Nick Brown

Ironman St. George was the most challenging race for me yet. It was also the most fair race I’ve ever seen and the race I’m most eager to do again (excluding Kona, for obvious reasons!).  This is a hard course, and if you chose to do it in the future, don’t expect to set any personal bests.  I wouldn’t recommend it to folks worried about making the 17 hour cutoff.  But if your the type who likes to rise up under austere conditions, this is the race for you.

My goal for St. George was to qualify for the Ironman World Championships; “Kona”. I was unsure as to the number of slots available for my age group, but I assumed that I would have to at least finish in the top five, possibly the top three.

I cannot say enough good things about the town of St. George and the surrounding area. It was beautiful, clean, and the people were amazingly polite and kind.

I arrived in St. George on Tuesday night / Wednesday morning of race week after four long days of school work. I had to work hard and sacrifice some sleep so that I could have all of race week to focus. Ryan Denner had convinced my Wildflower campmates of the past two years to go in on a vacation home for the week. This paid off huge dividends. The house was awesome and it was great to have a full-sized kitchen/garage to work with.

Race morning started very early. I woke at 3AM and was on the road by 0440 (I enjoy quality time with my coffee in the morning). Since T1 and T2 were not co-located, everybody had to take a shuttle from the finish line to the swim start and T1 at Sand Hollow Reservoir. The water for the swim was a cold 58 degrees. The wind that had been battering us during the week was reasonably calm and the water’s surface was clean. I prefer to swim in a “farmer john” style wetsuit because I feel less constrained but I opted for sleeves on race day. I calmly went through my pre-race routine at T1 and lined up in the water with about four minutes to spare.

The first turn in the swim was a left about 1000m from the start, but I still started a good ways to the right to avoid congestion. I felt strong right away and focused on a high turnover as opposed to the gliding stroke that has been drilled into my by years of age group swimming. I found clear water very quickly. Instead of sighting the turn buoy in the distance, I just kept pace with the pack to my left and gradually moved over to them. I can’t get over how good this swim felt. It was by far the most comfortable of any of my 2.4 miles swims, despite the water temperature. I was even relaxed enough to take in the panoramic views with each breath and ponder the view from the race coverage helicopters overhead. This was the first time I’ve been able to feel like I could build my effort instead of just survive the swim. I was sure that I would best my IM Arizona time of 54 minutes, but I was surprised to hop out of the water after 56 minutes. Since I was two minutes slow, I expected that a large group of my 25-29 competitors were ahead of me. I had no idea I was the third of my age group out of the water!

I got through T1 efficiently, taking time to put on socks and arm warmers (I think it was still below 50).

The bike course was tough. After about 25 miles of rollers you started a 45 mile loop which was to be covered twice. The loop featured a long and gradual stair-stepping ascent and slow asphalt. Two significantly steep climbs (which had to be covered twice) provided ample opportunities to over-exert yourself. Total ascent was around 6300 feet, quite a bit for a triathlon. We rode through lava fields and climbed up and under the summit of two volcanic ash cones. Once above St. George, we plummeted back down to earth over 15 miles of highway descent. I spent large periods time over 40mph and hit 55 on the second lap. While the course was hard, the views continued to be amazing. Everything is big in Utah, the sky, the mountains, the space.

You can look the course profile and all of my data here:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/32204687

I must have quickly ate up the two age groupers in front of me on the on the way out to the loop. After the race I learned that I spent the majority of the bike in first (for my age group) though I never knew it. I even made the Ironman-Live blog at one point. Still, I was passed by many 30 to 45 year-olds during the bike and I assumed that there was a group of my competitors ahead which I never saw.

I was riding a 12/27 which was a good call. At one point I was sitting at 300W and 55 RPM (my targeted climbing threshold was 250W).

I feel like I executed my race plan very well. I was aiming for 210 watts on the flats (which is deceptive, because there really were no flats) and limiting myself to 250 watts on steeper climbs. My heart rate remained right where I wanted it, between 155 and 160 BPM. Nutrition did not go as well. I was sipping Infinite from two water bottles every ten minutes at a caloric rate of 300 calories/hour. I was hitting the water hard to avoid nausea problems, which meant that I had to pee. Often. Very often. Let’s not go there. I was also taking in additional sodium at about 100 mg / hour, putting my total sodium intake at 700 mg/ hour. This went well through 3/4 of the bike leg, when nausea crept up on me despite my efforts with water. I ended taking in about 1200 calories on the bike as opposed to the 1600 to 1800 I had planned for.

I came into T2 feeling a little worried about the nutrition thing and was greeted by very heavy running legs and the feeling that I was running on fumes. This was not really where I wanted to be to start the run. I was in first place in my age group, but I didn’t know it. I was still assuming that a group of my competitors were up the road who I had never seen.

The half mile to the first aid station felt like torture. I had to pee again, so I jumped into a port-a-john. Right after I closed the door behind me and started going about my business I heard the door in the neighboring port-a-john slam shut.

“Hey Nick!”

