Ironman Boise 2014 Race Report, and a Search for Sushi Amongst the Strip Clubs

Let me just preface by saying that we visited neither a sushi restaurant or a strip club. But more on that later.

I didn't really know what to expect coming to Boise... Scratch that, I kinda did. My flight over which was filled with triathletes sitting next to large bearded men in suspenders and flannel pretty much confirmed my suspicions. However, what I DIDN'T know what to expect was with regard to the conditions come race day. Two years ago it was really cold. Last year it was really hot. Every year it is really windy. I was hoping for a Goldilocks effect of "just right".

This was the first time flying with my Ruster Sports Armored Hen House, and I have to say that I was tremendously nervous about flying with my trusty steed packed up and at the mercy of the TSA and baggage brutes. But after disassembling the bike and seeing how secure it seemed in the case, it was clear that unless the TSA or baggage brutes did anything malicious (gulp) it would be okay. Sure enough when I arrived in Boise, there it was waiting for me in one piece. Well, at least not in any more pieces than I had disassembled it into. I was very impressed with how it performed, and will write up a product feature on it soon.

The morning before the race I loaded my bike up and went down to the expo to check in and I thought I would have the on-site bike mechanic evaluate my bike reassembly skills. You see, I'm pretty confident I did okay, and likely would have foregone the professional bike check if it were a flat course. But considering that right out of T1 we would be going into a blazing fast descent, I thought it to be better safe than sorry, lest this happen to me.



All systems were go, and I dropped off my bike at Lucky Peak in T1 for a slumber party with 1400 of its friends. Then my wife and I were off to enjoy our pre-race dinner ritual, sushi! Now, sushi in Boise. Our first mistake was to try to make that combination work. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that there are plenty of good sushi places in Boise. But at 6 pm on a Friday night without knowing the area, this is a decision you do not want to rush. So we honed our Yelping skills and drove by a number of supposedly "decent" places only to find they were all in less than stellar areas. The last one we went to was across the street from two strip clubs, and adjacent to a used car lot called "Fairly Reliable Bob's" (no joke). We decided to skip sushi this time around. We ate elsewhere and went back to the hotel to sleep.

This was the first time I was able to wake up with the sun shining on race morning. All other races tend to start around first hint of corona over the horizon, but this race starts at high noon. And being a wave start, I wouldn't go off until high noon thirty. Many people praise the late start as a way to get a full night sleep, sleep in, and eat a full breakfast. I couldn't disagree more. First off, I like to get my suffering going as early as possible. It adds to the experience. Second, I don't find it wise to go into a race with a full belly of complete breakfast. I opted to go with my usual, and have a shake for breakfast and some quinoa and oatmeal a couple hours before the start. 

My goal for this race? I wanted to go under 5 hours, specifically do about a 2:30 bike split and maintain a run pace of about 7:15-7:20. This would have proven for me some significant fitness gains since my last half. Since this was a hillier bike course than Palm Springs, even if I had the same bike split I would have considered that an improvement. Additionally, I wanted to see how I fared with a little altitude (Boise being at about 3,000 ft). The course would likely be a good practice for Boulder.

We were bussed up to Lucky Peak Reservoir for the swim start. 

It was a beautiful view as the pictures will demonstrate below.

This is where we bike out of T1, scream down the hill and into the plains of South Boise

Lucky Peak Reservoir, a bit calm, but the winds picked up just in time for our wave

Swim: 38:41, 58/194 in AG, 399/1435 Overall - Man, I need a swim coach!

Our wave, the 35-39 male age group, was the 8th wave to go off, so there would be plenty of traffic on the course by the time we got out there. Unfortunately, we had no time for a warm up, so immediately when we got in the water I started bobbing my head in and out to get my face used to the water and through the panic of the cold. Fortunately it wasn't as cold as it was in previous years, only about 60 degrees (I'd heard stories of it being in the low 50's).

The gun went off and we all started swimming, and I started feeling relatively comfortable pretty quickly. I began to feel a good rhythm, and fell into a pack of swimmers I felt was going a comfortable speed. Tempo still felt high, so I thought I was pushing the effort pretty well. I also took this opportunity to practice my drafting skills. I would find a swimmer that would pass me and jump in behind him and lighten my effort. It seemed to work pretty well over the course of the swim.

Rounding the first turn buoy, it became harder to swim with forward progress. It felt like the current was against us, which was probably correct, since the wind was pushing at our faces. I began to swallow a lot of water because I was breathing out of my right side, which was where the wind was coming from. At about the third turn buoy, I began to get pretty bad cramps in my calves. This had never happened to me in the water before and was quite unnerving, since I could no longer straighten or bend my foot. It just sat there like a painful brick in the water. I did my best to try to work it out and swim on, but it continued to persist. Right as we hit the dock, with about 20 meters to go, it seized up really bad and I sat there floating right at the end of the swim, unable to move, while trying to stretch out my calf. I dog paddled the rest of the way to the swim exit, and stood up, fully expecting to fall down again in a heap of uselessness. To my surprise, all systems were working properly, albeit a bit sore. Despite the hiccups, I was expecting to see a swim time of 38 minutes, and that is exactly what I got. Still a little disappointed that I haven't had any improvement since my last half in December (hence the comment above - I really need a swim coach!).

Transition 1: 3:16

There was a bit of a hill running from the swim exit to transition, and naturally my heart rate reflected the shock of moving from upper body to lower body activity. I bypassed the wetsuit strippers, as I couldn't justify them saving me any time, and continued on to my bike. I'm sure I could have gone faster, but I still haven't mastered the art of the "clean transition". This requires that all swim items be put into the bike bag, and I am still pretty slow at that task. But, I grabbed my bike and headed out.

Bike: 2:32:17, 22.06 mph avg., 20/194 in AG, 114/1435 Overall

On to the bike, and I was all set to enjoy a fast descent. However, because I am a slow swimmer, I was met with a ton of congestion on the bike immediately, which consequently meant that people were riding side by side (which would be considered a blocking penalty, but nobody seemed to care too much). Thus, no fast descent for me. 

There were only a couple climbs on this course, and the first began about 3 miles in. The course was still congested here, but the slow and safe pace provided a good opportunity to pass a lot of people. My heart rate during this climb was at the high 150's, which is too high for a half Ironman, but I figured I would take it back once I got to the flats. I did that and averaged a heart rate of 151 over the course of the ride. 

The course was a point to point, which  basically resembled a giant fork (if that fork had spent significant amounts of time in the garbage disposal), The majority of the ride, from T1 out to the first turnaround, and the turnout toward T2, was westbound, which consequently was into the wind (coming out of the NW at about 15 mph). The conditions, combined with a relatively false flat course, provided a prime opportunity to overdo it on the bike, which I (and apparently Apolo Ohno), delivered on.

If I failed to mention it already, Apolo Anton Ohno, Olympic speed skater, was doing his first triathlon in Boise. I was curious to know how well his fitness would transfer over into triathlon, and if I would catch him on the bike or run (his wave started about 15 minutes before mine). Around mile 20 of the bike, I had my answer. He was flying, and still about 5 miles ahead of me. He had to be matching me or even going slightly faster. Dude was flying, even with his camera crew in toe.

