Pie, Cadence, and Manipulation

Lindsay knows just how to manipulate me. She just sent me the above chart. It's a breakdown of my cycling cadence over the last two months. Honestly, I had no idea she had such capabilities. But since she knows I am motivated by numbers (and that I'm a huge dork), she sent it to me. It's hard to read, but all that is really important is that the green section represents the percentage of time that my cadence is 80-90 rpms, and the blue is the percentage of time that my cadence is 90-100 rpms. It would be much better if the green and the blue were reversed (i.e., I should be pedalling more often in the 90-100 range and less often in the 80-90 range).

This is really just Lindsay's way of telling me that I need to pedal a little faster. She knows me quite well by now, and knows that if she tells me to keep my cadence a little higher, I may or may not do it. But if she shows me a chart with a breakdown of my cadence, and tells me to make it look different, then like a monkey doing tricks for a banana, I will stop at nothing to make this chart look PERFECT!!

However, while Lindsay has taken into account my OCD in sharing this chart with me, I'm worried that she may not fully appreciate the extent of my obsessiveness. I'm now concerned that I am going to try to pedal at 60-70 cadence 75% of the time for the next 2 months. That way, the next time she sends me this chart, it will look more like this:

Maybe she should change 90-100 to yellow, just to be safe.

Austin Marathon - Pacing for Dummies

Yesterday, a friend that keeps up with my blog on Google Reader informed me that I only post 0.5 times per week. My first thought was, "Wow! That much?!" But then I realized that once every two weeks is not so good if I want to keep any readership whatsoever. More importantly, though, is that I keep my job. And with how busy I am at work right now, I have been missing workouts. And I can't very well explain to Lindsay that I don't have time to swim, but I do have time to blog. Regardless, as my friend is aware, I am motivated by numbers. At work, it's the billable hour. With racing, it's obviously the clock that I'm obsessed with. And now, I have new motivation to write more on this blog: My Google Reader Rating must rise!!!

So last weekend my wife (aka, Krisha; aka, the CFO) and I went to Austin, Texas for the Austin Marathon. Before Sunday, I was unaware that there was a 26.2 mile stretch of road in Texas that has absolutely ZERO flat parts. I guess, technically, the very top and very bottom of each hill is flat, just before it starts to go back up or back down again, but you get my point. That is one hilly race! Luckily, or so I thought, I do lots of running on hills. The route I run most of the time has several big hills that come into play on almost every run. The hills at the marathon, however, were shorter, steeper, and there were A LOT more of them. All this to say, I screwed it up. Long story short, I started out too fast (as I always do!).

Lindsay's last bit of encouragement just before the race was, "I know you will have a good race. Just remember to be consistent from mile 1." Easy enough. The plan was to run each and every mile between 7:00 and 7:10, thus finishing with a Boston Qualifying time of between 3:03 and 3:08. Even if I slowed down after 20 miles or so, I would still have two minutes to spare! So with my perfect plan in place, the gun went off, and I started running. Here are my splits and my thoughts during the race:

Mile 1 - 6:46 (Oops, settle down there, Seabiscuit.)
Mile 2 - 7:02 (There we go, time to settle in for a while.)
Mile 3 - 6:51 (Um, slow it back down, tough guy!)
Mile 4 - 6:41 (Hey, moron, what are you thinking!? Answer - "Man, I have to pee!")
Mile 5 - 7:23 (I stopped to pee for a little over 40 seconds, which means this was another 6:40 mile)
Mile 6 - 6:46 (Ok, I tried to warn you. You will pay for this later.)
Mile 7 - 6:46 (Oh yes, you will pay dearly. You just wait.)
Mile 8 - 7:09 (Woo hoo! Back on track!)

Mile 9 - 7:01 (Now we're talkin. And I'm still feeling pretty good! Maybe I'll be ok.)
Mile 10 - 6:50 (Alright, whatever, let's see what we can do!)
Mile 11 - 7:29 (Hmm, that mile was pretty hilly. Maybe I'm still alright.)
Mile 12 - 7:32 (Another hilly mile. The downhills were really starting to hurt at this point.)
Mile 13 - 7:11 (Back on track. Strong first half. Hang in there.)
Mile 14 - 7:22 (This is going to hurt.)
Mile 15 - 7:27 (Oh dear.)
Mile 16 - 7:48 (That's ok. You knew this was coming. "Only" 10 more miles.")
Mile 17 - 7:44 (Alright, this hurts. But whatever happens, surely you can keep it under 8 minutes!)
Mile 18 - 8:01 (Hmm, maybe not.)
Mile 19 - 7:48 (Seven more miles at 8 minute pace . . . Ok, that's less than an hour, hang in there.)
Mile 20 - 8:06 (Just keep running.)
Mile 21 - 7:47 (Just keep running.)
Mile 22 - 8:58 (Uh oh.)
Mile 23 - 8:43 (Mommy!?)
Mile 24 - 8:18 (YOU WILL NOT WALK! You will pay for your idiocy!!)
Mile 25 - 8:53 (How are those two girls passing me and talking?! And one of them is wearing pink Newtons. Great.)
Mile 26 - 8:16 (Only 0.2 miles. Hey wait, is that another hill!? NOOOOO!!!!)
Last 0.2 - 1:40 (Must. Eat. NOW. Hey look! Doritos!!!!)

