Supposed to

 

I’ve always been the skinny kid. My whole life. When I was growing up jeans never fit unless they were ‘slim’ or came with an elastic waistband; this was way before slim became an actual style. 

I never really cared about my weight, it actually had its positives. When I was in 8th grade if I weighed under 100 pounds I could play any position on my youth football team. Had I been over 100 I would have been restricted to playing between the tackles. Through high school and college I just accepted I wasn’t going to be the bulky looking strong guy. In all honesty, I didn’t want to be the bicep guy and then never tried to be. I never was part of the “supposed to be” conversation until I started running. I was 30 and in regular skinny shape: not really flabby but not AbZilla or Crunchasaurous Rex. I was around 150 lbs but being skinny meant my 150 looked like 120 to most. When I began talking more about getting in to running I was frequently met with “that’s gotta be pretty easy you’re so light” or “yeah that makes sense you look like a runner”. I was supposed to be a runner. I was supposed to go out and run 4-5 miles. It didn’t matter that I had never done it before or that each week I was able to run farther than the previous because that’s what skinny people do. 

Running led to triathlons, and marathons led to Ironmans. More and more finishes started leading to more disappointment. When you’re skinny you’re never fast enough because the skinny people win, the skinny people qualify for Boston, the skinny people get the podium but I wasn’t winning, I wasn’t running a BQ, I wasn’t on a podium. Despite my training, my effort, my dedication, it never felt like enough because I was supposed to wake up and magically do what months of training takes others to do. 

I still struggle with this. I can’t be the skinny kid for 42 years and just drop the expectations and assumptions I’ve heard my entire life.  Even when I go out and crush a long run and average 7 minute miles, I get home and feel it should have been faster. In all honesty, I’ve never finished a race and thought it was as fast as I’m supposed to be. I have, however, found ways to move past this. 

Data. I look at my data all the time. I compare my speed, heart rate, effort… all in order to see growth. The data allows me to see that I’m getting stronger, I am getting faster and I’m better today than I was last week. 

Coach.  I have a coach that keeps pushing me. I have a plan laid out and I know if I follow that,  I will grow. 

Do stupid shit. This can also be referred to as do things that make a finish time irrelevant or do things that highlight me as a person and not a skinny athlete. Fundraising, for one. Setting a goal to raise money for a cause close to me has always made that time next to my name disappear and it also has been a way to NOT talk about what place I was supposed to get or how fast I was supposed to be because I just helped raise $x and that’s what mattered. Guiding visually impaired and blind athletes is likely the only reason I continued racing. It helped me do all the training and stay in the shape I wanted to be in but never have to talk about how I did. It wasn’t about me, it had nothing to do with what my race was supposed to be. 

So here I am, some days under 140, some days a little over. Still not Abs of Steal, still not dad bod. I’m getting faster because I want to, I am getting faster because I am learning how to push harder because I’ve learned that there is a big difference between being fast and supposed to be fast. 

Jumping In Blind

On Sunday I had the unique opportunity to be the first person to guide a visually impaired runner.  He has run in several races solo, most recently a 20k as well as a number of shorter races.  His training is managed on his own by sticking to familiar routes and going at times when there’s less traffic.  When we started speaking a few months ago he was interested in trying new running routes, addressing his concern of feeling less safe running on the streets and to see if I was able to run a half marathon with him a couple months out.  I was open immediately to getting together and giving him the experience of running with a sighted guide.  I kept asking when he was going to run and encouraging us getting together, but the weeks passed, and we couldn’t make it work.  Throughout this time we’ve been in contact almost daily, talking about training and what kind of mileage he should be putting in with just having completed a 20k and going in on a half marathon a few weeks after.  I’d keep inquiring about his expectations of what he wanted from me on race day; from his recent race experiences he really had two major items he was looking for help on: avoiding cones on streets, as he hit more than a few in his recent race and avoiding contact with runners who may cut him off when they pass.  Fairly basic wishes which meant I had to go in to race day with an open and observing mind.

It was hard to gather any meaningful information for the first couple miles of the race as we were part of a crowd and patiently waiting for runners to thin out as they fell in to pace.  I had us mostly running outside the race course when there was the opportunity.  Between mile 2 and 3 we had to be back in the course with the crowd but running with the pack at a pace that was right on goal with what we had discussed prior to the race.  That’s when John, the visually impaired runner, said “I’m going to speed up and pass this runner in front of me.”  He sped up and we moved around the runner easily.  That’s when I became more aware of what was happening as runners came in to his line of sight about 10 feet in front of him, he’d back off.  Even though there wasn’t any concern, from my perspective, of us running over that runner John would slow down.  Up to that point my cues for guiding were verbal, “we’re turning left here, the curb is on your left, we have lots of space…” “let’s move over to the left we have lots of space over there…”  Now it was time to try something new, I started easing John left and right by grabbing his elbow and pushing and pulling him one way or another with the goal of keeping his line of sight open to nothing but road.  Immediately he picked up the pace, he seemed to relax and most of the next 7 miles were spent in silence gliding left and right working our way around slower runners, it was some of the most fun I’ve ever had running.  He keeps track of his pace with an app on his phone, since he was aware of how fast he was going and it being his race – I just ran with him and enjoyed the ride.  

John had a goal and expectation of 2 hours, he finished at 1:50.  He shared after the race that he was hesitant to run with a guide.

The leadership lessons I learned were the following: 1 - when I work with anew to me people, I should expect to not get the full story, there is likely hesitation, fear to change, bad past experiences all there for me to overcome.  2 – jump in and trust my strengths when there isn’t more information.  I believed in my experience running with other visually impaired and blind athletes, I believed that by being present and observing what was happening that there would be areas to improve the race experience for John. 3 – let John stay in the driver’s seat, as the race went on and he ran faster than his expected pace, I let it be.  It wasn’t my race, it wasn’t my place to talk him in to backing down, even if he blew up with a couple miles to go, that’s his lesson to learn and one he wouldn’t learn through my coaching.  4 – I learned something about myself, there wasn’t a hill that John didn’t like – each hill he attacked all the way up.  I’ve never run that way in a race but he was depending on me to be there, so I pushed up each hill with him.  I learned that I can run hills that way and keep running strong after.

We have more races coming this year and I can't wait for what lessons those will bring me.

Line and circle

The simplest things can be the clearest, for me. I’m a pretty simple person who, when at low points, recognizes I can complicate life by not keeping it simple.  

Lines: I’ve stood at many starting lines as I’ve looked ahead to crossing finish lines. Standing there ready to race everything is quantifiable; how far I have to go, the effort I plan to put forth, the goal time I am pursuing. There are variables but they are mostly known or can be expected within a definable range; cold or hot, windy or calm, sunny or cloudy. I feel I’ve gravitated to racing because of this simplicity and definability. Everyday there are new starting lines and lines that represent an end, many ambiguous, some pretty clear. My complications come in trying to define what is between that beginning and end in an effort to understand it on the way to aligning it with my expectations. There’s so much misunderstanding with that thought process that is easily cleaned up with a single line: everything is a starting line that’s followed by a finish line no matter how hard I try to prolong the gap in between. Everything that begins will end; this conversation, this work project, this relationship, this sunburn, this social media post. I say ‘this’ because it isn’t ‘a project’ or ‘a relationship’ because ‘this’ instance will come to an end and if I define it as ‘a project’ it becomes all projects. I will clearly define this beginning and recognize its end that comes thereafter - that’s simple. 

