A Strong Core

I’m typing this while riding the T to work, because it is the only free time I have. I feel a little bit guilty about not biking or running to work, but I do have two workout outfits in my bag which will be quite used with about 2h of activity after work. I feel more intimidated about scheduling the 12h of endurance or lifting than I do about the effort required; I see a 1.5 hour day as a light workout and an inefficient use of time. I’m pretty damn lucky.

STRONG

But, this isn’t about feeling busy, this is about feeling strong at my core — standing upright, with tall, muscular confidence. This is about feeling confident in the pool, and this is about more than just working out. I am absolutely thrilled to have such wonderful friends with whom I can train (and complain), a job that is flexible enough to accommodate my schedule, a workout group that has florescent hugs waiting for me at 6:30am, and a family that has already booked a hotel up in Mont Tremblant. 

SWIM

I found myself with a flair of anger and braggadocio after the swim on Saturday. Someone had tried to steal my entire lane from me instead of sharing it. She was swimming breast stroke deliberately in the middle of the lane, seemingly trying to scare or intimidate me out. She must have assumed that I would be uncomfortable with having to swim close to the ropes and someone’s kicking feet. I’m training for an ironman. No chance, lady. I don’t condone the aggressive nature, but it signals a growing confidence in my swimming.

BIKE

My ‘vélo has been wall art, not the tour-de-force she wants to be on the road. Hopefully soon the weather and road conditions will cooperate. In the meantime, I have been sweating it out in spin classes at the gym. Thanks to an asthma inhaler, I can no rock these workouts without the panicky feeling of my lungs desperately needing air. I am curious if I will grow dependent on this or if it will subside as I move to outdoor riding in reasonable temperatures. For now, I’m happy to be able to temper the suffer-fest my legs crave.

RUN

Heading out the door for Sunday’s long run, I was aiming for about 8 miles along the marathon course. Having only done about 4-5 at a time (to and from work at one point), I figured this was a stretch, but that the hours upon hours of bike, core, and swimming training would help me through it. And then I kept running. I kept hoping that I might see a friend on the course who was running towards me so I just added another bend in the road, and then another and another until I reached Wellesley. The pain in my arch (from autumn) came up at miles 4, 8, and then from 12 onward, but was otherwise reasonable. I still felt a bit lopsided (from boxing?), but consciously tried to level my shoulders and even my stride. Consciously thinking of form, I would straighten up and felt powerful and strong in my core — more than I have before. Whereas the way out was quiet, there were hordes of runners training on my way back. I ended up running with a man who would podium at Chicago’s world championship olympic distance triathlon. On Heartbreak Hill, I felt the tingles of energy flowing up the hill, a lingering presence from the emotional pursuits to achieve dreams.

EAT

Imagine stuffed french toast with creme cheese and strawberries, followed by chocolate ganache cake. Dinner and dessert were delicious. I was feeling pretty tired by mid-dessert, but attributed it to the morning workout. Then on the drive home, I felt overwhelmingly depressed. Nothing significant had changed in my life since sitting down at the table so what was going on? Having looked at several similar instances since, it seems that a large influx of sugar, particularly without anything to balance it, has consistently produced this effect to some degree. Now, a salad for dinner also isn’t the answer, but I’m on a mission to find the healthy balance that give me energy without the crash. Of course, I did enjoy a batch of pancakes with a half-tub of yogurt, half-jar of almond butter, wheat germ, syrup, and Nutella; 2,000 calories and a huge smile on my face.

SLEEP

Having done this about a half dozen times over the past two weeks, I think I have to just accept that I will hit the snooze button until I have been in bed for 7 hours. I might as well just set the alarm to be 7h+ from when I go to bed, or at least make it a conscious and rare exception to attempt otherwise. I might even need more time of undisturbed shut-eye as time goes on. 

IMMT: Planning for Continued Inspiration: KATY

Signing up for a big race might come with a packet of motivation, inspiration, and rejuvenation, but how long do those last? For me, the excitement is finite and short lived compared to the months of consistent training required. How can I best prepare for success, by keeping myself motivated as I undertake training for Ironman Mont Tremblant?

I'm lucky enough to be training with 3 other November Project (read: #weatherproof) athletes and my coaching-oriented mindset is curious how to leverage this fortunate situation for everyone's benefit.

