Nick Brown

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.

I volunteered to help out with the Superfrog and Superseal triathlons today.  This pair of races is still very much a “grassroots” event run by Naval Special Warfare.  The organizers know me from work and since they are aware that I have race “experience” I was suckered into being the one and only bike marshal or judge.

Manhood left in the car for the morning, I did my best to act like an authority figure from the back of a Harley.  As much as I tried to monitor the whole course, I was the only set of eyes watching out for drafting, blocking and littering.  An hour or so into the race, when the multi-lap course was full of triathletes, I resigned to follow the three leaders.  A notable lead three at that.  Luke Bell, Chris McDonald and Lars Finanger had all shown up to race while in town for IM Oceanside 70.3 next weekend.  My feminine perch was a great place to watch three world class triathletes throw down a very fast bike leg.

They were definitely working together, taking turns at breaking the wind.  But they also respected the two bike length separation distance that Superfrog founder Moki Martin had asked me to enforce.  Obviously there was still a draft benefit to sitting seven to ten meters off of a rear wheel.  Legal Drafting.  I don’t know how I feel about that yet, but I can’t claim that they were breaking the rules.  Because technically, they weren’t.

Afterwords I had a chance to talk to Luke and Chris about their races and I asked both of them to compare spacing or drafting during today’s race to that of other, more established races.  Both claimed that today’s race was very clean.  Chris explained how a 7 meter front wheel to front wheel rule leaves only about 5 meters of a gap between triathletes and can really become 4 meters w/o risking a penalty.  Luke explained how drafting varies depending on the race host country, and how he’s seen lines of as many as 20 triathletes working together without being penalized.

For now I accept it, but I feel kind of dirty for doing so.  Why should the three leaders work together while the 4th man struggles on his own? (Mitch Hall today….sorry dude!)  Is that the penalty he pays for not getting out of the water soon enough?  If triathlon was truley a measure of the best combined swimmer, cyclist and runner wouldn’t there be no such penalty?  If triathlon was truley a measure of the best combined swimmer, cyclist and runner wouldn’t the swim be longer and the bike shorter?  Maybe triathlon isn’t a measure of proficiency across three disciplines, but a struggle to cross a predefined distance, following predefined rules, as quickly as possible.  Racing’s racing but fair is also fair.  My head hurts.  I don’t know the answer.  Does this last paragraph make any since at all?

It was a real pleasure talking to Luke and Chris.  The aproachability of world class athletes at low key events like Superfrog bring a lot of charm to triathlon and endurance sports.  Luke was nursing a strain from today’s race.  I hope it doesn’t prevent him from racing Oceanside this weekend.  I’ll be rooting for both Chris and Luke….but I won’t hesitate if a flat tire, bonk or other misfortune gives me the chance to run them down.  I guess racings racing after all!

If I’m not posting, its probably because I’m overwhelmed.  Such was the case over the past three weeks.  My routine became wake up, train, work, train, “oh my god its 8PM and I have to get up in 8 hours to do this again”.  The whole balance thing I’ve written about before, it tipped way towards training and everything else was suspended in mid air, out of reach.  Not good.

Sleep.  So critical.  When I plan out my next base and build phase I’m going to pay attention to where the workouts fall to ensure I don’t sacrifice rest.  At least 7 hours a night, preferably 8, from now on.  Sleep deprivation is almost respected in my military circles, but it just doesn’t fly if your trying to develop as an athlete.

A Social Life.  I’ve always been a bit of a loner, but I want what social life I used to have back.

Work.  Well that was there to.  I can’t really let that one go.

But I’ll never stop moving.

Anyways, Once again, I resolve to do better w/ the whole blog thing.  I don’t care if anybody out there actually reads it, but I like the idea of having a journal.  And since my handwriting sucks, the blog will have to do.

Chris,-nothing from you.  I forbid you from posting on this page until you get a job.  Nytro doesn’t count.  It has to be for more then 4 hours a week.

I am very fortunate to have enough control over my work travel schedule to plan trips during recovery weeks.  Its an efficient use of time, but hopping on a plane and flying 42 hours in four days isn’t the best way to recover, as I would find out later….

This week took me to Guam.  Home of Coconut Crabs and Gamecocks.  I left Monday morning and arrived Tuesday night.  Wednesday I woke up jetlagged (It was really tuesday afternoon as far as my body was concerned) and knocked out all of my work by 3PM.  The weather was hot and humid (about 88 and 90%) but storm clouds were gathering over the tropical island and I could smell the rain.  I had been planning to run and the thought of running in the rain was very tempting.

By the time I got back to my room and changed from my uniform to my running gear, the violent part of the storm had passed.  The rain had gushed from the sky, nothing like what we get in SoCal.  I bounded out the door in a steady rain and took off exploring the navy base’s lonely paved roads that meander under jungle canopy.

These guys. Strange.  Everywhere.  I almost squashed several.  You think they would learn from their flattened buddies and get off the road.

I came across an MWR beach.  The ocean water was unbelievably clear, and very tempting.  Again, if only I had more time on the island.  Snorkeling and skin diving would be a must.

Anyways, this run was strangly relaxing.  Maybe it was the solitude.  Maybe the rain or the exotic setting.  But I felt like I could have gone on forever and would have stretched it out if I would have had more time (Why does everybody I visit for work always want to take me out in town?) .  I’m glad my passtime and my work gives me the opportunity to explore new places from time to time.

Thursday morning I was back on a plane.  After 21 hours of flight, I arrived home on…..Thursday morning.  Wierd.  My Friday and Saturday workouts were tough and I blame the lack of recovery from Sunday’s race and Jetlag.

