Ironman Coeur d'Alene Race Report

So here we are, my first DNF at an Ironman event.

I've had a lot of people asking and messaging, and the short story is that I'm okay, I'm not seriously injured, and I'll be back to fight another day.

So, what happened ...

Pre-Race

Without boring you with too many details, I was able to enjoy several days before the race with some of my best friends staying far away from the race site.  We drank coffee, we swam, we read books - it was great.

Race morning went as smooth as ever.  Bags were packed for speedy transitions, bike looked mean, all things were good in the world.

The Swim

We weren't really able to get a warmup in before the swim (I took a few strokes swimming parallel to shore), and as always, the gun just went off at 7 am (really Race Director, a countdown would be nice).

A sea of yellow caps, and some pink ones!

After a couple hundred meters of swimming around and over bobbing athletes (in those first few minutes, don't ever, ever stop!) I found myself swimming rather okay.  I'd been getting in the open water as much as I could in June, and I was excited to see whether a winter of consistent swimming would make any difference in my time.

And we're off!

As I got out at the end of the first lap, I heard the announcer saying "32 minutes, 32 minutes."  WHAT!?!  Even if he was saying 32 minutes and 59 seconds, I had just taken, like, 4 minutes off of my standard half iron swim time.

Back in for the second loop!  The wind had picked up and the water was a bit choppy, but really nothing like it had been in Coeur d'Alene in 2009 (or last Monday when Rachel, Cam, Erin and I hit up Kits Beach) so I knew I'd be fine if I could just keep my cool.  First swim in a long time where I haven't let slapping hands and breaststroking around buoys get me frustrated.

Final time: 1:07:20 - win!

T1

The other benefit to swimming faster is that there were slightly fewer people in my way as I raced through transition.  Had a bit of problems with my shoes, and couldn't get my arm warmers on, but other than that things went smoothly.

I saw the clock reading 1:10:something as I left, and the official T1 time is 3:28.

The Bike

Biked fairly well heading out of town.  I had come down in May to scout out the new bike course, and thought that race day would go pretty fast (especially compared to the old course, which had cyclists stopping and walking up some of the hills).

Heading out on the bike course

As Meredith Kessler mentioned in her victory speech, "the new bike course definitely didn't disappoint in the hard department."

Hills, headwinds, and me probably working too hard on the first loop of the course made for a very tough second lap.  I wasn't eating or drinking too well, and just couldn't find any strength to cycle up the hills.  I remember coming back to town after the first bike loop thinking "okay, special needs coming up just on the other side."  I had planted an argyle bottle in my Special Needs (for extra awesomeness), but I kept looking down at the barely half-empty bottle on my frame - a bottle which should have only had a slurp or two left in it.  Next race, I definitely need to freeze the bottles regardless of the weather, and start experimenting with fewer calories in each bottle.

Staying aero, but didn't feel so fast

As I biked down the I-95 for a second time, it became apparent that I wasn't going to meet my "dismount bike at 1:25 pm" goal (I set time-of-day goals for Ironman, as the race always starts right at 7 am).  And it frustrated me, when it shouldn't have.

New disc, new 808, new aerohelmet

From my personal race report (the one you don't get to see):
"I think I lost sight of my first rule of racing: focus on the process, and results will follow.  There was something on the bike ride that irked me - I was struggling with my speed, and I wasn't going to make my 1:25 pm dismount goal, and I was disappointed in myself.  Rather than re-evaluating my goal, or even racing my own race, I was frustrated by the fact that I couldn't keep pace with those around me on the bike."

Lesson learned - shit happens, courses are different, learn to adjust.

T2

It won't stand, as I didn't finish the race, but with a T2 of 54 seconds, once again I had the fastest transition in the race.

The Run

So, here was the race plan heading into Coeur d'Alene: "win, or end up in a ditch." 

By 'winning' I really meant "fight on the run and chase down as many of your competitors as you can." 

Ending up in a ditch was either a knock at the fact that my disc wheel/808 combo would be too much to handle on the bike, or I would fight so spectacularly that I'd implode, which I guess is what happened.  Either way, I wasn't really looking for another Ironman finisher's medal, and at my previous 4 IM races I had always set new personal bests.  Somewhere I knew that this streak couldn't last forever.

