Lanzarote!

Lanzarote!

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Ever since I learned of its existence and read a description of the course this race has been on my list of things I must do before I die. I was thrilled that the timing worked out so that I could go this year.  Not since my first time at Kona have I felt so much excitement as race day approached.

The race is staged from Arrecife, the capital, but incorporates the entire island.  I was staying across the island at Club La Santa, a combo hotel resort/sports training center. This is not your average hotel! It is in the business of catering to athletes and training camps across a wide variety of sports year round and it rolled out the red carpet for triathletes on the island for Ironman Lanzarote. Among its vast athletic facilities are a full 400m track and 50m pool! It's fitness center is like any full service health club.  It has tennis courts, basketball courts, soccer fields, boxing rings, a cycling center, sailboats, kayaks, stand up paddle boards (all on its own lagoon) and offered daily group exercise options ranging from spin classes and aerobics to group runs and bike rides. For the ironman it provided all the necessary transport to/from town for airport transfers, practice swims, registration and other race related activities, gear check-in and the race itself.  No rental car, maps or brain required!

Club La Santa

Not your average hotel!

It is also situated at about the 50k mark of the bike course giving me easy access for pre-riding various sections of the famous route, used by many European pros as training ground for Kona.

And what a bike course it is!  My jaw was dragging on the ground from the moment I set wheels on it!  On my first ride I ventured into the lava fields of Timanfaya National Park which has a similar feel to the Queen K and Waikoloa coast sans ocean view (that comes later!) complete with the intense sun, heat and wind but with the additional bonus of being able to see numerous small volcanoes.  On the other side of the park I reached the village of El Golfo and the coastal lava.  Now there is the ocean on one side and the lava on the other with the many volcanoes still visible.  After stopping in Yaiza to down about 10 gallons of water I recrossed Timanfaya.

Timanfaya!

Lava

A bit Queen K-ish

Yaiza, a mediterranean oasis in the lava

My next foray onto the bike course was the opposite direction, to the seaside village of Famara and onto the start of the one of the more significant climbs on the course. This direction had a more Mediterranean feel, white washed buildings nestled between the mountain and the sea.  Of course there were hills and wind.

Famara in the distance - a village by the sea

The next day I drove the most visually stunning portion of the course, and the most difficult, the climbs to Haria and Mirador del Rio.  Once again wind was a significant element. Wind is one of the most dominant aspects of this island. Grapes, the major "crop" on Lanzarote, are grown not on trellises but in pits dug into the earth each plant sheltered by stones so that it can withstand the wind and sun. Anything less than 25 mph is considered a "breeze", finally called a light wind when it exceeds that speed.  The bike course looked challenging, gorgeous and wickedly fun!  I could not wait to put the whole thing together by bike on race day!  Difficult under any circumstances, the degree of difficulty would ultimately be determined by the forces of nature.

Cyclists and windmills on climb to Haria

View from Haria

Famous switchback descent from Haria

Descent from Haria - yes, it's all the same road!

Descent from Haria

Climb to Mirador del Rio

View from near the top

Grape growing on windswept Lanzarote

My race day plan was simple.  Take in the spectacular beauty and power of the place, love the opportunity to participate in this amazing event and enjoy the day.  This was not my A race to get a Kona slot, this was a D(estination) race. Lucky thing because even if I had come hoping to win, unless last year's ITU long course world champion suffered a major setback (and I'd never wish that on anyone!) I'd be racing for second place. Honestly, having her there helped make it easier to truly relax and just enjoy the experience.

Race day was perfect! The sea was calm, the wind dialed back, the temperature (which had exceeded 100 degrees during the week) expected to only reach the mid 80's. I was more relaxed than I have ever been for an ironman.  I was eager to explore the adventurous 140.6 mile journey that lay ahead.

The swim was a 2 loop course in a fairly sheltered inlet of the Atlantic Ocean right in the heart of Arrecife , the faint outline of Morocco visible on the horizon. The swim start was a very narrow beach start so once the race officially started it took some time to funnel all the athletes into the water. I seeded myself mid pack and took a couple of minutes to get into the water and start to swim. This funnel did a nice job a spreading the masses out right from the start so it was one of the gentlest ironman swim starts I've experienced.  I felt smooth and relaxed until halfway through the first loop the fabric of my too large Tri top had bunched up between the back of my neck and the wetsuit. In salt water this has fairly dire consequences. The friction on the back of my neck began burning a hole that kept getting larger and deeper for the remainder of the swim. It was painful to turn my head to breathe before I was even finished the first loop (which is not optional!) making it challenging to stay relaxed. As beautiful as the water was I was very grateful to hit the beach for the second time and finally dig the wetsuit out of the crater in my neck. Sweet relief!

