YMCA Mini-Tri

I have registered for yet another I'm-Out-Of-Shape-So-I-Should-Race triathlon! Because I like racing and there aren't a ton of local tris. Also, the start for this one is literally a five minute walk from the house.
It's a sprint, but they are calling it a mini. I guess it is more mini than most sprints because the bike is only 10 miles instead of 12-15 like most sprints. The swim is still 500yds and the run 3mi. But it will be different for me for two reasons.
One- the order is screwy. It will go Swim, Run, Bike. I don't know if that helps me. I don't think I've ever gotten on the bike after a run.
Two- It's a pool swim. I don't know how this is going to work and I haven't gotten any emails yet detailing what the deal is. I registered for the Intermediate wave. Yes, I've done a ton of races and should probably be in the Advanced wave. BUT, I haven't been in the water to work out or race since...ummm, probably the Honolulu Tri I'm guessing? And my first bike ride since before we moved back to the mainland happened Saturday, it was 10 miles, and it was slow. So if Advanced means Advanced, I don't belong there. If Advanced isn't actually advanced and I'm out of shape but still too quick for Intermediate because I know how the race works then I'm going to feel bad. I'll ask when I get emailed by the Race Director.
You know what's really cool about the race? I'll tell you.
It's $25.
Yep.
$25 for a sprint tri. With a t-shirt. AND they are going to feed the athletes afterwards. With food from the Olive Garden. So for a third of the price of races in Hawaii I get to knock out a short, easy tri. I'm excited. If my recent runs are any indication it's going to hurt. Not as much as the half marathon I have the weekend after will hurt, but it'll still hurt.
But in a good way.

OH! Hawaiian triathletes, one more thing- It starts at 8am. Yep, no dawn patrol for me! Now you say, "Yes, but you're swimming in some pool and we swim in the ocean." Then I say, "...shut up."

TriSwimCoach Podcast- Relationships

I was recently podcasted by Kevin Koskella of Tri Swim Coach about relationships and triathlon. He found me through one of my first active.com articles, Does Your Partner Support Your Training, and asked me to be on. The Dirtbag Ego does not say no to things like that, of course, so I said YES! I had a great time talking with Kevin and the other guest Kat Gunsur.
Please give the podcast a listen. It's a fun discussion on finding, dating, and maintaining a relationship with a triathlete. Here you go!

Honu Race Report Part V: Dirtbag vs The Olympian

Greg Bennett into T1

 (*Note: This is the fifth and final Part of my Honu Race Report. Parts of this might come off as interviewy, but it was never an interview, just informal hanging out. I take full credit for misquotes or mistakes. And, because by now you should know how I write, there is some going on and on and on about certain things. There may also be fawning and name-dropping. You would too.*)

Let's say, as a for instance, that on Saturday you woke up at 3:30am and by that afternoon you had completed your first Half Ironman. What would you want to do the next day? Sleep in, right? Me too. Except a few nights before the race I got an email from Ironman Honu which read:

Swim and Breakfast with Olympic Triathlete Greg Bennett, June 3rd 7:30 a.m. Post Race recovery swim in Pauoa Bay fronting The Fairmont Orchid, Hawai`i Resort. Meet at the Beach Shack at 7:15 a.m. Swim is followed by an athlete-only buffet breakfast at the Orchid Court Restaurant for a discounted, all-inclusive price of $25 per person. Space is limited to the first 30 participants. Please see the sign-up sheet at Ironman 70.3 Hawai`i Registration.

Hmmm, I thought. That sounds neat. But that is going to fill up quick. I bet by the time we get there the 30 spaces will be gone.  And then I put it in the back of my mind and got back to packing and repacking and then unpacking to be sure everything I'd packed was still in my bag.
When we got to registration Thursday there was a big sign:

Again, I was sure it would already be full. How could it not be? A chance to meet and Olympian? Swim with him? Pick his brain over eggs and bacon?  Everyone will want in! Wouldn't you? But a Dirtbag tries to never pass up an opportunity so I wandered over to check-in and checked out the sign-up. Only 16 people on the list so far! Dirtbag scores! I quickly wrote my name down before 14 people realized what they were missing and knocked me out of the way.
Which brings us to Sunday morning, bright and early. I stand in a surprisingly small group of only a half dozen men sharing stories from yesterday's adventure. The main topic of conversation? "So, how about that wind, huh?" The second topic? "Did you see Lance ride? Holy crap." I know who were there for someone else, but the Lance Effect is huge and cannot be denied. I did joke to someone next to me, "Hey, Greg came in second yesterday. Don't say the L-word."
Triathlon is a small sport, and most people don't really know who the Big Names are, except for That Guy everyone knows from his adventures in France. Greg Bennett is a pretty big name in the triathlon world. Not Iron-distance, this was only his third half, but from the shorter international distances. He and his wife, Laura, are "two of the most talented and successful short-course triathletes in history, with 30 World Cup podiums between them." That quote is linked to and comes directly from the Inside Triathlon article which introduced me to the Bennetts, Being Bennett.

