Cape Cod Marathon Race Report

I'm trying something different with this post - a video post that includes updates from along the course using my Flip video camera.  It's my first time trying to do the video thing and there is plenty of improvements that I'll make for the next one but I hope you find some value in the content, if nothing else than for the pure entertainment value of seeing me get less coherent as the miles tick by!

What started out as a 13 mile relay run turned into a 21 mile effort, with an interesting twist at the end!

Half of 26 is 15, huh?

I'm heading down to Falmouth, MA this afternoon to do the Cape Cad Marathon relay on Sunday morning.  I'm doing the race with my brother who asked me to run it with him several months ago.  I don't get a chance to run with him often so I told him I'd love to.

I think it is reasonable to assume that when you are doing a marathon relay with one other person that each person would run 13.1 miles, right?  While making final plans with my brother this week I asked how his training was coming. He casually said, "it's going OK, but would you mind taking the harder legs?"  I have kept up my running since Ironman Lake Placid this year regularly getting in 10 mile runs on the weekend and feeling pretty fit, so I said sure.

Well, this week I finally go around to checking out the course map to see what exactly I had gotten myself into.  I quickly come to find out that the relay is split up into 5 legs.  The closest we can get to an even split for leg length is 15 and 11 miles!  Guess who is doing the 15.

Where's the parenting manual?

I've experienced plenty of challenges through my 11 years of fatherhood. But, there is no doubt though that the good has far outweighed the bad. After completing a 5k road race with my So recently, one of the things I realized I struggle with the most really has nothing to do with my Son, but rather with me.

I hope I can safely say that all parents want the very best for their kids. As parents, we've experienced things that we want to share with our kids so that we can share that sense of accomplishment or feeling of elation that goes along with the experience.

My 11-year Son and I have done several road races together, all in the 3 - 4 mile range. I'm extremely proud of each one of them and very grateful that it is something we can do together. However, in every single race, I have an internal struggle of how much to push and how much to back off. Depending on the race distance and how much training he's done, he'll want to walk for portions of the race. In most cases I tell him "we'll go at your pace buddy" and "you can walk whenever you feel like it". Inside though, I'm torn up trying to figure out how much to push and tell him to dig through the aches and pains he might be feeling, versus when to just let him go at his own pace.

I'm sure there are some who will read this and think, the kid's 11! Why push him at all! Maybe others think I should tell him not to walk at all and just find a way to deal with the pain.

I believe in the power of sport and competition for kids, when it has the healthy support of the parents and the adults involved in guiding the kids (as opposed to the parents that get thrown out of the crowd for harassing the officials). I think the social lessons of teamwork, and the internal lessons of goal setting and motivation are uniquely ingrained into the brain through sport and competition. As a parent, part of my role is to push him when he needs pushing, sometimes letting him fail when there may be a lesson to learn, and sometimes supporting him before he does fall.

And therein lies my struggle.

In which situations do you apply each role? I know there is no right answer, and I suppose that is part of the lessons we learn as parents. We need to struggle and fail as parents sometimes to learn how to be better parents. However, sometimes I think it would be nice if someone could write a step-by-step guide that is given to you as you leave the hospital.

A tale of two races (Part II)

I did everything I could to recover from my Saturday race. I used The Stick, stayed off my feet most of the day, took a nap and even took a hot bath with some fancy bath salts that my wife had. I don't know what I was expecting to feel like but my muscles still felt pretty beat up from the intense Saturday effort.

It was an early start to the day when I woke up at 2 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep. My alarm went off at 4 a.m. but my eyes were already open as I lay in bed. After a traditional pre-race breakfast of Green Goodness and protein powder, my family and I were out the door and arrived in South Berwick right at 5 when transition was supposed to open.

Pre-race was pretty laid back. I had a sweet transition area spot at the end of a rack leaving plenty of room for my gear. I had enough time to catch up with the other GSTC'ers racing, Dave and Tom, along with a few other folks I knew from the local tri-scene.

The Swim
After a first place age group swim the previous day I was definitely confident at the swim start. Probably too confident. Instead of going out strong and steady I red-lined for the first 100 yards and found myself hyper-ventilating. After laying off the effort for about 15 seconds and regaining my composure I went back out and finished the swim strong. I ended up 7th out of the water in my age group but pretty sure I lost a couple of places with my early pacing mistake. Overall, I was still happy with a sub 28 minute 1.2 mile swim.

The Bike
The first few miles of the bike is when I started to realize it might be a painful day. Even my intentional effort to spin easily over the first few miles of flat roads, the residual muscle soreness was still very present from Saturday's effort. I tried to get into a steady rhythm and eventually got into a groove and did my best to not work the leg muscles too hard.

I did go through several bouts of doubt as to how I would respond on the run. I tried not to let too many negative thoughts build up about what the run when going to be like if I had sore muscles from going easy on the bike. I was thankful that I did some reading about David Goggins and his perspective on dealing with pain and suffering while racing.

I also kept repeating to myself one of my favorite perspectives on keeping a positive attitude: that nothing we do or feel has any inherent meaning, only the meaning we give it. I could either commiserate with myself about the running pain I was anticipating, or, figure out a way to embrace it and help to feed my drive to finish.

The Run
Thankfully, I managed not to commiserate. However, I did suffer. With every stride my muscles ached but I was able to maintain my nutrition and hydration so that the only thing I had to do was focus on blocking out the leg pain and keep putting one leg in front of the other.

