The Five Dollar Shake

Vince:  "Did you just order a five dollar shake?"
Mia:  "Ummhh."
Vince:  "It's a shake.  That's milk and ice cream."
Mia:  "Last I heard."
Vince:  "That's five dollars?  You don't put bourbon in it or nothin'?"
Mia:  "No."
Vince:  "Just checking."

I just signed up for my first race of 2010.  The Dallas Rock-n-Roll Half Marathon on March 14.  The entry fee was $100.  Upon seeing the price, I immediately thought of the above scene from Pulp Fiction (the second best movie ever made), which takes place just after Mrs. Mia Wallace orders the "Five Dollar Shake" at Jack Rabbit Slim's.  Vincent Vega cannot believe that anyone would pay $5 for a milkshake.  And I cannot believe that anyone would pay $100 for an event that lasts less than 90 minutes.  But I did.  And I'm sure I will again.  And it will cost me approximately $1.15 a minute.  Hopefully my response after running in what I am now calling the "Hundred Dollar Half" will be similar to Vince's after he tried the "Five Dollar Shake."  (Look it up.  I'm not posting it because I was censored the last time I went above a G rating!).

The plan for the first part of this year was to spend time in the water.  I owe AC (i.e., New Coach--AC are his initials)  a 12 week swimming block, and we'll get to that.  But first things first, I need a solid qualifying time from a half marathon in order to get into a good starting coral for the Chicago Marathon this Fall.  I planned on just taking it fairly easy and going under 1:35 to make sure I'm at least in Coral B.  I have no worries that I can do that without missing a beat in my training.  To get into Coral A, however, I need to go under 1:25:59, which will require significantly more effort without moving me up that much further to the starting line in Chicago.  When I explained this to AC, he responded with:

"If you're going to race, then let's RACE!"

That sounds fun!  And a little scary, since I haven't done any really hard work for him yet.  And I've been complaining about how easy he's making me run and ride.  I've been warned that my time is coming.  And I'm guessing my days of complaining about easy workouts are quickly coming to an end.  Oh boy?!

In the meantime, today marks the halfway point for the 30 Runs in 30 Days challenge.  So far it has been easier than I thought it would be.  Leading into this, the most days in a row that I had ever run was probably five, and that would have been in college.  In the past few years I haven't even run a lot of back-to-back days, much less 30 of them in a row!  This had me a little apprehensive about how my body would hold up.  But once the first week was out of the way, I felt a lot more at ease with these runs.  Rather than getting more difficult as the month goes on, I'm finding that the runs are actually getting easier.  I feel like just 15 days of consistency has already made me more resilient.  Probably because I wasn't allowed to run hard, thus injuring myself. 

Thanks, AC.  I'll try to save my complaining for the whip instead of the leash.

Coming Up For Air

Yes, I'm still alive. I've been crazy busy at work lately (two days off out of the last 30, and stayed at the office past 10:00 most nights). But that case has now settled, so . . . I'm coming up for air! With a demanding career, a two year old boy, a wife I love, and my athletic goals, this blog (unfortunately) has to take a back seat to everything else when I get swamped. But I'm back! And I promise I'll catch up on all the fun things I've been meaning to write about. As soon as I get back from Clearwater!

That's right, next weekend is the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Clearwater, Florida. This will be my first trip to a World Championship. I'm very excited and honored to be a part of it. And if I'm not humbled, I'm sure I will be next weekend. I wonder how many of my competitors have spent the last month neck deep in a lawsuit?

I ran a solid race at the U.S. Open a few weeks back. It was a typical short course triathlon for me. Awful swim, first place on the bike, and a 38:22 10K for third place in my age-group. I missed the win by about a minute. But the two guys that beat me were about 5 minutes ahead of me out of the water. Ridiculous. If I could just keep up, I would win by several minutes.

As soon as I get back from Clearwater, swimming will be a VERY high priority in my life. Over the next few months you may notice a strong smell of chlorine whenever I'm around. Please excuse it. If you don't smell it, you have my permission to send me back to the pool. I've got lots of work to do!

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 . . . .

Trying to Put it All Together

This has been a tough year for me for racing so far. I overdid it on the bike and cramped on the run at a Half Ironman in April. I had the worst swim of my life at the Cap Tex Olympic distance race in Austin in May. My stomach didn’t cooperate during Ironman Coeur d’Alene in June, which cost me lots of time on the run. I flatted out during the 5430 and had my first DNF in Boulder in August. And I had another bad swim two weeks ago at the Arkansas State Championships that cost me an age group win and a fourth place overall. Each of those races had good elements. My swim was good in April and at the Ironman. My bike was good at the Ironman and the Cap Tex (actually, my biking has been pretty solid all year). And since the mishaps at the Ironman, I’ve been pretty happy with my running, especially my effort. I just haven’t quite been able to put all three together yet this year. Which brings me to last Sunday . . .

Sunday was the Rockwall Sprint Triathlon, which I do every year, but only because it’s local. And by “local,” I mean, it’s less than 5 minutes from my house. Even though I swore off all races produced by Ironhead (i.e., Jack Weiss) long ago, I still do this one so that I can support the local community. Never again until it is run by someone with some common sense.

