Quick & Easy Healthy Meal

I originally started this blog to document my journey from heel striker to forefoot runner. Along the way I started posting about running in general, and cycling and triathlons. I also intended (and will at some point in very near future do so) to blog about my profession of athletic training. Recently I hit upon another topic to write on that actually relates to all of it, nutrition, more specifically cooking nutritious meals. I’ve been cooking fairly nutritious meals for a long time and keep playing with new recipes, and over time I’ve come to realize that many people I know are astounded by how easy it is for me to make healthy but tasty meals. So, I’ve decided to start sharing some of my more successful experiments with food on here.

We all know that healthy usually means fresh, but also frozen and to avoid processed foods. But keeping fresh foods at home means constant trips to the grocery and we don’t always have time for that. I try to the go with frozen, but occasionally I will throw in a can of something, as I did for this recipe.

I took a couple of turkey Italian sausages that we had in the freezer and lightly thawed in microwave until I could chop them up. I heated a large skillet and dropped in the sausage to brown with about 1/2 a diced white onion and 2 minced cloves of garlic, salt & pepper.

While that was cooking I put 1 3/4 cups (w/ splash more) of water on to boil. Once boiling I added in 1/4 cup farro, 1/4 cup bulger wheat, 1/4 cup quinoa, and about 1/4 cup of whole wheat spaghetti broken into ~1" pieces. (water ratio on grains: farro 3:1, bulger wheat 2:1, quinoa 2:1, and the splash was for pasta (needed more)).
Once sausage was cooked I added can of diced tomatoes (with liquid), 1/2 cup frozen peas, 1/4 cup of chia, cayenne pepper, dried oregano, dried basil (prefer fresh herbs, but go with what you have...), and more salt & pepper.
When grain/pasta mixture had absorbed all the water I added it with some additional water (about 1/2 cup as grain was a little too al dente) into the sausage, onion, tomato, pea mixture and let simmer for a few minutes until water was absorbed and grain done.
I served with a topping of fresh grated parmesan cheese. It was quite yummy. Sorry I didn't get a pic to share (camera/phone temporarily out of order). From start to finish took about 25min and there was enough food to serve four. Nutritious, delicious, easy and quick, what’s not to like?

**(the grains chosen were partially for flavor but also because they had about the same cooking time as the spaghetti so it would all be done at the same time)

**(regular Italian sausage, or about ½-2/3 pound of ground meat could be substituted for turkey Italian sausage)

Don't forget, March is National Athletic Training Month: Every Body Needs An Athletic Trainer. (posts about #NATM2013 coming soon!)

Trail Running 101: How Not to Trail Run

I've been hitting the trails my whole life and running for over 35 years, and running trails for over 30 years. I've gained a lot of experience over the years and I pretty well qualify as above average when it comes not just to running, but to running trails. There isn't much I haven't encountered or dealt with, yet I recently received a reminder that I'm not perfect.

A friend of mine recently completed his first Ironman (140.6, the real deal) and is looking for his next challenge. This summer he also read Scott Jureck's book "Eat to Run", and he is now looking to do his first ultra with a long range goal of running a 100+ mile ultra some day. He knows I've done three 50k's and am looking to do a 50 mile within the next year. So, he invited me along when he planned to do his first 50k. Unfortunately the race was already closed, but undeterred he decided we should just do a 30 mile trail run in its stead. I agreed and less than two weeks later we inked in to run.

He got online and started looking at a trail and figuring out logistics. He quickly decided on the Appalachian Trail and found a place where we could start which would have us hitting a gas station 5 miles later, and a place to park his car with supplies 5 miles beyond that. The plan was to drop off his car and take my truck back to start point. We were to run 15 miles out (15.6 actually, he wanted 50k) and then turn back. With the gas station and his car we would have "aid stations" at 5, 10, 20, and 25 mile marks. Everything sounded perfect, except one teeny, tiny, thing. Neither one of us had ever seen the section of trail we were going to run.

Morning of the run came and he drove over to my house. I then followed him through the narrow, winding mountain roads to where we were going to drop his car. It was still dark and we didn't know exact spot where trail intersected road. After driving a while and knowing that we were getting close we found the spot where a trail hit the road and parked his car. I dropped off my supplies in his car, conferred with him about what he had and then we headed to out start area. By the time we got to our start point it was light enough for us to begin, so we geared up and set out.

I have to admit, that despite his having a fairly well thought out plan and course I did have some apprehensions. The first and foremost was the terrain that we would face. I didn't care about the ascents and descents, I knew they'd be there and they'd be long and steep, I was concerned about the trail itself. I had some fear that trail could be so rocky that running could be virtually impossible. In addition, we had a lot of rain recently, and who knows what that could have done to the trails.

Anyway, after putting on our camelbacks, off we went. We had about 100 yards on the road until we hit the trail, and were quickly there. Unfortunately, one of my fears was already showing its ugly head. The trail was immediately too rocky to run. The trail was nothing but rocks, some loose, some not, some suspect, but not runable. In all fairness, it was also a very steep climb that we may have walked anyway to save our legs for the run ahead. We slogged our way to the top, and got some sketchy, but runable trail and took off.

Back in the early spring I started developing some problems with my right hip. I went through bouts of better and worse through the rest of the spring, all of the summer and into the start of the fall. I was starting to feel better, but going into the run I was concerned it may not hold up, and within first mile I found out that it wouldn't. Our first downhill I slipped and came down hard on the heel of that same leg. I immediately felt a sharp, searing pain in my hip, and quickly lost strength in that hip. I could run, with little pain, but I wasn't able to lift knee of that leg as high, and that would quickly prove a problem.

The trail continued to be very rocky, and impossible to run in many places. It got to the point where we were desperate to run and we were running every possible opportunity. Unfortunately, since I was having trouble lifting my right leg, I was catching more and more rocks and roots with my toes and aggravating the hip further. I could have turned back, but I'm not that smart and it goes against my deepest beliefs, keep running until you can't.

After over an hour of running we reached the gas station that marked the five mile point in the run. We stopped for a few minutes while Doug (Jr as I refer to him) got something to eat. We both grabbed a quick drink as well and continued on.

The trail didn’t get any easier, and if anything actually got harder. The footing was horrible and we had some pretty steep ascents and descents. It resulted in us doing a lot of walking and slow jogging, but when we hit a decent stretch of trail Jr would take off. I did my best to hold on to him during those stretches. For the most part I was holding close to him, but it got harder and harder to do with each passing mile. I found myself focusing on just making it to the 10 mile mark and his car. I wasn’t going to quit, but I couldn’t look any further ahead than that point, or I would start the negative downward spiral mentally.

Almost two hours after leaving the gas station we finally reached the road where Jr had parked his car. Unfortunately, the trail didn’t cross the road where we thought it did, but it was close enough. We only had about 100 yards on the road to get to his car, where we pulled out our stash of food and drink. While refueling we discussed how long it had taken for us to reach that point, how far we had left to go, and terrain that we would most likely encounter. We quickly came to realization that instead of the 6-7 hour run we had thought we were going to do, that it was more likely going to be well over 10 hours. This was more time than either of us really wanted to put into the run, and to my relief, Jr agreed that we should turn back.

