Ironman recovery (and some future plans)

Recovering from an Ironman is a strange beast.  It’s been two weeks, and I’m making progress in recovery, but I’m not there yet.

I wasn’t sure what to expect the morning after the Ironman.  After my marathon, I had been so sore I could barely move, despite not running anywhere near my potential.  So I was pleasantly surprised when the soreness was entirely manageable.  Really, I wasn’t much sorer than I was after racing a half marathon (although the soreness did extend to my shoulders and back and wasn’t just concentrated in my legs).  I took a few days off anyway, both because I felt like it and because logistics and travel would have made fitting in a workout hard.

But the Wednesday night after my Ironman, my stiffness was almost completely gone, and I felt ready to test out my body in a workout.  So I went to Masters swim the next morning.  I took the workout very easy.

And I was wrecked for the rest of the day.

I expected my fatigue to stick around longer than my muscle soreness, but I’ll admit that I was taken aback by how exhausted I was after what basically amounted to a 50 minute easy swim.  That’s when I realized that Ironman recovery was going to be quite a bit different from any of my previous experiences recovering from athletic events.

Since then, I’ve tried to relax a bit.  I’ve tried not to jump back into all the things in my daily life.  It’s okay if I don’t get much accomplished with all my free time right away.  I might need a rest day after a hard workout at Masters swim practice.  I don’t need to go climb all the canyons in Salt Lake City right now just because I have the time.  Daily life (with some easy workouts) has been wiping me out.  Every day feels a little bit like that first day you are “better” after an illness.  You are functional, yes, but you are also exhausted after getting home from work.

Still, I’m antsy.  I was certain that my mind would need more of a break than my body.  I thought that I would struggle to find motivation for something new after a year of hard and focused training.  Instead, I’m finding the opposite to be true.  I’m excited about so many things… too many.  I’ll have to make decisions soon about what I want to focus on.

Become a swimmer. I’m strongly considering focusing on swimming this winter.  I’m planning on doing a swim meet in September, and I’d like to do several more.  I’ve made some serious gains in swimming this past year.  But I think there is still some low-hanging fruit for me if I start swimming 4-5 times a week instead of 2-3 times a week.  Plus, I get the feeling that I actually have some talent as a swimmer, and I think it would be beneficial to explore that potential.  I’ve actually been focusing quite a bit on swimming since my Ironman.  So far, it’s been what I’m drawn to.

Learn how to ride fast. The bike is my biggest weakness in triathlon.  I can ride forever, and I’m a relatively strong climber, but I am simply not fast.  I know (essentially) what I need to do to improve my speed—intervals, threshold rides, sprints, anything besides the relatively easy riding that made up the majority of my Ironman training.  I don’t know the granular details about how to approach this goal which makes it intimidating and less exciting… it’s important, though.

Run a sub-20 5k. This is a scary goal that is exciting as it is scary.  I’m certain that I can run a sub-20 5k if I train well enough.  I’m just not sure if it would take more time and effort than I’m willing to put in.  I love triathlon, and I don’t want to put in 15 hours a week running for a goal like this.  My 5k PR is only 21:57, but then, I’ve only run the race twice as an adult.  I may do a bit of a “trial” to see if I think I can feasibly achieve this goal in a few months of focused training before I make my final decision about whether or not to pursue it.

Basically, I’m not sure exactly what the off-season has in store for me.  And I’m okay with that.  I plan on taking a little more time “off,” where I do what I want when I want and where the most important statistic I track is how many Halloween Oreos I can eat. After all, I’ve been training with laser focus for a pretty long time.  I need a break, whether I feel like I do or not.  As I continue to do what sounds fun, I’ll see what I get excited about.  I’ll keep attending Masters swim, go to some track workouts with the Salt Lake Tri Club, and do some interval work on the bike.  And I’ll see what sticks!

So. Many. Oreos.

 

Ironman Coeur d’Alene Race Report: Run (8/21/2016)

Pre-race
Swim
Bike

I consciously tried to start out slow on the run.  I had read far too many Ironman race reports where the athlete gets excited, goes out too fast on the run (feeling great!), and then crashes around mile 10.  I had practiced this pace off the bike, and I was going to go out slow.  The marathon course was three out-and-backs that were a little over 8.5 miles each.  The thought of three laps was overwhelming, so I remembered my dad’s advice from the day before—I didn’t have to run the second and third laps until I got there.  I tried to focus on nothing beyond keeping my pace around 10:00/mile.

The heat of the day didn’t bother me until I started the run.  On the bike, the wind plus the faster speed kept me plenty cool.  However, on the run, the 90° weather made a difference.  I was warm from the start and made the good decision to carry a water bottle from my transition bag with me throughout the first miles of the run so I could sip on it and douse myself with it when needed.  By the time I reached the first aid station, I was already soaked.  It was undoubtedly hot out, but I reminded myself that I had trained in the heat and was prepared for it.

During the first lap, I just focused on eating regularly and keeping my body cool.  I ate some ProBar chews every twenty minutes or so and tried to drink water and a little cola or Gatorade from the aid stations.  During the first lap, I just focused on eating regularly and keeping my body cool.  I stuffed ice in my tri top and poured water on my head at every aid station.  The run course was populated by plenty of athletes, and the crowd support was amazing.  There were several groups of residents outside their homes offering to spray triathletes with their hoses.  My pace was consistently right around or even a little faster than 10:00/mile.  I felt surprisingly strong and did my best to find other athletes to run and chat with.  No one “stuck,” but I did get to meet a few people, most of whom mentioned how brutal the bike course was.  I was a little surprised as this theme emerged, and I started to realize how bad the wind had been.  I had dealt with it so well (for me) that I hadn’t realized how many athletes it had broken out there.

As I approached the end of my first lap, I ran by Rob and my parents, all cheering like maniacs.  I reported that I felt strong.  Athletes had the option of accessing their run special needs bag either after the first lap or after the second.  Because I wasn’t struggling, I opted to skip it on the first time around.  As I ran through one particular aid station early on in lap two, I suddenly heard someone cheering for me, completely all-out.  “GO KTP GO!!!”  I grinned and may have mustered a wave.  A former teammate from college was running an aid station and had spotted me running through.  It offered a surprisingly big mental boost.  As I approached the turn-around in the second lap, I started feeling the telltale signs of approaching stomach issues.  I felt bloated, like the things I had been eating were just sitting there fermenting in my gut.  I made the decision to cut back on my nutrition a bit to (hopefully) save myself from a time-consuming bathroom stop.

I hit the halfway point and felt okay, but running was getting harder and harder, and my pace was slowing a bit.  I had a hard time thinking about doing another 13.1 miles, so I just focused on getting back into town and finishing the second lap.  The wind had died down after blowing in the cooler weather (and bringing in some smoke to block the sun a bit).  I stopped dousing myself in water because it wasn’t necessary any more.

Finally, I approached town again for another dose of crowd support.  Rob and my parents cheered me on, as usual, but I was much less dapper this time around.  After my first lap, it hadn’t been tough emotionally to follow the sign to lap two instead of the sign to the finish.  However, turning for lap three instead of the finish was rough, especially since I heard the announcer call out an athlete’s finish just as I was approaching the turn-off.

I approached the special needs bags again, but I decided not to stop.  First of all, I had all the food I needed out on the course.  I was still workout through my Probar chews, and they had Cliff Bar shot blocks (chews) out on the course if I needed them.  Secondly, I was a little worried that if I stopped, I wouldn’t be able to get started again.

