Vineman Full Ironman - TriathlonFull Ironman

Even though there were fewer guys in my wave this year than in the 70.3 here last summer, I had a lot more contact in this swim than in that one. As a rule, I prefer to swim in clear water (finding and staying with someone to draft off never seems to work for me) and I was generally able to do that. But there were a lot of guys (and one or two of the faster women) who seemed to think all passes need to be done with contact no matter how much room there is. (And don't get me started on the persistent foot tappers...either you need to back off a few inches on your drafting or you need to figure out this isn't lap swim in your local pool.)

This is one of the easiest OW swims around, due to the warm (but wetsuit legal) water, the shallow depth which allows tired swimmers to stand in various spots, and the fact that the river current is minimal, but you swim with it for the last leg of the race.

I was a little disappointed with my split at the first turnaround...I felt pretty sure I'd do no worse than about 1:12 for the swim and was aiming for 1:10 or better. Got to the turnaround at about :18:30, meaning I was on track for a 1:14. Swim downstream to the start didn't get any faster and upstream swim on lap two was the slowest yet.

However, I had plenty of gas in the tank and there was no chance of me falling apart. I was passing plenty of people...more than were passing me. Caught the first of the 35-44 guys in front of me within about 300 yds of the start, was catching the wave before that by the first turnaround, and spent the whole 2nd lap swimming through alot of those waves.

(First guy out of the water, btw, blew by me just after I started the second lap...couldn't believe that. He wasn't in the mix on the podium, but what a swim...out of the water a full 7 minutes ahead of the eventual winner.)

My longest swims in training were 2.25 miles nonstop in the pool and about 2.05 miles in the ocean, so this was my longest swim ever. I felt that during the last 1/3 mile or so...I was lifting my head a bit on my breaths and consequently dipping my torso into the water. Really focused on stretching out for the last 400m and it helped. I wanted to pick up my very gentle kick a bit toward the end, but I could tell it would only tweak my hamstring, so I mostly resisted the temptation.

I was disappointed to hit my lap split on my watch and see 1:13, but the reality was that this turned out to be my best swim ever in terms of overall placement and my strongest performance of the day by far. Usually I'm not too much above MOP (even though I used to swim competitively in HS, I don't train nearly as much as I do the run and bike), but this time I was more like top 25% (179 of 683 O/A, 20 of 75 AG).

Not much. I don't kick much in wetsuit swims other than to assist rotation, but I would have picked it up toward the end (did so in the 70.3 last summer). Hamstring injury prevented that...as it would prove to do more tellingly the rest of the day. In general, I felt like my performance validated my approach to swim training...which is to avoid wasting a lot of time training like a competitive pool swimmer and simply focus on alternating endurance swims with interval sets.

Okay, so here's where the hamstring injury began to dominate the day's proceedings. Felt a twinge just on the short trot up the ramp from the swim exit. I'd promised myself if I was feeling the injury at all during the swim, I was going to take whatever time I needed in T1 to wrap the thigh in an elastic bandage and then secure it with athletic tape. So, after struggling just a bit more than I'd have liked with the cuff of my wetsuit on the injured leg (couldn't really risk bending fully at the waist and was having trouble getting my other foot planted on the suit to pull it off that way), I spent about three minutes wrapping, pinning, and taping.

This being a point-to-point race...and being lucky enough to have my wife starting in a later wave of the women's HIM...I handed off my gear bag to Liz so that she could later hand it and hers to my sister and brother-in-law when they arrived closer to her start.

Anyhow, resprayed on some sunscreen and put on--but didn't turn on--my Garmin 205 (was only going to use it on the run), grabbed my bike and joined the really slow line of people heading for the bike out. Finally got there, jogged up the short, steep, slope outside the exit from the TA (yay, MTB shoes), mounted my bike and headed out on the road.

Not have to wrap my thigh. Couldn't see any sense in saving 3 minutes here and DNF'ing the ride as a result. Had to be done and didn't think a soaking wet Ace bandage on one leg after the swim would be conducive to a comfortable ride, so putting it on pre-swim wasn't a realistic option.

Would have liked to have gotten wetsuit off faster, though.

