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!)

It's Not About The Bike...

As a kid I went through the usual variety of bikes. Kick brakes, banana seats, baseball cards in the spokes and all. Eventually somewhere in my early teens I graduated to the big leagues and I got a Schwinn Deluxe Varsity 10 speed. I loved that bike and rode it everywhere. I don’t know how many times I completely stripped it down as far as I could to thoroughly clean and lube it and then put it back together again. I enjoyed every second I spent on it. But, by my late teens it lay unused and virtually forgotten in my parent’s garage. I had moved on. I was now a long distance runner and had no more time for it.

A couple of years after graduating high school a friend brought me back to bikes. He was an avid cyclist and convinced me to start riding with him. I bought his old Raleigh touring bike, cleaned it up and painted it, and took it out on the road. I did a lot of riding with him, regaining my joy of being on a bike. I eventually did a number of weekend bike tours on it and a couple of biathlons as well. I started to get better and faster and even tried a couple of criteriums. Unfortunately after several years of this I somehow cracked the frame and had no money for another bike. Again, I stepped away from the bike.

Every summer I would watch the Tour de France, and miss the bike. I would start to save to buy one, hoping to get back out on the road again. A couple of weeks after the Tour was over I would forget about it and spend the money. Running was cheaper, I was good at it, and that was enough for me.

I eventually graduated from college with my bachelor’s degree and then with my master’s. I found my first job as an athletic trainer and moved to Texas. I quickly found that I didn’t have the time to even run anymore, much less ride. Besides, I was barely able to pay the bills, I didn’t have money to waste on a bike that I couldn’t even ride safely on the roads where I lived. But, three years later, during the summer of 2000, I moved to New York.

I found the time to start running again and the area was perfect for riding. I was still scraping by financially, but I managed to dig up enough money to buy a Trek 4500 mountain bike. I justified the purchase because I needed it for work. I started riding that around campus, using it as a way to get from field to field providing medical coverage for games. As the year progressed I found some trails and started riding them as well.

The following school year I signed up to do a 60 mile ride for MS and knew that I didn’t really want to ride a mountain bike that far. Again I felt I had justification to buy a bike and scraped together enough to buy a Trek 1000 road bike. My first ride on it was in the MS ride, but soon after I was taking it out fairly regularly for rides. I was still putting in my miles running, but I was supplementing with my bike and loving it. That winter when the weather prohibited running outside I put road bike on my trainer and got my workouts in that way.

The next summer I started riding a couple of times a week. Never big miles, but decent rides of anywhere from 20 to 45 miles. I felt great and I was loving the bike again. But, as the summer wore on the rides grew fewer and shorter and by the start of the school year disappeared totally. I would still pull out the bike and stick on the trainer on the winter days when I couldn’t run, but that only lasted a couple of winters and then both bikes just got left in storage.

For some reason when we got out of school in June of 2006 I pulled out the Trek 1000 and loaded her on back of my truck before setting out for my usual summer of wandering around visiting family and friends. My first destination was my parents’ place in Michigan. I had couple siblings and a handful of friends still living in the area as well. I was about midway through my 10 hour drive when I got a call from a friend that lived ‘near’ my parents. He had just done his first triathlon, a sprint, that last weekend and wanted me to do one with him in the upcoming weekend. We discussed it for a while and I told him I would think about it.

The triathlon bug had actually first bitten me back in the 80’s when I watched The Wide World of Sports coverage of the Ironman triathlon in Hawaii. I already knew that I was an endurance athlete and after watching the race coverage I decided someday I would do Ironman. As with many other things, that plan was soon pushed to the back of my mind and virtually forgotten, but the hooks had been sunk in me. As I drove on it came back to me and the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was something I still wanted to do. A sprint triathlon was much, much shorter, but I had to start somewhere. So by the time I pulled into my parent’s driveway I was determined to become a triathlete.

The next morning I pulled out my bike, cleaned and lubed the chain, inflated the tires and took off on my first ride in a couple of years. I was already in pretty good shape because I had been running regularly, so I was able to hold a pretty good pace. I didn’t go very far that first ride, only about 15 miles, but it was a start and it was the distance that I would be riding in the upcoming triathlon. My butt was a bit tender, but it felt great to be back out on the bike again.

Despite a horrible swim I went on to have a good first triathlon that weekend. I managed to make the podium, finishing 3rd in my age group, just nipping my friend at the end. The hooks were now fully set and I continued to ride and train for triathlons the rest of the summer. I would do one more sprint a couple of weeks later and started to dream of Ironman.

As the summer ended and I headed back to work my triathlon training started to taper off and I soon was just running again. Fortunately we had a new coach working at the school who was a 6 time Ironman finisher and the fires were soon relit. The two of us hit it off and we were soon riding regularly together and it was only a couple of weeks later that I signed up for and did my first half ironman triathlon. In the race I rode my low end 1000 and found myself passing bike after bike, many of them 5-10 times the value of mine. I wasn't setting any records, but I was definitely holding my own. I ended up posting a 5:08 in my first 1/2 Ironman and even though I would have a couple of faster bike splits, it would take 9 more tries before I would surpass that time.