Total Time - 3:18.27. I'm not embarrassed with that. But I'm not really happy with it either. I know I would have done ten minutes better (at least) if I had just been able to start out smarter. I've run stupid races before, but usually I'm thinking "Man, I feel good! Maybe I can hold this pace?!" But I've run enough marathons that this time I knew from the beginning that this one was not going to end well for me. And it didn't. I could not get control of my pacing, and it finally caught up with me.

I will say that running those last four miles was quite possibly the most painful athletic experience of my life (at least the most painful one that I remember). So at least I learned that I can run for a LONG time in a LOT of pain. That's good. I think I'm going to need that in Coeur d'Alene this year if I want to get to Kona. As Lindsay recently said, "This is a good training marker for the Ironman. Remember, every day training and racing is important and makes you stronger for the next training session and race. It is all part of the bigger picture!"

Bigger picture indeed. Time to move on to Ironman training. Four months to race day, and I'm starting that four month block with a 3:18 marathon. I'll take it! And speaking of Coeur d'Alene, Kona qualifying, training/racing smart, and learning how to pace in a race . . . the CFO has recently authorized a new purchase that I can't wait to tell you about! But that will have to wait for another post. I need to increase my Google Reader status!

Grape Soda, Isaac Newton, and Confession

Hello. My name is Barry. And I have an advertising problem.

It's true. I sometimes buy products I know are not right for me simply because the advertising is pure marketing GENIUS.

Take, for example, the time that I was pumping gas and there was a grape soda ad on the gas pump. It was a picture of an open ice chest, full of ice and cans of sweet delicious grape soda. At that moment, I decided that nothing would taste better than a grape soda, and I HAD TO HAVE ONE. Luckily, I was at a gas station, and therefore went directly into the store and purchased one. It only took one drink for me to decide I had been duped. But not willing to admit my mistake, and not one to throw away something I just paid for, I stubbornly finished the grape soda . . . which left me with a stomach ache, a purple tongue, and a sugar high fructose corn syrup high. Now every time I see an advertisement and suggest that whatever is being advertised looks cool, my wife will sarcastically say, "MMMMMMM, grape soda!"

My latest fall to the lure of advertising came a couple of weeks ago. After lots of marketing at Ironman events and in magazines, I decided that the Newton Running shoes looked like they could be just the thing to make me a super fast runner. Craig Alexander runs in them, and he just won in Kona, so they MUST be good, right!? I asked Lindsay about them, and she quickly said they were not right for me. Now, I know that she knows more about running shoes than I. And I know that she knows my running style better than I. And I know that she knows what is and is not the right thing for me to do/wear/have/try/eat/drink/etc. in training than I. But come on, Craig Alexander wears them!! And their website is really cool!! So the Saturday after Christmas, I ran in a pair of Newtons. And they felt GREAT!!!

. . . for about 3 miles. Then my calves started getting tight. And my ankles got tired. And my arches started hurting. In the span of about a quarter mile, I went from "Wow these are GREAT!" to "HOLY CRAP! What have I done!?" I only "ran" 6 miles that day. My only thought at that point was "Lindsay is going to kill me!" I couldn't wait to see what type of torturous intervals she would put me through to teach me not to blow her off again. No problem. Lindsay's out of town for the holidays. I can recover from this before she gets back. No more running in the Newtons until I have the time to adjust to them. Eight weeks out from a marathon is not that time!

The following Monday, I could barely walk because of the pain in my lower legs. Every single muscle from about mid-calf to the tips of my toes was screaming at me every time I took a step. Tuesday was a little better, so I laced up my normal running shoes and headed out the door. I made it 1.6 miles. Turned around. And walked home.

I felt fine on the bike, so I went on several long bike rides the rest of the week. Then Saturday, a full week after my little experiment, I went out for a long run. It was the most painful 12 miles of my life (it was supposed to be 16!).

I'm feeling better now after having confessed my sins to Lindsay, and running easy, massage, and stretching yesterday. Today is MUCH better. I actually think I will recover in time to get in a solid 2 hour run this weekend. We'll see. First, Lindsay prescribed the "someday you will listen to me" intervals for tomorrow morning. They are going to be tough on my sore, tired legs. Better take a Fuel Belt with me! Those look really cool! And Craig Alexander uses them! Sweet.

The "t-sip" Ironman 70.3

“Patience is a virtue.”

I’ve heard that all my life. And if that’s true, then I must not be all that “virtuous” because patience is something I have never had. I also think several of my readers are not very virtuous based on their comments to me recently! Many of you have told me that you are “running out of patience” in waiting on me to publish another post. I appreciate your patience (or your virtuosity??), and I apologize for the delay. It’s been a busy month.

So back to me and my patience (or lack thereof). I think that has been a problem for me in my endeavors as an endurance athlete. Lack of patience has been the fall of many an Ironman and even many more marathoners. I believe that lack of patience is what causes us to go out too fast, or speed up too early, and then blow up at the end of a race. It’s not always a lack of endurance or a lack of preparation. It’s often a lack of patience.

