Pumpkinman Re-Cap

Thoughts on a half-ironman…
TRIATHLON: Where you swim in your bike shorts, bike in the running shorts, and run in your excrement.

Recently I felt like the famous HBO star Kenny Powers when he said, "I do sports.  Not try to be the best at exercising."  Injuries and old age brought me to the world of endurance sports.  Chase, in a former life, was a skilled and decorated triathlete.  We would often cross paths at local triathlons, but it wasn't until May of this year that he convinced me to actually train for the "sport" of triathlon instead of benching my body weight 100x and then wondering why I couldn't bike faster.  With some reservation I started on a program in May that included 2x trips to Vitality during the week and then all other training was devoted to swimming, biking, running.  Time spent away from back squats, lat pull-downs and body-weight push press 1000x for time proved to be worthwhile, but I didn't give up my old habits without a fight.  

It wasn't until my first race of the season (July 16, Echo Olympic Tri) that I felt the positive effects from my change in training habits.  The slow grinding climb up Echo Canyon was still just as horrible as previous years, except this time I was almost 8 pounds lighter and finished almost 10 minutes faster.  I didn't win the race, but that wasn't the goal at the time.  I has settled into a new system that although uncomfortable to my mind appeared to be working -- which inspire hope to move forward.  

In August I raced the Jordanelle Olympic Triathlon and improved my 2009 race time by over 17:00 minutes.  

In September I raced the Yuba Olympic Triathlon improved my 2010 race time by over 14:00 minutes.  

With all of that said, race day can't give a triathlete a good read on improvement and progression.  There are two many variables from year to year that can skew finishing times and results: wind, swim distances changed, course changes, etc.  But over the past 5 months I have had a way of tracking and recording my progress -- between the sacred walls of Emigration Canyon.  This short 7.3 mile climb that starts at Hogle Zoo and rises 1,300 feet to overlook Little Dell Reservoir brought barf to the back of my throat many times over the past 5 months.  

On May 18th I rode to the top of Emigration in 36:24.  A solid, but slow time compared to most the "serious" bikers in the UT community.  After a month of specific triathlon training I repeated the effort on June 23 and took 3:00 full minutes off my PR.  Chase thought I would be worthwhile to set a "End of Season" goal for a sub 31:00 climb of Emigration Canyon.  I agreed and felt that goal was reachable with the way I was losing weight and gaining strength in the right ways.  Each day throughout the summer I would add a little bit of storage to the pain bucket in hopes that when I would dip into it come race day I would have enough stored up. Throughout July I kept taking time off my PR -- a thirty second jump here and a minute jump here.  Each time wondering how it would ever be possible to push harder and go faster.  

On July 27th I planned on biking from my house to the top of Emigration Canyon.  It was 2:00PM and hotter then hell.  I blitzed to the canyon and pushed hard to top.  Over the summer I had learned to recognized markers along the route that helped me see how close I was to breaking PRs.  When I reached the elbow to the top I was on track to beat my previous PR of 31:30.  I emptied the tank.  29:58 to the top for a sub 30:00 PR.  Chase was really the only one who would understand the joy of doing something so horrible to my body.  He replied, "Stick to the program - it's working."  Done.  I would crush Emigration one last time on October 11th. 27:40 almost 9:00 full minutes then what I had done in May.  Although the effort up Emigration doesn't compare to the effort made in a Half Ironman the confidence I gained by watching my body become stronger and faster up the canyon helped propel me with confidence into the race.  

I arrived in Vegas on Friday October 19th.  Simple tasks required most of the afternoon: buying more sunscreen that had been lovingly thrown away by TSA at the airport, race registration with an overwhelming desire to tell everyone marking their bodies with numbers to stop what they were doing, driving the bike course, eating, drinking, resting.  In a split transition race you have to set up T2 the night before the race and leave your running gear in the transition area over night.  I took about thirty minutes getting my shoes, hat and water bottle in the perfect place and then spent the rest of the evening prepping my bike and swim gear.  I scrubbed, polished, and greased my bike as if I was Gollum obsessing over his precious ring.  Then went to bed at 9:00PM knowing that I would have nightmares the rest of the night forgetting my race shoes and having to run in cowboy boots.  

