Been quite some time since I've written a post, but that is mostly because I didn't do many races in 2014 that were really noteworthy. Most of the year was spent enjoying not having an IM to train for, doing a few races here and there with My Team Triumph, and starting to pursue the goal of qualifying for Boston. So - a few paragraphs to sum things up a bit:
With the BQ time of around 3:05 for my age group, I'd need to knock off about 1 min/mile off my MCM2013 performance. I began following the Daniels Running Formula at the beginning of December, and was pretty good about keeping up with that until around mid-May. There were a few weeks where I had to repeat a workout or had to change things up because of life schedule or work travel interruptions, but those were not common occurrences.
In mid-May I decided to switch from the Nike Free 5.0 shoes, the model I had been using for a couple years, to the Free 3.0. There were a few design things I was getting picky about with the 5.0 model line, and the 3.0 also brought the heel-toe drop from 7mm to 4mm - a minor difference, but I had wanted to start getting myself closer to a 0mm drop eventually, and it seemed like a good time to do so. I went through a period of adjustment - noticed right away that my hamstrings were tighter, and some blisters appearing in new places on my feet, for instance. I gave the quality workouts a bit of a break for that adjustment - at that time, I was well into Phase 3 Week 5 of the Daniels program, and had done some intense workouts that either had a rather large number (12) of marathon pace miles, or had significant time (40+') at threshold pace combined with just being a long (2.5+ hrs) workout.
Then, in mid-June, I started having right knee issues. It started as some suddenly developing pain, some lateral inflammation, but that went away after about a week. Then, a couple weeks later, I noticed a cyst developing. At one point it actually self-aspirated (internally), and another time I got so annoyed by it that I went downstairs and took a hammer to it. I eventually got concerned about the possibility of a lateral meniscus tear, and I was concerned I'd need to have corrective surgery. I didn't do any running for about 4 weeks, and went to yoga a lot to try and see if that would help. I eventually made an appointment with the doctor, he said to leave it be and it'd go away - but also gave me a referral to a sports ortho if I wanted a 2nd opinion. I visited that doctor, but it was after the hammer-induced self-aspiration, so he told me to come back when it reappeared so he could give me a steroid (cortisone) shot to help make it go away (he also confirmed no meniscus tear). I left with that plan in mind. By this time, it was mid-August, and I hadn't been running much at all - maybe 4-5 times, in two months time.
Then, around mid-September, it finally dawned on me - all my problems started when I got the new shoes. Up until then, they were nagging, little things that could easily otherwise be considered 'routine' and minor injuries. And one wouldn't think new shoes would result in a cyst on the knee. But it wasn't until I really thought about it that I discovered the trend. So, I got a new pair of Nike Free 5.0. My runs in the week or two leading up to that had been a noticeable improvement in terms of the knee, but that also could have been because of the large amount of rest - hard to be sure. Anyway, I got the new shoes, and my next run was the best run I had had in quite some time. I started to become convinced that I had maybe turned the corner on this thing - and just in time, because this half was only a month away, and I hadn't been running much.
My preparation for this run and the taper was quite odd, out of necessity due to the time crunch. I had to switch from the original marathon goal to the half, because I just didn't have the long runs to warrant the injury risk of a full marathon. My first 'long' run of 11 miles left me mildly sore for a couple days, but I also knew from experience that wouldn't likely happen again during subsequent long runs. In an attempt to jump start aerobic capacity, I managed to get runs of 11, 13, 15 and 16.75 miles in. I needed at least a couple long runs above and beyond the 13.1 to ensure my legs would feel OK in the last mile of the race. I also managed to squeeze in some speed work as a final crunch - usually by doing a couple miles at threshold pace, or something like 5-7 miles of tempo or something resembling marathon pace. Generally the idea was to do speedwork in such a way to get my muscles fatigued, and then crack the whips for a another 5-10 minutes (if threshold pace) or a few more miles (if tempo/MP). The goal here was not to increase top end speed (no time for that), but to build as much aerobic capacity as I possibly could in the short time before the race, and do so while not compromising recovery.
I think all runs in that 4 week period were basically prep for what I consider the two key workouts - the 16.75 mile long run for aerobic capacity, and taking part in the Hopkinton marathon relay, where I was able to get 8.5 hilly miles in at a pace of about 7:30 and half marathon intensity. The taper itself was basically only a week, and essentially followed a pattern of progressively shorter runs, but with increasing intensity. A week before the race was an 11 mile run with 2 x 3 mile progression intervals where I started out between Z1/Z2 for the first mile, Z2/Z3 for the second, and Z3/Z4 for the third mile, with one mile easy in between. The Wednesday before the race was a mile at closer to Z5, rest, and then a mile @ Z3, and the Friday before was a mile at Z5. Saturday was the 3' carbo load protocol at a 6' pace, but I ended up falling way short of the ideal number of carbs during the next 24 hours to really think that had a significant effect. Hard to say, though. What I do know is that the night before, I had severe doubts I'd be able to break 1:30 again, let alone my PR of 1:29:24. So, I went to a friends party at 10:30 at night, hung out for a drink, and got home at around 12:30 and went to bed, only to turn around and wake up at 5:45 to get to the race.
On race morning, I did manage to get in about 10-12' of easy warmup beforehand, something I've been finding I need to do if I'm going to have a chance of setting any PR in any race at this point (except maybe a full marathon). This is basically to get the fat burning metabolic pathways going before the gun goes off. Once I was warmed up, I headed to the start line, listened to the anthem, and then the race started. Oh, I also had 4 x 8 oz bottles of sports drink with me. More than most people had - but I wanted to make sure I kept as well hydrated as possible, for as long as possible.
My plan was pretty simple - stay at around MP (7:10 or so) for a few miles, and see how I would feel. I wouldn't have been surprised if I had to stay at that pace, or even slow down to 7:30's. I was mentally prepared for that possibility. But to my surprise, I was hanging closer to a 7 min/mile pace, and my HR was right around 160 - just about where it should be. So I decided to stay at that pace, and pretty much use by HR as a guide. The thinking here was that I had no workouts recently to justify using pace as a guide for a half marathon distance, so I'd go by RPE first, then HR, and then finally pace. After the first few miles ticked by, I found that I was feeling pretty good, and my HR was sticking around 165 or so. Surprisingly, my pace was also sticking around the 6:40's to 6:50's. There were a few times where I felt like I could speed up a bit, but I decided to hold off - I really had no idea how I'd feel in the later miles as it was, never mind if I went burning matches before the halfway point. I also felt, for the first time, like I was taking advantage of some drafting by being in clusters of people - it was a windy day, and once or twice I was behind/within a group of 5 or 6 people that I would normally want to just be out of the way of, but opted to stay close because I noticed I wasn't feeling much headwind in front of me.
That pace of 6:40-6:50, with a HR in the mid-160's, pretty much maintained until around the halfway mark, when it started to creep up to the high 160's. I backed off slightly - although I felt good, there was still half the race to go and I was really concerned about entering a danger zone where things could just blow up suddenly. The next few miles saw the HR stay in the high 160's or 170ish, but fortunately the pace stayed in the 6:40's.
Right around the 10 mile mark, I was starting to think that going sub-1:30 was a definite possibility. With my previous PR of 1:29:24, that was if-fy, but I would be ecstatic at breaking 1:30 again. I happened to be in a group of 4-5 other people at that spot, and someone asked if anyone knew our pace. It pretty much went like this:
Someone: Anyone know what our pace is?
No-tech dude: No idea, I have no technology on me.
Me: Do you really wanna know, or not?
(sometimes, too much information can be a bad thing)
Someone: Yeah
Me: We are at about a 6;45-6:50 pace.
No-tech dude: Is that for this mile, or the whole thing?
Me: Whole thing. If we keep this up, we could break 1:30
At that point, I started chatting a bit with no-tech dude, who informed me that he had no goals, couldn't run for 7 months due to injury, only started again in September, yadda yadda. After a bit of the 'wow, thats impressive. Good on you' type of exchange, we came up on another person who asked if he could run with us. I said sure, and that we'd all finish this thing out and go sub-1:30 together. I started getting a little concerned about the new member of our group, because he was huffing and puffing quite noisily, and it sounded like his lungs and legs were on fire.
While no-tech dude gradually pulled ahead a bit, I stayed with huffer puffer to help pace him - making sure he slowed down just a touch on the uphill, staying just ahead of him to keep him pushing, but not allowing him to give up. We were still on pace, so I didn't mind. Plus, it served as a nice distraction.
I pulled away from huffer puffer a bit at the last water stop which was about a mile from the end. The stops are staffed with high school volunteers, and this one had people dressed in costumes. I pointed to one as I approached, and instructed her to throw the cup of water she was holding in my face. I think I took her aback a bit, because she kinda acted like a deer frozen in headlights. I tried to grab the cup as I went by, but the handoff failed. I pointed to another one down the line, and she barely managed to toss her drink in my face as I ran by, but it was enough - I cheered back at them and continued on.
As I approached the finish line, I was gaining back on no-tech dude. A sprint to the finish, and crossed with a 10s PR. Not a huge PR, but a PR none-the-less, and I was just happy to have hit sub 1:30 again, after chasing after a repeat for the past two years.
Once I crossed the line, I shook hands and chatted with no-tech dude, and he thanked me for helping him cross in under 1:30. I looked back to find huffer puffer dude, and he said he made it by 10 seconds, and he thanked me for helping him out - it was a goal he was chasing for a year and a half. Then, another guy - apparently someone in the original group when we discussed pace - said that when he heard me say we were close to 1:30, he decided to go for it. So he thanked me as well. That was probably the best part - having three people say 'thank you' for helping them reach their goals. As nice as a PR or a solid performance is, ultimately that is just a battle with my future self - and the nice things about battles with myself is that I usually, ultimately, win :)
Garmin Data
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
Monday, October 28, 2013
Marine Corps Marathon - 10/27/13
Yesterday I ran the Marine Corps Marathon - my second open marathon, and first time for this event. How I ended up registering for it is a bit of an odd tale - I had heard from other people over the past couple years that it was a great race, and then one day last fall, randomly, I was on a flight back from DC, and found that a few people on the flight were returning to Boston after having run it. Knowing at that time that I probably wasn't going to be signing up for another IM in 2014, I looked up the registration date for the forthcoming year, marked it on the calendar, and when registration opened up, I secured my entry. I figured it was as good a time to run it as any.
My original goal when I set out was to try and get somewhere around a 3:10 time. At the time, I had been doing a lot of threshold and similar speed workouts. My previous open marathon time was in the 3:50's, and I thought that with the speed improvements (which saw knocking huge chunks of time off my half marathon time, from 1:55 to 1:40 to 1:35 and finally to sub-1:30), I could potentially hit that range given the volume push at the end of IM training. As time went on, however, it became more and more clear that it wasn't going to happen. Although my VDOT for a half marathon supported the idea of a 3:07-3:10 marathon, I started to realized that training for an IM marathon was very different than training for an open marathon.
So with the idea of 3:10 pretty much out the window, I had to do what I could with the training time left after Lake Placid. After a 4-5 week recovery period, I ended up having time for two 2.5 hr long runs (around 18 miles each), one two hour long run, and three half marathons for a total of six core marathon training runs. The question was how to execute those half marathons for maximum benefit - go for time, or just treat them as a way to pile up mileage. In the end I decided to push them, thinking that 90-100 minutes at high intensity would be more beneficial than, say, 120 minutes at easy intensity. Additionally, those six core workouts were supplemented with a threshold workout, a hill workout and filler easy paced workouts throughout the week.
I flew down to DC the day before, checked into the hotel, and headed out for packet pickup. Once I got to the venue, and saw the ridiculous line for getting my bib number, I started settling into the idea that this might take a few hours. The line was that long. Eventually I found the end of the line (yes, it actually took some searching, as the line crawled and snaked around and around), and to my surprise, it was actually moving rather quickly. Everyone was orderly, and it moved at a slow walk pace. Pathetically slow for wanting to get mall Christmas shopping done, but downright speedy for a long line. Within 10 minutes, I was in the tent, and speaking with a marine behind the desk to get my bib. Within another three minutes, I was out. Yup - that long line was done with in < 15 minutes.
If this was a prelude to how well things were to be run, I was damn impressed.
After getting the bib, I found that I had to join another line to get into the expo, and the expo is where the shirt and clear plastic bags were. This line was a little slower (there was security screening), but it was also a lot shorter. All told, probably another 15-20 minutes.
Once inside, I found out that yup - there was yet another line for the shirt and bag pickup. By this time, I was wondering if there was a line to get in line - but fortunately everything overall was moving along swiftly, and this line did as well. However, about halfway through the line we hit what could have been a major snafu for me - we were told they were all out of clear plastic bags for morning clothes drop off. Normally I don't check gear in at the beginning of a race, but in this case, I was planning on heading out from the hotel around 6am, leaving about 2 hours before the start of the race to get to the provided shuttle, take said shuttle to the start line, get everything prepared, and drop off my clothes bag. And with it being late October, I didn't want to do all that in my running shorts and shirt - it'd be a tad cold. So, I was kinda depending on that bag. So when we were told there were none left, but that we'd still need to use a clear plastic bag, I was thinking my only option would be to randomly walk into stores and ask if they had clear plastic bags.
Fortunately, someone nearby was resourceful, and found a bag that someone had thrown out. There was only one in that trash barrel, but there were other trash barrels throughout the expo. So I did what I had to do - I went diving into trash barrels until I found one that contained a discarded plastic bag. I ended up scoring one that wasn't in too bad shape - it was relatively close to the top, so it only had a few wrappers on top of it, but was pretty clean otherwise. Score one for me, but minus one for the Marines - how can you run out of bags like that?
After getting the bib, shirt and bag, I headed back to the hotel for the night. After getting all my gear sorted out and ready, I set my alarm for 5am and was feeling sleepy and passed out by 10pm.
I woke up Sunday morning, grabbed my stuff and headed down to the lobby. After about 5 minutes of seeing other people waiting in the lobby for the hotel shuttle to take us to the MCM shuttle, I decided (with about 6-8 other people) to just walk it to the MCM shuttle location, a few blocks away. We got to the shuttles and guess what? Yup, another line! I actually debated walking to the nearest Metro station, but soon realized that this shuttle took us directly to the starting area (whereas the Metro doesn't). It was only like 6:15 anyway, so once on the shuttle, I'd still have plenty of time. Fortunately, once again, this line moved rather swiftly, and I was on the shuttle within about 20 minutes.
The shuttle dropped us off and we had a short 5-10 minute walk to the starting area near the Pentagon. I bummed around a bit, spending most of the time inside a tent (it was getting chilly outside, and though it was a tent without sides, it was still warmer than outside) until it was time to hit a porta-potty, shed the outer clothes and then head to the start line. I initially lined up in the 3:40-3:59 (or so) corral, but eventually decided to head up a bit more, because I was thinking I'd probably be closer to 3:30 or so. While waiting in line, I chatted with a person who had done this race multiple times before. I mentioned that I heard that the first five miles is a total cluster before it opens up, and he said that it is heavily populated, but you can still run - but don't spend energy bobbing and weaving around people. Just run at the pace and conserve energy. Seemed like good, simple advice. Somewhere around this time, I saw a pacer with a 3:35 flag, and figured that would be a good place to be. Additionally, I figured the cluster of people would help keep me honest with going at a nice, easy pace in the beginning so that I was properly warmed up.