One of the things I found challenging on this race was staying well hydrated enough. I used the same setup I had in Mexico, which included a cage on my aero bars, and one in my seat tube. I would use my nutrition in one and water in the other. I was fully expecting that they would hand out nice water bottles like they did in Mexico. In fact, I started with my "Ironman Los Cabos" water bottle, which I planned to discard at the first aid station and replace with a nice, new "Ironman Boise" water bottle. Unfortunately, they chose to go with the cheap plastic Arrowhead bottles, which did not fit in either cage. Reluctantly, at the first aid station, I traded in my nice Cabo souvenir for a $1.00 generic Arrowhead light plastic bottle. The aid stations were spread out farther than Cabo as well, which meant I had to make the water go farther. Throughout the whole bike I felt like I wasn't hydrating well enough. This was certainly a learning experience for Boulder, which will likely have the same spread of aid stations. This, along with the cramping calves, would haunt me on the run.

Fun little descent into T2, and I was off on the run.

Garmin File

Transition 2: 2:36

Nothing really to report here. Just have to give props to the volunteers. In this case they saw me dismount my bike, shouted out my number, and ran too my gear and pointed it out to me. It was amazingly coordinated, and surprising that it is something they do only once a year (and for free). I heard that there was 1,200 volunteers for the 1,400 athletes, almost a 1:1 ratio. 

Also had a quick pee break, since I didn't pee at all on the bike. I could tell now that I was clearly dehydrated, and my stomach was cramping pretty badly (not due to nutrition this time, but due to lack of hydration I believe). I would only be getting water from the aid stations, and taking eating gels and salt individually during the run. This was also a test run for Boulder. In Cabo I had a fuel belt with all of these items mixed together for easy consumption. Only problem was I had to lug around a Batman-esque utility belt for 26 miles. I wanted to see if I could get away without the belt this time around.

Run: 1:40:19, 7:39/mile, 20th in AG, 102 Overall

Immediately a few things began occurring to me as I went out on my run. First, my legs were already jello and my calves were screaming with every footstrike (leftover trauma from the cramping on the swim). Second, my stomach was not liking me. It didn't seem to be the nutrition this time, but likely the dehydration combined with the new position of being straight up vs. hunched over. With these things already bothering me, I had an increased lack of focus due to the fact that I had to fiddle with a sandwich bag of 6 gels and salt pills. I tried desperately to stuff these in my pockets, while running, while tired, and I was having a really hard time of it. This experience taught me that at the very beginning of the run, you want to do nothing else except for focus on getting your legs under you. Every other little thing you do just magnifies the suffering. 

Beginning my run, way in the background

It took me a long time to find my rhythm. Based on my training, I had hoped to get onto the run and tick off 7:15-7:20 miles. But I was in the high 7:30's, and I had to struggle to maintain that. By the second mile, I decided to walk the aid station, get some fluids in, and collect myself. I did so and I started feeling a little better, but not much. I felt good enough to maintain my high 7 minute pace. I had a chance to pass a number of other runners, and the common theme was that nobody looked exceedingly strong. Actually, everyone looked pretty beat up, which told me that I was not alone. The bike must have kicked a lot of butts. 

By around mile 5 I felt that my cramps had finally left me for the most part. My jello and crampy legs were still with me, but it was a bit of a morale boost for me. I was able to maintain the pace and pick off some more runners. As I approached lap 2, I caught up to some of the pro women who were about to finish, but the announcers at the finish line were all about "Ohno". They were letting the crowd know that he had just passed through the 8 mile split, and he was due in within the hour. My math told me that I was catching up to him. Not that it really mattered either way, but it's always nice to give a former Olympian a pat on the back for conquering a new challenge. 

I was continuing to maintain my pace through the second lap, but as my heart rate began to accelerate, and fatigue began to overtake me, I got that ever demoralizing late-race apathy. I was so tired, and couldn't take any more calories in, couldn't drink any more water, and so I began getting the attitude of "who cares?" At that point it didn't matter to me how I finished, or if I walked the rest of the way. I just wanted to be done. There is a moment when this happens in all endurance races, and at that time it is best to trick your mind by bargaining. I would tell myself that I would run to the next aid station and then walk, and once I got there I would keep going and set a new target and repeat the process. This is related to something that works in recovery, "a day at a time". We don't think about what the future brings because it brings us demoralization. Instead we think about just this moment right now. And at that moment right then I was going to run.

As I ran under the bridge the last time, I thought I would just have to make a turn up the hill and run to the finish. However, in my delirium I became confused. Once up the hill I was following a guy who looked very confident to be going the right way, but it was in the opposite direction of where I thought the finish was. Nobody in the crowd seemed to be telling us we were going the wrong way, but I still had to slow down and yell the question to nobody in particular, "am I going the right way?" We were running in the very same place we started the half marathon, and the prospect of doing another lap wasn't an option. Turns out I was thinking that T2 was the finish line, but was actually on the other side of the river from the finish. We were simply crossing the river toward the finish, but it felt like forever. 

Finally I turned down the finishing chute and looked up at the time to see 5:23 as I crossed the line. By my math (since I had started 27 minutes after the gun), I was under 5 hours by a few minutes. A lot of pain, but I had persevered and achieved my goal. Official time was 4:57:09, which gave me 20th place in my age group (out of 194), and 102 overall (out of 1,435). I didn't catch up to Apolo, and he did very well for a first triathlon, finishing in 4:59. With a few months until Kona, I think he will do very well there (and I hope to see him there!).

Garmin File

Post Race:

The grassy area outside of the finish line looked like a war zone medical tent, where the wounded soldiers were clad in Lycra rather than camouflage. A lot of people, more so than Cabo, were woozy and laid out on the grass trying to collect themselves. A lot of people seemed to put it all out there, including myself. I was one of those laying on the grass, trying to decide if horizontal or vertical was the better position to avoid puking or passing out. Eventually I came around and got a massage (more props to the volunteers who freely gave of themselves to touch numbers of sweaty triathletes after a 5 hour race). Then I heard the 5 greatest words you can possibly hear after a long triathlon, "They have burgers over there". 

You have to love a race that is sponsored by "Beef". Yes, "Beef". While I tend to stick to fish and eggs as animal protein during training, post race it's all about red meat and gluttony. I'm sure many vegans didn't appreciate this, but I sure did. It was awesome to have a couple of free burgers and beef jerky at the end of the race.

We had to fly home early the next morning, which meant that I had to get back to the hotel and disassemble my bike and pack it up. That I did, and once again my bike made it safely home without incident. One more successful race!

Ironman Boulder Fundraising Campaign - Charity:Water

By trade I work for a company that, in part, supplies chemicals to water treatment plants so that the water that is supplied to our homes, businesses, and communities is safe and free of disease. I know from my experience within this company the type of infrastructure required to support our communities is vast. Needless to say we take safe drinking water for granted.

At no time during any of my races did I ever stop to think "man, am I lucky to have all of this water so readily available to me". In fact, during the recent Ironman in Los Cabos I expected that water would be literally handed to me for my consumption, or dare I say, to simply pour over my head for a quick cool down. And why not? There's plenty where that came from after all!

But in many places in the world, too many to count, people would cringe at the idea of pouring much needed water over their heads.. In fact, in some communities they don't even have safe or clean water at all. Some have to travel for hours just to find any water at all. And even then they're putting their lives at risk.