Heading out of town was tough, and I was close to descending into a dark place.  The thought of eight more miles was almost impossible to imagine.  So I didn’t.  I thought about getting to that next mile marker.  I had been watching my time throughout the run and calculating just how slowly I could do the remaining miles while still hitting my sub-13 goal.  By the time I started my third lap, I had built up enough of a buffer that I could run 13 minute miles and still finish in under my goal time.  I knew that my current run pace would allow me to walk the aid stations and still hit that pace, but I was in a groove (a difficult one, but a groove nonetheless), and I was worried that if I stopped to walk, I wouldn’t be able to get going again.

During the third lap, I was running through a field of walkers.  I was passed by a few runners (and passed a few of my own), but the vast majority of people on the course were walking.  Without many people to keep in my sights or pace off of, I felt a bit like I was running alone, despite the sea of people surrounding me.  I didn’t let myself think about a particular mile marker until I reached the one before it.  I knew that, as long as I kept running, I would likely stay under an 11:00/mile pace and would smash my goal time.  So, one mile at a time, I forced my body to keep running.  Any time negative thoughts started to creep in, I slammed the door in their faces and returned my focus to the feeling of my feet hitting the pavement.

Each mile felt like it took forever, but slowly… ever so slowly… the miles ticked by.

19, 20, 21, 22…

I tried to remember the first two laps when I’d see those third-lap mile markers and felt like I would never, ever reach the third lap where they would be applicable to me.  But there I was.

Just keep running.  Just keep running.

At this point in the race, I had retreated deep within myself.  I managed some smiles and nods when I heard someone cheering me on by name, and I think I was still thanking the volunteers that handed me water and orange slices (blessed orange slices!) at the aid stations.  But I wasn’t thinking anything besides, “Keep running” and “How long until the next mile marker?”  The finish line was so close, but I didn’t let myself think about it yet.  I had to think about where I was and not where I was going.

It wasn’t until I hit the 25 mile marker that I knew I had it.  Just a little more pain, and I would be an Ironman.

I ran through the park where my family had been throughout the entire marathon.  They weren’t there, and I knew they were at the finish line waiting for me.

I approached the turn-off, where you go right for laps 2 and 3 and left for the finish.  I moved over to the left of the path, and everyone in the area started cheering.

I got a big, goofy grin on my face as I followed the signs to the finishing stretch, people cheering me by name the whole way.

As I made the turn and saw the finish line ahead of me, I looked over and saw Rob cheering.  I ran over and grabbed his hand for a moment before running towards the finish line.  On the way, I gave countless high fives to spectators and two more special high fives to my mom and to my dad.  Running felt effortless, and every ounce of pain I had accumulated over the past 140 miles had evaporated.

When I crossed the finish line, I heard the announcer shout, “Katie Pridgen from Murray, UT…”  I didn’t even need to hear the “You are an Ironman!” part.  Grinning from ear to ear, I ran into the middle of a group of volunteers.  They took my timing chip and gave me a medal and a finisher’s t-shirt in return.  A good trade!

Run—4:25:28

Total time—12:33:13

Rob and my parents were waiting for me outside the finisher’s chute, and the first thing I did when I joined them was sit down on the grass and take my shoes off.  For the first glorious time in over ten hours, I was able to take my shoes off and keep them off.

For the first fifteen minutes or so, I felt great.  I couldn’t stop smiling and chatting with my support crew who had spent their entire weekend doting on me.  I was still wearing the rubber bracelet that was meant to be given to a volunteer, so I gave it to my dad.  During my entire training cycle, he was there to chat with and bounce ideas off of.  He’s been a huge support of my athletic pursuits from the time I was a kid, so I felt it was only appropriate to give the bracelet to him.  I couldn’t believe how wonderful I felt, and I actually started to wonder if I had, somehow, not gone hard enough out on the course.

Soon, though, I started to get cold.  I was still wet from pouring water on myself during the first half of the run, but now it was cooler and I was no longer exerting myself.  I went to the medical tent and grabbed a space blanket.  I laid down on the grass and was just starting to fall asleep (I’m sure I would have been right as rain after a 10-15 minute power nap) when a medical volunteer came over and told me I should go to the medical tent.

Thus began my medical tent adventure.

They had me lie down on a relatively uncomfortable lawn chair.  They didn’t take my pulse or blood pressure or do any examinations other than periodically waking me up when I was just about to fall asleep.  Eventually, I had had enough, so I left and promptly almost passed out.  This was the only portion of the event where I didn’t feel completely taken care of by the volunteers.  When I almost passed out, they led me back into the tent where I sat there doing nothing again.

I needed to be replenished, but remember those stomach issues that I held off during the race?  They came to fruition, and after one near-emergency bathroom visit, I knew that if I ate anything, I’d have to rush to the bathroom again.  And since I couldn’t get up without passing out, that wasn’t going to happen.  About an hour and a half later, my dad had convinced a volunteer to let him drive through the barricades into the parking lot where the medical tent was located so that I could, with some support, make it back to the car.

I would have loved to stay for the midnight finishers, but I just wasn’t physically up for it.  At least if I had any doubts that I had pushed myself to the limit, they were dispelled with my post-race struggles.  Somehow, even feeling terrible and ending up being held hostage by medical volunteers didn’t diminish the Ironman experience.  I still grinned the whole way back to the home where we were staying.  I ended up feeling a little better after relaxing a bit, showering, and finally getting some food in me and was able to join my support crew in a little birthday celebration for my mom (who, by the way, spent her entire birthday in the hot sun, cheering on her lunatic daughter!).

As for the Ironman afterglow?  It finally started to wear off after a few days (and I finally stopped wearing my medal whenever I wasn’t in public).  But it still hits me now and again.  I’m an Ironman!  I’m incredibly proud at how well I executed my first (and only) Ironman.  I meted out my effort almost perfectly.  I beat my goal time by almost thirty minutes.  I had a strong mental attitude the entire time and, looking at the pictures, I had a smile for a large portion of the race as well.

Really, it doesn’t get much better than that.

Ironman Coeur d’Alene Race Report: Bike (8/21/2016)

Pre-race
Swim
Run

The Coeur d’Alene bike course is composed two loops that each consist of two different out-and-backs.  Essentially, it’s a giant L that you ride twice.  The short arm is relatively flat, and the long arm is quite hilly.  I was thrilled to be on the bike.  My adrenaline was pumping a bit again, and the crowd support boosted my spirits even more.  I tried dial in on an easy pace as best as I could under the circumstances.

The first short out-and-back, I was passed a lot.  I wasn’t surprised.  As a decent swimmer who is limited on the bike, it’s quite common for slower swimmers to zoom by me during the first part of the bike.  I just kept reminding myself to ride my race.  There was one noticeable hill on the way out to the first turnaround, and as we were climbing up it, a woman rode by me and said, “I thought this part of the bike was supposed to be flat!”

I thought to myself, “Oh man… you’ve got some fun coming up later in the course!”

Before I knew it, I was riding back into town for the first time.  I saw Rob and my parents and gave them an excited wave and a giant smile.  I also passed the first aid station.  I had to use the bathroom more than I had during transition, but I got caught up in the excitement and thought, “Oh, I can go a little further!”  And then I made the turn to head south, towards those hills that had terrified me on the drive in.

As we crossed a causeway over the river that feeds Lake Coeur d’Alene, I realized that I really had to pee.  Why didn’t I just go in transition?! Now I have to wait until the next aid station! I looked up and saw a guy in the distance stand up on his bike on the slight descent out of town.  And then I saw a trail of droplets hit the ground behind him.  He was peeing on his bike!  I bet I could do that. I had never tried to pee on my bike before, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  I stood up, tried to relax, and successfully emptied my bladder.  I was both extraordinarily proud of myself and painfully aware that my left shoe was now filled with urine.  It was gross, but I reminded myself that this early in the race, it was likely almost all water anyway.