Swim exit

A bit of an uphill to get from the changing tent on the beach up to street level followed by the skinniest and longest set of bike racks in the universe, it seemed like at least a quarter of a mile from the first rack to the last (where my loaner bike was waiting). Still not used to looking for a Cervelo for a split second I thought my bike was gone. Laughing at myself for even entertaining that thought I located the bike and headed out.

The bike ride was beyond words! Every bit as spectacular, beautiful and fun as I expected and then some.  Imagine riding in a place that blends the best of Kona and Nice, volcanic and Mediterranean, and you have Lanzarote. I think I had a smile plastered to my face the entire time. That course, that ride, was a peak moment in my athletic life. I am so grateful that "racing" did not undermine  my taking the time to look around, to experience and remember every inch, to enjoy every moment!

Near El Golfo

Final kilometer

I rolled into T2 in the lead. This i knew because my bike rack was empty.  I knew this wouldn't last and I was not at all worried about the run, my day had already been made.  I decided to just run, not think about pace or heart rate but just run however felt right.  So in the change tent I shucked off my heart rate monitor strap. Sure enough, before I had even left the change tent the ITU Long Course champ went flying past en route to a sub 3:30 marathon.

Perhaps it was my relaxed approach to the ride, perhaps the solid run training I'd been able to put in during the winter and spring, some have even dared to suggest it might have been the loaner Cervelo I was riding...whatever the reason, I felt better starting the run than I have in any triathlon of any distance.

The course was a long out and back, followed by two shorter ones over the first part of the long one.  It followed the town waterfront the entire way with a somewhat chaotic but entertaining blending of athletes, spectators and tourists. No big hills but a few noticeable undulations, not a speck of shade or protection from the wind.  Neither the heat nor the wind were out in full force on this day, but they were still there. If I were to critique my run I'd say I went out too fast.  But I felt good and I didn't really care if I slowed in the late miles, which I did, but I only slowed to the pace I that had been my initial goal pace so I am not complaining! I reached the finish line over a half hour earlier than I had thought I would having thoroughly enjoyed every moment.  My run split was less than 5 minutes off my previous ironman marathon best run over four years ago as a young 49’er.  I lost 40+ minutes on the run to speedy Gabrielle but solidified my hold on second place.

Happy, happy!

Joy, joy!

I finished just as the sun was going down. With the hot sun slipping over the horizon the wind quickly became cool. Drenched in sweat, looking like something drug out of the sea, with no reserves to draw on, my body temperature plummeted and I began to shiver…then to shake so hard I could not stay on my feet.  A fellow competitor from France demanded the medics come tend to me and rubbed me to try to keep me warm until they arrived.  The next two hours were excruciating as uncontrollable, violent shivering demanded more out of my already used up muscles.  My body temperature had dropped to 93 degrees and it took every resource the med tent had to re-warm me.  I think I was minutes from an ambulance ride to a local hospital when my body temperature turned around and I began to warm back up.  The majority of medical tent visitors were being treated for dehydration and heat stress, leave it to me to be the one hypothermia case of the day!  Eventually I was able to exit the med tent under my own power but on very sore, exhausted muscles.  I do not recommend hours of hard shivering after an ironman!!

In the end I came home with a beautiful trophy and even more magnificent memories.

All 3 of us shattered the existing course record for our AG!

Catching Up on Race Reports part 1: Wildflower

I know, I know.  The race was the first weekend in May and it is almost September.  I guess I let myself get just a wee bit behind.  I have four races to write about which would be way too overwhelmingly tedious for one blog so each one will get its own post, starting with Wildflower Olympic Distance.

I have to say, I love this race!  It was the first major race I attempted following my conversion to a triathlete in 2004. I'll never forgot the shock of seeing over 2000 bikes racked in transition for the first time. It was also my first podium finish at a major triathlon. The race has continued to be good to me ever since. 5 starts, 5 podiums including a win and a 2nd in both the Long Course and the Olympic distance races.  I think the demanding course suits me. I'm not very fast but I am very tenacious, the hills of Wildflower favor the tenacious.