A few more minutes of rest, food, drink and foam roller and we started back the way we came. I had tightened up pretty good during that stop and really started to struggle to keep up. Jr was running strong, and now that he knew we weren’t going 30 miles, but rather only 20 miles which he’d done before (though not on trails), he started pushing the pace. I was struggling to lift my right foot enough to clear the rocks and roots so I wouldn’t trip or injure him further. As a result, I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been on where I was stepping with my left foot. I was only concerned with getting enough lift with my right.

About 2 ½- 3 miles into the return I paid the price for my inattention to my footing. As I was swinging my left leg through I smashed my pinky toe into a large rock, and the momentum of my foot and leg kept them traveling forward. Unfortunately my pinky toe remained with the rock (remember, I wear Vibram Five Fingers). The toe was forcefully ripped to the side and I felt an immediate sharp burning pain sear through my foot. I’ve stubbed many a toe over the years, and some of them very hard, but I knew instantly that this wasn’t a stub. It was broken. Plain and simple, there was no doubt in my mind, I broke my toe.

Despite the quick eruption of pain in my left foot, and the shout of pain that escaped me, I kept running. Jr heard me, glanced back, saw that I was still running and so he continued on not knowing what I just did. We still had over 7 – 7 ½ miles left to get back to my truck. I could have stopped and turned back for Jr’s car, but we had already shortened the run, I didn’t want to totally kill it for him, so I kept running.

The rest of the run was just a painful blur. I could no longer push off on my left foot, and could lift my right. This resulted in me catching my right foot more and more often on roots and rocks. Each time that I did so, the hip got a little bit worse. And, because of how rocky the trail was, I kept banging and catching my broken toe on other roots and rocks, most of which with healthy toe wouldn’t have been that bad, but were now causing me a good deal of pain. After what seemed an eternity to me, we reached the gas station again, which meant only 5 remaining miles to run.

We both got something to eat and drink while we were at the gas station. Jr inquired about my hip, and I told him it hurt, but I’d make it. I decided not to tell him about the toe just yet. I didn’t want him to try getting me to stay at the gas station while he went for truck, or to cause him to quit the run. It is just a pinky toe after all, and though it was painful, and I could tell very swollen, it wasn’t going to kill me. I’d been struggling to keep within visual range of him on the good sections of trail, and was taking some risks to try and catch back up on the bad, but I thought I could make the remaining distance without slowing him too much. So when he was ready to run again, so was I.

Not really much to say about the remaining 5 miles beyond that it got harder and harder for me and I kept falling further and further back. He started waiting for me at start of each of the bad sections and once I caught up, he’d start off again. Finally, with about 1 ½ miles left I confessed what had happened to my toe after he’d had a lengthy wait for me to catch up to him. I told him to go ahead and I’d be along as soon after him as I could. He refused to go and kept waiting for me, and so we very slowly covered the remaining distance. When we got back to road that my truck was parked on, he smoothly accelerated down the road the short distance to the truck. I was able to run a slow hobble behind him.

On the day mistakes were made, but things were also done right. It is always good to either scout the trail you plan to run, or get a good description from someone who knows. You can head into it blind, but may find yourself doing very little running as we did. Also, I probably shouldn't have attmepted anything like that until I knew my hip was fully recovered and healed. Trail running is much more strenuous than running on roads. However, we were smart enough to run with a partner in case something happened. Jr had done an excellent job of figuring out logistics for keeping us fueled and hydrated. We had our cell phones with us, and we were smart enough to turn back (well, at least Jr was) when we knew trail was going to be too much for us to do the distance we had planned.

After the run, instead of letting me lick my wounds, my wife had me out digging a new garden. Pinky toe and hip aren't that important...

Oh, and thanks to Doug, aka Jr, whose pictures I stole for the post...

