JW's IM Vineman 2016 - Laid Bare
Setting Expectations:
Racing Ironman is hard. Not just the physical nature of the actual race and its associated training, but more so the strain it can and does put on a body and on a family. This past winter, I had an episode where I had some light-headed spells and actually collapsed one night. My PCP thought I “might” have a heart condition. Talk about scary… For 3 months I had Heart Rate limitations and just did a lot of slow, easy miles as I tried to figure out what was going on while maintaining some semblance of fitness. It was a very unsettling time for me and my family, and made me consider the deeper reasons of what I was doing with this so called “Ironman Career…” even though it is really just a hobby on the side…
I spent the better part of three months seeing a Cardiologist and getting every type of heart test and scan imaginable. The grey-haired Cardiologist gave me his diagnosis: “You have the healthiest heart I’ve ever seen.” It was probably just some weird virus. I’d been given the All Clear to start punishing my body again. I did a weeklong bike camp at the end of May in Aspen with some awesome EN peeps, which included a one-day 208 mile jaunt (at altitude) from Aspen to Vail, and back to Aspen. My legs were certainly starting to come back. As I did with Ironman Wisconsin last year, I did much of my training around my commute again this year… but also picked up my Saturday long rides and generally did several hours very early on Sunday mornings as well.
The biggest discussions in my house around my training were less about me training for and doing another Ironman… they were mostly about the fact that I was trying to qualify for Kona again. From my perspective, Jess couldn’t seem to understand why I can’t just do an Ironman “like a normal person” and not take it so seriously. Frankly, I enjoy the solitude of the training and pushing my limits... I don’t necessarily love doing Ironman races, but what I do love is competing, and I really love a challenge. Without the competition, I likely wouldn’t really want to put everything I had into training. Personally, after crossing the finish line in 8 Ironman races, I wasn’t interested in just doing another Ironman. Hearing Mike Reilly or the announcer of the day say, “You Are an Ironman!” for the 9th time just didn’t have any allure to me. But winning the Executive Challenge (XC) and qualifying for Kona again… now that’s something I was willing to suffer for. This is a game for me, but finishing isn’t the goal anymore… My goal was to win (my chosen race against my small batch of competition), but anything less than winning would be a disappointment…
Pre-Race:
We arrived in San Francisco on Thursday mid-day for the Saturday race. This is later than normal, but this was my 9th rodeo, and I didn’t feel like I needed/wanted any of the race “hoopla”. I spent a couple of hours at the Golden Gate Bridge sight-seeing with my family on the way to Sonoma, which was also nice and relaxing. I was racing in the Executive Challenge (XC) Division, so the logistical nightmare that is Ironman Vineman was completely made simple for me. Within 15 minutes of arriving at my hotel, the awesome XC guys delivered my bike and my transition bag to my room (they got them from TBT for me). They also brought me all of the registration formalities and did everything in my hotel room. I cannot put into words how awesome that convenience was. I got my bike and gear bags ready and followed my normal pre-race rest and nutrition routine on Friday (super hydrate and load up on Calcium, Magnesium, other electrolytes and Amino Acids). (Note, the XC guys took my bike to bike checking and dropped my bags off, so I never had to actually set foot at any actual race site until the morning of the race!).
The morning of the race I fueled up my bike and got everything set up. Easy peazy. I donned my wetsuit and did a ~10 minute swim warmup in the Russian River (below the dam).
Swim:
Stated goal time: 1:09-1:14
Actual Swim Time: 1:11:11
The swim was above the dam of the Russian River. “River” is a loose interpretation of what it is this time of the year. There is almost no water flowing over/through the dam, so it is basically a non-moving lake that has the shape of what a winding river might be. I think it has a maximum depth of ~6 feet, with it only being 2 feet deep in a few places. If you are in any way intimidated by the “swim” leg of an Ironman, this race is for you. It was actually a very peaceful swim in really clean water. You were never more than 10 yards from the shore and you could pretty much stand up anytime you wanted (many people walked parts of the swim leg, but that seemed slower than swimming, even if it meant your hand touched the pea gravel on the bottom). There were a few times when I did several dolphin dives when the water got too shallow or pushed off the bottom with my feet. On average, it was a perfect temperature swim with barely any contact in super clean water, and my swim time was almost exactly what I expected my swim time would/should be.
