William Jenks LW IM WI RR
- Sept 7, 2014
- Time: 11:01:57
- AG Place 11 of 210 finishers (227 starters)
- Overall Place 217 of about 2800
Race for Tim
In this essay, I will not shy from talking about the effect Timothy had on my race, but I will not talk about what Timothy meant to me and still does. I do not have the words for that. I had a lot of time to think about him and the rest of my family while training, and perhaps that was at times a refuge.
This is the story of how I tried to approach things this summer and on the day, honoring his memory and what he stood for.
Training
It is surprise to no one reading this that this was not a normal training year.
Timothy’s death at the end of June while training on the bike was life-changing. But this was already an unusual year from the perspective of triathlon training. Over the winter, I would normally have worked hard on building bike and run speed, but this winter I spent getting ready to run the Boston Marathon in an attempt at a PR time. As such, I spent minimal time on the bike and none swimming instead of doing a normal OS. I had a small injury shortly before Boston, and gambled during the race that I was still in top shape. While I got a modest PR despite going out what turned out to be too fast, the last 10 miles of the race were difficult and it took me most of a month (i.e., until about May 20) before I was really back in training shape.
My original plan had been to be very bike focused for roughly mid-May through mid-July. Even as I dropped into the meat of my EN IM plan, I planned to mentally focus on the bike and simply maintain the run. For the swim, I would try to do well through some frequency, but I was not going to overtrain the swim at the expense of the bike. In June, I was doing an FTP ride, a 110% FTP ride, and a long ride. In this, and most of what I was doing, I got guidance from the EN haus, and Coach Patrick McCrann.
After Boston, I was starting from pretty much ground zero, FTP-wise, about 225 W, somewhere around 3.3 W/kg. By the time of Timothy’s accident, I had gotten in better bike shape, but not dramatically improved the outdoor FTP. I had expected that would come in the next few weeks.
After the accident, many things were hard. Aside from the psychological difficulties of training, I had difficulties that I am convinced were physiological. [Thanks to Al Truscott for some advice.] On the bike (and swimming), it was as if I had a “governor” that put an upper limit on how hard I could go no matter hard I tried. On the bike, that was between 200 and 225 watts. On the run, the perceived exertion going fast was completely disproportionate. My heart rate would skyrocket when running fast at all. I simply could not do things that I normally might have.
As I gradually decided that I would continue training for Ironman, I made a few decisions, all of which had a common theme of working at above race effort but below the usual “hard” levels that were giving me trouble.
- Swimming: I would do more kicking (with a snorkel, not a board) than I have previously because I thought it was helping my body position. I found that pulling with a parachute once or twice a week was a great way to get in work that was harder than race pace, but not as stressful (and difficult) as threshold sets.
- Running: At first I was simply forced to just “put in the time”. My easy pace is a bit faster than it might be according to the VDOT performance charts. Until the ability to run fast came back, I would do everything by perceived exertion. “Fast” would just mean “feels like fast”, not “actually fast”.
- Biking: I did a lot of cycling in the basement. I did a couple of 5-hour trainer rides because I just felt more comfortable there for a while. But long bike rides in the basement do lend themselves to sustained HIM-level efforts.
In July, we also needed to focus on one another as a family, and that meant me not taking 6 hour training days. I had a total of two 5-hour rides in July, but I did get in a couple of weeks with two long runs of 2 hours or more to try to build up durability in a more time-efficient manner. It was just the best I could do with what life dealt.
In August, I was doing better physically, but it was too late to build up any speed; training was all going to have to be about taking whatever speed I had and stretching it. I was back on track with the normal day-to-day training pattern. I already knew my bike wattage target for the race would have to be no more than 160 W normalized power. Four weeks out, I did my own version of the WI camp here at home, and I hit long rides of 120 miles three weekends in a row. On each of the long rides (except a race rehearsal), I focused on lengthening the above-race-effort periods, knowing I was just trying to salvage things and make my race ride “easy”. My long runs topped out at 2.5 hours for 18 miles, as per the plan. Fortunately, my ability to run TP miles gradually returned and I felt much better about that.
