General Smallwood Race Report

This race report is long overdue.  I've been neglecting it...because this was not a good race.  I wasn't proud of it and I didn't even want to think about it for awhile.  As I started to think more about the race, my training, my goals for this year, and the overall result I realized it wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be.  A wise Buddha once said that “the arrow that hits the bull’s-eye is the result of 100 misses”. So next time you have a bad race, wallow, cry, stomp, learn and bank the lessons and then try to move on. Yes, the race result is important. You have invested a huge amount of time and energy in achieving your goal – as have those around you – but ultimately it is about the journey to that start line, enjoying each and every moment and never letting that race day performance – good or bad – totally define you.

Since it's been over a month since actual race, I'm going to keep this report short and simple.  The worst, the best, and lessons learned.

The Worst
A tie between a couple things here.  The swim that was 400m too long, making it a 1900m Oly Swim (wtf?) or the fact I couldn't get my legs to turn over on the run.  Did I taper for this race?  No, not really.  This was just a race thrown into the mix of Ironman training because it was the Regional Club Championship.  The long swim effectively helped the strong swimmers and hindered those of us not so strong in the water.  My legs just wouldn't go on the run.  Sure there are a lot of excuses I could come up with, but the bottom line is I ran the worst 10k I've ever run in a tri.  

The Best
It was USAT Mid-Atlantic Regional Club Championships - DC Tri was out in full force.  Friends and family were all there to race and cheer and have a good time, winning, of course :)  The bike also went well.  The course was mostly rolling and I was feeling good.  I took 2 full bottle of fluids on the bike and the well ran dry before the end of the ride.  It was hot out.  Despite the swim being long I felt strong in the water and my sighting was on target.

Lessons Learned
This race was on one of the hottest days of the summer.  I should have been smarter with my pre-race and race nutrition plans.  I didn't stay hydrated and I paid for it.  I was sick after crossing the finish line, not sweating, and not keeping fluids down.  I had to sit in the ice bath for a bit, take salt pills, and chill out, literally.  I should have prevented this by preloading with salt pills and drinking more fluids before the start of the swim.  The water was warm for the swim, which only help the dehydration factor more.

Brother and I after crossing the finish line

Nail the bike nutrition, so you can have a good run.  Once you start running, it's too late to make up for missed fluids or calories during the bike.  Just because I played soccer in Georgia doesn't mean I am above the heat, I should have prepared more during the bike with fluids to set myself up for a good run.

The race I was hoping for was not the race I'd been training for.  Since May I've been training for IM Louisville.  I've done some speed and interval work on all 3 sports but the focus of the training has been long distance.   Running long runs at IM pace, riding long rides followed by bricks at IM pace.  Compared to last years training when I was focusing specifically on Oly and Half training I should have known I wouldn't be PR-ing at this race.  Yet I still believed it would be possible.  I'm trained and I'm fit but not the same way I was last year, I'm ready for Louisville next weekend.  After Louisville I'll start training the short fast stuff again for a change of pace.  And to see what I can do before the season is over in an Oly :)

I'm a little competitive and I like to win - Ok, I might be a lot competitive.  I already knew this but this race just highlighted it and made me look at how I deal with failure.  I was letting this performance begin to define me and my future performances, not good.  Keep calm, keep focused, and carry on because the race that matters this year is in Louisville Kentucky on August 26 :)

The Ironman Taper

After months of training the taper is here and the race is 10 days away!  My total taper was 3 weeks, so I'm about 1/2 way through it.  I can honestly say taper works.   I've tapered for shorter races but I've never noticed such a need for it until Ironman training.  After a couple 30+ hour training weeks and running my legs into the ground during Colorado and Deep Creek Training weekend I was starting fade.  My legs didn't want to push, my turn over on the bike and run was slow, and I felt like I wasn't going anywhere in the pool.

The first week of taper was frustrating.  I felt tired.  No energy and a lack of motivation to do the "short" training I had on the schedule.  I got it done.  I left the pool frustrated a couple times, doubting my ability to complete an Ironman swim.  I struggled through a couple runs that normally feel "easy".  Now, mid-taper, I am starting to feel great.  I don't have anymore long, hard workouts, but I am starting to feel ready with the workouts I am doing.  My past two swims have been good, my legs feel good on the bike, and I nailed a short track workout.  10 more days to let my body rest and get stronger while keeping my sanity.  I've seen this letter my mom sent me posted before on other blogs.  It's by an anonymous author to Ironman Competitors, it rings pretty true.

“Right now you’ve all entered the taper.  Perhaps you’ve been at this a few months, perhaps you’ve been at this a few years.  For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.

You’ve been following your schedule to the letter.  You’ve been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until November to erase.  Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were proceeded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.

You rode in the rain.

You ran in the heat.

You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.

