The self-portrait above is of L and me on our first pilgrimage to the Magic Kingdom.  It’s a “Pantheon” shot – an all-timer that captures the bliss of a father-daughter moment on a beautiful day in a special place.  And for the title of this one, well, The Boss starts us up with one of his better commercial successes in recent years.

The Dude & I at the Botanical Gardens

Happy 2012 folks!  The photo this week is of “The Dude” & I at the Botanical Gardens here in Atlanta.  Fantastic exhibit they have up for the holidays that makes me proud of my hometown.  As for this week’s WIR, I have a nice blend of some of my favorite things – technology, human behavior and sport.

The New, New Thing for 2012 – I grew up as a technophile admiring Marc Andreessen since his web browser was my browser of choice.  That was back when you actually had to pay for a browser in the early days of the Internet.  I was on dial-up and AOL, even using Telnet to chat with my college roomie when he lived in Japan for a semester.  When I lived in Silicon Valley my condo was a mile away from Netscape HQ.   But I digress.  In this interview, Andreesson talks about his predictions for 2012 in technology.  Obviously his opinions are influenced (and meant to influence) towards the companies and verticals in which he has financial interests at stake, but there are still opinions of a gentleman who’s more right than wrong.

The Thinker – I got this one from a regular contributor to this column – The Prof – who knows my soft spot for Michael Lewis.  In this one, Lewis dives deeper into a unconscious, tangential influence in his bestseller, MoneyBall, discovering that the analytical methods of DePodesta can be traced to a couple of cognitive behaviorialists, one of which has been crowned by the King of Sweden with some Nobel thingy.  In this short Lewis excerpt, the author delves deeper into the author of Thinking – Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman and the colleague who influenced Kahneman most, Amos Tversky. As usual Lewis paints a lucid and human portrait of the Kahneman, doing his best to honor Kahneman’s complex ideas without making them trite.  After reading the article, I think I know what my next read will be on the old Kindle.

Surprise, Surprise – One of the blogs I follow regularly is The Science of Sport.  These blokes from South Africa do a great job in their coverage of endurance sports and they have a soft spot for rugby (not that I’m a rugby fan but I like how they like ‘ball’ sports).  In this post they go through several suprise performances of 2011.  What I found most compelling in this post wasn’t even a performance from 2011.  It was the Sammy Wanjiru clip from the 2010 Chicago Marathon.  If you’ve never seen this before, spend the time to watch it.  If you can’t be inspired by it, then we need to check your adrenal reserves because this is compelling sport – beautiful in it’s tactical brilliance and determination.  The world lost this great talent in 2011 in a sad domestic violence case.  His memory lives on in his performances.  Most importantly, those performances inspired a transcendent year in marathoning globally.  And that is a positive legacy from which we can bid adieu to 2011 and welcome in 2012.

See you next year!

The Dude Rides

A little late with this one from last week, so we kick off the new week with a quick WIR.  A shot of “The Dude” above figuring out the balance bike while being encouraged by big sis.  It’s so much fun to see the “light bulb moment” with a child.  It’s even more fun when that child is yours and that moment comes at the behest of an older sibling.  Awesome stuff.

On to the content!  We have another schmorgasborg of items today, but all with some deep personal meeting this week.

A Rose by Any Other Name – As they do this time of year, the various contributors to Sports Illustrated take to their Internet property, SI.com, and make a case for their Sportsperson of the Year.  The winner has since been announced, but I centered in on Lee Jenkins nomination, Derrick Rose.  Rose was the point guard his one and only year at the University of Memphis for the 2008 National Finalist team.  I happened to be attendance at his “light bulb moment” against the University of Tennessee, a game featuring number one versus number two.  Rose kept his team in the game, and finally became the assertive offensive presence the Tigers needed from him to compete against anybody.  Though the Tigers lost, they established the chemistry that would take them to within a nanosecond of being the 2008 national champions.  This article corroborates many of the stories I had heard about him while he was in Memphis for the short season.

Old School Apple – From the Apple fanboy department, this iPad2 case conjures up memories of playing Oregon Trail during class in grade school.  It’s probably a bit much for a mobile device, but I love the classic clean lines and bauhaus styling of the original Mac.  Ultimately, it’s a piece of nostalgia which is always nice.  If you get one, Tweet at me so I can see what it looks like applied in a real world setting.

My Ten Minutes – Since I’ve become more heavily involved in the sport of back in 2002, the one industry news source that is my “go-to” for all things triathlon has been Slowtwitch.  I’m not contributor to their forums, choosing to “lurk” and not get involved in a lot of the destructive things that too frequently define online forums.  Despite my passive relationship with the site, I do consider myself part of the Slowtwitch community.  I had the fortune of meeting editor-in-chief, Herbert Krabel, on the plane out to Kona this year.  At our layover at LAX, Haley Chura and I broke bread with him and got to learn a little more about him – his family, his profession and his interests.  We ran into him several times during race week, often taking a minute or two to catch up.  By the end of the trip my respect for Slowtwitch had grown even further because their was now a personal tie or a face behind the content.  When Herbert reached out to do a quick interview as part of his “Random Age Grouper” column, I was quick to jump on it.  For all of the above reasons, it was a genuine honor to do.  I’ve Tweeted it, Facebook’ed it, emailed it a hundred times over, but it’s because of the regard for Herbert and his site and both their personal meanings to me.  So why not blog it?

L on Pineapple Hill

The picture above is #1 at the top of Pineapple Hill at Kapulua in Maui.  The family had a wonderful time out on the island – beach time, pool time, gym time at The Invite, all quality time.  As for the WIR post this week, a nice smorgasbord of genuine “stuff”.  Enjoy!

And Now for Something Completely Different – This one from my primary news source, The Economist, details how California’s state legislators are actually getting work done through compromise and some sane, sound decisions that have the best interest of the state in mind.  Imagine that?  A state with one of the higher GDPs in the entire world (yes, as a state alone) but saddled with immense debt(sound familiar?)  is actually trying to figure out constructive ways to address their debt burden.  You know when California is leading our own federal government in political sanity, the United States is in bad shape.  Ugh.

Doing it the Apple Way – Yep, still infatuated with Apple these days and the legacy of Steve Jobs.  This is a quickie from the WSJ from one of Apple’s long-time PMs.  Simple tenents here which are applicable to life, business and sport: Focus, Simplicity, Courage, Best.

Speaking of Simple – I follow Seth Godin’s blog through other sources on Twitter.  His stuff is usually a nice short thought on business and/or life.  Not earth-shattering.  Just pleasant reminders of some important things that are usually subconscious or that we, as humans and professionals, lose sight of along the way.  I like this one along the lines of all of the above, especially in relation to relationships and in training.  Relationships and training go north, south one day at a time.  Keep TOBG (The One Big Goal) in mind as you go through each interaction or each workout.

A little pictorial post for posterity this week as we spend the holidays in Maui. E and I have never been here before so to see it through our own eyes and that of our children is a special treat. To do so with my father with the familial glue of Memphis Tiger basketball is like the preverbal cherry for the soul. Dad has been taking me to Tiger games for the better part of 33 years now. To continue that tradition and experience L & W’a first Tiger games, well, priceless doesn’t do the value justice.

E and I taking in some alone time at the Invite

W & L doing some beach time

Did you say dessert?

L trucking down the Cook Pine corridor on Pineapple Hill

Thank you to my family, my friends, the blessings of health, the beauty in these relationships and in our environment.

The Three Best Gifts Ever

Birthday edition of What I’ve Read this week.  The caption above says it all.  I’m a happy husband and father.  Not much else to really want outside of that.  Now, on to the material!