It was Marty Taylor. My greeting:

“Oh Shit”

Marty has been present at each of my Ironmans and has raced against me in two of them. We have a very healthy rivalry and I have managed to squeeze out a win both times. I usually get out of the water about 10 minutes before him, hold him off on the bike and then put more time into him on the run. Things weren’t going to work out like that today. I just didn’t have any fight in me.

“How you feeling?” he asked as we both started running again.

“Not good.”

“Well, I’ll run with you for a little bit.”

That lasted for about 100 yards, and then Marty was disappearing up the road.

The run course at St. George was similar to the bike in that it was never flat. We ran a gentle slope out of town, climbed a brutal section to get above St. George, and then ran on rollers to the turnaround at 6.5 miles. Then we turned around, and re-traced our footsteps. Then we repeated the 13 miles again. There was a strange “nub” in the course at each end that was covered each time you passed, four in all. The “nub” at the bottom of the course had a steep but short climb and the “nub” at the top rolled and winded through a small park.

I was immediately walking each aid station and running slow. When the course got steep, I walked. I was nauseas, exhausted and not happy. I needed calories desperately but couldn’t stomach anything at the aid stations.

I slogged through the first six miles, and after a while I was really only running on the descents. Several guys from my age group passed me, and I figured I was in 15th place at best. On my way back to town on the first lap I was in a deep mental hole. I assumed that qualifying for Kona was out of reach. I thought about quitting, but quickly realized that there were well over a thousand people behind me, many of whom would keep moving until well into the night. I had plenty of time to finish, and so I pushed the thought of quitting out of my head and kept moving forward.

I finished the first half of the marathon in a miserable two hours, but my luck was about to turn. As I was passing the aid station where Marty had greeted me I spotted I tray of sandwiches in the back. They were the first thing I had seen on the course that looked appetizing.

“Can I get one of those?” I asked the volunteers.

“Sure! Its Jimmy Johns!” a polite lady answered as she offered me a third of a sub.

That sandwich was the single best thing I have ever eaten. Bar-none. Period. It may have even been lunch for the volunteers, but God bless the Mormons and their inability to turn away a struggling triathlete.

I was licking my fingers as I started slogging up the road again. In less than five minutes, my attitude changed. I felt so much better with food in my stomach. I think my blood sugar rose and I know my energy returned. My feet got lighter and I found my pace. I was able to run again!

I would do so until my heart rate rose above 165, usually on only the steepest parts of the course. At this point I could almost feel my body switch the fuel it was using and start screaming at me. I would start walking. When walking, I would play the “walk one cone, run two” game I learned at Kona last year. I leaned forward on descents and made the most of them.

While I was still on my way out of town for the second time, my buddy Greg (a spectator for the day) spotted me and yelled:

“Hey Nick! You’re in third!”

Greg was getting updates from Ironman.com on his phone. I didn’t believe him for a second, but for some reason that comment bolstered my morale. (After the race we figured out that he was probably looking at information that was 45 minutes to an hour old).

Now I was excited. I didn’t think I was actually in third, but I was going to catch somebody who was having a worse day than me. I got my fight back.

And I did pass people. Lots of people. Lots of people who had passed me earlier in the race. The carnage was way worse out on the course now. And I fed off of it. I was feeling better by the minute, and some of my competitors were crashing. I was devastating the aid stations now, taking in fistfuls of pretzels, potato chips and cookies. I was downing cola and water.

Thanks to compression socks, I wasn’t sure what age group everybody was in. But I did catch one person with a 25 or a 26 marked on their calf. He looked terrible. I moved past him fast and he didn’t respond.

I finished the second half marathon ten minutes faster than the first. I crossed the line smiling with my hands in the air. I still figured that I had placed somewhere between 10th and 15th and that Kona was out of the question.

Before I continue, there is one other event from the run that I have to write about:

The “nub” at the bottom of the course was one of the most painful parts of the course. It was here that we ran through a parking lot for an Elks Lodge. There were several old men sitting in lawn chairs watching the race. The first time I went by them I was walking, probably with my head down. One old man yelled:

“Come-on Navy! Get to it! Hup, two three four! Don’t they teach you how to run in the Navy!”

“Tell me your an old Marine” I replied, to which they all slapped their knees and started howling with laughter. I smiled, started running and they cheered. I passed them three more times and each time they had a smart-ass comment for me. Once they busted into “Anchors Away”. The last time I passed them I was close to the finish and feeling great. I waved to them, called them the “best peanut gallery ever” and thanked them for their encouragement.

Moments after I had finished, I was astonished to find out that I had placed fourth. After reviewing the results, I think I fell from 1st to 6th during the first half of the marathon, and then fought my way back to forth thanks to Jimmy Johns. But I still didn’t know if that was going to be good enough to get me to Kona.

Minutes after I finished, my stomach turned on me again. I took up my usual place in the medical tent, until some nausea meds fixed my stomach and I could enjoy some post race pizza and beer, courtesy of Marty Taylor (He had a great race and I never did catch him, but we will race again !)

