The Bigger Picture

First thing's first - I loved participating in my first triathlon. 

LOVED. IT.


Sure, I don't think I performed up to my abilities and fell short of my race-day goals, but you know what?... in the bigger picture that really doesn't matter that much at all.

Call it a rut, call it a pattern, call it whatever else you can think of - for many years I had settled comfortably into a workout routine that involved 60-90 minutes in the gym for no less than 5 days a week, usually with no more than 10 of those minutes spent doing anything related to swimming, biking or running.

I had goals, I suppose - get stronger, get leaner, get yourself looking more and more like someone you'd see on one of those Abercrombie & Fitch posters, sans creep-factor and flowing hair. I tried to bench-press, curl and flex my way towards these "goals" with the hopes of one day just kind of landing there. What then? I dunno... try to maintain it?

But what was it? Why was I striving for it and is that what i really wanted? The answer, which I guess I had been afraid to admit to myself, was no.

So what am I doing then? Where do we go from here? So many questions, I know... 

Those that know me would not shy away from using the word "competitive" to describe my nature when it comes to at least anything sports-related. I love playing almost all competitive sports (except anything involving a frisbee, sorry Bryan) and cherish every opportunity I have to get out there and put myself to the test. Am I measuring myself against my friends and other athletes? Hell yeah! And I love it! 

It's not at all that I'm driven because of the taste of victory or the rush of crushing an opponent; I love the competition and enjoying the sporting nature of moments where athletes can measure themselves against one another, usually resulting in the advancement of both of their mental/physical attributes. Take a tennis rally, for example - I love the back and forth mental/physical chess match that takes place with each and every shot, but regret its conclusion because someone must lose the point, distracting you from the amazing physical/mental exercise that proceeded that very moment. 

Weight-training was great, sure, but at the end of the day/week/month you've donated hours of your life in search of this ideal physique that, once achieved (i imagine) does not leave you feeling so fulfilled. Where is the end? How do you measure success? How do you stay motivated? What is the bigger picture?

The bigger picture was not there. I had bulked up and bulked and bulked up and before I knew it I was standing there at 205 pounds - aghhh. Sure, I could lift heavier things than I ever could before, but what the hell does that do for me? Not much. I didn't see myself, nor wanted to see myself, 10 years from now following the same prescription - a slave to the gym, to some false sense of accomplishment.


So I made a change.


Triathlons, eh? 

Sure I had heard and read about them in the past. We've all heard of the Ironman race(s) and have seen the Gatorade commercial where the guy's body literally shuts down a few feet from the finish line. But I was definitely never a runner, swimmer or biker...err... cyclist. My attributes for all of the above up until that point were as follows:

Run - I broke the 3-mile barrier once to try 8 miles, but shut down mentally and physically as soon as I got there.

Swim - I was on the middle-school swim team; second string, if there was such a thing.

Bike - I used to think I was impressing the pants off of my friend when I went from doing 10 minutes to doing 10 miles on the stationary bike! Wowee!...hehe.

These outstanding PBs aside, I was still pretty damn curious! 

In the end, it was the mental factor that ultimately seduced me. Up until that moment, I couldn't fathom the idea of participating in a triathlon, let alone considering myself a triathlete. It was like the idea of running a marathon - not possible, no way. Never. Not me. 

Yet still, I was madly seduced by the prospect of going down a path where I could not see the finish line; where I didn't know if I would make it out the other side or if I'd get spit-out along the way. 

Plus, I was f-ing 205 pounds! Not cool.

With that thought, I read all of the online material I could get my hands that contained the words triathlon, swimming, biking and running. I dove head-first into a beginner training program and never looked back.

Fast forward to today.

I weighed-in the week of the race at 175 lbs. That's 30 pounds lighter than what I was tipping the scales at last Christmas. I've taken responsibility for what I eat, what I drink (or particularly, what I don't drink), how I train and how I live. 

