Watch out for Flying Monkeys!

I knew this one was going to be different as soon as we pulled up to the motel.

The drive down from Indianapolis had been about as painless as it gets, but both myself and my driving companion were tired and ready for bed. Due to the time change, it was only 9:00pm in this suburb of Nashville, but we had both already had a long day. We pulled up to the motel lobby and parked and just sat in the car, taking in the apparent party that was going on inside. "Are those people running tomorrow?" Dezra asked, somewhat nervously. "Ummm, I think so. Sure hope they quiet down and go to bed soon", I said.

Suspicions were confirmed as I was checking in. Several times I heard the word "monkey" dropped (loudly) in conversation, and I spotted a couple of shirts with the Flying Monkey logo on them. I also saw a few stray beer bottles. Definitely not the typical endurance event crowd that goes to bed with the chickens the night before a race. Thankfully the Monkeys quieted down and went to bed around 10pm local time, and we all got some sleep. I was excited to see what this crowd would be like in the morning.

The run is held on paved paths in a beautiful park about 10 minutes southwest of Nashville. It's known for being crazy hilly. Trent, the organizer, enjoys the sadistic aspect of the entire event, threatening a painful end to your day if you get caught by a Flying Monkey. The race is entered by lottery to keep the numbers down, and you make your case for wanting to do something so stupid. Those who are accepted get an apologetic email warning them of their selection, and chiding them for being so irresponsible. Any follow-up communications continue this delightful combo of concern and scorn, and end with, "We got hills."

This race is small enough that they ask runners to bring something for after the race, a large potluck after-party. Sunday morning I dropped off my contribution and joined the variety of people milling about waiting for the start. One woman has run the race every year (seven so far) dressed as Dorothy. This year was no different. Another runner wore a hat that looked like it had wings, and his face was painted green. There was lots of laughter and chatting, and a general festive atmosphere. The race start was the most casual I've ever seen: while people were standing around in no particular order, Trent said, "Let's start this race!" That was it. We were started.

Somewhere around mile 2, at the top of one of the easier hills, was a small sign. "300 feet climbed. 3200 to go." What have I gotten myself into? I was grateful for the little bit of trail running that I have done, as it taught me how to run down hills without hurting myself. I would fly down the hills, then walk up. After we leapfrogged each other a few times, one woman told me she was going to watch my form. "Lean forward just like you're skiing, and let gravity do the work. Take smaller steps to slow down instead of leaning back. You'll trash your legs if you use them to brake." "I'm trying, but I feel like I'm going to lose control!" She ultimately passed me once and for all around mile 23, despite having taken a fall and banging up her knee and wrist. She definitely qualifies for BA (badass) status.

It was a spectacular day for running, starting in the 30's and warming up to 50's, sunny and clear. Despite all the hills, the miles seemed to slip by more quickly than they should have. I was thrilled to hit the halfway point at 2 hours 29 minutes, and be passing the mile 20 marker at four hours. I had estimated six hours due to the hills, and was clearly going to be much "faster" than that unless I had a complete meltdown.

It was a good thing I carried my little camera, too. The park was so beautiful that it was impossible to get frustrated by the hills: they were part of the beauty. If a particular hill was getting to be a pain, looking around at the scenery made you forget all about it. There were also very entertaining and sarcastic signs all along the course. Before we even hit mile 1, there was sign that said, "Trent sucks". I laughed out loud when I got to mile 21 or so and started seeing signs that said "Idiot", "The beer is gone", "The winner has already finished", "I hate Trent", "I really really hate Trent", and so on. I stopped numerous times to take photos of the signs, the scenery, and the outstanding volunteers.

I think the volunteers have as much fun as the runners. They were tossing sock monkeys ("Flying Monkeys"), holding funny signs, and very encouraging. At one aid station, they were even providing leg massages with the Stick. The volunteers were greatly appreciated by all of us, and were good at making us smile.

My second half was slower than my first, but only by 15 minutes or so. I trotted across the finish line at 5:17:01, a time I was pleased with. Thankfully my calves waited until I was finished to completely seize up. I thought I drank enough, as I had stopped at every aid station, but apparently hadn't had enough electrolytes. A pint of Gatorade later, the legs finally settled down. The sun was pleasantly warm, so Dezra and I enjoyed basking for a while, sampling the free local brew, and checking out the potluck selection. We eventually climbed back in the car and came home to the not-so-hilly cornfields.

Course: Hilly but beautiful. Lots of trees.
Support: Plentiful. They even understand that you need fuel well before mile 18, and start offering gels, bananas, pretzels, whatnot around mile 4 or so, early enough to help.
Volunteers: Can't say enough good things about them. Super supportive and fun.
Swag: Best ever. Personalized bib, personalized tech shirt, t-shirt, weird flexible plastic pint glass (filled with local brew), cool wooden medal
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I can see why locals do it every year.

Gratitude

This wonderful video of Louie Schwartzberg's TEDx talk sums up how I feel when I am "suffering" through a long workout or race. But it's bigger than that.

Of course, in the moment, my gratitude is primarily of the physical variety:

I am healthy.
I have all my limbs.
I can feel pain.
I can control my body.

However, as a lifestyle, I think endurance sports transcend the simple physical existence and seeps into other areas. There's an empowering component in the quest of mastering something, of tackling something that initially looks insurmountable, no matter what that something happens to be. It can be playing a musical instrument, learning 60 seconds at a time how to navigate in freefall, landing an airplane 100 times before finally getting it right, learning how to lead and inspire others while managing them, admiring the view after climbing several hundred feet of ice, making the change from being primarily a weightlifter to primarily an endurance athlete. I've been blessed to be given the opportunity to do all of these. How many people get to take on so many fun and amazing challenges?

Intense study of any art form broadens the horizons the way nothing else can. It requires a different mindset than simply learning something very thoroughly. One must also learn to communicate through their art (drawing or music or dance or...), and put away the rational chatter of day-to-day living. Even those of us who are camera-shy learn to love being on a stage, performing. Odd, that.

Words can't describe the feeling of looking out the open door of an airplane, ready to throw yourself out and give yourself over to the laws of physics. Even better is flying on the outside of the plane, with only the toes of one foot inside. Utter physical freedom.

Brutal winter temperatures lose their sting when standing in a small crevice partly up a steep cliff, clipped in, resting and admiring the view after literally picking your way up the ice to get there. Winter's beauty is rarely seen from the comfort of our daily lives, and is well worth the effort to find.

Realizing that you are now enjoying the challenge of doing touch-and-goes on the numbers, remembering the fear you felt the first time you pushed the nose down in the landing pattern, is one heck of a kick. Successfully landing on the numbers is an even bigger kick. Doing a touch-and-go on Martha's Vineyard on one of your first solo flights, in squirrelly crosswinds? Indescribable.

Fear and uncertainty are familiar companions when you manage to get selected for Chief early, after only a few years of service. You wonder if you just got lucky and how you could possibly have deserved such a thing. Learning through intense testing that you did indeed deserve such a thing and legitimately earned it, albeit quickly, also meant getting used to stepping out of the comfort zone on a regular basis. Hmmmm, that's not such a bad thing, to be shoved out of your cozy little box. And damn, those khakis felt good.

So now, it's seemingly crazy things like completing an Ironman, running multiple marathons, tackling long bike rides, going longer, longer. Learning to spend time in the pain cave and "embrace the suck", sharing the suffering with other restless fools who just can't get enough...I can't explain it.

What connects all this rambling? A steady undercurrent of gratitude. Grateful I am physically able to try new things. Grateful I have the mind and physical health that enables me to organize life to find room and allow for a wide range of experiences. Grateful that I haven't had to face major obstacles, unlike many people I know. Grateful to know some of those people and be inspired by them. Grateful in more ways than can be enunciated here.

Just...grateful.

BodyGlide Your Butt. Detroit Marathon 2012

I learn something from every long race, and the Detroit Marathon was no exception. However, there seems to be a lesson that I keep failing to learn. Maybe this time it will stick, after sitting in a car for 5.5 hours directly afterwards (sans shower and still wearing running tights).

BodyGlide your butt.

