2014's Schedule Is Set

There's still over three months left in 2013, but next year's "big" race schedule is already cemented in.

My plans were to race my second, and final, Ironman for my 60th birthday. This would be in 2014.  I had originally planned on returning to Louisville to complete this goal. This had been my plan for over a year.

With this in mind, I began researching which 70.3 distance I would race.  Because of the timing, and with the input from my coach, I chose Ironman 70.3 Raleigh.  June 1, 2014. This race sold out quickly last year, so I registered without hesitation.

Ironman 70.3 Raleigh June 1, 2014

Once registered for Raleigh, all I had to do was wait for registration to Ironman Louisville to open and my 2014 schedule would be set.

And then WTC announced a new Ironman event to their schedule.  Ironman Chattanooga would be held on September 28, 2014.

It didn't take much thought or any deliberation to make the switch. Chattanooga, it would be.  But now the registration.  Not having any experience with registering for new events, I did not know how soon or if it even would sell out.  The buzz around Middle Tennessee about this event was tremendous.  It just seemed like most everyone was planning on racing it.  Outside Middle TN, I did not hear much.  I asked often on Twitter but the response was minimal.  Not sure what to think of that.

Bottom line is I got my spot.  But the registration process did not come without controversy.  But perhaps that's a topic for another post.

Another, and the most important development came about when my daughter Juliana, announced that she too, will be racing Ironman Chattanooga 2014.  

Not Your Average Long Training Run

As I set out on Saturday to do my weekly long run, I planned on 16 miles.  I planned on running a hilly, very hilly route for I am training for the ING NYC Marathon on November 3, 2013, with an estimated 885 ft of elevation and The Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon on November 24, 2013, with an estimated elevation gain of 3600 ft.

ING NYC Marathon, November 3, 2013

Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon, November 24, 2013

The route I have chosen for this run has a total elevation gain of 1054 ft.  Not a tremendous amount of elevation for the total run, but half of the elevation comes in a two mile stretch of the course, about half way through the run.

I set out with three goals.  1) NOT to walk up any hill. Accomplished. 2) To stick to a 5 minute run, 1 minute walk for the entire run.  When the five minutes were up, and I was going up hill, I finished the hill and adjusted accordingly.  Goal No. 1 was a priority today, and 3) To average a pace of under 12:30.  Actual pace was 12:20/mile. I've never claimed to be fast!

The run started without consequence. I left the park where we meet with our running club each and every Saturday morning.  We have talent of all levels, so everyone pretty much matches up according to pace and distance planned.

This morning I teamed up with my friends Tabitha, K'Leetha, Jennifer and Janelle, but this didn't last long for we went our own separte routes.  As it turns out Tabitha and Jennifer were running part of the route I was running.  I asked Tabitha if she would do the out and back with me (the one with the monster hills) and she quickly said... NO!.

Somewhere around mile 4, I picked up a bottle of water that K'Leetha had left there for us.  I drank about half of it and planned on dropping the remainder where I could have it after the out and back portion of the route.

I approached the stop sign where I would leave my water, and I dropped it at the base of said sign. So off I went. Ran over the hill to the other side and one mile later I turned around.  The return is a tougher rise so it took a little longer. About half way through the return, I began to think about the bottle of water.  I did not want to consume what I had on my fuel belt because I still had a long way to go.

Some three to four houses before getting to the stop sign and my water, a dog began to bark. Loudly and angrily. He came chasing after me with what appeared to be a fierce determination to get a good bite in. Only thought that came to my mind was that he was going to bite me in the back of my leg, my left leg, where my new tattoo is. That could just not happen.

So I stopped abruptly and waited for the dog. When he reached me, the dog immediately got on his back and started kicking his legs; he wanted me to pet him. So relieved I was that his intentions where not what I had thought, that I did pet him. Big mistake.

Off I went, I continued running. He went with me. Side by side.

Then he took off.  Like a bat out of hell. He headed directly to the stop sign. Yes, the same one where my water bottle was on the ground.  He started sniffing around the post and the water bottle. Then I though... "Oh, NO, he's not". And yes, he did. He raised his right leg and proceeded to claim the water bottle as his own.  Dang!