Last year I snagged 2nd in the Olympic as an oldster in the F50-54 despite it being the first time I'd put 6 continuous miles of running together since major foot surgery in December. This year I was a youngster in the F55-59 age group, my feet healthy and my running stronger than it had been in a number of years.  For the first time ever I was starting a race believing I had a very good shot at winning. This was a final speed session 2 weeks out from IM Lanzarote and I had every intention of going HARD.

The swim start is staged on a narrow boat ramp and each wave gets its own hype and the attention of the crowd. I was just getting ready for my first dunk in the warmup period when I heard my name announced as having been runner up last year and one to watch out for in my new age group. So much for anonymity.

I was in a fairly large wave comprised of all women over 50 and Team in Training so I went out hard to try to get clear of the amoeba before the first turn. It worked but then the reality of the length of an Olympic swim sank in. It's a little detail I always forget until I'm in the water looking down the line of buoys to be navigated. The bike and the run are both slightly less than half the distance of a half ironman but the swim is not proportionally scaled back. It is more than three quarters of the half ironman swim.  Not ideal for a weak swimmer like myself. The lake is beautiful to swim in. Perfect water temperature for wetsuit racing and a stunning view every time you turn your head to breathe. I tried to appreciate this while still going "comfortably hard" but still the swim seemed to go on for-ev-er.

With the merging of the waves and a rainbow of swim cap colors around me I had no sense of where in my wave I finished. I thought near the front but at least a handful ahead for sure. T1 is fairly brutal with a substantial uphill run right out of the water, a massive collection of bikes to navigate then a monster hill to climb right out of transition.  My main goals here 1) to locate my bike unerringly 2) to not blow a gasket on either hill.  Both successfully executed.

Swim start/finish: note the hill that needs to be run upon exiting

Spinning up the monster hill that is the first mile of the bike

For me the real racing begins about a mile into the bike, at the top of the monster hill.  This might be a good time to go back in time a few days when I took L'Oiseau, my beloved Kestrel that I've shared over 10,000 miles of road with, for its pre-race tune-up.  My bike guy called me that afternoon with the words "we've got a big problem". Uh oh!  Turns out there was a fatal crack in the carbon from stem to seat post and it would have to be retired. Though Kestrel would replace the frame there was not time to get it before Wildflower (or leaving for Lanzarote!). My wonderful Bike Guy loaned me his wife's Cervelo P3C (not shabby for a loaner) and came in to the shop at 6 AM the morning of my departure for Wildflower to swap parts and fit me on the Cervelo as closely as possible to my Kestrel ride. At the moment I threw my leg over the saddle to start racing I had ridden the bike a grand total of 10 miles the day before. On that pre-race ride "close" still felt different and I'd felt a bit tentative and afraid I wouldn't have the confidence to ride aggressively on Wildflower's challenging bike course.

See the huge crack on the bottom of the top tube.  Poor L'Oiseau!

Turns out my fears were groundless, I totally forgot I was on a strange bike in the heat of the action and I attacked the bike course as assertively as I ever have.  The terrain of this race is challenging enough but there is also the added element of the sheer number of athletes of varying experience and ability to negotiate.  Women are always staged in the last waves at this event making for a lot of cyclists to get past without any rules violations on my part. I approach this as just part of the race challenge and it's a bit like playing a video game, kind of fun in a way.  Continuously bellowing "on your left" I worked my way through the field without too much obstruction to my momentum.  Last year I wasn't even sure I could run 10k so I rode the bike course as if there was no run. This year I thought I could run a solid 10k and I rode the bike course exactly the same, I'd worry about the run when I got there.

Lungs and legs were burning when I hit the top of the climb inside the park with just one wild downhill mile to recover and regroup. I managed to descend without touching the brakes and successfully maintained enough control for a smooth dismount at the bottom of the hill.  My legs were missing when I ran to rack my bike.  Would they show up when I called on them to run the 10k? When I saw no bikes in the racks for my wave I sure hoped so!  I was in the lead and this time I knew it without question.

Wildflower is infamous for its run course and the run course is what I love most about it.  It is a strength runner's course for 5.2 miles with relentless climbing taking you from the lowest to the highest point on the run. Then in the final mile all that elevation is lost on a nosebleed downhill.  I knew I had to have my lead cemented by the top of the hill or risk getting nailed on the descent by a speedster.

The run starts fittingly by climbing a flight of stairs followed by a couple of miles of lakeside rollers to wake you up. 