After completing my 3rd triathlon I knew my distant dream was doable. Ironman! I soon told my new girlfriend of it and my plans to register for Ironman Lake Placid the next summer. After she stopped laughing and explained the race was already closed out, as were all the rest, and how hard it was to get into them I was crushed. I continued to train and ride my bike on a regular basis, but my motivation was slipping and the bike was in danger of being put back into storage, but fortune struck.

About a month later my girlfriend told me she had just heard that they were going to have a new Ironman race the following summer in Louisville, KY and that registration would soon open for it. I made plans and shortly after registration opened I was on the computer hitting keys with desperation, I was going to get in! I was successful but it was many months before the race closed. Which on hindsight wasn’t too surprising. Louisville in August was not going to be pleasant. It is normally very hot and very humid and swimming in the Ohio River is never a real pleasure. But, it was an Ironman, and I was going to do it.

I continued to ride all fall and winter with my girlfriend. She started suggesting that if I was going to stay with triathlons and especially since I was doing an Ironman, that I might want to upgrade my bike. There was nothing wrong with the bike, but it was heavy and not really meant for speed. She was certain I’d be much happier with a better bike. She wasn’t suggesting I needed to jump up to a high end, but that I should at least consider a midlevel bike. She made sense, but I loved my 1000 and I pretty much ignored her for a while. The thought did roll around in my brain occasionally, and I would even look around online at different bikes, but I wasn’t ready to give this one up, yet.

As spring started to roll around I was still riding regularly. I loved being out on my bike. Running was still my first love, but my heart had found room for a second one. Around this time I also started noticing that bikes were going on sale and I soon found myself exploring the internet more often looking at what was out there and watching the sales. I started finding myself going back and checking out the 2006 Trek Madone 5.9 almost daily and eventually, I fell in love and bought her.

When my new bike arrived I was excited and couldn’t wait to take her out for a ride. She was so light and felt very fast and I was ear to ear smile the entire first ride. I came home and my 1000 was put back into storage. I decided to keep her as a backup bike for use in bad weather or in case something happened to the Madone. I still had a soft spot for the 1000, but she had been replaced.

I kept putting on the miles all spring. My longest ride though had only been about 65 miles. I needed to get in some longer ones if I really wanted to succeed at Ironman. Shortly after the school year ended I did an 80 mile ride followed a couple of weeks later by my first century. We stopped for lunch about 60 miles into the century, but I still completed it in one day, so I was getting closer to ready.

Around the 2nd week of July, 2007, I found out from my girl friend, via a friend of hers, that there was a group of triathletes that were planning to ride from Westchester, NY up to Lake Placid the week before Ironman and then stay up there and watch the race. I had ridden once early in the summer with a couple of them at one of their regular tri club rides and they seemed like a good bunch, so I asked for contact info to see if they would allow me to tag along. The ride they were planning was going to be about 300 miles over a two day period. It would be a huge step up for me, but I felt I could handle the challenge. I was riding well and feeling very strong and confident on the bike.

When I got a hold of the guy that was leading the ride he told me that due to a lot of people dropping out of the ride that he had decided to make it a one day ride. It was going to only be him and couple of other riders. He asked me how much experience I had and I lied telling him that I had done up to 160 miles in one day. I felt if he knew the truth that I would surely be left behind. He reluctantly agreed to allow me to join in.

I showed up at his place around 1am the morning of the ride. By this time the group was done to me and him and one other person who would only be riding about halfway with us. We set out through the dark and started our journey. It was a long ride and it turned out to be quite an adventure (which hopefully I’ll write up some day). The last half of the ride was in a cold, pouring rain with high winds. There were several times where I felt like I was done and could go no further, but somehow I’d get another wind and claw my way back into the ride. It took us 19 ½ hours to complete the 300 mile ride, which included our stops for food, drink, mechanical issues, etc. Our actual riding time was 18 hours and we averaged 16.5 mph for the ride. I was exhausted, cold and hungry by the time we reached Lake Placid, but I now finally felt I could call myself a cyclist.

We stayed and watched the race and I cheered my girlfriend on as she completed her 7th Ironman. The next morning after the race we headed to the fairgrounds to register for next year’s race. I was soon signed up to do my 2nd Ironman and had yet to do my 1st.

I did several ½ Ironman races over the course of the summer and completed my 1st Ironman in Louisville in a very respectable 11:40. I was now officially in my mind a runner, a cyclist and a triathlete. My love affair with the bike continued to grow. I continued to run, ride and do triathlons. My girlfriend moved away after that summer and went back to school. We continued to date for a while, but eventually she broke things off. I continued on with my new passions, despite losing my best training partner.

This last summer as I was in final preparation for my 4th Ironman (3rd at Lake Placid) I took my Madone in for a tune up and new tires and tubes to make sure everything was perfect for the race. While I was at the bike shop I started admiring a Cervelo that they had on sale. As I was talking to the guys that worked there they couldn’t help but notice were my attention was focused and one of them eventually told me that if I really liked that bike they should see the one they had in the show room. He took me over and showed me a 2009 Cervelo P2 tri bike with Dura Ace components. Since this was 2010 and the bike was still there, it was marked down pretty low. We talked, and talked and finally I said that I couldn’t afford it at the time and I finally left.