So as I thought about my approach to the “t-sip” Ironman 70.3 (i.e., the Longhorn 70.3, for you non-Aggies) this past weekend, I decided that because my run has been solid lately, I would be patient on the swim, patient on the bike, and then see if I could put up a solid run time. As you will see, I followed the plan, but came up a little short on the “solid run” goal.

I have had trouble since June with my swimming. Like a lot of athletes, in the pool, I’m fine. But put me in a race, and my times have been up to 30 seconds per hundred slower than in training. That’s a hard pill to swallow, especially when you would win the overall if you just had an average swim! This has been the most frustrating thing about this race season for me. I’m spotting all the top players several minutes, and for me, that’s unacceptable. This will be a focus this off-season.

After thinking more about it, Lindsay and I decided that maybe I was just trying too hard to be fast in the swim. I was starting in the front, fighting with the fast swimmers, getting out of breath early, and thus shortening my stroke for the rest of the swim. So for this race, I decided to just take it easy, focus on my stroke, and . . . be patient. I started off to the side, and just let everyone go. But strangely, I realized that I was not getting dropped like I usually do. And I never lost my breath. My official time was just over 29 minutes. By FAR my fastest time for a swim in a half-Ironman. Yes, the general consensus is that the swim was 3-5 minutes short. But even on the high end of that estimate, that’s about the fastest I’ve ever swam 1.2 miles. Hmm, perhaps patience IS a virtue.

On to the bike. Like most of my longer races, I spent the first 10-15 miles focusing on getting fluids and calories in and just settling in to a solid pace, but not overdoing it by any means. I was in one of the last waves to start so I was passing A LOT of people early on in the bike. I spent most of the ride just telling myself to take it easy and be patient. When I lose patience, or get antsy, I end up speeding up and not leaving myself enough for a fast run. So I was patient. And aside from dropping my chain on a short climb (I actually came to a complete stop since I was climbing at the time—cost me a little time, but no need to panic), there’s not much to report on the bike. Yes, it was windy (we are in Texas!), but I managed to remain patient throughout the ride and finished in 2:32 (22 mph).

Moment of truth. Time to run. As usual, coming out of T2 I felt great. I still had to be patient, though, because 13.1 miles is too far for me to go all out right out of the gate. Plus, I ALWAYS get cramps in my lower quads about a mile in to the run of a half or full Ironman. My strategy is to hold back until the cramping comes, endure it for about half a mile until it finally goes away, and then settle into a pace that is a little faster than I feel like I can hold for 11 more miles. The first mile came and went, and I was running right at 7:00 pace. Then, right on time, my legs cramped. No worries, I’ve been through this in every long course race I’ve ever done. I think it takes your legs a couple of miles to get used to running after a long effort on the bike. If you can run through it, though, it will go away. And sure enough, by the second mile marker, all was well. Time to settle in.

I was cruising along trying to figure out if I should pick it up or remain patient when Lisa Bentley (the eventual women’s pro winner) went by me. Up to this point, no one had passed me and I was blowing by people. It makes it hard to pace properly when all your doing is passing everyone. I find it easier to work harder when someone is there to help push me along, or when someone is in front of me that I’m trying to catch. When Lisa went by I decided to run with her. I picked it up a bit, but she slowly pulled away. The first four miles were on black asphalt and were one long climb and descent after another. Lisa was dropping me on every descent, but on the climbs, I would slowly reel her in. However, by the end of the 4th mile, she had pulled away.

The last 2.5 miles of the loop is on a dirt trail. That was nice except for the sandy parts, which make you feel like you’re running in slow motion. Regardless, it was MUCH cooler on that part of the course, and it really helped break the course up into small sections that are much more manageable than a 13.1 mile run without any change of scenery. About 4.5 miles in, Pip Taylor (another pro who would finish 2nd behind Lisa) came by me. I had someone else to pace off of! I told her that Lisa was not too far ahead, but I could tell by the pace that she was not going to catch her. Pip told me that Lisa had passed her a couple of miles back, so I knew she wasn’t interested in chasing her down. I followed her for half a mile or so and then just before the hill they call “Quadzilla” I went around her. The top of Quadzilla (which I didn’t think was as bad as the rollers in the first four miles) was the 5 mile marker. I hit my watch and saw 36:11. Not too bad, but I’m slowing down from the 7:05 pace I had averaged through three miles.

The last 1.5 miles of the loop were fast. It was slightly downhill, and before I knew it, I was finished with the first loop, and back on the HOT black asphalt for 4 miles of quad killing (and morale killing) rollers! To be honest, I don’t remember much of the second lap. I think my brain shut off and I just went into auto-drive. I remember the 10 mile marker. And I remember realizing that my split for the second five miles was slower than the first (39:12, or 7:50 pace). I remember thinking that if I could just go under 30 minutes for the last 5k, that I would break 4:50. I remember Krisha yelling at me that “PAIN IS TEMPORARY!!” just as I started the last 5k. And I definitely remember feeling like the second time up Quadzilla was MUCH harder than the first. But the details of that last loop are not in my brain. I guess it was painful.

I ran the last 5k in 23:57 (which included the shuffling up Quadzilla), for a final run time of 1:39:18 (5 minutes slower than what I was hoping for), and an overall time of 4:46:20. Only good enough for 9th place in my very competitive age group, and 46th overall male.

