Ironman – Page 36

June 3, 2014

Racing a Half Ironman – 3 Examples

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I was talking with a buddy about preparing for his Half Ironman and he mentioned how he’s working on getting everything to “slow down.” The first thought that came to mind was my Muncie 70.3 race when I felt in complete control of each event. Then I started thinking about the two that followed, Goosepond, and New Orleans. All three had quite a different story and each one has been progressively worse. I wondered if I looked at them next to each other if it would help me understand and learn from what went right and/or wrong.

PRE-RACE MOOD

Muncie – This was my first half. I was nervous and unsure of my capabilities. But I was very focused, as always, afraid to fail, and it helped to have good friends around to calm my nerves. I didn’t sleep great, but was in bed by 8 the night before.

Goosepond – This race was about 6 weeks after IM Wisconsin and my level of training was somewhere just above zero. I was WAY over confident and frankly a little cocky after just finishing a full. It is the strangest feeling, but I can honestly say that I was treating a half triathlon almost like a 10k or something and that is just asinine behavior no matter who you may be.

New Orleans – I pulled into New Orleans on Jazzfest weekend and stayed in a massive downtown condo by myself. It was the perfect example of being alone in a crowd. I was the visiting team and frankly the crowd was a bit intimidating. I was also a bit under trained and indifferent. The juices eventually started flowing, but it was more like survival than a build and conquer. I hadn’t ridden outside since Goosepond and was not prepared for what I was about to face.

THE SWIMS

Muncie – I was very sh*tting bricks about this this swim, but caught a major break when somehow it was wetsuit legal in JULY. We’d put in a lot of time at the lake, but the turn buoy looked impossibly far away as I surveyed the course the day before. Oddly, as my feet hit the water in the morning complete calm coursed my veins. I imagined that is how I would react when faced with ultimate death. You sink into your zone and accept fate. I had no intention of hammering this swim and took a very long time to ease into my pace. By the time we made the final turn, I felt great and churned my way to a pretty nice 37 minute swim.

Goosepond – Did I mention I was over confident and not ready? I goofed around before the race and did zero warm up other than getting in the water 5 minutes early and taking a few lazy strokes. I’d just done Wisconsin, this would be a breeze! About 400 yards into the swim, I was gassed and breathing so hard I had to tread water. It was not good and these situations are very difficult to recover from. I’d swim a couple hundred and stop. It was just a brutal swim. Two laps and I finally climbed out of the lake gasping for breath with a 43 minute swim.

New Orleans – I was kind of nervous for this race because I hadn’t really swam that much, plus the whole being by myself thing was kind of weird. Luckily I met a couple guys from Nashville in the line and they helped loosen the mood. My game plan was to take this swim uber slowly and try to keep it under 40. Frankly, I swam this race perfectly for the shape I was in and climbed out in 39 minutes.

THE BIKES

Muncie – I felt strong as I ran out of the lake and carried that energy to the bike. I cruised easily for the first 10 miles but kept a solid pace. It was smooth sailing for most of the way, but there was a 10 mile patch in the middle that was terribly bumpy and narrow with bikers going each way. It would have been very easy to settle into the madness and play it safe, but I remember consciously deciding this is where I had to push harder. I could tell this rough stretch was getting into people’s heads and I did exactly the opposite by embracing the conditions. By the time we got back to the smoother roads, I was a little battered, but it was pretty easy to keep the pace. I stepped into T2 with a 20.5 mph average.

Goosepond – I came out of the water a beaten man. I was both pissed and embarrassed. Even though I wasn’t really into this race, I was still determined to beat my Muncie time and the minute I got on my bike, I was a raging madman. I decided if nothing else good came out of this day, I would crush the bike. It was almost like I purposely punished my legs. At Muncie I never pushed them to the point where it felt like I was working too hard. At Goosepond, the entire bike burned. I was ravaged and kept trying to find another gear. I did lay down a nice time of 20.9 mph, but that extra .4 mph difference from Muncie absolutely cooked my legs for the run.

