Kona - Race Report

Another Kona in the log.

Reader’s Digest Version: swim was better than expected (yes, I think the speedsuit actually helps!), bike slower than hoped for – partially due to needing to pee more than I’ve ever peed in the first half of an IM (3 times on the way out), but mostly due to the tactical decision of going easy with the tailwinds expecting massive headwinds the entire way home from Hawi, but weren’t as bad as expected coming home – and a run that, aside from some nasty cramps and a couple of port-o-pottie stops went better than I thought it was while I was running, but was slower than I’d hoped for going into the race.  But I suppose when you hit mile 4 and are thinking how nice it would be to trip and break your leg so you won’t have to continue, I did okay.  9:39:12 official time (1:03:50 swim, 5:05:18 bike, and 3:21:11 run with some conservative transitions just over 4’ each).  It was good conditions in Hawaii – more than 250 people broke 9:30.  Memories of the winds of 2004 might have cost me this time.

 

Non-Reader’s Digest Version (yes, I know I’m long-winded):

The week leading up to the race was much busier than normal for me.  I met 3 of the original 15 Ironman participants, got to break one of the original IM trophies, even.  Happily they said that happened all the time.  Got a couple of rides, including a windy ride home from Hapuna together in the days leading up to the race.

 

I had the opportunity to participate on a panel discussion on behalf of the Ironman Foundation (that's me, on the left in the sun), broadcast across the Ironman Expo a few days before the race and relate my story to the folks ambling around the area.  Given that this year I raced in no small part to raise funds for research into athletes with Multiple Sclerosis, this seemed a perfect cap to that effort.  And with over $14k raised as of right now, I cannot be happier with this prong of my 2013 IMH adventure.  While my story seemed to pale in comparison to some of the fund-raising stories of others (“Raising funds to fight cancer after being given 2 months to live”, “Raising nearly $100k to benefit research into Autism after my son was diagnosed”, “Deciding to do and Ironman so that I would suffer a bit while my mother was going through chemotherapy”, etc), feedback seemed quite positive from folks who I talked with afterwards, inspiring me further to “give it my all.”

 As usual, it was hot and windy, but winds were a bit more favorable than usual – which lead to an error in my tactical decisions on the bike.  More on that later.  Some thin clouds came in across the Ali’I portion of the run – welcome news for me, as I had 3 thoughts keeping me nervous coming into the race: 1) the joys of a mass swim start; 2) the heat – heat has definitely affected me more this year with the MS, fatigue is higher, tingling abounds, the feeling that someone is incessantly rubbing sandpaper on my wrists, tightness down the back and into the quads whenever my head tilts below neutral, general irritability of mood; and 3) the thoughts of another day like the Pac Crest ½-Iron race from late June – where food poisoning 3 days before the race dropped 6 pounds from me overnight, and I fought through glycogen depletion starting by mile 6 on the run to finish my slowest ½-iron race ever.  I never – ever – want to repeat that mental digging again, and the thought of maybe needing to go there again really did put a chink in my confidence.  But my training had been good, I was prepared for the winds, there was nothing more I could do except execute the plan.

 BANG!  Swim start found me most of the way out to the left, right on the start line (I actually bumped into my old CU Triathlon team coach on a paddle board out there!), and while there were a few bumps and kicks (including one that made me quite happy I had Aquasphere goggles with a large gasket and not my older swim goggles that fit pretty close around the eyeball).  But with the exception of the turns (at mile 1.1 and 1.2), I could hold good feet, and maintain my stroke.  My speedsuit seemed to help nicely, as I came out over a minute ahead of my fastest predicted time.  Swim = 1:03:50 (82^nd AG, 535^nd overall).

Easy T1 with nowhere to sit, but lots of sunscreen put on.