I got home and found that I couldn’t get my mind off of the bike. I kept telling myself I didn’t need it, the Madone was a great bike and besides, I really couldn’t afford it. The next day I went to pick up my Madone and I was feeling confident that I had dismissed the idea of buying the Cervelo. I got to the shop, paid for my Madone and took her out and loaded her on my truck. But, before I knew it I was back in the show room looking at the Cervelo. It wasn’t long before they convinced me to take it out for a test ride. I fell in love in the first mile. She was fast! And I felt super comfortable on her. When I returned from the ride they could tell from my smile that I was buying her. We haggled a bit and they came down a bit more on the price and soon she was mine.

It was the weekend before Ironman when I bought the Cervelo. I knew it was crazy, but my intent was to ride her in the race. I’d done no training on her and it would break one of the big rules of racing, don’t change anything race day. I managed to get in about 150 miles on her over the course of the week and felt confident that I could do Ironman on her. I took along the Madone, just in case, but the day before the race it was the Cervelo I put in transition.

I would go on to set a couple new PR’s in the race. I finished in a time of 11:20, which was 20 minutes faster than my PR in Louisville and I did the bike course in 5:45 breaking my PR, once again from Louisville, by several seconds. Several seconds doesn’t seem like much, but Louisville is very flat and fast and Lake Placid is a very challenging course and it was over 20 minutes faster than I had done the bike course at Lake Placid. I again had found a new love. I would continue to ride the Madone for most of my training, but the Cervelo was now my go to race bike. I stripped the Madone of her aerobars for the first time since I bought her and made her into a true road bike again.

This fall as the tri season came to an end and winter started approaching I decided it was time to put the Cervelo away for the season. I continued to ride the Madone, but after having spent more money than I really could afford on the Cervelo, I was all the more concerned about damaging the Madone. I had been riding her the last few winters, but in the back of my mind I knew that if something happened I could scratch together enough money to buy a new bike. Maybe not as high a level of bike, but a decent one. This was no longer an option.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was time to break out the 1000 again. She hadn’t been pulled out of storage in a couple of years, but I figured with simple adjustments and cleaning I could have her ready to ride. So out she came, but unfortunately I soon realized that it was going to take a lot more work than I expected. The chain was rusted solid, the brakes weren’t working, the cables frayed and the tires were rotten. She looked so bad, I almost just took her straight out to the dumpster. But, I still had a bit of a soft spot for her and I really didn’t want to continue to risk the Madone, so I got to work.

I went online and ordered all of the parts I would need. When they came in I spent several hours tearing her apart, cleaning, installing the new parts, lubing and getting everything adjusted. It was hard work but when I was done she looked good and I couldn’t wait to get her out for a ride. The next day we went for 40 hilly miles together and with each passing mile my smile started to grow. I was falling in love again. She was old, she was heavy and she was low end, but I loved her and found resurgence in my love of riding. I hadn’t fallen out of love with riding, but it felt like falling in love again for the first time. I couldn’t believe that I had left her in storage for so long, but that was now corrected and I know she won’t be going back.

After all of these years I’m 100% hooked on cycling. I regret all of the years that I let slip away without the bike, but nothing I can do about it except to keep on riding. Every time a new bike comes along my passion is renewed and I fall back in love with the sport again. I even now have plans to get my 4500 back out of storage and get her fixed up as well. However, it is simple to figure out that it is riding that I truly love and that it’s not about the bike.

But, yet, it is…

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…

They're Just Shoes...

They're just shoes: minimalist shoes, barefoot shoes, toe shoes, gorilla feet, whatever, they're still just shoes. For something so simple they've taken me on a wild journey over the last 14 months. It was a journey that truly started about 2 months prior to my first sticking toes in them. They transformed me as a runner, an athlete, an athletic trainer, a biomechanist and just as a person in general.

The journey started with a simple discussion on twitter where I was talking about the benefits of orthotics and another person argued that they were actually bad for you. His argument claimed the muscles of the feet, if

 allowed to strengthen naturally would better do the job. We went back and forth, citing sources and examples, neither giving in. But the wheels in mind had started to turn.

I started nosing around on the internet and then read the book “Born to Run” that had been recommended to me by same person who had put me on this path. The more I read, the more I researched, the more I believed. Soon, I was ready to give “barefoot” running a try myself.

I started with a couple short runs barefoot around the grass athletic fields at the school I work for. I loved it! I loved the feel of the grass on my feet, the freedom of my toes, and even loved the acorns I stepped on, despite the pain from the last. I was hooked and couldn’t wait to get my first pair of Vibrams and hit the road with them.

By the end of August, 2009, I had purchased a couple pairs of Vibrams, one pair of Sprints and one pair of

 KSO’s. I started with a couple cautious, short runs, which caused some soreness in my Achilles and feet, but felt good enough I pushed for more.

This turned out to be a wrong choice and I found myself suffering back to back foot injuries from pushing too hard, too fast. My feet swelled and I could barely walk. Things had gone terribly wrong, but I was still convinced this was the right path.

I temporarily gave up running in Vibrams and gave my feet a chance to fully heal. I was wearing the Vibrams daily, just wasn’t running in them. After about three weeks of running healthily in running shoes I started back into the Vibrams. This time I was going to be very slow about it and build gradually. No more than two runs a week and no more than three miles. I was determined to stick to this plan until ALL discomfort running in them fully dissipated.

