For 2012

You can now find my podcast, Tri Briefs, at: http://trisam.podbean.com/

Thank you...

Thank you to all of you who have followed my journey.
If you have an interest in purchasing my book, which is more or less the last year of blog posts, check it out at amazon.com. See the photo of the cover above.

Anyway, more importantly...

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your support.


Over and out.
Peace,
~Sam

Ironman Louisville Race Report- Extended Version

The final destination on the Road to Ironman Louisville of course was to cross the finish line, but in order to do that, I had to get to the starting line.

          Even with the dark and early wake-up time of 3:50 a.m., the alarm I set wasn’t necessary. I reached over, grabbed my watch off the night stand in our hotel, and turned it off before it sounded. My day was underway.

After Maggie and the kids groggily, yet willingly, prepared themselves to take on their own long day along the streets of greater Louisville, we packed our van with our Ironman survival packs, and we were on our way.

          While driving over the bridge leading us into the city of Louisville, from Jeffersonville, Indiana we were able to see the lights dancing across the Ohio River and the bright lights and mild commotion in the transition area below. It looked like bright colored ants scurrying around gathering food for their queen. I didn’t require more triggers to increase my level excitement, but the scene laid out before me put a smile on my early morning face, and I shook my head thinking, “We meet again.”

          Once parked close to transition around 4:50 a.m., Maggie and I temporarily locked the kids in the van so they could rest, and she could help me carry my gear to transition, and return with my pump. Not being entirely comfortable with this idea, we walked rather quickly to transition where the numbers of people had increased from when we saw the transition area from the bridge above. I took the pump from Maggie, hustled in found my bike, and quickly inflated my tires with the pump. Then as soon as I could, I returned the pump to Maggie, and we hustled off to our respective destinations.

          The walk from transition to the swim start is almost a mile, and with everything seemingly in place, I walked steadily along the sidewalk with hundreds of others through the dark. Ultimately we arrived at the Tumbleweed restaurant where the team of volunteers was performing the task of body marking. I received my Sharpie marker tattoos showing my race number on both arms and my age on my calf, and then I headed over to the swim start line, which was already well established.

I felt like everything and everyone was where they needed to be and I could finally take a breath, relax, and simply await the start. I reached in my designated Morning Clothes bag to pull out my iPod to listen to a podcast while I waited when I immediately discovered the small plastic bag containing my Cliff Bar, GU Chomps, GU gels, and salt tablets, which belonged in the food bike on my bike!

“F***!” I said in an angry, harsh whisper.

I knew getting angry and upset would not help my situation at all, so I immediately collected myself by taking a breath and deciding I had to walk back to transition. This of course was not in my pre-race plan, but I had to remedy this situation or I would have faced bigger challenges later in the day. So, I turned to the two people in front of me who happened to be in the middle of a conversation. I hated to interrupt, but I had to get moving. 

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need your help. You see this,” I held up my bag of goodies to show them what I was referencing, “belongs on my bike, and I was wondering if I could leave my other stuff here and you could hold my spot?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll probably need you to hold my space in line when I use the porta-loo later anyway,” the lady with what I thought was a French-Canadian accent replied.

“Thank you very much, I’ll be back as soon as I can, but it will take me about 30 minutes.”

At this, I left. I was walking on a mission and was clearly heading against the grain as hundreds more athletes were making their way in the opposite direction. When I finally got to the transition area, I hustled to my bike, put my food items in the small empty bag on the front of my bike, and turned tail back toward the swim start. I remained calm while walking briskly back, but on the inside I allowed myself a couple mental kicks in the ass for forgetting something so obvious that had me walking about two more miles than I had planned.

When I arrived back in line I was able to sit down for a moment, but then the line began to move. It was moving much earlier than when I was here in 2009, so I was a bit unprepared for the early departure toward the water. Each time we stopped and I tried to take off my long-sleeved shirt and pants, the line would move again. I finally managed my warm clothes off. I was down to my tri shorts and was attempting to get my goggles and earplugs out of my bag when the lined moved again. We were getting closer and closer to the point where I had to hand my Morning Clothes bag off and I was still ill-prepared. Furthermore, I was holding the bag of the lady who held my place in line earlier, and she was going to have a hard time finding me because the line kept moving and moving.

When I arrived at the swim start sign I had to hand off my Morning Clothes bag. I wasn’t ready to hand it off yet, so I let the line move slowly past me. Finally, I was able to get my goggles, swim cap, and earplugs out, and I made sure all my other gear was in my bag. I handed over my bag and told the volunteers that athlete #209 was going to be looking for her bag. I asked if I could leave it at the swim start entrance and they let me know this would be fine. So, with reluctance about leaving her bag behind, I headed down the sidewalk in line.

Finally the line stopped because the athletes at the front had gone as directed, as far as they could go without actually jumping in the water. I chatted idly with those around me, and I had the occasion to sit on the hard ground to rest my legs and collect my thoughts.

While I was waiting with the 2,000 plus athletes in line, I looked up to the sky. It had the grayish hues of a cloudy morning, but with lighter grays containing hope of blue and sunshine. I knew I was very fortunate to be able to be in the position I was in, not just in line, but in line at Ironman Louisville at all. I thanked God and asked Him to keep me, as well as the other athletes, safe and confident throughout the day.

It was an honor to be here with all of these athletes who had come from all over the country and different parts of the world. We all had trained for about a year to be able to congregate on the shores of the Ohio River to begin our 140.6 mile challenge. We had put in the work and we were as ready as we were going to be before the start.

Maggie found me in line, which was amazing considering how long the line was and that I was sitting down between two fences that lined the way to the swim start. We exchanged pleasantries and ultimately wishes of good luck; she with her long day with the children ahead of her, and myself with the Ironman at hand. We had a brief kiss and we were on our way.

The National Anthem was sung, the pros had begun their race ten minutes earlier, morning glow was becoming more apparent, and now the line was moving ever closer to the river.

We were in a two-by-two formation. The athletes on the left were to enter the river from the far dock, and the athletes on the right were to enter the river from the slightly closer dock. I opted for the farther dock to give myself a little more space. The line increased its pace the closer we were to the water. The music was blaring, the crowd was cheering, and the party was really gettin’ started! I crossed the timing mat, pushed start on my watch, reached the end of the dock, and followed those who had jumped in before me. The game, as it is said, was on!

The water was already churning from the hundred or so people who were underway. It was a scene of arms swinging, feet kicking, heads bobbing, water splashing, and the sound similar to a small waterfall. It was my intention to be conservative, but let’s face it, if I’m going to be attempting to cover 140.6 miles in a day, there’s not a better way for me to start. I was bilateral breathing right out of the gate, just as I had done all summer in Duncan Lake on many of my training swims. I was energized but maintained an appropriate calm. If I allowed myself to get too fired up my heart rate would soar, and I would have to regroup. This is what I had been training for and it was great to be swimming up the Ohio River with over 2000 of my newest friends.

It didn’t take long to catch up to those immediately in front of me. There were green caps worn by men and pink caps worn by women all around me. I sighted every few strokes to find the best line I could take through those who were not up for the pace I was swimming. Most people looked under control, but there was an occasional swimmer who let the electricity of the moment get to them and was swimming on his or her back. I weaved left and right, accelerating at times to sneak between competitors. I had to go to single-sided breathing on occasion if there was somebody too close for comfort, and it was cool to have the ability to choose which side I wanted to breathe from. This was a skill that until this year, I had not had. There was incidental contact with arms, legs, and torsos, but I didn’t let it get to me. There were a lot of people in a relatively small area, so contact was going to happen.

The red pyramid-shaped inflatable buoy came sooner than expected, yet exactly where I knew it would be. I felt so relaxed I was able to hold a steady pace which got me to the turn, in what was for me, a timely manner. There was some congestion of competitors making the turn, but once we headed downriver, gaps opened and space was more prevalent.