Boomerang: Travels in the New Third World – If you know me, follow me on Twitter and/or read this blog you know that I’m a Lewis fanboy.  I picked this one up after a good friend of mine had forwarded Lewis’ Vanity Fair article that turned out to be a version of the Germany chapter in this book.  The timeliness of this work is spot on, with Berlusconi in the rearview mirror and the upheaval in Greece a daily occurance, impending financial doom and gloom hovers like a starved scepter of economic chaos.  As Lewis relates, this work is a companion piece to his Big Short (another great read) that went into detail on the issues involved in the subprime debt fiasco of ’08-’09.  He picks up where the cascading effects of that crisis have infected the global financial system, this time effecting the governments who held much of the debt that served as the “other side” of the subprime bet.  As usual Lewis does a great job telling a narrative in the soverign debt crisis enveloping the globe.  The prelude of this one  is enough to make you shudder and start hoarding gold.  And no, you don’t have to read the Big Short to get immediately into Boomerang.  For a great, timely and quick read, pick this one up.

Steve Jobs – Anything I could find on the Penn State tragedy and this book both literally consumed me last week, and in the process, accounted for a significant amount of emotional overhead.  Walter Isaacson does a neat job tying in the diametrical forces that shaped the Apple founder’s complex, full but short life.  Jobs talks about his passion for his work lying at the intersection of the humanities and technology, something that resonates all too clearly for me.  At this intersection is where I found my passion as a consultant back in my prior career and where I do today as a coach.  That’s not trying to compare me to Steve Jobs at an “outcome” (accomplishment) level but more of an acknowledgment of what is the “sun in my belly” in my own career.  For me, Jobs is the Einstein of my own short life, a monolithic figure whose influence permeates all of modern culture in art and technology.

Find My iPhone – In the general oblivion that often is my general state of consciousness, I left my iPhone at CostCo last week.  I knew I had lost it, but I had no idea where.  I actually even had turned around and gone back to the store to see if somebody had turned it in.  At that time, nobody had, so I left utterly confused (per usual) and hoping to activate the location services function on one of my iOS/Mac devices at home.  Once home, I did a quick Google search on losing your iPhone and found this app.  I downloaded it to my iPad, launched it with my Apple ID and voila!  There, pinging in the middle of the CostCo warehouse on a Google Map was my iPhone.  Not only is this app great for these moments, but as I had related the story to my wife later that day, the functionality is ideal for tracking me for my mid-day riding, heaven forbid something unpleasant ever happened.

A little shot from Hawaii to get this edition of What I’ve Read out the door…

The Pele App – So not something I’ve read, but a little gem of an app for your iOS devices if you want to follow several athletes competing in a WTC 70.3 or Ironman.  The app allows you to plug in the names (or bib numbers) of multiple athletes in multiple races and follow them.  Using the direct feed from IronmanLive.com, the software is only as good as the feed, so be warned.  WTC is (in)famous for their bad bandwidth on race day, so frustration with the app will likely correspond with the data feed.  Remember, Pele is just a slick, useful presentation layer for WTC’s timing data.  As a result, the adage aptly applies here: garbage in (the data), garbage out (the app).  For a small investment ($2-4), though, I would recommend this nifty little tool.

Bossypants – Tina Fey‘s autobiography is an easy read, even if you’re not a super-fan of the witty, hysterical comedic writer and actress.  What you see on 30 Rock seems to be what you get in real life with her, and this autobiography seems to confirm it.  It’s not all fluff in here.  She does address serious topics – women in comedy, balancing a thriving professional life with motherhood – but she does it with a sense of self that is disarming.  She takes herself seriously at times, but not enough to come off as pedantic, always sure to insert an appropriate amount of humor.  I’m a big Tina fan, so this was right in my wheelhouse.

Yeah for the iOS Consumer – Not a must-read, as the soundbytes and headlines will take care of the “heavy-lifting” for you, but if you’re an owner of an iTouch, iPhone or iPad, you got some good news from Adobe today.  The Silicon Valley stalwart professes to switching direction in the investment of their web visual software standard – Flash – and complying with HTML 5 as a visual web standard.  One has to wonder if Steve Jobs’ death was the event that really precipitated the concession, as the egos of two powerful tech companies put the consumer right in the crosshairs the last several years.  For you regular users of such sites as TrainingPeaks, Hulu, ESPN3 among others, this is welcome news.

2011 Kona Race Plan

The photo above was taken a couple of hours after Haley and I had crossed the finish line under a setting Kona sun at the greatest finish line in all of sports on Alii Drive in the echoes of the beautiful day before us.  What you don’t see in the picture is three double-scoop ice cream cones held by her, Elizabeth and me.  On race morning, I had written the “FIND A WAY” message on our hands before we left for the day.  It might have been a simplified version of the race plan but it acted more as a reminder during the Valleys of the Ironman day to keep digging and moving forward any way possible.  There’s a marine saying I heard back at my days at Stanford that I’ve never forgotten: “The only way out is ‘through.‘”

As for the title of the post?  I got through many a workout the last 9 weeks of training with this Eminem diatribe pumping through my iPod headphones.  Little did I know how appropriate it would be, and when I think of it now, like some many other things about Kona v3.0, it brings a big smile to my face.

As I mentioned in the prior post on the Taper, I really didn’t come around, fully, until the day before the race.  While it was a bit nerve-wracking, I knew after my Friday sessions I was ready for a great day on Saturday.  As I tell my athletes, there’s nothing “athletic” about an Ironman.  Even if you’re not feeling good muscularly, you can find a way to fight all day and put up a good, even very good, performance.  It may not be comfortable.  It may not be fun.  But you can do it.  My Ironman Louisville 2010 taught me this firsthand, so when I wasn’t feeling all the way sharp earlier in the week, I wasn’t too worried.  If it was going to be a full-fledged street fight, so be it.

Swim
The two years prior to this year we (Dynamo athletes) had lined up far left (furthest from the pier and longest distance to the turn) and far right (against the pier and on the buoy line). In the former, the line (according to Betty and Haley) was fairly clean though it did require jostling in the merge into the pack. I remembered this from my own experience lining up here in 2006. Last year, Haley and I lined up far right. The first 100m were bad for me, but miserable for Haley, as she was dunked and had her goggles knocked off. This year we decided we would mimic my political tendencies and line up left of center.

Down the steps on Dig Me shortly after the pro start at 6’30am, Haley and I are the two first athletes out to the holding line in our chosenlocation, and I believe this actually might have made our swim. Within a couple of minutes we have several other female athletes with us, likely having seen Haley and wanting to find safety in the kindred pink cap she was wearing. As fortune would have it, we accumulate a pod of 6-8 American ex-college swimmers in our general vicinity. This is vital because we all have a mutual respect for the speed at which everybody would be racing (respect = civility) and it’s been my experience in the swim starts here that the international male athletes tend to be hyper-aggressive in Kona, especially given their swim speed and where they line up. We tread water for a good 25 min until the cannon start and then…boom.

Within 25m I am separated from the fracas and the contact has been minimal. I’m in a large group but on the outside left, so the line is clean – my first priority. As has been my experience as an athlete in this race two times before and a coach/spectator another, the top of the amateur swim, tends to have 3 groups that consist of (1) 2-3 athletes between 50-51′ (2) 2-5 athletes at 52-53′ and (3) 8-12 athletes at 53-55′. The time ranges depend on the currents and swells each year. In my two previous Hawaii swims I’ve been in group 3. It’s a comfortably hard pace that allows me to get out of the water cleanly and in a decent time. This year it’s my hope, not expectation, that I stay in this group, as my swimming all season has been a struggle. Staying with Haley? I know going into the day that it is almost a certainty that I can’t. But that’s fine and what’s best for both of us is to swim our swims.

Within 1500m or so the line of athletes I’m in starts to fragment, and I find myself off the back with a 10m gap. I tell myself that I have to stay on and I put in a hard minute’s effort to bridge to the hip of the last athlete in the group. I can’t tell how large this group is, and specifically whether or not I’m in group 2 or 3. I really don’t care though because we’re going hard and I’m finding myself having to focus to stay on the left hip of the last swimmer. The turn boat comes and I get a better view of what the landscape looks like – 8 or so swimmers in front, including a pink cap. Haley?

We make the sharp right turn to begin the the way back to the Pier. Our group again accordions out. I stay on the left to swim my line but slightly off the hip of the athlete in front. For you folks who think drafting is only about swimming on feet, think again. I prefer swimming on the hip because (a) you get a good draft effect (think the placid water in the wake zone of a boat while water skiing and (b) you still have a clean sight line and don’t have to rely on the sighting capabilities of the athlete in front of you just in case he does a Crazy Ivan.

