Mike R's Choo '18 Report
IM Chattanooga ’18
Here’s a quick story about my day in Chatt. Spoiler alert: if you’re looking for a fairy tale with a happy ending, look elsewhere. But it’s still a story.
Background: I purposefully omitted from my Race Plan the fact that I came really close to not racing Choo. Dealing with a hamstring issue since April, I really needed to take 30-45 days off to let it fully heal. But that would have been smart. And not fun. The injury didn’t prevent me from biking or running. But I couldn’t do anything near Z4 on the bike without inflaming it. So, zero FTP or Z5 work. Same on the run – no long strides, nothing sub-8 pace. In short, I could spin and I could jog. I raced Choo 70.3 and Raleigh 70.3 while injured, and the swim was fine in both, the bike was really slow/weak in both, and the run was a bit below average in both. Still, both were top-10 AG finishes. But IM is a different animal. I was thinking about transferring to Coz, but I ultimately let the August 16 trx deadline pass. I did an easy four-hour trainer ride, followed by a 17- or 18-mile run the next day. Both went OK, so I agreed to give Choo a shot. But I only wanted to start if I could race. No “just finish” for me. Thus, the plan was to ride at watts I felt would keep me somewhat close to the mix, then race the run. If my lack of fitness (peak CTL of 85) revealed itself, it would be later in the run, and that subpar fitness would manifest itself in the form of walking. No big deal. I could totally deal with walking. I omitted all of this from my Plan because racing with built-in and at-the-ready excuses is an open invitation to use them on race day.
Pre-Race: Nothing out of the ordinary. I felt fine. Drove into town on Thursday. Ate and hydrated smartly on Friday and Saturday. Saturday was nearly all light carbs, no fiber. Last bit of food was consumed by 6:00pm, hydration and salt-load right on track.
Race Day: The big news, of course, was that the swim had been cancelled. One look at the raging river, and it was an easy and obvious decision. With an 8:30am time-trial bike start, I got to sleep in until 5am. I got up, drank my two Naked smoothies with an English muffin, grabbed by one bag and made my way to transition by 7:30. Pump up tires and load food and bottles. I was ready by 7:35. Met up with @Josh Church, and he asked whether I noticed the Dew Point in the forecast. Smart kid. Yep, quickly moving to 72 by mid-morning and staying there all afternoon. If the predicted clouds and rain didn’t materialize, the run could be a blood bath. But we’ve raced in conditions like that before and knew what to do. Sipped my bottle of Skratch Hyper-hydration over the next half hour, had two gels with 30 minutes to go, hit the porto, then grabbed my bike and got in one of the two side-by-side start lines.
Bike:
Very calm and orderly. We went by bib number, and my AWA number meant I was one of the first 40-50 to take off. Every five seconds, two riders left. It was actually fun to start the bike dry and with a low HR. Made our way through the urban admin sections, over some train tracks and out onto the country roads. As we hit the rolling hills, I got caught up in some jockeying at the front of the women’s field. Predictably, they blasted up the hills at high watts, sat up and coasted the downs, repeat (that’s not sexist, ladies. The men do the same thing, just worse). After a few more miles, however, most people settled into their own space. First loop was pretty unremarkable. The course rolls non-stop. I would love this course if I had a bit more fitness to utilize. Momentum could carry you over some of the hills, but for many of them it would have been nice to increase watts into the 200-230 range and power over the tops. But I was committed to staying steady 170-75 across the entire ride, so I wouldn’t hesitate to jump into the small ring in order to crest the final 50 yards or so at my wattage. That definitely cost me time. I finished the first lap at 174NP and 21.8mph – both right around where I wanted to be. Avg HR had been 130, right in line with previous IM bikes. I drank 1.5 bottles of GE per hour, ate on schedule, and peed 2-3 times. The weather was great – mid-70s, light winds, completely overcast.