The Push to the Edge

This summer I stumbled across a long lost friend, a partner, a tool. It had been many years since we'd last raced together and sadly I didn't even know it.
Years ago when I first started running I quickly established myself as a front runner. I always raced better during track and cross country season then I did on my own during the summer, but either way I was a threat. During the summer I always placed top 3 in my age group and during cross country and track season if awards were given, I was usually one of the recipients.
It didn't take long for me to figure out though that I ran better with a team
than I did when running solo. And the more the team needed me, the better I
did.
Another thing I quickly learned was that the worse I felt, the better I did.
Heaven help the opponents if on a day I didn't feel well or was hurt that the
team really needed me to step it up because I was guaranteed to blast one out.
I was the go to guy on race day and the more my team needed, the more I gave.
I went on to run college cross country for a couple of years after high school.
I started out my first season with a big bang, winning my first race. My team
needed me and I came through. We won the meet, barely, and against the one
school's second team, but it was our first victory. And our last...
The following week in a much bigger meet pulled off a top 10 finish to lead my
team to dead last. The next week I dropped to top 20 and we again finished dead
last. My finish place declined steadily thereafter.
My second, and final, college season didn't fare any better. I never placed and
until the final meet of year we placed dead last. That last meet we achieved
our teams lofty goal of beating someone, anyone, and finished second to last.
My team didn’t really need me and I was fine with just running, but not
actually racing.
I continued running and racing for many years after that. Often doing well in
smaller local races and always finishing in a respectable time, but never quite
getting back on top of things. A few years ago I added triathlons to my race
schedule with similar results. I was finishing run and tri in top 30% but not
really being competitive. I was running hard, training hard, but falling short.
I was good, but just not good enough.
Last season a friend, much younger than me got into triathlons and I sort of
became his mentor. Shortly thereafter a coworker did the same and we became
friends as well and now I had two 'mentees'. They both showed promise and did
well in their first seasons. Both were faster than me for very short distances,
but lacked strength and experience to challenge me so far in an actual race.
At the beginning of the season the youngest and newest of my mentees, Jason, convinced
me and the other mentee, Doug, to do a sprint tri to kick off the season. I
reluctantly signed up. I've known for years my strength is in distance, and
avoid most shorter races, but decided it would be fun to go 'head to head' with
them.
Race day came and I found myself starting a couple of waves in front of both of
them. Part of me had planned to take it easy and have fun, but once I knew they
would be behind me trying to catch that all changed. I was all business by race
start and pushed myself through water with everything I had. As I exited the
water I pounded across the grass to transition and I was quickly out on the
bike. Once I got on the road I just hammered away on the pedals and it seemed
like I was back in transition in no time. I flew out of T2 and speed around the
run course and before I knew it I was across the finish.
I knew that I had a good race and thought that a possible age group award might
be coming. What surprised me was that I finished 3rd overall and managed a 6:28
pace on the run. I hadn't run that fast in years for any distance, much less at the end of a triathlon. I was thrilled, evidently I was finally doing something right, because I was getting faster again.
The following week I had two more tri's, an olympic on Saturday and a 1/2 iron on Sunday. I went into the season with high hopes that I was going to have breakout races. Saturday I PR'd but not by as much as I had expected and Sundays race was solid, but nothing to get excited about.
I was puzzled as to what happened. Yes they were longer races, but some of my
new speed should still have carried over. I pondered this for a couple of weeks
while I tried tweaking my training in an attempt to figure out why I had done
so well one week and then just ok the next.
About two weeks later I read a blog post written by a friend, Ann B, about underachieving. Something clicked on and I suddenly had a neon bulb shining on things. In high school and college I stepped up my game and pushed with all I had to help the team. Since then it was just for me and that extra push, just faded away. I still ran hard but not as hard. I pushed through pain, fatigue, cramps and more, but I hadn't really been pushing myself to the breaking point. I was willing to go there for the team, but had ceased doing it for myself.
Until the sprint triathlon that is. Something about being beaten by younger and
faster friends brought it back out and I pushed to the red zone and slightly
beyond. I have more experience than either of my friends and currently I'm a
much stronger runner and cyclist, but I know they are faster than me. They may
not be able to hold the speed for long but I really thought they had enough to
beat me at a sprint and I just wasn't ready to let that happen. As a result I
pushed through the pain, hit a point where I thought I was all out and pushed
beyond it and had a break out race. The following week I hit that same point,
but didn't try to push through, I thought I was at the limit, but wasn't.
The rest of the summer I had hits and misses with my performances. I pushed
through that extra barrier several times, but not consistently and didn't
always hold it, but I was relearning. My final Tri of the year, a couple of
weeks ago, I found that push again on the run and it carried me to a 5 minute
run PR.
Despite finding that extra push and now knowing it is there, I still can't tap
into it regularly. I can still run/ride/swim long and hard and push through the
comfort zone and well into the pain, but I'm not finding that extra push that
takes me into the red zone as often as I would like. Maybe part of me realizes
the danger of it more than I did when I was younger. It is a point beyond pain
where you know you are teetering on the edge of crash and burn and possible
injury, but you ride it as long as a hard as you can. Experience helps keep you
riding that razors edge without plummeting over it, but it also takes
experience and a lack of fear or care about what may happen if you push too
hard to get there.
Pushing to the edge helped me tremendously back in high school, but it was also my downfall back then too. It took me to many wins and high placings in many races, but I went over it several times as well. I lost half of my sophomore cross country season with
injury from pushing over the edge, and 2/3 of the track season that year for another injury. Junior year I managed to walk the edge without a slip, but my senior year I pushed so far over I fell into the abyss. The summer leading into my senior year I pushed it to the edge and held it. I held it through most of the season. I was on a mission. Our team had a goal of placing at the state championships and possible getting the school’s first ever win there.
That senior season I PR’d week after week, and we won meet after meet. There was only one meet we didn’t win during the regular season. We then went on to win our conference, sectional championship, regional championship, and the school’s first ever semi-state
championship. Unfortunately, I rode that edge too long and at regionals I felt myself sliding over, and by semi-state I went into a free fall. I still raced well in those races, but I knew I was in trouble. The legs were pure rubber and I couldn’t get them back. At the state championship, not only did we not win, and not place, we were 15^th out 16 and I was one of the last 10 finishers.
Yeah, it takes a team to win, but an individual can bring them down. After two years of being one of the main team leaders, I had nothing in me. Unfortunately, my team mates instead of passing me as they should, most of them ended up grouped with me. A mental block made it hard for them to pass the guy that had been leading them. I yelled and
encouraged and finally with ¾ of a mile to go literally grabbed one of them and
shoved him in front of me and pushed him away. Finally trance broke and the all
took off and left me. It was over 2 months before I got my legs back and could
run with any speed or strength. The loss that day was not purely mine, and I
know it now, but it was a tough price for a great season.
Pushing yourself to the edge is what defines a true competitor. There is a big risk with each race, but a potential big payoff as well. My mind set has difficulty accepting that pro athlete that will drop out of a race, just because they are not among the leaders, but part of me knows that they do it so they aren’t risking that fall over the edge for nothing and that they will be ready for the next challenge.
For me the difference between a jogger and a runner is motive and how much they push, not the pace they actually run. Joggers run up to the edge of comfort and no further. Runners push into the pain and go with it. A competitor will push a bit farther and risk injury or DNF to try and get the win.
I used to know that razors edge well and I miss it. I've raced very well over the years despite losing it, but I'm getting hungry for more. Thanks to Jason and Doug pushing me
and Ann for switching on the light, I think I'm on my way to regaining it. I will never win anymore championships, but this old body still has some big races left in it and I mean to find them. I’m ready to take the risk again.

