Journey to Kona Day 5: Harnessing Who We Are

I can be very passionate about the things I believe strongly in.  That passion can be infectious. When I was a boy, I read “Call of the Wild,” by Jack London.  It’s about a dog named Buck, who finds out that he has natural leadership abilities.  Several years ago, I recognized that I had something in common with Buck. When I believe strongly about something, I have the ability to galvanize others to work together for a common good.  This has certainly helped me at various times during my career. Ironically, I realized today that others might recognize this talent and encourage me to use it to benefit them.  I’ve actually had that happen a few times over the years in various settings.  Since I have a tendency to look for the good in people, I might not always see ulterior motives.

Being an optimist and seeing the good in people can be admirable traits, but as I wrote yesterday, they can be traits that bring you directly into the lion’s den.  Since very few things in life are truly black and white, it’s not that hard to end up mistaken about a grey area.  There is not a simple solution or answer to the question that I am proposing here.  It’s more of a warning.  Look at all angles. Recognize that there may be a variety of motives present.  Identify the possible outcomes and implications of one’s actions.

There is a huge responsibility attached to being a natural leader. There are also great opportunities. I’ve written about the fact that I am willing to take risks in order to achieve the greater good. But life is still a balancing act.  Are the risks too great?  One doesn’t often know until after the fact.  If you don’t try, you won’t know the answer.  Once again, the ironman analogies abound. You can push yourself to great heights, but sometimes you push too far and everything comes crashing down.

Switching gears, I only had time for a short run this morning and ran 1.4 miles completely focused on a fast cadence.  I managed to keep close to my goal of 180 steps/minute.  If I keep practicing that, I can hopefully, develop it as a habit that will have a positive impact on my running economy. The discipline to practice that is similar to the discipline I need to have to effectively utilize my leadership skills. 

Journey to Kona Day 4: Entering the Lion's Den

One of my friends and mentors once told me that if I walked into a room full of horse manure, I’d ask, “where’s the pony?”  Optimism mixed with idealism has always been part of who I am.  There is no question that is one of the reasons for many of my accomplishments.  It’s also the same reason for most of my failures. I tend to have a high pain tolerance, and it would seem that I have a similar high tolerance for risks of a certain type.  My one exception is my fear of heights.  I have jumped into a number of business relationships that I might look back upon as mistaken, but I’m often reminded that hindsight is 20:20, and that I have also had success in areas I was warned to avoid.  Perhaps the real question is identifying the high interpersonal risk environment.  How do you know who is telling you the truth?  How does one know what kind of business partner they’re choosing to work with?

How does one avoid the lion’s den?  That’s a question my wife asked me yesterday.  It’s a great question, because I seem to have a tendency to seek out the lion’s den. I’m not sure if there is an ironman corollary, but there probably is, especially after I’ve competed in some of the most difficult ironman races of all time!  Therein lies the message.  If you don’t know how to avoid the lion’s den, at least know how to look for a way out!  I will never forget, as long as I live, being in the middle of a tempest in Sand Hollow Reservoir (during the 2012 Ironman St.George), thinking that someone might die that day, and it wouldn’t be me.  That’s the one constant response in an ironman; slow down, relax, get your wits about  you, take care of your mind and body, and then figure out your plan.

I’ve had plenty of experiences in my life where I’ve walked into the lion’s den.  In fact, I do seem to gravitate in that direction!  In many ways I’ve always been a bit of a risk taker. Skipping the 8th grade, leaving my geriatric fellowship after one year to join Kaiser, leaving Kaiser to open a Senior Health Clinic with GeriMed, leaving GeriMed to go into private practice. Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that when I retired for the first time, I quickly jumped into a website business venture, when I retired for the second time, I stepped into the middle of a large nursing home chain, and 8 months later, literally entered the lion’s den that is the inner sanctum of the nursing home industry.  

The interface between business and human nature is the ultimate conundrum.  What drives people?  I know what drives me.  I have devoted my life to helping others.  It’s never been about money, although one must be profitable if they are to sustain a successful program. Or, at least we’re supposed to think that.  Bankruptcy laws might actually provide a counterbalance to this concept, as does the structure of publicly traded companies.  In the 1990’s, most of the publicly traded nursing home chains went into bankruptcy.  Today, many are on the verge.  With that background, as well as my idealistic and optimistic outlook, I jumped in head first.  Perhaps the outcome can be compared to my experience at the Long Course Ironman World Championship in Perth, Australia in 2009.  That was my only DNF, but not for lack of trying.  A bike crash which resulted in a fractured clavicle, pelvis and hip socket forced me to quit after biking for 48 miles and walking 3 1/2 with the aforementioned injuries.  I must be a glutton for punishment.