Somewhere in the following weeks I found the correct form, my feet and lower legs the strength they needed and things took off. The distances started growing and I was running in nothing but my Vibrams. I was soon up to 8 miles, 10 miles, 13 miles, 15miles... My legs and feet felt great.

I started racing in them. First a 25k, then a slight step back to a half marathon, then a full. Tri season hit and I wore them for a sprint, an olympic, a half iron and finally for Ironman.

There was no looking back, I was hooked and I hadn't felt this good in years. My running form had transformed. It wasn't fully ingrained in me but it was getting there. When fatigued or running on soft surfaces I found that if I didn't pay attention I would revert to a heel strike, but this was happening less and less.

Everything I thought I'd learned over the years about correct running mechanics had proven wrong or at least not fully developed. My approach to working with my athletes has changed. This has opened up new avenues for injury rehab and prevention. I'm not counselling my athletes out of shoes, but I'm adjusting their mechanics to correct for problems they are having. I'm having greater success with treating and rehabilitating shin splints, ankle instability, lower leg muscle tightness and more. My running is improving again and I feel rejuevenated and I look at running and runners in a different light. My custom orthotics and heavy motion control running shoes are gone. I no longer fit in any of my old shoes and I even had to move a size up in the Vibrams when I purchased new ones last week, the muscles in my feet have developed that much.

They may be just shoes, but they have made all the difference...

Ironclad Sprint Triathlon 2010: My First Tri with VFFs

The morning of the Ironclad Sprint Triathlon arrived way too early. My alarm went off at 4:30am and I slowly dragged my butt out of bed. I got dressed, prepped my water bottle for the bike and a bottle for the drive, walked the dogs, grabbed my gear and stumbled out the door. At this point I was only running 15 minutes behind schedule.


In my truck I quickly programmed my Droid phone to use as my GPS and pulled out of the driveway. It was a 1 hour drive to race sight and the bulk of it was uneventful. As I neared the race sight I started to see more and more cars loaded with bikes, obviously going to same place as me.

As I neared the race I had a growing line of cars with bike behind me. However, just before I got there everyone disappeared. As I noticed this I realized I had goofed. There was no parking at the race site, we were supposed to park a mile away at a school. I had programmed my Droid incorrectly and I was going to lose even more time. I searched for a place to turn around and doubled back to where I had last seen the other cars and followed the cars I saw with bikes to the parking area.

Once parked, I pulled out my pumped, got my tires up to pressure and took bike off of rack. I then gathered my gear out of the various bags it was in and stuffed into one bag for transport to transition. I put numbers on my helmet, bike, and race belt. All of this I'd meant to do night before and never got around to. I took my time and once everything was set I got on my bike to ride to the transition area.

About midway to transition I glanced at the time and realized transition closed in 5 minutes and race started in 20. I was running way behind and cutting things a bit too close. I sped up on bike and rolled up to transition as they were starting to push everyone out.

I hurriedly racked my bike, and set everything up. I put on a liberal application of bodyglide to both legs from knees down and both arms from elbows down, but, as I realized later, forgot my neck. This done I picked up my wetsuit and goggles and started to head for the swim start. As I was leaving transition one of the volunteers came through yelling out a reminder to the athletes to pick up their timing chips and swim caps.

Oops, I knew I was forgetting something...

I sprinted to the nearest tent and got my timing chip. Unfortunately that was all they had. The swim cap was at another tent over 200 yards in the wrong direction.

I quickly ran to the tent to get my swim cap. When I got there however the volunteer who was there was just watching the tent. He had no idea where caps were and once found what color I was to get. After what seemed like ages, but was probably about 5 minutes the correct person showed back up and gave me my cap. It was 2 minutes to start of 1st wave and I was in 3rd wave and had yet to put on my wetsuit.

I dashed off for the swim start about 300 yards away. I got there as the first wave was lining up to start. I hurriedly pulled on my wetsuit, causing 2 small tears in the process, put on my cap and got my goggles ready. By this time 2nd wave was starting, I had managed to get ready with a whole 3 minutes to spare. Not a good way to start things off.

A few minutes later I entered the water and off we went. The swim took place in the Long Island Sound and when I had checked the water temp online a couple days before it was only 54 degrees. It definitely hadn't warmed up much since then, and my face was hurting from the cold before I had reached the first buoy. The swim, other than the cold, was uneventful. I exited the water with a swim time of 16:42 for a half mile.

Coming out of the water my feet were numb. This was probably a good thing though because the beach was very rocky and full of broken shells. I ran as fast as my numb feet would carry me to transition. The top part of my wetsuit I had shed as I came out of the water and I had taken my goggles and cap off as I ran.

When I got into transition I struggled out of the bottom part of my wetsuit which got caught up on my timing chip. Once free of the wetsuit I got my cycling shoes on, put on my number belt, sunglasses, helmet, grabbed my bike and ran out of transition. I jumped on the bike and off I went.

The first loop of the bike was uneventful. I was flying by other riders on a regular basis. It seemed like no time before I was starting on the second loop and this was a little more difficult. On the second lap we started mixing the faster racers with the slower novices that really didn't know what they were doing. High speed passing the slow and erratic made things a little dangerous and crazy.