5:00AM alarm.  I put on sunscreen in anticipation for 80 degrees by 12:00.  Lathered on anti-chafe cream into every nook and cranny of my body.  Ate a small breakfast and made my way to Lake Meade.  Thirty minute drive to T1 to set up my bike.  T1 had me second guessing my game plan.  There where dudes around me with what appeared to be gallons of water hanging from their bikes.  Multiple flasks of gel tucked into jerseys and pant legs.  As I watched other racers get ready I had to take a minute and reconfirm everything that I had learned about myself during training.  I was going to ride and run in the same way that I had trained -- the scenery would be different, but otherwise the events of race day had been decided many weeks ago.  I put my wetsuit on and made my way to the water where I usually spend about 20 minutes warming up.  When the gun sounded for the start of the race the sun had barely made its way over the tops of the mountains surrounding Lake Meade.  The low light made the first ten minutes tough to see, but otherwise the swim was very uneventful.  I had trained to swim in under 40:00 minutes and when I finished the swim my clock was at 38:31.  I was still fresh and has not overly exerted myself.  

For the next three hours I went to work on my bike.  Over the 56 mile bike I would climb a little over 5,100 feet of elevation.  That usually doesn't matter to much in a triathlon because any road you go up as a triathlete you often  get to go back down when you turn around and make your way back to your running gear, but in the Pumpkinman race T2 sits 1,400 feet above the lake.  So, the final 8 miles of the bike had me climbing without any hope of being able to turn around and go 40MPH.  I loved being on my bike during the race.  The landscape was beautiful and I was filled with gratitude that I had made it to the race successfuly.  There's something about being exhausted that causes me to become grateful.  I prayed a few times and expressed heart-felt gratitude for the body I had been given to accomplish the race and the family I had been blessed with.  It was an amazing morning on my bike that would soon become a pain-filled afternoon running on black-top.  

When I reached T2 it was 11:00AM and I had been racing for just under 4 hours.  Out of the 129 racers I was sitting in 25th place when I got off the bike.  I had counted the racers ahead of me at the turn around of the bike.  The run started and my legs felt like they normally do after a triathlon ride.  Major cramping at the beginning of the run that subsides after about a mile.  I had numb feet, but that is normal.  My lower back was locked up, but I knew it would loosen after a mile or so.  I moved through the first 4 miles at a 8:30 per mile pace, but when I looped back I convinced myself to start taking walking breaks at the aid stations.  It is my one regret.  I should have kept moving and not worried about taking breaks.  I had confidence in my speed, but that nasty voice in my head convinced me that the walking breaks were needed.  I slowed my pace way down and cause my half marathon run time to average just under 10:00 minute miles.  It was a slow pace, but my heart rate was sitting at 160 and a faster pace seemed impossible at the time.  In the final 4 miles the my hamstrings turned to pretzels.  I stopped taking breaks and figured I could bust through the pain if I focused on finishing.  

Training and preparation for the half Ironman allowed me to learn a great deal about myself.  Like most activities in life that require commitment and dedication, I hope that they help me become a better man.  Over the span of the training season I swam in the training pool for 24 miles, rode 1,408 miles with 101,657 feet of elevation gain, and ran almost 300 miles.  Most of my training was done between the hours of 5:00AM-8:00AM which gave me time to play dress-ups and Barbies in the morning with my 4 year old.  I ended up finishing overall 38/129 and 8/22 in my age group. Swim - 38:31; Bike - 3:03:04, Run - 2:09:52.  Total: 6:00:13. Not mind blowing results, but I'm happy with the effort of my first race this distance.