As the swim was my longest swim, this was my longest ride. Did 100, 106, and 107 miles on generally flat terrain in training, but also a couple of 6.5+ hour rides (87 and 91 miles) with serious climbing, all within the last couple months before the race. Also got through Wildflower without struggling much, so I felt pretty prepared.

And, of course, I'd raced this course in the 70.3 last year, so I knew it well from a tactical standpoint.

The wild card was--of course--the hamstring. It hadn't bothered me on any of the trainer or flat rides I'd done since the injury. My main concern was any climbs out of the saddle. My Kestrel being my first bike with a double crankset (53x39), I pretty much knew I'd have to at the very least climb Chalk Hill out of the saddle...twice. And, in reality, I knew there were a few shorter hills that I'd want to stand up for, just to carry some speed through the top.

Thankfully, I didn't ever really notice the injury until a couple spots on the second lap. I was pretty confident as a result that if I didn't get too aggressive, I'd make it to the run with a chance to give that a go.

So, no heart rate monitors or powertaps for me...but one new wrinkle this year was the addition of a cadence sensor. All my long rides the last six weeks before the race were to cadence (more or less). Comfort zone for me is about 84-86 rpm, but I generally aim for at least 80 (other than on the biggest climbs). I've been very happy with this approach and promised to stick with it, no matter what average speed that resulted in at the end of the ride.

Decided to try to take in as much scenery as I safely could on the first lap, knowing the second lap would probably be a war of attrition with a neck too stiff to allow for much sightseeing. This also proved to be a good choice. I'm not sure I ever really have "fun" during tri's (that really isn't why I do them...I really love to challenge myself and I've got other things in life I do for entertainment or novelty value), but I recognize the value of lightening up mood and shifting focus.

By opting not to turn on my Garmin 205, I realized that I was losing my alert-tone reminders for my nutrition and hydration, but I knew I could keep track of that. I'd brought two 24 oz sport bottles of Gatorade Tiger in down- and seattube cages. Due to space issues, I'd electrical-taped my first two of eight GU gels to my top tube; the other six were in my bento box, along with two packets of Clif Shot Bloks and my halfway point reward: a Toasted Nut and Cranberry Luna Bar (only Luna flavor with no frosting to melt and get all over everything). Generally was taking 200 cals/hr from gels/blocks/bar along with about 50 cals/hr from the Gatorade product. Swapped out my Tiger empties for Gatorade Endurance at miles 40 and 86 (one at each stop), so I was picking up slightly more calories per hour as I sequed from the lower cal Tiger to the G.E. product. I was prepared to take on more calories from a later aid station if a likely opportunity arose and I did: Picked up two 100 cal mini Clif Bars at mile 86 and ate them as added calories during the following half hour. Good choice.

After having done the 70.3 before, it was surprisingly hard to unprogram myself from my tactics for that race. Getting over Chalk Hill (12 miles from the end of the 1st lap) left me with thoughts of how close I was getting. Screw that! Sixty-eight miles to go, bucko!

Speaking of Chalk Hill: It's no (Wildflower) Nasty Grade, but it did take some work. Still, I was passing folks all the way up without really killing myself and a couple of spectators at the top said, "Look at him! He makes it look easy!" I said to them, "If you're still here when I come by again, we'll see if you say that then."

Ride is pretty, but kind of a blur...a few things stand out:

--Checking my bike comp after lap 1, I saw my top speed (on the big, straight, descent on Canyon Rd.) was only like 39.8. Had to do better on the 2nd time around...and I did...just over 40. :)

--As usual, a constant whirr of bling bikes with disc wheels sped by me throughout both laps. This time, though, I also noticed some people with 50-something ages on their calves on old school road bikes (like with downtube shifters) whizz past like I wasn't moving. My cycling is teh suxorz.

--Bad moment: Fire truck ahead in middle of course with group of riders halted in front of it. I pull up, stop, and join them. A woman (I assume a USAT official off one of the marshalling motorcycles) is cautioning about gap in pavement catching cyclists' wheels. Now an ambulance was arriving and we had to make way for it. The official instructs us to walk our bikes past what is obviously a crash scene. The gap is between the two yellow center lines...the crossing of which is an infraction, if I'm not mistaken. I'm just starting to make a comment about not crossing the center line to the person walking next to me when, out of the corner of my eye, I notice one of the injured riders is Donato (enginerd). I instantly regret the comment..and more esp. so after later reading Donato's comment in the race thread here that he was the one who moved out to the center line and got his wheel caught, ending his day. :(

Driving the course, I'd thought the section reconnecting to the first part of the loop was mostly downhill and I'd get some recovery time in. FAIL. False flats abounded. (Couple good downhills, though.)