After the gun went off, I did in fact find that I could run, but it was also pretty dense with people. I kept the 3:35 pacer well within view - sometimes catching up on a slight downhill or if there was clear room ahead of me, sometimes falling behind on an incline or if things tightened up a bit. The first few miles were in the 8-8:30 range, which was just about perfect. It also occurred to me at this time that this would be an opportunity to start testing execution strategies for a marathon. If I want to get to qualify for the Boston Marathon, I'd have to start figuring out my pacing strategy for the marathon distance - and that would mean running a few marathons as I tweak things. So, this would be my start - run the first three miles at an easy pace before attempting to setting into anything resembling a marathon pace (which, according to my VDOT, should be in the 7:09 range, but there was no way in hell that would happen - not with the training I've been doing, which has been very non-marathon specific). I'd be happy with 7:40, but realistically that might be a stretch as well. Basically, I decided to try the EN strategy - fairies, gum drops, unicorns, ice cream and running defensively until mile 18. At that point, I could assess what I had left in the tank, and start to turn myself inside out and get mean and nasty. I know it works for an IM marathon - but I didn't know if it'd work for an open one.
As three miles came and went at an 8ish pace, I decided to keep the pace until five miles. Partly because I wasn't feeling comfortable with being able to go faster and still keep things together for the long haul, but also because I was still pretty boxed in, and a lot of effort would have to be expended in order to go at a faster pace. Five miles became six, which became eight, still at the 8ish pace, and still fairly boxed in. It was around the 9-10 mile marker that I looked up and realized that perhaps there were so many people because we were all chasing the 3:35 pacer. Looking ahead of the pacer, it seemed that there was some more clear space - if I could get ahead of the pacer, I might be in better shape. So over the next half mile or so, I managed to squeak ahead of the pacer and found myself, finally, able to run with significantly more space. Still people around, to be sure - but no longer did I have to worry about making contact with someone else's feet.
Around this time I was heading towards Hains Pt, and this part of the course was a long stretch of flat, grassy park. Hand made signs came and went every 30 feet for the entire down and back segment along the East Potomac Park - about 4 miles worth. Some were funny, some not so much, some customized, etc. It provided a nice distraction, reading them every few seconds, for a good chunk of time (one of them even had a message eluding to that). At the tip of Hains Point was the halfway mark, and I saw that I was at about 1:47 - fairly on track for a 3:30-ish pace. I still felt pretty good as well, which was a good sign. I had successfully held back a bit in the start, and if I wanted to finish under 3:30, I'd have to pick things up a bit, which was within the realm of possibility. However, I kept reminding myself - not until mile 18. Which, incidentally, was getting closer and closer.
The half mile or so between 15.5-16 was along a stretch with loads of spectators. That is something I forgot to mention until now - the spectators. For virtually the entire course, there are spectators cheering. At many races, you just have spectators in a few key, central areas. Even an IM has long sections with no one but competitors. Not so with the MCM - the only stretch with few spectators was that out and back on Hains Pt. Every other section has spectators cheering. Sometimes a few, but sometimes - like between mile 15 and 16 - the crowd is 3-4 people deep. After that section, the course turns around and goes by the Washington Monument, and along the National Mall to the front of the Capital Building before heading back down the other side of the mall. All the while, filled with people.
By this time, it was about mile 19, and I was starting to feel it a bit. My legs were starting to tighten up, but all things considered, not too awful bad. One thing was for sure, though - up until this point I had not stopped at all, and I wasn't going to stop for a walk break now. It was obvious that other people were feeling it, too - the paces started to slow a bit, peoples strides were getting short, their form starting to fall. I concentrated on keeping my form up, and trying to stay as loose and relaxed as possible. After a few slightly faster (7:45-7:50) miles on the back side of Hains Pt and along the mall, I had returned to an 8ish pace - and while I could maintain it, it was definitely getting tougher. Along this back side of the mall, I saw a guy in front of me locate his family, run to the side, grab his son (at least I assume it was his), pick him up, spin him around, and put him back down. I yelled out 'IF YOU CAN DO THAT YOU AREN'T RUNNING FAST ENOUGH!' When I caught up to him about 100 yds later, he turned back to me and said 'Bullshit. That was all for show - I'm falling apart!' I laughed, said 'Nice work - you fooled me!' and was on my way.
Mile 20 of the course comes right at the foot of a bridge over the Potomac. At this point, it occurred to me that 'the wall' at mile 20 is largely mental. Yes, I was feeling fatigued, but recalling what I felt like at mile 20-21 during my first marathon, or what I felt like during the marathon in Lake Placid - what I was feeling on this day wasn't uncharted territory anymore. While my HR was solidly in the 160's now, I also knew I could maintain that intensity for the duration. The only thing I didn't know was whether the wheels would suddenly fly off the bus. They still felt solid, but there were a couple wobbles.
What was encouraging to me at this point, though, was the number of people who were just done. Either stopped totally to stretch, or taking large walk breaks. Once again, I was reminded of what Coach Rich at EN says - the suck is going to happen, the trick is to just push it back as long as possible. At this point, I was reaping the benefits of taking it easy in the beginning, as I saw a tidal shift in the field as they came back to me.
I didn't bother counting people I passed - I have no idea how many there were, but it was a lot. It wasn't that they stopped in droves, it was just a steady trickle for those last six miles.
I kept plugging along, but by this time I was getting a good idea that breaking 3:30 wasn't going to happen. As I maintained the same RPE, my legs were tightening up more quickly now, and my pace was dropping from the 8ish to 8:15ish or so. By the time I hit mile 23, I felt like I was just barely hanging on. I actually felt like I had the energy, but I was starting to get a tad concerned that a sudden hamstring cramp might develop. I was afraid that if I stopped, I'd really tighten up and suffer as I tried to get moving again, so I felt my best option was to keep moving, but just go slower. So that was the story from miles 24-26. The suck had arrived, and once again I repeated a Coach Rich mantra - it's only going to stop once you reach the finish, so just get it done. That, and the fear of crumpling up into a ball on the sidewalk if I stopped was what kept me moving.
As I approached the finish, I found that a cruel trick had been played on me. A steep hill was right at the end, just before the finish. It wasn't long - on any other run it'd be just another little incline. But after 26.1 miles, I looked at it and just said "are you friggin' kidding me?!" They did have motivational slogans on the pavement, though. One said something about taking that hill. It reminded me of Walter from The Big Lebowski, which made me laugh.
Finally, I crossed the finish line.
While I was a tad bummed that I didn't break 3:30, I also knew I executed really well, and all things considered, did the best I could have done. First, I negative split, which is tough to do. Second, I witnessed just how effective running defensively during the first 18 miles can be, as I saw people dropping off left and right after the wall at mile 20. So in the end, it seems like a way to summarize execution of a marathon can be summed up in two questions: did you negative split, and did you finish with nothing left? If the answer to both questions is 'yes', then a great performance was put up. I'm sure additional marathon-specific training would have helped, but that just wasn't in the training cards this year. It was very similar to the finish in Lake Placid - so relatively close to a milestone (under 12 hours), but in the end I'm very happy with the result because I know that I gave it everything I had to give, and really left nothing on the table.
Oh, one last thing. I'm not one to get emotional about race finishes or anything, but something happened after finishing that surprised me. After crossing the line, I walked through the corral for a bit before there were lanes set up. In each lane were 2-3 Marines handing out medals. Normally at a race, you cross, the volunteer puts your medal on, says congratulations, you say thanks, and move on. This was different. For every person, one of the Marines put the medal around their neck, stood at attention, and gave a salute. The other Marine extended his hand to give a handshake. Something about it seemed more... genuine... than you typically get from a volunteer at the finish line of an event. I don't know what it was, but it got to me a little.
Garmin Data: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/396799033
My original goal when I set out was to try and get somewhere around a 3:10 time. At the time, I had been doing a lot of threshold and similar speed workouts. My previous open marathon time was in the 3:50's, and I thought that with the speed improvements (which saw knocking huge chunks of time off my half marathon time, from 1:55 to 1:40 to 1:35 and finally to sub-1:30), I could potentially hit that range given the volume push at the end of IM training. As time went on, however, it became more and more clear that it wasn't going to happen. Although my VDOT for a half marathon supported the idea of a 3:07-3:10 marathon, I started to realized that training for an IM marathon was very different than training for an open marathon.
So with the idea of 3:10 pretty much out the window, I had to do what I could with the training time left after Lake Placid. After a 4-5 week recovery period, I ended up having time for two 2.5 hr long runs (around 18 miles each), one two hour long run, and three half marathons for a total of six core marathon training runs. The question was how to execute those half marathons for maximum benefit - go for time, or just treat them as a way to pile up mileage. In the end I decided to push them, thinking that 90-100 minutes at high intensity would be more beneficial than, say, 120 minutes at easy intensity. Additionally, those six core workouts were supplemented with a threshold workout, a hill workout and filler easy paced workouts throughout the week.
I flew down to DC the day before, checked into the hotel, and headed out for packet pickup. Once I got to the venue, and saw the ridiculous line for getting my bib number, I started settling into the idea that this might take a few hours. The line was that long. Eventually I found the end of the line (yes, it actually took some searching, as the line crawled and snaked around and around), and to my surprise, it was actually moving rather quickly. Everyone was orderly, and it moved at a slow walk pace. Pathetically slow for wanting to get mall Christmas shopping done, but downright speedy for a long line. Within 10 minutes, I was in the tent, and speaking with a marine behind the desk to get my bib. Within another three minutes, I was out. Yup - that long line was done with in < 15 minutes.
If this was a prelude to how well things were to be run, I was damn impressed.
After getting the bib, I found that I had to join another line to get into the expo, and the expo is where the shirt and clear plastic bags were. This line was a little slower (there was security screening), but it was also a lot shorter. All told, probably another 15-20 minutes.
Once inside, I found out that yup - there was yet another line for the shirt and bag pickup. By this time, I was wondering if there was a line to get in line - but fortunately everything overall was moving along swiftly, and this line did as well. However, about halfway through the line we hit what could have been a major snafu for me - we were told they were all out of clear plastic bags for morning clothes drop off. Normally I don't check gear in at the beginning of a race, but in this case, I was planning on heading out from the hotel around 6am, leaving about 2 hours before the start of the race to get to the provided shuttle, take said shuttle to the start line, get everything prepared, and drop off my clothes bag. And with it being late October, I didn't want to do all that in my running shorts and shirt - it'd be a tad cold. So, I was kinda depending on that bag. So when we were told there were none left, but that we'd still need to use a clear plastic bag, I was thinking my only option would be to randomly walk into stores and ask if they had clear plastic bags.
Fortunately, someone nearby was resourceful, and found a bag that someone had thrown out. There was only one in that trash barrel, but there were other trash barrels throughout the expo. So I did what I had to do - I went diving into trash barrels until I found one that contained a discarded plastic bag. I ended up scoring one that wasn't in too bad shape - it was relatively close to the top, so it only had a few wrappers on top of it, but was pretty clean otherwise. Score one for me, but minus one for the Marines - how can you run out of bags like that?
After getting the bib, shirt and bag, I headed back to the hotel for the night. After getting all my gear sorted out and ready, I set my alarm for 5am and was feeling sleepy and passed out by 10pm.
I woke up Sunday morning, grabbed my stuff and headed down to the lobby. After about 5 minutes of seeing other people waiting in the lobby for the hotel shuttle to take us to the MCM shuttle, I decided (with about 6-8 other people) to just walk it to the MCM shuttle location, a few blocks away. We got to the shuttles and guess what? Yup, another line! I actually debated walking to the nearest Metro station, but soon realized that this shuttle took us directly to the starting area (whereas the Metro doesn't). It was only like 6:15 anyway, so once on the shuttle, I'd still have plenty of time. Fortunately, once again, this line moved rather swiftly, and I was on the shuttle within about 20 minutes.
The shuttle dropped us off and we had a short 5-10 minute walk to the starting area near the Pentagon. I bummed around a bit, spending most of the time inside a tent (it was getting chilly outside, and though it was a tent without sides, it was still warmer than outside) until it was time to hit a porta-potty, shed the outer clothes and then head to the start line. I initially lined up in the 3:40-3:59 (or so) corral, but eventually decided to head up a bit more, because I was thinking I'd probably be closer to 3:30 or so. While waiting in line, I chatted with a person who had done this race multiple times before. I mentioned that I heard that the first five miles is a total cluster before it opens up, and he said that it is heavily populated, but you can still run - but don't spend energy bobbing and weaving around people. Just run at the pace and conserve energy. Seemed like good, simple advice. Somewhere around this time, I saw a pacer with a 3:35 flag, and figured that would be a good place to be. Additionally, I figured the cluster of people would help keep me honest with going at a nice, easy pace in the beginning so that I was properly warmed up.
After the gun went off, I did in fact find that I could run, but it was also pretty dense with people. I kept the 3:35 pacer well within view - sometimes catching up on a slight downhill or if there was clear room ahead of me, sometimes falling behind on an incline or if things tightened up a bit. The first few miles were in the 8-8:30 range, which was just about perfect. It also occurred to me at this time that this would be an opportunity to start testing execution strategies for a marathon. If I want to get to qualify for the Boston Marathon, I'd have to start figuring out my pacing strategy for the marathon distance - and that would mean running a few marathons as I tweak things. So, this would be my start - run the first three miles at an easy pace before attempting to setting into anything resembling a marathon pace (which, according to my VDOT, should be in the 7:09 range, but there was no way in hell that would happen - not with the training I've been doing, which has been very non-marathon specific). I'd be happy with 7:40, but realistically that might be a stretch as well. Basically, I decided to try the EN strategy - fairies, gum drops, unicorns, ice cream and running defensively until mile 18. At that point, I could assess what I had left in the tank, and start to turn myself inside out and get mean and nasty. I know it works for an IM marathon - but I didn't know if it'd work for an open one.
As three miles came and went at an 8ish pace, I decided to keep the pace until five miles. Partly because I wasn't feeling comfortable with being able to go faster and still keep things together for the long haul, but also because I was still pretty boxed in, and a lot of effort would have to be expended in order to go at a faster pace. Five miles became six, which became eight, still at the 8ish pace, and still fairly boxed in. It was around the 9-10 mile marker that I looked up and realized that perhaps there were so many people because we were all chasing the 3:35 pacer. Looking ahead of the pacer, it seemed that there was some more clear space - if I could get ahead of the pacer, I might be in better shape. So over the next half mile or so, I managed to squeak ahead of the pacer and found myself, finally, able to run with significantly more space. Still people around, to be sure - but no longer did I have to worry about making contact with someone else's feet.
Around this time I was heading towards Hains Pt, and this part of the course was a long stretch of flat, grassy park. Hand made signs came and went every 30 feet for the entire down and back segment along the East Potomac Park - about 4 miles worth. Some were funny, some not so much, some customized, etc. It provided a nice distraction, reading them every few seconds, for a good chunk of time (one of them even had a message eluding to that). At the tip of Hains Point was the halfway mark, and I saw that I was at about 1:47 - fairly on track for a 3:30-ish pace. I still felt pretty good as well, which was a good sign. I had successfully held back a bit in the start, and if I wanted to finish under 3:30, I'd have to pick things up a bit, which was within the realm of possibility. However, I kept reminding myself - not until mile 18. Which, incidentally, was getting closer and closer.