New Orleans – This bike ride will forever be a mystery. I mean, I probably wasn’t “ready” for this ride considering I’d only goofed around on the trainer for a couple months, and rarely rode more than an hour and a half, but by mile 40 I was ready to throw my bike in the swamp. I was right on the mark for the first 15, but then my brake pad started rubbing and didn’t stop the rest of the ride. The problem with this was, I KNEW I was having problems BEFORE the race and didn’t address it. I made a couple adjustments the day before and thought it was fine. It was a true sign that my head wasn’t ready for this race. Why would I not get that fixed? Who rides a Half Ironman knowing their brake is f-d up? Avg. Speed was 17.4 mph, by far my slowest bike ever.

THE RUNS

Muncie – I felt good and was eager to get off the bike. My first mile was sub 8:30 including a bathroom break and that may have been what saved my run. I was using my chrono watch this day (well, every day of my triathlon career) and hitting re-start at every mile marker worked on staying within time “ranges.” I wanted to be around 8:15 – 8:30 the whole day. Not much science was involved, but I stayed within myself, kept steady, and breathed. Nothing distracted me until mile 7 when my feet suddenly felt like I was running on hot coals. Talk about Zen! You can’t think of anything else when every step you take feels like broken glass. I really don’t know how I did it, but it was a true testament to running as a meditation. 1:50 run.

Goosepond – I normally don’t “feel like” running off the bike, but this day I REALLY didn’t want to. To be honest, I didn’t even think I could. But, my inside information said it was a nice flat course, so I sucked it up and set my sights on sub 2 hours for the 1/2 marathon. Well, it took about two miles before I was climbing the first of many hills. This run course was pretty rough and my body was not happy. I was completely distracted the entire run. I had zero focus and all I wanted to do was be out of town. There were no mile markers so my chrono watch was useless. I had no clue on my pacing and at mile 10 got a knee pain I thought might be serious. Somehow I finished at around 2:10.

New Orleans – This was my first absolute blow up on a run. It took about 1.5 miles before I started walking. I have never walked more than 50 yards or so in any race ever. Hell, even in training runs. Walking was the one thing I would never let myself do. But I probably walked a third of this course. Walk, run, walk, run. It was brutal. It was hot. My legs were fried. No spectators, no nothing. Walking it in was not an option, or I might have quit. At mile 9 I saw a guy with a similar look on his face and said, “Okay, man, you ready to run this in?” He said yep, and that’s what we did. It was my worst 1/2 time, including my first ever. I staggered in at 2:20.

POST RACE THOUGHTS

Muncie – This was the boost of confidence I needed. In retrospect, my race at Wisconsin was almost a carbon copy. Steady swim, solid bike, consistent run. I had a million doubts about doing a full, but Muncie put me in the game. My feet were burning, but my legs felt strong. I had almost two months to get ready for Wisconsin and Muncie went a long ways toward getting my mind right. As my buddy says, I “hurried slowly.” TRT – 5:16

Goosepond – Honestly, after I finished, the first thought I had was, “It’s pretty damn cool to be able to do a 70.3 without training.” But it hurt like a bitch. I’m pretty sure I didn’t do a thing for a month. I’m still not sure why I did a half that close to my first full and in retrospect it was a bad idea. But in every “failure” there are lessons, and at Goosepond, my lackluster, unfocused swim set the table for a painful outcome. If I would have stayed true to my plan of easing into my stroke, this may have been a good race. It still wasn’t bad. TRT 5:35 (with a 4:00 drafting penalty… yes, I’m still bitter).

New Orleans – Part of me wants this race again just to find out. I felt good about the swim, but other than that, it was just a mess. My bike is my strength and it imploded. I was a beaten man and thankfully my mom and her friends were there to lift me up. My lesson from New Orleans is take races seriously or they will eat you alive. TRT 6:20.

June 3, 2014

Day 7 of "10 Days of Rest"

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Two reflections today.

1. I’m pretty certain the biggest lesson I will learn from this resting period is that triathletes need to cross train their cross training.

2. This feels similar to a vacation that’s running short on time. The difference being, I’m a little anxious to get back to work.

——————

It’s hard to be 100% sure, but I think I felt better today than I have in quite some time. I’m mainly talking physically and I really think it has a lot to do with my mountain biking venture yesterday.