The best news of the day was that I earned a spot in the Ironman 70.3 World Championships at Clearwater next year! Speaking of Clearwater . . . I checked the results from 2007. There were 156 finishers in my age group. To finish in the top 50% took a 4:35. Seriously! 4:35 was only good enough for 78th place in my age group! My 4:46 would have put me in 102nd. I realize it’s a different/faster/flatter course. But that’s unbelievable. I’ve definitely got work to do!

Qualifying for Clearwater has done a few things for me. First, it’s reinforced that patience is key in long course racing. Second, it’s made me more confident that I belong in the top 10 in major/national races. I’ve always felt like I could do it, but this is the first time I actually have. I’m finally over that hump, which brings me to the third thing this race has done for me. I am more motivated than ever to earn a Kona spot. And now, for the first time, I truly believe that I am capable of doing it. And I don’t want to wait any longer! I have run out of patience.

My goals for 2007 included proving to myself that finishing an Ironman was possible. Check. In 2008, I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of qualifying for Kona. Check. Next year . . . .

Controlling the Drama Queen

Everyone pushes themselves harder in a group than on their own. But there are times when you need to train on your own. So how do you really push yourself when no one's watching? To some, this is the very definition of integrity. And for me, the answer to that question is one of the keys to being successful (however you want to define "success"), not only in endurance sports, but in life. Sometimes, no matter how much integrity I think I have, the Drama Queen that is my Right Brain yells out that I can't do whatever it is I'm trying to do. And he is VERY persuasive at times. The best way to convince him that I'm not working as hard as he thinks I am is my power meter. The numbers don't lie. It tells me exactly how hard I'm pushing the pedals. But still, sometimes ME seeing the numbers is not enough when every ounce of my being is screaming for me to stop (or at least slow down). Which brings me to what I believe is the real key to controlling the Drama Queen. Accountability.

My wonderful coach, Lindsay, sees every file from every one of my rides, and she can tell exactly how hard I was working every minute of the way. That means that when she has me do 5x2 minutes Power Intervals (like she had me do this morning), then she can tell, among other things, how strong I am today (both physically AND mentally). Mentally, because she knows exactly what I’m capable of doing (even better than I know myself). So if the numbers aren't quite there, or if they fade toward the end of an interval, she can tell that I either gave up mentally, or that I’m more tired (or not as strong) than either of us realized.

A lot of how we measure my intensity against my actual power is based on Rate of Perceived Exertion (“RPE”). For example, most of my training volume is done at around a 6 on a scale of 1-10. Intervals are usually around 8-9 depending on the purpose and length of the interval. Power Intervals are a 10. In other words, it's “go as hard as you can for 2 minutes without fading or spiking at the end.” Two minutes doesn’t seem that bad, right? Well, it is worse than "that bad." Power Intervals are, without a doubt, the most difficult intervals that I am ever asked to do on a bike. In fact, they are the only thing I do (with the possible exception of running mile repeats at the track) where every time I do them, I seriously think I’m going to puke at the end of the set. I usually do these on the trainer because I feel like they are too dangerous to do on the road. I'm pretty sure that I would fall off my bike at the end of each interval if I wasn't locked into the trainer.

So at 6:00 in the morning, alone in my garage, and sitting on my trainer . . . working "as hard as I possibly can" can have several meanings. There is no chance I would work as hard as I do without knowing that my computer is recording every turn of the pedals! It’s actually just as effective as if Lindsay were standing there looking over my shoulder the entire time (because, in a way, she is). And because of that (well, let’s be honest, because of my PRIDE), I almost never back off during my cycling intervals. Otherwise, I have to explain to her why I didn't (couldn't?) do them the way she expected me to. For me, that is A LOT more painful than 5x2 minutes of suffering on the bike. Yes, even more painful than falling off my bike and puking.

No wonder my cycling has gotten so much stronger in the past year. If only someone would come up with a power meter for swimming and running! Until then, I’ve got to find some other way to convince the Drama Queen to let me work harder.

Making a Mountain out of a Mole Hill

Finally off the Flagyl, and the metal taste is slowly leaving my mouth! That means, I'm starting to train hard again. Well, sort of. Now my son is sick, so I've missed a few workouts taking care of him. Priorities . . .

We went to Arkansas this past weekend to Mount Nebo, just outside of Dardanelle. My family--actually, the Carter family (Carter is my paternal grandmother’s maiden name)--has been going to Mount Nebo for a LONG time (over 60 years?). It’s a state park on top of what Arkansans call a "mountain." I still have family members that live up there, and my dad, who turned 62 on Sunday--Happy Birthday Daddy John! (that’s his grandpa name, which was also his grandpa’s name)--has been going there since he was a small boy. And so have I. But it wasn’t until this trip that I decided to tackle the climb up the mountain on a road bike. And, therefore, it wasn't until this trip that I actually decided to give in and start calling it a "mountain" instead of a "mole hill." It only rises about 1800 feet above sea level, but anything with that type of a climb is a mountain in my book. It’s only a 2.5 mile climb, but as the sign in the picture above indicates, it’s the most difficult 2.5 miles most of us will ever see on a bicycle!

