What does two months of not training (or eleven, if I’m honest with myself), a good day, and a half marathon look like for me? Apparently a socially fun day with non-stellar, but acceptable results.
The Race
Fleet Feet has made minor changes to the course, year on year, and the improvements have always been for the better. This year’s course is near-identical to last years, with one notable exception: the run through old town was on the streets, not on the cobblestones. This little improvement removed the one primary annoyance, and made this course one of my favorites.
The first few miles were spent with Harry and Joy, slow to start being near the back of the wave one pack, moderate to continue, and overall quite social. At mile two, Harry and I left Joy behind, and at mile four, I left Harry to his recovery pace, and sped up a bit. Running into Alan Capps and KC from STC was a great bonus, and I spent the next six miles chatting with one or both of them, and enjoying the pace.
Prior to mile seven, I left Alan behind, only to hit a pit stop at the relay exchange point, and find myself right behind Alan and KC again. Alan and I talked for the next three miles, when it seemed he was ready to slow it down for the final stretch, and I was ready to push a little into the end. Whereas two years ago, that push, at almost the exact same spot with Harry, took me from low eights to sevens, this year, I went from high eights to low eights.
I don’t think I would have had nearly as good of a race, or nearly as much fun, had it not been for finding friends to run with. Thank you to my friends, for running with me, end enduring my endless talk. Thank you STC for building up groups to socialize with, my annual membership is well worth this benefit. And thank you to Fleet Feet for putting on my favorite area race of the year, the biggest in the area, and continually improving it.
My Friends
Joy, congratulations on such a great time! Just a few minutes behind me, and proof that training well really does help you improve. Carrie, congrats to you as well on a PR! Bill, you surprised me with your time, I had no idea that you still maintained such good times (7:37s!) and fitness, it’s great to see you out on a course where you don’t have to work, but can enjoy the time on the road.
And Diane, even though you didn’t get to see me race, it’s wonderful to have my family out there. Thank you very much for bringing all of the kids out to enjoy the time at the stadium, and to join me for post-race breakfast.
Josh would say that I’m revving up my excuse engine, but this one is fair. Since IMAZ, I haven’t spent my time training. Family time is busy, work hasn’t allowed my lunch time runs, and who wants to wake up at 5am during the cold, rainy winter? It’s been mostly by choice, and a lack of motivation, but I don’t want to miss Shamrock’n, so I’m running it!
Looking back at my time since late November, I’ve run less than twenty-two miles. That used to be my weekly number, not my three month total. So going into this race, I am expecting to perform my worst, but I really don’t care. I like the run, I’ve enjoyed my break, and perhaps this will serve as my springboard back into regular training.
In short, for those of you who don’t want to read my novella, I’m disappointed that I DNF’d, my mind is going through a hundred what-ifs, but I’m thankful for the opportunity for doing this, I enjoyed the race itself, and I wish I had trained more and felt better.
Pre-Race
A race so large, long, and complex forces a very different level of organization. Having worked for, and been part of, racing coordination with TBF for a couple of years, I can understand the level of requirements that this takes. Unlike any race I’ve done, the preparation for this race took days. Friday, checkin, badge pickup, and a mandatory race meeting took place. The information was valuable, but not really required. The following day was the real paradigm change: dropping off my bike and gear a day before the race. So much of what I usually do is determined race-morning, that it felt very odd to be handing over so much of my race paraphernalia so early. That said, it made race morning a pretty relaxed, and simple experience.
The next days were filled with family, friends, and enjoying the local Arizona area. Having been there several times for school, Tempe wasn’t a big shock, and so most of the time was just spent in race-day anticipation, eating, and socializing. Two days of pre-attendance just led to way too much free time to kill, and seemed very excessive. It also meant there was plenty of time for problems, like Carrie getting hit by a car in downtown Tempe and being unable to race. Ouch!
Race Start
So race day arrives. Twenty minutes traveling down the freeway in the wee hours of morning got me into transition with more than plenty of time to prepare. Staying warm, chatting with Josh, checking my bike, pre-fueling, getting nervous about the swim, trying to prepare for the freezing cold water. I felt confident in what I had to do: I wasn’t here to race, I was here to finish, and so I wasn’t really doing much but getting ready for a very long day.
The swim start was massive. 2500 people at the start line, treading in the gross and cold water, waiting for fifteen minutes until the gun fired. I’ve done two mile swims, and while I knew I was undertrained for swimming, I wasn’t worried about this part of the race. As Dory would say, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming swimming swimming.”