And then it was time to taper. Doing the last race rehearsal 2 weeks out was scary, since the last time I had done the plan it was 3 weeks out, and I was still tired from the last few weeks. This one was “trust the plan.”
In the meantime, I spent a lot of effort trying to figure out how to squeeze every bit of speed out of my very modest wattage. It was a lot of little things. I tweaked my fit a bit to get as aggressive as I could and I trained to be a bit uncomfortable. (I have about 15 cm drop and ride 165 mm cranks.) I changed where my water bottle was, and I spent time thinking about biking technique, as you might do for swimming. (I kept thinking to myself how my son Timothy would play keeper in soccer… taking advantage of what he could do well and just sticking with it….trying new things when warranted, but above all trying to be smart.) How much difference all this made, I do not know exactly, but I ended up with an ok bike split despite poor strength.
The Race Plan
Above all, I wanted to race “smart”, and I realized this meant conservatively.
My swims in the pool had been going well. If I just swam straight and kept my head together, it would take care of itself.
On the bike, I would hold a strict 160 W NP, which is 71% of 225 W. I knew that with this relatively low power and this hilly course, my VI would be higher than it should be, but I hoped to keep it to 1.05-1.06. I had learned that to complete a 6 hour ride and not feel dehydrated at the end, I needed to consume 2.0-2.5 quarts of fluid per hour. On race day, I needed to get 2 bottles at every aid station (roughly 20 oz per bottle, and roughly every 45 minutes). I was willing to give up a bit of time not to ever miss getting two bottles at the exchanges.
Each 20 oz bottle of Perform contains roughly 175 calories, so drinking almost entirely Perform would cover my caloric needs. I would bring one Clif bar to snack from if I really felt the need to chew, but I usually don’t.
I was not as confident about how things would go this time as in past years. Neglecting some kind of minor disaster, I knew I should be in the 6 hour neighborhood or maybe a bit faster, given my two previous performances of 2:45-2:48 at higher power. To this end, the only serious plan I had for the run was to take the run as easy as I could for as long as I could. My “ideal goal” was about a 3:45 marathon (a bit slower than 8:30 pace; my last two open marathons were slightly under 3:15). That was facing the cold, hard reality that no superhuman marathons were going to come this time.
I was prepared to “run easy”, no matter what that pace was for the first half of the marathon. Nutrition from the caloric perspective on the run is easy. I decided that the MAJOR thing was keeping hydrated. I did not want to walk, but I was willing to stop and/or walk briefly to get in at least 8 oz average per mile. That is almost 2 quarts per hour, but if I am already slightly dehydrated, I did not want THAT to be my downfall. I am comfortable choosing between sports drink, cola, and gels on the run as my mood swings.
So, my plan was pretty simple. Just Swim. Keep transition simple. Ride easy, eyeballs on the meter…160 NP and no more. Run the first half easy, easy, easy and find out what that meant….and then finish..
Race Weekend
Due to work issues, Cynthia and I departed for Madison Friday morning. We attended the 2:00 pm race briefing, went through check-in, met a friend for dinner, and retired to our hotel room, where I finished bike prep and put my stuff into the bags. We slept in Saturday morning, then drove the bike course. I checked in my bike and bags. Barb and Craig Forney from Ames had decided to come up for the weekend, and we met them for a late lunch and then went to a movie and then dinner. My eating plans were not entirely executed Saturday, but I managed to avoid a lot of protein and fiber. I am sure Cynthia would say that I was pretty nuts when we got back to the hotel, but I felt like we went over the last minute stuff and burned off a little last minute jitters before going to bed. I woke up almost hourly, so there was no need for an alarm for me to drink my two bottles of Naked Juice Smoothies at 1 am.