          With each reach and each pull of my swim stroke I felt myself slide through the water. I felt at ease, and I felt welcomed by the murky Ohio. I was already almost halfway done with the swim and I reminded myself to take in the moment and not let it escape me. So as I swam, still concentrating on my technique, my position relative to other competitors, and my line toward the next buoy, and I glanced around when I took my breath to see what was happening, to feel what was happening, and to be in the moment. I was in the swim of Ironman Louisville. As much as this was exhilarating, I maintained calm about me and moved steadily forward, and was under the first of two bridges I would encounter.

          The faster swimmers who opted for more sleep and a later place in line began to arrive. Some wore green caps and others pink, and some went by faster than others. If it was a steady pass, I tried to stay in the bubbles their feet were generating to take advantage, if only briefly, of the draft they created. I wasn’t disappointed to see these athletes go by me. Instead I was impressed by their grace, strength, and speed and I wished them well in my head.

          When under the second bridge I knew I only had 0.4 of the swim left. Joy briefly flowed through me because I was still feeling strong and I allowed myself to pick up my pace…a little. Let’s just be honest, a little was all I had to give.

          The crowd along the bank was keenly apparent with various colors and shapes and sizes. The music at the finish line was barely audible, but still apparent. The cheering was getting louder, but was still clearly a ways off. The excitement of finishing one of the three disciplines was building and I was headed toward the final buoy.

          Volunteers stood on the stairs that were on the water’s edge and they were assisting athletes out of the water. I was looking forward to my turn. I noted where those around me were headed and I chose my entrance on the 3-4 aisle staircase. I grabbed the rail with my right hand and the volunteer’s hand with my left. With our combined efforts I was on the cement shore and surprisingly jogging toward the transition. There were fences on both sides of the swim exit leading to the transition area which were lined with people cheering and encouraging family, friends, and strangers who were doing their best to adapt from being horizontal to moving forward vertically.

When I arrived at the transition I heard a volunteer call out my number to another volunteer, who grabbed my Swim-to-Bike bag and handed it to me on my way by to the men’s changing tent. Once inside the tent a volunteer was just wrapping-up helping another athlete and I politely said, “I’ve got next.”

The volunteer turned and replied, “You bet, what do you need?”

“Thank you, I’m going to need my singlet pulled down once I start getting it on.”

I opened my bag, grabbed my mini-towel, dried off my upper body very quickly, and started pulling my singlet over my head. The kind volunteer grabbed a hold of my jersey and pulled it down into place. I stumbled a bit as he did this due to not having my land legs quite yet, and we both had a little nervous chuckle. Next I sat down, strapped my cycling shoes on, put my sunglasses and helmet on, and headed out the other end of the tent.

When I exited the tent, I bypassed the sunscreen brigade because I had put waterproof sunscreen on prior to the swim. I would have taken advantage of this service, but they put so much on me the last time I was here I had to scrape it off with a Cliff Bar wrapper once out on the bike. Therefore, I walked swiftly past them, hit the porta-john, and set out to find my bike on the rack.

I read the numbers on the ends of the racks, found the rack my bike was on and headed down the aisle. I was looking at the numbers as I walked as quickly as I could in my cycling shoes, and I started to think I wasn’t looking at the right rack. So, I ducked under where a bike had been taken, and I started looking down the next rack. The good news is that I was going in the right direction, but the bad news is that I was right the first time. When I realized my error, I ducked back under the rack, and finally found my bike. I had to tilt it to one side to pull it out, and although I didn’t knock off all the rest of the bikes on the rack, I did manage to dislodge the one next to mine. Fortunately, I grabbed it before it fell into the next bike, which might have caused a domino effect that nobody needed to have happen. I set the bike back up, and headed toward the exit.

When I reached the mount line, about four of us were arriving at the same time. So instead of stopping with the rest of them and attempting to board my carbon fiber steed, I took about five more steps, gave myself more room, and climbed upon my GURU. At this point I had to ride out of the tunnel of people, albeit behind the Ironman fencing, and get out to the open road. There were cheers and whoops, so I veered over and gave out some high fives before finally reaching the actual bike course.

To stay true to my plan, I peddled steadily, but maintained a relaxed perceived effort. I passed a few people early and a few people passed me as well. Most of us exchanged “good jobs” or “nice swims” as we went by, but I didn’t let the excitement of moving on to the bike, or the fact that I had just swum a personal record get me so fired up that I would go too fast.

When we were traveling River Road, I expected to take a right, which goes up a hill, but instead we turned left. This was different from 2009, but was an interesting twist of events, so it was fun exploring a new segment of the area. We ultimately ended up where the former course took us, and we made our way out to the signature Kentucky roads one might picture. There were large open horse pastures and rolling hills in abundance.

One of my favorite parts of the bike course is the out and back segment that begins somewhere around 20 miles. About halfway in the out section athletes are greeted with a monstrous downhill where I reached somewhere around 40 miles per hour. The fun doesn’t end here though, because after we got to the bottom of the hill, we had to climb a sizable hill on the other side. I like a good climb as much as the next guy, but the cool part was seeing and hearing the athletes ahead of us coming the other way, just bookin’ down the hill. Hearing the whirling tires zipping by sounded like they were supersonic, and it put a smile on my face knowing I would be supersonic not long after them.

After the out and back, the course eventually took us into the town of LaGrange where the athletes had another shot at stardom. When we rolled over the timing mats in the road, it triggered the chips on our ankles, which in turn put our name on a screen for the announcer to call out who we were. The crowd would cheer as we went though and there were wall to wall people. The words from Nickelback came to mind, “Hey, hey, hey, I wanna’ be a rock star.”

When my name was announced I gave some fist pumps and the crowd that was waiting for some kind of recognition from the athletes cheered even louder. Hey, if you were standing around for hours waiting for the athlete you were looking for, you would want a little affect from the other athletes to keep you occupied as well.

On the other side of LaGrange there were more rolling hills and countryside which looped around, bringing us back for another rock star session, before spitting us out and sending us back toward Louisville.

Around 90 miles fatigue was starting to set in. I could have used another bag of GU Chomps, but I didn’t have any left. The only nutrition I had was two Power Gels…both chocolate. That sounded so awful I didn’t want to consider it. So, I stuck to my stores of water and Ironman Perform sports drink. I had started out with my tasty GU Brew, but I couldn’t carry enough. I considered bringing GU tablets to turn water into Brew, but I opted against it. I shouldn’t have though and that was obviously my mistake.

While cruising back on River Road the amount of people passing me started to increase as my energy was dwindling. I still managed to pass a few people as well, but the number of people going by me was greater. I think I could have picked up my pace, but I would have been cooked at the end, and there was still the whole 26.2 mile thing to attend to.

I arrived at transition, soaked in the cheering from the race fans that again lined the course, and climbed off my bike at the designated dismount line.

The Ironman transition is pretty cool. One feature making it cool is that the athletes get to hand off their bikes to volunteers who in turn rack their bikes for them. So, I walked quickly and deeper into transition, and handed off my GURU.

Next I took off my cycling shoes in order to walk more effectively, and I removed my helmet for a more efficient transition. The walk was about 25 yards of cement before reaching the Bike-to-Run bags. Again a volunteer called out my number to another volunteer, and that volunteer handed my bag to me, and I headed into the men’s changing tent. This time there weren’t as many people in the tent, but I also didn’t need any help. I quickly deposited my helmet and cycling shoes into the bag, and exchanged them for running shoes, my GU visor, and my Nathan hydration belt. After slipping on my shoes and hat, and affixing the Velcro of my belt, I headed out of the tent. This time I let the sunscreen brigade put sunscreen on my shoulders, the back of my neck, and my lower back. Finally, I hit the porta potty before walking with a purpose out of transition.

