On my last update, I recounted a large time gap between my injury and the Wenatchee Marathon. Repeated injuries, weight gain lead to a frustration that kept me away from competition. After finally getting myself some specific treatment, I found myself on the road to recovery, which I suspect is somehow different from recovery simply due to time. I think I really found myself again in that marathon and have been doing my best to get myself ready for the next big test: The Armed Forces Triathlon Championship.
On May 1st, I competed in the Whitman College Triathlon. It would be my first racing as an able bodied athlete since last year's Armed Forces Triathlon. Michael Gordon was there, so I knew I'd get a good gauge of where I was. I have never lost this race, but I knew a handful of athletes would probably finish ahead of me. I don't like to lose, but this was an important part of the healing process, so I was really OK with it.
My goals for the race were to swim a 6:45 for 500y (about a 7:27 equivalent for 500m). My recent best from early in the week was a 7:34. I figured I'd be holding back as I really expected a race performance and better fitness would get me through. For the bike, I wanted to average 21. It was better than my recent best 12.25M solo TT, but again ... better fitness and race performance. The bike leg was 10 miles on a similar "speed" course (flat with a gradual hill into the wind at the turnaround). My goal for the run was to go sub 6:30. That seemed possible, despite beating my swim and bike's recent bests back-to-back.
An interesting note is that Gordon didn't seem to buy any of the injury stuff or doubts about my performance. I've always been what I believe to be "real" or "more honest" regarding my fitness than nearly all I race. I don't really hide anything. All too often athletes hold back as if the psychological advantage out there on the race course will limit his/her opponent's fitness. My advantage is in being able to lie through the pain and do what doesn't seem my body can do. Even after I finished the race well behind him, he didn't seem convinced. I'm guessing too many times people focus on all the other good races to think that I was that out of shape. I proved myself right, but wish I hadn't :0).
So, I managed to swim a 6:31.98. This is the equivalent to about a 7:13 500m swim. That's well beyond what I expected considering I held back a bit. Gordon was about 13 seconds slower, but he swam in a heat ahead of me (pool swim) and I'd be virtually left in the dust from there. Transition was weak, but finding my rythm and routine was more important.
On the bike, I rode with a GPS, but with stop signs and lights, I kept bleeding time. I could factor it out, but I wanted my 21 without saying I technically rode it if you factor in this and that. Stopping and starting immediately costs 15 seconds and I hit that 3 or 4 times. I managed to get through the bike leg in 28:31.75, which works out to 21.03 MPH. Another goal down. It's been a REALLY long time since I was excited about riding over 21 MPH in a sprint, but here I am being jazzed about it. Progress is what it's all about.
On the run, I started out feeling that old familiar feeling and had to hold back. I ran a 6:12, then when I thought fatigue was making me fade, I ran a 6:10. Unfortunately, I got a bit disoriented zig zagging through Walla Walla and got lost. I knew I wasn't going to win, so no big deal, but I was running a 5K and didn't know how long I'd be runnning until I found the course again. Well, I found it after running an extra .41 miles. The blessing in disguise is that I found my legs out there and ran the third mile in 6:01 and finished the final .48 miles in 5:41 pace. I would have never seen that if I stayed on course. My overall average was 6:04 for the run. In all, I'd say it was a good day having met my goals in all three areas and was way ahead of goal on the swim and run.
Since then, I managed to improve my swim from that 7:13 equivalent to having done a 6:52 500m swim 4 days before the Iron Eagle. In 52 days, I went from 8:46 to 6:52! On the bike, riding my road bike (not TT bike) I managed to get my best pace over 22 MPH. On the run, I've dropped my best recent 3 mile to 5:41 pace. The last test before the big race was the Iron Eagle ... look at me blogging about it within 1 day!
I was in heat two with Greg Gallagher (hope I spelled that correctly). Like with Gordon, this would be a calibrated test. Again, although I don't like to lose, this is something I needed as a final test. My goal was to break 55, which would be a big jump from the Whitman College Triathlon. My swim goal was 7:00, bike goal to average 23 and run goal was to run hard ... yes, it was that simple this time.
Starting out, I had to hold myself back as the swim always sucks people in. Today was no different. I still went through the first 100m too fast, but didn't start making my move until about 200m. I pushed hard, but held back about what a triathlete should. Despite having trouble stopping my watch, I think my swim was around 7:00 ... I stopped it after several failed attempts at 7:04, so I'm good with calling it 7:00.
T1 went fairly well, but there were a few kinks I can work out to save a few seconds. I apparently passed someone else in T1 that I didn't know was there. On the bike, I was chilled by the winds, but thankful to have my Speedo FSII on to help me warm up after it dried a bit. My legs did not feel good on the bike and I wasn't wearing GPS, so I didn't know how fast I was going other than projections based on time from mile markers. I was battling a head wind, but my legs just felt a bit dead. I don't know if it's related, but I've got a big swollen bite of some sort on the outside of my left lower leg ... about the size of the palm. It's tender, but I just don't know that is a factor. I just know I wasn't feeling like I should. Still, I hit the turn in first with Gallagher closing in. The wind on the way back was nice, but he passed me at about mile 9 with such speed that it startled me a bit. Heading up the hill to EWU, I kept it reasonably close. My time was 26:10, which is good for 22.93 MPH. Normally the course is 10.1 to 10.2M, but I'm factoring it at 10 since I didn't care to go measure it. This is still a recent best for me, so I am pleased. It's also the first time I've been on my TT bike since Walla Walla and the 2nd time since last year. Armed Forces is draft legal, so my road bike has been the one of choice.
T2 was good, but not great. I made a few simple errors that disrupted the flow of T2. Still, I managed to get out onto the run in first. My legs felt unusually dead again. I know I biked hard ... probably too hard, but I just couldn't open it up. It's probably a good thing though because I started to get a bit of a gut/side ache. Running faster makes those get a lot worse and slows me down probably even more ... so it's probably a wash. At mile 1, Gallagher went by me and I thought ... I'm out of transitions so there is no passing him again. I don't like getting passed on the run, so I tried harder and it seemed to help, but not a lot. At the turn, I saw someone else was chasing me down, so I had everything I needed. Someone to chase for the overall and someone to flee for fear of being passed by some guy I don't even know! My run time was a bit disappointing for me with a 20:01. That's 6:26 pace, which is not good if the course was accurate. I may go measure it today to make sure I have the right distance, but I doubt I'll feel much better about my performance even if the course is a bit long.
In the end, I went somewhere around 54:43 (my clocking). I met my goal for overall, was close on the bike and right on with the swim. I know where I am now and what I need to do to keep improving. Speed is coming back very quickly. I sort of trained through this one with a focus on next week's race. It's a weak-minded plan, but I figure my swim should be right where I need it to be to get me out of the water in front of the likely fastest biker in the race, Mike McCoy who has been hitting the bike very hard for the last year. If we can get organized in what is usually the largest pack in the race, then I can sit on the back (shame on me) and save my legs for the run. I honestly don't think I can ride with them otherwise and be a productive helper in the group. Fortunately, he's on the USAF Team and should be willing to let me be a leach for a day. When I get to the run, then as long as my legs don't perform like yesterday, I am hopeful that with a taper I should be able to run about 5:40 pace for the 10K. It's flat, which will help me out since I've got weak hill legs right now and this race is what I've been building myself for through the last 2 months to the day.
Last year's race was my last magic trick. Perhaps it will be my first one for this year as I continue rebuilding the broken athlete that I used to be. Hopefully I will get back to where I was in the beginning of 2009 ... looking to be faster than I've ever been. Speed comes back quickly, but there's still a long way to go. Now I've just got to hope that my probable spider bite doesn't turn out to be a big problem like they sometimes are. I hate spiders and always fear things like this will turn into a chunk of rotting flesh ... sorry for the graphic remark.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Where in the World is Michael Bergquist?
This is a long read, but I’ve been missing for a while and a lot of catching up is left to do.
On February 22, 2009, I set out for an early season test. It was a 25K in Birch Bay, Washington. The test was not just to see if I was in my best run shape ever, let alone early season. It was to see if I could shave four minutes off my best 25K at a time of year that was a few months before any previous year would have allowed me to set an all-time PR. Somewhere around halfway through, it seems that I got lost in an injury and never made it to the finish line. Instead, some guy that looked just like me came limping across the line in what would be an all-time PR, but by only about half of the four minutes I was looking for. As the days turned into weeks and into months, it became apparent that the athlete that I was got lost out there in extreme northwest, Washington in Birch Bay and never came back.
2009 was to be my banner year after taking a giant leap forward in 2008. I worked so hard to get ready to improve on a 19 win, 12 course record year that it seemed like a sure thing. Instead, injury after injury left me scrambling from race to race like a person hurting for money lives paycheck to paycheck. If I’m really good at one thing, it’s finding a way to milk the absolute best out of my body in a short period of time. Despite injuries to my right calf, both quads and a hamstring on different occasions, I tweaked things well enough to pull off a 3rd consecutive win at Wenatchee. A couple weeks later, I suffered for my team in Lincoln for a respectable finish on aggravated injuries. In late May I felt like I pulled off a magic trick laced with good luck at the Armed Forces Triathlon Championship. Then on June 1st, my luck ran out and I suffered a set-back about as tough as my shattered collar bone a few years ago. Later I would break a toe, reinjure my back, neck arm, calf, etc.
Despite my poor run of luck, I gave it my best shot to pull out of this nose dive. I swam one-armed in two triathlons, giving up an enormous amount of time. I missed the UberMan Triathlon, which I was going to skip my annual trip to USAT Sprint Nationals to do. I kept trying within the limitations of my injuries, but my form and fitness continued to fall apart. It seems that perfect races under less than ideal fitness saved me some embarrassment.
One race was the Spokane Half Marathon, which I don’t know if I wrote about. I had won that half twice, the marathon once and have competed in both on a few other years that I didn’t win. I knew the course well and knew what I felt were my limits, so despite my pride, I did exactly what I thought I could do and with nearly perfect pacing, I came in 2nd overall with a time that would normally not be 2nd, but why beat myself any more while I’m down.
After Spokane, I basically disappeared. It just wasn’t fun to read or write about something that was such a great source of frustration. I was gaining weight, terribly stressed at work and was struggling from one injury to the next. I kept trying to find that guy that got lost at Birch Bay, but the further I got from that day, the more impossible it seemed to rediscover myself.
Finally, in December, things started to improve. My right arm was healing so slowly that it was over six months from the injury until I could use my right arm to put on my seat belt. Circulation was very poor, which caused a constant ache in the winter. Oddly enough, it was another bother that seemed to bring me to a place where I could see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. I suffered a stiff neck at work that was so bad that I nearly parked my SUV and laid out on the tarmac at Fairchild. A visit to the chiropractor revealed an unexpected result. The shoulder injury I suffered in June was a torn right bicep tendon! I don’t know if there were other factors involved, or if it was just that, but I was finally able to be treated for something specific.
