Journey to Kona Day 103: Getting Off Track

I've written about the importance of how I start my day.  Somehow, I've gotten off track.  Today was a reminder of how to do it right.  I had promised myself to start my day by reading and writing, but somewhere along the way the urge to check out the internet or look something up or to write about something I'm working on seeped back in.  Starting my day off with an adrenaline "work" rush was not the epiphany that I'd had.  So, today, I try to get back on track.

Reading is something I used to love to do as a child.  In many ways, it grounds me.  What I read also matters.  Reading something of interest, but not necessarily reading something that plays to my workaholic tendencies, is my sweet spot.  I recently read a biography of "Shoeless" Joe Jackson.  That brought back memories of going to the library when I was a kid and checking out 8 books.  I'd read them all.  I've also enjoyed reading biographies.  I enjoy historical books.  I enjoy reading.  Somewhere along the way, as work and life took over, reading fell away.  I'd read the newspaper every day, that was it.  

Lately, the internet has been my reading consumption.  Unfortunately, there are too many unhealthy aspects to the internet. Checking social media and email are the biggest. In its own way, the internet makes it easy to find things to read, but it's almost pavlovian in nature.  It's not the same as sitting down and reading a good book. I need to get back on track.

This morning, I read a couple of stories in Runners World.  That's more like it.  I need to look at books I've bought and not read, or even books I haven't read in years.  It might be time, finally, after all these years to go back and read The Intern, the book I credit for helping me decide to become a doctor.  There's also Asimov's Foundation Trilogy.  

What tends to get in the way of my morning routine are things that pop up in my schedule.  A meeting I hadn't anticipated.  Another meeting that I actually set up, that could have been set up at a different time. Priorities.  Helping with the grandchildren.  There's always something, but maybe there doesn't have to be?  It's my choice.  Maybe I need to be a little more selfish in how I carve out my mornings?  Otherwise, it becomes too easy to get off track.

It's probably not a coincidence that getting off track has coincided with not biking or swimming.  My Ironman training definitely grounds me and is something that I've chosen to do for myself.  So, today, I begin to get on track again.  I'm sure that I'll bump the sides of the track every so often.  Things do come up which will throw me off for the day.  But, the next morning starts anew and I can look at each day as a chance to start my day with a routine.  Read, stretch, write, exercise. Time to get back on track.

Journey to Kona Day 101: Ironman Dreaming

I literally had an Ironman dream last night.  I dreamt that I was racing an Ironman, but I hadn't been biking or swimming for the past two months!  What would happen? How could I compete? At least, in my dream, I'd been running regularly.  That was what was going to get me through, in my dream.  

On reality, I haven't biked or swam in the past two months.  I have been running.  So, in some ways, my dream represented reality, only I don't have an Ironman until May.  I've been listening to my body and my mind and trying to be realistic about training and life.  Hence, the focus on running. Plus, it's been fun.  The last two months of run training started with a hard 20 mile trail run and a week of rest.  Over the next 6 six weeks I averaged ~47 miles a week and did a very solid half marathon in 1:44 (just under 8 minute per mile pace).  My running legs are as solid as they've ever been and are clearly ready for doing an Ironman.  Now it's time to add on the bike and swim!  I've been putting it off for a number of reasons.  The first is that my mind has been in other places, and I keep trying to decide where it ought to be.  I hope that my dream was a subconscious message that it's time for my mind to put some focus on my Ironman training.

As it relates to getting back to Kona, I have concluded that is a long term goal, but is not a life defining goal.  I'll be racing as a 63 year old next year and the challenge of competing with 60 year olds for a Kona slot is real.  If I put in the training hours, I will acquit myself well, but I can't expect to win my age group. On the other hand, if I keep up my running over the next couple of years and maintain my bike and swim, I could be highly competitive in the 65-69 year old age group.  Nevertheless, it's a dream, which is fine.  

I find myself spending too much time worrying about others.  It's who I am and who I've always been. There's a limit to how healthy it is, however.  My Ironman training, on the other hand, is for me. If done right, it can also be quite healthy. But it shouldn't be accompanied by stress or expectations.  I always tell people that Ironman is journey that is all about being in the moment.  It's not really about race day, in fact, it's not about race day at all.  It's about every other day.  It's about making my training my meditative time.  

I guess it's time to get back on my bike and into the pool.  It's raining this week and may be raining on and off (and cold) over the next week or two.  That shouldn't stop me from swimming, but will interfere with biking.  Looks like I'll need to wear my cold weather bike gear after all, though I will not bike in the rain.  And, I'll keep running.  The Ironman dream is still alive

Journey to Kona Day 58: Back to Doing What I Want to Do

It's funny how the mind quickly adjusts. Just believing the concept that I can spend most of my time doing what I feel like doing has already had a positive impact on me.  There's just a little more peace.  I realized last night that I didn't officially meditate yesterday, but my 90 minute run was definitely filled with meditative time.  It just wasn't captured on Headspace.  It still truly is about balance.  I'm sure that there will still be days where that balance is hard to find.  That's because perfection is never a goal.  Accepting each moment is what we really strive for.  It's the Ironman metaphor I've long described.  There is no Ironman where everything goes perfectly as planned.  My recent Ironman was the extreme example, being cancelled on race morning as I arrived at Transition.  That certainly didn't go as planned, but I was actually relieved, having identified the risks as far exceeding the benefits of racing during a "Bomb Cyclone."  So, while I didn't do what I'd originally planned to do, I actually did what I wanted to do. At the moment.

This brings me back to something I've definitely written about before.  Being in the moment is the key, and recognizing that helps with a balanced approach to doing what I want to do.  My routine may turn out to be anything but a routine, or it will be.  I am, after all, a creature of habit. I can eat the same thing day after do.  I can do the same things day after day.  I do appreciate the structured feel of that, but don't have to feel hemmed in by it.  I still have choice.  I can still always be in the moment. 

I was planning to do a 100 mile bike ride on Saturday, but I've already recognized that I'd rather run.  This week is truly my run week.  Three 9 1/2 mile days already logged, today will either be the same, or it will be longer.  I will certainly have some days where I break up my run into to segments, and I will have days when I run shorter, and days when I run longer.  I feel like running ~70 miles in a week is well within my body's capabilities right now.  It also feels like what I want to do.

The week began with my addressing my work-a-holic tendencies.  I've already made progress.  However, I can't be fooled.  Challenges will pop up and try to pull me in. Letting go of the desire and need to not say no.  Letting go of the need to please others. That will continue to be my daily challenge, my minute-by-minute challenge.  Focusing on what I want is my refrain, my reminder. And so I put one foot in front of the other and continue my journey.

Journey Back to Kona Day 57: Running Fitness

As I deal with my work-a-holism, I find myself gravitating to running.  I hammered my quads about a week and a half ago, and now I've run 9 1/2 miles two days in a row.  I'd been doing some squats for a few days prior and my glutes were sore when I went out to run on Monday.  That soreness is gone, as is the residual soreness that I was still carrying from the trail run (which I was actually still feeling yesterday).  I just feel like I can go out and run 10 miles every day.  Of course, my out and back hilly run happens to be 9 1/2 miles, but that's ok, as I don't really want to be a complete slave to a number. In fact, in talking to my coach yesterday, I used to consider running for 90 minutes to be threshold for a "long run."  My 9 1/2 mile runs take me 90 minutes.  I feel like I can do this every day. That kind of takes the concept of my long run to a new level.  I know it may seem silly to be writing all this after just two days, but mentally I know that I'm going to be able to run ten miles a day, day in and day out.  That is how far my running fitness has come in the last year. 

What's remarkable is that over the last 17 months, I've actually averaged 27 miles a week of running.  That includes a significant down period last winter where I was injured for the first time in a long time.  What stands out to me from this graph is the consistency that I've developed over the past eight months where I've averaged 31 miles a week with an even greater level of consistency.  My coach pointed out that, at the age of 62, this is pretty remarkable.  My taper for an Ironman that didn't happen allowed me to recover and then do the 20 mile trail race.  But now I'm ready for the next phase of further developing my running fitness.  While I continue to train for Ironman, and particularly Ironman St. George in May, in my heart I've become a runner and in the spirit of finding what works for me every day, this is the path I'll be taking for the time being.  We'll have to see where this graph goes over the next couple of months! 

The most important thing is that I'm not a slave to a number.  My daily run seems to have settled in at around 90 minutes, and I'll start adding in a long run in the next week or so.  That long run will probably start out to be 2 hours, and I'll gradually increase it over the next few months.  I'm also committed to doing walking lunges to start every day.  Yesterday, I did five (each leg).  Today, I'll do seven.  I don't want to overdo these, but they appear to be the most important strength exercise that I can perform on my legs with some degree of specificity for running.  My journey continues.

Journey Back to Kona Day 56: Listening to my Gut and Saying No

I had planned to start my day by meditating yesterday, but that's not what my gut wanted to do.  My gut wanted to run.  Now, running for me is generally meditative, so there really isn't a difference.  Also, if I'm going to fill the voids that I make for myself by taking things off my list, I need to fill them with the things that make sense to me.  Running felt right.  After my 10 mile run, I meditated.  My gut knows what I need to do, but I often find myself fighting with that instinct.  Yesterday was a test of that.  It started with that decision, and while I tried to inform someone of my decision to let go of one of the things that I realized I needed to let go of last week, that discussion had to wait until later in the day.  