The half mile or so between 15.5-16 was along a stretch with loads of spectators. That is something I forgot to mention until now - the spectators. For virtually the entire course, there are spectators cheering. At many races, you just have spectators in a few key, central areas. Even an IM has long sections with no one but competitors. Not so with the MCM - the only stretch with few spectators was that out and back on Hains Pt. Every other section has spectators cheering. Sometimes a few, but sometimes - like between mile 15 and 16 - the crowd is 3-4 people deep. After that section, the course turns around and goes by the Washington Monument, and along the National Mall to the front of the Capital Building before heading back down the other side of the mall. All the while, filled with people.
By this time, it was about mile 19, and I was starting to feel it a bit. My legs were starting to tighten up, but all things considered, not too awful bad. One thing was for sure, though - up until this point I had not stopped at all, and I wasn't going to stop for a walk break now. It was obvious that other people were feeling it, too - the paces started to slow a bit, peoples strides were getting short, their form starting to fall. I concentrated on keeping my form up, and trying to stay as loose and relaxed as possible. After a few slightly faster (7:45-7:50) miles on the back side of Hains Pt and along the mall, I had returned to an 8ish pace - and while I could maintain it, it was definitely getting tougher. Along this back side of the mall, I saw a guy in front of me locate his family, run to the side, grab his son (at least I assume it was his), pick him up, spin him around, and put him back down. I yelled out 'IF YOU CAN DO THAT YOU AREN'T RUNNING FAST ENOUGH!' When I caught up to him about 100 yds later, he turned back to me and said 'Bullshit. That was all for show - I'm falling apart!' I laughed, said 'Nice work - you fooled me!' and was on my way.
Mile 20 of the course comes right at the foot of a bridge over the Potomac. At this point, it occurred to me that 'the wall' at mile 20 is largely mental. Yes, I was feeling fatigued, but recalling what I felt like at mile 20-21 during my first marathon, or what I felt like during the marathon in Lake Placid - what I was feeling on this day wasn't uncharted territory anymore. While my HR was solidly in the 160's now, I also knew I could maintain that intensity for the duration. The only thing I didn't know was whether the wheels would suddenly fly off the bus. They still felt solid, but there were a couple wobbles.
What was encouraging to me at this point, though, was the number of people who were just done. Either stopped totally to stretch, or taking large walk breaks. Once again, I was reminded of what Coach Rich at EN says - the suck is going to happen, the trick is to just push it back as long as possible. At this point, I was reaping the benefits of taking it easy in the beginning, as I saw a tidal shift in the field as they came back to me.
I didn't bother counting people I passed - I have no idea how many there were, but it was a lot. It wasn't that they stopped in droves, it was just a steady trickle for those last six miles.
I kept plugging along, but by this time I was getting a good idea that breaking 3:30 wasn't going to happen. As I maintained the same RPE, my legs were tightening up more quickly now, and my pace was dropping from the 8ish to 8:15ish or so. By the time I hit mile 23, I felt like I was just barely hanging on. I actually felt like I had the energy, but I was starting to get a tad concerned that a sudden hamstring cramp might develop. I was afraid that if I stopped, I'd really tighten up and suffer as I tried to get moving again, so I felt my best option was to keep moving, but just go slower. So that was the story from miles 24-26. The suck had arrived, and once again I repeated a Coach Rich mantra - it's only going to stop once you reach the finish, so just get it done. That, and the fear of crumpling up into a ball on the sidewalk if I stopped was what kept me moving.
As I approached the finish, I found that a cruel trick had been played on me. A steep hill was right at the end, just before the finish. It wasn't long - on any other run it'd be just another little incline. But after 26.1 miles, I looked at it and just said "are you friggin' kidding me?!" They did have motivational slogans on the pavement, though. One said something about taking that hill. It reminded me of Walter from The Big Lebowski, which made me laugh.
Finally, I crossed the finish line.
While I was a tad bummed that I didn't break 3:30, I also knew I executed really well, and all things considered, did the best I could have done. First, I negative split, which is tough to do. Second, I witnessed just how effective running defensively during the first 18 miles can be, as I saw people dropping off left and right after the wall at mile 20. So in the end, it seems like a way to summarize execution of a marathon can be summed up in two questions: did you negative split, and did you finish with nothing left? If the answer to both questions is 'yes', then a great performance was put up. I'm sure additional marathon-specific training would have helped, but that just wasn't in the training cards this year. It was very similar to the finish in Lake Placid - so relatively close to a milestone (under 12 hours), but in the end I'm very happy with the result because I know that I gave it everything I had to give, and really left nothing on the table.
Oh, one last thing. I'm not one to get emotional about race finishes or anything, but something happened after finishing that surprised me. After crossing the line, I walked through the corral for a bit before there were lanes set up. In each lane were 2-3 Marines handing out medals. Normally at a race, you cross, the volunteer puts your medal on, says congratulations, you say thanks, and move on. This was different. For every person, one of the Marines put the medal around their neck, stood at attention, and gave a salute. The other Marine extended his hand to give a handshake. Something about it seemed more... genuine... than you typically get from a volunteer at the finish line of an event. I don't know what it was, but it got to me a little.
Garmin Data: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/396799033
Sunday, September 1, 2013
Cranberry Trifest Olympic - 8/25/13
Well, here I am - a full week after the event and I'm only now getting around to writing up a recap. I'm not sure why - I had thought of it multiple times over the course of the week. True, I was travelling and out of state, but that usually only means I have more time in the evenings, not less.
Anyhow, this event - which always is the last weekend of the month - has kinda become the end-of-season triathlon capper event for me. I like it because, being an Olympic distance, it is something I can show up to, crank out, and not worry about taper or recovery. And, at least for the past couple years, being a month after an Ironman gives me enough time to recovery from that event, while still lighting a bit of a fire under my butt to get moving again around mid-August.
There were a couple differences in this years race from last year - a new TT helmet and aero jacket for the rear wheel, and different recovery status following IMLP. Last year, I finished the Ironman and felt like I was back to myself after about 3 weeks (I felt about 85% after two). This year, I was still experiencing oddities with my workouts in the week before this race - I'd have a workout where RPE and pace just didn't match up, and then I'd have another workout where it seemed like things were falling into place. In the week prior to this race, though, I did manage to get a couple run near-threshold sessions in, and a bike threshold workout or two in. I'd like to think that I was able to do 3 or 4 x 1 mile @ TP for the run, and 2 x 20' @ FTP for the bike, but sadly it was more like 4 x 0.5 miles @ MP for the run, and 3 x 10' @ 95% for the bike. Still quality workouts, but clearly the volume of the past three months did their work in taking the power and speed edge off what I had built over the winter. So I estimate my effective VDOT to be probably 49-50 (1-2 lower than tested), and my effective FTP to have been around 260 - about a 5% drop.
The evening before, I looked up my performance from last year: ~24 min swim, 1:17 bike and ~44:30 run - 2:32:30 overall, 8/42 in my division and 71st overall. Not too shabby. The problem was - I felt like I should be a good deal faster with improved fitness this year, but I also didn't see much area for where I'd improve. Furthermore, with the sprain in my right foot having been something I've dealt with for over two months now, I hadn't really been able to get back into a groove since the Ironman - and with my recent runs having been inconsistent, I really did know that I'd be able to sustain the 7:13 min/mile pace from the previous year. And with my FTP definitely taking a solid 12W hit - who knows what I'd be able to pull for the bike. I decided I'd try to target 230W or so and see what happened. C'est la Vie.
Race morning was pretty typical - check in, get marked, set up in transition, etc. Sounds pretty innocuous, but I actually made my first mistake of the day - but we'll get to that.
My wave was #2 - males 35-44. It was announced it was the largest wave of the day (even though WTC further divides up into 35-39 and 40-44, or whatever), so there were a lot of people in the water at the start. Twenty four minutes - that was what I was trying to beat. The problem was, I can't tell 24 minutes from 25 or 26 - and I hadn't swum a stroke since exiting the water @ IMLP.
As is with most swims, it was rather uneventful. A bit of contact at the beginning, but it was easy enough to find open water before too long. Just patience, and form. Swim around a few buoys, make your way back, and exit out of the water. I guess that's the thing about a swim - not a lot to observe other than if you are in the middle of a pack of other swimmers, or whether you notice you are being passed (I didn't notice that), or if you are passing people from the wave(s) ahead (I did pass a few from the wave ahead of me).
I exited the water, made my way to transition, and realized my error from before. See, at Quassy, my bike was at the end of the rack. At IMLP, you have transition bags and an entire transition tent. So here, in a normal, local triathlon, I found that my race belt, HR monitor strap and helmet were located on the front of my bike, where I left them - my shoes and socks were towards the rear tire, where I left them. The problem was the bike rack right in the middle. And the close quarters of the bikes to the side meant that scooching under the race wasn't going to work, unless I wanted to risk toppling the entire rack over. So, that meant finagling my bike out of the rack so I could get to the shoes and socks - but then I had my hand(s) full with the bike itself. It wasn't a fun time. I managed to get everything I needed, but it wasn't without some difficulty and frustration at the fact I had been stupid and not thought about my transition flow whatsoever.
Anyway, I got myself all sorted out, ran out to the bike mount line, mounted up, and started going to work. I gave myself maybe 10-15 minutes as warm up on the bike - there were a few turns here and there towards the beginning anyway, so it wasn't worth getting all revved up quite yet. I also wanted to make sure I started taking in calories, sodium (my bottle had 1.5 servings of Infinit, for 450 calories and 750 mg of sodium, intended to last about 90 minutes) and water.
After that initial warm up period, I started punching 230W as much as I could. I felt like I was doing a pretty good job of it, but was actually paying a lot of attention to RPE and HR as well. With my workouts having been inconsistent, it was still a very real possibility that I wasn't recovered from the IM yet. So if I could hit 230 and the HR stayed in the 160 range and felt sustainable - fine. Otherwise I allowed myself to back off a smidge - which generally wasn't often except maybe a few times when I had to punch it a bit to pass another ride.
Speaking of which - this was the first race where I felt like I was potentially being watched by the officials. Maybe I just didn't recognize them before, but a couple times I did see them go by on the motorcycle. One time it was just after finishing a pass, and I had no idea they were behind me - so I'm glad I executed that pass properly and didn't do anything that would have resulted in a penalty.
The bike was largely uneventful. There were a few people, especially in the final 6-8 miles or so, that I saw frequently - the typical thing where one passes another, and then a mile down the road things switch up. But for the most part, just like last year, there just weren't that many people on the course - an indication I got out of the water relatively quickly, and was staying ahead of the bulk of the pack on the bike. Quite different from IMLP where I was dealing with lots of congestion the entire first loop.
At the very end of the bike, there was a portion where 3-4 of the people I had been riding 'with' punched ahead of me and entered transition first, technically beating me on the bike. However, for at least one of them, I was pretty certain I'd blow by him on the run. Sometimes you can just tell these things.
I went through transition, and overall it was pretty smooth sailing.
Starting on the run, I decided to keep it a tad easy - a little above marathon pace. I didn't want to go too easy - with only 6 miles I didn't have a lot of time to dilly dally if I wanted a chance to beat my last years time. So I decided to keep the first couple miles right around last years pace, perhaps a bit slower if necessary, just to gauge how things were going to fare. Once again, HR was the big limiter - keeping it under 160 for the first couple miles, or first third of the race.
Once mile 3 hit., I was surprised that my legs still felt reasonably lively, and I was able to pick up the pace a bit. I still held back a tad because I felt like I was operating close to the edge, and the edge is a tough place to be for 4 miles - so in order to keep from screwing up my mile 5 and 6, I played it safe in miles 3 and 4. However, even so - I was still able to post a 7:08 and 7:03. It was starting to look like I could possibly beat last years run time afterall.
The last couple miles were largely mental - at this point it was very similar to a threshold training run, and just a matter of toughing it out. Fourteen minutes, twelve minutes - then 'oh, only 8 minutes left of this. I can do that!'. By the time I got close to the 6 mile mark, I was paying attention to cheering behind me - if there was any soon after I passed, I knew someone was on my heels - if not, then I had a good lead on the next person. I didn't want to be passed at the very end!
As I approached the finish, I could see that if I really gunned it, I might be able to beat the clock at 2:30 - but I also knew that would require a hell of a lot of effort, and would result in a very jacked up HR for little gain. I knew the clock was 4-5 minutes ahead since I was in the 2nd wave, so I knew I had 2:30 in the bag, so the only thing that extra effort would net would be trying to show off for the crowd. Not my style - instead, I just kept pace and let it go.
In the end, the final time was 2:26:11 - a full 6 minutes faster then last year. I came in 8/52 in my age group (vs 8/42 last year) and finishing 67 overall, vs 71 last year. Oddly enough, the field was slightly different this year, as I came in lower overall for the swim and run, even though my times were faster. Obviously, the biggest single factor was the bike, with a 3 minute improvement - but that resulted in a large drop for overall placement - 68 this year vs 124 last year. The strange thing about that was that as much as I was trying to nail 230W as much as possible, my average power was pretty similar to last year - something like 216W in 2012 and 221W in 2013. With wattage being so close, I actually have to give most of the credit for the three minute improvement to the TT helmet and aero jacket.
Anyhow, this event - which always is the last weekend of the month - has kinda become the end-of-season triathlon capper event for me. I like it because, being an Olympic distance, it is something I can show up to, crank out, and not worry about taper or recovery. And, at least for the past couple years, being a month after an Ironman gives me enough time to recovery from that event, while still lighting a bit of a fire under my butt to get moving again around mid-August.
There were a couple differences in this years race from last year - a new TT helmet and aero jacket for the rear wheel, and different recovery status following IMLP. Last year, I finished the Ironman and felt like I was back to myself after about 3 weeks (I felt about 85% after two). This year, I was still experiencing oddities with my workouts in the week before this race - I'd have a workout where RPE and pace just didn't match up, and then I'd have another workout where it seemed like things were falling into place. In the week prior to this race, though, I did manage to get a couple run near-threshold sessions in, and a bike threshold workout or two in. I'd like to think that I was able to do 3 or 4 x 1 mile @ TP for the run, and 2 x 20' @ FTP for the bike, but sadly it was more like 4 x 0.5 miles @ MP for the run, and 3 x 10' @ 95% for the bike. Still quality workouts, but clearly the volume of the past three months did their work in taking the power and speed edge off what I had built over the winter. So I estimate my effective VDOT to be probably 49-50 (1-2 lower than tested), and my effective FTP to have been around 260 - about a 5% drop.
The evening before, I looked up my performance from last year: ~24 min swim, 1:17 bike and ~44:30 run - 2:32:30 overall, 8/42 in my division and 71st overall. Not too shabby. The problem was - I felt like I should be a good deal faster with improved fitness this year, but I also didn't see much area for where I'd improve. Furthermore, with the sprain in my right foot having been something I've dealt with for over two months now, I hadn't really been able to get back into a groove since the Ironman - and with my recent runs having been inconsistent, I really did know that I'd be able to sustain the 7:13 min/mile pace from the previous year. And with my FTP definitely taking a solid 12W hit - who knows what I'd be able to pull for the bike. I decided I'd try to target 230W or so and see what happened. C'est la Vie.
Race morning was pretty typical - check in, get marked, set up in transition, etc. Sounds pretty innocuous, but I actually made my first mistake of the day - but we'll get to that.
My wave was #2 - males 35-44. It was announced it was the largest wave of the day (even though WTC further divides up into 35-39 and 40-44, or whatever), so there were a lot of people in the water at the start. Twenty four minutes - that was what I was trying to beat. The problem was, I can't tell 24 minutes from 25 or 26 - and I hadn't swum a stroke since exiting the water @ IMLP.