Aside from my legs feeling strong and alive again for the first time in a while, my body felt noticeably “whole.” I don’t want to labor the mountain bike thing, but it really does bring your upper body into play and there is just more variety in your muscle exertion.

On the trails it’s not uncommon to be nearly stopped before exploding to get you through an obstacle. On the road, it’s more or less one speed, which of course is the whole point of triathlon, but I’m lobbying for more well rounded workouts.

Day 10 will be here before I know it and, if nothing else, this rest has rekindled a little fire for workouts. It actually started after four or five days, so for those of you who feel burned out, but gun shy about taking 10 days, a short week off may be what the doctor, or better yet, spiritual shaman ordered.

June 2, 2014

Day 6 of "10 Days of Rest" Went Haywire

It started innocently enough with coffee on the deck before moving onto one of my favorite joys, mowing the lawn. But there was something buzzing in my brain. I was pulsing at a deep level and my body was about to explode.

I crept into the “pain cave,” pulled out Gary Fisher, and filled his tires to 50 psi. I slowly gathered water bottles and picked the right shoes for my cages. I stewed, stammered and questioned for about an hour, then couldn’t resist. I had to get the blood pumping.

Tarrolly Hills was starting to bustle with activity, but the president was bent on another form of relaxation. Whipping tree branches and mud were calling my name.

I tore off into the Greenway, then darted right on the first trail. The bumpy grass was heaven as it jarred my upper body awake. The peace of the trail lulled me into a zone as I churned at a comfortable pace. “Just keep spinning,” advice from a friend long ago about how to move your mountain bike through the woods, rang in my head as I navigated nature.

The trails in Shelby Bottoms would equal “zero” on technical difficulty, but I was excited to find many single tracks lurking off the main path. There were fallen limbs, sand, and many other little obstacles to nibble. It wasn’t hard, but it was a challenge.

If you take the black top path, it’s just over 4 miles into the Nature Center. On trails, it was right about six. My legs felt a little heavy as I re-filled my water bottles, so I took about 20 minutes to stretch and do push ups.

It was a timeless exercise with no concern for time. None of it mattered as I centered myself in the moment as I peddled toward the formidable Mount Nasty. I climbed the first of what would be six hills, all 1/3 to 1/2 a mile long. My ascents were slow, but consistent and all followed by a downhill recovery.

Up, then down, then across the park to another hill, before going back to the Nature Center for more stretching, yoga, and push ups. My legs were pounding, but alive.

You make a lot of decisions on the trails and my upper body was happy to be involved in the process. I love mountain biking for this reason. Your mind more easily with you on the ride and not drifting off into the mundane problems in your life. You are engaged, and that is how my body felt.

It had rained while I was doing my hill repeats, and on the way back, the trail was wet and muddy. I attacked.

My bike handling was coming back. I leaned into the corners, trusting the tires and momentum. Rather than plotting tracks around the muck, I dove straight into muddy puddles.

The rain and mud washed my face. I was consumed by the moment and plowed through everything in my way. Part of me wanted more trails, but the logical brain reminded me that I was on 10 Days of Rest.

I emerged from the washed out trails onto the black top and spun out of the park. It was raining harder now and the mud trickled down my cheek, a mountain biker’s tear.

For the last year and a half, I have mainly ridden triathlon bike, with mixed emotions. I love the speed and raw power, but the constant position hasn’t been the best thing for my soul. Mountain biking forces you to bring your entire focus. Thousands of split second decisions keep out the chatter, the questions, the doubt. You’re constantly looking for the right path and finding it instinctively.

I felt a tinge of guilt for falling off the rest wagon, but my legs were happy I took the chance. Tired from the 18 mile jaunt, but pulsing with life.

It also reminded me how good this kind of riding can be for your run. Mountain bikes work your hamstrings more and I honestly think it can be a legitimate substitute for beating up your body with long runs. During my biggest stretch of mountain biking, I also played a lot of sports, and that’s when I was running the fastest. I was quick, agile, and resilient.

So, I will resume my 10 Days of Rest with a red mark on Day 6, but cannot wait to repeat that devilishly refreshing journey. Six miles of trails, six testy hills, six miles of trails. I have lovingly dubbed the workout, “6-6-6.”