For the uninitiated, BodyGlide is the balm of endurance athletes everywhere, offering the friction-blocking bliss of Vaseline without the other problems: rubbing off on your clothes, washing off with sweat and water, general greasiness. BodyGlide prevents chafing like no other substance, and is a wonderful invention. Perhaps now I will remember to use it EVERYWHERE. Detroit's other lessons have required a bit more thought to figure out.

The Detroit Marathon is unique, in that you run across the bridge to Canada, along the waterfront of Windsor, then back to the United States through a tunnel under the water. There are not very many races that cross international borders, and this one was close enough to home to be worth the drive. In addition, one of my favorite Navy buddies lives in Detroit, and it was a terrific opportunity to see him and finally meet his wonderful wife.

At the expo, I had to show a passport before collecting my bib -- no passport, no bib, and we had to take care of that Saturday. The race was on Sunday; I drove up Saturday, went to the expo, then headed for an early dinner with my friend. We had a wonderful visit, then I called it an early night and padded off to bed. The race organizers were advising runners to get downtown by 6 am to avoid possible traffic hassles, so it was going to be an early day.

Driving in Sunday, after bailing out early to avoid the sea of brake lights ahead, I found myself not knowing which way to turn. Thankfully, there were other "lost" runners as well, and I just followed them for a bit. I picked up a follower as well, and hoped I wouldn't get HIM lost. We stumbled upon some street parking that was perhaps four blocks from the finish. Perfect!

Followed more runners to the starting area, people-watched for a while, then finally gave up my jacket and gloves and checked my gear. Wandered to the start, enjoyed the energy of the crowd, and finally got into my starting corral. Like many races, Detroit seeds you based on your estimated finishing time, then starts each "wave" about two minutes apart. We all slowly shuffled up to the front (I'm always in the slower corrals), and there was lots of nervous chatter going on around me. Detroit also does something very unique: in addition to the full marathon, they offer two half-marathons. The "international" half follows the exact same route as the first half of the marathon, until veering off around mile 12.5 to finish. The "US-only" half starts later, and follows the second half of the marathon course, all in the United States. Clever. There were many first-time half- and full-marathoners, and it was fun to eavesdrop on their chatter.

Eventually it was our turn to start. It was just starting to get light out, but the sun hadn't fully risen. We made our way towards the Ambassador Bridge, about two miles away. As we got closer, I was really wishing I had dragged along a camera. The bridge is quite tall, so there is a long winding approach to it, about a mile long. It was a beautiful sight at that time of day. The approach was full of runners, and you could see them all the way up and going over the bridge, silhouetted in the morning sun. Beyond the bridge, the sun was just coming up over the horizon, a big orange orb low in the sky. All around was the skyline of Detroit, lots of water, and the skyline of Windsor, all in fall colors. There was lots of looking around, oohing and ahhing, and many runners stopped to take photos.

It felt a little strange, if liberating, to run right past the Customs officers with a wave, and past the cars and trucks that were waiting to go across the border. They had one lane open on the bridge, and took turns letting vehicles cross from either side. The truckers seemed to have a good time with it all, honking and waving to the runners (yes, they were waving, not...well, you know). For about a mile we had a spectacular view of the sunrise, water, and skylines.

For the most part, I felt good and was keeping a really good pace, but my legs were tired. This wasn't too terribly surprising, given my schedule this fall and the long drive up the day before, so I shrugged it off. Made a mental note to make sure I didn't forget to take in a gel every four miles or so.

We ran a little over two miles along the waterfront in Windsor before heading to the tunnel entrance. I checked out the Detroit skyline, trying to figure out where we had started and where we might go back. I really didn't expect to hear a distinct Canadian accent, as I figured the two cities probably diluted each other's language...but there it was. I even heard one "eh" from a spectator. Fun!

Ran past more Customs officials and guard gates, and down into the tunnel. The "Underwater Mile" is around mile eight. There was definitely some seepage on the way down, with small puddles of water near the curb. Wow, we really are under a lot of very heavy water. I didn't realize how warm it was down there until we ascended and came out the other side, and hit the cool air again. Ran under a huge "Welcome to the USA" sign, past more Customs agents, and now it was time for the real work to begin.

Around mile ten, my feet decided to start a pain party. Felt like big giant blisters on the balls of both feet, but I knew they were just hot spots. Damn, my feet haven't hurt like this since Houston, marathon #2. This was #10, what the heck is going on? Oh well, it hurts as much to walk as it does to run, so may as well try to jog as much as possible.

Which worked fine until some time after mile 13, when the left calf decided to join in on the fun. For the next ten miles I fought off a full-blown cramp, but it did bring me up short a couple of times. Had to run very flat-footed to keep it under control. I'm sure I looked like something from the Walking Dead. Who knows what I was doing to compensate for the pain. Oh well, can't do anything about it except get through it and try to figure out the cause...and try to distract myself.

One doesn't usually think of "Detroit" and "beautiful" in the same sentence, but the course was very, very nice. After a few miles downtown, the marathon wound through a really beautiful old neighborhood, with lovely old homes and spectacular fall colors. The residents were out in force, blaring music from their homes and offering treats ranging from orange slices to M&M's to beer. I passed on the beer, but did give it serious consideration. By now the stomach had also come to the pain party, and was threatening to revolt.

We then headed across another bridge to Belle Isle, and ran around the island enjoying a waterfront view and glorious weather. By now it was approaching 60 degrees with a slight cooling wind, and the sun felt great. Not too warm, not cold. We went back across the bridge, and I knew I'd somehow stagger to the finish. Only a little over more than three miles to go!

All but the last few blocks were along the waterfront in a nice developed park, and the weather could not have been more perfect. I enjoyed looking around at the marina and the Windsor skyline across the blue water, and kept moving forward. Finally I knew it was safe to believe the spectators who were cheering, "You're almost there!" Thank goodness. Rounded the last corner, and limped/shuffled/walked/jogged/whatever to the finish. Gratefully collected my medal and thanked my lucky stars the car wasn't too far away. Got through the finish area and retrieved my gear, hoping that changing my shoes would help my feet (it didn't). Staggered to the car, driven by a vision of sitting in it, off my feet, enjoying the sunshine.

The approximately 300-mile ride home wasn't as bad as I'd feared it might be, but I was extremely grateful to pull up in front of the apartment. That burger from Stacked Pickle while sitting on my futon was a little bit of heaven on earth.

Official finish time: 5:10:31. Not great, but I'll take it. And the medal ROCKS. It's very nice and was worth the challenge. If you're not up to a full marathon, I would heartily endorse the international half -- it's THAT unique.

Lessons learned from marathon #10:

1. BodyGlide the butt. I've already talked about this one.
2. Eat more the day before, even if travelling. My appetite was off. This is the second time I've had problems eating enough the day before a race, so I think it's time to plan on drinking my calories.
3. Drink more the day before, even if travelling.
4. Don't wear shoes that worked fine for a running style that you no longer use. Over the last two years, I've gravitated to lighter-weight shoes with minimal support. This means my stride has changed. I used a pair of shoes that were fine before this, but clearly no longer work for longer runs. In addition, the materials were likely tired and starting to deteriorate as well. I think the calf issue was a response to bad form due to hurting feet.
5. Plan better for #4. I wore out my favorite shoes a mere two weeks ago at the Chicago Marathon, and since my legs were trying to recover, didn't have time to break in a new pair. If I'd had a spare "favorite" pair that I had been wearing occasionally, this wouldn't have happened.

Do Epic Sh*t, or, Chicago Marathon 2012

This was marathon #9, one week after completing a half-iron tri. Probably not the best planning. But I digress.

I used to live in Chicago, so I still have friends there. This was a combo marathon/see-friends-and-family trip. I drove up Friday night, made it through Gary without encountering any cars burning on the highway, and hit parking-lot traffic as expected. This was when I discovered two problems with the car. 1) The headlight that I replaced the day before was out again, and 2) my oil light came on a couple of times when I had to stop suddenly. Great. Issue #1 was simply massively annoying, as this was the second time I'd replaced the headlight and been ignored when I suggested it was an electrical problem. #2 was very concerning.