As is with most swims, it was rather uneventful. A bit of contact at the beginning, but it was easy enough to find open water before too long. Just patience, and form. Swim around a few buoys, make your way back, and exit out of the water. I guess that's the thing about a swim - not a lot to observe other than if you are in the middle of a pack of other swimmers, or whether you notice you are being passed (I didn't notice that), or if you are passing people from the wave(s) ahead (I did pass a few from the wave ahead of me).
I exited the water, made my way to transition, and realized my error from before. See, at Quassy, my bike was at the end of the rack. At IMLP, you have transition bags and an entire transition tent. So here, in a normal, local triathlon, I found that my race belt, HR monitor strap and helmet were located on the front of my bike, where I left them - my shoes and socks were towards the rear tire, where I left them. The problem was the bike rack right in the middle. And the close quarters of the bikes to the side meant that scooching under the race wasn't going to work, unless I wanted to risk toppling the entire rack over. So, that meant finagling my bike out of the rack so I could get to the shoes and socks - but then I had my hand(s) full with the bike itself. It wasn't a fun time. I managed to get everything I needed, but it wasn't without some difficulty and frustration at the fact I had been stupid and not thought about my transition flow whatsoever.
Anyway, I got myself all sorted out, ran out to the bike mount line, mounted up, and started going to work. I gave myself maybe 10-15 minutes as warm up on the bike - there were a few turns here and there towards the beginning anyway, so it wasn't worth getting all revved up quite yet. I also wanted to make sure I started taking in calories, sodium (my bottle had 1.5 servings of Infinit, for 450 calories and 750 mg of sodium, intended to last about 90 minutes) and water.
After that initial warm up period, I started punching 230W as much as I could. I felt like I was doing a pretty good job of it, but was actually paying a lot of attention to RPE and HR as well. With my workouts having been inconsistent, it was still a very real possibility that I wasn't recovered from the IM yet. So if I could hit 230 and the HR stayed in the 160 range and felt sustainable - fine. Otherwise I allowed myself to back off a smidge - which generally wasn't often except maybe a few times when I had to punch it a bit to pass another ride.
Speaking of which - this was the first race where I felt like I was potentially being watched by the officials. Maybe I just didn't recognize them before, but a couple times I did see them go by on the motorcycle. One time it was just after finishing a pass, and I had no idea they were behind me - so I'm glad I executed that pass properly and didn't do anything that would have resulted in a penalty.
The bike was largely uneventful. There were a few people, especially in the final 6-8 miles or so, that I saw frequently - the typical thing where one passes another, and then a mile down the road things switch up. But for the most part, just like last year, there just weren't that many people on the course - an indication I got out of the water relatively quickly, and was staying ahead of the bulk of the pack on the bike. Quite different from IMLP where I was dealing with lots of congestion the entire first loop.
At the very end of the bike, there was a portion where 3-4 of the people I had been riding 'with' punched ahead of me and entered transition first, technically beating me on the bike. However, for at least one of them, I was pretty certain I'd blow by him on the run. Sometimes you can just tell these things.
I went through transition, and overall it was pretty smooth sailing.
Starting on the run, I decided to keep it a tad easy - a little above marathon pace. I didn't want to go too easy - with only 6 miles I didn't have a lot of time to dilly dally if I wanted a chance to beat my last years time. So I decided to keep the first couple miles right around last years pace, perhaps a bit slower if necessary, just to gauge how things were going to fare. Once again, HR was the big limiter - keeping it under 160 for the first couple miles, or first third of the race.
Once mile 3 hit., I was surprised that my legs still felt reasonably lively, and I was able to pick up the pace a bit. I still held back a tad because I felt like I was operating close to the edge, and the edge is a tough place to be for 4 miles - so in order to keep from screwing up my mile 5 and 6, I played it safe in miles 3 and 4. However, even so - I was still able to post a 7:08 and 7:03. It was starting to look like I could possibly beat last years run time afterall.
The last couple miles were largely mental - at this point it was very similar to a threshold training run, and just a matter of toughing it out. Fourteen minutes, twelve minutes - then 'oh, only 8 minutes left of this. I can do that!'. By the time I got close to the 6 mile mark, I was paying attention to cheering behind me - if there was any soon after I passed, I knew someone was on my heels - if not, then I had a good lead on the next person. I didn't want to be passed at the very end!
As I approached the finish, I could see that if I really gunned it, I might be able to beat the clock at 2:30 - but I also knew that would require a hell of a lot of effort, and would result in a very jacked up HR for little gain. I knew the clock was 4-5 minutes ahead since I was in the 2nd wave, so I knew I had 2:30 in the bag, so the only thing that extra effort would net would be trying to show off for the crowd. Not my style - instead, I just kept pace and let it go.
In the end, the final time was 2:26:11 - a full 6 minutes faster then last year. I came in 8/52 in my age group (vs 8/42 last year) and finishing 67 overall, vs 71 last year. Oddly enough, the field was slightly different this year, as I came in lower overall for the swim and run, even though my times were faster. Obviously, the biggest single factor was the bike, with a 3 minute improvement - but that resulted in a large drop for overall placement - 68 this year vs 124 last year. The strange thing about that was that as much as I was trying to nail 230W as much as possible, my average power was pretty similar to last year - something like 216W in 2012 and 221W in 2013. With wattage being so close, I actually have to give most of the credit for the three minute improvement to the TT helmet and aero jacket.
Friday, August 2, 2013
Ironman Lake Placid - 2013
IMLP2013 was the second Ironman for me, with IMLP2012 having been the first. I signed up for 2013 before I even completed 2012 because I knew I'd have unfinished business - I had just recently joined Endurance Nation (in June 2012), which coincided with some epiphanies about training approach and philosophies that I had slowly been discovering on my own during the prior six months or so, especially with regards to how to improve on the bike, which was my weakest discipline. So I went into IMLP2012 knowing that while I could cobble together finishing the event, I would be able to make significant improvements over the subsequent year with a proper and focused training regimen.
Winter Training - Building Up
And so it began, back in November 2012. That was the start of what they call the EN Outseason (OS) - whereas many people consider the winter to be the offseason, in the EN training world, winter is the time where power in built on the bike, and speed is gained on the run. The workouts are short, usually an hour or so in length, but the intensity of the workouts is cranked up - most every session includes some sort of significant time at threshold intensity. Of the three flavors of plans - beginner, intermediate, and advanced - I chose advanced. Normally it probably wouldn't be a suggested course of action to go from making stuff up on your own to a focused, advanced level plan, but my reason for doing so was two-fold: I had spent some time doing the advanced version of the Get Faster plan in the fall, as a sort of dry run for the advanced level plans, so I had a good idea that I could handle it; and I knew that with my travel schedule, I'd be missing some workouts and having some forced rest placed upon me - which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. Speaking of missing workouts, I did end up bailing on virtually every Monday run, which was one of the lower priority runs. The primary reason was to allow myself a chance to get to Monday yoga - something I find helps tremendously with recovery and injury prevention. Over the fall I stopped going for a couple months, and eventually got to the point where I had to put all other training on hold for two weeks and go to yoga a handful of times to get things sorted out again.
The OS took place between the beginning of November 2012 and the beginning of February 2013, and as mentioned, included running and biking. No swimming. That is another oddity about the EN training approach - no swimming in the OS. Without getting into too much detail, the reason is simply this: there is usually a lot of overhead associated with getting to a pool and doing a swim workout, and the swim is a fraction of the time of the day during an IM, so the time is better spent on the bike or the run. It's all about efficiency and time management within EN - being age groupers vs pro's means there is limited time in the schedule for training, so you are better off spending the time doing what will give you the best bang for the buck.
Once the OS finished, there was a six week period where you could choose either a run or bike focus block. Since the bike was my weakest spot, I chose the bike. The bike focus block lasted from mid-february until the beginning of April, and like the OS, was primarily focused on threshold intensity workouts.
Once the bike focus block was done, it was four weeks of the Get Faster plan, where swimming was finally reintroduced. As much notoriety as the OS plan gets within EN, I find the GF plan to be one notch tougher - the demands of the workouts are higher as they start getting a bit longer, and it has swimming added to it. Up until the GF plan, there was only one workout per day, but once the GF plan started, double sessions were common and normal about half the days of the week. I found that swimming in the morning and doing the bike/run workouts in the evening worked best due to pool lane availability.
IM Specific Training - Adding Volume and Distance
Once the GF plan was finished, we dropped into week 8 of the 20 week IM training plan, where intensity was dropped, and volume increased. No more 60-90 minute workouts on the weekends - the norm was a 4 hr ride on Saturday, with a brick run, and a 3-3.5 hr ride on Sunday. This was in addition to at least one bike FTP and one threshold run session during the week, with a few other runs at various paces sprinkled in, such as the thursday long runs that generally ranged from 105 to 150 minutes. Oh, and the three swim workouts. Weekly training time ramped up quickly, and once I realized what was going on, I informed my family that I may be MIA for some various events over the next couple months. In a few cases, I was able to do something like ride my bike to a gathering destination so I could get my workout in for the day, but sadly there were a couple events I missed.
In the middle of the IM training was the EN training camp at Lake Placid. This was a three day event where we had the opportunity to ride the full 112 mile course on consecutive days. There were a few benefits of this - even though I had done the course before, it was a good refresher which allowed me to re-calibrate my mental impression of the course with my new levels of power on the bike. It also provided me with an opportunity to test out use of a customized feed bottle solution from Infinit Nutrition for calories and sodium intake. Finally, doing 224 miles in a weekend (followed by another 100 miler the following weekend) was a huge dose of steady-state cycling effort that brings its own rewards in terms of training stress.
Summing It All Up
So, in the end - between the end of IMLP last year and going into IMLP this year, there were significant improvements made on both the run and the bike. I can't say for certain what my bike FTP was last year, because I never tested on a true power meter (I had only acquired one in the couple weeks before IMLP2012) - but TrainerRoad's virtual power pegged me at an FTP of ~220W. I think that is decently accurate, as I find that wattage range to coincide well with what my power meter reads - it starts to drift more after ~240W. After a year of EN training, my FTP was last tested at 272W. I say last tested because the last time I tested was actually back during the OS - I never retested again because I wasn't fully confident I'd be able to hold the target wattage that would result, and I figured I'd be better off going in a tad under-trained than a tad over-trained. Based on previous experience with rising FTP, I'd estimate it to be closer to 280W going into the event. I also figured that wasn't enough of a difference (8W) to split hairs on.
My half marathon time was 1:35:00, corresponding to a Jack Daniels VDOT of 47. After the full year of EN, my half marathon time went to 1:29:24, which increased my VDOT to 51. Obtaining a good VDOT number is tough because I find that my ability to push during a solo test can never replicate my motivation to push during an actual race. As a result, that VDOT of 51 was actually from the fall of 2012, and I used to resultant paces during the entire OS and training leading up the Ironman. I won't get a real good comparison until a fall half marathon - but like bike FTP, based on experience with increasing VDOT, I'd estimate my VDOT to have increased to around 52.
Other Changes
In addition to improved fitness, there were some other differences from last year. Instead of using a road helmet (with a rear view mirror glued to it), this year I purchased a TT helmet with visor. They look goofy, but they make a big difference - it feels like it is slicing through air effortlessly, while the road helmet, in comparison, feels like it is being tugged at from behind. I also used an aero jacket on my rear wheel, which is just a couple pieces of custom shaped plastic that attaches to the rear wheel, turning it into a race wheel. I didn't necessarily notice a huge difference with this piece of equipment when I first tried it until I took it off and rode without it the next weekend - I felt like I was dragging something along the entire ride, and I must have checked my rear wheel a dozen times to make sure it wasn't flat, because it sure felt like it.
Leading Up To The Race
I arrived in Lake Placid on the Thursday before the race. As opposed to last year, I didn't take any chances with hotel bedding, and brought my own. An air mattress, an egg crate, my own sheets and pillow, and my white noise generator that I use at home. I just remember last year not having gotten great sleep at the hotel on their beds, and getting only a couple hours sleep on the Saturday night before, and this time I wanted to do everything I possibly could to make my bed as close to what I have at home as possible. I have to say, it worked incredibly well, as I got good, solid sleep on both Friday and Saturday night.
Soon after I arrived on Thursday afternoon, I checked in for the race, and then on Thursday evening was the EN dinner where I got to meet a few other folks from the team. This was one of the EN focus events for the year, so there was a large turnout of nearly 80 people participating. Most everyone I knew of their names, and a few I had met in person either at Rev3 Quassy in June, or at the training camp. So the dinner was just a social event, and it was nice to see some people I had met and not seen since last year.
Friday morning was an optional EN team swim. The talk was what the weather would be like on Sunday - it had been going from bad to worse to OK throughout the week, and also varied widely based on the source. Some places were saying 20% chance of rain, others were saying 80%. Once thing that everyone knew, though, was that it would continue to change, as this area is prone to sudden changes in weather conditions.
After the swim, I went to the EN Four Keys talk, mostly as way to re-imprint the basic concepts of how to execute during race day into my mind. In the evening, I went to the athlete meeting, mostly to see if there was anything to be aware of with regards to the new SwimStart initiative, as WTC has removed mass swim starts from events in favor of a more time trial like start.
Saturday was final preparations and rest. The morning started out with my pre-carb load routine of a mile or so warm up run, followed by three minutes at max effort (sustainable for that three minutes), and cool down, followed by eating 12g of carbohydrates per kg of body weight - nearly 1000g of carbs. The idea is that this instigates a response in the body to maximize absorption and storage of carbohydrates, but the short duration of the workout doesn't compromise performance. I've done this several times in the past, and I always felt that it provided positive results - at the very least, it didn't negatively impact anything. Well, nothing performance wise. I have found that eating that many carbs does cause a large amount of water retention - so especially with triathlons, I've found that soon after the swim, all that fluid starts to make its way through my system. Last year when I did the same thing, I ate a lot of carbs in the evening and had a hard time falling asleep as a result. This year I did my best to front load the carbs during the first half of the day and kinda taper back a bit as the day wore on - mostly stuff like OJ, pasta, etc. Anything with carbs, nothing with fibre.
Also very important for Saturday was staying off my feet as much as possible. Not only to minimize exertion by the legs, but also I had been battling a nagging ache on my right foot ever since the training camp. I was a tad concerned about running a marathon on it, but I had also found that it hadn't been too bad during run sessions - just more sore afterwards. So I figured I'd probably be OK - but in reality I was actually more concerned with how it might affect my training for the Marine Corps Marathon coming up in the fall. If this event made it real sore and gave me a set back, I'd have a real hard time managing to get in the significant chunk of miles I had been hoping to get in between IMLP and October. It was just something that I'd have to deal with as it came.
I went to bed around 9pm, and while it's not surprising that it took me a bit of time to fall asleep, I was rather surprised that I had good, deep sleep. I had my alarm set to 2:30am so that I could eat my applesauce breakfast, and I wound up waking up just a couple minutes early and, for a second, was actually a little scared I missed the start because I felt like I had such good sleep. Once I finished the applesauce, I went back to bed (it took a while because of the sugar), but did manage another sleep cycle before my alarm went off at 4:30.