Triathlon training allows me to have goals - goals that don't include a gym membership, a bench-press, a spotter, protein shakes or mirrors on a wall designed to reaffirm purpose. These goals, and the experiences that go along with them, are not empty, nor are they confined inside the walls of a weight-room. They weave their way back into my everyday life and serve as metaphors for other facets of my life. They are multi-dimensional. 

Do I love the competition out on the roads, trails and in the pool? Hell yeah, I do! But I value the lifestyle it has led me to far-more than any of those clashing of the horns, however awesome they may be!

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Monday Morning Quarterback - Nations Tri

Ok, for starters, I realize my race report was filled with tears and excuses.

Yeahhh.... my bad.

Sorry for putting us both through that. You can read what a real race report is supposed to look like here:

• Chris McCormack - Ironman World Championships
  
• Chris Lieto - Ironman World Championships
  

HOWEVER.... whether that thing I called a "race report" was venting, race reporting, scape-goating or something else, it did me well to get it off my chest. I think my mind is clear enough that I can look back at the action and break it down Gary Miller style. Chances are we're in for another long, rambling post here, so don't say I didn't warn you.

3... 2... 1!

The Night Before - Nutrition, Sleep, etc. 

Good: I ate a big burrito and drank LOTS of water the night before (carbs, yes!). I also had everything laid out so I wouldn't need to screw around going through mental checklists when I woke up, including the food I planned to consumer right upon awakening. 

Bad: It was college football Saturday, which meant going to bed early was damn near impossible. I tried, only to find myself waking up frequently and having to check the scores. I probably didn't fall asleep for good until somewhere between 11pm and 12am. (I also woke up 45 minutes before my alarm was scheduled to go off. Rats!) In hindsight, I also should have eaten more, I think, and incorporated some fruit and vegetables - perhaps more traditional carbs like spaghetti and bread.  

Next Time: Get settled in a bit sooner and try to get in bed well ahead of when I should actually be falling asleep. Eat a more traditional meal that is made at home, as opposed to going somewhere. This will make for better nutrition and a guarantee of sufficient portions/consumption. 

Pre-Race Setup 

Good: I was able to get up, eat my food and get on my way very smoothly and calmly. I got into the transition area with plenty of time to get everything setup. I read a bit about how people lay out their helmets, sunglasses, shoes, etc, so I just tried to do something similar to that. 

Bad: Well, I got to the race so damn early that if it wasn't my first race I would've got pretty bored I think. Orrrrr, you could say I got there at the perfect time to get set-up and get a good solid warm-up in. Whoops. I didn't. 

Next Time: That brings us to "next time!" Next time it'd be smart to get the game-face on much earlier and get a good solid warm-up in. Get the heart-rate up, get a sweat going and get in the "compete" state of mind instead of the "participate" state of mind.

The Swim 

Good: I was 3rd in the water? I tread water pre-race successfully? That's about it, really. 

Bad: I had no open-water swimming experience before the race. None. And no, going tubing on a lake does not count.. obviously. I put a TON of anti-fog solution (read: spit) into my goggles and it totally backfired. Mid-race I cleaned them out and they were fine for the rest of the time with no fog problems what-so-ever. My wet-suit did not fit me properly and I had no experience using a wetsuit for anything other than tubing. The strangulation feeling accompanied by swimming in a wetsuit was completely new to me. I also cramped up on the way out of the water - 2nd calf cramp in my life and it happened right there. Also, heart-rate... 

Next Time: Lots more open-water swim practice!! Long, tempo-swims with wetsuit on in pool or open water!! Hell, I might even swim with my eyes closed when the lanes are empty enough. 

Transition 1

Good: I got my wetsuit off relatively easily after recovering from the calf cramp and lightly jogged up the ramp and into the transition area. Bike helmet and glasses went on immediately, sock and shoes went on, and nutrition was properly loaded. I was able to lightly jog with my bike from the transition area to the mounting line. 

Bad: Those fucking gloves. I stood at the start line struggling to put them on and it makes me shake my head in frustration every time I think about it. I also sat down on the ground too damn long when putting my shoes and socks on. It relaxed me and made me take more time than I needed. 

