Ironman – Serenity Through Sweat

70.3

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. last weekend I raced in the Ironman Gulf Coast 70.3 event and wanted to share my experience.

I have been in the sport of triathlon for over a decade now. With the exception of the full Ironman race I completed in 2013, I have mostly trained intuitively. That is, without a coach or a training plan.

I have a rough idea of what I need to do in order to be prepared. Benchmarks to hit along the way. How to set a reasonable goal that will be achievable but still lofty enough to keep me motivated.

With all the other demands in my life I want to put out a performance that I can be proud of, and I want to find the minimum effective dose of training that will help me achieve that.

With those parameters as the goal posts, this race was a huge success. It was my fifth time racing the 70.3 distance and I set a PR (personal record) by a pretty wide margin.

I did so, with less training volume than all of my previous attempts. To be fair, I have better equipment, more base fitness, and more time and knowledge in the sport than those previous races. No two races are alike. Each one presents their own unique story that unfolds on race day.

Trixie, all cleaned up and making friends

I think I swam maybe 4 times in the build up for this race. Not exactly ideal, but I like to tell people, you can lose the race on the swim, but very few people win the race there. Minimum effective dosage indeed.

The swim start was, like most all open water ocean swim starts are, abrupt and violent. You charge, full of adrenaline, down the sand and into a body of water that is actively opposing you. There was a strong quartering onshore wind from the left resulting in choppy conditions with a significant drift. The buoys were very difficult to sight. The jellyfish were up early and were active.

Knowing you have close to five hours of work Infront of you, the last thing you want to do is let your breathing and heart rate get out of control in the first ten minutes. Everything about the first ten minutes of the swim leads to exactly that. The waves and wind disrupting your stroke and your breathing. Constant contact with other swimmers. The anxiety of the amount of work still ahead. Jellyfish stings. I am a strong swimmer from years of surfing and countless hours in the pool. The hardest part of every triathlon swim for me is calming down and finding rhythm. The quicker I can do that the better I can perform.

I know I swam pretty wide of the buoy line after the second turn of the rectangular course. The wind and the waves made the buoys hard to see and the current was now pushing away from the course line. Despite the self inflicted extra swim distance I was on track for my overall goal getting out of the water and getting on my bike.

It was a beautiful day for a bike ride. I bought a new bike (Trixie) back in November and did all of my training except maybe 4 or 5 rides inside on a smart trainer. One of the more recent joys of racing for me, has been riding outside with the added comfort of some traffic protection. I have almost entirely given up on riding a road bike outside anymore because the dangers of being hit outweigh the value and pleasure it brings.

Trixie was fast. I knew she was fast but I was delighted with how the bike segment went. From a training perspective, I spent more time in this buildup working with power zones and my FTP (functional threshold power). FTP is the most amount of power you can sustain for a one hour all out effort. That number can then be scaled and adjusted for various intervals, race distances, and training sessions to optimize performance. It’s not perfect but it is a much more targeted approach than I’ve utilized in the past.

Power training and racing is also extremely reliable and relocatable. Your heart rate or pace might be different day to day, and course to course, but 200 watts is always 200 watts. I wanted to average 200 watts for the 56 mile bike ride. I estimated that would put me at about 22mph and set me up in striking distance for a sub five hour finish.

My bike segment went about as flawlessly as I could have hoped. I averaged just over 200 watts of normalized power and just over 22mph. My hydration and nutrition plan left me feeling fresh when it was time to dismount and lace up the running shoes.

The run was hot. There is no way around it. Running in full sun, in Florida, in mid May, is a recipe for cramps, dehydration, and a rough afternoon, if you find yourself prepared or unequal to the task at hand.

Thankfully, my nutrition and hydration on the bike set me up for success for the three loop course in the sweltering heat. I was targeting a 7:30/mile pace. While I fell a bit short of that, I had built enough wiggle room into my goal finishing pace that I felt comfortable my goal was still very much achievable.

I could feel my feet start to blister somewhere around mile 5. I knew that they weren’t going to get any better with 8 more miles to go. The mixture of sand residue, layers of dried sweat and the fresh water I was dousing myself with at every aid station were only making the blisters worse.

My shoes squished and squeaked noisily with every step. This new pair of racing shoes is significantly different than the minimalist trainers I tend to prefer. With a huge foam platform and a carbon plate meant to act as a sort of spring, these felt more like moon shoes. Still, I tried to keep my feet moving and focused on a high cadence. Repeating a mantra I had read about the most successful ultra runners. “Be a prancy pony”. Keep those feet moving, high and fast.

The aid stations would shimmer in the distance like a desert oasis. Volunteers crowding around to help weary travelers. I doused myself with water and dumped cups of ice down my back at every one. Small moments of relief. Short lived as the sun continued to beat down.