T1: 4:09
The wetsuit strippers were a bit slow, but all I did in the change tent was grab my bike shoes and helmet and leave. I put my helmet and glasses on as I ran, and carried my shoes until I got to my bike which was pretty close to the bike out (thanks again XC). I put my shoes on at my bike, then ran the last 20 yds or so to the bike mount line.
Bike:
Stated goal time: 5:25-5:40
Actual Bike Time: 5:19:36
This bike course could have been designed for a guy like me… There was enough elevation change to give your legs/body a bit of variation in cadence and position. My Garmin showed ~3,500’ of gain in total. There were a couple of bigger climbs, but nothing that lasted longer than a handful of minutes. I had ALL the aero bells and whistles you could imagine for this ride. I was wearing my super-fast, super tight Castelli kit, which is even faster because it’s red and emblazoned with Endurance Nation (EN) logos and matching aero helmet. I had removed my bottle from the downtube of my P5 and just kept the one between my arms and a spare behind my seat. I had my Zipp FC808 in the front and a Zipp Super-9 Disc in the rear. I had a perfectly clean drivetrain and even went as far as installing a brand new ceramic speed chain just for this race (which is basically lubricated with unicorn tears and supposedly saves between 5-10 Watts in drivetrain loss).
The constant miles of rolling vineyards just ticked by. I passed a lot of people I the first couple of hours, but was mostly alone for vast majority of the second loop. When I was almost to mile 100, John Ratzen from the XC group rode up to me and passed me. Even though he’s one of the XC guys, I wasn’t racing him… He’s a runner, and he already had a Kona slot for 2016 from his 9-handle XC race in Arizona last November. We chatted briefly and I said, “You already have your Kona slot… Do you want to pace me to a ~3:40 marathon so I can get mine”? He smiled and said sure… but sadly today was not that day for me.
This scenario does show you a bit about where my mind was… I was almost done with my bike leg and I knew from staring at my bike computer all day that I had ridden a super conservative bike leg. If you’re not a data nerd, feel free to skip ahead to the run section, but I thought I’d put into perspective how easily I had actually ridden my bike. I say this because many people thought that for me to have ridden my bike at ~21mph for over 5 hours, I would have had to have overcooked the bike. I ride with a power meter on my bike, so my gauge for bike effort isn’t measured in mph, but in “Normalized Power” (NP), and “Training Stress Score” (TSS). In training, you basically teach your body to put out the maximum amount of power over a given amount of time and still leave your legs fresh enough to run a solid marathon.
Many of you know that I raced Ironman Wisconsin last year on my Fat Bike. In that race I put up 219W for 6:06:xx and a TSS of 308 (editor’s note: you generally want to stay below ~300 TSS points in an IM if you want to be able to run well). In my final 112 mile Race Rehearsal this year, just a few weeks before Vineman, I put up 230W for 5:33:xx for a total TSS of 311. During Ironman Vineman, I rode at 203W for 5:19:36 for a TSS of 232 (the lowest of any IM I have ever done). My other metrics for you power nerds: IF of 0.67, VI of 1.045, AVG HR 136. My HR was about 10 bpm higher than my race rehearsal, but it was a bit higher than normal for the first ~30 mins, and it was also 86 degrees when I finished the bike. My HR was down to 144bpm within 2 minutes of starting my bike and was below 140bpm within 8 minutes of my start. After those first 8 minutes, my HR never went above 140bpm for the rest of the entire bike leg. I have a LTHR of around 148 bpm, so even though my HR was a bit higher than normal, it was still well below my aerobic max at all points.
T2: 3:18
Uneventful. I left my shoes on my bike and took my helmet off as I ran to the tent. I sat down to put on my Injinji socks and slip on my shoes, then I grabbed my “go bag” and put on my race number belt and hat as I ran out of transition.