I really don't like to disappoint anyone.  I've written about that before.  It's a deep-seated feeling that is one of my constant struggles.  However, the person that I least need to disappoint is myself.  The underlying feeling that I have when I say no to someone is truly one of my greatest challenges.  In many ways, it's harder than finishing an Ironman.  But I did it yesterday.  I felt some degree of stress from it, but I also felt relief.  It's my first (of many) first step.  I know I've entered down this path before, but this has to be my final time starting down this road.  I have to closely look for the side-roads that tug at me, acknowledge them, and move forward.  

I've never truly liked working for anyone.  It's not really in my DNA.  It never has been.  I'm an iconoclast.  I'm independent.  Two interesting traits for someone who doesn't like to say no!  No wonder I have days where I'm filled with anxiety.  

I ran 10 miles yesterday.  It felt great.  I don't know how far I'll run today, but my body will tell me what the right amount is.  I have some things scheduled this week, but I'm already working on converting my schedule in the weeks ahead.  There has to be time for me.  No more addiction to picking picking up the phone immediately.  I harken back to when I was younger, we didn't have cell phones. Hell, we didn't even have answering machines.  If we weren't home, we weren't answering the phone.  If we were out for a walk, we'd be walking.  If we working in the yard, we'd be doing yard work.  Well, truth be told, I never really liked yard work.  

There's a freedom that stuck its neck out yesterday that I really need to hold onto.  I know what I need to do.  I also know that includes saying no a lot more.  But it all includes saying yes. To myself.

Journey Back to Kona Day 55: Filling a Void

I really struggled yesterday.  I have days like this, where I feel anxious.  There were two likely reasons for how I felt.  In the process of dealing with my work-a-holism I need to let someone know that I will no longer be performing a particular job.  They've been someone that I've enjoyed working with.  It really does make sense that I'm anxious over this, as that last thing I ever want to do is to say no to someone.  Anyone.  It's one of the things that gets me in trouble.  It doesn't have anything to do with the adrenaline rush that I get from being a work-a-holic, though I supposed it's possible that there are some dots that could be connected there.  It has more to do with the perception of disappointing someone. I could just send an email, but that is not in my nature.  I have to do things the right way.  This morning, I'll make the call and say no.  As I write this, I know that this was definitely one of the things that was making me anxious yesterday, because I can begin to feel some relief by just committing myself to do it.

I will write more another day about the challenge the I have in saying no.  I've written about it before, and it is a lifelong struggle for me.  But today I will write about filling a void, because I know that will also be part of my challenge going forward.  I've been addicted to the adrenaline rush over the past 19 months.  There's been a lot of adrenaline.  Following a new schedule means letting go of the adrenaline.  Starting my day by meditating means not starting my day by looking at emails or tweets, or writing something that I wake up with in my head.  Ironically that's been a driving force for the past 19 months.  I get on a "kick" over something, and run with it.  It's primarily been about COVID-19 and saving lives, but it transcends to politics and potential influence whether it be through legislation, the media or something else.  It really pushes the adrenaline.  Acknowledging that I'm not going to start my day that way is unsettling.  There's definitely a void.

Instead of feeling the void and letting it control me, I need to consider that I'm filling the void with meditation and structure.  I don't need to do the habitual things that I've gotten used to over the years, which have been made worse throughout the pandemic by their connection to an apparent purpose.  Letting go of the addictive aspect of this is unsettling and feels like there's a void.  The only way I'm going to push through this is to actually start my new routine, a routine with less adrenaline, but definitely with purpose, and definitely promoting balance, which is what I know I must do.

So, today, I'll meditate.  Then, I'll stretch. Then, I'll run.  It's been 9 days since my 20 mile race, my quads are better, though my glutes are a little sore from doing squats the last few days.  But that's ok.  Running is something I'm familiar with.  It's something I've determined is part of my plan going forward.  Isn't the title of my blog, "Journey Back to Kona?" I haven't let go of that purpose.  I haven't decided not to pursue that form of adrenaline rush.  However, and this may be part of what is unsettling me, it has to be in balance.  No one said that this was going to be easy. Push one side of the balloon, and another side pops out.  As I write, that's what is going to happen. Knowing that I'll write every morning is a reminder that I will have time to address each and every one of these issues that pop up.  Today, I acknowledge that voids will exist.  Today, I'll start developing my approach to filling a void.

Journey Back to Kona Day 54: Adrenaline and the Importance of Balance.

I wrote yesterday about the adrenaline rush that I get from multiple sources.  When it occurs, it certainly doesn't feel negative. However, and I know this all too well, the impact on the body is significant. Not only does the body only have so much adrenaline it can handle, each surge sets off it's own cascade of other hormones and bodily responses.  Getting ramped up has its benefits in the moment, but crashing down afterwards is inevitable.  Therein lies the rub, and the importance of balance.

I started my day yesterday with meditation.  Ironically, the guided meditation on balance that I chose spoke directly to yesterday's blog.  It reminded me of the odd coincidence's that have followed me since the beginning of the pandemic.  Finding balance is about making choices, not unlike the game where you keep adding blocks, all the while trying to avoid having the structure come crashing down.  Maybe the better analogy is one of keeping a tree trimmed on a regular basis, lest it get too full and the branches will break during a storm.  It's time to start trimming!

There's only so many things that one can do in a day, and though I might like them all, I need to make choices.  Therein lies my problem.  I don't know how to say no.  I can't say no to others, and I can't even say no to myself.  Hence, the need for and the importance of balance.

I often look back upon and remember Ironman St. George in 2012, where I worried that someone would die, but that it wouldn't be me.  I felt a peace and equanimity for some time after that race.  I actually felt like I was in balance. I would even get up in the morning in our new house, and sit in the backyard while reading the newspaper.  This was new to me, and ultimately, I don't think that I knew how to handle it.  It wasn't too long before I began to revert back to what had been my norm.  That norm had me looking for things to do, that norm had me keeping busy.  That norm brought back the adrenaline.  

I've already recognized that the first step in achieving balance is to add structure, and start that structure by meditating first thing in the morning immediately after I write my blog (funny, I've made excuses for not writing every day, I guess I just changed that). That must be my first step.  Nothing can get in the way of my morning meditation. Nothing. I also need to take control over the uncontrollable.  That means emails, the internet, texts and phone calls.  There's really no gradual approach to this.  Today is the day that I put my new schedule on my calendar.  My entire day can no longer be open for all of the things that I do. It's unsustainable, and only adds to the inability to manage the adrenaline. 

That's it for today.  Tomorrow, perhaps I'll write about the positives of adrenaline and how to appreciate it.

Journey Back to Kona Day 53: Being a Work-a-Holic

This is probably one of the least understood and under appreciated addictions.  I'm sure that I've written about it before, but I may have to go back and find what I said.  There are a variety of reasons behind being a work-a-holic, not the least of which is the adrenaline rush.  It's complicated, too, by the fact that there are a number of things that I love about my work.  They say that if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life.  While there is truth to that, one has to define what that love of work means, and be specific about it. 

The internet, Google, social media, immediate news, are not the healthiest of options for someone who is addicted to adrenaline.  All of these things become available at the touch of a button, not unlike the experiments with cocaine and sugar that have been done on laboratory rats.  Keep it coming.  There is also an invisibility about a work addiction.  Is it about making money? Then it tends to get overlooked by one's duty to provide for their family.  Is it about accomplishments?  Then one gets plaudits for all of the things that they've done.  Is it about fame and attention? I can assure you that there is definitely a rush that comes with being on a stage, being on television or even being in the print media.  

We grapple with the difference between the adrenaline rush and the gratification of accomplishment.  The reasons behind the gratification are complex and deeply seated.  Addressing these are not always comfortable.

I've always wanted to help others.  Caring too much about the war in Vietnam in 3rd grade, as my teacher told my parents, was a lot for an eight year old. By the time I was twenty, I'd written letters to Menachem Begin and President Carter with my ideas.  Some might call this delusions of grandeur.  I can easily say that it was all based on my desire to help others.  It has always hurt me that other people suffer.  The problem with that is that there will always be suffering, and as I've learned over the years, it is possible for two people to be suffering for the same, but opposite, reason.  That discussion is for another day.

I care.  It's what I do. It's why I became a doctor.  It's also why I've spent almost every hour of every day since February 29th, 2020, engaged in the battle against the COVID-19 Pandemic.  There is also no question but that I have been struggling with burnout for quite some time.  It comes in waves, sometimes for minutes, sometime for hours, and sometimes for days.  The work addiction is my drug.  I grab onto it to help me get through the pain, but it is also part of the pain. 

