Ironman Canada 2013 :: A Narrative Essay

Just over a year ago, on August 8, 2012, a week or two after Ironman Lake Placid, I was in a collision with a car while riding my bike. The injuries were pretty significant. A partial list of injuries would include six broken vertebrae in my neck, broken jaw, broken nose, facial lacerations, TBI, nerve damage and memory loss. My medical providers felt the best course of action would be to keep me hopped up on muscle relaxers and painkillers for the foreseeable future. I didn’t disagree. 

However, while it was in this state, bloodied, bruised, broken and mentally foggy that Ironman announced (with the help of Challenge and the city of Penticton) that there would be a new venue for Ironman Canada. They had settled on Whistler, a place I love, and therefore I had settled on competing in that Olympic venue. At that point, I didn’t know much about what my recovery would be like. Honestly, it was unclear whether I would ever have full range of motion in my neck again, but I committed to making it to the start line. Racing an Ironman was a decision I had made every year for the last six. There is momentum in the cycle of race and recovery. I was swept up in that cycle like nothing had happened. I didn’t see why this year would be different.

It is hard to say whether I would have still made that fateful decision to register if there hadn’t been 100 Kona slots available. Having been so close to grasping that goal before, I assured myself that no matter the obstacles that may lay ahead I could make it back to a level of fitness that would allow me the opportunity to toe the line in Kailua Village.

It is even more difficult to say whether I would have registered if I would have known how physically challenging, frustrating and mentally exhausting rehab would be all the way leading up to that moment, treading water at 7a on August 25^th in Alta Lake, would be.

Maybe I underestimated the extent of my injuries. It is possible I overestimated my own resolve. Most likely it was a combination of both that made this the most challenging 12 months I can remember.

Ultimately, I didn’t get that Kona slot. In fact, I wasn’t even close. In any normal year, I would have been very disappointed. However, given the circumstances, I’ve never been more satisfied with a race performance. It was through the process of getting there, executing a plan on race day and crossing the finish line I learned more about myself this year than I have in any single year of my life.

I pretty much knew where my fitness stood. I knew the course would be difficult. When you train efficiently and purposefully, when you have a plan and execute it, you know how race day is going to go. Normally, I could give pretty exact times for when I’d be finishing. Dacia asked several times when she could expect me coming into transitions or passing through town. This year, I couldn’t even give her an estimate. I wasn’t confident. That is a bad place to be before an Ironman. It is scary.

So, It was a couple days before Race Day and I decided to pop in one of my favorite movies of all time, A River Runs Through It. I’ve seen this movie no less than one million times, but this time, one quote struck me. Norman, the narrator (voiced by Robert Redford so when you read the quote, read it with his voice), is establishing the dichotomy between he and his brother Paul when this little gem slips in:

I knew I was tough because I had been bloodied in battle. Paul was different. His toughness came from a secret place inside of him. He simply knew he was tougher than anyone alive.

It struck me because the relative concept of toughness can be applied so well in endurance sports. Sure there are a few that just know they are tougher than anyone else. They are fitter, can endure more. They are often faster. The rest of us are always in that quest for our own toughness. It doesn’t mean we can’t race fast, even faster than the tough ones. But it does mean we have to search for the that secret place inside where toughness comes from in hopes of finding a vast reserve we had not yet discovered. In the process, although we may never make that discovery, we do get the opportunity to test our resolve, test our toughness on race day.

This was my opportunity to test my toughness, not my speed. This thought carried me through the race. This was the culmination of an imperfect process and I was going to take the opportunity to grind out a personal victory.  It became I mantra with each pedal stroke, with each step.  I will not yield to the pain.

I was testing myself against the tough ones, those that probably had trained more efficiently, more purposefully. Against those that didn’t suffer weakness from the nerve damage that makes your arms shake violently from about mile 80 to the end. Against those that probably didn’t have a knot of fire in the middle of their neck starting half way through the swim that still hasn’t gone away.

No. The long-term goal was not achieved, but the short-term goal sure as hell was. There are enough proverbs to last a lifetime that could be applied here. Namely: That which does not kill us…but that has never quite served my purpose in relation to endurance sports. I tested my fortitude, not my strength. I tested my toughness not my speed. So in the end, it wasn’t my fastest day, but rather my most satisfying.

10:04:31, 30^th AG, 97^th OA.

As always, huge thanks, to my wife and best friend, Dacia. I could never have been there without her support.