It was challenging for me in the first few miles. This was not so much because of additional fatigue, but because people thought I was walking because I wasn’t up for the challenge of running. I heard things like, “That’s right, walk it off, and then get after it.”

What they didn’t know was this was getting after it. This was my pace. This was my plan. It wasn’t that I smoked myself so badly during the bike that I didn’t have it in me to run, I just couldn’t run because my Achilles hadn’t let me run all summer. So, it was very humbling those first few miles. After this it wasn’t quite as challenging because more and more people were starting to walk at different times. I started to not stick out like a sore thumb…or Achilles.

Around mile two, professional triathlete Amanda McKenzie from Australia ran up to me and started walking along side me. She informed me she had the flu for the past week and wasn’t sure if she would even be able to make the starting line. She coughed after every few words she spoke and told me the swim was a particular challenge because she had to cough so frequently in the water. I told her I saw her on the bike and knew something wasn’t right, simply because we were riding together in the same zip code. I didn’t think she should continue. I thought it was brave, honorable, and maybe a little stupid for her to go on, and I found her wise to drop out of the race and live to race another day.

Somewhere between the start and the fist turn-around of the run, I encountered Half-IronMike. He is a gentleman I had encountered on the Beginnertriathlete.com forum, and I had met two days prior. He was moving right along and looked solid. He called me out, “Hey, Tri Sam! It’s Half-IronMike!”

“Keep it up!” I replied. It gave me a jolt of positive energy to see him doing so well.

The run course was not as entertaining as the bike course in terms of variation of terrain, but I welcomed the mostly flat course. The turn-around seemed to be a long time coming, but it was a welcomed sight, and I was relieved to be headed back toward the city of Louisville. Unfortunately, I could feel blisters forming on the forefoot of each of my feet. I don’t normally get blisters in this area, but I also don’t normally walk this far, but on I went.

On my way back into the city I saw Jillian from the Beginnertriathlete.com forum. I didn’t recognize her at first, but then we exchange encouragement as we went in opposite directions. She had been morbidly obese. She lost over 140 pounds. She was doing an Ironman after only being in the sport a short time. She was impressive and I was proud of her for all she had done, and because I knew she was going to finish what she started. Again, positive energy flowed through me.

Walking through the city was amazing with all of the people, and the music, and the hype. There were a great deal of encouraging words being delivered to all of us athletes and it was much appreciated. I gave frequent high fives and I was liberal with my thank yous when I was out there. Heck I was walking…I had time.

At Ironman Louisville, the second turnaround is on the same street as the finish line. So, we athletes get both the joy and pain of not just seeing the finish line, but seeing others finishing as we headed out for another 13.1 miles. It was here where I saw my daughter Alex standing alone. It was evident that Maggie had the rest of the children elsewhere, later I would learn it was in the bathroom. I said to Alex, “Tell Mom my pace is dropping off slightly because I’ve got blisters on the bottoms of my feet, and I can tell they are getting worse, so I don’t know how long it will take me to get back.”

I headed back out with determination. I was determined to finish this but I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. I was picturing myself having to take off my shoes to relieve the pain on the bottoms of my feet. I wondered what might happen if things took a turn for the worse. I mean, when I’m running and things start going bad, I walk. Well, I was already walking, so now what? I wasn’t going to just stop.

Approaching mile 19, I was getting really sick of walking. I think it was around here that Jeremy from the Beginnertriathlete.com forum was running the other direction, looking strong as heck, he said something to the effect of, “Hey, Sam, let’s do this thing!”

Again…inspiration and positive energy.

While I was walking and starting to feel sorry for myself because I had to walk the whole frickin’ thing, I saw two guys run past me…slowly. They both had this marathon shuffle type stride that looked like it didn’t engage the Achilles much. I thought maybe I could pull that off. So, I decided I would run from mile 19 to 20 to see how it would go. Oh it was great feeling like a runner, albeit a slow one, moving past people, but more importantly, covering ground faster than walking. I was on pins in needles not knowing if my Achilles would form a major revolt and simply rupture, but it held in there. It felt a little sore, but not so badly that I couldn’t muster what it would take to get to mile 20.

When I arrived at mile 20 I felt relief. It was relief that I was able to run, but also relief that I made it to mile 20. In fact, the relief was such that I was too nervous to run again like that. I thought maybe I would run every other mile, but I changed the game plan. I decided to set the timer on my watch for four minute-two minute intervals. So, after I walked for awhile sorting this strategy out, I pushed my watch and set out for four minutes of running. Once it beeped, I walked. So far, so good.

Now I don’t recall where I was on the course, and I wish I could, but I was heading toward the turn-around when Fred, The Cube, from the Beginnertriathlete.com forum came up from behind me, gave me a sportsman’s swat on the ass and said something like, “Keep it up!”

Seeing Fred doing so well provided me with…you guessed it…more positive energy.

I continued along with my four on and two off method, and was happy to see more and more ground covered. I could see downtown Louisville, with its tall buildings on the horizon.

During one of my run segments, heading the other direction was Noah from, yes, the Beginnertriathlete.com forum. I don’t recall what he said exactly, but it was something like, “Hey, Sam, you are running! Looking good! Keep it up!”

          It was great to see Noah moving because I knew he had been battling a hip injury all season. I was worried about him, but from how he looked, I didn’t need to be. He looked very much in control of his destiny.

          My blisters were really bothering me, probably more so than my Achilles, and I reverted to walking again. Another athlete decided it was time for him to walk as well. So, we walked along the course chatting about how our respective days had gone, and then within a mile and a half he decided he was going to run it in. We wished each other well, and off he went.

          Finally, I was within a few blocks of the finish. The people that had been out all day were still out cheering and encouraging us. I shook hands with a guy dressed in an all green costume and told he and his companion who was dressed as a superhero thank you very much for coming out. More high fives and thank yous were given, and then all I had to do was round the last corner, and run in a straight line for two blocks.

          It was time. It was time to enjoy the moment as I strode along with the lights, the crowd, and the festival atmosphere that was waiting for me. It was time to be grateful that I could be here. It was time to be grateful that I was almost done. It was time to smile some more. It was time for me to allow myself to feel a little choked up with emotion. It was time to wave to my family that started jumping up and down when they saw me. It was time to give out more high fives. It was time to hear Mike Riley call out through the speakers to me again, “Sam Wilkinson, you are an Ironman!”

It was time to raise my hands in the air. It was time to finish what I started nearly a year ago. It was finally time to take my last steps on The Road to Ironman Louisville.

I crossed the line and was guided by the volunteer. He gave me water, he took me to get my photo taken in front of the Ironman banner, and he walked me to my family. I thanked him for his help and he disappeared back into the crowd and back to help another athlete crossing the finish line.

My family and I exchanged hugs and we made our way to our van which was parked only a block away. The road had been traveled and the journey was complete.

Celebrating Three Ironman Finishes

140.6 Miles of Celebration

It's nearly 5:00 p.m. and I'm sitting in our hotel room with my feet up and composing what will be my last post before I become an Ironman...again. As I sit here and work through my race in my mind, I feel a joy. This is a kind of joy I only get from taking on something as monumental as 140.6 miles of insanity. It's the kind of joy that can only come from hard work, dedication, and perseverance. It's the kind of joy that comes from knowing the hard work of nearly an entire year has been done and knowing the only thing left is to go out and have the kind of experience I've been dreaming about from the moment I registered. It is likely that this won't be the exact outcome I had hoped to achieve due to my circumstances with my Achilles injury, but this will not keep me from finding the kind of joy that comes from completing an Ironman. Tomorrow will be more than just an event. It will be a 140.6 mile celebration.

Although I'm looking forward to providing you with a detailed account of my race, before I even get up early tomorrow to go to the starting line, I want to say thank you very much for checking in and following me on my blog. So, thank you. I hope you have found your time reading my posts and watching my videos worth your while.

Peace.

