Aftermath- lessons learned

It has been over a week since I officially became an Ironman. Having completed a physical challenge that, up to the morning of November 2, I was not sure I was up to, I am now trying to process the reality of it. Having devoted a full year of my life to this end, it just seems wrong not to try to draw some life lessons from this. I have heard it said that, if you can do an Ironman, you can do anything. That is obviously not literally true. For instance, I certainly can’t fly. However, I do understand the intent of this statement and I agree completely that most of us can do much more than we might think we can. Much more.

 

I remember many moments in the past year when doubts assailed me and I did not think this would ever happen. There were days that the last thing I wanted to do was roll out of bed in the pre-dawn hours to head out to the Y for a long swim, or wake up early on a Saturday morning, when I would normally sleep in, and head out for a 6 or 7 hour bike ride over ground I had covered countless times before. Knowing how I felt at the end of a long session in the pool, on the bike, or running, in and of themselves, and imagining combining all three in one day, the challenge seemed ridiculously overwhelming. I often found myself thinking that the idea of traveling 140.6 miles on one’s own power in 17 hours was simply crazy. With the hours I work, and the stress of the job, I know that I could not have done this when my kids were young and at home. It was hard enough with the “empty nest” and a totally supportive wife. My admiration goes out to all those younger men and women who manage to train for an Ironman while juggling jobs, family, and other obligations, especially those who do this multiple times. I would not care to repeat the past year. 

 

I was surprised that I wasn’t more emotional at the end. As I approached the finish line of my first marathon, the 1995 Walt Disney World Marathon, I had a huge lump on my throat and tears in my eyes at the realization that I was actually about to finish a marathon, something I had dreamed of for decades. Not so here. My primary feeling was fatigue, followed by relief that it was over at last.  Sally said that my brain didn’t seem to be tracking completely as I was asking the same questions over and over and simply not understanding some of the things she was saying. I was intently focused on retrieving my bike and bags until she finally stopped me and made me focus on her as she informed me for the umpteenth time that she had already done all that and they were in our hotel room.

 

I felt surprisingly good; not sore and with no pain anywhere. I was able to walk around normally in contrast to many people that I saw who were walking stiff-legged and in obvious pain. It made me really appreciate my training and how well it prepared me for this. I was, however, deeply fatigued and definitely in need of some nourishment, although I did not feel really hungry. Getting back to the room, I soaked in a tub of cold water for a half hour or so and downed a single personal pizza that Sally picked up, and a Coke. After a long effort, the combination of sugar and caffeine that a Coke provides just can’t be beat. Later, I had a bag of chips and another Coke.

 

Around 10 PM I felt good enough to get up and go back out to the finish line to see the late arrivals come in. That’s the best time to catch the spirit of the Ironman competition, when those determined individuals who have been out there for 15+ hours start arriving. The crowd goes wild and it is a big party. Some make to the line and collapse, others cry, some leap in the air, a couple of guys danced their way in, and on and on. As the clock ticked to midnight, the frenzy only increased until there was 1 minute left. With 20 seconds on the clock, two final people crossed, a young, overweight woman (not all participants are lithe, muscular athletic types) and a middle-aged man. The crowd went nuts cheering them in. Then it was over. Anyone crossing after Midnight gets cheered in and receives a finisher medal but officially goes in the records as DNF (Did Not Finish). The next “finisher” came in one minute past the deadline.

 

I slept surprisingly well and woke up in the morning famished. Again, no soreness or even much stiffness. I was thrilled. It was a bit nippy out so we skipped the al fresco breakfast in an open area of the expo and went to Another Broken Egg where I had two breakfasts- black bean sliders and a huge veggie omelet, with a dish of biscuit beignets, 2 glasses of orange juice, and decaf coffee. I was hungry again three hours later. That afternoon, I drove home to return to my normal routine.

 

My first lesson was to commit. Dreams remain dreams until a plan is made and deadlines set in place. Then they become goals. I had two goals, one lofty and one purely financial. The first was to achieve the goal of finishing an Ironman. The latter was to not waste my non-refundable registration fee of $650. I committed to do whatever I had to in order to fulfill those two goals.

 

The second lesson was to get expert help. I had always trained for marathons and triathlons on my own and, while I finished every event I entered, the results included disappointing finishing times and, in the case of marathons, a growing list of running related injuries. Triathlons, because of the cross training and shorter distances, did not cause me similar problems. Bouts of iliotibial band syndrome, sciatica, knee swelling and pain, and a nagging obturator/piriformis syndrome after my marathons made me begin to doubt the wisdom of continuing to do long distance running in general and an Ironman in particular, especially given that the marathon portion comes after the long swim and biking portions.