For Ironman Boulder, I choose to race for +charity: water because not only are they a stellar charity with high marks on Charity Navigator, but because this is a problem that is solvable. This is not a problem with supply (there is plenty of water on the planet so that nobody has to go thirsty), it is a problem with infrastructure. A problem that charity:water is working to solve one project at a time, one community at a time. Please watch the video below to view how they try to change lives through accessible water.



Charity:water projects are not just saving lives, and providing water to those that thirst, they are literally building opportunities within communities, creating resources, and promoting health. This is truly a worthy cause, and one I hope you'll contribute to.

You can reach my fundraising page here to donate. It is my goal to reach $1,500 by August 3. If we can do better then great! Thank you for your support!

Ironman Los Cabos Epilogue: Lessons Learned

After having some time to really reflect on Ironman Los Cabos, and how the experience shaped out, I wanted to lay out some of the things I learned along the way which I found important, and can be applied to any passion project a person may seek to accomplish. In a nutshell, completing this race was absolutely glorious. The finish chute was a blur of afternoon sunlight and mental fog, but it was absolutely glorious. Will I do it again? Absolutely. What did I learn? Read below to find out.

1. We human beings really are capable of more than we give ourselves credit for - Yes, I know it's cliche, and we can read this any number of times a day on inspirational Facebook posts, but it's also very true. We tend to give up too quickly or too easily. By our very nature, we are conditioned to conserve. Conserve our pride, conserve our welfare, conserve our energy. In other words we are conditioned to be "safe". After all, as we evolved we had to develop mechanisms to keep ourselves from harm - to run away from Sabertooth Tigers, or survive through cold winters or famine. I'm certainly not endorsing those, but there are ways that we can channel those additional stores of energy in non-stressful ways (I want to stress "non-stressful") to go the extra mile in any endeavor with which we are involved.
2. Understanding and acknowledging our limitations is a beneficial exercise - Is number 2 contradicting number 1? Yes!... In a way. But you see how I mentioned channeling energy in non-stressful ways (I guess I want to re-stress my stressing of "non-stressful"). That is where understanding our limitations can benefit us. We all know how we feel when we hit a brick wall. Our energy immediately depletes, we lose sleep, we get sick, we get irritable, we crave sugar (ok, that one is tough to gauge). When I felt any of these symptoms during my Ironman training, I knew that it was my body telling me that I was pushing too hard. When that happened I had to take a step back and make rest my priority, refresh my mind and body, and recover the passion and energy I had for pursuing this goal. Often times the best offense is a good defense. Additionally, knowing our limitations gives us a good indication on where we can improve, and whether it makes sense to refocus our energy in more positive ways.
3. "No pain, no gain" is some of the worst advice ever given - In fact, pain is most often an impediment to progress. Alternatively, some of the greatest gains happen with little or no physical pain, and very little discomfort at all! When I first began training using heart rate as a guide, I didn't even feel like I was working out at all. I barely broke a sweat, pulling 11-12 minute miles on runs. Gradually the pace improved and the effort felt much the same. It's only with the greater gains that more discomfort becomes required, the "last 10%" so to speak, and even that should be done sparingly. It all comes back to understanding limitations. Pain is different from discomfort. Our ability to suffer through discomfort is part of a growing experience. Pain, on the other hand, is biofeedback telling us that we are overdoing it and have to take a step back. This advice would be better read as "No pain, KNOW gain!"
4. We can make the experience of achieving a goal much more fulfilling by finding a way to be in service to others - When I first considered training for an Ironman, I thought of all the hours I would have to put in, the money I would have to spend, and the emotional capital I would expend and it made it seem like a very selfish endeavor. To be fair, it was. I was looking to better myself. But how can we benefit others unless we focus first on improving ourselves (something about removing the plank from one's own eye comes to mind)? In my case, I chose to set an example for those that may have always thought of achieving a far reaching goal, but who may have talked themselves out of it numerous times (after all, I was like that). I wrote about it openly in the hopes of inspiring others through my experience. This requires conquering the fear of being vulnerable (spoiler alert: that's number 5 below). Additionally, I raised money for charity to hold myself accountable to the goal. After all, it is much more difficult to quit when times get tough if you have more eyes on your progress and a charity goal depending on your achieving the goal.
5. The experience can become more meaningful if we can conquer the fear of being vulnerable - I used to be a bit of a cynic, often becoming critical and nay-saying in many situations. I now understand that that was a defense mechanism for me so that I would not be the subject of criticism. If I can be critical of other peoples' desires to fulfill a dream, I could justify my own lack of inspired confidence. Too often we put up this armor of cynicism, and neglect the great potential for self improvement that comes from being vulnerable. Brene Brown is an expert on vulnerability, and goes into great detail of it's importance in this TED talk and in her book, Daring Greatly. Making myself vulnerable by writing about my experience, especially at the beginning when I had no experience whatsoever, made me extremely uncomfortable. However, it made the experience of getting to my goal and achieving it that much more meaningful.
6. You CAN find the time - Yes, you can. No seriously, you can. I know you have kids, I know you have a job, I know you have that thing on Thursday nights (I'm not stalking you, I swear). Regardless, the time is there. It's just about inventive time management. I know waking up earlier is hard, but that is a solution. You can also take your lunch breaks at work to focus on the goal. The point is that there is always a way to make the time. Within my training plan, I had to find 20+ hours a weak during the peak weeks to train. I would wake up earlier, use my lunch breaks, and use the actual commute to work to work in training hours. I still found time with the family and took care of all my obligations (in fact my family appreciated it more because I was setting a good example). 
7. The right perspective changes everything - I know what it's like to fall into a downward spiral of despair and self loathing. The feeling that everyone is against you and the hard work is meaningless. These are the great demoralizers. The worst thing about these feelings is that they are overpowering, and they feel absolutely legitimate. However, I have found in my life that these are mostly problems with perspective. I've learned through this experience that, for me, one of the big differences between being happy and being miserable is my perspective. When I turned my negative attitude around and focused on the positive, things became much brighter. Ironman training was a great practice in perspective. Instead of saying things like "I have to run today", I would say "I get to run today". How lucky am I, that I am capable of getting myself up every day and working toward a dream? Truly we are fortunate if we allow ourselves to believe we are, and overcome the power of negative thinking.
8. Humility is vital - There will be setbacks. There always are. Many times these setbacks may seem like a death nail into achievement of a goal. But when these setbacks occur, it is important to practice humility. Allowing our egos to get in the way of clear thinking will only make the situation worse. For example, as I was training during the summer months last year, I hit a plateau which wouldn't allow me to get any faster at my assigned aerobic heart rate range. This gave me two options. Run faster and train over my heart rate range (which would have potentially destroyed my training progress to that point), or humble myself and keep it slow. Sure, I wouldn't be able to run as fast as I wanted at that point, but checking my ego would allow me to be faster at that heart rate over the long term. A setback, yes. But the long term goal was still on track. Eventually I broke through the plateau and got faster. Humility ties a lot of these things I learned together in a nice little bow. Accepting limitations, practicing vulnerability, finding the right perspective, it's all about humility.
9. It's worth it - Whatever "it" is, as long as the effect is positive, it's worth it. Because "it" is important to you, "it" will build your character, "it" will give you fulfillment beyond your expectations, and in turn the act of achieving "it" will inspire others. And when we inspire others, we can inspire ourselves, constantly improving, always reaching toward higher and more lofty goals. An upward spiral. Take it from me, you can.

