Soma 1/2 Ironman

Well this post is long overdue. One week after the Long Course Nationals, I raced a big year-end half-ironman here in Tempe. Lots of people had told me this was nuts. There were 2000 or so total entrants, and 900 in the half-IM. All 50 states were represented and there were participants from around the world. My highest place in this event was something like 80th two years ago. Last year I did the "Quarterman" as I was recovering from an injury that kept me from training for a while. ( I won my age-group though :-) )

I'm not going to give the blow-by-blow on this one but more of an overview.

The swim:

Tempe Town Lake is gross. It's full of algae and other muck so it's hard to even see your hand in front of your face, never mind the foot that's about to kick you there. Also, race starts at this time of year have you swimming east straight into the sun for the first leg. So it's not the best place to swim. I went way off-course twice during the swim and I'm sure there was a time penalty there. Oh well. I exited the water in 31 something, so not too bad given the circumstances.

The Bike:

I had to take some time in transition to put socks on because of the blistering and bleeding from the week before. It's hard to put socks on wet feet :). Early in the bike it was obvious that my legs felt a little strange, not really sore, or tired, but...I don't know...rubbery? A week isn't much recovery time. I had to yell (audibly) at myself to chill-out much of the first half because I was going too hard. Still, I pushed the bike to my limits. I had a tough time making my way through the very crowded course. At one very congested point of the course, a guy yelled from behind me "come on, lets go people, move to the side". A real jerk. When I could finally let him pass, I said "go get-em buddy!". I made note of his number and his clothes. He was a US Army triathlon team member. I knew he was going too hard and hoped to see "Army" again later. My bike split was 2:18 and when I came into T2, the racks were mostly empty. Always a good sign. I made a quick transition and headed-out.

The run:

My pace was good early, but after a few miles, I didn't know how I was going to hold on. I'd been pacing off of a 40-44 year-old who went by me early and I had decided to hang with him. He was going just hard enough for my early run pace. I'd planned to hang at that pace until 6.5 miles or half-way and then go for it. But, by mile 5 I was kind of tired of following him and I'm sure he was sick of hearing my footsteps. I decided to pick it up and I pushed past. I was passing lots of people, but didn't see too many that were in the Half-Iron. At mile 8 I went past "Army", fast. It felt good. By mile ten I was really pushing it. On the "back" portion of an out-and-back section, I saw a guy going the other way who placed ahead of me at a race back in September. He'd also just posted a 9:30 at the Ironman World Champs a few weeks ago and he was way behind me. That felt good too. The last couple of miles my legs were threatening all kinds of cramps, but I held on. I came across the finish in 4:19:58. A full half-hour faster than my personal best on this course and and also 30 minutes faster than the race the previous week. (It's a flatter course :-) ) You could say I was pretty happy!

When the results were posted, I was 8th out of 900 overall and I was 2nd out of 95 in my age-group, only 2:50 out of first place. If only I could swim straighter.... :-) . A nice way to end the season I'd say.

Up next: Why I'm dumber every day.

USAT Long Course National Championship

I worked hard. I dreamt of it. I visualized it. But, I did not expect it. Top five in my division? Maybe. Top ten overall? That would be outstanding. Neither seemed likely.

Race morning I woke at 4 am, fired-up the coffee pot I'd prepared a few hours before, and started munching on Clif bar. Mmm, coffee and Clif bar. You have to try it to love it. I felt OK. I'd woken up on other race mornings feeling better though. Still, everything seemed to be in order, and I was on schedule. Sarah was also up going through her race morning routine and we were trying not to get in each others' way.


We grabbed our bikes, nutrition, water, etc. and were out the door by 5:15. My race started at 7am and Sarah was off at 7:05. We had a short drive to the boat ramp at Lake Mead, set-up in the transition area, and I had a warm-up run to do before the start.


There was little delay finding a parking place, but we did have a long, dark walk to transition across a dirt field. Fortunately, I always bring my headlamp to these things. I walked Sarah to her transition rack and then moved on to my own. They had all the Long Course athletes racked together, but no lighting. We half-ironman athletes were to go off a full hour before the others, we would be and did arrive at transition long before the short-course athletes, but we had no lights. The other racks had plenty of lights, but by the time those athletes arrived, the sun would be up. Bad race organization.


I set-up my transition. This being a point-to-point bike, I only had my bike, shoes, helmet, sunglasses, and bike-segment nutrition here. The rest, run shoes, visor, etc. were in T2 at the top of a massive hill in Boulder City. I went back to the truck and put on some run gear to do my warm-up run. It didn't feel good. My legs felt heavy and my energy low. Sometimes this happens and I tried to shake it off mentally.