The next morning was an exercise in math for my friends and I. Based on the total number of entrants, the number of competitors in my age group and the number of slots available we estimated that there were 3.8 slots for my age group. But we didn’t know what Ironman did with remainders. Did they round up? Do they lump them all together and give more slots to the biggest age group? To the smallest age group?

Marty had to go in to claim his slot, and I went along to check on my fate. When I saw the results posted with “4 qualifying slots” scribbled next to my age group I …..well…..I got a bit emotional.

So that’s that. A cold, relaxing swim; A tough bike and a brutal 26.2 miles. I finished in 10:32, stood atop the podium in 4th for my age group and qualified for Kona! The people and town of St. George were great. The race was well organized and went off without a hitch. Thanks to Greg and Pat for showing up and supporting Myself, Marty, Erin, Daemeon, Ryan and Michelle. Thanks to Matt Simpson for showing up to cheer on all his friends. Thanks to Liz, Melinda, Ed, Joe, Kathy, Sarah, Little Felipe (Fred), Elaine and the rest of the breakaway crew for all the support. Thanks to Jenny and CDR Lagerquist for feeding me the night before the race. And finally thanks to everybody who was wishing me well from home.

I know it’s been a while since my last post. Here is my attempt at a lame excuse: Graduate school is not undergraduate school. It’s a lot more time consuming then I had expected. I read and write a lot for school. So much that at the end of the day, the last thing I want to do is write some more.

I’ve been busier then I had expected this winter. My training consistency has suffered a little bit. Not terribly, I still got in a lot of big weekends in preparation for this weekend’s race, but I definitely logged more consistent training when I lived in San Diego. I think it may actually be easier to train with a 9 to 5 job then a with a student’s schedule. With the 9 to 5, at the end of the day you are done. Work stays at the office and you can train your butt off. As a student, responsibilities and tasks are always hanging over your head.

I love Oregon. The winter has been wet and cold, but it didn’t hold me back. Believe it or not, bicycles do work in the rain. That is all I’m going to say about that. The mountains and wilderness up here are great.

Since February I have I experimented with cycling road racing and time trials a bit. Since I’m a beginner, I race as a CAT 5. I truly believe that I am one of the strongest cyclists in this field. A typical road race plays out as follows: I ride about three hours before the race starts to get in my volume for the weekend. Once the race starts, I sit in the pack and conserve energy until I get bored. At some point I leap off the front in pursuit of solo domination. About 10 minutes later the pack gobbles me back up. I sit in the pack and conserve energy until I get bored…the process repeats itself several times. Then I get pissed and sit on the front and hammer in a sorry attempt to punish everybody for not letting me get away. About 200 meters from the finish the entire field, including the guy in the primal jersey who bounces with every peddle stroke, ride around me. Road racing is the most frustrating sport in the world.

I have had more success with time trials. As triathletes, we rarely get to empty the tank on the bike. Want to know a secret? Its lung searing, black spot seeing, pain cave dwelling AWESOME. I’ve done two small races and I think I finished second in the 4/5 field each time. For each race my finishing time would have also placed me in the top 10 of the CAT 3 field and in the top half of the 1/2 field. While road racing drives me mad, I’ve developed a passion for TTs.

I’ve done two tri’s thus far in 2010. IM 70.3 Oceanside and USAT Collegiate Nationals. I had a poor swim, solid bike and terrible run at Oceanside. The first six miles of the run were great, and then I was crippled by the same nausea issues that plagued me at IM Louisville and Kona. Two weeks later I did my best to train through USAT Collegiate Nats. Lubbock TX was a mess due to a few days of torrential rains. The swim was shortened due to wind and cold. I have never been in such a violent swim pack. I had a solid bike again but couldn’t get my legs to fire for the run. I am very comfortable with long course racing, but shorter races continue to be a weakness for me.

Enough with the catching up. I’ve been focusing on IM St. George all winter and I’m going to start writing that blog now….

First Off - Special Thanks to Marty, Linda, Dave and Lalita. I’m so glad you were all in Hawaii with me.

So I know this is very late. Let me try to offer up an excuse. I missed my second week of graduate school to race at Hawaii and PAID FOR IT when I returned. Life wasn’t much more then eating, sleeping, and scholarly deadlines.

On the plane home from Hawaii, I pecked in these notes. If you want to know what I thought about the race, try to decipher what is below.

Getting to Kona was what makes 2009 a success. I’ve cut my teeth and next year I want to be competitive. I’ve already mentally moved on to 2010 so I don’t feel like cleaning this up.

Congrats to my Breakaway Training friends who Kicked Ass at Clearwater Today!

POST RACE NOTES

Pre

Triathletes on the plane. Nick from Specialized. Tuesday run (bad), Wednesday ride (good) . Thursday off. Southern point Friday morning. Navy. Dave and Lalita. Andy Potts, Carl Cringle. Underpants run. Interviewed. Bike and gear bag check in. Finish Line.

Race morning.

Granola. Navy Parachute Team. National Anthem.