A few minutes later, I approached the first hill that winds through the forests surrounding the lake.  (Did I mention that this entire course was absolutely beautiful?)  I shifted down as appropriate based on the grade and just kept riding.  Much to my surprise, I was actually underwhelmed.  This grade really wasn’t any harder than climbing Emigration Canyon.  In fact, I felt great.  Before I knew it, I was at the top of that first major climb.

My mantra for the bike leg was supposed to be “You’ve done longer, you’ve done harder,” but instead, a different phrase kept playing on a loop in my head—easy peasy lemon breezy.  (Post-race Googling has informed me that the proper phrase is actually “easy peasy lemon squeezy.”)  The second major climb was not so extreme, and it had some short descents, but it was longer.  I found myself passing a lot of people on the steeper grades.  Whenever I passed a group of people or finished an uphill section, I would grin and mutter, “Easy peasy lemon breezy” to myself. (I would make sure to wait until nearby cyclists wouldn’t be able to hear me, though! The last thing I wanted to do was discourage other competitor’s with the positive thinking that was helping me.)

I worried some that I was riding this first loop too hard.  After all, I was passing quite a few people on these climbs, and I’m not used to passing people on the bike.  However, my rate of perceived exertion really was low, so I trusted my training and kept at it.  I just focused on eating my waffles every thirty minutes, drinking to thirst, and riding at a comfortable level.  It wasn’t long before I hit the turn-around point.  I roughly calculated my average speed at this point and was shocked at how fast I was riding.  Maybe I am overbiking after all, I worried.  But now it was time to bomb down a few descents and ride back into town.

I stopped at one aid station on the way back for a quick bathroom break (peeing on the bike again didn’t seem worth it), but even with that, I averaged over 18mph on the way back.  It was nice to give my legs a little chance to relax and recover after the long climb.  I hit 56 miles right as I got back into town, and was again shocked at how fast I was going.  I saw my parents and Rob again, and my dad yelled out, “Ride smart!” to encourage me (and remind me!).  I gave them another big wave and grin to let them know I was feeling okay.

I eased up my speed a bit on that short out-and-back the second time.  My shocking (to me) speed had me worried that I had overbiked.  A few miles later, I was rolling up to special needs.  I took my time, eating about half a piece of pizza and drinking about a third of the (still cold!) Mountain Dew I had waiting for me.  After refilling my Honey Stinger waffles with the ones I had left in my special needs bag, I took a quick bathroom break.  I had to wait in line for a minute or so, much to my annoyance, but overall, I lost less than five minutes at the stop.  A few miles later as I riding back through town for the final time before the bike leg was over, my dad again reminded me to ride smart.

As I turned south onto the twenty mile stretch of Highway 95, I noticed a headwind.  Just like I had expected, the drop in temperature forecast for Monday was being blown in by a strong wind.  I felt my stomach sink a little.  I really, really hate the wind.  But it was there, and I tried to remind myself to be thankful it had been still during the swim and first lap of the bike.  For the first major climb and descent, the wind wasn’t too debilitating.  At this point, the road was still surrounded by trees on both sides and made several turns which allowed all those trees to block the headwind.

And then I emerged from the trees into a more open field.

There was no hiding from the wind now.

I’ve ridden in some windy weather here in Salt Lake City, and this wind was as bad as any I’d ever seen.  And on top of the wind, I was climbing.  I slowed to a crawl, but I could see around me that others were slowing too.  Even the descents and flats during before the turnaround were slow.  There is nothing worse in cycling than cresting a hill and then descending at under 16mph because the wind is just so strong.  I resolved that I was going to remain mentally strong.  I’ve been broken by the wind before, but I wasn’t going to let that happen on race day when attitude is so important.

So I kept climbing.  And, like the first lap, I kept repeating, “Easy peasy lemon breezy” in my head as I rode, although this time, I was reminding myself that I could do it instead of describing what it actually felt like.  Even on this lap, I was still passing far more people than I was being passed by on the climbs, and, if I’m being honest, that helped my morale more than actively keeping a positive attitude.

I never truly descended into a dark place during this 20 mile portion of the bike, but there were some rough moments.  There was more than one time where I looked down at my Garmin, saw how much longer I had to go until the turn-around and how slowly I was going, and thought, “I’m never going to make it there.”  But I just kept riding, ticking down the miles until I finally saw the turnaround in the distance.

Turning around granted me new life.  The wind was no longer screaming in my ears, and I was now descending with a tailwind.  The ride back to town was fast, and I was holding on for dear life.  For most of the descents, I was riding around 35mph.  It wasn’t quite fast enough that I was completely terrified, but I was never completely comfortable either, especially when I’d get hit with a bit of a cross-wind.  Because of the speed, I was hyperfocused which made the already fast ride feel even faster.  I felt like I blinked and was back in town.

Before I knew it, I was handing my bike off to a volunteer and running into T2.

Bike—6:41:21

The minute I started walking through transition, I realized my feet were killing me.  In my training long rides, I had gotten off my bike several times to fill up water, buy additional nutrition, etc.  During the race, I only got off my bike twice—to go to the bathroom around mile 45 and at special needs around mile 63.  I figured that the pain was just the blood starting to flow to my feet again.  I took off my shoes and started jogging.  Ten or twenty painful steps later, my feet were feeling fine.

The run through transition was long.  I picked up my run gear back, took a bathroom break, and then ran into the changing tent.  I took some time in there instead of rushing.  I knew I was in a good place in regards to my goal time, so I ate a little pizza and drank a little Mountain Dew while pinning on my race number and collecting myself after the bike.  I left the changing tent feeling as ready as I could be for the marathon that awaited me.

T2—7:38

Ironman Coeur d’Alene Race Report: Swim (8/21/2016)

Pre-race
Bike
Run

The morning of my Ironman dawned bright and early.  Well, dark and way too early, rather.  I woke up around 1:15am to go to the bathroom, and I didn’t sleep a wink after heading back to bed.  Finally, around 2:50am, I gave up, hopped out of bed, and started getting ready for the day.  I tackled breakfast early because, if previous race morning experiences were any indication, my nerves would make eating impossible if I waited too long.  I managed to eat a banana, a bagel, and a bowl of cereal before the thought of food made me want to vomit.

We took two cars down to the start.  My dad and I rode together.  As we entered Coeur d’Alene, he got a bit turned around.  “We’re too far over,” he said.  “We’ve got to go this way.” And then he screeched around the corner.

I had pulled my phone out to see where we were on the map.  “No, you just turned away from City Park.”

“No, I don’t think so.  We shouldn’t have passed those hotels.”

“Dad, no, I’m literally looking at our location on this map right now and we are moving away from the park.”

Eventually, I got him to listen to me, and we pulled up into the parking lot near the race.  I hopped out to get body marking and set up my transitions, and he parked the car.  After getting my ducks all in a row, I saw Rob.  I was thrilled to see him, as my nerves were pretty bad and I needed a good hug.  My parents, Rob, and I all hung out for a while waiting for the start time to approach.  I wiggled into my wetsuit, and before long, with a proper dose of panic, bid my family goodbye and headed to the start line.

I lined up right at the front of the 1:15-1:30 group.  Though my goal was 1:20, I thought my recent swim times indicated that it was very likely I’d swim around 1:15.  Because of that and the tendency of people to seed themselves too high in the swim, I felt good about my location.

As I approached the start, the announcer yelled out, “Make sure your timing chip is securely fastened to your left ankle!” I looked down at my ankle.  Timing chip in place.  On the right ankle.  I had a moment of panic.  Not only was it under my wetsuit, but I had safety pinned the chip in place for extra security.  I didn’t think I had time to switch it over.  Surely it didn’t matter if it was on the wrong ankle?  I turned and asked someone, mostly for reassurance.  He said it was fine, so I took his word for it.