You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you.  Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you’ve already covered so much ground…there’s just one more climb to go.  You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before you…and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest.  While this taper is something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won’t be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss.  It will give you reasons why you aren’t ready.  It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn’t know what the body already does.  Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won’t believe it.  It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish – that there is too much that can go wrong.

You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident.  It’s the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it.   It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out.  It comes from long, solo runs.  From that first long run where you wondered, “How will I ever be ready?” to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go…knowing that you’d found the answer.

It is worth it.  Now that you’re at the taper, you know it will be worth it.  The workload becomes less.  The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind.  Not easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk into the water with 2000 other wide-open sets of eyes.

You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong.

You’ll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for so VERY long is finally here.

You will tear up in your goggles.  Everyone does.

The helicopters will roar overhead.

The splashing will surround you.

You’ll stop thinking about Ironman, because you’re now racing one.

The swim will be long – it’s long for everyone, but you’ll make it.

You’ll watch as the shoreline grows and grows, and soon you’ll hear the end.  You’ll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers.

Three people will get that sucker off before you know what’s happening, then you’ll head for the bike.

The voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero’s sendoff.  You won’t wipe the smile off your face for anything.

You’ll settle down to your race.  The crowds will spread out on the road.  You’ll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.

You’ll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun.  It’s warmer now.  Maybe it’s hot.  Maybe you’re not feeling so good now.You’ll keep riding.  You’ll keep drinking. You’ll keep moving.  After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?

You’ll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride for what seems like hours.  You reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.By now it’ll be hot.  You’ll be tired.  Doubts will fight for your focus.  Everyone struggles here.  You’ve been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won’t – not here.  Not today.

You’ll grind the false flats to the climb.  You’ll know you’re almost there.  You’ll fight for every inch of road.  The crowd will come back to you here. Let their energy push you.  Let them see your eyes.  Smile when they cheer for you – your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind.

Fight.

Suffer.

Persevere.

You’ll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come – soon!  You’ll roll back – you’ll see people running out.  You’ll think to yourself, “Wasn’t I just here?”  The noise will grow.  The chalk dust will hang in the air – you’re back, with only 26.2 miles to go.  You’ll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.

You’ll roll into transition.  100 volunteers will fight for your bike.

You’ll give it up and not look back.  You’ll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you’ll go.  You’ll change.  You’ll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer – the one that counts.

You’ll take that first step of a thousand…and you’ll smile.  You’ll know that the bike won’t let you down now – the race is down to your own two feet.  The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a summer Sunday.

High-five people on the way out.  Smile.  Enjoy it. This is what you’ve worked for all year long.

That first mile will feel great.  So will the second.  By mile 3, you probably won’t feel so good.

That’s okay.  You knew it couldn’t all be that easy.  You’ll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace.  You’ll see the leaders coming back the other way.  Some will look great – some won’t.  You might feel great, you might not.  No matter how you feel, don’t panic – this is the part of the day where whatever you’re feeling, you can be sure it won’t last.

You’ll keep moving.  You’ll keep drinking.  You’ll keep eating.  Maybe you’ll be right on plan – maybe you won’t.  If you’re ahead of schedule, don’t worry – believe.  If you’re behind, don’t panic – roll with it.

Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon.  By remote control.  Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day.  Don’t waste energy worrying about things – just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving.  Keep eating.  Keep drinking.  Just don’t sit down – don’t EVER sit down.

You’ll make it to halfway point.  You’ll load up on special needs.  Some of what you packed will look good, some won’t.  Eat what looks good, toss the rest.  Keep moving.  Start looking for people you know.  Cheer for people you don’t.  You’re headed in – they’re not.  They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town.  Share some energy – you’ll get it right back.

Run if you can.

Walk if you have to.

Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on.  The brilliant sunshine will yawn.  You’ll be coming up to those aid stations fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup.  TAKE THE SOUP.  Keep moving.

You’ll soon only have a few miles to go.  You’ll start to believe that you’re going to make it.  You’ll start to imagine how good it’s going to feel when you get there.  Let those feelings drive you on.  When your legs just don’t want to move anymore, think about what it’s going to be like when someone catches you…puts a medal over your head…

…all you have to do is get there.

You’ll start to hear town.  People you can’t see in the twilight will cheer for you.  They’ll call out your name.  Smile and thank them.  They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on the run, and now when you’ve come back.

You’ll enter town.  You’ll start to realize that the day is almost over.

You’ll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you’re lucky), but you’ll ask yourself, “Where did the whole day go?”

You’ll be standing on the edge of two feelings – the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.

You’ll hit mile 25.  Your Ironman will have 1.2 miles – just 2KM left in it.

You’ll run.  You’ll find your legs.  You’ll fly.  You won’t know how, but you will run.  The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter.  Soon you’ll be able to hear the music again.  This time, it’ll be for keeps.