Swim.

Speedzoot. Green Sweedes. One piece Zoot below. Aggressive. Not in the first few seconds, but definitely in the first 400 meters. Pack swimming for the whole thing. Chicks are the worst. Got dunked - whished flat wheels and cramps on him. Leg cramps. Currents (Started left, pushed right up against the buoys before I expected. Pushed inside buoys on way back). Felt really good after feeling bad from 65% to 100%. Caps in the water.

Bike. LOTS OF AGE GROUPERS IN FRONT OF ME. Solid line of cyclists on Queen K. Way out wind was negligible, let average wattage creep upwards of 216ish. Calmed down by Captain (sel) Jones. Not to hot at first. High speed kept spirits up into climb at Hawi. Wind increased during the climb but wasn’t too bad. Getting hotter. Special needs after turn around. FAST decent. Buffeted by the increasing wind. Back on Queen K. WIND and HEAT. Flags at top of climb. Average wattage dropped, but continued to make passes and bridge BIG gaps alone. Good aero position. Comfortable. Got better at airport. It was there I realized how taxing the course had been.

Run. Hurt from the beginning. Walking and running, but still took some time to run slow. Lots of pain in entire lower body. Kept spirits up on Ali’i drive. Out on the Queen K - stomach turned against me. Porta-poty. Carnage. Running aid station to aid station proved difficult, at times resorted to walking. Captain (sel) Jones. Focused on just getting to Energy Lab. Energy Lab: Small hill! But so painful! Not so much hill and heat, but location on the course. Miles 16 to 20 are tough enough without the added challenge. Back on the Queen K my difficulties continued and I lost site of a sub-10 hour finish. HOT! At one point running two cones walking one cone. So happy to make it back to town. Ran last mile (everybody is a hero for the last mile!).

What happened? Not enough recovery? Nutrition? Head not in the game? Pacing? (thought my numbers were good?) Elements? (strong possibility). I didn’t respect how easy I had to go to perform in the heat.

Need to figure out the Nausea thing.

Post.

Nausea continued until next morning. Worthless until awards ceremony. Chrissy Wellington. Great speech. Crowie - Classy character. Great to meet them both, if only for an instant. Props to Andy Potts for sticking out a tough race.

HARDEST IRONMAN yet. Not satisfied with finish time, but glad I stuck it out. Still only about 45 minutes off what I thought I was capable of (8%?) Finished in top 50 AG. Icing on the cake for the year. Cut my teeth. Have some business to finish on the big island next year. Want to race cut and lean at 160 lbs and finish in under 9:30. Will be my focus all year. Race IM St. George,- registering for a late year IM only if necessary.

Month off. Then it’s time to get settled in and get some work done.

http://media.barometer.orst.edu/media/storage/paper854/news/2009/10/02/News/Osus-Very.Own.ironman-3791462.shtml

Pictures tomorrow…

I have a long series of flights to take me from Louisville to Portland, so I’m going back to the beginning. If you just want to read about my race, scroll down. I’ve written all this before, but I’ve just reached what feels like a crossroads, or better yet, a broken barrier, and I feel like looking back. Plus it’s my blog, so I’ll do what I want.

Just a few days shy of two years ago I competed in my first triathlon. So coerced by my old friend Laura Kephart and her roommate Emily Tait, I registered for a 70.3 45 days out and started training - knowing only that to prepare I needed to swim, bike and run. Frequencies, durations and intensities were really just my best guess. I had swam in high school, the military had taught me how to run and any self respecting, red blooded American from a rural home has spent some time on a bicycle. I was not starting from scratch. Running scared from the humiliation that would come if Laura had “chicked” me (A definite possibility!), I finished a respectable race. I had rediscovered the thrill of competition, physical toil and self discovery long forgotten from a youth spent immersed in competitive swimming. Moreover, I wanted to see just how far I could take this multi-sport and endurance thing.

My goals from two years ago were simple. Get fast. Get strong. Learn to go long. I looked up to the age group powers in San Diego and wanted to join their ranks. I also had a rather vain goal which I don’t like to mention often. In addition to self improvement, I wanted to become a force in my age group so that when others see my name on race registration lists they have a moment of pause. Reflection not caused by fear or dread, just respect. Knowledge that I will race hard and be a factor, no matter the conditions, time or place. I quietly put my nose to the grind stone.

Fast forward to 11 months ago. I had 12 months of consistent training under my belt and was stepping up to the plate for my first Ironman in Arizona. I thought I was capable of a sub 10 hour race on that course and felt that, if everything went right, I may qualify for big show in Kona. I had a great day, smashed the goals I had set out for myself and finished in 9:40:45. But seven guys went faster, and Kona would have to wait. I was in a strange place, satisfied in my effort but left wanting in a melancholy sort of way.

No worries, I would race again, and Kona in 2009 was still a possibility. I raced the Oceanside half this April and picked up a slot to Ironman Louisville. A few weeks later I was honored with the ability to represent the U.S. Navy at the Armed Forces Championship at Mugu Naval Air Station, an ITU style, draft legal race. I did well enough to be assured a spot on the All Navy Triathlon team in 2010. I was further inspired, ready to recover from my spring races and focus on Louisville.