Why am I writing about this today? Because, today, I'm spending the day with my father and my two brothers.  We haven't done this in, perhaps forever.  Yes, when I was younger we'd play basketball or ping pong.  We'd interact as a family. But my dad's wish to spend a day with his sons.  Something about it clicked for me in a variety of ways.  I have no clue what the day will be like.  I'm sure that my dad, who likes to daydream, has his idea of the day.  I'm excited to be part of it, and a little anxious. The unknown always breeds anxiety. 

So, I woke up thinking about my addiction, my work-a-holism. There's no question that it defines me. There's no question that I need to write more about it.  Today's post is only a beginning, only a simple scratch at the surface of something that tends to define every day of my life.  Since I love to jump to the conclusion of things, I'll close by sharing my plan to meditate next.  I know that meditation is ultimately the one thing that I need to do to combat my addiction to work. I now that meditation is the one thing that will ground me and keep the adrenaline from becoming overwhelming. It's the one thing that will help me in my day-to-day battle against being a work-a-holic.

Journey Back to Kona Day 40: Pondering the Journey

Today was supposed to be my first shot at qualifying for Kona.  I was primed.  My training was impeccable.  It wasn't to be, and like everything Ironman, it was totally out of my control.  A "bomb cyclone" cancelled the race today.  I wasn't disappointed, however, for a few reasons.  First, to be totally honest with myself, I've just been "off" over the past few days.  When I got to Sacramento I felt like my allergies were bothering me, and then yesterday my back tightened up on me.  Still, I was "ready" to race today. Except, that I knew that if there truly were 55 mph winds and heavy rain, that I wasn't going to risk hurting myself by getting on the bike. Fortunately, the race directors agreed and cancelled the race.  As I drove home, I began to feel better, validating my friend Rudy's thought that the huge drop in barometric pressure had "messed" with my system.  The vagaries of "getting older," I guess.

As I wrote a post on Facebook to the other athletes, I was speaking to myself as much as I was to them.  The last 8 months have been amazing.  Today's race wouldn't have changed that.  Whether I actually qualify for Kona doesn't change that.  I love having a goal, and I have been very serious about this one, but it still is about the journey.  If I make it about "results," I will lose.  Life isn't about "things," or "results," it's about putting yourself into what matters one hundred percent.  

On that note, I've got some other big decisions to make about what I want to be doing when I'm not training for an Ironman.  All of this has to be factored in.  But, as always, it needs to be factored in, in a good way, a healthy way.  And so, I ponder the journey.

My next Ironman isn't until May, and it's my favorite Ironman, St. George.  While I have the opportunity to do another race in the next 6 weeks, the logistic just don't work, and none of the available races interest me.  I'd still like a shot at the California course.  Having seen it, it really was going to be an interesting opportunity.  Which may make my decision simple, defer to next October 23rd.  The only complication would be if I had a great race at St. George and qualified for Kona next year.  The odds of that aren't good, and I may just want to go back to my original plan of preparing to qualify for Kona once I'm 65.  I've got 2 1/2 years for that.  In the meantime, I will continue to ponder the journey.

Journey Back to Kona Day 32: Ironman Pearls of Wisdom

Having done 15 Ironman events since 2010, I feel like I'm "qualified" to provide some pearls of "wisdom" to first time Ironman participants.  In fact, my coach once told me that you really start to understand Ironman around your 7th time.  For me, that actually was spot on.

1.  An Ironman should be easy until it gets hard.  Ideally, that will mean about 15 miles into the run.

2.  Stay in the moment all day long.  Don't spend time thinking about what you might have done, or what might be next.  Savor every moment of the day.  It's an incredible experience and feeling!

3.  At any point during the day that you feel like someone "turned the light switch off," slow down and nourish.  Do not push, do not try to maintain your effort.  Literally slow down and nourish.  On the bike this means pedaling easily and taking in nutrition.  On the run, this might mean walking or even sitting down and resting, and eating.  Taking ten minutes of rest can save you hours later in the day.

4.  Plan your clothing in advance.  Prepare for all types of weather.  If the temperature will be less than 60 degrees during the bike (and especially if it's closer to 50), make sure that you're wearing proper clothing to maintain warmth.  Hypothermia not only drains you of energy that you'll need during the run, but it significantly increases your caloric needs.  For me, putting on a Gabba top in T1 has helped me survive on multiple occasions.  Arm warmers are also critical, and can usually be worn under your wetsuit (otherwise, they're a bear to put on in transition).  You can always take them off if it warms up too much.

5.  For first-timers, don't even begin to think about a specific time goal.  Finishing is your goal.  Starting out easy and maintaining an easy effort for as long as possible will help you achieve that goal.  It will get hard at some point, but that will make the finish line all the sweeter!

6.  Reread #3. Write it out on your wrist.  Write it on your top tube.  You will forget, trust me.  It's still the single most important piece of advice that I can share.  Be ready and willing to slow down, to stop if necessary, to nourish.  Don't give up.  Just give yourself opportunities to recover.

7.  Don't burn too many matches.  It's a long day.  Don't go out too hard on the swim.  Don't try to power up hills, or in the case of IM California (which has no hills to speak of), don't push too hard against a headwind.  Don't try to set any speed records at the onset of the run.

8.  If you're not "feeling it" at the beginning of the run, use the first six miles to regain your energy.  Walk at the beginning of the run if necessary.  You'll save time at the end!  Walk the aid stations.  Walk when you feel the need to recover.  Pushing too much early in the run can cause you to lose an hour at the end.  Spending a few minutes slowing down can help you avoid the Ironman Shuffle at the end of the day.

9.  As you get to the finishing chute, take time to wipe your face and look your best for the finish.  Don't try to beat the person in front of you to the line, lest you mess up your photo op.  If you're fortunate, you'll actually hear Mike Reilly announce your name as you come up to the line.  There is nothing like it!

Journey Back to Kona Day 23: Messages Our Body Sends Us

3 days before my best Ironman, I was putting on my bike shoes for a short ride and my low back seized up.  Three days later, it was still slightly sore, and I actually worried about it getting worse at different points of the eleven hour and thirty two minute day.  It didn't.  That same spot invariably seizes up on me at various times in my training, and often prior to races.  I've blogged about it before.  It hadn't happened to me in at least several weeks, or perhaps longer.  Until yesterday.  Fortunately, it's only a nagging ache, and not a full blown spasm.  My coach and I often relate it to my body telling me it's time to rest.  My massage therapist says it's where I store things that are bothering me.  It's probably a combination of the two.  

Anxiety is a nefarious demon.  It settles in under our skin and pops up at inopportune times.  I've learned that there isn't always an obvious trigger to my anxiety, though I'm sure Freud would disagree with that.  I just am suppressing that trigger.  I have a number of things to be anxious about.  I have a number of things on my mind.  Ironman training has been a very healthy release for all that makes me anxious.  Tapering can certainly mess with that.  The endorphins are reduced and the anxiety rises to the surface.  

Yesterday was a rough day.  I never finished this blog as I was struggling with my anxiety throughout the day and evening.  Part of my challenge was the fact that I had three presentations today, and two papers that I'm working on.  Plus, my workouts have been minimal for the past few days, almost mimicking my reduction in training a couple of weeks ago that also led to increased anxiety and feeling pretty lousy.  The cure: getting caught up today with all of my projects and getting in two workouts, one of which was a bike VO2 workout.  That really gets the endorphins up!  It helped!

Journey Back to Kona Day 21: Mindset Matters

It's all about the mindset.  My coach was telling me today that 80-100 miles into the bike leg of an ironman, he'd be thinking about how his legs would feel if he started running.  I got it!  If I've prepared well and not burned too many matches on the bike, instead of having the biking doldrums, I should feel ready to go for the run.  In fact, my recent long bike rides have begun to prepare me for this, as I've gotten off the bike and been relatively ok running.  Of course, at Ironman California I'll be well rested going in, and so long as I don't push myself too hard on the bike, I'll be able to relate to the feeling!  I remember feeling this way at Ironman Chattanooga.  It's something I'd love to feel again!  Of course, mindset matters. When it comes down to it, getting in the right frame of mind is essential, and I feel like I'm so far ahead of where I've been before.

Swimming for over an hour just doesn't seem long anymore.  Biking for nearly six hours also doesn't seem that strenuous.  And of course, running 18 miles last week was just another running workout.  That's what my mind is telling my body, but more importantly, that's what my body is telling my mind!  I'm a huge believer in visualization, and as I prepare for Ironman California, and other Ironman's afterward, I'm excited by the new mindset.

Journey Back to Kona Day 20: Swim Easy to Swim Fast

While today was essentially a rest day, I did another 3000 yard swim (did one yesterday as well).  The idea was to swim easy.  No stress, no excessive muscle strain, especially since I was feeling a slight bit of soreness this morning from yesterday's swim.  So, I woke up this morning, ran 3 miles comfortably to get loose and headed to the pool.  Once I arrived, I just got in the water and focused on good form and a relatively easy effort.  Yesterday's stroke rate was ~29 strokes per minute.  Today, I found myself at somewhat less than that, but I noticed that I was using fewer strokes each length and I felt comfortable.  This feeling lasted for nearly an hour, as I reached 3000 yards faster than I have in the past month.  My form was as smooth and solid at the end as it was at the beginning, reminding me that swimming hard doesn't necessarily equate to swimming fast.  