Race Report: San Diego Spring Sprint 2014

This past weekend I had the rare privilege of not just racing in another sprint triathlon, but also getting to share the experience with my wife, who consequently was racing her first triathlon. This was super cool because I could really relate to those feelings of anticipation and anxiety as we led up to the race. I wasn't really nervous for me, but more so nervous for her. Would she like it? Is she going to be okay? Will she pass me on the bike? All of these things reminded me to let it go to God, and stop trying to control the world.

Swim start/finish area

Since this was my first sprint in a while, and I haven't really had a chance to test my speed in a long time, my goal was to swim as fast as I could, bike as fast as I could, and run as fast as I could while still maintaining good form. As far as time goals were concerned, it is usually a high benchmark to set to run a sprint in under an hour, so I assumed I would be somewhere just over an hour. I wasn't certain how fast I would bike, maybe 22-23 mph, and I wanted to try to hold a 6:45 pace (something I thought would be achievable with the right kind of mindset). In other words, run as fast as I can until I feel like puking. More on that later.

Swim

The swim took place in Mission Bay, which, if we can trust the film "Jaws 3", is prime feeding grounds for man-eating Great White Sharks. But that's ok, because with Sea World fully operational next door, we would have Shamu and Dennis Quaid to save us from these killers.

Unfortunately we didn't get much of a warm up, since the warm up swim area was full of sea grass and knee deep soft mud. We opted instead to do a quick jog to the start area, where I got in the water with a number of other green-capped 30-34 year olds. This would be the last race I would ever be in this category, since I will be turning 35 at the end of this month. It's kind of strange how I raced Cabo in the 35-39 age group, and was held back for this one.

My intention was to see what the race would be like from the very front of the swim pack. I wanted to see if I could actually hang with the "fish" in the group. This would be a good opportunity to try it out, since the swim was only a quarter mile, so if I was beat up it wouldn't be for very long. I was just hoping to hang in there as long as I could. At first it was all going to plan, I was able to line up appropriately. When the horn sounded I aggressively starting flailing to make room for myself (unsuccessfully). Really within the front group it wasn't "swimming" as much as it was finding whatever bit of leverage you could to push yourself forward. Unfortunately for me, I was most often the bit of leverage that people were using. I was quickly dropped by the fastest swimmers and left in a group of middle of packers.

Very quickly I found myself overexerted from pushing too hard at the start, so I slowed it down a bit to focus on form. But I wasn't able to find any lanes to really have any kind of good form. It was around the first buoy that I got kicked in the chin pretty hard by someone in front of me. I surrendered my position at that point, caught my breath, and then started back to swimming with good form. Finally I had some open space and felt like I was making forward progress. What I learned from this swim is that I definitely can't hang with the fast swimmers, and it only serves to wear me down significantly when I try. Best to stay in the middle of the pack on the swim, save my energy, and catch them on the bike and run.

Soon enough my fingers were dragging the serrated concrete floor of the boat launch area, which was today serving as a swim exit, which was my cue to stand up and start running. I felt very good at this point and even decided to sprint to see how fast I could make it into T1.

Swim time: 9:10, distance 0.31 miles (by Garmin)
Garmin File

Transition 1:

I would like to think I executed my transitions flawlessly for this race. I sprinted past a few people on my way to the bike while stripping my wetsuit. When I got to my bike, my helmet was easy to get on, and I was off.

T1 Time: 1:06

Bike

On the bike the plan was simple: bike fast and stay safe. In other words, obey the laws of physics. Take turns easy and then start charging. This plan was executed very well. The bike course left the parking lot and followed Sea World Drive down to Fiesta Island where we would circumnavigate the island twice before coming back to the transition area. Getting out to the island I was passing a number of people, but once I was on the island I could open it up. I felt really great and was constantly passing people. I would look down at my watch and see that I was averaging consistently about 25 mph, which was great. I was also very impressed to see how well people were obeying the rules of the road so to speak, staying right if they were slower than the rest of the traffic.

Two laps went by very quick and then we returned to T2. When I saw a sign saying "600 feet to T2" I underestimated how far 600 feet actually is, as I got out of my shoes and began to soft pedal the rest of the way. It was farther than I expected. But I did the flying dismount and charged it to transition.

Bike Time: 27:10, 11 miles, avg about 24 mph.
Garmin File

Transition 2:

Once again, I attempted to get through transition as quickly as possible and did so with great success.

T2 Time: 0:57

Run

Oddly enough, I was most nervous about the run. As I mentioned above I hadn't tested my speed for a long time, and I was afraid I would be demoralized if I didn't go as fast as I wanted to. My goal was a 6:45 pace, and as I exited transition I looked at my watch and saw that I was in the high 5's. While I was feeling really good, I dropped it back a bit, since I saw my heart rate was into the high 160's. As I ran, I continued to pass a few people, but didn't see anyone in my age group. The only people I saw were people from the relay who started well before us. This started giving me a strange sensation I haven't had before in any other race. "Could I actually be winning?" The mind can play tricks on us when adrenaline is pumping, and when you're susceptible to fits of egocentrism, it can become amplified.

For the course of the run, I maintained this thinking, as I didn't see anyone in my age group, and I know I had a fast bike split. However, as I approached mile 3, and was still ticking off 6:30 miles, I did begin to see a couple people in my age group. I passed two of them around mile 3, at which point I picked up the pace and started running a mid 5 pace. Unfortunately it wasn't enough as I couldn't pass another in my age group, and one of the people I had passed had re-passed me.

As I crossed the finish line in full sprint, I felt the urge to puke coming up. In fact, at the finish line, in front of all the crowd of people, it took every fiber of my being to hold it in. Fortunately I did, and that was the indication that I had given it everything I had.

Run Time: 20:29, 3.2 miles, Avg. pace 6:28 per mile.
Garmin File

Crossing the finish line, I went from feeling like I was winning to being in at least 3rd place. But that bothered me very little since I set out to see what I could do and I achieved at least 2/3 of it. While my swim is still lacking, I think I really performed well on the bike, and exceeded my expectations on the run. Furthermore, I achieved something that many sprint triathletes set as a benchmark goal, which is to finish in under an hour. I finished in 58:53.

While recovering in the finish area I had the opportunity to do something I hardly ever get to do at these races. Be a supportive spectator. It was really inspiring watching all of the people cross the finish line, and actually see their faces as they did so. To witness that moment when all the training, and pain, and challenge culminates into one moment of accomplishment is an amazing experience. And then, to actually be there and see it when my wife crossed the finish line was heartwarming. How fortunate was I to be able to finish my race and then see my wife finish her first triathlon?

In looking at the results, I was surprised to see that I had finished in 7th place in my age group, 35th overall out of 730 competitors. The year before only two people in my age group had finished in under an hour, but this year the fast people came out to race. Looking more closely at the results, I could see that 3rd-7th place all finished within one minute of each other. I was within a minute of being on a podium!

While that statement can be interpreted in a couple of different ways, frustration or joy, I intend for it to be reflected as joy. While I was so close to getting there, I recognize that I've been steadily improving for the last year, and I was very close to achieving something I never thought possible. I've never been fast. In fact the only thing I've ever done fast is finish a beer and replace it with another full one. I would have never thought I could come that close. I was reminded today that I need to keep my ego in check. I almost forgot the purpose for why I'm doing this. It's not about how I do compared to other people, but how I go about doing it, and how I can improve myself. While I was very close to getting a podium, I was also very close to letting my ego take control. I'm glad that I was reminded through witnessing the experiences of others, including my wife, of what's more important.