To give you an idea, the last 4 miles or so of the climb up Loveland Pass (which was the steepest part of the Triple Bypass) took me 26 minutes. But this 2.5 mile climb took me just under 20 minutes, and I averaged more than 100 watts (that’s A LOT) more than I did on the Loveland climb. There are 12 switchbacks (I think. It's hard to count when you're working that hard), which is a lot for that short of a climb. In other words, it was the most difficult 19+ minutes I have ever spent on a bike! I cut my “climbing teeth” in and around Boulder, Colorado, on climbs like the ones here. Noticeably absent are any 18% grades. Regardless, it was only 20 minutes of a two hour ride. My first two hour ride after the illness.

No running or swimming this weekend. I planned on a long run on Sunday morning, but John and Krisha were both sick the last night so we decided to head back to Texas early in case there were any issues on the road. There weren't, and we made it home safe.

So now I have 10 days until the 5430 Long Course in Boulder. I haven't felt this unprepared for a race in quite some time. It's not an "A" race, but the plan was to go into it a little tired. Right now I'm not tired at all, and really feel under prepared. Hopefully, I can pull it all together and not embarass myself in front of everyone. This will be the first race that Lindsay has actually been to, and it will be Ryan's first triathlon, so those two things ought to motivate me to dig deep. I just need to get some quality training in this next week so that I don't feel too rusty.

One final note . . . The “Carter Family” (and the Waters, Brooks, and countless other Families) lost one of its most cherished members this past year. Alan Waters was way too young to leave us when he did. The last time I saw him was two years ago on Mount Nebo. He was very interested in my running and cycling, and I even caught him out there running one morning after we had talked about my racing the night before. I'm not sure he ever knew it, but from a very young age, I looked up to him. He was always my favorite and seemed more like a big brother to me than an older cousin. After talking with everyone this weekend, it appears that he was everyone's favorite. And for good reason. You were an exceptional person, Alan. We miss you. Even more than we ever thought was possible.

Pennies do not taste good

I somehow ate some Giardia bugs recently. Apparently the only way to get giardiasis is to actually ingest . . . well, I'm not typing that here! You'll have to look it up if you want to know. But just to pique your curiosity, I read recently that because of how you get giardiasis, it is also known as "Beaver Fever." So go ahead; laugh it up. I have Beaver Fever! (Now I KNOW you'll look it up!)

I am very appreciative of modern medicine. However, I don't like to put strange chemicals in my body unless absolutely necessary. This is one of those times. I have a half ironman in two weeks, my training has been nonexistent for over a week now (other than two rides that started off ok, but ended sooner than I had hoped), and I lost over five pounds last Sunday. So time to pull out the big guns! The big guns, of course, being a nasty little antibiotic known as Flagyl. Flagyl is a miracle of science that kills everything in its wake (except for me, I hope!). I also hope that a few of my good bacteria survive the "shock and awe" that's going on in my bowels as we speak. No worries, though. I have yogurt in hand. My probiotic troops are waiting in the wings to go back to work once the Flagyl has cleared out all the bad guys! George Bush would be proud (except that I actually have a plan, so maybe not).

I've read that when you get bitten by a rattlesnake, you taste copper. Well, I can imagine what that would be like (except, of course, I don't have the excruciating pain associated with actually being bitten by a venomous snake, but that's just details) because everything I eat tastes like pennies! In fact, I don't even have to eat anything to taste those pennies. The Flagyl is doing that for me. I can taste pennies right now. And based on that taste, I doubt Jesus (or cavemen) would have eaten pennies. Trust me. I'm only supposed to be on the rattlesnake venom for another 4 days, so hopefully that taste will go away, and my training will resume.

Speaking of resuming training; I actually feel quite good today. Perhaps Lindsay will give me the go ahead to get back after it. I never thought I would have to ask her to "let me work harder," but right now she's pulling on the reins a bit. Don't tell her, but I'm going to Arkansas this weekend. And my Orbea is going with me.

Off to Colorado

Tonight, Krisha and I (and John) fly out to Denver. We're staying with our wonderful friends Ryan and Gayle (and Austin and Wyatt). We haven't met Wyatt yet, so we're excited for that. And we haven't seen Austin since last fall, so that's just as exciting.

Friday, I'll be at CTS to get the new road bike fitted, and to do some training with Lindsay. Then on Saturday, the real purpose of the trip. The Triple Bypass! No, not open heart surgery. I can do that in Dallas. What I can't do in Dallas is ride a bike over the Continental Divide. I talked a little about it in my last post. The ride climbs more than 10,000 feet over three climbs and 120 miles. It starts in Evergreen, and ends just outside of Vail. For those of you who have made the drive from Denver to Vail, this ride is not as easy as taking I-70. I-70 was built so that you don't have to drive the route we'll be riding. I can't wait!

If you're keeping up with Le Tour right now, check out this article by Chris Carmichael, which compares the Tour to the Triple Bypass.

See you next week . . .

The Ironman . . . A Game of Inches

Ok, so the answer was no. I did not have a sub-10 hour Ironman in me. Yet. Regardless, it was a great trip! We had lots of fun in Seattle and Coeur d'Alene. I even bought a 17 pound Halibut at the Pike Place Fish Market in Seattle. That's the place where they throw the fish. We watched them throw all kinds of salmon, trout, etc., and they never dropped any of them . . . until my halibut. It actually knocked the guy down it hit him so hard, which was quite hilarious! (Why is it that we laugh at people when they fall???). Alas, we'll be eating a lot of halibut for a while! We've had one steak, and it was awesome, so we're looking forward to the rest. We'll see how excited we are about fresh halibut about 12 pounds from now!