Fast forward to April 1st and I was released from restrictions and allowed to swim and bike again. On top of that, I was finally free of my job at Fairchild. I would have left at the end of last September, but wanted to make sure Amanda and I were fully covered for our baby in May. With leave (vacation days) built up to last me through the baby’s birth (late May), along with 6 months of transitional insurance, I knew we’d be covered medically and financially as I transition into new work.
The future was looking better, but there was still the Wenatchee Marathon on April 17th. I had been running, but hadn’t been “training.” In all, I put on about 29 pounds on my race weight of 151 pounds. I was barely able to run sub 6:00 pace for 3 miles, a pace I used to be able to handle possibly for 30 miles. Running a marathon seemed like a stupid thing to do, but this is more than just a performance test. It’s something Amanda and I do as a fitness getaway every year near our anniversary. It’s the only race I’ve done every year since it’s beginning. I was the three-time defending champion, won 4 of the event’s five years and on that off year (running easy for Lincoln) I finished 3rd when capable of winning. I had no illusions about winning this year. I just didn’t want to have an ultimate suffer-fest and embarrass myself by barely finishing the thing.
So, with the one talent that an injury (unless it’s a brain injury) can’t take away from me, I put a plan together to have me as ready as could be in 21 days. Actually having the time to run more than a few miles, I went for a 15-miler to see where I was. Unfortunately, I was fried at mile nine. I kept telling myself that the next mile would be my last and I could walk home. I never did walk, but I was going about that fast. I was hurting and barely made it!
Fast forward three weeks and I was at Wenatchee and people were talking about a four-peat. I was too proud to tell them it just wasn’t going to happen. I believed a sub 3-hour was possible, despite not having run over 20 miles once and that pace being faster than all but one recent run over 10 miles. My goal was to lock onto a 6:49, ignore the world and run that pace mile after mile. Unfortunately, I programmed my data fields with the last split pace instead of current split pace, so I had to rely on cumulative race pace, which is a lot less specific about what I’d be doing at the time.
Despite the slowing and constant holding back that takes place early in every marathon, I was running a 6:43 average. It’s not much faster, but if you run a marathon even a couple seconds per mile too fast then you will probably blow up. Very few people even split or negative split their marathons, but it’s something I pride myself on. I figured I was going to ruin my race since my limits were so much more fragile under my current conditions. At mile 6, the 10K runners split off and the leader (2 actually, but I thought it was one) was out of sight. I began the mental battle of telling myself that I could hold for 16 miles since I had done that recently and this was a supported race, not a training run.
At mile 16, Amanda (1 month to due date) and some other guy shortly after told me that I was 3:00 down. I said it was too much and it just wasn’t happening. Then I started to think about the difference between winning and losing. I started to think about my streak. I thought about all the times when I’ve lied to myself for long enough that I won a race instead of giving up.
I can’t be sure, but I think somewhere out there between mile 16 and 18, I found the Michael Bergquist that got lost 14 months ago in Birch Bay. I was charging hard in a race that I respect so much that I treat it with a delicate balance when in much better condition. I was pushing 5 or 6 miles before I normally do, but doing so on a day when I didn’t even know if I could run the entire distance.
Before mile 20, I caught the leader. That three minutes evaporated quickly and I felt like the race was mine to lose. I kept pressing as my goal was to get to mile 22 and then cruise on in. As I approached mile 22 on my tired legs that were ready to ease up and cruise on in, I saw what appeared to be a lead biker (at the bottom of the bridge switch back) with a guy sporting the red marathon bib numbers! Mile 23 was my fastest of the race as I gave chase not knowing if there was enough time to reel this guy in. I caught him before mile 24 as he was cramping terribly, which is usually the end of any quick miles for anyone. As a point of pride, I tried to hold sub 7 pace for mile 24, and made it through 25. Mile 26 was my first over 7 pace, but it was OK, I was safe and managed to run on in to break the tape. My average for what I measured 26.38 was 6:43 for a 2:57:22, the same pace I started out with. My hard charge dropped me below that, but I slowed again.
Since then, I’ve continued to rediscover the athlete that got lost such a long time ago. I’m down 20 pounds, but still 9 pounds over race weight and a lot less lean than the athlete of early 2009. I’m swimming and biking again. My swim improvement for 500m short course is as follows:
April 4th - 8:46
April 12th - 8:00
April 25th – 7:34
I’ve been on my bike a few times, but have only worked up to 12.25 miles. I started out without testing myself, like I did in the swim, but would have been lucky to ride 18 MPH. On my last ride, I went 12.25M at over 20 MPH … barely!
Fitness comes back quickly (you’re right Haley), but I still have a lot of rehab to do on a terribly weak right arm. My bike legs have a long way to go as well. Although I can always seem to calculate the very best my body will do out there on a run, I’ve still got a lot of catching up to do there as well. I was picked up for the Armed Forces Championship Triathlon once again. Swim and run are essential, so I’ll put myself through hell to get ready.
After that, I will be focusing on my marathon. I was left off the National Guard Team due to my lost entry and the guard coordinator deciding to not let me run even though the Lincoln Marathon was going to get me in. That means I will not be on the National Guard Team for the first time in six years, despite being faster than about half of the runners in my current condition. The Air Guard is a part of the USAF, so it’s always a point of contention when the USAF tries to take the top Air Guard runners to compete in the Air Force marathon. Since we both field our own teams, it’s never been fair for them to take our top runners, then compete against us. Well, this year, I will not be one of “us.” I’m really not trying to be spiteful, so much as I am being competitive. I want to show them that they made a mistake in leaving me off the team. I know I’m not an elite, even like some of our local runners; however, I’ve done well enough in the past that free entries and invitations have not been unusual. Someone who is supposed to look out for me, but denies the race my entry only fires me up even more.
It feels a lot more like I’m the Michael Bergquist that got lost at Birch Bay. That’s a refreshing change from the guy who went out there and jogged 3 miles to keep my consecutive running streak alive. It’s now at 2,313 days … and counting. See you out there …
Oh, and a few cool facts that I’ve learned since immersing myself into training again …
Haley Cooper ran a sub 3-hour marathon! Very impressive!
Roger Thompson is still super fit and doing things that I projected for myself, if not even faster!
My friend and first World Military Championship room mate, Tim O’Donnell, is now the 70.3 world champion! I always said his strength was biking, which is negated in ITU racing. 70.3 doesn’t hold the same prestige as the Olympics, which Tim just barely missed the alternate spot for. On the other hand, being world champion at anything, especially a more legitimate triathlon than a draft-legal one, is more impressive in my opinion.
On February 22, 2009, I set out for an early season test. It was a 25K in Birch Bay, Washington. The test was not just to see if I was in my best run shape ever, let alone early season. It was to see if I could shave four minutes off my best 25K at a time of year that was a few months before any previous year would have allowed me to set an all-time PR. Somewhere around halfway through, it seems that I got lost in an injury and never made it to the finish line. Instead, some guy that looked just like me came limping across the line in what would be an all-time PR, but by only about half of the four minutes I was looking for. As the days turned into weeks and into months, it became apparent that the athlete that I was got lost out there in extreme northwest, Washington in Birch Bay and never came back.
2009 was to be my banner year after taking a giant leap forward in 2008. I worked so hard to get ready to improve on a 19 win, 12 course record year that it seemed like a sure thing. Instead, injury after injury left me scrambling from race to race like a person hurting for money lives paycheck to paycheck. If I’m really good at one thing, it’s finding a way to milk the absolute best out of my body in a short period of time. Despite injuries to my right calf, both quads and a hamstring on different occasions, I tweaked things well enough to pull off a 3rd consecutive win at Wenatchee. A couple weeks later, I suffered for my team in Lincoln for a respectable finish on aggravated injuries. In late May I felt like I pulled off a magic trick laced with good luck at the Armed Forces Triathlon Championship. Then on June 1st, my luck ran out and I suffered a set-back about as tough as my shattered collar bone a few years ago. Later I would break a toe, reinjure my back, neck arm, calf, etc.
Despite my poor run of luck, I gave it my best shot to pull out of this nose dive. I swam one-armed in two triathlons, giving up an enormous amount of time. I missed the UberMan Triathlon, which I was going to skip my annual trip to USAT Sprint Nationals to do. I kept trying within the limitations of my injuries, but my form and fitness continued to fall apart. It seems that perfect races under less than ideal fitness saved me some embarrassment.
One race was the Spokane Half Marathon, which I don’t know if I wrote about. I had won that half twice, the marathon once and have competed in both on a few other years that I didn’t win. I knew the course well and knew what I felt were my limits, so despite my pride, I did exactly what I thought I could do and with nearly perfect pacing, I came in 2nd overall with a time that would normally not be 2nd, but why beat myself any more while I’m down.
After Spokane, I basically disappeared. It just wasn’t fun to read or write about something that was such a great source of frustration. I was gaining weight, terribly stressed at work and was struggling from one injury to the next. I kept trying to find that guy that got lost at Birch Bay, but the further I got from that day, the more impossible it seemed to rediscover myself.
Finally, in December, things started to improve. My right arm was healing so slowly that it was over six months from the injury until I could use my right arm to put on my seat belt. Circulation was very poor, which caused a constant ache in the winter. Oddly enough, it was another bother that seemed to bring me to a place where I could see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. I suffered a stiff neck at work that was so bad that I nearly parked my SUV and laid out on the tarmac at Fairchild. A visit to the chiropractor revealed an unexpected result. The shoulder injury I suffered in June was a torn right bicep tendon! I don’t know if there were other factors involved, or if it was just that, but I was finally able to be treated for something specific.
Fast forward to April 1st and I was released from restrictions and allowed to swim and bike again. On top of that, I was finally free of my job at Fairchild. I would have left at the end of last September, but wanted to make sure Amanda and I were fully covered for our baby in May. With leave (vacation days) built up to last me through the baby’s birth (late May), along with 6 months of transitional insurance, I knew we’d be covered medically and financially as I transition into new work.
The future was looking better, but there was still the Wenatchee Marathon on April 17th. I had been running, but hadn’t been “training.” In all, I put on about 29 pounds on my race weight of 151 pounds. I was barely able to run sub 6:00 pace for 3 miles, a pace I used to be able to handle possibly for 30 miles. Running a marathon seemed like a stupid thing to do, but this is more than just a performance test. It’s something Amanda and I do as a fitness getaway every year near our anniversary. It’s the only race I’ve done every year since it’s beginning. I was the three-time defending champion, won 4 of the event’s five years and on that off year (running easy for Lincoln) I finished 3rd when capable of winning. I had no illusions about winning this year. I just didn’t want to have an ultimate suffer-fest and embarrass myself by barely finishing the thing.
So, with the one talent that an injury (unless it’s a brain injury) can’t take away from me, I put a plan together to have me as ready as could be in 21 days. Actually having the time to run more than a few miles, I went for a 15-miler to see where I was. Unfortunately, I was fried at mile nine. I kept telling myself that the next mile would be my last and I could walk home. I never did walk, but I was going about that fast. I was hurting and barely made it!