Circle: life continually moves, new beginnings and new endings coming and going. People or things may be there for a specific purpose for a given period of time and then before I know it that period has ended. Maybe they or it comes back or maybe never to return. What moves forward is what I learned from that relationship or situation and how I apply it moving forward. Those bits and pieces collected along the way are recycled forward and integrated back in to the world through purpose and love. For me living and loving and giving completes the circle from accumulation of experiences and feelings to pollinating the world with what I’ve been fortunate enough to receive. It’s ongoing, constant and necessary for me to be authentically me. It’s a source of happiness to be on the receiving and giving end of living and loving, a line and circle are my reminders that in everything I do I have the ability to be present enough to see ‘this’ begin, engage and love in ‘this moment’, be humbled in recognition when ‘this’ ends in order to lovingly pass ‘this’ to someone else.  

Denial of truth

Our truths are all around us, we receive insight on it all the time. My issue is how I interpret it or even if I consider it at all. Often it’s dismissed or easily passed over as I justify away or argue against it.

Simple truth in running: I have a gps watch I use that collects more information than I’ll ever interpret. In short, in real-time or after a run, I can view my pace, heart rate and elevation changes. This is solid information for training and tracking growth as well as opportunity. Yet after runs I still find ways to dismiss these truths; I ran after work today so I would expect to be slower... I was running with my dog and she was all over the place... The route I ran was much hillier than my normal route... I will quickly glance at the detail I consider important for that run and own it if it’s the truth I want or pull out an excuse that it’s not the truth if it doesn’t match the truth I am looking to confirm.

Simple truth in life: I was listening to a mindfulness podcast one time and the person doing the podcast gave the example of driving. He said he was driving one day when someone abruptly honked and screamed at him saying “you’re a terrible driver!!” Reflecting back on that situation the personal in the podcast thought “maybe I am a terrible driver?” In this situation the truth was coming from an unexpected place at an unexpected time, a situation where I would defend myself, I wouldn’t accept or even acknowledge this interaction as having an ounce of truth.

Simple truth in relationships: typically in relationships we have the opposite issue. We don’t discuss or bring up our truths for fear of acceptance. If I share my truth then you won’t like me. If you know these things about me then our relationship will end. We hide and bury our truths for a future date when it’s “safer” to bring them out. In the meantime we hope certain topics don’t come up that may force a truth out.

What I’ve found for myself is this; if I’m not researching the information surrounding my truth, I’m feeding a story or BS’ing myself. If I am not objectively looking at my gps watch and analyzing the data (truth) it’s because I am avoiding the truth. Why? If I avoid the truth I never need to change, I’m always right, I know I’m faster, I know I can run farther, I know I’m a great driver and I know in time my relationship will be strong enough to handle my truth... for me that’s the definition of potential without action. I have the potential to be faster but that requires me to acknowledge that I’m not there now AND to accept the information and change; train harder, run more, run less, run faster more frequently, train purposefully with a coach and be open to their objective interpretation of my truth(s).

How do I move ahead: accept the truth but recognize it’s a snapshot. Ever make a flip book?  Bored in class and draw a simple stick man in the corner, then the next page have his leg extend out a little, then the next page the leg extends a little more. Pretty soon you have 20 pages and when you flip through them the stick man sort of looks like he’s running. That’s taking a snapshot of truth and changing it ever so slightly for the next snapshot. The stick man doesn’t run if you draw the same picture over and over, there has to be change. I don’t get faster if I don’t change my routine, my relationships will always be based on avoidance if I can’t share my truths.

Accept the truth, be the change, today is only a snapshot in many pages of a flip book.

If a tree falls in the forrest...

but no-one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?  Of course there's a sound.  For some time now I've been that tree falling over and over again in "silence".  It hasn't been silence from the world as much as it's been my own evaluation of what falling even means.  Falling comes in a variety of ways and for me the biggest silencer of falling has been my own confidence.  If things aren't going well it's been my confidence that I can help get things back on track.  When there's been strained relationships that weigh on me, it's been my confidence that I can steer them back on track.  I have been believing that through this confidence change will come.  What I had forgotten for some time is that it's not about change, changing this person's view or changing my effort to 'make' things better, it's about me being grounded and confident in my ability to do what's best for me and not in my confidence of creating change elsewhere.  I've veered off course for a bit in an effort to work so hard in making change to things that didn't fit, this veering took over so many parts of me that I was changing and didn't even see it.  I was becoming the changes I was 'working' so hard to address.  This is where a person I love stepped in and helped me hear what it sounded like as I fell.  It was an awakening that reopened my eyes to what I need to do for myself.  I have some basic steps to follow but they are all driven by purpose; run - get out, be active, let the juices flow and be free in the world where my feet can take me anywhere.  An opportunity then fell to me to guide - helping someone do something they wouldn't otherwise be able to do is the greatest gift I an give.  Do - stop thinking and evaluating and looking for the perfect plan to create change, do more, ask more questions, talk to more people and live the change I want for myself.  I can be an influence to change but something or someone else other than me changing because of me is not my choice - it's theirs.  Lastly, I need to share more.  I have recently been experiencing what I call 'SSMR' - self social media reminders; I haven't written a blog since 2014, that year was rather defining for me in many ways: solidifying a new relationship, training more than I'd ever trained before, guiding more races than ever, blogging all the time, posting about conquering the world in my own way and with my own understanding.  That person has been revisiting my timeline on Facebook and I've been in aw.  I don't have the opportunity to be that person again, but that person has become my guide today and serves as a reminder to keep doing what I love no matter what.  I can do all the things I love to do and am passionate about doing regardless of deadlines, time constraints, work, jobs whatever... because I've done it before.  I never knew back then I'd be sharing as a way to remind myself at a future date to just live and love - and do it every day.  Find the things I love and showing it/them what it means to receive my love; live being active and feeding my soul with outdoors, beautiful sights and physical activity.  I have an amazing life, it may be easier to see when my tree is standing upright and tall but it was love that allowed me to see it as I was laying on the forrest floor.

What's found at mile 50

I have a process for making decision about things like races, upgrading bikes and taking on new challenges.  When I find whatever it is that I want I know that it's what I want almost immediately, but I drag out the final decision as a way to humor the normal decision making process.  That's what I did with the 50 mile trail race.  There were marathons I was considering but I've done plenty of those.  There was the appeal to run a Boston Qualifying time, something I haven't done, but that appeal was outweighed by the opportunity to run a distance that continues to push the bounds of sanity.

Race morning I was up a little after 5 because I had to pick up my race packet prior to the race.  I had no idea how busy it would be so I figured I'd give myself plenty of time to get organized at the race site.  The hotel Meghann (my person), my parents and I were at was right across the street from the park that served as the start and finish line.  I ended up being the first athlete at the race site but was very much welcomed by the volunteers and race director.  I can't say I've been to another race where the race director comes up and personally introduces himself and thanked me for coming out.  That became the common theme of the morning as I sat and got ready by one of the fire pits.  The race directors brother came and shook my hand and began talking to me.  Not too long after all these great introductions Meghann and my parents showed up.  We mostly stood around the fire as more athletes continued to arrive.  The clock was nearing 7:00 AM and I started shedding my sweat pants and sweat shirt.  I buckled up my water bottle belt and slid my mother's hand held water bottle on, I was ready.