June 2, 2014

Day 5 – "10 Days of Rest"

Well, Friday was Day 4 and I didn’t do anything. No stretches, strengthening, etc. It was an essentially an off day during a resting period.

On Day 5, that’s when I noticed I could feel my plantar faciitis creeping back into my heel. It wasn’t anything major, but the previous couple of days, it was gone. Like gone, gone.

I first noticed it out of bed, but it became a little more prominent after I mowed the lawn in preparation for the soft launch of Tarrolly Hills (my above ground pool country club), which was a resoundingly mellow success story.

My first reaction was to get into some stretching poses and work it out, and while it helped a little, I was still feeling it later at Kevin and Christina’s wedding reception. This, of course, meant no dancing, much to the chagrin of Wasky, who I learned is a huge fan of club music.

It’s kind of interesting because I’ve been to wedding receptions the last two weekends and both were packed with endurance athletes, so obviously that’s where the conversation goes. Other than a short diversion to discuss the ridiculously tempting cupcakes, much of the night was spent discussing Wisconsin and the upcoming Ironman Chattanooga.

And that got my juices going.

So we’ll see how tomorrow goes. I have a strange desire to mountain bike creeping into my head. Maybe I can use it as a spin day just to get the stuff moving around in my legs a little.

In the meantime, here’s a picture of the Ironman groom, the club-music-loving Wasky, and the Tarrolly Hills Social Chairman, Jim who was sporting his outstanding leisure suit. You really can’t ask for much more than this.

Kevin and Christina Wedding — Jim, Wasky, and Kevin. Photo by Marc Swain

May 31, 2014

Day 4 – "10 Days of Rest"

Day four was laced with . . . well, actually it was quite pedestrian. I got up, had one cup of coffee. Then went to work and sat most of the day.

It’s Friday night and I’m gonna grab some dinner and maybe chill. So essentially what I’m planning is an “off day” during my rest period. Whoa.

Truth be told, I can really feel some shit bubbling. I’m sorta looking at the weekend and thinking, “What the f*ck am I gonna do if I don’t swim, bike, or run?” I guess that’s where yard work comes in.

On the way home I was thinking about how people work through their “stuff.” You have to go inside and deal with suppressed issues. I’m fairly certain most of the world does that, starts feeling uncomfortable, then goes back to their old habits before any of the good shit can start happening.

Bad habits take years to hone and we expect them to be gone in a couple days? That’s a tough pill to swallow.

And what do I mean by bad habits? Well, for me, it’s depending on too much sugar and other stimulation during the day because I don’t sleep that well. But I can honestly tell in the short time I’ve been meditating again, my sleep is definitely better. I wouldn’t call it a podium sleep, but it’s improving.

I’ve been generally more mellow, but with a hint of rage on the horizon. I suppose this is something similar to what we felt in our taper for Ironman. Or any taper for that matter. Shit’s going a hundred miles an hour, then you’re forced to stop and look around. Damn, you can actually see things when you sit still.

I do know one thing. Sitting at a desk is probably the worst thing in the world for endurance athletes. It cuts off circulation in your legs and I’m serious when I say I limp my way out of the office after a long computer spell. Get up and move around a little, Mike.

Sounds like Mattie may get a long walk tomorrow.

Here’s dinner . . . Salmon in parchment with fennel, oyster mushrooms, artichoke hearts, and lemon burre…

May 30, 2014

3 Observations on "Day 3" of Rest

I want to be clear, these “10 Days of Rest” are far from passive. Recovery comes in many forms other than laying around (though I’ve done a bit of that, too).

While I remain cautious about over-reacting to how I feel during this stretch, I tend to pay attention to the subtle indicators. Here are three things that I’ve noticed since I’ve replaced intense activity with leg stretches, strengthening exercises, and mobility drills. Along with yoga and meditation.

1. I hear the music

I am notorious for falling into the trap of talk radio, especially sports. Yesterday I spent a ton of time driving and eventually noticed that I was listening to music most of the day. During one commercial break I flipped to sports talk . They were in the middle of some concocted argument about something insignificant and it literally made me feel dirty. I really believe music does heal and is fuel for the soul. Maybe next I’ll start noticing trees and flowers . . . nah.