After the run, I went to my truck to put on my wetsuit (a time consuming process) grabbed some water and took-off to rendezvous with friends and family at the U-Haul parked next to transition. I said my hellos and goodbyes and made my way to the water to do a warm-up swim. Here's me walking rapidly to the U-haul:



The start was late and all the athletes were standing in waist to chest-deep water. Some were shivering and many were talking and cracking jokes. Finally the gun went off. I had seeded myself toward the front, but not in the front, and I was immediately swimming over people. What the hell were those guys up front thinking seeding themselves up there? Here's a picture of the swim start:
Lake Mead is very clear and it was easy to find feet to follow and draft off of. By the second turn I was looking as high as I could to see how far off the leaders were. It looked like 100 yards at the most, so I was 1:15-1:30 back. Good. On the long straight back to shore, I got separated from the pack and was going it alone in open water. My strokes felt good and strong and I spent most of the last minutes just watching the lake bed go by. Pretty cool. I hit the beach and checked my watch; 29-something minutes. Wow! Much faster than I'd swum that distance before. I started peeling off my wetsuit and trotted-up the boat ramp.



When I made it to my rack, I saw that at least one of my competitor's bikes, and probably more, were already gone. Jeeze, those guys are fast. I sat down and removed the rest of my wetsuit, stuffed my goggles, wetsuit, and swim cap in the provided transition bag. I put on my helmet and sunglasses, stuffed my Hammer Gel and electrolyte tabs into my jersey pocket, put on my cycling shoes and took off.

Once on the road, I settled into a rhythm early, trying to be patient and build into it. Often times, some hammerheads will come past early in the bike, but it wasn't too bad today. Maybe everyone was giving the hilly 56-mile bike course some respect. You can see some of the hills behind me here:

There was plenty of passing and re-passing going on all the way out to the turn-around. As I neared it, I saw the first place guy coming the other way. I checked my watch and started counting cyclists. By the time I hit the cone marking the turn-around point, I had counted 29. I was in 30th place overall. Not too bad, but not great. My legs were already feeling the hills and I had more than half of the ride to go.

Soon after, I saw my Mom and Patrick and Ronijean on the side of the road. It was an open course, so they had driven out to give me and Sarah some encouragement (and get some great photos - thanks Mom). By some amazing coincidence, Sarah was coming the other way at almost the exact time and place. Sarah and I cheered each other as we passed. It was great to see everyone out there. I would see Mom, Patrick, and RJ a few more times on course before the end of the bike. Awesome!




I passed a few competitors and was some times passed back. I think I had counted myself up to 26th at some point, but some slower-swimmers/stronger-cyclist came by late in the ride and all I could do was minimize the damage. I could also see what looked like more strong cyclist coming the other way and I wanted to hold them off. But, my hamstrings were feeling tight and I had plenty climbing left on the remainder of the bike and a half-marathon run to go. I knew I'd have to use my run to make this a race.


As I began the final 4-5 mile climb from the lake into Boulder City, I watched my average bike speed dwindle from ~21+ MPH to below 20. By the time I hit T2 my cycling computer read 19.9 MPH. Damn. I really wanted that 20! I flew in to transition, actually skidding the back tire a bit. Whoops, came in a little too hot on that one!


I found my rack and transition bag, threw the handlebars up on the rack, took off my helmet, and emptied the bag. I put on my running shoes (no socks - I'd trained to run with no socks), grabbed my visor, salt tabs, number belt and gel, and took off running putting on my gear as I went. All the while I was being heckled by Ronijean and Chantelle who were calling me crazy. I agreed with them and told them my legs were already trashed from the ride.



My legs came around pretty quickly though, and I think I may have passed a few people in transition. I started off on a pretty conservative but good, solid pace. Early on, I felt my shoes digging into my foot and I knew this was trouble. What started-off as chaffing became a stabbing pain. I knew something bad was going on down there and I was only 4 miles in. There was nothing I could do except maybe stop. But, I knew I wasn't doing that. I just made peace with the pain knowing I'd be done in an hour or so.


I'd previewed the run course online and the profile looked essentially flat. Well, it wasn't. there was a bit of an uphill at first, but then it went down and down and down for miles. I was doing my best to hold back knowing I'd need my strength for the return trip. Somewhere around mile three or four Mom, Patrick, and Ronijean pulled next to me, cheered me on, and took some pictures. It was great, and I'm smiling in this picture, but just seconds before I'd just been looking everywhere for discarded sock, a plastic bag, something gooey, anything to stuff in my shoe to relieve the chafing.




Maybe two or three miles after this, I saw the first long-course athlete coming the other way. He was way out in front and my spirits sank a bit. But I didn't see anyone else close, so I still had some hope. I started counting again, runners this time. Soon before the turn-around I saw my cheering section!
I had run with the guy behind me in this picture for some time but decided to make my move a half mile before this picture was taken and I had put some time into him. When I got to the turn-around, I had counted 12 or 13 others. So, I had run into 13th or 14th. But the runners were so spread-out and I wasn't close to any of them. I didn't know how I was going to catch them in 6.5 miles.

I had saved some energy for the second half of the run and it was time to use it. I picked up the pace as high as my legs would allow. As the miles passed I started to catch some runners. I would get close, slow my pace a bit, take a few deep breaths, and then go by with authority. I wanted to make them think twice about chasing. Fortunately, none of them did.