Pre-race warm up

One item I didn't research ahead of time but was pretty confident of, was proper warm up, or lack there of, for such a long run.  As the runners slowly gathered by the starting line it was apparent that a couple jumps and arm flaps and kicks were sufficient enough as we'd all just warm up as we started running.  If you've ever been to a marathon or any running race for that matter, the starting line usually resembles this mass herd all trying to smash out of a narrow starting shoot; that couldn't have been farther from the truth for this race.  The horn went and everyone slowly started to turn a walk in to a run, right away from the onset it was easy to see that this type of race favored the patient.  No reason to hurry out the gate when you're given 11.5 hours to complete the distance ahead.

It's 7 AM and the race is about to start

My plan was to go out easy, not be in a hurry and run free.  I expected to start out slow as I was cool from the morning and was using the beginning miles as warm up.  The race was all on the Des Plaines River Trail which is a crushed manicured path that rolls for miles upon miles.  The race route had us start south as we were to cover about a mile then turn around and head north doubling back to where we started before heading another 24 miles north to the turnaround.  The path was busy with the 125 registered runners all close together.  There was lots of talking and people being friendly as I simply became content in the beautiful woods and fall colors.  We came up on the first volunteer having us take a right on the path and not too long after we were greeted by a local legend Marathon Matt and his son.  He instructed us that just up ahead to stay left.  I simply followed the pack as the group kept running.  I wasn't paying much attention to how long or how far we'd gone, I wasn't wearing my GPS watch anyway, but up ahead I saw people coming back towards us.  The man out in front was closely followed by a bunch of other runners waving their hands saying "there's no turnaround, just turn around here and head back!".  I wasn't sure if it was a joke but we all started to turn and then provide the same guidance to those who were running towards us.  Not long after we saw that first volunteer on his bike zipping past us as runners let him know there was no turnaround.  He shook his head and continued on to find any stragglers.  It was estimated that we went an extra half mile beyond where the turnaround should have been.  I heard a few grumbles but for the most part no one cared all that much.

One the way back to the starting line (heading north) I saw a woman wearing an Ironman Kona visor.  I started chatting with her as we discussed how she had went to Kona to watch a friend.  She had participated in Ironman Canada and was signed up to compete in Ironman Texas next year.  I gave her my pointers on Texas.  Her name was Katherine and she was from Seattle.  She has a local friend who she was staying with and whom was there at the race to cheer her on.  She does a lot of traveling to races for herself as well as her friends.  As we approached the start line she pointed out her friend and ran and gave her a hug, Meghann was on the right side of the trail and my parents on the left.  I had just eaten my first GU so I was waiving the empty packet and smiling at Meghann as I passed.

Waiving an empty GU packet

 I had made the decision to incorporate an additional water bottle in to my race strategy as my big water bottle was my Perpetuem/water mix and thought it would be best to have a constant source of water only to help process the GU and Perpetuem.  The race was laid out with 7 total water stations with distances that ranged from 2.5 to 7 miles apart.  There was only one stretch of 7 miles on each half of the race so for the most part it was about 5 miles from station to station.  Katherine and I ran together until some time after aid station #2.  The trail was never very flat or very straight.  It flowed much like the river it was named after and crossed.  We weaved under a fabulous canopy of reds, oranges and yellows.  There were times that the forest floor was completely covered with autumn leaves.  I couldn't even see the path as the blanket of leaves was so thick.  The path took us under some road ways and at about mile 6 the path was under water.  We could either go through the water and get soaked or slowly and gently walk over the rocks under the bridge.  It was easy to navigate the rocks but I couldn't help think of how this was going to work at mile 46.

The first 'manned' aid station was mile 7.5, it was well in the woods and wasn't really an opportunity for those spectating to come and view.  There was a timing mat to run over and the normal ultra provisions: GU, bananas, sports drink, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I stopped and filled up my hand held water bottle as I was working to be diligent in my hydration.  After filling I picked back up and continued on.  Not far ahead was a muscular looking guy wearing all black and had some wicked tattoos on his arms.  As I got closer I recognized the white symbol on the back of his black shirt, it was that of a soldier carrying another soldier, the logo for the Wounded Warrior Project.  I made an assumption that he was military and began removing my right glove.  Once I got next to him I asked if he was raising money for the Wounded Warrior Project?  He smiled and chuckled and said that he is a wounded warrior.  I thanked him for his service and shook his hand.  I continued on but heard his foot steps behind me, he had begun running again and struck up a conversation.  He was telling me that he's active Navy and stationed in the Chicago area and trains Navy Seals.  He and a friend of his Tom decided to do the race about 13 weeks ago.  He told me he's never ran more than 16 miles and said that he figures that doing this 50 miles was way better than being back overseas running over there.  He had an accent that I asked about and he said he's from the Carolinas.  He goes down to South Carolina quite often as he and his brother own a condo down in Myrtle Beach.  He said Chicago is as North as he'll go as he prefers the warm.  He began to go back to his run walk strategy and we wished each other well. 

The miles continued and I felt as good as I could expect.  I had questions about pacing and from what I was able to gather from experienced ultra runners was to start slow.  I made the decision to not where my GPS watch so I didn't know what slow was from a time perspective but my breathing was good, when I'd be having these conversations I wasn't feeling uncomfortable so I figured I was doing fine.  I continued to eat my GU, drink my Perpetuem, take a salt tab and drink my water.  It gave me something to do during the times I wasn't talking.  As the pack thinned out I began to try and shorten the course by running tangents.  The course was winding through the forest so I was trying to make as many straight lines as possible.  I figured anything I could do to shorten the day wouldn't hurt and it also gave me something to do.

According to Meghann I passed her by here and opted for a later kiss

I began running with a woman at about the half marathon point.  She was moving along smoothly and had her ear buds in listening to music.  She said something to me that I kept with me all day, she called the 50 miler a 'foot race.'  Obviously any running race was a foot race, but conceptually I took it to mean that the idea is to cover the distance by any means necessary on foot.  Her definition seemed distinctly different than calling it a running race or even a race - which to me implied always pushing hard and maximizing your effort.  Her calm and ease for moving forward was the definition of doing a 'foot race.'  We ran until she split off to the bathroom somewhere between mile 14 and 21 (the longest stretch between aid stations).  I was beginning to wonder when I'd see Meghann and my parents.  Most all the aid stations were at different forest parks that were accessible to the trail.  With the race material we were given maps and directions for spectators (watchers) to move from park to park to follow along the runners they were supporting.  As I approached mile 21 I saw my crew.  It was a nice lift as it had been some 19 or so miles since seeing them.  I stopped at the station and filled up my water.  I looked over the aid station table for anything else I may want, but stuck with my GU.  They told me they'd stay there and see me after I turned around.  I got a kiss from Meghann and continued ahead the 5 miles to the next aid station and more importantly the turnaround.