Finding the right swim form and effort is essential for an Ironman, as I'll be swimming 2.4 miles and I don't want to exert too much energy with the bike and run to follow.  In fact, the easier the swim, the better.  The really intriguing aspect of this is whether swimming harder has any value at all.  Today was interesting because I swam really comfortably, and I actually went faster.  In fact, my pace today would have corresponded to ~1:16 Ironman swim, which I haven't done in a few years with the exception of the practice swim at Kona two years ago.  

I've often asked my coach about training more for the swim.  More training might improve my swim times by 5 minutes.  If I added a stronger effort I might save 10 minutes.  At what cost?  The cost of going slower on the bike and run.  The time to practice my swim could be spent on continuing to improve my bike and run.  With that said, there is probably a "sweet spot" for my swim training, and I think that I'm finding it.  

Doing a one hour nonstop swim at comfortable effort is akin to my MAF runs.  I'm not adding much to my physiology in the way of fatigue, and I'm training my body to go at a certain pace with minimal stress.  In fact, even over the past few weeks, this might already be paying off.  While it's "fun" at times to do harder swims, and even to do shorter efforts at a faster pace, I'm not quite sure what I gain from those efforts, except for the "fun" aspect.  

Just as I've diligently been running and biking at comfortable efforts, it looks like my swim training after Ironman California, will continue to focus on doing the same.  I'll try this for a couple of months and see what the result are.  It certainly doesn't hurt to swim easy to swim fast!

Journey Back to Kona Day 19: Sharpening the Sword

I wrote about the art of the taper in my last blog, and my understanding of the process grows with each passing day.  In some ways I never fully understood some of this because my body was never fully ready to effectively benefit from the taper, which is a bit of a misnomer, because tapering will have a positive impact regardless of how trained and prepared one is.  Nevertheless, there is a difference, and I realized it yesterday as I planned for my workout(s) today.  Initially, I'd planned to "get in another six or seven miles" of run volume, in order to get my weekly run volume closer to 50 miles.  But, after an incredibly solid 18 mile run on Friday followed by a 4 1/2 hour, 78 mile, bike ride yesterday, I realized that adding the run volume was purely performing to "a number."  With 21 days to go before Ironman California, it's all about offloading fatigue, while at the same time, sharpening the sword.

My coach put it simply yesterday in a text, you can't sharpen the sword if you're tired.  The type of workouts that are literally going to enhance my readiness for race day won't be effective if I'm tired.  So, there will be no running today.  My weekly run volume will have to tantalizingly remain at 39.6 miles.  Touche!  It is only appropriate that I not hit 40 miles exactly.  That's the point.  It's not about a number, it's about how I feel.  And, I'm tired.  Not markedly so.  Any other weekend prior to this I could have gone out and run six to ten miles.  I could have gotten some more time in on the bike.  That would have added to my endurance training.  But, it won't sharpen the sword.

The past couple of weeks have proven fascinating, as I complete one hard workout after another, adding to my perceived and numerical fatigue.  I've chosen to take a day off here and there when I've realized that doing so will enhance my ability to do the next important volume based workout.  Now, I will choose to take a day off here and there to enhance my ability to do the next sword sharpening workout.  Of course, I'm not yet sure what those workouts will look like, though I have some idea.  My coach will walk me through this on Tuesday.  Today, however, I will swim.  Swimming is good for my back.  Swimming is relaxing.  Swimming is something I've literally delayed training for, because it will have the least impact on my Ironman.  That is, of course, so long as the swim doesn't fatigue me at the start of the day.

Hence, my swim workouts for the next couple of weeks will continue to be long and "relatively" easy.  I say "relatively" because I really want to approximate my race day swim effort with these training sessions. However, today's swim will be easy.  Today is truly a rest day, and it's a great time to see how an easy long swim effects my fatigue, my mind and my body. We'll see how it prepared me for the days to come.  Tomorrow will be a short run, just to loosen up, and possibly a short bike, for the same reason.  I will probably swim again, depending upon how I feel, as I get ready for the real "work" of the taper, to sharpen the sword.

Journey Back to Kona Day 15: The Art and Science of the Taper

Unloading fatigue. At the end of the day, that's what the taper is all about.  It's become a fascinating journey as I try to listen to my body and respond accordingly on a near daily basis.  Last week was an opportunity to unload fatigue by literally taking 5 of 7 days completely off.  Of course, one of my workouts, at the end of the week, was a 6 hour and 10 minute solid bike ride.  Between technology, primarily my new Garmin watch, and how I feel, I try to measure my fatigue and adjust based on it.  The goal is that I will have let go of most, if not all, of that fatigue 25 days from now on race day at Ironman California.  

Over the past two days I worked out for over six hours, obviously increasing my fatigue level, and today is a "rest" day.  The quotations are there because I'm working and driving in traffic.  That's the problem with exercise based fatigue measurements.  They ignore the other stresses in our lives that increase fatigue.  For instance, four days of babysitting last week is not accounted for, except somehow, by my new "body battery" calculator on my garmin!  I'm definitely feeling the fatigue this morning.  My resting heart rate is up (~44-45), and my HRV (heart rate variability) is down (80).  Neither are particularly bad numbers, especially for the average person!  Still, I know that I'm at my "best" when my resting heart rate is below 40 and my HRV is in the low 90's.  

So I truly begin my focus on tapering and unloading fatigue in earnest.  I've made workout plans for the rest of the week, but I am not married to them.  I'll adjust on the fly with the knowledge that I've been training for seven months and the "hay is in the barn," so to speak.  Recovery and rest, and the unloading of fatigue, is paramount at this point in time.  I continue to learn about the body and how it responds.  Let's see what tomorrow looks like!

Journey Back to Kona Day 12: The Art of the Taper

Today is officially four weeks before Ironman California.  Yesterday's bike ride couldn't have gone better. I did everything I'd planned.  Time on the bike: 6 hours and 11 minutes. Volume of riding: 111 miles. Time in Aero position: Well over five hours. Normalized Power: 138 watts; Average Power 131 watts: Average Heart Rate: 127 bpm.  How did I feel.  Aside from still being tired going into the ride, the ride itself wasn't really hard.  I was tired after the ride, but was able to run a mile immediately and was beginning to loosen up and feel better, so I stopped.  I ate, rested and recovered the rest of the day, and went to bed early with the intention of running this morning.  I woke up feeling better, though not fully refreshed.  My hips were tight during the night, but felt improved this morning.  Still, the idea of running, whether short or long, doesn't fully make sense today.  Everything this year has been different, so perhaps my taper should be too.

Prior to this past week, my coach an I talked about the idea of a "reverse taper," where I would "unload" this week and then ramp up again for my official taper.  From a workout perspective, I certainly did this.  From a stress perspective, not so much.  Four days of babysitting didn't show up on my Training Stress Score (TSS), but it did show up everywhere else.  The impact of 9 minutes of hard cycling on Thursday. The total fatigue on Friday. To some degree, even how I'm feeling today.  My recovery from yesterday's long bike is actually pretty good, but it could be better.  If I take today as a true rest day, then I actually have unloaded stress this week and the coming week could be a solid week of training leading into my actual taper.

Here's the plan. Rest today.  Then, the coming week will include: 1) 50 miles of running, with a long run, 2) solid bike volume, w/ one more VO2 session, finishing the week with a 5 hour ride, 3) Three one hour swims.  Writing this down feels right. And, that's truly why tapering is an art.  

Journey Back to Kona Day 11: Putting in the Work

One doesn't have their best Ironman performance without putting in the work.   As I look back on all of the Ironman races that I've done, that's been the greatest challenge.  It's not like I've been a slacker, far from it.  However, there are certain things one has to do to truly expect the possibility of a good result.  That's because of what an Ironman consists of. Swimming 2.4 miles. Biking 112 miles. Running 26.2 miles. Alone, each of these tasks requires a certain level and type of training.  Together. Well, that goes without saying.  In the summer and fall of 2009 I was training pretty well and felt like I was going to be fully prepared for my first Ironman in May of 2010.  An unfortunate bike accident during long course world's in October of 2009 had a significant impact on my run preparation going into my first Ironman.  In 2016, I did a 20 mile run every week for 20 weeks.  That summer, at both Ironman Boulder and Chattanooga, that training paid dividends.  Over the years, I've felt like I've put in the necessary run training, but as I prepare for Ironman California, I realize that I've never been prepared for my run like I am now.  I've never come close to regular 40 (and even 50) mile run weeks.  I feel like I've put in the work when it comes to my run.  What about the bike?

The bike is what had me concerned up to a few weeks ago.  While I've done long bike rides over the years in preparation for Ironman, I've  rarely done bike training that had me confident about my ability to get off the bike feeling relatively fresh.  With that said, I've had some solid bike legs during Ironman races.  I've managed, just a couple of times, to not feel the "doldrums" during the bike and to start the run with my legs feeling pretty good.  In some ways I'd been concerned about my bike training, until last weekend, when I rode my bike 6 hours and felt solid the whole way.  Today, I get to back that up.  Another six hour day, after a strange week of "rest" which has left me feeling very out of sorts.  With four weeks to go before race day, I'm getting closer to my taper.  I used to look at four weeks as the time to start tapering, but the taper truly begins two to three weeks from the day of the race, especially if one is really prepared.  That leaves me with today's long bike ride and another one (not quite as long) next weekend.  