Race Report: Ironman Louisville 2011

8.28.11

2.4 Mile Swim * 112 Mile Bike * 26.2 Mile Run

I don't know if last year I was disappointed after Ironman Arizona. Expectations can be a killer. It is hard to use the word disappointment when you finish any Ironman, especially when you PR. However, there were several things learned last year. I knew I had made mistakes, that I had not made the right decisions at critical points in the race. I knew this year, for this race, I needed to be smarter, cleaner and crisper in my decisions, solve the problems weeks before so that I may execute the plan.

It was weird. All week I wasn't every really nervous. Normally, I am nearly sick with anticipation. This year, I was calm, prepared. I was able to enjoy the greater Louisville area a little bit, and executed the patented 3,2,1 taper to perfection. (3 Beers 3 Nights out, 2 Beers 2 Nights out, 1 Beer 1 Night out.) I just kept going over everything I learned in Arizona and everything I have learned from my coach, Dave Ciaverella. Race morning was the same -- no nerves, just healthy anticipation. 

The swim in Louisville is different than most other Ironman races. Instead of the mass start that strikes fear in the hearts of many and sets the stage for the day with one of the great spectacles in sport, Louisville begins with a time trial-like beginning. Participants cue in a long line that eventually leads to two mats and two jumping off points. The course begins by going up the Ohio River around an island that eventually begins the trek down river to the swim exit. 

As soon as I got in the water I knew it was going to be a good swim. The Ohio, although considerably more skanky than I would prefer, was warm like bath water. Without the wetsuit my arms felt light and my elbows high in the water. After I rounded the corner to begin going downriver a guy swam past me. I quickly jumped on his feet and followed him for a good distance. I would say it was close to 1.5 miles in total that I was right on his feet.  Every time I lost him for a second, I would poke my head out of the water to find him. Luckily his arms were all tattooed up and made it easy to see him. When we got close to the exit and swimmers began to bunch up I lost his feet, but in my head I was thinking, "Thanks for the ride bro." I knew, even before getting out of the water it was going to be close to an hour, and easily my best Ironman swim ever. When I got on the first step I peaked at my watch. It read just under an hour, like one second under and hour. Having a swim like that really buoyed my confidence for the entire day. 

Swim: 1:00:48   


Transition One was pretty smooth. I didn't really face any problems, just had a really smooth go of it. One thing I made sure to do was make sure my feet were clean of any debris. I also wore socks on the bike for the first time. This may have taken an extra couple seconds to get them on, but I think well worth the additional time. 


Transition 1: 3:37


On the bike I immediately settled into my goal watts for the day. It was pretty flat for the first 10 or so miles and I was able to settle in for what would ultimately be a pretty challenging day. The course was not easy for me. I feel I am usually at my best  when I can get into a rhythm. Whether that is sustained flats or extended climbs I am at best at the end. This course was neither of these things. There were multiple short hills that really took me out of my comfort zone and required me to exceed my zone caps for just a second. The descents were not technical in any way, but for someone as light as me, weren't long enough to carry me over any of the following climbs.

At about mile 70 or so, my feet really started to hurt. I could tell my legs were ok, but the arches of my feet were killing me. I had trained all year with no problems like this, but now they definitely required me to eat into some of my mental stability. I had to dig deep, but I know it effected me. Fortunately, there were some pretty good descents that allowed me to rest them a little, but man, that is a problem I need to fix. I am not interested in that kind of pain. 

Also in the last hour and a half my nutrition started to back up a little. I had one vurp (vomit-burb) and back off the 20 minute cycle to 25 minutes for the remaining ride. Normally, I would have just tried to force it down, but experience has told me to be patient and back it off. I took a little more water in between nutrition doses and by the time I got off the bike everything felt great.

The final 8-10 miles are flat to downhill back to transition. I rode the last stretch with basically the entire group of guys that I got out of the swim with. It wasn't the time I was hoping for, but I knew I had left all I could out on the course.

Bike: 5:23:06

Transition was smooth and fast. I was able to get out of shoes in the last 500 yards of the bike and a execute a smooth cross dismount right into transition.

Transition 2: 2:47

The goal was to run 7:45 pace until mile 20 then give whatever I have left for the last 10k. I am very pleased with the way I ran this marathon. It may be hard to describe. I ran the first 1.5 miles at about 7:35 pace. This always happens. I tend to run the first mile way faster than goal pace. I knew I had to dial it back. I didn't think I was going to be able to hold 7:35 for the entire race. I wasn't even sure I was going to be able to hold 7:45s for the entire race. 


Although I was holding my goal pace pretty consistently, I was having a hard time figuring out how long the two loops after the little out-and-back at the beginning were. I played all kinds of tricks in my head trying to wrap my brain about the length and how much of it I had left. Eventually I figured out that mile 20 was going to be right before the turn around. It was there, if I had anything left, I was going to make my move. 