Fast forward three weeks and I was at Wenatchee and people were talking about a four-peat. I was too proud to tell them it just wasn’t going to happen. I believed a sub 3-hour was possible, despite not having run over 20 miles once and that pace being faster than all but one recent run over 10 miles. My goal was to lock onto a 6:49, ignore the world and run that pace mile after mile. Unfortunately, I programmed my data fields with the last split pace instead of current split pace, so I had to rely on cumulative race pace, which is a lot less specific about what I’d be doing at the time.
Despite the slowing and constant holding back that takes place early in every marathon, I was running a 6:43 average. It’s not much faster, but if you run a marathon even a couple seconds per mile too fast then you will probably blow up. Very few people even split or negative split their marathons, but it’s something I pride myself on. I figured I was going to ruin my race since my limits were so much more fragile under my current conditions. At mile 6, the 10K runners split off and the leader (2 actually, but I thought it was one) was out of sight. I began the mental battle of telling myself that I could hold for 16 miles since I had done that recently and this was a supported race, not a training run.
At mile 16, Amanda (1 month to due date) and some other guy shortly after told me that I was 3:00 down. I said it was too much and it just wasn’t happening. Then I started to think about the difference between winning and losing. I started to think about my streak. I thought about all the times when I’ve lied to myself for long enough that I won a race instead of giving up.
I can’t be sure, but I think somewhere out there between mile 16 and 18, I found the Michael Bergquist that got lost 14 months ago in Birch Bay. I was charging hard in a race that I respect so much that I treat it with a delicate balance when in much better condition. I was pushing 5 or 6 miles before I normally do, but doing so on a day when I didn’t even know if I could run the entire distance.
Before mile 20, I caught the leader. That three minutes evaporated quickly and I felt like the race was mine to lose. I kept pressing as my goal was to get to mile 22 and then cruise on in. As I approached mile 22 on my tired legs that were ready to ease up and cruise on in, I saw what appeared to be a lead biker (at the bottom of the bridge switch back) with a guy sporting the red marathon bib numbers! Mile 23 was my fastest of the race as I gave chase not knowing if there was enough time to reel this guy in. I caught him before mile 24 as he was cramping terribly, which is usually the end of any quick miles for anyone. As a point of pride, I tried to hold sub 7 pace for mile 24, and made it through 25. Mile 26 was my first over 7 pace, but it was OK, I was safe and managed to run on in to break the tape. My average for what I measured 26.38 was 6:43 for a 2:57:22, the same pace I started out with. My hard charge dropped me below that, but I slowed again.
Since then, I’ve continued to rediscover the athlete that got lost such a long time ago. I’m down 20 pounds, but still 9 pounds over race weight and a lot less lean than the athlete of early 2009. I’m swimming and biking again. My swim improvement for 500m short course is as follows:
April 4th - 8:46
April 12th - 8:00
April 25th – 7:34
I’ve been on my bike a few times, but have only worked up to 12.25 miles. I started out without testing myself, like I did in the swim, but would have been lucky to ride 18 MPH. On my last ride, I went 12.25M at over 20 MPH … barely!
Fitness comes back quickly (you’re right Haley), but I still have a lot of rehab to do on a terribly weak right arm. My bike legs have a long way to go as well. Although I can always seem to calculate the very best my body will do out there on a run, I’ve still got a lot of catching up to do there as well. I was picked up for the Armed Forces Championship Triathlon once again. Swim and run are essential, so I’ll put myself through hell to get ready.
After that, I will be focusing on my marathon. I was left off the National Guard Team due to my lost entry and the guard coordinator deciding to not let me run even though the Lincoln Marathon was going to get me in. That means I will not be on the National Guard Team for the first time in six years, despite being faster than about half of the runners in my current condition. The Air Guard is a part of the USAF, so it’s always a point of contention when the USAF tries to take the top Air Guard runners to compete in the Air Force marathon. Since we both field our own teams, it’s never been fair for them to take our top runners, then compete against us. Well, this year, I will not be one of “us.” I’m really not trying to be spiteful, so much as I am being competitive. I want to show them that they made a mistake in leaving me off the team. I know I’m not an elite, even like some of our local runners; however, I’ve done well enough in the past that free entries and invitations have not been unusual. Someone who is supposed to look out for me, but denies the race my entry only fires me up even more.
It feels a lot more like I’m the Michael Bergquist that got lost at Birch Bay. That’s a refreshing change from the guy who went out there and jogged 3 miles to keep my consecutive running streak alive. It’s now at 2,313 days … and counting. See you out there …
Oh, and a few cool facts that I’ve learned since immersing myself into training again …
Haley Cooper ran a sub 3-hour marathon! Very impressive!
Roger Thompson is still super fit and doing things that I projected for myself, if not even faster!
My friend and first World Military Championship room mate, Tim O’Donnell, is now the 70.3 world champion! I always said his strength was biking, which is negated in ITU racing. 70.3 doesn’t hold the same prestige as the Olympics, which Tim just barely missed the alternate spot for. On the other hand, being world champion at anything, especially a more legitimate triathlon than a draft-legal one, is more impressive in my opinion.
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Road to Recovery
So last year was a disaster. It's not exactly fun to write about disaster. I felt like the fireman. I was always putting out flames. One injury to the next derailed what was certain to be a great year. If you've been reading my irregular posting, then you're aware of the many injuries and my making the best of it every time.
I kind of finished the year off with the Spokane Half Marathon. I ran a very well-paced run, so for that I am thankful. I'd have to say my time was fair, but certainly better than what I expected. Injuries didn't stop there, but it's about where I stopped writing.
Since then, I discovered that my nagging shoulder injury was a torn right bicep tendon in the shoulder area. Part of the recovery/treatment is breaking up the fibrous adhesions. Apparently our body produces these for a temporary fix, like a temporary fix of a pot hole. It works for a short while, but it's usefulness runs out and is as much of a problem as the problem itself. So, I get the chiropractor leaning over me, putting all his weight onto one knuckle and supported by the other hand to make sure all the weight/pressure transfer goes right into that bicep tendon. It's then rubbed, like a noogie, over the the bones in the shoulder for a pain that will bring tears to a glass eye!
My other problem is a muscle in my left ankle is terribly flared up, sore and inflexible. It's been giving me grief for a couple months, but after having it worked on, it became worse. It's just starting to get back to a comfortable pain ... whatever that means.
The shoulder problem has eliminated biking since sometime last fall. I'm still not swimming either. On a bright note, I will be able to start again in two weeks. My overall weight gain went upwards of 15 poinds. My run slowed to the point that I was unable to run my previous marathon pace (sub 6:00/mile) for even 2.925 miles. My baseline test on 01 January was 6:10/mile. Still, as bad as it was and how frustrating it is, I'm thankful to have the ability to run. I can still run faster when in terrible shape than some who train. On the other hand, years of training and constant effort to maintain what I can come into play as well.
In my mind, I have one more hurdle to overcome as my body finishes up it's recovery from about 54 weeks of injuries. I have an oral surgery where my wisedom tooth will be removed to get bone from my jaw in the lower right (bone from the hip was out of the question). This bone will be used to do a bone graft in my sinus cavity on #3 (upper right) where a tooth broke years ago and had to be pulled due to the way it broke. The bone eroded away, so the bone graft will be used to strengthen the area for a post to put a crown on. To get to the sinus, they have to cut my gums, lift it up, drill above and to the side of the bone where the tooth root goes, then they will pack it in, sew it up and then do a bone graft on the bottom side as well.
I'm not going to lie. Like most of the rest of the world, I'm not a fan of the dentist. I haven't had any work done for a long time, but it only takes one time to know I don't like it. This will be about as bad as it gets in my mind. They'll put me mostly under and I always wonder if I'll wake up.
After this procedure is done, I'm not supposed to run for about a week. So, I'll get up tomorrow morning, run before the procedure, then sleep all day, night and most of tomorrow. Then I will get up and run an easy mile, despite the doctors advice. I'm guessing that will be around 10:00 pace. I doubt my heart rate will get over 110 to 115 to cause me to throw a clot. I also should be able to maintain an efficient enough stride that I shouldn't have any terrible jarring. I got a lot of practice when running with a shattered collar bone and broken ribs. I've run for 6 years, 1 month and 24 days as of tomorrow morning's run. I will not break my streak and choose to not put myself into the typical patient category. Perhaps a sedentary person shouldn't run. Heck, it would probably be better if I didn't, but the difference between those two types of people is totally different and most doctors aren't able to account for it. I've worked too hard for this and it keeps me going when I should be going, but otherwise would not.
Anyhow, my run pace going into this mess is almost sub 6 for 3 miles now. I'll try it today. I've also biked a few times recently. It feels great to be on the road, even if it is a struggle to go over 20 MPH. I clearly have a lot of work to do to get back into shape, but I will keep trying.
I kind of finished the year off with the Spokane Half Marathon. I ran a very well-paced run, so for that I am thankful. I'd have to say my time was fair, but certainly better than what I expected. Injuries didn't stop there, but it's about where I stopped writing.
Since then, I discovered that my nagging shoulder injury was a torn right bicep tendon in the shoulder area. Part of the recovery/treatment is breaking up the fibrous adhesions. Apparently our body produces these for a temporary fix, like a temporary fix of a pot hole. It works for a short while, but it's usefulness runs out and is as much of a problem as the problem itself. So, I get the chiropractor leaning over me, putting all his weight onto one knuckle and supported by the other hand to make sure all the weight/pressure transfer goes right into that bicep tendon. It's then rubbed, like a noogie, over the the bones in the shoulder for a pain that will bring tears to a glass eye!
My other problem is a muscle in my left ankle is terribly flared up, sore and inflexible. It's been giving me grief for a couple months, but after having it worked on, it became worse. It's just starting to get back to a comfortable pain ... whatever that means.
The shoulder problem has eliminated biking since sometime last fall. I'm still not swimming either. On a bright note, I will be able to start again in two weeks. My overall weight gain went upwards of 15 poinds. My run slowed to the point that I was unable to run my previous marathon pace (sub 6:00/mile) for even 2.925 miles. My baseline test on 01 January was 6:10/mile. Still, as bad as it was and how frustrating it is, I'm thankful to have the ability to run. I can still run faster when in terrible shape than some who train. On the other hand, years of training and constant effort to maintain what I can come into play as well.
In my mind, I have one more hurdle to overcome as my body finishes up it's recovery from about 54 weeks of injuries. I have an oral surgery where my wisedom tooth will be removed to get bone from my jaw in the lower right (bone from the hip was out of the question). This bone will be used to do a bone graft in my sinus cavity on #3 (upper right) where a tooth broke years ago and had to be pulled due to the way it broke. The bone eroded away, so the bone graft will be used to strengthen the area for a post to put a crown on. To get to the sinus, they have to cut my gums, lift it up, drill above and to the side of the bone where the tooth root goes, then they will pack it in, sew it up and then do a bone graft on the bottom side as well.