I haven't mentioned the swim, and there are a couple of reasons.  The first reason is that the swim is the shortest part of the race.  The second reason is that my form usually assures me a reasonable swim time.  The third, in this particular case, is that the swim is downriver, which plays to all of my strengths.  Also, I've noticed, that because of my good form, I'm able to carry my overall fitness and training into the swim.  Still, over the next few weeks, my swim volume will increase, putting the finishing touches on my race preparation.  

Preparing for an Ironman wouldn't be complete without mental preparation.  Over the years, I've improved my visualization skills and more recently, my meditative abilities. Both are necessary and helpful during an Ironman.  I was surprised last week how quickly the six hours flew by on the bike, and my regular 90 minute, 10 mile runs have made the running time also fly by.  Still, an Ironman is an 11, 12, or even 14 hour (hopefully not this time) day.   The mental preparation is just as important as the physical.

So, here I am. Four weeks out.  A long bike today. We'll see how it goes.

Journey Back to Kona Day 10: Listening to our Body

Wow! That's all that I can say.  I continue to learn about how our body works.  After my Sunday morning run, which couldn't have gone any better, we had four straight days of babysitting.  OK, I wish that there was a TSS (Training Stress Score) for babysitting.  I loved my time with my grandson and granddaughter, but I know that I was totally knackered by the end of each day.  If you ignore the fact that I had a solid workout Sunday morning, this was essentially four straight days with no training (except for walking my grandson to school and chasing after my granddaughter all day around the house...my garmin actually showed 10K steps each day!).  Still, very different from the past seven months.

This is actually quite an informative chart.  I really had a nice training build, almost all of which was at relatively low intensity, from the end of February through the end of June.  I then had two weeks of enforced "rest" battling an infected tooth and extraction.  I say "rest" because the muscles rested but the body was fighting.  Nevertheless, it was essentially two weeks off, which were then followed by ten very solid weeks of training.  The last four weeks prior to this one was probably as solid of a training cycle as I've ever had, with both my bike and run volumes increasing (run from a weekly perspective, bike from a long bike perspective).  This brings me to the past four days.  There's no question that my body was very well rested.  Hormonally, as my coach might point out, I was still more fatigued than I would have liked to admit, due to the four straight days of babysitting.  When I woke up yesterday morning, I felt fine.  In fact, I felt good.  I went out and did a one hour bike ride with three 3 minute very hard uphill efforts, VO2 max, workouts.  After a 2 mile shakeout run I endeavored to rest.  However, I noticed that I really felt "off."  Despite only 9 minutes of high intensity, high heart rate efforts, the effects seemed to be hanging on.  My heart rate stayed high throughout the day.  Despite focusing on eating and drinking, I seemed to be unable to "catch up."  I was literally exhausted.  I even texted my coach in the evening that I might not be up to my planned long run today.  

Two years ago, I arrived in Kona for the Ironman World Championships.  The day before I left and the day I arrived I did no training.  I literally had two straight days without working out.  The day after I arrived I did a 10K, my effort was harder than planned.  I felt completely wiped out afterward.  Despite that feeling, the next day I did a 2.4 mile ocean swim.  Whether I subsequently had a cold and a sinus infection, or just a sinus infection, I'll never know.  What I do know was that I was really messed up physiologically and hormonally all week, and certainly on race day.  How I managed to complete the Ironman was a testament to my preparation, overall fitness and mental fortitude.  Seven years ago, I rested for two to three days prior to Ironman Lake Tahoe.  On race day, I really didn't "feel" like I had "it." Fortunately, the race was cancelled, and one week later I PR'd at Ironman Chattanooga.  Hmm.  There's a pattern forming.  

As I go from a high training stress load to literally nothing for a few days, my body rebels.  That's certainly ok, but it's not ok if I am racing immediately thereafter.  Something tells me that taking this break five weeks out from Ironman California has given my body its opportunity to "rebel."  Doing anything substantial today would probably not be helpful, though I'm considering a short strength workout of core plus jogging.  We'll see if I feel up to it later on today.  No pressure, either way.  

I had planned to do a long run (potentially my longest prior to race day) today.  Not a big deal. I've got tons of time to get that run in over the next week.  Tomorrow was and still is supposed to be a long bike ride.  If I feel good in the morning, it will be.  If not, I can move that ride to Sunday.  The long run will come in the next few days, so long as I don't feel like I'm pushing or forcing it.  The great news is that I have a lot of flexibility over the next week to get these long workouts in.  The true Ironman taper is really over the final three weeks.  

Hopefully, this is just part of my learning experience.  It's particularly unique insofar as my training is far and away more robust and effective than it's ever been.  In some ways, my body's response is testament to the fact that I'm better trained and prepared than I've ever been.  I've written many posts over the years titled "Listening to My Body."  Today is a new addition to that.  It's all part of the journey!

Journey Back to Kona Day 5: Visualizing the Finish

So much of Ironman, and all racing for that matter, is mental.  Visualization is a key tool to use.  Today, I wasn't sure how far I was going to run.  Yesterday's bike (and the previous four days for that matter) had completely fatigued my legs and body.  In fact, my heart rate had trouble going down all day and night, but finally did when I slept (albeit quite fitfully).  With that said, my resting heart rate was at a relative high of 44-45 this morning, I was definitely fatigued, but I was still motivated.  Today was supposed to be a relatively long run.  I chose my flat back and forth route that allows me to stop every 1 1/2 miles to get a drink from my car.  I started out, focused on breathing every 6th step (my MAF effort), and my heart rate ultimately came up to ~130 after 3 miles.  For the first mile or so, I kept thinking that maybe I should cut today's run short, I was really tired, and my pace was right around 9:30/mile.

I had started today's run visualizing the start of the Ironman run.  That was my mistake.  I'll always remember how I felt at the beginning of the run at Chattanooga, where I had my PR.  I felt great!  If I felt like this at the beginning of the run at Ironman California, it would be a sign to slow down, eat and drink and try to feel better before pushing it (as I actually did in Chattanooga in 2016).  No, how I was feeling today was how I expected to feel at Mile 16 of Ironman California, and that's when my new visualization began.

From the second mile of today's run, I was at Mile 18 of Ironman, breathing every 6th step and the third mile went by in 9:17.  Since Mile 4-6 now represented Miles 19-22, I increased my breathing to every 5th step (and my heart rate gradually came up to ~135), and my pace held, completing those miles in 9:21, 9:22 and 8:50 (when my heart rate actually went up to 135).  Now I just had four miles to go to finish the Ironman!  With that visualization, I let my breathing increase to every fourth step for the next two miles, the first mile what I call comfortable Zone 2, which I did in 8:43, and the next mile done breathing harder, but still every 4th step, which I call "purposeful" Zone 2.  That mile clicked away in 8:40.  

Two miles to the finish. What do I do?  I naturally increased my breathing to every 3rd step, which would be Tempo effort, although my heart rate didn't want to move much higher than 145.  Still, I pushed, not sure as to what would happen during or after this mile.  This was mile 9 of today's run, and theoretically Mile 25 of the Ironman marathon.  When I hit the end of the mile, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I was now running at 8:08 pace.

That left me with 1.2 miles to go.  What do I do? Keep up the Tempo pace? Slow down? Go harder?  I chose to start breathing every 2nd step, which is essentially Lactic Threshold effort.  I stopped looking at heart rate, but did look at my pace, it was holding at 8:10.  I focused solely on keeping it at that pace.  Nothing else mattered.  Push, push, push.  I completed the 10th mile (Mile 26 for my visualization) and had 0.2 miles left.  My heart rate had come up to 152 at the end of the last mile, though I wasn't looking at it, all I could do was suffer, just like I had at the end of the Santa Barbara Triathlon a few weeks ago.  

The last 0.2 miles were completed at 7:46 pace and my heart rate was 154.  I was done.  But, more importantly, this was just the beginning.  Five weeks to Ironman California.  Another important and useful workout in the bank.  If I start the run feeling good, I should be feeling quite fatigued by Mile 16.  At that point I'll draw on today's workout to bring me to the finish.

Journey Back to Kona Day 4: It's All About the Bike, Kind of

What a day.  After four days of primarily running (~33 miles) and a solid bike effort yesterday, today was a long bike day.  In the past this is probably where I've struggled the most.  First of all, getting these long rides in. Second, making them count!  I had put a 6 hour ride in my calendar and my coach said that 5 to 6 was fine.  Well, I got in the full six hours, and I could have kept riding (though probably wouldn't have enjoyed it too much).  My power didn't make sense today, and since I hadn't calibrated my power meter, I'll just have to leave it at that.  However, I know how I felt and I know how fast I went.  Last weekend, I went into a similar ride with about the same level of fatigue and noticed that my back was a little sore and tight pretty early on.  Still, I rode over five hours and my back held up.  Today, I never really felt any back discomfort (ok, maybe a little during the last hour or so).  And, I kept in my aero position diligently for 90% of this ride, especially the 83 miles riding the Westlake "Lake Loop."  Sixteen loops might seem excessive to some, and mind numbing to others, but it's great practice for a flat Ironman California course, and it's a great way to measure my progress.