My nutrition, for the first time in an Ironman was spot on. I took my first dose 20 minutes in and was able to hold that consistency for the entire race. I know that was a major contributor towards my final 10k.


There was a slight rise in between miles 3.5 and 8, also between miles 15.5 and 20. My times slowed down a little on this rise, but I knew, coming down the other side I would be able to get it back. I did. At mile 19.5 I chewed up and swallowed two Excedrin. Between the caffeine and the pain relief I was like a new man. By mile 20, I knew I had enough left in the tank to kick. I was flying by people as they wilted in the heat. I know I caught 13 people in my age group. I think most of them were in the last 10k. I ran sub 6:56 or so for the final 6.2 miles. I thought it was going to be enough. It turns out, it wasn't. In the end I know I didn't leave anything on that course. I followed the plan implicitly, trusted my training and laid it all on the table.  

Run: 3:19:14

Total: 9:49:32

As always, I want to thank my family, for their support. I know they don't always understand it, but they know it's important. Thanks specifically to my father, who made the trek to Kentucky in support of this crazy lifestyle. 


I want to thank all my training partners. You push me every time we are out there. 


I want to thank Dave, my coach. The lessons you've taught me are invaluable. I wouldn't be here without you. 


Most of all, I want to thank Dacia for all the obvious reasons and some of the less obvious ones too. Thank you. 

Resurrection

Blog resurrection! Check back this week for 2011 Ironman Louisville Race Report. Should be up in a couple days.

Race Report: Ironman 70.3 Boise 2010

Ironman 70.3 Boise

6.12.10

Swim 1.2 Miles
Bike 56 Miles
Run 13.1 Miles

The real story of this race starts on April 18, 2010 at 1am. This is the morning of Ironman 70.3 New Orleans. I was supposed to be sound asleep. My alarm was to sound in 3.5 hours. Instead, I was barfing my guts out. Food poisoning. Salmonella. Crab cakes in the French Quarter two days before. It was bad, very, very bad. I crawled back in bed, and Dacia said, "Get hydrated, you'll still be able to race." She loves me. Then every hour, for the next 6 hours I ran to the toilet to expel the contents of my stomach. The venom wasn't finally purged for 4 more days, leaving my body weak and my fragile ego cracked.

After a week or two of licking my mental wounds, and getting back in a training rhythm, I knew it was time to seek some redemption. The place for this would be Boise. I knew, over the next few weeks, if I wanted a good result, I would have to bear down. I've probably never worked harder, smarter or was more consistent. Every training session had purpose. The guidance I received from my coach was invaluable.

That leads us to the Thursday before the race. Dacia and I packed up the car and drove to Boise. There was a little rain, but the forecast in Boise for race day looked good. The one thing I neglected to think about checking, was the wind report. The past two years of this race was marked with either cold temperatures or cold temperatures and rain. I didn't consider Boise was also capable of summoning the trade winds across the Treasure Valley. Those winds would be the story of race day.

Friday was marked with the usual preparations: racking my bike, making my nutrition bottles, stretching, drinking water, trying not to dwell on the impending event. We've all been there, thinking about what is going to happen the next day. Visualizing the chaos of the swim, the pedal strokes, each footstep. Preparing for the pain.

Saturday was like no other race morning. I slept in. However, the 2pm start provided some challenges. I was worried about what and when to eat. The ramifications from a wrong move could prove disastrous. Pancakes for Breakfast and some soup for lunch proved to be a smart move. Dacia and I went up to the base of the Lucky Peak Reservoir Dam around noon. The parking lot was filled with the normal business usually associated with the dawn pre-race ritual of checking tire pressures and ensuring proper body glide application. At about 12:30 we walked up the trail to the top of the damn and I began my preparation. I quickly found my Ironhead teammates who had conveniently located one of the few plots of shade in the transition area. The sun was already overhead. Preparation went quick, soon it was time for to get queued for the swim.


The water temps had been brisk and there had been a lot of talk about the previous years and their unbelievable cold temps. But on this day, after baking only a couple minutes in my wetsuit, the water temperature was a quick relief. The gun sounded and we were off.


I went out pretty hard. Usually I try to be conservative at the beginning and press toward the end, but I knew it was going to be choppy coming back in and if I was going to make any time it was going to be in the beginning, not at the end. This proved to be a pretty good strategy. I kept a good line entire time and after rounding the last turn the chop definitely picked up. I thought to myself this can't be good. I was hoping to swim under 30 minutes.  I had trained to do so, but this was my first lesson in revising my time expectations for the day. It would prove useful from this point forward. It was a good swim for me, but not great, and not what I expected.