I'm not going to lie. Like most of the rest of the world, I'm not a fan of the dentist. I haven't had any work done for a long time, but it only takes one time to know I don't like it. This will be about as bad as it gets in my mind. They'll put me mostly under and I always wonder if I'll wake up.
After this procedure is done, I'm not supposed to run for about a week. So, I'll get up tomorrow morning, run before the procedure, then sleep all day, night and most of tomorrow. Then I will get up and run an easy mile, despite the doctors advice. I'm guessing that will be around 10:00 pace. I doubt my heart rate will get over 110 to 115 to cause me to throw a clot. I also should be able to maintain an efficient enough stride that I shouldn't have any terrible jarring. I got a lot of practice when running with a shattered collar bone and broken ribs. I've run for 6 years, 1 month and 24 days as of tomorrow morning's run. I will not break my streak and choose to not put myself into the typical patient category. Perhaps a sedentary person shouldn't run. Heck, it would probably be better if I didn't, but the difference between those two types of people is totally different and most doctors aren't able to account for it. I've worked too hard for this and it keeps me going when I should be going, but otherwise would not.
Anyhow, my run pace going into this mess is almost sub 6 for 3 miles now. I'll try it today. I've also biked a few times recently. It feels great to be on the road, even if it is a struggle to go over 20 MPH. I clearly have a lot of work to do to get back into shape, but I will keep trying.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Midnight Mugging
So I've basically done all but fall off the face of the Earth. My last report had me facing the dilemma of whether I should race the Uberman. More on that later, but for now, I'm trying to get back on track. I'm still running every day and typically get it done without much trouble. Today was a bit of an exception.
After a long work week and my first day off, I didn't get to my run until after 2 AM. We've been in a wind storm for a couple days, but it died down. We had a remarkably clear night's sky with a full moon to light the way. The temperature was cool, but comfortable with the proper attire. Shortly after starting my run, the creepy factor went up as I noticed through the corner of my eye that a neighbor's front door was open without any lights on. As I ran past a car, I noticed someone standing there sweeping or something. It didn't startle me, but it just seemed creepy. I'm a creature of the night and don't normally get creeped out, but this did for some reason. I actually looked back a couple times to see if the person that seemed more like a he than she was in pursuit. Both times it was nothing but an empty moonlit road.
As I continued on, I thought about how I was starting to feel good about my running again. I haven't felt heavy or slow for a few days now; moreover, I've actually been running some fair times. As I rounded the top end of the lake, I was pleased to have the additonal moonlight adding to the well-spaced street lights. Deer often run about there and I want to be careful as to not make a buck angry and charge me when I don't see him.
The cool breeze and my nylon sweats made plenty of noise, but it was still peaceful. As I rounded North Park and began to head back, the wind was at my back just slightly faster than my pace. As I exited the park and the shade of the trees, the moon and street lights cast separate shadows while the wind made my running pants sort of echo my foot step. This happened all at about the same time. It was a lot like an extremely vivid dream I had while in grade school. I was riding a big wheel down the road at night and had the same feelings of creepiness sweep over me. As I went past a driveway in my dream, I felt the sense of danger. Just then as I went past a couple cars, I saw someone crouched down between two cars and looking right at me as if he were going to get me. The moment drug on before he ran out at me. I jumped up and started running, but my freakishly fast legs were anything but. I tried to call for help, but nothing came out. Just as I was caught, I was able to scream out ... for real, in my bedroom. I scared the bejeezus out of my parents and the whole house, but nobody was more freaked than I.
My run tonight coming out of the trees, along with the creepy feelings from when I ran past that guy earlier, made this run feel like that dream. What I'll refer to as the sweat pants echo made it sound as if someone was running up on me. I looked back but didn't see anything on the road or coming from the trees. As I looked forward again I went under a street light and my shadow began to stretch out before me. Just then a shadow of another person moved past my feet as someone was closing in on me too fast for me to get away. The sound of my sweat pants echo was drowned out by the fast approaching feet of someone on my six at about 2:45 AM between the wooded hills, the lake to my right and and the pond to my left.
It happened so fast that I barely had time to react. I threw in a powerful burst as I dodged to the right a little all while looking back as I jumped into the air and did my best impression of an impromptu airial back kick while running forward. It felt far from powerful or effective as I was doing it, but my hope would be to land enough force to disrupt my attacker. If I could do that, then I'd have a fair chance to escape. As it was, the person was too close and moving in too fast before I could react.
Long story short, as I completed my arial back kick I looked and nobody was there. I landed awkwardly and dropped the hammer just in case. I looked back again and nobody was there. I then realized that the moon and more than one street light were casting multiple shadows of me. It was my shadow. Ever been scared of your own shadow? That was not fun. As I settled my nerves a bit more, I realized that coming out of the trees caused the wind to shift and amplify the sound of the sweat-pants foot-step echo. There's really not many spectators at that hour, but I would have loved to see that from the eyes of another! Despite being the guy that roams around in the woods and streets at night, I decided the creepy factor was too high, so I turned in. At least I got out there and did it. Now I'm actually updating my blog, so perhaps I'm coming full circle.
What have I been up to since I disappeared from the world of racing? Well, I decided to skip the Uberman. I think I would have been 9th, but that would be too much of a trip for the time, cost and my ability to be competitive. I was peaked up for the race as best as I could be, so I decided to do the Clear Lake Triathlon. I got my wish of being the One-Armed Bandit. Despite falling way behind with my one-arm swim, I caught up to the leader on the bike and ran away for a victory.
I've done a few smaller races here and there, but things continued to unravel with my injuries. I got to the point where I was probably not going over 15 miles per week running without any biking or swimming. I raced a half marathon at Fairchild in around 1:17 or 1:18 (not much stats for this number guy as I don't even remember or care about my time). I raced a 10K on base in just over 37:15 too. I did the Labor Day Family Fun Run surprising myself by running sub 6 pace. I also did the Human Race 5K that was only 2.6 miles, the USATF IE 5K championships here in Medical Lake the day after the Human Race, so I fell apart after a mile. Finally, my fitness hit a new low as I was 13 pounds heavy and in terrible shape when I did the Finch 5K. I was rested up for it, but it was just too much. I hung tough, but was basically left in the dust by several runners.
Since then, I decided to get myself back into shape. My arm is still screwed up as the surgeon doesn't actually want to do surgery. I get to go back every few weeks and he tells me to come back in a few weeks if it isn't better. Nice plan. I'm sure we can keep cutting him a check as I come back with an injury that isn't healing but still have to pay. Anyway, I've lost 4 of the pounds and am feeling comfortable on the road despite having only put in about 25 miles this week. That's easily the most I've done in a long time, but well short of my 35 miles goal.
Aside from the running, I bought the house next door. This will eventually expand on the Bergquist Training Center (BTC) awesomeness. Being in debt is frustrating, but Amanda and I are easily able to handle it. Speaking of Amanda, our top news is that we're expecting a little baby Bergquist in May. Life is always changing, sometimes for the better or the worse. However, this is one very exciting change that I have always looked forward to. It should be quite an adventure. I'm into that.
After a long work week and my first day off, I didn't get to my run until after 2 AM. We've been in a wind storm for a couple days, but it died down. We had a remarkably clear night's sky with a full moon to light the way. The temperature was cool, but comfortable with the proper attire. Shortly after starting my run, the creepy factor went up as I noticed through the corner of my eye that a neighbor's front door was open without any lights on. As I ran past a car, I noticed someone standing there sweeping or something. It didn't startle me, but it just seemed creepy. I'm a creature of the night and don't normally get creeped out, but this did for some reason. I actually looked back a couple times to see if the person that seemed more like a he than she was in pursuit. Both times it was nothing but an empty moonlit road.
As I continued on, I thought about how I was starting to feel good about my running again. I haven't felt heavy or slow for a few days now; moreover, I've actually been running some fair times. As I rounded the top end of the lake, I was pleased to have the additonal moonlight adding to the well-spaced street lights. Deer often run about there and I want to be careful as to not make a buck angry and charge me when I don't see him.
The cool breeze and my nylon sweats made plenty of noise, but it was still peaceful. As I rounded North Park and began to head back, the wind was at my back just slightly faster than my pace. As I exited the park and the shade of the trees, the moon and street lights cast separate shadows while the wind made my running pants sort of echo my foot step. This happened all at about the same time. It was a lot like an extremely vivid dream I had while in grade school. I was riding a big wheel down the road at night and had the same feelings of creepiness sweep over me. As I went past a driveway in my dream, I felt the sense of danger. Just then as I went past a couple cars, I saw someone crouched down between two cars and looking right at me as if he were going to get me. The moment drug on before he ran out at me. I jumped up and started running, but my freakishly fast legs were anything but. I tried to call for help, but nothing came out. Just as I was caught, I was able to scream out ... for real, in my bedroom. I scared the bejeezus out of my parents and the whole house, but nobody was more freaked than I.
My run tonight coming out of the trees, along with the creepy feelings from when I ran past that guy earlier, made this run feel like that dream. What I'll refer to as the sweat pants echo made it sound as if someone was running up on me. I looked back but didn't see anything on the road or coming from the trees. As I looked forward again I went under a street light and my shadow began to stretch out before me. Just then a shadow of another person moved past my feet as someone was closing in on me too fast for me to get away. The sound of my sweat pants echo was drowned out by the fast approaching feet of someone on my six at about 2:45 AM between the wooded hills, the lake to my right and and the pond to my left.
It happened so fast that I barely had time to react. I threw in a powerful burst as I dodged to the right a little all while looking back as I jumped into the air and did my best impression of an impromptu airial back kick while running forward. It felt far from powerful or effective as I was doing it, but my hope would be to land enough force to disrupt my attacker. If I could do that, then I'd have a fair chance to escape. As it was, the person was too close and moving in too fast before I could react.
Long story short, as I completed my arial back kick I looked and nobody was there. I landed awkwardly and dropped the hammer just in case. I looked back again and nobody was there. I then realized that the moon and more than one street light were casting multiple shadows of me. It was my shadow. Ever been scared of your own shadow? That was not fun. As I settled my nerves a bit more, I realized that coming out of the trees caused the wind to shift and amplify the sound of the sweat-pants foot-step echo. There's really not many spectators at that hour, but I would have loved to see that from the eyes of another! Despite being the guy that roams around in the woods and streets at night, I decided the creepy factor was too high, so I turned in. At least I got out there and did it. Now I'm actually updating my blog, so perhaps I'm coming full circle.
What have I been up to since I disappeared from the world of racing? Well, I decided to skip the Uberman. I think I would have been 9th, but that would be too much of a trip for the time, cost and my ability to be competitive. I was peaked up for the race as best as I could be, so I decided to do the Clear Lake Triathlon. I got my wish of being the One-Armed Bandit. Despite falling way behind with my one-arm swim, I caught up to the leader on the bike and ran away for a victory.