2. A huge impulse to run

As I was leaving work yesterday, it was a beautiful night and I had a bounce in my step. That’s when I made the solid decision that I would run when I got home. I felt reinvigorated by the thought of a nice sweat and some good hills. I was pumped to wave at the neighbors! But then I remembered I’m resting and resisted. It’s been a while since I’ve been so eager to workout. Is youthful exuberance on the horizon?

3. Plantar Fasciitis

My heel has basically been sore since I ran Ironman Wisconsin last September. I’ve had my moments, but getting out of bed or a chair (not to mention running) has been met with consistent pain. It comes and goes, but has more or less been a constant in my life. I’ve screwed around with foot massagers and icing until my foot turned blue, but nothing gave much relief.

On Day 2 of this experiment, I noticed I wasn’t feeling that stab as much, and on Day 3, the pain was virtually gone, even in the morning. I even tested it by forcing my heel into the ground and jumping up and down. There was a very, very slight remnant, but nothing like I would have felt a few days before.

I have been doing a ton of light, prolonged stretching, and while I’m not fully convinced I’m “healed,” I do believe the heel pain was merely a symptom of something else. Losing this pain in my foot will make these 10 days well worth any sacrifice in aerobic fitness.

May 30, 2014

20 Things I learned at Ironman Wisconsin #IMWI

1. Madison is great city and well worth the extra money to stay downtown.

2. The Essen Haus has a power packed breakfast on Saturday morning. I had Walleye and Eggs.

3. Starting in the water next to the ski ramp was a good decision.

4. The swim congestion isn’t as bad as you’d think, but you will experience a lot of contact, often when you least expect it.

5. Sighting is difficult and I should have trusted the flow of the masses a little more, especially on the first leg.

6. Stay away from the first two turn buoys.

7. Somehow get to the far end of the course and pick out a sight guide for the long leg of the swim box.

8. Running up the helix is not as hard as it sounds and a great indicator of the crowd support to come.

9. If you drive the bike course, take it with a grain of salt because it seems much worse in a car. The ride is definitely hilly, but if you recover on the downhills it is a very enjoyable ride.

10. The first 20 miles of the bike had a tail wind (and I understand this is common) so you can go fairly fast and not over-extend. But don’t forget to save something for those same 20 miles into the wind at the end, because it’s brutal.

11. The “3 Bitches” are legitimately reminiscent of the Tour de France with people running along side and screaming inspiration. Soak this in on your first time through because the second loop takes a lot more focus.

12. The helix will be a sight for sore eyes after that ride.

13. When you get back into transition, you hand off your bike and basically go straight inside to gear up for the run. I expected a much longer distance and I can’t explain how much of a relief this was.

14. About half of the run loop is awesome and covered with spectators, the other half will test your mettle.

15. The run hills are not monsters, but they are definitely not easy after 112 miles on the bike.

16. There is a ton of energy on both State Street portions, engage with the spectators.

17. The out and back in the park is the worst section of the run, by far.

18. The State Capitol is the most beautiful sight in the world as you corner it for the last time and take a left turn into the Finisher’s Chute.

19. Convince as many friends as possible to come watch. They are guaranteed to have a good time.

20. You’ll be sore, and it could be the furthest thing from your mind, but seriously consider preferred sign up for next year’s race. I wish I would have.

May 28, 2014

10 Days of Rest Mid-Season?!?

The Way In is Out

I’ve been struggling again. After the high of my Rev3 race in Knoxville, I’ve hit another wall. I’m desperately searching for an answer on whether or not I should do Ironman Louisville, but think my best play is to take a step back.

There are many factors going into this decision, but the biggest is: I want to race it well. Wrong or right, I have no interest in going up to Kentucky to simply finish. With that in mind, the only solution I have at the moment is to take a break from swim, bike and run.

I’ve decided to take 10 days to focus on the “little” things that will allow me to train with a purpose and hopefully race Louisville to my standards. I will be spending a lot of time on the Beso ball, foam roller, and hopefully massage tables. I will be doing yoga, planks, and glute/hip flexor exercises. I will be walking, hiking, and skipping. And quite possibly kicking back in a hammock.