Jogging on the way out near some other racers

As I moved along on the trail things were already thinning out but there was still a steady group that was running near me.  I began running with a man whom had done the North Face Endurance Challenge earlier in the year.  He had done the 50k.  He was telling me how he always races expecting something to go wrong.  He referenced the snafu with the first turnaround and how he just rolls with it.  I added how it didn't really seem to bother anyone out there.  He said that if we finished together we should just keep running an extra 1.4 miles so we could complete a double marathon, we both laughed, but at that time that didn't seem like a bad idea.  He moved ahead of me and continued on looking strong.  I was probably 2-3 miles out from the turnaround when I saw the leader coming my way.  He was the same man I remember seeing at the first turn around, he was wearing all white and was only holding a small water bottle in his right hand.  He looked smooth.  It was probably another mile or so before I saw an older man running towards me.  I couldn't tell what he was doing because one of his long sleeves appeared to be dangling.  As he got closer I realized that he only had one arm.  He was probably in his 50's and he was #2 in the race and well in front of me.  There was a steady stream of lead runners coming at me for the next couple miles up until I turned.  At mile 26 I sat down as sitting just sounded good.  I had a bag there waiting for me that had my restock of GUs, and extra pair of socks and an extra long sleeve shirt and my second bottle of Perpeteum.  Although it sprinkled for a large portion of the run so far, I wasn't all that wet so I only grabbed GUs and swapped my large water bottle.  I got up and moved along.

The smile wasn't rare at each opportunity to see my support team

It was nice seeing people that I had either ran with or passed coming towards me.  I got some high 5's and smiles and that was welcome.  As I was in to the second half of the race and now logging miles I've never done consecutively I began to be smarter about the hills.  The course is considered to be relatively flat but there was a constant stream of rolling hills.  On the way back I decided to power walk the hills.  This strategy seems to be almost an ultra racer rule.  On the way out I did walk a couple hills as well so I figured I'd be more diligent about it on the way back.  I was having some knee and hip discomfort, which I expected as I tired and my muscles tired.  The pain wasn't affecting my ability to run so I kept moving swiftly along.  What I became thankful for was not having my GPS watch and what I began to set my mind to was simply covering distance.  As I got to mile 31 where Meghann and my parents were waiting I was beginning to feel the muscle fatigue.  I sat down again to take my shoes off and dump out the small rocks that made their way in.  I had figured that this was from the power walking I was doing which kicked small pebbles up from the path and in to my shoes, this wasn't a problem on the way out but I was running in a more normal fashion then, where now I was tiring and power walking more.  I filled up my water bottle and when Meghann asked how I felt, I said "like shit, my knees hurt and my hips hurt."  I kept going.  This was the stretch I was least excited for, I just left my crew and had 7 miles until the next aid station, this was the longest no aid station stretch for the down and back.  I knew that about half way between was a bathroom stop, which I didn't need, but was something to cut up the time.  I was able to continue with running the flats/downs and power walking the hills.  As a would begin up an incline I was beginning to have a lot more pain in my joints, at that point there was no running the hills even if I wanted to because it hurt so bad.  The course at this time also became very empty.  Before I had gotten to mile 31 I had seen the last person still heading to the turnaround, so at this point I'd either have to catch someone or be caught by others.  I didn't catch anyone, but there were a few here and there that passed me by.  I continued to push through the pain on the hills and do my best to run.  The scenery was mostly familiar as I recognized things from the way out.  As I approached the next aid station I began to do some race math: this aid station is mile 37, that means there is a half marathon left, after that aid station it's 5 miles to the next, then another 2.5 miles, yet another 2.5 and then 2.5 to the finish.  I knew that after this next stop the aid stations were closer together.  At mile 37 I was happy to see Meghann and my parents.  After spending all this time alone out there seeing smiling faces was well received.  Meghann must have been concerned with how much I was eating because she began asking me at the last aid station about food and continued at this one.  I probably wasn't eating as much as I should as I had slowed down on my GU consumption and had only grabbed a single potato chip at the previous aid station.  The volunteer at mile 37 told me to try a grilled cheese, sounded good, I ate the triangular sandwich and was mildly satisfied...cheddar cheese...not that I don't appreciate a good cheddar and I shouldn't be picky as I'm being offered a kitchen made sandwich in the middle of the woods, but cheddar just doesn't do it for me at home, let alone at mile 37 of a 50 mile race.  As I was sitting and getting the rocks out of my shoes my mom reminded me that all I had left was the distance of that first race her and my dad came out to watch - my first half marathon back in 2009.  Her statement was very true, but at that time all I thought about and what I replied with was "you mean the race I hobbled in from 1.5 miles out because my knee hurt so bad?"  I said it with a smile and hope it didn't come across negatively.  I was happy for the talk and happy for their thoughts and well wishes, it truly made a huge difference in this long day.  I got up, kissed Meghann and slugged ahead.

Lonesome runner or walker

Shortly after leaving the aid station I realized I had to go to the bathroom, something that hadn't happened since some miles in the teens.  One of the benefits of a race 100% in the woods, endless amounts of bathroom access (sorry ladies).  I hopped off the path and leaned against a tree for a bathroom break.  I took note that my pee was almost orange, I was obviously dehydrated.  I was filling my water bottle at each station and emptying it before the next but I needed to try and take more in.

Time was irrelevant on the way back from the turnaround but never more prevalent then these next 8 miles.  I was confident in my ability to finish because I could still power walk, running hurt and I could do it, slowly, but if I lost my ability to run I knew I could push ahead.  I had no sense of time as the only reference to how long I was out there was when I asked my mom what time it was when I was at mile 31; I think she said 12:15 or 12:45, which means I was out there for over 5 hours.  At this point I only cared about covering distance and for some reason I kept thinking that I'd finish at 9 hours and 20 minutes, but had no reason to think that.  Mile 37 to 45 were by far the hardest of the day.  My attempts to run were quickly met with pain and fatigue at levels I've never experienced.  I'd never had my thighs hurt so bad that they wanted nothing more than to quit.  I wasn't going to quit, I'd come this far and I knew walking was possible, also if I had quit I had no idea when someone would come along to actually contact someone to tell them I couldn't continue, and then who knew how I'd actually get back to the finish line; put all that together and I needed to move on.  Although I could hardly run I continued to try.  I'd get to a flat or a slight downhill and give running another try.  This continued for those 8 painful miles. 

This almost looks like a run

There were three aid stations left before the finish, the first one about 5 miles away, followed by another 5 miles, then 2.5 to the last unmanned station, then 2.5 to the finish.  13 miles broken up in to 4 stretches.  5 more miles was all I cared about. 

The pain continued on in and there was less and less running despite my best efforts to run.  I don't remember much about the next 5 miles other than coming to the next station, emptying out the rocks from my shoes and giving some sport drink a try.  The sports drink was mixed from powder on site and the cup I grabbed had began to separate from liquid on the top to powder at the bottom.  It tasted like peach or some other sweet fruit I wouldn't eat in it's fruit form.  I kept power walking and just wanted it all to end.  It was a test of patience more than anything, I feel I did a great job at this time just enduring and staying focused on the fact that I was right where I should be and that I couldn't speed things up, fast forward time or skip any step between that time and the end of the 50 miles.