I've done a few smaller races here and there, but things continued to unravel with my injuries. I got to the point where I was probably not going over 15 miles per week running without any biking or swimming. I raced a half marathon at Fairchild in around 1:17 or 1:18 (not much stats for this number guy as I don't even remember or care about my time). I raced a 10K on base in just over 37:15 too. I did the Labor Day Family Fun Run surprising myself by running sub 6 pace. I also did the Human Race 5K that was only 2.6 miles, the USATF IE 5K championships here in Medical Lake the day after the Human Race, so I fell apart after a mile. Finally, my fitness hit a new low as I was 13 pounds heavy and in terrible shape when I did the Finch 5K. I was rested up for it, but it was just too much. I hung tough, but was basically left in the dust by several runners.
Since then, I decided to get myself back into shape. My arm is still screwed up as the surgeon doesn't actually want to do surgery. I get to go back every few weeks and he tells me to come back in a few weeks if it isn't better. Nice plan. I'm sure we can keep cutting him a check as I come back with an injury that isn't healing but still have to pay. Anyway, I've lost 4 of the pounds and am feeling comfortable on the road despite having only put in about 25 miles this week. That's easily the most I've done in a long time, but well short of my 35 miles goal.
Aside from the running, I bought the house next door. This will eventually expand on the Bergquist Training Center (BTC) awesomeness. Being in debt is frustrating, but Amanda and I are easily able to handle it. Speaking of Amanda, our top news is that we're expecting a little baby Bergquist in May. Life is always changing, sometimes for the better or the worse. However, this is one very exciting change that I have always looked forward to. It should be quite an adventure. I'm into that.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Murphy and Uber Me
This year has been one of those days. A great plan is nothing without hard work and determination. I had all that, but you know what they say. Hard work and determination pays off with time, but laziness pays off now. It almost feels now like that would have been a better plan. Murphy’s Law, just like the Robert Burns poem “The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men” seems to have a grip on my year that I had great plans for.
I thought this would be a story about the Trailblazer Triathlon, my favorite race. Instead it’s a story about Murphy and me. There are actually several lists of Murphy’s Laws. Here are some of my favorites.
If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong.
If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then.
If you perceive that there are several ways in which something can go awry, and circumvent these, then another way that you have not prepared for will promptly develop.
If things are going well, you are walking into an ambush.
You never run out of things that can go wrong. (This is the one that really worries me).
Smile … tomorrow will be worse.
I know there are far worse things that happen to people in a day and in a year, but for me, this year is certainly not a good one from the eyes of an athlete. Last year was, by a large margin, my best year of racing. As a point of contrast to this year, last year included nineteen wins and eleven course records. A couple bad days kept it from being more, but I’m not going to complain about that.
This year I was supposed to be better. I had a detailed plan that I started a couple months earlier than usual and was following religiously. Things were going really well. By mid December, I was in better shape than expected, then all hell broke loose. We had our worst winter ever. Training was difficult, but I didn’t care if hell froze over, I’d run there too. Problem was the pool roof isn’t as hard core as I am and decided to collapse. Given my difficult schedule, I didn’t have time to travel to a pool. No swimming for me until the roof was fixed. That would be 92 days. In the following months, I managed to get injured repeatedly. First was the calf, which left me unable to do more than a slow jog. This injury is about as limiting as an injury a triathlete can experience, which resulted in very limited biking and running. Just as I was healing up, I injured my hamstring. As I was recovering from the hamstring, I injured both knees. Later I’d injure my other hamstring. Somehow, I managed to pull it all together to have a great race at the Armed Forces Triathlon Championship, taking sixth overall. The day after I got home, I suffered a freak running accident where I broke three ribs, broke my right collar bone (again) and tore my rotator cuff.
Surgery will be needed to recover from this one and no amount of clever schemes can compensate for this problem. Needless to say, doing the Trailblazer Triathlon was a new experience. I had to swim with one arm. I struggled to make my way across the lake, inhaling water often and being left in the wake of nearly every competitor in the field. Once on the bike, I was able to suffer through the pains, imbalance of one-arm riding and weak power transfer to work my way to 3rd overall with a two-minute deficit on 2nd. Other than the difficulty training causing a bit of fitness loss, the run was the one place I didn’t have to give up a lot. I began to close in on Nate Duncan, a pretty strong runner. Although the gap was coming down quickly, I would have never caught up if he hadn’t lost a few precious seconds after turning off course. Once on course again, I was 16 seconds behind, but would get no closer than 15 seconds and eventually faded from my early efforts, finishing 3rd overall by 22 seconds on Nate and over 4 minutes to Roger Thompson. He absolutely destroyed the course with a time so fast that not even my seriously hampered performance can’t be used as an excuse. Not even close! Third overall would normally be hard to take, but this time it was encouraging.
The day after the Trailblazer I broke my left pinky toe. Since then, I’ve had some aches and pains, but haven’t injured anything else. Amanda injured her foot and says that I ran out of places to injure, so they’re spreading to her. I hope not.
Now I wait for the 31st of July to learn what the surgeon determines the path of healing is for me. I’m told it will likely require surgery and 6 to 9 months of recovery. For nearly everyone out there, my current dilemma is a no brainer. That dilemma is whether I should race the Uberman Triathlon in New Jersey on the 25th. I’ve done few races in my life over which I’d have trouble making this decision, but this is certainly one of them. This is an invite-only race pitting 10 elite men and 10 elite women against each other in an absolute all-out super sprint triathlon that will take about 17 minutes (200m swim, 4-mile bike and 1-mile run). If the year had gone according to plan, then I’d be strong enough that I’d feel good about my chances of placing well. There’s no hope for that now as I’m not only giving up way too much with my one-armed swim, but the trouble with power transfer/bike control and lost fitness will leave me far behind an invited-elite field. Right now I’m not the guy who earned a limited spot in this race. On the other hand, simply spectating an event like this would be great. I have the exclusive opportunity to spectate from within the race and be a part of the very first Uberman Triathlon. I said I’d be there, so I feel obligated to keep my word.
My question(s) to those of you who read this and are willing to answer: What would you do if you were in my shoes? Should I base my participation on my ability or should I show because I’m grateful to have the opportunity? We can never tell if things will get better or worse, making opportunities like this our last. I don’t want to make this a decision I’ll regret. I’m pretty sure I’ll recover and rise up again, but always have to ask myself “what if I don’t?” I was there in 1997 when I wasn’t supposed to ever be able to run again. I know I don’t have to do this, but I’m wondering if, on a grand scale, if I should or owe it to myself and others to simply show up and do my best.
I thought this would be a story about the Trailblazer Triathlon, my favorite race. Instead it’s a story about Murphy and me. There are actually several lists of Murphy’s Laws. Here are some of my favorites.
If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong.
If there is a worse time for something to go wrong, it will happen then.
If you perceive that there are several ways in which something can go awry, and circumvent these, then another way that you have not prepared for will promptly develop.
If things are going well, you are walking into an ambush.
You never run out of things that can go wrong. (This is the one that really worries me).
Smile … tomorrow will be worse.
I know there are far worse things that happen to people in a day and in a year, but for me, this year is certainly not a good one from the eyes of an athlete. Last year was, by a large margin, my best year of racing. As a point of contrast to this year, last year included nineteen wins and eleven course records. A couple bad days kept it from being more, but I’m not going to complain about that.
This year I was supposed to be better. I had a detailed plan that I started a couple months earlier than usual and was following religiously. Things were going really well. By mid December, I was in better shape than expected, then all hell broke loose. We had our worst winter ever. Training was difficult, but I didn’t care if hell froze over, I’d run there too. Problem was the pool roof isn’t as hard core as I am and decided to collapse. Given my difficult schedule, I didn’t have time to travel to a pool. No swimming for me until the roof was fixed. That would be 92 days. In the following months, I managed to get injured repeatedly. First was the calf, which left me unable to do more than a slow jog. This injury is about as limiting as an injury a triathlete can experience, which resulted in very limited biking and running. Just as I was healing up, I injured my hamstring. As I was recovering from the hamstring, I injured both knees. Later I’d injure my other hamstring. Somehow, I managed to pull it all together to have a great race at the Armed Forces Triathlon Championship, taking sixth overall. The day after I got home, I suffered a freak running accident where I broke three ribs, broke my right collar bone (again) and tore my rotator cuff.
Surgery will be needed to recover from this one and no amount of clever schemes can compensate for this problem. Needless to say, doing the Trailblazer Triathlon was a new experience. I had to swim with one arm. I struggled to make my way across the lake, inhaling water often and being left in the wake of nearly every competitor in the field. Once on the bike, I was able to suffer through the pains, imbalance of one-arm riding and weak power transfer to work my way to 3rd overall with a two-minute deficit on 2nd. Other than the difficulty training causing a bit of fitness loss, the run was the one place I didn’t have to give up a lot. I began to close in on Nate Duncan, a pretty strong runner. Although the gap was coming down quickly, I would have never caught up if he hadn’t lost a few precious seconds after turning off course. Once on course again, I was 16 seconds behind, but would get no closer than 15 seconds and eventually faded from my early efforts, finishing 3rd overall by 22 seconds on Nate and over 4 minutes to Roger Thompson. He absolutely destroyed the course with a time so fast that not even my seriously hampered performance can’t be used as an excuse. Not even close! Third overall would normally be hard to take, but this time it was encouraging.
The day after the Trailblazer I broke my left pinky toe. Since then, I’ve had some aches and pains, but haven’t injured anything else. Amanda injured her foot and says that I ran out of places to injure, so they’re spreading to her. I hope not.
Now I wait for the 31st of July to learn what the surgeon determines the path of healing is for me. I’m told it will likely require surgery and 6 to 9 months of recovery. For nearly everyone out there, my current dilemma is a no brainer. That dilemma is whether I should race the Uberman Triathlon in New Jersey on the 25th. I’ve done few races in my life over which I’d have trouble making this decision, but this is certainly one of them. This is an invite-only race pitting 10 elite men and 10 elite women against each other in an absolute all-out super sprint triathlon that will take about 17 minutes (200m swim, 4-mile bike and 1-mile run). If the year had gone according to plan, then I’d be strong enough that I’d feel good about my chances of placing well. There’s no hope for that now as I’m not only giving up way too much with my one-armed swim, but the trouble with power transfer/bike control and lost fitness will leave me far behind an invited-elite field. Right now I’m not the guy who earned a limited spot in this race. On the other hand, simply spectating an event like this would be great. I have the exclusive opportunity to spectate from within the race and be a part of the very first Uberman Triathlon. I said I’d be there, so I feel obligated to keep my word.