A first for me: Stopped to use the portapotty. Twice actually. Never, ever, have done that in any race at any distance in my life. But, getting up to around mile 40, I needed to pee. There's lots of talk here about peeing on the bike. Considered it. Declined the opportunity. Seems a little silly to have had my parents put in that work toilet training me as a child to start intentionally pissing my pants in public in my late 40s. Clocked my stop at aid station 3: A whopping 3 minutes (including swapping out Gatorade bottles). Spent a little more time at aid station 6, just because I decided to not only pee and swap bottles, but also rummage through a box of mostly peanut butter mini Clif Bars (allergic) to find a couple chocolate brownie ones. Worth the time. Yum.

Anyhow...got over Chalk Hill better than I expected. Remembered to power up Garmin 205 in anticipation of run. Carried 20+ mph through outskirts of town. Dismounted cleanly. Then walked really, really, slowly (again) in a line of cyclists into T2.

Made it. Figured on 6:40 or better (hoped for 6:30), but--as with the swim--just missed. Definitely a conservative ride, though, due to not having done that sort of distance on hilly terrain before and concerns about the hammie. (And if I'd really cared about the time goal...I'd have pissed myself in the saddle and knocked off 5 or 6 minutes.)

Um...see end of comments above, I guess. More hills on rides above 100 miles would have certainly been a plus.

"Not stumble on beach and wreck hamstring three weeks before race" will continue to be the one-size-fits-all answer here.

First transition with new Brooks Axiums with Yankz. I knew they'd be a bit tighter than my old Adrenalines...and they were. That was a problem, actually...not just pulling the right shoe on without tweaking the hammie, but because my left quad cramped up when I pulled the left shoe on. This inspite of my inspired move to bring a small folding three-legged camp stool to the TA since I knew this was going to be a problem. *sigh*

Reapplied sunscreen. Clipped on race number belt...and could instantly tell I'd sweated off some weight by the looseness of it. Worked my feet around in the new Axiums with the (relatively) new orthotics until I felt okay enough to start. Swung legs to loosen hammies...and headed out...to...undoubted drama.

In hindsight: Been more careful with the sunscreen application. And retaped my thigh. No way of knowing that at the time, though.

And I thought my "run" at Wildflower was frustrating. Man, if only I'd known this was coming.

Honestly, if I'd been the least bit sensible, I'd have DNS'ed this run. It sucks to keep going on about the injury, but it is the worst I've ever had apart from my broken wrist in 2007...and I don't run on my wrists.

This was one of the most surreal experiences I've ever had. When I was running...and I ran over 14 miles of the run, most of it in the first 16.3...I was consistently around 9:00-10:30 (depending on hills and how my hamstring was doing at any given time). My last full mile of running--mile 16--my Garmin registered a sub-10 split and I was passing people right and left. And this with a blown hamstring that actually popped again at almost exactly 10K in. I'm always on about triathletes not training the run enough and this confirmed it for me. I'm not sure I've ever been more frustrated than to be so well set up for a decent race--I was on track for no worse than a 4:20 run and about 12:35 finish when the injury finally blew up completely--and be blocked by a freak injury. Especially to see the vast majority of other competitors running slower. It made me proud sometimes; other times I just wanted to cry with the seeming unfairness of the situation.

Anyhow, I had two bouts of the cramping of my left quad (the one the cramped in T2), but managed to walk those out and that was never a serious problem again...which is good, because that was what wrecked Wildflower for me. I was moving along nicely and had passed the turnaround of the first lap. I'd passed my wife at exactly where I'd predicted our paths would cross for the only time of the day betw. my full and her half. I was thinking about how--at this pace, almost a minute per mile slower than my standalone mary pace--I was in great shape stamina-wise in spite of the constant pain from my right leg. Started down one of the bigger downhills...and--POP!--there went the injury site. Same pop as on the beach. Had to walk. About 2.5 miles into T2. Saw a couple Disney team members who gave me encouragement, but this was no good.