Run:
Stated goal time: 3:55-4:15
Actual Bike Time: 4:55:12
The run started great. Within the first half a mile I saw Jess and the boys for the first time! They were standing at the Vineman version of “Hot Corner,” and I felt great. I gave them two thumbs up and a big smile. Those that know me well know that I don’t dole out racing smiles very often. But I really did feel good. My legs felt good, I wasn’t melting yet, and I was mentally ready to run my way to an XC Kona slot… My best Ironman Marathon to date was a 3:43. I figured it was probably too hot on this day to do that. But a ~4:00 run was certainly in the cards for me. Especially if I could keep my core temperature down. Because it was hot, I started out at a ~9:00-9:30 pace instead of the ~8:15’s I was expecting to run. I had a few tricks up my sleeve to stay cool. The first was Coach P’s RunSaver bag. It’s a small bag made out of the material that is like what a nice stunt kite is made out of. It has an elastic strap to put it around your wrist. At an aid station, you can fill it with ice, then hold it in either hand or put it inside your kit to help stay cool. At any time, you could chomp on the ice or drink the cold water. I was certainly glad I had this many times throughout the day. My other trick was a cheap mesh bag that I bought on Amazon that was about 4” x 8”. I had it looped on the back of my hat and also filled it with ice at the aid stations. Then I set it on my head and put my hat down over it. The mesh bag kept the ice from falling out, but kept my head nice and wet and cold the whole day. I only had to replace that ice every 3-4 miles…
If the bike course had been designed for me, the run course couldn’t have possibly been worse. It was 3 laps of an out-and-back course that started with rollers, then a long ~0.7 mile steep-ish downhill, followed by more rollers, flip it to come back the rollers, then up the big ~0.7 mile uphill, then more rollers to finish the loop. I’m a bigger dude, and my body type would certainly not be confused with that of a runner, but over the years I have certainly gotten “less bad” at running. My training runs had been a bit slower this year, but after running Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim, I knew I had logged a ton of hard miles since last year and I thought I was ready for this.
The first lap was hot and slower than I had planned, but I was still moving forward at a somewhat decent pace given the course and conditions. I actually “ran” up the big hill, albeit at a slow-ish pace. I had long since given up any thoughts of a 3-handle marathon, but I still thought I could/should come in not far from the 4-hour mark. After a quick high-5 for my boys at the turn around, I was back out to start lap 2. After the rollers on lap 2, things started to go downhill quick. Literally. As I headed down the big ~0.7mile hill, I started to get a twinge of cramping in my calves with almost every step. I was still running, but these twinges caused my gait to get screwy in order to compensate for it. In hindsight, I think this is where my core started to get sloppy as my hips wagged and tried to make my calves actually work. Within the next mile or so on the rollers, my quads also started to cramp. W.T.F.??? I KNEW I was hydrated at the end of the bike. I had taken plenty of salt. I continued the salt and fluids for this first 10 miles of the run and was taking in nutrition normally. After the race, I have had dozens of people ask me what went wrong or how it happened, and I simply don’t know. I was well trained. I swam within myself. I DEFINITELY did not overcook the bike. I was hydrated. I was fueled, and I had taken what I thought was an appropriate amount of salt/electrolytes and Amino Acids. But here I was at mile 10 of an Ironman marathon with nearly every step in agony from cramps.
Since I couldn’t shake the leg twinges/cramps, I vowed to just keep moving forward. I was still in a decent place and I figured that if I was suffering then so was everyone else… Because the run was a bunch of “out and backs”, I knew that one of the other XC competitors, Jamie, was right on my tail. A friend of mine (I call her Terminator because of her machine-like racing style) who was on the course spectating rode up to me on her bike and lied to me and said I looked great… I asked her to confirm what age group Jamie was in because I knew he was gaining on me and I knew I was not moving very quickly… The XC Kona slot is awarded to the person racing in the XC that has the highest finishing percentage in his/her respective IM age group. I knew that my age group (M40-44) was likely much larger than his (M35-39), so if I could just hang with him and keep it close, I still had a shot at the slot…
Within a few more sufferfest miles, survival became the only goal. The long/steep climb up the big hill the second time around was much, much harder and I was doing as much walking as Ironman shuffling. My legs now hurt, bad. I usually pride myself on turning off negative thoughts and disconnecting my mind from the pain, but this was just something different. I wasn’t trying to run “faster” or simply “not slow down” as the marathon progressed. This is the EN way of having a successful IM marathon. I was simply trying to get my legs to work at all through the cramping and pains. This is the first time in any race that I was honestly considering why I was still doing this and if I would even finish.