A combination of rain and work decreased my training volume a bit this week. Such is the reality faced by my fellow amateur’s the world over. When training is only a passion balanced among priorities, unexpected speed bumps, detours and obstacles have to be embraced. Creativity can only do so much when trying to squeeze training time out of a working schedule. If Mother Nature decides to become uncooperative at the same time your professional responsibilities increase your options can look daunting:

1: Cycle in the dark, in the rain and with the temperature in the 40’s. Play “tag” with all of the California drivers who apparently missed physics class when the fundamentals of friction, inertia and momentum were covered.

2: Wait for the weather to pass, train during working hours (aka “daylight”) and ignore your priorities at work. Option 2 has several negative side effects. Your stress at work will probably be increased when you return (which will probably only diminish training at a later time). Skip out often and you may lose support of co-workers, or even risk your career. This severity can increase if your profession has guiding documents such as the Uniform Code of Military Justice that can show up if you decide to become “derelict” in your duties.

3. Break out the trainer, trade out cycling for running and swimming whenever possible and embrace the extra recovery time. Train harder/longer when it’s dry and work is slow.

I’ll take number 3.

Do I wish I had the freedom and flexibility to wait out passing weather systems and train at any time, any day? Of course! Would it be nice to be able to follow a training plan without making concessions for business travel, deadlines and “office fatigue”? Definitely! But I am also proud of my chosen profession and training remains a hobby which I have become very, very fond of.

Wait a minute…I live in Southern California. There’s no ice on the roads. Why am I complaining about the weather? How quickly I forget…

A week from now it will all be over.  A few thoughts before my last week of prep:

My Life’s Two Extremes

When I started this blog I had every intention of writing a lot and writing often.  However, I didn’t realize how busy things were going to get.  As I started flirting with 20 hour training weeks and my + 40 hour/week  responsibilities at work continued to mount (freedom isn’t free… ) little things got pushed to the side.  Life became a blur as staff meetings, Tuesday spin, fiscal year stress, dark Wednesday morning rides, project reports, Friday cove swims, peer evaluations, 2.5 hour trail runs, angry executive officers, Saturday centuries and congressional thresholds all mushed together in my tired and frazzled mind.

Ahhh….Much Better

Then all of a sudden I snapped out of it.  Its like I just woke up from a bad dream.  Things at work are stabilizing. I’m tapering (or am I peaking?) with massive amounts of training volume behind me.  I woke up yesterday bright eyed and bushy tailed before any alarm went off for the first time in quite a while.  All that is left is what I expect to be one extremely honest and humbling race day.  Then I can turn my attention back to my neglected social and family life for a while.

I Can Always Become More Balanced

I would be lying if I said that September and October weren’t  a little rough.  But as tough as things got, I really like where I ended up.  I’m going to want to do this again.  As soon as I get past the holidays, I’m sure I’ll be eager to hit it hard.  The difficult part isn’t the endless hours of effort.  That becomes addictive, and almost even fun.  No, the difficult part is balancing everything else necessary to live a healthy, prosperous and compassionate life.  I’ve been straining to to “unlock my potential” for about a year now.  Maybe the peak I’m trying to reach is not as closely related to swimming, cycling and running as I had originally thought.  Maybe what I’m trying to do is prove that I can accomplish extraordinary things while still upholding the normal things.

To My Fellow Sled Dogs…

Unique bonds develop when you spend hours upon hours toiling with a familiar group of people who share similar goals.  I know more about the people I train with then the people I work with.  We can feed off of each other, push each other and keep one another from losing focus, often without a single spoken word.  I can tell the type of day a training buddy is having just by the way they hold themselves on the run, or by their behavior on the bike.  Thank you to Chris, Marty, Luke, Felipe, Dave, Dave, Danial, Matt, and even Shaun “the new guy” for making the hours that much more meaningful.

And of course, thank you Beth for putting up with a boyfriend who can run a sub three hour marathon but can’t dance for thirty seconds.  Thank you for hanging out with a guy who can talk race strategy, aerobic threshold and aerodynamics for hours but crawls into a shell at concerts, clubs and other “normal” social settings.

Well, I think thats enough emotion for now.  No more Red Trolley for me tonight.

Keep it Together and Don’t Hurt Yourself

Just six days left…stay cool man…..

I’d Rather Keep the Wheels on the Bus…

Goals for IMAZ?  I wish I could tell you that my goal was just to finish.  It started out that way, but before I knew it I experienced what I now refer to as “goal” creep.  Eventually, I decided that I wanted to break 11 hours.  Then I started playing the math games, trying to anticipate my splits.  11 hours turned to 10.5, 10.5 turned to 10.  On paper I think I’m capable of that.  I’m sure I can swim 2.4 miles in under an hour.  I’m sure I can hold 21mph for 112 miles.  And I know I can run a 3:30 marathon.  Can I put them all together?  A lot can happen in a race that lasts all day.

Then I made the mistake at looking at past years results.  Marty egged me on, so I blame this on him.  Once I noticed that every year, the slowest Kona qualifer is right at the 10 hour mark, that became a benchmark engraved in my mind.  How cool would it be to qualify for Kona in my first Ironman?  (Ask this guy….)

I need to stay humble.  I will respect the distance.  I will race conservatively, regardless of how good I feel.  I will keep moving regardless of how crappy the conditions get.  I can’t change the deck the course deals me come race day.  When next Sunday night is upon me, If I feel like I kept my cool and ran a strong second half marathon, I will be happy with my performance.  Until I go out and race, I really can’t guess how I’m going to perform for 2.4, 112 and 26.2.

I can’t wait.