Upon arrival to my friends' place in Oak Park, we decided to drop the car off the next morning at his mechanic. I scrapped my breakfast plans with family and we had a nice quiet morning just hanging out and relaxing while waiting for the car. The garage called, and it turned out the engine was bone dry, and thankfully didn't appear to be damaged. Why was it bone dry? Don't know. The last time it was worked on it was supposed to have had an oil change. Not sure that happened. In any case, I was extremely grateful to have been caught in stop-and-go traffic. Otherwise, that light would not have come on and I probably would have seized the engine somewhere on I-65 between Chicago and Indianapolis. Crisis averted. Headlight issue would just have to wait until I can go be pissy with my hometown mechanic.

Got the car around lunchtime, complete with oil. Drove through horrible traffic to get to the expo and picked up my bib/shirt/etc., more horrible traffic to get back to the suburbs, then spent a quiet evening with friends.

Sunday morning my amazingly wonderful friends drove me into Chicago, and dropped me off within a couple of blocks of the start. I was there about two hours early to avoid the horrible traffic, so there was plenty of time to scope out the area, people-watch, shiver uncontrollably from the cold, and get to gear check. I don't know what the temperature was, but there was a very cold wind that made it uncomfortable. I had not planned on the cold wind, so really wasn't dressed warmly enough to sit around for two hours. While sitting there, I was missing my usual pre-race enthusiasm. As I watched arriving runners, many of them all excited and happy, some of them nervous, I just wasn't feeling it. I reminded myself that at least today I would be exerting myself for less time than last weekend (six-and-a-half hours), and wasn't even going half the distance as last week (70.3 miles). That was a happy thought, and I was almost as happy as if I'd had a wonderful hot latte to wrap my cold hands around. Finally I gave up my sweatshirt, checked my stuff, and wandered into the crowd in the start corral, hoping to enjoy the collective warmth of all those bodies sharing a smallish space.

After another 30 minutes of standing around with thousands of excited people, I finally started to feel ready to tackle the day. We shuffled to the start line, and were off.

Things went really well for the first 13 miles. Then my hamstrings started hurting. Then my calves. Then my butt. (See a trend here?) It was at this point that I started seriously questioning the wisdom of running a marathon on only six days of rest after a half-iron tri. Oh well, I knew it would be hard when I signed up, I really wanted to do Chicago this year, and there wasn't a darned thing I could do about it now except suck it up and keep going. I reminded myself that this was a heck of a lot easier when not preceded by a long swim and longer bike ride. Small consolation, but a wee bit helpful. Let the walk/jog process begin!

At least Chicago offers constant distractions. There are no lonely spots on the course; there are spectators everywhere and they make a lot of noise. They also carry some very funny signs. I saw a couple that referenced Paul Ryan's (bogus) claim that he had once run a marathon and done it in under three hours. One said something like, "Don't worry, this marathon is being timed the Paul Ryan way". Another said, "Run like Paul Ryan". "Run faster, the Bears kick off at 3pm!" and "Run faster, my arms are tired" were also good. However, my very favorite sign of all time was "Do Epic Shit". That one just summed it up!

I'm afraid that I was in too much pain to fully appreciate my surroundings; I was just trying to get through it. I vaguely recall a nice little Spanish neighborhood with a great Greek band (!), and a couple of spectators handing out beer. I seriously considered the beer, but decided that might make things worse. Around mile 24 my shoes began letting me know they were due to be replaced, and the feet got into the pain party. At this point I was fully appreciating the runner with the shirt that said, "This is the LAST time!" It was a good reminder that the pain really is forgotten remarkably quickly, and we keep coming back for more. At least the temperature was perfect for running -- nice and cool. It was downright cold for the volunteers and spectators, though.

The mile 25 sign was cause for celebration, and I was actually able to keep passing people, and eventually the finish line was in sight. Thank goodness for all those spectators! They really do make it hard to walk for very long at a time, and probably had a lot to do with keeping me moving faster than I otherwise might have. At last I threw myself across the finish line and was very happy with my 5:07 time. My average time is in the 4:50-5:15 range anyhow, so this was not an especially pitiful performance. I didn't have my typical steady pace, but the overall time was well within my abilities. Another good day and the hot shower was bliss.

Went and visited the family that I had missed on Saturday, had a really nice time, then drove back home. Thankfully the cop that pulled me over for the burnt-out headlight was a nice guy and didn't give me a ticket. All in all, a successful weekend! Next up: Detroit marathon in two weeks.

Total time: 5:07:23

Split	Time	Pace
5K	35:06	11:18
10K	1:07:54	10:34
15K	1:41:07	10:42
10K	2:15:46	11:09
HALF	2:23:51	11:52
25K	2:51:56	11:35
30K	3:30:16	12:21
35K	4:10:35	12:59
40K	4:51:02	13:02
Finish	5:07:23	11:59

Ironman 70.3 Augusta

Short version: PR by over 13 minutes, great course, humid but not hot, yes I'd do it again.

Longer version follows.

This was a fun course with a lot of community support. Augusta, GA is a nice little town with a strong sense of history, and a desire to rebuild itself rather than fading away. From before the Civil War to as recently as the 1970's, it was a major textile mill town rivaling Lowell, MA. As that business died off, so did many employment opportunities. The town is now following a strategy similar to that of Indianapolis: they want to become an amateur sports mecca. To that end, they very enthusiastically embrace the Ironman event and make the athletes feel very, very welcome. This was the fourth year of the event, and the town's enthusiasm was quite refreshing. I didn't realize that this is the largest of the IM 70.3 series races, at 3500 participants (most are capped at 2500).

We got into town Thursday, and did a little sight-seeing. While enjoying a Guiness, we ran into some Ironman employees who were coordinating volunteers, and agreed to help out at packet pickup the following day. After a canal boat tour Friday, we moved to the host hotel (the Marriott) and got settled in. I had shipped my bike there earlier in the week (Delta is a ripoff with bikes), and they had it delivered to our room before we hauled our bags up there. What service! Got the bike assembled, made sure no parts were missing, and went downstairs to check in and work our shift.

The expo was the largest of any 70.3 I've done so far (this was #8), and offered many opportunities to spend money. I picked up my race packet and chip, then found the volunteer coordinator. We assembled/dispensed goody bags for a few hours, had fun meeting other athletes, and called it a day. Saturday was a 1.5 mile walk down to Transition, where a bike mechanic aligned/tightened/verified that all was good, then I found my spot and racked the bike. Relaxed on a historic trolley tour and saw a bit more of Augusta.

Maybe it's part of being in the South, but the general atmosphere was very, very friendly, and athletes were very chatty. I've never been asked so many times if I've done a full. It was nice for the ego to get asked that, reply yes, and see the look of respect. So here we are in the elevator after dinner, I'm feeling all puffed up and studly, and an obviously elite female athlete gets on with her obviously expensive high-end bike and 2% bodyfat. Then two more Kona-qualifier types get on, about my age, with maybe 5% bodyfat. Then there's me...beer-drinking, normal bodyfat range, minimal training, never-gonna-stand-a-chance-at-qualifying because I'm in the middle-to-back of my age group. I just had to look around and laugh. Oh well, we all get the same medal at the finish line.

Sunday morning I got to sleep in late for a race day, until 5:20 am. Caught the 6 am shuttle to transition, got all my stuff set up, drank another Muscle Milk, then caught another shuttle back to the swim start. Those of us in wave 11 (of 25) watched the previous waves leave and noticed the visible current. Hooray! As a slow swimmer, I LOVE strong currents! Water temp was 76, so wetsuit legal and very comfortable. I had my fastest swim ever thanks to that current and got out of the water after 33:56.

Very long transition from exiting the water back into the transition area...about 350 yards. But there were wetsuit strippers after that long schlep. Gotta love the wetsuit strippers.

So far the rain was holding off, and everyone was hoping it would at least wait until most were done with the bike. We crossed the Savannah river after maybe five miles, and rode about 45 miles in South Carolina on rolling hills before crossing back into Georgia. These truly were rollers -- steep enough to have to work it, but not so steep as to be miserable. And some of the downhills were quite nice. With so many participants, it was hard at times not to draft, but it wasn't horribly crowded and I always had plenty of company around. I was hoping to have a repeat of the Steelhead bike ride (~3:15, no stopping) and succeeded. This course was much hillier than Steelhead, so I was very, very pleased with my ride. Pulled up to the dismount line after 3:15:48.