I came up to Hot Corner to finish my 2nd lap and I saw Jess and the boys. They had spent the entire day outside and this was only the second brief time when they actually saw me. My boys were excited and awesomely trying to cheer me up/on, but I was in a bad place. I remember JT (my 10yr old) saying “Hey dad, this is great training for when the Zombies come…”. And when he got nothing but a blank stare at the ground as my head was slumped and my hands were on my knees he tried again. “C’mon dad! You’ve finished 8 of these things, you can do the 9th”!” All I remember was telling Jess how bad it hurt and how bad this sucked. I don’t normally stop for anything in races, but I didn’t care about the 30 extra seconds at this point. That’s when Jess told me to “shut up and start moving again”. Then she literally gave me a push, smacked my butt (pretty hard) and I was off again to continue my death march.
The third time down the hill was the hardest. I had to walk parts of the downhill for fear of falling over from an ill-timed quad cramp. I can’t remember if it was on the downhill or the following rollers, but I saw Terminator again on her bike. She was saying all of the right things. She tried lying to me again about how I still looked okay and that she has seen me in worse shape before. She made a joke about how ripped I was and how fit my calves looked… My only response was, “Please go away”. This is a good friend of mine and she was only trying to help. She has reminded me that I am the most positive person she has ever known. Frankly, I am ashamed that I let myself be that negative no matter how bad my legs hurt, but I just needed to be alone in my misery. I let that anger and bitterness and negativity stay with me for more than a week after the race and for that I am not proud. My wife noticed it, my kids noticed it and a lot of my friends noticed it. This was rough. I only write it here now to try and be as honest with myself as I can and try to be better for this experience in the future.
At least I kept moving forward. I kept up with the ice and fluids and salt and nutrition. But the walking breaks became much more frequent. There were a lot of people walking at this point. I started making little mini goals to try and do the best I could with the hand I was dealt. If somebody was walking near me, I wouldn’t let them walk faster than me… If I saw someone who looked like they were moving slower than I was up ahead, I tried to run the 15 or 30 steps to catch them before I walked again. But I never kept trying to run… I started walking anywhere there was shade. I walked when I could see an aid station… Then I would run again and walk once I got to the aid station. I had numerous people ask me if I was okay or if I needed help. Some were aid station workers, others were people racing. One lady on the side of the road said “C’mon, you have to try and use your core”. I can only imagine what my gait looked like trying to run. My guess is that it was something like an overly muscular, three legged newborn baby giraffe trying to run across a half-frozen pond…
I don’t remember much about the last couple of miles. I know I tried to run part of the top of the big hill and on most of the rollers. I ran past the Hot Corner and cursed the fact that it was at least another half a mile to the actual finish line…
When I got to the finish, I saw Jess and the boys there waiting for me. It was actually really cool to have JT and Luke both reach up to put the medal around my neck. I was crushed that I had not met any of my goals. I knew I had “lost” my race. I thought that if I brought my “A-game” that I had a decent shot at qualifying for Kona. It turns out that I was still only ~20 minutes away from that feat. My “C-game” would have been good enough today, but my “D-game” is what I delivered…
When I look back, I know with 100% certainty that I am not a quitter. I didn’t need to hear them tell me I am an Ironman. I knew that no amount of pain or self-pity would cause me to quit anything… And I’m glad that my boys got to witness that. For what it’s worth, I could see the pride in their smiles when they congratulated me on what they thought was a super cool and awesome achievement.