Next Time: No cycling gloves. Pre-roll socks and put them on standing up. Put shoes on standing up. Run faster from swim to bike. 

The Bike

Good: I ate and drank right once I got on the bike, as planned. I didn't draft, unlike the hundreds of others who did, whether they were trying to or not. I tried to take advantages of downhills since my uphills were atrocious, thus making the best of the situation.

Bad: I didn't eat/drink enough when on the bike. I only had one energy gel while on the bike, instead of the planned two. I also didn't finish my two water bottles of sports drink, a planned. I bonked a couple of times and figured it was due to tired muscles. I forewent using my heart-rate monitor and instead tried to keep a speed which I was more accustomed to training at - this ultimately backfired and I ended up going way slower than usual while still maintaining an out of zone heart-rate level.

Next Time: Train a lot more on rolling hills. Use those speeds as your averages so your expectations are more realistic, as opposed to speeds on completely flat land. Trust your heart-rate monitor. Eat and drink more than you think you should because obviously you don't know any better. RELAX and race your own race. Get training on the aero bars more so it feels natural. 

Transition 2

Good: Well-paced running in with the bike. Found my spot easily. Ran out at a decent pace. 

Bad: Gloves. Bike corral was too low so i had to bend/lean my bike awkwardly to get my seat under and locked in place. I sat down again to do the shoe shuffle. Didn't eat/drink right there in transition. Forgot to put on race number. 

Next Time: Duh - stand up the whole time and save yourself 2 minutes. Start "un-gearing" or dealing with nutrition while still on the bike - loosen shoe straps, eat a gel, drink, etc. Wear race-number so you don't look like you're a weekend jogger that got lost along the race route. PRACTICE YOUR TRANSITIONS.  

The Run  

Good: Opening pace was great. I felt tired, but still solid. I liked where I was at, considering the HR debacle of the race up until that point.I found someone running at a pace I was comfortable with and jumped behind him for as long as he could hold it. 

Bad: Nutrition just wasn't done correctly. I found myself in situations where I would start to bonk and wasn't sure if it was the nutrition or muscles being worn out. This wouldn't have been a question if I had made a solid nutritional plan and stuck to it. Mentally, I got very weak at the end of the race. I was not pacing according to my watch and instead was just relied on feel... which, when you're mentally spent, means walking every now and again. FOR SHAME!! 

Next Time: Make nutritional plan and stick to it. Come out of the gate with a pace in mind and hold it, even if you feel better. Run slower, instead of walking. Bring visor to keep sun off of face. 

Shout-Outs and Awards

1. me on the swim entry 
2. me into the transition area that morning at 4:30am 
3. Photographer Patrick
4. Adie and Beca
5. Local pro - Lindsey 
6. Mayor Fenty 

Golden Sombreros 

1. Guy who can't swim straight in the water: granted, I was probably bestowed with this honor by someone else at some point during the swim, so I can only smile at the thought of a bunch of us Fred's out there swimming in diagonal lines! 
2. Guy who I was pacing with on the run who bonked before I was ready: I know you tried hard, but ultimately the pressure of carrying us both to the finish line was too much for you to handle and you had to shut it down. You left me out there on my own, flailing about.
   
3. Shuttle bus after the race: It turns out the damn bus wasn't scheduled to show until almost three hours after the race ended. whaaaaat? So, instead of taking a nice relaxing bus-ride back from the race, I had to walk my bike (tons of swag made bike inoperable) for about 2 miles to the nearest city bus-stop that came anywhere close to my neighborhood. To add comedy to the situation, my chain fell off mid-walk. HARRRRR! 

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2009 Nation's Triathlon Race Report

So, it's 3:15am and I'm laying in my bed staring at the clock wondering why my body has chosen to wake up now instead of 45 minutes later like i thought we agreed upon around 11pm the night before. Well, OK... here we go. After a quick "this is why you're getting out bed at this time on a Sunday morning (Saturday night?), so shutup" pep talk, I ventured out to the kitchen to ingest 2 bowls of honey-nut cheerios, a banana and plenty of water. After a quick pit-stop, I took everything I had laid out the night before and packed it neatly into a backpack and a transition bag. 