I completed most of the second lap without incident when ahead of me I saw my friend who was doing his first tri. I caught him quickly and I glanced over to say hi and encourage him on. As I did this I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. There were people rushing into the road to slow us down. I had to lock my brakes and went into a slide barely missing a couple other bikes. (I would find out later that I had torn most of the rubber off of a section of my tire as a result, but it held long enough for me to reach the finish.) There had been an accident and they were trying to keep us from running into the downed rider.

I was quickly around them and finished the final miles without incident. I slipped my feet out of my shoes as I approached transition. My odometer told me I had only rode 12.5 miles instead of the 13.5 they had told us. I hopped off of my bike and ran into transition. Despite my toes being numb making it difficult to feel toe holes, I quickly pulled on my Vibram Sprints, grabbed my number belt and hat and was off and running.

The run course was mainly off road, with a good portion of it being on well groomed trail. There was a lot of gravel in opening stretch but my feet had become well adjusted to it and this caused me no problems. The trails themselves were a bit of an adventure. There were a couple mud pits we had to run through and at the first I hesitated a bit. If had been running in shoes I would have just jumped in but for some reason I paused a moment and contemplated my alternatives. I quickly realized I was being silly and just plunged through and didn't slow for the remainder.

The only other concern was the sections of trail that had large roots crossing them. They were a concern for any runner because they were an easy way to trip or twist an ankle. But, with VFFs I was also concerned with injuring my feet if I stepped on them incorrectly. I just carefully watched my step and danced my way through them.

The run was over before I knew it and I found myself sprinting for the line. The race itself wasn't much of a challenge because of the short distance, but I still felt like I had made a huge accomplishment. I had run longer distances in my VFFs but this was the first time I had used them in a triathlon. My feet felt great in them and they made running the trails a true joy. I found myself anxiously awaiting my next tri in them (the next weekend).

Red Means Injured Triathlete

As endurance athletes we've all been injured at some point. You can't take a car out on the highway and just hold the accelerator to floor forever without blowing your engine, and as athletes we're red lining it on a regular basis. We push ourselves in training and races and eventually something breaks.
It is hard enough to deal with the injury and recovery as it is, but it is even worse while we are working out and our pace and distance are much less than our norm. It is easy to feel self-conscious and wish that others knew that we're really better than this.
I know I've been self-conscious about this many times, whether from injury or post event (marathon, ironman, etc) soreness and have heard many others lament about it as well. For over a year now I've been on Twitter and it is almost a regular occurrence that I will hear someone complain about it, occasionally even to point of wishing they had a shirt they could buy that would say "hey, I'm injured! I'm really not this slow". Usually I just sympathize with them.
Today was different. I saw @trifunster making a similar statement about being injured and wishing she had a shirt. Don't know why I did it or where idea came from but I jokingly suggested she wear a red shirt. I mentioned that injured college athletes who are out for season are red shirted (yes, I know freshman who aren't going to play are as well) and so wearing a red shirt would say "hey, I'm injured" in a way maybe some would understand.
Her response was positive and she seemed to like the idea enough to the point of retweeting the idea and creating a Twitter hash tag #redmeansinjuredtriathlete. This caused me to pause and really think about it. The more I thought the more the idea made sense and the more I liked it. The color red was a bit arbitrary, but to tell someone you were red shirting there was a possibility they would catch on quicker because of college sports. Red is also common enough most athletes would have at least one shirt/jersey/singlet, but not so common that you see the majority of athletes wearing it. Yeah, there are going to be non-injured athletes wearing red, but there are non-injured college freshman that are red shirted. It would defeat the purpose to pick a color so obscure no one had it and they would have hunt to find one, they may as well just print up a t-shirt. So red it is.
Ideally it would be a red shirt, but high school and college athletes that are required to wear a uniform and are racing for conditioning and experience purposes could sub in a red headband, hat, socks, shoelaces and more. But that is another discussion.
The more I thought about all of this, the more I liked it. My excitement lead me to don a red shirt for my run today. I'm two days post-marathon, and though I am not doing the Frankenstein monster walk and actually walking normal, my legs are not able to run like I'm used to. I ran 4 miles yesterday and every time saw someone I felt slightly embarrassed about my slow amble. Today I ran same distance, same course and only very slightly faster. However, even though only two of us knew of this idea, I felt more comfortable and confident and enjoyed the run in a way I wasn't able to yesterday. Maybe this was from feeling good about my idea, but I really feel it was because my shirt was clearly stating "hey, I just ran a marathon, I'm red shirting this week!"
Next time you can't run/ride/swim up to your normal level due to injury, give it a try. If you like it, share the idea and spread the word. Hey, #RedMeansInjuredTriathlete!