The Clock is Ticking

I already feel behind in my training and 10 days off will put me at around 10 weeks until Louisville. Ten Days for Ten Weeks.

As I contemplated this decision, I scoured the web for info on rest while training and discovered a great article with this reassuring excerpt:

Both Kienle and Crowie rest for four weeks in their off-seasons with a little alternative activity. After that period of inactivity, they build back up. That might seem like enough rest, but for a top-level pro, a six- to eight-week period of rest would be more appropriate, as Allen has shown. Allen also took a full week completely off in early August, just eight weeks prior to Kona, something that would leave most athletes insecure so close to the most important race in the calendar. He would use this week to balance body and mind, and work on his strength of character. Read the full article here.

Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/y/yogiberra162048.html#1Tb8Y8TBtiuihTUd.99

Triathlon is 90% Mental, the Other Half is Physical

Of course I borrowed that from Yogi Berra and replaced baseball with triathlon, but the point is made, sort of. I think the real point is, just like that quote, this decision is confusing. I realize it sounds a bit ludicrous to take 10 days off right in peak season, but I also know it’s wise to stop building a house if you screwed up the foundation.

I really, really want to do this race, but it’s all coming from the ego. Either to prove I can battle through another ridiculously tough day, or to be a mule on display for friends who will be there watching. None of it is coming from the right place and the more I haphazardly train, the more jumbled the choice becomes.

Seriously

If I can’t get serious about training, I’m not doing the race. I really think backing off is the only hope I have for Louisville.

Take yesterday for example. I went out for an open-ended run I thought might end up around 8 miles. For the first mile my mind was screaming stop the entire time. Somehow my legs fought it off, but that’s just not how I want this to unfold.

I did finish the 8 mile jaunt, but it felt more like survival than a training run. It seemed just as hard at the beginning as it did at the end. Not even a good hard. And if that’s how it’s gonna go, I’d rather spend a little more time in this bad boy.

Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/y/yogiberra162048.html#1Tb8Y8TBtiuihTUd.99

May 27, 2014

The Best Ironman Race Advice I've Ever Received

If I heard it once, I heard it a hundred times, “Your neighbor is a nice guy.”

Hmm . . . “It’d be nice to meet this nice-guy-neighbor of mine,” I thought.

Technically, he lived about 3 blocks away, but as fate would have it, the day after Ironman Louisville 2013 I finally met him in the hallway of the Expo. He stood in relative obscurity despite having crushed the Louisville course a day before. First in his age group, and 10th overall.

Naturally, I had a few questions, so I introduced myself as his neighbor, then started in about my upcoming Ironman in Wisconsin. It would be my first, and certainly he would have at least one valuable tip? As it turned out, he gave me some of the best advice I’d ever received.

He was indeed a gracious neighbor and delivered the usual, “You’re ready,” and “You’ll do fine,” stuff, but after a few minutes I saw him dig deeper for a Zen reflection. Then he laid it on me.

“The thing I always try to remember during an Ironman is, never put too much stake in how you feel because it will change every 20 minutes or so.”

Hmm . . . “Don’t believe how you feel?” It sounds counter-intuitive, but on race day, it often comes down to survival and your will wears down before your body.

The ups and downs of a race are more manageable if you don’t take them literally. Ironman is the definition of “mind game” and the minute you start believing your pain or your high, you are in dangerous territory.

It’s a battle of extremes and the goal is to stay balanced. Once you jump in the water, your mind is in charge of your body but your soul controls the mind. Notice, adjust, and keep moving.

Nothing is ever as good or as bad as it seems . . . in Ironman, and in life.

Learn more about my now ex-neighbor here

Follow me on Twitter @miketarrolly

MY IRONMAN LOUISVILLE VIDEO

May 23, 2014

Rev3 Knoxville 2014 – Race Report

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t go into Rev3 Knoxville with redemption on my mind. A couple months earlier I drove to New Orleans with a sub 5:30 goal and limped in at 6:20. I went to Knoxville gunning for an age group podium in the Olympic.

Jim, Corey, Marc, and Wasky led the dinner plans on Friday night and was I loving the Market Street vibe. The Holiday Inn was a few short blocks away and re-affirmed my need, desire, and craving to lodge close to the race, preferably near a downtown.