It doesn’t take me more than a couple of breaths to quickly figure out that the pink cap is not Haley’s. I tell myself she made group 2 to calm myself down about how she’s doing. I obviously want her to have a great race and know that if she’s in group 2 the morale boost she’ll get will be significant. Yep, these are some of the things I think about when I’m racing with my athletes.

As is the case the two Kona swims prior, the pace starts to slow down about 200m after the turn. I always am thankful for the respite but this year, I’m more focused than ever on racing, so I continue to push and start moving up the line of athletes in our pack. Within another 600m or so I find myself on the feet of the leader of our group. The pace is hard but appropriate. To my delight I discover that we have an escort in front of us – a stand-up paddle boarder is shepherding the lead swimmer into shore. I make the decision to stay on the leader’s feet, content with the pace he’s holding and confident in the line thanks to our guide out in front. The last 100m seems to last forever. As we pass the pier to our left I can hear the crowd. I then hear Mike Reilly call out Haley’s name. “Great,” I say to myself, knowing for certain that she did make either group 1 or 2. I swim til I hit the welcome sand of Dig Me, then it’s time to stand up and hit the stairs. No fireworks this year, though, because the ‘Goose is loose up ahead and on her way out on the bike course. Into a quiet change tent (my favorite thing about being a stronger swimmer in Iron-distance races) and it’s time to ride a bike.

Bike
The crowd coming up the chute this year seems to be bigger than normal, and I feel like I’m climbing Le Alpe d’Huez in LeTour. I get through the square to get up to Kuakini, pleasantly surprised to see Chance Regina all by himself waiting with iPhone in hand. Seeing him is a boost and as I round the circuit to complete the top side of the square, a spectator tells me “your wife is just ahead”. This brings an immediate chuckle because this gent assumes Haley is my spouse. It makes the sight of my real wife, Elizabeth, even better as I make my way down Palani to the hit corner where Kuakini awaits. Chris has come by me by then, and I know I must at least have had a decent swim. The legs are good and the watts are high and easy. I want to be more aggressive this year in town so I allow myself to climb 260-270 here. In doing so I don’t get passed nearly as much as the last two races here. We make the turnaround, cook back down to the hot corner than on up Palani. It’s slow enough here, and I see Nick who runs a bit with me up the hill and I tell him my wife, Elizabeth, is ahead. I pass E on the top of Palani, and then it’s on to the 34 mile stretch of the Queen K. The lava fields and wind(???) await.

Being in Hawaii as a spectator in 2009 and then staying post-race last year, I’ve been able to spend a fair amount of non-race time on the course thinking about how to approach the day. Throw in my infatuation with reading anything I can find about how others approach the race and the precious experience Chris shares, I felt like this year, we (Haley and I) had a good handle on how to break up the 112 mile segment. In simplest terms it looks like this out and back:

1. In-town: effectively a clockwise square that features an out & back finger on Kaukini Highway at the bottom right corner of the square – the “Hot Corner” in Kona vernacular.
2. Town to Airport: on the out, this begins 34 miles on the Queen K to Kuaihae and ultimately the ascent to Hawi. On the back, there is, on ideal days, a very nice tail wind that begins right around the airport (more like the West Hawaii Veterans Cemetery) and propels you swiftly to T2.
3. Airport to Waikaloa: on the way out if it’s a a tough day, you get some bigger crosswinds and headwinds. Coming back home from Waikaloa, there’s usually a headwind for most of this. If you’re lucky, it’s fairly moderate (less than 10mph). If you’re really lucky it’s more of a crosswind.
4. Waikaloa to Kuaihae: This is the resort section of the race, so you get a boost from spectators who line the Queen K, your first real contact with anybody outside of aid station volunteers.
5. Kuaihae to Hawi: on the way up, you always check the channel between the Big Island and Maui to look for the tradewinds. If they’re strong, you can see the white caps and know the crosswinds are going to be rough. If you’re really lucky like in ’06 (and in our recon ride this year), the bottom section has a tailwind on the ascent. Regardless of the year, you are almost guaranteed to get a strong headwind with crosswind gusts about 6 miles from the turnaround. The good news, though, is that headwind becomes a scary strong tailwind after the turn to come back home.

In filling in the execution details of the above, I have a plan. Based on my lactate test on 10/1 and how I had been in training, I wanted to ride an average of 240-245 watts (250-255 normalized). This is a conservative -10% of my 270w T1 but I feel that it gives me more room to really run well of the bike. To hit this goal, I need to ride 250-260 on the rollers, some 300s on the grinders, and minimize my sub-200w moments. The descent from Hawi is always scary for me so I take the non-pedal time in account for the plan. If I do this, I feel like I could be 10 min or so faster than last year at the same or less metabolic cost and be around 5’00 to 5’10 depending on the day’s conditions.

Out on the Queen K things are going well. I come up on Haley around 15 miles in, pat her on the back and give her some encouraging words. She’s having a nice start and it allows me to focus on my ride. As I will throughout the ride, I take moments to look around and take in the scenery on the K. This is really the most beautiful sight in sport for me: the asphalt of the K snakes through the coffee fingers of lava that descend down from Mauna Kea. Mauna Kea today is piercing a cloudless azure veil. The brush flowers stud the K, as pockets of coral graffiti line the lava fields. It’s sublime and beautiful all at once. On the belly of my forearm, I have written “HK” to remind me of Hilton and why I’m here today: for the pure love and passion for the Island and for this race. I love this race more than any other sporting event in the world. Hilton is with me today, and I know he’s smiling a wide, toothy grin from above as I am pedaling down this hallowed highway.

Hilton was with me all day - body & mind

Past the airport at the 25 mile mark, the first peloton comes screaming by. It’s 10-15 athletes sitting in and they’re probably pushing 300-315w and cooking. For those of you who think drafting occurs only at Florida or Arizona, don’t be fooled. It’s everywhere and Hawaii is no different.  What was so encouraging this year, unlike my two other prior races here, was that there were plenty of officials on the course, and they were aggressive about delivering justice in droves.  At one point, I saw an official with a Flip video camera recording about 20″ of footage as a group of 15 athletes globbed there way together down the Queen K.  At the next penalty tent, it was standing room-only in there, I’m sure the result of the keen cinematography.

As I continue on my day, a couple of smaller, legal groups come by and I begin to look for a decent legal pacer. Last year, catching on to a legal pace on the way back on the Queen K was a huge eye opener to me about (a) the legal draft effect you get even at 10m and (b) the mental relief of having a person to chase rather than a power number.

Do as I might I have a hard time finding a pacer that will stay in my 250-260w range. In fact, I’m pushing a bit already, riding more like 260-270 for most of the Queen K out to Kuwaihae. The legs are good, the HR is in check, I know my lactate levels are sustainable at this wattage .  I’m more racing this year on the bike as opposed to managing this leg as I had in my 4 previous Iron-distance races so I justify the higher output. The winds are non-existent today out in the lava fields, and I know I’m making good time without knowing my exact speed (I only use HR, watts, total time and cadence on my Joule).

We make the screamer downhill at Kuwaihae and begin our ascent up 270 where I’m legally behind a group of 10 guys. I pass Herbert Krabel who’s taking photos and yell hello. The plan is to keep it in the 270s on the way up and keep the cadence at 70+. I look over to the channel – no white caps. There is no tailwind either but more importantly, there’s also not going to be crosswinds down at the lower sections today. The thought crosses my mind that this is a day for the runners in the pro field. The winds up to this point have been absent, which should favor the runners to ride faster than they otherwise would. Crowie, I think to myself, is in the driver’s seat.

I have my first “personal relief” moment at the beginning of the climb. Good, I’m hydrating well which I know will be critical today under the empty, pristine blue sky above. Midway up 270, the watts are getting harder and I find myself more isolated while other athletes come up on me. I keep scanning the environment for signs of wind ahead – nada. Soon, though, I can see white caps off in the channel. The wind, as it is always, seems to be going pretty good at the top part of the climb. Questions are whether it will be head or cross and how strong. 6 miles out, I get my answer – it’s a massive headwind, at least 20-25 mph, and constant.