Over a well-earned cup of caffeine (35 minutes of hill repeats in the cold rain certainly qualifies), Katy and I discussed our IMMT plans, or what threads we were trying to pull together. We've each considered trainers (I still am open to it, know anyone?) but know that we don't need the accountability card, just the general guidance with plans and personalized insights. Having previously coached a few friends myself with tremendous success and satisfaction, I began asking Katy about how to keep her motivated and what she's looking for from IMMT training and race day.

Any sizable challenge warrants a honest look at the basics: "Where are you now?" and "Why are you doing it?" Before starting any coaching program, I wanted to find out how dedicated, and what kind of dedicated, each athlete was so I required that they fill out this form I had created. It is geared towards someone doing triathlons, but could be well abstracted to any other event. 

Katy

Why are you doing this?

• I want a challenge. I’m able bodied.
• I’m coming for you, Patriot [Half-Iron]

What can we remind you of to help you stay motivated/inspired?

• I don’t like positivity when it’s tough. Tell me to ‘suck it up and deal with it’.
• Remember, you paid for this.

Accomplishments

• Crying on the bike to 4 centuries in 3 months

Challenges

• Trusting my body… after Patriot flopped
• Owning my efforts and abilities
• Mind-body connection (http://evandana.com/inspiration.pdf)
• Food (allergic to gluten)

MCM2013: An 8-Minute PR Attitude

Thumping along with the excited desperation of the last 300 meters of a marathon, my body is in a state of sensory overload and numbness; the fanatical cheering of the crowd temporarily drowns out the screams at each step from my calves and 19 mile-mature blister. Rounding a final turn I see the finish... and the 50 meter hill -- looks like a wall -- just before it. Instantly, I feel my entire body demand more oxygen and energy from already depleted stores, yet, somehow, I make it to the top before I have time to wonder how I'll make it there. With the final clock in sight, I notice that I will, in fact, be crossing the line...

How did I do that?

Although many significant factors played into such a successful race, I believe that my discerning approach to "pain as a signal" was the critical piece for my body that day. This being my third marathon, I ate right, trained and tapered properly, slept well, and was relaxed. I also had inflammation at the nerve bundle in the arch of my right foot and by mile 7 had developed a non-trivial blister.

PAIN AS A SIGNAL
Presented with pain in one's foot on each step, I sense that most people would have one or two immediate reactions: 1) stopping the activity or 2) ignoring the pain as orthogonal to the goal and persisting onward. I believe that either immediate reaction is not doing your body or your goals justice. Consider that the sensation you are feeling is merely a signal you can use as additional information when making decisions. Therefore, the healthy question is not about whether or not there is pain, but "What is the signal telling me and what is the underlying issue?". Starting there you can begin to look at whether or not you really should stop (even if you would rather keep going) or maybe you could push through the discomfort.

During the marathon, I felt intense sensations from my right foot as the blister developed and was aggravated. Typically, one might put less pressure on the chaffed foot to relieve the pain per step. However, an altered stride -- a limp -- would almost definitely lead to intense injury over the duration of an endurance race. Therefore, I chose to endure the "pain" of each step in order to prevent long term injury. I consciously chose to continue the race without limping, while suffering the growing blister, knowing that it would heal without issue over a few days.

I would love to see the word "pain" taken out of our language since it would force us to better describe what we're really sensing without the easy use of an overly generalized blanket statement. According to Mirriam Webster, pain is "a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action." You touch a hot pan and jerk your hand away. Your bare feet step on a sharp object and immediately you lighten the weight on that foot. These are healthy and safe reactions.

During a race, however, it is rare that I'm entirely comfortable. It's a matter of listening to all of the signals and consciously choosing a response (instead of immediate reactions) appropriate to the simuli. My ultimate goal is to be healthy -- mentally, physically, and socially -- and so I have created a few predetermined thresholds for how to make decisions about pain while racing.

1. If I am limping and not "close to the finish", I will find the next best place to stop.
2. If the weather is such that I could suffer permanent injury by continuing (too hot: dehydration, too cold: hypothermia, etc...), then I will find the next best place to stop.
3. If I feel something "funny" with my heart or other vital organs, I will find the next best place to stop and maybe seek medical attention. 

Asking the question "Should I stop?" takes too much emotional energy to repeat often. I have trained myself to just keep going without question, unless one of those above thresholds has been crossed. During a very long endurance event I will grant myself that question one to three times as a check in, but otherwise trust myself to listen to the right signals.