Saturday was spent waiting for the overloaded tech crew to look at my front brakes which started rubbing in New Orleans and, in true ACA fashion, I blew it off until one day before this race.

The transition deadline was closing in and they still hadn’t looked at my bike. Luckily I was talking with the local race director who told me the other guy in our midst was an awesome mechanic (and racing for All3Sports.com). I grabbed my bike and he promptly dialed me in.

A Sleeping Miracle

By 9pm I was in bed and by 9:30 made an amazing discovery. I can actually sleep before a race!

I mean seriously, I am Notorious BAS* when it comes to pre-race rest. I slept maybe 3 hours before Ironman Wisconsin.

My list of poor sleeping performances is legendary. In fact, sometimes I am genuinely afraid of dying because I feel like I will be tossing and turning in my tomb. And trust me, I realize this probably means I’m a self-absorbed a-hole who can’t let go (and has a lot of nerve believing he will actually be buried in a tomb) but I’m working on it . . .

So . . . I slept well then woke up to the awful guitar strumming sound of my iPhone alarm at 5am on Sunday. There is no “snooze” button for me on race day. I suck it up and go. Especially considering I had consciously made that choice the night before.

What happened when my feet hit the floor may have impacted my race more than anything. I calmly eased into some light yoga. I still had 3 hours before the swim, so I let my body wake at a comfortable pace.

I didn’t feel awesome, but trusted the process while moving instinctively to poses my body craved. The intensity was minimal, but soon I was sharp enough to both remember my name, and what the hell I was doing awake at 5am in Knoxville, Tennessee.

Pre-Race Transition

I had plenty of time and all my gear was packed, so around 6:15, I slung my wetsuit over a shoulder, grabbed my tire pump, and made the dark and lonely trek toward transition.

Once I’d pierced the inner sanctum, I found my bike and started wondering why in the hell I brought my tire pump. I mean, I seriously asked myself, “What kind of guy brings his own pump to transition?”

Just as I uttered those words to myself the guy next to me said, “Hey, can I borrow your pump?”

I said, “It’s funny you asked that because I was just asking myself what kind of guy brings his own pump?”

“I suppose a prepared one,” he replied in a most serious manner.

You’re typically racked in the same place as your age group, so I watched carefully as what appeared to be a formidable challenger filled his tires. David, who was racing for Grim Reaper (another reason I tread lightly) had an eery calm and a confident look in his eyes that more or less said, “This race is mine.”

We exchanged small talk and I sensed he was sizing me up as well. After about 10 minutes he turned around, looked me in the eye and asked, “Okay, so what are you going to swim today?”

Ahh, the “Crushing Iron” logo was getting into his head.

“Oh, I don’t know, my swim is a wild card.”

“Roughly.”

“Well, last year I came in around 26 minutes.”

His poker face was impenetrable as we stared each other down in silence.

Finally I asked, “What about you?”

Without missing a beat he flashed a friendly smile and said, “Well, I’d like to do better than that.”

The Swim

Actually, I hoped to do better than that, too, but it was not to be. I’d like to go into a long and exciting story about the swim, like this one, but it was virtually uneventful. At least (unlike last year) I was in the water when the horn sounded.

The best news of the day was that I swam steady and didn’t stop. I recently read that alone can mean the difference of a couple minutes, so I was pretty well satisfied when I climbed onto the dock and started running up the hill to the boat house.

I am typically a little wobbly out of the water, but as I ran up the ramp, I was ready for the balance beam. Solid feet, solid lungs, solid legs. I picked off a few people on the short hill but as I tried to pass one more before we turned out the side door of the boat house, things got a little dicey.

My body drifted to the left, slowly losing all control, then I slammed into the door jam with my shoulder. I remember thinking, “Great, that’s my bad shoulder,” then hoping by some miracle the collision would somehow fix my other problem.

I started to feel sorry for myself, but remembered there are millions of starving kids and war and poverty and depression and disease and unhealthy relationships and people who can’t walk across a K-Mart. I repented, but solved zero of those problems as I ran up the blacktop path to mount my bicycle.