(Bike caveat – I found, upon getting my bike from TriBike Transport, that my seat had somehow angled down 3deg.  In getting it back, I misjudged the angle, and while I thought it was about 1deg down, it turned out to be 1.5deg up.  I wonder if this altered my power production.  Regardless, it certainly provided me with the worst chaffing in … undesirable areas … that I’ve ever experienced.  Ever.  Fortunately, I was able to pigeon-hole this during the race, and just accept that it was uncomfortable, and the shower post-race would be unbearable.  Soldier on…)

Heading out on the bike, 2 things occurred to me: 1) ~65 minutes into IMH is a really popular time to be heading out on your bike, and 2) tailwinds moved us along heading north towards Hawi.  At this point, I made my errant tactical decision of the day and dropped my effort with the expectation of having nasty winds coming home from Hawi (based primarily on the misery of riding here in 2004’s terrible winds).  By the turn around in Hawi, I had dropped 119 places.  I told myself all along that letting folks go was okay – I’d see them later in the headwinds that would have overall bike times 20’ slower than expected. And if not, though, I was on pace for a PR bike time, which also convinced me that it was a win-win decision to have eased up.  Nutritionally, I’ve never done better on the bike.  I was spot on plan throughout the ride.  Unexpectedly, I had peed 3 times before the climb to Hawi, and again on the way down.  I’ve never peed more than twice on the bike in an IM, and it occurred to me that I was well-hydrated, it was also an annoyance to seriously coast down the hills to do my business.  The winds did pick up some, and people did start to come back to me.  Across the last 37 miles (the return portion of the Queen K), I found myself passing 114 folk.  Unfortunately, the winds were far less than expected, and I only passed 120 folks total.  (losing 12 places on the bike in an IM is something that has also never happened to me - fortunately I didn’t find that out until after the race.)  While I didn’t know how poor a choice I had made regarding pacing it had been, I was aware it had been a mistake.  But still – I’m heading out of T2 looking like sub 9:30 is still possible if I can nail the 3:10 marathon I think I’m capable of producing.  Bike 5:05:18 (and now 109^th AG, 547^th overall)

 

Again – thin clouds over Ali’I (the first 10 miles of the run) helping out.  All week I had noticed that I LOVED the shade, and did NOT like the direct sunlight.  It always amazes me how different my symptoms are between the two, even on warmer days.  Direct sunlight is not my friend.  Thus heading down Ali’I, I’m feeling pretty good.  Except that I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get my form right.  I remain sway-backed, no matter how hard I try to get my shoulders up over my hips and in front of my landing feet.  Maybe it’s something to do with the bike seat?  Well, not much I can do – just keep on trying to get it back, and keep on keepin’ on.

People are now steadily coming back to me – in all, I would pass almost 190 people en route to the finish – and that helps, certainly.  By mile 3 I decided it was cooler with no hat on.  Suit unzipped as far as it could go, ice dumped down it every aid station.  I took to dunking my own sponges each aid station – sinking my arms as far to the bottom of the ice water and sponges as possible (which worked until there was no more ice on the Queen K).   But already by mile 4, I really felt … hot.  Sharp reminders not to tilt my head down came whenever I forgot – nothing like the feeling of a jolt of electricity is zipping down your back, reaching to the tips of your fingers and wrapping around your hips to your thighs to remind you to keep your chin up.  I’m beginning to weigh the benefits of finishing versus breaking my leg so as to have a decent excuse to stop here.  Reminder of the time of day – near 1:30.  AKA “The Witching Hour”.  Nap time – mental state breaks down, I get, shall we say, irritable.  Bad enough on a normal day, really not good when 2/3rds of the way through an Ironman.

I take a quick break with the family at mile 7.  My parents once again made the journey to support me, as did my amazing wife and son.  Thinking of all the sacrifices they have made so that I could be here kept me going at this point.  Upon resuming, I consciously thing, “OK, pity party’s over – no more DNF talk.”  And it worked.  By the time I get up to the Queen K, I’m mentally feeling better, but now getting some nasty cramps in the abdomen.  Yet again – something I’ve never really had in IM.  Will these lessons never cease?  I stop at a port-o-pottie to see if I can’t just get rid of whatever’s causing it, but someone’s inside.  Unfortunately, as I’m stopped, it was just easier to wait, and wait I did.  Even the guy at the aid station on the bull-horn noted that “the guy on the Jon’s better hurry up”.  Finally he comes out, I go in, and nothing comes out.  Off I go again having simply wasted a few minutes.  But at least, I note, my form seems to be coming back.

