It’s been almost a year since my last post. I am basically now a writer with an MD, so I haven’t had much time for pleasure writing. But, I know some of you tri-geeks want to know went down yesterday in Tempe, so I am here to enable your multi sport voyeurism. Shorter and sweet, hopefully to repeat.
Since restarting triathlon, I have made one promise to my self and my family: I am a participant now, not a competitor. My job has taken off, in good ways, but that means my hours are really unregular now. On top of that, my kids are older and now are participating in pretty much everything Montana has to offer. Finally, I have taken up a love for hunting in addition to my passion for fly fishing. So that means basically my dedication to training has worn thinner than the chamois of my 11 year bike shorts. Yes, I really do have 11 year old bike shorts I still use.
So coming into this, I had as much training as Trump did on how to use Twitter before becoming President. I also used no training plan. I felt I just knew what my body needed to get the job done, the job being solely finishing. I also prioritized. I barely swam, swimming only a handful of 4000 yard sets and about four swims total in November. I ran about three times a week, always consisting of a long run, an interval session, and a fartlek session. I did two 20 milers before the race, and usually hovered between 13 and 18 miles other weeks. For riding, I did TrainerRoad. If I got bored of workouts, I swapped into a fast Zwift session. I rode last outside before the Ironman in August. All my long rides were done on a Tacx Neo, the longest being 4:45. And that’s about it.
My “whatever” attitude applied to equipment as well. My wetsuit ripped a few years back, so I just found whatever cheap wetsuit I could get online instead of getting something made of fossilized shark skin. I didn’t upgrade my bike, even with all those fancy bottle systems I see out there these days. Same banged up Garmin. I didn’t even pack my bag until the night before it was time to leave. I was so sick of making this a big mental deal, I just wasn’t even thinking about the event until 24 hours of leaving. Of course, that mean I forgot my prescription sunglasses, but whatever…..I don’t need to see slow…..
Like I said, I was not going to make this a mentally taxing event. I showed up early at transition. Pumped my bike tires up. Took care of business in the porta-a-hells, then took a nap until the race start.
My goal was to simply not drown. Drowning was going to make it difficult to finish the race I figured. It was a rolling start, based on your expected time. They had times on signs and you just got into the herd with your best guess. No, no one swims with the sign, but that would have been awesome. I did 1:13 with real training six years ago, and 1:23 at my first Ironman in CDA, so I jumped in at 1:20. Gun goes off and into the water we went. I took about ten minutes to walk up to the start after the official gun.
I set simple rules to guide the day. I used to be part of Endurance Nation, and those lessons served me well. I told myself if I felt like I was racing while swimming, I was going way too hard. So I focused on form. Face down and good catch. It has been a while since I did an Ironman, and what I immediately got re-taught was how physical the swim was, even with the rolling start. Not on purpose of course, but I got a few good punches. It was also bolstered by the fact I was blowing by people. The water was again dark, not even being able to see my wrist in front of me. We also start the swim going into the sun, so that didn’t help. I was zig zagging like Rickard Stark totally should have. After running into more people than than the Seahawks offensive line this year….wait, the opposite of that…I ended up back on land unscathed. I didn’t wear a watch so I didn’t know what my time was….like I said, whatever. It was only after I found out 1:16. To me, this is a damn miracle considering how little I trained for swimming. Just goes to show that form can make a huge difference for middle packers like me.
T2 Find the Blow
Ok, in retrospect I wish I hadn’t been so “whatever” in transition. I walked to my bag from the swim, thanked the volunteers and wandered to the changing tent like I was window shopping. Big experienced Ironman Arizona tip for you newbies visiting: The changing tents are heated by vents that line the bottom of the tent canopy. So some of the folding chairs are right over the vents. I grabbed one, and by the time I was ready to leave, my feet had gone from numb to almost burning hot. I went to go pee, got some good sun screen (another experienced Ironman advice…unless your qualifying for Kona….get the sunscreen….not one strip of sunburn on me, even my lower back), and off I was with my bike.
Remember my mantra of “whatever”? Well, I found out the day before the race that my Quarq Elsa power meter was not communicating with my Garmin. Wouldn’t pair despite my geek attempts, and I’m Asian. (I can say that…I’m Asian). So instead of getting stressed and having an aneurysm, I just went with “well, go easy.” I had known from doing the race before and Endurance Nation that everyone and their grandma triathlete goes out way too hard on the bike.
So I went easy, LIKE CRAZY EASY. If you have ever wanted to know if you could finish the Ironman bike by literally soft pedaling, the answer is yes. And the Rich Strauss truth proved true again. First lap, I got passed like I was Harvey Weinstein hitchhiking. Second lap, less passing. Third lap, I was passing a few peeps. Probably what helped is that the wind was pretty bad. We had an uphill headwind the first two laps and then mixed on the third. Even with knowing people were going too hard, it was hard to lay back. I helped myself by saying “don’t forget that whole marathon thing” and by singing to myself. If I was breathing so hard I couldn’t sing (not on tune wise, that is a given) I was going to hard.
In retrospect, I totally undercooked the bike. My time was miserable. Went I got off, I felt like I basically hadn’t even ridden any. Next time, I will push this more, with a working power meter.
T2: Stil taking my time
Felt great coming off my bike. Walked over to get my bag and then took a leisurely change and some water to rinse the salt off my face. I crust salt like a tide pool in Death Valley. After revisiting the porta-a-hells (seriously, how bad is your aim when you create what looks like a chocolate cake got thrown against a wall behind the toilet seat), off I went. Ironman Arizona is a great spectator event with so many loops, and I finally got to give my wife a kiss during a race. Been waiting for that for like 10 years. Whatever feels right.