Swim: 32:00


I got out of the water, looked at my watch, shook off the disappointment, took the top of my wetsuit off and proceeded to the strippers. First leg came off, no problem. Second leg, stuck. The guy was yelling at the chick tugging on the stuck leg, "Get it off!" I reached up to give a quick tug at my heel. "Pop!" Off it went. On to the bike. There was a small complication as my transition bag momentarily blew away. I saved it, stuffed it full of wetsuit, off I went.


T1: 3:05


Away on the bike I knew things weren't right almost immediately. I remembered on the decent from Lucky Peak two years ago hitting 50 mph. This year I was descending at 38 mph and a hot head wind was hitting me in face. Crap. This is a theme. Wind. The expletives in my head were bright and colorful. I just didn't want wind, but I overcame.  Fortunately I spent more than my fare share training on Sauvie Island, wind was something I could at least cope with.


It wasn't hot-hot yet, but I could tell it was going to get hotter. Two years ago, the course included a small climb up to the World Center for Birds of Prey. The course had changed since then and now included what amounted to a long out and back before eventually coming back to town. The course was essentially set up to where the majority was either direct headwind or severe crosswind. Although I had been pretty consistent, holding my pre race power strategy was out the window. I was being blown all over the place in the cross wind. One time the gust was so hard it slammed my knee into the top tube of my bike and I almost fell into the rocks. I saved it, but the next day Dacia asked, "Where did you get the bruise?"


It was getting hotter and by the turn around I knew I would only have about a 6 mile section where I would get a tailwind. I thought a lot of people would use this to rest and prepare to face the wind again. I knew I would have to make a move after the turn. I did, and passed at least three guys in my age group I didn't see again. When we lost the tailwind I just tried to be as conservative as I could without loosing any age group places. I knew a lot of people were going to blow up their legs in the wind and if I could manage to save some strength I could catch many of them on the run. Plus, I was starting to loose my mind. The wind was getting to me.

It was a windy, hot ride and hope never to have to replicate it again.


Bike: 2:42:07



When I finally got back to transition Dacia yelled, "You're only a minute back from the next guy." I put on my socks and shoes. Off I went. It was hot.

T2: 1:29

I started out on my two mile preliminary pace. I knew I had lost a lot of fluid, it was hot. Toward the end of the bike I took in a little more water than I normally would have, but in transition my stomach was already starting to cramp. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to push the pace very much harder, but I would probably be able to hold pretty close to this pace. The first four and half miles were an exercise in complete mental focus. My stomach hurt, I was overheating, but I knew there were people in my age group I could still catch.

Finally it dawned on me to dump a cup of ice down my shorts. For whatever reason, the cramps in my stomach subsided, so did this at ever aid station from this point forward. It definitely cooled my core temp. I should have done it earlier. I finally caught my friend Jake at about mile five, he told me to keep it up and that is all the motivation I needed. I knew I wasn't going to be able to go much harder, but if I kept this pace I was going to have a good result. It was damn painful at this point but I dug deep. The last stretch down to the finish was a blur.

Run: 1:31:06

This was my first podium finish in a big race like this. I am really proud of the result, especially on such a tough day. I can't think of a tougher day. I told a friend of mine, I would rather raced an Ironman on a normal day than go through that again. I also, proved to myself I can dig deep, that I have more to give. There is a deeper reservoir.

The awards ceremony was at 10pm. Late. I was tired and had already forced down a beer, but man was it sweet standing up there. Congrats to all the Ironheads on fighting through a tremendously tough day and congrats to Bill and Kaytee on their podium finishes. Afterward, Kaytee said it was hard to reconcile her time with her age group place. I agree.

Total: 4:49:48
 
Thanks to Dave C., my coach. My success is a direct result of his advice. Period.

Finally, as always, thank you to Dacia for supporting me in this crazy sport. I couldn't achieve any of it without you.

training.

I ran across this passage today while rereading a book I, until recently, had not given very much consideration, A Separate Peace by John Knowles. In fact, it wasn't until about 50 pages in did I realize I had read previously. In any case, this specific passage stood out, especially after my run today.

every trace of energy as usual completely used up, and as I drove myself on all my scattered aches found their usual way to a profound seat of pain in my side. My lungs as usual were fed up with all this work, and from now on would only go rackingly through the motions. My knees were boneless again, ready any moment to let my lower legs telescope up into the thighs. My head felt as though different sections of the cranium were grinding into each other.