The second loop was great until Mile 70 or so when I started to see my watts fade a bit. I knew this was a possibility given my fitness, so I just kept trying to ride steady and smoothly. At around Mile 80, the clouds simply vanished. And the temperature went straight from mild to hot. I continued to pound GE and pee a little on virtually every downhill of any significance. As we entered Chickamauga around Mile 100, vehicle traffic became an issue. There were cops everywhere, but they allowed cars to drive all over the bike course. I got stuck behind 4-5 cars or trucks that were driving 5-10mph because there were being held up by first-loop riders also moving at 5-10mph. By vehicle #3, patience had been replaced by frustration, so I foolishly rode onto rain-softened grass (no shoulders) and passed cars on the right. But I stayed upright. That debacle also cost me time, but I figured it was costing everyone. With about 5 miles to go, Josh caught up to me. He had started a minute or so behind me, but I had expected him to pass far earlier. We hit the dismount line about three seconds apart.
I didn’t really have any physical low points on the second loop. No cramping, no pains. My watts and speed dropped a bit on the second lap, but nothing too far out of the ordinary. My HR for the last hour was 137, which is a bit higher than my usual 135.
Time: 5:26
171NP
21.2 mph
1.04 VI
130 avg HR
The average HR is exactly where I expected it to be, and the time and speed were right where BBS said 171NP would take me. With the extra four miles, I figure my 5:26 would be closer to 5:14 on a standard 112-mile course. Not too bad considering the challenging course and my challenged fitness.
T: 2:23 – tied for 1st in AG
The first signs of any adversity appeared when I tried to take my first step off the bike. Legs of cement. I could barely stand, let alone move forward. I can usually jog pretty easily off the bike. As Josh galloped ahead, I took baby shuffle steps and staggered to my bag, which a vol was fortunately holding for me. Unbuckle helmet and remove run shoes as I hobble into the tent, empty bag, hand bag and helmet to vol with a request, put on socks and shoes, grab go-bag, and hobble out.
Run:
My legs continued to be very heavy as I ran toward the first hill. About half-way up this cruel opener, I saw Josh about 20 yards ahead, and an excited @Dawn Cass cheering from the sidelines. I caught Josh on the downhill, my legs opened up, and we began chatting and running together. Game on! Out onto the “flat” section (it rolls non-stop), I noticed my HR was already at 147, when my max until late in the run is 145 and my early “should” HR is around 140. Whoa! So, I slowed and brought it down. But it wasn’t going below 145, and we were barely jogging. On a flat section. During the opening miles. “Is your HR high for jogging at 9-min pace?” “Yes.” Of course, Cool Josh just accepted it for what it was, while I tried to analyze and over-analyze what the Hell was going on. We iced like mad at each aid station, filling the Race Saver and dumping additional cups of ice down the front and back of the jersey and in the hat. I tried to drink 2 cups of GE at each station. I ate a gel at Mile 5 and 10. The only complaining we did was about the scalp burn caused by the ice. But we did notice that the ice was completely melted ¼ mile after each station. Which kinda sucked, because it was just plain hot, and the promise of clouds and rain never materialized.
I covered the first six (flat) miles at 9:03 average pace and 145 avg HR. Seriously, at 145 HR, I should have covered the first six miles at sub-8 pace. Was it the heat, my fitness, a combo? All I wanted to do was run faster. My legs felt fine, but the damn HR . . . And we still had to deal with the hills. The hills on the far side of the river are pretty brutal, borderline comical. They’re steep up and down and seem to go on forever. But Josh and I got up them at our 14-min pace, down, up, and finally back across the bridge to finish the first lap. From Mile 6 to 13.1, I averaged 9:25-min miles and 145 avg HR. Seriously, dead-on 145 HR is perfect execution in my book, and the result was a 2-hr f’n half marathon. WTF? But I also came to grips with the fact that the “racing” portion of today’s event was over, I was going to go 4+ on the mary, and we’ll just get it done. The one potential positive take-away was that Josh and I got passed by a handful of people the first lap, and almost all of them were male pros lapping us. We literally did 95% of the passing. Speaking of, a male pro was approaching us around his Mile 20, said “great job, fellas,” then immediately projectile hurled. “I soooo did not need that.” My response: “Been there . . . may be there in a little while.” I don’t do a lot of regretting as a general practice, but I desperately regret having said those words.