Continuing to focus on the moment, I note that this year, they don’t allow spectators past mile 15 or so.  It gets quiet.  Breathing, foot falls, and that’s it.  Honestly, the folks who donated to my cause kept me moving through there.  They gave – now it was my turn.  But I’m beginning to consider that I never want to do this race again.   My wrists hurt, my hip flexors are cramping, my pace is slow, and do not look down (zap!).  Head into the energy lab, make the turn-around, and finally, whatever’s in my guy wants to come out.  Another minute in the Jon and the world is SO much better.  I look at my watch – 8:35 race time, and I’ve got 8 miles to go.  7:15’s seem so possible to get just under 9:30.  Then reality sets in, and my times are slower.  I still think I might be done with this race.  Maybe even IM.   I lose track a bit with a few miles to go, just knowing I’ll break 10hrs here.  That, regardless of conditions, was high on my list of goals for this race.  But then I note with about 1.5mi to go that sub 9:40 is still possible if I hurry.  Funny how you can sometimes find that extra bit, even then.  It wasn’t there in New Zealand – I was moving for all I was worth the entire run.  But here, there was that little bit extra that Kona (and a big net downhill final 1.1 miles) can get out of you.  I’m slapping hands with all the kids I can find along Ali’i.   It’s a terrific feeling (always is) to run down Ali’i.  Every time I do it, it’s more cherished than the last time.  And maybe this is my swan song.  Probably. Run time 3:21:11. 

 

 

9:39:12 and 358^th overall, 49^th AG (of 282 finishers).  Content, if not satisfied.

 

Out at midnight at the finishing chute, watching my wife dance with Chrissy Wellington.  A special place to be, no doubt.  Midnight on Ali’I the 2^nd Saturday of October is magic.  And probably it’s my last time. 

It’s now over a week later, and my amazing wife has firmly planted the seed of letting me race an early IM next year.  I’m looking at IM Lanzarote, as it is on my Ironman Bucket Lest. I ran the other day and felt good.  I rode today and felt terrific.  I hope I can qualify for Kona again.  I’d love to race there again. 

Amazing what a week does to the memory of agony.

 

Show Time Approaches

The race starts tomorrow.  As of last night, my nerves have started to become a bit more on edge.  The "what if's" and the doubts have started to creep in.  I have found myself dolling out advice to others that I am continually now needing to practice - "the hay is in the barn" or "plan for the worst, hope for the best" or "have plan A, plan B, and plan C, and ways to recognize when to switch between them" or "you've accomplished the goal of getting here - now enjoy the experience."

I have enjoyed seeing some new sights on the island (sunset on top of Mauna Kea, with the horizon nearly 14,000 feet below), catching up with friends going as far back as high school (good to see you, Melanie) and making new ones as recently as a Dutch guy just 5 minutes ago (thanks for the use of your pump, Bart).  I was honored to participate in the Ironman Foundation panel at the race expo yesterday along with some other amazing fund-raisers.  I have enjoyed having family here in town.  But I was reminded by my wife that tomorrow is the entire reason for all the sacrifice made by family and friends across the past 13 months - training and racing in New Zealand in order to qualify for World Championships and and then all the training leading up to this race.

And that brings me to my thank you's.  Regardless of the outcome tomorrow, I can only begin to thank  my wife, Micha, for all her support this past year.  It has been tremendous.  And my son, Mattias, who generally continues to practice patience with his always-tired Papa (well, as much patience as a 4yr old can possess).  My parents, who have flown both to New Zealand and here to Hawaii to once again cheer me on from the sidelines like they did throughout my younger days in school.  To my friends who've both teased and supported (that's kind of the same thing, right?).  To the folks at Therapeutic Associates, Athlete's Lounge, and RestWise - you've all helped me achieve goals that even a year ago I wasn't sure were possible.

And to the many many folks who have made my dream of raising money for a first-of-its-kind study on athletes with Multiple Sclerosis (something obviously dear to my, well, brain).  Together we will put over $14,000 towards that project, and I will be the first voluntary subject! 

To all of you, Thank You.  I am humbled, and encouraged, and motivated. 

As for the race itself, it looks to be sunny, air temperature in the mid 80's on the coast (which means low 90's on the Queen K highway, and pavement temperatures approaching 120 degrees), and likely to be a headwind on the way home from Hawi (at about mile 60 of the 112 miles on the bike).  Humidity will run in the 68-70% range.  Not horrific, but sweat will certainly be running down the body more-so than evaporating off.   I am nervous for really only two things tomorrow - the heat, and the swim.  I have noticed that heat has really started to bother me more this past year, increasing fatigue, and exacerbating my prior symptoms.  There is even a difference between being in the shade vs being in the sun.  And little shade exists on the course tomorrow.  As for the swim, starting a race with 1800 people all at once, all of relatively equal ability, makes for a crowded swim at the World Championships.  In the triathlon world, the swim start commonly gets the nickname, "The Washing Machine" because of both the way it looks, and the way it feels.  Once again I will position myself far out to the side, hoping for less crowded water.  I hope to finish the 2.4 mile course in 65-68 minutes.  The 112 mile bike I hope to come in around 5 hours, though the winds here can easily add 15 minutes to that time.  And on the run, I would be jumping up and down (well, maybe raising my arms a little bit) with a 3:10.  All told, including transitions, I think my fitness is there for a 9:25.  On this course, that can easily balloon to a 10:25.  Only Madame Pele, the Goddess of the island of Hawai'i, knows for sure.  I do hope she is in a kind mood tomorrow.