I laughed for a few moments and continued my run. The dog came along with me. For the next 6 miles or so, I had company. I was getting worried that he would not find his way back home. He was wearing a collar, but no tag. I began to think what I was going to do with him if he continued to run with me to the end.

Two cars stopped and asked if the dog was mine. It appears that he had been roaming the streets for about two weeks.  The second car offered to take him home.  Not being my dog, I did not object. I noticed as the car drove away, that the lady had one of those dog rescue stickers on her car. I was happy she took him.

I continued.  5 minutes running, 1 minute walking. My ankles, as usual, were getting a bit upset. Time to suck it up and keep on moving.

Overall it was a great day. All of the goals I had left with, I had accomplished. Yes, the miles were hard and long. The ankles were in pain, but the spirits were high. The distractions today made it a great one!  What will next week's long run bring?

Ironman Ink ~ Go Big or Go Home

My wish to sport an M-dot tattoo has been well documented. Months before running the final stretch of runway at Ironman Louisville 2011, I wrote about my desire to get a tattoo after completing my first Ironman.

I planned and deliberated on a design that would be representative of the journey.  I came up with a very simple idea adapted from images I had seen in the Internet, which at the time seemed to fit just right.  This, to me, represented the "blood, sweat and tears" that had fallen during the journey. Read about this here.

As the new race season came upon us and I participated in three IM 70.3 events, it became apparent that I had not done enough research on the design.  It was very clear, very quickly, that an m-dot tattoo half filled represented a 70.3 race.  Folks would ask me "when I was going to fill it in".  I also became very uncomfortable with this, because I strongly believe that you should not flaunt the m-dot until you have actually finished a 140.6 event.  I have nothing against a 70.3 tattoo, it's just not for me.  So I began to try to figure out what to do.

So I just thought that filling it in would be another simple solution.  I should have stopped at that.  But I also wanted to add the tribal piece I have been using as sort of my trademark to put a final stamp on the artwork.

As you can see by the photo, the job was sub-par.  From day one I was not happy with it.  The top half of the M was not filled properly and the "swim" figure was just awful. You really could not tell what the figures were unless you stopped and looked closer.  Not what I had intended-

Yes, I could have gone back to the artist that created this mess, but what would he do and what would it look like?  So I decided to wait and fix it right, once and for all.

Through some serious research and recommendations, I landed in the able hands of Ben Dixon, owner of Lone Wolf Tattoo in Nashville, TN.  I discussed with him my problem and what I was looking for.  He came up with some ideas, and together we tweaked it until I was happy.  But... one thing was the artwork on paper, another would be the final piece.  He showed me some examples of repair work he had done in the past and I felt comfortable that this was the route to take.  So we went ahead.

A tattoo, he told me, should tell a story.  It's one thing to do what everyone else is doing, its another thing to put your personal stamp on it.  We talked a lot about my journey; where I have been and what I have done. He seemed to know a lot about the Ironman.  I asked how.  He told me he has done several dozen m-dot tattoos over the year.  "Most people are just happy with a simple design."  He could sense that I am not "most people".

In our conversation(s) I revealed to him that my biggest fear upon entering the triathlon world was the swim. My second fear, or strong dislike, was the "big hills" on the bike.  I shared with him how I has able to overcome both of them. I shared with him about my swim experience in Louisville and my Mountain trek across the High Road in the Ozarks.  Granted, this was the IM 70.3 Branson experience, but as with the swim in Kentucky, I am now comfortable knowing that I can overcome any course that is put before me.

So this is what he came up with...

I could not be any happier with the result.  Yes, it is bigger than I would have ever thought I'd like and folks that know me are probably thinking that I've lost my mind. But I can assure you ... I have not!

And by the way... in case you're wondering, yes... getting this done, hurt like "you know what"!

Becoming An Ironman... It's All About The Journey!

Every journey has a destination for without a destination, the journey would take us nowhere.  But, haven't we all heard that "It's the Journey that matters, not the final Destination."?