Onto the second loop and another 7-8 miles of relative flat. At about Mile 14.5, I notice that my HR had moved to 150 (I ran Mile 15 at 148 HR and 9:42 pace – 9:42 on a flat at nearly HIM effort!). At the Mile 15 aid station, I walked while icing and only started drinking when my HR came down. But my stomach wasn’t having it. Out of nowhere, diaphragm just started convulsing. Hmmm . . . not bueno. I waved Josh on. I walked the rest of the station, which was fine. I remember trying to wipe the sweat off my forehead and finding nothing but dry, crusted salt. Both cheeks were also bone dry, completely crusted. I found it odd considering the sweltering heat, but didn’t think anything more about it. I vaguely remember turning onto the trail during Mile 17, but I actually don’t recall much of anything else until the aid station at Mile 19. For reasons that would soon become obvious, I suspect I drank Red Bull at that aid station. About 20 yards past it, I quickly got very dizzy, vision narrowed, cold goose bumps all over my arms, and a fountain of gold exploding from my mouth into the bushes. Man, I hate puking. One of the more over-rated of human experiences. But talk about a wake-up call. I instantly felt better and got some clarity on what was going on. Shit, I need to stop worrying about a finishing time and try to stay conscious and upright. I’m going on vacation next week. Walking became the third act of this matinée. For Mile 20, I FINALLY got my HR under control, walk/shuffling an 11:40 at 138HR. As I started to cross the bridge, there were crowds, so I jogged the best I could because appearance trumps all. I must have looked like Hell, though, because Dawn’s earlier excitement was replaced with a look of concern, a pat on the back and a “it’s gonna be alright, just a few more miles.” I actually jogged most of Mile 21 at 10:15 pace and 142HR. I walked up the ridiculous hills on the other side of the river, walked the aid stations, was getting in some hydration and nutrition, and was actually starting to feel human again. But during Mile 23, I hurled everything again. And with that proverbial swing of the pick axe, I had found it. Rock bottom. I sulk-walked Mile 24 (13:26, 112HR), struggling not to puke even more. Then I heard my name. It’s Jeff Horn. Cheering like mad. He’s a doctor, so I tell him I’d been puking for an hour, keeping absolutely nothing down. “Sounds like you need a beer.” I’m sure he wasn't actually diagnosing me with acute hops deficiency, and I'm 100% confident that he did not intend his words to constitute a medical clearance to continue the race. But I treated his words as exactly that. I walked up the backside of Barton with something of a second wind, shuffled down the other side, got a lift when I saw the Mile 25 marker, and jogged the last mile at 9:15 pace. I needed to recapture some semblance of dignity, and jogging was my answer. Appearance > All Else. I did my best to look presentable at the finish, no racers in front or behind, crossed in 4:23. Even with all the walking, my 140 avg HR across the entire marathon was higher than my average HR last year at Placid and Kona.
As I crossed the line, three or four people came running at me. And then a wheelchair. I don’t need a wheelchair, I’m fine. 10 steps later, another person comes running with a wheelchair. What’s with all the wheelchair nonsense? I’m fine! But then someone with some obvious authority informed me I wasn’t fine and was going to medical. I should have asked her what signs of distress I was displaying, but never did. She was pretty adamant, and I was in no condition to try and make a sprint for the exit. When I told the lady with obvious authority what had transpired, she read me a chapter of the Riot Act about not pulling myself from the race 90 minutes earlier, severe dehydration, heat stroke, blah, blah, blah. I got to spend a long time in a tent with several very nice, concerned people, finally released to hobble back to the hotel after the sun had long set.
Takeaways: Was it what I had planned? Hell no. I only wanted to start if I could race, and race is certainly what I tried to do. But decent bike fitness + decent run fitness ≠ decent IM fitness. I suspect I also broke a couple of cardinal EN rules by overcooking the bike, then running myself into a brick wall. I might have been able to BS a flat course in ideal conditions, but on this course, on this day . . . Choo got to play the role of the windshield. Part of me, however, is glad that I wasn’t able to eke out a great result. It means that all the EN training we do works, and is necessary, if I really want to have a say in how race day unfolds and not vice versa. I can use that knowledge next year during some of the harder workouts.
In the grand scheme of IM racing, there’s the training, the execution and the mental. My training sucked, my execution was suspect, but I can’t find fault in the effort. I pushed until I broke. But I broke physically, not mentally. So I’ve got that.