Craig and Barb drove us to the race site Sunday morning, and we found convenient parking just a few blocks away at about 5:00 am. In fact, it was so close to transition that they took my bag to Special Needs area because it was out of the way for me to walk by there.
I wanted to be alone with my thoughts most of the pre-race morning after we arrived. Eventually, it was time to get the wetsuit on, and Cynthia met me to help with the very last preparation and dispose of the Dry Clothes bag. We got a picture with the EN crew, and I headed over to the water entrance.
Race
Swim
I was pretty confident in my race plan, or at least I knew there was not a better one. So as I made my way to the water, I tried to think of nothing but the swim. I entered the water a little before 6:45 and drifted to the center near the ski jump about at 3.5 on the photo here (which I stole from Facebook!). I stayed 10-15 yards back of the starting line and just meditated a bit as I waited for the space to fill and the gun to start. My swim goals were to stay straight, sight as little as possible, and keep my feet as high as possible. (Anyone who knows my swimming knows the latter is an issue for me.)
I did not find the start to be terribly violent or crowded compared to some that I had done, but I did feel like there were an unusual of “immature” people who reacted stupidly to contact. Within a few hundred yards, the melee had calmed down enough that I was able to start thinking more about my own technique, though there was still considerable contact for the first half of the swim. I got into a pretty decent groove and was going 25 strokes (counting right arms) between sightings unless I got whacked or shoved. I know it takes me about 27 strokes to make it across the 50 m LCM pool and I had been told the buoys were 100 m apart.
The first turn itself is always a crowded nightmare. Moreover, people who went out too fast seemed to be suffering in the last couple hundred yards of the first long segment, making it worse. I disliked the short segment after the first turn because I found it difficult to navigate straight into the sun. After hitting the long segment, I mostly found things comfortable, but still ran into a lot of people that didn’t know how to behave. My only other significant observation about the course is that you can see the exit area almost immediately after the last turn…but you still have quite a ways to go.
When I stood up and saw 1:13:xx on my watch, I felt really good. My race rehearsals with a buoy in the LCM pool had been 1:08:xx, so that time was well within “satisfying”. (I swim faster with a buoy than without one…probably similar to using a wetsuit.)
T1
Rich reminded me of his negative experience in 2011, trying to kill it by sprinting up the helix and ending up with an elevated HR. I jogged up, trying to compromise between not lollygagging and not throwing my HR way too high. The only things in my T1 bag were shoes, socks, sunglasses, and helmet. I put them all on and jogged out. A volunteer promised to get all my stuff back into the bag.
Some people will choose to keep their shoes off until the mount line, but I didn’t want to have to find a place to lean my bike after the mount line in the herd of crazies getting out. I ran well past the mount line before getting on and starting the next part of my day.
Bike
- Time 5:51 (a few minutes slower than previously)
- NP 158, VI 1.098, TSS 288 (power lower than previously, VI higher, and TSS lower)
- First half NP 160, Second half NP 157
- P3 with one bottle between the arms and one in the rear. Tools in a bento.
- http://connect.garmin.com/activity/587053821
- For those who do not know, the course is a 16 mile “stick” out to a 40 mile loop that you do twice, before returning back on the same stick.
I should first address my ridiculously high VI. I wish it had been a bit lower because I probably would have been a bit faster. But it mostly derives from some segments that I simply have to ride over 200 W to get up steadily, and I chose to coast most of the time when I was going ≥35+ mph, especially if I was passing people.
In the last few years, I had developed into a reasonable biker and had done races only of the half distance and shorter. I had gotten used to making some progress through the bike field even pretty early (perhaps due to wave starts, too). At the start of this bike leg, I was aware of my fairly high heart rate from the swim and of some thirst, so I really, really took it easy for the first 20 minutes or so. It hurt watching so many people take off away from me, but I knew I needed to stick to the plan. Still, I admit it pained me. It had been a while since that many pulled away.