The first thing I noticed was that my first loop was about a minute or so faster than my fastest loops last week.  And, my heart rate was low, actually mostly under 120 for the first few loops.  Fifteen loops later I was finishing that portion of my ride and my HR was now ~130 and my speed had only slowed slightly.  The effort was fine (again, can't trust the power meter readings).  The speed, however, spoke for itself today.  I was rock solid consistent riding 19mph for 83 miles (4 1/2 hours), and feeling fine doing so.  This bodes very well for my Ironman, especially considering the fact that I'll be rested, which I wasn't today.

6 hours and 5 minutes on the bike; 108 miles in the books.  I got home and quickly changed into my running shorts and shoes and (after a very short bathroom break) ran 2.1 miles at a comfortable breathing effort (breathing every 6 steps).  It was a bit of a "slog" I have to admit, and my low back was tightening up on me during the second mile.  Nevertheless, my running pace was 9:38.  And, it didn't budge for the two miles.  Again, on race day, I'll be rested.  I won't have run 33 miles in the four days leading up to the race.  I won't be carrying six months of fatigue.  But, I'd be thrilled to get off the bike and run 9:38 pace!  I'll always remember Ironman Chattanooga, perhaps the only time I got off the bike in an Ironman and my legs actually felt great.  Also my second fastest Ironman run ever.  Considering how my legs felt at the Santa Barbara Triathlon just three weeks ago, I'm encouraged to see where I'll be five weeks from now.

Five weeks from now.  That's remarkable.  I'm literally a week (or two) from my official "taper."  Fortunately, I get a "break" over the next four or five days.  After a long run tomorrow, we babysit for four days (I imagine that carries its own stress, not easily documented in my training logs).  However, physically that will give me four days to "unload" the fatigue that I've built up recently.  Next weekend will be similar to this one, and then it's time to begin my taper.  At the end of the day, Ironman racing is really about the run, but you can't run if your legs are beat up by the bike.  Today's bike suggests that won't be the case.

Journey Back to Kona Day 3: Absorbing Training

Several weeks before the pandemic began I had decided to train for Ironman St. George.  It was supposed to be held in May of 2020, so I had little time to train.  Nevertheless, I'd begun my training and felt confident that I'd be able to race.  Obviously, a lot changed in March of 2020 and not only did the race get postponed, but I stopped training.  It wasn't until the summer that I started exercising regularly again, and my focus was purely on running.  A possible stress reaction in November caused me to back off again, and it wasn't until February 22nd of this year that I began fully engaged in Ironman training.  That was nearly 7 months ago, and my training efforts during that time have taken on new meaning.  First, I focused primarily on lower heart rate (Maffetone) training.  Second, I prioritized running, to the extent that I invariably have been running before I bike.  Third, swimming took a back seat until a few months ago, but that's always been ok because swimming, while not necessarily being a "strong suit" is something that I can quickly get "up to speed" on due to my good form.  

This has all taken on a new light as I've been training for Ironman California, which is now just a little over 5 weeks away.  Most importantly, it's working.  I've not only had my best race performances in my life over the past few months, but I can tell that I continue to absorb the training.  That's the word I've always loved when my training is working. "Absorb."  This week is a great example.  After an incredibly solid three day weekend of training (Hour bike w/ VO2 max efforts, 9.3 mile run on Friday; 5:07 bike followed by a 3.2 mile run on Saturday; 13 mile progression run on Sunday), I took the day off on Monday and felt fine enough over the past three days to run 9.5 miles each day, and got in a one hour nonstop swim.  I didn't bike, but that was a combination of too much work and balance (knowing what is coming up this weekend).  Today, I'll start to repeat last weekend's efforts.  

The fact that I've run 28.5 miles in three days and I feel fine is cause to recognize how much I'm absorbing my training these days, and how the run has become not only "second-nature," but my "go-to" workout.  I haven't decided how much I'll run today, or even if I'll run.  That decision will be based on a combination of factors, including how I feel, but also, how much time I have (due to a couple of meetings this morning).  I've really worked hard to find a balance in the past several months between work and training, while maintaining my life and commitment to my wife and family.  So far, so good, but it can be a bit of a slippery slope when the training is going so well.

I fasted yesterday and still ran 9.5 miles (albeit at a pretty low heart rate). Nevertheless, the day probably added a little extra stress, leaving me with a little higher heart rate and a little lower HRV (Heart Rate Variability) today.  Still, I'm feeling pretty good and will see how my bike goes with some more VO2 efforts.  My coach is having me do this workout once a week in the weeks leading up to Ironman California in order to improve my bike power a bit.  Last week went great, we'll see how I absorb this weeks workout!

Journey Back to Kona Day 2: Finding Peace

Today is Yom Kippur.  I remember 43 years ago walking the streets of Petah Tikva, outside of Tel Aviv, on Yom Kippur.  I was nineteen years old, and had moved to Israel with the intention of becoming an Israeli citizen.  I was staying with my older cousins and it so happened that my visit coincided with Yom Kippur. My cousins spoke little to no English.  I remember going for a walk.  There were no cars on the streets and there was a peacefulness in the air.  That's how I felt today as I went for a run.  I took in my last calories a about an hour before sundown last night and somehow slept over 10 hours.  I felt like running this morning and didn't want to add stress to my body.  So, I put on my heart rate monitor and went out to run my 9 1/2 mile (15K) route that has about 700 feet of climbing.  For some reason it seemed pretty quiet out today.  

My plan was to keep my heart rate low, definitely under 130, but really trying to average 120bpm.  My normal easy run usually has my average heart rate right around 130.  The idea was that the lower my heart rate, the more I would burn fat, and not stimulate my metabolism to burn sugar.  If I was going to fast for 25 hours, burning through my carbohydrate stores would only put added stress on my body.  

Today was the third day in a row running the 9.5 mile hilly route.  The previous two days my run took an hour and 32 minutes.  Today, it took an hour and 37 minutes.  However, my heart rate stayed right around 120 for the entire run.  I only go up to 127-129 on the steepest climbs.  As usual, I brought no water with me, and still sweated a fair amount due to the humidity.  When I got home I drank a bottle of water with electrolytes and meditated for 10 minutes.  Peace.

Running takes on its own meditative bent for me.  Today, that's what it was all about.  I think back to that day in 1978 when I'd moved to the other side of the world, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.  It's funny how things change, but stay the same.  I'm still trying to figure out what to do with my life, and my journey back to Kona is now firmly embedded in my plan.  Finding peace is also important.  There will always be bumps on the road, but equanimity and peace are high up on my list.  It's not lost on me how peaceful I've felt the two times I've been in Kona.  It's a good thing to focus on.

Journey Back To Kona Day 1: Believing That I Can Qualify

And so it begins.  I've thought about writing this blog many times over the past few months. This past weekend's workouts have given me the courage to put it out there.  For many years I thought about trying to qualify for the Ironman World Championship.  I actually thought that I might have the capability of doing so.  Even two years ago, when I made it to Kona through the Legacy program, I gave it one last attempt at Ironman Boulder to try to qualify.  While I go my second best age group result ever (7th place), I was still far away from a Kona slot.  The biggest single reason for the fact that I've never come closer than 45 minutes from qualifying lies with the run.  I won't know for another 6 weeks whether that has truly changed, but it sure feels like it right now.  I also harbor no illusions as to how challenging getting a Kona slot will be, even in the 60-64 year old age group, where the competition is still fierce.

In a lot of ways, Day 1 of my "Journey Back to Kona" could very well be the first day of a three year endeavor.  It is quite plausible that my ability to be competitive enough to qualify for a Kona slot won't come until I join the ranks of the 65-69 year old age group.  On the other hand, my recent race performances and training experiences have opened the door ever so slightly for the next two years.  My first chance to see how I stack up comes in less than six weeks at Ironman California.  While one never knows how they will perform on race day, especially when it comes to Ironman racing, I'm as ready as I've ever been.

Finding myself running under 8 minute pace during the final five miles of a 10 mile run and 4 hour triathlon completely changed the way I view myself.  In my age group, as in many of the age groups, ones Ironman finishing place is "all about the run."  In all of my years of doing triathlons, I've never run like this.  Today was my second day in a row of running 9.5 miles comfortably on a hilly course close to 9:30 pace.  I expect to put in another 50 mile run week this week, and for the past six months I've averaged close to 40 miles of running a week.  My body has absorbed the training and is not breaking down.  In fact, I look forward to going out and running 10 miles!