One thing I did better in the race than any other that I can remember is get hyper-focused in the present moment. Typically in longer races, my mind is racing with everything from calculating my pace to watching my heart rate. I have a hard time finding that place I can usually get to in a training run, where a 2 hour run is done before I know it. This race was different. As much as I hurt, I never walked and there were several points where I didn't really remember any details about the previous mile or two.

I do remember virtually every step of the last two miles. I saw the mile 11 marker on the road, my energy level felt good and my hydration felt good, so I went as hard as I could the race of the race. It hurt so so much, but if you are a reader of this blog, then you know about my first and only DNF six weeks earlier, and finishing this race (the 2nd in 2 days) became what I perceived as an emotional must.

As I crossed the line I could feel the lump in my throat grow and eyes start to well up. My wife and son were waiting for me at the line and I couldn't hold it back any longer as I gave each of them a huge hug. I know they didn't care whether or not I DNF'd in Lake Placid, however, they had both sacrificed so much to let me train for my races this year that I was super motivated to finish this race and be able to hug them at the end. Something I wanted to do so badly in Lake Placid but never got the chance to.

A couple of good friends, Paul and Tony, were also there at the line. It was especially good to see them both because they were also in Lake Placid. I had spent the equivalent of several days training with Paul preparing for the event (and he had an incredible inaugural Ironman performance). I think he had a unique perspective on how disappointing Lake Placid was for me and how satisfying it was to finish the Pumpkin Challenge.

My triathlon journey has taught me some valuable lessons this year. I'm expecting next year's journey will be just as valuable!

A tale of two races (Part I)

The original plan for the year was to do the Patriot Half Iron race as prep for Ironman Lake Placid. Knowing the time it takes to train for an Ironman, my original intent was to take the rest of the year off from racing after Lake Placid.

However, after an unexpected and disappointing Ironman result I was compelled to redeem myself and signed up for the Great Pumpkin Challenge. The challenge consists of a sprint distance on Saturday followed by a half iron distance on Sunday. While I finished both races, they were two very different experiences.

The Sprint
My training for the two weeks leading up to race weekend was a little spotty. Work and pool closings have kept my schedule a little tough to manage. So, I really wasn't sure what to expect on race day. My plan for the Saturday race was to go comfortably hard and push it a little if I was feeling really good.

The Swim
The swim was 1/3 of a mile and the way others in my age group were looking to jump the gun I figured it was going to be a fast one. One of the biggest benefits of going through an Ironman mass start swim with 2,400 other racers is that I feel completely comfortable getting to the front and mixing it up to try and move into clean water. I did just that and found that I was able to find a clear line quickly. I saw some other swimmers on either side of me for the first 50 yards or so and then I just saw what I thought was another racer from my age group about 20 yards up ahead. I was feeling good so I pushed it a bit hoping to try and catch up to them. I thought it would be kind of nice to be 2nd or 3rd out of the water.

I never caught that person in front of me but chasing them down helped me nail a good time. I would later find out that the racer in front of me was one of the Elites and I was actually the first swimmer out of the water in my age group! I've only been swimming since I took up triathlon six years ago so I was super excited to have such a good result.

The Bike
I've ridden the bike course a couple of times prior to race day so I was comfortable where I could push and where to back off some. Starting in the 2nd wave behind the elites, and being first out of the water I was able to keep track of who in my age group was passing me (For those that don't know, the age of each racer is written on their calf prior to the start). I was feeling pretty good and was surprised to only see 2 others in my age group passed me during the bike. I was even more surprised to catch up to 2 of the female elite racers that started 1 minute ahead of me. Either they were having a really bad day or mine was going better than I thought.

The Run
As I roll into T-2 I'm still feeling really good and it hits me that I'm currently in 3rd place in my age group! I've never been in this position before! I'm used to finishing maybe in the top third or top half of a race but getting on the podium hasn't ever been on my radar. Now, I'm starting a three mile run in 3rd place but I have no idea how far back anyone else in my age group is. Because the age is written on the back of the calf so you don't know if your losing a position until someone has already passed you.

Even though I'm pretty lean right now from my Ironman training schedule, I'm a larger than average for a triathlete at 190 pounds, which has always been a disadvantage on the run. But, I kept to my plan of going comfortably hard until the 1 1/2 mile mark when I heard footsteps behind me and saw a "35" on the back of the calf of the racer who just passed me. Dang, he's in my 35 - 39 age group! I was feeling good but started to have an internal dilemma. Do I try and keep up and hope I don't over do it before the half-ironman I would be doing is less than 24 hours???

My competitive juices temporarily ruled the day and I picked up the pace to stay with him as long as I could, which ended up being until the 2 1/2 mile mark when I looked at my heart rate monitor and realized that I was pushing the red zone. My more sensible side took over I backed off a bit but it was enough to lose contact. One more person from my age group before crossing the line at a sub 7 minute/mile pace and about 2 minutes faster than last year's time. This was good enough for 5th place out of 45 in my age group and 27th out of 433.

For now I'll just say that the Sunday half ironman the next day was a physically and emotionally exhausting experience. So, in order to do it justice I'm going to tackle that one tomorrow because right now I'm going to have a Guinness, eat more food and hopefully fall asleep on the couch.