Run: It all comes together, 4:33
My strategy was to run walk. Run about 9:45 pace to each aid station, and walk for one minute. Keep my cadence high in the 170s (Garmin Footpod on board). Try to keep it together until mile 13, when I expected to crash hard.
I had learned from my Boise performance a few years back that two things propel me through the run: passing people and caffeine. Normally, when I get to the Ironman run, I feel like I’m doing taxes for a North Korean labor camp, aka like I’m dying a slow death for no reason. I wanted to avoid this like college students with wanderlust and a hankering for kim chi. I stuck with the plan. Run, walk, cola, repeat.
First mile, felt great. Second mile, felt great. I start passing people. I started alternating Red Bull and Cola. I started growing wings. My overall pace remained constant, around 10:30, and that is with my run walk strategy, and even a few stretch sessions. I always focused on keeping my cadence up and not settling into a shuffling form.
My goal was just to do well until I would eventually crash around mile 14. But mile 14 came around and I felt great. People were even commenting how strong I looked. And now I wasn’t just passing people, I was blowing by people. This only spurred me along more.
All in all, I had 13 half cups of coke, 13 half cups of Red Bull, and a fun size Snickers. And shut the front door, one aid station had freaking peanut M&M’s. I love these things, and I don’t get to eat them because my kid has a serious peanut and dairy allergy. I grabbed four cups and downed them.
The true pain only started in mile 25, as always. But as I turned the final corner, I knew this had been my most successful Ironman yet, even if not my fastest.
Finis: 12:43, second fastest IM. Top 50% of age group, top third of men.
Woh, what a ride. I could not be more pleased about yesterday. My family too. Those jokes about triathlon widows and such….well lets say that all jokes have some base in truth. My past IM events have been fraught with family stress, questions about what is more important, and more than just my own sacrifice. But not this time. We go to Boy Scouts. We go to church. I hunt on Saturday and Sunday mornings instead of riding. I take cello lessons and go with my daughter to her violin lessons. I swim went I feel Iike to need to reach nirvana, not when a piece of paper tells me so. I have fun while riding indoors. And with that, I can not just be a happy triathlete, but also still happy enough with my performance.
Thanks for the lessons Arizona. I’ll being seeing you in 2018.
(This is a satire…no, not a flat tire….what, no I don’t want a Fat Tire….egad here hold my beer)
Ah the virtual world. There is nothing quite like it is there. That warm, ozone smelling land of ones and zeros where we can do or say whatever we want. Unfortunately, for the human species, that usually equates to being utter jerks. Throw in a selection of the human race already known for being particularly snippy, say elitist cyclists, an you get a virtual world that seems torn out of the pages of Dante’s Inferno.
As I have mentioned, I have been exploring the world of Zwift lately. 90% of the time, its been a wonderful experience filled with adventure, competition, sweat, mountains and valleys, incredible aquariums, and crotch pain….kind of like dinner with Donald Trump but in a good way. However, there are still some things that only happen in that virtual world that lead palm to face.
“Jumping the Front on Sub 2”
You know the people. Your setting off on that fun Sunday Sub 2 for a chill ride, and maybe even catch the game simultaneously when suddenly the front people launch off like Godzilla just joined the group. We’ve all done it once I’m sure, but there are some people who are pros at it…or at least it makes them feel like pros leaving the Sunday Church Ride equivalent in their dust.
Take the example to the real word to see the ridic.
“Good to see you guys. I’m looking forward to enjoying this fine California weather and smelling the grapes as we ride through Napa. I hear there is a wine stop just a few miles down that caters to the Lycra crowd. I say we stop there. Oh Chuck, I didn’t know your Grandma was coming too, so nice to meet you ma’am. Ok, last one to the first stop buys the bottle! Ha ha ha, I jest.”
4.0 w/kg and 15 miles later you catch up with polite jester sipping a 2013 Lewis Cabernet Sauvignon “Your g’ma gets social security right?”
The “You didn’t Use search button hard enough” Twat
This really needs no introduction. You’ve seen those posts on the Zwift Riders Facebook page, you know, that SOCIAL media website that’s all the rage these days. Ok, yes, many answers can be found by using the search function, but its not fool proof. But maybe someone is not very computer literate. Maybe its a 79 year old who is just happy to be back on the bike in a supposed welcoming community. Maybe it’s someone being lazy. But just maybe. In any case, why act like total jerk because you are online. If you are going to act like that online, why not apply the same philosophy to the real world:
“Doctor, what are the side effects of this medication?”
“Apparently laziness because you could have looked that up online.”
Think its different because you are paying the doc? How about this?
“Father, why do I feel I am going to hell?”
“Because you didn’t read the Bible enough. The answer is in there; why bother my Sunday with this?”
If your still on defense on this one, you should probably find a virtual Kentucky Derby program so you can race on your high horse.
“The Power Up Chump”
You’ve been at it. Racing ZTR B for the last hour. Gutting it out, looking at stems, dropping riders like dollar bills in a strip club. You can see that finish line racing towards you. Just you and this guy sucking your wheel for the past 15 minutes. You rear up to sprint and finish this right…..and then there it is. A shiny blue helmet. Your wheel leach rides off into victory.
Sure, we can say when power ups are allowed or not, but man don’t use that crap at the end. If that was real life, the last 2 miles of alp d’Huez would be littered with more syringes than a Staten Island biohazard disposal site.
Mr./Mrs 11w/kg for fifty minutes, you are not fooling anyone. If Lance cant pull one over us with his seven yellow jerseys, you have no hope with your 30 KOM jerseys. The usual argument is “who cares, let them do what they want.” I’m cool with that, but don’t expect any niceties from the peloton when you are zipping around Watopia on your apparent Suzuki motorcycle.