Somewhere out there where I was hurting

 Something happened prior to 7.5 miles left.  Prior to arriving at the station I was running.  I decided I'd try to run as hard as I could.  It seemed that pushing my hardest had me running in my most natural form and helped negate some of the pain and discomfort.  I felt as if I was running the fastest I had all day.  I tried not to think about how far I was going or how many miles to the aid station, I just ran!  It felt great, it hurt, but it was the best feeling hurt I'd had this entire second half of the race.  I got to the station and was warmly greeted by the volunteers.  I sat down again to empty my shoes and asked the volunteers to fill up my hand held water bottle.  As I was sitting one of the volunteers asked if there was anything I needed, I asked for anything to help my busted up legs.  She said they had some alcohol.  I told her I smelt it in her breath and then she laughed.  Smelled as some schnaps or something.  I passed and took off.  I was running again and got excited to pass these final miles.

The underpass was coming shortly, the one that was flooded, I was running on my approach as a couple families were walking to me that had several children.  The trails had been open to the public all day and there was a steady dose of bikers, walkers and families throughout the day.  This particular group was my least favorite.  I saw them from a distance but they didn't seem to care I was coming.  As I got closer and closer they didn't seem concerned with moving their children to one side or another until I stopped a foot in front of a 3 year old boy.  The boy looked up at me not knowing what was going on, then finally one of the 3 or 4 adults moved the boy aside and I said something like "I'm 48 miles in..." in the most disgusted voice I could muster.  My mileage was off, but my frustration was real.  I moved ahead to the flooded path and began the shaky crossing of the rocks.  There was a group of runners on the other side that suggested I take my time and go slow.  I can only liken that gingerly walk as to having the agility of a drunk at bar time.  I must have looked like one of those people pulled over for drunk driving on the show 'Cops' that were failing a sobriety test miserably.  I managed to make it over the rocks and not break anything or face-plant terribly.

One on the other side of the rocks the group of runners cheered me on as I walked up to one of the many bridges that went over the Des Plaines River.  At the crest of the bridge when I started running I did my best to scream out in enthusiasm.  My throat was dry and I didn't have much of a voice but I let out my biggest "WOO".  It was the most emotional I had been all day and I was running and beginning to cry.  I was filled with the joy that I was 5 miles away from finishing, 2.5 from the last water station and so close to doing the craziest thing I've ever considered, all while having the people I love right there with me along the way.  It was a rush.  It continued to the next hill, which was met with walking!

About a mile from the final aid station I came upon a woman walking, I could see that she was wearing an Marine Corp Marathon shirt underneath her top shirt.  As I passed I asked her if she had done that this year; for some reason I think that already happened but really have no clue.  She said she did it last year.  I then asked her if she'd carry me?  She laughed as I continued by and then replied "you're doing better than me and you've gone twice as far!"  I didn't realize that she was doing the marathon.  They allowed the marathoners to be on the course until they shut down the race for the 50 milers (11.5 hours).  Had I known I would have said something more encouraging.  Not long after seeing her I was at the last aid station 2.5 miles out from the finish.  I filled up my water bottle and kept moving. 

A half mile later I turned and saw a familiar face.  It was the woman I had run with on the way out, the one who called the 50 miler a "foot race".  She was smoothly approaching like she could have been on mile 10.  When I had left her back at the bathroom back around mile 15 or so I told her I'd see her again.  As she came up to me I yelled "I told you I'd see you again!"  I was happy to see a familiar face.  She replied "I didn't think I'd catch you!"  She then encouraged me to run along with her, so I picked it back up and we ran.  She asked again where I was from and I said Madison, she apologized because she remembered asking me that previously.  I told her not to apologize as that was a long long long time ago!  She asked how many of these I'd done, I said it was my first and she immediately got excited saying "you're doing awesome.  You'll be done right around 9 hours and that's phenomenal!"  It was a great lift and nice to know that a woman who was about to complete her 5th 50 miler was complementing me.  We ran for about a mile and then saw my favorite sign of the day "Finish 1 mile".  I told her that I needed to walk a little and then would press ahead.  She said she'd see me at the finish.  It was another great pick me up.

Finishing up my first run with my dad

 After walking a tad bit more I began to run again.  I picked up as I had done around mile 45.  At that point I didn't care, the pain, the hurt, the distance, the time, all out the window as I was getting emotional again but running hard.  I made a turn and looked ahead and saw my dad waiving.  Once I got close he started jogging with me.  I'd never run with my dad.  He just turned 74 a few weeks ago and after a fall many years ago spends most of the time on his feet in pain.  I wasn't sure how far out from the finish we were but I was impressed and happy to have him there next to me.  My emotions were high and having him there was motivation enough to keep me going.  He kept telling me the finish was just around the corner.  I began to see the buildings I hadn't seen since before the light of day that were surrounding the finish line.  After I final turn I saw my mom and Meghann, all smiles.  My dad peeled off as I saw Meghann scampering towards the finish line for some final pictures.  I kept running on in and crossed the finish.

Final strides to the finish line after 51+ miles

 The race clock said 9:05 and my tears continued.  I stopped moving and stood by the rope separating the finish chute from the spectators.  Meghann was there with a congratulatory kiss and hug.  We were quickly joined by my parents.

Clock reads 9:05:22

 I did it.  50 miles.  Actually a little over 51.  It was a strange day without the concept of time.  It didn't feel long or short, just far.  No frame of reference for what time it was or how long I'd been moving.  Each step was an accomplishment of its own and a goal.  Every aid station was a goal and a challenge.  What I've learned about this distance of a race is that it takes patience.  Those that do well are those that accept the fact that they will be out there moving for a long time.  There's no place to get anxious or worried that you're not moving fast enough or not covering enough distance.  If I had to do it again I'd set a up run/walk strategy.  Perhaps if I were trained up more for being on my feet that long I perhaps could make the distance while running, but I feel if I would have done a run/walk I may have been able to shave some time off my race.  Nothing profound, not talking take hours off, but spreading out the effort as evenly as possible could have helped smooth out my pace and minimize the pain.  Then again, I can't imagine covering that distance and not hurting.  My other biggest takeaway was the importance of having people out there.  Meghann and my parents have been there all year for me, supporting and cheering me on.  Having them to look forward to helped keep me going.  Knowing that I'd see them up ahead helped make those miles go by a little quicker.  Doing these races doesn't seem possible alone.  I train mostly alone but when it comes to race day the highlight of my day is always the faces I know and seeing the people I love.

Finally finished, and with my parents and my person

 Lastly, this was the first race that upon finishing I immediately knew I'd never do again (subject to change).    

What's found at the finish?

For the last 20 weeks I have been swimming, biking and running to the tune of about 185 hours.  Just under 9.5 hours a week.  Maybe that sounds like a lot, maybe you do more, it’s really an irrelevant amount, 185 hours, what does that mean anyway?  Is it any different if I break it down by discipline: 43 hours swimming, 88 hours biking and 54 hours running… still irrelevant.  How about distance… 36 miles swimming, 1,500 miles biking and 405 miles running.  Still doesn’t register for me but here’s what does: I’m healthy, injury free, I didn’t sacrifice 1 minute of my time with my children, my friends, family or my person, and I just PR’d by 29 minutes for a 70.3.  This is loving living.

The Racine weekend kicked off with a great dinner with the large group of friends, old and new, at a fantastic Italian Restaurant downtown called Salute.  They accommodated our large group, had wonderful staff and food portions and quality fit for a pre-race meal.  It was a great dinner filled with laughing children, stories of how we all knew each other, 6 degrees of separation and an all-around great time.  It was an opportunity for the race support crew of spouses, children and person to all get acquainted with each other in preparation for their day of cheering and fun in the sun.