At just about 7:30 Mr. Bennett walked over to our group. No fanfare, no camera crew, no PR people, just a guy. The guy who took second place 24 hours ago. Triathlon is so cool. Imagine going to a football game and Tom Brady walking up to you and starting a conversation about how your game went yesterday. You can't, right? Another reason triathlon is better than football.
And what was the first direct question someone asked Greg? "So, what do you think about Lance?"
Dude! Dude! Dude. No. Not cool. Why would you do that? We can get to Lance, but do you think the guy really wants to stand here and talk to us about the guy who beat him yesterday?
Turns out, he didn't mind. In fact, Bennett (I'm going to go back and forth between calling him Greg and Bennett. We did eat breakfast together, but I'm not so sure we're on a first name basis. I have tweeted him though. God, I can't believe I just said "tweeted"...) was more than happy to talk quite a bit about Lance and the Lance Effect. He had nothing but good things to say. He mentioned how hard it would be for him to concentrate with camera crews following him around like they do Lance, and seemed happy about the attention Lance is bringing to the sport. For example, NBC is talking about showing the Kona Ironman World Championship live this year. That would be huge. It normally gets a taped two-hour showing in December, two months after the race has been run. Lance Effect! The closest he came to saying anything negative was sharing a conversation he'd had race morning with Chris Lieto, a fellow pro. "It's great that Lance is here," I paraphrase, "but he doesn't need the prize money if he wins. We do!"
After chatting on the beach for a few minutes Greg suggested we get in the water to swim. "So, do you fellas want to just do a short swim, do you want me to make up some kind of work out?" Bennett, by the way, is Australian, so please imagine all quotes in a fantastic Aussie accent.
"Just swim." It was fast and unanimous.
We swam for only maybe fifteen minutes, and I will admit to spying on Bennett's stroke, trying to steal anything I could. Not long after we started the wind kicked up, the water got a little choppy, and Greg decided it was time for all of us to head in. One or two guys had swum a little ways away from the group. "I'll get them," he said. And poof, gone. I love it when fast people suddenly drop into a gear I don't have. It is so neat to watch. I swam over a turtle on the way back. Open water swimming, people. And, because I'm not at all competitive against people who don't know that we are racing, lengthened my stroke. To stretch, you see, not to be sure I was ahead of most everyone. Though I did beat Greg back to the beach. I'm not claiming I finished a swim ahead of an Olympian, because we totally weren't racing as far as he knew, I'm only stating that I reached the beach before him. That's all.
Before we went to eat most of us changed out of our swim trunks. I deck changed, as you do if you grew up a swimmer. Wrap a towel around your waist, strip, pull on shorts. Easy. To my surprise, Bennett did it too, with seven guys standing around him asking questions. Because that's what you do when swimming is part of your job. You're comfortable like that. I can check watching an Olympian get dressed off my To Do list (was hoping for Amanda Beard).
Breakfast was the Fairmont Orchid buffet, though the hotel had set us up in a special side room. Seating for 30. Only, like I said, half a dozen of us. So we pushed to tables together. By the way, I'm not saying there were only six of us as a commentary on Greg Bennett. I keep saying it because I seriously cannot believe more people didn't sign up. You are an amateur athlete being given the chance to speak to and hang out with and swim with a highly decorated pro and you are going to pass it up? Why would you do that? He was the nicest guy in the world. Answered every single question, and asked great ones in return. 
I was very excited because I have a question I would ask every single pro triathlete if I could, and I finally got the chance to ask one! "What," I asked, "would be your perfect race? If you could create the Bennett Invitational and you could pick any distances and course topography, what would it be?" His answer was pure short-course expert. "1-2k swim, 30k hilly bike, and an 8k run." I want to be the first to register for that race.
I was in the middle of Chrissie Wellington's autobiography, A Life Without Limits, and recently finished Chris "Macca" McCormack's I'm Here To Win, (Macca's is better) so I also half-jokingly asked when we were going to get The Greg Bennett Story. He said he wasn't sure he would write a book about himself, but he might be interested in writing a nutrition book with his wife for athletes. I'd read that too. He said he liked reading books about an athlete struggling before making it to the top and one of the athletes who could write a great book like that would be Craig "Crowie" Alexander, five-time world champion. So Crowie, get on it.
We asked about training stuff too. He would know, right? Compression works, and he prefers it to ice baths, but you've gotta have the good stuff. A lot of compression gear is really "only tighter rugby socks" so it doesn't do much good. And yes, I sqee-ed on the inside to hear the Aussie mention rugby. Ice baths are ok but he doesn't like them too much because of how they make his joints feel. He also loves riding on a trainer. The controlled environment, putting together a good two or three hour interval workout, helps him get stronger. That will help me get on the trainer more readily next time, with better plans.
It was a kick to hear him tell stories about other pros, people I'd only read about or seen in magazines. Stuff like, "I love Macca, but some of the stuff he says some times, I mean come on, man." That's hilarious, especially if you've ever heard Macca talk about himself. And if you've heard Macca talk, you've heard him talk about himself. This sounds bad, but I'm a big fan of his. Bigger fan of Greg Bennett now though. Macca, I'm sure, is crushed.
What was really cool, though, was when he asked us about our races. Everyone around the table shared how they did, with the rest of us chiming in and making jokes. It was more like a bull session with friends than a collection of people who had never met before. Triathlon family. Bennett said he liked doing things like this because triathlon is such a small world on the outside, but feels so big on the inside. And with pros racing alongside age groupers like us, it means we can all share the same war stories. I can't tell you how nice it was to hear him say he was scared by the wind coming down Hawi too. If the pro was clutching his aerobars and hoping not to crash, that means we really are together in this. Tom Brady will never say to you, "Musta been tough, sitting in the stands cheering the whole game while it was snowing. I'm impressed you made it to the end." When our pro says, "It was a really hard day out there and I'm impressed all of you made it through the bike without crashing," that means something.
Greg Bennett was as nice as anyone could have asked and more. He asked us to go around the table and talk about our future race plans and when I told him about Super Awesome Wife being pregnant and how that might impact us as a family and my training he wished me luck. Three times, and on Twitter. Dude was actually paying attention, not just nodding and smiling through some boring meet-and-greet. He said the swim and breakfast was his idea and I believe him. Here's his tweet from that morning.

Greg Bennett ‏@GregBennett1

Recovery swim and breakfast at the @FairmontOrchid . I'm looking forward to hearing all the war stories from yesterday.

 He wasn't selling anything and barely mentioned his sponsors, though I'd probably drop some money on a Bennett Endurance jersey. It really did feel like hearing war stories and hanging out was his only goal.

Meeting fans pre-race (from finisherpix) I'll take a jersey, please

I'm officially a fanboy now, and I'll be cheering for Greg at Kona this year, and his wife Laura at the London Games. He's got a Grand Plan to convince Lance, Crowie, Macca, Chris Lieto, and any of the other big names he can to do the 5150 (Ironman Olympic Distance Championship), Las Vegas (Ironman 70.3 Championship), and Kona (Ironman 140.6 World Championship) this year so they can really see who the best triathlete is. His money would be on Crowie, he said. How cool would that be, for all of the best to race all the distances together?
I can't thank Greg and the Fairmont Orchid enough for letting us do this. It was a pleasure and a privilege to meet him. A more amazingly nice, polite, humble professional athlete in any sport you'll be hard-pressed to find. And, if you're looking, you can find him @GregBennett1 on twitter. All the luck with your season, Greg. Go get 'em.