My question(s) to those of you who read this and are willing to answer: What would you do if you were in my shoes? Should I base my participation on my ability or should I show because I’m grateful to have the opportunity? We can never tell if things will get better or worse, making opportunities like this our last. I don’t want to make this a decision I’ll regret. I’m pretty sure I’ll recover and rise up again, but always have to ask myself “what if I don’t?” I was there in 1997 when I wasn’t supposed to ever be able to run again. I know I don’t have to do this, but I’m wondering if, on a grand scale, if I should or owe it to myself and others to simply show up and do my best.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Armed Forces Triathlon Championships
Every year for well over a decade now, the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines and Coast Guard meet up at Pt. Mugu Naval Air Base. We also had the Canadian teams as well, so we had a full house. This isn’t about a joint service mission or training. It’s not about aircraft, combat vehicles or other weapons of war. We’re not even working together as one team (the US Military). We come to compete against each other in the sport of triathlon. Some are just home from the war, some are heading out soon, others are waiting until their time comes and for some this will be their last military duty. This is not only a great way for us to blow off some steam and live a week of a world class athlete, but gives us a chance to see how we stack up against the best athletes in the military. We have Navy Seals, Combat Rescue Officers, Rangers, and Commandos numbered among us, but special forces isn’t triathlon. That said, we compete in the only draft legal ITU race in America that has amateurs, elites and pros competing head-to-head.
This has been a goal race for me since 2003 when I first competed. It was a great secret until then, which took me a couple years of searching before I found out who to talk to and get myself on the team. The top six to nine qualify for the Military World Championships, which I’ve done four times. This is one of the greatest experiences I’ve had as an athlete, so I train hard every year for the honor. This year there would not be a world championships as the host country cancelled about a year ago and we were unable to find a replacement. I thought the lack of a world championship would make the race less competitive, but I was wrong. It seems that the rest of these ultra competitive athletes want the incredible test that our championship always brings. I also suspect that Tim O’Donnell’s separation from the Navy played a roll on the level of competition. He’s won the last six and Mike Hagen won the six before that, so it seemed that we’d finally have a slim chance of standing atop the podium.
My training plan was supposed to deliver me to this race fit enough to exit the swim in a good enough place to ride in just about any pack on the road. I was supposed to be strong enough that I could bridge the gap from my pack to one ahead of me, which I was certain there would be due to the speed of many of the pro racers in the field. I was supposed to be able to hold my own against nearly anyone racing when it came to the run, but things didn’t turn out that way at the end of my training. As an athlete that rarely suffered an injury that truly limited my training and racing, I found myself trying to overcome injuries for nearly all of the 11 weeks leading up to the race. I lost a lot of motivation and commitment when my computer was erased along with all my training data. The pool at FAFB was also closed 92 days due to snow loading, which cost me dearly in the swim. Despite the losses, I forced myself to do everything I could to peak up for the race. I lost weight, did some hard training and put everything together in what I thought would be just enough time to pull out of this tail spin.
Mike McCoy and I went down together on Wednesday for the race on Saturday. He’s been dropping me in the swim and bike lately, but my goal was to stay close enough in the swim to bridge the gap in T1 and try to break away on the bike. When it comes down to the run, only small gains can be made if you have the right person to draft into the usually moderate to strong winds. We got a bunch of free training and racing gear, a few meals, free rooms and other events to keep us from getting too bored when we weren’t doing whatever taper training we thought necessary prior to the race.
The women started the two-loop ocean swim ahead of the men by some unknown amount of time. I’m wearing my new Zoot Zenith and didn’t want to test my ability to take it off while wearing a watch. After the last female rounded the first buoy about 350m away, it was our turn to do our ITU beach start. I lined up in the back and decided to start out comfortably hard and work my way into the race rather than fight my way into a fearful panic. I had a bit of a lazy start, but I made it over the waves well and managed to tuck under the incoming waves as I got started swimming. I swam wide and found myself holding my own bit of space and feeling fairly relaxed. There was no need to worry now because I know I did everything I could for this year’s race, even though I’m in worse swim shape than December and worse run shape than in February. As I swam I focused on how pleased I was to have not given up on myself. I felt good about my chances, despite having almost half the men’s field pulling away quickly.
We rounded the first buoy and headed into the headwind and crashing waves. Ironically, I seemed to hit every breath at just the right time. When I thought I was going to inhale some salt water, I got lucky and took in just air. Later, I would discover that many had a terrible struggle here, so I felt even more fortunate considering I had my way with the ocean twice on that stretch. As the swim went on, I found myself holding a position in a rather large group. That bode well for the bike, but I still tried to pick it up on lap two. I spent a lot of time looking at swim cap numbers to later share stories with those I swam against. The best part about the swim was on the last stretch when I began to wonder just how far McCoy was ahead of me. I looked back and to my left and a half body length back is #37, Mike McCoy. Sometimes I get the feeling that things will be OK before I have any proof that they actually will. Seeing #37 was a great confirmation for me. I knew he was ready for this race, especially on the bike, so I settled down and cruised on in. My time was 25:06.98, good for 40th among 108. The fastest swim time was 21:52.70 by Nicholas Vandam (not sure on spelling, but that’s how it is in results. They didn’t spell my name correctly, so at least I was able copy correctly from what I had). I suspect that Nicholas and several others swim well under 20 for 1500m. I didn’t do my homework, but when this race normally has a half dozen sub 20:00 1500m swimmers, I seriously doubt that it’s accurate when a field with several top pros has only five go sub 22:30.
T1 went fairly well for me. I tried what is essentially a new wet suit for a big race. Normally that’s a terrible idea, but I was so grateful to Zoot that I did it anyway. I also had a few swims in it prior to the race. The Zenith didn’t exactly come right off, but I was going as hard as I could and managed to have a great split to make sure I exited T1 with the many others strung out in the swim with me.
My only real point of contention was that the transition area was not equidistant. We had racks on the left with a fence at the end of each rack. We’d have to run down the rack to our bike and then back to the run path. Although I did not have the worst spot in the transition area, I had a worse spot than all but a few of the men in the race. I was determined to be so fast that it didn’t matter, but no matter how fast I go, running extra distance costs time regardless of how I try to sugar coat it. Moreover, being at the end meant I had a lot of athletes to navigate around coming and going in T1 and possibly in T2. I don’t like to complain, but this is a national championship and should have a level playing field. This wasn’t and I figured it would cost me a minimum of 8 seconds.
It was a tangled mess getting to my bike and getting back out of T1, but I was very aggressive and found my way to the mount line before McCoy. I sat up and waited for him, but it turns out that waiting was not necessary. We had a plan for one of us to break away and have the other surge to catch up, but our communication was off and I got boxed in after my pull nearing the first 90-degree turn. There would be a total of 21 90-degree turns and four at 45-degrees. Exiting that first 90, McCoy took off and I could do nothing but sit there and see glimpses of his attack around the helmets of the riders in front of me. Eventually I got out the back side and finally had some open road to work with. I rode hard for a couple miles before realizing I wasn’t going to get him. In the mean time, I had a couple Army guys constantly nagging me to quit pushing so hard because that’s not how to pace line. I told them “This is nationals. I’m not here to practice riding in a pace line and I don’t care if the pack is comfortable with my pace. If you can’t draft me, then slow down.” The pack split, which is a good thing since I’d rather have fewer riders to contend with.
McCoy eventually eased up and we caught back up to him. I had a lot of trouble getting a good draft or finding the pace line that efficient. Half the time I thought I’d be run into the ditch or have a rider shoot off the front and clip my front wheel. I’ve never seen riders peel off the front so fast that it looked like they were swerving around a dangerous object at the last moment. Things got reckless, so I sat off the back with a gap for all but a few sections where the group was under control. McCoy drove the pace most of the time as we reeled in group after group and spit one after another out the back. I constantly had to bridge, but even wasting the energy was better to me than to risk crashing. I rode the 5th fastest time on the day with a 55:06.93. McCoy had the fastest time of the day with a 54:49.29. Drafting on a flat course can be dangerous, but it can be fun too.
T2 was my place to shine, but coming in with a group of about 10 with McCoy and two others having gotten away on the last lap and about 10 seconds up on us, the transition area was cluttered again. I did my best to get in and out, but my heel wouldn’t go in my shoe. It felt like it took forever, but I would guess that I only lost about four to six seconds. My legs were fairly tired, but I was ready to get to the run.
To my absolute amazement, I heard that the first female had just headed out and thought I heard them say something about number ten male heading onto the course as I was about to head out myself. This was good news. We had a four loop run course, which would really only allow me to see where I was on lap one. The course would be flooded with athletes coming and going, so I started my count. As we approached the first out-and-back, I realized the few people I had moved by put me in a pack of four holding spots nine through 12. If I could finish first among them, then I’d be really pleased. My goal was to go top 10 and it looked likely now.
McCoy jumped on my six and I drug us through the first section of headwind. It was tough, but there were athletes to catch and the run is where I make my move. Despite being exhausted and running hard enough to start dropping people, McCoy told me it was now or never and I had to go. We were though the first of four sections of headwind, so I took off. In this race, I always push too hard and somehow my body doesn’t shut me down. On lap 2, I had one of the four still on my six as I pulled him through the wind. I was loosing my senses, so it was just my racing instinct. I was going to beat him the tough guy way, which is to run so hard that he burnt out drafting me. Lap three he was still there. I lost track of my laps until I heard one lap to go for the leader. As we approached the final section of head wind, I surged and got a gap on my parasite. Knowing my pain put him in pain, I pushed even harder to make sure he couldn’t come back. At that point I realized I was catching a couple more in front of me that were running quickly. I didn’t know what lap they were on, but a carrot is a carrot. I was starting to make some unpleasant noises in my attempt to continue on with the pace. Eventually I made the final turn and had only closed slightly. We had very little left to go, so I started my surge for the finish early and kept pushing harder and harder. Despite my best efforts, I could not catch those two who happened to be right in front of me. My run time was 37:14.39, good for 9th on the day. We ran 6.4 miles, so adjusting for the extra would have put my 10K at 36:09. It’s not a great time, but it’s respectable and kept me from getting passed. The fastest time was 34:08.98, so I absolutely got hammered.
As it all turns out, I crossed the line in 7th. Completely spent more than previous years, I couldn’t even walk with help. I had to lock myself up there refusing to move. Luckily, the doctors know my number before the race starts and have it called into them as I’m approaching the finish. In seven years they’ve come to know how hard I push here and I was pleased that I was able to find it within myself to push to the limits again. I do it for my team, for my country and for myself, but it really sucks feeling like I could die. They worked on me until awards. I put my warm-ups on that a team mate brought to me and stumbled to awards. Unlike previous years, I did not get to stand up front to be named to Team USA. We wouldn’t have one this year, but it felt just about as good. I didn’t go top six, but I probably would have gotten the first roll down. It felt like this year was more competitive than ever and I was glad everything came together at the last moment like it did. My overall time was 1:59:00.56. The two guys in front of me finished 7.81 and 9.06 seconds in front of me. That’s right in the ball park of the minimum amount I thought I’d lose in T1 before the race started. It’s difficult to tell what it actually was, but drives home the point that equidistant transitions are really important in these big races. If I had passed just one of those guys, then the Air Force would have been one place up in the overall. The number of other athletes we had may have moved up a spot too, so that’s unfortunate.
The Air Force Women dominated and easily won the women's team competition.