Uncle Sam then threw me a curve ball. My job from July 2007 to August 2009 was to manage the sustainment, repair, and new construction of facilities for the West Coast US Navy SEALs. As such, my responsibilities were in Southern California, Guam and Bahrain. In May, when I started getting copied on emails concerning fires in facilities in Iraq, my nerves went on edge. Sure enough, my boss, a strikingly relaxed yet confident SEAL Captain (who taught me a lot about stress management, though he probably doesn’t know it), walked into my office and put his boots on my desk. “How would you like to go to Iraq for two weeks?

I had ten days to get ready and left just after Memorial Day. Two weeks turned into five weeks as the reality of travel in a “contingency area” (formerly known as a “war zone”) set in. I did my best to stay fit, but running in Iraq is hard. It is difficult to explain, but those who have served over there can probably attest to how much energy simply existing takes, let alone training. At the first sign of injury in my left achilles, I had enough and just focused only on getting my job done. I returned on July 4th, a better day to come home from abroad does not exist.

A tough deal? Sure. But I am in the military and trips like that are why I put on a uniform. Plus five weeks doesn’t compare to a six, twelve or eighteen month deployment. I am blessed to have been able to remain in San Diego for all but five weeks of a 24 month block of time.

In July I found myself back from this five week break of sorts with eight weeks to prepare for Louisville. Kona was no longer a serious ambition for 2009, I just wanted to piece together a respectable race. I put my head down again and got to it. In early August I started seeing good signs. I was running remarkably well. I held on to the famous “Swami’s” ride in North San Diego for the first time. I seemed to be as strong as ever and my ambition returned.

More good stuff was going to happen. Professionally, I have a great deal right now. The Navy decided to keep me around for a few years and even send me back to college. For the next 18 months, my job is to go to graduate school. Since classes haven’t started yet, I had some time to take leave and headed to Louisville on the Monday of race week, a luxury I may never be able to afford again. I got to train in the heat (which turned out to not be necessary), ride the entire course and just plain get comfortable in the Kentucky setting.

Alright, THE RACE. If you’ve been scrolling down the page this is where you want to start reading.

Four notes up front

1: The “injury” I sustained in my left achilles in Iraq (from training, not combat ) nagged me all summer and never went away. I just chose to ignore it and continued to train. Though it lingered during the week before the race, I never even thought about it while I was racing. I’m pretty sure it’s just minor tendinitis, more of an irritation then injury.

2: Friends have been giving me grief because I haven’t shaved my legs since the Armed Forces Championship in early May. I am a hairy guy. Shaving is a lot of work for me. I decided to revert to swimmer form, and save it for just before my big race. Doing so makes me feel faster come race day, regardless of taper or training. I like how it worked out and I think I’ll keep the habit.

3: I was happy to weigh in a 165 lbs race week but I still feel like I’m a chubby triathlete. Check out the pictures below and you be the judge. What can I say, I love to eat. I think in Ironman, that’s an advantage which may be better than the five extra pounds I carry.

4: The weather conditions were perfect.

I woke up Sunday morning at 0400. It always amazes me how easy it is to get my ass out of bed on race day mornings. I take a shower and shave my face before any big race, treating it as any other work day. If I neglected any area over the past week, it was planning for my pre-race breakfast. Some granola bars, two bananas, two Powerbars and Gatorade were all I had in the hotel room. I had left my bike and T1 and T2 bags in transition the previous afternoon so I grabbed my swim stuff and headed off in a search for caffeine. I had found a Dunkin Donuts the night before, and it was there I picked up my vat of coffee. Next, off to the race, a 20 minute drive from my secluded hotel.

I arrived in a parking garage a few short blocks from transition at about 0500. To my horror, I had forgotten my special needs bag with ALL of my nutrition in the hotel. Breaking a few traffic laws, I sped back to the hotel, picked them up, returned to transition and was one of the last people to check their bike and start the quarter mile walk to the swim start at about 0630.

Marty Taylor was also having race morning technical difficulties. He woke up with a flat tire. The issue also set him back and we conveniently ran in to each other searching for the back of the start line.

Ironman Louisville is unique in that it features a Time Trial start for the age groupers. Starting at 0700, in one second intervals, triathletes walked over a timing mat and leaped into the warm Ohio River. Since Marty and I arrived late we were relegated to the back of a 2500 person single file line. I bet it was at least half a mile long. It took over an hour for us and the 30 or 40 athletes behind us to reach the start line. The resulting accordion effect from the line meant that by the time we were 400m from the starting point we were jogging, I zipped up my Xterra Velocity Speedsuit and put on my cap and Swedish goggles on the fly.