Then, for no reason at all, I felt magnificent. It was as though my body until that instant had simply been lazy, as though the aches and exhaustion were all imagined, created from nothing in order to keep me from truly exerting myself. Now my body seemed at last to say, "Well, if you must have it, here!" and an accession of strength came flooding through me. Buoyed up, I forgot my usual feeling of routine self-pity when working out, I lost myself, oppressed mind along with aching body; all entanglements were shed, I broke into the clear.

listen.

If you are not listening to this, you should be.

carl sandburg.

The first two years of my formal education were spent at Carl Sandburg Elementary School in West Valley City, UT. I think, even in Kindergarten and First Grade, I was vaguely aware that Sandburg was a writer of some kind. Now 26 years removed from those opaque days of youth, I just finished reading Sandburg's Chicago Poems. Several things struck me upside the head while reading this book.

I wonder how on earth an elementary school in the Salt Lake Valley was named after an outspoken socialist. There seems to be some incongruity in a school located in the heart of our nation's most conservative state being named after a man that was integral in the American socialist movement of the early 20th century. I mean, he was the private secretary of Eugene V. Debs! I wonder if the school board knew he was the man that wrote

Voices of dollars
And drops of blood

Could they have known?

I wonder if there was a teacher in the entire school who knew who Sandburg was and what he stood for? I am not saying definitively no one knew, but given my basic knowledge of teachers today I am pretty doubtful. I know many elementary school teachers, I doubt they have read "Chicago". I doubt they had read "Fog"

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

Finally, I wonder if, in some way, I was meant to find Sandburg more than 25 years later. I don't particularly love him as a poet, or agree with his politics. However, in some small manner, I feel connected to his words. I did go to a school named after him, although I can't believe that in any way that school embodied the name above the door. There is always some lesson in the words of poets concerned with the topics of their day. As The Great War raged on he wrote:

JAWS

SEVEN nations stood with their hands on the jaws of death.
It was the first week in August, Nineteen Hundred Fourteen.
I was listening, you were listening, the whole world was listening,
And all of us heard a Voice murmuring:
“I am the way and the light,	5
He that believeth on me
Shall not perish
But shall have everlasting life.”
Seven nations listening heard the Voice and answered:
“O Hell!”	10
The jaws of death began clicking and they go on clicking.
“O Hell!”

until something goes wrong.

a few words of inspiration.

One Hour to Madness and Joy
by Walt Whitman

One hour to madness and joy! O furious! O confine me not!
(What is this that frees me so in storms?
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)
O to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man!
O savage and tender achings! (I bequeath them to you my children,
I tell them to you, for reasons, O bridegroom and bride.)

O to be yielded to you whoever you are, and you to be yielded to me
in defiance of the world!
O to return to Paradise! O bashful and feminine!
O to draw you to me, to plant on you for the first time the lips of
a determin'd man.

O the puzzle, the thrice-tied knot, the deep and dark pool, all
untied and illumin'd!
O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!
To be absolv'd from previous ties and conventions, I from mine and
you from yours!
To find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of Nature!
To have the gag remov'd from one's mouth!
To have the feeling to-day or any day I am sufficient as I am.

O something unprov'd! something in a trance!
To escape utterly from others' anchors and holds!
To drive free! to love free! to dash reckless and dangerous!
To court destruction with taunts, with invitations!
To ascend, to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me!
To rise thither with my inebriate soul!
To be lost if it must be so!
To feed the remainder of life with one hour of fulness and freedom!
With one brief hour of madness and joy.

music.

Sometimes you have to wade through mountains of crap to find music that doesn't suck. As it has been a couple of years and in case you have forgotten....

Jake

I will have more thoughts on this later, but as of now, all I can feel is excitement. Go Dawgs!

fiction!

I don't know if it was slight dehydration or fatigue or maybe it was a touch of food poisoning, but I was pretty sick for most of the day. The details I will spare. One good thing, however, did come out of it. I was able to finally finish, Theodore Rex, by Edmund Morris. The completion of this book also signifies my renewed commitment to fiction. I figured it was time to knock out some books I have been putting off for a long time.

On tap:
The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann
Ulysses, James Joyce
The Guermantes Way, Marcel Proust

Should be quite the task as I often loose focus when I begin reading projects, but as of now, consider me committed.

Engaged in the Rain

I and Love and You -- 10.3.9

Race Report: Black Diamond Long Course

Black Diamond Long Course

9.26.9

Swim: 1.2 Miles
Bike: 56 Miles
Run: 13.1 Miles

The final race is over and it took me several weeks to post this report. I had a few other things going on, namely getting engaged the weekend after this race.