I race to find my limit for that day; I leave every ounce of effort on the course... often well before the finish. Running is only 30% about your legs. As I get older, I keep improving my race times significantly from a better attitude, not just a faster body. Consciously, I choose to listen to the signals my body is sending so I can have the best race possible.

... and I came across the line at a blazing pace, with an 8-minute PR at 2:54:12. Two weeks later, my blister is merely a visible reminder of the fading memory of its brief, but intense, pain. My legs are still a bit sluggish, but I'm still enjoying the pride in having run a smart, hard race.


LOGS +++++++++++++++++++++++++

TRAINING: 18, 15, 19, 13, x, 26
The weeks prior, I did long runs as detailed in the title of this section. I raced the 13 (BAA Half Marathon) and the 26 is the Marine Corps Marathon. I had inflammation in my right arch by a nerve bundle for two weeks prior to the marathon, so I did hardly any running. It was not Plantar Fascitis, as determined by a doctor.

NUTRITION
The day before, I was drinking a bit of water with salt and sugar and eating a variety of healthy veggies, meats, and carbs. Morning of the marathon, I ate some bread + pb at 5:30am. I sipped Chia seeds in water up until the start (12oz). During the race, at each water stop, I drank 1-2 teeny cups of water and Gatorade Endurace and then about mile 16 I also "sipped" on one Clif Shot with 25mg caffeine.

WEEKEND ATTITUDE
Relaxed. I didn't stress much about it.

FORM
Chi
No limp

"I would happily suffer that blister for a 2:54:12!" - a friend

Quebec City Marathon, 2011 August 28: Redefining Failure

I didn't meet my goal. Now what?

Imagine spending months of organizing your life around training and healthy eating, days off of work, and hours of driving to get ready for to qualify for Boston, only to have it cancelled due to a weather forecast. I did everything within my means to be well-prepared for a successful race, and then elements out of my control intervened.

I came to Québec with the one goal of breaking a 3-hour marathon and how did this solitary goal serve me well and how did it not? How does one walk the line between achieving a goal with focus and excluding things of importance? How can I let that which does not matter, truly slide?

I'm giving myself some space today to be upset about it. On the whole, I see it as healthy to be upset; without risking the negative emotions, I couldn't possibly hope to win the elation of reaching my goal.

Having improved my form and practiced pre-race relaxation, I have gained much during the process, regardless of the outcome of the goal. I owe Tree much credit for introducing me to Chi Running (written by Danny Dreyer); without this book, I would not have experienced such successful and enjoyable training. I was even able to use my marathon regimen to reach another life-goal: breaking the 5-minute mile. Focusing on the moment at hand and letting the destination come closer on its own has certainly helped temper today's disappointment.

As incredibly disappointing as it is, I am lucky enough to have a chance to qualify at Baystate in a month and a half, at the more stringent qualifying time. In pursuing my next race, perhaps I can discern more wisely where to relax and where to be more disciplined in working training and racing into a healthy lifestyle.

I'm disappointed today, and it's ok. Tomorrow, I shall look to make new strides and keep improving each moment.


Growth ideas:

• What can I do, moving forward, to continue to set myself up for success?
• How can I incorporate Chi Running exercises into my day without crowding mornings or evenings?
• How would slowly re-adopting a cross-fit style workout would aid overall muscle resilience?

70.3 Timberman

(That's me closest to the finish at an individual elapsed time of 5:17:17.)

Results:
http://www.lin-mark.com/tm70308.txt
5:17:17

What:
1.2 mile lake swim
56 mile bike (out and back)
13.1 mile run (two loop)

Where:
Ellacoya State Park, Gilford, NH

Course Description:
Swim: Comfortable water temp (with sleeveless wetsuit), heavy waves only for last 400m
Bike: m1-6 rolling, m7-13 hills, m14-28 headwind and flat, reverse direction
Run: Flat with one small hill at mile 5 & 11 (<.25m)

Summary:
Raced with a comp entry for ClifBar (thanks Susan!)
I'm pretty happy to have improved in specific areas over last race.

