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.

Race Report Archives: Vineman Half 1993

Cleaning out my office, going through piles of old papers, I stumbled across a letter I'd written to a good friend about two years after leaving Charlottesville, VA for my residency in Davis, CA. In the previous year I had thought my running "career" was over thanks to a long struggle with chronic plantar fasciitis. As it turned out I still had my best running years ahead of me :-). My long road to running recovery included the discovery of "crosstraining". Prior to this discovery my only exposure to triathlon was watching the Ironman World Championships on TV every year and to briefly wonder if I could ever do that someday. My discovery of crosstraining also opened the door to triathlon as a sport I could participate in. Although I only dabbled in '92-'93, the triathlon seed was planted. It lay dormant and forgotten for ten years while I played out my life as a runner but sprouted and bloomed in 2004. The letter to my buddy chronicles this discovery which culminated in my first half ironman at Vineman in 1993. I thought it would be fun to post excerpts from the letter as it is chock full of lessons learned. I've added a few current day editorial comments in parenthesis...

Dear Ashley,

Your long lost friend/running partner has not fallen off the face of the earth or died. I've just been negligent about staying in touch. I don't remember when I last spoke to you so if some of this news is "old" please bear with me. I had a lot of trouble with a foot injury the first year I was out here in CA. Finally, in the summer of '92 the foot was so bad I could hardly walk and I was forced to stop running completely. During the subsequent months I spent a lot of time cycling and swimming (or rather trying to swim!) to try to maintain some degree of fitness. After orthotics, rest and physical therapy had all failed to improve the foot condition I began to accept the possibility that I may never be able to return to running.

As fate would have it, I met a South African orthopedic surgeon during a backpacking trip in Yosemite who happened to have a special interest in chronic heel pain in runners. He suggested some modifications to my inserts and a gradual return to running as if I had never run before, and while I should expect some heel pain initially, the pain should gradually lessen with time. Well, I took his advice and what followed was a slow, careful, often frustrating return to running. During this period I learned a great deal about patience, self control and perseverance. I learned to stop comparing my current performance to past successes and to take pride in the progress I was making. But most of all I had rediscovered the real joy of just being able to run. Now, a year and a half later, I am running without pain and without the heel lift. A month ago I ran the Portland Marathon very comfortably and a week ago I ran a half marathon in what turned out to be my first PR in two and a half years. I'm Back! A small area remains on my heel that is tender if I push on it just the right way. I feel this spot every day to remind myself that I can never take my foot or my running for granted.

A major component to my rehab was crosstraining, and I continue to to use it as part of my training. For someone like myself, whose body cannot hold up to high mileage running, it provides a way to improve cardiovascular endurance. Although I rarely run over 60-65 miles per week anymore (aah, youth!), I spend as much time working out with my heart rate in the "target zone" as someone running over 100 miles per week. Another benefit to crosstraining is that it introduced me to the sport of triathloning. While running will always be my first love triathlons are a fun way to add some variety to the road racing scene. Also, a triathlon is one hell of a workout! You are "out there" for nearly 90 minutes during a "sprint" triathlon and around two and a half hours during a standard international distance triathlon.

This summer I decided to try a half ironman distance triathlon. Just training for it got me in the best shape of my life. I joined a master's swim program to improve my swimming, by far my most pathetic sport, and I started riding with some local cycling geeks and participating in noncompetitive, organized distance rides up to 100 miles in length. The triathlon I chose was in Santa Rosa, a wine country community near the coast known for its mild summer climate. Well, it turned out that on the day of the triathlon a record heat wave hit the northern California coast. Officially the high temperature in Santa Rosa that day was 103, reached about the time I was starting to run. Race officials recorded temperatures at 115 degrees out on the unshaded run course. Which ever temperature you want to use it was UGLY out there! The run portion of the course was the most difficult thing I have EVER done in my life. There were aid stations every mile and I literally ran the course from aid station to aid station, stopping at each one to fill my cap with water (there was no ice), drink two cups of water and take to cups of water with me to just to get me to the next aid station. My only thought was "just keep running, no matter how slowly, one foot then the other foot." And somehow I did. My goal for the triathlon, if all went well, was to go under six hours. I was ecstatic with my clocking of 6:01:15 given the weather conditions that day. It was an experience I will not forget soon! And one that has definitely helped my running. You see, now if I think I'm getting tired in a race I just think back to that day and I realize how far from true fatigue I really am...THAT was tired, THIS isn't even close! And no, I have no desire to do Ironman!! (oh, I was so naive :-))

As far as the rest of my life goes, everything is going pretty well. I mostly like the residency, especially now that I'm learning to not let it take over my life, which it tries hard to do. I'm gradually learning to like California (I hated it at first) but I still get quite homesick for Virginia at times (and still do), especially during the spring and fall. I'm finally making some good friends out here, mainly through the running club I belong to, but I miss my old running buddies still...