Speaking of my wife, she ended up finishing in 1:19, good enough for 20th place in her age group. Fantastic for a first attempt! I am incredibly proud of her for achieving this with such success.

2014 Triathlon Season at a Glance

Having just done an Ironman triathlon a month ago, it's hard to look ahead and think that I have just begun my triathlon season. While it may seem anticlimactic, Ironman Los Cabos was a season opener, not an ender. And my triathlon season for 2014 has finally taken shape.

After a couple weeks of recovery in April to recuperate from Los Cabos, and reflect on everything that race was (I am working on a post detailing the lessons learned from training for and competing in an Ironman), I began training again, this time acutely aware that I would be slower to start with. But it was nice to actually get back to a lower level of volume before picking it back up to full strength. Now, as we enter May, I am back at full volume for the lead up to Ironman Boulder in August. So here's how the rest of the season looks for me. I hope that this year I see some improvements, maybe some top 10 finishes or even podiums. But most of all I hope to continue to experience the joy I have had over the past year doing this thing that I love to do. I have found that not only do I love triathlon, but my family loves experiencing it with me. And that means a lot more to me than a medal or top finish.

May 4th, 2014 - San Diego Spring Sprint Triathlon

This will be a really quick sprint race just to keep my body fresh for racing, and the goal will be to see how fast I can go. With all of this "slow" training, I don't know how fast I can actually run a 5K at this point. I plan to swim as fast as I can for the 1/4 mile swim, bike fast but conservatively (it is a flat and fast course, so no technical issues to contend with), and then run as hard as I can for 3 miles. I am hoping to run a 6:30-6:45 mile avg over the 5K. One thing that makes this race special is that my wife will be joining me for her first triathlon. It will be great to see her experience this for the first time and see if she catches the bug.

June 7th, 2014 - Ironman 70.3 Boise

Yes, Boise. The one in Idaho. And yes they do have water to swim in there. Very cold water. Like melted glacier cold. So why Boise? Good question. I didn't even really know why either until I decided to register for it. First off (and really least importantly, but while we're listing off the pros, what the heck?), it's a rare "sleep in" triathlon. It doesn't start until noon. So instead of waking up early and almost immediately immersing ourselves in ice cold water, we get to get up when we want, meander over the lake, and then begin suffering. Personally, I like to have some coffee and a little "me" time before I suffer, but I'm weird like that. More importantly, the race is a good prep for Ironman Boulder in a number of ways (about 3000 ft vs. 5000 ft. of altitude, and there are course similarities). It's also a good time to race a half before Boulder, about 2 months. This race wasn't even on my radar, as I was considering doing the Folsom Long Course triathlon in Sacramento, but I discovered that travel would be about the same in cost, and Boise would be a more spectator friendly venue. It's hard to know what to expect for this race, last year it was very hot, and the year before that it was extremely cold (some reports were that people were cycling in their wetsuits). There is one thing for certain though, the water will be cold (did I mention that already?).

June 27 - June 29, 2014 - Boulder Triathlon Training Camp with Luis Vargas

Every year, MarkAllenOnline coach Luis Vargas hosts a training camp for triathletes in Boulder to go over the fundamentals of training and racing. This coaching program has been so successful for me, and the coaches are so knowledgeable and helpful, that I know that I can benefit greatly from it. Further, this year was too hard to pass up, since the camp will be in Boulder, previewing much of the Ironman course. I will be able to get a feel for how the altitude affects me, and learn a lot from the expert locals. The fact that Luis has vast experience with Ironman and training in Boulder, it's going to be an exciting experience.

July 13th, 2014 - Carlsbad Triathlon

What better way to celebrate one year of triathlon racing than to race the event which I chose first? This will be the first time I will be repeating a race, and I am excited to see how I've improved. Through all of the races I've done, this has been one of the more fun ones because of the time of year, the size, and the nice roads. Again, just as sprint, which will keep my racing skills tuned right before I taper for Ironman Boulder.

August 3rd, 2014 - The Inaugural Ironman Boulder

Ironman number two will take place in one of the hub cities for triathlon training. I am going to be a bit out of my element, and immediately with a handicap to many of the racers who call Boulder home. Those "highlanders" have already acclimated to the altitude and have already trained on the roads. But I have a desire to finish, and face a new type of challenge, which includes the additional variables of altitude and heat. I am still working on determining what charity to race for, but I will be fundraising for this race. Details to come.

September 6th, 2014 - San Diego Triathlon Classic Olympic Distance Triathlon

But the season does not end there... Next up will be another San Diego race. "San Diego, again?", you say. To which I say "of course, I live there!" And this particular race has "Classic" in the name. See? It's right there in the name of the race! In truth, logistically it's easy to get to San Diego, there's lots of races to choose from. This one fit in the schedule quite nicely. The bike route takes us into Military grounds, much like it did in Camp Pendleton. I hope it doesn't end up like the last time I was racing in a military area. Somehow my bike slipped out from under me and I got some really fancy asphalt tattoos.

October 5th, 2014 - Ironman Silverman 70.3

Formerly one of the most challenging full distance triathlons anywhere, with climbing of over 12,000 ft., Ironman has taken over this race, made it a half, and tamed the beast pretty significantly. While not nearly the behemoth of a race it once was, there will still likely be winds and heat to deal with. I really wanted to finish the season off with another half distance race, and the choices were this one or Lifetime Soma in Tempe, Arizona. When I approached my family on their preference between Tempe and Vegas, the choice pretty much made itself.

This year will truly be a test for me from the perspective of racing. While last year was more of a buildup to Ironman Los Cabos, this year will be a consistent racing season of multiple types of distances, and I am really testing my abilities to perform to the best of my potential. Ideally I'll hold up and be able to do well in them all, but most importantly I'll enjoy the process, keeping my meditation and spirituality strong. The rest will take care of itself.

Flo Wheels Product Feature

I haven't taken much to reviewing products on this site, as I figured it might infringe on my "no negativity" rule. Additionally, I felt my experience in the sport had yet to merit any credibility on any particular subject. I then realized that this is a blog, after all, and any opinions which are expressed here are well worth the paper they're printed on (which is none because, well, no "paper". Only the electric ether of the internets). In all seriousness though, after a few races under my belt, I'm beginning see what works for me and what doesn't. Thus I am choosing to not necessarily "review" products, but instead just write about stuff I like.

Now, just because I don't review a product doesn't mean I don't like it. In fact, the lack of a feature here could mean a lot of things (such as power meters not being part of my regular training, or a piece of equipment being far to expensive, or I just didn't get off my lazy butt to write about it). But just know that it's not a critique or endorsement of that product.

Well that was all useless information. Now on to the review... er... "feature".

There are a variety of accessories which, outside of any variable conditions, can provide free speed and performance on a bike, and depending on who you talk to, each may have more benefit than another. In no necessary order (and I stress that to avoid involving myself in the endless debate of what will best improve bike performance) they are the engine* (in other words you), the bike frame, the bike fit, the clothing, the helmet, and of course the wheels. I've put an asterisk next to the engine because that is the number one thing a cyclist can change to improve performance. Even if you add all the other bells and whistles, your bike will still just be sitting in your garage. Improving the efficiency of the rider will be the best way to improve how fast, how far, and how long you can ride.