Quick Highlights:
According to a quick comparison of pro stats from Provi to Timber, I should have finished 10 minutes longer than at Provi, but ended up 2 minutes shorter.
I didn't stress nearly as much during pre-race weeks/hours/days. This was partly due to being socially distracted, but it's important to note that I allowed time to BE distracted.
I didn't panic in the swim, neither during the first 400m nor while jostling around for position during the remainder.
I only felt exhausted* during 2 miles of the run. (*It's important to remember that exhausted here is completely relative to hour 5 of a triathlon.)

Disclaimer:
If you have countless hours to kill and enjoy re-living my Sunday vicariously, read on. Otherwise, you're probably better off getting on your bike and enjoying a good ride on such a beautiful day.

Training:
On day 3 of recovery from my 70.3 Providence, I signed up for Timberman, knowing it was only a month away. I spent one week of almost no exercise, one week of light work, one week of hard training, and then a mirrored my recovery weeks as a two-week taper. In preparation for the switch from an ocean swim to fresh water, I did a Friday swim without wetsuit (in case it was too warm to legally wear one) and a Sunday swim with one (to get used to warm water with a wetsuit). The double swim didn't tire my shoulder too much, and after a day or so, I was feeling confident and strong. I amped up a good sprint workout during the second week prior, followed by a "fran" (cross-fit workout); this put the hurting on my hamstrings and shoulders like "whoa". I hadn't done cross-fit in over a month, and I really shouldn't have done it then. So I scheduled a deep tissue massage for the Thursday before the race. An hour of intense pain, worse than the triathlon itself, I was hoping my muscles would repay this luxury on race day.

Race-day Eve:
I arrived up in NH early on Friday to get in a test swim and drive the course. I was also lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with my grandparents, who have a house close to the race start. The test swim reminded me that I need to focus attention on a smooth swim if I want to avoid panicking in the water. It was shallow, and varied from cool to warm. I tried to drive the course (while taking photos and jotting down notes of landmarks, climbs, descents, etc...) but was quickly lost and bailed after 12 miles. I then swung by the ClifBar tent to meet up with the crew for that weekend: Paul, Pauline, Ulandt, and Scott. (Anne was en route.)

Being around the guys who have done several iron distance events - even doubles - had a deep impact on my feelings about the race. Whereas my first 70.3 was purely for personal satisfaction, I felt strongly encouraged to race smart and quick because I was representing more than just myself. Internally I could tell that I also wanted to prove myself in the group, gain acceptance based on accomplishment - not that I was being judged by them at all - just out of an internal drive.

I planned on sleeping very well and long on Friday night so that I could camp out with Bex and Abbie on Saturday night. I enjoyed a big breakfast Saturday morning that surely impressed my Grandparents. The rest of the day was spent up at Gunstock working the ClifBar tent, with the exception of dropping off my bike in transition. At the tent, I was psyched to greet my dad who had just biked up from nearby Ellacoya area. Bex and Abbie eventually meandered their way up from Mass, I really felt supported. Several friends and family had called wishing me good luck. I bumped into random acquaintances from other events and social groups. By the time six o'clock rolled around I was wiped and probably mildly grumpy as I wished to be sleeping. Soon enough I was heading over to the campsite and triple checking the transition bags' contents.

Because of the busy day, I still felt distracted from my focus on the race the next morning. I had been so socially concerned that I couldn't maintain a visualization for a long time. I had trouble finding my "two sources of race inspiration" to get me through the entire race. I had a fleeting thought that if I could just enjoy the now, then I would have an enjoyable race. I jotted a quick smiley face on my left wrist and would have to let the other one come the next day. I slept without worry about waking up on time nor pre-race anxiety, although I did have a bizarre dream in which some friends literally told me I "need to focus" (although in a very different context).

The next morning, I had just prepped my transition zone and had about 20-30 minutes to kill, so I went back to my car and lied down in the back of it, meditating. I came to realize that I was stressing because I was going to try to beat someone else's time. I know that MY best race doesn't have anything to do with someone else's best efforts. En route back to transition for the final time, I stopped at Body Marking and had "my" written on my right wrist as a reminder.