BeginnerTriathlete.com, and a Common Dream

Last night I met my friends from BeginnerTriathlete.com. We had been interacting through the Internet for the greater part of this year. We shared ideas, stories, and advice. We laughed, we teased, we encouraged, and we had each others back, and all of this because we all share a common dream. That dream of course being to cross the finishing line at Ironman Louisville in our respective times, in our own way, but all of us either joining the Ironman family for the first time, or yet again. What a pleasure it was to have finally met in person the cast of characters that have really helped bring Ironman Louisville 2011 to life. This group couldn't be more varied in ability and personality. I was nervous/excited about meeting, and the gathering, though we had never met in person, was like a reunion of life-long friends. Tomorrow we will toe the line and cover 140.6 miles and share a life-long bond.
Thank you for sharing this journey with me BTers. You are fantastic!
Peace.

Real Joy, Genuine Hope, and Serious Posibility

I just deleted a page worth of text outlining what I did today. It noted the tasks I completed and told about how I'm basically packed and ready to go. Then I realized, nobody cares. Not that anyone cares about all this other stuff I've been posting, but I'm just sayin'. 

I had a moment today that was different than any other moment in my day. It was a moment I wasn't necessarily going to blog about, but it was still something I thought I shouldn't keep to myself. It was a moment that seemed more spiritual than intellectual, yet it all took place within my head.

When I was mowing the lawn, a thought came to me. This wasn't just a thought, because it came as a packaged deal with real emotion. It went something like this:

"You are going to be able to run part of the marathon at Louisville." 

I felt joy. Not joy as if I thought that would be nice, but joy as if I was just given the green light, the o.k., or permission to give it a shot. I remember smiling at this point and then a vision came that looked like this:

I was in the marathon portion of the run. I had half the run ahead of me, but I started running. I ran a mile, then walked a mile. I ran a mile, then I walked a mile. I was making up time, I was passing people, and I was feeling good while a smiled, high-fived volunteers, and...ran. 

The vision shifted to this:

I turned the corner and saw the finish line. I was running...slowly, but running just the same. There was loud music, the crowd on hand lined the street, and I was getting closer to pay dirt, and Mike Riley was saying, "Sam Wilkinson...You are an Ironman!"

I felt joy again. I felt hope. I felt like these thoughts, and these visions were true signs of things to come. I smiled again.

Then I started to talk myself out of this reality. I don't know why, but a voice said, "Really? Can this be true? Can I do this? Can I run?"

The reply I got was, "Hey, you were patient, you showed you are willing to walk the entire marathon. You demonstrated perseverance under duress...and now...now you may run."

I smiled on the inside this time. A story from the bible came to mind. I thought of Abraham about to sacrifice his son Issac, and then God stopping him, and telling him it was a test of his faith. Was this as test of faith? 

I continued to try to ignore the negativity sneaking into my head, but it carried on by saying, "Well, this won't happen until you have at least 6 miles to go." It went on to say, "Well, maybe even with just two miles to go. Most likely just down the finish shoot, but c'mon, for half the marathon?" 

At this point my joy lost a bit of its luster. I began retreating to what I figured, in that moment, my reality would inevitably be. 

However, I haven't lost sight of the fact that I felt real joy, genuine hope, and serious possibility, and it was...and like it still is within my grasp.

I don't know what's going to happen, but I'm willing to keep an open mind. In three days I'll find out.

Tomorrow I'll be putting the van in 'drive' and I will be continuing the metaphor, but I will be traveling the actual Road to Ironman Louisville, and it is full of possibility.

Peace.

Screaming Yellow

Yellow is good for cycling. Screaming yellow is even better. Both of these are great choices for being seen while riding. Not a social status kind of 'being seen,' but the kind that will keep you on the road and some auto's bumper up your a**. Screaming yellow or high-viz yellow, as it is sometimes called is fantastic for any kind of lighting situation when you want to be seen. So clearly, it is good for cycling.

When I ordered my Michelin Pro3 tires to put on my GURU for Ironman Louisville, I clicked on the color 'yellow' when I had to select the color I wanted. I figured this would bring together my sunflower yellow and silver helmet. Everything else on my bike is black, white, and red. It was a reasonable plan. However, when my tires arrived, they were not the sunflower yellow, like my helmet, but rather they were the screaming/high-viz yellow like my Pearl Izumi cycling jersey I wear when in lower light conditions. I could have returned the tires. I could have exchanged them for the color red. They would have looked nice. I know because that's what was on the bike before. They looked quite nice actually. Instead however, I decided to just screw conventional wisdom and I put these screaming/high-viz yellow bad boys on. So, if you are in Louisville, and you miss the black and white GURU with screaming/high-viz yellow tires, I really can't be blamed for this.

They look pretty awesome. At least that's what I've committed to telling myself and believing. Regardless, I have new tires and tubes and my triathlon bike. I'll go for a short spin Wednesday to make sure everything is good, and then all I'll have to do is clean it, tighten a couple screws, and my GURU will be good to go.

So, here's to screaming/high-viz yellow.

Peace.

Appreciation Nevertheless

Today was a good ride, but frankly, not a good as I would have liked. I basically stayed relaxed the entire time. I knew this 40 mile ride would mark the last of my long-ish rides. The sun was out, there was a moderate WNW wind, and there was no pressure to go fast at all. However, I didn't feel the flawless, effortless motion I was hoping for. I wanted to cruise along the road averaging around 18-19 mph, feel the wind sneaking through my helmet, and know I could punch it at any time, to put the hammer down. Just about everything was in place, but I felt slightly more fatigued than I would have liked to begin my ride, and then I had to concentrate on keeping my pace relaxed and steady. This was a good thing, because I need to work on my patience, but I was hoping for a free-flowing kind of ride.
Once I was on my way back and had the luxury of a tailwind, my ride was more like I had imagined. Little effort, and the ground zipping beneath me. I'm confident I've mentioned this previously, but I don't mind noting it again...I love a tailwind.
My ride did not meet the perfect vision I had, but I had a beautiful day to ride, the roads were by-and-large smooth and safe, I had no mechanical issues, no flat tires, and no run-ins with cars or people who would rather not have cyclists on the road. I also had plenty of fluid and I enjoyed my time being out.
I don't have any rides longer than this prior to Louisville. In fact, my next longest ride will be a very relaxed 20 mile ride on Monday or Tuesday. So, my ride might not have as been as good as I wanted it to be, but it was good, and I am blessed for being able to have had it.
Day...ride... appreciated.
Peace.

Eating and Disorderly

I'll be the first to admit it: My name is Sam, and I have a funk food eating problem. My wife made a peanut butter cream pie. I ate a couple pieces...large pieces. My children visited a teacher/friend of ours and made her the same kind of peanut butter pie. They didn't eat it all and brought it back home. It was about 10:00 p.m. when they got home. I ate a piece...and a half. I worked at school today and when I got back I had a large salad. When I was done, I had another piece of peanut butter cream pie, but it doesn't end here. My neighbor called and said he and his wife ate a couple pieces of a homemade cheesecake their friend made for them, but they didn't want to eat the rest. He asked if I would take it off his hands. Could I say no? He left his house, I left mine, and we met in the middle. I carried it straight home and put it right in the fridge.
"Nice job," I told myself, "You didn't even eat any."
My children came home from their kayak trip and I told them about the cheesecake in the fridge. The girls each had a piece. However, one of them didn't want to finish it.
"Dad, I can't finish this, do you want it?"
I could have lied. I could have said no, but I didn't, I said I would take it. So, I ate 1/4 of a piece of cheesecake. I didn't need it. I shouldn't have eaten it, but I did. I ate it and enjoyed it, but then felt like crap for doing so.
There is ice cream in the freezer. There is also chocolate malt mix in our house. I haven't touched either yet, but I can feel their pull. I feel like a slob. I need to remember this slob feeling when that ice cream and malt mix comes out later. Maybe I can avoid it.
I've liked sugar for as long as I can remember. I love to eat junk food. It's awful for me. Of course that's why it's called junk food, but do I listen?
If I viewed eating junk food like I view smoking, I would certainly be better off...but I don't. I think smoking is nasty and I think junk food is wonderful...albeit evil.
I was interviewed for a triathlon podcast several years ago. I openly admitted that I'm weak when it comes to proper nutrition. I admitted that I want the doughnut in the teacher's lounge just as badly, if not more, than the next person. I'm admitting it right now. I'm a junk food junkie.
I've been sugar free for about thirty minutes. If I need to, I'll call my sponsor to talk me off the ledge, and when I do, I'll use my cell phone. Oh wait, I don't have a cell phone...or a sponsor.
It's a good thing I'm on The Road to Ironman Louisville, but it's a bad thing that if I'm not careful, I'll be rolling down it, or puking on it.
Peace.