My nerves grew as I inched closer and closer to the start line.  Finally, I passed through the starting arch and ran into the water.  The start was surprisingly chill.  In fact, it was one of the least physical open water starts in which I’ve participated. Because of the rolling start, I only entered the water with a few athletes.  There was almost no bumping or jockeying for position.  It wasn’t more than a hundred yards before I was swimming in fairly clear water.  Once I was free of other bodies, my adrenaline died down a bit.  All of a sudden, I felt a giant grin spread across my face underwater.  I was doing an Ironman!

The air was still, so the water was smooth.  I swam at a comfortable and sustainable pace.  About halfway out the first lap, I realized I didn’t know how far I had gone or how much further I had to go.  This swim sure seemed to be taking a while.  I tried to remember that time slows down when swimming and whenever I do open water swimming, I think to myself, “Wow, that must have been an hour!” only to check my watch and see that it has actually been thirty minutes. The buoys were numbered, but I couldn’t remember if there were eight or ten before we turned.  I suspected it was ten, so I was surprised when I saw the red turn buoy right after passing buoy number seven.

As I made the turn east, I saw the sun just starting to peek out over the hills.  It wasn’t affecting visibility yet, but I knew it would be on the second lap and made a mental note of it.  We only swam east for about 100 yards before making the turn back to the shore. During the swim back, I noticed that I seemed to be slowly catching up and passing different groups of swimmers, so although I didn’t know my pace, I felt like I was swimming well.

After the first lap, we actually exited the water, ran a very short distance along the beach, and then hopped back in the water for the second lap.  During this beach run, I took the Gu I had stashed in the wrist of my wetsuit.  I was expecting the run to be a little longer, and I barely had time to shove the trash back into my wetsuit before I was off on the second lap.

A few strokes into the second lap, I realized I hadn’t checked my split.  Fortunately, the water was clear enough that I could easily sneak a glance at my watch.  When I saw 35:xx, I knew I was swimming well.  The second lap was a little slower than the first, both because of a little fatigue in my arms and because the swimmers were more spread out, so I wasn’t drafting as much.

When I hit the turn buoy, I turned straight into the sun.  I literally could not see more than a few feet in front of me, but I knew the second turn buoy was very close.  I also caught glimpses of kayakers carefully corralling some sun-blind swimmers in front of me back onto the course.  I knew I was safe from going too far off course.  For this short stretch, I navigated off glimpses of other swimmers and kayaks before making the turn back to shore.

About halfway back to the shore, I felt something strange.  My timing chip had slipped out from under my wetsuit.  And then I felt it slip further down my ankle.  There was a moment of panic until I remembered the safety pin holding it firmly in place, even in the case of total Velcro failure.  It was not coming off.  I have never safety pinned a timing chip on before, and I mentally thanked the man running the athlete briefing who had suggested it.

I continued to catch up to groups of swimmers for most of the way back until I started getting close to shore.  Then, I suddenly got into the wrestling matches I had missed at the start.  People ran into me and even swam over me.  I couldn’t figure out why because I had been passing people steadily.  Then I remembered… we were almost done!  And this was, of course, a race.  I didn’t really want to bury myself in the swim, but I did pick it up a notch that final few hundred yards.  I swam until my hands scraped the bottom of the lake then ran out of the water towards transition.

Swim—1:12:34

I was quickly stripped of my wetsuit and headed for my cycling gear.  As I ran up to the bike gear bags, someone yelled out my number.  And then there was a volunteer holding my bag up for me.  Talk about customer service!  I grabbed the bag and looked at the port-a-potty before deciding I didn’t have to pee that badly and running into the changing tent.

The volunteer that helped me was on top of things, but I honestly didn’t know what to do with all the help.  I’m used to going through stuff myself.  I kept accidentally putting stuff back into the bag myself when the volunteer was totally happy to do that for me.  I threw on my helmet and the bracelet they gave us to give to a volunteer that we encountered during the race, without whom we felt we wouldn’t have finished.

But soon enough, I was ready to get my bike.  As I ran towards my bike, I saw Rob on the other side of the fence.  I gave him a big smile and a wave as I reached my bike.  I waited to put on my cycling shoes until I was at my bike to avoid getting dirt stuck in the cleats.  It also gave my Garmin a bit of time to wake up.  After I was ready to go, I ended up standing still for a minute or so while my Garmin found a satellite.  Fortunately, though, it didn’t take too long, and before I knew it, I was running with my bike towards the mount line.  The mount line, though, was practically miles away.  I felt like I was running for ages before I finally saw the folks in front of me mounting their bikes.  I reached the line, mounted my own bike, and was off on my 112 mile ride.

T1—6:12

 

Ironman Coeur d’Alene 2016 Pre-race Report

Doing an Ironman is an ordeal.

It’s not just the training or the race.  The actual logistics of the event itself are just difficult to navigate.  You have to pack up half your household, somehow transport a bike that is likely your most prized possession, and then actually get yourself and your support crew to the location.  On top of that, you go through the entire check-in process and pack about a thousand bags and check them all in at different times.  It’s just an ordeal, and planning and executing that part of the event can be complicated.

I wanted to spend some time in Idaho with my family before heading up to Coeur d’Alene.  It had been a while since I’d seen my nieces and nephews, so I wanted some quality aunt time with them.  But I think the main reason was that I knew if I drove up to Idaho on the Monday before the race, that meant I would have to be packed and ready by the Monday before the race.  It was an excellent way to keep myself from procrastinating.  Rob wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of taking that much time off work, so we talked about different options for flying him up later or having him drive up later.  In the end, he was more than happy to do what made me the most comfortable, and that was driving up together so I wouldn’t have to drive my unreliable car or pay for an expensive plane ticket for one of us.

So, on Sunday, I packed up all my Ironman equipment in addition to everything I would need for a week away from home, and on Monday morning, Rob and I drove up to Idaho.  We stopped at TriTown (the bike/tri shop we used when we lived in Boise) on our way into town, and I got some brand new race tires before heading to my parents’ house for some time with my crazy family.

Smart-eyeing all the cool gear.

The time off before the race was welcome.  I was able to get my workouts in without any stress, and with my nieces and nephews always available to distract me, I was able to take my mind off the race a little.  The last week or so of work consisted mostly of me realizing I was sitting at my desk and worrying about my race instead of actually working, so the distraction of a few wild kids was actually very helpful.

On Thursday, Rob, my parents, and I drove up to Coeur d’Alene.  We ended up driving into town right along the highway that composed more than half of the Ironman bike course.

“Oh!  This is where I’ll be riding!” I said to Rob.  “It’ll be a good chance to actually see what the course looks like!”

We descended a hill, and when we reached the bottom, I saw what my future contained—a steep hill that seemed to go on forever, with the road disappearing as it curved behind some beautiful evergreens.  We started up the hill, and as the seconds ticked by without any relief in the grade, the mood in the car became somber.

“You’re riding up this?  Twice?!” Rob asked.

“Well, I’ve prepared for it,” I replied.  But I’m certain the doubt in my voice was evident.

We stopped in town on our way in so I could do a short swim in the lake.  My parents had driven up separately and met us in town.  “Did you see those hills?” my dad asked.  “Are you riding up those?”  I attempted to feign the same confidence I had attempted to feign earlier while getting into my wetsuit.

 

The water felt wonderful, and although my arms felt a little sluggish, the swim helped calm me down and distracted me from the hills on the course.  I couldn’t believe how clear the water was.  It was so clear, I actually saw a few beer cans sitting at the bottom of the lake.

After my swim, we drove to our residence for the weekend.  My parents’ neighbors have a vacation home up in Coeur d’Alene about twenty minutes outside of town.  They were kind enough to let us stay there at no charge.  For an introverted slob like myself, staying somewhere outside of town with a little space to spread out was perfect.  Crowds and socializing wear me out, so having my own room and a nice backyard porch (with a beautiful view) to which I could escape helped me avoid tiring myself out completely before the race even started.