After we got onto the loop, most of the sheep were powering up the hill, while I would catch them going downhill or on the flat...just as you'd expect. The bike course was very crowded for the first 30-40 miles, and I again sensed that there were a lot of people who were not very experienced. There were many times when 3-4 people would ride abreast and I frequently had to brake while going downhill not because I wanted to, but because it was not safe to pass. This probably did not cost me as much as I perceived, but it was frustrating.
On the whole, I had no trouble getting through my fluid targets or getting new bottles from the volunteers at the aid stations. I needed to get two bottles at each one, and once or twice, I even got a third bottle (water) to get a quick drink of about half the bottle before tossing it at the end of the station. The volunteers did a great job.
My major concern on the major hills was just learning a technique to keep my wattage down. (My easiest gear was 34/26, and that was ok.) I made a point of changing my stroke pattern when I had to over-power, including some standing up, but I still did my best to keep the power down. Miles 40-45 were my highest power 5-mile segment of the entire ride at 182 W NP. It was, of course, great to see Cynthia and our friends at Old Sauk, but as Coach Strauss says, I was trying not to “put on a show”.
At the half way point I made a pretty serious self assessment and tried to compare my feeling to half way through my training rides. The first half had felt easier than training, but I was aware of some fatigue. It was not bad, but it was not deniable either. I resolved to hold exactly the same targets (160-170 W when on flats) but be more generous with myself about coasting and just not feel guilty about it. I think this is reflected in the higher second half VI and lower NP. That said, the thinning of the crowd made it a lot easier for me to ride as I wanted to. I was aware of several people that I was going back and forth with. The universal uphill/downhill pattern held with all of them.
My next self-assessment checkpoint was the turn-off to the stick. Yes, some wear on the quads was surely there, but I was very pleased with how good I felt. I got up the one notable hill on the stick back and felt like I made progress through a LOT of people on the last 10-12 miles, which are predominantly flat or downhill.
My final test was that going up the helix was NO BIG DEAL. I was really pleased.
A final couple of general comments: (1) it felt like there was a lot more motorcycle enforcement than usual; (2) I saw what seemed like a lot of people stopped on the side of the road. The roads were in their usual lousy overall condition, but there was not a lot of gravel or rocks or anything of that sort.
Start of bike: 55th in division and 717th overall; End of bike: 31 in division and 424 overall.
T2
I quickly went inside, got my stuff, then found a chair. I had only a number belt, hat, and running shoes. It was very efficient, and a volunteer eventually came again to stash my bike stuff. I put on the shoes and put the rest on while jogging out. I paused long enough to get sunscreen on my neck and then dove into a portapotty for the only time of the race. Little did I know then that not peeing on the bike probably cost me the 11 hour barrier. Total T2 time was 4:22.
Run
- Total time 3:45:40
- First half 1:48:30 (approx.) Second half 1:57 (approx.)
- http://connect.garmin.com/activity/586174072
Like for everyone, the beginning of the run felt easy, and it was tempting to go too fast. I could have run a few miles at 7:00 pace. I really, really tried hard to go as slow as I could, but the first 5 miles were still faster than they should be, averaging about 8:10. Starting about this mark, I started to take a few extra seconds at each aid station to ensure that I got enough fluid. Again, it was being cautious, but I wanted to avoid crashing in the late miles due to dehydration. I am not fussy about what liquid I get, though I tried to continue to get Perform frequently to ensure I got enough salt. I got into a pattern eventually of getting one “special” thing at almost every station, that being ice in my hat, a gel, or extra water. I took no other food (chips, pretzels, fruit, etc.).
In those first 5 miles, I passed almost all the people I had been riding back and forth with that had finished ahead of me. I swore to myself I didn’t want to see that get reversed in mile 15 or something. My mantra over and over again was “very, very easy”. I literally mumbled that over and over under my breath. I managed to settle into my target pace of 8:30-8:40.