I was wearing Zoot tri shorts under the speedsuit, but no top of any kind. One of the reasons why I don’t like wetsuits is that my shoulders seem to fatigue quickly from the recovery part of my stroke. I have a larger upper body than most triathletes, so most wetsuits fit tight, compounding the problem. I chose the Velocity for its flexibility in the shoulders and swam “topless” to avoid unnecessary restriction to my swim stroke.

I am a big fan of “sweeds” and will never wear any other type of goggle. They are the epitome of utility, function and simplicity for which I love them.

The river water was brown and warm. Some folks were complaining about its cleanliness, but I have spent much of my youth in river water and was right at home (whitewater sports were a solace from the bland and sensory deprived world of the competitive swimmer, and steep creeks abound in rural Pennsylvania) . The first 25 percent of the swim was technically upriver, but in still waters protected by a near shore island. I chose a line well clear of the buoys to avoid the 2460 or so folks lined up in front of me, but I still felt like I was always moving through traffic. I would call my pace steady. My turnover was high but I was putting medium to light pressure on the water, relishing the ability to start an Ironman without a 200m sprint and possibly a brawl.

Once past the Island the two turns that brought us into the main river channel were very congested. The biggest downside to my late start was the crowded swim (there were upsides which I will get to later) Technically we were going downriver for the last three quarters of the swim, but the Ohio River doesn’t have much of a current through Louisville. If there was an advantage to be had I didn’t notice it and I don’t think the race’s swim splits reflect it. I was still very wide of the buoys to avoid traffic, but every 200m or so somebody trying to swim to Indiana would cross my path. Or maybe I was crossing their path? Regardless of whoever was on the “correct” path, we would collide. I did fatigue late in the swim and I think I did a moderate job focusing on my form and efficiency. There is room for improvement here.

I was out of the water in 58:07. Even though I feel like wetsuits restrict me, they obviously make me faster. I went 54:13 in Arizona.

T1 was smooth. I felt a bit bloated and must have consumed to much of the Ohio River, but this is normal for me. There was a lot of ground to cover in transition, but it was well organized. The volunteers did an outstanding job getting my T1 bag to me, and I had a helper in the change tent. Putting on the top part of my race kit took AT MOST 15 seconds, I think leaving it in the bag was a good call. I was so focused on my task that I don’t remember ever looking at my helpers face. (I hope I said “thank you”.) 3:49 and I was across the timing mat at the other end of transition.

The bike course featured 10 miles of flat to false flat along the river. Then it turned away from the river and climbed in a rolling fashion up into horse country. Rolling was the key word for the bulk of the ride. While there were no severe or sustained climbs, you always seemed to be going up, or going down. Mile 18 featured the start of a four mile out and back which featured a sharp descent through the woods to a creek, then a climb back out of the valley. Since it was an “out and back” you would turn around to descend and ascend again. Once completed with the dog-leg (I wonder how that name came about?), we continued to “roll” to the start of a 30 mile loop through the town of La Grange which would be completed twice. (Have mercy. A haw, haw, haw, haw, a haw. A haw, haw, haw.) I felt that the loop included the most severe of the rolling terrain. With both loops completed, athletes rolled in a downhill fashion back to the river and the flats in the downstream direction were very fast.

I like to use Infinite as my fuel source on the bike. It lets me cram everything I could want, carbs, protein, salt, etc. into one product, making things very simple. I brought 1500 calories along in four bottles (300 calories / hour x 5 hours). I also had three Gu’s taped to the top tube of my P2C for variety and would replace empty Infinite bottles with Gatorade as needed. For water, I used a speedfill, which worked very well and was easy to refill on the fly. I was hungry right away out of T1, so I downed 2 Gu’s early. The semi-solid seemed to help, but I didn’t modify my Infinite schedule accordingly and so took in A LOT of calories early. Special needs was at about mile 65, and again the volunteers were excellent. I yelled my number to some with cell phones about 400 meters out and a nice lady was holding the bag at roadside for me when I got there. It took about 20 seconds to open up a cheap lunch cooler with my second two frozen bottles of Infinite and I was refueled and off.

I completed the bike course in 5:15:48. My average power was 206W and my average HR was 157 bpm. I climbed those rollers at 250 to 270 watts for the most part. Twice I caught myself climbing at over 300 watts which probably hurt me in the end. The frequency of hills made it very easy to burn your legs out if you weren’t watchful. I think I started to hot as during the 10 miles along the river on the way into T2 I was very fatigued and 180W seemed awfully difficult to hold.

I had exploded in anger once, which also hurt me in the long run and contributed to that rough 10 miles at the end. An older and thicker gentlemen with a race number that labeled him as “Frank” kept leapfrogging me. More than once I caught him sitting RIGHT ON MY WHEEL staring at me, almost grinning. One of those times it got to me and instead of pulling over and forcing him to pass I took off with enough force to get a “Holy Sh…” from the leader of a group of five ahead as I passed. Fun, yes. Smart, no.