Addendum:Shortly after posting this I received a tweet that basically stated that I shouldn't worry about what others thought and just man up about injuries. In a sense I agree but as an athletic trainer (field of sports medicine http://sportsmedicine.about.com/cs/athletic_training/a/aa062001a.htm ) I know that it is not always as easy as that.
Depression and loss of confidence often occur in athletes of all levels, from weekend warrior to pro athlete, and all ages when they get injured. Sometimes the body heals and the athlete is physically able to return to preinjury levels but is unable to do so because depression and/or lack of confidence is holding them back. This is part of the reason (there many others as well) why the field of sports psychology came into being and why it is such a growing field.
In addition, there is growing evidence to support that endurance athletes will sometimes suffer a post event depression. There is still a lot of speculation as to why, but there is growing evidence that it does occur.
So, while some may be able to suck it up and get through it, it is no embarrassment to need a little help. If wearing a red shirt letting people know that you're less than 100% helps, then it is a good thing. It becomes a tool for returning to full physical and mental health, not a crutch.
If you don't like the idea, or don't think it's for you, that's fine and my feelings won't be hurt, but if it helps even one person, it's worth it to me. I welcome any and all thoughts on the matter.
Wearing red means injured triathlete who is coming back strong as ever...

Ironman USA, Lake Placid, 2008

I'm working on my write up of the Manchester City Marathon from 1 1/2 weeks ago, but thought I'd share another race story that until now hadn't been shared except with a few friends and family members.