The Hill Not Taken

I've been a strong runner for years and more importantly a strong
hill runner. Friends, coworkers and other runners have often asked how I became
so good at running hills and what can they do become better at them. There are
many answers to the second part of the question, but the answer to the first
goes back many years.
I started running competitively in 7th grade. I had wanted to go
out for football when I got to middle school, but due to my size my parents
wouldn't let me. The previous spring I had done really well at our school's
field day in the mile run, so I decided to try cross country instead and fell
in love with running.
The two years I ran in middle I worked hard, did what coach asked,
but no more. All of my team mates avoided hills whenever possible and I
followed suit. Hills sucked! I hated them! They hurt and just weren't fun to
run. Some of the race courses we ran had them, but why run hills repeatedly
when you may only see one hill in a race. So, unless we had to run them in
practice, we didn't run them.
I carried this philosophy with me to high school and quickly
learned that it was shared by my new team mates. We'd run the hills that coach
made us run, but when we were just given a set time to run, we always avoided
them, which, considering I grew up in northern Indiana, was very easy to do.
I began my 9th grade season on the freshmen team but quickly moved
up to the junior varsity (JV) team. At certain big meets where they had a
freshmen team race, I would drop back down so we could try to win it. One of
the races I did this for was the New Prairie Invitational.
A week before the New Prairie Invitational the upper classmen
started talking about Agony Hill. Supposedly there was this monster hill on the
course that humbled seniors and ate freshmen alive. The closer we got to the
meet, the more they talked about it, until we went to sleep dreaming about it.
I didn't take them too seriously, these were the same guys that took us out
snipe hunting at cross country camp almost two months ago, so I took what they
told us with a grain of salt. I was convinced this was just another part of the
initiation.
Race morning we pulled up to the school in our bus. I was glued to
the windows with the rest of the freshmen looking for the monster hill. But no
hill was to be seen anywhere. The area around the school was flat farmland, the
school property was flat and the small woods adjacent to it showed no
indication of hiding a hill in it. The trees weren't tall enough and showed no
increase in height anywhere. We knew we had been suckered.
We got off the bus and did our warm up around the school property.
We found one small "hill" that took all of 2-3 strides to get up and
joked around about it being Agony Hill. We started joking around as all fear
left us. After running we stretched and got ready to race.
We lined up to start the race with 16 other teams, each team
allowed to have 2 people on the actual line and the rest behind. We had about
100 yards before a sharp right turn so it was very important to get out fast.
The gun went off and I took off like a shot. I was one of the first
10 to reach the turn and found myself in great position. The whole first mile
was on flat, hard grass. We did have that one "hill" to run up with
that we joked about, but it didn't slow things any. I don't remember that mile
split, but to give you an idea how fast that course was through the first mile,
as a senior I was in lead group of 8 that went through the mile mark in 4:45.
We weren't that fast, but we were moving quickly.
About 100 yards after the first mile mark we went into the woods
and started to run slightly down hill on the trail to a dried up creek bed. The
next 1/2 mile wound along that creek bed which had a sandy bottom, making
running difficult. The banks were kind of steep so it was hard to run on them
and you were pretty much forced into the sand. However, the sand was not my
main concern. I was starting to get very worried because, even though very
gradual, we were still going downhill. Distance can be deceiving in the woods,
but I was pretty sure that we'd been going downhill for quite a while and I was
starting to think maybe the upper classmen hadn't been joking after all.
Sure enough, we made a turn and there it was, Agony Hill. It
looked more like a dirt wall than a hill. This thing went almost straight up
and it was a solid distance to the top. I hit the thing at full speed and was
instantly slowed to less than walking speed. Some the runners in front of and
behind me were using their hands to help claw their way up and I quickly joined
in.
It seemed like an eternity before I finally reached the top. I
crested Agony Hill and knew I was done. There was still over a mile to go and
my legs were cashed in and gone. I staggered on and just focused on keeping my
feet moving and nothing more. After what seemed like an eternity I crossed the
finish line. I had been beaten. Not just by other runners, but by Agony Hill.
It was my master.
It was a long ride home after the race. I had been humbled and was
embarrassed by my performance. But a new runner emerged during that bus ride.
By the time we pulled into our school's parking lot I had resolved to never,
ever, let a hill do that to me. I didn't know how I was going to beat Agony
Hill, only that I would do it.
From then on, any time I got a chance to run a hill, I would. My
team mates would get upset with me, but I became obsessed with them and any
time I could I would steer runs toward them. This wasn't easy to do either,
there really were very few hills in the area, but I soon knew them all. I would
run them on weekends, and breaks. I would do loop after loop after loop over
them. I still hated running them, they still hurt, but I was determined to
master them.
By the end of the following summer I was looking forward to my
rematch with Agony Hill. Race day couldn't come soon enough. Unfortunately, one
week before the meet my season came to an end with an injury. I would travel to
New Prairie with the team, but instead of facing Agony Hill I would be taking
times and cheering from my crutches. The hill seemed to laugh at me that day,
knowing I would not beat it again that year.
Over the course of the next year I ran hills even harder and went
into my third match up with Agony Hill confident I was going to be the better. I
looked forward to every race, and put my all into each one. But the one I
looked forward to most wasn’t until midseason. When the day of the New Prairie
Invitational finally arrived I was ready. As I had two years previous, I again charged
onto Agony Hill and again it showed its might. But, this time when I crested it
I still had something left in my legs and was actually able to run on. I still
slowed tremendously, but I was definitely running strong. The win that year was
mine, but it was like Rocky beating Apollo, it was only because I got back on
my feet first. I still had work to do.
After another year of hard work my senior year came and the final
match up with Agony Hill with it. I already mentioned how the first mile went.
I finished the 5k course in about 16:23, a PR, and more importantly, when I
crested Agony Hill I took off and hammered the last part of the race. I crushed
it. Agony Hill was mine.
Beating Agony Hill was great, but the real victory occurred
somewhere along the way to get to that point. I don't know when it happened,
but it did, and that's all that matters. Somewhere I lost my fear of hills, I
didn't dread them anymore. I enjoyed running them and they became my friends.
They still hurt, but it was a good hurt that I welcomed. Running hills will
never be easy, it is just like running the 100 meter dash all out. If you are
really, truly pushing as hard as you can, it will hurt, it's just the better
trained you are the less it hurts and the quicker the hurt fades away. Same
with running a marathon. I will never say running hills is easy, but if easy
was what I wanted I wouldn't be an athlete to begin with.
This same philosophy and love of hills that I got from running has
carried over to cycling as well. I go at hills on my bike the same way I do
when running. I challenge every hill I see and grind it out in the biggest
gears I can. Both when riding and running, if I come to an intersection and I'm
unsure which way to go, I always take the one that looks like it goes up the
most.
When I asked my recommendations for getting better at running
hills it is simple, run them. Run them often, run them hard, don't fear them,
embrace and respect them, but strong. Since my freshman year at the New Prairie
Invitational I have run every hill possible, there hasn't been a single hill
not taken, and that has made all the difference.

Valentine's Day Marathon '11

The morning of the Valentine's Day Marathon I woke up, got dressed, walked the pooch and then hopped in my truck and left. I made a quick stop at a deli for a nice roast beef, egg and cheddar sandwich with hot sauce and a large cup of black coffee. Good fuel to get me through the 26.2 miles that were coming up.


I made the short drive to the park, found a place to park and went to check things out. This was a very informal race: no registration, no fee, no awards, and aid station only at end of each 6.55 mile loop. With all of the snow we had I wasn't sure about running the race at all. The only reason I was really there was to use it as a training run for the 50k trail run (The Hat Run) I had next month. Due to weather I hadn't been getting many miles in and this was good way to push myself into a long run.

The race would also be a good test for Vibram Five Fingers KSO Treks. I had done some limited trail running in my Sprints and KSOs but was worried about how well my feet would do for a long trail run if there were a lot of rocks and roots. For short distances rocks and roots didn't bother my feet, but a 50k could prove different. So, shortly after signing up for the Hat Run I bought the KSO Treks, which have a slightly thicker sole. They also have a bit of a tread, more like a typical trail running shoe, which could prove valuable. The Valentine's Day Marathon I hoped would give me a good idea whether my feet would hold up with the KSO Treks or whether I had to quickly come up with another plan.

Upon arriving at the start/finish area I "checked in". I quickly donned my red stocking cap, which we were asked to wear to help ID "racers", but not required to wear and my bib number. I was assigned the number 2 and was feeling pretty special despite the fact that all of us got the same number. I didn't really understand that, but didn't care, figured it was all part of the fun.

There was a bit of a wait for start time and then for everyone to get organized. A few minutes after 10am, our official start time, we were set and the National Anthem was sung and race instructions given. Lots of warnings of ice and hard packed snow in them and cautions especially when passing. Then we were off!

The start area was only standard sidewalk width so I positioned myself a bit back from the line. The race included a 10k and 1/2 marathon option and I wanted to let the shorter distance runners a chance to get free without tricky passing. My mistake!

Within 50 yards I, along with many others, found myself trapped by a couple groups of some of the rudest and most inconsiderate women I've encountered during a race. I understand running with your friends, it makes the miles go by easier, but when you have a narrow path with deep and dangerous to run on snow and ice to each side and insist on running on 3 a breast so you can talk you are being inconsiderate. And to do it at the start of a race with several hundred runners trapped behind you goes beyond breaking race etiquette. They made no effort to move over as runner after runner slipped and scampered off path around them. They just kept chatting oblivious to the rest of us who were taking up space in THEIR world.

It took me almost a 1/2 mile to work my way around them and I was off. The opening 2 miles were as icy as promised. I was very glad of the extra traction my Treks provided me. As long as I kept my strides relatively short and took it easy around corners it wasn't too bad. There was one steep hill, to get up the side of an overpass, that proved too treacherous to run, but rest was doable.

The first 2 miles went by relatively quickly. There was some slipping, but damage done by it was minimal. But I was looking forward to the hard packed snow with good footing that we were promised for the remainder of the 6.55 mile loop. Once there though, I was less than thrilled.

The snow became hard packed alright, but was like ice and had all sorts of bumps and angles to it. Pace quickly dropped as it became a major effort just to stay upright, much less move forward. I had managed sub 9 minute miles to that point, but knew I was quickly around 11-12 minute pace now. The only fun part was 1/2 mile into it trying to hammer the gong they hung by the trail without slipping and turning my butt into a toboggan on the downhill where it was placed. I kept my feet somehow and rang out a solid bong on it.

The rest of the first loop consisted of some nice scenery and occasionally passing or being passed by other runners. A few comments during the brief meetings to distract from how the body was feeling helped pass the time. Footing remained horrible and feet continued to slide all directions twisting them up as well as my ankles and knees. Everything below the waist was a bit upset with me as I hit the end of the lap.