At this point, the weather was still showing a high chance of rain, and I had submitted to it and taken the mental approach that I wanted a deluge. If it was going to rain, I wanted it to count. Even with the forecast of clouds and rain, I doused myself with sunscreen just in case. I gathered my stuff and had my wife drive me as close as possible to the oval. Though only about 3/4-1 mile away from the hotel, if I could save that time and avoid that time on my feet, all the better. I went through body marking, went into transition and filled by bike tires, and did last minute sorting of my transition bags before heading up the street to drop off my run special needs (with extra shoes and socks in case the first pair got wet) and bike special needs (CO2 canisters and 2nd 3-hr bottle of Infinit) bags. Once they were dropped off, I found my way to the starting area, donned the wetsuit, and slotted myself in the corral for a 1:11 swim time. My time last year was 1:14, and I anticipated I'd be a few minutes faster this year.
The Swim
Unlike previous years, the swim start has switched to a new time trial format. Previously, the swim was a mass start - all 3000 people going at once. However, due to some high profile events in triathlons over the past year, WTC created the SwimStart initiative, which allows for a less stressful start (supposedly), and provides an opportunity for warm up. Personally, I found little difference in overall contact between the mass start and the new start - but perhaps that was because I lined up on the outside last year. The main thing I didn't like about the time trial start this year was that the buoys were set up such that it kept people funneled in - you had to swim a few hundred yards before people could spread out.
Overall the swim was what you'd expect. Some contact, more around the buoys, less on the second loop. I feel as though I found the middle half was where I had the most open water - the first quarter and last quarter had more people around me and more contact.
Once out of the water, I waited in line for a wetsuit peeler, which fortunately was almost instant. I grabbed my wetsuit and ran towards the transition area, and noticed that it was raining slightly. Here we go - the start of a wet day!
Lasting impressions:
- TT start caused more congestion than mass swim start (although it's possible that I expected more contact during the mass start, and was pleasantly surprised - so my opinion may be swayed by perception).
- TT start caused more congestion on beach, making it a mess. Last year there was plenty of room on the beach, athletes could meet families and take pictures, etc. Lining everyone up before entering the water made the beach scene a mad house.
- Numbered buoys in the water were nice.
- Probably easier to get to buoy line if that was the goal.
T1
I ran into T1 (actually, I took a detour to a porta-potty because during the last 1/4 of the swim, all the water those carbs were retaining was making its way through!), found an empty seat and did my thing - get the HR strap on, get my GPS tracker on (I had to fumble with it a bit, as I never test fit the strap around my waist. Stupid), get the grass off my feet (I didn't mind the water, but didn't want pieces of debris rubbing on my feet for the rest of the day), throw on socks, cycling shoes, and put on my helmet, and left.
As I was running out of T1, I realized there was a guy taking note of numbers and calling them back. He never called mine, and it dawned on me that without him calling, I'd have to get my own bike. Well, I wouldn't have any of that! So I stopped and called out my number to him. As I ran around, I saw the volunteer ahead with my bike out. Perfect! I grabbed it and went to the bike mount line.
The bike mount line at Lake Placid can be very hectic - it's narrow, and there are a lot of people swarming through in short time. I've found the tactic that works well for me is to swing one leg over, slip in, and then descend past the first 180 degree turn, and then clip the other leg in. Minimizes the time spent at the line where you would be more prone to someone bumping into you.
The Bike
The bike started out a tad wet, and it was raining slightly - but I found I was getting more wet from rooster tails of people in front of me. Once I started out, it was JRA for a while - make sure to keep my HR down (it was in the 160's when I got on the bike) so I could start to absorb calories as quickly as possible. Fortunately, this didn't take long, just a few minutes - but I stayed at an easy pace for a while.
On the first loop, I took the descent pretty conservatively - the road was wet and I am not confident enough or knowledgeable enough in my bike handling abilities to know how fast is too fast for the tires to stick to pavement. So I spent a lot of time feathering brakes and avoiding being in rooster tails on that first descent into Keene. At this point, it seemed like most of the rain had actually stopped, and it was just wet road more than anything.
Once at the bottom, it was time to get to work. Steady riding, take in nutrition. Sounds easy, but the problem was that I was constantly fighting with either left land campers, who had plenty of room to move over but just didn't until I said 'On your left!', or people who were riding about the same speed as me, which would cause my power to drop due to drafting, but would require power spiking to get around. Not really sure what to do here, I did what I probably should not have done, and passed a lot of them. I had a false sense of security, figuring I could handle the brief power spike now and again - and while I don't feel it negatively affected my performance on the day, it was a stupid thing to do. Better to have just settled in and taken the free speed. In retrospect, I was too worried about my VI being high, without considering that it being high due to drafting and free speed is better than it being high due to spiking and passing, because the former sets up a better run.
And that was pretty much the story for the first couple hours. A surprisingly large amount of congestion, and constantly fighting to try and find a rhythm, which was elusive. In fact, it wasn't until the turn into Wilmington, where the hills start, that I found I could settle in.
Which reminds me - due to my flat issues from Quassy in June, I was resolved to help anyone and everyone that I could. I figured if I lost three minutes to helping someone else out, that was better than losing ten minutes to my getting a flat. Karma. As I was on the road to Wilmington, I came across a woman who was stopped, and when I rode by and asked if she needed anything, she said she needed a tube. I pulled over and offered her a spare of mine (I had two with me), and while she was originally appreciative, we ended up determining that she had tubular tires, and that my tubes wouldn't work. It's just that it took a few minutes to figure that all out due to a language barrier. Oh well.
Then, about half a mile from there, I came across someone whose rear derailleur broke. Obviously I couldn't help there, but I told him I'd inform the next volunteer I came across to send the SAG vehicle with a mechanic.
THEN, about two miles from there, I came across another person with a busted derailleur! So, now I had three things to relay - a tubular replacement, and two derailleurs.
As I entered the out and back on Haselton Rd, I spotted a volunteer and yelled back 'Tubular and two derailleurs on the road to Wilmington!' I have no idea if he heard me or understood what I was saying, but that was about all I could do as he was on the other side of the road and with it being an out and back, I didn't want to cross the lane.
Fast forward a bit - the last major climb people talk about when heading back to town is Papa Bear. This is a fun hill to climb because it is lined with spectators, and is the start of a cheering section that lasts all the way through town. Of course, with all the cheering, people stand up out of the saddle and grind their way up the hill in the big chainring to show off. I think I was literally the only person who stayed on my saddle and slowly pedaled my way up, keeping my target watts right where they should be. I probably looked pathetic and worn out, but thats ok. There were a few EN folks there who knew the real deal of what was going on.
At special needs, it was a quick stop - drop off my empty feed bottle, grab the new, and I was off on my way.
The second loop was a bit of a different story from the first. The roads were drier and less crowded on the descent, so I was more comfortable going faster. Once at the bottom, I felt like a lion on the prowl - here I was keeping to my prescribed watts, but passing other cyclists at a steady rate, reeling them in. I still had to deal with some left lane campers, though.
The rest of the ride was actually unmemorable. Of course, people were showing off on Papa Bear again on the second loop. Overall, nutrition with the Infinit and water went pretty well (stopped at a porta potty twice on each loop - definite improvement over last year), but there were a couple times where I had maybe a bit too much in a single swig, and with the concentrated formula, I had to back off a bit over the next couple feeding sessions. In the end, I consumed 41 fl oz of the 48 total, and the 48 total fl oz was comprised of 6.75 servings of Infinit, with each serving being 300 calories and 500 mg sodium. So, doing the math, that turns out to ~266 cal/hr and 443 mg sodium/hr.
Lasting impressions:
- Thought it would be less congested on first loop due to TT swim start.
- Left lane campers were a pain in the ass
- People chatting it up riding side by side were a pain in the ass
- First loop was just dealing with a lot of congestion. Second loop was much more 'get down to business' and steady state riding.
T2
As I was going through T2, I happened to see my wife, who was volunteering in the transition area - which was nice. She volunteered last year and really liked how volunteers get kinda VIP treatment - plus it really helps pass the time of the day.
T2 was pretty typical. I'm not fast in transition - I still like to take my time and make sure I'm all set and didn't forget anything.
The Run
My plan coming out of T2 and starting the run was to run the first 6 miles at my long run pace plus 30". This required a good deal of consciously slowing down, not only because of the disconnect in RPE when getting off the bike, but also because the first six miles of the IMLP course are varying degrees of downhill - from every so slight to just about needing to put on the brakes.
Nutrition-wise, the plan was to take in Perform and water at every station. Being steady with calorie and electrolyte intake on the bike, and having to stop twice on each loop at a porta-potty, I was not concerned with dehydration or running low on sodium as I was last year. I figured I'd hit about 6-7 aid stations every mile, and each aid station I'd take in about 4 oz of Perform - about two solid mouthful swigs. That would provide about 35 calories, and with hitting one every 9-10 minutes, I'd get about 200 calories an hour.
The first few miles felt pretty good and solid. Around mile four, my stomach was actually rumbling a bit - like it was starving and really wanted something solid!
Not wanting to actually try something solid and risk my stomach going haywire, I figured I'd pick up a GU at the next aid station. As soon as I swallowed it, I could tell it probably wasn't the brightest idea, and it caused my stomach to be a bit upset for a while. I immediately drank some water to start diluting it, and hoped it would go away. Last year during the run I got to a point where taking in calories caused my stomach to revolt, and I didn't want a repeat. Fortunately, within about half a mile, it settled down, and by the next aid station, it was feeling pretty much back to normal. I decided that although I hated the taste of Orange Mango Perform (it tastes like something I'd rather not repeat in 'public', and it's not a four letter word starting with 's'), I'd have to suck it up and stomach it. Half the reason for the water at every stop was simply to wash the taste of the Perform out of my mouth.
The run was a lot of rinse and repeat on a mile basis. Walk the aid station, take 3-4 oz of Perform, chase it with water, dump the cups and at the end of the aid station start running again. I also allowed myself to walk the two primary uphills (around mile 10 and around mile 12) - to run them I'd have to go so slow that it simply wouldn't be worth the heartbeats. As the miles ticked by, the walking predictably became more and more of a relief, and starting to run again got more difficult - usually taking the form of requiring more and more time to get up to 'speed' (which started out at about 9-9:30 min/miles, but gradually became 9:30-10 min/miles).
To make matters worse, remember that tweak in my right foot? I was feeling it. Every step. For about 16 miles. Then, suddenly, I realized it was gone. Poof. Vanished. Not sure how it happened - but I figured that it just gave up whining and decided to shut up. Oddly enough, in the four days since, as I write this - it has been significantly better then before the race. I would not have anticipated that putting more miles on it would make it better.
As I approached mile 18, I really started getting sick of Perform, and the idea of Coke was really appealing. However, I saved it, because I wanted to make sure I kept taking in the sodium that Perform brings. I told myself that once I reached the turn-around at mile 18, then I could take some Coke because at that point, it was only 8 miles to go, and sodium would be less of an issue with the distance remaining. When I got to the aid station, I grabbed some and loved every second of it. I forget whether I grabbed two in one station, or grabbed one at the next two stations - but either way, I ended up going off the Coke because I found that with it not having been flattened, the carbonation was not helping. A burp came out and that helped, but I didn't want to depend on burping to keep my stomach from getting upset. So, back to Perform it was. /sigh
Around the 20 mile mark, I did some quick math and figured that if I could manage 10 minute miles from here on out, I could hit a four hour marathon - and if I wanted any chance of beating 12 hours total, I'd have to hit that four hour marathon. I didn't know my exact time, but I knew I could be close if I did 10 minute miles for the last six miles.
Unfortunately, once I got to mile 22, I really started to bonk. I mean, I had been kinda bonking for a while by this time, but now it was really hitting me. I walked the uphill as planned, but had to take a bit of an extended walk break upon cresting it. I forced myself to pick up the pace, even if it was only 10-10:30 minute miles. It was slower than the pace I'd need for a four hour marathon, but I was hoping that the last mile I'd re-energize and be able to maybe make up some time due to adrenaline - and the best chance of making that happen would be to conserve energy now. I hit the last big hill and walked it, but by that time I realized I had about two miles to go and to hit four hours, I'd have to do something like 7 minute miles. It just wasn't going to happen, because even after the last big hill, I still had to walk a slight incline with only a mile and a half to go. I just had nothing left. I was D-U-N done.
I hit the 25 mile mark and resolved to run the rest of the way in - however slow - I just didn't want to be taking any more walk breaks at the very end of the race. I was able to pick up the pace every so slightly to 9:30 or so, and I was fine with that. Last year, I just about sprinted around the oval - this year I wanted to spend more time soaking in the crowd energy during the finish, because it's just awesome. As I ran into the oval, I checked behind me to see if anyone was there - no one was within short sight of me ahead, so I knew I'd have at least a few hundred feet of the finisher chute to myself. As I rounded the apex of the oval, I heard my wife screaming and I managed a wave as I went by.
I followed it up by removing my hat, waving it around my head to get the crowd yelling, and crossed the line. Just a bit over 12 hours.
Although I didn't reach my ultimate goal of sub-12 - I actually don't feel bad or disappointed about it at all. I finished with nothing left - I left nothing on the course and nothing on the table. Furthermore, execution was very good, probably A type material, but not a perfect A+. My swim splits were just about even (differed by about 2 minutes), my first half and second half bike splits were only off by about 3 minute,s and TSS was about 270 - which is right in line with where it should be. Variability was a tad high at about 1.08, but that was mostly because of the inability to settle into a groove on the first loop of the bike (1.1 on first loop, 1.06 on second). Most importantly my run split differential, which is where poor decisions throughout the day express themselves, was only 7 minutes between the first half and second half.
Winter Training - Building Up
And so it began, back in November 2012. That was the start of what they call the EN Outseason (OS) - whereas many people consider the winter to be the offseason, in the EN training world, winter is the time where power in built on the bike, and speed is gained on the run. The workouts are short, usually an hour or so in length, but the intensity of the workouts is cranked up - most every session includes some sort of significant time at threshold intensity. Of the three flavors of plans - beginner, intermediate, and advanced - I chose advanced. Normally it probably wouldn't be a suggested course of action to go from making stuff up on your own to a focused, advanced level plan, but my reason for doing so was two-fold: I had spent some time doing the advanced version of the Get Faster plan in the fall, as a sort of dry run for the advanced level plans, so I had a good idea that I could handle it; and I knew that with my travel schedule, I'd be missing some workouts and having some forced rest placed upon me - which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. Speaking of missing workouts, I did end up bailing on virtually every Monday run, which was one of the lower priority runs. The primary reason was to allow myself a chance to get to Monday yoga - something I find helps tremendously with recovery and injury prevention. Over the fall I stopped going for a couple months, and eventually got to the point where I had to put all other training on hold for two weeks and go to yoga a handful of times to get things sorted out again.
The OS took place between the beginning of November 2012 and the beginning of February 2013, and as mentioned, included running and biking. No swimming. That is another oddity about the EN training approach - no swimming in the OS. Without getting into too much detail, the reason is simply this: there is usually a lot of overhead associated with getting to a pool and doing a swim workout, and the swim is a fraction of the time of the day during an IM, so the time is better spent on the bike or the run. It's all about efficiency and time management within EN - being age groupers vs pro's means there is limited time in the schedule for training, so you are better off spending the time doing what will give you the best bang for the buck.
Once the OS finished, there was a six week period where you could choose either a run or bike focus block. Since the bike was my weakest spot, I chose the bike. The bike focus block lasted from mid-february until the beginning of April, and like the OS, was primarily focused on threshold intensity workouts.