Journey to Kona Day 3: Form

My wife told me yesterday that we both need to endeavor not to take things too seriously.  It’s probably an easier task for her, because I have 6 decades of habitual seriousness to deal with!  She’s right, as usual.  In some regards, seriousness is part of my DNA, but linking it to my emotional self has probably never been healthy.  Hence, my instinct towards ironman.  I’ve always said that training and racing ironman’s have been a healthy outlet for my seriousness and OCD.  More on that later.

Two weeks ago my coach heard a depressed athlete who wasn’t in a really good place.  That wasn’t too surprising, having been 2 1/2 months removed from quitting a job that was taking a huge emotional toll on me, and 3 weeks after my first 100 miler.  Needless to say, my mind, body and spirit were still recovering.  Today, I spoke to my coach and he heard a new, rejuvenated, person!  It’s all coming together, which is a reminder as to why we all need to listen to our bodies.  

The focus of my weekly call with my coach today was on form.  I’ve been focused on my run cadence, which used to be a plodding 160.  I had pushed it closer to 170 a couple of years ago, but the last two years of reduced training had caused me to revert to my old form.  Yesterday and today, 2-3 mile runs with cadence ~175.  No focus on pace, or even heart rate, just on form and breathing comfortably, which for me is breathing every 6 foot strikes.  I also got into the pool today.  

I can, and recently did, jump in the pool and swim an hour at 1:50/100yd pace.  Doing that for hours on end is not going to help me right now.  On the instruction of my coach, my near hour long pool workout today consisted of 50 yards of kicking with a board followed by 100 yards of pulling with a buoy and paddle, then same, but kicking on my side.  I spent some time kicking with a board for 200 yards as well.  By the time I was done, I’d kicked 1000 yards, and pulled 1500 yards.  Swimming is about form, but as my coach reminded me, for Kona, I’ll need a good kick, in particular to keep me balanced in the water.  Now I’m off to a great start!  

How does form relate to seriousness?  The only person that we can truly be accountable to is ourselves.  I have always spent too much time worrying about everyone else, and that hasn’t been healthy emotionally.  While well intentioned, I can only be responsible for what I do, whether it’s training and racing an ironman, or advocating for older adults, which is my major life’s passion.  All too often, I want to help others get to solutions, and I know that in doing so, can come across too strong.  I’ve worked on toning that down over the past few years, but now it’s time to find my ultimate balance point.  Similarly, I’ve counted on my swim form, but also need to get my balance back!  I’m sure that there’s a role for mindfulness in all of this, of which I’m feeling as I write this.  

This coming week is about maintaining this balance, focusing on my form and increasing my swim and cycling volume.  10 hours total last week, 15 hours or so should be well within my reach.  I also need to develop the same discipline for the major project I’m working on.  It’s time.  Something has held me back, but it’s time to let go of that and get to work on my form! Funny how I always seem to come back to my “ironman is a metaphor for life,” mantra.

Journey to Kona day 2: Focus

Whether doing an Ironman, living one’s life, or running a business, it’s about focus. As I begin my journey over the next 35 weeks this is probably the single most important thing I will need to remember. One week ago, out of the blue, I decided that I was going to try to run every day. Now, for someone my age this normally wouldn’t seem to be the best idea. In fact I would attribute the fact that I have had very few running injuries to the fact that I don’t run every day. On the other hand, running every day doesn’t mean running a lot every day. It’s always a matter of degree. So over the last week I did run every day, and I managed to put in over 10 hours of total training last week, which included about 20 miles of running. This morning I got up, went out and ran a little over 2 miles. It’s not the distance that matters. I think that running every day puts me in the proper state of mind. In order to achieve the goals I'm setting for myself, this is important!