Ironman Vineman Finishing time: 11:33:26, 43rd in M40-44, 263 Overall out of ~1,850 starters
Post Race:
After Jess and Troy from the XC practically carried me to get my Finisher’s picture and got me out of the chute, I made my way to the VIP tent near the finish line to sit down and try to eat something. After the race, Troy gave me the nickname “White Zombie” as he said it’s the best way to describe how I look during the run, and sadly, I think he’s probably correct… Jess was the best Sherpa ever and got me food and beverages and sat there in support. I had my legs up on another chair when she looked down at my calves. They had moving bumps and striations as if there were aliens trying to escape from them. The severe cramping came back! There was what looked like a valley running down the center of the back of my calf as the ligaments and muscles went into convulsive spasms. I was actually screaming in pain and Jess later said that she feared that my muscle might actually rip off of the bone. I simply said “imagine running 16 miles like that…” Within ~10-15 minutes, the cramping stopped, and I was able to get down a couple of slices of pizza and some cookies. We walked to the car and made our way back to the hotel. Once there, I went straight into the outdoor hot tub where I sat for a full hour before dipping into the cold swimming pool, then back into the hot tub.
The next afternoon, our whole family went to walk around the local Redwood forest, which was very cool and was also the beginning of my active recovery which continued through a several day trip to see all of San Francisco’s tourist attractions.
Reflections:
In the days following Ironman Vineman, I felt like I had completely failed. I set a big goal and spent many, many months training to achieve it. I felt as though I had “wasted” a whole year of training and family stress all for nothing. I don’t race Ironman because I enjoy swimming, biking and running long distances. I really just enjoy competing against myself and against others. I enjoy setting big audacious goals and then taking an engineering approach trying to figure out how to achieve them. I’m certainly not “built” for Ironman, but I am wired to compete. I felt like my “racing self” didn’t honor all of the work and preparation that my “training self” had put into this. But, I still wouldn’t have done anything differently to setup the conditions to have a good run (nutrition, swim effort, bike effort, etc.) had I to do it all over again. And I felt like something just “happened” that didn’t let me compete to the level anywhere close to my abilities (but I’m sure there’s something I should have or could have done better/differently). As I sit here typing this I’m watching Olympic athletes chase the dreams that they have spent years and years training and preparing for, literally the best in the world in every sport. The other day I saw a news story and YouTube video of French Olympic male gymnast, Samir Ait, who did a normal vault…. and as he landed his tibia and fibula snapped in a stomach-turning compound fracture. This poor guy had trained for years to become one of the best in the world. He didn’t get to showcase his skill or preparation or abilities. I’m sure he would have rather given his best effort, win or lose, and know that he left his best out there. His leg had other plans, and he now has to live with the questions in his head regarding whether or not his “best” would have been good enough to put him up on that podium against the rest of the world’s best.
To be clear, I know my goals and my abilities are nowhere close to Samir’s in his chosen sport, but I think I understand what he’s feeling right now (other than the whole I-can-actually-still-walk-without-crutches thing).
Something else that I have reflected on is “perspective…” I watched the official Ironman video for the Vineman race. It was well made and there were a ton of excited people featured throughout all phases of the day. There were a few people on the video finishing in the dark, several hours after I had finished, who sprinted down the chute and/or jumped with joy, arms held high, smiles from ear to ear being so excited to finish their Ironman. And I was sulking with my 11:33 time, top 14.6% in the entire race. And any Ironman race is already basically made up of the fittest 1% of people in the world. I’ve had dozens of people look at my finishing time and be utterly amazed at my awesome performance. But those who know me well asked me, “what the heck happened on your run?” I guess both groups had appropriate observations and gut reactions to my race, but it all just depends on their particular perspective.
