Bonus 20% and a Reserve Chute

I woke up, this morning, ready to put my Ironman game plan to the test. With my swim workout scheduled to begin at six o'clock, I was up at 3 a.m. to have breakfast consisting of a bagel and sports drink. Then, I went back to bed to get a bit more sleep before my alarm went off at 5:15.

I loaded up my gear and headed to the pool for the first big test of the day. I had a 5000 yards straight swim on tap, a long awaited test of just how much my swimming has improved. Things went fairly well, though I felt sluggish in the water. I did complete all 5000 yards, despite my desire to call it a day after about 2500. I talked my way through the rest in 500 yard increments. After getting to 3000, "it's just two more 500 yard sets to get to 4000." After hitting 4000, it was "only 225 to complete a full Ironman swim," at which point "I may as well finish that 500." And then, "it's just one last set to complete the full workout."

It worked. I checked my watch when I touched the wall after 4225. One hour, 32 minutes, and that was with an extra yard. I'll take it, considering my "good day" estimate is an hour, 35 minutes. The full 5000 yards took about an hour, 51 minutes.

After a quick shower to wash off the chlorine, I threw on my cycling clothes for part two of the test. I met some tri club kids for a quick 15-mile loop, and then headed off for the rest of my 7 1/2 hour ride. I had downloaded a map someone local had entered onto MapMyRide, figuring his 103 miles with the 15 I did with the kids would make a reasonable workout. I would come to regret that decision. A lot. Numerous times. All the way to the bitter end.

The ride started out well enough. I had 16 gels taped to the top tube of The Pol-R Express, two bottles of sports drink, and one bottle of water. I planned on refueling along the way as needed. Given Coach Mike's suggestion that I significantly increase my fluid intake, I figured I'd need to stop several times.

It didn't take long to find out just out badly screwed up the maps Google provided for this ride are. Starting fairly early in the ride, and repeatedly throughout the ride, I found myself wondering from just what decade the maps had come. Some roads detailed on the map didn't exist at all. Others seemed to have different names. And sometimes, the maps were right. That was when I would find there were no street signs identifying the road. Luckily, I was always able to find roads that would get me back to where I needed to be, or find a road with which I was familiar.

That does not, however, mean that I didn't pay a price for the poor data.

I don't know exactly how many extra miles I put on due to the confusion, but do know it was considerable. I'm also unsure if there were refueling locations I missed, but through the entire ride, I only came across one gas station, and that was one I got to on my own. I had completely screwed up, as evidenced by the fact that I found a road I DID know. I also knew it was at least 15 miles away from where I wanted to be. I took some roads I knew, and made sure I hit the gas station.

After refueling, I headed out, only to run into one issue after another. I kept on spinning, and eventually got to a point I have biked, before. At that point, I was torn. Head off on my own and find my own route (which would take me off the route I gave my wife), or stay with the downloaded route. I opted to take the planned route.

Hey, I never said I was a genius.

After a few more missing signs and non-existent roads, I went with general directions. You know, "This road takes me in the general direction I'd like to go. I'll follow it, even though I have no idea where I am." That got me to a road I wanted, though I had to take a wild guess at which way to head. Hey, 50/50 chance to get it right.

Did I mention that I was a nuclear operator in the Navy? And nukes are subject to the 50/50/90 rule? That says that given a 50/50 choice, nukes get it wrong 90% of the time. Well, this wasn't a 10 percenter. I went through a little town and said, "Hmmm, which side of the street is that cheese factory on if I'm heading AWAY from home?" And kept on going. Another one in the 90% category. Soon enough, I saw a sign advertising a business in a city I didn't really want to visit for the second time, today.

That made the decision of which way to go much easier. Too bad I'd covered about five miles to get the information. Turn around, and head back. And realize I've run out of fuel for the second time of the day.

At that point, I made the decision to call my wife and find out a few things. No answer. Cell phone, same result. Alright, go to dad. Answering machine. Well, mom's in Florida, but the she's bailed me out, before. A quick call and I learned I was somewhere between 15 and 20 miles from my car.

Nice, since the cycling computer already showed 7:44 and 130 miles. With my hands shaking from the impending total bonk, I called my wife, again, and finally got through. "Hey, I need you to come get me." With her asking the questions, I managed to explain where I was and how she could get there. Then, I told her I'd keep biking toward her and try to get to a gas station I knew should be about five miles down the road.