This morning was interesting for another reason. I woke up a little early, but not in the middle of the night, which I had been doing for sometime. Sleep pattern changes are one of the signs of fatigue. So waking up a little later than usual and actually being able to go back to sleep a couple times without any problems and getting my full nights sleep was a big deal. But that wasn’t the best part. I'm someone who tends to remember my dreams. I’m also someone who takes whatever is bothering me and finds a way of dreaming about it. Needless to say, over the last few months my dreams have not necessarily been the favorite part of my night, as I've struggled with a number of things in my life. This morning I woke up and realized that I had dreamt about the Snowdrop ultra (the 100 mile run/walk that I did over New Years). And, it was all good. I dreamt about the people, the camaraderie, the positive feelings I had doing this remarkable event. I don’t know what this portends in terms of whether I will do it again, but I do know that I can rest well with this recent accomplishment. Perhaps, it’s also a message that it is time to move on to my next goal.

This brings me back to the concept of staying focused. I’ve always been someone whose mind is going in many directions.  In fact, if I was born today I would probably be labeled with ADD. When I have a job, it gives me something to focus on and I generally don’t have any problem doing that. When I have multiple choices to make in terms of what I want to focus on, that is when I can run into difficulty. This brings me back to my Ironman training and why the idea of running every day, sometimes just for a mile, is important for me to latch onto. I think it’s also a chance first thing in the morning to get my brain focused on all of the other tasks at hand, which includes a major project I'm working on.  And so, I must learn to tamp down my habit of going in multiple directions at one time, which is easy to do at this moment in my life. I think the other key to successfully staying focused will be to avoid being distracted by other things such as politics, news and empty social media.  I realize, especially when there is too much time, with too little structure, today's world of instantaneous connectivity might not be the best thing for me. And so, everyday I'll get a run in and work on being focused.

Journey to Kona Day 1

February 1982.  I loved sports and regularly watched Wide World of Sports. ‘The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat.’ I was 22 years old and a first year medical student. I had never run a full mile in my life, having grown up with asthma and believing that I had limited athletic abilities.  Yet, as I watched Julie Moss cross the finish line of the Ironman, something clicked.  This was something that I wanted to do someday.  In retrospect, what clicked was a connection to who I was as a person.  I was someone who would always set the bar higher than what seemed achievable.  I also intuitively knew that reaching that bar was not the true goal.  The goal is the journey itself.  There have been times in my life that I’ve forgotten this, though rarely in my athletic endeavors.  Recently, in my life’s journey, I set an impossible bar and subsequently struggled emotionally with the consequences of not reaching it. Perhaps that is why my 37 year journey to compete at the ironman in Kona has taken on a greater meaning and purpose.  It’s a way of coming back to the balance point that I’ve always wanted to define myself by.  In 35 weeks, I’ll be at the start line in Kona, competing at the Ironman World Championship.

Life kept me from my ironman goal until I realized that I couldn’t put it off forever.  My first ironman was at the age of 50, and I completed it just 6 months after breaking my clavicle, hip socket and pelvis in a bike accident.  While the idea of qualifying for Kona was always in my head, the reality was much starker.  The Legacy program gave me a new goal of completing 12 ironman’s and ultimately getting to Kona that way.  I’ve got my “ticket” to Kona this year through the Legacy program, but my self-competitive nature will not rest on that.  I have to make the most of this opportunity.  Crossing the finish line this October in Kona feeling anything less than having given it my all won’t feel right.  It’s not how I’ve raced the majority of my ironman’s and it’s not how I’ve approached my life. I want this year’s Kona experience to build on how I felt at Ironman Boulder in 2016.

Three years ago I set out to complete a twenty mile run every week for twenty weeks.  I did this for a couple of reasons.  First, because the 20 x 20 concept sounded cool!  Second, because ultimately, if I was to ever achieve a qualifying spot for Kona in my age group, I would need to have a good run.  Looking back, I approached my 20 x 20 goal after a really rough year.  I had signed up for three ironman’s in 2015, and only raced in one (didn’t start the first due to back problems, and the third one was cancelled due to a hurricane).  My body, however, had been tired in 2015, as most likely was my mind and emotional self.  Over the course of 20 weeks, the 20 mile run went from feeling hard to feeling routine. I’ll never forget that after 15 weeks I began to think about my next goal!  In retrospect, my swim and bike training were nothing spectacular, which made my performance at Ironman Boulder in 2016 all the more remarkable.  My swim was ok, although several minutes slower than what had been my average ironman swim time.  My bike was solid, only the second time ever that I biked under 6 hours, and the first time I’d never felt any “doldrums” on the bike.  I came off the bike 17th in my age group, and just focused on running.  It was a hot day and while I slowed down towards the end, I kept running.  When I finished, I was spent, and literally lied down and couldn’t move for 45 minutes.  I had run to 6th in my age group!  One place off a podium position, and 45 minutes from a Kona qualifying spot.  More notably, my time would have won the 60-64 year old age group that I was three years away from.