The group, Greg is in the shades

Dirtbag and the Olympian

Honu Race Report Part IV: The 70.3 Reflectionication

For the Pre Race and Swim click here
For the Bike and Run click here

70.3 miles. Seventy point three miles.
Seems like a long way. Hell, even in a car it's a good drive. Especially in Hawaii.
So how do I feel now that I covered that distance swimming, biking, and running? Did I hate it? Is it ever going to happen again? Did I get that foolishness out of my system?
In order- Good, no, probably, no.
I fully expected to be done with this distance after this race. There were times during training when I would think, "I'll do this, but I think I'll better off sticking to Olympic distances for now." I don't feel that way anymore.
There was not one point out on the course where I thought to myself, "This is stupid. Why have I decided to put myself through this?" I've had that thought during both of the other distances. I think I big reason I didn't this time was because of my attitude going in. All I wanted to do was finish. No PR to set, because as long as I crossed the line I would set one. No way I'm going to place in my age group, so why worry about it? I wasn't sure if my foot was going to act up (it didn't), or if my stomach would (it didn't either). This took an enormous amount of pressure off.
I was worried before the race if my final preparation  had been good enough. Instead of a real taper I spent the week before we flew to Big Island packing and moving out of our place. Not exactly great for recovery. I barely swam, barely rode, and hadn't run since the Honolulu Tri, and not for a week before that. I stressed about all those things before we flew out, when I had the time between stressing about moving and thinking about Dirtbag Fetus. But once we got there? What are you going to do? I had to have faith in my training.
That is really what it comes down to- Training. If you asked me what the hardest part of the race was, I would tell you it wasn't part of the race. It was the months leading up to the race, finding time in the predawn to swim, and then biking and running after teaching all day. Getting up early on weekends. Suffer in training so that the race hurts less.
You know one of the words I would use to describe the 70.3 miles that I never would have expected to use?
Fun.
Swimming is always fun. But mass start swimming can be awful. This, with the big school of us all surging towards the same spot in the water, the crystal viewing, this was fun. My stroke clicked and it was all good.

I don't know this guy, his picture was on the finisherpix page, and it perfectly shows how a lot of people feel about this race.

The bike was fun. I mean, it sucked, but it was fun. The wind was brutal and slowed me down and I was hating life for much of the last 14 miles of the ride. But it was still fun. It was fun to see all the othe triathletes, fun to zoom down the first section of Hawi, fun to joke with those around me, fun to grab a water bottle from a volunteer like a pro, and fun to see Lance in the flesh.

Just like the rest of us, one foot at a time. But really really quickly.

And it was even fun to run, for a bit at least. Fun to joke with the volunteers, fun to shout at the Grey, and...well, there wasn't a ton of fun to be had on the run.

Streeeeeetch

 And it was fun to see Super Awesome Wife at each transition and across the line.
The people we were with, Diesel and MamaSaid, the Grey and Second Favorite Wife (except you, Meg), are awesome and if you think having fun before a race doesn't play into how the race goes you're crazy and boring.

Why am I making that face? Diesel just smacked the crap outta my sunburned shoulder

See? Friends! Fun! Ouch!

 The whole experience was one I won't forget. I was only sore for a few days (funny story- after a Half Ironman your friends will all laugh at you if your room is upstairs. Think grabbing the handrails with both hands and taking a deep breath, psyching yourself up for the dozen step climb), and burned for a few more. Remember Diesel saying I should have bought a full hat instead of a visor? But Dirtbags have thick manes of black hair and I've never ever been burned on my scalp? Yeah, burned my scalp. Also burned my race numbers into my arms, leaving me with tan lines I secretly really dig. 

Burn (I'm not flexing!)

Tan

Other arm's tan. Cool, huh?

I can't wait to do another 70.3. There are a bunch on the mainland that, if super-secret plans go through, will be easier and cheaper to get to. Training time might be compromised, rightly, by Dirtbag Fetus' arrival, but I'd like to try and get in at least one a year while still doing shorter ones. By the way, this distance is by far the best bang for your buck distance triathlon. Most sprints on the island cost around $80 or $90. And Olympic is somewhere over $130. This? About $250. So a sprint (~1hr) for $90. An Olympic (~2.5 hours) for $130. Or a 70.3 (~7 hours) for $250. See how paying for short distance races might get harder?
And before we get ahead of ourselves, no I don't see a 140.6 in my near future. I'll probably do one at some point, but right now I don't have the time to train for one nor the inclination to hurt for 14 hours. Training for a full Ironman is a full time job and I don't want to commit to that.
Here is the most striking thing about finishing a 70.3 for me. I never once doubted I could finish. But that means I don't feel...different. Aren't you supposed to feel transformed after something like this? I knew that I could get to the finish line before time ran out. I knew I could put forth a good effort and give a good showing of myself. I knew that back in December. I believe the key to doing something like this is to not question once the choice has been made. Just Keep Moving Forward. Struggle and move forward. Fall and move forward. But do not question the choice once it's made. The Go is something I learned about myself back when I was a high school swimmer. I learned that I couldn't get faster mid-set. I would have to start fast and trust myself. Before I ever left the wall I would Commit To Go. And that was it. I applied the same idea to training for and completing this. I registered and the question was answered. I would Go. I would Go as hard as I could, as smart as I could. More people make a choice and commit to Go, there would be less unhappy people.
Thanks for sticking around for all of this. Who but me would spend thousands of words on one event?
Click on the link for the fifth and final part- Dirtbag vs The Olympian.

Honu Race Report Part III: The 70.3 Racening- Part II: The Bike and Run

Stay positive and keep moving forward.