Got close to the TA and tried a run. Could trot okay, so I ran it in. Passed Liz and my sister and BIL cheering me from the spectator area. I had to give them thumbs down. Yelled out that the hammie had gone again but I was going to try to keep going.



No run special needs on this race, but they told us we could access our transition spot at each lap. So I'd stashed more tape and elastic bandage in my bag. Pulled out the tape and just started to wrap over the Ace bandage I had on. Tight. I knew from my track days that the only way I could race was to really wrap this good. So I spent a few minutes doing just that, then headed out for lap two.

The tape job held up well. I started to get optimistic. Even with a bad hamstring pull, I was still holding splits in the neighborhood of 10:00/mile. I'd promised myself I'd walk the aid stations and the steepest tops of hills if I was feeling too much pull in the hammie. So that's what I did. Got to the turnaround and was now in the 2nd half of the run and still running...had only walked about two miles. Got to ten miles left at just under 11 hours for the day and was looking at close to 12:30 at my current pace. I was into a routine of a gulp of Gatorade, an Oreo cookie, and a cup of water as I walked each aid station and was feeling strong.

Then I felt a twinge in my right sciatic nerve. Then the whole freaking leg just locked up. Hip to knee. Son of a bitch. Walked for a bit. Tried to jog...couldn't. Walked some more. Tried again. No dice. Just too much pain and no lift to the leg. So I walked.

Leg blew up at 16.3 miles per my Garmin. So 1.2 miles back to the TA. No quick fix stashed back there this time. Walking was okay, but I was done running, whether I wanted to admit it or not. So, now I'm doing the math and thinking about how long I'll be out here on the road. Not an appealing picture. My Disney team mates once again offer encouragement as they pass. It doesn't help a whole lot.

This time I make no effort to run past the crowd in the finish area. Leg is on fire. I shout out to Liz, Wendy, and Greg that the leg is now totally blown, but I'm going to run whatever of the third lap I can...that sub-5 is still a possibility (can't believe I actually said that...amazing what you can convince yourself of in the throes of this kind of effort...I really believed I'd somehow manage to run most of the third lap on that leg).

Started the third lap setting out on a jog...and lasted about 250 feet.

So I walked. 8.7 miles to go. At 15-16 min/mile, that felt like forever.

I'm starting to play with goals now: In before dark. I'm not going to go over 14 hours after my aspirations for 12 hours, am I? Can I still salvage sub-5 for the run? Can I at least get to my wife's 5:25 mary time?

The walk is all about the Oreos now. Avoiding the stupid hose that's spraying mist onto everyone at one of the aid stations, whether they want it or not and even now that the sun's dropping on a day that was none too hot to begin with. Yup...I'm starting to race mad now.

Picking off the aid stations one by one, I'm seeing people struggling. I'm feeling like I'm at the back of the pack in the middle of nowhere. It isn't until I finally get to the turnaround and the volunteer there comments that I have two lap-counting bracelets on and that I'm on my way in to the finish that I realize that there are a lot of people on their second...and even first... laps out here as the sun's starting to set. I'm nowhere near the back of the pack...and that 2nd lap of 9:00-10:00 minute-ish miles is the reason why. All my work on the run did pay off...at least a little. I suppose that's why--as frustrating as the experience was--I mostly avoided anything even close to despair.

I try again to run. No dice. So I walk.

I get to a steep hill around 3 miles out and the leg is not handling it at all well. So I start pumping my arms. Hard. I power up the hill.

And I think, why not? And I start power walking. 13:00 minutes a mile. Some 12s show up on the Garmin. The whole time I'm pumping my arms and telling myself if I can't run the mother effer, I can certainly manage to sub-14 pace three miles of walking.

I'm getting turned heads and comments now from the majority of the people I pass. I'm seeing the pace on my Garmin dipping more frequently into the 11's and I'm holding no worse than around 13:45/mile.

There's a whole laundry list of things I want running through my head now as I'm nearing 20 minutes left: No way will I accept 14 hours. I want 5:30 for the run...is that even possible? And...goddammit...I won't be on this motherhumping course after dark. No effing way. And I'm going to run the last 1K to do all that if it kills me.