Step by Step

It may have only been for 15km, but this is the first Ironman marathon where I was able to run at the pace I know I can do.  I had set my watch to Autolap at 5 km (hadn't trained enough in "miles" to really know my splits).  The goal was to run 22:30 per 5 km.  I achieved that, and it felt easy!

Out on the run, time to fight!

After a not-so-stellar bike ride, it felt so good to come out of transition and, within the first mile, have the fatigue wash away, and to just be running.  The plan was to "steamroll" the race, and build my pace as I went along.  I had fully expected to have the first 5 km be 28 to 30 minutes, and then I'd fight to accelerate from there, but no, I was running what I wanted to right out of the gate.

I was running strong and eating well.  Heart rate was under control, and I was "Counting to 100" like a champion.  Running back towards town, I also had the chance to cheer on and be cheered by lots of Vancouver friends who were racing - a definite advantage to an out-and-back course!

Then I stopped.  Just like that.

All spring I've been having problems with my Achilles (both left and right).  I had been getting it treated, and for about 10 days hadn't had a problem.  A little after 15 kilometers into the run, though, I felt a bit of a tweak in my left side.  Not debilitating, but immediately I felt the fuel tank empty.  Like, gone.

I was near an aid station, so I grabbed as much fuel as I could, then tried running again.  Nothing.  No speed, no strength.

And, of course, I was now being past by all the runners that I had worked so hard for the past hour to catch - I really didn't want to have to do it again.  So as I walked along the highway, and took off my race belt and HR monitor (they can chafe during a race, so are the first to get adjusted whenever I start suffering on the run).  I hadn't had the bike split that I wanted, I really didn't want to walk another 25 kilometers, and I knew that my judgement to run through the pain in my Achilles was probably circumspect.  So, when a volunteer asked me "are you done?" it didn't long for me to say yes (in fact, I'm a little surprised at how quick it all happened).

The Aftermath

I had seen Bjoern spectating on the run out, and figured that he hadn't moved too much, so if I could walk back towards town he would probably have his phone, and I could call Elizabeth and assure her that I wasn't dead (she has said on numerous occasions that when I'm out of sight or behind schedule, she starts thinking the worst in pretty short order.

I passed my a volunteer or spectator (can't remember which) who told me "good job."  "Not today" I said, "I'm out."  Well, she would have none of it.  "Nope, you swam and you biked, and you made it this far, so you are an Ironman."  That definitely helped.

I saw Rachel and Stephanie heading out on their second loop, successfully phoned Elizabeth, then got a ride back towards town on the back of a gator.  Then I spent the rest of the afternoon cheering on athletes as they finished their first loop, or started heading out for their second.

The highlight from the rest of the afternoon:

It's good to know that people think I'm invincible, and apparently the fastest runner alive.  3 or 4 of my fellow racers, before finishing their first lap, when they saw me sitting on the side of the road, said something to the effect of "you bastard, you're already done?"  Yes, even though you saw me only 45 minutes ago out on the run, I managed to run so fast as to lap you, finish the race ahead of any other age grouper, AND come back on the race course to cheer you on.  Take that Tom Evans!

Or, I guess it just goes to show that, halfway through the Ironman marathon, you really can't think or do simple math.

And watching Rachel, Stephanie, Tristan, Geoff, Lawrence, Susie, LE Cam, Chris, Steph, Commander Cam, Diane, and everyone else out of the road was pretty fantastic.  Well done out there!

Thank you

If you've read this far into my blog, it probably means that you're a fellow athlete, a supporter, a friend.  Thank you - for all the words of encouragement leading up to race day, for following me on race day, and for caring enough to wonder what happened when my run splits weren't showing up on Ironmanlive.


I don't think that Ironman ever gets easy, but at the end of the day it will still be there (Coeur d'Alene, in fact, will be there for at least another 5 years!).  I don't know what's next, but there will be a next.  And whatever it turns out to be, I'll be fighting.


~ liquid

Overcoming the Mind Block

I still remember the spot on the Ironman Canada course in 2007 (my first Ironman race) where I began my mental war.  It was a spot on the rollers between Richter Pass and Cawston where I was riding uphill, into a headwind – not an optimal point for a 140-pound-something athlete.  I never had the thought of quitting – I had engrained the notion of finishing at all costs (yes, even if I had to take a nap and finish in 16:59) – but I distinctly recall saying to myself “there’s no f-ing chance I’m ever doing this again.”  Today is June 7^th 2012, 2 weeks before what will be my 5^th Ironman race.