I then hopped on the scooter en route to the "official hotel" where I'd transition onto a shuttle bus to get to the race itself. (note: this was probably my fastest transition of the day) The bus, unlike my spandexed scooter ride, was quite warm, and we proceeded to leave within 5 minutes of my boarding. The ride was uneventful, but it was probably the quickest I will ever get across the city given that there were absolutely NO cars on the road.

It's about 4:25am by the time my bus arrived at the transition area. The transition area didn't officially open until about 4:35am so I got a chance to stand around a bit and check out the swim corral & water-entry.

We soon got in so I proceeded over to Row 18 where my bike was stashed the previous afternoon and began to set up my gear. I quickly came to the conclusion that I didn't have that much gear to set up and also that I got to the race waaay too early. Hmmm. No matter, because it left me with plenty of time to peruse the assortment of bikes worth many thousands of dollars. Wow. Just wow.

 

This is pretty much my dream bike, but don't confuse that sentiment for any actual knowledge about what makes a great bicycle.

Hundreds and thousands of timing chips.

The borrowed wet-suit was slathered into with about 60 mins. before my swim wave took off (wave 11 - 7:30am start time). Notice the "Body Glove" branding and obvious style faux pas when considered against other seal-skinned participants. I don't think I've owned or worn anything from "The Glove" since sometime in elementary school, and it felt... odd. Pair that with my pink swim-cap and you could tell I wasn't one to be messed with. 

hmm, goggles on just a little early?.... maybe?

The Swim: 
Like a colony of penguins at feeding time, we funneled ourselves closer and closer to the water. They were starting us in 3-minute waves of 150 or so people. This meant that after one group of swimmers took off, 150 people, 2 or 3 at a time, had to jump into the water and spread themselves out along the starting line. I want to take the time to note that I had never swam in The Glove before that morning. My only experience wearing it actually came the night before when I put it on and stood in the shower pretending to swim. Yeah... it probably looked exactly like how you're picturing it now... perhaps worse.

I forget if the starting noise was a bang or a honk, but once it came we all took off in a blaze of testosterone-induced kicking and splashing. Up until that point, The Glove felt great. I felt a noticeable difference in how much easier it was to tread water. However, once the actual swimming started I had a much different attitude. See, what shower-swimming does not prepare you for is the near total-body strangulation that is induced the moment you start moving around and taking on water. Add that to my 0 hours of open-water swim-training and you have a pretty unavoidable recipe for disaster. 

I'm somewhere in there splashing around.

The Potomac River is known for its cleanliness in the same way that Dane Cook is known for his humor. With hours upon hours of swim-training under my bel-, err, speedo... ::sigh::.. I've grown quite accustomed to the luxury of eye-site, I have come to peace with the taste of over-chlorinated water and I have learned to abide by common lap-swimming etiquette. Take away one of those factors and you could say I would be at a slight disadvantage. Take away two of them and you could say my rhythm might be thrown off. Remove all three, but replace them with an auto-strangulation device (The Glove), water that tastes like gym socks and goggles filled with way too much anti-fog solution (read: spit) and things went a bit rougher than was expected (read: awfully).

The orange buoys were notorious for log-jams.

The eye-sight was the first thing to hit home. I couldn't see a thing. I couldn't see 6" in front of my face - nothing. The only relief I had was the split second I would turn to the side to take a breath, then my face plunged back down into darkness. This freaked me out - a lot. Heavy breathing quickly followed which, with each heave, made me exponentially more aware of The Glove squeezing tighter to my body. Heavy breathing increased. Swim technique became erratic. HEART-RATE SPIKED. And, thanks to my HRM, I was then able to pull-up and stop swimming altogether to confirm the slight suspicions I had that my body was in the midst of total f*cking meltdown. Confirmed. I tread water for about 10 seconds and had another go at it. Same result - less vision, more strangulation, HEART-RATE SPIKED. I stopped again. This cycle continued on and on for the first 1/3 of the whole damn swim. !?!?@$%&@!)(?!?