The stairs that kick off the run course

At the top of the stairs when I hit the road and could really start running my legs decided to come out to play. In fact, they felt great! This was not going to be a survival test it was going to be a 10k race. Around mile 2 the climbing gets serious, either very steep or very long, or both. I felt really strong climbing, able to recreate the feeling of a solid hill workout. Feeling strong leads to feeling positive which leads to feeling strong - a self perpetuating cycle of energy that propelled me to the high point on the course.  

Heading up

Not normally a good downhill runner and a bit fearful of biomechanical trauma I had planned to run the wild downhill mile (same one as the bike course) with caution.  But, no, I threw caution to the wind and let gravity work it's magic.

I knew no woman had come by me at any point on the bike or run so I knew I was first in my AG when I crossed the finish line.  I was ecstatic with my effort and how I felt both on and coming off the bike and during the entire run.  Winning was just icing on the cake helping to perpetuate my love affair with this race. It was a PR on the course; slower swim, equivalent bike and faster run than my previous best. I ran the fairly brutal 10k in 49:05, which was solid proof that my running game was back on. My margin of victory was over twelve minutes and I am now the course record holder for F55-59.

New course record! (No, not what's on the clock :-))

California 70.3 Race Report

I've kind of been neglecting my blog lately. I ran a couple of half marathons this winter that I intended to write about (still might), but otherwise nothing really motivated my inner story teller until my first triathlon of the year last month.

I entered this race with the idea that it would serve to blow the rust out of my triathlon racing pipes, which have not been used since 9/11 in Vegas. I spent the winter focusing on rebuilding my running base which was severely undermined last year following major foot surgery. Then the plan was to shift the focus to biking and swimming in March, but life has a way of happening while you are making plans. First it was work and weather that undermined my goals. 12+ hour workdays and lots of rain limited my bike time. Afore mentioned work hours limited my pool time as well.

Then I lost my mother. On March 18th my brother called to say my Mom, who has been struggling with corticobasilar syndrome for several years, had stopped taking food and liquid and was deteriorating suddenly and quickly. She was being put into hospice care. I dropped everything to go to Chicago to be at her side. It was agonizing watching her slowly severe her physical ties to life, but I held her hand and helped keep a vigil over her until she passed away 5 days later. I got back home just 5 days before the race and, quite honestly, couldn't even fathom attempting to race. I came very close to bailing out. But then a voice deep in my brain whispered that perhaps racing would be spiritually healing so why not give it a try.

When I arrived in Oceanside I had not been on my bike or in a pool for 2 weeks. Tapering is one thing, but it is not possible to step down when you have not yet climbed the first step. I could only hope that my years of endurance training and racing, and my winter of running would carry me through. I arrived the morning before the race and quickly chewed through the day getting my race packet, checking into the hotel and building my bike. I also managed to find a local “Y” with a beautiful pool so I could make sure I remembered how to swim (it felt strange but I did not drown) and managed to get hopelessly lost on a 15 minute (turned 30 minute) bike ride to make sure I could still ride a bike and that L’Oiseau survived packing, the airline, unpacking and reassembly. Just enough time remained in the day to get everything race ready then I settled in for a fitful night’s sleep.

I usually sleep well the night before a race but this time...not so much. Quite frankly I was terrified of the swim portion of this race. I did the event in ’05, a particularly cold year. The water that year was 52 degrees and I had never experienced a truly cold water swim. The race allows no pre-swimming or warm-up swimming. When the wave before yours goes you have 3 minutes to get into the water and swim 25 yards to the start. I will never forget the shock of plunging into that water. I could not draw in a breath and I am certain my heart stopped. By the time the horn sounded I was in a post arrest state of rapid breathing and racing heart, suffering from the world’s worst “ice cream headache” and unable to feel my hands or feet. I have never gotten over the PTSD from that moment and have a phobia of cold water ever since. It took me 7 years to muster up the courage to try to take that plunge again. To add to this angst I had seen a National Weather Service severe weather alert warning about unusually high surf for the weekend. The alert included a warning to stay away from jetties as waves could be high enough to break over the jetties and sweep unsuspecting folks out to sea. The swim for this race is in a boat harbor but includes a stretch right next to…you guessed it…a jetty that protects the harbor from the open sea. All night I had nightmares about a huge rogue wave crashing over that jetty as a group of triathletes is swimming alongside. Naturally, I am among that group of triathletes.