Fast forward to the Awards Ceremony for that same race in 2007, where Lisa Bentley took the stage after her third victory at IMC.  She spoke about the adversities, physical and mental, that she overcame in her training leading up to Penticton.  She said that she did not have a perfect day, only that she overcame her adversities better than her competitors.  And most importantly (to me, at least) she reminded us that “there’s victory in finishing what you start.”

A year later, when I met Lisa in Vancouver at the ITU World Championships, I had her autograph my Speed Theory jacket with the words “There is victory in finishing what you start :)”  (yes, there's a smiley face)

For most age group triathletes, our minds can play terrible games with us the days leading up to, and even during, important races during our season.  We are not professionals at our sport; no paycheque is riding on our placing that day, and, even if chasing an elusive Kona slot or National Team qualification, there will always be the chance to “come back and fight another day.”

But we put a lot of training into what we do, and ultimately we want to perform our best on race day.  Here are some thoughts that I’ve learned from professional athletes, training partners, and other resources on how to overcome the voice in your head that says “you can’t” or “I don’t want to anymore.” 

1.       First of all, if you’re not on Twitter, open an account.  Follow athletes that are faster than you – they tweet some really inspiring stuff. 

2.       In the days leading up to a race, recall the victories you achieved during your training sessions.  Weekly hours logged and the ratio of workouts finished versus those missed pale in comparison to those 3 or 4 great training days that you had.  Remember those ones. 

3.       Being nervous and having butterflies leading up to a race is a good thing – it signifies that the race means something to you. 

4.       Have a song, a poem, a tag line, a picture, a something that helps you focus and brings you inspiration.  Or a couple. 

5.       On race day, you can be miserable, or you can have a good time.  I suggest you chose the latter.

6.       When the going gets tough, count to 100.  If you succeed on reaching 100, things probably won’t be tough any longer (if they are, keep counting). 

7.       Remember why you are doing this whole triathlon thing.  If you don’t write a Season Plan at the start of each year, start doing it now.  If you don’t have long term goals (2013 will see the end of my current “5-Year Plan”) start developing some. 

8.       Read!  Most professional athletes maintain a blog, and some have even written books on their battles and victories. 

9.       Sure, races don’t always go well, and everyone knows that sometimes we learn more from our mistakes than our victories.  Finishing a race should bring a sense of accomplishment and help build confidence.

10.   Believe in the process.  Results will follow.

~ liquid

Training Camp Vegas - Day Zero

After a winter and early spring of questionable riding weather in Vancouver, the planned week-long training camp in Las Vegas with Chris, Robo, and Cam couldn't come early enough!

4 guys, 4 bikes, and a whole ton of bags packed into Robo's van for the trip down to Belligham.  When we reached the terminal, check-in went smoothly thanks to our flight attendant who asked "what kind of bikes do you have ... I ride a Pinarello"

And, as you can see, the bikes made it safely to the tarmac in Vegas

 
We packed our nutrition all neat and tidy like

Bonk Breakers, Gu Chomps, Roctane, and Carbo Pro.  This week's gonna be awesome!

But the photo of the day goes to Chris, taking a picture on our easy "recover from travel day" spin.  Three generations of Speed Theory kits, ripping it up in Red Rock country!

~ liquid

Sometimes all it takes

Sometimes all it takes is one good ride to gain back your confidence.

Backstory:
If I haven't told you yet, a couple of weeks ago when we were riding our first 10 Before 10 from Speed Theory (that's 10 laps of Stanley Park done before 10 am), I injured my Achilles.  Not a rupture, no surgery required, but I couldn't bear weight and it was pretty depressing.  I couldn't stand all day at work, and walking three blocks to Starbucks was out of the question.

I had booked the following weekend off of work to get some serious mileage in.  Nope.

I watched as all my friends put in hours and hours of training over Easter Weekend.  I logged 2.5 hours, and most of that was noodling.  But it was okay, because every day I was getting a little better.

Then it hit me

Tuesday morning, I woke up to head to Masterswim.  Maybe it was the fact that it was 5 in the morning, but as an athlete, that was about the worst drive in I've ever had.  I had counted down the days until Ironman Coeur d'Alene at the end of June, and at my current rate of recovery, I just couldn't do it.