Is this really true?  How often do we find ourselves embarked in a journey we just wish would come to an end. School, for example. Didn't we wish graduation day would come, like... tomorrow?  Did we really enjoy and looked forward to four long years of college? Once there, we just wished it was over.  That journey was just not too appealing to us.

But its not the college "degree" that makes you whatever you became.  Its the journey.  The classes, the exams, the late night study sessions. This is what truly matters.

So in all reality, its any worthwhile journey that makes us who we are, what we are and what we will become. The final destination is simply the payoff.

Becoming an Ironman is no different.

You're not an Ironman because Mike Reilly says you are. Those of you who have had the privilege of hearing your name called by the Voice of  Ironman know what I'm talking about. And if you're one of the privileged to have had Mike Reilly call your name, it's a hell of a pay day!

You became an Ironman because of the dedication, determination, tenacity, will and desire. The grit and the guts. You became an Ironman because you paid the piper, you put the hay in the barn.

The 4:00 am wake up calls, the early morning swims.  The hundreds and in some cases, thousand of yards you swam to the far wall and back. You called it a night, when most others were just getting theirs started. The calories, carbs and fat grams you counted and miscounted.  You learned to eat food you never knew existed (quinoa ~ who would have thought?); you learned to like some and just tolerated the rest.

You and your bike became one and the same. You gave her a name.  In my case she became my "Roo". You became an expert at changing tires, adjusting gears and break pads, yet your bike mechanic's phone number took over "speed dial 1".

Your rides progressed from a short, quick 20 miler to that dreaded Century, and then these became common place.  Then your coach or plan or your friend introduced you to the infamous "brick"; that 45 minute run after that grueling 100 mile ride. "What was I thinking?"

Hill repeats, you loved them, you hated them.  You still hate them, but you still do them.  The group rides, the solo rides.  In the heat, in the cold and everything in between. You were chased by dogs, pushed off the road by careless drivers, but that didn't matter because on those very early morning rides, you witnessed the sunrise and the peacefulness and tranquility of those quiet country roads. You learned to navigate your Garmin, which by the way, is the size of a kitchen timer, with precision and accuracy that would leave a NASA engineer green with envy. Yes, all these became part of the process.

To you, "let's go shopping" meant a new pair of running shorts, socks or a new tee.  You thought Christmas came early when in the mailbox you found a copy of  Triathlete Magazine, which you hoped had a new tip or new advice on how to cut an extra minute of your bike split.

Speed work and Intervals. Endurance runs that lasted for hours.  "Daddy, why are you running again?", "Mommy, when will you be back?".  You hoped that they understood, you wish you could explain.  But as time passed they saw a change, they loved the change, they were happy with the change.  "Daddy, what's on your schedule today?", "Mommy, I'll be here when you get back.".

Yes, the journey to an Ironman finish line is paved with highs, lows, ups, downs, and hundreds of lessons. You endure it all because quickly you understand that it all has a purpose, and not just a physical one. In the nine month process, you grow. You understand better than ever that there's a bigger purpose for you in this world.  You're doing this, because your place is here, your time is now.

My Ironman tattoo is a testament to what I've become. I'd like for people to understand that yes, I did swim 2.4 miles in a nasty river, rode my Roo for 112 hilly, hot and humid miles and ran a full marathon with legs screaming from pain, all in just over 15.5 hours, but more importantly that I moved into a new zone of confidence, of readiness and of purpose and that my actions and behaviour make me worthy of the title Ironman.
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Although Ironman is a registered trademark of WTC, the term is used here to represent any 140.6 triathlon distance, be it Ironman, Rev3 or another.

Ironman 70.3 Steelhead 2013: A Recap I Didn't Expect To Write

I would never have imagined that I'd be sitting here writing a post like this.  But, with all the good that has come my way, I must face the fact that sometimes things just aren't meant to be.

This past weekend was just one of those "sometimes".