Thankfully, the tortured night was ended early by my 3:45 wakeup call. One of the huge motivators in my decision to do this race in the first place, as well as my decision to still do it so soon after losing my Mom, was the fact that my former team-mate and forever friend, Beth Shutt, would be making it her debut as a PROFESSIONAL TRIATHLETE!!! No way was I going to miss her first pro race. My troubles and fears evaporated when I saw her heading to the water for the pro start and she ran over and we got to give each other a good luck hug. My pre-race routine and ritual went smoothly and before I had time to really think about it I was lined up with my wave watching the wave before ours swim away. Despite a huge mental pause I plunged into the water without hesitation. This time I knew what to expect and it didn’t seem quite so bad (plus the water was a whole 5 degrees warmer than in ’05). This time I had my breathing and heartbeat under control when the horn sounded.

I felt like I swam strongly, for the most part, but it was a strong swim “with complications”. The first came when I was swimming alongside the jetty in the roughest water on the course. It was not the rogue wave I’d had nightmares about but instead a rogue foot that suddenly whipped out into the dreaded breaststroke kick. The heel slammed directly into my right eye driving the goggle painfully into my eye socket before knocking it off. I was in pain and blinded somewhere near the turn for home. I felt, rather than saw the next buoy and made the turn. Then I became aware of the fact that one of the kayakers was yelling at me and paddling swiftly in my direction. He kept waving and pointing and it slowly dawned on me that he was sending me back from where I came. I had turned too soon and swum off course. I took that moment to fix my goggles then retraced my strokes to get back on course where I’d gone astray. The next complication was a faster swimmer from the wave behind me. He started hitting my feet as he overtook me…no problem. But then, rather than simply pass (there was plenty of room), for some reason he felt the need to grab me by the ankle and yank me back. Once, an annoyance. Twice, totally unnecessary. Three times, downright unsportsmanlike. The fourth time, now you are pissing me off (hard to do!). So I kicked hard to shake him loose on the fourth grab. He came loose but my calf cramped visciously. My reward for losing my temper ;-). I had to limp in the last 200 meters with my left leg dragging painfully and uselessly behind me. Despite the complications I managed to come out of the water in 38:xx, only a couple of minutes off what would be a really good swim for me.

I hobbled through T1 on cramping calf. Expertly found my bike in the enormous transition then slipped into total rookie mode. My lack of recent racing was comically obvious as I fumbled and bumbled in transition. After forever and a day I finally made the switch and raced toward the bike mount line. I happened to glance down at my bike and saw my race belt and number flapping wildly from the spot where I had left them at 6:00 AM, hanging from my aerobars. I had to laugh out loud at this mistake. Putting on a number belt is a two handed task so I had to come to a dead stop and lean my bike against me to put it on. It’s likely I annoyed at least a couple of athletes who might have been running behind me.

Finally pulled together enough to exit T1

The morning marine layer was heavy and there was a light drizzle so the road surface was quite wet. For some reason there was also a lot of sand and mud on the roads. I saw a number of athletes slide out on the corners early in the race. I’ve already broken both shoulders and have no interest in going through that again. I have a very full and fun season planned for this year. This was enough for me to dial things back and ride a bit conservatively to make sure I kept the rubber side down. As the ride progressed I appreciated that the conservative riding was also proving to be a very good idea because of my lack of a solid bike base. I’d forgotten that there were some substantial hills on the backside of the course and my legs quickly reminded me that I’d done only one ride longer than 3 hours all year. I seriously could have used a more forgiving choice of gears on those climbs! Overall the ride went well and I was pleased with my 2:50.06 bike split in my current state of fitness, on that course, on slick roads.

Climbing one of the big'uns in too much gear

L'Oiseau takes flight

I was really looking forward to the run. My running had been off all of last year following some major foot surgery and over the winter I’d finally had some time to rebuild my run base. The big question mark, would I have enough left after doing the swim and bike on minimalist training to execute on the run? At the end of the day this was going to be my longest “workout” since last October and also, by far, my most intense.

It did not start perfectly. I did execute a perfect dismount (Phew! Didn’t practice.). But as soon as I started running down the bike racks my lower back went into spasms. Perhaps because I haven't ridden hard in my aerobars very much this year? I feared I might not be able to get fully vertical in time to start the run but I did. The run course is new this year. It features a convoluted first two miles that are narrow and congested with runners going both directions. Those first two miles also feature a number of tight turns and a few very short but very steep hills that were a bit like running stadium steps. None of these conducive to loosening up a tight lower back. Once I got out onto the straight road beyond mile two I began to feel a bit better. The back spasms subsided and my stride normalized. Conditions were perfect for running and, unlike the last time I did this race, I could actually feel my feet (though I’m not sure this was actually a good thing).