The aid station at the start/finish area was self serve, so I grabbed a bottle of water to refill my bottle that I was carrying in my waist pack. I quickly filled up and took off again for the start of lap 2. The temperature had warmed slightly since the first lap, which wasn't surprising since it took me around 1:06 to complete it. But, the footing hadn't improved much.

On the 2nd lap the ice was still slick, as was the hard packed snow, but both had improved very slightly. Unfortunately my legs were fried from the first lap and the 2nd lap just managed to put an even bigger hurt on them. I was still occasionally passing and being passed by other runners but things had thinned out considerably. I spent a good portion of the loop on my own. Even the 'highlight' of banging the gong was dampened when I slipped causing myself to straighten up right into the branch it was hanging from. I caught a bend in the branch right in the belly of my right side trapezius muscle. No major harm done, but an added insult to the injury I'd already been facing.

I completed the first half of the marathon in approximately 2:15. Far from a PR performance, but I was happy with my efforts. I quickly refilled my water bottle again and took off on my third loop. Things had continued to warm and there was now a 1/2 mile stretch of the start/finish stretch that was getting soggy. My feet were quickly soaked and over the first 2 miles got very cold. There was good news though. The ice had melted slightly and the hard packed snow had softened considerably and wasn't nearly as slippery. If my legs weren't already extremely sore from the first 2 loops I probably would have made much better time on this loop. But, as it was, I just kept plodding along at the same pace, unable to go faster. On the positive side though, the beating my legs were taken was considerably lessened.

The third loop was pretty uneventful. I saw very few runners, hit the gong without hurting myself and slipped around considerably less. I ran a slightly slower lap than the second, but didn't feel much worse. Unfortunately the final 200 yards was now a big puddle and my feet were thoroughly soaked and muddy by the time I reached the aid station.

I again quickly filled my water bottle and plunged into the fourth and final lap. The first 600 yards were more mud puddles and I slogged through them. The rest of the course had improved tremendously and if I had fresh legs I think I could really have cranked out a good lap on it. However, my legs were done and I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. This lap there would be no luxury of having other runners to occasionally focus on, I was pretty much alone. In the first 4 miles of the loop the only people I saw were 2 unfriendly walkers going the other direction. Somewhere around the 4 1/2 mile mark a runner, not in the race blew by me. I saw and passed one other racer a mile from the finish.

The last lap was an exercise of will power. My legs and feet were in pain. My toes were frozen. I was starting to feel dehydrated and my blood sugar was plunging. I wanted to stop badly and say the heck with it. It was a race, but I was doing it as a training run. No harm in quitting. But, I've never had a dnf and that more than anything kept my feet moving. My spirits did buoy in the final mile when I saw and over took another racer. It wasn't so much from passing him as knowing I wasn't the only one still left on the course. At times it felt like I was alone in the world and just that one person made a big difference.

I finished strong, but still had my slowest lap of the day. My unofficial and official (timing was all on our honor, we recorded our own finish times) was 4:43:24. I felt like crap, my feet, ankles, knees, and all leg muscles were killing me. My right shoulder was throbbing, I was dehydrated and blood sugar shot. But, I was in and alive and met my goals. I got in a training run that would help me be ready for my 50k. My feet, though sore, showed they could go the distance in vibrams, no way the 50k course could be harder on them. I made it through almost 5 hours of running with zero calories or electrolytes, doing 31.2 miles with them would seem easy.

All in all it was a good day. I learned and gained a lot. I knew I would pay for it for a couple of days, but that's ok, as an endurance athlete I know to expect it. I may have even set a new PR, for my slowest ever marathon, but still haven't been able to find records to confirm. I had my first ever top 10 marathon finish and since there only 15 finishers I was also in possesion of my second worst finish, being only 6 places from my second dead last place (the only 1 I had was in a an injured 5k high school cross country race that would end up costing me the season). Looking back, I'd gladly do it all again.

Change of Season

I first started running when I was 11 years old and as a 7th grader joined my middle school's cross country team. However, it wasn't until 2 years later, as a freshman I high school that I started running year round. I quickly found that I was just as at home running in worst part of winter as I was the rest of the year. Whether it was because I was comfortable wearing shorts no matter the weather, my sure footedness or something else, running came naturally to me.


I took a 3 year hiatus from true winter running while I lived in Texas. Laredo rarely got below 40 degrees and we never saw snow while I was there. Despite the time away from it, when I returned to the north, I found that I hadn't lost a step in regards to winter running.

The ability to wear shorts year round I long ago wrote off as being a simple case of mind over matter. I didn't mind the cold, therefore it didn't matter. My ability to keep my feet under me no matter how slick and icy the roads became, I never really thought about. It wasn't until a few years ago that I even bothered to take notice of my luck.

About midway through that winter after hearing many a runner complain about their many slips and falls something clicked in me and I finally started to wonder why I had never joined their ranks. Sure I've slipped many a time and done all sorts of spins, twists and maneuvers that would make even the most experienced ballerina jealous, but I had never gone down. That isn't to say I never fell, but those few times I had was not because of slips, but rather from tripping over an unseen object hidden beneath the snow on the trail upon which I ran. Tripped and fallen yes, but never slipped and fallen on the ice.

It wasn't until the following fall that I finally caught a glimpse of the reason why. As the weather grew colder and the winter rapidly approached I started to notice something different about my running. How I had gone over 20 years without noticing, I don't know, but I was now. I found that my stride was slowly getting shorter. My pace wasn't changing much, but I was definitely shortening and quickening my stride. The colder the day, the shorter the stride. I wasn't sure why, but I was positive this is what was happening.

It took me a while to figure out a possible reason, which it wasn't until this winter that I finally felt was confirmed.

My normal stride is fairly long and as a result my heel would strike well in front of my body at a sharp angle to the ground. This was fine most of the year, but on ice it would prove dangerous. Only a small part of the sole would come into contact with the ice, which would lessen traction, and the angle would velocity across the surface of the ice. By shortening my stride I was allowing the heel to strike at closer to a 90 degree angle which would bring more tread into contact, therefore more traction, and would provide less angular velocity across the ice.

I won't try to go into physics to explain this, but it's a relatively simple idea. A simple way to look at it would be to think about an object sitting on ice. If you give it a push from the side it goes sliding across the ice. If you push straight down on it, it doesn't move. From there it is easy to see that as you vary the angle between straight down and directly from the side that the distance the object will slide varies. Same thing for our feet. That's why when most of us walk on ice we do so gingerly, carefully putting our feet down directly below us, flat footed.

Despite not realizing it, I had for many years been changing my stride every winter to maximize traction and returning to my optimal stride as winter passed. I would still slow further and run cautiously on ice, but my slipping was minimal.

Last winter I spent most of the winter working on becoming a forefoot runner and learning to run in Vibram Five Fingers. I was too busy concentrating on learning how to run differently that I wasn't paying any attention to any of this. After a couple weeks of running on snow and ice this year I came to a realization that helped confirm my theory on the shorter strides.

As I was running on a very slick, icy road, I realized I was running normal speed for dry ground and I hadn't shortened my stride. After thinking about this for a while I realized that when running forefoot my foot was landing directly below me at a 90 degree angle to the ground. This meant no angular velocity. In addition I was maximizing the amount of tread in contact with the ground, further improving traction. At least to me this confirms my theory about the shorter strides.