I focus on my cadence and try to dig down into my aerobars to create the slimmest vessel possible for the wind to attack. I also commit to bridging to a legal 10m to the athlete whom I see a good 25m up. He seems larger to me and might provide an easier 10-15 watts if I can get to a legal distance and close the gap. Fortunately, I’m able to do this and find that I have to drop my watts to stay legal as he struggles to propel his massive frame against gravity and this gale. I make a pass on him, find another pacer in front and ride into town still boring into the aerobars. At the turn I see Sarah Heaton and Kris Carpenter whose cheers immediately provide a jolt of adrenaline and illicit a smile.

And then the fun begins. That headwind is now a blessed tailwind, literally hurling athletes down 270 towards Kuaihae. I’ve spun out my gears almost immediately and my focus shifts to looking for signs of hazardous crosswinds. In my state I miss Haley on the way up but hear her voice yelling at me. This is great news because she isn’t that far behind and obviously in good enough spirits to yell at me. She’s having a good day, and I get more energy from this. Hearing her awakens me from my tunnel vision and I take a glance at the athletes coming up. Everybodys struggling and looking like they’re standing still. I take solace in my current position and keep pressing forward, even passing some athletes who’ve decided to tuck.

The tailwind ceases just where the headwind had begun on the ascent. We’re on our own for speed again. My legs are still feeling the fatigue from the ascent but are not trashed, and as we turn left off of 270 on the hot corner for the short climb back up to the Queen K, I’m passing other athletes. Out on to the Queen K, it’s 34 miles back to T2. And this is where the race really begins. Chris and I talked earlier in the week that if I can hold 250w here, I’ll be passing athletes the whole time. Unfortunately, I find, those 250w aren’t happening. 235w is more like it right now and I’m the one getting passed. I don’t feel bad per se, just uncomfortable, mostly because the neuroma in my left foot is screaming at me. This isn’t anything new, as it usually does 3 hours into a hard ride, and it really is an afterthought. I tell myself to grab some Coke at the next aid station, hoping the sweet nectar born and brewed in ATL will backhand me out of this funk.

The Coke helps and it also reminds me to finish off the 4th PowerBar I have on me. Begrudgingly, I force it down and then promise myself that’s the last one. I do the calorie math in my head and feel confident I can get home on Coke and a gel for the duration. This promise seems to give me a boost and I start to see my watts rise a bit. Just in time for the headwinds that usually show up on this section of the course. Compared to what we had up in Hawi, this is a mild breeze, and it doesn’t cause alarm. I focus on my watts and keep looking ahead for athletes to target.

Around this time my power meter goes out. Ironically the “Hub Batt Low” signal has been flashing since the first hour of the bike, and I’m thankful it’s lasted this long. I still have RPE and HR to use so it doesn’t phase.  I know what my HR needs to be, so between feel and HR, I’m confident I can make good decisions.  After 5 min the Joule turns off from inactivity so I click it to wake it up so I can see my HR. And voila, my power shows back up where it will remain for the duration of the trip. Maybe it needed a little rest…and some Coke, too.

I’m riding with more power now, not ideal but it’s more. More importantly, I’m riding with a better attitude. My focus shifts again to finding an appropriate, legal pacer and I find one within a couple of minutes as he comes by me. I am committed to riding 240w from here on into town. As I pass the Cemetery I know the Airport looms near and feel around for the tailwind. Not yet. The wind hits at my hip. At least it’s in the right direction, and we have the airport still. A couple of miles later, I pass the airport. The wind remains at my hip. 8 miles to town, so be it. The watts hold steady and as the pieces of civilization – buildings and traffic lights – rise from the lava horizon, I hear the whump-whump, whump-whump of the leaders helicopter coming toward me.

At the Marina, Crowie and an entourage of media and officials are passing by. He looks strong, and there’s not another athlete in sight. The Gentleman’s Champion is having his day and it gives me strength. If I’m having a good day, I hope to see him again on Mark and Dave Hill on the run. Snapping back to my race, I prepare for T2. I don’t know my exact time, but I figure I’ve been on the bike for a bit over 5 hours. I’m having my day. I think about the run ahead and I’m excited. Let’s go for a run.

Data: 237w Avg / 247 Normalized, 148bpm, 5’05 -> Not the 240s I was hoping, and the first 30 miles may have dictated my slight drop in power.  It wasn’t catastrophic to the ride or my day, but those 5-8w might have meant another 2-5 minutes left out on the course.

Run
After another “personal relief” moment in the change tent, I grab my water bottle and I’m off the Pier heading through the corridor of the run chute and out on the marathon. The crowd seems just as big as it was when I left on the bike. I smile, tuck my top into my HRM strap to create a pocket for ice and think about my form to set the body right from the beginning. The legs are a bit heavy, but I’m not alarmed. E is waiting for me at the corner. She knows I’m having “The Day” and yells encouragements that I can hear well after I’ve passed her. She’s a warrior, as always, out here in the Kona sun while pregnant, the second time she’s been in this condition while watching this race. Bless her.

Coming down Hualailai before I begin the out & back on Alii, Morgan Clark is at the bottom – “Let’s go, Coachie!” I smile, high-five her and continue on. The legs are heavy still and I’m a bit concerned. I look down at my right hand to remind me what Haley and I agreed would govern every action in this race: “FIND A WAY”.

Like the bike, we’ve broken up the race into manageable milestones:

1. Out & Back on Alii: this is the most humid section of the course because of it’s proximity to the ocean and flora that lines it. But you have the crowds here to buoy you along the way.
2. Palani to the Marina: Palani is a 400m hill at 8%ish grade. It’s a back-breaker mentally and looms like an unforgiving scepter after the flatfish Alii stretch. After the ascent you take a hard left back onto the Queen K and down Mark & Dave Hill. You’re at the 11mile mark and at the gates of the lava fields (again). This is where the race begins.
3. Marina to CostCo: a shorter stretch on the K. On the Out, you have a nice little downhill grade. On the Back, this bump feels like a mountain and is the first of two to come.
4. CostCo to Mountain Coffee: still on the K, the lot at Mountain Coffee is where we stage our Monday Lab run. It’s familiar and calming as such.
5. Mountain Coffee to the Energy Lab: a very short section of the K that is a hard false flat. You come over a little bump and see the solar panels of the Lab shining in the horizon.
6. The Energy Lab: this 3.5+ mile out & back is the dragon’s lair of the marathon. It’s where your Id faces off with your ego in a mano y mano Texas Steel Cage Death Match. Come out of the Lab with minimal losses and it’s about 10k back to the nourishing crowds on Alii that bring you home.

My own personal strategy for the run that will frame my output is simple:

1. Keep the HR below 155 bpm on Alii
2. Walk every 4 Mile aid station with purpose – fluids, core temp management, a GU Roctane, and mental re-set. As I tell my athletes, no lolligagging, all business.
3. After Palani, keep my HR above 145 bpm as long as I can – this is the crux of my day. If I can do this all of the run I know I will manage the rate of decay and put together the run that my training has prepared me for.
3b. Find a Way!!!

The legs are still heavy as my Garmin sounds off signaling 4 miles. I have the unit programmed for 4-mile alerts for today. Roughly 30-minute chunks are manageable and will remind me to eat at appropriate intervals. I approach the aid station just after mile 4. I’m passing more athletes than are passing me. And I notice that I’m in this race. There’s not many amateurs out here and I’m running with the top of this field. I’m racing this race today. The revelation lifts me as I walk the aid station quickly, suck down a Cherry Lime Roctane and hustle out. Soon out of the aid station, I see Chris ahead coming towards me on his way back from the turn. He looks a bit stiff and we smile as we pass each other. I check my watch to get a time. I have my rabbit. Without coincidence, a minute later my legs come alive.