I made the gas station with 136.9 miles total for the trip. I barely managed to get some milk and pretzels before my wife showed up. Not bad considering I went five miles and she went something like thirty.

Needless to say, I had to scrap my 30-minute run off. Which angered me more than having to call for a bail out. I really wanted that run as a confidence booster. Still, after swimming about 20% more than the IM swim, and biking an extra 20% , I had to think safety.

There is, however, a lot of good news. Despite all the difficulties and including the various stops, I completed the trip in 8 hours 5 minutes, for an average pace just under 17 miles per hour. I passed 112 miles somewhere between 6:15 and 6:30, and nearly all the stops were before that. My nutrition was going well, and one of the reasons I kept running out of fuel is that I was staying well ahead of my normal bottle every two hours pace. And bonking after a two hour swim and eight hour, nearly unsupported bike is not unheard of.

So, despite the brutal finish, it was a good day. I learned a lot, and have some ideas about what is doable in Louisville. And I know that after the swim and first 112 miles on the bike, I could have got off and started the marathon. Given the far superior support of the IM course, today's fiasco doesn't shake my confidence. It does, however, strengthen my resolve. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is going to stop me from getting off my bike and starting to run in Louisville.

And we'll have to wait 22 days to know exactly how that turns out.

Flat? No Thanks, I Already Have One!

I headed up the beach toward T1, completely missing James, Iron Wil's husband. Though sad that I missed him, I'm glad he was there to capture the pictures he did. At least I found my family. I always keep an eye out for them on the course.

After a quick hug and kiss for all, I headed into transition. I was already removing the swim gear as I sat down, turning my attention to the wetsuit. All the while, I was talking to the kids letting them know what was happening. Soon enough, I was ready to head out onto the bike. I ran out of transition, ready for 56 miles of testing my limits. The plan was to push more aggressively than I had at High Cliff, and my goal was 2:50 with an average pace of 20 mph. This was also an opportunity to compare heart rate data against that from the High Cliff half-IM.

Straight out of transition, we headed up a short, steep hill. After that, it was a great deal of flat with some rolling hills. I quickly got my heart rate under 130, and started setting pace based on a 130-140 rate. I easily hit 20+ and locked in a cadence of about 95 rpm. The course was fairly well laid out, with a few bothersome turns. They had cones plainly identifying the course throughout the more urban areas, and even had road hazards painted orange. This was a huge help in seeing bad things coming.

After ten minutes, I began my nutrition plan which consisted of a Gu every 30 minutes, Accelerade, and water. In a fit of overzealous preparation, I had taped eight Gu packets to The Pol-R Express before I stopped myself, realizing this was "only" a 56 mile ride. It seems I was on auto pilot and preparing for the more standard 5-6 hour rides I've been doing lately. With that many gels, I was ready for anything.

Through mile 20 I was just ahead of my target pace. Between miles 20 and 30, knowing I was a few minutes ahead of pace, I made a pit stop for the porta potty and to refill my water bottle. I had gone through two bottles, and wanted to stay on pace for 1 1/2-2 bottles every hour. Around mile 30, I realized that was going to be rough. One of the bottles I picked for the race was a piece of junk. The top was hard to open, and even when it was open, more of the drink oozed out the cap than made it into my mouth. That will teach me to use anything other than my favorite bottles. To make up for the Accelerade I was missing, I grabbed a bottle of water at every aid station and downed it.

Through miles 40 and 45, I was right on target for my 20 mph goal. At mile 48, I passed another racer standing by the side of the road with a tire in her hand. I stopped to see if she needed a CO2 cartridge or spare tube. What she really needed was someone to change her tire. She had all the gear, but had never changed a tube, herself. She said her bike shop always fixed flats, and told her to just take the equipment and let SAG support change any flats. I hope she finds a new bike shop. One that will encourage her to learn as much about her bike as possible. SAG support was lacking on the course. In the time it took to change her tire, we saw exactly zero support vehicles.