Engrossed in my phone (in other words, relaxing)

On Friday morning, my parents and I left Rob behind (he went on a bike ride) and drove down to town to check in to the race.  The atmosphere was awesome.  The roads and lake were peppered with triathletes getting in their final workouts before the race.  We got to the expo early, about ten minutes before check in even opened.  A line was already beginning to form, and by the time it opened at 10:00am, the line had grown exponentially.  The check in process was quick and efficient, and I was pleasantly surprised at the swag.  All the athletes got a nice (and giant) wide-mouth backpack, easily large enough to a helmet, bike shoes, and a wetsuit.  After checking in, we attended the athlete briefing and then headed out to drive the course.

Athlete check-in

Athlete briefing

The hills seemed a little less intimidating the second time around, but only just.  They still looked much steeper than the grades I’d done in training, even though the numbers didn’t really back up that impression.  I tried to focus on the numbers instead of my perception, but I wasn’t entirely successful.  On top of the course fears, I found myself feeling a bit punky.  I had had a slightly scratchy throat for a couple of days that I was desperately trying to ignore, but I also felt run-down and a little achy.  To be honest, I was worried I was coming down with a bad cold.  But I knew if I was, there was nothing I could do about it.  In addition to all of that, the predicted high for race day was up to 90°.  Of course, the high the day after the race was only supposed to be 78°.  “Great,” I said to my dad, “It’s going to be hot on Sunday, plus really windy because that cold front will blow in.”  But there was nothing I could do about any of it, so after heading “home” after driving the course, I just did my best to relax and be positive.  I focused on packing up my transition bags and getting everything where it needed to be for the equipment check-in on Saturday.

It looks horrible, but there was a method to my madness!

Saturday morning dawned, and I knew that in less than 24 hours, I’d be starting my Ironman.  I had a quick run-through of each sport scheduled.  I did my run in the morning before heading into town for the bike check-in.  Physically, I felt great.  My body felt rested and ready to go.  I was still a nervous wreck, though.  I took my bike to the little shop they have for Ironman competitors because the front derailleur was rubbing slightly in my hardest gears.  It seemed like there was going to be a long wait time which threw off my whole plan for the day and also threw me into a bit of a panic.  I started tearing up right there at the mechanic’s tent, and they immediately got someone to work on my bike.  Of course, then I felt bad because I worried they were working on my bike just because I started crying and that I was being unfair and manipulative even though the tears were completely genuine… if a bit silly and overwrought. But my bike was fixed.  And it would have been a bummer if my five-minute fix had to wait for things like aerobar installations to be done (yes, the woman in front of me really was getting aerobars installed on her bike the day before the race).

With the crisis averted, I hopped in the lake for a short swim.  The water felt great, and I felt as strong on the swim as I had on my run.  I followed the swim with an equally successful short bike ride.  Then, we spent some time walking around the expo for a bit.  I’m not a huge lover of expos, but I do like to see the different products and grab whatever freebies I can.  After taking a look at the expo, we headed back “home.”  I was relaxing by mid-afternoon, and I kept looking at my watch and thinking about where I would be in my race by that time tomorrow.

Ready to swim.

A field of bike bags

And a field of run bags.

I actually handled my nerves pretty well that evening.  During one particular nervous spell, though, my dad gave me some advice.  “Katie,” he said, “just remember that you don’t have to run the last mile of the marathon until you get there.  You don’t have to start the marathon until you get off the bike, and you don’t have to ride the last 20 miles when you are still on the swim.  Just take the race one piece at a time.  Focus on the part of the race you are doing.”  I filed that away in the “advice to think about during the race” folder of my brain.

Surprisingly, I managed to eat a good dinner, and after watching a little bit of the Olympics, I was in bed by 9:00pm.  That’s a little late considering the 3:00am alarm I had set, but I knew that I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep much earlier and that a great night’s sleep the night before an event actually isn’t all that important.  And I didn’t want to lie awake for hours trying to sleep.  So, after a few “false starts,” where I would start to fall asleep and then suddenly panic about one minuscule thing or another, I was asleep for the last time before my Ironman.

On fearlessness

There is a certain fearlessness in children.  They haven’t yet mastered the art of self-preservation.  I distinctly remember the only two times I ever went skiing.  The first time, I was in elementary school.  I was bombing down hills without a care in the world (obviously easy ones, but still!).  Towards the end of the day, I even purposefully aimed for a lump on the hill, caught some air, and landed successfully.  No big deal, no fear.  No thought of what would have happened if, instead of landing successfully, I had wiped out.  A few years later, I went skiing again and gingerly inched down the slopes, desperately slowing myself when I got too fast.  I remember wondering why I was scared this time when I distinctly remembered not being intimidated at all a few years earlier.  That was when I realized I had lost my childhood fearlessness… or maybe just my childhood confidence.

It still comes back at times, usually when I have no idea what I’m getting into.

For instance, in college, I started thinking about switching from competing in the heptathlon to running the steeplechase because I just could not master the form required for the field events.  (I just ended up quitting track entirely instead…)  My coach wanted to see what my initial form over the water steeple looked like, so he told me to give it a shot.

“Now, this is new, so don’t get frustrated by how it goes the first time,” he said.

“Okay,” I said, while thinking, This is easy. It’s just hurdle… I’ve done it a million times.

(Just a side note—going over the steeple is a little different than going over a hurdle because you, you know, step on it and launch yourself over a pit of water.)

So I ran up to the steeple, pushed off the top of it, and landed easily with one foot in the water and my next step taking me back up to the dry track.

“Like that?” I asked.

“Yeah, that was pretty much it exactly,” said my coach, visibly shocked.

I had a similar experience with my half Ironman.  I decided I wanted to do a triathlon, so I signed up for a local sprint triathlon with a pool swim that actually took place the day before the other two legs.  I rode my hybrid commuter bike in my running clothes and running shoes (it’s still my fastest T2 time to date!).

I liked training for it, so I decided I wanted to be a triathlete and signed up for the Boise 70.3 coming up the next year. I got a road bike in January and raced in June.  The race was my first open water start and only my second open water swim with other people.  I was essentially brand new to endurance athletics.  But I trained and put the time in and didn’t know enough to really realize I was doing something that most members of triathlon forums across the web would consider less-than-ideal.

And you know what?  I finished the race with a time of 6:05:44, eating trail mix and Pop Tarts on the bike and running my first couple miles off the bike way too fast.  Not bad at all for a first half Ironman, especially considering how new it all was to me.  The whole training cycle, I was certain I would finish the race if I put the work in.  I didn’t even realize that what I was doing was a pretty big deal.

I didn’t have that same advantage going into the training cycle for a full Ironman.  I was well aware that an Ironman is a Scary Thing.  I’d seen in on TV and read about it online.  It is Intimidating and Epic.  It is a bucket-list item, and for us mere mortals, a Challenge more than a Race.  People crawl across the finish line because they are too depleted to even stand.

Needless to say, my confidence during this training cycle has been nothing like it was when I was training for my first half Ironman.  I’ve been scared about finishing the race, about over-biking, about bonking on the run, about the whole thing.  The refrain playing over and over in my head has been, “What if…?”

Now, caution is great.  I’m a big fan of caution.  And the fearlessness of kids doesn’t lend itself well to distance running.  Anyone who has ever lined up at the front of a 5k start with a bunch of ten year olds that, upon hearing the starting gun, sprint as fast as they can for as long as they can (generally, about a quarter of a mile) knows that complete fearlessness can backfire.  I still have a very conservative race plan because, in the Ironman, running a conservative race is far and away the best strategy for a first timer.

But I have caution in droves, and a lack of it has never been my problem.