 

I received, as a gift, an Ironman training book but really wanted some additional help. I debated finding someone who had done an Ironman to advise me and considered a professional training group, such as Carmichael Systems, founded by Chris Carmichael, who trained Lance Armstrong for all of his Tour de France wins. I ruled that out, in part because of cost but, more to the point, because I was convinced that Carmichael had to have known of Lance’s doping and did not want to be trained by someone tainted thusly. In a serendipitous, I might even say, divine, appointment, my office patient coordinator, Amy, invited a representative of the National Training Center in Clermont, FL to join us for a seminar that we presented in Clermont. They sent Karl Reicken, a young, wiry, athletic type with a master’s in exercise physiology. We got to talking and before I knew it I was signed up for weekly coaching and an online training plan with Karl for the coming year. On the advice of friends, I contacted Misty Becerra, a swim coach also at the NTC. A swim analysis with her set me on a path to being faster and more efficient in the water. For the remainder of the year, every Tuesday, after work, I would hop in the car and drive 35 minutes to Clermont to do a 45-60 minute swim with a “masters”, i.e. old farts like me, group followed by an hour with Karl in the gym. His workouts almost invariably left me whooping and gasping and I would stagger limply back to my car and drive home. Karl worked first on my flexibility, which was non-existent; then on mobility of my hips, legs, and torso; and, finally, on strength and explosiveness. He adjusted my stride to a quicker cadence with lighter steps. Every day, except for Sunday, I had a training session scheduled. The schedule never varied, except that the duration of the long sessions increased as the months passed. My weeks went as follows. Monday I ran in the morning and did a spin on the bike trainer in the evening. Tuesday was at the NTC. Wednesday was a run with speed intervals, short duration but very hard effort. Thursday was a long swim. Friday was a long run and Saturday was a long bike ride. My swim topped out at 4950 yards, my run at 19.6 miles, and the longest bike ride was 107 miles, a 7 hour odyssey to Salt Springs and back on Labor Day. It is fair to say that Karl pushed me harder than I would have pushed myself.

 

Getting this help was probably my single best move of all. Misty improved my swim times and Karl brought me through a year of intense training without a single injury or physical problem, beyond some soreness and stiffness in my neck and shoulder from the long bike rides in the aero position, and this was minor. I arrived in Panama City fitter, stronger, more flexible, and more mobile than I have ever been in my adult life and this was clearly demonstrated by my results.

 

The third lesson was that you can’t do it alone. Even a largely solitary endeavor like an Ironman requires social support. The encouragement from Misty and Karl and their repeated assertions that I would be ready countered the many moments of doubt that I had along the way. The encouragement and support of friends and family who followed me through the process were invaluable and helped to keep me motivated, largely so that I wouldn’t disappoint them. I wanted my Ironman to inspire and motivate others and I knew that to do this best, I needed to finish and, if possible, finish well. Finally, there was Sally, who for 32 years has put up with my quirks and idiosyncrasies, supported me in all that I do, and loved me through it all. She was truly an “Ironman widow” the past year yet her support for my “project” never waivered.

 

The fourth lesson is focus. Life is so full of distractions that if you don’t focus, you will get lost in all the “noise” of daily life. As someone with ADHD, for whom distractions are a daily fact of life and an obstacle to productivity, I know this, but it was really driven home this year. My focus on my Ironman training was intense, so much so that many things were put on the back burner and/or left undone totally. I did no yard work this year. House hold chores were put off. I let my desk and personal office space at work clutter up. I put off any work on my book. I limited my social activities. Looking back, however, nothing crucial was left undone. I kept up with my patient and administrative responsibilities at the office, bills got paid, the house didn’t fall down around me. My wife didn’t leave me, thank God. My kids survived. Important things, even self-imposed important things, in life deserve our focused attention. We can’t do it all, however, so prioritizing and taking things one at a time is critical to being productive. True multi-tasking is a myth. Yes, we can do multiple tasks, but we do them sequentially, not all at once.

 

The fifth and final lesson (I could draw lots more but, for now, these will do) is that anything worth doing, whether it is work, a hobby, or a special project, is worth doing to the best of our ability. A half-hearted effort will produce a half-*ssed result. Looking back, I really don’t see how I could have prepared any harder or with more dedication. As a result, I don’t have any sense that I need to do this again to try to improve the outcome. I am totally content with the result of my Ironman. I can't say that about everything I have done in my life. 

Chasing the Fat Man

Well, it is early morning, November 3. Post-Ironman day #1. It’s in the bank. The fat lady has sung. I’ll come back to that in a moment. My mind is still processing the experience but I thought it might interest a few people who will probably never be crazy enough to do an Ironman, to learn a little about the day. So for those, and anyone else who cares, here is a brief synopsis of the day.