What struck me as unique and different to this swim was the mass of bodies. Every triathlete has been kicked, hit, elbowed, and more; usually, this subsides a few minutes in to the race. With this large of a group all starting together, this practically never ended. I decided to stick close to the lake edge, instead of in the main channel, and to try and avoid much of the cluster. As I started to get bored with the long swim, I spent my time watching the spectators, and counting the cement balls along the side of the lake, passing my time. The water was gross, really gross, and I wish athletes didn’t have to spend so much time in it. I can’t even imagine trying to do such a long swim in salt water, it was bad enough in “fresh” water.
All in all, my swim time was about ten minutes slower than I had expected, but it was fine. I relaxed through the swim, didn’t work hard, didn’t push myself, and was able to swim on course very well. Getting out of the water, I felt fine, no wobbliness, no weakness, and was happy to get into the next stage of the race. If only the wetsuit assistants hadn’t “helped” and gotten my zipper stuck in my leg, I would have been up and out of transition in no time.
The Century
At this point, I need to go back and mention the organization of the race. Coming out of the water, athletes have help pulling off their wetsuits. We run to an area where our pre-packed T1 bags are stationed, off into changing tents where athletes have help with whatever they wish, run out of transition to a line of volunteers applying sunblock, then race out to the bike racks where a volunteer is already holding your bike out, waiting for you to get on. It’s amazing the amount of extra support offered in a race that takes an entire day. I can’t fathom the level of coordination and the numbers of volunteers required to pull this off, but I can understand to some degree why this is by far the most expensive race I’ve ever competed.
The bike was my most worried segment. Thanks to Foxy, I knew that I could complete by going slowly, and so I was less worried about my capability, and more just about the sheer time and energy it would take to finish. Arizona’s course is pretty easy: three there-and-back loops, with a slight uphill all the way out, and a slight downhill all the way back. I found myself going much slower than I expected for the first sixth, but realized on my way back that I had been in slight a headwind, and zoomed back at 20+mph with that wind pushing me along. At this point, I felt fine, though doing the uphill two more times felt a bit daunting.
That’s when everything started going downhill for me. Fortunately, the headwind had turned to a tailwind, and I was feeling better about my speed on the next uphill, but my stomach was not settled one bit. I made my first pitstop at the bottom of the hill, and continued to hydrate and eat as I knew fueling to be critical during the entire bike portion. By the second pitstop, my stomach was still not doing well. I felt like I needed to throw up, and had to stop again to use the facilities. From that point on, I hit every single outhouse on the route, wasn’t keeping down food, and wasn’t keeping down liquids. My pace slowed down, my race went from fine to miserable, but I kept going. I knew that part of finishing an Ironman was just the will to go.
So I finished the bike, enjoying watching for my family along the side, enjoying timing my differential with Josh (which shocked me, he was much faster than me on the first lap, and then seemed to be gaining nothing on my on the next two). I waved to KC, I chatted with a few people in passing, I got frustrated at the number of groupings of bikes (how do they feel okay with cheating like that!), and just kept going, knowing that the run (my best sport), was coming up.
I came in slowly off the bike, nearing the edge of what was allowed, but knowing that I had seven hours to finish a run that would take me much less than that. I still felt awful, but I thought I could finish this, if only I could get in food.
The Yog (soft “J”)
I felt strong for the first couple miles on the run. My bike was slow enough that there was no handicap to my readiness to sludge through these next hours on the pavement, my legs were fine, worked out for sure, but fine. My pace was sub-10s, slow for me, but considering I’d just biked 112 miles, fine. I knew that every moment I jogged, I was catching up with Josh, and I was jogging much more than I was walking.
And then came the resurgence of the fueling issues. The chicken broth was a life-saver, I don’t think I could have made it as far as I did without it, but I think I relied on it too heavily. I hadn’t kept down food, liquid wasn’t keeping down either, and by the end of the first 8-mile lap, I wasn’t feeling good. Looking forward to seeing my family made those first eight miles great, but coming around on the next loops, my body wasn’t allowing me to continue. I started getting light-headed, I had to sit down to keep from passing out, I still was hitting every porto-John, and was still struggling to feel like my body could make it through the next hours.
By mile twelve, being right at transition again, I gave up. The mental battle was weakened by proximity to my exit, my body was telling me I wasn’t safe to go on, and my reserves of strength finally gave out. I couldn’t bring myself to run by transition and make it past transition, into the next half of the second lap. I was finished.