On to the race report: I took a while to get this post up because I wanted to include a cool picture from the race when I posted this. But it's taking too long to get the pictures so you'll have to stay tuned for actual pictures of me and the course. This bear is the best pic I have so far. And he is a pretty good description of how ridiculous an Ironman can feel at times (before you get on to me for being sexist, I said "he" because I'm sure that a girl bear would not be so silly as to try something like that!). Although, I'm not sure what that bear is riding for (halibut perhaps??), he doesn't sound like he's giving up. And, fortunately, neither did I.

THE SWIM - The water was 59 degrees! The only colder race I've done was in 54 degree water, but that was a sprint, so I only spent about 15 minutes in the water at that one. This was over an hour. Regardless, the rest of the competitors made it very easy to forget about how cold the water was. That's because all 2300 of them were trying their hardest to drown me! This was by far the roughest swim I have ever been in. The water itself was relatively calm. The people were not! And with two loops, it never really opened up like the course at Arizona did. The course went out, made two left turns, and then straight back to shore to start the second lap. Because each segment was fairly short, and everyone wanted to hug the turn buoys (and drown me!), it was REALLY crowded for about 2 of the 2.4 miles. To top it off, I had no idea what my time was because my watch had been stopped at some point. I spent most of the day wondering what my actual swim time was, and being thankful that no one was successful in their repeated attempts to kick me in the face and drown me.

My Goal - 1:05
Lindsay's Guess - 1:10 ("but if the water's cold, it could slow you down a minute or two.")
Actual Time - 1:11:52

One other thing before we move on to the bike . . . the grass in the transition area is VERY slippery when your feet are numb and wet. And, guys, the volunteers REALLY don't want you running into the women's changing tent after the swim! Trust me, you will fall down if you try!

THE BIKE - After picking myself up off the ground, and finding the right changing tent, I managed to get in and out of T1 pretty quickly. Then it was on to the bike course. The first 10 miles or so is along the lake and is pretty fast. Then it turns North and slowly climbs out of town before getting to 20 miles or so of some fairly difficult rolling hills. I was out of the saddle a few times just to get up a couple of them. After the hills, the course goes back down for 10-15 miles to the end of the first loop. This section is a long gradual downhill, which I thought was going to be a great place to get my legs back under me for the second loop and to help prepare for the run in the last 15 miles of the route. However, the wind was blowing straight up the hill, which meant instead of cruising at 25+ mph, I was grinding it out at 18-20. This was actually the most difficult section of the entire course because of the wind, and partly because I was planning on it being the easiest section of the course. But you have to adjust to the conditions, and the best place to make up time on your competitors is when climbing and into a headwind ("everyone can go fast downhill and with the wind at their back!" Thanks, Lindsay). So I grinded it out at around 20 mph into the wind for about 40 minutes to finish the first loop. I ended up averaging 21 mph for the first loop, which was my goal for the entire race. I fell off pace on the second loop (and came out of the saddle on almost every climb -- somehow those "rolling hills" turned into mountains on the second loop!). I finished the bike in 5:36, "only" 16 minutes off my goal time.

My Goal - 5:20 (i.e., 21 mph)
Lindsay's Guess - "around 20 mph" (i.e., 5:36)
Actual Time - 5:36:21 (I think I should start trusting Lindsay more. Seriously, that's scary! Almost 7 hours into the day and she's off by 21 seconds?!)

THE RUN(s) - Yes, "Runs", but we'll get to that later. Started off strong. Ran the first mile in 7:30, then the usual leg cramping came. That happens when you have been riding that hard for that long and then you start running. It usually takes my quads a half mile or so to figure out how to run again. Sure enough, by the second mile marker, I was 15:10 into the run, and the cramping was gone . . . at least in my legs. I averaged 7:44 for the first 10k. Then I was forced to make my first of two stops in the port-a-pots. I spent 10-15 minutes total in port-a-pots over the next 5 miles. Hence, calling this section "THE RUN(s)." Yes, that is disgusting. And yes, I am childish. But that's the nicest way I can think of to describe what happened during those 15 minutes. After that, it's a little difficult to run strong again (excuse the pun, and my middle-schooler mentality). So I did some walking through the aid stations, and at the mile markers, and whenever the cramping returned, and up the steeper hills, until the last 5k.

THE LAST 5K - Like I've said before, I look for opportunities to test myself late in a race. In triathlons, they always write your age on the back of your calf so that you can tell who is in your age group while you're out there (which reminds me, at the CapTex in Austin, they also put the letter of your wave on your calf since you don't all start at the same time. I passed a girl on the run with "34 DD" written on the back of her leg. Again, I'm an immature middle-schooler, but I found that hilarious. And a little bit disturbing.). At Ironman events, they also print your name on your bib#. So you start to figure out late in the day who has been racing along side you all day long, and who you need to beat in order to place higher in your age group. Well, with less than 5k to go I start seeing lots of guys in my age group. One was "Matt from Boise" who was 31, and whom I had been going back and forth with since the early miles of the bike course. There were several others (one of which dropped us both in the last mile), but I felt like Matt would challenge me since we had seen each other all day. Sure enough, when I went by him, he stayed with me. We picked off several others the last two miles, but never caught the one guy that blew by us both. We were too far back for it to matter for a Kona spot. But holding off Matt from Boise definitely helped my confidence to know that I can "race" that late in an Ironman event. Of the 6 guys in my age group that were battling it out in the last 5k, I finished second. By 3 seconds.