My annual "pilgrimage" to Kona - 2011

Since my first visit to the Big Island for the 2004 Ironman World Championships I have returned every October, racing or not. The years I am not racing I volunteer (and get a healthy dose of swimming, biking, running, snorkeling, kayaking, etc.). This year, for the first time, I took two full weeks of vacation time to devote to the Island. To try to describe the entire 2 weeks would take volumes, this post will just touch on the highlights. I also can't begin to mention all the great friends, old and new, that I was able to connect with...but they all know who they are and having a chance to spend some time with all of you was fantastic!

Day 1:

I arrived in Kona on Friday afternoon, 8 days before the Big Dance. Stepping off the plane I felt as if I had arrived home: an immediate connection with the Island, a falling away of stress and anxiety, a sense of deep calm, a quiet mind. I swung by the car rental to pick up my "economy compact" ride and found a fire engine red Mustang convertible waiting. How fun is that?

My Red Mustang Convertible

The second thing I did (after a short "shake out" run) was head to Mauna Lani resort to catch the first running of the K-Swiss Pau Hana Sunset 10k being held on the same venue as run portion of the Honu 70.3, one of my favorites half ironman races. I was there as a spectator but it looked super fun and next year I plan to run it.

Start of Pau Hana Sunset 10K

Day 2:

My first full day dawned bright and early, not a problem since I was still on California time and wide awake by 3 AM. I was off to participate in the Kukio Blue Water 1.2 mile swim along with my coach Luis Vargas and a couple of other triathlon team-mates. It was held in a beautiful, protected inlet just north of the airport. I had a little performance anxiety after my disastrous swim at the 70.3 World Championships. My fear of finishing last in a race populated by triathletes and Big Island residents (read: eat, sleep and breathe the ocean) was unfounded. I had a lot of fun and actually swam well...thank you salt water! I highly recommend this event for anyone who finds themselves on the Island the Saturday before Ironman.

Kukio Blue Water Swim course

Kukio swim S/F, Maui visible in the distance

Brunch was served after the swim

Day 3:

Sunday was the PATH 10k run, an out and back on Ali'i Dr. staged from Hale Halawai Park (Ironman expo venue). This was a new Big Island adventure for me but actually the 26th running of this race. A fun, low key race with some seriously fast participants. I had not made any effort to acclimate to racing in Hawaii so after a great 7K of running I melted in the warm, humid conditions and crawled in feeling a bit like a blob of molten lava, but still enjoyed every moment. Something about having that much sweat pouring off of my skin felt spiritually cleansing.

Finish line in Hale Halawai Park

After the race I cooled down by jogging to the pier and Dig Me Beach for my first dip in the hallowed Ironman swim venue of Kailua Bay. With the race still a week away there were not many people swimming. Conditions were perfect! Calm water, 100' visibility. I could have stayed out there forever except I had neglected to bring sunscreen so I limited myself to 30 minutes of swimming bliss.

Swimming Bliss!

After forcing myself out of the water I strolled to Uncle Billy's on Ali'i Drive which was in the process of being transformed into the Rudy Project "hot corner" so I could have a long overdue visit with my cousin Paul (aka Emperor of Rudy) who is president and co-founder of Rudy Project USA.

Rudy Project Hot Corner at Uncle Billy's

Day 4:

Every year I am in Kona in October it is traditional for me to ride the Ironman bike course. If I'm racing this detail takes care of itself. When I'm not racing I have tackled it solo the day before the race. This year was a little different. I had signed up to volunteer at bike check-in on Friday, the day before the race, so I moved my ride up to Monday. I also found a sucker...I mean friend to do the ride with me. I rode the 5 miles down Ali'i Dr. from my condo into town to pick up my friend and team-mate Debbie Potts and we proceeded out onto the Queen K for a little jaunt to Hawi and back.