That said, today we will be discussing the wheels. For all of my races leading up to the Ironman Los Cabos, I had been racing on Fulcrom Racing 7 wheels, which were essentially the stock wheels that came with the bike. This is not to say that they were poor wheels. In fact, I have been using them for over a year in training and racing with a great result. However, wheels traditionally associated with racing have specific advantages I wasn't benefiting from. The main difference is the design of the wheel, which improves the aerodynamics of the ride. The carbon fiber fairings (which are what make the rims look super thick) act almost like a sail in the wind. Instead of wind just going through the wheel, it would catch the fairing and help reduce drag and propel it forward. With the consideration above that I could buy some free speed by purchasing new wheels, I was interested in seeing my options.

The key phrase there is "buy". Turns out this speed was not free after all. If fact it was expensive speed. Very expensive speed. Many of the wheels that offered an aerodynamic advantage were well over $2,000 for a set! Some were more than I paid for my bike. Discouraged, I gave up on my search and came to terms that I would make do with racing the wheels I had. Until I began hearing the buzz about Flo Cycling. I will spare the details of the company (you can view their site for more information), but I had seen through various websites that this small startup company wanted to satisfy a niche in the marketplace to provide aerodynamic wheels at an affordable price. Many of the reviews were very positive, and the price point was 1/3 of the price of the major competitors.

Because the wheels are inexpensive, and because the company is still relatively small, they have an order once a month or so, and the wheels sell out within an hour, depending on the wheel set. The prospect of having a great racing wheel set for a fraction of the price of regular wheels led me to pull the trigger on the Flo 60/Flo 90 combo, a popular combination with a 60 mm faring in front and a 90 mm faring in the rear. At the very least if I wasn't happy with the wheels, I could very easily sell them on ebay or craigslist without much of a loss. In fact, I checked ebay for Flo wheels for sale and found very few results. Those I did find were very close to, if not exactly, the selling price. Another good sign.

I've heard a number of complaints about the ordering process. Since they are flooded with orders over a short period of time, things tend to get "stuck", and people miss out. Fortunately, I didn't have any of these problems. Within a couple minutes I had the Flo 60 and Flo 90 in my cart and had made the purchase. Because the inventory for disc wheels is much less and the demand high, these wheels sell out much more quickly.

I received my wheels about a month before Ironman Los Cabos, which gave me a chance to ride them on a few training rides. Unfortunately, I have nothing to compare them to except the Fulcrum 7's, since this was my first experience with aero wheels. The first ride was a little wobbly at first which had me nervous. It was a windy day, but Cabo would be windy as well. I would venture to say that this wobble factor in gusty wind exists for all aero wheels since their surface areas are similar. However, after a dozen or so miles, I became accustomed to it. The noticeable difference is that upon accelerating on the flats and downhills I could easily maintain higher speeds at less power output. It felt as though the high winds were propelling me forward. On the hills I didn't notice a significant difference from the Fulcrums since they are approximately the same weight. However, once over the peak of the hill the wheels seemed to want to scream. The noise is loud as the air passes through the hollow fairings, but it sounds fast, so that's good!

Ironman Los Cabos was the true test for these wheels (and myself for that matter). It would be the first time doing a long distance ride on these tires, the first time with this level of climbing, and the first time having to run a marathon after riding on them. I have to say that these wheels performed like a charm. The relentless climbing that was the bane of many racers that day seemed comparatively effortless on the Flo wheels. And once hitting the downhills the bike seemed hungry for acceleration. But it was in the crosswinds where these wheels excelled. I had a lot of concerns coming into the race about the winds being a major factor. During training rides my pace would slow dramatically in head or cross winds. In this race I barely felt them, and they only minimally affected my pace. Certainly not to the extent that they did in training rides.

Important too was that off the bike I felt fresh and ready to run, as opposed to training where I had felt fatigued during my longer 5-7 hour rides.

I averaged about 20 mph on the bike, but to compare that pace to any of my other races would be like comparing apples to screwdrivers. I went faster in my half in palm springs, but that was a completely flat course without the heat and only half the distance. The most important thing here is that I felt faster and fresher on these wheels. In a race where how you feel can be the difference between a PR and a DNF, perceived effort can be the most important measure you have. Because the ride feels effortless and fast on these wheels, it gives me all the confidence to race strong.

One further endorsement for these wheels is the service. The owners of this company have a genuine interest in the service they provide. They take a very personal approach to their customers, often responding directly to customer inquiries personally, involving themselves on multiple online forums, and providing ample technical support via their website, YouTube, etc.

Did I mention the price? Well if I forgot, you can get into a pair of these wheels for a small fraction of the price of even second hand race wheels. In fact, it is likely that you can get a set of Flo 30's (training wheels), a set of Flo 60's or 90's, and a disk for less than the price of a set of competitive racing wheels. How do they perform against those competitive race wheels? I don't know, but I will say the risk/reward is much better for the consumer than many of the other wheels on the market. And if at the very least I'm not paying for free speed but for improved feel, then I would say that the product is well worth the price of admission.

Ironman Los Cabos 2014 Race Report

First and foremost I want to take this opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to all those that supported me in this crazy adventure. The support of my loving family and friends is what helped me through some very challenging months leading up to this race. My wife, Marie, is truly an Ironwoman, as she had to spend the last year dealing with my blood, sweat, and tears (literally), a few tantrums, endless talk of better aero positions and weight savings which had her bored to tears. Additionally, she fed me some great, healthy meals along the way to keep me strong. She had every opportunity to quit as well, but literally was with me all the way through to the finish line. That is real commitment, and I very much love her for it!

Through the generous donations to the three causes I was fundraising for, we were able to raise $1,542 for Compassion International, $1,542 for Feeding America, and $1,804 for Alex's Lemonade Stand. That's almost $5,000 to charity. Even before the race began that is a big win. It goes to show that fundraising for worthy causes while improving oneself can be a win for everybody! Thank you to all those who donated to these causes.

And now on to race day.

Pre Race:

The days leading up to the race were filled with lots of anxiety over the unknown and the uncontrollable. At that point I had already done everything I could from my end to control my race; trained as best as I could, ate as well as I could, set my expectations as best as I could. What I feared now was the weather, mechanical problems, and water temperature. Being that the temperature in the ocean was within one degree of being wetsuit legal, I was at risk of having to do something I've never done before - swimming 2.4 miles in rough ocean water without a wetsuit.

Fortunately, race morning came with water temperatures still wetsuit legal. This calmed my nerves a bit, but I was still about to embark on something I've never done before. What awaited me was 2.4 miles of ocean swim followed by 112 miles of constantly hilly and hot biking, and a marathon in the hot Mexican desert heat, none of which I have done in combination during one day.

Leading up to the race I heard nothing but horror stories from people who had raced this course the year before. Hot, windy, and hilly were all themes that I heard from people. 41% DNF rate the year before, and currents that would carry us all down to Cabo before the race was over. "For your first Ironman," one very fit participant in my age group informed me. "You sure picked the hardest course." I had relieved my expectations a bit, which was originally to shoot for a perfect race which would put me in the running for a Kona slot. Secondary (and more likely) was to finish between 10-11 hours, finishing the bike in sub 6 hours and the run in sub 4. I knew achieving even the secondary goal would be unlikely given the difficulty of the course. The challenge of the distance and the conditions was becoming a reality to me, and now I just wanted to finish.