Conclusions:
I failed to reach my goals, but I did not fail. I did not win the XC race and I did not qualify for Kona… I gutted out a very tough finish. I did not quit. I will never quit and am still not happy with the final result, but I’m sure I will look back on this performance and be proud of what I actually did. I’m disappointed in myself for letting negativity creep into my head. And just as disappointed in myself for letting that negativity keep its tainted claws into me for as long as it did. It’s very hard to crack the Ironman nut and even having experience (8 finishes before this race with lots of mistakes and lessons learned) and preparation doesn’t guarantee that you will have the race you wanted. I still don’t know what went wrong, and frankly, I’m done trying to analyze it… I don’t know what’s next for me. I’m sure I’ll find some new challenge, but it’s still too early to think about it…
Comments
The most telling line of your post was "But, I still wouldn’t have done anything differently to setup the conditions to have a good run (nutrition, swim effort, bike effort, etc.) had I to do it all over again". That says it all, and is one of the hardest things we potentially deal with after pouring months of time, effort, sweat, and sacrifices into an event that lasts half a day. We spend thousands of dollars to control the things we can control, aerodynamics, nutrition, training, etc. It sucks, but sometimes things just 'happen' as you say. That can manifest itself in many ways including a mechanical, a freak accident, or an unexpected ailment.
Those of us that know you would never suggest that you are a quitter or settle for anything less than your absolute best. I remember trading messages with you after the race and I could tell by the tone how much pain you endured for that run.
Life's a bitch...sometimes "A" efforts yield "D" results. After eight examples of this not being the case I know this stung more than it would otherwise since you have this IM thing figured out as much as anyone.
Look forward to seeing what's next on your agenda....
Rather than blow up JW's comment section, here's a whole thread for my very long perspective on JW's race...
http://members.endurancenation.us/F...fault.aspxJW,
I've never met you but I feel proud that I sort of know you and I have to say that this is one of the most inspiring race reports I have ever read. Congratulations on toughing it out. No one has ever doubted you, but you doubted yourself then pulled through it and wow, just wow. You are definitely not a quitter. We have all been there with the negative thoughts and all (for me as recently as my last long ride this past weekend). I think that when those negative thoughts come for me again (and they will) I just need to think about how positive and brave you stayed in the midst of the suffering.
As Winston Churchill said, when you are going through hell, keep going! . Good job.
You always lead the way for the entire team. This race & this post show us all that the path to success isn't anything close to a straight line and that every dog has it's day (good & bad). While you may not have thought it at the time, or now, pressing onward and finishing what you started despite having "failed" to reach your goals, exhibited the highest of your character traits.
Thanks for turning yourself inside out and showing us that deep inside we all can fall victim to our thoughts & can come recognize that and learn from it going forward.
JW I know you had a different race/outcome in mind going into this. I am sorry you had to suffer through that second half of the run with the way things transpired. Truly a long time to have to dig so deep to get it done.
BUT, in my view there is truly a silver lining under this scenario that I would like to highlight.
I often go to my races with my children. I have 3 boys ages 13,13,16 and one girl age 17. These are very impressionable ages when memories, principles, and lessons are ingrained for life. My most difficult races have left the most impressionable lessons on my kids, a thousand times more powerful than any of the words I have ever said to them.
I can only imagine what your boys took away from watching their dad GET IT DONE under extremely difficult conditions as he made sure he did not quit and crossed that finish line! No value can be placed on that.
Well done Ironman!
SS
Ironman racing is quite the puzzle. Sometimes we solve it, most often we don't. Keep working the puzzle friend!
Im sure your sons are really impressed by what their father went through.
Thanks JW
Sure, we do this IM thing for many reasons: fitness, Kona, even that desire to push ourselves more then we could imagine. I agree with SS though. Another reason I do this is to set an example for my kids. They look forward to going to races. They have learned that things don't always go as planned. They have celebrated my successes and help to comfort me during my struggles. In turn, I Have been there for them during their triumphes and their losses.
Live and learn. Enjoy the training and the racing. But do realize their are important lessons for all of us that come from all types of races.
Congrats on the finish and I am looking forward to the next adventure.
Sorry if this makes no sense, I am sitting in an airport bar due to a canceled flight that is leading to a missed workout that ultimately has led to a delicious beer, or two.
TG
When do we get to go back to mexico?
I get it, entirely. It's a game, BUT A VERY SERIOUS ONE. Not surprising, but your attitude towards the whole IM thing is real close to mine - I may say a lot of stuff to others about why I do IMs, but when no one else is listening, I have to admit it's all about competition and performing well, inevitably in comparison to others. Ironman is too hard to be satisfied with anything less than what counts as "winning" in your vocabulary. Just participating - why bother? So I feel the frustration in putting in all that time on the road, covering all the little chess moves leading up to and during the day, and thinking you've got the jigsaw put together - and finding that somebody hid the last few pieces and won;t tell you where they are.