Views from the Queen K

I had logged mega mileage on my bike in the spring but had done no rides longer than about 65 miles since early summer. Despite this (and the fact I was riding with a stronger than me cyclist) I had no trepidation about what I had set out to do. We were blessed with some of the most benign wind conditions I have experienced on the climb to Hawi and the temperature was moderate, in fact we actually got a bit chilly riding through some little rain squalls a few miles out of Hawi.

Debbie

One cannot ride to Hawi without an obligatory stop at the coffee/ice cream shop before turning around and heading back down the hill.

L'Oiseau wants ice cream!

After yummy ice cream that tastes especially good when you've ridden for it we mounted up for the return trip. About 90 miles into our ride I have to admit the distance began to catch up with me and my legs were losing their pop on the climbs, we also hit that pesky headwind between Waikoloa and the airport that has been the undoing of many an athlete on race day. So even though I was having a great time I was happy to see the airport and the energy lab, markers that there are single digit miles to ride, lessening winds and no more climbing...except I forgot about that extra 5 miles I had to ride to get back to my condo =:-O! When I finally stopped my Garmin I had covered 118 miles at an average pace of 18.6 mph. Phew!

Ended the day with fish tacos, friends and a gorgeous sunset on my ocean front lanai.

Day 5:

The tuesday before the race is really the day that the Ironman action kicks into high gear. Most athletes are in town and the Parade of Nations marks the official opening of Ironman Village. It is also the day that the floating expresso bar from Coffees of Hawaii makes its first appearance. Nothing quite rivals a salty expresso savored while treading the waters of the Kailua Bay. I swam "halfway to halfway" on the IM course then took a detour for expresso on the way back to the pier.

Floating Expresso Bar

Day 6:

Wednesday started with a Mark Allen Online team swim (and another salty expresso).

Coach Luis gives MAO athletes tips on the swim course

Geez, they're acting like the water is cold! A bit rough today, but not cold.

Wednesday also brought some big wave action, some of the highest surf seen on the Island in many months.

Surf's Up!

After the swim, some of Team MAO regrouped at the Natural Energy Lab for the 5+ mile run back into town (specifically Starbucks :-)).

Coach Mark at the Energy Lab, camera always ready.

Team MAO readies themselves to run in the mid-day sun

Perfect ending to yet another perfect day was dinner at Huggo's with a group of people I had never met but felt like old friends from the social network "I Am Tri" 50+ Triathlete Group.

Day 7:

Wow, has a week gone by already? The seventh day began with the Mark Allen Online team breakfast and photo shoot. It is always great to get together with teammates, some that I've known for a while and some new friends. After plenty of good food and good conversation, Mark and Luis shared their wisdom with the group. I always get some pearls to treasure from these talks. Then it was a session of herding cats to get the team lined up for the photo shoot.

Cats herded successfully for a brief moment

After breakfast my Canadian friend Karen Bonham and I headed up island to Waimea for me to do my long run on my "rave run" route, the Mana Rd. I can easily imagine losing myself and running forever on this quiet rural road on the flank of Mauna Kea.

Rave Run

After my 10 mile run we headed to the end of the road north of Hawi and the Pololu Valley overlook. It would be really cool if there was a way to replace that first 10 mile loop of the IM bike course with going further north on 270 to Kapa'au, unfortunately it would trap the local residents in their homes to do so. We watched some outrageous rain squalls for a while then headed to Hapuna Beach for a magical sunset snorkel.

Pololu Valley

Squall on the water

Day 8:

The day before Ironman the chaos of Ali'i Drive begins to wind down. Energy is directed inward, a time for reflection and anticipation. I squeezed in one more swim from Dig Me Beach and one more stop at the floating expresso bar before beginning my two day volunteer stint. Today I was volunteering as an athlete escort at bike check-in. My job was to walk athletes through transition while they racked their bikes and dropped off their transition bags, explain the lay out of the transition area and answer any questions. My athletes ran the spectrum...from amateur to professional, from all corners of the world, from 20 years old to 80 years old, from first time ironman athlete to Louis Alvarez prepping to do his 79th. It was tons of fun having the privilege of spending ten minutes chatting with these amazing people poised on the brink of their big day.

A whole lot of bikes successfully tucked in for the night

'Twas the night before Ironman....

Race Day!:

I was up with the athletes but I had the luxury of lounging on my lanai with my mug of Kona coffee to watch the dawn. I eventually meandered my way to the water's edge to watch the drama of (what I consider) the most famous start in sport.