A couple names will no longer be listed among us. A personal favorite of mine is Dan Frost who had a flat, but managed to salvage his race for something less than he would have had, but better than a DNF. You will be missed Frosty. Heidi Grimm will be going out in style tying the record of 6 wins, which two men have done. Also, Mike McCoy will be moving to Illinois for a couple years, so I’ll be on my own in training again, but I hope things work out next year like they were supposed to this year. If they do, then I’ll be on my way to Holland or Belgium, depending on who hosts worlds. Bottom line, I'm extremely grateful that I have the opportunity to be part of such an awesome group of individuals.
This has been a goal race for me since 2003 when I first competed. It was a great secret until then, which took me a couple years of searching before I found out who to talk to and get myself on the team. The top six to nine qualify for the Military World Championships, which I’ve done four times. This is one of the greatest experiences I’ve had as an athlete, so I train hard every year for the honor. This year there would not be a world championships as the host country cancelled about a year ago and we were unable to find a replacement. I thought the lack of a world championship would make the race less competitive, but I was wrong. It seems that the rest of these ultra competitive athletes want the incredible test that our championship always brings. I also suspect that Tim O’Donnell’s separation from the Navy played a roll on the level of competition. He’s won the last six and Mike Hagen won the six before that, so it seemed that we’d finally have a slim chance of standing atop the podium.
My training plan was supposed to deliver me to this race fit enough to exit the swim in a good enough place to ride in just about any pack on the road. I was supposed to be strong enough that I could bridge the gap from my pack to one ahead of me, which I was certain there would be due to the speed of many of the pro racers in the field. I was supposed to be able to hold my own against nearly anyone racing when it came to the run, but things didn’t turn out that way at the end of my training. As an athlete that rarely suffered an injury that truly limited my training and racing, I found myself trying to overcome injuries for nearly all of the 11 weeks leading up to the race. I lost a lot of motivation and commitment when my computer was erased along with all my training data. The pool at FAFB was also closed 92 days due to snow loading, which cost me dearly in the swim. Despite the losses, I forced myself to do everything I could to peak up for the race. I lost weight, did some hard training and put everything together in what I thought would be just enough time to pull out of this tail spin.
Mike McCoy and I went down together on Wednesday for the race on Saturday. He’s been dropping me in the swim and bike lately, but my goal was to stay close enough in the swim to bridge the gap in T1 and try to break away on the bike. When it comes down to the run, only small gains can be made if you have the right person to draft into the usually moderate to strong winds. We got a bunch of free training and racing gear, a few meals, free rooms and other events to keep us from getting too bored when we weren’t doing whatever taper training we thought necessary prior to the race.
The women started the two-loop ocean swim ahead of the men by some unknown amount of time. I’m wearing my new Zoot Zenith and didn’t want to test my ability to take it off while wearing a watch. After the last female rounded the first buoy about 350m away, it was our turn to do our ITU beach start. I lined up in the back and decided to start out comfortably hard and work my way into the race rather than fight my way into a fearful panic. I had a bit of a lazy start, but I made it over the waves well and managed to tuck under the incoming waves as I got started swimming. I swam wide and found myself holding my own bit of space and feeling fairly relaxed. There was no need to worry now because I know I did everything I could for this year’s race, even though I’m in worse swim shape than December and worse run shape than in February. As I swam I focused on how pleased I was to have not given up on myself. I felt good about my chances, despite having almost half the men’s field pulling away quickly.
We rounded the first buoy and headed into the headwind and crashing waves. Ironically, I seemed to hit every breath at just the right time. When I thought I was going to inhale some salt water, I got lucky and took in just air. Later, I would discover that many had a terrible struggle here, so I felt even more fortunate considering I had my way with the ocean twice on that stretch. As the swim went on, I found myself holding a position in a rather large group. That bode well for the bike, but I still tried to pick it up on lap two. I spent a lot of time looking at swim cap numbers to later share stories with those I swam against. The best part about the swim was on the last stretch when I began to wonder just how far McCoy was ahead of me. I looked back and to my left and a half body length back is #37, Mike McCoy. Sometimes I get the feeling that things will be OK before I have any proof that they actually will. Seeing #37 was a great confirmation for me. I knew he was ready for this race, especially on the bike, so I settled down and cruised on in. My time was 25:06.98, good for 40th among 108. The fastest swim time was 21:52.70 by Nicholas Vandam (not sure on spelling, but that’s how it is in results. They didn’t spell my name correctly, so at least I was able copy correctly from what I had). I suspect that Nicholas and several others swim well under 20 for 1500m. I didn’t do my homework, but when this race normally has a half dozen sub 20:00 1500m swimmers, I seriously doubt that it’s accurate when a field with several top pros has only five go sub 22:30.
T1 went fairly well for me. I tried what is essentially a new wet suit for a big race. Normally that’s a terrible idea, but I was so grateful to Zoot that I did it anyway. I also had a few swims in it prior to the race. The Zenith didn’t exactly come right off, but I was going as hard as I could and managed to have a great split to make sure I exited T1 with the many others strung out in the swim with me.
My only real point of contention was that the transition area was not equidistant. We had racks on the left with a fence at the end of each rack. We’d have to run down the rack to our bike and then back to the run path. Although I did not have the worst spot in the transition area, I had a worse spot than all but a few of the men in the race. I was determined to be so fast that it didn’t matter, but no matter how fast I go, running extra distance costs time regardless of how I try to sugar coat it. Moreover, being at the end meant I had a lot of athletes to navigate around coming and going in T1 and possibly in T2. I don’t like to complain, but this is a national championship and should have a level playing field. This wasn’t and I figured it would cost me a minimum of 8 seconds.
It was a tangled mess getting to my bike and getting back out of T1, but I was very aggressive and found my way to the mount line before McCoy. I sat up and waited for him, but it turns out that waiting was not necessary. We had a plan for one of us to break away and have the other surge to catch up, but our communication was off and I got boxed in after my pull nearing the first 90-degree turn. There would be a total of 21 90-degree turns and four at 45-degrees. Exiting that first 90, McCoy took off and I could do nothing but sit there and see glimpses of his attack around the helmets of the riders in front of me. Eventually I got out the back side and finally had some open road to work with. I rode hard for a couple miles before realizing I wasn’t going to get him. In the mean time, I had a couple Army guys constantly nagging me to quit pushing so hard because that’s not how to pace line. I told them “This is nationals. I’m not here to practice riding in a pace line and I don’t care if the pack is comfortable with my pace. If you can’t draft me, then slow down.” The pack split, which is a good thing since I’d rather have fewer riders to contend with.
McCoy eventually eased up and we caught back up to him. I had a lot of trouble getting a good draft or finding the pace line that efficient. Half the time I thought I’d be run into the ditch or have a rider shoot off the front and clip my front wheel. I’ve never seen riders peel off the front so fast that it looked like they were swerving around a dangerous object at the last moment. Things got reckless, so I sat off the back with a gap for all but a few sections where the group was under control. McCoy drove the pace most of the time as we reeled in group after group and spit one after another out the back. I constantly had to bridge, but even wasting the energy was better to me than to risk crashing. I rode the 5th fastest time on the day with a 55:06.93. McCoy had the fastest time of the day with a 54:49.29. Drafting on a flat course can be dangerous, but it can be fun too.
T2 was my place to shine, but coming in with a group of about 10 with McCoy and two others having gotten away on the last lap and about 10 seconds up on us, the transition area was cluttered again. I did my best to get in and out, but my heel wouldn’t go in my shoe. It felt like it took forever, but I would guess that I only lost about four to six seconds. My legs were fairly tired, but I was ready to get to the run.
To my absolute amazement, I heard that the first female had just headed out and thought I heard them say something about number ten male heading onto the course as I was about to head out myself. This was good news. We had a four loop run course, which would really only allow me to see where I was on lap one. The course would be flooded with athletes coming and going, so I started my count. As we approached the first out-and-back, I realized the few people I had moved by put me in a pack of four holding spots nine through 12. If I could finish first among them, then I’d be really pleased. My goal was to go top 10 and it looked likely now.
McCoy jumped on my six and I drug us through the first section of headwind. It was tough, but there were athletes to catch and the run is where I make my move. Despite being exhausted and running hard enough to start dropping people, McCoy told me it was now or never and I had to go. We were though the first of four sections of headwind, so I took off. In this race, I always push too hard and somehow my body doesn’t shut me down. On lap 2, I had one of the four still on my six as I pulled him through the wind. I was loosing my senses, so it was just my racing instinct. I was going to beat him the tough guy way, which is to run so hard that he burnt out drafting me. Lap three he was still there. I lost track of my laps until I heard one lap to go for the leader. As we approached the final section of head wind, I surged and got a gap on my parasite. Knowing my pain put him in pain, I pushed even harder to make sure he couldn’t come back. At that point I realized I was catching a couple more in front of me that were running quickly. I didn’t know what lap they were on, but a carrot is a carrot. I was starting to make some unpleasant noises in my attempt to continue on with the pace. Eventually I made the final turn and had only closed slightly. We had very little left to go, so I started my surge for the finish early and kept pushing harder and harder. Despite my best efforts, I could not catch those two who happened to be right in front of me. My run time was 37:14.39, good for 9th on the day. We ran 6.4 miles, so adjusting for the extra would have put my 10K at 36:09. It’s not a great time, but it’s respectable and kept me from getting passed. The fastest time was 34:08.98, so I absolutely got hammered.
As it all turns out, I crossed the line in 7th. Completely spent more than previous years, I couldn’t even walk with help. I had to lock myself up there refusing to move. Luckily, the doctors know my number before the race starts and have it called into them as I’m approaching the finish. In seven years they’ve come to know how hard I push here and I was pleased that I was able to find it within myself to push to the limits again. I do it for my team, for my country and for myself, but it really sucks feeling like I could die. They worked on me until awards. I put my warm-ups on that a team mate brought to me and stumbled to awards. Unlike previous years, I did not get to stand up front to be named to Team USA. We wouldn’t have one this year, but it felt just about as good. I didn’t go top six, but I probably would have gotten the first roll down. It felt like this year was more competitive than ever and I was glad everything came together at the last moment like it did. My overall time was 1:59:00.56. The two guys in front of me finished 7.81 and 9.06 seconds in front of me. That’s right in the ball park of the minimum amount I thought I’d lose in T1 before the race started. It’s difficult to tell what it actually was, but drives home the point that equidistant transitions are really important in these big races. If I had passed just one of those guys, then the Air Force would have been one place up in the overall. The number of other athletes we had may have moved up a spot too, so that’s unfortunate.
The Air Force Women dominated and easily won the women's team competition.
A couple names will no longer be listed among us. A personal favorite of mine is Dan Frost who had a flat, but managed to salvage his race for something less than he would have had, but better than a DNF. You will be missed Frosty. Heidi Grimm will be going out in style tying the record of 6 wins, which two men have done. Also, Mike McCoy will be moving to Illinois for a couple years, so I’ll be on my own in training again, but I hope things work out next year like they were supposed to this year. If they do, then I’ll be on my way to Holland or Belgium, depending on who hosts worlds. Bottom line, I'm extremely grateful that I have the opportunity to be part of such an awesome group of individuals.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Point zero zero five!