I still don't know why or how my body just automatically made this change in stride, but I'm sure I've been doing it since day one. I remember my freshman year my track coach getting on me all through February and March about lengthening my stride. He was same coach I had all fall for cross country and he never had problem with my stride the entire season. Every spring and fall while I was in high school he never commented on my stride, yet every winter same thing, lengthen my stride.

Winter running will always carry some risks and nothing can make you immune to falls. But, experience has shown me that the risk can be lessened by having your foot land as close to a 90 degree angle as possible and pretty much directly under your body. You still may need to slow down on ice, but by following this you should have maximum traction and minimize slipping. Don't let winter frighten you out of running, dress correctly, adjust your form if necessary and have fun.

It's All About The Pace...

On the upper east coast we live at a fast pace, on the west coast it's a bit slower. When we run 3 miles we run it at a certain pace, and use another for 10 miles, and yet another for 18 miles. We have a pace we run whether it's for weight loss, general fitness, for fun or for competition. No matter what we do and why, we have a pace for it.

Most of us never set foot on a track. We pound out mile after mile on the road or on the trail or on the (shudder) dreadmill and feel good about it, as we should. We enjoy it and it's good for us. We lose weight, get fitter and faster, at least for a while...

Eventually it all plateaus. The pounds no longer melt away. We no longer feel like we are getting better, stronger, faster. Our workouts and pace remain the same but the gain is gone. Sure we still enjoy, but what about the rest?

Simply put, it’s our pace that is doing this to us. Yep, that same pace that got us to the point we’re at, is now the blockade that keeps us from continuing on. After a while our bodies adapt. We may still feel like we’re working hard, but physiologically we’re now on cruise control. Our bodies aren’t stressed the way they were before and we need to give them a jump start to get them going again.

The easiest fix is to start hitting the track a couple of times a week and cranking out the intervals. Mixing up the workouts and forcing our bodies to respond to new stresses and demands. If we stir things up enough we’ll find that we are once again improving. However, for many, like me, the track takes the joy out of running and makes it work. I do enough work that I get paid for; no one is paying to run laps around a track. I don’t enjoy it and I’m not going to do.

There are alternatives though. Interval training on the track may be one of the best and ‘easiest’ but there are ways to continue to improve without going anywhere near one. All we have to do is change our pace. I don’t mean to simply run everything faster, as many of us have found, pushing the pace on our runs only works so long. We just simply need to change the pace. Mix it up and keep our bodies from adapting to it.

There are many ways to do it. Go on 4 mile run, but at a 5k race pace (basically a Tempo run). When you can no longer hold the pace, let it go and find a pace to carry you to the finish. Try going on a 15 mile run at a pace significantly slower than your marathon pace. If you run an 8min pace for a marathon, try running those 15 miles at a 9:30 pace. Sounds silly? See how your legs feel in those last miles and see if you still think it’s silly. Chances are your muscles will be getting sore and your legs feeling tight. Why? You’re using your muscles much differently than normal. Your stride is shorter, and you’re spending more time on each leg bearing weight on every stride. I doesn’t seem like running slower will make you faster, but yet it does help. Our muscles strengthen from using them differently. Our body has to adapt to a different set of motor function parameters which causes a positive form of stress.

Another way to change the pace up is the old classic fartlek (Swedish for speed play, as if you didn’t know) run, where you keep throwing in changes in pace. There is no set distance for the total run or any of the changes in pace which may be anywhere from 50 yards up to ½ mile or more with no exact number to how many you throw in. Fartlek runs are very effective, but not really much fun (at least to me).

I know none of this sounds exciting and most of us have tried these and others as ways to improve, but unless we keep at them, their effectiveness is minimal. I know I will realize I’ve gotten to a plateau and I’m just logging miles at the same old pace day after day and I’ll start adding in Tempo runs and Fartleks for a while. They get old quickly and soon I’m back to just cranking out the miles, unless I find ways to make them interesting. As far as I’m concerned, intervals, tempo runs and fartleks all suck. But, they don’t have to…

This is where the more creative you are, the more you can start having fun with things. You may still be basically be doing a tempo run or a fartlek, but it doesn’t feel that way. One of the ways I’ve found to help mix up the pace and keep things fun is to race everyone that passes me. Granted, I don’t get a lot of runners passing me when I’m out a run, but I don’t limit it to runners. If someone on a bike passes me I chase after them for as long as I can or until I lose sight of them. Same with rollerbladers. Best part? If you actually hang with them for a while or better yet, pass them back, it drives them nuts. I actually went back and forth for over 2 miles once with a lady on a bike. By the time she finally broke free of me she was talking to herself, called me a name and probably rode harder than she ever had before. Did I feel bad about it? Heck no! We both got a better workout, even if she didn't like it.

Another tactic I've used is any time I see someone on foot I chase them down like it's between me and them for the win at Boston. It doesn't matter if they are walking or running, toward me or away. I chase until I catch them, lose sight or we go seperate directions.

When running with a friend I've made a challenge of it. We each get to pick 5-10 sprints of any distance during the run. They can be called at any time and for any distance. Loser of each sprint owes the other runner some prize to be determined. I used to do this with a friend on Sunday mornings during NFL season. Local bar had wings for 25 cents. For each sprint lost, you bought the other guy a chicken wing. If you don’t call all of your sprints before the end of the run, you owe the other guy a beer. It brings some strategy into the runs and can keep focus on what the other guy is doing. Notice that they aren’t paying much attention and call a sprint and take off before they know what happened. If other runner hasn’t called all of his sprints and you’re nearing the end of the run you can try to hold one of yours back and use it at a point that will block the other runner from calling their last before end of run. My friend used to call his last one about 50 yards from end of the run and one day I held my last one to the end and called for one remaining 200 yards of run. Got a free beer out of the deal and made future runs more interesting.

There are many other things you can do to keep things a little more interesting. Every time a Corvette (or other vehicle or color vehicle of your preference) passes on any and all runs, it’s a 200 yard sprint. Doesn’t matter if you’re already doing a tempo run or a fartlek, Corvette passes, sprint. If already sprinting, add it in. This one overrides all.

Another one I like is to do a 6+ mile run and start out at a 5k race pace. I have to hold 5k pace until I see a car with an out of state plate or I absolutely can’t hold on any longer. Some days this may mean a ½ mile, others 2 miles, and some until I crash and burn. But not knowing the distance ahead of time keeps things interesting and by focusing on passing license plates, I’m no longer focused on how hard I’m running.

I use some of these same tactics while cycling. See other bikes and I give chase. Or I may decide every time a red car passes I have to sprint. I may do a mile sprint of first one, half mile on second, and a quarter mile on third and then reset to a mile. If another passes before I’ve completed my sprint I tack on appropriate distance. If sprinting a quarter mile and it suddenly becomes a mile and a quarter, it really shakes things up. I usually set limit only one additional distance can be added on to a sprint already underway and will put a cap at max number of sprints on a ride. Some days I may only see a couple red cars and others it seems like every car is red.

There are so many different things you can do to mix things up. The important thing is that whatever you do forces pace changes, doesn’t allow runs to be the same time after time, and makes things a little more fun and interesting. Keep the body guessing, don’t allow it to adjust, and keep your mind distracted from the actual work out and enjoy. Before long you’ll find the miles melting away and that plateau you reached a thing of the past.