 

     The Swim: Alarm went off at 4 AM. Time for a bagel with peanut butter and honey, OJ, and a glass of milk with Ovaltine and Nescafe. Then off to drop off final bags of “stuff” I might need at halfway points on the bike ride and run. Finally, suit up and head to beach. Thursday the winds and surf were more suited to a professional surfing competition than a swim. Saturday AM the winds had died to nothing and the Gulf was all gentle rollers with 2-3 waves breaking. Perfect. Milling around the beach waiting for the cannon to start, all the energy, anticipation, excitement, and nervousness are reaching a critical mass. Sally said the mass start looked like a scene of sea turtles hatchlings heading out to sea ‘en mass’, all bobbing heads and flying elbows, that looked like flippers. I seeded myself with the group anticipating a 1:30-1:45 hr swim. I figured that was realistic. Air temp was in high 50’s making the 75 degree water feel great. Once past the breakers, the swim was very comfortable, if you could ignore the kicks, punches, people pulling on you, etc. To get some idea, imagine an aquatic version of a mosh pit in a heavy metal concert. I was pummeled, kicked, pulled, pushed, and that was before heading into the water! Just kidding. In the water, though, this was true and one heel caught me square in the right eye. Fortunately, the googles, which are squishy, catch the force and other than having it plastered against my face, I was none the worse. Only the next day did I discover that it knocked the prescription lens free inside the google, which was secured with silicone glue. At least I didn’t lose the lens. After the first two turns, the crowd spaced out but I always knew when the turn buoy was approaching because everyone would bunch up to cut as close as possible to the buoy. The swim was my favorite part and I thought of my Dad, who was a college swimmer and always swam so smoothly. I tried to emulate him as well as I could. Final time on the swim: 1:25:53, my fastest time ever.

 

Transition 1 (swim to bike)- a large room full of naked men changing out of wet clothes into biking gear as fast as they can. Enough said. 18:59 minutes here.

 

 Bike: As to my fat lady reference, I’m going to call this section “Chasing the Fat Man” because that’s what I did. There was one rider who was, shall we say, a bit overweight. From the back, in his black spandex bike shorts, he looked like a bowling ball with legs. We leap frogged each other for hours. I kept thinking that, surely, I could outride this guy but every time I passed him and pulled ahead, sure enough, a little while later, he would do the same. To tell the truth, I never noticed who had the lead by the time we came to the end of the ride. I never saw him after that. I guess it does prove that you can be “fit and fat”. The course was great except for one “out and back” at midpoint that took over some of the most rutted roads I have ever ridden. Lance Armstrong’s assertion that “it’s not about the bike” takes on new meaning knowing that he doped for year, but it is still true today. My mid-level Trek Madone road bike with aero bars was definitely on the low end of the scale compared to the state-of-the-art tri bikes on display, which made up at least 2/3 of the bikes used. Some of those puppies were easily in the $7000-10,000 range. Well, I passed a lot more tri bikes than passed me (ha!), including some of those killer machines with carbon disc aero wheels. I felt like my bike was just slicing through the air and, at moments, it seemed like I was pedaling to just stay with it. I know we tend to treat our favorite vehicles, cars, boats, etc. more like a pet than an inanimate object, with names and such, but my bike was a thoroughbred and, once out of the gate it took the bit and just ran and ran. It was smooth and steady. It got me out and back in good form and I tried to save a little in the tank for the run. Good boy, little Trek Madone. When I get home, I’ll feed you a little chain lube and give you a good rub down.

Time: 6:22:18 for an average speed of 17.58 mph- my fastest ride ever. To think I was hoping to average around 16 mph…..I’m still not sure how I did that.

 

Transition 2 (bike to run): Ditto transition 1. Time here was 15:15.

 

   The Run- I was blown away that it was only around 3 o’clock when I dismounted my bike and I had over 8 hours to finish the marathon. My hope was to have enough time for the marathon, in case I bonked, that I would be able to finish in time even if I had to walk much of the way. My dream goal was to run the distance with planned walking through the water stops to get food and water. Starting out on a run after a 112 mile bike ride, one’s legs are totally discombobulated; the muscles don’t know what to do with themselves. You have been turning the pedals for so long in a circular motion, using particular muscle groups that to switch over takes time. For the first 2-3 miles, the recurring thought I had was, “I’m not going to make it.” My legs weren’t working right, I was very uncomfortable, and I could not imagine dragging this out for the 6-7 hours I figured the run would take. Then, a wonderful thing happened, the muscles sorted themselves out and all of sudden I felt surprisingly comfortable. The prospect of finishing now looked very doable. I focused on a few key thoughts. Over the last 13 miles, except for these, my mind was a near total blank. They were, in this order: 1. Light, quick steps- keeping a good fast cadence. Running lightly was something that Karl tried to drill into me for the run in our sessions together. This worked like a charm 2. Stay focused and centered- I tried to drown out distractions although, of course, I had to high five a few of the enthusiastic crowd and I had a couple of conversations with other runners. 3. Conserve energy- in the second half of the marathon, I was passing people who were relegated to walking almost continuously. I wanted to ration my energy so that it would last for the distance. I am proud that I was able to do that. When I realized that I actually had a chance to break 14 hours, something I never imagined in my most optimistic moments, you could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather. With each closing mile, you can feel the anticipation, emotion, and energy begin to ramp up. In the last mile, you can hear the crowd, and the announcer…….”(name), YOU……ARE……AN IRONMAN!!!!!”
You know your turn will come soon. It is the payoff for a year or more of sweat, sacrifice, determination, and, often, pain. It may not seem like much, but very few people will ever get a chance to hear those words, and it is enough. They were music to my ears. Final time for the run: 5:14:08.