About 7-8 minutes later, her flat was changed and we were both on the road. I quickly picked up the pace and started passing some of the hundreds of racers who had passed me while I worked. I was unable to make up all the time, and went into T2 with a bike time of 2:53 for an average pace of 19.4 mph. Not bad, considering my target time was 2:50.

I had gained a lot of bike karma, but I had lost a lot of time. I headed into T2 formulating a plan to get me time back.

Long, Lonely Ride OR Hey, My Tires Are Melting

It was a wonderful weekend. WIBA 2007 is in the bank, and I got a lot out of it. First and foremost was the opportunity to meet up with so many members of the Tri Blog Community. All day Saturday was a lesson in putting faces to blog identities and blog identities to real names. In all, we had nearly 75 people participate in various aspects of WIBA.

And there were many lessons learned during Saturday's training.

The day started early, as I had to drive to Madison. I was up at 3:30 and on the road by 4 a.m. The goal was to be at the swim start by about 6 a.m. getting ready for the day. My timing was pretty good, and by 6:15 I had all my swim gear at the lake, and I had already met Gavin Nunn and a few others. Prior to the swim, I also saw Taconite Boy, Coach Mike, Iron Wil, Bolder, Robby B, Rural Girl, and Stu.

As we got into wetsuits, a local ski team showed up for a bit of practice on the ski jump. This was a bit problematic as our swim course went right through that ski area. Iron Wil had spent many hours on the phone ensuring we would have clear swim lanes, and speedboats barreling through the water didn't really match her vision of "clear." With the boat crews express promise to avoid running over any swimmers, we started swimming. Our plan was 30 minutes out, and 30 minutes back. (This was shortened by 30 minutes in order to get on the bikes a bit early due to projected temps in the 90s).

The swim was fairly uneventful, though there was one lesson learned. That lesson is that regardless of the size of the lake, someone WILL punch you in the face during the swim. After spending 45 minutes being concerned that I would run into another swimmer, I saw an arm heading right at me. Someone caught me right in the head, knocking my goggles off my eyes. Call it good practice for Louisville. Still, there couldn't have been more than one other swimmer within 100 yards, and that swimmer hits me!?

Another lesson? Consider Body Glide on the neck. The red ring from wetsuit love isn't all that appealing.

After the swim, everyone started getting bikes out for the ride. We had three options ranging from 70 to 112 miles. Well, 112.6 miles if you make a couple wrong turns. Two groups left from Monona Terrace. One group would make the leg from the bike start to the loop start and complete one loop. The other would complete the full IMWI bike course. (A third group completed two loops without the out and back legs from the bike start/finish).

We started out as a large group, mostly a function of being unfamiliar with the course. Many thanks to Stu who did everything he could to clue people in on various details of the route. Many miles down the road, I would find myself wishing he had been with me at that specific moment. More on that, later.

Early in the bike, I learned yet another of the day's lessons. If high temps are expected and your bike will be somewhere particularly warm, say the back of a vehicle, electrical tape might not be the best bet for keeping gels on a bike's top tube. Taconite Boy found it quite humorous that I had to keep pulling gels off the bike and throw them in my back pocket. As warm as it was, the glue turned to mush and the gels were just sliding around.

Once we hit Mount Horeb, the group split up. Many in the group stopped at the BMC sag wagon, and others stopped at one of several gas stations on the route. Some of us didn't realize where these stops were located and continued down the road. It took only a short time for me to realize I was completely alone. That baffled me as I hardly considered myself the workhorse of the group. Still, triathlon is an individual sport, so I kept on biking.

Things went smoothly until a little country road called Garfoot. Don't ask me about the name, as I have no clue. But if you plan on racing IM MOO and haven't seen the course, ask me about why Garfoot is a good street name to remember. On that I have a clue. No, a warning. No, a bit of potentially lifesaving trivia.

Garfoot is truly a minor country road. And after a long period of climbing, Garfoot offers the first really nice drop, and I easily reached 35 mph without pedaling. Of course, it immediately heads back up, but it was a great stretch. Now, for the PAY ATTENTION part. Garfoot makes a left onto some road. Its name isn't really important, because about 100 feet down that road, the course makes a right turn back onto Garfoot.

Which then goes into another downhill stretch. A much steeper downhill where I hit about 45 mph. And then saw the "à" sign. And then realized that "à" meant, "This road turns 90 degrees to the right. It would be a corner, except it's just a turn. Prepare to die."