Still felt pretty good through transition, and headed out for the run...and just couldn't get enough air. I've lost any high-humidity conditioning I might have had, and it quickly became painfully apparent. At 93%, the humidity reduced me to a pitiful run/walk routine. I could run maybe .10/mile, then my heart rate would shoot up and I'd have to walk and pant a bit. It was like breathing through a wet dishrag. Very frustrating. The legs felt ok, the gut wasn't thrilled but wasn't the issue: I just couldn't get enough air. And I had lots of company. Many people were doing the same thing: run for a minute or two, then walk for 30-45 seconds breathing hard, then run again. Oh my, this is going to be a long day and it's going to blow my chances at a PR if I don't watch it.

The run is a zig-zag through downtown, twice, so there's plenty of spectators and plenty to look at. I was glad we had taken the trolley tour the previous day, because now I could recognize various landmarks as I went by and distract myself by trying to remember their story. Eventually I came upon Scott Rigsby, the first double-amputee to complete a full Ironman distance, around mile 9. He was chugging along at a good pace on his blades. Very motivating. I can't even imagine how much that must hurt after the first few miles.

Kept up the run/walk routine, and was delighted to look up and see the Mile 11 sign. A group of us passed it together, and had a good laugh about missing the Mile 10 sign but being very happy we only had two more to go. Eventually I rounded the last corner, and was able to run the last couple of blocks to the finish. Four of us hit the chute at the same time, and I came from the back to beat the two guys to the finish line. Yes! Hope they didn't mind getting chicked by an old fart (age is written on your calf). At last it started to rain a little bit.

Immediately found Paula, got my medal/hat/food, and headed back to the hotel for a badly-needed hot shower. Ohhhhh that felt good. Run time: 2:32:22. Not bad!

While I didn't have the negative splits that I had at Steelhead, I am still very pleased. The bike course was quite a bit more challenging than Michigan, and the run conditions were harder. Even without the nice current helping me out, I would have at least matched my Steelhead time, so it was clearly a good day. I took my time in transition, and it was well worth it. Between the hospitality of the town, the volunteers, and the hotel, I would definitely fly back to do this race again.

Total Time:	6:32:39
Swim:	33:56
T1:	6:23
Bike:	3:15:48
T2:	4:10
Run:	2:32:22

USAF Half Marathon, Sept 2012

A quick little video from the USAF Half Marathon in Dayton.

Training for Goofy (or Goofy Training)!

This past weekend was the first group training of the Winter Team for Team in Training. About a dozen of us met at Eagle Creek, which is a very nice park here in Indianapolis. The Winter Team is training for several winter running events, including a winter trail marathon here in town and the Goofy Challenge down in Florida at Disney World. I'm training for the Goofy Challenge, which is a half-marathon on Saturday and a full marathon on Sunday. If we complete both, we not only get the Donald Duck medal for the half and the Mickey Mouse medal for the full, we get a Goofy medal for being, well, goofy!

Those of you who know me are already aware that I've got a screw loose, so this should come as no surprise. I figure it CAN'T be worse than the double weekend I did back in January, where I did a full marathon on Saturday in Jackson, MS, then drove to Mobile, AL to run a half on Sunday. That was tough...I didn't know that Jackson was that hilly!

Anyway, our group met Saturday and ran for about 45 minutes...just enough to get us started. It was a lovely cool day after a summer of hot ones, and everyone enjoyed socializing a bit. As we parted ways with lots of "See you next week!", I realized that I will miss the next four Saturday training sessions, due to my rather unorthodox "training plan".

• September 15, US Air Force Half Marathon, Dayton, OH
• September 23, Quad Cities Half Marathon, Davenport, IA
• September 30, Ironman Augusta 70.3 (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run), Augusta, GA
• October 7, Chicago Marathon (figure it out)

Thankfully, there are additional group training opportunities at a track on Wednesday nights, where we will do some speedwork. Since I am pretty slow, this will be a good thing. I just hope there's beer afterwards!

Steelhead, In Memoriam

Two years ago, I did this race with Team in Training, in honor of Jim Armstrong. This time, I did it in his memory, and thought of him several times as the day unwound. It really meant a lot to him the first time, so I dedicated this day to his memory.

...and despite a horrendously crappy swim, I still set a PR by almost 30 minutes. Thanks, Jim!

Previous 70.3 PR: 7:12:04.

Sunday's time: 6:45:59

Even if I hadn't set a PR, I'd still be happy. I managed to improve my rankings with every leg of the race, meaning I didn't slow down. I actually got faster as the day went on, which is a first. In fact, there were several firsts in this race.

First #1: Since dropping about 6 pounds of body fat, my already-low blood pressure is even lower. Like hold-a-mirror-to-my-mouth-to-check-if-I'm-still-breathing low. I'm used to it, so rarely notice it anymore. I noticed it Sunday during the swim. My "technique" is to do sidestroke when I want to take a break to clear my goggles, ride out a patch of thrashing (faster swimmers who have caught up), look around, or just pant for a while. Apparently my BP was so low that even lifting my head up to sidestroke caused immediate vertigo. Oh great. Are you kidding me? This was in addition to my mind just refusing to get into the idea of swimming. The body was definitely dragging the brain along for the ride, so it was a truly pitiful swim. Oh well, I made it, and didn't fall down and embarrass myself getting out of the water. Sheesh.

Swim time (including the slog through sand at the end): 54:47

[The air temp was 58, they said the water was 67, but if felt much warmer than that. Couldn't ask for better conditions.]

Transition was a long slog through deep sand, then a very long slog down to the very end of the long transition area. Transition is only four rows, about .15 miles long. Easy to find your bike, but it takes a while. Finally got to my stuff, wiped the sand off my feet and got ready to spend some bonding time with the bike. For as long as it took to get out of there, I could have ordered a sub from Jimmy John's.

T1 time (really didn't think I was walking THAT slowly): 7:33

First #2: I went the entire 56 miles without stopping to stand up. Typically, I can't take it anymore after around 25 miles, and pull in to the second or third aid station to simply stop and stand up for a minute. This time, I gave it hard thought as I approached aid station #2, but when I got there decided I really didn't feel the need to pull over. Did the same thing at station #3, just slowed down to grab a Gatorade and refill my bottle. Aid station #4 was only about 10 miles from the end, so stopping there would be, well, just plain silly. Had great ride, passed four women in my age group, and played tag with another. She and I just kept leapfrogging each other. We laughed about that after the finish. She finished the race about 25 seconds before I did. Thanks #65, for keeping me honest!

Bike time (best by 13 minutes): 3:12:09

Walked the bike down the .15 mile transition back to my spot, while seriously considering walking in my socks. Threw out that idea; didn't want to shove socks with sand on/in them into my running shoes and live it for the next 13.1 miles. Several of us that were racked near each other came in at the same time, so we had a shot together to celebrate. Or maybe we just took enough time for a shot. Whatever.

T2 time: 4:06

Left on the run...as the first female finisher was coming in! Was impressed at her form, then reminded of how dreadfully slow I really am. Watched the next three women come by as I trudged past, cheered for them, shook my head, and kept moving. Absolutely loved the spectators holding the sign that said, "Forward is a pace!"

First #3: My run time was no worse than typical standalone half-marathon pace on a hot day. Huzzah! In a triathlon, I usually slow down considerably from my typical half pace: today I managed to salvage a decent speed. Started with my usual walk/trudge plan. After a couple of miles, the legs started to realize they were no longer going in a circular motion, and I was able to trudge for longer and longer. I actually managed to pick up speed for the first 9 miles, then level off for the final four without too much drop-off. At least now I've got the trudge developed pretty well, so that I actually pass a lot of people when I move faster than a fast walk. That helps considerably with motivation.

Around mile 7, a young lady was having severe stomach problems, and wasn't sure how she was going to finish. I told her the worst was done (as we were trudging past a hill we had to do later for the 2nd time). She just groaned. She was able to laugh when I said, "We don't have to look at this again! This is our last time to deal with it." Poor thing had been wanting to puke since mile 10 on the bike, and was struggling to take water. I strongly encouraged her to drink more water, then go ahead and give in to the urge to puke. She'd have something to puke and would instantly feel better. I hope she did. I know she finished (faster than me - she was in a later swim start wave), but I don't know if it was a horrible experience for her or not.