I have entered 59 races since I started this whole crazy thing.  Races that range from 5k's to the Ironman and everything in between.  I have started ALL 59 races.  And until Sunday, I had finished ALL of them.  Sunday was the first time I could not, or rather I did not.  Yes, I now have a DNF on my resume.  I have an m-dot sticker on my car along with a 26.2, and now, I can proudly display a new one... this one:

Proudly?  Let me explain.

I came prepared for this race as I have to each and every other race before.  I swam my laps and put in the miles; the early morning runs, the long weekend rides.  I followed my coach's plan pretty much to the letter. Okay, I would take an occasional license to alter a workout, but never have I crossed the starting line without full knowledge that I left no training stone unturned.  I had a race plan in place, I knew what I would do should this, or that happen.   Yes, I was ready to go.

So what went wrong?

On Friday (two days prior to the race), my wife found a "tick" on my back. It was in a place where it was hard for me to see.  It appears that it had found a home there a few days prior due to its size and size of the ring around it.

Lucky for us one of our team members that traveled to Michigan to race, is a nurse.  She came promptly and removed the little bugger.  With all the skill and precision of a trained professional she pinched and pulled it out.  Okay... that hurt!  But it was out.  She recommended that I take some Benadril, which I did.

The following morning after assessing my condition, which was not normal; I was tired and achy, the symptoms of the flu, she recommended I go see a doctor.  We needed to make sure that I was not infected with the illnesses associated with tick bites, Lyme disease or Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever.

We could not find a doctor so I called my family physician and he prescribed an antibiotic for me to start taking immediately... Doxy-something-or-other, 100mg.  I was to take two pills a day for 10 days, starting immediately.  Which I did.  I took the first pill around 4 pm.

Returned to my hotel after dinner and before calling it a night, I took pill no. 2.  After my pre-race breakfast I took pill no. 3.  I was going to make sure that whatever, if anything, I had was going to be disposed of it immediately.

All was well.  Or so I thought.

Made it to the race site and it appeared to me that I felt good and ready to race.  On the drive there I told my wife that I hadn't been this excited about a race in a long time.  Yes, I was ready.

Made the mile walk to the swim start, took a short 10 minute swim warm up and lined up ready for my wave to start.  Still, all was well.  Again, or so I thought.

The lake was angry that morning.  I remember thinking it would be tough, but there was no doubt that I would do it.  It would take me longer than planned, but I would do it.  So 7:08 came, and off we went.

The trek to the first buoy was long and hard, but I made it.  I turned right and headed home.  Only 1.15 miles to go.

Each and every stroke I took was hard. My shoulders were tight, the elbows stiff. It didn't seem like I was moving at all.  It felt like I was standing still.  It was the waves, it had to be the waves.  So I pushed harder and kept on.

And then I lost it.  Really lost it.  Whatever I had in my belly parted company.  Not once, but twice. After the first incident, I remember seeing a kayak following me.  After the second time, the kayak came up and asked me if I was okay.  I responded:  "where am I?"

Immediately he raised his red flag and told me I was done.  I must have really felt bad, because I didn't argue.

I looked at my Garmin.  It said I was half way done!  Not bad, right?  But it had taken me 47 minutes and change to get this done.  No way I could go on.  No way!

BTW, when I asked what I asked I meant to ask:  "How far do I have to go?", or "Where am I on the course?".  I did not mean to ask if I was in Florida, Cuba or Tahiti.

It took a while for the wave runner to come by and pick me up.  I still had time to argue the young man's decision, but I didn't.  I hadn't felt this bad in a very long time, but still I pondered if I could make it. Obviously not very seriously, because I just supported myself against the kayak and waited, and waited for what seemed forever.

The toughest moment I have ever endured at any event was that very instant when I decided that yes, I was done!

"Oh great!"  the wave runner arrived and is manned by a sheriff's deputy.  No arguing with him.  Not that I was going to, but...

I jumped on the back of that thing and off we went. To the beach we headed.  I was hoping at that point that no one was looking, but they were.  Lots of folks were looking.  Not just at me, but at the massive exodus of swimmers coming out of the water, surrendering their day, leaving their hopes and dreams out in the lake.  (I read somewhere on the internet, so it has to be true, right?) that over 100 swimmers were pulled from the water that morning.