My immediate thoughts are: did you really get in the ideal run preparation, given your training hiatus? And is there some Hot Shot or Pickle Juice in your future plans?
John, thanks for the brutally honest report. I actually read Jess's account before I read yours. I was watching the results that day and wondered what happened to your run. Most people would have quit, but you showed your true inner strength by getting it done, even if it wasn't the way you planned. The last time I did Vineman was in 2014 and it was 90 degrees when I started the run. You said it was 86 on the bike, what was it when you started the run. People were literally collapsing on the side of the road and many were walking. There was a 33% DNF that day. The course, especially the run course, is deceptive because of the heat.
I've always watched your exploits with awe. I will continue to stay tuned to see what comes next.
I can certainly share your feeling of disappointment. We put a lot of time and effort into these races and looking at your race prep, you indeed deserved an "A" day. I think I would find it difficult to "recover" as well. In order to help put some perspective, some relevant...or maybe not so relevant thoughts from my side for what it's worth...
I am personally impressed with the level of accomplishment you have achieved when it comes to the sport. I remember personally being proud of my bike split last year in WI until I looked at the time of "that guy with the fat bike" which happened to very close to each other! I have enjoyed the discussions/chats we have had and know you have a lot of offer when it comes to setting the standard of racing and in general giving. I know this does not make up for not getting a ticket to the show however keep in mind most normal people would only dream of what you have done.
With the time off training, perhaps that did impact you downstream? You mentioned that you wouldn't have trained any different. This shows you were well prepared however I can imagine from a health perspective and secondly training, it would have been nice not to go through the issues you did at the beginning of the year.
I have yet to read Jess's post however even before that, I can imagine the family is extremely proud of the accomplishment. Your boys see someone who puts time into something and makes sure he finishes. To them, the number and the place more than likely mean little compared to seeing dad cross that line. The reality is that some days you are going to have good ones...and others, not so good. You would ideally like to have the good ones on race day but I have yet to find the program that guarantees that. If i find it however, I am more than willing to share it with you. ;-)
Take time to reflect and think about the year....re-group and go at it again. I look forward to where you will go next and what will be next on the hit list.
@Al-- The answer is no. I did not have the "ideal" run training. My hiatus blew a big hole in my strength/speed stuff I normally would have done in the winter, so the rest of the year was digging out of that hole. I was also lacking on the true "long runs" and had a way less "brick" runs this year. But I did have a ton of volume work, most at or slightly better than my goal race pace. A couple of my "long run" weeks were the biggest of my life. I have a 12.5 mile commute to work and one week I did both ways 2x each as split long runs... so 60+ mile running weeks and felt pretty good. I knew my speed wasn't the same as in the past, but still thought I had built a LOT of run fitness. Might have thought the lack of pure long runs hurt me if my legs stopped working at mile ~20 or ~24, but to come so early in the run, I'd be surprised if it was only that. And yes, I wished I would have had some pickle juice or a Hot Shot in RSN. I would have tried ANYTHING!
@MM-- You're a much better runner than me... But yes, it was a brutal course. And they changed it this yr to be 3 laps, which meant doing the big hill 3x instead of 2. I don't know the max temp on the day. According to my Garmin it was 86 coming off the bike. I would guess that it never made it to 90 degrees on the day. Most likely it stayed at 86 or maybe got to 88.
@Dawn-- First off, good luck at IMMT! You are going to crush it! Yes, I believe the time off this spring negatively affected my downstream season. I don't want that to sound like an excuse, just a reality. I tried to make lemons into lemonade and convinced myself that the slow boring miles were giving my body a chance to rest/recover and at the same time either maintain or build some deeper aerobic fitness. When I said I wouldn't have trained any differently I meant given the constraints of my sub-par start from the scare and given my other family/work constraints around my schedule throughout the summer. But yes, I absolutely wish I would have/could have just dominated a big OS build and carried that big engine into the normal training season. I was actually having some of my best/fastest/strongest bike and run workouts in December before my many months off and restart afterwards.