Speaking of drafting, the advantage of being one of the last in the water was that the first 60% of my bike ride was a continuous pass. I couldn’t help but slingshot past a large part of the field. I even had an official tale me on a motorcycle briefly, but once he was satisfied that I was following the 7 meter and 20 second rule he took off in search of actual violations. Towards the end when I was riding with folks going more or less the same speed as myself I became more calculated about deciding when it was worth the extra wattage to complete a pass and when it was smart to sit at seven meters. Since serving as the bike marshal at Superfrog, my opinion on this practice has changed. Racing is racing, and if you’re following the rules, you’re not cheating.  (What a great sentence, I’m proud of that one!)

My position on the P2C has gotten more aggressive over the past six months, but it worked out well on this course. The numerous short hills gave me ample opportunity to get out of the aero position, stretch, and slightly change the way my legs were firing. Late in the ride I found myself looking forward to approaching hills. I didn’t have anywhere near the back pain I experienced in Arizona.

The cowbells in La Grange were great.  They can really get to me!

I came into T2 fatigued, and a little worried about the run coming up. Transition was again smooth and efficient and I was through it in 3:04

The run course was mainly flat and very straightforward. We left T2 and ran to the 2nd street bridge. We ran over half of the bridge, then turned around and ran downtown. The bridge was the only real hill to speak of, everything else was flat. It was then a straight shot through downtown, through historic Louisville, past a neat statue honoring “our Confederate Dead”, across the tracks, and then through near-city-suburbia. The course then turned around and followed its tracks back to downtown to complete the half marathon. We ran right past the finish line. Then we repeated everything, minus the bridge, and proceeded to cross the finish line.

I was running in my Nike Lunar Racers, with socks, and was planning on just using a visor for sun protection. In the past, sunglasses have just gotten in the way on the run as I frequently dump water on my head. However, in T2 I unknowingly put my sunglasses on top of my head and didn’t realize they were there until I was looking at pictures after the race.  They came along for the ride!

For nutrition on the run I like to rely on the aid stations, which in an Ironman, are usually frequent, well stocked, and full of excited volunteers. Louisville was no exception, with stations about every mile with water, Gatorade, cola, fruit, pretzels, etc. I took in Gatorade heavily for the first eight miles, then it became tough to stomach for some reason. I switched to just water, then used cola and water from about mile 20 to the finish. I never really took advantage of fruit or any “real” food. I couldn’t even stomach the thought.

Here are my notes on pacing from Training Peaks:

Miles 1 - 6 7:10 to 7:20. Miles 7 to 11 7:15 to 7:30. Miles 12 to 16 7:40 to 7:48. Miles 17 to 19 8:00 to 8:10. Miles 20 to 24 were HARD 8:16 - Walking Aid Stations. Miles 24 to 26 7:23 - gutsy - no stop at the aid station. Last .2 miles was at 6:40 and finish chute was at 6 flat. Overall - 7:39 and 168 bpm.

Though fatigued from the bike, it was still an effortless run for the first eight miles. But just like the bike, I think I started out to hot. At about mile 10 I had a sense of impending doom, but stayed focused. I gradually slowed until about mile 20 when the wheels fell off the bus. This was an extremely low point in the race for me. I had come so far but the end still seemed so distant! My legs hurt from impact and I was running out of fuel. Finally, I passed an aid station and resorted to walking. Through the aid station I drank cola, water, and all the Gatorade my stomach could handle. Once past the aid station I resumed my run. I had success with this form of damage control in Arizona and it worked well in Louisville too. Even though I was walking aid stations, my pace stayed below 8:20 for each mile. The key, and hardest, part was to start running as soon as I passed the aid stations.

Then at mile 24 I broke through my funk. I’m sure it was just because 2.2 miles was mentally very easy to handle. My pace dropped back down below 7:30 as I blew past the last aid station! Like a ghost, an older and taller age grouper ran up on my left shoulder and we each built off each other and surged into downtown. He dusted me, but I could care less. I was flying now, I could hear the finish line around the block and I knew I was going to finish darn close to 9:40. I flew down the finish chute at a pace close to six flat and finished marathon in 3:18:06 and the race in 9:38:49.

I have to wonder if my breakdown at mile 20 was mental. Maybe my body had the capability to push on but I just didn’t have the mental toughness or pain tolerance to do it. That’s the wonderful thing about all endurance sports. I rose to a challenge and achieved great things, but I still wonder if I could have gone faster. I am still left planning for how I will do it better next time…I can always best my previous effort.

Notice I said effort, not time. At some point in life my body is going to stop getting faster. But if faster is not an option, I can always race harder, or maybe smarter. The great thing about age group racing is that you always have a way to ascend, even if your body is descending. But I digress….

Volunteers grabbed me as I crossed the finish line and I stumbled. Somebody asked me how I felt and all I could do was grunt. My stomach really didn’t feel so hot. Without asking, they put me in a wheel chair and pushed me away to medical. I am not the best looking guy at the finish line.

At medical I met a very nice pediatrician volunteer who gave me two IV’s. The guy on the cot next to me had crashed into a vehicle on the bike course and had the torn up jersey and cut up back to prove it. But he persevered, and still finished in 9:46 and won the 45 to 49 age group! Impressive! My stomach pain revealed itself as GI issues, and after drinking massive amounts of fluids for an hour or two they let me leave.