So here I am today.  35 weeks from competing in Kona.  I want to represent myself well.  I want my ultimate goal to represent who I am as a human being.  I’m not going to Kona just to finish.  I’m going to prepare myself better than I ever have and then I’m going to do what I usually do, give it everything I’ve got!  Until this past week, I wasn’t sure how this was going to play out.  Over the past year and a half, my training has dropped off dramatically.  I’ve also been through some of my most emotionally trying experiences. It’s time to focus.  Over the past week, I’ve run every day, and I’ve finally got back on my bike after several months away.  I can feel the cobwebs loosening and my resolve returning.  I also think that I need to capture every day of this journey, which is what I’m starting today!

Ironman Santa Rosa Race Report

When I got off the bike at this year’s Ironman Santa Rosa, my legs felt dead, but I figured that I could walk for awhile, make sure I was nourished and hydrated, and run the rest of the way.  This is what I had done at Ironman Chattanooga a couple of years ago when I got dehydrated at the end of the bike ride.  The difference was that I was training 10-15 hours a week at the time.  For the past six months, I’d been training 4-8 hours a week, and almost 30% of that was my new found strength training.  I had paid close attention to nutrition and hydration on the bike, and was actually able to eat pretzels and oranges and drink water at the beginning of the “run.”  My GI tract was fine, but my legs didn’t have “it.”  It might have had something to do with minimal run training over the past six months.  And, minimal bike training.  And, minimal swim training.  So, I literally walked 26 miles, there were some 2-3 minute attempts to jog/run throughout the first half.  But, ultimately, I came to grips with the fact that I just needed to finish and there was no reason to push, as I had seen others do over the years.  Trying to maintain a 15 minute/mile walking pace was really the goal, and not to see it slip to the 20 minute/mile ironman shuffles that others who push too hard ultimately fall prey to.  The cool thing was that when I finished, my run pace was almost exactly 15 minute/mile.  Something to remember for the Ultra run I have planned with my friend Robert Key over New Year’s.  I also met and walked with four other people throughout the course of the run, keeping myself occupied and making some new friends.  

How did this race come to pass?  Last July, I completed my 12th ironman, in Santa Rosa.  That was the race that qualified me for the Kona Legacy program.  It was also my least favorite ironman experience, as I had a full blown cold on the day of the race.  In retrospect, having something to compare that experience to, I am even more impressed with what I accomplished that day.  I had my best bike split ever, and managed to run for 2/3 of the run.  I followed up Santa Rosa four weeks later with my second 50K Trail race, where I got dehydrated during the second loop, but still managed to complete in a reasonably good time.  My life also changed completely around the same time, when I unexpectedly became the CEO of the largest nursing home chain in California.  Work:Life balance has never been my strong suit, and the coming months would test me severely in this regard.  Fortunately, my coach, Lucho, has maintained positivity throughout this whole time.  After all, I can only do what I can do!  I actually found a strength and conditioning coach, Will, and have been working with him since October.  I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, especially with my both upper body and core strength. I’ve also gained about 8 lbs, mostly muscle. 

However, as I noticed previously, my 10-15 hour ironman training weeks dropped precipitously to 4-8 hours a week.  1 to 3 of these hours were spent in strength and conditioning training.  That doesn’t leave a lot for running, biking and swimming.  I’ve never been one to push the swim training too much, as my form has kept me in a reasonable ironman swim range.  However, my ironman swim times had been dropping from an average of ~ 1:12-1:15 to 1:20-1:25.  At the end of the day, doing the math of increasing swim training to maintain my previous paces, still didn’t make a lot of sense.  Saving 10-15 minutes on the swim might take 2-3 hours a week of extra swim training, those hours would be much more beneficial on the bike and run.  I had also noted that the strength training was also supporting my swim.  My run had really struggled, partially due to an  ongoing problem with my piriformis muscle since last fall.  It was affecting my back and my glutes, and I had continued to struggle.  Hence, very little running, but in the 4-6 weeks prior to this race, I managed a couple of 3 hour runs (about 15 miles), and felt like I was capable of doing the ironman run.  Probably wishful thinking, considering my “20 by 20” experience a few years ago.  That’s going to come back soon!  I had also managed a few long bike rides, the longest being 81 miles with 10,000 feet of climbing (7 hours in the saddle) just three weeks ago.  Of note, these long rides were all done on my road bike.  Hence, very little time in my aero position on my triathlon bike.  I figured that I’d really focus hard on nutrition and hydration during the bike portion of this event.  I didn’t really think too much about the impact of being in the aero position for 5-6 hours.  Of note, my strength and conditioning work did still help me to do this, but not enough.