@Team-- Thank you so much for your support. I am in a MUCH better place now. Frankly, I'm "over it". That disappointment is behind me and I'm my normal fun/happy/(good looking)/sarcastic self again! In an honest assessment (after the passing of some time, comments from others, and more clarity from the lifted fog) of what might have gone wrong, I think part of it was just "a bad day". Part of it was the handful of dolphin dives and partially using my legs on the bottom of the river more than I should have that got my HR too high and stressed my legs in the swim. Part of it was likely the heat. I may have been a bit under-hydrated, and it probably happened quickly during the first hour+ on the run. I'm sure the hills had a lot to do with it (I still hate "running" on hills during races). In hindsight, I wished I would have let it loose and actually run "faster" down the big hill. I think maybe running "slower" caused more shock forces into my legs burning them out quicker than just letting gravity pull me along and not "brake" with every step. Given the heat, I likely was trying to run too fast at the beginning of the run (on the flats/rollers/uphills), even though I was going way slower than expectations, it probably wasn't slow enough of a start. I wish I would have had some pickle juice or HotShot to try. I wish I would have tried running backwards for a while. The single thing I identified that I did WRONG in training was to let my core work slip. I literally did zero core training in the last yr. Two yrs ago, I did core work before or after every single run and sat on a stability ball all day at work. I got lazy with this given my time constraints (and mental laxity) and I believe it hurt me.
If I ever get back to doing long course again, the only way I can make a step function better (for instance if I expect to actually get back to Kona or to actually do a 9-handle IM race the year I turn 45) it's going to happen on the run. The run has always been my limiter and I simply need to either reset how realistic the biggest goals I can imagine for myself in this sport actually are... OR, I need to commit to becoming an actual "runner" instead of just trying to be a beast on the bike and aspiring to mediocrity on the run.
I still haven't decided what's next for me yet. I will NOT be doing an Ironman for a long while. At a minimum I'll go on record and say that 2017 will be a "year off" from Ironman, and likely will even have a much longer IM hiatus than that. I also haven't picked out a new "epic quest". I'd certainly take suggestions... It might be fun to "participate" in an Ironman by completing one on a Penny Farthing... but in the meantime I think I'll do a bunch of shorter runs (maybe some track work) and a lot of explosive core work. I might actually hire a local running coach (any suggestions?). I think I may start adding back in some strength training (a little bit of resistance training is most likely good for this old man after 6+ years off, I know that will make Jess happy). I'll probably do some rock climbing or ninja training as well. I'll be skateboarding and rollerblading with my kids and will keep coaching wrestling, etc.
I'll probably focus on 5k and 10k races with the occasional half-mary. I'll likely keep doing one longer slower run per week to try to keep some of my hard earned ST muscle fibers. Not really feeling a marathon anytime soon. Thoughts on actually training to "race" a marathon next yr or better to just focus on shorter stuff? Honestly, I also reserve the right to throw everything I said above out the window and do something totally different (except for the 2017 IM, that's not happening at all and I can say that without an ounce of negativity of my recent race left over).
Truth be told, it sounds like an epic sufferefest and sometimes we learn the most from our darkest struggles rather than our brightest triumphs.
Every time we toe the line we are rolling the "Ironman Dice". Generally, you make the point, but sometimes the dice come up snake eyes. That's why it's an interesting game and to your point, you play the cards you are dealt. Kudos to you for a real honest race report. You are still my hero! You will beat those other white collar racers next time!
~ Coach P
Great report and good job executing the swim & bike. Even better job gutting out that marathon. I could see you were in a world of hurt and it would have been so easy to stop and no-one would have faulted you for that. You have nothing left to prove, but you went ahead and chose to suffer and finished the race. IMO, that's the definition of an Ironman! Your boys will always remember your example. Congratulations.
"I am the captain of my fate. I am the master of my soul. ...My head is bloody, but unbowed." - Invictus