It’s the presence of fear and a lack of confidence that has tended to hold me back.

So as I finish this taper and toe the line at Ironman Coeur d’Alene in a few weeks, I’m going to try to channel some of that child-like fearlessness.  I’m going to try to compete with the confidence of someone who is ready and has no doubts that the task at hand is achievable.

I’m going to try to create that same mindset that propelled me over that steeple with ease—the same mindset that allowed me to see a bump on the hill in front me and decide that if I hit it, I could fly.

Okay, so maybe I was only figuratively taking flight during my 70.3…

 

Weekly Recap (8/08-8/14)

Monday: Swim—2500 yards; Bike—1:01:21 (17.21 miles); Strength—15 minutes
Because the pool was closed for repair, the Masters group met at a local outdoor pool instead.  Swimming outside was absolutely wonderful.  It was a bit chilly Monday morning, so the pool water felt warm.  And welcoming the sunrise in the pool is a wonderful thing.  I swam the workout hard, so even though it was relatively low yardage, it was tough:
300 swim
200 kick
100 pull
4 x 50 (10-kick barrel roll)
4 x 50 (closed fist)
50 easy
4 x (4 x 25 strong kick
2 x 50 focusing on push-off
100 fast)
250 easy
I noticed that I finished this workout about the same time as the really fast woman in the lane next to me.  I suspect she was still swimming faster, but perhaps she took a little more time between the four main sets of the workout.  I considered this a big win in the pool, and I felt justified in being totally gassed at the end of each set.

After work, I headed out on a short bike ride.  I’ve read that during taper, you should lower the time and up the intensity, and since my training plan seems to follow that advice (this ride included a 40 minute tempo section in the middle), I have been trying to keep my workouts more intense than normal.  Because of that, I rode fairly hard.  I tried to keep my tempo up and power up hills a little more than usual.  I ended up having a strong ride and averaging close to 17mph.  After my ride, I did some strength work.

Tuesday: Strength—15 minutes; 8-minute abs
Tuesday was a very welcome almost-rest day.  I slept in until 6:00am and did my strength and core work during lunch at work.  After work, Rob and I went over to his parents’ house and played with their adorable and crazy new puppy.  I did some laundry and some cleaning as well.  Overall, it was a very productive day of rest.

Wednesday: Run—40:00 (4.88 miles); 8-minute abs
Man, I am loving taper!  On Wednesday, I did a short run with some strides thrown in.  I tried to take it a bit faster than my normal “cruise” pace, but I wasn’t supposed to push this run too hard.  I ended up finishing this run with an 8:12/mile pace.  It was a solid effort, but I didn’t struggle during it.  It was also surprisingly cool during this run.  I was actually a bit chilly going out in my tank top at 7:00am.  The running temperature was just perfect, and it was a welcome change to feel a little bit cold upon first stepping out the door.  In the evening, I did some core work.

Thursday: Bike—1:30:00 (26.11 miles)
The workout on Thursday was a ladder on the bike where I increased and then decreased the effort over the course of 90 minutes.  The breakdown was as follows:
10:00 @ RPE2
15:00 @ RPE5
40:00 @ RPE7
15:00 @ RPE5
10:00 @ RPE2
I rode hard, and I was surprised at how good I felt, considering the early morning.  With the help of decent conditions (the headwind at the Point of the Mountain was no more than a pleasant breeze), I demolished my best time so far for this particular route to work.  I managed to average 17.4mph, even with a little headwind and a net elevation gain.  This ride gave me hope for future triathlon seasons.  If I can hold 17.4mph on that route on a training day for an hour and a half, I can train to ride that speed for longer (say, 56 miles… not that that particular distance has been on my mind lately…).  It was a nice little pick-me-up to start the day.

Friday: Rest
I wrapped things up at work on Friday—last day of work before the Ironman!  I had a fairly relaxing evening and watched Stardust with Rob for the first time ever… how I went so long without seeing it I’ll never know.  On the workout front, it was a complete rest day.  The nerves have really been ramping up this week, so while the rest is nice, it doesn’t help much with the nerves.

Saturday: Swim—45:13; Bike—1:56:58 (35.21 miles); Strength—15 minutes
I had a really great plan for my work out on Saturday.  I drove up to Bountiful Pond for some open water swimming and brought my bike with me to ride afterwards.  I was going to ride three hours, end up back at my car, and drive home.  The swim went well.  I felt strong and smooth in the water, even if my goggles did keep fogging up.  After my swim, I got my bike put together and headed out on my ride.  It was still fairly early, so the first fifteen minutes or so was cold.  It’s something to remember for race day.  I was a bit tight at first (again, cold!), but I loosened up and was feeling strong and enjoying the ride.  It was flat, so I was going fast.  And then, almost two hours in, I felt the suspicious sluggish feeling that every cyclist hates.  I looked at my back tire and saw I had a flat tire.  And then when I stopped, I saw I had a goat head in my front tire as well and that it was losing air.  Here’s the thing—I only had one spare tube with me.  Rob was helping his aunt move, so I had trouble getting a hold of him which led to me just calling him over and over again until he happened to be in the same room as his phone.  The whole fiasco cost me a bunch of time, and since I had other things to do that day as well, I stopped my work out there with the intent to make up that final hour the next day.  I did some strength work in the afternoon as well.

Throwback to the last time I visited Bountiful Pond because I forgot to take a picture. 🙂

Sunday: Bike—1:01:34 (16.9 miles); Run—1:34:37 (10.89 miles); 8-minute abs
I got up early and did an hour on the bike in the morning.  It was typical, and nothing stands out, except that it was actually a little cold in the morning—a sign of the coming fall!  Afterwards, I did my run.  I started off strong, but apparently, I faded a bit on the second half.  I think I may have started out a bit too fast up the first hill, and I also didn’t have any mile markers to track my pace on the second half of my run.  I was a little bummed out that I only hit an 8:41/mile pace, but it is what it is.  It was still a strong run, and I felt good at the end.  Since my IM pace is at least :30/mile slower than the pace I ran today, I’m trying not to let it bother me at all. I did some core work in the afternoon—my last core work before the Ironman!

Highs and lows of Ironman training

I’ve been training with an Ironman in mind for about a year now, and race day is almost upon me.  I shy away from using words like “journey” or “adventure” for the things that I do (if I ever have to destroy a ring or kill a dragon, I’ll start).  But it’s certainly been an experience.  Training for an Ironman is by far the most physically taxing thing I’ve done in my life.  And, like anything tough, it’s had its ups and downs.  There have been times when I have felt like I’m on top of the world.  And then there have been the times when I break into tears for no real reason.

These moments obviously stand out, and I can recall several of each on a moments notice.

The highs

Coming in as the second woman overall in a local sprint triathlon.

Taking well over a minute off my 1000 yard time trial.  I’m not sure exactly where I was a year ago, but I think I was somewhere north of 17 minutes.  A month or so ago, I did 1000 yards in 15:24.

PRing in every leg of my Olympic triathlon.  By a lot.

Going for a 17.7 mile run and a long swim on the same day and still getting antsy enough to go for a walk in the evening.  Long runs that were 15+ miles used to wipe me out completely for the whole day.  Now, they’re rather pedestrian.

Taking in the beautiful views of Utah, whether that be on the bike or on the run.

Feeling excited to be on my bike riding at mile 101 during my first 100+ mile training ride. (That’s not to say I felt amazing at every mile before that, but it was a great way to learn that I can be sick of the bike and then get over that and be excited about it again.)

Finishing peak week, the one I couldn’t look at when I first started training because I thought there was no way I could possibly do all that.

Completing my 2-3 hour long runs with no IT band pain whatsoever.

On my way to a massive PR!

The lows

Getting my bike and car stolen in one fell swoop.