I honestly didn’t look at the results until today. Because I knew it would just piss me off. But I needed the motivation as I plan next year’s Revenge Tour. My pathetic, puke-filled walk/slog of a 4:23? The 20th fastest out of 216 in my AG. Seriously, 196 went slower than that? A guy who ran 4+ hours in my AG is going to Kona. Maybe the heat was legit. The fact that I finished 17th OA in my AG (top 8%) is pretty remarkable, all things considered. I’m still not content with it. And the Tour will still go on as scheduled.
MR
Comments
Mike, There are good days, there are bad days, and there are puke-filled days. Did you learn something from the race? I believe so after reading the report. So use that to be stronger and take the time to HEAL after getting hurt. Just saying.
@Mike Roberts Whether it was the heat, the training or the mysterious "just not my day" syndrome (or all three) you are a veteran at this and will figure it out to come back stronger and kill it. It's "easy" to have a good result when all systems are go! It's brutally hard to get to the finish when things are bad. That's what you did by NEVER giving up! My hat is off to you!
Man you write a good RR @Mike Roberts ! ... albeit last year's Kona report had better memories for & from you. Nevertheless, as an IM veteran you know the Finish Line is never guaranteed, but you made it! ... and from the read, probably on sheer force of will alone. That's not nothin'.
Enjoy Vacation and Recovery ... then start plng your IM Revenge! 👍️
Wow great report @Mike Roberts on a tough day. I was just excited to see you at our makeshift cheering section on the riverview dr. You certainly didn't look bad when you came through. When I feel like that I usually "look" like I need an ambulance. I think it registered that you had been puking, but I didn't hear the "for an hour" part.
You're one tough dude @Mike Roberts ! Sucks that you had to suffer through that, but also pretty awesome that you were able to suffer through all that and still finish so high relative to the mere mortals you were competing against. Most of us have to have everything go right to finish 17th in our AG!
But also nice to know that you are part human and that even with you it is true that #WorkWorks... It will be that much sweeter to watch the redemption project unfold next season, or whenever it is you get healthy enough to go at the training full bore again.
You broke, puked, got a ride in a wheel chair, and lived to tell about it! Life is good! Enjoy your vacation 😀
@Mike Roberts Not the race or result you wanted but definitely some mental toughness training.
As to your comment about heat and the effects on run time. Given the lower than normal training/lower fitness the 9:03 pace on the run with a high dewpoint/temp seems in the ballpark. Heat effects can be in the 1 minute plus and the less than optimal training make is ever more magnified.
Get healed up I'm looking forward to the revenge race(s) that follow.
Great wrote up, as expected, but really one of the best lessons of how to analyze, plan & pay attention to one's race, thx for sharing and making it a fun read.
@Mike Roberts as always a great read and an honest self assessment. Gutting through the run as you did is a true testament to who you are. Rest well and like me we have a bit more motivation for next year!
@Mike Roberts, a super tough day and still a great result. You give so much back with your disection of your performance. The training points are highlighted to help. Thanks and enjoy Kona as a fan!
@Mike Roberts You summed up the lessons better than anyone else could, after giving an entertaining blow-by-blow...thanks for that. And for confirming the old cliche, "You never truly know your limits until your go past them." Recover (it may take 8-10 weeks to get fully back to proper training shape), both metabolically and hamstring, get back on the horse, and then keep having fun the IM way.
Also a good lesson for Kona competitors...while you may be fit enough to run at a higher than trained-for HR, your gut won't be. A key reason for having an HR-rein is to allow sufficient fluid absorption. The higher HR means blood is being shunted to the skin for cooling, as well as the muscles for continued hard work. Not enough left for the gut to pick up whatever you are putting into the tank.
Um, wow. I knew you were not having the day you'd planned while tracking you. Mad props to the barf king for making it to the finish. You are something else Mike Roberts.
Thank you as always for your colorful way of sharing your knowledge and race adventures. Always look forward to reading what ever you write!!
Sending much healing mojo to you as you recover.
Signed, your favorite Michigan Fan Girl
When I saw you talking in the medical area at the finish line I never would have expected this report. All this puking and loss of memory is brutal. I don't think I could have pushed through all that and show up at the finish like you did. But if it ever does I'll remember your story. You helped me push a little more than I thought I could, maybe I helped you push a little too much lol
Your just getting tougher every year. I'll be looking for the Revenge Tour dates (CHOO key race 2019)