Life has settled back into its daily routine and its time to finalize another season. This was a good race for the end of the year. Now that a few weeks have past it came at the right time and the season ended at the correct time.

Aleck and I drove up on Friday afternoon. Traffic getting to the greater Puget Sound region was bearable. Aleck's new VW Routon was comfortable, but lacked sufficient bass. I have been assured he is working on it.

One of the great things about this race is its late start time. Nine a.m is nice. I got a great nights rest. Nutrition in the morning was standard. We arrived in plenty of time to get things prepared in transition. This was a welcomed change from my last race. Those escapades were detailed in another race report. I am very happy things went more smoothly this time. After posting my race report from Spokane my coach asked if this was my first race. Apparently things go more smoothly in your second race.

The swim started out very hectic. It felt almost like an Ironman start. Everyone was very aggressive and I am unsure why. There was a smaller channel in between the first buoy and the edge of the lake. I can only think that people wanted to be the first through that gap because it was almost like an all out sprint to the first buoy. That is the only excuse I can think of for such poor behavior.

I swam fairly well, but didn't feel overly strong. I hadn't been swimmingly that well leading up to this race, so I didn't expect to go under 30 minutes which would have been a good swim for me. I was able to find a set of feet to get on for a large portion of the second half of the second loop. It doesn't sound substantial, but it put me in a good frame of mind going into T1.

Swim: 31:08

I did not have the disastrous transitions in this race as I did in Spokane. It just goes to show that you shouldn't over sleep your alarm on race day. My time was pretty much in line with everyone else, so good for me.

T1: 2:15

Heading out on the bike I felt pretty good. This was the first time racing with specific power targets and it made a huge difference. This was easily the best bike split I have ever had. There was a different feeling in my legs throughout that had never been there before. I wasn't overly prepared for this race. Training had gone well, but not superb. However, there was some fluidity in my legs and it felt good.

The course was two loops and I held my target watts the entire first loop. On the second loop the air temp actually cooled down and the wind starting coming off the mountain. I tried to maintain my target watts, but just wasn't able to do it and settled in pretty comfortably 10 watts lower.

Jason passed me about ten miles from the finish. In the last couple races it has been m goal to stay in front of him as long as possible. I know I wont be able to fend him off for an entire race, but the longer the better. I stayed within sight of him the rest of the ride and we came into T2 within a minute or so of each other.

Bike: 2:32:06

My second transition was equally uneventful. Just as it should be. As we left transition Jason yelled to me, "Let's run this together."

T2: 1:25

For nearly the entire run Jason was about 45 sec. to a minute ahead of me. The entire run I tried to bridge the gap and couldn't. He just loomed out there, just far enough I couldn't make up the differential.

The run was tough. There were a couple really steep inclines. They were the kind of inclines that break up an momentum you have and sap the strength out of your legs. I tried not to think about it, and just kept focusing on what was in front of me. I was pretty consistent the entire race in terms of pacing. I know I slowed a little toward the end on the trail portion, but that is the way it ends.

Run: 1:31:08

In terms of overall races it was a good one. I PR'd by a few seconds, which leaves me with a sweet taste in my mouth heading into the off season.

4:38:02

Ironheads did exceedingly well. As we team we took four of the top seven places.

Go Dawgs, Beat Stanford!

irony

Yesterday, the University of Washington, won what we all hope will be a program defining game. The Huskies defeated the University of Southern California. No two programs could have defined the two ends of the football spectrum more perfectly than these two. On this day, however, the mentor was defeated by the mentee. It was a day that everyone who was in attendance will be telling their grandchildren about. When the horrible memories of the Tyrone Willingham led Huskies become distant, 162,000 fans will say there were when in reality there were 62,000. It was a day of lore. A day of redemption.

It was day I spent in Autzen Stadium.

Much of my family has ties to the University of Utah, who played in Eugene yesterday. When the idea of going to the game was proposed many months ago I could not have imagined such a quick turnaround for UW. After last year's drubbing, I was pretty sure I couldn't bear sitting in Husky Stadium to watch the repeat. So, in a show of support for the Utes we all traipsed down I-5 to attend to football game.

The Utah/Oregon game was one marred with quarterback ineptitude. I will spare everyone the link to the stat sheet, but I will say, it was not good for either team. Before the game started, I had made a deal with my good friend Joe to send me updates. As the game progressed and each text arrived to my phone on the wings of angels, it became abundantly clear -- The Dawgs were not (repeat NOT) outclassed. As one reported later noted, we were winning 'old school'.