This brings me to my goals for IM California.  I have three.  First, and foremost, to have a run PR.  This means pretty much running the marathon the marathon in under 4 hours and 30 minutes, although, I'd like to set a reasonable goal of running a 4:20 marathon.  Ideally, if I'm having a great day, getting under 4 hours is the holy grail for >60 athletes.  If I can run the marathon in under 4 hours I will undoubtedly achieve my other two goals.  The first is to PR for the race, which would be anything under 11:30, though again, my "stretch" goal is doing the Ironman under 11 hours.  Any or all of these results will get me to my final goal of being on the Age Group podium (top five).  Depending on who else is racing, and how they do, getting on the podium gives me a fair, albeit outside, chance of getting a Kona slot.  The 60-64 age group generally has one slot, hence the winner of the age group.  There are 60 year olds capable of doing this race in close to 10 hours.  At the end of the day, luck will play a part for me!

Believing in Myself: Becoming a Real Runner

Yesterday I became a real runner.  Yes, I've been running for nearly thirty years.  Yes, I've done ten marathons, 15 Ironmans and a 100 mile ultra run.  But yesterday I truly became a real runner.  Why? Because I fully believed in myself.  Because I gave it everything I had while maintaining a solid pace at the end of a triathlon.  Even during the best runs I've done over the years, I've rarely been able to combine a full effort while maintaining my pace.  I've had many solid races that I'm proud of.  I've given it everything I've had many times.  But in almost all of those cases, my pace had slowed considerably from what I'd hoped or thought I was capable.  Something changed yesterday, and I now feel like I'm a real runner.  

So much of athletics and racing is mental.  You can do all the training in order to prepare yourself, but in the end, you have to actually execute on your training.  That's where the mental component comes into play.  For the last year or so I've transformed my run training.  I'm running 40 miles a week nearly every week.  Last year I even had a period of time where I was regularly running between 40 and 50 miles a week.  Lately, I've maintained this new volume of running while increasing my biking and swimming.  I run on a very hilly course almost every day, so it's hard to know how fast I can run on flatter ground.  I've also been running regularly at a relatively low heart rate, so it's also hard to know how fast I can run if I give it a harder effort.  Some recent race results have suggested that I've gotten faster, but nothing prepared me to have the confidence for what I did yesterday.  Now, because of what I did, I have the confidence for future races.

I'd been mentally visualizing the Santa Barbara Triathlon for a few weeks.  Most of my visualization was focused on the swim and the bike.  In some regards, I knew what I wanted to do on the run, but since the run is last, I couldn't allow myself to think too far ahead.  I needed to have a solid swim and bike first.  But once the run began, I'd figured and hoped it would all come together.  I knew that I would stay within myself for the first five miles and then give it everything I had on the way back.  I just didn't expect to be running at the pace that I found myself running at.  For years I look at the men at the top of my age group and find myself in awe of their run pace.  I've always considered them to be an echelon above me.  They are real runners.  After yesterday I can wonder if I'm close to being one of them.

When I came out of transition from the bike and started running, I looked down at my watch, to find that my run pace was close to 8:15.  In fact, I decided to back off a bit, thinking that might be too fast, and when I settled into a very comfortable (Zone 2) effort, I was still close to 8:30 pace.  The first two miles were flat and therefore really gave me a good idea of how I can run on flat ground after swimming and biking.  At the second mile, my run pace had actually dropped closer to 8:15.  This was essentially the pace I kept for the first 10 miles of a recent half marathon, before slowing down at the end. My legs felt good.  The next part was the big surprise. I had expected to slow down to between 9 and 10 minute pace on the uphill section, especially because I'd committed myself to maintaining a comfortable effort.  As I ran up the hill, I realized that my pace was still under 9 minute pace.  Hmmm.  This was going to be interesting.  By the end of the fourth mile, having completed most of the climbing, it had become clear that something was different.  I was still running comfortably and my pace was still around 8:45.  As things flattened out, I held my effort steady and found myself back at 8:30 pace at the turnaround.  Time to pick up the effort.  Over the years, this has been where I pick up the effort, but my legs don't really follow. Yesterday, they did.  And I believed that they would.

During the sixth mile, my pace dropped to just below 8 minute pace.  In March that would have been close to my pace for a 5K.  I was now halfway through a ten mile run at the end of a triathlon that would take me nearly four hours.  Where was this coming from?  The seventh mile would tell me the truth.  Running downhill should allow you to run faster, if you have the legs to do so.  I opened up my stride and just focused on running fast and hard.  My breathing picked up and for the next two miles I was running 7:36 pace.  In June I'd done a Sprint Triathlon (albeit at altitude) and my run pace was 8:10 for 5K, and I had given it my all.  

I knew that if I was going to see where my running was truly at these days that the last few miles would tell me the truth.  In some ways, my watch became my friend, and my north star.  During the 8th mile I kept my pace right at 7:36 and just did what I needed to do to maintain it.  It certainly was feeling a lot harder, but I didn't back off.  I kept up the effort and the speed.  Once the course flattened out again for the last two miles my watch was my rabbit.  I wouldn't let my speed slow beyond 8 minute pace.  I was running all out and breathing all out essentially for the last 5K of this race.  Both of my last miles were at 7:55 pace.  

After a relatively hard 1 mile swim and a very solid 2 hour bike ride, I ran ten miles at 8:12 pace.  I literally ran down 4 other guys in my age group, including the guy who won the age group two years ago. I couldn't catch the winner of my age group, but I ran 6 minutes faster than he did (he is an outstanding swimmer and put nearly 9 minutes into me on the swim).  If the course was completely flat (like Ironman California will be), I should have been able to maintain a sub 8 minute pace for ten miles.  Could I hold it for 13.1? I think so.  I should at least be able to give it a shot.  Ironman will be different, but the concepts are the same and the training is there.

In my age group, if one can run a marathon in under 4 hours you have a great shot at being on the podium and even winning the age group.  That has always been my goal, but a goal and reality are two different things.  In my mind, after yesterday's race, the idea of starting a flat Ironman run at 9 minute pace and holding it for 26.2 miles began to take shape.  I have little doubt in my mind that I could hold such a pace for twenty miles.  The rest is guts and mental fortitude.  I know I have that now, or at the very least, I'm capable of it.  I am capable of being a real runner. I believe in myself.

Burying Myself

The Santa Barbara Long Course Triathlon is an iconic race.  Today was its 40^th Anniversary.  It starts with a 1 mile ocean swim and is followed by a very hilly (nearly 2000 feet of climbing) 34 mile bike ride and culminating with a 10 mile run.  I’d looked at results from previous years and had set a goal of finishing in under 4 hours. 

My last ocean triathlon swim was at Mike & Rob’s Most Excellent Triathlon in 1994.  I did make sure I swam into the surf before the start to get my body used to the cold water and to get the feel again for swimming in the ocean.  At the start I ran into the surf with my wave and when the water was up to thigh level I leaned forward and started swimming.  It was a foggy morning, making it difficult to see the buoys and I found myself drifting a bit to the left.  I corrected my course correction and made the right turn to swim parallel to the shore.  The fog made it next to impossible to see the buoys, so I did my best to follow the other swimmers and finally got to the turn buoy with a little bit of weaving.

 

I had done a one mile pool swim a couple of days ago at 1:45 pace and a stroke rate of 28-29 strokes per minute (spm).  I tried to keep a similar effort, though swimming in the ocean it’s usually best to take shorter strokes.  My stroke rate was 33 spm and my pace ended up being 1:45/100 yards.  My swim time was a very respectable 30:03. 

 

Running up the beach and into transition might have been my first clue to the fact that I actually had “running legs.”  A solid transition time of 2:29 bespoke the fact that I’d racked my bike in the “overflow” area, causing me to run an additional 100-150m through transition compared to others in my age group.  I also had trouble getting out of my wetsuit.  I usually pride myself on my transitions, and in this case my running legs actually saved my transition time.  

 

I ran with my bike to the dismount line and put my right foot in the bike shoe already clipped on the pedal only to accidentally jam the heel into the back of the shoe.  Another slight delay which I fixed, got both feet in my shoes and headed out on the bike.  I was wearing an aero helmet with a visor and the fog made it a little difficult to see, but I managed to ride, albeit a little carefully.  My power meter didn’t connect, but I’m good at riding by feel, so that’s what I did.  There are three major climbs on the course and I rode comfortably to the first climb, which didn’t feel too hard.  The bike course is open to traffic and has some narrow roads, so I rode pretty carefully.  Before I knew it, I was on the second climb, and somehow I felt like I was getting my “bike legs.”  Normally, I get passed by people on climbs, but today, that literally never happened.  I was passing people throughout the bike.  The downhills, which should have been an opportunity to gain some time, required some care due to the roads and my foggy visor.  Near mile 20 I came up to a truck that was taking up the whole width of the road.  I had to slow down for a couple of miles before he finally turned off.  The third climb had a fairly steep section, but I was fine.  I rode comfortably to the end, getting out of my bike shoes shortly before the dismount and did a flying dismount.  My bike time was 1:53:47, or 18 mph.  Considering that the course had 2,000 feet of climbing, this was a very solid ride.  I had also planned to try to go into the run with good legs.  In fact, during the last few miles I began to get myself mentally ready for the run.

Again, T2 required an additional 100-150m of running, but that really wasn’t a big deal.  In fact, my time for T2 was a very solid 2:56.  I quickly put on my socks and running shoes, my hat and grabbed my race belt and ran out of transition.  