As I was on some of my final spurts of trudging, after mile 12, I saw two people just starting out on their run. Oh my. That's a heck of a long day for them. Means they were on the bike at least five hours. Yikes. Forced a reasonable facsimile of running to the finish line, collected my medal, hat, water, and Gatorade, and chatted with some folks from Team In Training that I knew from Indianapolis. Ran into a few other people I knew, relaxed, got a plate of food, and got ready for the ride home.

Run time: 2:27:24

First #4: Nutrition. I don't know why, but I've been winging it this year with nutrition. My subconscious is trying to tell me something, but I haven't figured out just what, exactly. Anyway, this time I went relatively light, and it worked. Breakfast (4:30am) was a blueberry Chobani yogurt and an EAS Lite (22 grams or so of protein) drink. Drank another EAS after I got all set up in transition, around 6:30am, before heading down to the swim start.

Did my usual protein/carb powder mix on the bike, and made sure to drink all of it before the second aid station, around mile 26-28 or so. Refilled the bottle with Gatorade and drank most of that.

Took three gels on the run, at miles 3.5, 6-ish, and 10-ish. Drank water at every aid station, Gatorade at a few, and poured the ice down my bra (where it announced every step I took when I jogged).

I'm sure the cooler day greatly contributed to the success of the above nutrition plan. It was very nice not to be soaked in sweat from simply breathing. Between the clouds and lots of shade on the run, there were only 2-3 miles that were truly hot. I was just pleased to feel good and sufficiently fueled throughout. It was nice to feel tired from simply being...tired, not running on empty.

All in all, it was a great day. Even the drive back to Indianapolis wasn't too painfully boring...despite getting eyeballed by the Bubba pumping gas when I stopped to fill up. Guess he's never seen a white-haired woman in a tri-suit with magic marker all over her arms.

Final results

Overall time: 6:45:59

Total Distance	Split	Time	Pace	F5054	Overall	Women
Swim
1.2 mile		54:47	SLOW	24/28	1166/1499	334/442
Bike
36.6 mile		2:07:00	17.27mph
56 mile	19.5 mile	1:05:09	17.91mph
Total		3:12:09	17.49mph	20/28	1086/1499	292/442
Run
4.5 mile		51:38	11.28/mile
9.6 mile	5.1 mile	56:01	10:59/mile
13.1 mile	3.5 mile	39:45	11.21/mile
Total		2:27:24	11.15/mile	17/28	1020/1499	264/442

Timing and...timing

This past Saturday was the Central Illinois Open Water Swim, consisting of a 1.2- and 2.4-mile timed swim. Paula and I are learning timing for Planet Adventure, a local race organizer here in Indianapolis, and this event was our first time going solo. We really didn't know what to expect, but were planning on having some hiccups with the hardware and/or software, since that seems to be inevitable. We both wanted to arrive and get set up in plenty of time to deal with any potential glitches before swimmers went into the water.

After a much-too-early alarm of 3:15am and a sleepy-eyed 3-hour drive, we arrived at the race site in time to watch the sun come up over the water. Everything came together quite well with only one call to the Mother Ship for help, and we were ready to go. It was time to people-watch.

Swimmers began arriving and checking out the buoys, trying to get a mental picture of their upcoming swim. Some were visibly intimidated, others mildly anxious, others excited about the beautiful day and ready to go. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Until...

An older (my age or so) swimmer came up and said, "My 93-year-old mother can't see so well. Can we ask the lifeguards to help make sure she finds the buoys?"

Yes, you read that correctly. 93 years old.

We directed him to the woman in charge of the lifeguards, who appeared to be as impressed as we were. She rounded up some of the people who were on paddleboards and kayaks, and let them know the situation.

The 2.4-mile group started first, and we got them off and on their way. It was time for the 1.2-mile swimmers to get into the water and ready to go. Number 162 walked by (the swimmers had their numbers written on their swim caps, arms, backs, and legs), and we decided that she had to be the man's mother. She was a tiny woman, trim, and her swimsuit was big enough on her that the rear end just kind of hung off her. Yet she didn't look frail, just old. The lifeguards and her son made sure she joined the rest of the group, and off she went. While she was in the water, we learned her name was Gladys, she was legally blind (she obviously could see something, but apparently not very much) and half deaf.

An hour and 43 minutes later, a kayaker and a lifeguard on a paddleboard herded Gladys into the finish chute, and she finished with a smile on her face. She was tired, but not exhausted. Her son brought her a chair and some water, and she sat for a while, resting and soaking up the compliments of everyone around her. I wish I had a photo of her smile.

In summary: The day started as simply another long-but-fun day. It ended with an inspiration. Gladys, I want to be like you. Ageless.

Day 21: End of Reset and Bonking

Yesterday was the last day of a 21-day "cleanse", the Beachbody Ultimate Reset. It was also the day of the Buckhead Border Triathlon, consisting of a 1.5k swim across the Ohio from Louisville back to Indiana, a 40k bike, and a 10k run. This post serves two purposes: a wrap-up of the Reset and a race report.

The morning started with a 3:15am alarm, only to find I'd slept through a series of texts from the race organizers the night before: the recent rains in the area had caused the bacteria levels in the water to rise to "slightly elevated" levels. We had the option of swimming anyway or doing a duathlon instead. This race is interesting mostly due to the swim across the Ohio, so I chose to swim. I'm sure I've swam in worse water than this. The lakes around here get pretty nasty by August.

Made the 100-mile drive in decent time, only to get held up in a horribly inefficient packet pick-up process. They were busing swimmers across the river to the start, and as I'm standing in the non-moving line, they're announcing that the last bus is leaving in ten minutes. Great. I still need to get bodymarking done, and get my stuff all set up, and here I am standing in a stinking line. Thankfully a very nice guy who was doing the shorter distance (and starting later), insisted I cut in line to the front. Finally I got my bib and other numbers, and could hustle to transition for set-up. Got all my stuff set up in record time, and trotted to the last waiting bus. Whew!

Aside from the kick to the nose, the water was fine. I felt great during the swim, lost a little energy during the bike but it didn't suck, then bonked horribly on the run. It was my own fault. I usually stick a gel in my running shoes and suck it down after the bike, and in my haste I forgot to do that. And it cost me big time. I was totally spent by the time I hit mile 2 and the rest was a sufferfest. Slogged the last 4 miles to the finish, and managed not to be dead last, but was darned close. Oh well, I finished and had an active Sunday morning, which is more than the vast majority of our population can say.

In addition to my forgetfulness, I was on the last day of a 21-day cleanse. I had been on a reduced-calorie (and reduced-activity) diet for one week, and a vegan diet for the last two weeks. No meat, no dairy, no animal products, including eggs. While I heartily endorse doing something like this from time to time, it simply doesn't support this level of activity. I dodged a bullet last week at the race in Muncie, but couldn't avoid it yesterday. The cumulative effect of 3 weeks of reduced intake was a major bonk.

HOWEVER, the cleanse was worth it. During the 21 days, I felt physically great the whole time...felt energized, clean (can't think of another way to describe that), and ready to go. I lost that sluggish logey feeling I'd been having for a few months. Even though I was on reduced calories (and yes, thinking about food a lot), I still felt like I wanted to go work out. Intellectually I knew that would be a mistake simply due to the calorie deficit, but mentally and physically I wanted to move.

Final results: I lost 5.7 pounds and 3.2% bodyfat. My main goal wasn't to lose weight, but to cleanse the system and hopefully shed some bodyfat in the process. I'm quite sure I'll regain a couple of pounds this week, but if I can hang on to this current feeling of well-being and keep the bodyfat down, it's been worth it. Tonight, though, a glass of wine and a hearty meal are on the agenda!