The longest moment I have ever lived at any event was that moment (about 30-45 seconds) that it took for the Sheriff to take me back to shore.

Walking down the beach, I came across a gentleman picking up the timing chips from all who abandoned. He had a handful.  Actually both hands were full.  Reality set in when he asked for my number and over his radio he said: "Number 196 DNF"... 

At Swim Out is where I would find my wife.  She was patiently waiting along the fence for me to come out of the water.  I saw her from a distance and at that moment, I didn't know what I would say.  I came up to her, taped her on the shoulder. She turned around and I could tell the pain in her eyes when she saw me, standing there, defeated.  She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. She just hugged me and held me tight.  That's what I needed.

The rest of the day is somewhat a blur.  Mostly I sat under our team's tent and slept.  I was tired, very tired.

IN RETROSPECT

I have replayed the events of the day in my head, over and over again.  I guess I was, or maybe still am, looking for anything that I could have done different that would have saved my day.  I have come to the conclusion that this happened because it needed to happen.

I remembered that on the mile walk to swim start, and then more so after the 10 minute swim practice, my mouth was dry. Very, very dry. "Cotton Mouth" comes to mind. This had never happened before.  I come to my races truly well hydrated.  It's one of my "musts". I think this was a sign, and I missed it.

I am at peace with what happened, with the decision of the life guard in the kayak to call my race. I am glad he was there making a decision for me, when obviously I was in no apparent shape to make it myself.

I would be somewhat dishonest if I were to tell you that it didn't hurt, for it hurt like hell.  Mostly because my pride was crushed, severely crushed.  But it's mending nicely.

A WORD OF THANKS

I have amassed the most amazing support team of family and friends, some of which I have never met in person, but I feel close to. I am blessed beyond words to have each and everyone of them around me.  The words they said, and hugs they shared meant the world to me. Without these I'd still be a wreck.  I know I would be.

A few of people need to be recognized at this moment because of their ability to know what to say and do at the right moment. This by no means implies that everyone else's words did not matter or I have forgotten, for they did and I haven't.

Beth...matters would have been a lot worse had you not come to the rescue on Friday.

Charlene... you came to me at the tent and that silent hug began the mending.

Skip... at the restaurant you told me that my "actions today would inspire more people than I could ever imagine".  WOW! 

Heidi... Your post on my facebook page solidified the notion that choosing wisdom is always the route to go.

K'leetha and Leigh S...Not sure I deserve to be anyone's hero, but to know that you think of me like that puts a lump on my throat.

Eddie..."One of your favorite athletes"??? With the company you keep, I am honored that you think of me like that.

Robert P... the text you sent me... I've read that a hundred times.  Still get teary eyed.

Coach Barry... No sure there are words that would describe how much I appreciate your continuous support.

Candy... your daily text means the world to me! Thanks!

Beverly...No jinxing involved. And you're right... A man has to do what a man has to do.  Thanks!

Hernando, Carlos and Mercedes (brothers and sister).  Thanks a hundred million times.

Juliana and Marcela... Sorry I put you through a few tough moments, just know that I love you both very much.

And.. Monica... You have been by my side every step of the way without any expectations.  I hurt more knowing, or rather thinking that you were going to be disappointed, but you knew what to say and when to say it, and when not to say anything.  I never get tired of telling you (and the world) how much you mean to me and how much I love you.

DOCTOR'S VISIT

I went to see the doctor on Tuesday. To keep the story short, he told me I should have never been in the water.  The antibiotic I'm taking, because of its strength and how fast I took the first three doses, rendered me weak.  Add to that the choppy water and it was disaster waiting to happen. They drew like five gallons of blood and now we wait for the results. In the meantime, I have been grounded for a week!

LESSONS LEARNED

When talking to a life guard... chose your words wisely.

There's no shame in a DNF... It's better than the alternative.

SILVER LINING

I lived to race another day!

