From a postcard I'm sending home to the family:
My long bike = 72mi, my long run 9.4 getting ready for this weekend.
This race will mark the first event I'll start with the simple goal of finishing since I started my first Ironman back in 1995 up in New Hampshire. And that's tip #1:
Tip #1: Singular Goal = Finish - This means no time goals. None. Nada (as they say around here). Just finish, and then you'll have not only a PR (personal record), but also a much better idea of what it takes to finish, and where you can begin to shave off time for your next one.
Getting ready for this Ironman, my training has been... lackluster. I have followed a slow trajectory out of fitness since Kona last fall. Complicated by two MS attacks - one in December, my neurologist and I have decided now, and one just a couple weeks ago. I can already hear (and have heard) the voices of those who know me saying that it's all hogwash and I'm going to "crush it." Well, something will be crushed on Saturday.
I'm a numbers guy. I'll lay out some numbers for comparison, and I think there will be general agreement that the prep equates to less-than-minimalist training, particularly from this minimalist training specialist:
In the 3 months of "hard training" - taper excluded - leading up to Ironman New Zealand last year (perhaps my greatest Ironman performance ever):
Total hours = 131 (10.9hrs/wk)
Total swim = 21.5hrs (~76k yards)
Total bike = 77.3hrs (~1660 miles)
Total run = 31.8hrs (290 miles)
Leading up to Kona (a solid race, but less-than hoped):
Total hours = 176.5 (14.7hrs/wk)
Total swim = 29hrs (~101.5k yards)
Total bike = 113hrs (~2430 miles)
Total run = 34.5rs (302 miles)
Leading up to Lanzarote (survival mode):
Total hours = 77 (6.4hrs/wk)
Total swim = 5.8hrs (~20.5k yards)
Total bike = 55hrs (~1000 miles)
Total run = 15hrs (134 miles)
Which brings us to the next tip:
Tip #2: Homework is done. Hay is in the barn. What will be will be. No going back now. However you'd like to phrase it, the end result remains: whatever your training has been - too much, or too little, or just right, it's done. No more second guessing. No more wishing for something different. Move your head into the present. Be here. Be now.
One of my favorite pre-race memories comes from Ironman Florida in 2005. I had only weeks before crashed, broken my bike, torn the rotator cuff in my shoulder, and killed the squirrell in the process. My expectations for that race dropped through the floor. I was in possibly the best shape of my life to that point (and maybe ever), but hadn't a clue as to whether I would even survive the swim, let alone the rest of the race. That morning, looking around the beach before the start, I found a calmness in my mind that I never thought possible before any race - big or little. I could see the emotions on everyone else's face (which simultaneously made inspired me and made me chuckle now and then) - the hope, the fear, the focus. I followed Tip #2, and decided to just give it what I could (it was not my 10th IM, so I could skip past Tip #1).
I set my PR of 9:10. Which brings us to Tip #3:
Tip #3: While nothing satisfies like surpassing expectations, nothing stings worse than not meeting them. Setting expectations appropriately can stump even the best athletes. Survival goals are easy: see tip #1. Beyond that, things get complicated. You need three, in my opinion, for every race: a realistic goal, a challenging goal, and a satisfactory goal. Set the satisfactory goal to what will ultimately have you look back on the race and not consider it a failure. Realistic revolves around what, on an average day, an good (not great) performance would be given your training. The challenging goal is the creme de la creme. If achieved, you'd be as happy as the cow jumping over the moon. But realize that if you don't, it was a reach to begin with. A goal that may or may not happen this time around. That's what the other 2 goals are for. To leave you satisfied, if not happy. And if all goes just right, eccstatic. But rarely disappointed.
Tip #4: Control the Controllables. Own your race. You can control your effort, your form, your attitude (mostly) and your nutrition (mostly). That's about it. The weather (favorable or otherwise) rests out of your hands. So is a flat tire. Your competitor's ability both to go fast(er than you) and possibly to cheat, likewise, rest out of your control. Typically when you start to focus on the uncontrollables, you find your attitude going south as well ("damn wind" "he's drafting!" "damn pothole"). Take a deep breath, and refocus inward, to the controllables. First the attitude, then the nutrition (often a source of bad attitudes), and finally to form and your effort. Then repeat the process. And again. And again. The good news is, you have all day to practice over and over!
Two final thoughts regarding general race attitude come to mind before I get into some small points about each sport. In 1998 (or was it '99?) when I ran the Boston Marathon for the one and only time, I carried a disposable camera in my FuelBelt holster. It fit perfectly. In my photo album I have a nearly complete record of that day - from boarding the bus to get to the starline all the way to Kenmore Square, where I sadly ran out of film. I took photos of folks I knew watching the race, crazy stuff along the way (really? some guy set up a treadmill alongside the course?!?).
Tip #5: Have some fun - at least now and then. It doesn't need to be all an effort. Smile with the thought of "fake it 'till you make it" Your smile just might become genuine. Personally, I'm going to take my iPhone with me to take pictures along the race course - there's at least one perk to "just finishing!" Particularly of my parents, who have become world-travellers along side me this past year to watch all 3 IM I'll have done. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Ok - last few things in this epic blog entry. In survival mode, a few sport specific tips come to mind for my race this weekend:
SWIM - start on the outside of the first turn. I won't get crushed (as much) by the crowd as we all inevitably try to hit the corner.
- get out a little harder than I expect to go, so that I can draft off those feet that will be going the speed I want to go. If I find myself swimming next to someone going the same speed, and I'm not drafting, let them get ahead (I'm in survival mode, right?) and draft. Lots of energy saved there. I'll need it later.
BIKE: PATIENCE. Much more than ever before. Going to be a long day in the saddle going very easy.
- lap button on each climb to track power for each climb. Not above 200-210W ideally (by way of comparison, I averaged between ~230 W for the entire race in New Zealand and 220W in Kona)
- bring biggest cassette I've got to spin (that's a 12-28) as much as possible
- if betwen gears (i.e., rpm too slow in the 16, too fast in the 17), go with the higher rpm to save muscle glycogen.
- consider serious headwinds when climbing (i.e., aerobars at 6mph) More than a net 12mph headwind, aero position faster (or less energy). That means going 6mph into an 20mph headwind I've got a net 14mph headwind.
- after all hard climbs, when grinding inevitable, consciously get cadence back up to mid 90's
- on descents: rubber-side down
- on descents: get up to speed as usual, but then be ok with coasting to save energy
- LOOK AROUND
- take pictures
RUN: PATIENCE and mental prep to suffer at least as much as any Ironman I've raced before
- primary concerns = feet (not calloused as usual from running) and hips (stabilizing muscle endurance)
- if running is possible, even a slow is minute(s) faster than walking
- smile
- take pictures
Constant reminder: 17hrs to finish.
Surely that's possible.
Should you desire you can follow my progress at www.ironman.com under live race coverage.
Thanks, as always, for reading.
Good night, and good luck as the moon rises. Hope to be the cow come Saturday.
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