It's unbelievable to me that you can start the day at edge of the water, swim for over an hour, bike for five and a half, go through the two transition areas, stop for unscheduled bathroom breaks, run for almost 4 hours, and finish 3 seconds ahead of the next person in your age group. It's amazing that a 10+ hour race can come down to just 3 seconds. Mere inches.

My Goal - 3:30 (i.e., 8 minute miles)

Lindsay's Guess - 3:20-3:30

Actual Time - 3:59:37 (I guess Lindsay didn't factor in my stubborn stomach.)

So I was off by 56 minutes for my "dream time." However, I was running strong before the stomach issues. I spent close to 15 minutes sitting in the port-a-pots. That slowed me down for the second half as well, which means I was definitely capable of running a 3:20-3:30 marathon. And really, who's going to question Lindsay's Guess when she was so close on the swim and bike? 10:15:23 took the last Kona slot in my age group. So without stomach issues, I'm around 15 minutes away from Kona. Mere inches.

Where can I find those inches? My first transition was good, my second should have been at least 2 minutes faster. I have no doubts that I can gain 15-20 minutes on the bike course next year. I know the course, and I'll be stronger. I didn't start to really ride to my potential in training this year until April. For next year, I'm starting this weekend. I have 51 weeks to find those inches.

People often ask me "what's next" after I finish an Ironman, as if it was a one time thing, and now it's time to move on. While it's easy to dwell on bad races for too long, it's just as easy to pridefully rest for too long after having a good race. Days can turn into weeks, weeks into months, and before you know it, you've lost fitness and almost have to start over. Even a BAD day at the Ironman is a GREAT day of training. About an hour after I finished the Ironman, Lindsay (genius that she is) sent me the following text message:

"Good work today Barry. Get some rest and hydrate. Let's catch up tomorrow to recap the race and begin preparing for the next!"

Exactly what I needed to hear. So, "what's next" for me is two more half ironmans and a marathon this year. Gotta find those inches!

The work is done . . .

Or "the hay is in the barn" as they say (who are "they" anyway? And why do they think they know everything?). Regardless, it's Ironman Week, and I'm ready to race!

I haven't updated the blog in a while. I intended to do lots of good posts regarding my last long run before the race (it was HOT!), and the 1:24 swim across Lake Ray Hubbard (it was ROUGH! Seriously, up to 3' swells! Thanks to Dee, Mason, and Tim for the kayak support. I think they worked as hard as we did in that choppy water!). But, alas, work got in the way of my fun time (I've got to come up with another excuse), and I didn't get it done.

This week has been especially tough mentally. I'm ready to race and I'm anxious to just get out of town and start preparing for Sunday. I'll feel much better once the canon goes off, but until then, I'm a little on edge.

Brian and Dee pick us up at 4:30 tomorrow morning to head to the airport. We fly out to Seattle, and then make the drive to Coeur d'Alene from there (I promised Dee we could stop at Starbuck's on the way out of town. Anyone know if they have those in Seattle?). I was invited to a breakfast with trisports.com on Friday morning, so Krisha and I will be going to that before the morning swim. Short bike ride after the swim, then pick up Ryno at the airport on Friday night. Saturday is another swim, and a short run. Then rest.

Thank you to everyone that has helped me get to this point this year. My wonderful, beautiful wife Krisha for always being so supportive of my training (even when "work gets in the way" of the rest of our lives together). Brian for keeping me company on all those long rides, and for the occasional slap to keep me from taking this stuff too seriously (I think you're going to have to start hitting harder, Brian. It's not sinking in!). Dee for letting Brian keep me company on all those long rides (almost done, Dee!). Lindsay at CTS for being the best coach ever! (You ROCK, Lindsay, even though sometimes I think you're trying to kill me!). Jason and Rockwall Cycling for ordering things for me even when they don't really carry them in the shop, and especially for providing me with a bike to ride while mine was being shipped to the race (I promise I'll pay you as soon as I get back to town!). All the guys at the Tri-ProSoap team for all their encouragement. Ryan for a great weekend of training in Boulder. Ross, Swanson, McGaffen, and all the rest of the guys that push (i.e., "punish") me on the Rockwall Cycling group rides (even though sometimes I KNOW you guys are all trying to kill me!). And everyone else who supports me in any way. Thanks. I could not do this without all of you!

I don't like to talk up goals too much in public before a race like this, so I'm not going to list them here. Let's just leave it at, "I hope to race that other Ironman event in October this year." We'll know on Sunday night (possibly not until Monday morning). If you want to keep track of my progress, there will be a link on http://www.ironmanlive.com/ on Sunday morning where you can track athletes. Be sure to keep up with Brian Young and Tim Glasson (first Ironman for TIM!!!) as well.