Soon they’ll see you.  Soon, everyone will see you.  You’ll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the nightsun made just for you.

They’ll say your name.

You’ll keep running.

Nothing will hurt.

The moment will be yours – for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.

You’ll break the tape.  The flash will go off.

You’ll stop.  You’ll finally stop.  Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly…be capable of nothing more.

Someone will catch you.

You’ll lean into them.

It will suddenly hit you.

You will be an Ironman.

You are ready.”

Big Day Training

I would lying if I said I wasn't nervous about my training schedule for the weekend.  Saturday was my first 'Ironman Big Day' training session.  The week didn't allow any breaks or tapering to prepare for the big weekend.  Going into Saturday I was feeling a bit tired from the week's training sessions but excited and anxious to see what I could do.

I was lucky enough to have the company of a great training partner for the entire Saturday training session.   Trevor is in his final push of training toward the Inaugural Ironman NYC.  We started the day pretty early to load the car and head down to Lake Anna State Park.  Little did we know we would hit some uber traffic on the way down.  Our training got started a bit later than we had planned but the day was all about the training, we didn't have anything to get back to the city for.  

Lake Anna State Park

Once at Lake Anna we scoped out the No Wake and No Boats bouys, bypassed the beach area and jumped into the lake for an open water swim.  We swam for an hour back and forth along the No Boats bouys.  The advantage of not following a course and relying on Garmin for distance and pace - everything counts, no horrible sighting mistakes!  From end to end it was about 500-750m depending on the route and which bouy's you followed.  The swim was not boring and it definitely didn't feel like we had been in the water for an hour.  As much as I like to 'race' I know it will be important for me to swim smart and remain calm at Louisville.  I am hoping that there is a nice down river current for the long stretch of the IM swim.

Once out of the water we loaded up our bikes, put down some nutrition and headed out of the state park for 3 loops ( + some) of the Kinetic 1/2 bike course.  I spent one day earlier this year training on this course and another day racing on this course - I really like this course, a lot.  Little traffic, rolling hills, and good scenery.  We held a strong & comfortable pace of about 20mph for the ride.  The heat started to turn up as we started our 3rd loop so we had to stop off to refuel with PB sandwiches and gatorade.  I'm still working on perfecting the nutrition plan for IM but I am getting a better idea of what works with me and what does not.  I know solid foods will be important for me on the bike while gradually switching over to more gels and liquids during the run.  78 miles later my legs were still feeling pretty great as well rolled back into the state park.

Now we didn't stress transition time during this big day training session but we tried to make them quick and concise.  Once getting our bikes locked up we got some fluids and met up with a friend of Trevor's to pace us on a nice run through trails of the park.  We started at about a 9:00/mile pace and ran along the shaded trails of the state park.  As our run progressed the dark clouds began to roll in.  We finished up a 6.6 mile loop and I refilled my water before setting out for another 4.5 miles.  For ease and familiarity, as well as some self inflicted pain I decided to run a loop of the Kinetic 1/2 run course.  This run course starts out perfectly up hill, rolls through the camping area and cabins and finishes with a nice down hill portion.  I made it about 3 miles into the run before the sky's opened up, the thunder rolled in and torrential downpours started.  Luckily, we had pre-planned for this and Trevor knew the exact route I was taking so he was there in no time with the car.  I was bummed that I had to stop 9.5 miles into my run, but I felt great.   It would have been nice to complete the run but I have heard it's best to stop when you feel like you can do one more.  I'd rather have stopped then end up injured or anything else.

Skyline Drive

I can see that my training has come a long way since I first set out on this Ironman journey.  I've learned and continue to learn a ton about myself, and most importantly I am enjoying all the in's and out's of the training.  Yeah it sucks missing time with my family, trips to Northern Michigan, friends birthdays, etc. but I knew that when I signed up for this and I don't regret it for a second.  On the other side of things is made my trip to Colorado for the Courage Classic a totally justifiable training trip!  On Sunday I rode 'SkyMass' with the DC crew to prepare for CO.  I'll save the details for later, but it was an awesome ride, a great challenge, and a mentally tough training day after Saturday.  I look forward to taking it easy for a couple days as I travel and acclimate a bit to CO before hitting it hard with some great riding and brick runs in such a beautiful part of the country.

Once back from CO I have one more "Big Day" training session and then I'll slowly taper down to IM Louisville.  Chrissie Wellington recently posted the following in her blog, and I think it's very important to remember - "A wise Buddha once said that “the arrow that hits the bull’s-eye is the result of 100 misses”. So next time you have a bad race, wallow, cry, stomp, learn and bank the lessons and then try to move on. Yes, the race result is important. You have invested a huge amount of time and energy in achieving your goal – as have those around you – but ultimately it is about the journey to that start line, enjoying each and every moment and never letting that race day performance – good or bad – totally define you."