So that is that.  My race number is 1277.  You can track my progress on www.ironman.com.  I am excited, nervous, and mostly just ready to get the show going out of the water and onto the road!  Thank you all for following.  I'll be sure to update next week on how things actually went!

Good Racing, and Good Night!

Bubble Wrap, Anyone?

Well, general crisis averted.  My foot is healing up well, and I'm back to running at least on pavement without issue.  Trails, not so much as any uneven surface that hits the arch of my foot still really hurts, but I'll take long runs on the pavement for now.

I did have an entire week of cycling the week of the injury.  I logged almost 370 miles in 8 days - by far the most I've ever done in such a period.  Was a good week, and a hard week.  I managed a sad elliptical workout, a short treadmill run, a 2 mile transition run, and a 5 mile easy run that same week.  That last one was awesome because I actually got to run with my son riding his pedal bike (along with Mama riding as well).  He's up for 2 mile jaunts now, and is doing fantastic now that he's learned to use his brakes.

After getting back to some running this week, my coach chimed in that the foot was a good reminder to wrap myself in bubble wrap leading up to Kona.  I certainly continue to feel that the hardest part about having a good race is actually getting to the starting line ready to race - not hurt, ill, or exhausted.  Not at all as easy as it sounds.

This week, cycling mileage was back down to a more reasonable 180miles, and running was up to 32.  I am definitely feeling the season, though.  I'm finding that I'm more tired in general (particularly getting up in the mornings), but at the same time unable to take my naps anymore.  Partially that's a time thing, but partially it's an inability to quiet my mind.  I will park the car, recline the seat, and try to close my eyes for 20-30' prior to getting in the water (yes, this is actually typical for me when training).  But after 15' of my brain just working like the Energizer bunny, I decide I'm not going to sleep, so it's time to head into the water.  The cumulative effects of a year of hard training (leading up to Ironman New Zealand in early March, and now Kona) has tipped past the unsustainable point, and is severely bordering on overtraining.  The dance of knowing when the body is saying, "Enough!" vs when the mind speaks is becoming harder to walk.  Though at the same time, the importance of discerning that difference may well also be fading.  When bordering on overtraining, the mind or the body caving become equally important.  

So tonight's cycling intervals ended up going down the tubes.  They started off okay, but it became clear fairly quickly that they were not going as expected.  No clue if it was mind or body, but performance was lacking.  Bubble wrap came out, and I tried to make the most of it without wrecking myself.  First power goals dropped off, then durations were shortened.  Ultimately, a workout was completed, but perhaps not to the initial expectations.  

I'm trying to become an "Optimalist"  An interesting spin on pessimism/optimism.  Making  the  most  of what you're dealt.  More on  that next time.   Sleep is callling.

Good Training  and  GOOD  NIGHT!

The Offending Culprit

Stepping on this is in the dark has put my running out of commission for now. No race this weekend. More biking instead...

More Adversity is Better, Right?

I have trouble sleeping when it gets too hot, as it was the other night.  In getting a fan out of a dark room in the middle of the night, I managed to step over the bike trainer, but stepped right on the front wheel stand, which is a solid plastic ring (not a block) with a few cut-outs to allow different inclinations while on the trainer.  The resulting gash, located right in the middle of my foot across my plantar fascia (thankfully not into the fascia!) has me off of running for a while.  Hopefully I'll be back in time for this weekend's race - Best of the West Half-Iron near Salem, OR.  

But for now, that means I'll be getting in an extra long ride in place of the long run I was supposed to be doing today.  Just like the race itself, life always manages to throw unexpected barriers up.  How you react to them makes all the difference, though.  While I swore like a sailer at the top of my lungs when it happened (nope - it didn't tickle my foot), I've gotten back on track and will be just fine.  Better now than a month from not.  Less than 6 weeks to go!

