in the med tent anyway, can’t hurt to give it another go.” I was moving, albeit slowly and getting to the next aid station was the only focus so I could lower my core temp again. The ice on the palms was starting to kick in and my pace was starting to slowly come back to me. I was still moving gingerly as coming back from the grave is not something you can rush. Every aid station was the same. Four cups of ice, 3 to the groin, and 1 for the palms. I was moving again! The heat had really poisoned the system and my gut had shut down. I was in the john for the first time in a race. Still moving though. That’s all that mattered.

After the pit stop, I saw Matt and yelled for him to bridge up to me so we could get through the day together but he was a mile or so back and looking as bad as I was. No dice.

I hit mile 8 and was nearly off Ali’I drive. I looked to the sky hoping the clouds would roll in. I prayed again and turned up Palani drive at mile 10 to see dark skies. My family and friends were on the side of the road, screaming, as I was unconscious on my feet but still moving. I started walking up the massive hill on Palani and talking to my sister. I had this in my head from the moment I saw Palani. Walking is the only thing that would make sense. Spiking your heart rate in a race like this is a death sentence and anything faster than walking would spike mine. In my damage control mode, I was particularly keen on this plan. Walking sounded excellent. I told Rachel that the walking was an investment in the back half of my race. I wasn't sure if that was true. It sounded smart but it hinged on whether I could get my head on straight and run.