Passing our house on Alii, I chuck my empty salt tab container into the drive way applauding myself for the $4.50 I’ve saved in rescuing the item. Silly victory in the money pit that is Ironman. At the turnaround, I look down at my watch, 6 minutes. I’m 12 min behind Frau and feeling good. Beginning the back on Alii, the legs are running with ease now. I’m watching my HR to make sure I don’t exceed my bpm ceiling and do something silly. I check my form – proud posture, glutes and cadence. All good. The Garmin sounds off another 4 mile segment. My pace reflects my training, my effort and my HR. I walk the 8-mile aid station, suck down another Roc, load up on ice in my bottle and top and am back at it with purpose.

Descending the small bump towards Lava Java back into downtown I’m passing athletes who passed me on the Out section of Alii. Keep chasing. Keep chasing. I yell out to anybody who will answer, “what’s the score of the Notre Dame game?” I hear “49-16, Notre Dame” from a male voice behind me. I raise my hand and say thanks and smile. The Irish are having their day, too.

Turning up Hualailai, Morgan is still there and we exchange pleasantries as I come by. All is really well as I make the left onto the brief Kuakini segment before climbing Mt. Palani towering in the distance. A right turn and I’m heading up Palani. Run with your glutes. This is why we did Hogpen. For this moment, right now. This is easier than Hogpen. Glutes and cadence. Glutes and cadence. Within what seems like moments I’m actually half way up Palani and can see the traffic light and sign of the Queen K up ahead. I’m actually passing people. And like a prophetic siren I hear, then see, E up ahead. Let’s go, Meke! She’s yelling and jumping up and down. I crest Palani running for the first time in my three attempts on this unforgiving bitch. E tells me I’m 8 minutes down on Chris. Go get him! she yells at me as I run with equal parts spark and resolve down Mark & Dave Hill. Get to the Marina.

Down Mark & Dave Hill I see Crowie ahead beginning his ascent and final push towards town. He looks a bit rough himself but he’s on his way to another title. His location relative to me is another marker of the day I’m putting together.  Last year, Macca passed me on Kuakini less than a mile from the finish.  This year, I’m a full 15 min deeper on a faster overall day.  I tell myself, stay here now to re-set back to the present and not the “what could be” that flashes in my head.

The Marina stretch seems to last forever and after the adrenaline from seeing E wears off I find myself grinding a bit in my head. At the next aid station I’m heavy on the Coke, hoping that it will get me going until mile 12 and my next Roc. Finally I can see sail masts up ahead poking out of the Queen K like pins through brown cloth. The Roc goes down easily at the Mile 12 aid station. I shake my legs out and almost immediately feel better as I begin running again. The Garmin pops off, and the time is good. Keep chasing. Keep chasing.

CostCo comes quickly. While the legs are feeling the fatigue of the effort, I know I’m still running well. My HR fluctuates between 148-152 bpm. I’m still holding this together. Around this time I see how desolate it is out here. It’s another reminder that I’m actually in this race today. I’m racing the World Championship. How cool is this? Chrissy Wellington comes running by with her patented turnover. She doesn’t look fresh (just like me!) but I don’t know who would considering how toasty it feels today on the tarmac here on the Queen K hot plate. I get an answer to that question within minutes as Mighty Mouse, Marinda Carfrae, comes rocketing by in pursuit of the Brit. Could be close, I think to myself as I get back to my own race.

Next stop is Kona Mountain Coffee (KMC) up ahead around mile 15. Along this short stretch, Rachel Joyce, heading back into home, pops off the shoulder, drops trow, does a #2 and is off again, hauling down the road right past me without missing a beat. I don’t bring this up to redicule or embarrass her.  I bring it up because, well, she’s a magician, the David Blaine of doo-doo. It’s like one fluid movement and now I have the ultimate model for how you take care of your business while racing.

KMC comes and goes and I hit this last aid station scarfing as much Coke down as I can, like a medieval foot soldier putting on battle armor ready to face the enemy. Up the false flat towards the Energy Lab. I’m about to enter the Rubicon and I’m still holding together. As I enter the lab I grab more Coke at the aid station at the gate. The last two aid stations have been close together and I pass on taking in the next gel, mostly because I only packed 3 Rocs on me and I’m not looking forward to the PowerGel potluck that awaits.

Shortly into the downhill into the lab, the Garmin rings for mile 16. I glance down and see the split and spot the HR. Both provide good news. I’m still running well despite the fatigue that weighs on me like a soaked, scalding blanket. I remind myself to minimize the up and down, focus on moving forward and keep my cadence up. I’m still passing athletes and the lab is pretty damn empty. I’m in this race. Keep chasing. Keep chasing.

As I take the right to finish off the out section in the Lab, I hit a rough patch. The fatigue of the day is draping around me. I see the 17 mile aid station ahead and tell myself to walk it, get in the calories of a gel and get going. I plead to a volunteer pathetically, “gel!” and one of the blessed souls of the Kona volunteers steps out with a hand and a gel. I see the flavor, banana strawberry, prepare for the taste and put it down begrudgingly. Ugh. The viscosity (and lack thereof) of a PowerGel reminds me why I’m thankful for the great folks at GU. I’m running again soon thereafter, and I can see the turnaround ahead in the distance.

And now I get my next glimpse of Chris. He’s having a hard day and tries to smile as we cross directions. I look at my watch to get a time check. A minute later I’m at the turnaround and finally making my way back home. I’m only 2 min back of Chris. Keep chasing. Keep chasing.. My HR is at 145 bpm now and it serves as a forearm to the skull to keep pushing. I go to my cadence and try to get my legs turned over. The legs actually respond slightly and it gives me hope. I tell myself to get to Special Needs ahead where I’ll allow myself to walk again. More importantly, I want to get to the two items in there. Most importantly, I want to get to one specific item in there.

A young boy hands me my Special Needs. I grab it, thank him and walk as I reach in to get the items. First, the necessity, or what I think is the necessity. I grab the Salt Tabs and shovel 6 into my mouth like a college student taking down a shot of Jeager. I don’t feel like I need the salt, but I do it just in case. I then grab what I really need, the card E wrote me before the race. I read the lines I know will give the spark to re-ignite me: I’m proud of you. I believe in you. I look at my right hand, “FIND A WAY”, I look at the undercarriage of my left forearm: “HK”. Almost immediately life comes to my legs. And just when I need it, as I round the corner to make my way up out of the Lab.

I’m doing a decent job climbing out of the lab, more like clawing, but it’s movement. Confirming the progress, I pass 2 more athletes and then another who is walking. Keep chasing. Keep chasing. Halfway up the Lab, my stomach takes a turn for the worse. Much to my surprise I feel nauseous. Nausea? What the hell is that all about? I do my best to ignore it and keep focusing on my cadence and chasing Chris up ahead.

At the summit of the lab, I walk again preparing myself for the final 11k and the chase ahead. I pass mile 20 shortly and I see Haley ahead and she looks good. I try not to go there but for a second I do – we’re both having “The Day”. She yells at me, “he’s just ahead!”. I muster up a “Let’s go!” in response with the little energy I have. Seeing and hearing Haley gives me just enough adrenaline to get the legs turning slightly more quickly. The Garmin clicks off the 20 mile indicator and my last 4-mile stretch while off (8′s) isn’t tragic, especially given the Lab and Special Needs. Keep chasing.

I look at my HR and I’m still above 145 bpm, unchartered territory for me in an Ironman. I usually have already experienced major cardiac drift and am in the 130s, or worse, 120s, by now. But today is different. I’m more fit than ever.  I’m racing. I’m chasing. I can now make out Chris ahead and I’m committed to my target. The nausea is still lurking but I’m able to shelve it. I have some chasing to do.

I see the aid station ahead that is right before mile 21. I make a promise to myself. 5x1600s on 30″ rest. You are allowed to walk every aid station but it’s just like we’re on the track at Agnes Scott and we’re doing our mile repeats. 5x1600s. You got this. It’s not 10. It’s only 5. This covenant makes the last stretch seem doable. I’m resolute and have a plan. I hit the aid station right before mile 21 and Chris is walking it getting down fluids and loading up on ice. I jog through and slap him on the rear, “let’s go for a run” I tell him, and he comes with me. He asks how I’m doing and I tell him I’ve been better. We both go silent and run together. Within 10m or so he tells me “you got this”, and now, I’m by myself. I’ve passed Chris. The chase is over. Now what?