-Dirtbag's Rule of Endurance

(For the Pre-Race and Swim portion click here)

I don't like opening on a negative, but the only complaint I had about the entire Honu experience that I think might have been controllable by the race director was how we got out of T1. There was a run from the bay to T1 which went up a decently steep hill. Then T1 happened in a parking lot. Then, to get from the parking lot to the road which leads to the Queen K highway, where we would be spending much of our time for the next few hours, we had to climb again. Like, immediately. And not kind of climb. It was a steep damn climb as soon as we hit the mount line. Not a long climb, but if you hadn't set your bike up in the right gearing you were kind of screwed. How bad was it? I got push started by a volunteer. And it wasn't a, "Oh, I see you're struggling, let me give you a hand." They were ready to help. Because clipping in while going from a dead stop to up isn't easy. So my complaint is that I bet there is a better way to start the bike. Small kine complaint, though.
As I hope I made clear in the last post, I felt solid after the swim. Paced it well, walked through transition, didn't feel any fatigue getting on to the bike. And once I got past that first little bump in the road I got to cranking. If I had to guess I would say that I probably spent the majority of the early part of the ride in too light a gear. I could have been pushing harder without losing cadence. In my defense, I didn't know what was coming, I didn't want to blow my legs out.
To my surprise, and his, I caught Diesel in the first five miles of riding. I was surprised because I never catch Diesel. He was surprised because I should have beaten him out of the water. Comparing splits later, he beat me by around twenty seconds. I accept that. *grumble* When I saw him I though he was having mechanical issues because he was pulled over and stopped. Then when he started he seemed distracted and slow. I pulled alongside to ask if he was ok and it turned out he was grabbing a small snack, which is why he was going slow, and his bike had felt funky, which is why he stopped. I actually was ahead of him for a good five, maybe ten seconds. That's right, I led Diesel during a 70.3!
Until he finished his snack and disappeared. Damnit.
The ride course went down towards the Fairmont Orchid, where we would eventually be getting off our bikes and running, and then made a U-turn all the way up Hawi, the climb I'd see every time I tackled Pineapple in training. The Queen K is not a flat road. It rolls with the landscape. To start, this was great for me. None of the rollers were long or steep enough to give me trouble and spirits were high.
Then HE blew by me. Remember the U-turn? That meant we got to see everyone ahead of us on the course for the first of two times. So I got to watch all the pros go flying by. And in the lead? Mr. Larmstrong himself. Of course. 

Mr. Larmstrong on course Honu 2012- from slowtwitch.com

I have been trying for days to think of a way to describe what it felt like to see him ride in the flesh. I've seen some powerful things in person. I've seen Albert Puljos hammer a home run. I've seen HHH pick up another man and throw him across the ring. I've seen jet fighters fly right by me at air shows. But I don't know if I've ever seen anything that gave me such an immediate feeling of, "Holy crap! Look at the power!" that I got from the two times he passed by me. The closest would be seeing a jet fly right over my head. It's there, then it's gone. His famous cadence, holding 100rpms at least, is a blur live. Seeing it on YouTube isn't the same. What is?
But I couldn't just let him go. As he flew by I turned to the lady currently passing me and shouted, "Hey! It was that one guy! What's his name?" She didn't laugh.
I ate once an hour on the bike, which meant three times over the course. And only tried to make myself throw up once. I had broken the Clif Bars up into easy pieces pre-race, but in my hurry to get one out and get back down on the hoods, I didn't want to get blown off the road, I crammed a whole bite into my mouth at once. Bjork! Lesson learned.
I continued to feel strong at the turn and back through most of the rollers, though here is where I ran into two minor mechanical problems one after another. My chain fell off the front rings. Twice! I was shifting from the big ring to the smaller one and, because my gearset isn't the fanciest on the block, it dropped right off. I think it's because I was in the wrong place on the cassette (the back group of rings). Easy, quick fixes. Stay positive, don't think about it. This is a race, but not really.
This was the first race where I discovered how we got water on the bike. Volunteers stand on the side of the road holding open water bottles. We zip by, reach out, grab one, I dump it into my quick fill aerobottle, pour the cool wonderfulness over my head, then toss the bottle as far to the roadside as I can. Check it out:

It was right before Hawi that I decided on anther Dirtbag Rule For 70.3 Racing- Dirtbag Don't Pedal Downhill. There were guys cranking down, and I simply tucked in, put my pedals parallel to the ground, and coasted, keeping up with some of them. "Hey guys, check out what I discovered! I'll call it 'Dirtbag's Theory of Downhill Pulling Force'. Or 'gravity' for short." Right before Hawi was also where I saw another person I knew. Obi Tri Kenobi, he who lent me his bike for my first tri two years ago, passed me after 12 miles. I like him, but dude needs to get his stroke together. No way I should swim that much ahead of him. When he does, he's going to be even more dangerous. And I can say that because he finished a day and a half ahead of me.

I must say, I was worried about Hawi. When Super Awesome Wife and I drove it in March it seemed really steep and long. Especially the opening miles. This helped motivate. And once I got on the road I was really confused. I felt so good on those opening climbs. I was bouncing up them, making passes, and feeling strong. Was this what I was worried about?
I can see that I've neglected to mention what would be the most important part of the ride. The Wind. So let me say this; Oh dear sweet science, it was freaking windy. Climbing Hawi you have wind whipping down at you, so you're climbing into a headwind, and wind whipping down the side of the mountain on your right, so you've got a cross wind. On the way up, the headwind was brutal.
Eventually the rolling steepness stopped. We would climb, then descend, then climb more, then descend. Yay for coasting downhill! But then it stopped and the grind began. This is where Hawi brought the pain. Steep climbs almost aren't that bad. You can see the top. But long shallow climbs are awful. Soon I just wanted it it end. I wasn't sure how far I had to go until the turn-around, but I would have killed a basket full of hobos just to have known. Stay Postive became Once We Make the Turn, It's Downhill. That thought got me the rest of the way up Hawi. Big U-turn and down we go!
Oh my. It was beautiful. If you had asked me in the next five miles what the greatest thing in the history of ever was I would have told you, "Downhill. Downhill is the greatest thing in the history of ever." And it was. Then the cut-outs started. The cross-winds were worst when the side of the mountain dipped away, leaving nothing to block the wind coming down it. Oh yeah, did I mention it was raining at the top of Hawi too? So wicked bad crosswinds on rain-slicked roads while you're trying to race downhill. Weeeeeee!
You could tell when a cross was going to hit you because the line of cyclists ahead would suddenly jerk to the left and then lean at what seemed like 45* angles the other way. A dude next to me got blasted so hard one of his feet came unclipped. I heard that some of the smaller girls, and therefore more susceptible to getting pushed around, we being treated like kites. It was kind of scary-to-really scary depending on who you ask. Including the pros. These quotes make me feel tougher:

“I had to stop to put water in my water bottle at the aid stations,” Ironman World Champion and Kona veteran Laura Sophiea said. ”I’ve done over 300 races and this was by far the toughest conditions I’ve ever experienced.”
“I’ve never raced in conditions like this … With this wind there were points where you were running on the spot,” said runner-up finisher, Australia’s Greg Bennett. “It was, without a doubt, the most brutal thing I’ve ever done.”