Pre Race meal with some great people

 

On race morning I was up at 4:30 in order to meet Nick by my car.  Nick’s wife Angie and son AJ would sleep in and meet up with my team, Meghann and Mara, later in the morning and ride together to the race.  Our bikes were already checked in at transition from Saturday so we really only needed to find a parking spot and get comfortable before our 8:03 start time.  There’d be three of us starting together, along with Nick and I there was also Jason.  I met Jason and Nick last summer through Team RWB, Jason and his wife Daphne run the Wisconsin Chapter and over the last year we’ve kept in touch on training, life, new bikes and everything else triathlon.  Jason, Daphne and Nick are all veterans and proudly represent our country still, beyond their time they were actively serving in the military.  Nick and I had the chance to get in a run and some outdoor swimming leading up to race time and what I’ve learned is that no matter how early I plan to be where ever we are meeting; he’s going to be earlier.  This was the same race morning as I exited the hotel room and Nick was already at my car.  The two others that were in for today’s race adventure were Mike and Heather.  The triathlon power couple; Mike had his first taste of the half ironman distance last year and Heather was stepping up to the distance for the first time.  They were staying closer to Racine so we planned to meet up before the race. 

We found a parking spot just outside the park that was home base for the race.  I stepped out of my car and couldn’t believe my eyes.  The sun had just gotten fully above the Lake Michigan horizon and was the pinkest orangish sun I’d ever seen.  Neither Nick nor I had our phones but it was beautiful.  The whole morning felt great weather wise.  We walked to transition and got settled.  My transition setup is pretty standard; towel folded a couple times and laid under/next to my bike, running shoes and visor at the top of the towel and cycling shoes and race belt below.  My nutrition plan was to have a GU after the swim and three on the bike.  I set one GU on the towel and taped the other three to my top tube of my bike.  I also put my pill bottle of salt tabs in one of my cycling shoes so I could put that in my tri top pocket after the swim.  The remaining nutrition was my magic mix of strawberry perpetuem and powdered chocolate milk.  The warm strawberry mix was beginning to make me gag so I tried adding a couple scoops of NesQuik chocolate powder, it helped make the mix more palatable and my stomach was all good with it so it’s been my mix for a while now.  Last details were putting my aero water bottle on my bars and setting my helmet and glasses on the handles as well.  I put my sweatpants and shirt in my bag along with my flip flops and grabbed my wetsuit, goggles and swim cap.  I lubed up my neck with body glide and figured there was no reason to come back to transition before the race.  It was a little after 6 and there was no hurry as the only thing left on my list was hit the bathroom and walk a mile down the beach to the start. 

As I walked to the porta potty line I saw Heather and I jumped in behind her.  There was one person in between us, a younger man who was wearing his Team L.I.F.E. gear.  Team L.I.F.E. is a group of athletes that are committed to raising awareness, fundraising, and racing to help  children and families affected by cancer.  The athlete is from Two Rivers and knew Eric personally.  Eric was diagnosed with Leukemia and his brother Mike decided to sign up for Ironman Wisconsin and raise funds.  Their father came up with the name “Leukemia Ironman Fundraiser for Eric (L.I.F.E).  I encourage you to read up on Team L.I.F.E., the website has videos that Eric posted on YouTube to spread his story of his fight and his many great words of encouragement.  I’ve forgotten the athlete’s name but his fundraising for Wisconsin Ironman opens up on the Team L.I.F.E. website this week and I’ll post an update when I can get his information.  A great team, a great cause and a great conversation.  I even had the opportunity to shake his hand and congratulate him after we had both finished.

Heather was in line with a friend of hers whom I’d heard about, Heidi.  Heidi is new to triathlon and was given the opportunity to dive in in a big way.  A little over a month ago she won an entry in to Wisconsin Ironman.  At the time she was signed up to compete in her first Olympic distance triathlon.  The Racine Half was her next big step to Ironman.  She was all smiles and excitement pre-race and when I saw her after she finished, she was even happier.



Mike and Heather celebrating their finish

 

After the bathroom line conversations had ended and I was all ready to go to the swim start I waited for Nick outside of transition.  While waiting I noticed a motherly older woman who was flipping through the pictures she had taken already that morning.  I asked if she was able to get a shot of the sun rise, she continued to flip through her pictures and showed me the one she had taken.  It must have been just long enough after the sun rise Nick and I saw because her picture was a very yellow sun and not the pink-orange sun from minutes before.  I described the sunrise we saw and asked her why she was attending the race.  She talked about her son and how proud she was of him and how this was his first half Ironman.  She was excited to talk about him and how they love going to his races.  It reminded me of my mom and all the encouragement she gives me.  We said our good-bye’s and good-lucks as Nick approached and we began our walk down the beach. 

One of the many things I’ve appreciated about endurance sports is the modesty of so many of the competitors.  Nick and I were walking down the shore line and we began a conversation with a woman walking by herself.  I think the three of us were all in amazement at how calm the water was for being Lake Michigan.  The woman described last year’s 4 foot breakers that she had to contend with.  She went on to talk about how she was trying to qualify for the Ironman 70.3 Championships.  She had qualified last year at Steelhead and wanted to repeat the effort.  She discussed how she’d need to finish either 1 or 2 in her age group.  She was calm and offered some advice on the course as she’d done this race numerous times.  I’m always impressed by these top age-group athletes who are so happy to casually talk and discuss this sport and their experiences.  I was hoping to run in to her after my finish but did not.  In my mind I pictured her taking first and booking her ticket to Canada for more favorable race conditions for the 70.3 Championships as last year as she said Vegas was a difficult race due to over 100 degree heat.

About the time Nick and I arrived near the swim practice area the pros were getting ready to start.  We walked off the beach to put our wetsuits on while sitting on the sidewalk.  On the path to the sidewalk we passed a fellow Team RWB’er.  Nick introduced himself and we continued walking.  As we were putting our wetsuits on another Team RWB’er and his son showed up.  They were in town from Ohio and we chatted with them for a bit while we packed ourselves in to our wetsuits.  The PA announcer for the race stated the pros were going to be starting and to stand for the National Anthem.  We stood and faced the water.  Nick stood tall and confident as he saluted towards the swim start.  I noticed a number of people facing us, which I found odd, so I turned and noticed a huge flag pole behind us up on a hill.  I pointed at the flag that hung almost still to Nick as he completed his salute, pivoted and began again.  Normally National Anthems prior to my races are a moment of silence in my head, I listen to the anthem and feel the energy around me as fellow athletes are in their mental preparation for what’s ahead.  I really hadn’t thought much about the race itself up to that point.  I’ve done my training, had my nutrition and race plan so at this point there really wasn’t much to think about.  I stood in appreciation of the friends and loved ones who were competing and there in support and simply admired the flag and the beautiful morning. 