Okay. So it isn't a fairytale. I didn't magically heal up my leg enough to run 1K. I tried. But I'm not really stupid and I'm definitely not really a masochist. That effort lasted maybe 100 yards. (But right before that, I honest-to-God saw a number under 10 turn up on the pace display on my trusty 205 as I speed walked past the last aid station.)



As I'm getting into the bulk of the spectators along Windsor Road south of the high school I'm hearing more and more "Nice effort, 410" and "Great intensity!"

I know they're saying versions of that to everyone, but for the first time since I started walking, I feel like I'm earning it.

Finally, I turn into the high school grounds and decide I will cross the line in a run. And, yes, it hurts and my finisher photo will look like absolute crap from the gritted teeth. (And the damn dad and his kid I had to sprint around to get a clean finish didn't help matters.) But I ran past my wife and family and crossed the line and finished my IM.

And, in all honesty, if I hadn't been injured, I'd have said it wasn't that hard, ridiculous as that sounds. Seriously. I didn't need a mylar blanket. I wasn't that depleted, inspite of the effort. I was sufficiently prepared. I had a plan and the plan worked just fine.

But next time, I'm staying the hell off the beach.

Not injure myself three weeks before...oh, what the heck...just repeating myself now.

Should have paid more attention to how my shoes and socks were feeling. Tried, but ended up with a small pebble in one sock. Which = blister. It was weird how not like a marathon the run seemed after having run three marathons previously. Because I knew I would be running slower than in a standalone mary, it just didn't seem as intimidating. I'm curious to see how it feels if I manage to get to the run at IM St. George uninjured.

Nutrition, hydration, bike pacing...all were fine. I was running just like I planned (and close to my original, uninjured, goal pace)...until the injury just couldn't take the hills and the pounding anymore.

Liz wrapped a couple ice bags on my hamstring and I sat down. Got a burger, chicken sandwich, chicken soup and a banana. Felt pretty good...other than the trashed leg. I can see in some postrace photos that I was obviously exhausted, but all-in-all, I think I paced things well.

Can't wrap this up without acknowledging Liz's excellent job on her HIM: Just over 7 hours for someone who hadn't ever really run before about 3 years ago. Amazing journey for her: 1st marathon in May (sub-5:30), now this. And of course her support for my "iron journey" alongside her HIM training; we had lots of opportunities to train together and I think we both made our accomplishments easier for each other.

And also the help my sis provided in getting the accomodations and moving our car from Guerneville to Windsor and she and Greg spending the day cheering on not only me and Liz, but other racers as well. Big props to them.

And the volunteers--amazing group! I made a point of thanking everyone I could (esp. on the bike), but you just can't thank them enough. Great job all around.

Finally...and very personally. It's an open secret that I am--and have been for nearly 20 years--a devout Pagan and for almost 10 years a member of the Pagan clergy. My weightloss, my training, and my racing have all been inspired by and dedicated to the warrior-king god of the ancient Irish, Lugh, who was known as the "Samildánach," the master of all crafts in the ancient tales. August 1 is the Irish festival called "Lúnasa" and is regarded as the feast of Lugh and a traditional occasion for athletic competitions. I can't think of a finer, purer, way to honor this inspiration for transformation in my life than an iron distance multisport competition on August 1. Go raibh míle maith agat.




Injury. Pure and simple. At 16.2 miles, I was maintaining and headed for a 12:30-12:40 finish with a ~4:20 run. When the sciatic fired and the hamstring locked up, everything changed and things shifted to worst case scenario time. Going in, I thought a perfect race would be 11:30 and worst case (if I couldn't run at all...which was pretty possible with the injury) would be about 14:45. Obviously the 12+ miles of walking took me closer to the worst case.

But, hey, I finished. I'm an ironman. A 49 year old ironman who was a fat, sedentary, 44 year old just over five years ago. And no matter how it played out, that's the bottom line.


What a bargain! Great course support. Scenic course with just a few challenging hills on the bike and a much-tougher-than-reputed run. Good post-race food and finisher swag. Point-to-point logistics are a slight challenge, but they certainly give you enough advice to navigate that end of things. Excellent first IM option, especially with their 3-for-the-price-of-2 discount.