Am I ready? Yes. Can I go under 10 hours? Yes. Will I go under 10 hours? Stay tuned . . .

These are the days I live for!

Wow, it was hot this weekend! My good friends at Rockwall Cycling fixed my wheel enough for me to ride on it until a new one came in. Then Joey (GREAT mechanic!) built me up a new rim around my Powertap hub so that I could ride on it this weekend. What a difference a trued wheel can make! That wheel hasn't run right since I did a header over a dog last year. It finally gave out in Colorado last weekend. Thanks to Rockwall Cycling for hooking me up!!!

So this weekend was my last long ride before Coeur d'Alene. My usual training partner, Brian, was out of town so I went solo for 112 miles and a short, 3 mile transition run. I went with the group ride that leaves from Rockwall Cycling every Saturday at 7:00 for the first couple of hours. Then I did my intervals. That took me to about 4 hours in, which is where I really started feeling the heat. It was pretty miserable for a while. I ran out of water about 40 minutes from home. I was really confused at that point because I always plan my routes so that I don't run out. Anyway, after a quick phone call, my lovely wife was more than willing to bring me some bottles of cold water. That seriously saved my day! However, when I started refilling my bottles, I realized that I had been riding along with a full bottle of water the whole time! Like I said, it was hot, and I was delirious!

After Krisha left me again, I started feeling much better. I hammered away for the last hour of the ride. I can honestly say that was the strongest sixth hour of a ride that I have ever had! It was also one of the most encouraging training rides I have ever done. Perfect timing since it was my last long ride before this year's big event!

Lindsay had me do a short, 20 minute run after the ride. I felt exceptionally good considering the heat (not to mention the fact that I had just ridden 112 miles!), and averaged right at 7:00 pace. I finished feeling strong and could have gone a lot longer at that pace. That was very encouraging going into an Ironman. What an awesome day of training!

I want to end this post by saying how AWESOME my wife, Krisha, is. I would hope that most spouses would have brought their significant other some cold water if they were in need. But I doubt very many of them would do it with the same loving attitude that Krisha does day in and day out. She is the most supportive spouse anyone could have! I mean, think about it . . . . I'm off riding my bike for 6+ hours while she's taking care of our 10-month old. She's at a soccer game with one of her best friends, Dee, when I call asking her to drop everything because I didn't plan properly. Less than 30 minutes later, and without as much as a sigh, she shows up smiling, with lots of cold bottles of water. We could all learn a lot from Krisha. There is NO WAY I could do what I do without her support. Thanks, Baby!! I did sign her up recently for a coach at CTS (since they are the best coaches on the planet!), so I'm sure that I'll be able to pay her back before long! I just hope I can be as selflessly supportive when I get that call from her!

HOLY CRAP! A BEAR!!!!

Just got back from beautiful Colorado. What an AWESOME weekend of training! Without a doubt, the highlight of the trip was about 10 minutes up Left Hand Canyon when I heard Ryan yell "HOLY CRAP! A BEAR!!!" It was without a doubt the coolest thing I have ever seen on a ride. We were just climbing along and all of sudden he (or she, I didn't stop to check!) went running across the road about 20 yards in front of us. We both slammed on our brakes and watched as an American Black Bear walked along the river to our right, pausing to check us out about every 5 steps. What an awesome creature! It really is a shame that we as a human race don't care more about preserving this wonderful planet that God has provided for us . . . .

Anyway, I went to Colorado this weekend for a camp with CTS and to do some training with my very good friend Ryan. After a day with my coach, Lindsay, at CTS doing Lactate Threshold, VO2 Max, a bike fit, swim analysis, and a running analysis, I was pretty worn out. By the way, getting your finger pricked every three minutes, working as hard as you can, on a bike that goes nowhere, with a tube in your mouth, a clamp on your nose, and people yelling at you is not most fun workout I've ever done! Regardless, the camp was great. They really know how to do it right at CTS! Thanks, Lindsay!

Ryan is doing his first half-ironman (actually, it's his first triathlon -- that's how he rolls -- Go big or go home!) this August at the 5430 Long Course in Boulder (you could have picked an easier race, Ryno!). We ran on Saturday in Boulder and found an awesome route that we will definitely be running again as soon as I can get back up there! We were only running for an hour and twenty minutes, so we actually had to turn around long before we were ready. We were just gradually climbing on a nice trail with a mountain to our right and a river to our left. It was beautiful, and honestly one of the most fun runs I have ever done.

Sunday, we rode the 5430 bike course just to check it out. It seemed like it could be fast, but the first several miles were gradually uphill, almost a false flat, which could make you feel slow coming out of T1. We'll have to be patient on race day. After that, we climbed up Left Hand Canyon to Ward, had a delicious cookie, rode back down the mountain, and then up Stage Hill. Stage Hill was much shorter and felt like a small rolling hill after having climbed the hour twenty minutes that it took us to get up Left Hand Canyon. I was having some mechanical trouble so we headed back to the Res and called it a day. It was a great day, and I was not happy to be heading back to the airport to return to Dallas! Thanks for the EPIC weekend, Ryno!!

Note to self, next time you're doing that much climbing, bring something besides a P3C with an 11-23 cassette!