Once the Anthem had ended we walked down by the water and stood with our feet in.  At dinner the night before I was talking with Angie, Nick’s wife, about his estimated swim exit.  She said that Nick thought somewhere between 40 minutes to an hour.  I gave Angie a funny look as I told her it would be more like 35 minutes.  I’d swam with Nick on a number of occasions and knew that he’d have a good swim.  Nick had never swam in a wetsuit and the times we swam I’d be wearing mine and he’d use his pull buoy.  Nick never had a problem keeping up with me under this arrangement so I knew if he’d be calm in his wetsuit he’d be swimming right with me or even faster.  As Nick and I stood on the shore I brought up his swim estimate and how I thought he wasn’t giving himself enough credit.  He thought it was a conservative number and explained his rationale behind it and why he shared that with Angie.  That led to a conversation about his time in the military when he was stationed overseas.  He talked about coming home midway during his tour and how he was thinking about a friend of his who was moving out of his convoy and in in to a group that was likely to see more direct engagement.  After the visit home Nick returned and found out that it was actually him who’d be leaving the convoy.  It was an emotional moment for me to hear his account of these events and the conversations that followed between him and Angie.  I had stopped thinking about the race some time ago when Nick started his story.  There are many things I appreciate and I feel I do a pretty good job of putting myself in other people’s shoes, but that story really put things in perspective as the race was nearing and it really didn’t matter much like I thought it would.  I thought having a coach and spending all this time training would give this race some special meaning that I hadn’t seen before.  Truth is, it didn’t, it simply clarified to me that for me these races are about the people not my finishing place or time.



Nick and I post race smiles

 

Shortly after Nick’s story we met up with Mike and Heather.  Heather was in the earliest start wave of all of us, followed by Mike, than Jason Nick and I were the last of our group.  Mike Nick and I walked in to the water together to warm up.  The day before the water temperature had gotten to 62 degrees.  Mike and Heather had swam on Saturday and described the water as being a pretty good temperature for racing.  By the time I walked out and was waist high, I was freezing.  My wetsuit has small holes in the crotch that I’ve glued with wetsuit glue, but it’s usually the first place water enters.  I thought I was going to go in to shock.  I stood there as Nick jumped in face first and started to swim out and back.  I was amazed at how clear the water was but quickly dismissed it because of the chills.  I finally dove in face first and started to swim.  I immediately had goose bumps followed by a stinging in my hands as they felt frozen.  My face, head and hands were the coldest.  At this time I did have a little concern over the water temperature.  I’d never been in that cold of water and had no idea how I’d warm up during the race.  I kept swimming and when the three of us would meet and stand around I kept my arms in the water while flapping them back and forth.  I was anxious to get out of the water and warm up but we all stayed in and kept moving.  We said our good lucks to Mike as he hopped out of the water to get to the start line on time.  We stayed a few more minutes but all I wanted to do was head to shore to warm up. 

We began making our way to the start line as we had about 15 minutes.  We still hadn’t found Jason and even as we were corralled with our starting group we couldn’t pick him out.  With 4 minutes left before our start we got shuffled down in to the water at the start line.  Jason walked by with a few minutes to spare as we got to wish him good luck for the race finally; he positioned himself on the far left of the start line.  With about a minute to go I put my goggles on, shook Nick’s hand and waited for the horn.



Kids having a fun day together

 

The horn blew and the group started a mild jog through the water until we got deep enough to swim.  Either my warm up worked or I forgot about the water temperature because it was a non-issue.  The swim was basically a three sided rectangle.  The straight out from the beach was fairly tight with our wave having about 40 people in it.  It was a pack until the first right hand turn.  It was really pretty gentle and no issues.  After the turn was a straight away of about a mile.  I worked on finding my rhythm and followed the advice of my coach to keep finding bubbles to swim in (draft).  I managed to find one partner for a good stretch.  I was comfortable at the pace and I didn’t seem to close in too much and he wasn’t pulling away.  I stayed on his feet for a while until we caught some slower swimmers and he went one way and I another.  After him I never found another swim partner but kept moving along.  A brief stretch I decided to pull a little harder while focusing on really reaching out front.  It’s so hard to tell if any of those changes really do anything because everything is relative; you can’t see yourself moving or time yourself and even judge things when passing other swimmers or buoys, so I just kept going.  I felt good, not too hard and not too easy.  At some point I saw Nick pass me on my left.  I could see his RWB tri top sticking up out of his sleeveless wetsuit.  It was a pleasant surprise that the water quality was as clear as it was.  Visibility was the best I’ve ever swam in.  I could see swimmers all around me and even had some depth in the water as I had my head down.  The one thing I wasn’t seeing very well were the buoys.  I don’t remember how many there were but they seemed just spaced out enough that it took that little extra effort and energy to find the next one.  Around half way through the swim I started seeing more red swim caps.  Each swim wave had a designated swim cap color.  Mine was orange and the group in front was red.  That group had a 4 minute head start so I was happy to begin seeing more of them.  I did get a glimpse of a couple blue caps I think that were the group behind me.  I wasn’t worried, I wasn’t freezing my ass or hands off and the water was quite comfortable with pockets of warmer water sprinkled in too.  I hit the final red buoy to turn right to shore, as I sighted after rounding the corner the swim exit was still far enough away that I couldn’t quite pick it out.  This is a time that always feels like the longest stretch.  I was told that this last straight away was shorter than the start but it felt significantly longer.  Maybe it was shorter but it felt like forever to get to the beach.  There were many more bodies on that final stretch and I began to pass people walking.  I kept swimming and had been kicking for some time to try and warm my legs up for the bike.  Once I stood up I did my normal beach side routine of undoing the Velcro on the back of my wetsuit, unzipping and peeling the suit down around my waist.  Lastly, I took off my swim cap and goggles and began to make the long jog up the beach.  Shortly after crossing through the blown up Ironman swim exit I saw Meghann smiling while holding her phone up taking some pictures.  I was happy to see her and smiled back.  I continued the jog up the beach knowing that eventually there’d be wetsuit strippers.  I ran through a kiddie pool that was there to get sand off our feet.  Finally, right before the transition was the strippers.  My only complaint is that they didn’t have artificial carpet or something laid down on the sidewalk to sit on.  We all had to hop on the wet sandy sidewalk as our wetsuits were pulled off.   I continued to jog and made my way to the bike.  I tossed my wetsuit over the bike rack bar, wiped some sand from my feet and tossed on my cycling shoes.  I did my GU, put on my race belt and put my salt tabs in my tri top pocket.  I got a handful of chamois butter and liberally applied it to my nether regions then lastly it was the helmet and sun glasses and off I went.  I had to make my way to the other side of transition to the bike exit.  While exiting I saw Meghann again and moved on to the bike mount line. 