And that’s when it happens. Within 15″ of passing Chris, I’m slammed by an upper cut of fatigue and a cross-hook of nausea that envelopes my entire body like a vicious, lethal virus. I don’t have time to get my head ready to combat this fiend that’s taken control of my body. I have stopped a 100m past mile 21. Stopped. I’m hunched over, hand on my knees, dry heaving. I’m equal parts shocked, equal parts too tired to even feel shocked. I straighten up to walk, take two steps and I’m over to the shoulder hunched over vomiting. The vomiting is taking more out of me, and I collapse down to the ground, a pathetic shell of the athlete I was less than a minute ago. I can’t move. The vomiting has made the nausea worse, not better, and I’m confused now, even worried. I try to move, but I can’t. A flinch makes me dry heave. I can’t move.

Two volunteers have run over to me with fluids in hand. They ask me if I’m okay and I whimper that I’m fine, head nestled into my forearm, too tired to even look at them. They ask if I need medical. With as much energy that I can will, I tell them no, I’ll be fine. I need a bit of time but I’ll be fine. They ask me if they can say a prayer for me. I tell them please. They ask my name and then begin together, Dear heavenly Father, please be with Matthew… I look down at the “HK” on my arm and ask Hilton to give me the strength to just finish. I’m worried, even a bit afraid. I can’t even twinge without dry heaving. I force down some Perform hoping the sodium might provide the answer to this riddle. Within seconds, the Perform is back up and onto the shoulder.

I sit and sit and sit. When I have enough strength to raise my head, I see familiar kits of athletes I passed before the Lab now running down the Queen K. I’m no longer racing. I’m no longer chasing. I’m surviving. I try to move and my body continues to shackle me to my new pavement prison. One of the volunteers who has not left my side this whole time has her cell phone out, and she’s texting somebody. I assume it’s somebody at medical. I tell her I’m going to be fine, trying to convince her as much as I’m trying to convince myself.

After what seems like an eternity, the nausea relents slightly. I can lift my head up without needing to vomit. I ask the volunteer if she can text E.  She obliges without hesitation. I dictate a message: It’s Matthew. Really dehydrated. It’s gonna be a long 5 miles. I’m gonna be safe and get home. Within moments, the volunteer gets a response: I’m walking towards you. Don’t give up and stop and drink if needed.. My wife, always the warrior, always the coach. I dictate one last message: Stay where you are. I’m fine. I thank the volunteer profusely hoping that my words will actually convey the appreciation I feel.

Within a 20 or so minutes, I’m actually craving fluids since the washing machine in my stomach has decided to go from spin to stop. I sip down a cup of Coke. No revolt from my GI system. I sip down another cup of Coke. It keeps, and I start to feel energy slowly trickle into me. I stand up. Baby steps. I then start to walk. I can walk. I’ll take this victory. If I have to walk this last 4+ miles I will. I’ve been walking for a couple of minutes when Chance shows up on his bike. I apologize to him, feeling as I’ve let him down. He looks at me,

You have to run. You can’t walk. You have to run. I don’t care if it’s slow, you have to run. Get on your toes and start running!

On command I lean forward, get on my toes and begin a jog. It’s painful, really painful. The long stop has cut the elasticity of my muscles in half. They are like tight rubber bands and don’t want to stretch.

That’s it. That’s it. Chance is now my coach. I do as Coach says, trying to continue this jog. He tells me he’s going to check on Haley and when he gets back I better still be running. I tell him thanks and we go in our separate directions. What seems like tens of minutes later but is more like another 5-7, Chance is back. I’m still jogging. It’s not pretty or fast but it’s not walking. He tells me Haley is gaining on me and to get going. Good, I tell him. “Go get her home,” I implore him. He breaks the next 2 mikes down for me, still coaching me up: one bump, a riser and then you’re at Palani. He again demands I keep running and he’s off again to check on Haley.

I’m actually making progress now, past mile 22 and moving towards 23. Thats when I see E, 16 weeks pregnant and out on the Queen K oven. The warrior, my wife. The coach, my wife. I apologize to her, feeling like I’ve failed her today. She has none of it. She looks at her watch and tells me I need to get going. I need to move faster. She knows I can still come close to my Hawaii PR, 10’04, and she knows I need another milestone to work towards. I thank her, thank her again and after she tells me one last time to get going, I try to jog with more conviction. I have a new chase ahead.

I walk the mile 23 aid station, get over the bump there and make my way up Mark and Dave Hill. Now I’m feeling, dare I say, good? I tell myself to honor the legacy of Mark and Dave and run up this hill. I’m running, not jogging. I can feel my legs actually turning over some. I crest the hill and make the right turn down Palani. I commit to myself that I will honor Macca’s intrepid victory last year and run through this aid station. Just as I had hours before, I’m running Palani, but downhill. The cadence is there and I’m passing people again here these last 2 miles. I take the left on Kuakini, remembering it’s two lights before Hualailai. Before I know it, I’m at Hualailai and I’m beginning the final leg of the day. I know 10’04 is going to be close.

Turning onto Alii I’m turning my legs over as fast as I can. But most importantly, I’m smiling as wide a smile as I can. This is the best finish in all of sports. I tell myself to cherish this and soak every step in. This is what you train for all year long – this last 400 meters. The crowd on Alii this year is unprecedented. Spectators make a Tour like tunnel, parting just in time to allow me to run through. They are awesome. This is awesome. I give Nick a high five, then Dixie, Chris’ wife, another. Every kid who sticks out his hand, I make sure I slap. This is phenomenal. I’m so happy for this day.

I see the chute ahead and the clock. It’s in the 10’04s. I might at least get there at 10’04-something. As I come down the chute, the smile is plastered across my face. Before I cross the finish, I take a moment to lift my forearm and kiss the “HK” on my arm and point towards the sky in thanks of Hilton for getting me safely across the line. I pass under the clock at 10’04”59. The official time will read 10’05″00 but I think I’m at 10’04 and take a small victory at that.

Hilton & I crossing the finish together

Reflections

I’ve had several days to process the race. I’ve done a flyover on the data, but I don’t believe I need a deep dive to make some assumptions. Some thoughts on each aspect of the race.

1. Nutrition/Hydration: On the bike, I’m happy with my execution. I kept it at the goal of 300 cal/hr, front-loading the intake the first 3 hours and then tailing off a bit as my gut wanted to at the end. On the run, I, too, think I was good all the way into the Lab. My two hindsight mistakes were (a) not having enough Roctane on me for the entire run to avoid the PowerGel and worse yet, (b) taking in 2g of electrolytes at one time so late in the day when I hit Special Needs at mile 18+. Unlike my initial reaction to the collapse when it happened in the race, I don’t think I was massively dehydrated at mile 21. I wasn’t weaving like I had at Eagleman. Sure I was dehydrated (everybody is that deep into the day in Hawaii!) but nothing that was catastrophic or the primary cause of either my nausea or my collapse.  Chugging that much sodium at one time is never a good idea.  I wouldn’t drink a swig of ocean water from the Pacific, so what in the world made me think it was a good idea to do something comparable?  Ah, the joys of Ironman.

2. Swim: Very happy with all aspects here, from our start location to the execution of the swim.

3. Bike : I believe I rode appropriate to my fitness. In hindsight I may have been too hard on the watts the first 20 miles on the Queen K: 10w too hard but nothing that would derail my day. It likely cost me a bit of overall time on the bike, as evidenced by my lower watts the last 34 miles of the ride. But that drop in output was not indicative of a blow-up in the near term or further into the race.

4. Run: Like a broken record, I believe my pacing was completely appropriate. I kept my HR in check on Alii. I ran Palani, the first time ever. I kept my HR above 145, forcing myself to turn it over when I got close to my basement number. Up to mile 21, I did everything I planned on based on my training and preparedness. My pacing reflected the training and my race execution.