Nutrition:
7pm-9pm - Race-Eve Dinner: Pasta with some greens. Many many ClifBar products: bars, shot bloks, builder bars
4am - Some more Clif bars/bloks
7am - Most of a Clif mini bar... not really feeling hungry. Sipping water mostly until start
7:47am START OF RACE
Bike: nothing for the first hour, then some Clif Shot Bloks, and eventually 2 bars. Totaled 2 packages of Bloks and 1-2 bars. Stomach felt crampy for a bit.
Run: 1 sip coke, 1 cup water at every rest stop until mile 6, then bit of pizza crust (thanks to a volunteer!), and followed by potato chips and a banana in addition to the same liquids

The Race:
I was warming myself in the sliver of sunrays peeking through the trees to try to stop shivering. I had done a quick warm up swim that turned cold once out of the water. Upon finally being called to line up for the swim start, another racer informed me that my zipper wasn't fully up. He then pulled it up for me (assuming it was being helpful) but pulled it past the tear-away point. Long story short, I completely re-threaded and re-zipped the zipper with seconds to spare. I was a little anxious about having to start with my suit unzipped, but not panicky for some reason.

The sound of bagpipes fills the air and we're off! I put face to water, fully expecting to already feel short of breath, and am surprised to find that my body was breathing and swimming fairly comfortably. Even jostling with other legs and arms, I maintained a solid focus and even desired the excitement of being in the pack. After rounding the first third, we were all facing directly into the sun. I could hardly see a thing in the right direction because the glare spread out wide, especially in my foggy goggles. Rounding the second turn, I soon hit a slew of waves. My arms weren't tired, but I was starting to wish to be done swimming; I was pretty sure I could see the shore. Because of swallowing a mouthful of water in lieu of air, I soon found myself heaving the water back out in an uncomfortable way. Yet, for some reason, even this didn't throw off the rest of the swim and I eventually reached the shore.

As if my legs had been compressed like springs, they carried me quickly from the shore to T1. Yadda, yadda, I was on my bike and pedaling away. My stomach was crampy, so I didn't eat as I normally do when getting on the bike. The first small incline felt mildly annoying and it set the tone for the rest of the ride. Miles 1-6 were rolling hills. I was cheerily saying hi and making quick conversation to other riders as I passed. I ate some Clif Shot Bloks knowing that I needed some nutrition. Then miles 7-13 had some decent climbs - nothing huge, but worthy of getting out of the saddle and then enjoying the descent. At the first few water stations, the volunteers were dressed in costumes, hillbillies then jesters, respectively. I barely drank any water for a while and didn't need a new full bottle until the 2nd or 3rd water station. The rest of the 58 miles out was into headwind. I stopped at some point to give a stranded rider a tube, and ended up losing my tool. Damn it. I eventually reached the turn around at the half-way point and headed back into headwind on the same flat-ish course. I stomached some bars. I felt refreshed when I finally made it back to the hills and was able to rest/stretch my legs on a descent. A few short power climbs later, I was back at T2 feeling better than the middle of the ride.

While tying on my shoes, I thought to myself, "I should really have tightened these laces at the toe box." Yup, by mile 2 I could feel the blister forming. I felt strong running, but didn't want to push it too hard too early so I kept the pace a little slower. I remembered how the first few miles seemed to take hours to reach in previous races, and tried to not rush the anticipation of each mile marker. In a deliberate and risky attempt to improve upon the suffering of the running leg on the 70.3 in Providence, I sipped some coke with water at the first water stop. I wasn't sure how the sips of coke would go with my digestion system, but they proved no more harmful than a few burps and slight cramps that could be worked out. Phew. Where as I had seen my grandparents on my way in from the bike, I didn't spot Bex, Abbie or Forni until the start of my second lap. Around mile six, I started feeling very tired and intensely wanted to stop and lie down. Then I thought to Regina's suggestion that "The discomfort I'm in now, just means I'm working hard." I kept plugging along. At the next water stop I spotted a slice of thick pizza lying next to the water cups. Thankfully, the volunteer whose pizza it was, let me put my grubby paws on it and take a bite of the crust. I really can't thank those volunteers enough for putting up with and feeding us needy and self-absorbed racers. It took me a whole mile to eat that bite, and it was delicious. I then took in potato chips, a banana, Gatorade Endurance, and some salt pills. (I think that's what they were?). I saw my dad twice during the last lap. By mile 8, I wasn't feeling that shabby. I could really feel the blister, but ignored it and started to hope that it would get bloody to justify the pain to spectators. I still walked through the last water stop (just long enough to drink fluids), but put on a pretty good kick for the last two miles, finishing up in a solid sprint for the final chute.