Recognizing, and Letting the Joy in My Journey

A little over twenty miles were behind me and admittedly, they were not as enjoyable as I would have liked. My pace was easy-going. It was the last of my long rides. It was an 80-mile loop through a beautiful countryside, with rolling hills. I had sunshine and only a few stray clouds overhead. So, why was I keeping the joy from coming?
I've been training all year with Ironman Louisville in mind. My most challenging training, with the exception of this long ride was done, and I should have been thrilled. Instead however, I allowed my training to be perceived as work in the last few days, and this ride was no exception. This ride became something I had to do, instead of something I really wanted to do. This told me a few things. One, this had to be my last long ride because I was ready for a break. Two, I am about as ready as I'm going to be to toe the line in Louisville, and finally, that I was losing sight of why I do this.
When I recognized the feelings I was having I was disappointed in myself. I thought, "Man you are selfish! It is a Friday, in the middle of the day. The sun is shining. There isn't much wind, the roads are smooth, you have a wonderful bike, and the ability to ride it. Look around. The grass is green, the trees are full of healthy leaves, and you out here doing what you love. How many others can say this?"
The next thing I did was clear my mind. I listened to the birds singing. I looked across a rolling cornfield that led to a quiet woods where a deer was standing. I saw a dragonfly zip by.
Next...I smiled. I smiled and kept smiling. I almost laughed from the sheer joy I was experiencing from being on my bike and moving across the earth. I shook my head thinking about the fact that I wasn't enjoying myself only moments earlier and I said a little prayer in my head.
     God, thank you! Thank you for this beautiful day! Thank you for this wonderful opportunity! Thank
     you for the ability to ride, and to enjoy this experience! Please forgive me for taking all of this for
     granted. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Amen!
Now even though I was lovin' life, feelin' good, and praisin' God, I had to put my game face on when a car came cruising over the hill I was climbing. I couldn't be grinning like an idiot after all.
Even after I made lemonade out of what appeared to be lemons, I still had some stirring to do. When I reached roughly 40 miles, it was about time to make a turn that would put the wind at my back, and I loves me a tailwind. My energy was starting to get a bit low, but a little GU energy gel and the tailwind brought me back to life. I was almost effortlessly rolling down the road that was leading me home. The grinnin' idiot was on the inside, but I maintained my bada**, guy riding his bicycle 80 miles look for any passersby.
 "Clunk! Pssssssst!"
Of course I knew, as readily as you did when you read this, that I had a flat tire. I wasn't upset, I wasn't mad, I don't even think I swore. I could have been upset. I could have been mad. Heck, this was my fourth flat tire this season. I'd had my share of flats and I didn't need another. No, instead of contributing to my negative circumstance with a negative response, I calmly got off my bike, and changed the tube. Although the tire was battered and pushed to the brink of a long season, both the tire and tub held up, and I was able to finish my ride.
This was another adventure in my journey down the Road to Ironman Louisville, and although it took me 20 miles into this particular adventure to appreciate the day, it was a great one!
Peace.

Duncan Lake Triathlon 70.3 Race Report

Below is my race report the the Duncan Lake Triathlon. I was going to input this into the Beginner Triathlete format, but it wouldn't let me because my race wasn't in their database. So, here it is below...

Duncan Lake Triathlon 70.3, August 8, 2011

Sam Wilkinson

1.2 mile swim-37:27                                                      

T1-5:04

56 mile bike-2:39:15

T2-3:38

13.1 mile run (albeit walk)-3:08:25

Total-6:33:50            

Place: Solo event.

Swim Comments- This was a fantastic swim for me! I started out strong, got into a steady rhythm early, and held on pretty darn well. This was definitely one of my best swims of this distance without a wetsuit. Admittedly, the lake was glass flat and there was only one boat out the entire time.

T1 Comments-This took longer than it needed to and it took me way too long to get my tri top on. The lesson learned here is that wearing the tri top at Louisville, may be in order. I’m just a bit nervous it will be too hot. I’ll have to try it out on my next 2.4 mile swim to check for chaffing issues as well.

Bike Comments-I met my goal! I wanted to average 21 mph, and I hit the mark. I think it would have been faster if I hadn’t gone on a particular road that I hadn’t traveled before. Nevertheless, there was nearly no wind, the sky was overcast, and it was an enjoyable ride.

T2 Comments-I took my time, used the restroom, grabbed my Nathan water/fuel belt, and iPod, and hit the road.

Run Comments-The nice thing about walking is that I can eat just about anything. I started out by putting down a Clif bar to curb my hunger.

What I learned: I learned that my confidence in my swimming continues to grow, and that bilateral breathing is becoming more normal feeling than single-sided breathing, but when I start to get worked up, either from trying to go faster, or feeling some type of sense of urgency, I resort single-side breathe to get more air.

I learned that I do have a pretty good idea for perceived effort on the bike. My goal was to average 21mph, and I did. I also learned that I seem to think this effort is really similar to 20mph average, and to have a solid Ironman bike split, averaging 20mph, I need to dial in the difference just a little better so I don’t go too fast, too early.

While walking I learned that even though it’s not running, it’s still hard. I walked for almost as long as my open marathon time (which was a long time ago), for half the distance! This is a long time to be on my feet. I also learned that I will not be wearing my Saucony ProGrid Omni’s because I ended up with pretty intense blisters. Instead, I will be going with my Saucony Tangents, which worked quite nicely for my 12 mile walk for the Relay for Life.

Overall: This was a positive experience for me. It was important for me to put it all together like this because I haven’t done a triathlon since mid-June. Usually I would have had a few under my belt and had the feel for triathlon. This helped put my mind in the right place. One example is having the thought on the bike with 16 miles to go that I didn’t really feel like walking 13 miles once I finished. It was important for me to feel this way, so I know how to deal with those kinds of thoughts on race day. I simply told myself, “Don’t worry about that right now. Focus on what IS now.” At that point I looked to the top of the hill I was climbing, picked out a shadow on the road and told myself, “I know I can ride to there at this pace.” After I did that, and got to that shadow, I actually felt better on the bike, I wasn’t thinking about the run, and I was cruising right along again.

Another thing I was reminded of, which one wouldn’t think being reminded of this is necessary, but it reminded me that Ironman is hard. It is a challenge, and I should be prepared take on the challenge, and not expect it to be easier because I've done some solid training. It’s still an Ironman.

Below is my race t-shirt front & back...

Win a Year's Supply of GU Energy Gels!