Once the bike focus block was done, it was four weeks of the Get Faster plan, where swimming was finally reintroduced. As much notoriety as the OS plan gets within EN, I find the GF plan to be one notch tougher - the demands of the workouts are higher as they start getting a bit longer, and it has swimming added to it. Up until the GF plan, there was only one workout per day, but once the GF plan started, double sessions were common and normal about half the days of the week. I found that swimming in the morning and doing the bike/run workouts in the evening worked best due to pool lane availability.
IM Specific Training - Adding Volume and Distance
Once the GF plan was finished, we dropped into week 8 of the 20 week IM training plan, where intensity was dropped, and volume increased. No more 60-90 minute workouts on the weekends - the norm was a 4 hr ride on Saturday, with a brick run, and a 3-3.5 hr ride on Sunday. This was in addition to at least one bike FTP and one threshold run session during the week, with a few other runs at various paces sprinkled in, such as the thursday long runs that generally ranged from 105 to 150 minutes. Oh, and the three swim workouts. Weekly training time ramped up quickly, and once I realized what was going on, I informed my family that I may be MIA for some various events over the next couple months. In a few cases, I was able to do something like ride my bike to a gathering destination so I could get my workout in for the day, but sadly there were a couple events I missed.
In the middle of the IM training was the EN training camp at Lake Placid. This was a three day event where we had the opportunity to ride the full 112 mile course on consecutive days. There were a few benefits of this - even though I had done the course before, it was a good refresher which allowed me to re-calibrate my mental impression of the course with my new levels of power on the bike. It also provided me with an opportunity to test out use of a customized feed bottle solution from Infinit Nutrition for calories and sodium intake. Finally, doing 224 miles in a weekend (followed by another 100 miler the following weekend) was a huge dose of steady-state cycling effort that brings its own rewards in terms of training stress.
Summing It All Up
So, in the end - between the end of IMLP last year and going into IMLP this year, there were significant improvements made on both the run and the bike. I can't say for certain what my bike FTP was last year, because I never tested on a true power meter (I had only acquired one in the couple weeks before IMLP2012) - but TrainerRoad's virtual power pegged me at an FTP of ~220W. I think that is decently accurate, as I find that wattage range to coincide well with what my power meter reads - it starts to drift more after ~240W. After a year of EN training, my FTP was last tested at 272W. I say last tested because the last time I tested was actually back during the OS - I never retested again because I wasn't fully confident I'd be able to hold the target wattage that would result, and I figured I'd be better off going in a tad under-trained than a tad over-trained. Based on previous experience with rising FTP, I'd estimate it to be closer to 280W going into the event. I also figured that wasn't enough of a difference (8W) to split hairs on.
My half marathon time was 1:35:00, corresponding to a Jack Daniels VDOT of 47. After the full year of EN, my half marathon time went to 1:29:24, which increased my VDOT to 51. Obtaining a good VDOT number is tough because I find that my ability to push during a solo test can never replicate my motivation to push during an actual race. As a result, that VDOT of 51 was actually from the fall of 2012, and I used to resultant paces during the entire OS and training leading up the Ironman. I won't get a real good comparison until a fall half marathon - but like bike FTP, based on experience with increasing VDOT, I'd estimate my VDOT to have increased to around 52.
Other Changes
In addition to improved fitness, there were some other differences from last year. Instead of using a road helmet (with a rear view mirror glued to it), this year I purchased a TT helmet with visor. They look goofy, but they make a big difference - it feels like it is slicing through air effortlessly, while the road helmet, in comparison, feels like it is being tugged at from behind. I also used an aero jacket on my rear wheel, which is just a couple pieces of custom shaped plastic that attaches to the rear wheel, turning it into a race wheel. I didn't necessarily notice a huge difference with this piece of equipment when I first tried it until I took it off and rode without it the next weekend - I felt like I was dragging something along the entire ride, and I must have checked my rear wheel a dozen times to make sure it wasn't flat, because it sure felt like it.
Leading Up To The Race
I arrived in Lake Placid on the Thursday before the race. As opposed to last year, I didn't take any chances with hotel bedding, and brought my own. An air mattress, an egg crate, my own sheets and pillow, and my white noise generator that I use at home. I just remember last year not having gotten great sleep at the hotel on their beds, and getting only a couple hours sleep on the Saturday night before, and this time I wanted to do everything I possibly could to make my bed as close to what I have at home as possible. I have to say, it worked incredibly well, as I got good, solid sleep on both Friday and Saturday night.
Soon after I arrived on Thursday afternoon, I checked in for the race, and then on Thursday evening was the EN dinner where I got to meet a few other folks from the team. This was one of the EN focus events for the year, so there was a large turnout of nearly 80 people participating. Most everyone I knew of their names, and a few I had met in person either at Rev3 Quassy in June, or at the training camp. So the dinner was just a social event, and it was nice to see some people I had met and not seen since last year.
Friday morning was an optional EN team swim. The talk was what the weather would be like on Sunday - it had been going from bad to worse to OK throughout the week, and also varied widely based on the source. Some places were saying 20% chance of rain, others were saying 80%. Once thing that everyone knew, though, was that it would continue to change, as this area is prone to sudden changes in weather conditions.
After the swim, I went to the EN Four Keys talk, mostly as way to re-imprint the basic concepts of how to execute during race day into my mind. In the evening, I went to the athlete meeting, mostly to see if there was anything to be aware of with regards to the new SwimStart initiative, as WTC has removed mass swim starts from events in favor of a more time trial like start.
Saturday was final preparations and rest. The morning started out with my pre-carb load routine of a mile or so warm up run, followed by three minutes at max effort (sustainable for that three minutes), and cool down, followed by eating 12g of carbohydrates per kg of body weight - nearly 1000g of carbs. The idea is that this instigates a response in the body to maximize absorption and storage of carbohydrates, but the short duration of the workout doesn't compromise performance. I've done this several times in the past, and I always felt that it provided positive results - at the very least, it didn't negatively impact anything. Well, nothing performance wise. I have found that eating that many carbs does cause a large amount of water retention - so especially with triathlons, I've found that soon after the swim, all that fluid starts to make its way through my system. Last year when I did the same thing, I ate a lot of carbs in the evening and had a hard time falling asleep as a result. This year I did my best to front load the carbs during the first half of the day and kinda taper back a bit as the day wore on - mostly stuff like OJ, pasta, etc. Anything with carbs, nothing with fibre.
Also very important for Saturday was staying off my feet as much as possible. Not only to minimize exertion by the legs, but also I had been battling a nagging ache on my right foot ever since the training camp. I was a tad concerned about running a marathon on it, but I had also found that it hadn't been too bad during run sessions - just more sore afterwards. So I figured I'd probably be OK - but in reality I was actually more concerned with how it might affect my training for the Marine Corps Marathon coming up in the fall. If this event made it real sore and gave me a set back, I'd have a real hard time managing to get in the significant chunk of miles I had been hoping to get in between IMLP and October. It was just something that I'd have to deal with as it came.
I went to bed around 9pm, and while it's not surprising that it took me a bit of time to fall asleep, I was rather surprised that I had good, deep sleep. I had my alarm set to 2:30am so that I could eat my applesauce breakfast, and I wound up waking up just a couple minutes early and, for a second, was actually a little scared I missed the start because I felt like I had such good sleep. Once I finished the applesauce, I went back to bed (it took a while because of the sugar), but did manage another sleep cycle before my alarm went off at 4:30.
At this point, the weather was still showing a high chance of rain, and I had submitted to it and taken the mental approach that I wanted a deluge. If it was going to rain, I wanted it to count. Even with the forecast of clouds and rain, I doused myself with sunscreen just in case. I gathered my stuff and had my wife drive me as close as possible to the oval. Though only about 3/4-1 mile away from the hotel, if I could save that time and avoid that time on my feet, all the better. I went through body marking, went into transition and filled by bike tires, and did last minute sorting of my transition bags before heading up the street to drop off my run special needs (with extra shoes and socks in case the first pair got wet) and bike special needs (CO2 canisters and 2nd 3-hr bottle of Infinit) bags. Once they were dropped off, I found my way to the starting area, donned the wetsuit, and slotted myself in the corral for a 1:11 swim time. My time last year was 1:14, and I anticipated I'd be a few minutes faster this year.
The Swim
Unlike previous years, the swim start has switched to a new time trial format. Previously, the swim was a mass start - all 3000 people going at once. However, due to some high profile events in triathlons over the past year, WTC created the SwimStart initiative, which allows for a less stressful start (supposedly), and provides an opportunity for warm up. Personally, I found little difference in overall contact between the mass start and the new start - but perhaps that was because I lined up on the outside last year. The main thing I didn't like about the time trial start this year was that the buoys were set up such that it kept people funneled in - you had to swim a few hundred yards before people could spread out.
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| 1.2 down, 1.2 to go! |
Once out of the water, I waited in line for a wetsuit peeler, which fortunately was almost instant. I grabbed my wetsuit and ran towards the transition area, and noticed that it was raining slightly. Here we go - the start of a wet day!
Lasting impressions:
- TT start caused more congestion than mass swim start (although it's possible that I expected more contact during the mass start, and was pleasantly surprised - so my opinion may be swayed by perception).
- TT start caused more congestion on beach, making it a mess. Last year there was plenty of room on the beach, athletes could meet families and take pictures, etc. Lining everyone up before entering the water made the beach scene a mad house.
- Numbered buoys in the water were nice.
- Probably easier to get to buoy line if that was the goal.
T1
I ran into T1 (actually, I took a detour to a porta-potty because during the last 1/4 of the swim, all the water those carbs were retaining was making its way through!), found an empty seat and did my thing - get the HR strap on, get my GPS tracker on (I had to fumble with it a bit, as I never test fit the strap around my waist. Stupid), get the grass off my feet (I didn't mind the water, but didn't want pieces of debris rubbing on my feet for the rest of the day), throw on socks, cycling shoes, and put on my helmet, and left.
As I was running out of T1, I realized there was a guy taking note of numbers and calling them back. He never called mine, and it dawned on me that without him calling, I'd have to get my own bike. Well, I wouldn't have any of that! So I stopped and called out my number to him. As I ran around, I saw the volunteer ahead with my bike out. Perfect! I grabbed it and went to the bike mount line.
The bike mount line at Lake Placid can be very hectic - it's narrow, and there are a lot of people swarming through in short time. I've found the tactic that works well for me is to swing one leg over, slip in, and then descend past the first 180 degree turn, and then clip the other leg in. Minimizes the time spent at the line where you would be more prone to someone bumping into you.
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| Mount Up! |
The bike started out a tad wet, and it was raining slightly - but I found I was getting more wet from rooster tails of people in front of me. Once I started out, it was JRA for a while - make sure to keep my HR down (it was in the 160's when I got on the bike) so I could start to absorb calories as quickly as possible. Fortunately, this didn't take long, just a few minutes - but I stayed at an easy pace for a while.
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| Started out looking like it was going to be a wet ride! |
Once at the bottom, it was time to get to work. Steady riding, take in nutrition. Sounds easy, but the problem was that I was constantly fighting with either left land campers, who had plenty of room to move over but just didn't until I said 'On your left!', or people who were riding about the same speed as me, which would cause my power to drop due to drafting, but would require power spiking to get around. Not really sure what to do here, I did what I probably should not have done, and passed a lot of them. I had a false sense of security, figuring I could handle the brief power spike now and again - and while I don't feel it negatively affected my performance on the day, it was a stupid thing to do. Better to have just settled in and taken the free speed. In retrospect, I was too worried about my VI being high, without considering that it being high due to drafting and free speed is better than it being high due to spiking and passing, because the former sets up a better run.
And that was pretty much the story for the first couple hours. A surprisingly large amount of congestion, and constantly fighting to try and find a rhythm, which was elusive. In fact, it wasn't until the turn into Wilmington, where the hills start, that I found I could settle in.
Which reminds me - due to my flat issues from Quassy in June, I was resolved to help anyone and everyone that I could. I figured if I lost three minutes to helping someone else out, that was better than losing ten minutes to my getting a flat. Karma. As I was on the road to Wilmington, I came across a woman who was stopped, and when I rode by and asked if she needed anything, she said she needed a tube. I pulled over and offered her a spare of mine (I had two with me), and while she was originally appreciative, we ended up determining that she had tubular tires, and that my tubes wouldn't work. It's just that it took a few minutes to figure that all out due to a language barrier. Oh well.
Then, about half a mile from there, I came across someone whose rear derailleur broke. Obviously I couldn't help there, but I told him I'd inform the next volunteer I came across to send the SAG vehicle with a mechanic.
THEN, about two miles from there, I came across another person with a busted derailleur! So, now I had three things to relay - a tubular replacement, and two derailleurs.
As I entered the out and back on Haselton Rd, I spotted a volunteer and yelled back 'Tubular and two derailleurs on the road to Wilmington!' I have no idea if he heard me or understood what I was saying, but that was about all I could do as he was on the other side of the road and with it being an out and back, I didn't want to cross the lane.
Fast forward a bit - the last major climb people talk about when heading back to town is Papa Bear. This is a fun hill to climb because it is lined with spectators, and is the start of a cheering section that lasts all the way through town. Of course, with all the cheering, people stand up out of the saddle and grind their way up the hill in the big chainring to show off. I think I was literally the only person who stayed on my saddle and slowly pedaled my way up, keeping my target watts right where they should be. I probably looked pathetic and worn out, but thats ok. There were a few EN folks there who knew the real deal of what was going on.
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| Wrapping up first loop heading through town |
The second loop was a bit of a different story from the first. The roads were drier and less crowded on the descent, so I was more comfortable going faster. Once at the bottom, I felt like a lion on the prowl - here I was keeping to my prescribed watts, but passing other cyclists at a steady rate, reeling them in. I still had to deal with some left lane campers, though.
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| Gettin' down to bidness.. |
Lasting impressions:
- Thought it would be less congested on first loop due to TT swim start.
- Left lane campers were a pain in the ass
- People chatting it up riding side by side were a pain in the ass
- First loop was just dealing with a lot of congestion. Second loop was much more 'get down to business' and steady state riding.
T2
As I was going through T2, I happened to see my wife, who was volunteering in the transition area - which was nice. She volunteered last year and really liked how volunteers get kinda VIP treatment - plus it really helps pass the time of the day.
T2 was pretty typical. I'm not fast in transition - I still like to take my time and make sure I'm all set and didn't forget anything.
The Run
My plan coming out of T2 and starting the run was to run the first 6 miles at my long run pace plus 30". This required a good deal of consciously slowing down, not only because of the disconnect in RPE when getting off the bike, but also because the first six miles of the IMLP course are varying degrees of downhill - from every so slight to just about needing to put on the brakes.
Nutrition-wise, the plan was to take in Perform and water at every station. Being steady with calorie and electrolyte intake on the bike, and having to stop twice on each loop at a porta-potty, I was not concerned with dehydration or running low on sodium as I was last year. I figured I'd hit about 6-7 aid stations every mile, and each aid station I'd take in about 4 oz of Perform - about two solid mouthful swigs. That would provide about 35 calories, and with hitting one every 9-10 minutes, I'd get about 200 calories an hour.
The first few miles felt pretty good and solid. Around mile four, my stomach was actually rumbling a bit - like it was starving and really wanted something solid!