Ownership

Fairly regularly, once someone finds out I have multiple sclerosis, I hear something like, "Wow, it's amazing that you still do what you do."  While I do take a certain amount of pride in hearing that, I am also unsure just what to say.  "Keep on keepin' on" or some similar reply typically comes out.  Doing what I've always done, to the best that I can do it, seems the only way to go, if you ask me.  I have raced triathlons for over 20 years, and I hope to continue them for another 40.  Yeah, 60 seems like a good number of years to race at the upper reaches of one's ability, if you ask me.  

If ever I could meet someone "famous" in the sport of triathlon, it would have been Jim Ward.  He passed away in 2000 at the age of 83 while mountain biking.  What a terrific way to go after an inspirational life. Finishing the Hawaii Ironman at age 77 - that's something to be amazed by, if you ask me.

I can remember a time, not too long ago, saying that I would never want to be on a medication I would have to take for the rest of my life.  Well, I've now had a daily injection of Copaxone for five-and-a-half years, and will likely be on it, or something similar for the rest of my life (though you could help us all find a cure by donating on my fundraising page - and thank you!).  Shortly after starting my injections, I decided that I never want to take a medication that I would need simply to combat the side-effects of some other medication I was taking.   I'm sure I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

But every day, I poke myself with a needle to keep my disease at bay.  I exercise hard - mainly to maximize my performance come race-day, but also to be in the best shape possible.  I lift weights.  I stretch nightly.  I take naps.  My diet, while never terrible, has improved dramatically since the birth of our son - which coincided to a year-and-a-half after I started down this MS road, and my whole family benefits (I'm the chef at home).  This week I have started to meditate (5 minutes of sitting still is tougher than I thought!).

All these things I do to raise the bar of my physical and mental capacity.  The stronger, better coordinated, more mentally sharp, better fueled, more limber, and generally closer to the high end of my capabilities all around, the further that bar has to fall.

Training in Boulder, CO back in the mid 90's, I had the pleasure of riding with some of the fastest triathletes on the planet.  I would ride with (well, I'd start the ride with) the likes of Mark Allen, Chuckie Velupeck, Wes Hobson, Greg Welch, Kenny Souza, and my personal favorite, Christian Bustos.  A Chilean goat-herder turned world-class triathlete who crashed in a race in Argentina and was dragged under a press vehicle for quite a ways until someone heard him screaming underneath.  Ultimately he had a nasty scar down his calf from where a nerve was taken to put in his arm so he could use his hand again.  Riding next to Christian one day, I asked him what kept him going?  "Never say die" was his simple reply.  Another way to phrase it would be "Take what you've got, and make it work."  "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade".

This ultimately brings me back to ownership.  Multiple Sclerosis is mine.  I cannot give it away like some gauche present to be re-gifted to someone else that you probably won't ever see again.  I cannot get back everything it takes from me.  I cannot do these things.  In racing we often talk about controlling the controllables, and not wasting energy or thought on the things that cannot be controlled - to do otherwise will slow you down.  Taking my medication, staying fit, eating right, getting proper rest, staying flexible, and all those things are in my control.  I want to focus my energy on being a guy who is a top athlete, in-demand physical therapist and coach, Papa-extraordinaire, wonderful husband, good friend, and fabulous chef (ok, good cook), who happens to have multiple sclerosis.

I have my days of being lousy at all those things.  But I've also some days of being remarkable at all those things - because I make those the things on which I focus my time, energy, and thought.  Having MS is not good, it is not bad:  it simply is.  Otherwise it will begin to own me - and that cannot be allowed, no matter how far down it drags the bar that is - me.

Good Training, and Good Night!

The Intense Weeks: A Typical Week in the Last Phase of Ironman Training

To those who continue to follow me, thank you.  To those who have donated to the cause of fighting Multiple Sclerosis with me, THANK YOU.  We have raised nearly $4k on the way to Kona.  To those considering helping the fight, please visit http://bit.ly/11jTDEA

Many folks want to know what a typical week looks like for me in training.  "Who" varies from fellow competitors, to the athletes I coach, to novice triathletes, to patients to friends and relatives.  Answering always takes a bit of thinking about who asked the question.  Fellow competitors and the athletes I coach get a fairly detailed look at the current phase.  Novice triathletes will hear a more general overview of things, while patients, friends, and relatives get some mixture depending on how much time we have and how bored they start to look.  My readers here will get the detailed review (for better or worse).