I was already on the brakes, and realized that SLOWING was neither an option nor sufficient. Stopping? That seemed like a better idea, but was also not going to be happening.

Wheels melting? Yeah, that was happening. Bike starting to twist and shake underneath me as the wheels started to skip on the pavement? Yep. Me trying to figure out how long it might take for someone to find and scrape my carcass off the road. Definitely.

Somehow (and for anyone who questions the existence of God, this is good proof), I managed to keep the bike upright, though I left the road. Fortunately, I got off the grass and onto a driveway that just happened to be where I needed it. I was doing about 30 mph when I hit that. I'm sure the horses in the barn didn't mind my sudden appearance. They probably just thought, "Look, another triathletes missed the turn."

Once I cleaned my shorts out, I got back on the road.

The rest of the bike was long, hilly, and, at times, painful. Taconite Boy commented that someone's bike computer indicated the temperature on the road was 98F. The hills on the back half of the loops are challenging, and completing them helps me believe I can face whatever Louisville throws my way. With four stops for water/fuel, it took 7 hours 30 minutes to complete the ride.

Notable is that it has been nearly two decades since my last century ride. And this trip was more than 30 miles over more recent long rides. Challenging as it was, it was a great training day that will pay huge dividends on August 26^th.

After the bike and an opportunity to wash up, we all met for dinner. We had about 40 people there, got lots of swag from various sponsors, and shared our day's experiences. Shortly after dinner, I headed out for the drive home.

And, there is one final lesson for those who made it this far. Swim goggles work best when worn right side up. When upside down, they are prone to leaking and falling off. I didn't learn that at WIBA. That was this morning, but it seems fitting for this post.

Stop by later for information about some contest opportunities. A certain WIBA participant informed me he has lots of swag he'd love to give away in contests, but he has too little traffic through his blog.

Why, Oh Why?

Does it always have to be the REAR tire?

And as far as that goes, why does it ALWAYS seem I flat out at convenient times like near the end of a 90 minute ride just before work?

So far, for my bike, I've put four new tubes on the rear tire. The front is the tube that was on the bike when I bought it (1100 miles ago). Of those four flats, three have occurred in the morning prior to work.

Censored

While considering a post detailing my more recent bike workout, a perfect title came to mind. And was immediately censored by my internal content control board. After all, I have kids.

The concept for the title was directly related to the ride itself. I was on my bike for nearly 5 1/2 hours. That's a LONG bike ride, no matter how you look at it.

There were lots of rolling hills, and that always makes for a HARD ride.

AND it was pouring down rain for about 9o minutes of the bike. Needless to say, I got very WET.

Since I won't be using the title, you'll just have to wonder. There's just no way I could possibly post it. Just trust me that it was very suggestive.

The training schedule called for a four hour ride. And when my training partner suggested meeting him at a nearby airport where he would be attending an airshow, I was game. Sure, we knew the airport was around 45 miles from my house. Sure, we knew it was to be an easy ride. But hey, what's an extra hour or so of training among friends.

It was already raining as I sat in the garage putting on my shoes. Hey, sometimes it rains on race day (a phrase whose lesson I never seem to learn). I headed out, and was promptly soaked. The rain lasted for the first 45 minutes of the ride.

Riding past the street where my training partner lives, about 17 miles into the ride, I hit roads on which I had never ridden, before. Apparently, a bit more attention to elevation maps would have been prudent. Most of the next 25 miles was one long set of rolling hills. Finding a groove was difficult, and a graph of my speed would closely resemble a sine wave. But at least the rain had stopped.

After just under 2 1/2 hours, I hit the airfield where I was to meet my training partner. It seems the rain that hampered the first hour of my ride had also hampered the planes at the show, and the performances were running 30-45 minutes behind schedule. Rather than wait too long, I headed back on my own.

Sadly, the hills hadn't changed one bit in the interim.

About 20 miles out from home, the rain started, again. Though it only lasted about 20 minutes this time around, it was more than enough to thoroughly soak me a second time.

All together, I spent 4:57 in the saddle, covering just over 88 miles. If I had really thought it through, I would have just added the extra 12 miles and completed the century. Then again, I was wet. Who can think with that kind of rain?