Post Race:
Somehow I had enough energy to look around, albeit in dismay, for some shade immediately upon coming through the finish. After a short rest under a table of medals, I was shown to a water misting tent and handed a waterbottle. A few minutes passed by while on my back, feet up on a chair, lying in wet mud, with water misting down. My muscles were tired, but I was more conscious and energetic than I expected - as long as I wasn't moving. The blister was causing me to walk funnier than just my tight calves would have, but I saw that coming.

Conclusion:
Thanks to all the volunteers, other triathletes, and my friends and family for your support. To those who wrote words of encouragement or shouted loud on the course, your encouragement lasts far longer than you may know.

I'm proud to have overcome the mental challenge of the swim, and the physical challenge of the run. I am curious why my times don't reflect these accomplishments, but maybe more training is the only answer.

I am apprehensively planning my next goal: a full marathon. This would theoretically put me in a good position to do a full iron distance triathlon next summer. I'm surely crazy, or must love every second of it to make it worth the commitment.

70.3 Providence Half-Ironman

(Kate and I before the swim.)

Results:
http://ironman.com/events/ironman70.3/rhodeisland70.3/?show=raceresults&year=2008&format=txt
SWIM | BIKE | RUN | OVERALL | RANK | DIV.POS.
38:29 | 2:48:51 | 1:40:38 | 5:19:09 | 335 of 1265 | 40 of 108
LEG DISTANCE | PACE | RANK | DIV.POS.
TOTAL SWIM 1.2 mi. | (38:29) | 2:01/100m | 765 | 73
TOTAL BIKE 56 mi. | (2:48:51) | 19.90 mph | 539 | 55
TOTAL RUN 13.1 mi. | (1:40:38) | 7:40/mile | 335 | 40
T1: SWIM-TO-BIKE 6:37
T2: BIKE-TO-RUN 4:34

What:
1.2 mile ocean swim
56 mile bike
13.1 mile run

Where:
Providence, RI
Narraganset to Providence (point to point)

How was the race?
In knowing my pre-race anxiety and intense preparation, people ask me "How was the race?" I'm sure you can relate to such a predicament where you are challenged with summarizing all of the glory and guts of a several hour endeavor into a short sentence. Knowing that no summation will ever quite suffice, I would respond to the original question with "I am proud to have earned my time."

Quick highlights:
I overcame my habitual overly anxious attitude and relaxed about the "race" (by thinking of it as just a big day of working out).
I had visualized and trained well enough to avoid panicking with everyone stirring up the water.
Loved the bike course, and was gifted with a perfect balance of clouds and sun, while riding in only the big ring.
Exercised persistent determination on the run for the last 12miles of the 13.1 mile hilly and hot course.

Disclaimer:
If you have countless hours to kill and enjoy re-living my Sunday vicariously, read on. Otherwise, you're probably better off getting on your bike and enjoying a good ride on such a beautiful day.

Training:
I earned every mile, because of the miles spent training before the race even began. I signed up for the race on December 31st, 2007 at 11:24pm. I began training at 8am on January 1st. By February I was working out about 10-16 hours a week, 3x a day every couple days. I pushed myself to bike to work, do cross-fit, then bike back home... sometimes with a cherry of a run thrown in on top. Eventually I did Harpoon's Brewery to Brewery 146 mile - 1 day ride. My bike legs felt ready. However in the water, I had to confront my panic reaction when swimming with people's feet in my head area. I had to gain the confidence to not feel overwhelmed at the onset of a 1.2 mile swim. I had to learn how to adapt to swimming in the salty and wavy ocean. I pretty much dropped training for the run for the last month so that I could focus on swimming. Knowing that I would need to push myself so far out of my comfort zone was definitely one of the biggest reasons for committing to a half-ironman.

Race-day Eve:
The day before the race I arrived in Providence with two of my favorite people, Patrick and Kate: my recent roommate and his girlfriend. (She's the one who inspired me to sign up for this craziness, and raced with me on Sunday.) As race day approached I could feel the pit in my stomach growing with anxiety. Then I had an epiphany: I don't need to "race". I didn't have anyone I needed to beat. I didn't have to make any qualifying time. Sunday is about a intrapersonal challenge, not interpersonal. Then I was able to relax. Knowing myself, I'd even be able to work harder and smarter if I thought of it as part of a bigger picture.