I’m very proud of my race performance. Like I wrote about in my last post, I was able to stay present for the experience. These are my burning legs. These are my aching lungs. No far off caves and power animals. I was able to remain calm in low points, and have overwhelmingly positive self talk throughout. I finished in 4:58 just under my goal of 5 hours.

Every race is different. What you take away from from every race is different. Those 70.3 miles, more than anything else, gave me gratitude. Gratitude that I was able to perform and push myself, especially with my “minimum effective dose” training. Gratitude that I was able to race safely on a beautiful course and a beautiful day. Gratitude for a weekend together with an old friend. Gratitude that I was able to race at all. Not everyone is so physically blessed and lucky. Not everyone can afford to indulge it what is a very selfish, time consuming, and expensive activity. And, that my wife indulged my selfish habit, taking care of our boys and the house while I play exercise as sport.

There is a beautiful and profound sense of peace at the end of a hard effort like that. The training, the scheduling, the opportunity cost of it all, and the race itself, leaves a huge wake. In that vacuum, is serenity, in the most essential form I am familiar with. SerenityThroughSweat, if only for the briefest of moments.

This is where the wheels started to fall off the post race “recovery”.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

A special thank you to my wife and my mom and a very happy mother’s day. I was able to race and still make it back to take them out to dinner.

Afterglow

Last week I wrote about race week, and this week I thought it was just as, if not more important, to talk about the post race week.

I wrote a post last year, when I thought I could be working my last flight for a while, about mission completion. How there is an emptiness left in the wake of something that you have dedicated yourself too that has reached it’s natural conclusion.

Getting the boys back to their jet setting ways

This emotional empty space is further exacerbated by the recovery process. Not only am I no longer activily pursuing a goal, but I’m actively refraining from, and trying to minimize my otherwise high octane training.

I know that my body needs rest, and that recovery is critical. My brain, and my hormonal reward circuits are not on the same page.

Finishing my first longer course triathlon since having kids four years ago has left a similar, albeit slightly smaller wake. The hours spent sweating over a bike trainer, the lonesome hotel treadmills, the opportunities that were sacrificed in the name of a training plan, all come to be familiar friends.

It is easy to feel a sense of Stockholm syndrome, you become sympathetic to the captor of your time and energy, and soon come to depend on it, not just for your physical well-being, but also your emotional happiness and mental stability.

SerenityThroughSweat as you might have gleaned, is a journey through my many endeavors from fitness to fatherhood, but it is also my trial by combat against anxiety and depression.

Without the sweat, I predictably find myself lacking in serenity. As my wife is very ready to remind me, “your not nearly as nice of a person when you haven’t worked out for two or three days”

I’m not sure what the answer is, maybe I’m restless (more than maybe). Maybe my ambition gets the better of my appreciation. Maybe I have been at endurance sport and competition in general long enough that my dopamine reward pathway is off kilter.

Sure I was happy to finish. Sure I enjoyed splashing with my boys in the pool and sliding down the water slide with them. Cracking beers while catching up with an old friend and my wife was a great post race celebration. But the satisfying sense of accomplishment that can carry over through the post race recovery period was conspicuously absent. There was no afterglow.

Before I started writing I was trying to think about what it was that I was actually feeling and this everclear song popped into my head. Ironically, this song would come up on one of my Pandora stations that I use frequently during training.

“we never ask ourselves the questions to the answers that nobody even wants to know I guess the honeymoon is over so much for the afterglow. (So much for the afterglow, Everclear)

There are clearly answers here that demand some tough questions. Fortunately I do some of my best thinking while putting in miles and sweating.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Race day

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend was my first foray back into longer distance triathlon since having kids and I wanted to share some of my experience.

Let me start by saying it is difficult to adequately express the range of emotions that pop up over the 5:48 it took me to cover the 70.3 miles.

There are lows of despair, pain, and self doubt, followed by bouts of confidence and elation. The smallest and most insignificant detail can move you from one end of the spectrum to the other, and right back again just as quickly.

Nobody likes swimming with company. Biking and running with friends is great, swimming with friends really just means getting groped and kicked. Even with the rolling start (which was way better than IM FL in 2013) the swim was more of a contact sport than desired.

I’m very grateful for a safe bike experience both training and racing. Seeing some of my fellow athletes bloodied and road rashed, or worse is a reminder of how fortunate I am to have avoided major accidents despite all the miles put in.

It also reinforces my decision to train almost exclusively indoors on the bike. With a smart trainer and zwift, my biking is more efficient (in terms of not needing to load up and load out and drive to a safer road to ride). It is also way more diverse in terms of ability to climb, sprint, and ride different simulated terrain and topography.