Some of you may have seen the results and a few of you have heard some of the details, but here is the full length account of Ironman Sunday.
We got up 5am Sunday morning had a quick breakfast, grabbed our special needs bags (1 bag for each the bike and run that we can get midway through each leg that we can put whatever we think we may need during the race, usually food, sometimes extra clothes, tubes, etc) and our swim gear, went down to the motel parking lot, got on the shuttle bus and headed for the start line.
As soon as we got off the bus we walked to the area where we dropped off our special needs bags, then headed to the transition area. In transition we pumped up the bike tires to proper levels, slathered on the body glide to help w/ wetsuit removal and prevent chaffing, made a quick visit to the good old porta-pots and then put on the bottom half of the wetsuits. The sun was up and peaking through the partly cloudy sky which made me glad I’d decided to put the polarized lenses on my sunglasses for the bike ride and we walked out of transition and headed to the swim start.
Once we got to the beach we put on the top portion of the wet suit, zipped up and entered the water to await the start. The morning was cool, the sun was shinning and it looked like a great day for the race. Floated around for a while waiting for the actual start w/ the prerace jitters churning up the stomach. Fortunately we didn’t have long to wait before the gun went off and Mirror lake became a churning frenzy of human bodies all scrambling away from the start turning the calm waters to a boiling froth that resembled a B-movie piranha attack and off we went. I started as close to the far shore as I could and away from the roped line where the majority were swimming in an effort to avoid being pummeled to death before I even completed a single lap.
I got off to a good start with minimal bumps, thumps, kicks, punches etc and got a fairly clear area to swim in. I swam strong to the first turn where things got congested a bit going around the two turns (the swim course was a very long narrow rectangle, a little over a ½ mile long and no more than 20yards wide that we swam around with the last corner hitting the beach where we exited the water briefly and ran back to the reentry point) and then I somehow managed to find another clear pocket of water to swim the rest of the way in to the beach in. I got to the beach and exited the water to complete the first of the two swim laps and saw the time on the clock at 46 minutes. I quickly ran to the across the timing mat to the swim reentry point dodging around other racers, the majority of which were walking, as I went.
When I got back to the water I quickly ran in dodging more of the other racers until I found an opening big enough to dive in and start swimming again. I quickly found an open area to swim in right along the underwater cable connecting the swim buoys which made things very easy. Normally in an open water swim you periodically have to look up (sight) to see where you are going since you don’t have the nice line to follow like you do in a pool, but Mirror lake has a cable system set up for a kayak course that the Ironman attaches their buoys to. Everyone likes swimming along the cable because they don’t have to sight during the swim, which is why I started way to the outside to avoid being pummeled by the masses, but for some reason I get lucky and find a gap to safely swim in for the second lap. Shortly into the lap I notice that I’m getting splashed quite heavily which is odd since I don’t detect anyone near me. I swim for maybe 100 yards puzzling this out and trying to figure out if my swim was really my slowest swim ever by 6 minutes for the first lap or whether the clock showed the time for the pro’s which started 10 minutes before the rest of us. After a couple minutes I sighted to see how far I had to the turn and realized I couldn’t see very far. It took a moment to realize that I hadn’t been getting splashed it was now pouring rain. No big deal for the swim, but I quickly dreaded what I might be facing on the bike. The rest of the swim went well and as I exited the water I saw the time on the clock as 1:15 and I received a quick adrenaline boost as I realized the time after the first lap was in fact incorrect and instead of swimming exceptionally slow compared to what I’ve done in the past I had actually set a new swim PR for myself.
Surging out the water with this rush of adrenaline I quickly peeled off the top part of my wetsuit as I ran to the strippers (not the kind I needed a bunch of $1’s for, but volunteers who help the athletes pull off their wetsuits). They rapidly stripped me down and off I went running for transition with a big smile on my face from my PR and splashing through the puddles that were rapidly growing from the rain accumulating on the ground. Volunteers quickly helped me find my swim-to-bike transition bag (transition bags and bikes were put in the transition area the day before) and I dashed into the changing tent. Unfortunately, even though it was my fastest swim ever, I was still clumped in with the majority of the athletes and so the changing tent was very crowded. It took me a while to find a spot with enough room to change, but I finally did and proceeded to change from my swim suit to my bike gear. Volunteers were helping as best they could but even if one were available I still can’t bring myself to let a man help me get undressed and dressed so I struggled through it on my own. I say struggle, because if you’re not familiar with the clothing, spandex and cycling clothes don’t come off or go on very easily when you’re wet. I finally get dressed and then realize that with the pouring rain I need to change the lenses on my sunglasses. I won’t be able to see anything with the polarized lenses so I lose some more time changing them to my yellow lenses. Finally I exit the changing tent and run off to get my bike.
By this time enough rain has fallen and with several hundred athletes already having run in and out of the transition area the ground is a muddy mess. I get to my bike as fast as I can, but shoes are fully mud caked by the time I leave the transition that I lose more time stomping my feet on the ground once I reach pavement in an attempt to dislodge the mud from my cleats so that I can fasten them onto my peddles. As soon as the mud is cleaned away I’m on my bike and headed out on to the road. There are several short, steep down hills and a number of sharp turns so everyone is riding very slowly and cautiously out of town.
Once we are out of the town the road straightens out and I start picking up speed. It’s still pouring rain so I still need to be somewhat cautious but I’m off and rapidly gaining speed. There are several big hills coming out of town that I strongly ride up and slowly move past a number of other riders. I’m getting passed by a few cyclists but passing more than pass me. About 7 miles into the ride there is 6 miles of down hill parts of which are very steep and when dry I’ve reached speeds well over 50 mph on. The majority of the riders are going down them very slowly, but I open things up a bit and ride them between 38-42mph and occasionally get passed by several people even crazier than I that are probably topping 50. Shortly after the downhill we make a turn and I feel a slight pop on the bike and about a mile later I realize something is a bit off w/ my seat. It’s nothing major, but the seat just isn’t quite right.
Anyway, I quickly ride through the first 40 miles of the course averaging over 20mph (official time is slower because it has the time I lost demudding my cleats) and catch my girl friend about 50 miles into the ride. She is having a good ride to this point as well.
At this point everything is going well, I’m sticking to my nutrition schedule, riding comfortably (well, as comfortably as one gets in a pouring rain w/ wet bike shorts and a bike seat shoved up their a$$) and I’m ahead of expected time to this point. Shortly after passing my girl friend I start into the final 5 hills of the lap: little cherry, big cherry, mama bear, baby bear and papa bear. They are not the worst hills on the course, but because it is a tough course and they are at the end, they are tough. I’m quickly over the top of the first 4 and as I’m cresting baby I see papa and I’m quickly puzzled by what I see. The top half of papa bear is covered w/ people and I fear that someone has had an accident and that on a rather steep hill I’m going to be forced to come to a stop to get around them. I charge down baby anyway and start pounding up the base of papa when I realize that the crowd is just fans cheering us on. I reach the first of them a third of the way up the hill and their enthusiasm carries me the rest of the way up. They are loud, they are crazy, they are obnoxious and they are having a blast and give us an incredible boost up the hill. There are people w/ drums, w/ horns, w/ cow bells, and dressed in various costumes. They are running up the hill w/ us, yelling at us, screaming, cheering and just plain going nuts. There are fans all over the course cheering us on, and the volunteers at the aid stations/bottle exchanges are fantastic, but this is insanity at its finest.