Then the updates stopped. I was on the edge of my seat. The game I was attending suddenly was interesting after three quarters of football purgatory, but I couldn't keep my mind of what was happening in Seattle. I was cursing Joe! Didn't he know what I was going through.

Picture this: four Husky fans in Autzen Stadium, sitting in the Utah section of the stadium, huddled around my sister's Blackberry hitting refresh every time it loaded in hopes of an update while the Oregon legions were copying the sideline to sideline 'Go Huskies' chant. (Their rendition was both inaudible and ill informed.) Oh....the irony. The Dawgs were winning and I was in Eugene. I was in EUGENE!

In spite of my absence, the Dawgs won, and the riot ensued.



Image Credit: Leslie Danielson

Race Report: Spokane Triathlon

Spokane Triathlon

9.13.9

Swim: 1.5k
Bike: 40k
Run: 10k

This race report will be different than most, as this trip was one part road trip, one part race. I signed up on a whim after some convincing from Aleck. I hadn't planned on racing, but he said, "The team needed me to earn some points for the team competition." I said, "ok."

I met Aleck at his house early Saturday morning. We packed up the van, and after some minor delays getting our bikes set on the rack, made our way to Kaytee's house to pick up the rest of the crew save for A.J. This went more smoothly. We had a system in place for bike loading. I think this helped quell any suspicions, as we were already behind schedule.

The drive to Spokane was relatively uneventful. Kaytee and Kelly seemed to drift in and out of slumber most of the waking only when we stopped for gas or needed a natural break. Aaron, Denny, Aleck and myself chatted lightly, for 5+ hours about how this course was supposed to be 'flat and fast', faster than Blue Lake.

We also learned almost immediately, this van had bass. Dirty, dirty high school bass that would be put to the test later.

We arrived in Spokane, ate food, and some of the contingency left for an ill-fated highway ride. They were only called 'fags' once. I think the perpetrators may have been confused because two of the four people riding were women. Maybe they didn't know the difference. I will give them the benefit of the doubt because this I believe was the only negative interaction we had with locals. Spokane was strangely friendly, even as I wore my University of Washington shirt all day after our first win in 666 days.

Aleck and I stayed behind to pick up A.J. from the larger than expected Spokane Airport. En route we put the bass to the test. This would help define the rest of the trip. Bass. Sweet, sweet bass. On this trip we learned the major differences between new school bass (Black Eyed Peas) and old school bass (Sir-Mix-Alot). Neither one is better than the other, both contain their own merits. We learned that optimally they both should be played on the 'supr bass' setting on a volume ranging from 36 to 40. We also learned that Eazy-E now makes me a little uncomfortable.

We ate at Old Spaghetti Factory. We came back. Watched some of the Oregon/Purdue football game, and fell asleep hoping Oregon would find a way to loose that game. (We awoke to find this was not the case.)

The following morning was interesting. A few of us woke at 4am, on schedule to eat. I drank down my calories, and without even thinking about it, crawled back in bed and quickly fell asleep. Seriously, all of us fell back asleep until there was a report on the door. The girls were waiting and wondering where in the hell we were. We sprang into action quickly, maybe a little too quickly.

We made it to the race site on time. We prepared our stuff. I got in the always long bathroom line. Did my business. Went back to my bike to get my wetsuit on...and discovered my shorts were on BACKWARDS!!!! I needed to get my wetsuit on, I was starting to think I wasn't going to make the start. AGhhh. My friends started walking to the start. I didn't have a towel. I didn't want to strip down right there. Fortunately, a girl sharing my bike rack recognized my dilemma and lent me a towel. I promptly fixed my shorts. I got my wetsuit on, but not well, found A.J., Aaron and Aleck and got position in the water where we thought there was a good line to the first buoy.

We all heard the course was clockwise, keeping the buoys on the right, but things weren't adding up. We weren't the only one who heard this, A.J. even asked someone for confirmation, but there was also a lot of people lined up to the right of us, obviously lined up for the opposite buoy. When the gun went off, I took a quick look at them and realized they were not heading for the same buoy. I thought, "oh shit!" I got back on course, but I know I missed at least a minute, maybe more, getting back on course. I swam the whole, shallow, knuckle-dragging thing, by myself. No drafting, which sucks. I was not happy with my time at all.

Swim: 24:12

T1 was an exercise in frustration. Since I hurried through getting my wetsuit on, I had a hard time getting it off. It got stuck on my ankle. It felt like I was in there forever and ever. I was building a camp there. Staying, making a home, right there in that parking lot. Some one would find me there fossilized and tangled in my wetsuit. Finally it broke free. I was free. Free...and off on the bike.