Retiring from Ironman

Somewhere along the line, I made it a goal of mine to complete four Ironman distance events. This would allow me to give each of my four children a finisher's medal. However, the reality is...I'm sure I care way more about each of them having a medal in their hands than they do. In fact, I doubt they really care if they have one at all. All they care about is that I'm out there doing what I want to do. So, who is this goal for then, me or them?
After the completion of Ironman Wisconsin in 2007, I said, "I don't think I need to do one of those again."
On the bridge across the Ohio, on the way back to the hotel, after finishing Ironman Louisville in 2009, I said, "Well, I can't do that event ever again, because the weather will never be as nice as it was today."
Now I'm composing a post for my blog which follows my progress toward Ironman Louisville 2011.
So, does this make me a liar, a stupid person, or simply someone who suffers from some kind of endurance addiction who is seeking yet another fix?
It's odd because I know the Ironman isn't really good for me. I know I am best suited for events under the half Ironman distance, but my favorite distance is the half Ironman, and still here I am, again with my sights set on another Ironman 140.6. Now, I don't consider myself a stupid person, but apparently stupid is what stupid does, and it will be even stupider when I'm having this conversation again in 2013. I'm just sayin'.
It is said, "If doing an Ironman was easy, everyone would be doing it." 
This should be fair warning. It should be apparent that Ironman kicks your a**. It should tell me that this is not for normal people, and still I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame...or perhaps more appropriately a bug zapper!
I finished my long ride the other day needing an I.V., but I settled for slowly hydrating and staring at the ceiling for a few hours. I took the next day off because I was still spent. Keep in mind, this is not my job, nobody is forcing me to do this, my family won't be in harms way if I stop, but I simply do this because I love it. I admit it, I am one sick mother!
I love Ironman. I love that I can cover 2.4 miles, followed by 112 miles, rounded out with 26.2 miles, in three different forms of locomotion, where the only power of movement forward is my own. I love that I can tell myself that I am an Ironman. I love that I am part of the triathlon community that has decided that joy and a certain amount of pride...and acceptable insanity can be found in 140.6 miles. I love Ironman, but it kicks my a**. It seems I am in an abusive relationship. I could go to therapy, but what's the point? I'm in love with my abuser.
Any rational person would see that I should stop chasing waterfalls, and stick to the rivers and lakes that I'm used to (Thank you TLC for your lyrics). Any rational person would also logically conclude that I should retire from the Ironman distance. Seeing that I consider myself a rational person who can come to logical conclusions, I've made a decision:  This will be my last Ironman...
...until I forget how frickin' hard it is and register again.

In 24 days, I will literally be traveling the Road to Ironman Louisville.

Inspirations from a Champion

Most times I don't need to look for inspiration to compose my blog posts, because often it comes to me through my experiences. Last night was another example. It had been awhile since I had seen my friend Ryan, so we decided to meet and catch up, at Uccello's, which is a local restaurant in town. I walked away feeling inspired from our visit to say the least.
Ryan and I used to train for triathlon fairly regularly, but then time, my injuries, and other obligations made these sessions fewer and farther between. However, we've always kept in contact and looked forward to the next time we would go for a ride or simply hang out, and each time we spend time together it's a positive experience. This time was no different, except this time I walked away shaking my head in awe. You see, Ryan decided to get back to his roots about a year or so ago and really commit to his true passion, which is body building. He had taken many years away from it, but never so far away that he wasn't connected to it. He was continually shaping and sculpting in some way or another, but just not to the level of days gone by. He had hinted before about considering doing another body building competition, but also carried a tone of reluctance. However, it was evident that the fire still burned in his gut to get after it with the same ferocity as he once did. He has acquired a great deal of knowledge, experience, and success in body building over the years, and he recognized he wasn't done yet. He has unfinished business and his will to pursue his aspirations once again is strong, and thus his competitive revival.
When I drove into the parking lot I noticed he already arrived. There was no mistaking him. He had of course gotten there before me because he is always early and ready to go, no matter what the occasion. He happened to be on his cell phone and was wearing his signature smile. He was also the only one in the parking lot who resembled a brick wall draped in a t-shirt and jeans. I could tell from that single glance that he had been working his ass off because he was chiseled from head to toe. I had seen him big before, well heck, he's always been big to me, but this time it was different, this time he looked like Mr. freakin' Atlas himself. In comparison, I'm about half the man he is in all of my 143 pounds of glory. Where I more resemble Spiderman, after a month long fast, he resembles the Incredible Hulk after a workout at Gold's Gym.
During the course of our visit we talked about how things have been going in our lives but, per our usual conversation, we ultimately got to talking about our athletic pursuits. He asked me how my Ironman training was going and I told about my ups and downs, and how my expectations have had to shift due to my circumstances. He empathized with me, knowing the depth of my passion for the sport of triathlon. In turn, I asked about his training and preparation for his competition, which is now only a few weeks away. As always, I was amazed.
Ryan's level of dedication and work ethic is second to none. He follows a strict diet, he works out relentlessly at the gym daily...and early. He pays close attention to every aspect of his body with full awareness of what the judges will be evaluating, and to what degree. He described to me what his diet consists of and how he prepares his various meals with the detail and precision of an artist. He told me about body symmetry and the science of sculpting through thoughtful timing of workouts, and the intake of certain types of nutrients and fluids. His commitment for excellence is clearly evident.
He told me about a conversation he had with his nutritional adviser. Ryan had told him, "I don't want you to blow smoke up my ass, if I need to make changes, let me know. I'm not going into this competition just to be able to say I was up on the stage, or to get a participant ribbon, or to get the fifth place trophy. I'm going after this to be the best. Whatever happens, happens, but I want to know that I did everything I could do to be the best I can be."
This was only one of the inspiring moments with Ryan. I could see the passion in his eyes for the sport that he loves and is willing to shed blood, sweat, and tears for, and he is heading full throttle for the homestretch without giving in, and without giving up...not one damn inch. The energy he had while expressing himself was clear and nearly so strong that it was like another guest was at our table.
"I want to show up on that stage," he told me, "in the best possible shape I can be. This is not just for me, but for my family and my friends who have been supporting me, and will be there watching."
Ryan has a many gifts, and some of them leap out at you, even if you don't know him, because by simply looking at him you know he is disciplined, dedicated, and is willing to put time in the hurt locker.
I walked away from last night's visit with him feeling like I can achieve anything I put my mind to. I walked away not only believing in him and his efforts, but believing in me, and my goal to finish Ironman Louisville, in spite of my obstacles. There is no question I am looking forward to toeing the line to take on my 140.6 mile challenge at the end of August, but I also am excited as heck to see my friend Ryan bring his best to his competition on August 13th. Regardless of what any judge has to say on the day, it is indisputable, that Ryan is a champion in every sense of the word.
Thank you for your inspiration Ryan...now keep kickin' some ass!

Peace

How's The Road Being Traveled Today?

I can't run. Strangely, I'm still feeling good about my chances of finishing Ironman Louisville in under the 17-hour cut-off time. Don't get me wrong, this is humbling as heck, I wanted to go sub-12 hours, and I have a day here and there where I feel depressed about the whole ordeal. However, most days I'm focused on 'can' and not 'can't', or on 'will' rather than 'will not'. I still believe I can do this.
When I'm walking I try to focus on keeping moving and hoping my Achilles will handle the stress of my increased walking work miles. I only do one walking workout a week, so I can do the time, let my Achilles know what is to come, and to prepare myself mentally for Plan C (as outlined in my previous posts).
I'm trying to keep a positive image of how this will play out, but when I was walking today, it was hard 'seeing' so many competitors of such a wide range of abilities going past me. Screw it though, I'm doing what I can with the goal of finishing and the hope greater things to come. So, I'm still keeping my head high, and virtually learning to deal with my race day to come.
My eyes are focused on Louisville, and I'm traveling the road with joy and pain (...and yes, with sunshine and rain...for those of you who grew up in the 80's).
My confidence in my swimming continues to grow, but I need to do some faster-shorter swims to compliment my longer workouts.
My cycling is going fairly well, but I want to get my energy stores in line so I'm not so cooked on my longest rides. I also need to start getting after some shorter time trials. I've been a bit nervous about this idea because I don't want to cause my Achilles undue problems, so I'll approach this with caution.
So how is The Road To Ironman Louisville being traveled today? It's being traveled with trials, but also with hope and belief. I am very grateful for what I can do. This doesn't stop me from wanting to run, but I am thankful that I can swim and ride. The road continues to be traveled and I'm excited to have the opportunity to once again attempt to be an Ironman.