The second time I got to see the blur that was Lance was while I was going up and he was coming down, and Diesel too, who shouted, "DIRTBAG!" as he went by. That did help me get the next few miles done. And when the pro in second place, Greg Bennett I think, went by, I shouted, "Go get him!" Not sure he heard me. Things like this help the miles go. But my mile 40 I was done and just wanted to get off the bike. The winds had been so tough coming down that I was having to pedal downhill to maintain speed. Which made me mad at the wind. And there was a mile long climb coming out of the harbor that sucked as hard as any climb I've ever done. Diesel told me once that riding is fun but at the end you just want them to, "take this evil torture device away." That's where I was come mile 40. You know it hurts when you just want to be able to get off the bike so you can run a half marathon. But that was the thought that got me through the end of the ride. We went from Get Me To The Turn-to- Get Me To The Run. 

Palm trees mark the right turn into the Fairmont Orchard and the small group around me cheered when we saw them. At some point during this Matt, of Tri Cook, passed me and we had a nice short chat, and one of Kepa's friends did too. And that ride into T2 was as windy as any other part. Almost felt bad because the last mile was a no passing zone, and I'm sure the one or two guys behind me would have passed. Tough luck, boys. What did surprise me about the ride was the Grey never caught me. He climbs better than I do and I was sure he would have. That will change.

Bike Split- 3:19.46

T2 went smoothly. My spot was way in the back so I had a long run, but I'd taken my feet out of my shoes without unclipping, my one fancy tri-trick, so the barefoot jog/walk through transition wasn't bad. And having Super Awesome Wife waiting and cheering helped too. There was a bank of Port-a-Potties right before T2's exit and, because I'd been hydrating ok I took a quick pee. (Not all of us can go while riding, MamaSaid.) Kinda dark, so I knew I needed to be drinking more. And then I'm off on the run.

Always Dirtbag Tough

And we're off!

Here was my run plan: run when I could, walk every aid station and uphill, don't stop moving forward. That is all.

The run was almost comforting because I knew I could walk. I had no ego invested in the half marathon. I didn't know how my foot was going to hold up (there had been twinging coming out of the water, so I was nervous about it, but it was actually fine the whole time), I hadn't run regularly in three weeks, it was a big mystery.

Aid stations on the run were long and went Water, Perform (the IM-brand of sport drink), Food, Coke, Water, Sponge. And I loved them. There were 12 on course, one just about every mile, so each time I hit one I'd slow to a walk and grab, at least, water, water, ice, sponge. The sponges were soaked in the ice water and felt soooooo good to cram into my tri top. Ice got dumped on my head, in my top, and even into my shorts. Anything to stay cool.

We all thought the heat would be killer on the run because it normally is. There isn't much shade on a golf course. But it was still windy, so we traded hot and still for running into headwinds and, trust me, this is a good deal. It was on the run course that I got back to Stay Postive and Keep Moving Forward. There was never a time that I wanted to stop completely, and never a time when I questioned my sanity or hated life, but I certainly didn't enjoy the run. Who does? I tried lots of tricks for staying positive, including asking the people I was running near (read: who were passing me) if they knew how far back Lance was. "Hey, you know how far behind us Armstrong is? That guy was totally drafting off me." Most people laughed and played along. Was nice to see friends on the course. I also kept telling the aid station people, a lot of whom were very positive kids, "Oh, you are my favorite. I told the kid with ice a mile ago he was my favorite, but I totally lied. You are my favorite!" I said it really fast. It's not like I was cruising through.

Many people didn't like the grass sections. I loved them.

Stay positive. Stay positive. Look good for picture. Stay positive.

Yep. Totally walking here. They caught me. Still tough though.

 At some point early on during one of the many out-and-backs on the run course I finally spotted the Grey. He and Diesel had expected the Grey to be able to catch Diesel on the run, but he'd struggled more on the bike than expected. So when I saw him going out while I was coming back I started shouting at him, "Come get me, old man! Come get me!" (Dirtbag Racing Note: Shouting in the middle of a 70.3's half marathon will make your head hurt.) He did eventually, but it took longer than we expected. And he raped me when he caught me. Well, ok, here's the thing- earlier in the weekend I may have snuck up on him in an ice cream shop and given him a massive hug from behind when he wasn't expecting it. I may also have gently cupped his pectoral muscle when I did so. So I maaaaay have deserved to get jumped on from behind when he passed me on the run. Laughing helps the run go by. And after he went by I reached out an smacked him on the ass, "You are so sexy when you run by me!" A course volunteer on a bicycle near us nearly crashed laughing. 

I made a friend about mile seven who pulled up next to me and said, "I've been chasing you for seven miles." He was cool and I'm not making fun, but he was a big dude. Heavier. He said it was his first triathlon ever. Well, I walked with him for about half a mile, that middle section is the hardest mentally, and we chatted a little, but there was no way I was hanging out with him the rest of the run. I didn't have much ego or competitive fire, but I had some. Thanks for the motivation. 

There isn't much more to say about the run. There was an out-and-back called The Road To Nowhere right at the end that sucked worse than the rest of the run put together. Looking at the run course, it's easy to see what part I mean. It is so long that there is an aid station halfway down, but you don't know its halfway down if you've never been on it before. So you think, "Oh good, this isn't that far." That thought is followed quickly by, "Oh...damnit." 