Pros are off with media chopper in tow

Canon blast sending off age group start

Age group athletes away!

I shifted my position to the sea wall when it came time to cheer in the last swimmers who were swimming their hearts out to beat the cutoff. It was really cool to see the water safety crew cheering them on, willing them to swim faster.

Water Safety crew encouraging swimmer to beat the cut-off

Water Safety crew celebrates the finish of another safely completed swim leg

Spectating done, it was time to get debriefed for my big job as bike catcher in T2. In this race athletes hand their bikes off to volunteers right at the dismount line so they can continue directly to gather their run gear while the volunteers rack the bikes for them. Let me tell you what...this is by far the most intense, most high effort and most fun volunteer job I have ever done. If you are used to racing, but cannot, this is the job you want! After catching an athlete's bike (often on the fly, at some speed) the goal is to recycle yourself as often as possible. So I sprinted my bikes to their place in the racks and sprinted back to catch another, often with just enough time to catch my breath...for five hours! I don't have any pictures of this but if you watch any video or TV coverage, keep an eye out for the bike catchers as the athletes come into T2 :-).

I left my bike catching post a little before the 5:30 bike cut-off to get my own bike to head out onto the Queen K and locate Coach Luis, who would be walking the marathon due to a calf injury. The plan was for me to keep an eye on him, talk him up if needed and relay his progress to his friends and family at the finish. Given that he was walking I was amazed at how far out on the Queen K he had gotten before I found him and luckily I found him just before it got too dark to tell people apart, about a mile shy of making the turn into the Energy Lab. He headed into the Energy Lab sounding very tired, a bit dejected but determined to finish. He emerged 3 miles later totally transformed...smiling and joking, having reached, in his words, "the acceptance phase".

What *really* happens in the Energy Lab?

Luis transformed and transcended to the astral plane of acceptance

Dad is an Ironman and a hero!

After seeing Luis across the finish line and through the post finish mosh pit, it was time to head to my last volunteer task of the day, finish line catcher from 10 PM until midnight. This is the time to be assigned to the finish line. The crowd is huge and pumped up! Every athlete feeds the enthusiasm and is, in turn, fed by it. Finish line catchers sometimes do just that - but mostly we escort the athletes from the finish line to the post finish athlete area, making sure they are going to be ok..and if they are not that they get handed off to medical. Shortly before midnight the finish line crew ran short of volunteers to lei the finishers and the woman in charge of the leis grabbed me by the arm and shifted me to that task. This change in duty had two rewards: I got to lei the great Harriet Anderson when she finished and I *had* to stay right at the finish line, rubbing elbows with the likes of Chrissie, Mirinda, Craig and the tireless Mike Reilly for the final countdown to midnight, a very exciting place to be!

I was one tired puppy at the end of the day! More wasted than I've ever been after racing the thing ;-).

Day 10:

Serious hangover from all the action the day before. Spent a lazy morning knocking around town, visiting with my cousin then a lazy afternoon hanging out at the beach reading and snorkeling. Got a VIP pass to the awards banquet where the highlight of the evening was witnessing Mike Reilly's induction to the Ironman Hall of Fame.

Day 11:

My Birthday! Another day of snorkeling bliss. Sunset Mai Tai's. Birthday dinner.

Happy Birthday to me!

Day 12:

Kona had nearly returned to its normal sleepy little town status. Only a smattering of athletes sighted. I started with a short, uncrowded swim from the pier. I had planned a swim across Kealakekua Bay to the Captain Cook monument and the amazing coral reef there but had failed to find someone to act as my water safety in a kayak. I decided to go out there to at least do some snorkeling but when I arrived I knew I was going to swim across and back solo. The water there is beautiful with >100 foot visibility, but it gets so deep that the bottom disappears. It was an outrageous feeling to be swimming out there alone, unable to see the bottom and, at times, unable to see any land between the swells. I felt very small but very safe. Round trip was probably around two miles. I had a little time to admire the reef before swimming back but there was a setting sun to race!

Day 13:

My last full day. I decided to spend it under the water, SCUBA diving for the first time in 30 years. I went for a 2 tank boat dive and it was my lucky day...I got to dive with dolphins!!!

Pod of dolphins approaches the boat

Let the show begin

Aloha Kona! I'll be back in 2012!