Race morning I was up at 3:15 am to have breakfast, which consisted of oats, blueberries, a banana, and almond butter blended up for easy consumption. Before I knew it it was time to head out and catch the bus to Palmilla Beach at 5 am. The bus dropped us off at the top of the hill at Punta Palmilla, and we had to walk about a half mile to the transition area. We were essentially walking down the bike exit to the highway which was a climb to the highway. Once at the transition area, I got my numbers remarked. I had them originally marked the day before, but they faded. It's okay, because they told me that I'm remarkable (ha!). No, that joke didn't go over very well race morning either.

I checked out my bike one last time, inflated the tires, dropped of my special needs bags, and took a couple (yes, a couple) trips to the porta potty. Sunrise was absolutely beautiful that morning, and the conditions for the swim were absolutely perfect (as long as the wind stayed calm). I had plenty of time to jump in the ocean for a practice swim before the race start, which has been very important for me in the past to calm the nerves and get used to the feeling of swimming.

At this time I wasn't feeling to anxious. I thought I would be worried about having to use the bathroom once I had my wetsuit all the way on and the transition was closed. I thought I might be worried that I would panic in the water. I thought I might be worried about large fish joining us for a swim. However, none of this really concerned me at this point. As I stood in the corral waiting to get ushered onto the beach, my only concern was that I might get dehydrated on the swim. The rising sun was really starting to get warm now, and I could feel myself sweating in my wetsuit. I knew I would be in the water for about 1-1.5 hours and that was a long time to be exercising without water. I took some gatorade and hoped for the best. Finally we were let onto the beach for the swim start.

Swim:

I positioned myself to the far right a couple rows back from the front. Enough back so that I wouldn't be pummeled by the aggressive swimmers in the front, but close enough that I could run into the ocean. I liked the right hand side for the start because it would offer a little more open water, and from my perspective a straighter route to the turn buoy without having to fight for space. My first thought as I looked across the beach was that the number of athletes looked pretty light. They kept saying there were 1200, but it only looked like a few hundred.

I remember standing there for a few minutes before the start of the race, but don't remember much about the start. Only running toward the ocean and then a flurry of bubbles and flailing of arms. As always, it took a while to get open space enough to focus on good stroke form. For the first few hundred yards to the turn buoy my intention was to save my energy and simply stay in the pack to utilize the man made current. Around the first buoy I finally had a chance to see where we were swimming to. I couldn't see another turn buoy, just a number of marker buoys off into the distance, so I just focused on getting to one buoy at a time. The swim felt very pleasant and easy, and I was able to draft off of a few people for the length of the swim. I even found myself leading a draft pack for a while.

2 kilometers into the swim we made the turn toward the beach and headed into the final stretch. Looking at my watch briefly here I could see that I was at about 36 minutes. Doing the math I was right on track of where i wanted to be. The last stretch was relatively uneventful, except for the very large crowd on the beach slowly getting larger and larger. Before long I was up on the beach, out of the water in 1:10. That was exactly where I wanted to be and I couldn't be more stoked.



The swim felt very fast and easy, and I would learn later that it was a fast swim for everyone. The pros were out of the water in under 50 minutes, and I was about middle of the pack for my age group, which was absolutely fine with me. 56th out of the water in my age group out of 116.

Swim time: 1:10, 59th/116 in 35-39
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/dashboard?cid=15042400

Bike

Transition from swim to bike was a tough experience. Immediately when I stood up from swimming, I could feel the cramps forming in my calves and I knew I had to slow down. I jogged up the beach a bit toward the tent and the effort definitely felt labored. Once into the tent, I got my wetsuit off, but then got a bit disoriented. I had a couple volunteers ready to help me, but I didn't really know what they could help me with. I got everything out of my swim to bike bag, put on my helmet, and then started putting on my shoes. Then I realized my feet were sandy and I didn't want to run in cycling shoes to my bike on uneven surface. So I aborted the putting on of the shoes and ran to my bike. I put my shoes on when I got to my bike, grabbed my bike and started running up the hill to the mounting area.

I mounted my bike without any trouble and started climbing toward the highway. Immediately, I looked at my heart rate and noticed it was way to high (it was in the low 160s, and I should not be exceeding 149). I shifted to the lowest gear to climb the hill and lower my heart rate, but to no avail. I was just too worked up, and the climbing gave me no opportunity to recover my heart rate. Nothing I could do about it, just adjust it when I get to the highway.

Unfortunately, once I got to the highway, I had no opportunity to recover, since there was another climb. No matter how low my gears, I couldn't bring my heart rate out of the 150s, and I was getting passed by other people starting their bike. I thought for sure my race was over at this point. I feared that going anaerobic this early in a long race would hurt me for sure in the long term. Once again I had to accept another thing I couldn't control. So I adjusted my race strategy. I allowed everyone to pass me and over exert themselves up the hill and make up time later on the bike. I would run the first lap very conservatively, taking in nutrition and making sure I was hydrated. I would take it slow and keep my heart rate in the 130s to condition myself back to fat-burning.

That strategy worked for the first outbound trip to Cabo San Lucas, and I maintained my position without getting passed, and without making any aggressive moves on anyone in front of me. I knew I could at least finish the race if I kept this pace, and if I felt good after about 20 miles I could pick up the pace and start gaining positions. Easy spinning up the hills, and fast descents down. A few miles before the turn around in Cabo, there is a gradual descent which provided a good opportunity to pick up speed. It was at this point that I began feeling comfortable passing some people while still keeping my perceived exertion low.

On the way back to San Jose, there was mostly a crosswind with occasional tailwind, which was very helpful up the hills. However, I could really begin to feel the heat as I kept pace with the 10 mph wind up the hill (thus feeling no breeze at all). But then the downhills came, and they were a blast. People said this was a constantly hilly course, and it certainly didn't disappoint. I was actually worried about this at first, but during the race I felt great and was having a blast on the course. It was a beautiful day, I was feeling good, and I was doing a coastal bike ride with no traffic! Speaking of which, some of the most serene times came when I could see nobody in front of me. It felt like I had the whole road to myself which was just awesome.

The next two laps I passed a number of people. I ended up gaining 32 spots total on the bike ride putting me in 27th place in my age group once the bike was done. My nutrition plan worked out perfectly. I had a bottle of glucose and salt in my seat tube cage, and a bottle of water in my aero bars. I discarded the aero bottle at each aid station and grabbed another. My second bottle of sugary goodness was waiting for me at special needs, along with a spray can of sunscreen and some Butt'r, if it was needed. I decided against using the Butt'r, much to the delight of the volunteer staff.

The third lap the wind started to pick up, and it was blowing around 15 mph in exposed areas. My bike handled very well in these conditions, and the tailwind really made the third trip back to San Jose a breeze (ha! - Yes, I will remind you every time you need to laugh at one of my sorry attempts at a joke). Looking at my watch, I could see that I was going to succeed with my goal of doing the bike in under 6 hours.

Getting back into San Jose is loads of fun. After climbing the hill back to Palmilla beach, there is a really fast descent which takes you to just above sea level and then ascends a low grade hill with a left turn. It's very scenic and very fast. It reminds me of what James Bond would feel like racing his Aston Martin along the cliffs of Monte Carlo. On the descent I got up to about 40 mph and was able to maintain the high 20's around the curve. So much fun!

