Gradations of Sadness

My father is dying.

There, I said it. I'm not saying this to make anyone feel bad or elicit sympathy. I'm just stating a fact. It's the crappy, but expected, part of life. We lose those we love, or they lose us. My father is 90 years old, and his heart is finally failing. I, for one, am incredibly grateful to have had him this long. Given his history of heart problems, the last 35 years have been a gift.

I spent some time with him this past weekend, saying goodbye, enjoying his company and being inspired by his grace. Selfishly, it had not occurred to me that the opportunity to say goodbye would mean as much to him as it did to me. There was lots of smiling and laughing.

On day 2 of my visit, I was shaken out my own emotional drama by some completely unexpected news. The closest friend of one of my dearest, oldest friends had suddenly died, at 54. He apparently suffered a massive heart attack, and was found lying at a bus stop in Chicago. I had met him once, and been completely charmed and won over. He was a very special man, and an integral part of my friend's life.

Any sadness I felt was obliterated by the pain I must imagine my friend experiencing. She is devastated by the sudden, unexpected, untimely loss of her closest friend on the planet. Any sense of pain I feel pales in comparison to what she must be going through. I am truly heartbroken for her.

I'm feeling a gentle tug of sadness, a very slow pulling away of the life force known as my father. It feels right; the impending loss is appropriate. My father has lived a long and happy life, seeing joy all along the way and sharing it with his family. We've been blessed to have him for 90 years, far more than I ever expected. This Daddy's Girl is never going to be ready to lose the love of my life, but it's part of the human existence. While sad, it's very manageable.

In contrast, Romy has had her closest, dearest friend yanked suddenly away from her, with no warning, no time to prepare. His life ended prematurely, before he was done. She has incurred a gaping wound of pain and grief, and is trying to find her way through it. Her sadness is sharp and violent, a swift wrenching loss. I can't begin to imagine the turmoil she is experiencing. I wish I could do something to make it better for her, but I can't. All I can do is let her know I'm here.

I guess the lesson here is that there is perspective in everything. And I am feeling incredibly lucky.

Race Inventory 2012

After surviving my first Ironman last year, I wasn't sure how I was going to top it for this year...so I didn't really try. However, it was still a very good year for racing and improving as a mediocre age-grouper athlete!

Here's the short version.

• 8 half-marathons
• 4 marathons
• 3.5 half-iron triathlons (one was shortened due to weather)
• 1 30-mile trail run
• 4 triathlons of assorted distances (two winter indoor tris not listed below)
• 1 olympic-distance duathlon
• 3 assorted running races

I used one half-marathon as a long recovery walk/jog, and took advantage of the opportunity to walk it with someone dear to me. That was a nice break and a welcome chance to relax.

This year saw my first "double" -- two longer races in two states in one weekend. I survived, and actually had a good time. Saturday was the Mississippi Blues Marathon in Jackson, MS, which turned out to be quite hilly. After the race, I drove to Mobile, AL, and mingled over dinner with a lot of other crazy people who were also doing both races. Sunday morning was the First Light Half/Full Marathon. I opted for the half, but many people were doing another marathon. It was an interesting experience, and I learned a little bit more about pacing and recovery. Much to my relief, AL was also flat.

An enjoyable 15K trail run in March became a bittersweet reminder of how precious life truly is, and how important it is to live in the moment.

My second ultra, a 30-mile trail run in April, resulted in a new friend and running partner. We have plans to try our first 50-miler together next April.

I became more comfortable with the half-iron distance, doing three-and-a-half this year (one, Muncie, was shortened due to extreme heat). Kansas saw winds like I've never experienced combined with some impressive hills. Steelhead felt more like a reunion between old friends, and was a perfect day, if tinged with a hint of sadness. Augusta was a mini-vacation that ended in a personal best and a thoroughly enjoyable visit to a little town in Georgia.

Instead of a full Ironman this year, I tested my ability to recover. In the span of six weeks, I did two half-marathons, a half-iron tri, and a marathon (in that order), took a week off, then did another marathon. I survived unscathed, save for a few hours of aching feet and legs. I consider that a "pass".

Perhaps the most unique marathon of all was the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey in Nashville, TN. This is a small race (300 or so), completely irreverent, and highly sarcastic. In short, it was loads of fun. It was also quite challenging, with 7500 feet of elevation change crammed into those 26.2 miles. I highly recommend it.

Next up: Starting 2013 with a marathon on New Year's Day. Doesn't get much better!

Below is a more detailed list of the year's events.

Santa Hustle Half Marathon	Dec 16	2:19:47	Indianapolis
Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon	Nov 18	5:17:01	Nashville TN
Detroit Free Press Marathon	Oct 21	5:10:31	MI
Chicago Marathon	Oct 7	5:07:23	IL
Ironman 70.3 Augusta	Sep 30	6:32:39	Augusta GA
Quad Cities Half Marathon (walked with Paula)	Sep 23	3:45:07	Moline IL/ Davenport IA
USAF Half Marathon	Sep 15	2:14:04	Dayton OH
Ironman 70.3 Steelhead	Aug 19	6:45:59	St. Joseph MI
Eagle Creek Sprint Triathlon	Jul 21	1:26:03	Indianapolis
Buckhead Border Challenge	Jul 15	3:34:24	Jeffersonville IN
Ironman 70.3 Muncie (shortened due to heat)	Jul 7	3:48:01	IN
iChallenge Indy Tri	Jun 24	2:11:11	Indianapolis
TNT Trail Run 10K	Jun 19	1:08:41	Indianapolis
Eagle Creek Sprint Triathlon	Jun 16	1:27:40	Indianapolis
Ironman 70.3 Kansas	Jun 10	7:57:40	Lawrence
Geist Half Marathon	May 19	2:19:03	Fishers IN
Muncie May Duathlon	May 12	3:17:09	IN
Wisconsin Half Marathon	May 6	2:17:37	Kenosha
PA Winona Lake Trail 30 Mile	Apr 14	6:48:53	Warsaw IN
Opossum Creek 10K	Apr 7	1:04:24	Granger TX
North Carolina Half Marathon	Mar 25	2:18:21	Charlotte
DINO trail run 15K	Mar 10	1:39:01	Indianapolis
Rhythm & Blues Half Marathon	Feb 19	2:16:00	Houston TX
Bop to the Top 36-floor Stair Climb (Triple Challenge)	Jan 21	31:28	Indianapolis
First Light Half Marathon	Jan 8	2:28:21	Mobile AL
Mississippi Blues Marathon	Jan 7	5:13:14	Jackson MS

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