I can't train for a 180km bike ride on 45 minute rides. Despite some great indoor spins throughout the winter, I really hadn't logged the long rides I'd need in February or March because the weather was so terrible.  I just wasn't going to have the legs to do this ride.

and 30 seconds of running, then walking for 5 and a half minutes to recover is no way to run a marathon.

I was ready to pull the plug

-----

But, I thought I'd give it one more ride.  I took my tri bike into work, as I knew the steeper saddle position would force my ankle to stay a little higher, thus relieving the pressure at my foot.  It was the last day of a 4-week-long Hill Climbing clinic (of which I'd missed 2 classes), and we were riding up Grouse.  It was while climbing Prospect Point at Stanley Park where I first noticed the injury, so I thought this would be the way to really test things out.

I told myself I'd be honest.   The week before, I had devised a Pain Threshold Scale (where 1 is barely feeling any feedback, 10 is excruciating pain) and made a deal that if I reached a 6, I'd stop and completely back off the intensity, and if it reached a 7, I'd go home.  Honesty was the key.

Well, I started climbing, and kept things at maybe 80% of my usual effort, but nothing ever rose above a 3, and that mostly when I climbed out of saddle.  If I sat back down, the feedback would lower back down to a 1.

----

Fast forward to today, where I rode out the Sea 2 Sky Highway to Murrin Lake and back.  4 hours, 100 kilometers, riding every hill, every headwind, solo.   Achilles Pain Rating: 0

Now, before you caution me:

Yes, I know I have a lot of work to do, both in continual rehab and in training.  Currently, every C priority race on the schedule is cancelled, and B races are on hold.  In 2 weeks I head down to Las Vegas for a week of riding with the boys, and I'll use my performance and recovery there to gauge how to proceed on the rest of the season.

But I no longer have to quit, and that makes me happy.

----

I'd like to throw out a couple of shoutouts:

First, to Drs. Jenn Turner and Sarah Jung from Moveo in North Vancouver.  Thank you for fitting me into your busy schedules, and for laughing when I cursed the Graston "Butter Knife"

Second, to my co-workers at Speed Theory and our fantastic Ambassadors.  I know I wasn't a pleasant person to work for a while - thanks for putting up with me.

Also thanks to CEP Compression and Compressport Canada.  Whether socks, my new compression tri shorts, or full-leg compress sleeves, the high-quality garments from these two brands have got me back in the game.  If you're an athlete and still have hesitations about compression technology, I'd seriously recommend giving it a try.

And last but definitely not least, to my wife for putting up with my misery, though I think she may have enjoyed the extra 15km/h bike rides with me :)

Onwards to victory (or ending up in a ditch)

~ liquid

Who are you calling mental?

Recently, I read a CNN article by Chrissie Wellington on some of the mental tricks and cues she recommends athletes develop for racing.  If you read my blog, that probably means that you're an athlete.  So you should read the article.

Go on, I'll wait

...

Now that you've read the article, and in case you're wondering, I usually have two songs going through my head while I race: The Killers - Human, and Foo Fighters - My Hero

(Incidentally, both of these songs have played over the loud speakers before the gun at Ironman Canada, and both years I raced to personal bests ... just sayin')

Wellington's article got me thinking: while I certainly haven't figured everything out, I have developed some effective mental skills, which I'll periodically start posting here on my blog.

To start, I'll talk about swimming.  If you know me, you know that of the swim, bike, run, transition portions of a race, the swim is the aspect where I am least competitive.  Slow gains, slow gains.

Anyway, I also find swimming very frustrating, especially (at times) swimming with other people.  In an open water situation, I believe there are two types of swimmers: those who push, and those who are pushed.   And while I might have a high strength-to-weight ratio, I still get pushed around.

Which is frustrating.  Sometimes infuriating.  Then my swim stroke gets infuriated.  Then I slow down.

So I've talked with coaches and fellow athletes about it, and have developed some strategies that, for me, have worked.  I figure that there are 3 actions you can take when you find yourself congested in the pool, lake, or ocean.  Whenever my feet are hit, calf is slapped, or I get a shoulder to the face, I quickly make a decision between:

1.  Extricate from the situation.  Find clear water, swim on your own, and stay calm
2.  Embrace the chaos, draw energy from the competition
3.  Get frustrated and lash out

Unfortunately, my natural inclinations are to tend towards Number 3.  But those people swimming around you don't mean to hit you, they just do.  And it's a big lake, or ocean, or pool (maybe), so can't we just all get along?