Sitting on the side of the road crying because my IT band pain was too bad to finish running home.

Failing to hit my marathon goals rather spectacularly.

Getting hopelessly lost on the way to and home from work when I decided to commute by bike.

Having an emotional breakdown on the train on the way to work because I thought the title for my wrecked car was lost in the mail.

Crashing on the bike and spending the next three weeks gingerly favoring a nasty contusion on my upper thigh.

Every single part of my body aching around mile 80 of my long training rides.

Riding 35 miles home against the wind and completely demoralized.

Aftermath of the bike crash.

These high and low moments stand out in training, but this collection of moments doesn’t really relay what Ironman training is like.  Most of it is neither demoralizing nor inspiring.  Like anything in life, it’s rather pedestrian.  Putting in the time and effort becomes the new normal and simply becomes another part of your routine.

And, while the moments of either extreme are the ones that stick out, they aren’t the important part of Ironman training.  It’s the consistency that matters.  And while a stellar sessions stands out and boosts your confidence, what matters when tracking your progress is how a perfectly average training session goes the first month into the training cycle compared to how a perfectly training sessions goes during the peak of your training.

Earlier this week, I was looking through some old blog posts.  I saw that I mentioned doing a swim workout of 10 x 100 @1:50.  I described a workout that was exhausting and absolutely pushed me to my limits.  And I realized that now, I can do a set of 10 x 100 @1:40 without much trouble at all.  I’ve even started to wonder if I could manage a set of 10 x 100 @1:35.  I’ve seen similar improvements in my running and cycling over the past year.  And it was every moment in my training that helped me make that progress.  It was the breakout sessions.  It was the workouts where I just felt flat but worked hard anyway.  It was the times that I stepped out the door even though I was tired and frustrated.  It was the times I realized that my body truly needed rest and I took a session easier than initially planned.

The workouts and moments that stand out are the ones that are both easiest to remember and ripest for inspiration.  I use the memories of good workouts to inspire myself and memories of hard ones to remind myself that I can keep going.  But really, the daily grind is where the magic happens.

Injury prevention.

Trainer rides.

Track repeats in the snow.

Consistency is where the magic happens.

Weekly Recap (8/01-8/07)

Monday: Swim—3000 yards; Strength—15 minutes; 8-minute abs
I went to Masters swim team in the morning.  We did a distance day which was probably good for me.  It was one of those workouts that looked easier on the board than it ended up being which is really the best of both worlds.  I get the physical benefit of a hard workout with the mental anguish of seeing what looks like an impossible set written up on the board:
500 swim
300 kick
4 x 50 (distance per stroke)
50 (closed fist)
3 x (100 build
200 pace
300 form)
150 easy
I always do the pace intervals faster than I should.  Every time I think, “Hey, I’ll just practice my Ironman pace!  That’ll be easy!” And then I end up practicing a way faster pace.  This time, I was probably swimming at my 1000 yard pace.  Still, that made the workout tough, and tough workouts are a good thing.  I had a surprisingly busy evening after work.  I had to go pick up a few things at the grocery store and go get my bike adjusted a bit.  After that, I squeezed in some strength and core work, ate dinner, went home, showered, got everything ready for the next day and then collapsed into bed, pretty exhausted.

Tuesday: Swim—3000 yards; Bike—2:00.05 (36.16 miles); 8-minute abs
I had another early morning at the pool.  I did some longer, low-intensity sets.  Despite the fact that it was my fourth day in the water in a row, I felt fairly strong throughout the workout.
2 x 250
3 x 750 (12:40, 12:28, 12:21)
2 x 125
I swam my main set at pretty much an even effort, so I suspect the slightly slower time for the first 750 is because I wasn’t really warmed up yet.  I felt like I was just cruising even though my pace was around 1:40/100yds.  A year ago, I never would have thought that pace could feel easy and sustainable for me.  Heck, even a couple of months ago, I didn’t think I could hold 1:40/100 over a set of ten 100s.  (I totally could, but I was still so used to my previous times that I didn’t think I could.)

I rode home from work.  I took the multi-use trail instead of the roads to avoid rush hour traffic.  I also hoped the trail would be a little cooler because it was in the mid-90s when I left.  Fortunately, the heat kept the trail pretty empty, and some clouds rolled in not long into my ride and kept the sun from beating down on me.  It was a surprisingly pleasant ride.  My water got warm but not hot.  I didn’t get overheated on the bike.  And it had been a while since I rode that path, so it was nice to get back on it.  I was also flying.  The ride back from work has a net elevation loss, and I think I had a light tailwind for most of the ride, so I was cruising.  I worked pretty hard as well, trying to keep the pace up.  I ended up averaging over 18mph on this ride, which is the fastest I’ve ever gone on a ride that long.  When I got home, I did some core work before heading off to bed.

Wednesday: Bike—1:32:10 (25.38 miles); Run—1:00:00 (7.27 miles)
In the morning, I headed off to work on my bike.  Because this ride was supposed to be shorter, I took the roads to work instead of the path.  I ride to work so early that traffic is never an issue.  Of course, going to work has a net elevation gain, so the ride wasn’t nearly as fast.  In addition, I had a stiff headwind climbing over the Point of the Mountain.  However, instead of just hating my life today, I acknowledged that there is a very real possibility I will be climbing into the wind at Coeur d’Alene and welcomed the chance to practice in race conditions.  I still managed to have a fairly strong ride, especially considering I worked pretty hard on Tuesday.

My run after work was not nearly as encouraging.  It was hot outside, though less so than it has been recently at 91°.  Instead of doing a few flat and mostly shaded loops around the park, I decided to do my “regular” hour long route with more climbing, more asphalt, and less shade.  I was hydrated, but I still struggled.  I think the process of driving home with no air conditioning wipes me out.  About half way through my run, I stopped at a water fountain and covered my face, neck, and arms with water.  I couldn’t believe what a difference it made (for, you know, three minutes).  But I pushed through the run and ended up finishing with an 8:22/mile pace.  It took a while for me to recover, though.  After downing two bottles of water (I think I have a drinking problem…), I took a shower and then had to sit around for another hour or so until I felt up to eating.

Thursday: Strength—30 minutes; 8-minute abs
I had a very light day on Thursday, and my body appreciated it.  I slept in (until nearly 6:00am!) and just did some strength and core work during lunch.  I returned to my longer strength routine this week because I had the extra time.  I was surprised at how good it felt considering I’ve been doing lighter strength work for the past few weeks.

Friday: REST
Come Friday, I was surprised at how sore I was from my strength work the day before.  I am always a little sore after my longer strength routine, but my time off from the (relatively) more intense exercises killed me.  I was waddling around all day.  I made the executive decision to only do lighter strength work next week and to abstain from my strength work for the entire week before the Ironman.  There’s no sense in risking unnecessary soreness or muscle fatigue when I won’t be gaining any extra strength in a week anyway.

Saturday: Bike—4:04:37 (68.98 miles); Run—20:00 (2.27 miles)
I woke up still embarrassingly sore from my strength work on Thursday, and I headed out not long after waking up and before I had a chance to work out the stiffness from my legs.  As such, the first half of the ride was a bit of a struggle.  I wasn’t exactly sure where my legs were, and I started to worry that my last long ride before the race was going to be very discouraging.  However, partway through, I started feeling better.  My only guess is that my legs started to warm up and stretch out.  I felt quite strong the last half of the ride, and I ended up averaging 16.9mph over course of the ride when I had guessed I’d average around 16.5mph.  I made sure to ride a relatively hilly route as well, covering around 88% of the elevation gain in Coeur d’Alene in about 62% of the distance.  After hopping off my bike, I threw on my running shoes for a quick transition run.  I felt great on the run and, for the first time in months, actually accidentally went significantly too fast, hitting an 8:48/mile pace instead of the 9:15-9:30/mile pace I try to run off the bike.  The shorter workout was quite nice, and I got to spend the rest of the day relaxing and recovering (and watching the Olympics).