So, here I was, 10 days before Ironman Santa Rosa, in Orlando for the Annual meeting of the American Geriatrics Society, working 14-16 hours a day, when I came down with a cold again!  On a positive note, I was three days into the cold, which was it’s peak, on the flight home from Orlando, when I realized that last year I’d done an ironman feeling exactly like I did that day.  I was only going to feel better a week later.  Of course, I had to work during the week, and even made my drive to Santa Rosa a working day, visiting three of our nursing facilities on the way.  How does one spell Type A Workaholic?  

Race morning came, and I actually was nearly over my cold, just a little nasal congestion, but I felt fine otherwise.  The morning of an ironman has become fairly routine for me.  No nervousness, generally just enjoying the experience.  Santa Rosa involves about a 30-40 minute bus ride to Lake Sonoma.  Then it’s a matter of making sure my fluids and nutrition are on my bike, my tires are adequately pumped up (with rough roads ahead, only had my tubular tire pressure at between 100-110 psi, low for me, but might have gone lower), adequate time in the porta-potty, and getting my wetsuit on.  I had a brand new wetsuit, a Blue Seventy Helix, which I think I finally got the size right.  Previous wetsuits might have been too tight and constricting, leading to some back spasms.  The Helix also zips down, so I needed someone to help me get the zipper pulled together, but that wasn’t a problem.  It was a beautiful day, water temperature of 68 degrees and before I knew it, was making my way into the water in the new format of a rolling start.  In fact, they had people going into the water 5 at a time, in intervals of every 5 seconds.  This makes the entry into the water less combative.   The swim course is a two lap course, so you come out fo the water briefly after the first lap. I just got into a comfortable rhythm, occasionally drafting off of someone else, but generally not paying too much attention to that.  I also tried hard to follow the buoy line, which I felt that I did.  The swim never felt hard, I actually focused on just enjoying being in the open water.  I had minimal jostling, never got hit in the head and never actually swallowed a mouthful of water (had a few near misses).  All in all, an uneventful swim.  It was also my longest ironman swim ever, at about 1 hour and 30 minutes.  It also turned out, by my garmin, to be my longest ironman swim ever, at about 4600 yards.  My pace was about exactly the same as the year before, but I swam farther this year.  All in all, I’d like to have been ten to fifteen minutes faster, but not a big deal in the scheme of an entire ironman. 

When I came out of the water I felt pretty good, not great, but certainly not tired.  The walk from Lake Sonoma to the transition area is about 1/4 of a mile and steep uphill, so I just walked.  I stopped very briefly half way up for the wetsuit strippers, got to the top, got my bag, made my way into the tent and put on my aero cycling gloves, my glasses, my headband, my shoes and my helmet, locked my visor on my aero helmet into place, put my wetsuit in the bag and dropped it off at the front of the tent, got sunscreen slathered on me and walked to my bike.  This year I remembered the immediate hill after mounting my bike and had my gears at their lowest level.  After crossing the bridge, there is a long downhill that you’re not allowed to be aero for, so began some fluids, and just getting comfortable.  No pressure, just took it easy.  That would be my theme for the bike today.  