Peace.

I Will Do This

So, I went to my first Active Release Technique (A.R.T) treatment, evaluation, appointment, July 5th. I gave the doctor a great deal of information, he pushed on this, and pushed on that, and now I'm good!!!
...I wish. He wanted me to run on the treadmill, but I didn't come prepared for that. I assumed he would just be manipulating my lower leg and foot. I went home and ran, so that I could answer some of his questions.
...I was shooting for three miles. At half a mile I pushed the lap button on my watch because that was when I started to notice pain in my Achilles, at least more so than the very dull sensation I was dismissing when I started.
...Thirty seconds later I pushed my lap button again because the pain was becoming more pronounced. Thirty seconds-ish later, I pushed the lap button again and started walking, and turned around.
...I started walking home feeling dejected. I walked for two minutes, then started running again. It felt a little better, but not as good as when I first started, but hey, it was an improvement.
...I walked again after two minutes, because I told myself, regardless of how it feels, I'm only giving it two minutes of running at a time.
...I started running after my two minute walk was up. It hurt. I walked home.
...I ate salt water taffy, the recently made frosted pretzels my daughter had just made, and later ice cream. I still felt like crap, and then I was mad at myself for eating all that junk. My emotional eating will catch up to me someday.
...I iced...and pouted.
...This morning I got up and push mowed our lawn. It takes an hour. My Achilles felt fine until the last 15 minutes, and then it was on fire.
...I iced...but didn't pout this time. This time I calculated how long it would take me to finish Ironman Louisville, if I swam, cycled, and transitioned the same times as I did in 2009, but then walked 15 minute miles. I came up with 14 hours, 17 minutes, and 48 seconds. This leaves me about 2.5 hours. I don't know if I can walk 26.2 miles, with each mile averaging 15 minutes or not. I need to do some walk, pace testing. So, I'll be going to the track tonight or tomorrow to check that out.

Update...This morning (July 7th) I did a two mile walking time trial. I did my first mile at a pace that was deliberately relaxed, and my second mile at a steady-faster-ish pace. Results= 16:47 & 14:57. Then when I got back, I plugged some numbers into one of my favorite website features. Go to http://www.chicagotriclub.com/pacecalc.aspx if you want to try it out. What I did was plug in slow estimates for each discipline, as well as transitions, and I came up with a total time of 16:42, and that's is with a walking average of 20 min. miles. I CAN DO THIS!

I WILL DO THIS!

My Kind of Crazy

It seems to me that being able to laugh at myself is a good quality. This disposition does not always come easy for me, but I try to recruit it when I can, because it sure beats the alternative, which is stressing out about how ridiculous or out of line I might be, or if I simply find myself taking myself too seriously. I'm laughing at myself right now, but I'm rather serious. You see, it's July 4th today...happy independence by the way. The other significance of this date is that it marks roughly eight weeks before I head to Louisville, Kentucky where I will take on arguably the most challenging, one day sporting events on the planet, in the form of an Ironman Triathlon. I'll be called to swim 2.4 miles, cycle 112 miles, and then run 26.2 miles. You probably knew this because you are reading my blog which is The Road to Ironman Louisville, 2011. You also probably also know that I've been struggling with my Achilles tendon, to the point that my run training has been, well, non-existant. In fact, I'm icing right now, I hope to aqua-jog later, and I will be attending my first session of Active Release Treatment tomorrow. In short, I won't be powered by my full potential, as an athlete who is well trained for such an event. This is something I'm laughing at myself about...but believe me, it's not funny. It's comical, but it's not funny.
My kind of crazy doesn't stop with a set-back like this. Oh no, my kind of crazy looks forward to the next Ironman I will do. Which one will I do? What will my time goal be?
The funny thing about all this Ironman stuff, is that it is the distance I am least suited for. I fair better relative to my triathlon peers at sprint and Olympic distance events, and I do a respectable job at the half Ironman distance, but here I am looking at which Ironman will be my fourth...before I even start my third! My kind of crazy is looking at doing another Ironman in 2013 while I'm icing my Achilles.
My kind of crazy doesn't just look at when I'll do my next Ironman, which I'm not really suited for, but it looks with wild eyes at the 2012 season. My 2012 triathlon season is in rough draft form right now. It mostly consists of sprint and Olympic distance events, but has one half Ironman distance sprinkled in the mix.
My kind of crazy is looking at taking on the Life Time, Toyota Cup, Olympic Distance Series, with it's championship in Dallas.
I'm not trying to wish my life away by looking forward to future events. I'm not trying to ignore my goal of completing Ironman Louisville this summer. Don't get me wrong, my eye is still on the prize. My focus is still lazar sharp, and my energy is in the right place, which is to get myself to the starting line of Ironman Louisville as fit and healthy as possible, to allow myself the best chance of reaching the finish line. However, in moments of time, I look forward with excitement and anticipation of what might be. The Road to Ironman Louisville is still being traveled, but that doesn't keep me from looking at the sights as I go. That's just my kind of crazy.

Peace.

Plan C Revised

Running is not helping my running cause. In fact, it is causing me physical, as well as mental, and emotional pain. Therefore, I have found peace in my previously discussed Plan C...that is if it is revised. My intention now is to not attempt to do any walk training...that seems silly. I know how to walk, and the fitness gains will not outweigh the possible detriment it may cause my Achilles. I've also committed, and perhaps this goes without saying, to not doing any running training, because as I mentioned earlier, running is not helping my running cause.
The revision is not-so-much in my training, as much as in my race plan. My training will consist of swimming, cycling, and rehabbing. The difference in my race plan is that I won't be showing up expecting to simply walk. I will be showing up expecting to be able to walk/run.
I think the two successes I've had this year in attempting to run (Grand Duathlon and Triceratops Triathlon) have shown me that my running fitness seems to still be there on some level, despite my not having been able to specifically train to run. Perhaps my many years of running are allowing for this.
Will this work? I don't know. However, I believe this plan is my best chance, and this gives me the hope I need to keep me positive, calm, and...sane.

My GPS keeps telling me "Recalculating," while I continue to change my route, on the Road to Ironman Louisville, but I'm still looking to go 140.6 miles.

Mental Toughness

In 2007 I was training for Ironman Wisconsin, and I came across this article in Running Times Magazine. It really struck home as I recalled my previous marathon experience, and I thought I might be able to draw strength from it when I attempted my first Ironman. I revised it a little to be more applicable to triathlon, rather than just running and it goes like this...

The things to pay attention to are those you can do in the now, such as swim stroke, pedal stroke, running stride; being a swimmer; a cyclist; a runner.
Don't worry about reaching the finish line: Focus on the next buoy, the next mile marker, or the next corner, mailbox, or however far you can comfortably imagine.
The only way you can operate is in the moment. if you can put all your energy into that, then you can find that each of those moments lead to good things."

Another quote that I found from the same source is fitting for me, and other injury prone athletes...

"Life gives you only so many races, and I'll take each one I get, make the most of it, and not complain. You never know when you'll get another."