The halfway point of the swim is way down there past the bridge.

Was there disappointment? Yeah, you could call it that. Although, I'd say the aforementioned fear eventually turned to anger first, followed then with lots of disappointment. When I was rounding the buoys, I finally started to pull myself together. I was able to fend off some of the disappointment and use the anger to motivate myself to put together a respectable second 1/2 of the swim. I settled into a groove, started passing people, LOTS of people, and then knocked out the rest of the swim like it was nothing. The only thing weighing heavy on my mind was that my heart-rate had still not settled down, and I knew it. My nerves were still out of control and although I was swimming comfortably (muscle-wise), I just couldn't convince myself to pull-up, tread water and get things COMPLETELY back under control. 

Obligatory photo of swim course.

Eventually the ramp out of the water was upon me and my first contact with it was an awkward step with my left foot. The result? Only the second calf cramp I have experienced in my ENTIRE LIFE. Instead of striding out of the water gracefully, I fell back in sideways, clutching my calf and stretching it like mad. HEART-RATE SPIKED. The cramp quickly gave up and I was able to hop out of the water and begin ripping off The Glove as I ran through to transition. 

Wohoo, swim is over!

Swim Time: 34:56  -  Not great, but I really thought it was a lot worse.

Transition 1:
This was also my 1st transition ever so I didn't really come into it with any specific expectations as far as timing - I just wanted to keep moving (WIN), get my stuff on quickly (FAIL) and keep the heart-rate in check (FAIL). At this point, I figured that my HR had been in the 170-180 range nearly the entire time since the swim-start - this is bad. All throughout training I had been operating in the 155-165 range, considering 165-170 to be "pushing it." 

My botched attempt at a smile while trying to find the zipper-cord for The Glove. My mind is smiling, but my body is making my mouth try to get more oxygen.

I did manage to have a sense of humor about it all, as you can see by the goofy smile sandwiched between The Glove and the pink cap. Once out of the water, I managed to peal The Glove off down to my waste somewhat easily, although there were no "strippers" to aid me. So, I ran like that over to Row 18, planted my ass on the ground, removed the wetsuit, put on socks, then the biking shoes, remembered that i wanted to put my helmet and glasses on first, swore under my breath (oh sh*t!), put helmet and glasses on, stood up, grabbed cycling gloves, ran bike out of transition to start line, stood at line struggling to put one glove on, stood there struggling some more, still struggling, FINALLY got glove #1 on, realized I probably shouldn't wear gloves on a ride this short, contemplated taking first glove off, wondered where I would stash two gloves on my body, came to the conclusion it would be just as quick to put second glove on, stood there struggling to get second glove on, struggled more, HEART-RATE SPIKED, finally got it half-on and jumped on the bike and took off... 

T1: 3:36  meh...

The Bike:
After the debacle with the cycling gloves, I was happy to finally be on the bike and on my way. Once I was safely underway, I immediately ripped off and consumed one of the energy gels that local amateur-legend turned rookie-pro, Lindsey Jerdonek, taught me to tape to my top tube and washed it down with bottle #1 of gatorade mix - lemon flavored. 

Lyndsey recommended electrical tape, but all I had was bright blue drafting tape.

The course was pretty straight-forward, strategically speaking. There were some minor rollers throughout the entire course which reinforced my poor decision to train more on the completely flat grounds of Hains Point as opposed to the more auto-aggressive roads near my neighborhood. Now, I was never much of a bicyclist, and are still trying to figure out what differentiates that from from those who refer to themselves as cyclists. With that in mind, I stuck to doing something I could replicate with the fewest variables possible - flat land, loops, car-free.

The Bike Course.

The biking was the most comfortable part of the day's race for me. Given that, I was still having some major problems getting the HR under control and was consistently performing in the 166-172 range (a lot higher than in training) while also posting a slower mph average than I had been building up to all throughout training. I was passing fewer people than were passing me, but at the same time I was OK with (and expected) that. The rolling hills felt a bit more agonizing than they should have and that was a touch unnerving. 