Back into town, we took a right turn into the downtown area toward transition which was a gradual descent. I was heading in really hot, and I could see how, if you weren't paying attention, you could go flying through the transition Wyle E. Cayote style. Fortunately there weren't any Adam shaped holes in the transition tent this time around and I was able to do a graceful dismount into T2.

Bike Time:  5:34, moved up to 27th/116
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/471417801

Run

Transition went very well. I had two excellent volunteers helping me, handing me water, putting sunscreen on me, putting all my bike gear into my bag. I just put my shoes on, fuel belt, and hat, and off I went. Once again it was tough to settle into my heart rate zone. I didn't want to exceed 149 on the first half of the run, but it was sticking at just about 150. At a certain point in the first lap I decided that it was close enough and just went with it.

The one way I would describe this run would be hot. But I was expecting that. I had trained many months with extra layers on to mimic the heat of Los Cabos. It seemed to be paying off in the first part of the run. For the first 9 miles of the run I was running in the low 8 minute miles. I was ideally hoping that I could be in the high 7's, but I was okay given the heat, and I saw everyone else on the course suffering as well. A lot of the spectators were cheering me on, saying that I was looking strong. I certainly didn't feel strong. Right off the bike I had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that I was about to run a full marathon.

One of the awesome things about this Ironman experience was the ability to run along side some of the pros in the field. I watched Matthew Russell pass me on the other side of the road on his way to taking 6th place. I also paced Lindsey Corbin for about a half mile on her third lap (my second) on her way to winning the race.

A couple of tough parts about the race. We were told during the pre-race meeting that we would be getting bags of water on the run course, which sounds odd but is actually good because you can easily break it open while you're running and drink it (unlike cups which are very difficult to drink while running). Unfortunately, they 86'd the bags and went with cups. This meant more frequent stops to drink the water instead of inhaling it. Second, and more of a psychological issue, was the layout of the run. The run was a three loop course around a small town which ended right in the middle of town. To make sure they fit in all 26.2 miles, we had to zigzag our way around the little town, meanwhile hearing the cheers at the finish line as each person was called an Ironman. We had a turnaround to take right at the finish line, which was mentally tough to d o.

Around the second lap I began to fall apart a little. I noticed that I had lost one of my nutrition bottles. I was also having trouble, as my legs just didn't want to cooperate. I was no longer having trouble keeping my heart rate down, but instead I was having trouble keeping my strength up. Additionally, I was beginning to have some stomach cramping. I tried to take in a lot of salt to break it down, but it wasn't working too well. I had to walk every aid station to get some water, but I was still able to do most of my miles under 9 minutes. It was during the second lap that I really started to do math to see what it would take to finish under 11 hours. I knew I wasn't having a perfect day, so I wouldn't be Kona-bound. Additionally, at that time of the day my math was very poor. I couldn't figure out how long it would take me to finish 10 miles, or what time it was, and I certainly didn't trust myself. It began to get quite demoralizing.

During the final turnaround into lap 3 I started to feel my stomach drop out of me. I think my body had had enough at that point. I hit the porta potty and, leaving the gory details aside, I stayed in there a few minutes. The worst part is, when it's hot outside, it's really hot inside a porta potty. Add onto it that that porta potty had been used by many other people before me and you get a pretty poor combination. I began to feel pretty light headed in there. I remember thinking to myself "please do not let me pass out in here. Do not let them find me like this!" But, I made it through, determined to run the last 8 miles as strong as I could.

I began giving myself little milestones to help me get to the end. One more trip around the Mega store and I saw the 20 mile sign. "One more 10K and then I'm home". Running up to the bridge toward the marina, "one more trip around the harbor, and then I'm on my way back over the bridge". "One more out and back along this street and then I can turn in toward the finish line."

As I crossed over the bridge I was reminded of the great sportsmanship and comradery which exists in these competitions. A woman in a 50+ age group who I had been riding with during the bike and now finally caught up to on the run said to me "you look like you're about to finish too." I said that I was and told her congrats. She said that I was about to post a great time for a first time Ironman. She went on to win her age group and is now on her way to Hawaii in October.

Making the last turn, a young kid, no more than two years old, was holding his hand out for a high five from the athletes passing by. I willingly abided and it seemed to have made his day. I saw the finisher's chute which had taunted me for the last two laps and finally took a trip through. As the spectators realized I was not going out for another loop, they stuck their hands out enthusiastically and I high fived the hell out of everyone on the way to the finish line. As I approached, I heard the announcers say something but I couldn't make it out. I'm sure it was along the lines of "you are an Ironman!", since that was the theme of the day. No matter, I raised my arms up and gave a furious fist pump and let out an awkward yell, which sounded like a seagull landing on a sea lion. I had made it.

Immediately I looked up to the clock above the finish line which looked like it was being reset. Then it reset to 10:45. I turned to one of the officials, who may or may not have understood my labored English at that point. "Is that clock accurate to the gun time?"

"Is almost." was his response. Gotta love being lost in translation.

It was the official time, and I had done it. A little over a year ago I couldn't run much more than a few miles, had never rode a triathlon bike, and could not swim more than a couple hundred yards in a pool. A year later I completed one of the hardest Ironman races in under 11 hours. It's amazing what is possible with the right attitude, a little humility, and determination. I am absolutely stoked!

Run Time: 3:52, Moved into 18th/116 in the 35-39 age group
Garmin File: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/471417804

Post Race:

I wasn't expecting that I would feel cold immediately following the race, especially in this heat, but I was shivering like crazy. I was also nauseous, hungry, and overjoyed. I downed some pizza they had available after the race and hoped it didn't come right back up. Fortunately it didn't. After I started feeling better, we began walking back to the hotel, and it was amazing the outpouring of support we had. One woman came up to me in tears saying how inspirational it was to see the finishers come through. Many people were out offering their congratulations. It really made me appreciate why I wanted to do this. I found something I'm passionate about.

When I was in college, I used to watch a show on the Travel Channel (back when the Travel Channel was about "travel" and not just extreme gluttony) about a guy named Albey Mangels, who dropped everything and just went adventuring. He traveled the world on a whim, and learned a great deal about people, cultures, and himself. During that time I wanted to be Alby Mangels. I wanted to be able to just drop everything and find my passion. Instead I just kept making excuses, delaying, and drinking. Partying became my priority instead.

Of course now I'm not leaving my life behind and going on an endless safari with an empty wallet and a mind full of dreams. Like Alby, I've discovered something I'm passionate about, and I went after it. My story shows that with the right kind of motivation, you can find the time to follow your heart. While I'm not in the Kalahari desert being chased by Rhinos like Mr. Mangels, I'm on my own safari, and it's a great adventure. I would encourage anyone to take their own safari. The time is there, the means are there. Just do it! Win or lose you'll be glad you did.

So what's next? Well, there's still Kona. I probably won't be able to make it in this year when I do Ironman Boulder, but who knows? According to the results of this race, the last qualifier in my age group was about 10% faster than I was. That means that I will have to improve 10% in order to be in the running for a Kona slot. Is that possible? Absolutely! The last 10% is always the hardest, but I came a long way in a year. I can sure make time to improve by 10%. Just to be safe, I'll improve by 15%. Keep on adventuring.