Day 1: Day 21

Pre-Reset: Day 13 of Reset

Beachbody Ultimate Reset

Day 2, Initial Thoughts

I'm a skeptic, but the eating plan is certainly effective. There's just no way you could NOT see results with the clean eating this cleanse requires. Are the supplements worth the high cost? I don't know yet, but the price tag certainly motivates me to stick to the meal plan as closely as I can manage! My reasons for doing the Reset are simple:

1. My diet has gone to total seed, and I've got to get it back on track.
2. My GI hasn't been normal and happy for some time (see reason #1).
3. I really don't like how I've felt physically: really sluggish and bloaty (see reason #1).
4. I've packed on enough extra fat to accentuate my pear-shape, and I hate both how it looks and, more importantly, how it makes me feel when I'm trying to train or race (see reason #1).

The plan is only for 21-days, and is not a horribly restrictive one. Basically, you cut out dairy and red meat the first week (and caffeine), and the next two weeks are essentially eating a vegan diet. While doing this, you also drink a lot of water, probably more than most people are used to doing.

I dropped the milk a few days out from starting the plan, but indulged in some last-chance cheese a couple of times. I also went without coffee two days in a row in a sort of "trial run". It was tough, but I survived. The plan officially started yesterday morning.

So far, here's what I've observed:

• If you drink a big-ass glass of water and force yourself to wait 30 minutes to eat, you don't eat as much.
• If you don't drink liquids with your meal, you don't eat as much.
• If you then force yourself to wait at least 2 hours before repeating this cycle, you don't eat as much.

In addition, knowing that I have a two-hour wait before the next eating opportunity, be it a snack or a meal, means I have to put real thought and planning into my day's menu. The Reset package comes with a really great little book with meals outlined for every day, but every day's schedule doesn't quite align with yours, so you have to think about it and plan accordingly.

For example, breakfast in Week 1 alternates between oatmeal or eggs/steamed kale. Factor in that you can only eat AFTER drinking the glass of water/supplements and waiting 30 minutes, and your morning routine can become a shambles. Yesterday I drank my water and went to my regular trainer session at the gym, then came home and had oatmeal. Today I didn't have any early-morning appointments, and had time to scramble the eggs and steam the kale, and prepare most of my workday's food while waiting for the 30-minutes to pass.

Because I am used to grazing pretty much non-stop, the most difficult part of this is the waiting between meals. I also realize that at least part of this struggle is due to sitting at a desk all day staring at a computer (I do better with physical distractions). Thankfully the weather has been conducive to mid-day walks, and that's going to help break up the constant "feed me" signals from the brain.

Beachbody recommends you lay off strenuous exercise for the 21 days it takes to complete this thing, due to the changes in diet/calorie restrictions. I did a nice short open water swim last night (1500 yards) and felt really good for the rest of the night. Today I'll walk some; tomorrow is a massage. Some people report feeling sluggish, but I haven't had that yet. Any fuzziness is likely due to the lack of coffee/caffeinated products, and seems to pass by early afternoon.

I'm traveling for four days starting this Thursday evening. It'll be a real challenge to stick to the plan while traveling, but I'm convinced it can be done. I'll just be eating in grocery stores more than restaurants, most likely, and ordering lots of steamed veggies while everyone else mows down on really good Tex-Mex. But it's worth it to see exactly how effective this thing is.

Now for the hard part: posting pictures. Here are some photos I took this morning (this pains me as much as it pains you). I know, it would have been more ideal to take them yesterday before starting, but I didn't have time. I don't expect any huge visible results at the end of this thing, but I DO expect to feel 100% better!

Feeling like Dorothy and Toto

One of these days, my severe lack of discipline in training and nutrition is going to catch up with me. Thankfully that day wasn't the Ironman Kansas 70.3, though there were times I had doubts. This was my fifth half-iron distance tri, and the one for which I was least prepared. It wasn't the most difficult course (that still remains Rev3 Knoxville), but was by far the most difficult conditions.

The race was on Sunday, so Saturday we had to check our bikes into transition, where they would stay overnight. Kansas has two transitions: the first one is down by the swim start/finish. After leaving the bike at my spot on the rack, we stood and watched the wind blow whitecaps on the lake where we were supposed to swim the next day. Yikes. Sure hope it's not like that tomorrow! Aw, it shouldn't be that bad; we'll all be in the water by 7:30am at the latest, and winds typically don't kick up that early.

When I got in the water at 6:48am Sunday, the current wind speed was 11.5mph, and was just ramping up from there. At least one Pro athlete looked at it and said, "No, not today." I was in Wave 5, Women 45+, about 70 people. We herded onto a dock, then jumped off and swam about 30 meters to a couple of buoys that marked the start. The water temp was nice, and it wasn't quite as choppy that close to shore. "OK this won't be as bad as it looks", I thought hopefully.

It was as bad as it looked. When our group started, most of us attempted to legitimately swim, then quickly had to start floundering until we got the water/waves figured out. Many of us did breast stroke, I did a lot of side stroke, and others simply tried to keep their heads above water. Many many people were hanging on to the buoys or the paddle boards/kayaks, trying to get their breath. I alternated freestyle with side stroke, and it was a mighty pitiful flounder more than a true "swim". The total swim portion was an out-and-back 1.2 miles that really didn't look that far from shore (because it really isn't, if you're prepared and there aren't whitecaps), but was painfully slow. Between the crazy chop and the strong current, everyone was working much harder than normal. The water was so choppy that people were drifting far off course, and the folks in kayaks and boats were having trouble a) finding them in the troughs, and b) getting them out of the water without running into them.

I personally never felt like I was in trouble, I was just expending an awful lot of energy trying to make forward progress without getting a snoot full of water. By the time I made it to the last turn back home, I was questioning how on earth I was going to bike 56 miles in this wind, as tired as I already was. After shaking off a calf cramp, I tried not to think about how heavy my legs felt and how awful the bike ride would be. Oh well, all I can do now is get through this slog of a swim and go from there.

One hour and six minutes later (pitiful slow even for me), I dragged my tired butt out of the water and headed for the bike. Took my time drying off my feet and getting ready for the long ride, telling myself it wouldn't be so bad, I had plenty of fuel on board, and would just take my time and get 'er done.

When I passed our parked car about 1.5 miles later, I gave (more than little) fleeting consideration to simply planting myself there and waiting for someone with a cell phone to wander by, calling Paula and Shirley, and telling them to meet me at the car. Instead, I heaved a big sigh and kept going.
The first 14 miles went better than I expected, despite the hills and wind, so I was feeling pretty good when I took a break at the aid station. Took some nice cold water and continued on.

Aid station #2 was a different story. By then we had been dealing with a ferocious headwind and crosswinds, and had spent the last 20 or so miles either climbing into a headwind, descending into a headwind (pedaling all the way down large hills...are you kidding me?), or simply trying not to be blown sideways into passing cyclists. Everyone was suffering. By now the winds were cranking up from a steady 16 to 19mph, with gusts building from 24 to 28mph. Wind like this is not conducive to efficient cycling. As I was fighting the crosswinds, I was thinking I would never try to fly a small aircraft in winds like this. Crazy. By the time I pulled into the second aid station, I was hoping something on my bike would break that couldn't be fixed. I pulled over and stood up, my quads completely fried. Another woman pulled up beside me, having bad GI issues. I think she was hoping I might quit. I know if I had called it a day, she would have joined me. We also found out that our last cold drink of the ride was likely whatever we had back at aid station #1. Warm water and warm electrolyte drink. Great. I delayed the inevitable for as long as I could, grudgingly climbed back onto the bike, and left.

About a mile later I hit the wall. Rounded a corner, had maybe a 1/2 mile of tolerable flat road (with a miserable headwind), then a long, steep hill that never quit. I made it halfway up the hill, felt like puking, legs were toast, and the headwind was raging. I pulled over, got off the bike, and walked it up the rest of the way, watching all the other cyclists slowly pull away. At the top I felt like I was cooked. I just stood there for a few minutes, sucked down a gel, drank some nasty sweet (warm) electrolyte mix that I had with me, and panted. Well, I'm 35 miles into this thing, what am I gonna do? May as well suck it up and finish it. If I fall over tired, I guess I'll have to wait for a SAG wagon; otherwise, may as well keep moving forward. Climbed back on and tried to enjoy pedaling down the next hill. Am I Dorothy or Toto? Maybe the wind will just suck me up and deposit me at the end of this blasted thing!