Happy to see my person after a 1.2 mile swim

 

The bike ride can be summed up like this: the first 3 and last 3 miles suck, the 50 in between are pretty nice.  Once on the main drag on the way through town the road was awful.  The road itself was in good shape but every 20 yards was a huge crack between slabs.  There were many water bottles, nutrition bottles and various other things that were being launched off people’s bikes.  There was nowhere to go on the road to avoid it.  I was trying to get up to speed so I was down in the aero position only to have the bumps jostle my hands so much that I’d hit my gear shifter and change gears.  The worst part was my seat got a little loose.  I hit enough bumps while sitting forward on the seat that the nose of my seat kept creeping down.  I had to jump my ass to the back of the seat and pull up on my feet to get the leverage to push the back of my seat down in order to get the nose of the seat level again.  This continued for…53 miles.  When the road was smooth is was less of anissue, but when I’d be in aero and hit a bump…the nose would drop down.  It was annoying but there wasn’t much I could do.  As I was going through this bumpy hell I caught Nick and we had a back and forth as we were settling in, then eventually I stayed in front of him and didn’t see him again until the run.  The bike was pretty uneventful; I thought the roads were pretty good to great.  There were more times I felt like it was easy to stay up to speed then the times I felt I had to down shift.  I got passed every once in a while by a biker but for the most part it was a younger male with a “24” on their calf, meaning they were 24 years old.  Somewhere in the first 10 miles I caught Mike and wished him well.  Not too far out of town I caught Heather and gave her some cheer.  I felt really good about my bike and was confident I was maintaining above 20 mph.  I stuck to my nutrition plan and continued to drink water regularly.  I spaced out my 3 GU’s at about mile 15, 30 and 45.  I continued to sip my perpetuem chocolate milk mix regularly and trusted that I’d have the energy to run once I got off the bike.  Another item I loved about the bike course was the spacing of the mile markers.  I have done races where they put a mile marker literally at every mile.  Nothing makes a 56 mile bike ride seem like 500 miles than seeing a marker every mile.  They were normally over 10 miles apart which was the perfect distance.  It seemed about the time I’d wonder how far I was in I’d zip past one.  I was dreading coming back in to town as I knew the bumps were waiting.  This time I more or less sat upright although I wanted to push hard in to the finish.  As I rounded the last corner before heading back in to the park where transition was I heard my name being yelled and raised my right hand in acknowledgement.  It was Angie, Nick’s wife, and I assume she was at the corner with Meghann and the kids.  I hopped off my bike at the dismount line and shuffled back in to transition.



Can't say enough about these two people!

The bike to run transition is always the fastest as I simply have to rack my bike, take off my helmet and glasses, remove my cycling shoes and put on my visor and running shoes.  Less than two minutes and I was running.  The two transitions (swim to bike and bike to run) have distinctly different odd feelings to them; often when I come out of the water it takes me a bit to get my equilibrium back as my body has become accustom to rocking back and forth in the water and feeling weightlessness.  When coming off the bike and beginning the run it pretty much feels like I’m running through waist deep mud.  My legs feel sluggish and heavy, my stride feels like crap and in general I feel very slow.  It’s hard for me to get a true feel for my actual speed.  My plan, as discussed with my coach, was to run the first 5k at a good steady pace, then the next 10k pick it up to more my goal speed and then the final 5k to give it all I had left.  When I ran out of transition the race clock said 4:25, which was actually 3:25 for me as I started an hour late.  I wanted to be off the bike at around 3 hours in to my race as I knew that would set me up perfectly for a sub 5 hour race.  I wasn’t able to do the math to determine what pace I needed to maintain to hit my goal so I just ran.  As I began running I did my best to judge my speed and felt pretty good as I settled in.  I was passing people pretty consistently and again was only being passed by younger male athletes.  Just to clarify, all the female racers started in front of me and the male field was inverted oldest to youngest.  It was a good feeling and I wanted to be smart.  I hadn’t noticed how hot it had gotten while on the bike but as the run started I could really feel the humidity.  I was expecting perfect race conditions sitting just under 80 degrees by my expected finish time but the humidity pushed the heat up early.  The run quickly became my favorite part of the day, not because I felt great or because it was the last part of the race but because it allowed me to see my friends who were racing multiple times.  The run is basically a 5k out and back twice.  On my way out I saw Heather coming in on the bike and I got to yell out to her.  She was followed shortly thereafter by Mike.  On the way back I saw Nick making his way out for the first run loop and we exchanged a high 5.  Not too much later I saw Jason and cheered him on.  As I approached the first loop turn turnaround I somehow managed to look behind me and spot Angie.  I have no idea why I decided to turn around while running but I called out to Angie and her and Meghann responded.  I made the left turn at the sign that said “2^nd loop” instead of the right that said “Finish”.  Immediately in to the second loop is the largest hill and at the top was Meghann waiting, smiling again with her phone snapping more pictures.  Probably not my best pose as I finished a long drawn out hill.  It was a good pick-me-up as I felt pretty good and had one more 5k at my current pace.  On the way back out I passed Nick again and he looked strong.  Again, not too much later was Jason.  I was heating up and each water station was a combination of sipping some water followed by dumping as much on my head as possible.  On the first lap I grabbed a sponge and tucked it in on the back of my visor so each subsequent water dump go that wet and helped cool my head.  As I made the turn I noticed a runner whom I’d gone back and forth with a number of times.  We were running about the same pace and had been by each other for some time.  As I approached the turnaround I knew it was going to be a tough 5k to make my sub 5 hour.  I was hurting and the 5k seemed like 10 more miles instead of 3.1.  After making the turn the fellow competitor I’d been running with turned to me and asked if I was on my second lap.  I said I was and he confirmed he was too.  I told him if he didn’t stop running neither would I.  I don’t know what would have happened if he and I hadn’t had that exchange.  Maybe I used him as a crutch to try and not go all out, maybe I would have walked some of the last 5k, I can’t guess but I can say that he and I ran to the end.  Not long after we joined together I saw Mike as he continued his run-walk as I now know he was fighting through some pain.  I again passed Nick and again Jason.  There was something about crossing their path each down and back that kept me going both laps.  It felt like an accountability to keep going, to keep pushing to help give them the strength to move on as best they could.  As Bob, my running partner’s name as I later found out, and I kept pushing ahead he was telling me how he’d had to go to the bathroom for the last 6 miles, how his stomach was hurting and his overall discomfort.  He was asking when I started and what my goal was, I told him 5 hours and that if he got me to the finish under 5 hours I’d give him a hug.  I just wanted to be done and running with him was the fastest path to getting there.  He kept asking when the hills were coming and how far we had to go.  We kept running and did our best keeping pace.  There was a gradual downhill that went through the zoo followed by the last uphill of the race, a flat section then a nice decline towards the turnaround/finish chute.  At the last downhill we both gave it all we had left.  He was in front of me and I was trying to stay with him.  After keeping right to head to the finish I saw that there was one final incline.  As I started the incline I looked up and got to see Meghann one last time cheering as I pushed on.  I looked up and saw the clock at the finish, 6:06 (5:03 in my race time).  As I neared I did what seems to be what I always do now…dry heave.  I kept heaving until I stepped on the finish line and puked up some water.  I hunched over and continued to puke a couple more times.  Finally a volunteer said “are you done?”  I looked up and said I wasn’t sure. 

Swim: 37:00 01:54/100 meter pace

T1: 04:52
Bike: 02:41:08 20.85 mph average
T2: 01:26
Run: 01:38:50 07:32/mile pace
Total: 05:03:16



The Home Team relaxing after the finish

But that’s all numbers, I’m not a number or a time, to me the 5:03 means more, it means: dinner on Friday night with friends, conversations that wouldn’t have happened if not for the race, Nick sharing his story of being deployed, Jason making his PR, Heather finishing her first 70.3, Mike having his fastest swim and bike split and toughing out his run, Meghann cheering and smiling, Angie taking video and yelling , Daphne taking obscene amounts of pictures, children playing at the park and running up and down the hill, me talking with various athletes and their supporters, my run partner Bob, a beautiful sunrise and chocolate milk at the finish.  The 5:03 is really made up of many moments I got to share and I’m thankful for all of those people whom I got to share them with.  So what’s found at the finish line, for me, the same thing that was at the start – loving living.