Headwind going down means tailwind coming back though, and once you're done with the Death March (Diesel's name for it), you're practically done. One more aid station, past the 12 mile marker, where Obi Tri was standing and cheering us on, and the finish line is close enough to taste. "I am not walking any part of the last mile," I decided. I hadn't looked at my watch for elapsed time the entire race, it does no good midway through the bike to see, "Oh, three and a half hours. Only three hours to go." But now I was looking. I knew I should be able to come in under seven hours. I wanted 6:45, but walked too much for it. I did the math and decided to see how far under seven I could finish. I didn't sprint to the finish, that last mile was longer than just about any mile I've ever run. I barely had any kick to my stride. Once, my toes had gotten sore and I knew that if I cracked it, something you can do in funny toe shoes, it would stop hurting. So I stopped and bent over to crack it my my hamstrings went, "Woah! You don't want to be bending over right now! We will cramp and fail if you do." So there was no more of that. It was IronShuffle in. I could see the finish, hear the crowd getting louder, there were more people on course now, finishers already done standing by cheering, spectators, volunteers. I could hear the announcer calling out the names of those in front of me as they crossed the line. I just needed to get there.

Stride- IronShuffle

Down the chute

AND ACROSS THE LINE!

Run Split- 2:53.37

Finish Time- 6:56.24 
 
For Race Report Part IV- The Reflection click here

A Dirtbag Year in Review

It has been a very Fit and Busy year in the Life of Dirtbag. Let's review, shall we?

After an excellent honeymoon vacation to New Zealand, I got back and immediately got to work training for the Honolulu Triathlon, my big A race for the year and my first attempt at the Olympic Distance after knocking off a couple of Sprint distance races in 2010.
February was an orgy of registrations as I signed up for both the Sprint Triathlons I was using as tune-up races on my way to Honolulu. It was also the Great Aloha Run, which I called the Great Aloha Jog because I'm clever like that. This was my first attempt at eight miles, so there was some barrier breaking going on there.
March started with the Guard Dog Triathlon, a small fun race where I actually placed in my age group! And a little later in March we had the wonderful experience that is a tsunami warning. If you get the chance to spend the entire night watching the news and listening to warning sirens, skip it.
April brought plenty of training and the Lanikai Sprint Tri, another good experience out on a course. Every race is a learning experience, and learning is good. I didn't attack like I wanted to but I learned to deal ever better with the fear of pain that racing brings. Mental toughness.
May was The Month I had been building to since January. The Honolulu Olympic Triathlon. A race so exciting for me I created a contest, did a pre-race photo blog, and a post-race photo blog. And I shaved my legs.
June was an example of the goodness of others. My wonderful sponsor, Background Profiles, jumped on board the Dirtbag Train, making many of the foolish things I do financially possible. It was also an example of the importance of paying attention to pre-race directions. I did the Firecracker Sprint Tri and, had I not gone in the wrong direction to start the swim, would probably consider it one of my best races. It was the most solid, confident run I've had in a race situation yet. And I got my second medal finish ever during the Popoia Open Water, a 1.6 mile swim that put the rough in rough water. Took first in my age group!
July was a short training month due to a much-needed trip to California and Seattle for the summer to see family. Did that stop me from signing up for events? Of course not! I completed the Chun's Reef North Shore Open Water swim. I was out of shape, for me, and slow, for me, but it was a good time. I love getting out and swimming long. I also threw my hat into the book reviewing ring, giving my thoughts on Matt Fitzgerald's RUN: The Mind Body Method of Running By Feel.
August found me back in the ocean for the North Shore Challenge, a 2.3mi open water event with too few buoys and a killer current. Still had a good time. But I don't like to complain about events unless they really need it. This month launched what was supposed to be a monthly event but in reality hasn't happened again because, well, I don't have a really good reason. I really ought to try to get another Barefoot Runners Society Meet-Up happening though. Come one, come all! Also in August I developed my first genius idea for The Dirtbag Foolishness Race Series- The Barbarian Horde 1k! Bring your own waivers.
In September I made a new friend who helped me prepare for the Honolulu Century Ride and hasn't stopped helping me since. My first 100 miles straight out on the bike and I loved every second of it, even dealing with crazy drivers and tourists who don't know how to ride. I also completed the final distance open-water swim of the season, the Waikiki Rough Water, putting down an even better 2.3mi time. Super Awesome Wife won a drawing for some Alaska Air miles too.
October was exciting because it was my first chance to repeat a race, the Ko'Olina Sprint Triathlon. I could not have been more excited or keyed up for this race and the chance to show myself just how far I'd come. Instead, I learned hard lessons about over-training and pre-race nutrition. Still, learning is learning. I developed the second event in the Dirtbag Foolishness Race Series- The DeadMan 5k and 10k, a zombie pursuit-style race. And Super Awesome Wife and I completed a relay event, the MCB Splash and Dash, with me Splashing and her Dashing (pronounced "walking quickly"). It was great to be able to share an event with her like this, and cheer her across a finish line instead of the other way around.
I turned 30 (aka- officially aged up into the 30-35 age group) in November and celebrated with a 30, 30, & 30 For 30 week of training. I also registered for my big A race of the coming year, and a fun little dash through mud and fire.
As for this month? Nothing big, no events. Just good old Dirtbag training, but unstructured and relaxed. Got my second trail run in, made fun of Sean for being old, got my ass kicked by Sean, did some swim lessons, and ate too many Christmas cookies. Good, kick back month.
Wow, looking back on 2011 in one big chunk like this is something else. Four Open water swims, three Sprint tris and one Olympic, a Century, a running race, a biathlon with the wife, and near constant working out? That is what I call a busy freaking year. And, with what I have planned for 2012, there will be no slowing down any time soon. Gotta stay busy, gotta keep moving forward. Pain tells you you're alive and getting stronger. Much thanks and love to all the Dirtbag family and Dirtbag support on the island and around the country. Hope everyone has a fantastic holiday season. Try not to eat too many cookies.

Ko'Olina Sprint Tri '11 Race Report

"The best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry"

- To a Mouse, Robert Frost*

*A Robert Frost quote? What a pretentious way to start a race report. If only it wasn't so damn true.