I had most of my nutrition on my bike, 400 cal of Tailwind in my aero bottle (between my aero bars), 200 cal of Tailwind with water in the downtube of my Shiv, and 800 cal in a bottle to use to replenish.  I also had 400 cal worth of almond butter.  Over the course of the bike, I ended up added some bananas and some gatorade.  In all, I took in about 2000 cal, which was my goal.  I drank water the whole way and stayed hydrated.  I wasn’t able to pee during the ride, but felt like I needed to and definitely did in T2.  Last year’s bike course was a PR for me, despite my cold, coming in at 5:47.  This year, they changed the course, adding more hills and a few more climbs.  There were complaints last year about road conditions along a few sections of the course.  Be careful what you wish for.  Last years course had a few miles of terrible roads.  This years course had many miles of relatively rough roads.  For someone who had spent no time in their aero position for the last six months, this would prove to take it’s toll.  I realized about half way through the bike that my neck and back were tight.  Fortunately, my core strength probably saved me this time around, because it wasn’t too bad.  I never looked at my power, and it turned out to be about 5-10 watts lower than last year, but I also really focused on taking it easy on the bike.  I never felt like I was pushing too hard.  The two climbs up Chalk Hill didn’t feel like hard climbs.  I got to Mile 50 in 2:45, which would have put me on target for about a 6:10 bike time, which is pretty close to my standard time based on the type of course this was.  What happened, and I had predicted (looked at windfinder.com) was that at around Mile 50, when we turned north again, the headwinds would start and pick up and would never end.  The headwind followed us all the way to the finish and got up into the 15-20 mph range at times.  By Mile 80-90, I began looking forward to finishing, which is fairly normal for me.  With that said, I never felt bad during the bike, but by the finish I was pretty well spent.  The constant relatively rough road conditions took it’s toll on the mind and body, as did the constant headwind.  I came into town, pulled my feet out of my shoes and dismounted in my bare feet.  While it never got above 80 degrees during the race, the asphalt on the way to T2 was hot.  In retrospect, I should have kept my bike shoes on, because I did burn the soles of my feet a bit.  Not too bad, probably noticed more after the race than during.

I walked to T2, knowing that I was pretty tired.  I had already decided to walk most of the first mile and see how I felt.  So, I took my time during T2, put vaseline on my feet, put on my shoes and my hat, and used the porta-potty.  Both of my transitions were about 8 minutes long each, which is actually very solid.  I got more sun screen slathered on me and made my way onto the run course.  I immediately knew that I need to walk for awhile.  What I didn’t know was for how long.  That’s the crazy thing about ironman.  Sometimes the light goes on and you can run again.  On the other hand, I pretty quickly decided that there wasn’t really a point to running much today, insofar as I’d feel better in a few days with less running.  I also didn’t want to push it.  I’d already been awarded my Legacy spot for Kona in 2019 and all I needed to do was finish.  Getting off the bike in one piece was the key.  I could make it the next 26 miles.  I had been a little concerned that this was my 13th ironman and that I could have had a flat tire or something, especially on this course, with all it’s potholes.  But, I had dodged all of the bullets there.  Now it was just a matter of making my way around the 3 loop run course.

The first friend I made was Robert, who was doing his ninth ironman in three years, having lost close to 100 lbs in the process of turning his health around.  He was wearing a knee brace, so I quickly surmised that he would be good to walk with.  I was impressed with his story and he made for a good walking companion for awhile.  However, he was slowing a bit, and I wanted to try to run a little, so I pushed on and met Cody, who was in the 20-24 year old age group.  He had hoped to finish in under 9 hours, but had blown a hole in his tire on the bike and walked 10 miles in his bike shoes before getting a new tire.  Needless to say, his legs weren’t in the best of shape.  It turned out, however, that he had only taken up triathlon 2 1/2 years earlier, having never been much into running, cycling or swimming.  He had already qualified for this years ironman world championship in Kona, and had hoped to be competitive for a top spot in this race.  I’m not sure why he didn’t just DNF, but I give him credit for persevering.  In the end, he went ahead and ran some, but we caught him again on the last lap and actually went ahead of him.  Another example of how trying to run when you shouldn’t leads to a much slower walk in the end!  I walked most of the second half with Patrick, who was from Orlando, where he runs the food and beverage division for the Gaylord.  I got to pick his brains on the industry, which is of keen interest to me since my kids own a restaurant.  Finally, with two miles to go, I met Luis Alvarez, who is an ironman legend in his own right.  When TJ Reilly and I were at the start line of the inaugural IM Chattanooga, the announcer told us of two guys who had flown that night from IM Majorca (in Spain), to participate in Chattanooga.  Two ironman’s in two days on two continents.  Luis was one of those two guys and this was his 153rd ironman.  I also learned that he’d climbed Mount Everest, and was blinded on the way down, having now recovered about 85% of his vision.  He used to own and run three companies, but sold them and was now “retired.”  And I thought I was a workaholic!