I felt very prepared for the bike course with only indoor training, but it was a refreshing reminder of why I love to ride my bike. The cool December Florida temperatures (at least for the bike leg) paired with the rolling hills, rural roads, and orange groves, made for a picturesque Sunday morning ride. There were more than few instances out on the bike course where I found myself smiling, lost in the gentle mechanical hum of the chain through the cogs.

There is a simple and efficient exchange that happens on the bike that is magical. Human power goes in and locomotion comes out, but some of that majesty can be lost when looking at a power meter and a virtual world. The wind rushing past the ear scoops of my way too serious looking aero helmet, brought all that majesty back very quickly.

By mile forty seven on the bike course, after north of three hours of racing already, the gentle rolling hills and orange groves seemed much less enchanting as my legs started to fatigue and the new asphalt gave way to roads that can be best described as a taint jackhammer. It is a glamorous sport, you just need the right words to describe it.

The race start was delayed an hour due to morning fog, which was a good call, but it meant the run would be done in the heat of the day, even for the fastest athletes. My slightly better than .idle of the pack pace was no exception. Add in unseasonably warm temperatures for Florida in December, and the half marathon was set up to be a trip through the pain cave.

There is a surge of energy that happens in transition. Our senses are naturally enhanced by change, as an evolutionary trait, so the bike to run change brings not only a sense of completion and accomplishment, but also a much needed shot of adrenaline. That wears off far too quickly as you realize you have 13 miles to run with more uphill than you realized.

A two loop run course is wonderful for spectators and logistics, but it is a cruel mistress. The exit is always close, the self inflicted punishment can stop whenever you want it to. This is a silly thing to do to yourself anyway, why run another lap?

A shot from a friendly neighbor’s hose, the ice cubes melting into sweet relief down your back, a kind word from a fellow masochist, can all give you the push you need to keep moving forward.

The run course wound in an out of neighborhoods, doubling back on itself, in a way that made me frustrated and delirious. Those same rolling hills that seemed so enchanting just a few hours ago, rose up like a rock wall, shimmering in the Florida sun.

Wanting to quit, wanting to jump for joy, wanting a beer, these are all things I had felt before in varying intensity at different races. What I hadn’t felt was my ability to be a father after that kind of effort.

Above and beyond triathlon, the extra gear and the endurance that I have when I see those two smiling faces, is something that I wish I knew how to train, but I’m glad it comes naturally. Being able to take my kids to the playground and the pool, and run around the house with them after the race means regardless of my finishing time, my training was right on point.

The elevation profile is a little off, but here are the race details in all their glory

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Restricted movement

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. We’ve had numerous episodes talking about mobility, flexibility, and the importance of a movement practice, this week I want to talk about when our movement is restricted.

Or more specifically when my movement is restricted.

We are going to take a trip back to 2008. As a junior in college I was playing a lot of ultimate frisbee, running quite a bit, (with no attention to form or mechanics) and eating the staple diet of an American college student; pizza, beer, and whatever was free.

Homemade lava popsicles for El Duderino, and espresso pops for daddy

As a lifelong athlete and a hard charging 20 year old, I was in pretty darn good shape despite what I know now to be destructive habits. At one point I was running 12:30 for a two mile loop around my neighborhood after wolfing down value brand hotdogs and a natty light for lunch.

But that year, while home in buffalo for winter break, I woke up one morning and was unable to put weight on my left foot. No precipitating event, just getting out of bed was enough for my body to shut it down.

El Duderino and I on our Greenway playground ride

My mother was working at a hospital system at the time and I was able to get in quickly for a series of x-rays and consultations. At the ripe old age of 20, I had arthritis in both ankles.

I spent the next few days in an air cast, binge watching Lost, and feeling sorry for myself. Then I went down the internet rabbit hole of endurance sports.

quite a workout hiking with El Duderino around the black hammock nature trail

The way I figured it, I hate being told what to do, and even more so what not to do or what I can’t do. So not being able to put weight on my foot, naturally, I wanted to go the extreme other end of the spectrum. I wanted to run an ultra marathon, and I started researching events around me in Florida.

Now to this point in my life I had always been an athlete, but running was something I did to cut weight for wrestling or crew. I don’t think I had ever run more than a 10k as a cross training workout for one of my other sports.

As winter break wound down I was able to get back to normal. The way that most twenty something’s take for granted, that leads those of us in our thirties and older to say youth is wasted on the young. No PT, no rehab, no special diet, just binge watching DVD’s and thinking about running.