The Frustration
My family was amazingly supportive, and proud of what I had accomplished, but I wasn’t. A plethora of what-ifs still haunt me. If I had trained more, could I have done it? If I hadn’t used gatorade and uncrustables (both newish to me), would I have retained better food? If I hadn’t gotten very sick the Thursday prior, would I have been able to fuel? If I had kept going, would I have gotten past the mental block of being by transition? If the course wasn’t laps, would I have had the desire to run the thirteen miles back versus catching a sag vehicle?
I don’t know that I’ll be back on an Ironman course any time soon to prove to myself that I can do this or not, but I do know that I can’t do this without training much better next time. Maybe after Tripp is 3, not a newborn, I’ll plan on going out again and racing an IM. Until then, I’ll stick to the shorter distances that I find more fun, and the runs which I enjoy more, and leave the big races to the real Ironmen.
Put on by TBF Racing, the Granite Bay Trail Half Marathon is the longest trail run I have ever done. In fact, before that, five or six miles topped my trail running background. So when I hit mile six, I was surprised to feel like I’d already ran ten miles, and by mile eight, I felt like it should be over already. Yet thanks to having Sati with me, keeping me honest, and just my general desire to prep for AZ, I kept going, and enjoyed a pretty decent pace for me on trails.
So how was the race? Mostly, I was treating it as a run, not a race, but even still, I did near to my best performance, and still came near the back of the pack for my age group, and half way back for the race. I’ve learned that trail running is a great way to work on my hips, gluts, and other secondary muscles. All of the ups and downs, twists and turns, and the sloping ground takes a lot out of the joints and muscles. And I love TBF’s runs, obviously enough to work with them for two years on staff. The group feels close-knit, the socialization is great, the trails and locations out at the lake are great, and the post-run beer choices were superb. Oh, did I mention that beer was included in the post-race food?! Black Butte Porter, ftw.
The Distance, and why I have two paces listed
Marking an accurate distance on real trails is tough. If one, say, used a GPS and trusted it, I’m certain the course would be long. Why? 15 foot accuracy, and 1-3 second polling, the GPS will cut off too many of the corners. So your 13.1 per your GPS would be closer to 13.5, maybe. My Garmin told me I ran about 12.4 miles. Someone else had 12.5, and someone with a 310 had 12.7. In fact, 12.7 was the longest I heard off of a Garmin. So if all of them cut it short, then 12.7 could easily be 13.1. The only reason that I think it was short: I was pretty dead on on the mileage except for one mile that cut me .4 miles off, then the rest stayed dead on.
So I think somewhere between 12.7 and 13.1 is the real mileage, because though off, rarely do the Garmins miss by 5%. I think TBF did great, and I think they were dead on for most of the miles,
but I do think somewhere around mile 4, they missed a bit. Regardless, it was close, and better than some other races I’ve done.
Being Sore
Two days after I finished this race, I was still sore. Running Clarksburg, the camber is so consistent, it hurts. Running a road race, my quads and hams are being punished, and yet they’re trained and for this. But running trails like this run, it’s a whole new use of muscles. The camber is omnipresent, but changing, such that it doesn’t cause pain, but just works my hips and inner thighs a lot. The hills are everywhere, but my road training has my quads and gluts ready for that. So I fortunately came out without any pain from doing any one thing a lot, but with all of my secondary muscles sore from never being worked this hard. Maybe adding trails to my regular training would build my hips and keep my knees from pain, while helping me build my running base.
The distance definitely wasn’t an issue. Sure, I’m sore. Sure, I’ve got some chafing in places I’ve never been chafed before, but 60 miles or 106, there doesn’t seem to be much difference.
Not all downhills are equal
The 40 miles per hour on the nice hills felt safer than the 25 miles per hour on the cruddy roads. Downhills are great, nice downhills are better!
Peanut butter and jelly bagels are the best!
I don’t think I’ve enjoyed a food item as much as the bagels. Add in the Fritos for some great saltiness, and I really loved the food they had for fueling.
Road quality matters
See the downhills comment, and make it true everywhere. Regardless of the silent uphills and downhills, the same grade on a bumpy road makes 13mph seem tough, while a beautifully paved road without bumps makes 17mph feel simple. Fortunately, most of the roads were well maintained, but for being a “bike-friendly” city, there were definitely some poorly kept roads in the Davis farmland.
650s+Tri Bike < 700s+Road Bike
Not that this was any new learning, but a hilly, long course is definitely better on a road bike than a tri bike, and 650s are much better at rolling hills than long climbs. I did enjoy the drop bars on the downhills; having that much control while down on the bars felt awesome. The main reason I used my tri bike was to make sure I had more saddle time on it prior to Ironman Arizona, not because it was the right choice for the ride.