It’s always remarkable to get to finishing chute of an ironman.  No matter how you’ve felt, no matter how beat up you are, suddenly, you have wings and a ton of energy.  I encouraged the crowd to cheer for me and crossed the finish line in 14 hours and 51 minutes, my slowest ironman ever.  In many ways the walk was interminable, but at the same time, it was part of the journey.  One thing is for sure, when I do Kona in 2019, I will be well trained.  I have to say that doing an ironman without proper training is doable, but is much less “fun.”  When I got into this sport 25 years ago, competing at Kona has always been in the back of my mind.  In fact, I think it has been on my mind since watching Julie Moss crawl across the finish line in 1982.  I want to soak up and enjoy every second of the Kona experience when I go there, and in doing so want to give the experience the justice it deserves.  That means being prepared to the fullest extent possible!  I have 17 months to prepare.  The first part of my preparation, after a few weeks of significant rest, will be to build my running fitness to join my buddy, Robert Key, at the Snowdrop 55 Ultra on December 30th.  This will be my first and only attempt at completing 100 miles in approximately 24-30 hours.  After that, the bike and swim training will commence for Kona, and I will have next summer to nail my preparation.  As always, I have my coach, Lucho, to thank for his support and encouragement.  He never said anything negative about my lack of training going into this race, because it wouldn’t have changed anything.  In fact, he was still very positive about my result, especially as it related to my paucity of training.  I’ve been fortunate to have such a great coach for 13 years!  It looks like this should be my last race report until October of 2019!

Single Mindedness

Single mindedness.  That’s the word that comes to mind in describing an experience I’ll never forget.  It really began at the beginning of a very long and complex work week.  My days were running 12-16 hours and there were a number of highly charged and complex issues that I was dealing with.  I rarely use the word stress to describe work, because I love what I do and always appreciate a challenge.  I had started my day in Redding, California and was making my way to Eureka via Route 299.  While the route was simple, I still use the map feature on my iPhone as I always do, because it synchs with my apple watch so I don’t have to take my eyes off the road to look at it.  I was about half way into my drive, about 2 hours, when my apple watch vibrated.  I pulled over and realized that I’d missed a turn.  It seemed odd that the map feature was taking me off the main highway to Eureka, but there had been a number of rock slides and construction work during previous drives, so I assumed it was detouring me around something.  I did a u-turn and turned right onto a country road.  Immediately, I had to cross a one lane bridge, and then I started up the road.  It wasn’t long before I realized that this road really only fit 1 car, but there were no other cars that I’d seen (nor any other signs of civilization for that matter).  The Map feature told me that I had 4.5 miles to go before turning, and I assumed that would bring me back to the main highway.  Up and up the mountain I climbed, winding around in the forest.  Near the top of the climb I passed a police car near another car that seemed stranded in the middle of the road.  Odd, I thought, but drove on.  I saw a few patches of snow on the side of the road, but figured I was about to get to the turn and head back down.  I made it to the turn, and the Map feature told me to turn on another road, which I did.  As I made my way downhill a ways, the Map feature started saying that it was rerouting me.  I figured that since there was no cell coverage that it just wasn’t connecting.  I made my second assumption that this had been taking me in the right direction, so I should continue on.  I actually passed a couple of cabins before I started climbing again.  I passed some trees that had fallen and been cut so that cars could pass.  I started seeing snow again on the side of the road.  

One might ask, why did I keep going?  I was actually starting to feel a little anxious that this might not be the right direction and that perhaps I should turn back.  I didn’t, and I hit a few patches in the road where there was actually snow on the road, but previous cars had marked out a clear path.  I figured that this must still be the right way.  As I write this, I realize how single minded I had become at this point, absolutely focused on continuing forward.  I was gripping the steering wheel, getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest (where I feel most of my anxiety), and was definitely sensing potential danger. There is no question that if my wife had been with me, we’d have turned around and gone back miles ago.  My tenacity and single minded focus on moving forward kept me driving up the road. I hit a patch of snow and ice that made me a little nervous, but I got through it and the road cleared.  I assumed I was getting close to the top of the mountain, based on looking ahead, when I turned into another stretch with snow on the ground.  As I drove a little further up the hill, my car started to struggle with the snow and I slowed down.  This wasn’t a good idea, maybe I should back up.  I put my car in reverse and before I knew it, I had backed against the side of the road and wasn’t moving.  

