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.