So, try the other two in your next race or training set (tending towards Number 1 if you're a strong swimmer, and Number 2 if you're still developing like me)

And stay tuned for more mental tips as the season progresses

~ liquid

Tunnel Vision

Typically, tunnel vision refers to having a narrow point of view - you're so focused on what's in front of you that you miss or ignore those things around you.

However, there are times as athletes when adopting a kind of tunnel vision can be extremely useful.  I experienced one such point this past weekend, when racing the Pacific Road Runner's "First Half" Half Marathon.

I'll be blunt - this isn't going to be a race report.  I signed up for the event 5 days before, wasn't really training for it, and couldn't have cared less as to how it went.  I just like the course, lots of people I knew were racing, and I helped someone out by buying their entry.

So the race started, and suprise suprise, I went out too hard.  Not that just things started to hurt (aren't they supposed to in a race) but I can honestly say that this was the first event to ever stop me dead in my tracks.  Even in my marathons and Ironman runs where I've felt like s**t, I've at least walked.

But on Sunday, shortly after Mile 4, my side cramped and I stopped.  Put my head between my legs.  And seriously contemplated walking back to the start (there were, after all, 9 miles to go).  But then I walked, and jogged, and slowly ran (and then had a nice if brief chat with a good friend - thanks J)

This all probably only took a minute, but it still felt fairly daunting.  All the work I'd done in the first 20 minutes of the race was gone, those athletes now far ahead of me.  What to do now?  I seriously needed to talk with someone.

That's when Coach Doug took over

"You can keep running, but only if your side's not hurting"

Okay!

"You can run, but I want you to only run fast through smoothness and good form.  Don't push hard"

Hey, I'm passing people.

"Okay, see that runner up ahead, the one that just passed you?  Focus on his back, and smoothly bridge the gap"

It took 3 kilometers to catch him, but it felt great.

"How's the side feeling?  Test it a couple of times - are you ready to get back to work?"

Ready to go

"Okay, there's just 6 kilometers left in the run, start picking off runners ahead of you."

And the rest is in the books

~ liquid

Back at it!

Happy New Year faithful readers!

It seems that since my last post Blogger has changed some things up ... wonder if this will look any different once I press "Publish"

Some exciting things coming down the pipe for 2012, and I thought I'd quickly share!

Goal Race - Ironman CdA

The goal race for this year is Ironman Coeur d'Alene, held at the end of June.  While I'll normally only race an iron-distance event every second year (2011 was Ironman Canada, and so will 2013), the reality is that this is my final season racing in the 25-29 year age group, so we thought it best if I take advantage of the "big fish, not so little pond" syndrome.

Lots of strong Vancouver athletes are heading down to do this race, so I'm sure I'll have lots of company on those early season long rides, and lots of motivation to race fast when June approaches.

Fun Race - The Mission Classic Gran Fondo

missionclassic.ca

While I don't always settle on my B and C priority events leading up to something big like Ironman Coeur d'Alene, one ride I'll definitely be doing at the end of May is the new Mission Classic GranFondo.  This race is organized by Outback Events, the same team that puts on the Oliver and Desert Half triathlons in the Okanagan (among other races)


Back in September, Joe Dixon had a small group of riders head out to Mission to ride part of the course, get some video footage, and give our feedback on the ride.  Some pretty cool shots of Speed Theory athletes Anthony Toth, Rachel Kiers, and myself.  You've probably seen the promo video for the event, but because I'm in it, you should probably go watch it again (scroll to the bottom of the page)

New Old Friends - Leading Edge



Another exciting development is my new involvement with Leading Edge.  I trained with this group of dedicated athletes back in 2008 (I think?) and have always admired how they are able to mix hard work with having a lot of fun.  So, after being approached by Head Coach (and all-round awesome guy) Andrew Tuovinen I'll be joining the club as their Run Coach for their Wednesday night quality sessions.

Judging by the number of athletes who braved the sideways rain this past Wednesday, this should be a fun year!

And Speaking of Coaching

And speaking of coaching, I have also started to coach dedicated individual athletes for triathlon, running, and cycling events for 2012.  Not a whole ton I want to say at this point, as I'm dedicating all my energy towards getting my athletes going for their key races.  When I have more information that I want to get out publically, though, you'll see it here first!

All the best in reaching your own goals for 2012!

~ liquid