Sunday: Bike—1:00:18 (16.14 miles); Run—2:00:00 (13.44 miles); Strength—15 minutes
I didn’t know what to expect for my short bike, long run brick on Sunday.  I was doing the workout from Rob’s parents’ house because I was puppy-sitting for them, so my routes would be different than usual.  Plus, I stayed up way too late watching the Olympics, and the puppy ended up getting me up a little earlier than planned.  In other words, I didn’t obsess about this workout beforehand.  I got on the bike a little later than planned, but it went relatively well.  It was slow (uphill) to start and fast (downhill) to finish.  I had a fairly quick transition and headed out for my run.  The first four miles of my run were uphill, and then I ran downhill back and added on some distance going the other direction after passing Rob’s parents’ house.  I mapped out my general route, but I didn’t take note of any mile markers or pace checks, so I was just running by feel.  However, based on what I did see when I mapped out the course, I thought I was running relatively slow, somewhere between a 9:30-9:50/mile pace.  I wasn’t sure why I didn’t have more energy, but since this was a run based on effort, I didn’t push too hard, despite what I thought was a slower pace.  I just accepted that I felt more fatigued than I expected and went with it.  However, once I got back and mapped out my exact route, I found out I had run longer and faster than I thought and had finished my run with about an 8:56/mile pace.  With the hills, my ride yesterday, and a bike ride before the run, I was very excited about running that pace (though I will need to make sure not to go out that fast during the race!).  Later on in the afternoon, I did some light strength work.

I know I always post photos of the mouth of Little Cottonwood Canyon, but it’s always so pretty!

Weekly Recap (7/25-7/31)

Monday: Rest; 8-minute abs
I took my rest day at the beginning of the week even though I typically try to take it during the latter half of the week.  I just needed some downtime.  I felt deeply fatigued on Monday, so the rest was a good choice.  I did get some core work in.  Because this week is a recovery week, I tried to be better about fitting in all my strength and core work.

Tuesday: Bike—2:00:19 (32.82 miles); 8-minute abs
I rode my bike into work on Tuesday.  Like the last time I rode my bike in, I found myself struggling as I crossed the Point of the Mountain.  This time, though, I stopped and ate a Honey Stinger waffle that I had brought with me.  I immediately felt much better and was able to pick up the pace a bit from that point on.  I ended up having a pretty decent ride, considering I started so early (my legs are always sluggish when I get up) and I was fighting the wind over the Point of the Mountain (it is literally always windy there… and in the morning, it’s usually a headwind for those going south).  I did some core work in the evening to finish the day off.

Wednesday: Run—1:30:00 (10.58 miles); Strength—15 minutes
I felt reasonably strong on my run Wednesday morning.  I got to work around 5:30am and headed out for the run around 6:30am.  It was still fairly cool outside which was welcome considering the oppressive heat the day before (according to a sign I saw on my ride, it was over 80° before 7:00am).  The course I run from work is a nice one—mostly flat with a few hills to mix things up and uninterrupted by intersections and traffic lights.  I didn’t end up running quite as fast as I felt like I was running, but it was still a good workout, considering the fatigue from the week before had really started to set in.  In the evening after work, I did some strength exercises.

Thursday: “Open water” swimming practice; Strength—15 minutes; 8-minute abs
I went to Masters where we practiced “open water” swimming.  Again, this just means the coach removed the lane lines and we practiced drills.  Although this isn’t as effective a way to practice open water swimming as actually, you know, swimming in open water, it does help.  Specifically, we typically do some swimming with our heads lifted entirely out of the water which helps strengthen the muscles used to sight so that they are ready to be used in races.  I considered doing one of my runs in the evening (it was slated for either Thursday evening or Friday morning), but it was over 100° when I got home, and I decided I’d rather not.  I was feeling tired and unmotivated to a degree that is pretty abnormal for me, so I decided to listen to that and give myself a mental break that evening.  Instead, I did some strength work and some core work.

Friday: Run—45:00 (5 miles); Bike—1:15:03 (23.77 miles)
I was feeling much more motivated when I woke up the next morning.  As usual, my legs were like lead because I went out before being up for at least an hour, but my pace increased as I warmed up, and I ended up having a fairly enjoyable run that left me feeling ready to tackle the day instead of ready to go back to bed.

It was hot again after work, but it’s much better to ride in the heat than run in the heat, so I headed out for a tempo ride.  The workout was broken down as follows:
10 minutes [warm up, RPE 3]
7 x (5t, 3r) [tempo=RPE 5, recovery=RPE 2]
9 minutes [cool down, RPE 2]
I did this tempo workout on a flat route so that I could better control how hard I was working.  I was surprised at how well it went in the heat.  I seemed to be averaging around 21-23 mph during my tempo efforts, depending on the road surface and the wind direction.  I performed well, but it was still pretty miserable due to the heat.  I went out with two bottles of water, and within twenty minutes, the water in them was downright hot.  Gross.  I made it through, though, and this is one type of workout I’m going to do once the Ironman is over to gain speed on the bike.  I’d love to eventually be able to hold 20-22 mph over a 40k time trial.

Saturday: Run—1:00:00 (7.22 miles), 6 x 20 second strides; Swim—1:00:30
I started my Saturday off with a run.  My legs were still somewhat fatigued from my bike intervals the day before, but I managed to run fairly well on a reasonably hilly route, averaging an 8:19/mile pace.  After the run, I did a few relaxed 20 second strides.  I was actually running pretty quickly for these, though I focused on staying relaxed the whole time.  It was almost fun!  I think I really am looking forward to doing some shorter stuff once this Ironman is over.

A little later in the morning, I drove up to Jordanelle Reservoir.  I had heard that it tends to get choppy up there around 10:00am once the wind picks up, and I wanted some practice in choppy open water.  Sure enough, there was quite a bit of chop when I got there (and quite a few boats, too!).  Despite the long drive and $15 entry fee to the state park, this swim was 100% worth it as a training tool.  The chop was worse than I expected, and I got some valuable practice swimming with waves smacking me in the face.  The good news is that I think the fear of boats affected me more than the chop itself.  I was pretty worried about being hit (there were no close calls or anything, though).  The bad news is that I got motion sickness and did struggle more than expected in the chop.  I think non-drowsy Dramamine would have kept the motion sickness at bay.  And I think I’ll be fine in the chop without the motion sickness and fear of boats.  Despite the chop, a few instances of breathing in water, and some giant gulps of water, I didn’t feel any open water panic which seems like a good sign.

Sunday: Bike—1:31.48 (23.30 miles); Swim—1200 yards; Strength—15 minutes
Rob and I did our traditional Sunday morning coffee shop loop.  It was a pleasant morning, and we got out fairly early when it was still cool.  There wasn’t much to note about this ride except that I felt much better than I had two weeks ago when I was riding it the day after a hundred mile ride.  At the coffee shop, Rob and I got pastries (savory and sweet, respectively) and read a bit.  I read a great article about Katie Ledecky, the stand-out swimmer on the US Women’s Olympic team, and Rob read the New York Times.  We were a proper urban couple, out for a coffee in the suburbs!

After church, I headed to the pool for a short, easy recovery swim made up of the following:
300 swim
300 kick
300 pull
300 swim
Inspired by the article I had read earlier, I attempted the one eye underwater, one eye out of the water technique when breathing.  This is the way it’s supposed to be done, but I’ve never managed to master it.  Much to my surprise, I managed it pretty well, and by the end of my swim, I was mostly doing it right on both sides.  When I got back from the pool, I did some strength work to close out the week.