Actually felt pretty good for the rest of the bike, and was amazed to be passing people (and not have some of them pass me again) at this stage of the course. This was a s-l-o-w ride, and usually if I'm THIS slow, I don't have much company. I was very surprised at how many people were still out there with me. I felt like a total spaz trying to manage the wind. Several people (really nice looking buff men) passed me and said nice things. I don't know if they felt sorry for me because I looked like a spaz or because they saw the "51" on my calf (my racing age), but it felt good nonetheless. Hey, it took them over 40 miles to pass ME, right?

Finally got back to the park, squeaked my way up the last few hills, and was absolutely stunned to see the parade of walking dead on the run course. Wow. By now, almost 4 hours had passed. Normally, there'd still be a decent number of people on the run course, but they'd be almost done, and RUNNING. Almost everyone I saw was walking. After being pummeled on the bike, people were now baking in the sun -- the temperature had risen to 92. Oh my, this could get ugly. But at least I managed to finish the bike portion. I honestly have no idea how I found the strength and the energy to do it, but I did. Thank gawd.

I joined the zombie march and eked out the 13.1 miles, one foot in front of the other. Walk, trudge, repeat. Once again I was shocked to see so many people still out there with me. I had lots of company in my suffering. The run course was two laps and offered minimal-to-no-shade, but part of it went through a campground. This was the best part of the entire route. Lots of people were at the camp sites, and had set up hoses/sprinklers/water guns, and would spray you on request. These folks really did make it bearable. Between that and the cups of ice at every aid station (every mile) that either went down the shirt or in the hat, it was possible to stay cool enough not to puke. Once again I was surprised at the number of people that I passed (and they stayed passed instead of leap-frogging me). A lot of people were cramping and having trouble hydrating. I was grateful not to be one of them.

Two hours and 46 minutes later, I trudged over the yellow brick road, passed Scarecrow, Dorothy, and the Wicked Witch, and crossed the finish line. Back to hotel to retrieve baggage, take the bike apart and pack for shipping, grab a shower at a friend's house, and head for the airport for the flight back home.

Total race time: 7:57:40. Slow slow slow, but one of my more hard-won achievements. This was the closest I have ever come to quitting, and I would have been in good company. Out of my age group, two quit after the swim, and 7 didn't even start. I don't know the DNF rate, but I suspect it's high. I'm very pleased to have managed to finish this thing, none the worse for wear. I feel better than I have any right to, since I've been a major slacker this year in training. I know that I dodged a bullet, again.

Time to get back on track. Guess I'll throw my butt into some water later this week and work on that swim thing. Oh, and try to cut back on the beer.

Wisconsin Half Marathon 2012

You've gotta love an event that designs its finisher award to contain a bottle opener. After all, it IS about the bling.

So Friday we drove up to Wisconsin for a race. It was a half and a full marathon. Many months ago, Paula and I had a conversation something like this:

"Hey I wanna do this race to check WI off the list. You interested?"
"Sure, do they have a shorter option?"
"Ummm let me check...oops, no, just the half and full."
"Oh what the hell, sign me up for the half."

That was MONTHS ago, so it had been purged from the memory banks. Since then we've done several races where I did the half and Paula did a 5k or 10K, so we both figured that was the plan. Wednesday I go to check the registration, and find we are both doing the half. She took it well.

While it was gawdawful hot and humid here in Indy for the Mini, up in Kenosha it was in the 50's, damp, and blowing. Temps were great for running, but the wind got tiresome, and I'm sure it was a bit chilly for walking, and the volunteers must have been miserable standing around in it. Most of the course was along the shores of Lake Michigan, so the wind never abated. We were both happy it wasn't raining, just spitting water occasionally.

The course itself was an elongated loop up and down the lakeshore area. Part of it went through a very nice old neighborhood with beautiful old homes and large, well-kept yards. After that we went through the old "downtown" area, through a park, along the waterfront, and back.

I saw Paula once after the first turnaround; she was at mile 6-ish and I was around mile 9. I asked how she was doing and she just said (very adamantly), "This sucks!" She was only slightly mollified when I told her the wind was better on the way back. She never slowed down and continued trudging onward.

Paula did far better than she had any right to, a very respectable 3:25:05. I did my typical 2:17:37 and was happy with that. Anything under 3:30 and 2:20, respectively, is a good time. We were both pleased with our day, despite Paula's frequent exclamations of suckage.

We thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the weekend, visiting several dear friends from my Chicago days forever ago. The friends we stayed with were wonderful enough to have Thai food delivered. Yummy! The next day we had a wonderful brunch at another friend's house (complete with mimosas), watched the storm come through, then drove home. It was a very full, very satisfying weekend. Not only a good race, but even better company and more shared memories to add to the (somewhat faulty) memory bank.

Ultra #2: A 30-mile trail run

The Planet Adventure Winona Lake Trail Ultra is a 10, 30, and 50 mile trail run. The course is a 10-mile loop that is repeated as desired. I signed up for the 30 mile, and knew that attempting a 50-miler was tempting certain injury since I really hadn't even trained for 30. Oh well, wouldn't be the first time I've winged a long race.

I worked at registration that morning, checking runners in. Working with me was a volunteer, Jayne. Jayne's weekend plans had fallen through, so she had called Planet Adventure to ask if she could volunteer. She was planning to do the 10 miler, but had it in the back of her mind that she'd really like to try for 30. She's only been running a couple of years, and her longest run to date was a half-marathon. She had already done a triathlon as well. I encouraged her to go ahead and try. If she hated it after two laps and wanted to quit, she could collect the 10-mile medal and still would have extended her maximum distance. If she felt good she could continue and more than double her longest effort. What could it hurt?

There were about 40 of us signed up for the 30, and we all gathered at the start line. The trail was single-track, so there was an initial slowdown as everyone entered the woods on the narrow trail. Jayne and I ended up bringing up the rear. I was taking my time, as usual, and Jayne asked me what my pace would be. Hmmm I really hadn't thought much about it, I just wanted to finish with minimum suckage. Finish in seven hours? Sound good? Eight if the hills are really bad and I'm suffering? That worked for her, too, so we decided to stick together. I told her first thing was to walk up the hills and save the legs. She was content to let me pace her, and I was content to do so.

We ended up running together the entire way, chatting the whole time.  Before either of us knew it, we were back at the start/finish, and ten miles were on the board. We both took about ten minutes to eat, rest, drink, and she changed her shoes before we took off again.

The second 10 miles were harder, and we were both very happy we only had one more loop, but both agreed it wasn't sucking. We got tired, both had some niggling aches and pains, but nothing that was seriously detracting from enjoying the view. The course was very hilly, with lots of smaller switchbacks. The downs were often just a little too steep for us lesser-experienced trail runners to easily trot down, and we both had to apply the brakes fairly often. The "straightaways" were not very long, not very straight, and not very level, but were a good chance to do an easy jog. We never went too fast to talk, and enjoyed admiring the faster runners that passed us on a regular basis. It didn't start to rain until we were at mile 15, and it was a nice steady cooling rain that didn't produce immediate mud-pits, so we were content.

We weren't quite as chipper as we crossed the finish line for the second time, but both were still smiling and feeling pretty good. We took another ten minutes to grab some chocolate milk, fig newtons, whatever; Jayne changed shoes again and I changed socks. We compared our time to the first loop, and we were pretty much on target, even if we included the ten minutes or so break-time. Great! Off we went for loop #3.

The last 10 miles were difficult. We were both finally feeling really tired, both of us had tender toes (hers more so than mine as she stubbed them a few times on tree roots), both were getting hungry enough to want a burger, and both were exceedingly glad this was the last pass of the trail. The rain quit at mile 25. We stopped to high-five at the 26-mile point, figuring that was close enough to marathon distance to celebrate her first marathon, then got slogging along again...which is what we were doing by this point, slogging. However, we both agreed that it still wasn't a full-on suck just yet.

As usual, I had forgotten the Garmin, and she deliberately hadn't worn hers, but she had a phone with the time on it. We both felt like we were holding our pace pretty well; she checked the time, and if we pushed a bit, we could come in just under seven hours. However, we would have to do the last three miles in a little over 30 minutes. I really didn't think I had it in me, but the bug was planted. I know Jayne was thinking the same thing. Neither of us said anything, but I started pushing harder, taking shorter walk breaks, trudging up more inclines, and farther up them, before taking a walk break. Jayne stayed right on my heels.