The Swim – This is a pool swim so you are seeded according to swim time. I was number 27. I was glad that Cooper (one of the Tri-Prosoap members) was one person in front of me instead of one person behind me so that I wouldn't slow him down. Oddly enough, this was the first time I've ever done a pool swim and not been held up by the person in front of me. Thanks, Coop! 4:44 for a 300. Not my best swim, but not my worst either. 14 seconds slower than I had anticipated.

My transitions were pretty much right where I expected. I generally figure about a minute for T1 and 30 seconds for T2 depending on how long the run to my bike is. I ended up with 58 seconds and 29 seconds, respectively. For those of you that don't practice transitions, you should start! The shorter the race, the more important they become. Just think of the time you make up on the run because of transitions alone. 30 seconds spread over the two transitions is 10 seconds a mile on the run. Transitions are your enemy! Every second you spend in there is wasted time. Practice them often. Every time I get on or off my TT bike, I am flying on or off. If you do a brick workout, use that as an opportunity to practice transitions.

The Bike - I knew that several of the Prosoap team were up ahead of me so it really motivated me to work hard to try and catch them. However, as usual for a race this short, I felt like crap the first 10 minutes or so. Right out of the gate two guys went by me in a two-man paceline of sorts. Seriously, who cheats in a 14 mile time trial? The best part is that they kept looking back to make sure there weren't any officials around. Pathetic. One of those guys is someone I have looked up to for a long time because he was so fast. I think he’s even competed in Kona before. I lost a lot of respect for him on Sunday. And for what? A fast sprint race? Nice job.

I eventually caught up to Coop (who was also a witness to the drafting), who then passed me back about 5 minutes later. He was looking REALLY strong when he went by me so I figured he was gone. But I reeled him back in before too long. I know he's a strong runner, so I dug down to try and put a little distance between us in case I needed it to hold him off on the run. Still, I figured we would be fighting it out for the rest of the race. Toward the end I got a little more energy when I realized that I could see our fearless leader, Billy, in the distance. I didn't catch him until just before the last turn before T2. It wasn't until later that I realized he had beaten me in the swim by a minute! Come on, Billy! That's ridiculous! You beat me by a minute in a 300 yard swim?!?! I'm not even going to look to see how bad Chase beat me. When are you guys going to hold a Tri-Prosoap swim clinic to help us slow pokes out? My bike time was 35:59, or 23.3 mph. A little slower than I would have liked, but considering how awful I felt at the beginning, not too bad.


The Run - Felt strong right out of the gate. First mission, track down those cheaters! I caught them less than an mile into it. I generally like to speed up a bit when I pass someone, but in a race that short, if you can speed up, you aren't running hard enough. So I just flew by both of them and kind of chuckled to myself that they aren't quite as tough to drop when they can't help each other by drafting. About that time, the first person went by me going the other direction. Then another, and one more, and then Chase. A quick high five, and then the turn around. I went from starting in 27th position on 10 second intervals to being the 4th person running to the finish. But could I catch Chase?


I felt as good as I ever feel at this point in a race. Sprints are so different than any other distance. There's really no strategy other than to go as hard as you possibly can until you hit the finish line. I had run 6:02 pace the weekend before at DeGray, which is mostly uphill for the first half of the run. So I knew I could go under 6 minute miles if things went well. Unfortunately, I missed the turn to the finish with about 200 yards to go. I pretty much figured it out immediately, so I stopped and looked around to try and figure out where to go to get back on track. Then a guy running the other direction told me that everyone was going "back that way" and pointed toward Chase. So I trotted it in the rest of the way, frustrated, and not running very hard. I jumped the caution tape and crossed the finish line about the same time as Chase.

I don't really know how fast I would have finished, but my pace was just under 5:50 up to the point where I stopped running to figure out where I was. Based on that, I should have finished the run just under 17 minutes flat, which would have put me finishing around 59:10. 10 seconds slower than I had hoped for (remember those 14 seconds on the swim?). And enough for second overall and first in my age group. But who knows what it really would have been.


Jack hunted me (and Chase) down to yell at us for “cutting the course” even though we ran significantly further than we were supposed to since his course was so poorly marked, and he had no volunteers out there to direct traffic. He tried to disqualify us, but the head ref decided to just give us a 2 minute penalty since we in no way cheated. I’m not sure why Jack Weiss is so hateful. I won’t go into too much detail in this forum about what happened other than to say that I had little respect for the man before this race, and his actions at the finish were just inexcusable. I have gotten off course three times in my life. All three were at Jack Weiss races. I have never complained about it to anyone other than my wife and family. But he comes to me yelling at me and calling me “STUPID, GD STUPID” because I “can’t follow his clearly marked signs.” Me and about 30 others according to the head ref, Jack. I’m done with his races. It’s unfortunate because the Rockwall Kiwanis is a great group and this race is really for them, not Jack. But I am now joining the throngs of others that refuse to support anything that he is involved with.

Ending this post on a positive . . . It was a lot of fun hanging out with all the Tri-Prosoap guys. I don’t get to race with them very often since I do more long course stuff and therefore don’t race as often as a lot of them do. I hope to get to race with them more. It was a lot of fun getting cheered on by so many other competitors. It seemed like there was always someone yelling encouragement at me. It’s nice to have a team in what is usually a very lonely sport. Thanks, guys. I’m really proud to wear the Tri-Prosoap jersey; to represent you guys and the great companies that sponsor us. I just wish that jersey or those sponsors could make me swim like Chase and Billy!

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!