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| Around mile 3-4 - still all smiles! |
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| Gimme some of dat Perform! |
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| Well that didn't taste too good.. |
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| 13.1 miles to go! |
As I approached mile 18, I really started getting sick of Perform, and the idea of Coke was really appealing. However, I saved it, because I wanted to make sure I kept taking in the sodium that Perform brings. I told myself that once I reached the turn-around at mile 18, then I could take some Coke because at that point, it was only 8 miles to go, and sodium would be less of an issue with the distance remaining. When I got to the aid station, I grabbed some and loved every second of it. I forget whether I grabbed two in one station, or grabbed one at the next two stations - but either way, I ended up going off the Coke because I found that with it not having been flattened, the carbonation was not helping. A burp came out and that helped, but I didn't want to depend on burping to keep my stomach from getting upset. So, back to Perform it was. /sigh
Around the 20 mile mark, I did some quick math and figured that if I could manage 10 minute miles from here on out, I could hit a four hour marathon - and if I wanted any chance of beating 12 hours total, I'd have to hit that four hour marathon. I didn't know my exact time, but I knew I could be close if I did 10 minute miles for the last six miles.
Unfortunately, once I got to mile 22, I really started to bonk. I mean, I had been kinda bonking for a while by this time, but now it was really hitting me. I walked the uphill as planned, but had to take a bit of an extended walk break upon cresting it. I forced myself to pick up the pace, even if it was only 10-10:30 minute miles. It was slower than the pace I'd need for a four hour marathon, but I was hoping that the last mile I'd re-energize and be able to maybe make up some time due to adrenaline - and the best chance of making that happen would be to conserve energy now. I hit the last big hill and walked it, but by that time I realized I had about two miles to go and to hit four hours, I'd have to do something like 7 minute miles. It just wasn't going to happen, because even after the last big hill, I still had to walk a slight incline with only a mile and a half to go. I just had nothing left. I was D-U-N done.
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| My other O-face.. as in 'O my god I'm dyin' here!' |
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| If I look like I have any energy left, I'm totally faking it. |
Although I didn't reach my ultimate goal of sub-12 - I actually don't feel bad or disappointed about it at all. I finished with nothing left - I left nothing on the course and nothing on the table. Furthermore, execution was very good, probably A type material, but not a perfect A+. My swim splits were just about even (differed by about 2 minutes), my first half and second half bike splits were only off by about 3 minute,s and TSS was about 270 - which is right in line with where it should be. Variability was a tad high at about 1.08, but that was mostly because of the inability to settle into a groove on the first loop of the bike (1.1 on first loop, 1.06 on second). Most importantly my run split differential, which is where poor decisions throughout the day express themselves, was only 7 minutes between the first half and second half.
Friday, June 7, 2013
Quassy Rev3 Half Iron - The race that died twice, and finished with a zombie run
June seems to be
half-iron month for me. In 2011 and
2012, I did the Patriot Half (in June), and this year, as a member of Endurance
Nation, it was the Rev3 Quassy that got the ticket due to it being a focus
event within EN. After the experience I had last year at IMLP while being
part of EN, it was really no contest to decide to join in on the focus
event. I had heard Quassy was a much
tougher course - while the Patriot is very flat, Quassy is noted as being very
hilly - and it did not disappoint, but we'll get to that.
For me, this race was
cursed from the start - more-so than I ever thought possible. In order to
fully appreciate what I mean, we have to go back in time a bit.
Got Anxiety?
The weekend before this
race, the long ride of 4 hours was scheduled for Saturday. Due to
inclement weather, I swapped the ride to Monday, May 27th. About 2.5
hours into the ride, I was riding along and hear the rear wheel sounding funny.
I look down just in time to hear a 'BANG!' and see the rear wheel blow
out. I pulled over, see that the tube has basically exploded, and has a
nice 6" gash in it. In other words, no repairing this one. No
problem - I always carry an extra tube, a patch kit, and two CO2 canisters with
me. I put the other tube in, inflate it, and carry on my way. No
more than 1/4 mile later, 'BANG!' - the tire blows out again. At this
point, with no extra tubes, I'm forced to call home and get a ride. While
waiting, I see that the tire itself has blown out its' sidewall - so even if I
could patch the blowout (and it is small enough that I probably could have),
without the sidewall to hold the tire in place on the wheel, it'd just blow out
again. Training session over.
The following day, I get
a new tire from the LBS. I go home, put it on the wheel, inflate it, and
just let it sit. With the sidewall on the previous tire having been the
clear culprit, I have all assurances that my bad luck on Monday was a freak
thing, and I'll be good to go. A couple hours later, I'm upstairs and
hear 'BANG!' again. WTF?! I go downstairs and see the tire has
blown off again. Now, I'm really starting to freak out that something may
be wrong with my wheel. If it was an average wheel, it wouldn’t be a big
deal - but it’s the one with my PowerTap on it, making it a critical piece of
equipment.
So I start going through
my options. Worst case scenario, the wheel is out of true or somehow
compromised and won't hold a tire, and I'll have to resort to the rear wheel my
bike came with. Obviously nowhere near ideal - but for the upcoming race,
it may be the only option. So, I mentally set my bar there and start
coming to grips with that possibility. Another option is that the tire
itself, a Continental Grand Prix 4000, is just not able to hold onto the wheel
that well - it has a flexible bead, and maybe that is causing problems (even
though it never did in the previous year that I've owned the wheel with that
tire on it). If that were the case, that certainly isn't that bad - I
have an old tire with a metal bead that can get me through the weekend, after
which I can revisit the higher performance Continental tire issue. So I
mount the old tire, inflate it, and go to bed.
I wake up the next
morning and find that the tire held. Phew - progress! However, I
unmount it and bring the wheel with me to work so I can bring it to a bike shop
for examination that day (I forgot to mention earlier that when the tire blew
off, I marked where on the rim it had done so, so that the apparently offending
portion of the wheel could be examined). Once I get to the bike shop, I
explain my ordeal to the person and see if they can check it out. He
patiently listens (probably thinking 'wow this guy is completely flipping
out!') and then, in short, says that while my wheel has signs of use, it is not
so out of true that it would pop tires like that - he's seen wheels in far
worse shape and still able to hold a tire. In other words - installation
error. User error. I'm doing
something wrong when mounting the tire.
I'm actually pretty
relieved to hear this news, believe it or not. The only problem is that
if I'm being an idiot, I need to find out how I'm being an
idiot and put a stop to it! The guy at the shop points out that tires
have a marker on them, that when they are mounted on the rim, when you inflate
to 15-20 psi, you can check that marker to make sure it is evenly spaced around
the entire wheel, and thus an indication that the bead and hook system will
hold. This bit of education, and explanation
for my problems, helps set me at ease a bit.
I also started an EN
forum thread on my ordeal, and a few people respond with having gone through
similar issues, to my surprise. In each
case, their problems were due to rim tape.
After checking out the wheel, I find that portions of the rim tape seem
to have ridden (or were originally sloppily placed) up along the wall of the
wheel and could potentially interfere with the hook/bead system. I was also warned not to mess
with it - but my gut told me that if I didn't mess with it, and it popped, I'd
have wished I had done something. Like, listen to my
gut. So, I go home and throw the dice on
manually trimming the tape with a utility knife.
After that, I remount
the Conti tire, being very deliberate about verifying that the hook and bead
system are meshed together and that the tire looks like it is mounted properly.
I inflate it and cross my fingers. The next morning, I get up and
see that it held. Yay - progress! At this point, I decide to just
leave the tire on - I don't want to mess with it anymore before the race on
Sunday.
I think back upon the
sequence of events, and determine that the third blowout, the one while the
bike was on the stand, was probably a pinch flat - I probably pinched a small
piece of the tube in between the wheel and the tire, because I installed the
tube when it was completely flat, as opposed to inflating it even a tiny amount
to give it some shape before fitting it into the tire. The second flat was most likely the sidewall,
and there’s a good chance the first was as well (I just didn’t know to check
for it). At least I have an explanation
for all three flats at this point.
On Friday evening, I go
for a short 13-14 mile ride to make sure things hold up during bumps and actually
having weight on the tire. Every little noise puts me on edge, but the
tire holds. Things are looking up!
Ok, so with that
background, let’s get back to the race!
Race Morning
I show up race morning
with my spare rear wheel and tire (still don't trust it, even though it has
been holding), and my standard compliment of two CO2 canisters, an extra tube,
and a patch kit (actually two kits - one vulcanizing and one non-vulcanizing).
I'm ready to rock this thing.
Standard stuff with
setting up in transition - crazy traffic on the way in, take a back road
alternate way to the entrance, pump up the tires (I deflated them the night
before when leaving the bike in transition - didn't want to chance a blowout!),
sort out all my transition gear, and don the wetsuit. My wave, the
M35-39, starts at 7:10 AM. We're wearing yellow caps - the wave before us
was purple caps, and the wave before that was white caps. While milling around, waiting our turn, I
turn to my friend Dave and tell him that my tire just needs to hold another 4
hours or so. Easy.
The Swim - Like a Boss!
The swim was a pretty
standard swim, except that it was clockwise instead of the typical counter
clockwise that happens in most tri's I've been in. It was a triangle
shaped course with two turn buoys. It was pretty congested at first - a
good amount of rubbing (cuz rubbin', son, is racin'!) and contact initially
with people trying to clamor over one another. After the first turn buoy,
it cleared out quite a bit and I rarely bumped into anyone from that point on.
However, once around that buoy, the sun was right in my eyes when
sighting forward, so it made it tough to be certain I was on course. I
pretty much relied on seeing kayakers acting as lane guides to make sure I was
still generally going in the right direction. It was around the first
turn buoy that I also saw my first purple cap swimmer, so I knew I was going to
be meeting up with the middle of the pack of the previous wave soon. As I
continued on, I pretty much found myself surrounded by purple caps, with a few
yellow caps around as well. After the second turn buoy, I spotted a
couple white caps as well. That is always a nice feeling, ending up
having caught up to people who started a couple waves ahead of me. After
my first olympic distance a few years ago where I was being passed by people
two waves behind me, and keeping pace with someone in my wave who did backstroke the
entire way - I'm still rather proud of myself for the form improvements I've
made that have allowed me to go from the back of the pack to the front of the
pack in the swim.
T1 - Oh look, fancy new
910xt is misbehaving!
I got out of the swim
and into transition, got the wetsuit off, put on socks, cycling shoes, race belt,
helmet, HR monitor and was off. I noticed right away that my Garmin 910XT
was not tracking distance for some reason - I was using it in multisport mode,
so it would track through swim-t1-bike-t2-run.
While that annoyed me, I also put it in perspective that it didn't
really matter that much - as I'd be slave to the power meter
on this ride anyway. My target watts were ~230, hoping to hit an average
of ~220, as it seems my actual average is always about 10W lower than my
target.
Rolling on the Bike
I did notice pretty
quickly though that my HR was a bit high - 150's and low 160's. I was a
touch concerned about that, having the mental thoughts that I really should get
that down lower, but I allowed myself to get carried away by the fact that I was
feeling good. And that I was cruising! I felt like I was shot out
of a cannon - with the new aero race helmet, and the disk jacket on the rear
wheel, I could really feel a huge difference in drag as compared to my standard
training setup. It was like a hot knife through butter. Clearly, I was worthy of the flaming skull
decals I put on my helmet - I was constantly hitting 20-25 mph pretty easily,
and I was feeling like a machine. My main concern was to down the 2 x 20
oz of Gatorade I had on my bike before the first aid station, right around mile
15, where I'd be able to pick up more. I
wanted to make sure I started off the bike right – properly fueled and
hydrated.
At first, I was being
passed a bit on the bike, but I was also passing some people as well.
After a few miles, it seemed like I settled into a pack of other cyclists
- I'd pass them on the downhill, they'd pass on the uphill, and random jostling
on flats. Eventually, I got to the point where people were relatively few
and far between - I had a good sense that I was ahead of the bulk of the pack.
Clearly, my hours and hours of intense sessions on the trainer were
paying dividends - typically I've been pretty slow on the bike, but now I was
crushing it.
It took about 45
minutes, but my HR eventually did settle into the low 150's, so I was happy to
see that. I passed the first aid station, dumped off my two empties,
grabbed two gatorade bottles and a gel. My plan for the day was to take
in 24 oz of gatorade per hour (or more, if I could) to provide the bulk of
hydration, electrolytes, and calories, with a gel or two as a caloric
supplement. One thing I had determined in training was that I needed to
improve my overall nutrition strategy, as I was frequently starting to bonk
after 3.5 hours or so - and after some retrospective analysis, I went into this
race thinking that my primary problem during long rides and races has been
dehydration, which starts a downward spiral of coming up short on calorie
intake as well.
Ruh Roh...
About 70 minutes in, not
long after the 20 mile mark, I was descending a hill, and towards the bottom,
at a turn to the left, I ran through a patch of sand. As soon as my tire
hit it, I knew it wasn't just soft sand - I could tell there was a bunch of
junk in there. I even remember thinking 'wow - if I get out of this
without a flat, I'll be amazed'. Sure enough, within a mile, I hear the
'pfft.. pfft.. pfft' of the front tire deflating as it rotates. Damnit!
I pull over and take a look. Fortunately, I can see the problem - a
little piece of glass sticking out of my front tire. This is actually a
good thing and rather settling - much better to be able to see the
offending piece of trash as opposed to having a leak and not knowing what is
causing it! I debate - patch it, or replace with my other tube? I
start by thinking I'll patch it, but quickly change my mind to replacing the
tube - although I can see the piece of glass, it put a hole so small in the
tube that I couldn't reliably detect it. Not wanting to risk putting on a
bad patch in haste, I'll just replace the tube and be done with it.
Besides, this was my bad luck for the day, right?
After inflating with
CO2, I'm off and rolling again. That wasn't too awful bad. Lost a
little bit of time, but could certainly have been worse.
And then..
It got worse. I'm
off for about a mile or so, when I notice the front tire going flat... again.
WHAT THE F#@%?! Once again, I pull over and take a look, and
realize immediately my stupidity. That little piece of glass? Still
in the tire. I left it in there to give me a reference point for where to
look on the tube for a puncture - but forgot to remove the damn thing!
Well, that blows - but at least it is explainable. Now I have to
patch the tube. Fortunately I've got patches with me and yet another CO2
canister, but I'm not happy because I'm really burning through my reserves here
- and I still have 30+ miles to go and I've already had five flats over
the past six days!
So, I put the patch on,
grab my last CO2 and start to inflate (after removing the piece of glass!).
Can you guess what happens?
No, you probably can't.
Well, if you've been following along, you can probably guess that
something didn't go right - but I'm pretty sure you won't guess what specifically
went wrong.
It starts off with some
CO2 going into the tire through the adapter tube, but some of it kicking back
out between the threaded canister and the adapter. After fiddling with it
a bit, I determine that the valve mechanism is still frozen from the last
application. For those who haven't experienced CO2 canisters - they are
great because they provide simple and quick inflation of a tube on the go, but
they also get very cold because of the expanding gas - cold enough that frost
forms on the tire valve stem, and things get frozen and sticky. So,
apparently, I've exceeded the MTBF of the canister adapter by having two flats
in quick succession. Great. Now my
tube is half filled, and I've got no CO2 left.
Race done. Dead.
I start coming to the
realization that my day is done. I'm out - I bring two CO2 and a spare
tube with me, and I'm out before the 25 mile mark on the bike because I had two
flats. Wonderful. My only question now is: What do I do?