I am not sure if the GI issues were related to my race nutrition (to many calories to early on the bike?) or the sushi restaurant next to my hotel. I went back to the Sushi restaurant on Monday night and the GI issues resurfaced…

Marty Taylor came to visit me in medical with my dry clothes bag from earlier that morning. At the time I didn’t know what was better, the warm dry clothes he brought me or the news that I had placed 3rd in my age group and qualified for the race at Kona.

Marty finished scant minutes behind me and also qualified for Kona. It was great to share success with my friend on the same course, on the same day.

I really enjoyed the awards banquet the next day. It was a great chance to meet top tier age groupers and standing on the awards stage at an Ironman was a neat experience. The four guys who shared the top five spots with me were all great dudes. I met Evan MacFarlane, the athlete Chucky V wrote of in his blog the previous week. I admitted to checking out Evan’s blog and freaking myself out by reading his training numbers and assuming that he was an “average” age grouper. Evan finished 2nd in our age group, but also was the 2nd overall Amateur. He is one fast dude.

What’s next? I started this epic race report reviewing my first two years as a competitive age group triathlete. My most aggressive goal was to prove myself a force in my age group, something I figured would take five to ten years. With a top three age group finish in a major race such as an Ironman, I think I achieved that goal in less than two years. Now what do I focus on?

Well, for one there is the whole Navy thing. Right now I am planning on going to Kona on my own time and money. Leave. Valuable vacation days burned. I will buy my own plane ticket and pay for my own lodging and meals. I will represent myself. I am going to work the Navy thing, as I would do most anything to represent the Navy on the big stage one day. And getting the Navy to help me with the cost of getting there would be so very nice….

But still, I think that goal is within easy reach. I need more.

This year I will probably merely experience Kona. It is a short six weeks from Louisville to Kona, and I only have five and a half weeks left to recover and to prepare. I will race Ironman St. George in the spring. My goal will be to qualify there, and to go to Kona in 2010 after having an entire summer to prepare.

I would like to race the Armed Forces Triathlon again in the spring, and would also like to improve at that distance.

Farther out, I have obligations to deal with. In January 2011 I will complete graduate school and the Navy will send me to dive school. For six months my ability to train will be severely limited (but I will be required to stay fit in order to pass dive school, just a different kind of fit). After that I could end up anywhere. Overseas. East Coast, West Coast, Contingency Area, Deployment. It is all possible. If my time is limited I will focus on “single sport” instead of “multi-sport”. I will still cross train whenever I can, as I love to swim and cycle, but I will probably become a runner. I can’t imagine being so busy as to not be able to train as a triathlete for more than 18 months. 18 months of arduous duty and I will likely return to a job like the one I had in San Diego where I discovered my affection for endurance sport.

Confused? Two years from now I will be out of Dive School and will owe the Navy three more years. Of those three years, half of the time I MAY not be able to train as much as I do now because of my Navy obligations. Where that 18 month block fits into the three year window I have no idea.

In May of 2014 I will reach a crossroads and have to decide to stay in the Navy or to get out and pursue a civilian career. My ability to do what I love will have vast influence on this decision. I will be 31 years old. That gives me the opportunity to race hard for several years before I reach my theoretical endurance “peak”. Maybe even a decade.

Now that I have meandered a bit, let me get back to defining a long range goal. I would like to reach a level where I could flirt with turning pro, though I don’t think I ever would. Instead of being respected by just my fellow age groupers, maybe I can get to the point where people who do this for their living take notice of me on race day…

I just wrote a kick ass blog, it took me about 2.5 hours.  It included a course overview, and my plan for race execution.  Then my fat fingers deleted it.   A common theme for me with the digital age.  So instead, I will just assure everyone that all is well, I’m prepared and confident in my fitness.

The goal today was a two hour run.  90 minutes steady and smooth, 30 minutes at tempo.  I don’t know the area well enough by foot to know any good routes, so I just went exploring.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/11328323

It made for some inconsistent pacing, as I was stopping at lights, turning around, getting lost, etc.  But I am more familiar with the assortment of parks within running distance of my place and more familiar with OSU’s campus.  I’ll call that a success.

The tempo part was harder then I had hoped.  Yesterday, I was running 6:55 off of the bike like it was nothing.  Today, 6:30s seemed awfully difficult after 90 minutes on my feet.  I was attacked by a bush 18 minutes into the effort and I took that as an omen to call it quits.

Ok so maybe “attacked by a bush” is really “ran into the bush because I wasn’t paying attention”.  Regardless, I have to get use to plant life with teeth again.  Not to mention the poisonous varieties that I noticed while taking a piss at the side of the road yesterday.

Yesterday I mentioned that I might be capable of running the marathon at 7:10 pace at IM Louisville.  Today I’m thinking 7:30 is more realistic.  It doesn’t really matter.  I probably won’t make up my mind until I’m running out of T2 on the 30th.