 

Final finishing time: 13:36:33 hours. Sing, fat lady, sing.

364 days down, 1 to go

Well the day has almost arrived, 364 days down, 1 to go. I arrived on Thursday noon to enter a circus. The atmosphere is electric and, with apologies to the ladies who are racing and those who might read this blog, not a little charged with testosterone.  Two thirds of participants are male and a lot of the younger ones are walking around with all sorts of Ironman gear on; my cynical side says so that others can see who they are. Of course, I won’t begrudge someone being proud of participating in, or finishing, an Ironman. I’d be proud too. It just seems that parading it around is unbecoming.

 

Everywhere you look are athletes and bicycles, usually together. People are out running, some riding their bikes, as if training for a year or more wasn’t enough that they have to get in one more session before the big day. Me, I opted for rest and recovery and I think that was the right decision because I feel the best I have felt in a long time. Very good and with lots of pent up energy. Most of the sore spots have settled down nicely on a regimen of Icy Hot patches and Ibuprofen.

 As you might imagine, there aren’t a lot of fat people walking around. On the other hand, I have seen a lot of participants- you know who they are by the blue wristbands that all of us have to wear to get into areas restricted to athletes only- that you would not look at and say, “oh, that’s definitely an Ironman.” Some are downright “pudgy”. Just goes to show you can’t judge a book……

 

The bikes are amazing. About 2/3 to ¾  are “tri” bikes, flat handle bars with gear shifters on the ends of the aero bars, ultra-aerodynamic, and with carbon aero wheels. Some of these cost upwards of $10,000. Supposedly, they make you faster. I have heard that they are twitchy to handle, especially in crosswinds, and that the aero shaping really kicks in above 20 mph. Since my planned speed is going to be 15+ mph (I would love to average 16 mph or more), I didn’t think that all the aero stuff would be that helpful. Besides, I don’t plan to do a lot of triathlons and a road bike makes more sense for me. The other ¼- 1/3 are bikes like mine: road bikes with aero bars added as an option. This has worked well in training and I expect it will suit me just fine tomorrow.

 

      Of course, Mother Nature had to have her little fun. I arrived to blowing winds from the south, 10-20 mph with gusts quite a bit higher, kicking up a perfect surf for surfers, but more than a little scary for swimmers having to swim 2.4, twice through a raging surfline. It was even worse today and I could envision the swim being cut short, or eliminated, which would have really been a bummer. This afternoon, it rained cats and dogs, and maybe a few barnyard animals, but after that was over the wind shifted direction and died down, and tomorrow’s forecast calls for a sunny day with winds of around 5 mph. Perfect. A little Ironman miracle. After a year of training, no one wants to lose the opportunity to actually do the whole Ironman. Anything else would leave a distasteful (*) after the “finisher” designation. It just wouldn’t be the same.

 

There are 64 entrants in the 60-64 year old age group- mine. I wonder how many will kick my butt. More power to them. At this point competitiveness largely gives way to simply finishing for most of my peers. The last finisher gets the same medal as the first, and may have a better story.

 

Today was perfect: breakfast in my room of my usual cereal- I’m not changing up a thing that has worked for me all year. Lunch at Subway- a foot long veggie sub with water for anyone who cares. Dinner was perfect: Carrrabbas. A big plate of fried zucchini, great salad of arula, a big bowl of penne pasta in garlic and oil with mushrooms, artichokes, and sun dried tomatoes, and, desert of course- tiramisu. I feel primed and ready. 

 

In the morning all I have to do is have my bagel with peanut butter and honey, a glass of OJ and a glass of Ovaltine with Nescafe; drop off my “special needs” bags (these are given out  midway through the bike and run portions and include whatever you think you might need at the point); dress for the swim; and head out to the beach, hopefully to a vista of relatively calm water.

 

I am as nervous as the proverbial cat in a room full of rocking chairs but, hopefully, once I get going, I can just focus on the process and enjoy this crazy ride. Toodle-loo until after midnight tomorrow.