Nutrition:
7pm - Race-Eve Dinner: Pasta with broccoli and chicken in light butter sauce, 4 bread rolls, lots of water
4am - Breakfast: Fiber-y cereal with milk
6am - Snack: I think I ate a mini Clif bar?
7am - Swim Start: Drank lots of water beforehand
8-11am Bike: 3-4 mini Clif bars, 1 packet Clif Shot Bloks, 2 bottles sports drink, 3 bottles water (some for spraying on my face)
11am-12pm Run: 30+ cups of water (some on face/body, some in my mouth), 1 Gu, 1/2 banana, 1 cup Gatorade, 1 cup flat Coke

The Race:
As the sun broke over the horizon behind the back of the shore, with my goggles half-filled with clean water there I stood next to about a hundred other black-rubberized young guys and Patrick cheering me on from the sidelines. The elite triathletes had started over an hour previous, and were likely 40minutes into their bike by the time our wave lined up for a 7:05am start. The front line dashed into the water with eagerness; I jogged in and eventually started swimming when I could no longer touch the ground easily. It took me a good 300 yards of breast stroke, crawl, and some backstroke to find my groove. The water was a very warm 70º for my sleeveless wetsuit, but at least it didn't taste too salty. The buoys seemed to be moving farther from my left than coming closer, but eventually I swam over enough waves to reach the turn around point. My shoulder had been injured the week prior, and was now only a slight burning sensation. Just keep breathing. I muscled the last 200 yards for what felt like 25 minutes as the beach just wouldn't get any closer. Then as I exited the water the loud speakers were playing my Bike & Build song. Perfect! (It ends up I finished the swim 10minutes sooner than my best expectations!)

I ran through the sand to the wetsuit strippers and let them do their thing. How convenient! I took my time putting on my shoes and making sure everything was set for the bike. I even stopped to let out a little water, apparently I was well hydrated. Good.

Since I'm a relatively slow swimmer and my age group was the last to enter the water, I spent the whole bike ride passing people. 3 guys passed me, 3. I played it smart and used the draft zone of other riders to help me slingshot past them, never resting in their zone for fear of a drafting call. The rest stations made me feel like a pro; while barely slowing down, I tossed my empty bottle on the ground and grabbed filled ones from outstretched hands. The weather was perfect, too. A very comfortable 77º with a good amount of shade. Green scenery, until the gnarly roads on the outskirts of Providence. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, after mile 14 I only used my big ring. My front derailler was cramping up and had trouble shifting to the big ring, so once I got it there, I stuck with it. So much for keeping cadence over 95 and so much for avoiding cross-chaining. Good thing I like standing when climbing hills. I was likely smiling for the bulk of the ride, I bet.

Then came the run. My shins were sore from mile 1. The course involved a .5 mile steep climb (and I know steep) then a couple miles out, turn around, and jam-your-toe-in-your-shoe down the hill. Then start lap #2. I decided to finish the race no matter the pain and to not entertain reconsidering my decision. I ended up running alongside some friendly people, here and there sharing a conversation or witty remarks that would give me the energy to keep my eyes open for more than a mile at a time. The first lap I jogged through the rest stations, splashing water into my mouth, but not really drinking much. This was a mistake. By mile 4 or so, I was walking through and took time to drink at least a cup, before dousing myself with several other cups. It was encouraging to see Patrick rooting for me from the sidelines, at several points. (Thanks for driving us down and supporting us!) By mile 8, I could tell I was .5 miles from a rest station because my body would be screaming at me to lie down and rest. On my return leg of the second lap, I heard a shout of encouragement from Kate as she ran out in the opposite direction. By mile 11, I was eating/drinking everything offered at rest stations, regardless of what my stomach might agree with: bananas, coke, gatorade, and water. (I will definitely work on better nutrition planning on the run for next time.) I was running on empty, with sore knees and burning desire to cross the finish line in one piece. For the last 30 yards, my eyes were open wide, arms outstretched, and legs pain-free.

I quickly found a shady area to lay down, had some gatorade handed to me and began recovery with a semi-nap. About a half hour later I started to feel pretty good about having finished. Someone on the run had said I was on pace for a 5:15 finish, but I never saw the clock when I crossed the line, and my time still doesn't register online. Either way, I beat the mental game. I relaxed before the race, conquered the panic on the swim, enjoyed the bike, and stayed determined to finish the run.