The Davis Bike club puts on great events
The food was great, the volunteers friendly, the amount of support fantastic… the Davis bike club was fantastic. It definitely makes me want to join a club.
Route arrows rock
I love the arrows from www.routearrows.com. Having the arrows tied to the color of the wristbands was fantastic, and they were easy to spot, seemed to deteriorate, and were the best road guides I’d seen.
I can ride through cramps
The worst part of the ride was cramping up at a few points on the ride. I had to get off and walk at a few places, because my legs were cramping beyond what I could take. I found I could ride through it on a flat, but definitely not on a hill. Either way, I made it back on after walking and stretching out the cramp, and that was a lesson worth learning.
Social rides are more fun
Talking with Josh for the first thirty miles, with the two gals we met around mile fifteen, with the old guy on cardiac hill… what’s really been different for me between running and cycling has been the social aspect. This changed that opinion, and for that, I’m thankful.
I can do Arizona
The most important lesson was that I can do Arizona. I’ve now done all three pieces of an Ironman separately, and I had no problem walking or jogging after the ride. Undertrained as I am, I’m now confident that I can finish Arizona.
The Route – I love my Garmin!
I love this map, so I’m definitely including it. Not part of the “10 lessons,” just something that I want to show off.
What can I say, Disneyland is my favorite run of the year. Running through the park before-hours, running around Angel Stadium, participating in a race with over 11,000 participants… the energy, the support, the thousands of volunteers, the fantastic organization, no run I do beats this. It may not be Boston or New York, but it’s amazing.
So when I look back and see that I preferred to socialize over perform, I have no complaints. I spent the first five miles with Harry, took my first ever half marathon bathroom break, and walked with Harry through a couple of water stops. I also spent the last few miles with a MMA-fighting entrepreneur, running with a brand new eight-inch plate on his tibia, waited for him at the water stops, and enjoyed the time meeting someone new. And after the socializing, I didn’t push myself or make any extra efforts, I just ran for fun and training and had a fun time. So if 8:30s wasn’t my best run (closer to my worst), I’m still happy. I had a fun run, I came out ready to walk all day long, and complain the least of the family over pain… enjoying the entire trip.
Quite the disparity between my division place and my overall, this race attracts a nearly equal proportion of female racers to males, a healthy distribution of ages, and generally, a lot of first time racers getting a taste of triathlons. So seeing myself, only on my third triathlon, but generally well versed with the sport, come in three tenths of the way down the spread isn’t surprising. However, I am slightly surprised by how far down my age group that result represents.
The Race
All in all, the race went pretty painlessly. I was out of the water in a reasonable time, feeling fine regardless of my lack of training in the water, and was ready to hit transition. Transition went very smoothly, thanks to a lot more exposure to triathlons, and I saw Josh off on the TBF racks while I readied my bike.
Josh and I took off together on the bikes for a quick hello, but he shortly pulled ahead, and I stayed at my own pace. The whole bike trip, I was feeling good… before the race, I had noticed that my brakes were rubbing slightly, and after the bike tent guys helped me fix it, I realized that my horrible performance on my last two rides was in part due to this! So, feeling like riding was effortless, I focused on one thing: “relax, or you’ll kill your run!” And so I did, keeping up with only myself, getting passed, passing a few women, and generally accepting that my bike isn’t going to do well, so just keep going.
That said, when I got through T2, and onto the run, I was doing mid-7s. I was probably a little too relaxed on the bike, because I was doing sub 8s on the run! With about a half mile to go, I passed Josh, made my way towards the finish line, and sprinted in. I felt fresh, everything had gone well, and I was ready for the race the next day (that I didn’t end up doing :-/ )
In two days, the beginning of my tri season begins. I’m entirely untrained and unready, and am prepared for quite the humbling results. Hopefully, back to back triathlons will be the kickstart to full training for IM Arizona!
I usually like writing these blogs after I’ve had a day or two to answer people’s questions on how my race went. I do this for a very specific reason, the more I talk about it, the more I analyze what I did, how I did, and how I felt. Yet if I wait too long, I run the risk of editing the story in my head of how things went. So as I began to look back at this race on race day, my initial opinion and feelings were poor: two years later, and my time is almost exactly the same! Yet as I began to talk to friends, I began to realize that, though the times may look the same, my running definitely wasn’t.