Why Do Race Directors Hate Me?

Well, maybe they don’t, but it sure seems like it at times. It is like they’ve banded together and decided, hey, what can we do to make it impossible for this guy to run our races. We don’t like him, we don’t want him, make him go away…


I guess a little more explanation and background would be helpful. I work as an athletic trainer at a private school working with athletes in grades 7th-12th. And, for those that don’t know, an athletic trainer works in the field of sports medicine. We’re often confused for coaches, personal trainers, fitness trainers, etc. If you’ve seen a college or pro football, basketball, baseball or other game on TV you’ve seen an athletic trainer. Someone gets hurt; we’re the first one on the field to take care of them. There is more that we do, but that is relatively unimportant to this. What is important is that even though I get 2 months off during the summer, I usually work 6 days a week and occasionally on Sunday. I am the only one at my school that is qualified to work with injured athletes, so if I leave, I put my athletes at risk. I need to be here for all contests.


Believe me I’m not complaining about my job, or my hours, what I’m complaining about is how hard it is anymore to race during the school year. Trying to find a ½ marathon or full marathon (or triathlons) that I can do is almost impossible. It’s not that there aren’t any Sunday races or there aren’t any on my few Saturdays off, it’s just that they’ve become impossible for me to do, and I’m sure that I’m not the only one.

Every time I look for a race during the school year I check for days that I will have time to get out of town and get to a race. Granted it would be nice to race locally and save travel expenses, but how many ½ and full marathons are in your neighborhood? So, when I find a date that works for me, I look for races that I can get to in my limited travel time and budget. There are many places online that make it easy to look for races and just about every time I have several to choose from. Unfortunately, most are closed to me.

This is where the crux of the problem arises. I will find a race that looks like a possibility and check out the info for it. The first thing I look for is if they offer race day packet pickup. I’ll check, and nope, no race day pickup. Next I’ll look at when pickup closes the day before. Most of the time it is too early for me to get to due to work. Strike two. Finally, I check to see if someone else can pick up my race packet for me. NOPE! Strike three! I’m out. I got to the next race site, same thing. The one after that, again, same thing. The next, yep, no go.

It gets frustrating as hell. I need these races. They help provide motivation for my training, allow me to see where I am physically and it gives me a release that training alone can’t do. But race after race, I am blocked from doing. And the trend is growing. Ten years ago this was never a problem for me, but each year there are fewer and fewer races that allow same day packet pickup or allow someone else to pick up your packet for you. And, it makes no sense.

Is the Taliban really going to target the Podunk Corn Fest Marathon and strap a bomb to a runner and make him detonate it at the finish killing 4 people and 2 cows? I don’t think they’re really interested in it. Am I going to sell my race number to the Small City ½ marathon for a huge profit? I don’t think so. So why can’t someone else pickup my packet? What’s the big deal? Is it because I registered online and so didn’t actually sign a release form? Hell, I’ll download it, sign it and either mail, fax or email it in. What’s the big deal?

Like I said, I’m sure I’m not the only one that faces this difficulty and I’m sure that many of you are able to work around it, but do you really want to? Who really wants to give up a vacation day or personal day just so they can make it to packet pickup on time? I’ve known people that raced locally and had to take a ½ day off to make it to packet pickup on time. This is a trend that really makes no sense and needs to end. I’d gladly stop by a booth race morning to show ID, sign form, whatever to prove that it really is me racing with the number I was assigned. Ban me for a year from all races nationwide if someone else ever races with my number, whatever it takes, but let me race!

Why do race directors hate me?

Rev3 Quassy Olympic Distance Triathlon 2010 - The Next VFF Step

I arrived at the Quassy Amusement Park early Friday (6/4/10) afternoon. It was a beautiful, sunny day. The amusement park was much smaller than I had expected, but it looked like a great area for a triathlon. It was on a pretty, but small lake with clean clear water which would be ideal for the swim. The parking lot wasn't very big but they were in the process of clearing the field next to it readying it to handle all of the race day parking.

I wandered over to the registration area to check-in and pick up my packet for the Olympic distance race the next day. When I walked up to the table at registration they asked which race I was registering for, which gave me a momentary surprise, I had thought I would have to come back after Saturday's race to pick up packet for Sunday's 1/2 iron distance race. So I told them I was doing both and the problems began.

I should start off by saying that even though this race would prove to be one thing after another for me, the volunteers and staff at the race were incredible. They quickly took care of me, and made this as easy and pleasant as possible. The problems that occurred that were under their control were all computer glitches that were taken care of very promptly.

When I told them I was doing both races they checked their lists but could only find me listed for the Half and not the Olympic. I told them they I had definitely registered for both. Without questioning me or placing any blame they got me my stuff for the Half and went to work getting me set up for the Olympic. I was given my numbers, swim caps, t-shirts, etc. and then personally escorted over to the timing chip area where they explained the situation and made sure my timing chip was set up for both races.

While getting timing chip taken care of I was asked to check my info they had on the computer. Half of it was correct, but my address and birth date were wrong (I would find out later this was a common problem as there was some glitch between registration site and race site that scrambled that info). When I told them they corrected that and had me on my way to transition to check in my bike.

Checking in my bike and racking it was quick and simple. I did have two young female racers that asked me to switch rack spaces with them because one of them had a hybrid bike that didn't fit in their assigned spot. We made sure it was ok with the person in charge of the transition area and I put my bike in the new spot. I put my race numbers on it and before I left I let a little air out of the tires because I didn't want to risk them blowing from sitting in sun on hot pavement.

This done I made the short drive to my hotel. I got checked in, moved everything into my room and went after pizza. I brought the pizza back to my room and spent the rest of the evening relaxing, eating pizza and slowly getting everything ready for race morning.

The next morning I got up extra early. I almost missed the start of my race the previous weekend and didn't want to make that mistake again, especially since I was in the first wave. This time I vowed I would be on the beach and ready well before the start.

I got dressed in my race gear while eating my breakfast pizza, grabbed my gear bag and headed out the door. It was only a 15 minute drive to the park and it was raining lightly. The forecast had been for scattered showers most of the morning and they were here. The light rain didn't affect the drive and I was in transition a short time after leaving the hotel. I grabbed my gear bag and trudged off to setup my transition area. I had plenty of time, but I wanted to get it done and relax and maybe even warm-up a bit before the race. A short swim would be nice.

During my short walk to transition the light rain stopped. The sky looked ready to dump some more, but for the time it was done. When I got to my space I started unloading my gear and setting things up. I pumped up my tires to full pressure. Then I pulled out my helmet put and put it on my aerobars. Then I pulled out my bike shoe bag and went to put the shoes in their correct place. Unfortunately, I had grabbed the wrong shoes. These were my old ones that really, really hurt my feet. I could use them, but didn’t look forward to torturing myself. So I ran back to my truck hoping that I had my new ones with me too.

I got back to my truck, dug around in the back a bit, and there they were. Whew, as much as I didn’t look forward to do any Olympic distance race in the old ones, I was really afraid of having to come back the next day and do a ½ Iron distance in them. That might have been too much.

I ran back to transition and put the bike shoes in their spot. I dug into my bag for my sun glasses only to find that they weren’t there either. Back to the truck!

I ran back to the truck grabbed my sunglasses and ran back to transition. Put them in my helmet and then pulled out my gloves and secured them to the handle bars. I quickly looked over everything and felt confident my bike setup was complete.