T1: 1:41

The bike was neither flat nor fast as the website had indicated and liaisons in Spokane had confirmed. It was slow. It was hilly. It was a good course, fair, but not flat and not fast. I went out slightly conservatively. I was expecting it to be flat, but there were obviously hills at the beginning. I thought I was conserving my energy to lay it out on the flats. There weren't any flats. I probably should have gone out a little stronger, but as I was not familiar with the course. I also lost a bar end.

At the turn I decided to give it what I had. I knew there would be a couple stiff rollers, but would power through them. I was a little distracted by the dude that came screaming past me drafting behind a car. He said, "Nice bike" as he passed. I was so flabbergasted I said nothing, but thought about many unrepeatable phrases. I had a good second half and started to prepare myself for a 'flat and fast' run.

Bike: 1:07:36

T2 was pretty smooth. No real issues. I was about average in the top 20.

T2: 0:47

I went out on the run and felt good. At the first mile post I looked at my watch and it read 5:47. "Ummmm.....I should slow down." The run course was flat, but not fast. I passed the dude who drafted past me on the bike. Repeated those colorful euphemisms in my head and proceeded.

There were like a million turns and the entire thing was on a gravel road. Gravel is not fast. I past a couple dudes in my age group and felt pretty good. I feel like I should have pushed a little harder. I should have been under 40 minutes, but it happens. "Sometimes you eat the bar, and sometimes the bar eats you."

Run: 40:54

It was a fun race, everyone involved was great. They were happy we made the trip from PDX. It was a great experience.

Total: 2:15:07
3rd AG
14th OA




As a team we killed it. Veni, Vedi, Vici. Congrats to all.

Team Scores:

Ironheads- 88 Points (4-1st, 2-2nd, 1-3rd, 1-5th)

Tri-Fusion- 66 Points (3-1st, 1-2nd, 1-4th, 1-5th)

Team Blaze-53 Points (2-1st, 1-3rd, 4-4th)

As with all good road trips there has to be some obstacles and miracles.

The obstacle came in the drive home. We were tired. We had swilled down a few celebratory beers, ate some chow and headed home. We were dropping serious bass on I-90. Cruising. Not reading the signs. We missed our exit. We had overshot US 395. It wasn't by much, but we missed it alright. There was a classic deserted farm road, real 'Grapes of Wrath', that cut the angle back to the highway. We were still dropping bass and also using gas. More gas than we should have. Right before the highway, in what can only be described as as ghost town, we ran out of gas. There was only a Pacific Pride station in town. No one had an access card. We were screwed. As you can see: I decided to check the bikes. Someone was going to have to ride to Moses Lake. It seemed our only option.

And then....the miracle. Kaytee and Kelly flagged down a car. In the very first car, the driver worked at the gas station. No kidding. We were in the middle of nowhere. The first guy that stopped had gas. He would be right back. I was thinking, "No way. The only way out is going to be riding to Moses Lake. We have bikes."

But...he came back with gas. It was enough to make it to a gas station. He told us about the race cars he owned. We paid in cash. We were out of there. A miracle indeed.

We made it home safe and sound, many hours after we started. I wouldn't change it for anything. A very wise friend of mine once said, "the meaning of life is making stories."

We just added a few to the book.

Hulaman Video

I am fooling around with some video editing software. Here is my first (ish) shot at putting something together. Obviously, I haven't gotten it all figured out yet.

A New Day

Today begins a new day in the history of Husky football. I have been contemplating this post since the day Coach Steve Sarkisian was hired. I have scraped many, many ideas of what to say today. I have run the breadth of emotion in regards to this team over the past decade, and now we start again. We start with a new coaching staff in a new Husky world.

I know today will be a test. We face one of the storied programs in the country, from a place where football means more than anything -- LSU. The current line has the Huskies at about 18 point underdogs. No one, I mean not a single sane person, expects UW to see any amount of measurable success today.

Yet, in some way, there is hope. Sark's enthusiasm and energy has permeated the outer reaches of Husky Nation. Husky fans have been infected with an optimism we haven't felt in a long time; an optimism long since pushed to the recesses of our hearts. Sark has sparked a small flame in all of who remember our once proud tradition. Sark has ignited that precious flame that will one day conflagrate the remains of these last dark years and light a path to the new and bright day of Husky Football.

It is hard not to feel something special is going to happen today.

Go Dawgs!

Coach Holt

Nick Holt can read. He said so. I love it!!!