We made it a little past mile 28 before I finally said, "OK, this sucks now!" Jayne agreed. We were both hurting. Our knees, ankles, hip extensors, feet, and toes were very unhappy and screaming at us to stop. But neither of us dared suggest looking at the time or slowing down. We both took a deep breath and kept moving.

 

Finally, 6 hours 58 minutes and 43 seconds after starting, we crossed the finish line together. Jayne won her age group on her first ultra and collected her award. We were both very happy to be done, and thrilled not to be doing the 50-miler. Those people are CRAZY!

1st loop: 2:15
2nd loop: 2:19 (includes break time)
3rd loop: 2:24:42 (includes break time)

A tale of two runners

It was a beautiful Saturday morning like many others. Today was a 15K trail run in the city's nicest park, and the weather was glorious. #585, a 54-year-old experienced trail runner, got up, followed his usual race morning routine, and arrived at the race site. He checked in, picked up his bib, pinned it to his shirt, and milled around with the rest of the runners until the race start.

The event was a casual one, the first of the season's series, and it was a relaxed air. There was a 5K and a 15K, which brought out a wide variety of participants. Runners of all ages and abilities loitered, some standing in the long porta-john lines, others enjoying the hot chocolate that was offered. It was still brisk enough to be a little uncomfortable if you weren't moving around, so some runners, like #599, sat in their cars to stay a little warmer.

Like #585, #599 was feeling good, enjoying the atmosphere, and ready to have a nice run in the woods. These two runners didn't know each other, but shared a passion. #599 was a 50-year-old woman who was thrilled to be able to contemplate a 9-mile trail run with the complacency of a nice afternoon walk, without stress, knowing she would feel terrific at the end.

Finally it was time to start, and the herd of approximately 230 runners took off in a giant pack. #585 was closer to the front; #599 closer to the back. Both were on pace to have a good day, relaxing for the first of three loops, letting the herd spread out a bit. The first mile was fairly slow, as runners had to slow down for a couple of obstacles. The lesser-experienced came to a full stop, which caused a backup. Because it was a casual, relaxed day, no one really seemed to mind, and everyone knew that it would spread out soon and there likely would be no more bottlenecks. The "serious" runners had already taken off like jackrabbits, anyway, and were far ahead of any potential slowdowns.

#599 took in the still-bare trees, the layer of multiple-shades-of-brown leaves on the ground, and the quiet sound of feet hitting dirt and occasionally crumpling some dry leaves. The runners rounded a bend, and there was a splendid view of blue water, with early-morning sun reflecting off of it. What a wonderful way to start a weekend! Both runners rejoiced in the divine feeling of physical activity, the connectedness with nature, the capacity to live.

After conquering the mud pit near the finish for the third time, #585 cruised in for a finish time of 1:23:51, at a pace of 8:59/mile, something #599 would envy. He enjoyed his finish, then sat down. #599 came in over 15 minutes later with a finish time of 1:39:01, a pace of 10:37/mile. She was quite content with that, as she had maintained a very steady pace for the three loops, and had actually done the third one a wee bit faster than the first two. She headed for the food line and settled in for the wait.

After a while, an ambulance arrived. Who are they picking up? What's going on? #599 watched as they loaded #585 onto the ambulance. He was a nice looking man, with a very tidy white beard and trim physique, and he was looking around, taking in what was happening to him. As the ambulance doors were closing, the race announcer told everyone that he had felt some chest pains, so they were taking him to get checked out. #599 and some other runners in line whispered their concern, and optimistically concluded that he likely would get checked out in the ER and sent home sometime later that day or the next, at home before the weekend was over.

#599 went home, content, and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of her weekend.

#585 never went home. His heart stopped when they loaded him onto the ambulance, and it never started again.

He didn't get in his car and drive it home, walk in the front door, and hug his wife. Didn't scratch the dog, say hello to the kitties, enjoy a hot shower. His weekend was over, far too early.

But he thoroughly enjoyed his last act on this planet: a trail run on a gloriously beautiful early spring day.

RIP #585.

How much fat are you REALLY burning?

Sometimes it's fun to geek out over data, but you have to have some data over which to geek out. So, today I did a test to try to nail down how much fat I burn during exercise vs. how much sugar. It's interesting information, and proves that endurance performance is all about efficiency.

Amy the trainer put me on a treadmill with a mask capturing my exhalations, measuring oxygen and CO2. Warmed up a couple of minutes at 3.5, 4.0, 4.5 mph. Finally got to 5.0 mph, then steadily increased the incline. The goal was to reach anaerobic threshold, then only stay there long enough to get three more measurements (less than a minute). Then cool down.

My heart rate (HR) was 60 while I was standing on the treadmill waiting to start. It took a 10% incline at 5.0 mph to reach threshold, and HR peaked at 141 then settled at 138. The HR dropped 15 beats in the first minute of cooldown, then another 9 in the second minute, which means I'm recovering quickly. So it looks like I need to spend more time training in lower zones w/some intervals thrown in, and try to raise VO2 (my peak HR/fat burning threshold) as much as I can. There is a genetic limit to how much this can change, but I can certainly try to become more efficient. Don't need to worry about the ticker; it's working just fine, and better than most.

The graph shows that my body burns fat at a fairly steady level with only a small decline until I hit peak. This is good. Goal is to raise that steady level to more than the current 40-50% of calories to 50-60%. Then I could probably go even longer with less perceived difficulty.

Bike workouts are definitely helping. Last night was half hour warmup followed by 8 intervals of 3 minutes in zone 5 (harder than "comfortably hard") with 3 minutes rest in between. Felt it but it didn't suck. Would have been incredibly painful a month ago, but last night I actually had something left in the tank when we were done.

I was surprised at the low heart rate today. I knew it would be lower to start, but didn't expect it to stay so low while exerting myself. Used to be up around 163 when I was running hard. And 65-70 if I was walking around. It's nice to see positive results from training. Tomorrow: a 15K trail run!

Volunteering at Super Bowl Village

The Super Bowl Village is a free outdoor event that started last Friday. Indianapolis is unique in that this started so early, allowing the locals to go down and enjoy it before the huge crowds arrive from out of town. Usually the festivities don't start until just a few days before the game. We worked Friday and Sunday nights, and last night was our last "official" shift. We may work additional shifts as needed, but our commitment is now done. The Village covers several blocks and is right in the middle of downtown.

In some of the photos you'll see a lot of Indy cars. These are retired cars that have been painted in all the teams' colors and themes. For a couple of days, they were all parked right in front of the Monument, which is the literal center of town. They are now scattered all over the city, so I'm glad I got to see them all in one place before they were moved.

There are two free stages in the Village, and there's usually someone playing at one or the other. Last night the Village People played, which was amusing. And yes, it was the original band. They were all old farts, like us.

For our last shift, we worked at the zipline, taking harnesses off of people after their ride. It was really fun to see their huge smiles! As much as we could, we'd ask if they had a camera and wanted a picture of themselves in the gear. Most of the time they were very happy to have their picture taken. I think the family with Grandma was the best - Grandma was maybe 4 feet tall and was holding a pinwheel (like the pig in the Geico commercial).

As volunteers, we got an added unexpected bonus: a free ride after all the paying customers were done at 10pm! This is a huge benefit; online tickets have been sold out for days, and if you want to buy a ticket for the same day, you have to be there several hours before the ticket office opens. Even then, you will still have about a 2-hour wait to ride, if you are lucky enough to get a ticket. We were able to just go right in, climb straight up, and hop off.

The zipline is done off an 80' temporary structure that they built just for this, and it goes down Capitol Ave for two blocks, right over a lot of the activities. People on the ground cheer and whoop as people go zipping by overhead. It's lots of fun to just watch the entire scene. One woman (who was definitely heavy enough to get all the way across) managed to get herself stuck about 50 yards from the end, and some poor guy had to hand-over-hand go fetch her and pull her the rest of the way. The way she was carrying on, you'd have thought she'd been stabbed or something. It was humorous to watch the crowd standing right under her taking pictures. I think she was secretly enjoying the attention.

More photos are posted at the links below!

General pics of the Super Bowl Village

Ziplining pics