I had WAY too much crap on my transition towel. My back pack, tire pump, two pairs of socks, arm warmers, leg warmers, two pairs of gloves, a hat, a visor, and a stack of senior pictures. I looked down in disgust, then thought back to the pro transition I’d just witnessed. They grabbed their bikes and ran out of transition naked as j-birds.

I was rolling up arm warmers and jacking around with gloves, it was a mess. I decided to pass on socks and left my arm rollers dangle like the wide wrist bands Ivan Lendl used to rock.

THE WEATHER WAS PERFECT, and I was layering for an ice storm. I was embarrassed, and frankly, a little pissed at myself.

The Bike

I love the Knoxville bike course. You sorta tool out along the river, then jump on a freeway, then slide into some cool neighborhood roads, then climb a couple tough hills and come back.

My strategy was to attack. The problem was, the legs weren’t ready to party. I did my best to shred the climbs and recover on downhills, but just didn’t have the same juice I was used to last year. It may have something to do with the fact that I’ve only been doing intermittent one-hour trainer rides for a couple months.

I road at just over 20 mph and was reasonably happy with that, but I’ve got a lot of work to do.

The last 5 miles I noticed an age group battle building. He passed me, then I’d pass him. Back and forth. A challenge of wills. A mental game that stretched our limits and would lead to combat in the trenches once our feet returned to soil.

The Run

We entered transition mere seconds apart and I beat him to the run. But not more than 15 seconds later he saddled up beside me to say, “Wow, that was a hell of a bike. You kept passing me at the end and all I could think was, I hope he’s not a good runner.”

I was still gimpy, but did my best to smile before saying, “We’ll see!”

For a brief second I got a little boost of cocky adrenaline. I’m thinking, THIS is the challenge I’ve been waiting for. Yes, I will show this guy that I AM a good runner.

I was stiff and shuffling, but mentally ready for the challenge. I had flashbacks of the Ironwar in Kona between Dave Scott and Mark Allen. And today it would be me and this guy! A guy I didn’t know, but soon everyone will know and we will be forever linked to the Knoxville RevWar!

That’s when, and I swear on a stack of religious paper, he smiled at me and said, “Good luck,” before literally leaving me in the dust. He was gone. I mean like two blocks away before I spun my race belt to the front.

So much for the RevWar, but around mile one I felt like I was on my game and slowly picked up the pace. When I hit the 3 mile turnaround, I knew I was golden. I also knew my Pearl Izumi Streaks (which they no longer produce but can still be found) make a difference in the way I run. The lazy shuffle was gone and I was actually running, well.

This was also the first time I wore a Garmin for a triathlon. Corey was nice enough to set me up on Multi-sport the night before. It worked great on the bike, but somehow I screwed it up coming out of transition. The only thing I could see on my watch was a black line. No pace, no mileage, no nothing. So I just ran.

The coolest thing about this run was that I made a decision to force myself to do pick-ups. Every half mile or so I would sprint for about 30 seconds, re-training my legs to move faster. And every time I slowed to my normal pace it felt easier. Sprint, back it down. The reason I did this is because I haven’t been doing speed work and my legs are in a comfort zone. It genuinely makes me optimistic.

I turned the last corner to head down the chute and saw the finish line. I crossed proudly with my arms in the air . . . and that’s when I saw him sitting on the chair in front of me. David, my bike-rack rival, beat me.

He offered the chair next to him and I congratulated him on a fine race. We reveled in the comraderie of sportsmanship for a minute, then I looked at his calf and realized he wasn’t even in my age group! All of that pain, drama, and stress for nothing. Then, a different guy came up to me (this one in my age group) and told me I passed him on the very last stretch. I had no idea.

We all hobbled to the monitor and I punched in my bib number, 817. There were a lot of numbers, but the only one that mattered was “3.” I got third place and would be standing on the podium after all.

Follow me on Twitter @MikeTarrolly

* Bad Ass Sleeper

Course Summary

Course	Time	Pace	Distance
Swim	00:29:12.000	02:01 /100m	0.90 mi
Bike	01:13:50.000	20.32 mph	25.00 mi
Run	00:48:50.000	07:53 /mi	6.20 mi
Total Time	02:36:43.000

10311879_10203966264659766_7047028351200107787_n — Me, Wasky, Jim, and Corey