In 2007, when I ran Shamrock’n three months in to running, and as my first half marathon, I ran all-out. I kept my eyes on the back of runners in front of me, focused all my energy on run form and breathing, and ran… and ran… and ran. I remember at mile three being jealous of a few guys in front of me who were able to chat with each other: I don’t think I could have gotten out more than a few coherent words in a single sentence. For Shamrock’n 2008, I began the first ten miles of my run at a pace that I found moderately easy, kept my heart rate around 160-165, running 8:15s, and then kept up 7s for the final three miles, brining my pace down to 7:52s. For this race, I was somewhere in between. I was trained less than 2008, and so my 8:15s took me to a ~170 heart rate, my conversation level stayed moderate for the first 7.1 miles, my energy level was great, and I felt natural in the run. Whereas my first run was a mental battle of continuing to push myself, for this race, there was no battle, it just felt natural and normal. For the latter 6 miles, after departing from Harry at the relay point, I pushed myself to a 180bpm heart rate and sped up a little, though without the training as the previous year, not nearly as much as before.
The other difference that I look back to, in slight comparison to last year, is that the route was a little hillier, the wind a bit heavier (though I’m not positive on this, as the “wind-tunnel” of the stadium wasn’t as bad, so this may be an excuse and not a fact), and the minor route changes may have been enough to push the heart-rate up a few beats. If that’s true, and not an issue of re-building the story in my head, then my run was nearly on-par to last year, and definitely much better than 2007. So, though I was disappointed at first, in retrospect, my running has matured significantly in the last two years of running.
The Course
Some parts of the course changes were more subtle than others, while others were quite obvious.
One of my favorite parts of the 2008 course (which was there in 2007, but I didn’t like as much), was the Red Bull arch down the there-and-back on Riverbank Road. This year, with the extra two miles running throughout downtown and old town, there was no there-and-back down the road, and apparently no Red Bull sponsorship, either.
Whereas the original course went only to third street, this year, we went down to seventh, ran out to the same point along the river, but instead of running along the river (where there seemed to be more construction than last year), we followed closer to the freeway, then as we progressed under the bridge as before, instead of coming up to the bridge directly, we headed into old town. I was originally worried about how running on the cobblestones might go, but fortunately, we cut back down an alley before we hit first street. The rest of the route, excepting Riverbank Road, was pretty similar. The choice of using one of the square blocks in West Sac to do the relay exchange, whereas runners went on one side of the block, while relayers went on the other, was a great idea. And all-in-all, the route was as good as I remember it, with a few extra hills thanks to the alley and other areas, a lot of opportunities for spectators, and a nice view of varied parts of town.
Oh… and one other comment. If you like almonds, this year’s race had the BEST post-race food bag, ever. If you don’t like almonds, I’m sorry. The two fig newtons weren’t quite enough. Good for me, I love almonds. I just wish they had all six of the bold flavors Blue Diamond offers: the salt and pepper sounds great, as does the lime and chili.
The Comparison
And now, lastly, thanks to my original feelings of inadequacy on my times, I began an analysis of all of my halfs so far. I wanted to see if I really was improving, staying the same, had backslid, or if this was truly business-as-usual. So, without further ado:
Statistically, my results fell into the 38.6th percentile against average (good!), though if I discount the two >100 degree days as handicapped, then I’m up closer to the 70th percentile (bad!).
So, it’s not exactly a bad result, nor is it a good result, but it’s an appropriate result for the effort level and training I’ve done, and is completely consistent with my expectations. I did fine, I felt fine, and I am sure my next race will be just about the same time… again.
One problem with doing your second race, is that it’s either a PR or a PW, there’s no in between. Well, the first half of this race went well, 01:47:16, or about 8:10s, a conservative pace by 10-20 seconds for me. And considering my training has been lacking, and really only gone up to 13 miles, doing well for the first 13 makes sense. Last year, I began to fall behind at this same point, for this same reason. The difference, though, is that this year, I cramped up badly… very badly. Like, walking for the whole last ten miles.
So, at about mile 19, I decided to hit my lap button, just to see how bad the pacing was. By then, my average pace on the front 19 had dropped from the low 8s to 9:08. The last 7 miles? 16:37, or 3.6mph. Not even a brisk walk (4mph), but at least better than a slow stroll, and that includes having to stop and try stretching several times.
So what have I learned? Obviously, training is important, and while I can skate by on a half (and have several times), there’s no easy route for me on a marathon. Also, that when it comes down to the mental game of “This sucks, I hurt, I should quit!” I can make it past the mind battle… or at least could this time. And lastly, my friends and family still love and support me, no matter how badly I do.