Awesome shot by Patrick capturing two phases of the swim and the first leg of the bike.

I was able to stay aero for very much of the race, despite the drafting rules that were put in place. Speaking of drafting rules, almost nobody seemed to be following them. Granted, it was quite a congested course for a large majority of it, especially around turns, so there weren't many opportunities to go 3-4 wide and pass. Instead, the faster guys were often left drafting-by-default while they passed slower riders, but then some slower riders would always jump onto their wheel and ride that out for a bit since it made them go faster. Whatever.

This guy's derailer somehow fell clean off of his bike. SUCKS.

Somewhere around mile 14 I started feeling some muscle fatigue in my right hip/upper-quad. It wasn't really anything that worried me, but I noticed it never-the-less and thought I'd make a note of it. The rest of the bike-portion of the race was pretty uneventful and I was soon rolling back into the transition area. 

Photos from the official race photography website.

Bike Time: 1:23:29 (17.9 mph)   Slooooow. 

Transition #2
Similar to T1, my only expectation here was smoothness and relative expediency. In fact, I was so expedient that I completely forgot to put my race number on! Thankfully, I also had it written in permanent marker on my arm so no problem there. I don't know what I was doing that took so long (taking cycling gloves off, perhaps?...) since all I really had to do was dump the bike, change my shoes, and grab an energy gel, but I guess I found something to keep me occupied.

 

T2: 3:24


The Run:
I came out of the gate in good spirits and was passing quite a few people - yes! motivation! I found another guy running at a pace juuust faster than I was so I jumped behind him and tried to keep pace. It was a great, at first. If I had to guess, I'd say we were cruising somewhere in the 9:00 range. Granted, that's not that fast, but I was happy with it considering what transpired in the race up until that point. 

We both skipped the first (of 5) aid-station, but sidled our way over towards the generous volunteers who were passing out paper-cupped beverages at the next one. I grabbed myself a water and proceeded to dump it all over my face. Who knew drinking out of a paper cup while running would be that hard?! 

The guy I was pacing with was gassed immediately after mile 2 so I had to press-on without him. I started slowing down around aid-station #3, which was also where I logged my first successful re-hydration attempt. I did have to stop in order to drink, but I knew it was the only way the water would end up in my stomach and not on my face. 

 

The run course.

I want to revisit the HR factor. I've essentially kept my HR well over where it should be for the entire race up to the point where I started running - that's 2:04:85 total time, before the run even started. If I understand things correctly, when you're operating outside of your effective HR range, you're not only burning through your energy supplies in an inefficient way, but you're also breaking down your muscles and using them as fuel, as opposed to your fat stores. This can be bad - for instance, what do you do when you want to use your muscles for, well, muscle but they've been being used for fuel instead? Hmmm, I dunno... but it can't be good.

So, after mile #3, things took a turn for the worse. Everything felt... tired; not the same kind of tired you normally feel after a workout, but more of an exhausted feeling. I ended up taking a good 30-second walking break at every water-station from that point out, in addition to slowing to essentially a walk on any mild hills. Needless to say, the heart rate was out of zone the whole time. 

Around mile 5 I started to put thing back together just a bit, since I was beginning to smell the finish line. I picked up the pace, but still took a couple of10 second walking breaks every 1/2 mile or so for whatever reason (mental weakness?). As soon as I started to hear the crowd at the finish line just outside of mile 6, I was able to dig down and scrape the bottom of the fuel tank and put together a ~7:30-8:00min/mile pace to finish off the race. As you can see from the pics, I passed a couple of people right there at the end, but was worried as hell that someone would just BLOW right by me in the last 50 feet.

Thankfully, this did not happen, and a very proud and emotional Sean crossed the finish line! Hooray!! 

I wobbled through the finish corral, had my timing chip removed, received an awesome medal and slurped down free bottles of powerade and water. I then walked 20 feet to my left and laid down on the grass by the water and took a nice 15-minute nap. Ahh...


Run Time: 59:03 (9:32 min/mile)  Ooohh... ouch.

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