Getting back to school I went right back into the same patterns. I did try to run a little bit more like a gazelle and less like a linebacker, and for whatever that was worth it seemed to help. I didn’t end up doing my first triathlon for another few years, but I remember that experience of restricted movement as the catalyst for my foray into endurance sports.

I spent a large portion of last week stuck in my hotel room in Atlanta. While I was in the simulator getting back to work I had a COVID exposure and had to quarantine for a week. Despite feeling fine, and actually having more time for my many wellness related practices, (thanks to my rockstar wife manning the fort with El duderino and Speedy in my absence) I felt that familiar feeling of restricted movement creeping in.

It was the perfect time for one of my best friends and training partners to pitch me the idea of another Half Ironman. I hadn’t wanted to take on the longer distance since having kids, due to the training demands, but that feeling of being restricted may have overwhelmed my better judgement and the entry fee has been paid.

slowing down, and trusting the process. Building aerobic base with MAF heart rate.

Starting to build my aerobic base and milage back up is exciting and anxiety inducing. But, as anyone who has ever had their movement restricted can tell you, whether it was an injury, a government policy, or a training partner’s nasty pinning side control, being restricted often leads to periods of renewed growth and determination.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends

P.S. totally fine, tested negative multiple times, happy to get back to the family.

Finding Calm in the Chaos

It’s 2:45 in the morning and I’ve just finished a much needed guys night with some great friends. It’s things like this that remind me to try to take stock of events as they are happening.

It is a skill that is easier said than done. Finding calm in the Chaos is a skill, and the ironic part is you have to put yourself in Chaos’s way continuously, in order to refine the skill.

I had done a number of triathlons before Ironman FL in 2013, but nothing prepared me for the swim start. I had done numerous open water swims both solo and within a race context, but nothing was the caliber of 1500 athletes scrambling over top of each other for position.

There were several moments within the first 10 minutes of the race where I thought about giving up. This was an event I had trained for specifically for 6 months and had signed up for more than a year in advance. A goal I had been training for, for years. And I saw it all, realistically coming to an end, minutes after it began.

I have described it to people by saying, “the first 10 minutes, I touched more people than water”. That goes a long way for describing a swim in the gulf of Mexico. But, after those first 10 excruciating minutes, I was able to settle in to the familiar calm of my training. I had put in enough training time to find calm in the chaos of both my mind and the outer world. At a certain point, they are much the same.

Obviously there are things within our control and those that are outside of our control. But often the greatest challenges we face are those mental barriers that we set for ourselves. Being able to find calm within the chaos in a gym setting, will help you better navigate the problems that may arise in the boardroom or cubicle.

Struggling mentally and physically, or, finding calm in the chaos, is a transferable skill, and something you can get better with, with practice. We can all cultivate in ourselves the the inner strength to persevere, if we can only reach for it in our most desperate hour.

After a very rocky IM swim start, I was able to not only beat my swim time goal, but beat my overall race goal. Finding calm in the chaos was the saving grace for my race and for my overall perspective. It is a hard earned skill that contributes to pay dividends.

Thank for joining me and stay sweaty my friends.

Today’s Serenity through sweat, some and sinister with the 24kg kettlebell after NoGi class at Orlando BJJ

Embrace the Middle Miles

There are a ton of different workouts that make up an effective training program. My Ironman training program consisted of runs, rides, and swims of different varieties including: low impact, interval, endurance, and time trial. Each of these individual workouts has their own important place in the training program and each one has smaller goals and benchmarks associated with it. My favorite goal that spanned across all those workouts, and the one that I find myself coming back to, is embracing “middle miles”

It is human nature to take large complex problems and break them down into smaller manageable chunks. Most of us are generally excited to start a new project or training plan, and approach it with that level of enthusiasm and focus. And, most of us can find that little extra in the tank when we see the finish line ahead. But the “middle miles” when the honeymoon period has worn off but before the finish line is in sight is an easy place to get lost or lose focus in.

The middle miles represent the most challenging part of the activity, but also the most rewarding. The Zen or flow state that runners talk about, that’s only available in the middle miles. But, that state is only available if you can maintain focus and form throughout those middle miles. When new personal records are set, it’s almost always improvement in the middle miles that drives those new records, because there is the most room to improve.

Embracing middle miles can apply to activities outside of fitness as well. That college course, that home construction job, that new project at work, potty training toddlers, are all subject to doldrums in the middle. Embracing that plateau and leaning in to it in the middle is a great way to push through and keep making progress or even breakthroughs.

Next time you find yourself in a training plateau, or you are dragging through a work project, try to embrace those “middle miles” and refocus your effort. There is Serenity to be found in all parts of our life, sometimes it’s just requires a little more focus than others.

Thanks for joining me and stay sweaty my friends