Clicking off the miles

I settled into a groove and the miles clicked by. The rhythm was disrupted only at the start of the second loop when I had to negotiate the U turns, switchbacks and stadium steps again but once through this I found my zone again. Age group ace Kim Rouse was racing in my AG. She typically competes in a different zip code than me when we are racing the same course so I assumed I was “racing” for second place. Second would be really cool so I did not let myself get complacent and I kept relentlessly pushing myself on the run. A little past the 11 mile mark, smelling the barn, I heard some fast feet closing on me, then watched a lithe gazelle fly by as if I was standing still. I immediately recognized the form and stride of Kim. Are you kidding me? Was I actually in the lead to this point?? I was shocked and thrilled at the same time. I knew there was no way I could run with her but I could try to see how close I could stay. I dug in and chased and even though I watched her steadily pull away I could still see her until the split between the start of loop 2 and the path to the finish line. I was just a bit over a minute behind her at the finish, that is the same zip code! She was just beyond the finish chute to give me a hug when I finished.

What chasing Kim Rouse will do to you :-)

My run time was 1:52. Though in my running days I was a 1:30-1:35 half marathoner, I took up triathlon after I was forced to give up running due to chronic injuries and I have only gone faster than 1:52 in a half ironman once. This run course was not particularly easy and I had not done anything longer than 4 hours in training so I feel really, really good about that run.

I floated around in a euphoric fog the rest of the afternoon. Caught up with Beth who had a stellar pro debut, just missing the top 10 by 18 seconds after popping off an amazing 1:26 run. The skies opened up that night…strong wind, torrential downpours. We had caught a lucky weather window for the race. The next day I headed down to Carlsbad and got to watch the elite races at the Carlsbad 5000. That was art in motion! Followed this up with a yummy breakfast and good hang out time with Beth and her friend and photographer extraordinaire Marit Chrisloch-Lauterbach (you can check out some of her work at http://unconventionalview.wordpress.com/2012/04/07/how-long-has-it-been/).

So in the final assessment I am so glad I decided to go to Oceanside and it was healing for my spirit.

Gearing up for 2012

It's that time again!

Race plans have mostly been laid out. The broad strokes anyway, a few details left to fill in. The "off season" is coming to a close and the "on season" is about to begin.

First, the race plans:

Next weekend I'm celebrating the transition from "off" to "on" with a half marathon in LA. My off season has been spent pretty much just running. My running took a huge hit a year ago with major foot surgery and this "off season" has finally given me a chance to work on bringing my running base back up to snuff without worrying about how it affects or how it is affected by the other sports. The half will be a nice little progress check.

My key races for 2012 are IM Lanzarote in May, IM Mt. Tremblant in August, hopefully Kona in Oct. and ITU AG Short Course Worlds in NZ, also in Oct. The stepping stone races are still being worked on but so far California 70.3 in March (maybe), Wildflower Olympic in May (for sure), Vineman 70.3 in July (for sure) and Ironman 70.3 Worlds in Sept. (maybe). Probably also some local sprints.

In a week the buildup to Lanzarote begins. I don't know if I have taken such a profound break from swimming and cycling as this year since taking up the sport so rebuilding should be interesting and challenging, to say the least. I am looking forward to it, but I would be even more excited if the "on season" didn't have to begin in January, about the darkest month of the year. To try to muster some enthusiasm for swimming and biking in the dark, cold and possibly wet days of winter I've been rearranging my past race mementos which had been somewhat haphazardly strewn about my office.

I've saved most of my finishers medals from significant races I've done over the years. I put a coat rack up on my office door and hung these up on the hooks.

The far left hook are all Ironman finishes (less my Kona medals which are hanging more prominently elsewhere), the second from the left are half ironman medals, next two hooks are the marathon medals, second from the right = other major triathlons, far right = other major running events.

I've always saved bib numbers by just tacking them to corkboards. They've been piling up in various geologic layers. I did an archaeologic dig through these. I culled the herd and straightened them up a bit so it is possible to see most of them with the following results.

It's fun to look closely at the bib numbers. They represent a very long, very diverse and very fun athletic life. Unfortunately I did not start saving my bib numbers until I had been running a while and there are many cool ones from later I also did not save.

Lastly I arranged my major awards and other mementos around on shelves and surfaces in my office. A few you can glimpse in the above photos. Here are a few more.

Now, if I need a little inspiration on a cold, dark, wet winter night after a long day at work all I have to do is look up to be reminded of how much fun I have when I train to race.