My lack of posting this year has been indicative of the way my year has been going, which is to say it hasn't been going much at all. I had about two weeks to get ready for Wenatchee Marathon after my injury. Being creative and aggressive is necessary for the two-week training plan, but I got it done. Two weeks after that was the Lincoln Marathon. How do you recover from a marathon at the end of a two-week training plan and train for the next one in two weeks? There really isn't a good answer for that other than do the best I can, which is exactly what I did. Amanda and I do Wenatchee every year during our anniversary; moreover, I'm the only one to have done the marathon every year, so I choose not to skip it. This is the only race I've done every one of.
Lincoln is the National Guard Marathon Championships, which I have the honor of doing. I represent the Washington Guard. My body was angry with me for doing this double. It's normally not a problem, but I'm normally in a lot better shape. At this race, I went for a sub 2:45. I felt I owed it to Team Washington to give it my best and put my neck on the line. It was tough from the start, but I was holding strong, managing my fluids and nutrition and hoping a lot. Hope never ran out, but my energy did. Around mile 18 I started to fade. I backed off, but it wasn't enough. Around mile 22, it turned into a difficult struggle. My miles slowed to over 7 minutes, but I pressed all the way to the line. I lost a lot of time, but managed to cross the line in under 2:51. I think I was 2:50:38, but can't recall and am too lazy to look it up. I was around 17th overall and 7th or 8th in the National Guard. Not bad considering the circumstances. The entire run I kept thinking about how certain I was about my chances of going sub 2:37. My how things change so quickly.
Following Lincoln, I found my left knee and both hamstrings giving me a lot of grief. Injuries are pretty frustrating, but these were better than the calf injury. I could still run as long as I was careful and kept the pace under control. That meant between 7:30 and 8:00 pace. It's a lot better than the 9:30s when my calf was out. Injuries have been really rare for me, so I still consider myself fortunate during this time when I'm injured more than I'm not. It's been hard to stay motivated and patient. Those two things just don't seem compatible. I managed to keep my appetite and gain 9 pounds. My bike had only been ridden once (yes by me) since April, but I've been swimming a moderate amount. It might sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I'm not. I'm enjoying the absence of constant fatigue and pain of training and all of the extra time that I have in my schedule due to the lack of training. I miss the training at the same time.
Last Sunday, 17 May, was one to remember. I still work nights, so I didn't quite realize how close I pushed my nap to the point I had to leave. I started packing my gear at 8 AM for a race that was at 9. I left at 8:18 and showed up at 8:56. This was actually fairly fun for me. I unloaded my car by the transition area. My team mate Mike McCoy took my bike while I got my gear. Amanda took my $25 and got me signed up. I finished at the car, passed my transition gear to her as I ran to registration to sign my life away and scooted off to the start line with about a minute to spare. Mike pointed out where my bike was and it was time to start.
I'd been predicting it since last year. Josh Hadway is going to be a monster to deal with as he settles into multi-sport. He's a fiery racer with tons of talent. That was on full display as soon as the race started. He bolted away from the field so fast that it was almost humiliating. On the other hand, getting whooped comes a lot easier when I know I'm not even close to my best. He put about 5 seconds on me in the first 30. Even as tough as my last 10 weeks have been, I knew that kind of ratio wouldn't hold out. It didn't matter though. Catching him on a bike I haven't been riding wasn't going to happen anyway. I was content to chase McCoy and others.
I survived the run without quitting or getting too far behind (just over a minute for 2.44 miles). Josh must have slowed down to only around :20/mile faster than me. Transition was a nightmare as I didn't have things set up, didn't have an extra pair of shoes and was not in a good spot. I'm not complaining. I have nobody to blame but myself if I cared to do that. These are just details that explain why I was in there long enough to bake a cake. Once out on the road, I found myself falling further behind McCoy who was slowly catching Sam, while Josh was pulling away from everyone. I held on until two riders passed me. One was Nate Duncan and the other was that other guy. I was able to hang with them, falling back and fighting my way up to them numerous times.
We hit T2 and this transition was only marginally better than T1. I figured the best I could do at that point was 4th, but even when I'm hurt and out of shape I lie to myself. For about a half mile I hung with Nate and that other one guy, then proceeded to make a move. I'm not sure why. I really didn't care, but it's just how my brain works. I'm the running version of Seabiscut (horse movie). At the end of lap one, I could see McCoy and Sam well in front of him. What the heck ... why not try to catch them. So I cranked it up and managed to close the gap steadily. Only a furious finish was able to close the gap to McCoy. The finish was my closest in any race ever. According to the chip time I was .005 behind him. According to the photo finish, I was about 6" in front of him with my lean. I really needed him there to make me work. If I had been by myself, then I would have given up long ago and cruised on in. My second run was better than my first and only 31 seconds slower (vs. over 1:00 for the first 2.44M run) than Josh and faster than the rest of the field.
Now the challenge is to peak up as well as I can for Armed Forces Triathlon Nationals. My body responds well to high intensity over a short period of time. I went into Spring Thaw tired after a hard week and a race a couple days before, so my condition wasn't as bad as Josh made it look. He would have whooped me either way, so there are no regrets. My swim and run are most important for this draft legal race. I'm also on leave this week, so I can do whatever I need to do to get ready. I've already lost 3 of those overeating pounds and have had a couple more really great workouts. My best races always come at the end of the summer. Despite my best plans to make this my best year ever, it looks like it will be the same old story with a much tougher beginning. Josh inspired me to get my fitness back an McCoy helped stoke that competitive fire. Things are looking a little brighter for me toward the end of May.
That said, I have no pics. In fact, I have very little of anything nowadays after my computer crashed and I lost everything until I get the computer back from a computer lab. There are no guarantees, but they'll try. I didn't realize I had anything I'd miss if the computer crashed. All my pictures and a couple years worth of training journals ... both irreplaceable.
Lincoln is the National Guard Marathon Championships, which I have the honor of doing. I represent the Washington Guard. My body was angry with me for doing this double. It's normally not a problem, but I'm normally in a lot better shape. At this race, I went for a sub 2:45. I felt I owed it to Team Washington to give it my best and put my neck on the line. It was tough from the start, but I was holding strong, managing my fluids and nutrition and hoping a lot. Hope never ran out, but my energy did. Around mile 18 I started to fade. I backed off, but it wasn't enough. Around mile 22, it turned into a difficult struggle. My miles slowed to over 7 minutes, but I pressed all the way to the line. I lost a lot of time, but managed to cross the line in under 2:51. I think I was 2:50:38, but can't recall and am too lazy to look it up. I was around 17th overall and 7th or 8th in the National Guard. Not bad considering the circumstances. The entire run I kept thinking about how certain I was about my chances of going sub 2:37. My how things change so quickly.
Following Lincoln, I found my left knee and both hamstrings giving me a lot of grief. Injuries are pretty frustrating, but these were better than the calf injury. I could still run as long as I was careful and kept the pace under control. That meant between 7:30 and 8:00 pace. It's a lot better than the 9:30s when my calf was out. Injuries have been really rare for me, so I still consider myself fortunate during this time when I'm injured more than I'm not. It's been hard to stay motivated and patient. Those two things just don't seem compatible. I managed to keep my appetite and gain 9 pounds. My bike had only been ridden once (yes by me) since April, but I've been swimming a moderate amount. It might sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself, but I'm not. I'm enjoying the absence of constant fatigue and pain of training and all of the extra time that I have in my schedule due to the lack of training. I miss the training at the same time.
Last Sunday, 17 May, was one to remember. I still work nights, so I didn't quite realize how close I pushed my nap to the point I had to leave. I started packing my gear at 8 AM for a race that was at 9. I left at 8:18 and showed up at 8:56. This was actually fairly fun for me. I unloaded my car by the transition area. My team mate Mike McCoy took my bike while I got my gear. Amanda took my $25 and got me signed up. I finished at the car, passed my transition gear to her as I ran to registration to sign my life away and scooted off to the start line with about a minute to spare. Mike pointed out where my bike was and it was time to start.
I'd been predicting it since last year. Josh Hadway is going to be a monster to deal with as he settles into multi-sport. He's a fiery racer with tons of talent. That was on full display as soon as the race started. He bolted away from the field so fast that it was almost humiliating. On the other hand, getting whooped comes a lot easier when I know I'm not even close to my best. He put about 5 seconds on me in the first 30. Even as tough as my last 10 weeks have been, I knew that kind of ratio wouldn't hold out. It didn't matter though. Catching him on a bike I haven't been riding wasn't going to happen anyway. I was content to chase McCoy and others.
I survived the run without quitting or getting too far behind (just over a minute for 2.44 miles). Josh must have slowed down to only around :20/mile faster than me. Transition was a nightmare as I didn't have things set up, didn't have an extra pair of shoes and was not in a good spot. I'm not complaining. I have nobody to blame but myself if I cared to do that. These are just details that explain why I was in there long enough to bake a cake. Once out on the road, I found myself falling further behind McCoy who was slowly catching Sam, while Josh was pulling away from everyone. I held on until two riders passed me. One was Nate Duncan and the other was that other guy. I was able to hang with them, falling back and fighting my way up to them numerous times.
We hit T2 and this transition was only marginally better than T1. I figured the best I could do at that point was 4th, but even when I'm hurt and out of shape I lie to myself. For about a half mile I hung with Nate and that other one guy, then proceeded to make a move. I'm not sure why. I really didn't care, but it's just how my brain works. I'm the running version of Seabiscut (horse movie). At the end of lap one, I could see McCoy and Sam well in front of him. What the heck ... why not try to catch them. So I cranked it up and managed to close the gap steadily. Only a furious finish was able to close the gap to McCoy. The finish was my closest in any race ever. According to the chip time I was .005 behind him. According to the photo finish, I was about 6" in front of him with my lean. I really needed him there to make me work. If I had been by myself, then I would have given up long ago and cruised on in. My second run was better than my first and only 31 seconds slower (vs. over 1:00 for the first 2.44M run) than Josh and faster than the rest of the field.
Now the challenge is to peak up as well as I can for Armed Forces Triathlon Nationals. My body responds well to high intensity over a short period of time. I went into Spring Thaw tired after a hard week and a race a couple days before, so my condition wasn't as bad as Josh made it look. He would have whooped me either way, so there are no regrets. My swim and run are most important for this draft legal race. I'm also on leave this week, so I can do whatever I need to do to get ready. I've already lost 3 of those overeating pounds and have had a couple more really great workouts. My best races always come at the end of the summer. Despite my best plans to make this my best year ever, it looks like it will be the same old story with a much tougher beginning. Josh inspired me to get my fitness back an McCoy helped stoke that competitive fire. Things are looking a little brighter for me toward the end of May.
That said, I have no pics. In fact, I have very little of anything nowadays after my computer crashed and I lost everything until I get the computer back from a computer lab. There are no guarantees, but they'll try. I didn't realize I had anything I'd miss if the computer crashed. All my pictures and a couple years worth of training journals ... both irreplaceable.
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