State Street the first time was awesome. I remembered my first IM where I was not feeling well and I had to tell Cynthia I didn’t know how bad things were going to get. It was symbolically important to me to tell her this time I was feeling ok.
It was also fun to see many teammates and friends either racing or cheering — throughout the whole run. I cannot name everyone, and I will not try, but if you read this, please know how much I enjoyed hearing your words, even if I said nothing. I was really having fun, but I am very bad at chatting on the run…I apologize.
As I got to Observatory hill the first time, I was NOT going to walk. Not one inch of it. I remembered feeling weak here before and I did not want to be weak. It was probably not pretty, but I ran every step.
Does anyone hate that downhill immediately after Observatory as much as me?
By the time I hit the half-way point, I was aware that the race was getting harder. I was slipping to 8:45s or so, but was still holding that when I hit State Street again. I told Coach Rich I was holding near 8:30 (which, in retrospect, wasn’t quite true) and he told me to back off – that there was still a ways to go. I probably would have ended up running about the same pace, but it made me feel good to know I was still doing ok and still had control over my race. Having some real control during that second half of the run was a new experience for me, and it felt great.
The only bad spot was on the way out to campus again. I got choked up thinking about Timothy, and it made me feel like I was having an asthma attack or something…wheezy and constricted. But I knew he would not want me to break down now. There would be time for that later. I got over it.
Mile 18 came. Yes, I was slipping to 9:00 miles, but I was doing ok. I was NOT suffering unduly. I could count them down now and I knew I could make it near my previous best no matter what happened.
The Observatory Hills came. And I thought of Timothy again. How he liked running hills. How I made it up the first time. How this mile would be slower than 9:00 but I was going to run. Mathematically, I am not sure how much sense it makes to run very slowly up Observatory, but emotionally I won the race right there. Almost no one else was running. Maybe they were the sensible ones, but I won.
After Observatory and the painful downhill that follows, I was just ticking off the miles..it was almost anticlimactic. I was not going to be running a whole lot faster, but I was not going to slow down much. It was hard, but the really bad suck never came. My mile splits from 18 on were all around 9:00. Somewhere in the last couple miles I saw Rich again and he lifted my spirits by telling me now just to bring it in the rest of the way. In my head I ran from mile 25 to 26 a little faster, but the reality of my Garmin split says otherwise. With the finish in view, like everyone, I managed a final burst, running a 7:42 for the last third of a mile.
Start of the run: 31st place AG, 424 overall. End of the run 11th place AG, 217 overall. 3rd fastest run in the AG.
After the finish, I was pretty spent, just like everyone. I needed to sit, but I knew I had succeeded and would not need medical. I cried. I was met at the finish by Cynthia, the Forneys (running friends), and another friend, Karen Rosser (swimming friend), who was in town and stopped to see the end of the race. It was really touching they were all there. I don’t think I have ever got so many hugs at the end of a race. Rich joined us and congratulated me and we took lots of pictures all around.
Tim, this one’s for you.
Comments
I never mentioned it because the words are hard for me, but you were an inspiration to me throughout the day. Thank you for sharing your story, and in some respect, your pain, with the rest of us.
Mark
Every now and then, I get reminded that our rational minds can only perceive and comprehend the smallest slivers of the universe and how it works. It's clear that, somehow, Timothy was working with you every inch of that 140.6. You crossed that finish line together, after he filled you with all his speed, grace, and reckless courage. Thank you for sharing that journey with us.
Wow! Well done on many levels. Thanks for sharing - very inspirational. And it was great to meet you and Cynthia if only for a few minutes before the race. .
Congratulations on a terrific, inspirational, and gutsy race! You certainly honored Timothy with your fierce effort. It was nice to formally meet you and your wife, and I hope to race together again soon.
Strong work!
Wow, William! Absolutely amazing... Congratulations and job well done!