Splits

Swim- 14:29 (660 yards, but swim/run/swim)

T1-21:47

Bike- 46:18 (16.7mi)

T2-1:32

Run- 31:13 (3.2mi)

Total- 1:55:17

To say I'm disappointed with how today's race went would be to undervalue the meaning of the word. There was high expectations and much excitement surrounding this race for me. My first repeat, my first chance to really measure growth, and a fast course to do it on. I was ready.
This was not that race. Not at all. In fact, it was so not the race I wanted it to be its hard to write about. I find what happened embarrassing in the extreme. But I don't know what happened, or why it happened. It just...happened. But at least I got through it. More silver lining later.

The race started out ok. For some reason my age group, 30-35, started in the fourth wave. The third wave was made up of the 50+ age group. No, that doesn't make any sense to me either. No offense to any 50+ age groupers out there, but odds are high you aren't faster than I am through the water. And giving you a three minute head start just means it takes a little longer to catch you and deal with your traffic. This was one issue I had with today's race apart from my own problems.

My swim plan was very simple: Conserve. I planned to swim strong but not all that hard, keeping my stroke long and efficient so that I would have plenty in the tank for the bike and run. I thought I was following that. Remember, this race has a unique swim. It's swim a lagoon, run a few hundred yards to the next lagoon, swim that, through four lagoons. Not exactly playing to my strength, but not that bad. I cruised the runs between the lagoons, sticking to the plan and feeling alright. A little more tired than expected, not quite as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as I would have liked, but not awful.

Then I hit T1 and everything changed. Almost as soon as I got into the transition area all the energy went out of my body. I walked from the entry to my bike. I walked through a sprint transition. And when I got to my bike, with Super Awesome Wife at the gate cheering me on, I stopped. I stopped and I stared at my gear. And the rest of my strength seemed to leak away. I had absolutely no interest in getting on that bike. None. I was tired. I felt done. Not tired like I swam my ass off and my lungs were burning and my muscles sore. Tired like more than anything I just want to sit down and not do this for another hour or more. Shoulder-sagging tired. I saw my fuel gauge flip to E and there felt like nothing I could do to stop it or fix it. Motivation gone. 

Notice all the bikes (and the expression)

Note the shoulders and head position

This is not the face/body language of a racer

This was horrible. I spent 22 minutes in T1 trying to figure out what I was going to do next. Should I fight through it? Did I even want to? Would I be able to perform once I got out on the bike course or would this continue and become the most miserable 16 miles ever? Thinking about it now, like being in the middle of it then, it is embarrassing and frustrating. I felt like I couldn't do anything about how I was feeling. I talked to myself, trying all the positive self-talk tricks, and the mental pumping-up I knew, and I was getting zero return. Which only made everything worse. And that it happened during such a short race...This sucks to write, sucks to even think about anymore, but I didn't want to keep going. But I sure as hell wasn't going to DNF. 

Note the number of bikes now.

The transition area was practically empty by the time I got my head together enough to get my shoes, helmet, and shades on. I had to get out on the course. 

My ride went better than I expected it to. It was a mostly flat course with short climbs, none of which were any bother for me. Once I got up to speed I felt strong enough to keep going. But I wasn't racing. I'm positive the big base I built training for the century got me through the ride at the speed I was able to carry. There was some wind at the turn around so I got low on the aero bars and hammered as much as my legs would let me. My head never got into the race. It was like the first half of the Firecracker Sprint times a hundred. 

Normally, I love to race. Racing is a rush, competition drives me to excel. Today was not my day. And the run didn't help. At least I was in and out of T2 quickly. 

I did catch a bunch of people during the ride

Tight squeeze

The opposite of how I felt but trying to fake it in hopes of a change

 I set off at a jog. There would be very little Bringing of the Pain like I wanted. Like I planned. Like I expected. There would be only suffering through and dragging ass to the finish. Because out on the run course nothing got better. My jog slowed, slowed some more, and then became a walk. That's right (and this is hard to type), I spent 75% of mile 1 of a sprint triathlon I'd been training for for weeks, that I'd done a year ago with no problem, walking. Fuck. There was nothing there to dig for. I pulled it together enough to get up to a jog for mile 2 and managed to run mile 3 at nearly the pace I planned on running the whole time.

Bringing it in...finally

And across the line.

The time displayed in 9 minutes off mine because I was in Wave 4...and it still sucks.

At least I finished. See? Silver lining.

I'm not sure what happened. I thought I got enough sleep. I think part of my problem was not eating well enough yesterday. Super Awesome Wife made my favorite pre-race dinner, tofu tacos, but I had a crappy late lunch. I wasn't feeling great the whole way to the race in the car, different than my normal early morning stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if I got sick tomorrow, though I'd be too stubborn to use that as an excuse. I think going forward I'm going to take the next week completely off, and then dial back my training to once a day everyday until the Honolulu Tri comes back around. 

As for the race itself, I'm not sure I'll come play again next year. At packet pick-up they were out of Medium t-shirts so they gave me a Large, which doesn't seem like a real issue until you remember that I basically paid $85 for that shirt. There weren't able to post the results or hand out awards at the event because of technical difficulties with the computer. The order of the wave start didn't make any sense, which we covered earlier. There were things we were told to do prior to the race that were never checked to see if we'd done them, like read the online safety briefing and bring it to packet pick-up signed (which I forgot to do, but it didn't matter anyway). We were given stick-on tattoo numbers, which is cool but why did money get spent on that? There were volunteers there with Sharpies anyway, that's how I got marked. My registration money should have gone towards nice caps with a neat logo on them instead of plain white caps and a neat but ultimately useless numbering system. At least this year's medal was nice. 

And the medal is nice. More silver lining.

And the t-shirt isn't nearly as bad as last year's bright yellow thing. Silver glimmer.

I need to thank Kepa, Super Awesome Wife, and Team Bloody Mary for giving me the love in and around T1, and through to the finish. Also, it was nice to finially meet Tri Cook. Wish I'd had a better race with which to impress. And love to family and friends for their support, even from across the Pacific. Much thanks as well to my Dirtbag Sponsor Background Profiles. We'll get 'em next time.

Got some, go again.

Special Ironman Kona Interview: Sean Price (Part 2)

If you missed Part 1, click here
Part 2:

DF: Can you describe the Kona experience? Since it is the World Championship race is the atmosphere very different from other IM races? You've made mention of the massive amount of advertising everywhere, is that increased in Kona? Does it detract from your enjoyment of the event itself?