I then focused on my run gear. I dug in my bag for my Vibram Sprints and, yep, they weren’t there! WTH! Did someone slip something in my pizza last night?!?! I swear I had everything set and in my bag ready to go. So, once again, I ran back to the truck, dug through it, found my Sprints, and ran back to transition. I put them in place w/ my run hat, and gel packs.

Gel packs? Shit! Forgot my nutrition bottles! I finally remembered that I had stuck them in a separate bag from the other gear in case they leaked. So back to the truck I ran and back to transition again. All this extra time I thought I was going to have before the race was quickly being eaten up. So much for a warm-up swim I thought, at least I’d done enough running to and from the truck that my legs should be ready to go.

Finally, I had everything in its place. I checked the time and saw that I had a few minutes left before I needed to grab my swim gear and head to the beach. So I sat down to relax for a bit and sip some water and munch on a granola bar. About 10 minutes later I got up, grabbed my wetsuit, dug in my bag for my goggles and timing chip and they weren’t there. Now I was really starting to get mad at myself. I’ve done probably somewhere over 1000 races in my life and I was making every beginner mistake possible. I didn’t have a single thing ready.

Calling myself derogatory name after derogatory name, I ran back to the truck for what I was hoping would be the final time. I quickly found my goggles, timing chip, swim cap and my number belt with my bib numbe

r on it. Oh yeah, swim cap and bib number, kind of need those too! I ran quickly back to transition. Now I was going to really be cutting things close.

I stuck my bib number with my Vibrams, slathered myself in body glide, stuck my timing chip on my ankle, grabbed my swim cap, goggles, wet suit and sprinted for the beach. They were giving final instructions as I ran up. I rushed into my wetsuit, pulling the legs on as quick as I could, and then the arms. As I was pulling on the second arm I felt the wetsuit give and sure enough, I had torn a hole in it. Perfect! It wasn’t a huge hole and it was repairable, but just one more thing to add to the list. This day really wasn’t getting off to a good start.

I was finally zipping up the suit as they were starting to line my wave up on the beach. I hurriedly pulled on my swim cap and got my goggles positioned correctly as I ran over. I had all of about 5 seconds before the gun went off and we were plunging into the water.

I was slightly winded from all of the running around so I struggled the first 100 yards getting my breathing under control. After that though, things smoothed out and I started to swim well. I’m not a fast swimmer, but I am a strong swimmer. It is always hard to tell during a race, but I seemed to be holding my usual position toward the front of the middle of the pack fairly well.

The water was like glass it was so smooth and it was crystal clear and cool. Perfect conditions for swimming and despite my normal dislike of this part of the race I was actually enjoying myself. I was holding a good line and moving past the buoys steadily. It seemed like no time before I was making the final turn to head in to the beach and the swim exit.

The muscle milk swim exit was next to impossible to see. It's brown and white coloration blending into the trees and the sky. Fortunately there were a couple more buoys and I focused on them, but soon I was past them as well. I tried to get a fix on a point on shore straight ahead and kept going. However, as I neared shore I started hearing a lot of shouting near by that I knew had to be out in the water. I popped my head up for a better look and found myself about one stroke away from swimming directly into a swim raft. Thank you kayaker! That would probably have hurt.

I veered around it and was finally able to make out the swim exit and I raced quickly through the final stretch. As I reached shore I pulled off upper part of my wetsuit while I ran for transition. I wasn't sure of my swim time but felt I had put in a decent one (for me that is).

As soon as I reached my bike I jerked and yanked and tugged the rest of my wetsuit off. I quickly pulled on my cycling shoes, helmet, sunglasses and number belt and took off with my bike.

As soon as I reached the bike mounting area I jumped on my bike and almost wiped out. Both feet slid right off the pedals. I tried clipping both in again and again both slid right off. I tried the right one, nope. The left, nope. Right, no, left no, right... I was swerving all over the place like a drunk on ice skates. I couldn't get either foot to lock in. It was like I had a cover on my cleats...

Shit! That was exactly what it felt like and I was sure I knew why. When I bought the new shoes I got new cleats for them as well. And, I figured I would get some some coffee shop covers for them to help them last a bit longer. I fricking forgot to take them off!

Sure enough, reached down to bottom of right shoe and grabbed a cover. I pulled it off, locked in, pedalled a couple strokes and did the same for the left. It only took about 100 yards but I was finally off and riding. Over the next mile I pulled my gloves off the handle bars and put them on. Finally, I was fully on the hammer.

The roads were a little damp, but were drying quickly. The clouds had started to part and it looked like the rain had given up totally for the day. There were almost no riders on the road (I was 12th in my wave in the swim, so I really was almost alone out there), which felt very weird, but was not surprising since I went off in the first wave. There was nothing to slow me down and I cranked away at the pedals.

The bike course turned out to be much more challenging then I had expected. There weren't any hills that I considered tough, but they just kept coming at you. There was virtually no flat anywhere on the course. That coupled wiith the lack of other riders in visual range most of the time made for a tough ride, but I kept the speed up pretty well.

The bike course wasn't closed to traffic, but there were plenty of police and volunteers limiting cars and keeping things safe. About one mile from the finish of the bike I heard a car coming up slowly behind me. I glanced over and saw an elderly lady driving. She took over 1/4 of a mile to fully pass me. Just as she got slightly ahead of me, still in the other lane, we came over a hill and I saw stop sign right in front of us.

I start to brake, but not fast enough. She pulled over at an angle and came to a complete stop directly in front of me. I locked the brakes, but had no chance. My rear tire slid around to the left of me and I slammed right into the side of her car. I no sooner hit and she starts driving again. I'm leaning against the side of her car trying desperately to get my balance again while not sliding down the side of the car toward the rear wheel. I can see the volunteer that is working the intersection over the top ot the car. He was a teenage boy and his mouth is just hanging open in shock. He had no clue what to do.

I rode on the of her car almost 50 yards before I finally got enough control that I was able to push off with my shoulder and get off the side of her car. I'm positive she had no clue I had hit her or that I was still there. We turned seperate ways about another 50 yards down the road, but I was unable to really get going again. I just spun the pedals the rest of the way in.

When I got back to transition I slowly dismounted and jogged my bike back in. I was in no hurry. I pulled off my helmet, gloves and shoes and stuffed my toes into my Vibram Sprints. I took a sip of water and jogged out of transition.

It took me a good half mile to get anywhere near pace and longer than that to get my mind back into the race. At the first water station I yelled out for a couple of people I knew on twitter, so I could at least put a face with them, but didn't see a response. I found out later that they heard me and yelled back, I guess my mind was still too unfocused.

Somewhere between the 2 and 3 mile mark I finally got my game face back on and started pushing the pace. I still had the 1/2 iron distance tri the next day, but there was no reason to hold back and I emptied the tanks. I finished the last 4 miles at a strong pace and had a solid race, despite everything, in my first attempt at the distance.

I finished with a final time of 2:44:03 (swim – 24:47, T1 – 2:44, bike – 1:22:28, T2 – 1:33, run – 50:29). A lot went wrong, but it was a solid performance on the day and I was happy with it. The run was the only section that was completely problem free. My feet felt great in the Vibrams and I was confident they would work great for longer distances. Now it was a matter of getting ready for the 1/2IM the next day, things could only get better…