Anxiety now made way for a sense of full on panic.  I jumped out of the car and frantically tried to shovel snow with my hands in front of my front and rear tires.  I got back in the car and tried to move forward.  No luck.  I got out again and realized that a tree root was caught in my right front wheel.  I wasn’t going anywhere.  A little more panic set in.  I could feel the discomfort in my chest grow. My brain wanted to think about how stupid I had been to get in this situation. But then my brain went back to 2012 and Ironman St. George, where I was stuck in a reservoir with 50 mph winds and 5 foot swells.  I had swallowed water and my calf had cramped. That was actually a more dangerous situation.  I knew that panic was not going to get me out of here.  I looked at my watch and realized it was 1:30 pm.  I knew that I was approximately 15 miles from the main highway.  It was up and down, but I was an ironman, I could do this in my sleep.  It didn’t help that my right glute and left low back had been tight recently, but so what?  I put on my running shoes, a lightweight jacket and took my one bottle of water.  I set off down the run at an easy run.  While downhill running has it’s advantages, it’s also hard on the quads.  I got to the base of the climb, where a few cabins were, but there were no people there.  I kept going, figuring that I’d gone about 5-6 miles already.  I kept checking my cell phone and my apple watch and tried calling 911, but to no avail.  There was no coverage.  I walked some of the steeper climbs, noticed some signs warning of bears, and occasionally asked myself how I’d gotten myself into this.  Each time that happened, I remembered St. George and my coaches mantra of staying in the moment.  Reliving how I’d gotten myself into this wasn’t going to help me.  I had to put one foot in front of the other and move forward.  I’d occasionally come upon some snow and ice patches and was very careful.  Slipping and falling might lead to being stranded in the middle of the forest with nightfall approaching.  Not a good thing.  I figured that I was about 9 miles into my run/walk when I saw a car approaching ahead.  I immediately began waving my arms and a guy in a pick up truck with a dog slowed down and stopped.  He had on a baseball cap and had the look of someone who lived in the forest off the grid.  A chainsaw was on the floor of the front seat.  The first thing he said was “GPS.”  He told me that this happened to people all the time, and that no one had done anything to fix the problem.  He was also a little irritated, as it turned out that he’d just come from a lawyer dealing with someone trying to evict him from the land he was living on.  He also told me that he’d helped countless people and few of them, if any, were appreciative.  I told him that he’d lucked out.  I wasn’t that kind of person.  Also, I knew some of the best lawyers in the country, and that I would forever be in his debt if he helped me.  He relaxed as he drove to his home in the forest, back in the direction that I’d just come from.  He had to get home to call his attorney about the matter they’d been working on.  Could I wait before going to see about getting my car unstuck?  Of course?  

During our drive, he told me of the 80 year old who’d been stranded, the couple with two kids, the guy who got frost bite on two fingers.  I was not the first person to follow their GPS to nowhere.  And, it was nowhere.  If I’d even managed to keep going from where I got stuck, the conditions would have only gotten worse!  We got to his home in the forest and he fired up his generator so that I could hook up to the internet.  I guess he didn’t live totally off the grid.  There was no cell coverage anywhere along the road.  My son-in-law had texted me that we should think of going to the snow with my grandson.  Little did he know.  I texted a few people so that they would know where I was and that I was safe.  I didn’t let my family know, as I didn’t want them to worry until I was safely back on the road.  I used an incredible outdoor latrine with a view of a creek.  Soon we were driving up the mountain to my car.  I once again asked myself, how in the heck did I keep going?  Why didn’t I turn around?  I guess it’s that single-mindedness.  However, that same single-mindedness saved my life.  I asked him about the bears, he said that they don’t bother people.  On the other hand, he said, the mountain lions are a different story.  Yikes!

As we got close to my car, his pickup struggled to stay steady on the road.  He put it in a lower gear and we got to my car.  His chain-saw came in handy as the car was stuck on the tree root.  I shoveled in front of the tires and then a ways up and down the road to form a path.  So, a 90 minute hilly run and some snow shoveling, a pretty solid workout for the day!  I was able to get my car moving forward and then put it in reverse to back down the road about 100 yards and out of the snow!  I thanked my new friend for saving my life and headed back to the highway.  As I drove to Eureka, I began to realize how close I came to any number of bad outcomes.  Again, I put those thoughts out of my head and kept my focus on staying positive.  Hopefully, I can maintain my single minded focus on the things that matter the most!