5. The Collapse: This is my take on my personal Chernobyl. I believe it was more a failure of mind than of body. Yes, I was nauseous. Yes, I was tired. But why would everything come apart both with such speed and with such force? I don’t think it’s a coincidence that it happened shortly after the pass on Chris. I replay the tape in my head over and over. I wonder if sub-consciously that once the chase was over, my mind told my body I had finished the race. Mission accomplished. You can shut it down now. In chasing after Chris, I became so singularly focused on catching him I both lost track of my overall goal and also never prepared myself for what I would do if/when I caught him. I failed to prepare in the moment and readjust my mindset – milestone reached on to the next one. The nausea gave me an out when my mind knew I had reached this singular milestone.  Simply put, I allowed myself to be vulnerable. My body threw in the towel after my mind crossed the finish line, and that finish line was Chris.

6. The Final Analysis: Days later and hundreds of mental rewinds past, I’m really proud of my race. I’m fact, I can confidently say I’m more proud of this race than any other. I raced an Ironman for the first time ever. I raced on the biggest stage of our sport. As a result, I went faster, deeper into the run than I ever have before – in the biggest stage of the sport . And if I had to do everything all over again from a pacing perspective (not nutrition), I would do it exactly the same way. Why? I would rather have risked a blowup to go the 9’19-9’24 I was tracking towards and which I knew I had trained for than to go a 9’40-9’45 by running 8′ miles from the first step. It’s Kona. It’s The Show. No other races on the schedule, this is the end of 2011. As such, you go for Great, not Good, and I put Good on the line in pursuit of Great. And this, I believe, is the noblest of actions. I honored the sacrifices of my family, friends, athletes and myself in pursuit of Great. And I’m damn proud of it.

And what did I learn:

1. I’m closer than ever to racing a complete Ironman, not managing an Ironman
2. I can identify specific failures that I believe I can I improve on to allow me to race a complete Ironman
3. I’m more confident as an athlete than I have ever been in my entire life after this season, Kona included
4. I can leverage this experience for the future to be a better athlete and a much better coach

In closing, I want sign off with a line from Rudyard Kipling’s “If” made famous in triathlon circles by Chrissy Wellington. As she tells it, her then coach, the legendary Brett Sutton, shared it with her early in their relationship. I believe these lines sum up my perspective on my day. The challenge in the future will be how I, not Kipling, complete the couplet.

If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;

10/8/2011 was a momentary disaster, but now, it is a singular triumph for the future.  And so begins that next step.  Keep moving forward and FIND A WAY.

Post Script

Be sure that my comments about Chris and my fixation with chasing him and trying to pass him are the ultimate show of respect for his talents.  On his bad day and a great day for me, I could actually race him.  Otherwise, it wouldn’t be close.  His 8’56 in Kona (2006) is admittedly not in my repertoire.  Chris is as good an athlete as he is coach and both are world-class.  I’ve already shared and discussed the race and the thoughts here with him, and his response was in line with the kind of athlete and coach he is, world-class.

This Tom Petty classic opens up the next in the series, and my boy, Will-I-am, provides the kicker with a shot of him helping his Pa pack the rig for the trip to the Big Island.

Like the chorus goes in the TP song, for me the rest period, the waiting, is the hardest part of the season.  Your body is used to the work; it craves the work; it responds to the work.  But during taper, we do exactly what we haven’t been doing all season long – extended periods of recovery, or better put, absorption.   Taper, in my opinion, should really be called absorption.  We’re finally are allowing all the training load to really marinate in our muscular and metabolic systems.  We’re programming a period of super-compensation that, ideally, provides final adaptations for peak performance.

An Iron-distance taper takes on many forms which accounts for a variety of inputs based on the athlete.  As I’m building the taper period for an athlete, I take into consideration several factors, including the following (but not limited to):

(1) Season Load – Both the current season and several seasons in the past; I also look carefully on the adrenal stress the athlete has been under, be it in number of races and/or work/life stress

(2) Body Composition – More muscular body types typically require more rest than your cross-country runner-like frames

(3) Age – Masters athletes typically need more rest, but this depends on #1 & #2 above

(4) General History – If I have several taper period data points for a given athlete, I’ll take their responses from prior rests into consideration.  More important than the physiological rest our bodies need, the athlete must believe in the taper in order to have a full effect.

Industry media usually talks about a “straightline” taper  or variation of the straightline taper for Ironman: 3 weeks where you take 20-25% of volume out of each discipline each week.  While this is a nice, clean framework that will write nicely for an article, it doesn’t take into consideration any of the above with specificity for the athlete.  There’s also the “Reverse Taper” that accounts for a condensed period of super-compensation or hyper-rest, often 3-5 days where volume drops precipitously.  Once the athlete begins to go through the “taper blues”, the feeling of heaviness and lethargy that often signals a transition from work to absorption, the volume is increased to normal training load levels with less overall intensity.  I agree with Chuckie V that taper is more art than science, and that it requires some touch, a lot of flexibility and a sprinkle of good ole fashioned instinct and faith.

Just like creating the typical in-season program, there are multiple levers the coach or athlete can pull to create the taper program:

(1) Duration – The overall length of the rest period.  As we will discuss below, this is debatable as to when the taper period actually begins.  We usually define the period for psychological reasons – a goal to look towards – but taper for Iron-distance racing often begins several weeks before the “official” (whatever that means) rest period begins.

(1) Volume – overall volume and volume in each discipline

(2) Intensity – taper, even in Iron-distance tapers, usually increases intensity as a percentage of overall load

(3) Frequency – Number of sessions per discipline

(4) Layout – What workouts lie where in the week.  In my opinion this is the most important factor for race week mostly because I rely on race week for a large portion of the rest coming to my athletes (and myself)

A couple of more general principles to discuss about the Iron-distance taper which are fairly standard across approaches.  As far as volume reduction per discipline, total load typically starts decreasing with the run, first, followed by the bike and the swim.  If you look at the muscular and skeletal stress on the body, running obviously taxes the muscular-skeletal systems the most given there’s nothing standing in the way of gravity, your body and the earth.  That combination = pounding which in turn creates more stress on the connective tissue and muscles.  With the bike, at least you have a piece of equipment to distribute your body mass against gravity.  Along these lines, the swim is like a feathery pillow in comparison to the other two, so the rest required of the muscular-skeletal system is less.

As I mentioned above, generally speaking, the run load reduction will then start first, even outside the designated “Taper” period begins.  For most of my athletes, I begin reducing overall run volume 4-5 weeks from race day, again, depending on the athlete.  In cascading fashion, I’ll typically reduce the bike load a week later.  As for the swim, this depends, again, on the athlete.  For some of my better swimmers, the rest is “disguised”.  The volume stays fairly static because I space the volume across more sessions, shorter in duration.  This is to help maintain “feel” for the water or neuromuscular sharpness.  Like golf, swimming is a neuromuscular discipline, so shorter reps across more sessions often are better than the alternative.  For example, Race Week in Kona, Haley and I swim each day.  Our bodies crave the water, and because so much of how we define ourselves as athletes is tied to the swim, swimming each day creates a familiarity that bridges our prior history as swimmer to our current state as triathletes.  To close out the swim, I do like a “long swim” (4k) to kick off race week for my better swimming athletes.

The mechanics of the taper for the bike and run varies, typically whether the rest is across 13-15 days or 18-21 days.  My preference in ideal situations where the athlete has been consistent in their training all season long, particularly in the build period, is to get most of the rest as percentage of total prior volume from the run in the beginning while only slightly decreasing the bike.  The bike volume, I believe, does maintain general aerobic conditioning applicable to the run, at much less muscular-skeletal cost.  If I can slightly reduce the bike load, my preference is to do so.  The “long run” and “long bike” numbers will vary, again, per athlete.  The duration and how they fall in proximity to the race also depends on the athlete.  Typically I have the last long run take place 10-12 days out and, we will stay pretty long on the bike 7-8 days out, too.  But…and this is a caveated “but” of all but’s that only an ex-consultant can preface, it all DEPENDS ON THE ATHLETE.  The golden scenario for the rest period is that I’m in regular communication with the athlete, and we can adjust the program on the fly as they go through the various sensations that this tenuous period produces.