Plan C was not in Plans

When I originally registered for Ironman Louisville 2011, it was with a clear vision of Plan A in mind. I would swim about the same time, cycle slightly faster, and run a little faster, to have an overall time which was faster than my 2009 attempt at Ironman Louisville. This net attempt would provide a sub-12-hour effort. I would see an 11 in the portion of my watch which indicates hours, I would raise my glass...of water likely, and smile.
Plan A went out the window. After taking a reasonable amount of time off beginning in October, as the result of Achilles pain, my return to running was met with more Achilles pain. I took measures to resolve this situation, including, but not limited to, more rest, regular icing, mild stretching, self-massage, and finally physical therapy. This was Plan B, which was supposed to get me to be able to run at Ironman Louisville.
This past Wednesday I enjoyed some success at a sprint triathlon. It was exciting, it was entertaining, and is was encouraging. I ran the entire three miles, in what I would consider only dull-pain. However, I believe the adrenaline effect allowed me to only feel dull pain. Looking back, I probably should not have put that kind of run effort down. I took Thursday and Friday off from running. In fact, I took Thursday entirely off. Saturday, I rode 60 miles, and then attempted to run. Within the first 25 yards my Achilles was on fire. I walked back home discouraged. My success from Wednesday was enjoyed, but the encouragement it offered was short lived.
Today I attempted to run again. My goal was to run four continuous miles. It started out like most of my runs as of late. My Achilles was tight, or stiff, or whatever adjective you want to use that suggests that it wasn't quite right. From here it loosened up a bit, followed by mild discomfort, at the level that I've come to get used to. I'm supposed to stop running if there is pain. If you read my previous blog post about pain, you understand this has been a quandary for me. What is pain? Without getting into the whole pain discussion again, I'll simply say, I kept going.
Around 2.5 miles, I started to accept my current reality as might be interpreted by an educated medical professional. I had been running with pain. Not just today, but every day that I attempted to run, but I labeled it "mild discomfort". By 3.25 miles the discomfort, so I called it, became pain, as I would also call it. At this point, I began to recognize my denial. The question at this point was, what am I going to do about it?
My first reaction to my "new circumstances," that weren't new at all, was to swim, bike, and drop out. I would have a DNF, but at least I would have done what I could do. My next response was that I needed to finish.  So now what?
Enter Plan C. Right now, Sunday, June 19, 2011, at 5:35 p.m. my current plan is to swim 2.4 mi, bike 112 mi, and then...walk 26.2 miles. It's not cool. It's not sexy. It is a long way from rockin', but it seems to be where I am. I'm not excited about it and I'm not happy about it, but in the spirit of self-preservation and living another day, this is where I am. This won't really make me less of an Ironman, but it will make me a much slower one.
I realize the event is a swim, bike, run event, and in some ways I feel like I am disrespecting the spirit of the race a bit by taking the approaching I'm talking, and it does make me feel reluctant. It will be hard to keep me chin up under these circumstances. In fact, my head is already hanging a bit low. This certainly puts a significant dent in my spirit. Plan C was not even on the radar when I registered in September. There was not Plan C. In fact, there was no Plan B. There was only Plan A, but here I am adapting to Plan C.

The Road to Ironman Louisville has had too many potholes, and now my vehicle needs to go into the shop.

Rob, you will be an Ironman!

So, I met this guy named Rob prior to the start of the triathlon I did this past Wednesday night. He seemed like a nice guy, which is cool because he was about four inches taller than me, outweighed my by about 75 pounds, and is literally trained to be able to do serious bodily harm if necessary. He's been in martial arts for a long time and has won many competitions. Did I know this going into this conversation? No. If I had, perhaps I wouldn't have been such a jackwagon to begin with. Well, I didn't mean to be a jackwagon, but he just took me off guard, and I gave a response that could have been construed as me being a jackwagon.
The situation went something like this. I was walking back to my van after having picked up my packet, racked my bike, and was going through my mental checklist of what else I needed to do. I was also preoccupied with attempting to casually look like a bad ass, as I checked out everyone else working on their bad ass-ness. My thoughts drifted, but they were something like this...
"That dude is focused. Pumped. He's got to be listening to some rock band that is blaring out a serious heart-pounding, blood-flowin' type of jam in his ear buds. No smile. No hint of a smile. Focus. Intensity. I wonder if I'll beat him?
...Wow, that is a freakin' awsome bike right there. I wonder if I should have gotten that instead of my GURU?
Hey! Your bike is awesome. Oh yeah.
But, look at those wheels.
Yeah, those are nice. Maybe someday.
Should I rent race wheels for Louisville?
Are you going to win?
No.
Then no.
Oh.
You should probably hit the porta-john before there's a line."
Ok, at this point, a guy walks up near me and says something to the effect of, "So, how did it feel after that one?"
Apparently he motioned toward the 140.6 sticker on my van, but I missed it. I was completely thinking he saw me at the Grand Rapids Triathlon, earlier this month, and I was trying to figure out when I saw this guy. I said something profound like, "Huh?"
"Is that your van with the 140.6 sticker on it?"
"Oh, uh, yeah". I was still trying to get my head wrapped around the fact that I was supposed to be talking to somebody other than myself.
"Well, how did you feel afterward?"
Ok, up to this point, I haven't really said anything wrong. I mean, I looked like an incoherent idiot, but at least I hadn't been rude...yet. But then the words came out of my mouth. The words, that without saying them specifically, yelled out, "Hi, am an ass!"
Of course this is not exactly what I said. In response to his question I said, "Tired."
Tired? Really? I couldn't have said, "Fantastic"? "Inspiring"? "Wonderful"? "Enlightening?"
The good news is that I didn't say it in a rude tone. I said it with a smile on my face and with a bit of a sigh, as if reliving my level of tiredness.
Then I realized how awful that must have sounded that I said "tired," and I was embarrassed as I backpeddled in my mind.
He seemed to let it slide, and replied, "It must have been pretty amazing huh?"
Fortunately, I came to my senses.
"Oh, yeah, it was amazing. Very fulfilling."
"I hope to do one someday. This is my first triathlon, then I'm doing a 70.3 in August, and if I don't kill myself, I would like to do an Ironman next year."
"Oh, wow. So, are you doing Steelhead then?"
"Yeah."
"You'll like it. It's a nice race."
"Well, I'll see what I can do."
Still a little out of sorts, and with my mind on getting to the porta-john and taking care of other business, I started walking away, and said something like, "You'll be fine," over my shoulder.
"I hope so."
After our first exchange, I took care of what I had to do, then went back and laid down in the grass to relax for awhile. As I stared at the inside of my hat, which I had put over my face, and I realized he said this was going to be his first triathlon. FIRST EVER!
I thought, "You weren't very nice to that guy."
"I wasn't awful."
"No, but, come on. You weren't terribly giving either."
"Yeah, but..."
"It's his first triathlon. Do you remember your first triathlon?"
"Of course I remember."
"Well, he must have a million questions, and you shrugged him off."
"That's not cool. I need to see if he's all set. Sheesh!"
At this point, I got up from my comfortable spot and walked over to where he was sitting in his truck. I said,
"Hey, did you say this is your first triathlon? As in ever?"
"Yeah."
"Well, do you have any questions?"
He looked at me like, "Well, yeah, kind of."
"Come on over and have a seat, and ask away."
I started by asking him about his athletic background, his preparations so far, and so forth. As it turned out he had only had his full-wetsuit on to try it on, and he had not yet swum in open water. I gave him some "what you might expect" type words of wisdom and we talked some more. He asked me some questions, but mostly he seemed well prepared, and well preped by some other athletes he had been training with.
I was so glad I didn't let this slide. Now that I am officially and old man in the sport, I have a bigger responsibility to provide more insight to the tri newbies of the world. Be patient if you are not where I am yet. You can be a card carrying member once you have been doing the sport a long time and you reach the 40-44 age group.
Anyway, I felt a whole lot better. I got a second chance at not being a jackwagan. He did catch me off guard, but this is no excuse. It was good to talk to an Ironman in the making. From our conversation, I am confident that he has what it takes to be a darn good one as well.
Rob...nice meeting you. It won't be long and you will hear the words, at whatever event you choose to cover the 140.6 miles, "Rob, you are an Ironman!" You might even think of that guy with the GU hat that sat down and chatted with you at your first event, and then you might sit down with some other newbie at his or her first event one day.
Peace.