Do I wait for a vehicle to pick me up? Does the race provide
vehicles that patrol the course to pick up people who have shitty luck like I
just had?
Just then, I fall into
some good luck for a change. I hear the words 'Hey, you
need anything?' of a fellow EN member riding by. I yell out 'Yeah, you
got a pump?!', and he pulls over to lend a helping hand.
This, folks, is why EN
is the party that rocks the party. My fellow teammate lends me his CO2
inflation kit, and within 90 seconds, I'm thanking him profusely and telling
him he just saved my race and my day.
Now you can understand why I wanted to stick to an event with a large EN
presence. Well, one of the reasons,
anyway. I wasn’t anticipating this kind
of luck.
Pins and Needles
Now that I was back, I
had one goal - get off the bike as soon as flippin' possible. At this
point, while I've had a solid 20 minutes of rest, in retrospect, I didn't
manage it well. Sure, I got going again as fast as possible - but the
distraction kept me from taking in nutrition, which would have helped hydrate
and refuel and been a wise investment for later on in the day.
So I kept on truckin'.
Every little sound, I was nervous. I don't know how many times I
checked the tires as I was cruising along to see if they were flattening on me.
I really had no confidence in anything wheel related at this point, yet
somehow I did manage to feel comfortable enough for some 40 mph descents.
I must have been severely dehydrated and delusional.
As the miles went by, I
continued to count my blessings. Mile 30 - only 26 to go. Mile 40,
only 16 to go. Mile 50 - a mere 6 miles to go. I was going to make
it!
Not so fast, Mister!
Except - that I didn't.
Yup - I crossed the 50 mile mark, could smell the bike dismount line, and
whaddya know - the front tire starts going flat. Yes, you read that
right. The front tire had developed a third flat on this
day!
At this point, I really
just didn't know what was going on. This was inexplicable. Three
flats in one race - who does this happen to?! Honestly, I felt like very
little was within my control anymore – something else was clearly in control of
my day, and that something else didn’t like me for whatever reason.
But just then, I
realized I was actually in control of one thing - my bladder. Yup – all I could control now was a body
part. So I took my helmet off, walked a
bit into the bushes, and took control.
Finally, something had gone right, and the way I planned it. Hey, sometimes we need these little victories
to get us by, right? And at least I was
hydrated enough for that to happen.
Race done. Dead.
Again.
I walked back to my
bike, looked at the front tube, and saw that it appeared the patch I applied earlier
had failed. I'm not even really sure what I was thinking at that time,
but I think I tried to remove the patch and was about to put another patch on
it (a vulcanizing one - a different type of patch that is a little more
involved to put on, but which apparently works better. Probably should
have used that from the get-go). And I'm not even really sure why I was
bothering to do that. My day was done. Again. For the second
time today, I wondered what to do at this point - a mere four miles from
what would have been the safety of my running shoes.
It should be noted that
I realized quite a difference in folks passing by as compared to the two other
flats. With the others, I probably had at least six times each where
people asked if I had everything I needed. This time, nothing. No
offered assistance. Just an interesting observation.
Benevolence and Karma
One of my oldest friends
and I have a long running joke that we make little deposits into the bank of
karma, on the understanding that we may need to make a big withdrawal at some
point. Well, apparently RBK (Ryan's Bank of Karma) was open on Sunday,
because what happened next was almost enough to make me religious.
A complete stranger, not
affiliated with the race at all, was riding along in the opposite direction
with his wife. He calls over and asks if I need any help. Yup!
I do! I'm on my third flat today and I'm pretty much shit out of
options!
He comes over and
quickly starts getting to work. I try to tell him I can replace the tube (yes,
he gives me his spare tube) and remount the tire myself, but he insists on
doing it. Ok, sir - you are the one helping me out, I am in no position
to make demands!
Here's where things just
get ridiculous, though. He gets the tube in, gets the tire on, inflates
with his CO2 (yes, he also donates his CO2), and right away - guess what
happens. Yup - the tire blows off the rim! Un-freakin-believable!
Fortunately, the tube didn't pop - so he gets his other (and presumably last) CO2
from his wife, readjusts the tire on the wheel, and finishes inflating the
tire.
I tell him that I wish I
had some way to get his name and address so I could send him something as a
thanks for saving my day, but he just brushes it off and seems happy to just be
able to help me complete my race. I tell him that I guess all I'll be
able to do is pay it forward - and I make a mental note that if I ever see
anyone on a bike on the side of the road, I'm pretty much obligated to pull
over and offer any assistance I can. I
also decide that at some point, I should ride the bike course of a triathlon
backwards with a stash of CO2 and tubes, looking for poor souls who have come
across bad luck. Maybe I can save
someone’s race.
Bike Dismount
Finally - the end.
I was completely mentally checked out of the bike portion of this
race. In fact, I was pretty much checked
out of the race entirely. I think I kept
going for two reasons – someone donated their spare equipment to me so I could
finish – I had to honor that. Also,
while I wasn’t happy about what my performance was going to be – I’d feel
incredibly lame about myself if I just gave up and tossed in the towel while I
could still put one foot in front of the other.
I get back to the transition area, and I've never been so happy to see
the bike dismount like as I was on this day. I can't wait to get my
flat-factory in transition and get my shoes on to start out on the run.
Zombies
I said this was a zombie
run, and it was - in multiple respects. I shouldn't have been running. My day should have ended. Twice. But it was still going. So.. zombie.
The first few miles
weren't too bad. Some gentle descents, some time in the sun, but also some
time in shade. Then mile four comes, and it starts getting brutal - the
hills get steep and long. I start seeing people walking. I run up
the hills a bit, but learn pretty quickly that doing so is just preventing me
from cooling down, and it's racking up heartbeats for no real benefit. So
I make the decision that my strategy for the rest of the day is to allow myself
to walk up the steeper hills - but on flats, descents and gradual uphills, I
have to keep running.
So that was the story
for most of the run - walk when necessary on the uphills, when I saw my HR
creep up, and force myself to pick up the pace after flattening out. I
stopped at every aid station, filling my hat with ice, and more often than not
taking a cup or two of ice water and dousing myself with it. I started realizing
that a major problem was overheating, and after cooling off with ice water, I
felt much better for a couple-few minutes - which was often a good chunk of the
distance to the next aid station.
By halfway through the
run course, it was total carnage. People walking huge swaths of the
distance, and running was reduced to shuffling. It was so bad that even
though I was 45 sec/mile slower than my easy pace (so, doing an average of 9
min/miles), I was still passing people. It was brutal - the heat and the
hills were really doing a number on everyone.
Zombie.
To add to that effect - my shoes were completely soaked and
every step you could hear the sound of compressing water-logged foam. Not
only a slow plod that was zombie like - but even had the appropriate sound
effects.
Miles 8 and 9 were
actually an improvement, as they were a gradual downhill. In this section, I was able to muster up some
time at just under 8 min/miles, but that was pretty much all I could do while
conserving energy for later.
Miles 10, 11 and 12 were
relatively flat and tended to be right around my easy pace of 8:20-8:30
min/miles. About ½ mile before the
finish was a nasty hill that pretty much knocked everyone out – we were all
walking up it.
The Finish
Finally, it was here -
the end. Somehow, I actually managed to sprint the last couple tenths of
a mile.
Official results (sorry for the formatting - I have neither the desire nor the time to fix something blogger should be able to handle):
Race Results
Athlete Information
| Name: | Ryan Miller |
| Bib #: | 2640 |
| Home town: | Framingham MA - US |
| Status: | OK |
| Division: | 35-39 Male |
| Wave: | Males 35-39 |
Swim | ||||||||||||||
| Location | Arrival Time | Total Time | Split | Place | Time Behind Leader | |||||||||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Split Time | Course Time | Pace | Distance | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | |||
| Swim Finish | 6/2/2013 7:44:39 AM | 00:33:24.016 | 33:24 | 33:24 | 01:44 /100m | 1931.21 m | 32 / 140 | 194 / 997 | 164 / 727 | 32 / 139 | 07:59 | 11:16 | 11:16 | 07:59 |
Bike | ||||||||||||||
| Location | Arrival Time | Total Time | Split | Place | Time Behind Leader | |||||||||
| Split Time | Course Time | Pace | Distance | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | |||
| Bike Start | 6/2/2013 7:48:55 AM | 00:37:40.743 | 00:00 | 00:00 | 0.00 mph | 0.00 mi | 40 / 140 | 266 / 997 | 215 / 727 | 40 / 139 | 10:06 | 13:16 | 13:16 | 10:06 |
| Bike Split | 6/2/2013 10:14:27 AM | 03:03:12.886 | 2:25:32 | 2:25:32 | 15.91 mph | 38.60 mi | 95 / 140 | 618 / 997 | 507 / 727 | 94 / 139 | 46:21 | 51:18 | 51:18 | 46:21 |
| Bike Finish | 6/2/2013 11:26:07 AM | 04:14:52.560 | 1:11:40 | 3:37:12 | 14.57 mph | 17.40 mi | 104 / 140 | 662 / 997 | 533 / 727 | 103 / 139 | 1:08:19 | 1:15:43 | 1:15:43 | 1:08:19 |
Run | ||||||||||||||
| Location | Arrival Time | Total Time | Split | Place | Time Behind Leader | |||||||||
| Split Time | Course Time | Pace | Distance | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | Division | Overall | Gender | Wave | |||
| Run Start | 6/2/2013 11:28:05 AM | 04:16:50.906 | 00:00 | 00:00 | 00:00 /mi | 0.00 mi | 99 / 140 | 652 / 997 | 524 / 727 | 98 / 139 | 1:09:19 | 3:42:47 | 3:42:47 | 1:09:19 |
| Run Split 1 | 6/2/2013 12:18:28 PM | 05:07:13.613 | 50:23 | 50:23 | 09:10 /mi | 5.50 mi | 93 / 140 | 591 / 997 | 476 / 727 | 92 / 139 | 1:21:43 | 1:30:37 | 1:30:37 | 1:21:43 |
| Run Split 2 | 6/2/2013 1:06:10 PM | 05:54:55.886 | 47:42 | 1:38:05 | 08:50 /mi | 5.40 mi | 84 / 140 | 510 / 997 | 412 / 727 | 84 / 139 | 1:32:08 | 1:44:24 | 1:44:24 | 1:32:08 |
| Finish | 6/2/2013 1:28:10 PM | 06:16:55.530 | 21:60 | 2:00:05 | 09:60 /mi | 2.20 mi | 82 / 140 | 494 / 997 | 396 / 727 | 82 / 139 | 1:37:54 | 1:52:12 | 1:52:12 | 1:37:54 |
Transition(s)
| Transition | Time |
|---|---|
| Bike to Run | 01:58 |
| Swim to Bike | 04:17 |
Closing Thoughts
There are a lot of
things I have to say about this race.
For those who just wanted to hear the recap, you can probably bail
here. For those interested in learning
experiences and somewhat of a close-out analysis, here you go.
First off, the
challenges of the day, in all their forms, made this one hell of a race. Never before have I gone through such an up
and down race day. While my total time
is nothing I’m terribly proud of (basically all I can say about it is that it
was still faster than my first ever half-iron, and that was on a flat course!),
there are actually a few diamonds in the rough.
Obviously, the swim was
a shining moment, being a couple minute PR for that distance (33:24 vs
36:something), and being 32/140 in my age group. This year, with EN, my swim workouts have
actually been structured, as opposed to jumping into the water and knocking out
1.5 miles in one shot. I had been
feeling like this style of workout was providing benefits, and it showed on
this swim.
Not much to say about
the bike splits. I started off 40/140 in
my age group, and ended at 104/140.
Obviously I’d have been in much better position if I didn’t have the
flats – but I’m actually rather surprised I didn’t sink further behind.
One major surprise – I
entered T2 at 104/140, and exited 99/140.
So I made up 5 spots just by switching shoes. I must have really thrown my bike or
something to have made up that kind of time on my peers.
Another surprise, which
I didn’t know until I looked at the results – was how I progressed through the
age group during the run. As brutal as
it was for me – a 2 hr half marathon is well below what I’m capable of – it was
apparently more-so for others. I left T2
@ 99/140, and by the 5.5 mile mark, I was up to 93/140. Another 5.4 miles in (so about 10 total), I
was up to 84/140, and by the end, I reached 82/140. I’m shocked I made up 17 slots in my age
group on that run. I give a lot of
credit to the strategy of conserving energy on the uphills, and not allowing
myself to wimp out on the flats (and continue walking) for that.
Overall, I passed 158
people on the run. That is shocking to
me – but it just goes to show that as much as I may not have had great
execution, it was still better than a lot of people.
But results are results,
and only apply to that one day – there are several long-term takeaways and
lessons to be learned that can be applied later.
Lesson 1 – Go slow enough to get the HR down as quickly as
possible on the bike
I admit, I
under-appreciated this distance. Having
done a half-iron twice before, I allowed myself to fall into a false sense of
complacency. In my mind, I knew I had to
execute well to have a good race, but I allowed myself to get carried away at
the start of the bike – which is certainly contrary to good execution. So while I drank the 2 x 20oz Gatorade I wanted to drink within the first
hour, my HR was probably a bit too high (often 155+) to process it effectively
– to the point that when I took the gel at mile 15, it didn’t sit well. Put another way – I Ricky-Racer’d the start,
which is something you can only afford to do in sprint and Olympic distance
triathlons. The half and (obviously)
full distance is simply too long to be able to do that and get away with it.
Lesson 2 – Keep sweating
This is a lesson learned
during training sessions, but reinforced here.
I need to do a much better job of taking in, and absorbing, hydration
early, so that sweat rate doesn’t slow down as much after the first 90 minutes
or so. Until I have this part figured
out, I need to be ok with the idea of lowering the intensity, so that I can
absorb fluids, so that I don’t start compromising my abilities later on down
the line.
Lesson 3 – Never give up
The EN coaches often say
during race recap podcasts that the best part for them is seeing how people
handle challenges and solve problems throughout the day. I was ready to give up simply because “it
wasn’t my day”. In the end, I needed the
help of others to complete the race, and I’m glad I did complete it. It would have been very easy to just give up
and mail it in – but I’d have lost the great learning opportunities that came
about during the run
Lesson 4 – Keep core body temperature low
This is tied in with
continuing to sweat, but I’ve determined – thanks to the run in this race –
that a large part of my problem is core body temperature. When I doused myself with water, I was in
much better shape. During those times,
my HR plummeted from the 150’s to the 130’s almost instantly. It needs to start on the bike, though – take
advantage of water at the aid stations to cool myself off. Not only does this assist in cooling, but by
doing so, more blood is available for digestion and moving fluids through the
gut because it doesn’t need to be used for sweating.
Lesson 5 – My bottleneck is not fitness, it is nutrition and
hydration
I spent a lot of time
and effort this winter on increasing my fitness. And my fitness did increase by measureable
amounts. However, none of that matters
if I am unable to keep up with nutrition and hydration. I absolutely must prioritize getting that completely sorted out. There are two approaches one can take during
something like a HIM or IM – go slow enough that you can get away with not
paying great attention to the details of nutrition and hydration, or you can
really dial that stuff in so that you can increase the intensity and perform to
the level your body is actually capable.
The former will work, but it’ll leave one feeling like I felt last year
after IMLP – like I left some performance on the course. I was ok with that because I just wanted to
finish – but this year I want to see significant improvement. The path to that improvement is currently
blocked by nutrition and hydration puzzles to be solved.
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