I passed one, then another on a steep uphill section. I saw yet another way off to the side of the course walking. Maybe I'd run into the top ten. I didn't know. I pushed harder and started to cramp with 3 miles to go. I backed-off just a bit and my legs seemed to be OK with this. My foot was killing me, but I knew it would be over soon. With under a mile to go, I saw Sarah running the other way. I asked her what she was doing and she said practicing a short transition run! She cheered me on and said that the others were at the finish and she see me there.

I was running through all of the short-course athletes now, but with 200 yards to go, I saw I guy who had passed me early in the bike. I wanted to catch him. I picked-up the pace and my body started to protest but then conceded to my will. I was going all out and with 50 yards to go, I did pass him. With shouts and cheers from friends and clubmates I ran across the finish line having given it my all.



It took hours for the results to be posted and we all sat around talking, napping, eating, and drinking a beer (or three). After 3 hours, they finally did post results and Patrick and I went to check. There was a crowd around the posting board. Patrick is taller and could see over everyone. I said that he saw my name and that I was 12th overall and 4th in my age-group. Ouch. No top 10 overall. No age-group podium. Nothing. I was surprisingly calm. I pushed my way into the crowd to get a closer look at the results. I found my name and traced across the page with my finger. 11 Brad Hendron 4:49:46 Division: 1/25. Wait, what? I checked again. Yep. I asked no one in particular: "What is 1 out of 25?" Someone said "That's your age-group place, nice job". Oh. I couldn't believe it. I'd just won my age-group at the Long-Course National Championship. When all the results were sorted, I was 9th overall. So, I was top 10 overall and AG winner. Unbelievable. I'm still shaking my head as I read this.

I'm going to post all of Mom's photos on Flicker as soon as I get them and I'll add the link to this page.



Next up: Soma 1/2 Ironman Race Report.

Time to Race!

Well everyone, it's race time. Sarah and I will be leaving in a couple of hours to drive to Lake Mead and I'm getting excited. OK, more like nervous than excited. I love racing. Really, it's the biggest reason I train so much. So I can race well. I'm feeling stronger than ever an I'm expecting big things and putting a little pressure on myself.

Sarah planned to do the entire event, but some recent foot issues are going to end her day after the bike. She's going to stay away from running for a few days and is awaiting some new orthotics that will help the issue. She would have easily completed this event and it's a real bummer she's having some trouble. But hopefully she'll be waiting at the finish line when I get there!

The race is Saturday morning and consists of: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile (half-marathon) run. These are the standard distances for a half-Ironman triathlon. The bike course is very hilly, but the run is pretty flat, so I expect to come in under 5 hours and hopefully in 4:40-4:45. The race website can be viewed here: http://www.halfmaxchampionship.com/

I'll post some photos and a race report sometime next week.

Wish us luck!

Letting Go

As some of you may know, earlier this year I qualified for the USA Triathlon Long Course National Championships. The race takes place at Lake Mead, Nevada, and the surrounding area, on October 18th.



I decided to make this race the focus of the second half of my season. As such, I've been training very hard. Over the last four months I've swum 91,900 yards (919 football fields or 52 miles), cycled around 1,500 miles, and run over 250 miles. A big investment.



Early last week I got news at work that our contract with the Communication Workers of America (the union of our construction and hourly employees) had not been ratified. This was to be resolved in August and they had come to a tentative agreement, but the Union workers voted down the contract. So, they are back to negotiations and there is threat of a strike. If that happens, I'll be required to work 12-hour days, seven days a week until it is resolved. This could happen in the next week or so. If it does, I'll miss the race.



It's a hard thing to come to grips with. A few days ago, I was on an early morning run and listening to a podcast. In the podcast, Alan Watts, noted 20th century philosopher expert on eastern religions, was giving an introductory lecture on Buddhism. He was talking about the Four Nobel Truths, the second of which states that: The Origin of Suffering is Attachment. Watts likened letting-go to breathing. Breath is life, but if you hold your breath in, you're done. You have to let it go and it will come back to you. Given my current predicament, this caught my attention.



I'm trying very hard to let go of this race and not fret over it. What good does it do? None. Holding on only causes angst, anger, and sorrow. Hopefully, all this strike business will be resolved and I'll go have the race I'm prepared to have.

Welcome

Welcome! I've decided to create this space not only as a better way to keep friends and family up-to-speed on what going on in my life, but to chronicle some of my life's events and to collect some of my thoughts.

I wanted to call this blog "Mileposts", however, someone is already using that one. Of course. Sometimes it seems like creating something original is very nearly impossible. It's all been done, as they say. So, anyway, I pass a lot of literal mileposts during my weekly endurance training, but it seems like the figurative life's mileposts are whizzing by pretty fast these days too. And I feel like I'm constantly trying to make sense of that. To come to terms with it.

The title I've settled on, "Musings, Soul-Searching, and Endurance Training", seems to sum-up my life at this time. Usually out on the road, in the middle of a long ride or run, the soul-searching and philosophizing kick in. So, the title seems to fit. I intend to post some of my thoughts here. Mostly though, I'm just going to post pictures and let everyone know what's going on.