FINAL WORD

It never occurred to me that I would ever be faced with a situation like this. Because of this, I did not have a plan for this "what if" moment. I am glad to know that when push came to shove, I was able to make the right decision.

I will continue to dream. I will continue to plan. I will continue to train. I will continue to come to races ready to race. Nothing has changed.  Life goes on.  I lived to race another day.

Ironman 70.3 Steelhead Expectations

Last long distance triathlon I did was IM 70.3 Branson on September 23, 2012.  So, almost a year since my last 70.3, and since then only an Olympic distance, REV3 Knoxville on May 5, 2013.  Both of these tested me to the upper limits of my existence.  You can read my recaps by clicking on the links above.

With just under 48 hours before Ironman 70.3 Steelhead, I have to examine my honest expectations.  I have always been one to say that "just finishing" is an accomplishment.  I cannot forget this principle, no matter what other goals I may have.

I have never broken 7 hours in a half distance.  Best time has been 7:08:34.  And this was accomplished at this race, three years ago.  Now, three years older, I'm hoping that I'm also three years wiser.

My swim will be my swim. I have worked extremely hard this year on efficiency but honestly, I would be very happy to just meet or slightly beat the 52:02 last time.  I have a plan and it is the same as always:  Stay back and to the outside.  Don't want to get caught in the washtub.

The run has also improved two fold since 2010.  However, I've been dealing with Plantar Fasciitis for the past several months, so this time around the plan will be to avoid debilitating pain.  If I work my plan on the bike, this should be no problem.  If I can cut some 10 minutes of my previous time here, I will be very happy.

Where I have done the most work and have seen the most improvement has been on the bike.  I have worked extremely hard and long at improving here.  Most of my longer rides have shown these results.  So, If I can be around the 3 hour mark, I should be good to go.

Oh dear, and those transitions... If I could just get out...

My most other's standards, these are not lofty goals.  By my standards, these are achievable and reasonable, but my job on race day will still be to race my plan and adapt to change as need be.

Slide In, Slip Right Out

I purchased my wetsuit soon after I entered the triathlon arena. One of the things I quickly learned is that putting this thing on is not an easy task.  And never mind if you happen to be wet... it's almost impossible.

Over the last couple of years, it has become even more difficult.  I truly believe that the wetsuit has shrunk!  There couldn't be any other logical explanation, right?!

You hear advise from this person and the other on what is the best method.  I've tried the "plastic bag" thing, it worked okay, but it still did not do the job quiet right.  I've also heard, from several sources, that you should spray PAM on yourself, I've heard that this makes it really, really easy to put on.  Well, there's something about the PAM thing that I haven't quiet understood.  When I take the wetsuit off, and get on my bike, wouldn't any residue of PAM start to bake on me?

About a month ago, at an open water swim, we were discussing this very topic.  One of my friends said that he had used a product called TriSlide.  He said that it made putting on the wetsuit a "piece of cake".

My friend is in his late 20's.  His definition of a "piece of cake" was probably worlds apart from mine.

So as soon as had a chance, I looked it up in and found it.  Ordered me a bottle.  It cost $11.49 plus s/h.  I figured this was a small investment to test this thing out.  Worth the risk...

The water temperature changed since then, so I've not had the opportunity to try it out.  Until today.  It was time to swim with a wetsuit as part of our Ironman 70.3 Steelhead training.  Plus, the water got cold... again.

The product comes in an aerosol spray.  It's like putting on sunscreen or bug spray.  No heavy or thick residue.  A little spray goes a long way.

Sprayed my legs, front and back and my arms, front and back.  Forgot to spray my neck.  I must remember this next time.

And the moment of truth:  The wetsuit slid ride in!  No pulling, no tugging, no fighting, no pinching or bitching or complaining.  No huffing or puffing.  It was amazing!

And to take it off?  Same thing... Slipped right out!  Again, no pulling, no...well, you get the idea.

So, as far as I'm concerned, this is the best $11.49 plus s/h I've spent in a long time.  Now, I must remember to pack it for my trip to Michigan next week!