Preface and context aside, back to something more tangible and specific, my taper or absorption period into Kona.  As I have discovered over the last two seasons, my body needs actually less rest than in years past, primarily from a volume standpoint.  It’s a function, I believe, of the consistency in training load I’ve been able to maintain throughout the year.  My body functions better with less variation in volume.  So the other lever I pull to compensate for total stress on the system is intensity.  Chris and I played the volume card with Eagleman, though the taper was more aggressive for that race given the anaerobic nature of that particular event (flat and fast bike) and the total adrenal stress on my system leading up to the event (the high of cheering on the Brother’s Pease in St. Anthony followed by the low of Hilton Kort’s passing and racing on hyper-emotion at Rev3 half in Knoxville).  While the adrenal stress leading into Kona was more than I would have preferred (my mother’s move, a case of the croupe that passed from my daughter than to my son), such is life and what makes this process, dare I say, fun because it’s rewarding.  In my case, the family unit digs in together to get through these times, and in getting in the foxhole together, we get closer and come out of it as a stronger family.  Now that is indeed fun.

Recall that the volume for the build period was fairly static between 20-24 hours.  I finished the final week of the build with 19 hours.  However, I had a nice anaerobic session on the Saturday of the last build period week, two weeks out from race day, in the shape of an Olympic distance event.   I kept the framework of the next week fluid, knowing the two key workouts were the long run and ride and where they fell in the week.  How I responded to the race would dictate their positioning.  Orginally, I wanted to run long the Tuesday after the race, but as I discovered, I was more tired than I had anticipated.  Thus, the 7 days leading into Race Week looked like the following 16.5 hour week:

The key to this week was pretty simple – be smart about the recovery and where the two highest stress workouts fell within the week.  I also had to be sure to position a recovery swim for Friday given the blood lactate test I had for Saturday.

Race Week
The 5 days in Hawaii leading up to race day has looked about exactly the same the last 2 years.  For Haley, the last two years, we’ve had her swim for the Sunday session, as she has been coming off of Louisville 5 weeks prior.  Regardless, the program typically looks like the below:

The structure of the week is to have a legs day with some anaerobic intensity to keep the lower level aerobic systems sharp and nervous system engaged buffered with a non-legs day. We swim each day to keep the “feel” for the water. Not rocket science here, and we rely on the protocol to get most of the muscular rest this last week of taper to feel sharp on race day.

As far as taper, and the days leading up to the race, I felt better and better each day. My run on Monday was good, not great, which was actually refreshing because I hadn’t peaked muscularly yet. The ride on Wednesday was similar, but my run felt really good. By Friday, everything felt sharp and springy. I believed going into race day I had been right on in the taper.  Now it was time to execute the plan.

Phish’s lead-off song to the album of the same name gets us to the next installment of the series from the mid-season break to taper with a focus on the build period. There’s something about the movement of the song and specifically the below lyric that causes a visceral reaction in me:

The passion that sparked me one terrible night
And shocked and persuaded my soul to ignite

As it relates to this post, the lyric also describes the defining week that set up the build into Kona.

The build into Kona really didn’t start until about 9 weeks out from race day. I prefer a 8-10 week build because it allows for at least a couple of iterations for adaptations, most folks (myself included) can mentally handle the major juggling required for that amount of time and, more importantly, allows you to increase running load safely to minimize injury risk.

Coming back from California after my sister’s nuptials and my two week mini-break, this left me roughly a month of transition time before the beginning of the build. On the calendar, the whole month of July, I decided, would be a general conditioning and strength phase. The month was largely unstructured in that Chris and I never talked about specific workouts. I knew conceptually what needed to be done, so like my Transition Season approach, I created a Foundation Week structure and put it on repeat, modifying as specific opportunities came up.

For instance, the July 4th weekend has been Dynamo Multisport’s summer Gaps Camp the last 3 seasons helping kick-start the build into IM Louisville. I went up for one of the three days to do a Norseman prep day with Drew Marlar, a training day that I knew I wasn’t prepared to execute optimally because of my fitness but also one that I knew I could at least struggle through and also provide a quick injection of strength and aerobic work. I followed that day immediately the next one with the Peachtree Road Race 10k where Drew and I ran the race and then ran home an additional 5 miles thereafter (well, I ran home about 3,bonked, then got some food and jogged the final 2). Two weeks later, Chris and I conducted our IM Louisville 3-day camp in Louisville where I got In a nice 3 days of dedicated aerobic work along with our athletes. Coming off these two weekends and filling the blanks in with some blocking and tackling 15-19 hour weeks, I was ready for the build which nicely corresponded with a new month, August. But this build would start with a little different twist.

The build launch happened to correspond with my Crew trip to support Drew at Norseman. I didn’t want to bring my bike because I wanted to be singularly focused on Drew and not out on 3-4 hour rides when I could be helping him prepare or just relax. Similarly, I also didn’t want to inconvenience anybody by commandeering the rental to go drive to a local pool for the few days we were in Oslo during the bookends of the trip. So that left the obvious option: use my time in Norway to first support Drew and secondly, put together a bigger week of run volume so when I got back, I could effectively begin my weekly run volume for the build at a greater load. I did this safely by often running double sessions of 45-75 min each and ran on trails when possible. My miles that week were large relative to what I had been doing in the previous 4 weeks – 45+ miles in Norway versus the 25-32 I had been doing.  Because the trip was a Tuesday to Tuesday jaunt, it also allowed me the mental luxury of getting in three rides on the Monday and Tuesday before I left for Oslo.  It didn’t change the 7 days I was actually in Norway, but the psychology of looking at my training log and seeing a swim and three bikes for that one week helped.

But more important than the miles, the trip had a deeper impact on the rest of the season. Like the lyric in the beginning of the post, watching and experiencing Norseman as support for Drew re-ignited my passion to train. In simplest terms, by witnessing Drew in his own personal Hawaii, I was inspired to get home and prepare better than I ever have for the one race that stirs my soul more than any other – Kona.

I structured the final 7 weeks into Kona with three focal points:

(1) maintain the 260 watt T1 I had built this season on the bike to allow me to ride 10-15 min faster than 2010′s 5:17 bike leg on race day

(2) maintain a weekly running load that I felt would give me the muscular endurance to finish the marathon in a time that I thought was reasonable given my performances at the 70.3 distance – something under 3’20 (7’37s).  The centerpiece long runs featured a progression of strength work mid-run to simulate fatigue, plenty of miles at IMHR (Ironman Heart Rate) +5-10 bpm  to help create efficiency at lower-level heart rate.   On weeks where the long run was shorter than usual (e.g., 14-16 miles), I would add a higher intensity transition run off of an interval session at IMRP (Ironman Race Pace) -5-10% to help with technique, aerobic efficiency and maintaining training load constant.

(3) keep the volume as static as possible around 20-24 hours per week.

Governing these focal points were two foundation pillars that I knew were critical in the execution of the above:

(a) Be flexible in the program – For Ironman training this usually means don’t be fixated on hitting a number, be it total hours in a week or a specific pace that won’t allow you to swim, bike or run “cleanly” or technically sound.  For working professionals and parents training for Ironman, this is a necessity.  Reviewing my logs for the 4 weeks leading into race week, it was constant juggling: re-arranging workouts, modifying durations, modifying intensities multiple times each week leading to race week.

(b) Nail z2 – I know I’m a broken record on this, but to handle a fairly static training load for 7 consecutive weeks, this is absolutely imperative.  You have to build into it active recovery and aerobic maintenance, and low end of z2 will allow both.

The 7 weeks before taper looked like the below:

Viewing Tugaloo as the last key workout of the build, I knew I had done absolutely everything I could given my constraints to have the best day possible in Hawaii.  In hindsight with race day behind me, I would have liked to do more longer intervals at IMW (Ironman Watts) +5-10%.  I think this could have helped sustain my power the last 30 miles of the ride this year.  I came out of the race and the build period tired but not in a irrevocable hole.  I felt like the Taper would be key, but I felt like I had a nice plan entering into the rest.  Most importantly, my confidence in putting together a very nice time, a competitive time, was greater than ever.  I was ready to rest.