SP: Before I went to Kona I had people tell me over and over that "Kona is all about the pro's." After experiencing it myself I have to agree. And since it is the world championships and you (mostly) had to qualify to get there, it seemed that the vast majority of athletes had an ego. Not everyone, but more than enough that it seemed the norm. 

DF: Would you describe the other athletes as friendly? Is it a here-for-me mentality or more of an everyone-helps-everyone-else community?

SP: I think that in the shorter distance tri people tend to have more fun. In the longer distance events people tend to take it more serioiusly. With some justification I suppose. You work hard to get there so they're a pretty focused group. Some people are friendly. Others just look upon you as someone to beat. 

DF: Triathlon is one of the few sports where the elites and professionals compete alongside the amateurs. Have you ever met any elite athletes when at a race? Do you even follow triathlon and know/care who is who?

SP: I recognize names of the top athletes but damm if I could pick them out of a crowd. 

DF: How did your race go?

SP: The swim was rougher than I anticipated, which is saying a lot as I was expecting nothing short of brutality. The pros went off a 1/2 hour ahead of us age groupers which is nice for them as there was a total of 80 pros. They had open water to swim in. For us...not so much. When the gun went off for us age groupers I was in the water with 1,850 people, all fighting for the same slice of water. I generally try to sprint to the front, find open water and settle in. At Kona, the vast majority of swimmers seemed to be at my level of swimming ability so there was no open water to be found. I hit the first buoy and came to a dead stop because of the mass of bodies. It looked like a bunch of seals fighting for fish and you could literally have walked over the bodies. I dove straight down and swam underwater to the left for 30 seconds to get out of it. After that I stayed way way outside and kept away from the mess. Even with that I only remember a few times that I was not following bubbles or white water. I remember getting elbowed, shoved and on one memorable occasion, someone grabbed my foot and almost dislocated my big toe. My toe hurt throughout the race and I limped through T1. I was not happy. 

Define: Mass Start

The bike was...well...as expected. Hot, windy, long and lots of hills. I had a plan and I stuck to it. I got passed by hundreds of people--literally, hundreds--but didn't worry about it. They had their race. I had mine. The only thing that rubbed me the wrong way was the massive (and I mean MASSIVE) amounts of drafting. See, there is the "no drafting" rule in triathons. You see a bit of it regardless because it's a long course and the motorcycle referees can't be everywhere but I was staggered by the amount of it I saw. I'm talking groups of 40-50 riders blowing past me at times. I'm slogging away into the headwind and a group would go past doing probably 25 mph, which is easy to do in a peloton. I'm really only racing myself so I suppose it shouldn't bother me if people cheat but that was so blatant that it just pissed me off. 

Drafting? Nah...

The run went better than I thought. I was pleasantly suprised to find it a mostly flat course. There were some inclines but I would hesitate to call them "hills". It was hot hot hot, but I filled my cap with ice at every aid station (one every mile), grabbed water and slogged on. The miles went by. I would have loved to have done the run faster but my run training had been seriously lagging due to injuries so I'm pretty happy with the time I ended up with. I expected slower. 

DF: I always hear people talking about the heat and the wind when they talk about this course. Are they as bad as it sounds? The Ironman website had reports coming in that the pavement temperature was breaking 130 degrees. How brutal is that?

SP: My most vivid memory from the race was while I was on the bike. As far ahead as I could see was just a line of bikers--like marching ants--heading up an endless hill until the view was distorted by the heat shimmer off the asphalt. It was everything I expected.

DF: What is the hardest part of bike course? The run course? Why are those points so difficult, because of the grade or because of where they fall in the race distance-wise?

SP: For the bike, it would definitely be the climb to Hawi. The winds and the incline alone make it a winner. The only saving grace for that is that it's at the half-way point so you're reasonably fresh and you know you have a screaming fast downhill to look forward to.  A close second would probably be miles 80-100. You're tired, you're doing a gradual relentless incline and the winds are just making you mash the pedals. That's the point I just wanted the bike to be over. 

The run course? Hard to say but I'd have to go with the turn around at the Natural Energy lab. It's at miles 17-20, relentless sun and some inclines. 

DF: Do you feel more prepared for it than some other age-groupers because you get to train here year-round?

SP: Without question. And I suspect the local Big Island residents have a HUGE home couse advantage. 

DF: What was your goal time going into Kona? Is it slower/faster than your goal time for other Iron-distance races? Did you achieve your goal?

SP: I was hoping for a faster time than my previous IM (NZL), but was not sure how realistic it would be given that Kona is a much harder couse that NZL. When all was said and done I had a new PR by 40 minutes. I can't complain. :)

DF: How difficult is it to get a good nutrition plan together for a race this long? Do you stop at the aid stations to re-fill and refuel or cruise through picking up stuff as you go?

SP: Nutrition can make or break you on race day. It's not something you leave to chance. If you don't plan for it you're almost guaranteed to bonk. IM supplies Powerbar products (gels and bars) and Ironman Perform (electroyle drinks) along with water at the bike aid stations. I don't do Powerbar so I had to bring my own calories. I packed all the calories I needed for the bike and make sure I consumed them on schedule. For liquid, I just do water, so at each station I would toss the empty bottles, slow down, grab a full one from a volunteer and continue on. I had electrolyte tablets that I took every 10 miles. I exited the bike fully hydrated and with energy to spare so that all went well.  

DF: Why do something like this? Is it because you love the challenge? You want to prove something to yourself? It keeps you sane? WHY seems like the biggest question a non-endurance athlete has when they hear about Ironman. How do you answer?

SP: The first time I did an IM was to prove to myself I could. Now I do it for the continuing challenge to see how well I can do. IM is definitely not the hardest event I  have done (a 100 mile run is by far tougher) but it is by no means a trivial event so I really like the challenge. 

I really appreciate Sean taking the time to answer my questions. It was very cool for him to talk about his training and his race with me. And for you numbers junkies out there, we'll finish off with Mr. Price's splits and finish time.

2.4mi swim- 1:08:53 (1:47/100m pace)

T1- 6:55

112 mi bike- 6:01:41 (18.58mph avg.)

T2- 6:01

26.2mi run- 4:32:22 (10:23/mi pace)

Overall time- 11:55:52