 

This was what I’d been both preparing and waiting for.  I’ve completely changed my run training and have been running 40 miles every week.  In fact, I’d already run 35 miles for the week and was looking forward to seeing how my run would pan out.  I started the run comfortably and looked down at my watch.  My run pace was about 8:30.  If I could just run comfortably and keep that pace, I knew I’d be in great shape.  I did the first mile in 8:34 and the second mile in 8:18, all the while feeling good.  There were hills and net elevation gain for the next two miles, and I listened to my coach’s advice and just ran easily up the hills in 8:46 and 8:50.  Mile 5 was flat and I was back to 8:34.  At the end of the fifth mile I picked up the pace and the effort, knowing that the next two miles were net downhill miles, which I ran in 7:56 and 7:36.  With three miles to go I had one more downhill and then 2 ½ miles of flat running.  This was what I’d been preparing myself more.  Mile 7 was done in 7:37 and I began to bury myself.  Literally bury myself.  I was breathing super hard and definitely suffering, but I was committed to maintaining my pace.  The lap pace on my watch during the last two miles showed 7:55 and I wouldn’t let it go up.  I held the pace while the effort increased until I crossed the finish line.  

 

The best part of doing triathlons with a wave start is that you start at the exact same time as your age group competitors and you all have your age on your left calf.  Shortly after starting the run I passed someone in my age group.  After the turnaround I came up to three more guys in my age group over the next couple of miles.  As I came up behind each of them it was obvious that I was running faster than they were.  Nevertheless, after settling in behind them for about 5-10 seconds, I surged past each of them, quickly putting 20 yards between us.  They couldn’t respond.  In the past, that would have been me.  In the end, I put an additional 8 minutes on the first three and two minutes on the last guy.  It turns out that he won the age group two years ago.  

 

My final time was 3:50:00, ten minutes faster than my goal and pretty close to as fast as I thought I’d be able to go.  This time put me 2^nd in my age group.  It turns out that the winner of my age group lives in Santa Barbara and is an excellent swimmer.  When I came out of T1 I was 9 minutes behind him.  At the finish line, I was 2 ½ minutes behind.  Three more miles…

 

In eight weeks I’ll be toeing the line at Ironman California.  I’m looking forward to finding out how my run holds up for 26.2 miles.

Crushing It!

I’ve never been particularly fast.  Considering I didn’t even run a mile without stopping until I was 32, my legs never really understood speed.  For the past two weeks I’ve been visualizing the sprint triathlon that I did today.  The Pasadena Triathlon is a “reverse” sprint triathlon, meaning that the order of events is run, bike and then swim.  What is most notable is that I did this race for the first time in 1993, when it was only my third triathlon.  Today would be my 98^th triathlon since my first race in 1992.  Ironically, that one, in Cerritos, also followed the “reverse” format.  My training lately has been devoid of speed and focused solely on my Ironman coming up in October.  Running fast, and even biking super hard, are not things that I’ve been practicing.  Which means that my mind isn’t used to the feeling of essentially going all out for an hour.  That was the goal.  And, to that end, I’d been visualizing this race every day and night for the past two weeks.  
 
It was my plan to run the 5K as if it were a 5K race, though not quite to the point of feeling like I needed to throw up or pass out at the finish.  The next part was the unknown, although I had a sense that I could race the bike as hard as I could, literally turning the run-bike combination into a 10K run, which is a painful experience.  Obviously, at the end of all of this was a 150m swim, which never concerned me.  
 
The course was a 5K loop around the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, the first half of the loop being a gradual uphill and the second half a gradual downhill.  The bike was three laps of the same loop.  After the bike, there was a 400m run to the Olympic distance pool, where we would complete three lengths.  
 
I warmed up by running about 2 ½ miles prior to the race.  The crazy part is that during my warm-up picking up the pace to what I planned to do felt hard.  Truly, my brain is not used to running fast.  I started with the first group, planning to finish the race in under one hour. The record for the course was right around 49 minutes.  Anything one hour or better would definitely represent a seriously strong effort. From the start, I went out fast, starting at under 7 minute per mile pace, but gradually “settled into” a hard effort/pace that led to a first mile (which was uphill) of 7:40.  Check.  That was exactly what I’d planned to do.  I was breathing every third step, and it felt hard, but it also felt like I could hold the pace.  I was looking forward to getting to the halfway point, where the course started going slightly downhill.  Before I knew it, I had finished my second mile in 7:33.  Check.  With one mile to go, I really focused on going fast, and literally allowing myself to suffer.  My breathing was still hard, and I even allowed myself a quiet “grunt,” which has long been my trademark.  As I looked down at my watch during the third mile, I realized that I was keeping close to 7:15 pace.  It was hard but knowing that I was still going fast gave me the encouragement that I needed to keep pushing hard.  I hit the third mile in 7:12 and realized that the course was going to be a bit longer than 5K.  That was ok, I could still push hard through transition.  My 5K time was actually 23:13, which remarkably is the fastest 5K I’ve done in several years.  And I still had to bike!  My time arriving in transition for the run was 24:32 (7:28 pace), which was 76^thoverall. I ran to my bike, kicked off my running shoes, hat and my race belt (which I fumbled with a bit), and put on my helmet, grabbed my bike and made my way out of transition to the mount line. Transition took me 50 seconds, which was solid (45^th overall).  
 
I had my bike shoes on my bike and got my right foot in, pushed off a few times an put my left foot on top of my left shoe.  There was a “no passing” lane for a bit, so I couldn’t go fast, and it allowed me to reach down and put my left foot in my shoe and tighten both shoes.  I turned on the bike portion of my garmin watch and got to the beginning of the first loop.  From that moment to the time I got to the end of the third loop I just pushed a hard as I could.  I figured that I’d learn the course during the first lap, which I did.  The first part of the loop was uphill, and I just put my head down and buried myself with a hard effort. The second part had some downhill and an opportunity to keep pushing and hold some speed.  
 
There were two take home lessons from the bike.  The first was that I went out hard and managed to maintain the same hard effort during the second loop, and then repeat it a third time knowing that I would be done shortly thereafter.  Considering that I’d just done a nearly all out 5.3K run, the bike effort definitely “hurt.”  But, I ignored the discomfort and just powered through, knowing that it would be over soon enough.
 
The second lesson was that there were a lot of triathlon “newbies” in the race.  The first lap was fine, as I was passing fairly solid athletes, but the second and third loops was like riding in an obstacle course.  People riding 10mph on the left, and when I yelled, “on your left” at the top of my lungs, they either didn’t move, moved to the right, or, worse yet, moved to the left.  This clearly caused me to slow a little at times, but I planned ahead with each person I was passing and it only got dicey a couple of times.  I even passed someone who was riding on the left side of the road and talking on a cell phone!  Before I new it, I was finishing the third loop.  I think the person who was at the turnoff thought I had another lap to go, probably surprised by the grey hair and finishing so soon!  My normalized Power on the first lap was 190 watts and my speed was 20.4 mph; the second lap was 197 watts and 21.4 mph and the third lap was 193 watts and 21.4 mph.  My bike time was 28:38, which was 31^st overall.  I got out of my bike shoes shortly before the bike finish and did my usual flying dismount, racked my bike, took off my helmet, my glasses and socks and quickly put on my running shoes and swim cap and grabbed my swim goggles.  The run to the pool was about 400m and that was included in our second transition time, which was 2:56.  I was 118^th overall with this time.  In retrospect, perhaps running in bare feet and forgoing the swim cap might have save me some time.  Oh well.  Just before the pool entrance I kicked off my shoes and put on my goggles.
 
I got to the pool, jumped in and started swimming.  In a lot of ways, this was the easiest part of the race.  I was definitely winded, but my swim speed is pretty solid to begin with if I’m not going all out.  I went fairly hard, passed a few people (not too many in the pool yet, thankfully), and was soon at the final 50m.  I had visualized picking up my pace and my arm turnover, which I kind of did, but there wasn’t too much left in the tank at that point.  My swim time was 2:59 for the 150m (1:50/100 yard pace), and my official swim time (which included getting out of the water and walking past the timing mat, was 3:38 (67^th overall).  I kept 29 strokes per minute, which means I was working.  I was definitely winded at the end but finishing with the swim was somewhat of a godsend, allowing me to “cool down” somewhat at the end.  
 
My final time of 1:00:32 was slightly over the one hour I had hoped to finish in, but that had been assuming a 5K run and not 5.3K.  I pretty much did everything that I’d set out to do.  I suffered for an hour straight in a way that I’m not sure I’ve suffered before.  I kept pushing the entire time in a way that I don’t think I’ve ever pushed in terms of maintaining both effort and pace on the run and bike.  I was 40^th overall out of 578 people.  I won my age group by nearly 6 minutes.  I’ve never been “that guy,” but it felt good.  I do have to note that there were two 65 year old guys that beat me by a minute, both of them actually managed the transitions better than me and were clearly at the top of their age group.
 
When all was said and done, I felt like I’d executed almost flawlessly, left everything out there on the course, and literally “crushed it” today.  Two age group Sprint wins in a row feels pretty good.