I’m quickly over the top of papa and make the turn for the final 2 miles to the special needs station to pick up my nutritional stuff for the second loop. I’m riding faster then expected and my legs are feeling loose, but I’m starting to feel a bit off.
I arrive at special needs, dump my empty bottles, reload the bike and take off. As I take off and start cranking away at the peddles I feel another “pop” and now something is really wrong w/ my seat. I stop and get off the bike grab my bike tool and quickly adjust and tighten the seat and take off again.
As I get back out onto the course for the second time I realize from the way my legs feel that I may have gone too hard on the first lap because they it is starting to become a struggling. I did feel like I was pushing the pace on the first lap, but evidently it was still too much and as each mile progresses I realize I have another problem developing. I’m steadily become sick to my stomach and can no longer eat or drink and even more than a sip of water at one time makes me feel nauseous almost to point of purging my stomach, in addition I’m starting to feel some intestinal cramping which steadily gets worse as the ride progresses. I’m still riding well, but slowly losing some speed and some of the places I picked up on the first lap. I’m still passing people on the hills (up and down) but overall losing ground. About mid-way through the lap I give up and discard all my nutritional supplies since I can’t stomach them there isn’t any reason to carry the extra weight. I’m not sure if my breakfast or my nutritional stuff from the first lap is causing the problems, but intestinal cramps are getting steadily worse. I just hope that I’ve taken in enough calories and fluids to get me through.
With about 25 miles left on the bike I feel another “pop” and just miss wiping out as I suddenly slide off the back of my bike seat and just barely manage to keep from landing on my rear wheel. The front of the seat is now pointing almost straight up and even though I managed to stay on the bike I have to pull over again. I quickly readjust the seat and tighten it so hard I’m afraid I’m going to either break the tool or the seat post. I get back on and take off again. The seat is still not right, but not bad enough that I’m willing to stop and try and make another adjustment. At this point I’m steadily getting more and more discouraged. I don’t think the stomach and intestinal issues, as uncomfortable as they are, are slowing me down, but the drop in pace, the weather and problems w/ the seat are starting to get to me.
Finally I reach the base of little cherry and I start digging in for the final stretch in an attempt to save as much time as possible. I charge over the first four hills and as I top baby bear again the sight of the crowd that is still cheering everyone on despite the weather on papa gives me a surge of adrenaline and I charge down baby and up and over papa and carry my momentum the last couple miles back to the transition area.
I quickly jump off my bike and pass it on to a volunteer who puts it away for me, grab my transition bag that another volunteer hands me and head to the changing tent again. It is still chaos in the tent, but things have thinned a bit and I’m able to find an area a little quicker to change. As I start changing the intestinal cramps worsen and I realize I’ve got another issue to deal w/. So I finish changing as quickly as I can but unfortunately in my rush I forget to change my shorts and have to take my shoes and socks (for some reason I’m trying to keep them dry) and change shorts and then put my shoes and socks back on. A volunteer comes over and takes my bike stuff and puts it in the transition bag for me and I run out of the tent and ask directions to the nearest porta-pot only to find out I have a choice of fighting my way back through the changing tent or waiting until I’m 1 ½ miles into the run. Another cramp makes the decision for me and back through the tent I go.
Business taken care of I plunge back into the tent, charge out of it and out onto the run course. First mile goes by at a quick 7:30 pace which I hold until mile 4, with about a 10 yard walk at each aid station to try and force in a little water. Shortly after the mile mark I’m sent scurrying for another porta-pot and my 7:30 average now becomes an 8. Fortunately my stomach starts settling and I’m starting to get more and more fluid at each aid station. Still walking about 10 yards at each one so that I can drink as more than I’d be typically able to do if I ran through them and I am now able to start eating some gel (a carbohydrate packet). Still maintaining even with the short walks about an 8-8:15 pace. There are two big hills on the run at towards the end of each lap and I fight my way up each of them passing people as I go, many of whom are walking them. Finally I reach the special needs area for the run and I grab a few more gel packs from my bag and keep going. They have gels and other food on the course, but I prefer my gel packs which have carbs, protein and caffeine and theirs are just carbs.
Shortly after starting the second loop I suffer a now all too familiar sensation and start my search for my smelly, plastic buddy. Pass several occupied and/or unusable ones before finally finding one. Other than the pit stops and the realization that I have huge blisters on both arches the run is going well. My pace has slowed some, but I’m still running under 9 minute miles even though my elapsed time shows differently. About 17 miles through the run I have to stop briefly and stretch the ham strings, start running again, only to give it up and walk the next 100 yards where I stop and stretch the hamstrings again and give the quads a quick stretch and then set off at a run again. A mile later I’m on another search and make one last quick visit to the plastic pit.
As I take off again I find I’m still running at a sub 9 pace and as I hit the first of the two hills in the closing miles I run strongly up it and start pushing the pace. I walk only a couple yards at the next couple aid stations and finally reach the last climb and charge up it. This hill, like papa bear, has been lined with cheering and enthusiastic fans all day and they give me another adrenaline boost that pulls me up the hill and around the corner where I can now hear the fans at the finish line, which even though it is a short distance away, is still almost 3 miles off for me. At this point the distance becomes unimportant as even more adrenalin is released by the roar of the crowds and the realization that I’m almost there. I steadily keep picking up the pace and don’t even pause at the next two aid stations. The run from the mile 24 to 25 mile marker only takes me 8:05 to run and I keep picking up the pace. I start to feel a familiar twinge and ignore. The fans along to road are going nuts for everyone that goes by, I start slapping every hand that is stuck out for me, my smile keeps getting bigger and bigger and before I know it I’m entering the Olympic speed skating oval and have less than 100 meters to go. As I come around the final turn, I see that I’m coming in just over 12 hours. I know the crowd is going nuts and the announcer is saying “Douglas Sawyer you are an Ironman!” but I don’t hear a thing. The adrenaline, the emotions, the pain, the fatigue and everything else just overwhelms my senses and all I notice is the finish line and the young ladies scrambling to put up the finish tape for me to run through and then I’m across the line and into the arms of a volunteer who helps me through the finish area where other volunteers quickly put my finishers medal on me, then my finishers hat, give me my finishers t-shirt and take my timing chip off for me and then w/ a final check to make sure I’m ok points me off in the direction of the food tent which I temporarily bypass for a less pleasant but often frequented destination.

Oh, and one last thing, it was still raining!
And that’s the rest of the story…
Thanks for all the well wishes and congratulations!
As for post race, I stuck around in the rain waiting for my girl friend to finish. She had a strong race despite not being able to do much training for the run until June due to some knee problems. We collected our bikes, clothing, etc and walked then (uphill of course) back to the motel, quickly changed and went back to cheer on a friend and to cheer the last finishers in as the race closed at midnight. The fans and volunteers were fantastic and despite the weather were still going crazy at midnight as we cheered to last couple finishers in.
The next day we got up a little stiff, had breakfast and went back to the transition area to look at the finisher merchandise and then drove home. Shortly after getting home I went to watch my softball team’s game and due to short numbers ended up playing and of course the game went into extra innings before we finally lost. I pitched for our team and on offense I struck out once, walked twice, scoring both times and had two deep fly outs that forced me to run to first and round for second before they were caught. So all things considered, I’m doing pretty well.