I work part-time (MWF), and have daycare for my son during the week.  I try to get the vast majority of my training done during the week to maximize family time on the weekends.

I do 3 week blocks, followed by a recovery week.  Particularly with the intensity that I train at, I've found that more than 3 weeks of cumulative training will fairly quickly result in illness, injury, and overtraining.  RestWise has been instrumental in helping me find how closely I can toe that line.  This past week marks 9wks to Ironman (IM) in Kona, and 1 more week of hard training before a recovery week.

The basic structure of the past week - what Coach Smyers prescribed:

Mon - rest day

Tues - bike/run brick - 2.5hr steady IM effort bike (with 3x15' 40k Time Trial effort intervals) and 70min running at half-ironman race effort (half-ironman is exactly that: half an IM, or 1.2mi swim, 56mi bike, 13.1mi run)

Wed - long swim (400's and 50's) total 4000m

Thur - 5hr steady bike at IM effort

Fri - morning recovery swim (before work) long run (after work)

Sat - interval swim (75's and 100's) total 3300yds

Sun - running form drills in the morning and  bike intervals (VO2max effort)

Total time at 15hrs (2.75hrs swim, 8.5hrs bike, 3.75hrs run)

Now, at least as importantly, here is what I accomplished:

Mon - Success!  Took a rest day.

Tues - 2.5hrs on the bike netted 54.8mi as prescribed - generally 230watts (W) for all but the intervals, which were at ~305W.  The run went as planned as well, though heart rate (HR) was quite high (more on that later).  10 miles at 6:20 pace and last mile at 7:20 for 70 minutes total.

Wed - swim done early in the morning when I can swim long course meters.  Definitely tired from Tuesday, though, core and legs particularly (which makes for slower, sloppier swimming).  Main set was 3600m - 3x [2x400 on 6:50, 8x50 on :55] mixing up some pull, some paddles.

Thur - As planned, netting 106miles in 5hrs 31sec.  One stop at mile 75 to refill (I have space for 5 bottles on my bike while training, reduced to 3 when racing).  As always at this point in training, I'm thinking "There's no way I can run a marathon after that."

Fri - slept an extra hour rather than doing my recovery swim.  Long run done in Forrest Park (I love Portland, OR) along the Lief Erickson Trail.  Mile markers every 0.25mi.  17 miles total in 1hr 52min.

Sat - I slept 11hrs Friday night - in addition to the 30' nap every day this week.  interval swim went south as soon as I started the harder section, and ended up becoming my recovery swim workout from Friday.  Mentally and physically the right decision.  I also had a swim lesson from local legend Dennis Baker that afternoon for what I think resulted in the first time in my life I swam twice in one day.  Dennis is helping to redo my stroke completely.  It's going to take quite a while, and it's slowed me down for now, but I can already see how it will in the long run (swim?) significantly improve my efficiency in the water.

Sun - we will see, but my RestWise score is up from 60 to 80 today, I'm up early and feeling energized again (and have time for this blog post finally!).  I'll be doing form drills with one of my new athletes (professional triathlete Damian Hill), and bike intervals on the trainer later this afternoon.  Those will hurt, but I think they will go well today. 

In reviewing my planned schedule and my actual schedule, there will be a moving of workouts in the future, if Coach Smyers agrees.  Saturday I think I am just too exhausted from the previous 4 days to be able to get a constructive swim workout in.  Thus my day off will move to Saturday and involve a recovery swim (1500yds easy).  Friday will then only be the long run, and the interval swim will move to Monday, when I have a bit more energy.  We will see how next week goes.  4 more weeks of hard training to go - with a lovely recovery week after next week - then taper arrives!

Going back to one part of interpreting HR data, HR will climb higher than effort would suggest when dehydration is setting in - less blood volume with the same demand from oxygen (i.e., pace, in this case), requires the heart to pump more often to circulate that lower blood volume.  Thus your HR goes up, even though your perceived effort does not.  This is an example of how training / racing with a HR monitor (though there are some pitfalls to be aware of) can be extremely beneficial, giving you nutritional status feedback.

Off to do my form drills running.  SO helpful for efficiency (i.e., faster speed with the same effort).  Thanks again for reading, following, and contributing!

Good training, and good day!